The Malacia Tapestry. Brian Aldiss

with Bengtsohn. There lay my opportunity!

      At once I turned down the expansive Exhibition Road and into the narrow alleys behind, until I found myself again in the gloom of the Court of the Dark Eye.

      A group of men, all dingily dressed, stood in the darkest recesses of the court; there were women among them, old and young. They turned guiltily as I entered. One of them came forward, carrying a stout stick; it was the apprentice I had met, Bonihatch.

      ‘What do you want?’

      ‘I need to speak to Bengtsohn.’

      ‘We’re busy. There’s a meeting, can’t you see? Shove off, as you did before.’

      But Bengstsohn moved up behind him, saying mildly, ‘It’s siesta and we talk of pigeon racing, de Chirolo. What do you wish from me? You left me abruptly enough.’

      I gave him a bow. ‘My apologies for that discourtesy. I had a mission.’

      ‘Thus it seemed.’

      ‘I am interested in the work you offered me, if you would be kind enough to tell me what exactly you require.’

      ‘Come back this evening. I have business now. I will then talk with you.’

      I looked at Bonihatch, who stood ready with his stick.

      ‘I may have become a monk by evening, but I’ll see what I can manage.’

      Love, what a power it is! Nothing but love could have induced me to enter that dreary court three times in one day – and what dedication I showed, for the lady had revealed herself to be uncertain-tempered, vain, and I know not what else besides. Also irresistible.

      How wise one feels to be a fool of love!

      ‘Even a fool can do this job,’ Bengtsohn said. ‘Is why All-People indicated an actor, I suppose.’

      By night, moving behind smoky lanterns in intermittent shadow, Bengtsohn looked almost sinister, his sunken eyes sometimes hiding, sometimes glittering, in their sockets. His long fingers were talon-like as he wove his explanation.

      ‘I told how I have discovered the method to mercurise real views through the zahnoscope, so that they have become implanted on glass slides. My ambition is to tell a story by such methods. People I need, actors. A simple story to begin. Big acorns from little oaks grow. I will mercurise the actors against real or painted settings. The product will be of an extraordinary originality and cause certain consequences. You shall be one from the four characters in the simple drama. The scenes of the drama will be emblazoned on glass far more faithfully than what artist could ever depict. This will be the real image, painted by light – light, that great natural force what is free for all, rich and poor alike.’

      Keen to make him look a little less inspired, I said, ‘It will only be like a stage play with the action stopped, and paralysis suddenly overtaking everyone.’

      ‘You players are so ephemeral, your actions sketched in the air and then gone, the whole thing forgotten when the final curtain will come down. But when you are mercurised through the zahnoscope, why, then your actions become imperishable, your drama continuous. I will not mind wagering that the drama what you will enact for me will still be viewed by connoisseurs after you yourself will have grown old and died, young Perian!’

      At that, I had to laugh. He was cutting an absurd figure, stroking an old japanned magic lantern with fluted chimney as he spoke, as if he expected a genie to emerge.

      ‘And what is this great drama you wish me to perform? Are we to put Sophocles of Seneca on glass?’

      He came closer. Then he took a turn away. Then he returned, and clutched my hands in his. Then he dropped my hands and raised his to the sky.

      ‘Perian, my life is beset with difficulties and hedged by enemies. Let there be trust between us, as well as business also.’

      ‘You told me when we met that you had enemies and the State had eyes.’ The proposition was somehow more reasonable here in the stuffy darkness of his workshop than it had appeared in the sunlit street.

      ‘We must each trust each. We are both in a same situation – namely we don’t have security in the world. I am old and have a wife for to support, you are young and free but, believe me, the gods – and society, more important – are against us both. That is a political situation. I have two passions, art and justice. As I grow more old, justice becomes more important. I hate to see the poor grinded down by the rich, hate it.’

      ‘That’s a natural law. I intend to be rich one day.’

      He scratched his head and sighed. ‘Then we will defer justice for a day later and instead talk about art. Is that more to your taste?’

      ‘Tell me about your drama.’

      He sighed again, staring about the untidy workshop, shaking his head. ‘Young men care so little.’

      ‘You have no business saying that. Why do the old always hold the young in contempt? I’m a fine actor, as you can discover if you enquire, and my art is my life. My life is my art. Tell me about this drama of yours, I ask you, if you want my help.’

      ‘My dear young man … Well, let’s keep to art if you wish it! I have a love for all the arts, all the arts, including the drama, though I am always too much poor to pursue them. For the first mercurised production, I have written a contribution to drama, entitled, Prince Mendicula: or, The Joyous Tragedy of the Prince and Patricia and General Gerald and Jemima.’

      ‘A striking title. What is a Joyous Tragedy exactly?’

      ‘Well, Doleful Comedy, if you will – minor details aren’t too clear in my mind yet – clear, but not too clear … I have some troubles with detail. Indeed, for simplification on to glass, I plan a drama without detail …’

      ‘Am I to be Prince Mendicula?’

      He beamed, showing his shortage of teeth. ‘You, my dear boy, you have insufficient years for to be Prince Mendicula. You shall play the dashing General Gerald.’ And he began to unravel the beauties of a plot which would enrich, if not indeed terminate, world drama. I paid what heed I could. As he talked with increasing rapidity, he took me to a lumber room and showed me some props for his drama. They were very poor, the clothes almost threadbare.

      My interest in Bengtsohn’s affairs was generated by the understanding that they would involve divine Armida Hoytola. I began to see that there might also be profit for my career here; Bengtsohn was supported by a powerful patron, the Hoytola family, and, if the novelty of his mercurised melodrama were to catch popular fancy, it would be advantageous to have my name associated with it.

      I broke in the old man’s account and said, ‘Will you not let me play the Prince?’

      He drummed the fingers of his left hand upon his stringy cheek. ‘Gerald is more suitable for you. You might make a good general. You are not venerable enough for Mendicula.’

      ‘But I can make up my face with beard and black teeth and a patch and what-you-will. Whom have you marked out for this princely part?’

      He chewed his lip and said, ‘You understand this is a – what’s the word? – yes, unproved venture. We all take a chance from it. I cannot afford to pay for more than one real player, and that is yourself. Your looks and modest reputation will help. Whereas to play the Prince I rely on one of the boys in the workshop, the not ill-favoured man called Bonihatch.’

      ‘Bonihatch? With the yellow whiskers? What acting experience has he? He’s just an apprentice!’

      ‘For mercurised play, little acting is required. Bonihatch is a good man, what I depend on. I must have Bonihatch, that’s my decision.’

      ‘Well. The others? Princess Patricia?’

      ‘For the Lady Jemima, with whom the prince is captivated, I will hire a seamstress who lives in this court, by name Letitia Zlatorog. She will be happy