1
Divine Music. God the Father enters accompanied by Joan of Arc and Mata Hari.
God: Constantinople is besieged by the Turks, the Teutonic hordes are at Al Alamein, two days from Cairo, Indonesian pirates threaten Singapore. And they’re still discussing the sex of angels! Angels are female. It’s well known. It’s in the damn dictionary. All words beginning with an a and ending with an e are feminine; alouette, automobile.
Joan of Arc: Antilope, Armoire, it’s true!
Mata-Hari: Abuse.
Joan of Arc: Above, abate, abdicate.
Mata-Hari: Aborigine, acceptance, ace.
Joan of Arc: Ache, amphitheatre, article, adhesive.
Mata-Hari: Angle, adore, advance, adventure, aftershave, age, airline.
Joan of Arc: Ai! Ai! Ai! Where is this going? God the Father, say something.
God: Mata you cheat.
Mata-Hari: Age, alike, alienate, alone.
God: Stop it, Mata-Hari!
Mata-Hari: Sire, I am only applying your definition: "All words starting with a and ending with e." Athlete, amuse, ample, amble.
God: There are exceptions…
Mata-Hari: Which prove the rule. Angle, alliance, algae, anticyclone, antique, able, ape. Right, God the Father?
God: Yes, my dear.
Mata-Hari: Argue, astrolabe,
God: Exceptions, I said! Besides, scientific terms don’t count.
Joan of Arc: Alcove, amplitude, assurance, avarice, aside, arrange, arrive, arise, assassinate.
God: (To Mata-Hari.) There, you see!
Joan of Arc: Attribute, advocate.
Mata-Hari: Justice of the peace.
Joan of Arc: Supreme Court.
Mata-Hari: Circuit court, short circuit.
Joan of Arc: Court of Miracles.
Mata-Hari: Merchant of the temple, paralytic, Maccabee, legless cripple.
Joan of Arc: Wedding at Cana.
Mata-Hari: Candelabra.
Joan of Arc: Laboratory, rodomontade, marathon.
Mata-Hari: Hurly-burly.
Joan of Arc: Marabout.
Mata-Hari: Piece of string.
Joan of Arc: Saddle.
Mata-Hari: Wooden horse.
Joan of Arc: Campeche wood.
Mata-Hari: Fishing line.
Joan of Arc: Bottom line.
Mata-Hari: Stock bottom.
Joan of Arc: Dry goods.
Mata-Hari: Rice with water.
Joan of Arc: River water.
Mata-Hari: Wash yourself in it!
Joan of Arc: Eat your hands!
Mata-Hari: Drink your blood!
Joan of Arc: Scratch your fleas!
Mata-Hari: Swallow your snot!
Joan of Arc: Slut!
Mata-Hari: Cow bitch!
Joan of Arc: Wet mop!
Mata-Hari: Sick cockroach!
Joan of Arc: Embassy fucker!
Mata-Hari: Rusty scrap metal soldier!
Joan of Arc: Your twelve bullets in the heart, you have not stolen them!
Mata-Hari: And you, the resin flashes that made you melt your home made fat!
God: Woa! Woa! My angels! Silence! Don’t start quarrelling again. Joan of Arc, put away your sword. And you, Mata-Hari, get dressed, you’re naked. It is not because I, God the Father, invited you to a small exercise of early linguistics, for you to bare your teeth and immediately throw names in the face!
Mata-hari: Sire…
Joan of Arc: Sir…
God: Nothing! I hear nothing more. I'm the one who speaks. Shit! (A Thunderclap that impresses the two angels.) Paulo minora canamus. (The angels don’t understand.) Good. I’ll translate for the uncultured: “Speak more quietly, dears.” So? What? What's going on down there, at their home? (The angels whistle with an absent air.) So, suddenly you’ve lost your tongues. You’re screaming nonsense, that, and that to you. But, do your job in intelligence, without question! I repeat: How’s it going, down there?
Joan of Arc: It’s going badly.
God: And you. Mata-Hari, what do you think?
Mata-Hari: Not bad.
God: What did you say?
Mata-Hari: I said what I said: Not bad.
God: I heard you. Always this pessimism of Central Europe: Heidegger, Kierkegaard and company.
Mata-Hari: Pardon?
God: That’s OK, I didn’t say anything. I'll come back to you later. But you, my shepherdess, my sweet child, tell me: are they going to get away with it?
Joan of Arc: Sire, one doesn’t need hope to undertake nor success to persevere.
God: Joan, you mix everything up. Do not make incongruous quotes from the pink pages of the dictionary. To the devil with literary clichés. It is to your peasant heart that I address myself. Speak to me in the midst of your sheep, with the sound of the bells of your little village, in the morning air that smells of raspberries and apple juice: What will become of the human race?
Joan of Arc is suddenly paralyzed.
Joan of Arc: Ow! Ow! The pyre burns, my flesh swells! Jesus, Mary, Joseph! I burn, I am in pain!
She writhes in agony.
God: It’s the crisis… Mata, you know what to do?
Mata-Hari: yes, sire.
She fetches a large pail of water and throws it at Joan of Arc. It calms her down.
God: Thank you, Mata.
Mata-Hari: At your service.
God: Let's go back ... You, Mata, tell me where we were?
Mata-Hari: Richard Premier, the lame, is king. He built his city in his own image. He is all-powerful. And it works, as they say. It’s shaky, but it works.
His wife, Marie-Jeanne Larose, Followed the common path: lover, queen, mother, mender of panties, cuckold, business woman.
Their daughter, Claire Premier, is eighteen. She does not want to know anything but she wants to grab everything on the go with her camera.
The Queen Mother, Catherine Ragone, settles into her maturity. Undignified old lady? Not any more. She goes there gently. Will it succeed? She will be given time. Must he not kill the Queen Mother?
As for the creator of the race, Filippo Ragone. Said the Moron, the immortal, he managed to grow vines on Mentana street; all the long day he nibbles on raisins with his last teeth.
That’s the royal family, are you satisfied?
God: Ugh! What about the others?
Mata-Hari: The descendants of the Roberges? Death has swept through their ranks. All that remains is Annie Williams, the wife of Robert Houle and her almighty brother, Roy Williams. He does his business, three large businesses that he leads head on, one helping the other: the finance company, the manufacture of hot dogs and bolognas of all kinds, and a company of funeral parlors. Soon, he will be the main shareholder of the hospital of the Visitation. It will complete the circle. He is invulnerable: no history of women, children, love, friendship, state of mind. Nope, he’s pretty solid.
God: The others?
Mata-Hari: The others? Ah, God the Father, let them cross the stage of your permanent theater at their own pace. Let them people as they please the city of the lame king, to sneak through the alleys to win their loves or their graves according to the whims of a predictable destiny: twelve bullets in the heart, the Friday night accident or galloping tuberculosis. At the end, what does that change, eh, God the Father? Let's get out of here, everything is in place.
God: You're right, the prologue is over.
Mata-Hari: Are you coming, Jeanette? Don’t just stand there like a wallflower.
God: Prologues, prologues. Looks like it's all I can do, prologues!
Mata-Hari: ... And capital executions. Don’t run yourself down too much!
God: Mata-Hari, you will not reproach me eternally for all the misadventures that have happened to you. It's not my fault at the end of the end.
Mata-Hari: You have chosen us, she and I, as informants and advisers, your angels in the countryside. Why us two?
God: I dunno?
Mata-Hari: That’s what bugs me. You should know!
We hear a shot behind the scenes. Joan of Arc and Mata-Hari turn threateningly towards God the Father.
Mata-Hari: And that, what was that, good god?
God: I don’t know. It's not my fault.
God the Father raises his skirts to be able to run away more easily. Joan of Arc and Mata-Hari pursue him while treating him to all these names.
Joan of Arc and Mata-Hari: Hypocrite! Dirty pig! Lard brain! Torturer! Assassin! Smelly rat! Aristocrat! Eater of shit! Spineless wimp!
God: (At the same time.) It’s not me! It’s not me! You are witnesses! It’s not me! It’s them! I’m telling you it's them!
They exit, running. End of the musical prologue.
2
Richard enters quickly, followed by Robert Houle.
Richard: Meatballs! Meatballs! Always meatballs! I hate meatballs. Robert, you're my friend forever, get rid of the meatballs!
