Collaborators (3 page)

Doctor
Like writing plays! Tell me – have you ever used morphine? Personally, I mean.

Bulgakov
Why?

Doctor
Why not? A lot of doctors do. Stress. Fatigue. Loneliness. You wouldn't be the first, I can tell you.

Yelena
That's all in the past.

Doctor
Of course. Ever had high blood pressure before?

Bulgakov
No.

Yelena
Is it high now?

Doctor
Now please – your arm.

Then he produces what he needs from his bag.

He ties a tourniquet around Bulgakov's arm.

Enter a man in seventeenth-century French costume.

This is Molière.

The Doctor screws a needle on to his glass syringe.

He starts to take blood from Bulgakov.

Enter a Chorus of grotesque masked Doctors and Apothecaries brandishing huge syringes and knives.

The comic awarding of a diploma.

Chorus
Bene, bene, bene, respondere / Dignus est intrare / in nostro corpore . . .

Molière
Clisterum donare / Postea bleedare
/ afterwards . . .
purgare
.

Chorus
Bene, bene, bene, respondere /
Dignus est intrare
/
in nostro corpore
. . .

Molière collapses. He cries out, staggers, and falls.

Molière
Help me! Help me!

He falls on to the bed and dies.

The Doctor has completed the taking of blood from Bulgakov.

Doctor
Come back next week. And if you do happen to bump into that actress . . .

He taps his teeth.

Yelena
Doctor –

Doctor
Good day, Madame!

Exit the Doctor.

Another masked character, Lagrange, steps forward from the Chorus.

Lagrange
This day, while playing the role of Argon, Molière has collapsed on stage and was taken, unshriven, by the relentless hand of death. For this I shall mark the day with a black cross. What was the cause of it? Why did it happen? How shall I put it? The reason for this was the King's disfavour.

The sound of applause and cheering.

Enter Grigory, clapping and cheering.

Molière, the Chorus, Lagrange pull off masks.

Then they cross to meet Bulgakov and Yelena.

Grigory joins them. He greets one of the actors, Anna, with a kiss.

The mood is celebratory. Mutual congratulation. Champagne is produced.

Enter Vladimir and Stepan. They saunter on, conspicuous but unnoticed in their hats and black leather greatcoats.

Vladimir sits at the table.

Stepan stands back.

They watch the celebrating thespians impassively.

Yelena
Misha – they loved it!

Bulgakov
Do you think?

Yelena
Yes! Of course. It's been worth it, Misha, it's all been worth it.

Bulgakov
Everyone was great. You were wonderful! To my cast!

Anna
To Mikhail!

Bulgakov
To
Molière!

Grigory
To the King!

Bulgakov
To autocracy!

Grigory
Tyranny!

Bulgakov
Tyranny without redress. Where would we be without it?

The joke is appreciated. All toast and the party continues.

Grigory approaches Bulgakov.

Grigory
Well done, Mikhail.

Bulgakov
Thanks, Grigory. Glad you enjoyed it.

Grigory
It's a statement. Man versus monster.

Bulgakov
And the monster wins.

Grigory
But the man never gives in. He dies true to his own beliefs.

Bulgakov
That's what they don't like. They'd sooner you lived than you died free in your own mind.

Grigory
Well, they won't like what I've got for them then.

Bulgakov
Your novel?

Grigory
I've submitted it.

Bulgakov
Be careful now! They'll come back to you: listen, Comrade, this can be published, but you must make some changes, you must extol the virtues of our glorious leaders, display the unlimited happiness and sincere gratitude of the masses, and so on . . . But you take no notice.

Grigory
I stand my ground.

Bulgakov
You wait. You change nothing. You re-submit. If necessary, you re-submit again. You get there, in the end.

Anna approaches.

Anna
The party's moving on –

Grigory
Mikhail?

Yelena
It's been a long day.

Bulgakov
Yelena's right. I'm old, I'm tired, I'll only slow you down.

Yelena and Bulgakov make their goodbyes.

Grigory, Anna, the Chorus, etc., all exit.

Vladimir and Stepan still watch.

The lights fade and Yelena and Bulgakov meander towards the bed in moonlight.

Yelena
I enjoyed it.

Bulgakov
Really?

Yelena
Of course. I'd tell you if I didn't.

Bulgakov
Would you?

Yelena
Yes. I would. I mean not right now, obviously. But . . . eventually.

Bulgakov
You are my most honest critic.

Yelena
And the only one you sleep with. I hope.

They pass the cupboard.

Bulgakov opens it up.

Bulgakov
Goodnight, Sergei!

Sergei
(
from within) Goodnight, Comrades Mr and Mrs Bulgakov!

Bulgakov slides the door shut.

He and Yelena reach the bed.

Yelena drops her coat and pulls off Bulgakov's.

Slowly, she pulls him to the bed.

Yelena
I'm a dictator. I may force you to do certain things.

They lie down in embrace.

Vladimir and Stepan stand up.

Lights fade up slightly. Dawn.

Stepan knocks hard against the table. And again.

Yelena wakes, jumps up and forward, just as Sergei emerges from his cupboard.

Vladimir and Stepan approach.

Yelena
Good morning –

Vladimir
Good morning to you, Madame. We're looking for a Mr Mikhail Bulgakov.

Yelena
May I say who's calling?

