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The Plot to Kidnap Stonehenge By Corey Mesler
Randolph -- Good morning, Sir. Merlin -- Morning? Hmph, is it? Randolph -- Indeed, Sir. Merlin -- Breakfast then. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Soft-boiled quail eggs, dry toast, a banger. Merlin -- Quite. Randolph -- I’ll let you eat in peace. Merlin -- Wait, Randolph. Mm, this quail’s egg…um, tell me, what’s on the agenda today? Randolph -- Full day, as usual. Perhaps more so than yesterday or tomorrow, as the case may be. Merlin -- This living backwards. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Merlin -- What’s up first? Randolph -- Let’s see (rattling pages)…9 a.m., the King’s mandolin lesson. Merlin -- Poor Wart. He’s horrible, of course. Well, that shouldn’t take long. He gets frustrated quickly, smashes instrument and we have to send for another. Ok. Then? Randolph -- You have an eleven o’clock with Mordred, Sir. Merlin -- Oh, hell. That little eelshit. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Merlin -- Do you have any idea what that’s about? Randolph -- No, Sir. No idea. He seemed quite hot to see you. Merlin -- Of course, he did. Why doesn’t he take this up with Wart, er, Arthur? I’m not the fucking king. Randolph -- No, Sir. Merlin -- He’s afraid of Arthur, of course. Randolph -- So it seems. Merlin -- Well, see if we can wiggle out of that one, eh? Randolph -- Um, yes, Sir. Merlin -- Problem? Randolph -- Mr. Mordred, Sir. He can be so unpleasant. Merlin -- Oh, fire and damnation. All right. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Merlin -- What else? Give me something to look forward to today, Randolph. Mm, this banger is especially succulent. Randolph -- There’s Guinevere at 1, Sir. Merlin -- Ah. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Merlin -- She is one spicy little queen, isn’t she, Randolph? Randolph -- I’ve heard tell, Sir. Merlin -- A regular nymphomaniac. Randolph -- I cannot speak so plain, of course. Merlin -- Just between us, eh? Randolph? Have you ever seen a better ass? Randolph -- (blushing) No, Sir. No, I haven’t. Merlin -- She fucks like a wild animal, Randolph. Randolph -- Indeed, Sir? Merlin -- Gets on you and moves that great behind around. Ah. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Merlin -- Well, that’s something to look forward to anyway. Lancelot must be away? Randolph -- No, Sir. He’s about. Merlin -- And she still wants Old Merlin, eh? That little minx. Randolph -- Yes, Sir.
***
Merlin -- Come in, Mordred. How are things in Cornwall? Mordred -- (bowing) Quite satisfactory, Merlin. Rain, lots of rain. Merlin -- What is one to do, eh? Everyone talks about the weather -- Mordred -- Of course, you could do something about it. Merlin -- You sweet-talk. Mordred -- Not at all. Merlin -- So, what’s on your nefarious little mind this morning? Why so passionate to see Old Merlin? Mordred -- Off the record? Merlin -- If you wish. Mordred -- I have a plan. A monumental plan. Something that will make Camelot great. Merlin -- Camelot is already great. Mordred -- Well, the word on the street (here, Mordred lays a finger beside his nose) is that the whole Round Table idea is old hat. There’s talk of the Queen’s concupiscence. Many say Arthur isn’t the King he used to be. Merlin -- Blasphemy. Mordred -- Yet, there it is. Covetousness, perhaps, but the word on the street… Merlin -- Right, right. What is this plan? Mordred -- Well. (Mordred moves slightly closer while Merlin unconsciously moves slightly away.) Perhaps you’ve heard of the Irish Giants? Merlin -- So. Mordred -- They’re Giants. And they live in Ireland. Merlin -- Get on with it. Mordred -- Well, word has it that they have built something. Something miraculous, full of marvel and portent. Merlin -- The clock thing. Mordred -- (after a pause) Perhaps. A clock? Perhaps. Merlin -- An astrological clock. Mordred -- You continue to impress. Merlin -- I hear things. Mordred -- This is no ordinary clock. It is mammoth, built of bluestone and hand-carved sarsen-rock. It stands a full ten men high, with lintels weighing 5 tons. Merlin -- Indeed. Well, there are wonders in the world. What has this to do with us, Mordred? (Merlin is impatient thinking of the afternoon tryst with the Queen.) Mordred -- We can make it ours. Merlin -- (Surprisingly taken aback) Ours? Well, that wouldn’t sit well with the fucking Giants, would it? Mordred -- They wouldn’t know what him them. You spirit it away. Whoosh! You can do it, Merlin, only you can do it. Merlin (hand to chin, rubbing furiously) -- As much as it pains me to say this, I’m interested in what you propose, Mordred. Mordred -- Thank you, Sir. It will be greater, more mystifying than your Cerne Abbas Giant. Merlin -- A good jape, that. Mordred -- That it is. Merlin -- Fucking Giants, eh? What? Mordred -- Exactly. Merlin -- Where would we put the damn thing? Mordred -- Well, there’s this nice space on Salisbury Plain. Lots of ground, slight promontory, nice long path for an entranceway. Some shrubbery. Merlin -- Salisbury, yes. Yes, that might work. Mordred -- Thank you, Sir. Merlin -- What’s in it for you, Mordred? Mordred -- The pride of Camelot. Merlin -- Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Mordred -- Well, I would want a finder’s fee. Merlin -- Ah.
