The Year of the Sex Olympics and other TV Plays

by Nigel Kneale

  COBB: Your rustic? A head full of fright and old wives’ tales!

  Jethro watches him with an irony that is never far below the surface. Resentment at being taken for granted has taught him subtle ways to provoke, and to use them when Cobb is ruffled, as now.

  JETHRO: He seemed . . . honest in the mind.

  COBB: Did he so!

  JETHRO (to Lavinia): When I was a child in Jamaica, Ma’am, the generality of people believed in such things.

  COBB: His people were savages . . . slaves!

  LAVINIA: That was no fault of theirs.

  COBB: Who said it was?

  LAVINIA: Without benefit of religion, what else could . . . ?

  COBB: They had religion enough! Demons, idols, voodoo.

  JETHRO: Obeah, we called it, sir.

  COBB: Obeah, then. Every possible consolation. What they lacked was the benefit of real . . . human . . . thought. (He stabs the words out) Of philosophy! (At Jethro) Which he lacks not!

  JETHRO: I am most gratefully aware, sir . . .

  COBB (to Lavinia): As you see, he’s had more than a flunkey’s training. He has a brain. I’ve made him use it.

  JETHRO: I use it.

  COBB: Demonstrate. Show the lady some excellence on this topic.

  JETHRO (hesitantly): I have thought . . . (To Cobb) You may not approve of this . . . it is a matter of scale: our minds are limited, in a limitless universe. There may be forces whose nature we can in no way grasp—inaccessible to our finest philosophy.

  COBB (flatly): Don’t quote.

  JETHRO: Did I?

  COBB: “More things in heaven and earth, Horatio”. Above all, don’t quote a poet, a professional liar. (His anger rising) You have been taught some discipline of the mind, Jethro. Never, never betray that. I will not have those about me who would open doors to confusion and magic! (Breathing harder, he waves him away) Get out. Get out there and help them.

  The door opens. It is Sir Timothy.

  JETHRO (stiffly): Sir . . . can I take these things out for you? The electroscope?

  SIR TIMOTHY: You know what it is?

  JETHRO: Yes. In spite of the cat.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Er . . . Please take it.

  Jethro picks it up deftly.

  INSIDE THE TAVERN BAR

  The men are crowding round the bar as Jethro passes. The landlord is serving hot toddy.

  Sam Towler is standing where he was, near the window. Tetsy is with him. She shrinks against him as Jethro passes.

  LANDLORD (off-stage): Tetsy. Where are you, girl?

  TETSY: Coming, father—

  She runs to help him.

  OUTSIDE THE TAVERN

  Jethro comes out of the tavern. He glances about, goes to the handcart. He sets the electroscope into a pad of sacking, covers it and starts to strap it down.

  INSIDE THE PRIVATE ROOM

  The landlord enters with a tray on which are a glass jug of steaming toddy and three glasses. He places it before Sir Timothy, who pours.

  COBB: Jethro’s an experiment—(to Sir Timothy) You see, I make them too. On the whole, he works.

  SIR TIMOTHY: He’s a man.

  COBB: He is now. Almost. He was bought in slavery by an old friend of mine. His mind was a child’s. Less, with nothing in it but a little darkness. I emptied it clean, poured in new impressions and the ideas they formed. Nothing old or false, no cant. I set him at all matters, to seek truth. Tested his brain against others in argument. And at last—that savage is the equal of any man in the kingdom.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Then why do you not respect him?

  COBB (astonished): Respect? Respect, sir, is no part or parcel of the matter. You might as sensibly ask me to respect him for the silver buckles I’ve put upon him.

  SIR TIMOTHY: I can respect him.

  Cobb stares at him. The ready guffaw does not come. He is uneasy at the working of something on another level. The way to deal with it is to demolish it.

  COBB (roaring): Sir, you have a vice of politeness in you.

  LAVINIA (laughing): Politeness a vice?

  COBB: Nay, in many it is. Should he succeed this night, he’ll beg pardon of the ghosts for raising ’em. (He laughs with Lavinia, raising his glass to Sir Timothy) Truth in toddy, sir. Well, here’s to your enterprise—

  INSIDE THE TAVERN BAR

  The toddy is going down fast in the bar outside. There is a buzz of drink-warmed argument, at the centre of which are Big Jeff and Sam Towler.