Robert Houle: Sire…
Richard: And I hope you understand that it's symbolic.
Robert Houle: No! I don’t see…
Richard: I know that you do not see! You're always late for a train. You never see anything. I tell you: get rid of the sticky soap in the bottom of the bath, Garbage cans on Monday and Thursday nights, curlers, messy toothbrushes, balcony stories, free, free me from the smell of socks, the odor of pea soup, the smell of dishes, all the household odors, get rid of the drying panties hanging from the clothesline, of stupid television programs every day, at the same time on the American channels, of the chattering of monkeys, ready-made questions and answers, bills to pay, looks, snickers, lyrics, words, tunes: rid me of all of that!
Robert Houle: Sire, I still do not see.
Richard: One day you rid me of Annie Williams and what she was for me, that old memory stuck there in my head. Today, you are my chamberlain, my friend, a man like me, and I ask you, rid me of Marie-Jeanne Larose.
Robert Houle: The Queen?
Richard: The Queen? I am the King! She’s nothing but the wife of the King. It makes a damned difference!
Robert Houle: But, my lord, why?
Richard: Because I cannot look at her anymore. It’s simple. She gets on my nerves. I have nothing else to say. And you have no other questions to ask.
Robert Houle: Patience, my Lord, It may be a passing mood! You could send her on a visit to her mother. Or suggest a small holiday in your estate of Varincourt, in the newly built duplex.
Richard: She does not want to. She clings to the Arsenal quarter. She says she doesn’t like the countryside.
Robert Houle: In that case, it will be necessary to face the music, and use the traditional ways: separation, repudiation, divorce. All that, in the rules.
Richard: I know. Napoleon, Henry VIII, Jason, Jules Labrecque and Francois Pomerleau… Sure. They did it before me. Divorce exists. It’s not for cats.
Robert Houle: You see…
Richard: But. There is a but. I do not want to leave behind me a tearful victim. It’s bad for the kingdom. It creates protesting parties. They blubber all over. I want a happy victim, replete, satisfied. That's what I expect from you.
Robert Houle: I don’t think I can…
Richard: You can Robert. You can do it. You have already satisfied many others.
Robert Houle: But finally, Sire, at the moment, I am with Annie Williams!
Richard: We'll send her to Varincourt, to the duplex.
Robert Houle: No, no, no, no, no, no. No! No!
Richard: What do I hear?
Robert Houle: And your daughter?
Richard: She’s very well, thank you for asking. She seems to have a gift for photography. Or maybe she'll become a journalist.
Robert Houle: Richard, get off my back! Stop the farce! Listen…
Richard: Count Robert, I will make you the head of my embassy in Azerbaijan to the emir of Tabriz. Queen Marie-Jeanne will leave tomorrow morning in your company and under your protection for a grand publicity tour in these savage lands. The matter is important. It is a matter of winning contracts for the subcontracting of oil sludge. Please see to the execution of my orders. I have spoken.
A naked young woman in the muslin veils passes by.
Young Woman: Are you coming, dear? I’m cold. I’ve been waiting for you for an hour.
Richard: Ah, Gwendolyn! Excuse me. I had a little business to settle. I’m coming, baby!
The woman runs away laughing. Richard follows, starting to undress.
Robert Houle: O vanitas vanitatum et Omnia vanitas!
A messenger enters, carrying a travel agency envelope.
The Messenger: Lord Chamberlain, here are reservations made by the Chancellery. One for the Queen and one for you. They are both made in your name to simplify the work of the secretaries.
Robert Houle: But this is the dictatorship.
The Messenger: No, sire, it’s rapid service.
He leaves.
Robert Houle: Oh, Richard, your power knows no bounds, you dispose of everything, you no longer respect anything! Family, virtue, friendship, established rules, honor, raspberry tarts, you trample it under with your great shoes. And now, for god knows what reason, you send me to play the Zouave in Azerbaijan. Christ! Oil sludge, I know nothing about it. The emir of Tabriz, for me, it is Chinese. Ah, an unhappy city when it is governed by a tyrant.
Annie Williams enters.
Annie: Dear, did you bring me cucumbers?
Robert Houle: What? Oh, sorry Annie, I forgot.
Annie: You always forget everything. You know, however, that we are having Lou Birkanian and Freddy Dubois over for dinner tonight.
Robert Houle: Well, you can make grated carrots.
Annie: I have always hated grated carrots. For all the years we have been together, you should know that.
Robert Houle: Excuse me, Annie…
Annie: And stop apologizing, it annoys me! We are serving pickled eggs. It's a little cheap. But, so what? Or what about Italian olives?
Robert Houle: By the way, I leave for Azerbaijan tomorrow on a special embassy.
Annie: I don’t want to be alone in the house! I'm afraid at night with all these new exploits of Jack the Ripper. I am really stressed.
Robert Houle: You need a vacation, my dear. You could go and rest for a few weeks at Vatrincourt.
Annie: Why not? Great idea! I love the suburban countryside.
Robert Houle: And, it is good for the lungs. The garden is full of cucumbers.
Annie: I will invite Lou Birkanian and Freddy to come and visit me.
Robert Houle: Tell them to bring booze.
Annie: They wouldn’t forget.
Robert Houle: Good. Well, everything is settled between us. I'll pack my bags.
Annie: You’re going alone?
Robert Houle: When you're part of an extraordinary embassy, you're never alone. The Queen is with me. Excuse me, I'm in a hurry.
He leaves.
Annie: What does this mean? He seemed embarrassed. Would he play me a pig's turn? Would there be an eel under the rock? Water in the gas? Shattered glass in the yogurt or cyanide pins in the laundry? Men! Ah, men, men! Always the men. Now I understand my mother, Judith Roberge, when she sang " Do we ever know", a great success of the 50s at the Spartacus cafe.
Music. Annie Williams takes a microphone and begins to sing the song “Do we ever know”.
Annie:
Do we ever know
What things are said?
Do we ever know
What is the course of time?
Do we ever knowHow roses are born?
Do we ever know
When Spring will come?
He fills me with words of love,
He sends me baskets of flowers.
He kisses me at night in the courtyard.
He repeats to me that I am the most beautiful.
Mais…
(refrain)
When comes the pathetic moment
He goes "Ah, Ah, how good it is, cherie!"
He cries out like a lusty goat
Plunging into the great charivari.
Mais…
(refrain)
In the morning he warms me up
The Café au lait and little toasts.
He scratches my back, he washes my feet
He helps me to put on my boots.
Mais….
(refrain)
He brings me all his pay from work,
Offers vacations in Miami.
He subscribed for when I will be old
A big life insurance contract.
Mais…
(refrain)
The same shot is heard as at the end of the prologue. Annie Williams exits quickly.
3
Enter Queen Marie-Jeanne and Robert Houle in traveling clothes.
Marie-Jeanne: Leave me Count Robert! Go warm up the car. (Marie-Jeanne stays a long moment alone. Richard enters.) Wee, Sire, are you satisfied? I am obeying your orders. I’m leaving. I leave full of honors. You have even had the kind attention to give me as my travelling companion your chamberlain, Robert Houle, Count of Pinnacle and Ballintra y Coco, Margrave of Belle-Isle, Viscount of Bede, your service stallion. It’s magnificent! Life is beautiful! How lucky she is, this Marie-Jeanne Larose! What would she complain about? Isn't her business flourishing? Ambassador to the Tartar country, will she not take advantage of it to import Bukhara carpets and camel wool?
Richard: It's not a bad idea.
Marie-Jeanne: And that is my intention, be sure of it, my Lord. I am infinitely grateful to you. And I will continue to do business. And I will enrich myself more and more. And I shall have the world at my feet: the princes, the bankers, the sub-ministers, the lawyers. And I will reign over my domain myself that I will build with my own hands. And I will be the queen, my queen, the queen of my own kingdom. And I will be happy.
A very long silence.
Richard: Good. Well, in that case, since everything is fine for you, we do not have much to say. Mustn’t miss your plane. (He is ready to exit.)
