CHARACTERS IN SCENE:
KNIGHT 3: Knight of Medi.
MEDI: King of Medi.
ARMENIA: Princess of Medi, disguised as a servant of Albion, Arthur.
PRINCE: Prince of Medi.
KNIGHT 1: Knight of Medi.
A heath between Bors and Medi’s lands.
Medi has made camp to prepare for battle.
Enter Medi, Knight 3 and Attendant 3
Knight 3: The men are lining up ‘gainst border, my king.
Medi: And I can tell already that fools will not have done so with proper fruition. Attendant.
(Attendant 3 bows)
Well, have you no words for your king, fool?
(Attendant 3 shakes head)
Such impertinence. Knight, you will see to it that he is properly punished.
Knight 3: I believe, sire, that this is the attendant that hath lost his tongue to your regal fist.
Medi: It matters not. My regal fist shall still strike again for his lack of words.
Knight 3: That does not seem quite fair, my regal king.
Medi: And what are you to know? You are a fool protecting more fools and nothing more. I am king. Now, I away to the front—come knight. Attendant shall be punished when I return, until then, stupid boy, polish the camp and make it shine with the might of Medi. That shall show Bors the might of gods. He shall ne’er try to go ‘gainst my kingdom again.
(Exit Knight 3 and Medi. Attendant 3 grabs shoes and sits down to clean them. Enter Armenia, still disguised as Arthur)
Armenia: (aside) Ah, I have found a new goose to pluck. Arthur, set to your business.
What ho, servant of Medi, you slump to the ground like a freshly cockled rooster. Why, is your cockscomb crooked?
(Attendant 3 puts down shoes)
Of course, you are thou who has’t lost his tongue to that hateful king. Thy tongue had power, just as mine tongue holds power also. We should count his attacks towards them as blessing, for we know that he fears us. He knows that in battle there is nothing more powerful than the tongue of reason and knowledge. Why, if we were to face him one on one, without his hold upon sword or shield he would see our power as great as it is. Yes, ‘tis true that I have served Medi many a time in my stay, but what was I to do ‘gainst the sword and shield? Why, even crown protects the hollow egg underneath it. You do not believe me? Why, what for? Am I not of Albion, am I not of attendants and servants, or the fools that Medi professes come from all places of the globe aside from his bedchambers?
(Attendant 3 stands and shakes Armenia’s hand)
Isn’t it strange what we are left with when we lose our only power? I cannot help but wonder what Medi, or in fact Bors of Albion, would be left with if they were to lose their only power. After all, they are only men, are they not? And we are so much more. We have learned our trade. And yes, just as they, we have followed many generations of our business. What do they learn away from their kin that we have not learned from our own? Yes, if we could only show what we have learned and what power we have left, despite their need to get rid of what they hold to be our only ones. We would reclaim our fool’s prowess and join the gods and goddesses up high.
Still, I suppose, protecting our kin now, protecting our heir, shall serve as much power as we can show. I hope all is well for you, attendant. I must go, inform the half of army that has’t followed behind me, to follow the fool to the battlefield. In glory, he shall, is that not so?
(Exit Armenia. Attendant 3 sits, more contemplative than before, and continues cleaning shoes. Enter Prince)
Prince: Silent Attendant, is’t that you? You who have been punished by power and have ruined no royals?
(Attendant 3 nods and stands, happy to see Prince)
Has’t my father arrived with you? What is his plan? No, of course, you cannot speak. Oh, if only you could, attendant. I could believe what you say, foolish or no. I must speak with my father. He has wronged Albion and he has wronged Prince by doing so. I cannot stand for more wrongs. There is only so much that Prince can right afore he is stopped in his good deeds. Where is he, attendant? You can at least inform me that. Come, small shield, help thy sword.
(Attendant 3 considers and points offstage)
Very well. I must be brave. No more dreams, only war of words.
(Prince exits and immediately comes back on, walking backwards. Enter Medi and Knight 3)
Medi: Look’est what the storm have brought, an Albion Prince. Tis good, you have left them. You have finally seen the falseness and fables of that hateful kingdom, I suppose. You have seen their weakness and false promises. The facts that they try to hide from their people. And that witch—that witch and her wicked words. Her foolish folly was only meant to last so long, just as is the case with Bors.
Prince: I have done no such thing, father. I am man, I am power. I have come to reclaim Medi’s forces, to stop you afore you wrong anymore of Albion. You must let them live their own lives. And as for the witch, she is not such a thing. She is my Lia, and you offended my honour by taking the diamonds from her face and leaving with her only the darkness that you perpetually enforce upon yourself.
Medi: You—You dare say such things ‘gainst your king?