  BIG JEFF: And there’s not even a gibbet round these parts.

  SAM: I know naught about that—

  BIG JEFF: A gibbet’s where you find ’em. Ay. Over to Palehouse Common, there was that old gibbet there, and the place was alive with ’em. (A wink at his neighbour on the other side) Every night, mark you, not just once a year—

  The camera pans to Tetsy. She is crossing with a couple of tankards in her hands when something catches her attention. She goes to the door and looks out.

  OUTSIDE THE TAVERN

  Jethro is crouching beside the handcart. His manner has changed: His face is somehow loosened, the eyes wide and distant. He is crooning to himself a tune of deep and ancient sadness, the words forgotten.

  He is oblivious of the girl watching him from the doorway.

  INSIDE THE PRIVATE ROOM

  Sir Timothy is pulling on his greatcoat. Cobb picks his up and struggles with it.

  COBB: Where’s that damned cannibal of mine? Never where I need him.

  LAVINIA: You speak so, Mr. Cobb—

  COBB (lost in the folds): And mean it too.

  LAVINIA: Yet you fight against slavery—

  COBB (emerging): Slavery has always existed, madam.

  LAVINIA: You have written against it.

  COBB: I have said it will come to an end. Not quite the same thing. Good or bad, it must end by being ridiculous. Machines will supplant it.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Machines.

  COBB: I’ve no possible doubt of it. The great steam pumps we see now—are going to have a million descendants. In a hundred years—in two, certainly—machines will do all the world’s fetching and carrying. They’ll be more obedient, loyal and industrious than any slaves in history. They’ll carry men through the air and over the seas.

  LAVINIA (disbelievingly): Mr. Cobb—

  COBB: They’ll sow and reap for us—water the deserts—melt the polar snows—

  LAVINIA: All this with steam?

  COBB: There’ll be far greater forces.

  SIR TIMOTHY: The imponderables—

  COBB (losing patience): No, sir. Powerful, real forces that actually exist—that must exist to bind this universe and to quicken it. The very sources of life. Man will find them in the end.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Yes, I suppose so, as each of us contributes his—

  COBB: My poor squire. Man will do it by using his mind utterly anew, plumbing the deepest levels of insight and reason—(He laughs) not by sniffing at those sorcerers’ jars. (Injured, Sir Timothy snatches up the box of jars) The nose will not serve, sir, but to find a bad smell. (Lavinia laughs with him as Sir Timothy kicks the door open and goes) ’Tis the brain must do it.

  INSIDE THE TAVERN BAR

  Men turn, wiping their mouths, as the squire makes for the outer door. Lukey bobs responsibly forward and signs to the others. They surge towards the door.

  OUTSIDE THE TAVERN

  Jethro scrambles to his feet as men straggle out of the tavern.

  INSIDE THE TAVERN BAR

  As Cobb and Lavinia follow, he catches her arm.

  COBB: Is your carriage here?

  LAVINIA: Yes, but we go to the woods on foot—

  COBB: The woods. Are we really bound to this buffoonery?

  LAVINIA: We?

  COBB: You and I. When I think of those wines of yours back at the Hall—

  LAVINIA (seeing the drift): Oh, no—

  COBB: Lying untasted.

  For a moment, Lavinia is torn. Then there is a scuttle of feet as Tetsy runs
from the doorway behind the bar, pulling a shawl about her.

  LAVINIA: Your world of machines—I think I should like that. (She watches Tetsy run on out, turns to him quickly) I can’t. Not yet. We must go with the others. Please. (He nods, humoring her. As they go) Perhaps there’ll even be philosophical machines.

  COBB: To do our thinking? (Pleased by the notion) Ay. At least they’d not believe in bogeys.

  He follows her out.

  OUTSIDE THE TAVERN

  Big Jeff is brandishing a pitchfork, stabbing ferociously at the air.

  BIG JEFF: Take that, you headless old horror, you. (Laughing to Sir Timothy) I’ll kill ’em dead all over again.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Careful with that—

  Lukey is issuing stout staffs and rakes and hoe-handles to the men.

  BIG JEFF: An’ nail ’em up like vermints to frikken their friends. How much’ll you gimmee for ’em, squire?

  SIR TIMOTHY: A shilling a head.

  BIG JEFF: Hey—what about the fellers as got none?

