The Magnificent Showboats (21 page)

The drama was warmly received, to such an extent that after the final curtain Gassoon was prompted to step out on the stage. “Thank you for your enthusiasm; it is most gratifying. I truly believe that you, the perceptive citizens of this fair town, have fully comprehended what we sought to convey.”

Smilingly Gassoon held up his hand to the shouts from the audience of “Again! Again!”

“Tonight we are tired and must rest, but if there are folk of the town who have missed tonight’s presentation, I see no reason why we should not stage another performance tomorrow morning, before, regretfully, we take our departure from this delightful community!”

At last the audience departed the ship, and Gassoon gratefully counted the proceeds of the evening into his strongbox.

In the morning it seemed as if the town had succumbed to a mood of festival. Children had woven ropes of flax-whisk and bobadil blossoms with which they festooned the vessel: round about, bow to stern, port and starboard; and they wound so much foliage into the stern-wheel that Zamp became concerned that navigation might be impeded.

Gassoon, wearing a festive jacket of maroon welt-cloth over his usual black trousers, exclaimed to Zamp: “At last, what I had almost despaired to find: a truly enthusiastic and whole-hearted community. I laugh to recall your dire forebodings!”

“No doubt,” said Zamp. “Time presses; let us get the performance over and done with.”

An elder of the town approached Gassoon. “Naturally I cannot control the management of your affairs, but last night we spent iron accumulated across several years. We have no more; still —”

Zamp said smoothly: “You may pay in fresh produce and fodder for our beasts.”

The elder scratched his head. “We lack fodder, and as for garden stuffs, would you want to pull the food from the throats of your friends? Let the performance begin! We will worry about prices and profits some other time. Is it after all so important? We are planning a great feast in your honor three days from now. All will provide their best; all will eat and drink their fill. We are ordering in six tuns of mead, shillicks and pechavies to be roasted, loads of sweetmeats: the event will transcend all others in the history of Idanthus!”

Zamp remarked: “Such affairs are expensive; how will you pay if you have spent all your iron?”

“One or another means will surely be found. We consider forthright generosity the prime virtue; at Idanthus no one shirks or holds back what he has. It is mean and niggling for a person to hoard a great store of iron when his friend lacks, or cannot make payment!” For a moment the elder’s eyes flashed and he seemed almost indignant.

“A noble sentiment,” Gassoon remarked thoughtfully.

“In the meantime — on with the performance! Let us enjoy each instant of our all too fugitive lives!”

“Very well,” said Zamp. “One last performance, then we must be on our way, as we have important business elsewhere!”

The elder expressed shock and dismay. “Surely you would not leave us on the eve of the great feast!”

“We have no choice,” said Zamp. “Our business is urgent.”

“Yes,” said Gassoon, “urgent indeed. Very very urgent.”

“This news will sadden everyone,” said the elder. “We had looked forward to enjoying your entire repertory, rather than just the rather melancholy affair of last night.”

“That is the only piece we know,” said Zamp. “We are presenting it again today. The curtain is ready to rise; please be seated.”

Again:
Macbeth
, a production perhaps overly grim for such a merry occasion, especially since Zamp had excised certain of those spectacles introduced for the very purpose of enlivening the drama. The applause of the Idanthans, while hearty and unstinted, lacked the feverish enthusiasm of the night before. At the final curtain Gassoon came forth on the stage.

“We are sorry but now we must leave. Our visit has been all too brief, still —”

From the audience came shouts: “Don’t go, don’t go!” “You must stay and entertain us always!” “Another performance; play us another piece from your vast repertory!”

Gassoon smiled and held up his hands to quell the cries. “All this is most flattering, but we must depart. Will you be so good as to remove the garlands and flower ropes so that our vessel may proceed?”

“The garlands are known as ‘Strands of Love’,” said the elder. “No one would dare to break them.”

Zamp came forth on the stage. “We are overwhelmed by your enthusiasm and generosity, and have no choice but to submit. We now present another performance: the majestic tragedy
Macbeth
.”

“
Macbeth
again?” demanded the elder rather querulously.

“There are immense depths of meaning to the drama,” said Zamp. “The work is an inexhaustible treasure!”

Again
Macbeth,
and Zamp on this occasion excised the singing and wailing which gave the witch scenes their pungency, and all the soliloquies were delivered twice. Several members of the audience, with affairs elsewhere, decided to depart, only to find that the gangplank had been drawn up so that they were compelled to remain.

At the end of the drama, Zamp appeared on the stage. “We cannot let ourselves be outdone in liberality or effusiveness! Do not stir from your seats; we intend to present our performance again, at no cost. So now: to Act 1, Scene 1. Please attend the sublimity of the language, and also the profundity of the sentiments!”

Macbeth
was now played with the witches in ordinary costumes, and sitting in chairs like tired charwomen; soliloquies were repeated twice, and the orchestral accompaniment was reduced to the music of one belphorn, a thunder-machine and brattle-drums. The curtain dropping on the last scene drew back immediately upon Act 1, Scene 1, and the three witches on the heath. The audience seemed somewhat restless, and many rose from their seats to stand in the aisles, so that Zamp, pausing in one of his soliloquies, came to the front of the stage.

“Friends!” called Zamp. “Please attend our performance! We are giving our best, and we intend to do so without cessation.”

“Be so good as to lower the gangplank!” called the elder. “I have business ashore!”

“We can only remain at Idanthus so long as you give us your enthusiastic attention,” Zamp said, “so please resume your seat.”

