The Malacia Tapestry. Brian Aldiss

he had us as he wanted, Bengtsohn aimed the zahnoscope at us, adjusting its barrel and flinging a velvet cover over the glass panel at the rear.

      ‘Stand still, all of you!’ he cried. ‘Not a movement, not one movement, for five minutes, or all will be spoilt.’

      Then he ran round to the front of his machine and removed a cover from the lens. We stood there until I grew tired.

      ‘When do we begin to act?’ I asked.

      The old man swore and replaced the lens-cover, shaking his hands before his face in wrath.

      ‘I tell you just to stand still without even a movement for five minutes, and you begin immediately to talk!’ he cried. ‘While the sun is bright, we must make so many pictures as we can, but each image takes five minutes for to form on the prepared slide. For the image to be crisp, you must be still – as quiet as rats. Don’t you understand?’

      ‘You never told me that item in your secret recipe.’ I said angrily. Armida and the others were looking at me in disapproval. ‘We shall be here all day, standing like statues for five minutes at a time. That’s got nothing to do with acting, the secret of which lies in mobility.’

      ‘You do not act, you stand like dead statues. Thus for several days. That is why you are having so well paid. We have fifty slides to make to contain the whole drama of the Prince. Now, prepare yourself again. This time neither a word nor a twitch, de Chirolo.’

      I said, ‘But you begin before we have learned or even read our parts. What is the story? What sort of a drama is this?’

      ‘Don’t be silly, dear,’ Armida said. ‘We do not speak. We supply only the images, in a series of tableaux. When the slide-drama is eventually shown to audiences, Otto will recite what is happening, to bring out the beauty of the tableaux. Can’t you understand the principles of a mercurised play?’

      Titters from Bonihatch and Letitia.

      I froze, and again Bengtsohn went through his mysteries with the machine. There we all stood like waxworks, while he counted the time on a large hour-glass. It is no easy matter standing still for five minutes, particularly in the open air, where idleness alone induces a tendency to sneeze.

      At the end of the first five minutes, I was already preparing to make my excuses and abandon this exercise, despite the proximity of Armida. But Bengtsohn seemed so pleased, scuttling his first slide away into a dark baize-lined box, that I had not the heart to upset him. All the same, I was happy that my friends de Lambant and Portinari could not see our antics.

      ‘Famous, famous!’ quoth Bengtsohn. ‘Now we will perform an indoor scene, where the Prince leaves his lovely princess in General Gerald’s care.’

      As I made to move into the palace, the old man caught my arm.

      ‘I should have explained to you as I have to the others, for to make our matters crystal-clear. Owing to the present limitations of the zahnoscope, what needs plenty of light to achieve its miracles, we have to mercurise even the indoor scenes outside.’

      A sofa was drawn up, a curtain pulled behind us. ‘Indoors’ was parodied. This scene was more to my taste. Bonihatch made a noble gesture, arms spread wide, while I as Gerald bowed and clutched Armida’s hand. Five minutes of that was easily borne, as I felt the little living thing sweat gently in my grasp. In reminding me of all the other treasures of hers which might fall into my grasp, it was enough to make me stand rigid.

      The five minutes up, Bengtsohn clapped his hands and fiddled with another slide.

      ‘The next scene will also be indoors, what is situated at a country tavern. We shall see Prince Mendicula meeting with Jemima. Letita, if you will step forward please, and look a little haughty. Not at him but rather above or through him, yes, through him, to indicate that you are of good birth … I hope the zahnoscope does not become too hot, or the salts will fail.’

      All was ready. Bonihatch and Letitia assumed rigid poses, becoming their idea of the noble prince and the Lady Jemima. With a few tawdry props behind them and the sun shining overhead, history would be made. Bengtsohn looked raptly at the velvet cover over his slide, as if the secret of the universe lay there. Time stood still. Armida and I, waiting on one side and watching the tableau, found ourselves also transfixed. The minutes took longer to pass than when we ourselves stood before the zahnoscope.

      Eventually the sand lay in the lower half of Bengtsohn’s hourglass, and he called for the pose to be broken. We all came alive again.

      Patting his dark box grimly as he tucked the third slide into it, he said, ‘These I will mercurise in the workshop this evening. If they develop well, then we again proceed tomorrow. If luck is not on our back, then we re-enact the same scenes. So, to do another while the light is good. Meanwhile, to keep occupied your minds while we work, I shall recite to you the story of our drama, just as I shall recite before audiences … provided anything so novel is allowed for to be shown to Malacian audiences …’

      The morning passed in little five-minute loaves of time as Otto Bengtsohn unfolded his preposterous tale of Prince Mendicula, while his characters confronted the sunshine with tinsel crowns and cork swords.

      Prince Mendicula: or, The Joyous Tragedy of the Prince and Patricia, as Intertwined with the Fates of His General Gerald and the Lady Jemima (announced Bengtsohn, blowing a fake fanfare through pursed lips in order to convey an impression of grandeur commensurate with the occasion). A co-operative production by the Bengtsohn Players, mercurised by Otto Bengtsohn of Tolkhorm, under the grand patronage of Andrus Hoytola, to whom our humble efforts are unworthily dedicated with all gratitude and undue prostrations, and so on and so on, to the limits of the capacity …

      The great and handsome Prince Mendicula, what you here see in the full glory of his youth, power, and privilege, has just conquered the city of Gorica, what lies in ruins for all to see and sorrow over in the background.

      Mendicula has been aided by his general, the noble, powerful, and privileged Gerald, who is almost as personable as his prince. As you see.

      General Gerald has become the close friend and adviser of his prince, what has encouraged Gerald in every way and made him a favourite in preference over many other estimable courtiers. Here you see the two of them inspecting the ruined city. The conquered city, that is to say; conquest is a princely habit. With them Mendicula’s wife is, the beautiful Princess Patricia. You observe with what delight she views the vanquished of Gorica, whose hearts go out to her.

      Here you see her telling her husband, the Prince, how enchanted she is by his prowess in war. He clutches her hands. So consumed by love of her is he that the prince bestows the city – without consulting the feelings of the inhabitants, of course – upon her for a gift, what marks the first three years of their happy life married.

      The general expresses content with this arrangement. Here he announces that from henceforth he will abstain from warlike action – as generals enjoy to do after battles – thinking what they may get their heads shot off next time. He declares that he will hang up his arms to marry a charming lady of Gorica what he has just met. They will settle in Gorica – or Patriciagrad, as the unfortunate city will shortly be ceremoniously rechristened, once the corpses are cleared from off the streets.

      Amid general enthusiasm, Prince Mendicula leaves his wife Patricia in Gerald’s care and goes for a tour of his new territory – you see it in the background – to meet alike nobility and peasants, but chiefly nobility, of course. At a certain country inn by a lake, Mendicula decides to rest for the night. We see him entering – observe tankards arranged by the window – and here he meets the enchanting mystery woman, Lady Jemima, what claims to be the daughter of the landlord, though the prince cannot believe this. In fact, he believes that anyone so pleasing cannot spring from such low society. As you may notice, the little Lady Jemima is as dark of hair and complexion as the Princess Patricia is fair. Well, we get the ladies’ hair colour correct, we hope.

      She spurns his advances, gracefully but inflammably with what looks like a slap of the face. The prince orders local wine and becomes hopelessly