  SIR TIMOTHY: Shilling a body. (Turns to Lukey) Has each man got a staff now?

  Sam is the last to get one. As he turns with his, he finds Tetsy in front of him, the shawl pulled round her head.

  TETSY: What’s them for?

  SAM: Oh—makes the lads feel braver. In case, like.

  TETSY: Can I have one? Lukey—

  SAM: You ain’t comin’.

  TETSY: I am then, Lukey—

  SIR TIMOTHY: What’s this about?

  SAM: She wants to come, sir.

  TETSY (pointing to Lavinia): If Lady Hassall can go, I can. I don’t get easy frikkened, sir—

  SIR TIMOTHY: Faith, let her come. (Turning to the rest) Now remember all what I said—no shouting, no laughing, and keep your ears open. We’re like to return no wiser than we are now—but let’s be sure. If you do hear anything, come to me at once. Now—two men to light the way. Lukey and another—

  Lukey and the lad pick up lighted lanterns while the others apply themselves to the long shaft and pull the cart round. Tetsy stays close to Sam’s side.

  Lantern in hand, Jethro joins his master, who is watching with Lavinia. As the cart rumbles and jolts on the cobbles:

  LAVINIA: You really believe in those machines.

  COBB: They can free man from his folly. I believe that, yes.

  LAVINIA: How can they? He’ll have made them.

  Cobb gives her a quick grin of appreciation. Then Sir Timothy is beckoning and they move to join him. Jethro brings up the rear with his lantern.

  The camera cranes up a high shot as the heavily laden cart is turned and moves slowly off. Again it takes in, close at hand, the inn sign with its “Three Companions”.

  THE WOODS—THE ROPED TREES

  It is dark now in the wood. Two points of light bob in the distance. The creaking of the cart can be heard, then voices in sudden subdued argument, until, above the others:

  BIG JEFF (off-stage): She’s stuck against this root—

  SIR TIMOTHY (off-stage): Right, pull this way. Heave now, lads—heave. Heave.

  A jolting, exclamation of success, and the cart rumbles on again.

  LAVINIA (off-stage): Oh, it’s so muddy.

  COBB (off-stage): Jethro—help the lady. I’ll take the lantern.

  The two points of light enlarge into the lanterns carried by Lukey Chase and the lad. They flicker across branches and ropes as Lukey comes running ahead.

  LUKEY: This is the place, squire. Through here.

  He moves on round the obstruction of a rope that zigzags between the trees. Sir Timothy follows and in the darkness Lukey has left behind him, collides with the rope.

  Bells jangle. Bits of harness rattle. He gives a muffled yell.

  Lukey and the lad run back. The squire has gone headlong over the rope and is spluttering in the leafmould. Lukey sets his lantern down and helps him.

  Sir Timothy wipes the soil from his mouth.

  SIR TIMOTHY: I—I didn’t see the rope.

  Cobb comes up with the third lantern. Just behind is Jethro, carrying Lavinia. She drops to her feet.

  LAVINIA: Timothy. You’re not hurt?

  SIR TIMOTHY (as Lukey dusts him down): The bones seem sound, eh, Lukey?

  COBB: Well, sir, you sprung your own trap.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Yes, I—you see how it works? It sets off the alarm if anyone—(lamely) You saw.

  The cart is drawing up to them. Men are grinning, some laughing. Big Jeff to the next man, in a stage whisper:

  BIG JEFF: Squire was just puttin’ it to the test, like—

  SIR TIMOTHY: Where’s Sam Towler?

  SAM (coming forward): Here, sir.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Now show us the exact spot.

  SAM: Yonder. By the fallen tree.

  THE CLEARING

  Waving the cart on, Lukey trots up and sets his lantern on the great fallen trunk.

  SIR TIMOTHY: That’ll serve, lads. (As the cart halts) Now to unload.

  Straps are whipped asunder, coverings removed, boxes lifted down. Sir Timothy stands by to supervise the handling of the more fragile items.

  Cobb looks about, frowning, swinging his lantern to cast light into the dark places of the undergrowth. Lavinia pulls her cloak tight. She looks with revulsion at the fungus on the dead tree.

  LAVINIA: Loathsome. What is it?

  Cobb tears off a piece. He shows it to Jethro.