Marie-Jeanne: Coward! Stay here, I’m not finished. The plane can leave, I don’t care! I will take the next. First, I have to smash up all the silverware on the mantelpiece, that makes you take yourself for a king. What is this, this king Richard? What is it? A man? Come on! A snot nosed brat who never left his mother’s skirts, who knew nothing but obey her orders, take up her habits, repeat her words, to follow in her around. Is King Richard a man? No, a dimwit shouting for help! when his toast isn’t the way he wants it. A king? The king of what? of whom? Who directs his supposed kingdom? His mother Catherine Ragone? His cousin Roy Williams, with all his gold mines in Abitibi? Or else the old sorceress, Lou Birkanian, who draws her cards every Friday and tells him cock and bull stories? Or the latest bimbo that falls into his hands, named Rosanna, Pierrette, Sybil, or Gwendolyn! I ask the question to all: who holds Richard’s throne? Well I know who does. A shade, a shadow! The ghost of your brother Alcide Premier, whom you can never match. A shade too great for you! Look at this abortion which has taken itself for Hercules: the lion's skin, the club, all the bric-a-brac, the descent into hell, the great crusades, the foot. Ah! Ah! the foot. Look at yours, cripple, and sign up for the marathon.
Richard: I’m going to kill you, you bitch…
Marie-Jeanne: Kill everybody! It’s the only way that you still have to believe in your power. But you will not even have to prove yourself to me. I am leaving. I'll let you tie up your sandals again. (A flash of magnesium.) What was that? (It was Claire Premier who sprang up.)
Claire: Magnificent! One more! (Flash.) I really like it when you’re all worked up. You have a fantastic presence. (Flash.)
Marie-Jeanne: Claire, stop! I am talking with your father. (Flash.)
Claire: You too, dad. You’re splendid. You look like Marlon Brando. (Flash.)
Richard: Claire! That’s enough! Go play in the traffic!
Claire: Can I come with you to the airport? It will be an awesome coverage!
Richard: I will not go to the airport!
Claire: Well then, stand side by side. A photo of the couple of the year. Ah! Ah! The royal family.
Marie-Jeanne: Leave me alone right away! I'm tired of masquerades. Family photos, in the garbage. Goodbye Richard. I am leaving for good. Have fun on your own and don’t catch cold in your big bedroom. There's a cursed stream of air through the frame. You could catch the flu.
She exits. Magnesium flash.
Claire: You're so comical, both of you. You always seem to be playing the tragedy of the Titanic. By-By.
She exits following her mother.
Richard: There are no more children. There are less and less. There have never been any goddam, fucking shit to speak of. What’s it all about? What’s it all come to? Must just hold on and believe. Got to believe it, Richard. Got to believe it. Leave your stain in the world. Raise havoc. No fading out. Otherwise you're nothing. Go to the end. Finish it. Don’t drag your foot. You’ve only got one left. Forward, march.
He goes out trying to be royal. We hear a new gunshot.
4
Barbaric music. At the water's edge. Moses enters, followed by his people. At his side, the women of the Andes and the daughter of Leila. The woman of the Andes stands aloof.
Moses: Halt! (Suddenly he bursts into laughter. Everyone looks at him stupefied.) What is happening to me? Here I am giving stupid orders. Of course we have to stop. We cannot do otherwise. We are at the edge of the ocean. If you get too much in the habit of giving orders, after a while, it makes you stupid. So, let's laugh. (He laughs. Everyone laughs.) That’s enough! We have reached the point, at the last promontory of Gondwana. The immense sea is before us. How to cross it? We have burnt our ships, in a great gesture of defiance. But now we are stranded on the shore. Gestures! One should always be wary of gestures, they pervert and annul actions. Redo the coup of the Red Sea? Not possible. It wouldn’t take anymore, nature is suspicious, she found her defenses. Go and get me Master Albert.
Councilor Canaque: Right now, he isn’t presentable.
Moses: Go get him anyway. (The Councilor exits.) Corruption takes hold. You have to move forward. The tables of the law are always provisional, they are only valid for nomads. That’s a paradox! And you, daughter of Leila, you who joined our horde in the flowery gardens of Ispahan, why do you remain silent like a carp? You don’t say anything. You never say anything. An eye. You are just an eye. I am surrounded by silent eyes, like fish. I, Moses, son of the god Bramuz, I act and I speak and I order and I howl like a damned fool in the midst of a shoal of dumb eyes. One day, however, we will build the city. Where? How? With who? (The Councilor returns.) And Master Albert? Is he coming? Why didn’t you bring him with you?
Councilor Canaque: He’s coming, it won’t be long.
Moses: How is he?
Councilor Canaque: Drunk as a cow.
Moses: Is he talking?
Councilor Canaque: Oh, as for talking, he talks! He never stops talking.
Moses: What does he say?
Councilor Canaque: A mass of things. Judge for yourself.
Albert Einstein enters, with a bottle of Chianti in his hand.
Albert Einstein: Nature, nature, nature! Nature is weak, she is flabby. A mollusk of references! Hello, Moses, okay this morning. Oops! mustn’t lose my fulcrum. Finding your fulcrum, that’s the problem. This is what I call the Archimedean complex. Archimedes, no fool that guy. So, what do you want, my dear prince of Broglie, Archimosesofmytwo …?
Moses: Master Albert!
Albert Einstein: Don’t call me Master, it impresses me, it disgusts me. Ow, ow, I’ve got a headache.
Moses: Professor…
Albert Einstein: Yes. O.K. Pro-fess-or. Prof and sister. Anne. My sister Anne, do you see anyone coming? That’s it, eh? You would like to know. Know what’s coming. As if I had this, here, in my head, inside. Ow, ow my hair hurts!
Moses: Professor! What do we do? Do we go any further? Do we venture? Can we? Should we?
Albert Einstein: You’re, scared eh? Always the Archimedean complex? Oops! I almost fell… Better hold on tight. Ok, I’m all ears. What can I do for you, Mister President? And be careful, be careful, my opinion has weight. Oops, so do I, dammit, I have weight. Always Archimedes. Can I? Can I help you? Franklin Delano, that's right, your maiden name.
Moses: Professor, this is serious. All these people who follow me have come against the great ocean. And we have burned our ships.
Albert Einstein: All you have to do is walk on the water. But that… that! That's really not my business. It belongs to the other guy, the other. What was he called, again? Ah yes, Archimedes!
Moses: Professor, this is no joking matter! This is the moment of truth. Do we go on or not? The means will always be found. Speak up and tell us what to do!
Albert Einstein: Well, then I will have to shake myself. I will tell you what, Moses. I’m gonna tell you all right. Wait a moment, I must clear up my ideas. (He drinks.) “In vino veritas” like my grandfather used to say. He was an Israelite, my grandfather, and yet my grandfather used to say as he sipped his Mount juice: “In vino veritas”! He was no sectarian, my grandfather. He was a handsome man, my grandfather. Called Abraham. Now, where was I? Oh yes, Moses. Moses, I’m gonna tell you one thing: in other times, in other places, I, the Professor, as you say, I lacked circumspection… that’s pretty difficult to pronounce… Don’t you think! cir-cum-spection. I say I lacked circumspection. But now I got lots. I got lots of circumspection. And I also got three little things in my pocket that are capable of completely fucking up all your theories, three little really heavy things that I, the professor, spent my whole life not seeing. And yet … Christopher Columbus' egg, Newton's apple, and Archimedes' bathtub! — You see, always Archimedes! — and if you ask these three things whether to go on or not, well the three little things will reply that it was God the Father, in person, with his white beard, that made them. So. This is what I say: O people, you want to know what? Whether we are going or not going? That's the deal, is it not? You want it, eh? You want it? Answer, dammit! You want to know, yes or no? (All the people grumble.) You want to? Well, then, they'll answer you. The little things will answer you. (He rummages in his pocket. He pulls out three big dice.) Are we going? or aren't we going? Eh? (The people shout. He throws the dice. He rolls a triple six.) We are going!
The people scream with joy. Suddenly, Leila's daughter starts singing a very piercing Caucasian melody that the people will accompany in the bass tones. She removes her shoes and walks on the water. All the people do the same and follow her.
Moses: It cannot be!
Albert Einstein: Oh yes! Remove your boots, Moses, son of Bramuz! The road is slippery. I do not dare. I'm embarrassed. I have no socks.
He joins the crowd that walks on the waters. Moses takes off his shoes. He turns to the woman of the Andes.
