A Song for the Ferryman Read online

  A Song for the Ferryman

  and other tales from ancient times

  Re-told by

  Nick Le Mesurier

  For Kate

  Copyright @ 2018 Nick Le Mesurier

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Preface

  Melusine

  The Raven and the Crow

  Isabella and the Business of Business

  A Dream in Paradise

  A Song for the Ferryman

  The Raven’s Command

  Preface

  I’ve long had a fascination for tales. And what better tales are there than some of the ancient ones? The older the better, one might say. The Greeks and Romans knew how to tell a good tale, and so did the medieval world which often drew upon such ancient sources.

  In seeking to find threads in these ancient tapestries that tie in with some of our own concerns, particularly the identity and status of women, I have found a rich source of material that with only the slightest of twists meets the needs of today. Each is intended to be read aloud or even performed, though I hope they will give as much pleasure on the page.

  Melusine is a case in point. Her origins lie far back in the European memory. She is a female both human and serpent, a not uncommon conflation in ancient times, reflecting perhaps an ambiguous but nevertheless powerful sexuality - and no doubt men’s own anxiety in the face of it. Her demands for time and space of her own apart from men’s gaze certainly chimes with women’s demands to be seen, not just as more than sex-objects defined and created by men, but as individuals defined on their own terms. My version of the story needed only to depart a little from the many ancient versions to find its relevance.

  Ovid was one of the greatest poets of love, and he had a sharp eye for the shifts in power that occur in relationships. The Raven and the Crow is a parable taken from Metamorphoses, again only slightly altered to make a point that is as relevant today as it was more than two thousand years ago.

  Boccaccio is another source without which Western literature would be infinitely poorer. His Decameron, consisting of a hundred tales told by a group of Florentine noble men and women biding their time by telling stories to each other till the plague has left the city, is a rich source of material for anyone wanting to know the workings of the human heart. In Isabella and the Business of Business I have taken the well-known story of Lisabetta and the Pot of Basil and again given it a modern twist. Far from being the pale sister who robs her dead lover of his heart and then hides it beneath a pot of basil before subsiding into terminal grief, my Isabella is a sharp-minded individual who finds that by working with the status quo she can turn it to her own advantage and thus create an identity and a power that is hers alone.

  Another fate befalls Andreola in my second tale from Boccaccio’s stable, which I call A Dream in Paradise. Her love for the handsome Gabriotto arguably brings about his death and her downfall, though it is really guilt and the moral codes of the day that bedevil their affair. Nevertheless she, too, finds a kind of identity after tragedy.

  A Song for the Ferryman returns to the classical world and to Ovid in particular to steal another ancient tale, that of Orpheus and Eurydice, this time given a comic twist. It proves the point, I hope, that sometimes an old tale can be given new life by telling it in the voice of one of the original minor characters who might otherwise be overlooked. So Orpheus slips out of the hands of Ovid and Purcell into the heady world of rock and roll, and Charon gets to meet one of his heroes.

  Finally The Raven’s Command is a confection of my own, written as a script which I hope you will find reads as well on the page as it might on the stage. We could not have a book of ancient stories without having that arch-villain and master of disguises, the Devil, play a part. Not that he needs to do much to let the dark side of human nature take flight.

  Melusine

  Once, long ago, when the worlds of the spirits and of men and women were not so far apart, there lived a king, called Elinas. Now, Elinas had a wife who bore him a son; but his wife had died, and he grieved mightily for her. To console himself he often went hunting, and on one of these hunts he came across a beautiful young woman sitting beside a pool. Her name was Pressyne, and she had beautiful long golden hair.

  ‘Why do you sit here, gazing into these waters,’ said the king. ‘What is it you see there?’

  The woman thought for a moment. ‘I see the future,’ she said, for she recognised the king as a man still handsome and in the prime of life.

  ‘And what do you see of the future,’ said the king, ‘for I have lately lost the woman I love and I can see nothing?’

  ‘I see a bright new morning,’ she said, ‘and great prosperity in the kingdom. All will be well as long as peace shall reign.’

  The king was so enchanted by her answer and by her lovely long tresses that he asked her if she would marry him. The young woman hesitated, and then said: ‘I will be pleased to marry you and to share your bed, but I must insist upon one condition.’

  ‘What is that?’ said the king, who, in the way of fairy tales, had fallen instantly in love with her and was ready to grant her anything she wished.

  ‘I must insist that I have my own chambers where I shall never be observed by you or by any man. This request must be solemnly observed without question. In all other respects I will be your wife and share your throne and your bed, and we shall see great prosperity together.’

  The king felt he was in no position to argue, and saw no problem in agreeing to her wishes, especially as she offered great prosperity. So, he agreed, and they were married within a month. Soon she gave birth, and not to one child but three! They named them Melusine, Melior, and Palatyne.

  Now, the king had a son from his first marriage, who like many such children was not pleased that his father had married again, for he did not want to share power or influence over him. So, he questioned his step-mother at every turn, and he tried to spread false rumours, particularly about her command that she be not observed when in her own quarters.

