The Lion and the Adder – Episode Six – Transcript
SCENE 1
VICTORIA STATION IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY, BUSY AND CROWDED. ROBIN AND BASH ARE RUNNING ACROSS THE CONCOURSE, PUSHING THROUGH CROWDS.
BASH: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) Excuse me! Excuse me, so sorry!
ROBIN: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) Edwards! Edwards!
ARISTOCRAT: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) Watch where you're going!
A CRASH AS ROBIN RUNS FULL TILT INTO A GENTLEMAN AND HIS SUITCASE, FALLING ARSE OVER TIT WITH A SQUAWK.
BASH: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) Robin!
ROBIN: Go, Bash! Go!
BASH: Edwards! Watch out!
EDWARDS: (ALARMED) What? What is it?!
BASH: You keep away from her, you brute!
A STRUGGLE BETWEEN BASH AND CAULFIELD, ENDING BADLY FOR CAULFIELD.
CAULFIELD: What the hell-! Get your hands off me!
BASH: Edwards, it's him!
EDWARDS: What are you talking about?!
ROBIN, DISENTANGLED, RUNS OVER, OUT OF BREATH.
ROBIN: Oh, good show, Evelyn! Quick, Edwards, cuff him!
CAULFIELD: Constable, if you don't explain yourself...!
EDWARDS: I'm so sorry, Sergeant, I don't-
BASH: Sergeant?
CAULFIELD: Sergeant Caulfield, Metropolitan Police. I'd show you my badge but I can't quite reach at the moment.
BASH: Oh.
SHE LETS GO, AND CAULFIELD GRUNTS AS HE STRAIGHTENS HIS CLOTHES.
BASH: Sorry. (BEAT) Evelyn Sebastian. How'd you do?
CAULFIELD GRUNTS
ROBIN: So he's... not the murderer, then?
EDWARDS: He's my superior officer. What are you playing at?
ROBIN: But we saw him! He was, you know. Lurking. By the stairs.
CAULFIELD: Not lurking - looking. I was looking for Edwards. Hawthorn sent me down as back up, I was coming to tell her I was here.
EDWARDS: (FLATLY) He sent you as back up.
CAULFIELD: (ACID) Couldn't risk anything happening to his little protege. Fat lot of good that does now - after that little display, the whole operation's compromised.
ROBIN: Oh you can't just call it off!
CAULFIELD: I can, actually. I'm the senior ranking officer on the scene and I say we're done here. Come along, Constable. There's plenty of real police work to be getting on with.
EDWARDS: Yes, sir. I just need to-
CAULFIELD: Now!
EDWARDS: Sir.
CAULFIELD AND EDWARDS LEAVE. ROBIN CALLS AFTER THEM.
ROBIN: Tell Collie I'll phone him! (SIGHS) Blast!
PAUSE.
ROBIN: In our defence, that Caulfield fellow has a very malevolent air. Never trust a blonde, that's my motto.
BASH: It's the eyebrows. Or the lack of them. (BEAT) Is that it, then? We're just... done?
ROBIN: Oh, he's not coming, is he. Probably never was. (BASH GROANS) I say, are you alright? You look a bit peaky.
BASH: I'm, uh. Uh.
SHE FLOPS DOWN, AND ROBIN RUSHES TO HELP HER.
ROBIN: Oop, there she goes. Come on, darling, let's get you sitting down. There we are. Head between your knees. That's it. Good girl.
BASH: I don't think I want to meet a murderer, actually.
ROBIN: And you don't have to, my dear. Just you keep breathing, and we'll go and do something nice and relaxing once you're ready.
BASH: Whatever I want?
ROBIN: Whatever you want. Just breathe. That's it. You're alright, darling. You're alright.
THEME MUSIC PLAYS
H.R. OWEN: The Lion and the Adder. Created by H.R. Owen and starring H.R Owen as Robin Sylvester, Paul Warren as Nicholas Hawthorn, and Méabh de Brún as Evelyn 'Bash' Sebastian. Episode Six.
SCENE 2
ON THE UNDERGROUND - THE RATTLE OF THE CARRIAGE, ROAR OF THE ENGINE, ETC. BASH IS IN A STATE OF DEEP RELAXATION - OR SHE WOULD BE, IF ROBIN WOULD JUST SHUT UP FOR A BIT. SHE BREATHES DEEPLY AND MEDITATIVELY THROUGHOUT THE SCENE.