Prince: Not I. I speak to the father that I hold dear to my heart. The king has ne’er meant anything to me.
Medi: Thy dreams are rampant in thy mind, foolish boy.
Prince: Aye, proclaim it to all, father. I am fool and I am proud.
Medi: Then you are not mine son.
Prince: I am fool and your son. You are fool also, but the kind that ‘twill ne’er see stars for the life they prosper through. I can see stars and I can see father. You are mine father.
Medi: Nonsense. You are an Albion Fool. You are not even worthy a Medi fool. You shall ne’er rule my kingdom, boy.
Prince: You are correct. I will lead my kingdom, not rule over it.
Medi: Bah, you cannot lead such fools. Not even I, in all my mightiness, can take their foolish whims and put them to genius philosophies. They can only be used. They can only be told. As can you. Go back to Albion, boy, or fight with my fools. You have no other option, fickle dreamer. Fickle Queen.
Prince: You are correct, father. I am like Queen. I am like Mother. You love her the same way you love me, as a provider of an heir to your mind. But my mind does not belong to you, it belongs to Medi—thy kingdom, not thyself.
Medi: Thy kingdom is thyself.
Prince: Thy kingdom stands for every fool that rides around in it. E’ry horse, e’ry field, e’ry farmer… Even an attendant, so small and born to work for someone so big, is worth the kingdom. Fools are our assests, and I am such a fool—not one fool, but many.
Medi: Then I should seek out a non-fool. Seek out a man that is worthy to bear my name. Any husband of Armenia would do.
Prince: So, you t’would take kingdom away from your child’s birth right for the sake of a clone of Medi?
Medi: I should take it from a child of dreams, from a fool, and give it to some worthy mind.
Prince: You cannot do such an act, father. You pretend and hide in vanity, but you love your son. You love your Prince, just as your Prince loves his Princess.
Medi: You believe I would not act on my words? You believe I am such a coward, do you, boy? Let it be known then, in presence of all of you fools. (shouts) I say, let all of my fools of Medi hear this.
(Enter Attendants, Knights and Armenia)
This boy here, he is a pretender to my throne. He belongs to fools, to all those who work towards nothing except pitiful whimpers and dreams. He belongs to you—from Medi’s courts to Albion’s lands—but he dost no longer belong to thy royal family. Instead—let it be known—that the weak- willed Armenia, that vile woman Venus who I believed, and rightly so, to be of no use to you—now she and her husband are to be my heir. And it is this boy—this fool standing before me in riches and splendour—that will be known as the cause of your troubles that will follow my death. He is to be blamed.
Prince: It means nothing. They are the deciders, not Medi’s figurehead.
Medi: Nobody shall dispute me. Only the most foolish of fools would endeavour such an act ‘gainst their god.
Prince: What do you say, my knights? Decide, oh do.
(Silence)
Medi: Now you see, fool. This power you could have, but now you do not. Instead you lead us to war with our allies. You shall forever be remembered, dreamer, in Medi’s fact as the fool who broke friendships and scattered bodies over two lands. I will be sure to curse the witch that stole the boy from me. That shall be my final gift that I give my true Prince—my true son.
Prince: You shall not.
(Prince attacks Medi with sword and Medi fights back with own sword. Sword fight and, eventually, Medi’s sword falls behind him and he ends up on his knees. The Prince towers above, sword at his throat)
You see, father, how they do not come to your aide? They are not fools. They know who they should follow—and it is not I or thy—it is the fools themselves that the fools will follow. They are not fools, they are followers. They are loyalty personified. They are a nation, a country, and a king.
Medi: You have said your case, boy. I shall ne’er hear you. I shall die the victor, die the king. You shall remain the fool who destroyed Medi for the deceitful love of a witch.
Prince: You are wrong on all accounts, father. I shall ne’er destroy you. (Puts sword back in holder). I cannot decide such ends. I did not feel your hand as much as thine own kingdom has’t. You shall stand trial for your actions, and then you shall be forced to hear words—words that you have earned through generations of pain and suffering. The tongue will win through.
Medi: Ha! Fickle Queen.
Prince: I am more than fickle, father. I am my mother. I am my sister and I am my father. But, of most importance, is that I am my people. From Albion to Medi, I am everyone, and everyone is I.
Armenia: (to Attendant 3) The Prince, he passes off duty to words? But, it is something so easily lost to men like us, is it not? We have no words to speak. Prince dost not understand the power we have may be right in front of our eyes.
Medi: You shall’t end this torture, fickle one. Here upon the heath, upon the madness of the grass and the tragedy of the heather, men will die. If not I, then you. If not you, then I.
