The Magnificent Showboats (25 page)

“A classic drama of ancient Earth,” said Zamp. “It is said to have artistic merit.”

“Ha ha! Don’t count on over-subtlety from Waldemar! He searches too anxiously for signs of sedition. Who knows what colors the Magic Loom weaves at this moment?”

The
Star-wisp’s
presentation was no less notable for imaginative structure, technical virtuosity and assiduous attention to detail than that of the
Voyuz.
Again the theme, for Zamp at least, was lost, or at best dimly sensed, in the welter of fantastic spectacle. A bearded skald and his harp sang to a bevy of maidens in the hall of an olden castle. From his instrument fumes of dream-smoke billowed and parted to illustrate episodes from his ballad. In the first scene a band of giants, actually men on stilts, executed an eccentric dance among an orchard of trees with gray and green leaves. Children in the guise of birds sang in the branches and devoured golden fruit.

Another episode began with a pair of children, idly musing, given the free latitude of their wishes by a magic being. The children wished for riches and palaces, and fleet-footed steeds; they wished for strength and power and wisdom. They began to vie and each began to dread the force of the other; the two ended as a pair of demons battling among a group of orbiting worlds, which they seized and hurled at each other. The white demon seized the black demon and thrust his head into a sun … Mists obscured the scene and again the two children lay in the sunlit meadow. They rose to their feet, looked at each other in consternation; while a curtain of shimmering gray-violet gauze dropped in front of them. On the substage below the skald sang on to his earnest young audience.

Gassoon and Zamp returned to
Miraldra’s Enchantment
in disconsolate silence. They went to Gassoon’s office for a dram of spirits and for a period discussed the
Star-wisp
’s presentation. Gassoon grumbled about the technical polish which distinguished the shows aboard both the
Voyuz
and the
Star-wisp
. “In my opinion such fanatic attention to detail denotes an almost ignoble myopia, an unconcern for larger concepts. Except —” Gassoon’s voice trailed off.

Zamp sighed. “I fear that our production may suffer in comparison. Our sets are shabby, our costumes make-shift. The truth of the matter is that we have tried to succeed on the cheap. We have achieved only the slipshod.”

Gassoon, normally abstemious, emptied his glass and poured another dram. “We have no apologies to make,” he stated in a hollow voice. “Our production explores the ultimates of human experience; we have dealt faithfully with a most difficult subject. What if our sets are other than sumptuous, our costumes unconvincing? We are artists, not pedants!”

Zamp said thoughtfully: “King Waldemar is by no means a pedant, but still less an artist, or so I suspect.”

Gassoon glared across the table with cold dislike. “Apollon Zamp, I hold you responsible for the flaws! You have arranged matters so that I am a laughingstock aboard my own ship!”

Zamp held up his hand. “Please be calm, Master Gassoon. We are not defeated yet.”

“I will hear no more! Be so good as to leave my office!”

Instead of returning to his quarters, Zamp went to Damsel Blanche-Aster’s cabin and tapped on the door. Her voice came from within: “Who is it?”

“Apollon Zamp.”

The door opened; Damsel Blanche-Aster looked forth. “What do you want at this late hour?”

“I am worried for your health. I have hardly seen you for days.”

“I am entirely well, thank you.”

“Do you intend to go ashore to pursue your business — whatever it may be?”

“There is no great hurry. I will do what needs to be done after our performance. Goodnight, Master Zamp.” The door closed.

Zamp grimaced and turned away. At the tavern across the esplanade he took a solitary glass of wine and listened to the gossip of the docks. The presentation of the
Star-wisp
was generally considered to exceed that of the
Voyuz
, but in everyone’s opinion the direction of King Waldemar’s judgment was unpredictable.

On the following evening Gassoon at first decided to remain aboard
Miraldra’s Enchantment
, then at the last moment changed his mind and accompanied Zamp to the
Perfumed Oliolus
.

King Waldemar arrived precisely on the hour. He might have used a mask for a face, Zamp reflected: never had his expression altered. As always, he wore the red and gold tabard, the repository of his royal
mana
.

Roald Tush’s presentation was different in both mood and form from either of the previous two, and culminated with a heart-stopping battle between children in red beetle-coats and an army of pallid dwarfs prickling with black horns like sea-urchins. The children had no taste for the battle, but discipline was maintained by ferocious leaders in garments of black and white leather who strode back and forth, urging the shrieking cravens forward with whips.

On the fourth evening Zamp and Gassoon went aboard the enormous
Dellora
. Before the performance one of King Waldemar’s heralds made a most dampening announcement to the effect that King Waldemar, being dissatisfied with those entertainments rendered to date, had added a proviso to the terms of the contest. The winner, as before, would be rewarded, but the company which in King Waldemar’s opinion had offered the poorest spectacle would be adjudged guilty of perpetrating an insolence. The penalties were severe: the ship-master must pay a fine equal to one-tenth the value of his ship; each member of the company, stripped naked, would receive five vigorous strokes of the rattan; the noses of all would be tattooed pale blue.

Whether by reason of the threat or through innate excellence the company of the
Dellora
produced a set of amazing spectacles, both unusual and recondite. A company of punchinellos performed prodigious feats of buffoonery; a company of ecstatically beautiful dancers created a living kaleidoscope, and five magicians displayed a set of illusions which left Zamp in a state of baffled amazement. At the finale a tall screen extended across the stage. Through holes peered faces, some pallid and dreary, some comatose, some smirking, rolling their eyes and wagging their tongues back and forth. Balls of black fluff moved up and down and horizontally across the screen, brushing the faces which thereupon moaned mournful musical tones. From the floor of the stage a black curtain rose; as each face became covered it performed a hideous grimace of despair, then became blank.