ROBIN: You do this often?
BASH: Fairly.
PAUSE.
ROBIN: Just... ride around?
BASH: Yes.
PAUSE. ROBIN SUCKS HIS TEETH. THEN HE STARTS CLICKING HIS TONGUE RHYTHMICALLY.
BASH: Stop that.
ROBIN: Sorry. (BEAT) I suppose it is sort of meditative, in its way. Chug chug chug. Round and round.
BASH: Hmm.
PAUSE. ROBIN STARTS CLICKING AGAIN.
BASH: You said we could do whatever I wanted.
ROBIN: I did. I did say that. (BEAT) I suppose I just imagined what you wanted being more a sort of a trip to the pictures, maybe a spot of tea sort of thing.
BASH: I like the Tube.
ROBIN: No, of course. What's not to like. Splendid stuff. (BEAT) Not the most stimulating pastime.
THE TRAIN PULLS INTO A STATION, THE PLATFORM ANNOUNCEMENT IN THE BACKGROUND
BASH: That's the idea! It's relaxing. Chug chug chug. Round and round. "He does say Victoria, and lo! it is Victoria."
ROBIN: It's not. It's Charing Cross. Look - big sign and everything.
BASH: I'm quoting. Do you want to get off?
ROBIN: No! No, you said you wanted to ride the Tube and ride it we shall. Are you feeling better?
THE TRAIN PULLS OFF AND GOES AGAIN.
BASH: Much. I'm sorry about that. I guess I'm not really cut out for this, after all.
ROBIN: Are you joking?! You were magnificent! Misdirected, but magnificent.
BASH: (SMILING) Really?
ROBIN: My dear girl, it may have escaped your notice but you're the one who actually got hands on our would-be assassin! Where on earth did you learn to put a grown man in an arm lock? It was nothing short of thrilling. Meanwhile, yours truly was brought low by a humble suitcase.
BASH: (WINCING) Ah, you didn't hurt yourself, did you?
ROBIN: I bumped my knee! Though I confess, the bruise to my ego may be more significant. I thought you were wonderful, darling. Truly I did.
BASH: (CHUFFED) Oh. Thanks! It is a shame we didn't get anything out of it. I hate the idea of him just out there, somewhere, planning something awful. You said it yourself, he isn't going to stop until we stop him.
ROBIN: And we shall. We just need a little more information. Buck up, old girl. We'll get there in the end, I promise. (BEAT) Are you absolutely sure we can't go for a walk?
BASH: You said-
THEY TALK OVER EACH OTHER AS THE TRAIN PULLS INTO ANOTHER STATION
ROBIN: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) I know what I said.
BASH: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) -we could do whatever I wanted, you didn't say it had to be exciting for you. Is this how it's going to be?
ROBIN: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) And we can! I'm just saying, might there be the hope of refreshments upon the horizon or is it endless Tube stops until we keel over in our seats...
BASH: (SIMULTANEOUSLY) You just have to be constantly entertained any time we do anything...
THE TRAIN DEPARTS, LEAVING THE TWO OF THEM BICKERING INTO THE SUNSET
SCENE 3
SCOTLAND YARD, CID OFFICES. CAULFIELD AND EDWARDS ENTER MID-CONVERSATION.
CAULFIELD: Once you've got your report done, you can help DC Parish type up his witness statements.
EDWARDS: Yes, sir.
CAULFIELD: And I'll take a brew when you're making one.
NICHOLAS: Back already?
CAULFIELD: (LOW) Bit of an incident, sir. Nothing I couldn't handle, but I thought it best to call it a day.
NICHOLAS: An incident? What happened? Is everyone alright? Edwards, are you-
EDWARDS: (SO ANGRY SHE COULD EAT HIS FACE OFF) They're fine. We're all fine. Mr Sylvester and Miss Sebastian just jumped the gun a bit, that's all.
PAUSE.
NICHOLAS: Right. That'll be all, Sergeant Caulfield. Um. Edwards - can I see you in my office a moment?
EDWARDS: I've got to write my report, sir.
NICHOLAS: It'll only take a minute.
EDWARDS: Fine.
THEY STEP INTO NICHOLAS'S OFFICE, SHUTTING THE DOOR AND CUTTING OFF THE SOUNDS FROM OUTSIDE.
NICHOLAS: Take a seat.