  ‘It is not natural,’ he said, ‘for a woman to lay down such conditions upon her husband, and particularly a king, who should have the right to gaze upon whoever he chose. There must be some trick going on. Perhaps she is not alone?’

  Now, Elinas loved his new wife and saw no great need or urgency to question her wish. After all, she had borne him three daughters and seemed to love him in every way a wife should. Moreover, the kingdom was indeed flourishing, as she had promised. And so he refused to listen to his son’s gossip and intrigue.

  But the son was not so easily dissuaded, and the more his father insisted on his wife’s innocence the more the young man was convinced of her guilt.

  Finally, the king said, ‘Will it end your doubts if I take one look and report to you what I see? Will that end your ceaseless tittle tattle?’

  The son agreed, and so that night Elinas crouched down at the keyhole to the door of his wife’s chamber while she bathed with her three daughters, and saw to his surprise and horror that while she was naked and as lovely as ever from the waist up, below she had not legs but a huge serpent’s tale that swished and thrashed about in the water.

  It was such a shock to him that in rising he knocked over a vase that was standing nearby. The sound immediately alerted Pressyne, and by an instinct she knew that it was her beloved husband that had betrayed her. She said nothing at the time, but one night while he was sleeping she gathered up her children and stole out of the palace and escaped to another land, leaving a note saying that she had asked only one promise of him and he had broken it, and thus he would see her no more. She left him a lock of her lovely golden hair to remember her by.

  An
d so it came to be, for no matter where he looked, no matter how far his spies travelled, he learned nothing of their whereabouts. And though this might seem strange to us, to him it seemed inevitable, for had it not turned out he had married a water spirit, albeit inadvertently, and such beings could slip away wherever they wished, as easily as water though a grate. Pressyne, however, had not vanished but had escaped to an island far away where she and her daughters managed to build a new life for themselves; and if she thought of her husband it was with some sorrow, but also the conviction that she had been right to do what she had done, for a solemn promise is a solemn promise and it shouldn’t be broken without consequence.

  Now, things were not always easy for Pressyne and her girls in their new home, and sooner or later they fell upon hard times. One day Melusine, who was the eldest of the three girls, asked her mother why they should have to suffer like this without a father to support them. At first Pressyne tried to pass off her daughter’s demands, but as she was persistent she sat them down and told them the story.

  ‘You see,’ she said, ‘your father made a promise and he broke it. And my secret, which you know, was revealed. I could not risk what might happen to you if the people got to hear of my true identity, for they are very superstitious and I knew that no-one would be safe, not you, nor I, nor even your father would be spared. And so, we escaped, and thus we have lived, without riches it is true, but in peace.’

  ‘That’s outrageous!’ exclaimed Melusine with all the righteousness of youth. ‘How could you let our father get away with it? He has done nothing to support us, and look at us now: we are poor, we are hungry, we are cold, and we could have lived like the princesses we are. This is all your fault!’

  ‘I know,’ said her mother. ‘But its better this way, believe me.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think so!’ said Melusine.

  Melusine said nothing more about it to her mother, for she knew that once her mind was made up nothing would change it. But she resolved with her sisters to go to visit their father and confront him with the truth and to demand he give them what was rightly theirs.

  And so, one night they stole away and travelled many days and nights to their father’s palace where one morning they presented themselves at the palace gates.

  ‘Tell our father that his daughters are here to see him,’ she said. When the guards told the king of the strange women who had showed up at his gate he rushed down to see them, full of hope that they might indeed be his daughters. And though he had not seen them since they were babies, he recognised them at once and he gathered them up in his arms and wept with joy to have them home again. And they too were overcome with happiness to see their father. Together they went into the great palace, and the king begged to know where Pressyne was. At first the girls would not tell him, but soon they relented and told him where they had been living.

  ‘So close!’ he said. ‘And I never knew. But that is just like my Pressyne. We will go to her straight away and bring her back. For I am truly sorry for my sin and wish to make amends.’

  The girls readily agreed, but Melusine insisted that they go ahead of him to prepare their mother, for she suspected she might not take well to the surprise of him turning up unannounced. The king agreed, and sent the girls off with an escort to see them safely home.

  When they got back their mother was overjoyed to see them, for they had simply left a note explaining they were off on an expedition. Then the girls explained:

  ‘We went see our father,’ they said. ‘He is well and he misses us terribly, and he sends his love and we have told him where we live so that he can come and rescue us and we can all be happy together again.’

  On hearing this Pressyne became very angry. ‘What have you done!’ she cried. ‘I told you never to contact him again. I made my decision when he broke his promise, and I had hoped you would respect that. But now I see you are not to be trusted either.’ And with that she threatened to curse her daughters.