“Play something else! We have had enough of this portentous drama.”

“We play only
Macbeth;
this is all we know.”

“In that case you must leave Idanthus,” exclaimed the elder with sudden energy, “and take
Macbeth
with you!”

Fifty miles north of Idanthus the Vissel entered a region of rocky hills and green meadows, shadowed under Doric elms, black sentinel syrax, gray-green and silver tremblants: a landscape as soft and delightful as lost Arcadia, but eerily quiet so that even the wind disappeared and the river flowed like syrup. Gassoon ordered the stern-wheel into operation; the bullocks, Garth Ashgale and his artists were all pressed into service, and the vessel continued up the brimming river. Zamp sat on the quarter-deck sipping wine, dividing his attention between the landscape and Garth Ashgale thrusting at the capstan.

Where a tall dark forest came down to the river stood a town of blue and red painted timber, which Zamp assumed to be Port Venable. In the absence of wind and with night close at hand Gassoon decided to dock and stage a performance in the hope of earning iron. Zamp made another uneasy protestation. “We know nothing in regard to these folk; and we have had one or two experiences along the way to teach us caution.”

Gassoon inspected the town through his spy-glass. “I see nothing alarming. The folk appear of normal stature and show neither fangs, tails nor horns. Your character, Apollon Zamp, is marred by a certain paltriness of spirit, a diffused universal distrust which I truly deplore.”

Zamp was at a loss for response, and Gassoon stalked off to instruct the quartermaster.
Miraldra’s Enchantment
veered across the river and eased against the dock of the town.

A grave and somber gathering came forth to listen to Gassoon’s announcement: “This is the wonderful showboat
Miraldra’s Enchantment
, and we are prepared to present for your enjoyment that classic of mediæval Earth
Macbeth.
But first I must inquire as to your local regulations and how they apply to us: for instance, do you charge a dock fee?”

A spokesman from the folk of Port Venable, as the town was known, assured Gassoon that no extraordinary regulations prevailed. “However, it is considered polite practice to distribute complimentary tickets to the town officials and their families.”

Gassoon pulled at his long chin. “And how many are these town officials?”

“About thirty.”

“And how many persons are included in the average family?”

“As we reckon kinship, the family group normally includes about eleven or twelve persons.”

“Interesting!” said Gassoon. “The folk of Port Venable evidently enjoy close and cordial family relationships.”

“We do indeed.”

Gassoon, surveying the town, estimated its total population to be approximately four hundred. “We will make a concession even more generous,” he said in a grand voice. “Our admission fee is ordinarily one groat; tonight, rather than distribute complimentary tickets, we will reduce this price by half, in order that everyone of Port Venable may profit, rich and poor alike.”

“This is good to hear!” declared the Port Venable citizen. “Such expansive good will is rarely encountered nowadays!”

Gassoon immediately put the tickets on sale and Zamp repaired to a dockside tavern. Here he learned that Bottomless Lake lay still a hundred miles north across a robber-infested wilderness.

“The region is home for all the outcasts of Soyvanesse,” stated his informant. “The worst of all is Baron Banoury, who inhabits a castle at the Mandaman Gate. For a ship like yours he will demand an enormous toll: two hundred groats at least. If you refuse to pay, he will drop rocks upon your vessel as you pass through the chasm.”

Zamp blew out his cheeks in dismay. “This is a consistent policy?”

“As consistent as the flow of beer, from vat, through mug and gut, to trough.”

“Throdorus Gassoon, my associate, will not submit gracefully to this toll,” said Zamp. “He might refuse to traverse the Mandaman Gate, or even so much as approach.”

“That of course is his option.”

The evening’s presentation went flawlessly and Gassoon received numerous compliments upon the deftness and vivacity of his troupe. Zamp stood close at hand. Someone remarked: “An absolute disgrace that Baron Banoury —”

Zamp quickly interrupted with: “Yes, we hope to make this voyage again with a new repertory.” Again, when with a rueful shudder someone said: “The castles of old Earth, such as Glamis, were no doubt grim, but when compared to the castle of Baron —” Zamp said quickly, “On our return down the Vissel we will stop again at Port Venable for a longer stay.”

“Yes, to be sure,” said Gassoon, somewhat bemused. “But who is this Baron?”

Zamp touched Gassoon’s elbow. “Excuse me, Master Gassoon, but while you accept the congratulations of these good folk, Damsel Blanche-Aster and I are going ashore to take a glass or two at the tavern.”

“Not so fast!” roared Gassoon. “There are certain matters I wish to discuss with her, and your presence would not be convenient for either of us. You may go off to drink with Viliweg, or another of your cronies.” And making his apologies to the townsfolk, Gassoon strode off to find Damsel Blanche-Aster.

At dawn
Miraldra’s Enchantment
cast off from the Port Venable dock and set its sails to a gusty wind, the last gasp of the monsoon. Zamp took Ethan Quaner the ship’s engineer, Baltrop the carpenter and several other men into the hold under that area of the deck where the audience sat and ordered a modification of the jack-screws by which an unruly audience could be tilted over the side.

Gassoon presently became aware of the pounding and thumping of the workmen and demanded an explanation. Zamp informed the gaunt shipmaster that certain braces and stanchions were being renewed. “Perhaps you should go down into the hold and stay there while the work is being completed. I would do so myself except that —” here Zamp glanced across the quarterdeck to where Damsel Blanche-Aster stood watching the shore slide past “— I have other affairs in mind.”