THEY BOTH SIT. PAUSE.
NICHOLAS: So. He didn't show, then?
EDWARDS: No.
NICHOLAS: Right. Well, it was a bit of a long shot, I suppose.
SHE DOESN'T ANSWER. HE CASTS ABOUT FOR SOMETHING ELSE TO SAY.
NICHOLAS: Don't remember the last time I saw you out of uniform! You look very nice.
EDWARDS: What did you want to talk to me about?
NICHOLAS TAKES A MOMENT TO PLAN HIS COURSE, AWARE THAT THIS IS A DELICATE SITUATION. HE SIGHS AND CLEARS HIS THROAT.
NICHOLAS: Look. I know the operation today didn't go quite as you might have hoped...
EDWARDS LAUGHS BITTERLY.
EDWARDS: Don't worry, sir. Sergeant Caulfield had it all in hand.
NICHOLAS: (BEAT) Are you trying to say something, Constable?
EDWARDS: No, Inspector. Of course not. (BEAT) Can I go now?
PAUSE
NICHOLAS: Yes. Fine. On you go.
EDWARDS GETS UP TO LEAVE. THEN, AT THE DOOR, SHE STOPS.
EDWARDS: I thought you were different.
SHE EXITS, LETTING THE DOOR BANG CLOSED BEHIND HER.
SCENE 6
ARIADNE'S OFFICE - A TINY SPACE, QUIET AND PRIVATE. ARIADNE IS TYPING FLUIDLY WHEN SOMEONE KNOCKS AT THE DOOR.
ARIADNE: Enter.
ROBIN BOUNCES IN, AND ARIADNE CONTINUES TYPING WHILE HE WHIFFLES ON.
ROBIN: There you are, Pol! I say, you're a hard woman to find. Your housekeeper said you were in the office so I thought, innocent that I am, well, that's a pleasant walk and I'm sure she wouldn't mind the company. Little did I know! I feel like I've been wandering the halls for a century. It was even odds whether it'd be you behind that door or a strapping young man with the head of a bull.
ARIADNE: Nominally appropriate, I suppose. If I give you a ball of wool, will you get lost?
ROBIN: Ha! Nice try. You really oughtn't be working on a Sunday, Pol. You'll set a bad example to all your pretty undergraduates.
ARIADNE: What has Sunday to do with me? It's not my sabbath. Besides, I like it in here at the weekend. (POINTEDLY) It's quiet.
ROBIN: Oh, don’t fret - I’m quite as feckless as Theseus and I shan’t keep you long. Only I want to pick your brains about something.
ARIADNE SIGHS, STOPPING HER TYPING AT LAST
ARIADNE: I suppose there's no point denying you? No, I thought not. Make it quick. I really do have things to be getting on with. And stop hovering. I'm not talking to you while you're flittering about, poking all my bookshelves. Sit down.
ROBIN: Where? There?! Ye gods, is that supposed to be a sofa? I thought it was some kind of ill-advised amateur taxidermy project.
ARIADNE: It is a bit saggy, I suppose. But I swear there's at least one spring in there.
ROBIN: Ow!
ARIADNE: (BRIGHTLY) There it is! (ROBIN GROANS) What's up? Stuck on your gravity paper again?
ROBIN: Nothing so entertaining, I'm afraid. It's about this case I'm working with Collie. Bash and I were-
ARIADNE: Bash? How is she?
ROBIN: She's well. Had a bit of excitement this morning but she was in good shape when I left her home after lunch. I could send her your regards if you like...
ARIADNE: I'm perfectly capable of sending a woman my own regards, thank you, Silly.
ROBIN: As you like.
ARIADNE: (MOVING ON) Is this the missing person case?
ROBIN: It's been promoted, I'm afraid. Body showed up a few weeks ago - we're looking at kidnapping, murder, and very likely some torture to keep things interesting.
ARIADNE: How horrible. But I don't work with the police, Robin. Not for you, not for anyone.
ROBIN: Oh, come on, Pol. You won't be pulled up in court or anything. I can keep your name out of things.
ARIADNE: It's not about my name. It's about the principle of the thing. What do you think's going to happen to this chap when they catch him?
ROBIN: (SIGHS) I think it's very likely that, if we find the man who's done this and he goes on trial and there is sufficient evidence to convict him, then yes. He'll be hanged. I also think it would be a very loopy sort of moral logic that puts his blood on your hands.