  Now it is a terrible thing for a mother to curse her daughters. So Melusine reached forward and said, ‘Mother, it was not my sisters but I that planned this. I merely took them along for company. If anyone is to be cursed it must be me alone.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Pressyne, ‘since you ask it, you shall be the one to take the blame. But this is no ordinary curse. For each Saturday night from now on, you will know your true self. You shall be as I am, and if you are wise you will do all you can to keep yourself from the prying eyes of men, who seek in their looks to take from you that which is yours.’ And with that Melusine gave a painful cry, and she looked down and saw she had developed a beautiful serpent’s tale instead of legs.

  ‘And now, said Pressyne, ‘we must go. We must not be found together, for though the king might welcome us, others will not, and we will lose our freedom, and maybe even our very lives.’ And with that she twirled her hands above her head and caused a great wind to blow them far away.

  Melusine awoke to find herself alone in a forest in a strange land with all her limbs restored to her as before. She looked around but there was nothing there she could recognise. So, she started to walk and soon she found a stream that led to a little pool, and there she sat down and gazed into the waters and wondered what she should do.

  It wasn’t long before she was disturbed by a loud rustling noise and the sounds of hunting. Suddenly she saw an old man stagger out of the bushes with an arrow in his chest, who fell down dead at her feet. No sooner had the breath left his body than another man burst out of the bushes with a bow in his hand. This man was young and handsome, but when he saw the old man’s body lying dead upon the ground he fell back, trembling.

  ‘What have I done, what have I done?’ cried the young man.

  ‘I’d say you’ve shot him,’ said Melusine, curious at what had happened.

  ‘Indeed, I have,’ said the young man. ‘And when the rest of the party find him they will know it was me and they will kill me.’

  ‘Why?’ said Melusine.

  ‘Because he’s my uncle,’ said the young man.

  ‘Did you mean to kill him?’ said Melusine.

  ‘No,’ said the young man. ‘Though to be honest I’m not sorry. He never liked me.’

  Melusine saw that this young man, who looked every inch a prince, could help turn her fortunes. So, she quickly worked out a plan.

  ‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘Let us move swiftly to another part of the forest. There we will lie and I will say you were with me all the time and could not possibly have fired the shot that killed your uncle. Come!’

  The prince could not think of a better plan, and though he couldn’t see quite why his luck should have so suddenly turned, he took the opportunity, as any lusty young fellow would, and ran with her swiftly through the bushes to a place where they lay down together.

  ‘Make love to me,’ said Melusine, ‘and then they will know you could not have shot your uncle.’

  So, he did. And he found her to be a marvellous lover, skilled and passionate and to his amazement seemingly in love with him. When the king and his courtiers found him they humbly apologised for disturbing them and told him that his uncle was dead, killed by someone, who even now was paying the price for his deed.

  The prince, who was called Raymond, could hardly believe his luck. Not only had he rid himself of his nasty uncle but he had discovered a beautiful woman who appeared to wish him only good. And when she boldly declared to the king and his courtiers that the prince had proposed to her he could hardly argue or deny what would soon become fact.

  And so they were wed. It was a grand ceremony, and everyone complemented Raymond on his beautiful wife. But as soon as they were alone together she said to Raymond, ‘I am now your wife, and I will serve you with all my heart and with all my mind and with all the talents at my command, and together we will make this kingdom rich. But I will do this on one condition only.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said the prince.

  ‘For six days of
the week I will be yours entirely, but each Saturday night I demand I must be on my own. You will neither see me nor hear me nor know anything of what I do. And I promise I will be true to you, always, and ask only that you trust me and faithfully observe my wish, as I will faithfully observe my vows to you. I ask you to swear this to me on your honour.’

  Raymond looked puzzled at this request and asked her, ‘Why do you want this?’

  ‘You don’t need to know,’ Melusine replied. ‘Only remember that I helped you once, and I can help you again.’

  The prince could see that it would be wise to accept her terms, no matter how bizarre they might seem. So, he swore.

  And Melusine was true to her word. When the king died Raymond took over the throne, and with her wits she helped him build a new kingdom, greater than the one he had inherited. Their lands grew, and their armies grew, and their riches grew; and so did their family, for they had many children, who, as they came of age were married into some of the greatest families in Europe, so that peace reigned throughout the continent.

  But – and there is always a but – after a while some people became suspicious of Melusine’s strange behaviour on a Saturday night. They remarked that she was never to be seen then, and did not appear even when her husband was entertaining royalty on some state occasion. Some, who were jealous of her power, even said she was a witch and that she withdrew each Saturday night to practice spells, which were the reason for the kingdom’s prosperity.

  Then, for reasons best known to herself, Melusine suddenly declared that she would no longer attend Mass on a Sunday. This was shocking to many people and confirmed that she was, after all, a witch and up to no good.

  Now, as you know, gossip never diminishes, not when it has a good mystery to feed upon, and so little bit by little bit the pressure grew upon the king to find out what Melusine was up to. The fact that Melusine’s wisdom and good counsel had provided so many benefits to the kingdom seemed increasingly irrelevant to this rising tide of gossip, and eventually the king was persuaded that he must know the truth.