The Malacia Tapestry. Brian Aldiss

seducing in the streets of Gorica in a thoroughly traditional military manner. Mendicula admits the tradition is obnoxious and agrees that a proclamation shall be made through his general. This is the messenger being despatched to Gerald, asking him to curb the natural inclination of soldiers, possibly by shooting a few. We shall not show actual scenes of rapine. These things are best left in the imagination.

      This important meeting takes a while, so that the prince is some hours late by the time he arrives to the noble house at what Jemima is lodging.

      Here a servant admits Mendicula to Jemima’s room, and the prince is seen standing aghast at the sight of her alone and weeping in a lace handkerchief. In response to his agonised inquiries, she says there is one what she loves; it was for his sake that she rebuffed the prince’s advances, and not because she intended disrespect to the royal line. Now she has learned that this lover of hers has been faithless, consorting with another woman even as he prepared their marriage ceremony, a splendid affair to last three days and no spared expense, which we shall not have fortunately to show. Jemima’s tears fall like the outlet of a fountain. She wets her lute.

      The prince is so much moved that he falls on one knee. Or maybe two. Putting his arms about her, he endeavours to comfort. One thing leads to another thing; in particularly, condolence leads to prurience. They go together to the bed, lying in rapture in one another’s arms as if it was habitual to their mutual comfort and amusement. The slides here will be optional, depending on the company. We will not try Letitia’s modesty too far, since she is not a real actress. It’s a challenge.

      More pictures. Dawn, if not exhaustion, brings a change from mood. Jemima awakes from a nap and sits up with a look of total repentance for expression. Here comes her wedding day and she faces it a soiled woman – although she freely admits that she is less soiled than if she would have laid with a commoner. Nevertheless, royalty is no substitute for chastity. She declares that she must kill herself.

      Assuming the royal breeches, Mendicula attempts to dissuade. He also has a high code of honour but she is exceeding.

      Petulantly, she cries that he has placed her into a situation where she would prefer to die. She is no landlord’s daughter. She also has some good blood. The poor must live with all their disgraces about them; she must not. He has her utterly undone, while the man what is to be her husband has spent the night undoubtedly with his paramour.

      Mendicula is struck by the coincidence that this will be her wedding day and that also of his close friend, the General. He pronounces Gerald’s name. Jemima gives a cry and reveals that he is none otherwise than her betrothed.

      Together they cling. She weeps afresh. The prince feels heavily that he has dishonoured her and his friendship, but he can clear at least half of her double disgrace.

      Ringingly, he proclaims that he can deaden the unworthy suspicions what she entertains for General Gerald. For Gerald’s supposed paramour is none otherwise than his spotless own wife, Princess Patricia. He explains how he has heard from Patricia’s own fair mouth that nothing untoward passes between her and Gerald. They have his secure trust, and only since a previous few hours she assured that her fondness for Gerald will not harm their marriage in every way.

      Jemima is so cheered that she dresses behind a screen. But the happy night what she and the prince have just passed cannot be blotted so easily out. She bursts forth, crying dramatically with a slight tearing of the hair how she feels herself doubly guilty of misconduct if Gerald is the honourable man what Mendicula just described. Mendicula protests that she is too scrupulous. He and she will forthwith part, despite the fondness what they hold towards each other; he will never more seek out her. Anything between them is now ended, and it will have been as if their joyous one night never will have existed.

      Moreover, he will bestow on his general a title, together with another city what they will overrun, where Gerald can live in content with Jemima, so that the parties need never to be exposed against temptation again. Amid music, we see them laugh and cry and embrace each other for the last very time, that doleful phrase in love’s book.

      Returned at the Gorica palace, Prince Mendicula goes to the princess’s compartments, full still of goodwill. There is Patricia with her toilet. He passionately declares to her that never again will he vex by looking at other women; he has found his true centre and implores of her forgiveness.

      Great his consternation is when Patricia greets this announcement with coolness, turning away as if she heeds scarcely what he says. Shaken, he repeats that he is aware all too much at having neglected her, but that the neglect will end, has already ended. She is his true love.

      In a cold voice, perhaps moving to the window, Patricia declares that everything he says is a confession merely that he has a secret lover, as she just suspected and he has denied. She supposes that Mendicula has quarrelled now with the hussy and needs to come back creeping to her. He protests with spirit everywhere. Angry by the way his magnanimity is received as if it is old clothes, he admits with ill-timed honesty that he has been interested in another lady, but that he now has put her for ever away.

      Patricia becomes at this even more remote and haughty. She inquires if he makes all this fuss because of herself and Gerald.

      The prince does not understand her meaning. He repeats that he relinquishes the other lady and her friendship because simply it is causing pain both to her and to Patricia, what he cannot bear to hurt. He ascribes Patricia’s continued coolness to her suspicions making her unhappy; now she has no further need for coolness or unhappiness.

      Once more on his knees, the prince admits freely her right to have disapproved and asks forgiveness for hurts done; the matter is entirely between the two of them and has no concern for Gerald, what has stood by them nobly all along. Why does she introduce his name at this juncture?

      We’ll need powder for you here, Miss Armida. Patricia becomes pale of cheek. She turns away from her husband. Her hands shake as she tugs at the curtain. She says in a distant voice that he may repent as much as he likes but it has come too late. She does not intend to discontinue her affair with Gerald – she is enjoying it too much.

      At these words, the prince clutches his heart. With dry throat, he forces himself to ask – are she and Gerald then lovers?

      ‘Of course we are! What else do you think we shall have been doing?’

      Mendicula falls back, ashen of face, unable to speak, looking silly.

      She turns on him. ‘You have your affair, I have mine.’

      He can only shake his head.

      ‘And you knew Gerald and I were lovers,’ she cries, very haughty.

      ‘No, no, I trusted you both.’

      ‘You knew and you encouraged. The other day only you spoke with him privily and commended him, commended him for what he was doing. You told him at his face that he was good for me. That happens to be true! He took your meaning and praised your enlightened attitude. Why, you told him even you had a woman – oh, yes, he informed what you said! And you told me that you tolerated our fondness. You knew what was happening.’

      ‘If you believed really that you were not deceiving me, then why did you so falter from revealing the truth to me now?’

      She merely rages at him and throws a hairbrush or something.

      All the prince’s ideals fall like rags from his eyes. He does not even then beat her or berate. Instead, he tries to explain that when he found them both innocent of vice after the first night he spent away from Gorica, he accepted the virtue in them both, thinking them honourable people who could hold their lusts in check for the greater interests of friendship and policy. From then on, he quelled unworthy doubts what arose and trusted them to sustain a proper friendship. That he had encouraged, and he did not deny. She needed a good friend in a strange city and, since Gerald was his sworn friend, owing him many debts of favour, he banished entirely any suspicions of dishonour as dishonouring them. Was his code of behaviour so unworldly? What sort of man would he be if, as she pretended, he had acted as pander to his own wife with a friend as gigolo?

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