ARIADNE MAKES A DISGUSTED NOISE
ARIADNE: I don't know how you stand it. Getting consulted on a detail here or there, fine. But you're in it up to your neck.
ROBIN: Well what can I say? I tried to take up knitting instead, but it didn't stick. Besides, perhaps he'll plead insanity.
ARIADNE: Oh, and just be locked up for the rest of his life. I won't be complicit in a man's murder, Robin.
ROBIN: (SNAPPING) It's not murder if it's legal. Definitionally, I mean. (SIGHS) Please, Ariadne, I... I need some help on this. I can't help but feel... connected to this case. The victim... (CLEARS HIS THROAT) I haven't said to Collie, it's nothing certain but, um. He... Well. By all accounts he was a handsome young man who never had a sweetheart and who kept his private life quite astonishingly private. (BEAT) I don't know for sure, I don't have any evidence but he reminds me of... Of the many handsome young men of my acquaintance with no sweethearts and a vested interest in preserving their privacy. If you follow me.
ARIADNE: I follow you. And I'm sorry if it's making this case hit closer to home than usual. (BEAT) But I'm still not helping.
ROBIN: Polly!
ARIADNE: You want me to go against my principles for what? Because you think the victim was a homosexual and it makes your little homosexual heart hurt? Sorry, Silly. It doesn't work like that.
ROBIN: I only want to talk! I'm all for sticking to your metaphorical guns, but allowances have to be made for... For...
ARIADNE: For your convenience?
ROBIN: For common decency! For the satisfaction of helping a friend! (BEAT) For... a new sofa?
ARIADNE: Absolutely not. You have no idea how useful that thing is. It's excellent at reminding people of appointments they have to rush off to, or making them realise they left the stove on. My secretary's got shingles.
ROBIN: From the sofa?
ARIADNE: I have a monograph due for submission to the publishers, and nobody to type it up.
ROBIN: Oh no. No, Polly, you can't be serious!
ARIADNE: As a heart attack.
ROBIN: Pol! I hate typing!
ARIADNE: So do I. But typed, it must be.
ROBIN: Hasn't someone got a spare secretary you can borrow?
ARIADNE: They're not umbrellas. Besides, they're all busy. And none of them owe me a favour.
ROBIN: One day, Ariadne, these antisocial habits will come back to bite you.
ARIADNE: Is that a yes?
ROBIN: Yes, fine. I'll do it.
ARIADNE: Splendid. Go on then. Tell me all about it.
ROBIN: (SIGHS) The thrust of it is, we think this chap might have been be testing substances on the victim while he was possessed. He summoned a demon and sicced it on old Parks like a hound on the hunt.
ARIADNE: That's horrible. But I'm really not up on apotropaic substances - that's more thaumaturgic chemistry than semiotics.
ROBIN: Hold your horses. I'm getting there. The thing is, he never set foot in the victim's house. He did the summoning outside and broke the sigils so the demon would have access. Cracked them, right down the middle.
ARIADNE: Oh.
ROBIN: Oh.
ARIADNE: You think he used our formula.
ROBIN: I don't want to think it. But at the risk of sounding quite fantastically arrogant, I'm not sure I believe he could have done without it.
ARIADNE: We worked it out. It's not inconceivable that someone else might.
ROBIN: Someone smart enough on his own to rival the two of us together?
ARIADNE: Now you sound arrogant. What condition was the threshold in?
ROBIN: Fine. I think Bash mentioned something about it being quite strong, actually.
ARIADNE: That's what I was afraid of. Most of the wards I work with - sigils and protective marks and so on - are fairly shallow workings. That's why they're only effective up to a certain point - they don't touch the deeper layers of reality. But dwelling spirits operate within the actual genius loci of a place, right in the spiritual root. Most psychics can't dig down that far - they summon the spirits up a little and sort of meet them in the middle. But there'd be nothing to summon if the threshold were broken. That spiritual root would be destroyed - the very fabric of the reality of the home, torn open.
ROBIN: Ugh. How ghastly.
ARIADNE: It is. It is an act of unconscionable spiritual violence. It's the closest you can get to killing a place. Which is why I took such pains to ensure our formula didn't risk a single scrap of power so much as brushing the threshold.
ROBIN: Oh. I see.
ARIADNE: Sorry, Sil. There's more connecting you to this case than a sense of abstract homosexual sympathy.