Moses: You coming, grandmother?
The Woman of the Andes: No! I am the woman of the Andes. I guard the earth. Farewell, my beautiful boy. Bon voyage!
She watches for a long time the sea where the crowd disappears. The flute of the Andes began to sing; the woman of the Andes woman turns her back to the sea and climbs back into her mountains.
5
A dilapidated basement. The porter enters with a black dog on a leash. He lights his way with a large flashlight. He is followed by Richard, wrapped in a great black cape provided with a hood which covers his head.
Porter: So, you want to see everything?
Richard: It's normal. I do not want to commit myself further without knowing what's behind it.
Porter: No worries! It's solid! Just that it has not been maintained for years.
Richard: Why have you brought your dog?
Porter: There are sometimes strange people of the world who hang around here. They rip up the floor boards to get warm.
Richard: It's dangerous...
Porter: Don’t you know it! Two years ago, the fire caught onto the floor above. It was quickly put out because there wasn’t much left to burn.
Richard: Who is the owner?
Porter: Are you stupid or what? Everyone knows that.
Richard: Who is it?
Porter: Everyone knows but I can’t say it. Look at this! (The flashlight illuminates a young, half-naked man who trembles. He gets up slowly and goes out.) That one is a user. When they are in need, they come here. They shoot up beer. Men, Women. One day I found one on the stairs. She had to have fallen or I don’t know what. She was covered in blood. It was the dog that found her. He was pulling me and pulling. He sniffed and snorted like when you go hunting in the woods. I said, Hey, where are you leading me, Dumbass? Dumbass’s his name. Hey, where are you leading me? And there he is pulling me even harder. I follow him, he takes me down the stairs. Me too, I nearly broke my neck, thanks to Dumbass and all his excitement. What do I see? The little girl, covered in blood, at the foot of the stairs. I went back up. I called the hospital. Dumbass, he barked, he seemed almost content. She died in the ambulance. A beautiful little girl. It makes no sense!
Richard: And no one does anything?
Porter: What are you trying to say? The police? They’re too busy, the police! They are organizing parades for King Richard. They’re part of the show, the police! They have no time to waste on people like this. In the first place, because there will always be some. They’re garbage. They’re not people. Do you want me to tell you frankly, they should just die. It's no use trying to save them. Dumbass! Now you stop that! You’ll get a hiding! (He starts laughing.) Everybody’s gotta die. Right? A little earlier, a little later, it doesn’t make a big difference. Dumbass! My uncle Jerry used to say: “Only the dead don’t fart!” And you know what he did just before he died – he was eighty-five – just before he died. He let out a huge fart. We heard it through the whole house. It shook the windows. I was with my eldest brother in the kitchen. My eldest brother said: “Now, there’s uncle Jerry kicking the bucket.” It was true. When we went to the room, we found him dead. He had a huge smile on his face. Will you quit it Dumbass! Jeesus! So, have you seen enough?
Richard: Yes, it is enough for me.
Porter: Want to buy the building?
Richard: I'll blow it up with dynamite. I will put in a parking lot instead.
Porter: Wait. Who are you?
Richard: Look at me.
He lowers his hood. The doorman points the light at him.
Porter: Holy shit! King Richard! You are King Richard in person. Excuse me…I couldn’t have known!
Richard: Get me out of here!
They exit
6
Café Spartacus. Disco music. In a ray of colored light, five people dance at full strength. They are hallucinated by the dance. At times, they are heard shouting together: “Hey, Charlie”. They dance throughout the scene. In other shafts of light, other characters appear. Catherine Ragone, the Queen Mother, enters.
Catherine: Music?! Music?! Is it really the time to play music! The city of King Richard is threatened with extermination. The rats are climbing up from the basements, they're gnawing at the pillars supporting the palace, they sharpen their claws on the steps of its staircase. And up there, the great machine is breaking down, jerking about like an epileptic, its gears spinning on empty, its drive belts hanging uselessly. All this wasted energy a mere image of power, an illusion of life. Everyone runs off. Rome is no longer Rome. The Huns, the Mongols, The Ostrogoths, the Visigoths are coming, riding on their wild horses. They eat raw meat and dandelion roots. The great wall of China is crumbling and the barbarians flow through its breaches. There are no more border guards to stop them. And where are those guards? They're at the dance. And where are you, Richard? What are you doing, my son? The crown of your father Francois Premier totters on your head and you do nothing to keep it there. Blind King, deaf king, hurry up and change course. Put your house in order. Or else, it is I, Catherine Ragone, Queen Mother, who will save your kingdom.
Roy enters, followed by Bronski and Ferdinand.
Roy: Greetings, Queen Catherine!
Catherine: Good day.
Roy: You’re all upset.
Catherine: It’s my mood.
Roy: You don’t look happy to see me.
Catherine: I do not love you, Roy Williams…
Roy: I know that, but I don’t care!
Catherine: How’s business, Baron?
Roy: Good.
Catherine: When everything goes wrong, when the plague is in the city, you, you rejoice, you rub your hands. It’s your moment.
Roy: Of course! Shit brings in big returns.
Catherine: Until the final catastrophe? The destruction of the kingdom?
Roy: Everyone is mortal. Kingdoms too.
Catherine: Your power will disappear with them. Look at them all. They dance. They escape you too. They will escape you more and more. They do not even know your name.
Roy: They pay me.
Catherine: Just like that?
Roy: Tell her, you guys! She wearies me with her questions ...
He moves away and observes the dancers with binoculars.
Bronsky: The boss has just bought all the ADM venues, platforms and streaming. He calls it UTUNES. And I’m the president.
Catherine: Congratulations!
Bronsky: Thank you.
Roy: (Whistles.) Come see this, Bronsky!
Bronsky: Coming, boss.
He goes to Roy who hands him the binoculars.
Catherine: And you, Ferdinand?
Ferdinand: I supervise the monopoly on streaming.
Catherine: Always in the racket.
Ferdinand: If you wish. Although, over time, methods have changed a lot.
Catherine: But you, you aren’t president? You are never president, my poor Ferdinand!
Ferdinand: Roy says it’s better like this. He knows me well.
Catherine: Do you like chocolate, Ferdinand? Do you go fishing in the summer? Do you play cards, or pool? Do you like being warm in your bed? Are you married, Ferdinand?
Ferdinand: My wife left me last winter. I never knew with whom. I don’t have the time for it. Why are you asking me all this?
Catherine: A story of getting to know you a little! You'll have to come and see me one of these days… I might have something to offer you.
Ferdinand: I’ll ask the boss…
Catherine: Forget it, silly! I just said it for fun. You don’t have any ambition. Roy is right, you don’t have the makings of a president. You will always be an asshole. Go and join your master before he whistles.
Roy: Let’s get going, guys. Meeting at thirteen hundred hours at the office. Production is not up to speed. We have to find something else! I’m going to the hospital construction site. Be there on time!
Ferdinand and Bronsky: We’re always on time, boss.
Roy: O.K.! O.K.! Out! (Ferdinand and Bronsky exit.) So, Queen Mother, they brought you up to date? It only remains for me to take leave of you, as they say in the good families.
Catherine: Aren’t you tired of always munching right and left like a starving wolf? You aren’t tired of biting away at life?
Roy: I eat my steak as it’s served.
Catherine: The catastrophe will swallow us all. Why, Roy? Why not combine our efforts, resist the general fizzle. You are strong, you are rich, you know how things are. Richard has the power, the crown. His roots are deep. He built with his own hands Notre-Dame de Paris, the Empire State Building and the duplex of Varincourt. He invented the wire butter-cutter. He launched the first gyroscopic capsule into space. It’s no piece of cake. He's had Descartes' “Discourse on Method”, Karl Marx' “Das Kapital” and the complete works of Mickey Spillane republished which is proof enough of his open mind. Richard is my son. I know him. He is complex and unpredictable, full of promise. He's a good bet. He has ants in his pants – you understand what I mean – it makes him go, discover the unthinkable, whatever, it's in his blood, that great Ragone wind from the south. You, you got those gold mines in Abitibi, your legacy from old man Roberge. Why not put all that together? Come on. It's time. Why not gather our forces? Put an end, once and for all, to the rivalry between the Ragones and the Roberges.