  JETHRO: Polyporus betulinus.

  LAVINIA: He has Latin—

  JETHRO: It is a poison plant.

  COBB: In Jamaica they used it in their soup, no doubt.

  JETHRO: No, only for obeah.

  The smile is wiped from Cobb’s face. There is a faint suggestion of one on Jethro’s.

  COBB: Go help there.

  He points to the cart. Jethro does as he is bidden. Lavinia watches Cobb, puzzling him out.

  Half a dozen planks are being unloaded. Jethro helps Lukey down with one. Other men swing down a big hamper.

  Sir Timothy sets a tall, narrow box down by the tree. He opens it and extracts a wooden frame with glass tubing attached. He inspects the fancifully shaped thing briefly, then checks the other one in the box.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Both intact. (To Cobb) Thermometers. It’s said that supernatural events are marked by a great chilling of the air. I am ready to test that.

  COBB (dryly): Good.

  Sir Timothy turns quickly back to the cart, where Jethro and Lukey are lifting down heavy iron tripods.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Now my tripods. Bear them over here—to the planks. (He hurries past Tetsy, who is busy lighting lanterns, to where the planks are being laid out on different sides of the clearing) This way—this way—

  Behind, Cobb glowers.

  COBB: Are you not to help him?

  LAVINIA: He’s not taught me in these matters.

  COBB: Say “either.”

  LAVINIA: Either. (Dimpling) Mr. Cobb—

  COBB: He’ll be out after marsh damps or subjecting copper to the seven heats when he’d do better in bed. (She laughs) Why did you marry him? Grew up in the country—a vicar’s daughter? I knew it. A match for the young squire, well, younger than some and a baronet—(She nods, her eyes growing hard) I’ve met a score of him—gentlemen amateurs with a nose for idle novelty—(He stares suddenly) God a mercy. Look at this. (Theatrical props are being unloaded. Two fanciful Roman helmets, plumed with feather boas and a cardboard shield. And a large scroll on wooden rollers. And a human skull) Yorick too. What company of actors had he these from?

  LAVINIA: They passed in the spring, playing Julius Caesar.

  COBB: And he sets the scene.

  He roars with laughter. She glances at him. Her voice is sharp.

  LAVINIA: Show him! (He looks at her) What he is!

  COBB: Ah . . .

  LAVINIA: You can!

  COBB: A bargain! (She frowns. He studies her) I had a cat once. Her name was Tibb and she was a great killer. Yes, there was something about her—
r />   LAVINIA: Her eyes?

  COBB: The corner of her mouth.

  With a sudden sweep of his arm he clears the fungus from part of the trunk. He lifts Lavinia by the waist and seats her upon it. She stares at him. As he turns away towards her husband, her smile flickers back.

  Unloading the last things from the cart—two “Roman” swords and a horse’s skull—Lukey glances at her. He catches Big Jeff’s eye and grins.

  The tripods have been set up in four places, straddling planks. They are a couple of feet high and two of them already contain the alembic-jars they are meant to take. On the plank below each sits a lighted lantern and the removed lid of the jar.

  Sir Timothy is now arranging a third jar in its tripod. Sam stands by with a fourth in its box, while Tetsy has a lighted lantern. A lantern is already in place below where Sir Timothy is working, casting a bright upward glow on him as he moves the lid.

  Cobb comes up.

  COBB: Surely you cannot catch imponderables in a jar? By their very nature they will escape through the very glass—that is, if they exist at all.

  SIR TIMOTHY: There may be something else.

  COBB: Oh?

  SIR TIMOTHY: Something heavier. (He places the lids carefully on the plank below) An animal-magnetic fluid. I should call it that. Something like the magnetic fluid of iron, but exuded instead by living creatures?

  COBB: Is this your own idea?

  Sir Timothy is apparantly unaware of any irony.

  SIR TIMOTHY: Suppose it had the quality of lingering—say, where some violent action of the past had riven it into the earth—to issue forth again at certain times and under certain conditions. Times like the yearly cycle—(He is moving towards the last tripod. They follow)—at each anniversary of some great disaster. More especially near the century mark. Lantern, girl! (He signs to the staring Tetsy. She sets down the remaining lantern while he takes the jar from Sam’s box) As if part of the vital spirits of the people there have been torn away under the dreadful pressure of fear and death—