ROBIN: Connecting us.
ARIADNE: Yes, alright. Us. (BEAT) You know, you really should have led with this. I suddenly find myself hypocritically invested in catching this monster. (BEAT) But not 80,000 words worth of invested.
ROBIN: 80,000?!
ARIADNE: Not including footnotes.
ROBIN: Cruelty! Barefaced cruelty!
ARIADNE LAUGHS
SCENE 5
NICHOLAS'S OFFICE. HE'S TYPING, PECKING AT THE KEYS, THEN STOPS AS HIS RIBBON RUNS OUT OF INK.
NICHOLAS: (TO HIMSELF) Damn it. Need a new ribbon...
HE STARTS OPENING HIS DRAWERS, LOOKING THROUGH THEM.
NICHOLAS: (TO HIMSELF) Ribbon... Ribbon ribbon ribbon ribbon ribbon... Oh, God...(SIGHS) (CALLING) Edwards? (BEAT) Edwards?
THERE'S NO RESPONSE. NICHOLAS STANDS AND STEPS OUT OF HIS OFFICE INTO THE MAIN CID OFFICE AREA, SURPRISING RODERICK.
RODERICK: Oh, hello, sir!
NICHOLAS: Roderick? What are you doing up here?
RODERICK: Just running up a report for Inspector Garrick. We're light on staff today, it being Sunday, so I thought I'd bring it up myself.
NICHOLAS: Oh. Right. Is Edwards about?
RODERICK: I think she stepped out for a moment. She was on the sting operation this morning, wasn't she?
NICHOLAS: So much for trying to keep things quiet.
RODERICK: I heard it didn't quite go to plan...
NICHOLAS: And how, exactly, did you hear that? If Caulfield's been gossiping...
RODERICK: Oh, I-I really wouldn't like to say, sir. But I take it you didn't get any leads?
NICHOLAS: If we didn't, it wasn't because of any failure on Constable Edwards' part.
RODERICK: Of course not, sir. I'm sure she's a very fine officer.
NICHOLAS: You're damn right she is. Go on, get on.
RODERICK: Sir.
RODERICK LEAVES. NICHOLAS SIGHS AND GOES BACK TO HIS OFFICE, SHUTTING THE DOOR. HE SITS DOWN, STARTS TYPING, AND IMMEDIATELY REMEMBERS WHY HE GOT UP.
NICHOLAS: New ribbon!
HE'S GETTING UP WHEN THE PHONE RINGS. HE STOPS AND ANSWERS IT, DISTRACTED.
NICHOLAS: Hawthorn.
GLADWELL IS ON THE OTHER END OF THE LINE.
GLADWELL: Inspector. It's George Gladwell, from Sacred Heart.
NICHOLAS: (AUDIBLY SITTING UP STRAIGHTER) Oh. Uh. Hello. Hi. H-How are you?
GLADWELL: (SMILING) I'm very well, thank you.
NICHOLAS: Good! Good. That's... That's good. Uh. What do you want? I mean, uh, how can I help?
GLADWELL: (BITING BACK A LAUGH) I wanted to talk to you about Clarence Parks. I was at the Easter service this morning and it got me thinking. Are you religious at all?
NICHOLAS: (LAUGHS) Um. No. No, I was when I was a boy but not any more.
GLADWELL: I understand. Easter is always a bit... (MAKES A VAGUE NOISE AND LAUGHS) Makes one reflect upon one's choices, I suppose. And I realised today, I hadn't been entirely truthful with you when you asked if I knew Parks. And I still had your card, so I thought I'd make amends, so to speak.
NICHOLAS: Oh. You and he were friends, then?
GLADWELL: No. Not friends. The thing about Clarence Parks is that nobody has a bad word to say about him. Nobody! He's perfect. Never sets a foot out of line. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is, to spend time with a person who never does anything wrong?
NICHOLAS: (LAUGHING SOFTLY) I don't think I know anybody like that.
GLADWELL: Count yourself lucky. I mentioned a group of us who go tramping together. That's true enough. But generally speaking, there's a bit of a split. I tend to take trips with a certain group of chaps, and Parks runs with another - mostly with that insufferable prig, Walter Simmons.
NICHOLAS: (NICHOLAS LOOKS THROUGH HIS NOTES) Simmons? I don't think we talked to a Simmons when we were taking statements.