Roy: I am not a Roberge. I never have been. Your family stories, do not concern me. This catastrophe, or general fizzle, as you call it, I couldn't give a royal shit about it. My name is Roy Williams. Get that in your thick skull. My reign is what passes between my hands, and which I place wherever I think it should go for my own personal profit. My reign is my own, it is absolute. I have no ancestors: I have no children, Queen Mother. That’s what you’ve never understood, it is what enables me thusly to bow and kiss your hand. Respectfully!
He makes an unexpected court bow.
Catherine: In any case, do not touch Richard!
Roy: I have no reason to want him dead.
Roy exits. Richard suddenly enters the stage.
Richard: I have reasons. Lots of reasons. The insolence of this little baron rubs on my nerves. His unceremonious power offends me. I will never be the king as long as he is in the wings, pulling the wires of the puppets that honor me with their reverences. I can no longer bear this Roy Williams.
Catherine: Be careful! He holds supplies, finance, hospitals, funeral parlors, all the infrastructure of your city. He has men in the police and in the underworld. Sometimes they are the same and they are well organized.
Richard: Sometimes it is enough to destroy the head so that the whole organization collapses.
Catherine: What are you going to do?
Richard: Kill him on Friday, before the council meeting. The assassination of the Duke of Guise. Borgia. Ben Barka. Malcolm X. Aldo Moro. We're sticking to the tradition, eh?
Catherine: Beware of him, he is dangerous!
Richard: You don’t believe me capable? Would you prefer me to negotiate? As you just did?
Catherine: I’m frightened for you.
Richard: So stop getting in my way! Let me act as I intend and go back to your manor at the bottom of the woods. Friday will be a happy day and all my people will rejoice at seeing this wild dog that sucked the blood out of them, bleed in its turn.
Catherine: Your people don’t give a fuck about all your stories! They did not wait to party. Look at them dancing.
Richard: I will lay my hands on the gold mines of old man Roberge. And no one will ever again lay down the law on me. I’m Spring cleaning the house and Friday'll be laundry day. Queen MarieJeanne is in exile, Robert Houle with her, Roy Williams will soon disappear and Gwendolyn's out.
Catherine: What has become of her?
Richard: She wore me out with her mania of demanding chocolate for breakfast. I exchanged her with the Archbishop of Canterbury for a crate of wild strawberries.
Catherine: You're all alone!
Richard: I don’t need anyone.
Catherine: And me?
Richard: I don’t need you anymore. You encumber me. You gave birth to me, that should be enough for you. Content yourself with letting me go.
Catherine: Go where?
Richard: That, my dear mother, is what is left over from the baby shower. And yet there were lots of gifts: life, of course, life. Ah! Ah! And all my limbs resplendent with health. My seething rage, too! And that Ragone whirlwind, as you say. Swirling a storm in my baby lace. But the ultimate goal, what’s behind it all, was not part of your gifts. And I will never forgive you for it.
Catherine: Leave it alone, you milksop! Stop your nonsense, you gasbag! I am not God the Father and his prophets. Me, I do not play cup and ball with planets and electrons. I built up the edifice of your power inch by inch. Since the dawn of time, I have woven the crown, you despise today. That was my ultimate goal, the purpose of it all for me, my sacristan renunciation and my glory. I hoisted you to the summit of the mountain. From up there, you look at the world. You enjoy the freedom I have given you. You can choose. You can choose what your reason for being is. You touch the heaven, Richard.
Richard: (Shouting) I'm scared of heights! Aaaah! I’m afraid! Aaaah! I'm shaking all over. The music makes me dizzy. My crippled foot has the St. Vitus’ dance. And yet it must take the step. I have to do it. I’m going to do it. I don’t want to. I can't do it. It's not worth it. Help me. mother!
He throws himself into Catherine’s arms.
Catherine: Come on… Come on… I'll take care of everything, my dear. The bells of Saint Bartholomew will soon ring. Rest on me.
Richard: They’re dancing, momma! They’re all dancing. I don’t know how to dance.
We are waiting for another shot. Catherine covers Richard like a child. Lou Birkanian and Filippo Ragone in his chair, enter.
Lou Birkanian: Oh yes, they’re dancing! They dance wonderfully. The dancing is always stronger at closing time, at the approach of frost. They dance away from the world, unconcerned, bound to their desire. O beauty of all that moves. Who can say they're not giving in to what's essential?
Freddy Dubois and Sandy Sparks enter. They are carrying the bags and the body of Nelson Trapp. It is a real clown show where someone always lets something drop
Lou Birkanian: Look at those two …, they've been carrying the corpse of Nelson Trapp for years, a heavy weight that both separates and unites them! What do you think they are doing? They partake in the necessary agitation. That's why I love them so. How’s it going, kids.
Freddy: It’s going very well, Lou Birkanian! We are moving into a new apartment. A six and a half with a little garden in the back. On the waters edge. We’re starting a new life.
Lou Birkanian: Bravo! And you, Sandy, are you pleased?
Sandy: I am very satisfied. Where we were, it was too heavy to carry. I couldn’t do it anymore.
Lou Birkanian: And will it change?
Sandy: Everything will change, Granny. We’re getting rid of old business. We’re going to start from scratch.
Lou Birkanian: Magnificent!
Freddy: You’ll come and see us?
Lou Birkanian: Of course I’ll come and see you! I won’t lose sight of you, my cuties, my beauties. Brand new, all happy and so light, eh. I will tell you my stories by the fireside.
Sandy: No, Granny, your stories are from the past. We don’t want them anymore.
Lou Birkanian: I’ll make up some new ones for you.
Freddy: Azerbaijan was beautiful but now we are somewhere else.
Sandy: Azerbaijan is finished!
Lou Birkanian: Wait… There was a princess in Abyssinia, a princess called the Shadow of the gods…
Sandy: Stop Granny! I feel that Freddy is going back to listening to you and we have work to do. Eh, Freddy! Don’t let go! Come on, sweetie pie.
Freddy: When you come to visit us in the new apartment, you can tell us about Abyssinia.
Lou Birkanian: Abyssinia, Nepal, the Philippines, Labrador, I'm not particular. Even the Arsenal district, if you like.
Sandy: Oh no, not that!
Freddy: We’re going. We are settling down on the other side of the river. We’re not coming back.
Lou Birkanian: Exactly. Now is the time to talk about it.
Sandy: No, Granny! No! Never again the Arsenal district. I like Abyssinia better.
Lou Birkanian: It's no farther, you know. It's no closer either.
Sandy: Come on, Freddy! Don’t listen. We still have a hell of a long way to go.
Freddy: Good evening, Lou Birkanian! In any case, when you come to see us, we’ll give you a big birthday cake … with candles.
Lou Birkanian: Every day is my birthday. You have learned the lesson. Goodbye Freddy Dubois. Goodbye my beautiful Sandy. Good luck! (Freddy and Sandy exit carrying their burdens more and more awkwardly. Lou Birkanian begins to dream…) In the land of my ancestors, in Abyssinia, at the edge of the Harar mountains and the desert of Ogaden, there once was a princess that was called the Shadow of the gods… Yes…
She remains in suspense, continuing her story for herself.
Filippo Ragone: Me, I am immortal. I never move from my chair. And I keep silent. For forty-five years, I've not spoken to anyone. Since that day in April. They’ve all decided that I am a vegetable. But that’s doing me too much honor. I am more like a vase. And I'll outlive them all because I am useless and there won't be anyone with courage enough to smash me into pieces. That is the privilege of vases. I see them all agitating themselves. They will all die from the same disease: an excess of speed. And me, during all that time I'll just keep on nibblin' my raisins. (He eats.) An excess of speed! What got into her head? That crazy woman! Forty-five years ago, on that beautiful April day. What happened to her? I do not know, I'll never know. But I can't stop thinking about it. (He eats.) She gets in her car. She takes the wheel. She sees, way over there, the stone wall at the end of the road. And then she steps on the gas. What did she mean by it? My sweet, silent Angela, mother of Catherine, what did she want to say? (he eats.) It means nothing. It can't be explained. There's nothing to explain. It happened, that's all. An excess of speed. But I talk, I talk. I talk to myself. I should stop doing that, I’m losing my saliva. (He wets his finger, looks at it.) I'm losing my precious fluids. And I mustn’t. Must not let anything go, not a drop. (He sucks his finger to recover his saliva.) I'll outlive them all.