(Medi rushes at Prince. Prince stands firm, but Medi is stabbed from behind by Attendant 3, with the Prince’s sword. Medi falls to the floor)
Prince: Attendant, why would you do such evil?
Medi: It is the way of fools. When a ruler falls they must fall, or else the fool will fall instead.
(Medi dies)
Knight 3: The king. He is dead.
Knight 2: Is’t it foolish to dance o’er the dead?
Knight 1: It is, and we are not fools. We will mourn him, as is customary.
Prince: Attendant? You did not let words prevail. Why?
(Attendant 3 stares, shocked, at the sword)
Knight 1: Your majesty, what is’t you wish us to do? The knights are entirely at the Prince’s service.
Prince: But, Attendant, you are not evil. You are a good man, you have always been so. Why—why would you have such evil in your eyes?
Knight 3: Your majesty, what is it you wish of us? Shall we attack Albion or no?
Prince: We shall not! We can only take one evil in a lifetime, and my faithful Attendant has’t already committed it. We shall return to Medi, and we shall make him stand trial with our words, not our swords, for his actions towards the king.
(Attendant 3 drops the sword and falls to his knees)
But we shall be fair on him, as it was an anger built up over a lifetime of pain. We shall serve justice where justice is due, but we shall still remember the justice we would have served had we acted on our minds without stopping to think. Knights, clear up camp and take my attendant back to Medi.
Armenia: I am afraid you cannot give such orders, my Prince.
Prince: I will not give you such orders, Arthur. You may return to the safety of Albion. I will understand if that is what you wish.
Armenia: I care not for Albion. I care only for wrongs to be righted, and with that in my mind for the entirety of my stay, I must inform your highness that you are no longer your highness. The king has’t passed the kingdom to thy sister. The Venus of Medi.
Knight 2: ‘Tis true, that was what was said.
Prince: It was not meant, and even if it was so it is the words of a king that were to stand trial. We shall mourn him but his words we will not.
Armenia: In the words of you, Prince, your kingdom chooses for themselves and none of your kingdom argued ‘gainst the proclamation. Which means—Armenia is to rule.
Prince: My sister will understand when she returns.
Armenia: Your sister understands only one such matter and that is the matter of her right of birth—and now her right of mouth.
(takes off Arthur disguise)
And you shall’t find, little brother, that in father’s demise I am now Queen.
Prince: Armenia? You are Arthur?
Armenia: I am, little Prince. I am Arthur, Venus, Armenia—and now I am Medi. Is that not so, fools?
Knight 1: That is correct.
Knight 3: We must honour last words of King.
Knight 2: E’en if I wish not to be so honour bound, I will fight for new Medi.
Armenia: Then, I am gracious to receive crown, for I will continue fight. Our allies have ne’er truly been our allies. They are but men; they are an old notion in a new age—and it is time that old words are sent to stars. The war will continue.
Prince: No, sister, you cannot. This is not you.
Armenia: You are right, boy. I believed I must work for Venus, but I am Venus. I am the new light in the old darkness. It is only right that I move forward and help others do same.
Prince: But, as Arthur, as Arthur, you have been with Lia. You have been with Albion.
Armenia: Dreams are not future. Dreams are but failures. And with that in mind, boy, I give you what the men of skull call quarter. You cans’t return to Albion and fight for old ways, return to your dark-eyed love—that is what I shall give you and them, for I must repay you. My position did depend on your dreamer’s ways.
Prince: You cannot. Armenia—Arthur. I have already lost father, must I also lose friend and sister?
Armenia: That, you have ne’er had. Now go, afore I sway in judgement.
(Exit Prince)
Knight 1: Your majesty, what would you have us do with Medi’s body?
Armenia: He is’t not Medi. Medi is I. I am Venus. And he—he is disposable. Leave him to rot in the heath, the crows shall’t have him for their supper. It should test his godlike ways. Attendant has’t done us great favours and shall’t be rewarded when we return home. Come, we ready for battle. Soon a new world order will begin. A story that shall be dictated by Armenia and her fickle tongue.
(Exeunt)
I have to apologise about the formatting of these plays. Every time I copy them onto the blog the lines move around like crazy as it’s written like poetry and the website doesn’t like it. Hopefully I’ve managed to make it so it’s still readable. We’re getting close to the end. Exciting. Finally the rein of Armenia (the person, not the country) is finally here. I don’t know why I decided to name her Armenia. I think 17 year old me just thought it was a really pretty name– and now I can’t see her as anyone else (the only thing I knew of the country of Armenia at the time was they made some great songs for Eurovision). Tune in next week for another scene of Act 4 of Play On… (read this like an old television announcer to get the full effect).
Signed,
The Literary Onion
The Literary Onion 