GLADWELL: Really? That's odd. He's the closest thing Parks had to a friend. If you can call putting your heads together to cast judgement on other people "friendship".
NICHOLAS: I see. I'll make a note to talk to him. (BEAT) Remind me, where were you the night Parks disappeared?
GLADWELL: (LAUGHS SOFTLY) You think finding someone irritating is motive for murder?
NICHOLAS: Depends how irritating.
GLADWELL: Let me see. That was, what, February...?
NICHOLAS: 16th. A Wednesday.
GLADWELL: A school night. Well, I can't say for sure but I'm afraid I was very likely at home alone. I realise that's not what you might call a watertight alibi...
NICHOLAS: It's not, no.
GLADWELL: Then I shall just have to put my faith in the power of the Metropolitan Police to find the real culprit. (BEAT) You don't really suspect me, do you?
PAUSE
NICHOLAS: We can't rule anyone out, Mr Gladwell.
PAUSE
GLADWELL: Right. Well, you know where to find me if you have any other questions. I'm home most evenings. Unfortunately.
NICHOLAS: I'll keep it in mind. And - thanks for the tip. About Simmons.
GLADWELL: You're welcome. Talk to you soon, I hope.
NICHOLAS: Uh. Yes. Well, um. Depending on... Yes. G-Goodbye.
NICHOLAS HANGS UP. HE STARTS TYPING, AND MAKES A DISGUSTED NOISE.
NICHOLAS: Damn it, ribbon!
SCENE 6
ROBIN'S FLAT, LATE AT NIGHT. THE FIRE IS LIT, AND A GRAMOPHONE PLAYING MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND. NICHOLAS AND ROBIN ARE LAUGHING.
NICHOLAS: An arm-lock?!
ROBIN: An honest to goodness arm-lock! I really believe she'd have popped his shoulder out if he'd struggled!
NICHOLAS: I don't believe you.
ROBIN: (FAUX SERIOUS) I am a Quaker, Nicholas. I can't lie.
NICHOLAS LAUGHS AS ROBIN GETS UP AND GOES TO THE KITCHEN.
ROBIN: Another?
NICHOLAS: Aye, why not.
NICHOLAS MAKES A HAPPY, STRETCHY SOUND. ROBIN POPS THE LID OFF TWO BOTTLES, AND LAUGHS FONDLY.
ROBIN: You look like a cat in a patch of sun.
NICHOLAS: (CONTENT) Old dog by the fire.
ROBIN RETURNS, HANDING OVER A BOTTLE OF BEER.
ROBIN: Here you are, Fido.
NICHOLAS: Cheers.
ROBIN: Eye contact!
NICHOLAS: What?
ROBIN: In Germany, you must always make eye contact when you say "cheers", or suffer the dreadful wrath of fate.
NICHOLAS: We're not in Germany. Besides, I don't believe in fate.
ROBIN: Ah, but she believes in you. Eye contact!
NICHOLAS: Alright, alright. (BEAT) Cheers.
ROBIN: Cheers.
THEY CLINK AND DRINK. PAUSE.
NICHOLAS: Could you bless beer, do you reckon?
ROBIN: People have blessed beer for centuries, Collie. Millennia.
NICHOLAS: No, no I mean. It's mostly water, isn't it?
ROBIN: So's a cucumber. You've never seen a demon kept at bay with the holy power of a cucumber sandwich, have you?
NICHOLAS PICKS A CHIP OUT OF THE PACKET
NICHOLAS: (MOUTH FULL) No. But I've also never seen a demon at afternoon tea, so who knows.
ROBIN: (LAUGHS) Mm. Good point. No, I think if you wanted demon-repelling beer you'd have to bless the water first, and then use it to make the beer itself. You can bless dirty water, but dirt can be filtered out. Beer can't be filtered back into water. Suspension versus solution, you know?
NICHOLAS: Hm. What about bread? Or chips?
HE EATS SOME MORE CHIPS
ROBIN: Same answer, I'm afraid. The blessing would sit on top, like... Like paint, rather than being absorbed into the matter of the chip itself. Though I don't know what would happen if you watered your potatoes using holy water. (BEAT) You're thinking about your wafers?
NICHOLAS: (LICKING HIS FINGERS) Mm. Can't see why he'd take them. Do they do anything?
ROBIN: Do anything?