Zamp and Gassoon trudged slowly back to
Miraldra’s Enchantment
, each busy with his own speculations. Gassoon managed an overloud laugh. “It is entirely possible that our pessimism is unfounded. Our production, if nothing else, projects an elemental vitality, and after all, why must we minimize the noble poetry, the passion and intensity of our vehicle? I believe that we will win the competition after all! Still we must be vigilant; our worst pitfall is bathos. I am dissatisfied with my costume, for instance. Duncan is kingly, ponderous, profound; a white and blue surcoat conveys an overtone of frivolity. In your turn, you must pitch your voice to a deeper resonance, so that, in the soliloquies, your words can be heard without your seeming to shout out across the audience. I also suggest that the tender caresses between Lord and Lady Macbeth be minimized; we are not celebrating their nuptials in this drama.”

“I will do my best, most certainly,” said Zamp with dignity.

On the fifth evening the company of the
Empyrean Wanderer
presented a vivacious pageant of farce and frivolity. Beautiful maidens bounded from spring-board to spring-board high above the stage carrying hoops of colored lights; to the left of the stage clowns tried to resuscitate four corpses; to the right a timid apprentice sought to shoe a demoniac black horse. A great egg burst open; naked children ran forth trailing colored streamers; a troupe of twenty men and women, dressed to represent various racial types, sang satirical songs relative to each other’s habits. The clowns finally succeeded in their effort; the corpses arose, explained their theories of existence, capered with the clowns, sang comic ballads and jigged off-stage. In the finale a web of pyrotechnics lit the stage; two men in white tights shot from cannons met in the air above mid-stage, clasped each other and swung to safety on a trapeze; satyrs chased the maidens back and forth; the orchestra all the while playing merry quick-steps.

Zamp, peering across the audience, saw King Waldemar’s face soften into a smile, and he muttered an approving comment to one of his attendants.

On the sixth evening Apollon Zamp and his company would present before King Waldemar and the nobility of Mornune the tragic drama
Macbeth
aboard
Miraldra’s Enchantment
.

During the day tension pressed heavy upon the ship. Zamp reviewed the sets, ordered alterations and improvements, rearranged the lighting. Gassoon strode back and forth with white hair askew, making strange gestures, then went into his museum and rummaged about in hope of finding regal adjuncts to his costume. Damsel Blanche-Aster showed no interest in the performance. She came up to the quarterdeck and watched the preparations with an expression of detachment. Gassoon joined her and made a gesture of revulsion toward Zamp. “This fiasco is all his doing! Now we are threatened with fines, confiscation, humiliation and pain! Do you consider this a sensible adventure for persons such as you and me? We will detach ourselves from this idiotic charade on this instant and sail back down the placid Vissel, and at last we will live the life we have planned!”

Damsel Blanche-Aster shook her head. “You would not be allowed to withdraw from the competition. Who knows? Perhaps King Waldemar will be favorably impressed.”

“If only I had resisted the arguments of that charlatan Zamp!” groaned Gassoon and took himself off to his museum.

By mid-afternoon Zamp had worked himself into a state of lethargy. He no longer doubted the outcome of the evening’s program; it was simply inconceivable that his troupe, with its eccentric acting, fallible memories and extraordinary music, should arouse King Waldemar’s enthusiasm.

So passed the afternoon. Phaedra coasted west across a cloudless sky. The lake lay limpid, a blue patina blandly concealing the dark miles below.

The troupe took a late-afternoon meal, then went off to costume themselves. Zamp brushed the velvet of King Waldemar’s throne for the tenth time, cast a despairing glance around the weather-beaten deck, and himself went off to change into costume.

The sun dropped beyond the hills. Daylight failed and the lights of Mornune twinkled up the Myrmont slopes. Aboard
Miraldra’s Enchantment
cressets flared, and presently the first members of the audience sauntered up the gangplank and took their places. Zamp watched through a peephole, and thought that they stared in amusement at the far from splendid appurtenances of the ship.

The audience was in place. Back-stage, tension almost crackled. Damsel Blanche-Aster stood to the side, wearing a gray cape against the evening chill. Gassoon still made last-minute adjustments with his costume and Zamp sent a petulant call into his dressing room urging him to haste. “King Waldemar approaches along the esplanade now!”

“No matter,” said Gassoon. “There is ample time; my entrance is not immediate! What of the witches?”

“They are at hand.”

“Lady Macbeth?”

“Ready.”

“Yourself?”

“Ready.”

“Then there is no difficulty. The orchestra can play a double overture, if necessary.”

“Bah,” muttered Zamp. “Well, we will do what we can.”

King Waldemar boarded the ship and was conducted to his place. Zamp, his costume shrouded in a black cloak, waited a polite moment, then stepped forth upon the stage.

“Tonight, for the pleasure of King Waldemar and his distinguished fellowship, we evoke a presence from the remote past.
Macbeth
is a legend of mediæval Earth; an authentic text somehow found its way to Coble on Surmise Bay and into the wonderful collection of Throdorus Gassoon. When we learned of King Waldemar’s festival, we knew that nothing would serve but a re-creation of this archaic masterpiece!

“Without further ado, we take you across time and space to a ‘desert place’, somewhere in Scotland, where three bearded witches contrive the evil which propels the entire drama.” Zamp bowed and stepped back-stage.

The curtain drew back with a squeak and a rustle.

First Witch
:

When shall we three meet again,

In thunder, lightning or in rain?

Second Witch
:

When the hurly-burly’s done …

Watching through the peephole, Zamp was pleased to note that at the very least King Waldemar’s attention had been captured. He remembered the dilatory Gassoon. Still in his dressing room? But no: Gassoon had come forth, cloaked, booted and cowled, his regality symbolized by a curious old many-pronged head-piece of wood and iron, and Zamp was forced to admit that Gassoon in all aspects projected royal dignity.