***
Merlin -- My Queen. Guinevere -- Are we alone? Merlin -- Quite, my Queen. Guinevere -- Ok, drop the “My Queen” crap and undo that robe. Merlin -- You little minx. (He opens his voluminous gown.) Where is Lancelot? Guinevere -- Jealousy doesn’t become you, my Naked Necromancer. Merlin -- It’s only that, well, never mind. Guinevere -- Never mind, indeed. That’s quite a stout birch-branch, you’ve got there, Magician. Merlin -- You’ve never complained before. Unclothe thyself, my dear. Guinevere -- Make yourself young first. Merlin -- Oh, stuff and incense. Here then. Guinevere -- Yipes. I love those pecs, my Lothario. (She slips out of her silks.) Merlin -- And you turn around and let me see it. The Royal Rear. Guinevere -- You rascally conjurer. (She turns and bends slightly at the waist.) Here ‘tis. Merlin -- Holy cats, My Queen. That is a formidable fundament. Guinevere -- And that is a thick staff. Is it legerdemain or tribute to my pallid backside? Merlin -- . Ah, Guin. It’s all for you, my pretty. As round as Norval’s shield, as white as Albion moonlight, as alabastrine as the cliffs of Dover. Guinevere -- Flatterer. Bring that bludgeon here. Afterwards Guinevere -- Ah, Merlin, no one quite fucks like an archimage. Merlin -- You’re not bad yourself, Toots. Guinevere -- That part where you turned briefly into a bull. Merlin -- Unintentional. Guinevere -- Inspired. Merlin -- Thank you. Guinevere -- Now, my horny magus. What is this I hear about a granite moon-mirror? Merlin -- Bah! Are there no secrets in Camelot?
*** Randolph -- Good morning, Sir. Merlin -- Morning? Mmmph. What day is it? Randolph -- Thursday. Merlin -- Thursday. (He shakes his hoary head.) What happened to Friday? Randolph -- You slept through it, Sir. Merlin -- Indeed. It’s very confusing. Randolph -- It is. You were powerful tired, my Lord. Merlin -- Indeed, I was. Randolph -- Well, anyway, Sir. Light schedule today. Merlin -- Fine, fine. Randolph -- The King at 10. He wants to congratulate you on the piece of art you erected on Salisbury Plain. Merlin -- It’s not a fucking piece of art. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Merlin -- It’s a timepiece. An astrological wonderment -- oh, never mind. If you have to explain magic it loses its, its… Randolph -- Luster, Sir? Merlin -- Precisely. Randolph -- At any rate, it is the talk of the town, Sir. Merlin -- Well and good. Randolph -- Mordred is taking credit left and right for it, of course. Merlin -- I’m going to change that turncoat into a stoat. Randolph -- Quite right, Sir. Merlin -- After all is said and done, we have it now, don’t we? It’s ours. It’s Britain’s. Randolph -- Rightfully so, Sir. Merlin -- Can’t help feeling a little guilty over the Irish though. Randolph -- Send them some rainbows, Sir. Merlin -- Randolph, you have a keen grasp of International Politics. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Merlin -- And it’s popular, eh? Randolph -- Quite. I hear the tourist trade is up 37% in just one week. There’s talk of an inn, a roadway, and a couple of food stands. Merlin -- Good, good. An unequivocal hit, then. Randolph -- Ye-es. Merlin -- You seem hesitant. Randolph -- There was a suggestion about the entranceway, lining it with topiary in the shapes of the Twelve. Merlin -- Inappropriate. Randolph -- Yes, and, well the name, Sir? Merlin -- Yes. Randolph -- Some people want to call it something else. Woodhenge was such a bust; there’s talk that we need a catchier moniker for this one. Merlin -- Hm. I’ll think on it, Randolph. Randolph -- Quite right, Sir. Merlin -- Anything else? Randolph -- I hesitate to mention it, Sir. Merlin -- Randolph. Randolph -- Well, the blood sacrifices, Sir. Some people are taking exception to them. Merlin -- Nitpickers. Randolph -- Yes, Sir. There’s also talk about Avebury wanting one, too. Merlin -- Imitation is the sincerest form, eh, Randolph? Randolph -- Quite, Sir. Merlin -- (striking his forehead) The Giant’s Dance! Randolph -- Sir? Merlin -- For the name. Randolph -- Ah. Quite euphonious. Merlin -- Oh, and Randolph, is the Queen about? Randolph -- Yes, Sir. Merlin -- Can we squeeze her in before the King? Randolph -- (allowing himself a small smile) I believe so, Sir. Merlin -- Tell her I am ready to show her the Bull again. Randolph -- The Bull, sir? Merlin -- She’ll understand. The Bull, Randolph. Randolph -- Yes, sir.
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