RUSTLE OF PAPER, NICHOLAS SLAPS ROBIN'S HAND.
NICHOLAS: Ah! Leave off.
ROBIN: Collie!
NICHOLAS: You've got your own.
ROBIN: That's gratitude for you. Bring you in from the cold, feed and water you-
NICHOLAS: I bought the chips. And I got you your own share.
ROBIN: I finished them!
NICHOLAS: (MOUTH FULL) Not my problem. Wafers.
ROBIN: Hmph. You can't do anything with them. They're no more magical than a slice of Hovis. They only have meaning in a religious context, and even then only when they're blessed. It may become the body of Christ - literally or otherwise, depending on whose team you're on - but if you aren't trying to hold a theologically sound Eucharist, that doesn't count for much.
NICHOLAS: Huh. And I suppose they'd need a priest to bless them, either way. The thief, I mean.
ROBIN: Spot on. It's a theological transformation, not a thaumaturgic one. Depending on the denomination, you'd need the right kind of priest to say the right words and wave his hands about in just the right fashion.
NICHOLAS: Do you not need a priest to make holy water?
ROBIN: Oh, there's all sorts of holy water, made holy by ritual or rite or simply by the sanctifying effect of long habit. There are holy wells up and down the country, imbued with the amassed faith of thousands of years' worth of worshippers. No priest necessary - just add water!
HE LAUGHS.
NICHOLAS: We always use Church of England stuff at the Met.
ROBIN: Yes, well, there's something to be said for scalability. You can't very well mass produce ancient holy springs. Water is uncommonly good at holding thaumaturgic intention. To return to the paint metaphor, water is thaumaturgically absorbent enough to take the blessing right into itself, into the, the grain of it, like a stain. Does that make sense?
NICHOLAS: Uh-huh.
ROBIN: So naturally, if you're looking for a substance that can consistently rout out demonic presence every time you apply it, regardless of who applies it and to whom, then water's your best shout. But the Met needs high quantities of holy water of consistent quality. Filling a bucket at the shrine of St Winefride simply won't do. Far better to order it in bulk from an institution that has a tried and true method for its creation, and- What?
NICHOLAS: What?
ROBIN: You're looking at me.
NICHOLAS: I'm listening!
ROBIN: That wasn't a listening face. Your listening face is grumpier than that.
NICHOLAS: Excuse me for enjoying myself.
ROBIN: It's off-putting. You've put me off. Can't be smiling at a man while he's talking, Collie, it's irresponsible.
NICHOLAS: I'll keep it in mind. Go on. What were you saying?
ROBIN: So much for listening.
NICHOLAS: Tried and true. Church of England.
ROBIN: Any church really. Well. Any in the habit of making holy water. Quakers don't go in for it, of course. We're more for the "all water is holy, as all things are" type of view.
NICHOLAS: So, theoretically, you could chuck any old glass of tap water at a demon and see it off.
IN THE BACKGROUND, THE RECORD ENDS, REPLACED WITH THE HISS OF THE TURNTABLE STILL SPINNING
ROBIN: (SHUDDERING) Lawks, let's not test the theory, eh? I'm not sure my faith's as strong as all that. That's the other thing, of course - the person blessing it has to really believe they're blessing it, or the whole thing's moot.
NICHOLAS: Mm. Like the Nellie Livingstone case.
ROBIN: Who?
NICHOLAS: Nellie Livingstone. This was back in '08, '09, something like that. No, it must have been early '08 - I was 18, just moved down to London.
ROBIN: I can't imagine you at 18.
NICHOLAS: You want to know a secret? (BEAT) I had a moustache. (ROBIN MAKES A DELIGHTED NOISE) If you're very, very good, maybe I'll find you a photo. (ROBIN IS EVEN MORE THRILLED; NICHOLAS MOVES ON) Anyway! I was new in town, precisely as green as I was cabbage-looking, and I remember there was this case. I wasn't working it, but it was all anyone talked about. The Nellie Livingstone murder. Well, manslaughter. A wee girl. She died when one of her teachers got possessed and... Well. You don't need the details. It turned out the school had been using holy water from the local church to test their staff, but one of the priests had put out a faulty batch. He'd lost his faith. All came out in court. He'd been having doubts for... I don't know. Long enough that he could have said something.
ROBIN: Of course. If he didn't believe it, the blessing wouldn't have had any effect. Which, as a trained professional, he would have known fine rightly.