Bulgakov approaches.

Bulgakov
What do you want?

Vladimir
We're here to arrest you!

Yelena
Oh my God!

Vladimir
Only joking! I love that one. Always gets a reaction. You must be Yelena. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Vladimir, this is Stepan. NKVD.

He addresses Bulgakov.

We want to talk to you. In private.

Bulgakov
I have no secrets –

Vladimir
– from my wife. That's what every man says. But you'd be surprised. Madame, would you excuse us?

Yelena stays where she is.

Madame?

Yelena
This is my home. My husband. I'm staying exactly where I am.

Vladimir
Please. Otherwise I'll have to make my little joke again. Only this time it won't be funny.

Sergei
Comrade Madame Bulgakov, perhaps you would care to play chess in my room?

Yelena
Why, yes, Sergei, I would be delighted.

She kisses Bulgakov on the cheek and goes into the cupboard.

Sergei follows.

Vladimir
That's your room?

Sergei
It's my cupboard. Well, actually, it's Comrade Madame Bulgakov's cupboard.

Vladimir
That's enough of that!

He slides the door firmly shut.

You approve?

Bulgakov
He's a sweet kid.

Vladimir
Bohemians. Wouldn't happen in my house. What a shitty apartment. How many people do you share with?

Bulgakov
We share with three others.

Vladimir
But you write a lot of letters, complaining –don't you?

Bulgakov says nothing.

Yeah. You never give up.

Bulgakov
What do you want?

Vladimir
We saw the play. Very moving. Molière – playwright, satirist, thorn in the flesh of an oppressive regime – he dies on stage! How fitting. How tragic.

Bulgakov
It's based on truth.

Vladimir
Of course. And is that your dream, Mr Playwright? To emulate your hero. To be a thorn in the flesh of an oppressive regime. To die on stage.

Bulgakov
I have no wish to die anywhere.

Vladimir
Good sense. But you know – you're a lucky guy. That you're not in prison is a miracle. Tell me: when you went to Istanbul, did you meet Trotsky?

Bulgakov
I have never been to Istanbul.

Vladimir
Always difficult to prove a negative.

Bulgakov
In fact, as I'm sure you're aware, I have never left the Soviet Union.

Vladimir
Not for want of thinking about it, eh, Comrade? You write a lot of letters.

Bulgakov
Yes.

Vladimir
You never give up.

Bulgakov
Is that a crime?

Vladimir
Oh, yes! Wonderful! How I love the steamy indignation of a righteous liberal! Go on, tell me, please: it's like living in a police state.

Bulgakov
Are you here to arrest me?

Vladimir
You're a clever guy. But treating us like fools is not clever. Do you think we can't see what the play is about?

Bulgakov
As I say –

Vladimir
– it's based on truth. How long have you been working on it?

Bulgakov
On and off . . . difficult to say, really.

Vladimir
Of course, I appreciate that. But in rehearsal, I mean, how long?

Bulgakov
Well, the play's been scheduled and cancelled so many times –

Vladimir
How long?

Bulgakov
I don't remember.

Vladimir
Three years. Two hundred and ninety-six rehearsals in three years.

Bulgakov
As many as that?

Vladimir
And then – at last – finally – we have the opening night! Must be an incredible experience, after all that time and effort, all that emotional commitment, to finally see it realised upon the stage, and to hear it received with such warmth, such genuine enthusiasm. What an amazing feeling. Like the release of years of tension, the reward for years of hope.

Bulgakov
Something like that.

Vladimir
Well, treasure the memory, sucker, because the first night was also the last.

He lets it sink in.

Now come with us.

Bulgakov
I'll just tell my wife.

Vladimir
No. Come with us.

They walk away.

The cupboard door slides open.

Sergei and Yelena look out.

Sergei
Don't worry, Comrade Madame Bulgakov – I do not believe they will execute him without the formality of a fair trial.

He pulls the door shut.

Vladimir walks and talks with Bulgakov.

Stepan lurks behind.

Vladimir
Stalin's date of birth?

Bulgakov
Twenty-first December 1878.

Vladimir
Good citizen! So, in celebration of his forthcoming sixtieth birthday, what you're going to do – what we respectfully invite you to do – is to write a play about the early life of our great leader, Joseph Visarionovich Dzughashvili, a.k.a. The Vohzhd. It's going to be a surprise!

Bulgakov
I think you want someone else.

Vladimir
Not at all! We want you. You know, you're actually one of his favourites. You wrote that one about the family in Kiev.

Bulgakov
The White Guard.

Vladimir
The White Guard
! He's seen it. Fifteen times. That's how much he likes you. Fifteen! I saw it myself. Counter-revolutionary bullshit, if you ask me. I mean, the heroes are Tsarists – how does that work?

Bulgakov
They convert to Bolshevism.

Vladimir
Oh sure. In the end, they convert. But you can tell their heart isn't in it. Just like I can tell the playwright's heart wasn't in it. But what do I know? The General Secretary likes your style. That's why you've been chosen as his birthday surprise.

Bulgakov
I cannot write a play about Stalin!

Vladimir
Why not?

Bulgakov
I have just been informed that my work is banned!

Vladimir
I know. I was there. I spoke the words.

Bulgakov
Don't you realise what that means to me?

Vladimir
Yes. A gap in your schedule.