LIGHTS UP TO REVEAL ALBION BATHED IN WARM SUN AND RECLINING IN A DECKCHAIR, AN ICEPACK ON HIS HEAD, SIPPING ON A LARGE COCKTAIL GINGERLY, DRESSED IN GARISH HAWAIIAN SHIRT AND BERMUDA SHORTS. HE IS CONSIDERABLY HUNGOVER. STINKWIT SQUATS NEARBY, CHAINED TO THE LEG OF THE DECKCHAIR, SCOWLING AND FISHING FOR FLEAS IN HIS BEARD – BUT HE CANNOT CONCENTRATE FOR LONGER BEFORE HE BECOMES IMPATIENT AND LOOKS TO ALBION
STINKWIT: The sun is no place for a hangover, Majesty. (ALBION IGNORES HIM)
It is well known that the worst effects of a hangover are induced by dehydration; to sit and sweat in the sun is folly.
ALBION: You will stay where you are. Now be silent.
STINKWIT: But Sire, I’m cooking!
ALBION: That’s quite evident from your stench. But I won’t have you sulking off into darkness.
STINKWIT: But Sire –
ALBION: Silence!
ENTER SMTYHE
SMYTHE: Your Imperial Majesty.
ALBION: Ah, General Smythe. What news?
SMYTHE: A suspect is in custody, Majesty
ALBION: Excellent. Is it one of those infernal Conformists?
SMYTHE: It is too early to say, Majesty. Questioning has only just begun.
STINKWIT: Questioning?
ALBION AND SMYTHE IGNORE HIM POINTEDLY
SMYTHE: However, the evidence is incontrovertible. It will not take long to ascertain the suspect’s political allegiances.
STINKWIT: No, of course it won’t. A few hours in the hands of your ‘truth technicians’ and the poor wretch will admit to anything.
ALBION: Silence, fool! The General will execute his duty in a just and appropriate manner.
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SMYTHE: Of course, Majesty.
STINKWIT: Execute, how appropriate. Just for a piece of graffiti. Surely the Imperial sense of humour has not become so atrophied that his Majesty cannot appreciate a harmless joke made upon His person – on carnival day, of all days. ALBION TURNS TO GLARE AT STINKWIT UNTIL THE PAIN IN HIS HEAD FORCES HIM TO SUBSIDE BACK INTO THE DECKCHAIR, MINISTERING TO HIS TEMPLES WITH THE ICEPACK ONCE MORE
ALBION: Maybe he’s right. Don’t be over zealous, General. It is probably just a prank. OUT OF ALBION’S SIGHT STINKWIT MOCKS SMYTHE SILENTLY
SMYTHE: That may well be so, Majesty – but we
cannot let our guard down. If the terrorists grow bold enough to strike us here, at Court, we must act -
ALBION WAVES HIM AWAY WITHOUT OPENING HIS EYES
ALBION: Then away, General. Do what you must,
but no more. Understand? STINKWIT SHOOES HIM AWAY, GLOATING
SMYTHE: (GLARING) Yes, Majesty.
ALBION: Good.
ALBION SETTLES BACK INTO THE DECKCHAIR AS THOUGH SMYTHE IS DISMISSED, BUT THE GENERAL REMAINS
SMYTHE: There is another matter, Majesty. It appears there have been mass desertions.
ALBION: Desertions?
STINKWIT: Desertions?
SMYTHE: Yes, Majesty. Intelligence reports towns across both former borders empty, and a flotilla of small ships, heavily laden, making for the old kingdoms.
ALBION: What?!
STINKWIT: Ha!
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prior to Separation, carnival processions left towns and traveled from place to place absorbing the general population before crossing the borders… the flotilla left later from ports right across the country, under cover of darkness. It speaks of organization, Majesty, planning.
ALBION: Them.
SMYTHE: It can be no coincidence.
STINKWIT: Voted with their feet. On the Day of Days. Albion’s Glory –
ALBION RISES IN A RAGE AND KICKS AT STINKWIT VICIOUSLY.
ALBION: Silence! How many?
SMYTHE: Many tens of thousands.
ALBION: (STUNNED) And how is it your men failed to prevent this?
SMYTHE: They hid in plain sight, Majesty. Our focus was upon the Ceremony, the Royal Person – STINKWIT: So you failed to prevent a terrorist attack at
the heart of Court and failed to notice entire towns emptying of their people? A comprehensive failure, General. The Triumph has been subverted, the Emperor made a laughing stock. You must hold yourself personally responsible.
ALBION KICKS STINKWIT AGAIN
ALBION: I told you, silence! Ingrates! And so many, duped by a few fanatics. I despair.
SMYTHE: Yes Majesty.
ALBION: I won’t be humiliated like this. Redouble
your efforts, General. I want these damn Conformists rooted out. Spare nothing and no- one. Report when there is progress.
SMYTHE: Majesty!
HE EXITS SMARTLY. ALBION MASSAGES HIS TEMPLES
ALBION: I did not expect to feel like this. STINKWIT GRUNTS AND WORRIES AT THE CHAIN AROUND HIS NECK
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ALBION: A few malcontents I can understand, the
once privileged few bemoaning their loss. Politicians, bankers, businessmen, faceless bureaucrats, all the petty narrow-minded bores without the imagination to enjoy paradise. But so many ordinary people. I freed them – and this is how they repay me. Come, Stinkwit, mock! You must be overjoyed at this new insult to me.
STINKWIT: Joy? The bastards went without me.
ALBION: Would you really be that keen to go?
STINKWIT: (YANKS CHAIN) I don’t wear this because it matches my eyes.
ALBION: I don’t understand it.
STINKWIT: I saw them, sneaking away with their
rubber rings and sou’westers… I thought they were off to enjoy some new continental perversion –
ALBION: The greatest party the world has ever seen, and they want to what – leave for a life of drudgery in some cold, wet, Celtic backwater? They must have been brainwashed!
STINKWIT: I know they despised me but they could have extended the hand of sympathy to a fellow –
ALBION: Who?
STINKWIT: Who? Your inner circle, Majesty. Why do you think it’s so quiet at Court?! Where are your merry band of sycophants? Not in dark corners nursing sore heads – gone! They left behind your back. And they left poor Stinkwit to his fate.
ALBION: You lie.
STINKWIT: Never! You name me Stinkwit and bind me to the truth, for the all good it does me. They are gone! Your humiliation is complete.
ALBION’S TEMPER RISES AND HE COILS THE CHAIN AROUND HIS WRIST, DRAGGING STINKWIT TO HIM
ALBION: You will only goad me so far, fool.
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They’re gone. Not just some malcontents at the borders but the chosen few.
ALBION: No!
STINKWIT: They all dream of the ordinary lives you
stole. They go hungry to feed your excess. You ruin their land and then steal that from underneath them too. That’s your paradise, and you wonder why they leave?
ALBION LIFTS STINKWIT BY THE CHAIN UNTIL THEY ARE FACE TO FACE, COLDLY WATCHING THE LIFE DRAIN OUT OF HIM UNTIL, ABRUPTLY, HE RELEASES HIM AND STORMS OFFSTAGE.
STINKWIT RECOVERS ENOUGH TO CRAWL OFF IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION, DRAGGING THE DECKCHAIR ON THE CHAIN BEHIND HIM.
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