Lou Birkanian: …and it was thus that my two brothers Mengistu and Haile arrived at the end of their long journey, the city of Addis Ababa.
Richard sits up.
Richard: Stop the music! (The music stops.) Get out of here, all of you! Out, you mosquitos! (He rushes at the dancers who disperse.) And you too, the moron! (He rushes at Filippo Ragone who rapidly pulls out a switchblade and opens it.) Outside, Grandpa! No scenes!
Filippo Ragone: Yeh!
Filippo exits slowly. Richard looks at Catherine.
Richard: You too, Catherine. Go on. Leave me. I want to be alone.
Catherine: I will not abandon you.
She exits. Richard walks in circles. He bumps into Lou Birkanian.
Richard: What are you doing here? I told everyone to leave.
Lou Birkanian: I know.
Richard: What do you want, Lou Birkanian?
Lou Birkanian: I want to tell you a story.
Richard: No.
Lou Birkanian: A totally new story.
Richard: I do not want to hear your stories anymore. They have poisoned my life. And my father’s. And everyone’s. Why don’t you tell them to Roy Williams? Why don’t you poison him too?
Lou Birkanian: I tried. But I failed. It happens.
Richard: He was too strong for you?
Lou Birkanian: Too different. Different from the rest of you. But you, listen to me. In the city of the king of kings, in the heart of the mountains of Abyssinia, there was a man…
Richard: No!
He runs away abruptly.
Lou Birkanian: And I am left with my story in my throat. It’s unpleasant. It’s unhealthy. Is there no one who wants to listen to me? No one? Hey, the rest of you, all around, no one wants to hear my stories any more? What will become of me then, eh? What will become of me?
Magnesium flash.
Claire: Don’t move Lou Birkanian. You’re great, just the way you are.
Magnesium flash.
Lou Birkanian: I don’t like that, my little girl. I don’t like that one bit. Leave me.
Claire: Again! Again! That was good. It’s terrific.
Magnesium flash. Lou Birkanian wants to run away.
Lou Birkanian: That frightens me. Stop.
Claire: No, you’re good. You’re splendid. You are the most beautiful. You are sublime. (Flash.)
Lou Birkanian: That hurts my eyes.
Claire: Ah! Ah! Bravo! Who! You look like a queen.
Lou Birkanian: That will make me die.
Claire: Don’t go away, Lou Birkanian, don’t go away. You are the greatest woman in the world.
Lou Birkanian: (While disappearing.) I am dead. Dead. Dead.
Claire is alone. She tampers with her camera.
Claire: I wonder if I should have used my Rolleyflex Nc1000-82Z.
She exits.
7
In Varincourt. Annie Williams is alone. She is peeling cucumbers. She cuts them with a chopper. She sings. Richard enters in full court costume, bearing the crown and the scepter.
Annie: O Majesty, you have caught me unawares doing housework! Excuse me. I do not know how best to acknowledge the great honor you give me. Sorry, my hands are all wet. And in this outfit! In slippers. O My God! My God! Ah! I am so distraught, Sire.
Richard: Countess, do not trouble yourself. Do not be so moved.
Annie: But I am, Majesty. Think of it. King Richard, my King! In this place. Unexpectedly! At eleven o’clock in the morning, while I’m making lunch! A seasonal salad with simples, following the vegetarian precepts of the herbalist of the court. And you, Sire, in all your glory, in your great state regalia, and with the crown and the scepter!
Richard: I have just come from inaugurating the new premises of the Association of Firefighter’s Widows. You know … the duties of my office!
Annie: And you take the trouble to visit me! To me who is neither a widow, nor a fireman, nor anything of that sort! Only a lady of your court…
Richard: I was in the vicinity. I wanted to take advantage of it to see again this property of Varincourt which is, as you well know, crown land...
Annie: …and of which you have deigned to make my residence in the absence of your chamberlain. Be assured, Sire, that by enjoying it as you see, I maintain it appropriately.
Richard: Madam, I have not come here to verify what use you make of the amenities of my domain and its cucumber garden. Only that, amidst the turmoil of public office, it is fitting that a king should sometime recollect that he is also a man and grant himself a bit of leisure.
He takes off his coat
Annie: Excuse me, your Highness! I don’t have a hanger handy. I'll look for some in the closet.
Richard: No, do not bother yourself, Countess. I'll just drop to the ground these emblems of my power, in a simple gesture of which historians will one day write.
He throws his coat, the crown and the scepter on the ground.
Annie: Now That's too bad, sire! Squandering your clothes like that. Let me at least hang up your coat by the hearth.
With a gesture, Richard interrupts her movement
Richard: Annie, I am in a mess.
Long Silence.
Annie: Finally! It had to happen to you like everybody else. You're getting old, cripple, that's all.
Richard: Shove me not, I'm all broken up.
Annie: And you want me to fix your stuff. Why did you come to see me?
Richard: I thought you'd understand me.
Annie: Of course, I understand you! I understand you even better than you do yourself. I know what it’s like to sbe down on the ground, all broken, up among the smashed beer bottles and the sawdust. Drunks stepping all over you while dragging their feet. I knew that, Richard, thanks to you. So, if it is my experience you come seeking, to feel less alone in the muck, well then take it as my birthday gift. to you. I guess I owe you that much.
Richard: Annie…
Annie: Yes, Richard, yes! And I've been waiting for this day for a long time. It was you who broke me, who threw me in the garbage, do not expect me now to take your hand and murmur: “What’s the matter my big baby, the bad guys gave you a booboo." Do you know who it was gave me the first blow, the first dirty trick? Do you know who it was? Who deflowered me in the spaghetti and the jello, and the pig's knuckles?
Richard: It was Roy who sold you to me.
Annie: It was you who bought me. You know, you belong with each other Roy and you. And you belonged with each other even then, when you threw me in the garbage like a worn slipper. I hate you both. You, Richard, the liar, the perjurer, the impotent. And him, Roy Williams, the seller of meat, my brother.
Richard: I wanted to talk to you about him.
Annie: Sire! Is this a political discussion or a washing of dirty laundry in the family?
Richard: Both, cousin.
Annie: I’m listening. Do you want to put on your regalia back on?
Richard: That’s not necessary.
Annie: Then go ahead! Out with it!
Richard: I gotta get rid of Roy! He’s corrupting the city. His success sets a bad example for my people. He deals directly with foreign powers. He's got the Pope wrapped around his little finger with his shameless blackmail on lamb's meat, threatens Greenland with whom I signed a friendship treaty and has just put Namibia and the Cubans in his pocket. We are going straight to hell. And he doesn't give a shit, so long as he benefits, come what may.
Annie: So?
Richard: Even here, at home, he sucks the energy of the people from the cradle to the grave. He stuffs them with his mass- produced hot dogs and baloneys. Through his finance company he lends them — at usurious rates — the money to buy his poisons. He owns the hospitals that treat the sick, the rights to the music and folk dancing that covers the groans of the dying and the funeral homes that dispatch the dead. He controls both the police and the underworld. He's like generalized gangrene, Annie.
Annie: Continue! I find your analysis quite enlightening.
Richard: It can’t go on any longer! It must be stopped immediately! It's my duty.
Annie: Alright, so kill him!
Richard: That’s the catch. I can’t.
Annie: Why not?
Richard: I am the king, Annie. And not just any king: I'm a civilized king I am not Charlemagne who beheaded Moors all in a line so that those at the tail end could discover the Christian faith, nor that other fucker who set fire to Rome like it was a Bar-B-Q, nor those angels of death with their butt skin lampshades. I am not Westmoreland, king of napalm, or Bokassa with his fridges full of baby meat, or that asshole Barbevitch, prince of the Gulag, or that tyrant of Guatemala. I have an image to preserve. And in our time, image is power. I am better than all those who have preceded me: I am King Richard, KING. And I want to be at least the equal of my namesake. King ! Martin Luther, to his intimate friends, he who succeeded just by taking a walk. I can not go back.
Annie: All right, now! You finished your speech? Where the hell do I fit in?
Richard: I knew I could count on you. Invite Roy to breakfast.
Annie: He won’t want to. We haven’t talked in years.
Richard: Tell him that during your move, you found in a chest an old pack of stock in the gold mines of Father Roberge. That you want to show them to him and so as to not lose too much time you ask him to pass by to have breakfast here.
Annie: And then?
Richard: And then, you pour two three drops of this in his espresso.
He hands her a small bottle.
Annie: And then?
Richard: And then, when it is done, you call me, I will take care of the rest.
Annie: And then?
Richard: A national funeral will be decreed. And I will have Parliament vote you a noble pension as the last representative of the Roberge family. Are you okay with that?
Annie: But… But… But… Listen to me you asshole pansy chicken son of a bitch Christ of Saint crism encased in shit! This is your Martin Luther King, new style! This is our King Richard of punk astronautics! This is our statue of the Parthenon, an image to preserve and to deliver to the veneration of the crowds! I spit on you, cripple! I wish I had between your teeth all the rotten oysters of your national fisheries to vomit in your face.
Richard: Calm down, Annie. You do not know what a reason of state is.
Annie: O and you must certainly know what it is! You must really know it to throw such a bald-faced insult in my face! You thought I was enough of a bitch to take part in your scheme! That’s the last blow, the lowest you could give me. It started in the Larose garden and it ends here in the cucumber patch of Varincourt. I'll tell ya, you lame pig, I'll tell ya straight out: Between Roy and you, I like Roy better! because, Roy, he never cheats. He might kill us all but at least we will know that he's the one killing us and we won't have to raise him a mausoleum on the Acropolis dedicated to the defender of the country. Get the fuck out of here, Richard! Grab your broom, your casserole and your quilt bedcover. Return to your city, limping like a skunk and don’t be surprised if your city stinks of death.
Richard: We can still discuss…
Annie: Go away!
Richard: If you do not do it, she will. Catherine Ragone, the Queen Mother, will do it. She, she will do it and we will return to the middle ages. That will be the end of the city.
Annie: I don’t care! Out! Out! Out!
She throws the scepter, the crown and the cloak at his head. Richard exits backwards, protecting himself from the blows.
Annie: Woah! That felt good. At one stroke, twenty years of my life are discharged. Ah! the great air, the countryside, the birds, the cucumber salad, love! Oh, the hate! (It bursts into sobs, irritation and rage. In her tears, she mumbles.) I am ashamed… I am ashamed… I will warn Roy Williams… After all, he’s my brother, my family! All the blood of the world… Decaying.
She exits carrying her plate of cucumbers. We hear again the premonitory gun shot.
8
The Ragone Palace. Catherine Ragone enters followed by Ferdinand.
Catherine: There you are! All is said, Ferdinand. You see that it was not so difficult to understand each other. Believe me, you’re making a good deal.
Ferdinand: Sure!
Catherine: Don’t be late tomorrow morning. Set your alarm.
Ferdinand: I’m always on time.
Catherine: I know, you have been well schooled. At the school of Roy Williams.
Ferdinand: He is very demanding.
Catherine: He is? You are quick to change your way of speaking.
Ferdinand: For me, it’s as if it was already done.
Catherine: Bravo!
Ferdinand: And the titles?
Catherine: You don’t want to leave here without having them in your pockets?
Ferdinand: I must have something against you in case you try to double cross me.
Catherine: You are marvelous, Ferdinand! With you everything is clear, all the cards on the table. This is also Roy's teaching.
Ferdinand: He taught me everything. (She whistles with a cop whistle. Ferdinand readies himself by pulling out a revolver.) What is this? What are you doing? (Catherine Ragone bursts into laughter.)
Catherine: Come on, come on, dear associate, steady your kitchenware! I’m calling two witnesses. I expected you not to trust me.
Ferdinand: I do not like that there are other people in this affair. I only want the titles.
Catherine: Ferdinand, you’re going to have to change your style. After today, you become an official of the court.
The Archbishop of Canterbury and Filippo Ragone in his chair enter. A page also arrives pushing a small table with four champagne goblets and a bottle in a silver bucket
Catherine: Gentlemen, I present to you our new cousin the Archduke Ferdinand. From tomorrow night he will take over the senior management of the auriferous operations.
Ferdinand: What’s that? Gold mines?
Catherine: Exactly! And he will be part of our Treasury Board. Archduke Ferdinand may I present to you the Archbishop of Canterbury, my councilor on commercial affairs and also my confessor. (The two men greet each other.) And this is my noble father, Filippo Ragone called the Moron, guarantor of the immortality of our house and the firmness of its commitments.
Filippo Ragone: (hilarious) Yeh!
Ferdinand: Hey old man!
The page that was uncorking the champagne lets the cork pop. Ferdinand, again, pulls out his revolver
Catherine: Calm, calm, Archduke! This palace is yours now, you have nothing to fear. (To the page.) Leave us, Romuald, I will do the serving my self. (the page exits.) Archbishop, please read aloud the ruling which confirms our cousin Ferdinand in his new functions, as well as the papal bull which makes him who makes him Archduke of St. Stephanie-in-the-fields.
Ferdinand snatches the two documents from the hands of the archbishop.
Ferdinand: Don't bother, comrade. I will examine these papers by myself, with a magnifying glass, as Roy used to say.
We hear a noise. Roy Williams enters quickly.
Catherine: Roy Williams, what makes you so bold as to come and disturb the calm of the royal palace? Guards!
Roy: Shut up! The guards are asleep, their eyes are rolling in their heads. (To Ferdinand.) What are you doing here bud?
Ferdinand: Roy…
Roy: “Roy”, what? Imbecile! I know everything, my sister Annie told me it all. I know the plots that you’re weaving against me. Do you take me for a child?
Ferdinand: Never, Roy! It's a misunderstanding.
Roy snatches the papers from Ferdinand’s hands.
Roy: A fucking misunderstanding! (He reads the first one quickly.) Motherfucker! You an Archduke! You! You’ve never looked at yourself in the mirror. Archduke! Arch-motherfucker, yes! Arch-asshole! (He reads the second one.) Now this, this is more serious. Come here you!
In one moment, on one side, Roy plunges his hand into Ferdinand’s jacket and pulls out the revolver, and on the other, Filippo Ragone pulls out his switchblade and passes it to Catherine. Roy turns the revolver on Ferdinand
Ferdinand: Roy, you can’t do that! Let me explain. The Queen Mother invited me to become part of the Treasury Board. I believed that would be useful to our business.
Roy: Don’t say another word, Judas!
Ferdinand: No! Roy. Don’t do it!
Suddenly, Catherine Ragone plunges the knife in Roy Williams' back. He staggers. Catherine stabs him repeatedly: blood spurts.
Roy: That was not planned in the program! Must have mis-calculated. I lost.
Ferdinand: Kill me Roy! Kill me too! I betrayed you. I am not worthy of living. You taught me everything. You are my father.
The Archbishop of Canterbury rushes on Roy's revolver and holds it awkwardly, threatening Roy and Ferdinand.
Catherine: Get out of here, Archbishop! You will hear me in confession tomorrow. At the Celestine cloister.
The Archbishop exits.
Roy: Basically, it's better like this. The quick cut. All or nothing. Nothing. I salute you, Catherine, full of grace. The fruit of thy womb is with thee until the day of thy death. Fini. (He dies.)
Ferdinand: (In tears.) There is no one in the world that I loved as much as him.
Catherine: Ferdinand, lug the guts into the neighboring room. We have to clean up.
Ferdinand takes the corpse of Roy, with tears, and carries it out.
Ferdinand: I would never have been able to kill you! I didn’t know it. I wasn’t able.
He exits. Catherine closes the knife and gives it to Filippo Ragone.
Catherine: Thanks, daddy! You who understand nothing, you the moron, the vegetable, the vase, you got pretty good timing. In the end, you are always there when there's blood and death, eh? As always.
Filippo Ragone: Yeh!
Catherine: Would you like a little glass of champagne?
Filippo Ragone: Yeh!
Catherine fills three goblets, gives one to Filippo, takes one in hand, pours into the third the contents of a small bottle that she has taken out of her pocket.
Catherine: Lucretia Borgia follows her destiny. We must make a clean slate of the royal palace. Ferdinand! (Ferdinand reappears, haggard. Catherine gives him the poisoned goblet.) Here, Ferdinand! Time to get over it. (Ferdinand takes the goblet.) I raise my glass to our cousin Ferdinand, chief auditor to the treasury board, Archduke of Sainte-Stephanie-in-the-fields, grand master of public works.
The three drink. Ferdinand, very quickly, sways. He understands.
Ferdinand: No, it's not possible, I…
Catherine takes his hand and embraces him, leads him through figures of a courtly dance.
Catherine: Yes, my dear friend! I take you by the hand. Go join your "father" in the neighboring room! The valets of the Borgia will take care of your mortal remains.
They go out. We hear Ferdinand crying: "I do not understand", then the sound of Ferdinand's glass breaking. Filippo Ragone remains alone.
Filippo Ragone: Me, I don't want to say anything, anymore! Not a word! Not one!
He wheels himself off. The page enters, drinks the rest of the champagne and exits very merry singing a jig and pushing off the rolling table.
9
A remote location. In the woods. Richard enters.
Richard: I am lost in the woods… I am alone, it is too dark. Hullo! ho! I say, you man! ho! my good fellow! friend, a word with you pray!
Enter a beggar who resembles, feature by feature, King Richard. He wears a ragged coat, but it's a Richard's coat.
Richard: Teach me a little, the way that leads to the city of King Richard.
Beggar: You have only to follow this road, sir, and turn aside when you are at the end of the forest. But I give you a warning that you must be on your guard and that for some time there are thieves around here.
Richard: I am very obliged, my friend, and I thank you with all my heart.
He embraces him.
Beggar: If you wish, sir, to rescue me with some alms…
Richard: Aha! Your advice is interested I see!
Beggar: I’m a poor man, sir, retired alone in this wood for ten years and I will not fail to pray to Heaven that it gives you all kinds of goods.
Richard: Eh, pray to give you a coat without worrying about the affairs of others! What is your occupation among these trees?
Beggar: To pray to Heaven all day for the prosperity of good people who give me something.
Richard: You're pretty well off, then?
Beggar: Alas, sir, I am in the greatest need of the world.
Richard: You make fun! A man who prays to heaven all day can’t fail to do well in his affairs.
Beggar: I assure you, sir, that most often I do not have a piece of bread, to eat.
Richard: This is strange, your assiduity is ill rewarded. Ha, ha! I am going to give you directly a piece of gold, provided you swear a round oath.
Beggar: Ah! Sir, would you want me to commit such a sin?
Richard: Will you gain a piece of gold? yes or no? Here is one for you, if you swear. There: now swear
Beggar: Sir …
Richard: Unless you swear, you shall not get it. Take it; here it is; take it, I tell you; but swear.
Beggar: No Sir! I would rather to die of hunger.
Richard: There, there! I give it you for the love of mankind.
He exits. The poor man picks up the pieces of gold. He watches the disappearing Richard Premier.
Beggar: Poor Richard! Once more entangled in his own gestures! He'll never escape. It only remains for him to return to his mother. Me, I'm gonna get shitfaced. After all, I got me some cash.
He exits, laughing.
10
On top of the Empire State Building. Catherine Ragone and Claire Premier enter. It’s windy. Claire has a large white robe that Futters wildly.
Catherine: You like it?
Claire: It’s sensational!
She takes pictures of the city.
Catherine: You never came up here before?
Claire: No way! I guess it's like the Eiffel Tower or the Christ of Rio de Janeiro. The people who live there never go. It doesn’t even occur to them. They leave that to the tourists. You had a great idea, grandmother!
Catherine: Don’t call me grandmother, it upsets me!
Claire: Well, aren’t you my grandmother?
Catherine: I know that I'm your grandmother, but that's no reason.
Claire: There aren’t even any birds. It's too high.
Catherine: Yep.
Claire: It seems that buildings like this are earthquake proof. It can’t fall.
Catherine: Yes, it’s built for it.
Claire: That’s fantastic!
Catherine: Claire…
Claire: Yes… Catherine.
Catherine: I would like you to leave me alone for a bit. Can you wait for me down below?
Claire: (Bursts out laughing.) Ah! Ah! What are you going to do, meditate?
Catherine: Something like that.
Claire: Let me take a last picture. You're so beautiful with the wind in your hair.
Catherine: O.K.!
All of a sudden, Catherine stands up and plays with extraordinary poise the role of a top-model taking all possible poses, from that of great lady contemplating the universe to that of lowest whore. She and Claire make up a dazzling pair. They laugh, run, turn on themselves, press against each other. Claire makes love with her camera. Moaning like cats in heat, they end up rolling on the ground. Rubbing sensuously against each other, Catherine's legs knotted behind her grand-daughter's back, Claire takes a final shot of Catherine's ecstatic expression. Richard Premier enters, witnesses the tableau.
Richard: What’s this?
Claire: Oh! Papa, you were there? I've just done a tremendous shoot with Catherine.
Richard: Leave me, I have to speak with your grandmother.
Catherine releases an immense groan of orgasm.
Claire: I’ll wait for you below. Don’t do anything stupid!
She exits laughing, all excited. Catherine is stretched on the ground. She catches her breath.
Richard: The funeral procession of Roy Williams crossed the streets of the city to the sound of the drums. I myself led the national funerals decreed by the parliament. I made a great speech. I was touched. And here we are both at the top of the highest edifice of our kingdom.
Catherine: (Still languid.) “Our” kingdom?
Richard: I am king Richard Premier. I have always existed. The blowing wind carries my germs to the four corners of the world. To the north, the south, the west, the east, from this central point that I occupy, my power extends, branches and holds the universe in its net. I own it. At last I possess the gold mines of the old man Roberge and the factory that makes hot dogs and baloneys of all kinds. My fleets control the seas. My satellites occupy the sidereal space. The caribou, the muskrat and the kangaroo come and lick my fingers. The Gulf Stream caresses my sides and warms my skin. The sun no longer outshines sun king Richard: I harness its power and store it in the armored reservoirs of my power stations. And all the people, all these humans that appear more and more like ants and indistinguishable from one another as I watch them from so far above that they can no longer hear my voice, no longer see my face, no longer know my name nor my origin. Yet they order and align themselves and work according to my decrees. Ah! So that was the great secret: the altitude, the distance, the anonymity of power: its solitude. I float in a glass bubble at the very edge of the stratosphere. I am as transparent as the ether that envelops me. My work is completed.
Catherine: Don’t exaggerate, kid, you have one thing left to do.
She hands him the revolver. Richard takes it.
Richard: I can do it. Now I can do it. Nothing can stop me.
Catherine: So go ahead, baby.
He fires the shot that has been heard since the beginning of the play. Catherine's dress is splashed with blood. She dies.
Richard: (shouting) Finally it’s done! I am the king! The reign of Catherine Ragone is ended. My mother's belly bleeds for the last time. I am eternal. Long live forever King Richard!
The wind is blowing. Gradually we hear barbaric rhythms which rise from everywhere. The horde of Moses enters from all corners of the room. It carries standards made of the dried skins of men and women, weapons of all kinds, gleaming costumes, naked people. Everyone screams but without hatred. The circle tightens.
Richard: Hey! What is this? What are you doing here? I’m at the top of the Empire State Building. You can’t reach me. You have no ladders, and I blocked the elevators. I closed all the doors. It’s against Newtonian physics, Euclidian geometry. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. You are all ants without faces. Go away, Gorgons, Furies. I don’t want to see your eyes. I am at the top of my highest tower. I no longer have vertigo. There are no serpents hissing above my head. I recognize myself: I live, I exist, I am.
There is silence while Moses bends his bow. Then we see a series of projected images. #1. Moses with his bow fully bent. Gasping of the crowd. Blackout. Silence. #2. Richard with an arrow in his heart. Cries of the crowd. Blackout. Silence. #3. The horde brandishing its trophies. Howls. Blackout. Silence. #4. Richard on his knees, his hands on the arrow. The daughter of Leila, close to him, begins to sing. Blackout. Silence. #5. Richard dying, head on the knees of Leila's daughter. Song of the whole horde. Blackout. Silence. #6. Richard dead. The blind monk is behind him. Pause. End of song. Blackout. Silence.
The End