NICHOLAS: Mm. (TAKES A DRINK) That's what judge thought, too. He was done for manslaughter, defrocked and disgraced, and sent down for a long, long time. I can't believe you don't remember it, it was everywhere.
ROBIN: I'd have been, what, 17? I'm afraid I was really quite remarkably self-absorbed at that age.
NICHOLAS: Yeah, but even so. You'd know the photograph, at least. All the papers, they got hold of this one photo of her - about five or six, dark hair, wee ruffles on her skirt.
ROBIN: Oh! Oh, wait, that's ringing a bell. She was wearing that little gingham dress with the, the buttons on the side. And a... hair bow?
NICHOLAS: It was her hat. Wee bow on her hat.
A LONG PAUSE.
ROBIN: Well. I certainly can't accuse you of enjoying yourself too much now.
NICHOLAS: Sorry. Go on, put some more music on. Something perky.
ROBIN JUMPS UP AND TAKES THE NEEDLE OFF THE GRAMOPHONE, FLICKING THROUGH RECORDS. HE PUTS ANOTHER SONG ON. NICHOLAS LIGHTS A CIGARETTE.
ROBIN: (LIGHTLY) That you finished eating?
NICHOLAS: No.
ROBIN: Oh, come on! Please? I'll give you the rest of my fish.
NICHOLAS: You've picked all the batter off!
ROBIN: That's the best bit. Just one chip!
NICHOLAS: Oh for God's sake...
ROBIN: You can chuck it at me, see if I can catch it in my mouth.
NICHOLAS: You'll get vinegar in your eye.
ROBIN: I will not! Bet you sixpence.
NICHOLAS: You're really willing to pay sixpence per chip?
ROBIN: Only if you miss!
SCENE 7
ENTRANCE HALL OF SCOTLAND YARD, FIRST THING IN THE MORNING, BUSY WITH PEOPLE COMING INTO WORK.
SECURITY: Morning, sir.
NICHOLAS: Good morning, Wilkes. How're things?
NICHOLAS EMPTIES HIS POCKETS INTO THE TRAYS
SECURITY: Aiya, you know, lah. Mustn't grumble. Go on through.
NICHOLAS RAISES HIS VOICE TO KEEP THE CONVERSATION GOING AS HE WALKS THROUGH THE SECURITY ARCH
NICHOLAS: Heard on the grapevine you'd some good news?
SECURITY: That's right, sir! My Peggy's in the way again - number three, due in time for Christmas!
NICHOLAS: Number three?! Gods, you're a braver man than me. All clear?
SECURITY: Yep. Here you go, sir.
HE PASSES NICHOLAS THE TRAY AND NICHOLAS TAKES BACK HIS COINS AND TRINKETS, PUTTING ON HIS BELT, ETC.
NICHOLAS: Thanks. Well, congratulations, old boy. I'll talk to one of the girls about doing a whip-round for you.
SECURITY: Aiya, that's awfully good, sir. You really don't have to!
NICHOLAS: Oh, I'm just laying the groundwork for when it's my turn.
THEY BOTH LAUGH.
SECURITY: Give it time, sir. Good-looking boy like you, you could have your pick of young ladies, if you don't mind me saying, lah.
NICHOLAS: I don't mind a bit - if you could just tell it to the young ladies! (SECURITY LAUGHS) Have a good day.
SECURITY: You too. Ta-ra. (OFF) Next, please! Good morning, madam. If you can please place any coins and magical or protective items in the tray before stepping through the detector. Wards, amulets, charms...
SCENE 8
SCOTLAND YARD, CID OFFICES. NICHOLAS WALKS IN, WHISTLING THE TUNE OF THE MUSIC ROBIN WAS PLAYING THE NIGHT BEFORE, FULL OF THE JOYS OF SPRING.
NICHOLAS: Morning, Caulfield. How's the arm?
CAULFIELD: (CONFUSED) Uh. It's fine. Sir?
NICHOLAS: What? I got something on my face?
CAULFIELD: No, I-I just... I wasn't expecting to see you.
NICHOLAS: Why not? Oh God, it's not my day off, is it? Don't tell me I could have had a lie-in.
CAULFIELD: No, sir, nothing like that.
NICHOLAS: Where's Edwards? I said we'd do a whip-round for Wilkes and his missus. She always gets the nicest cards for that kind of thing.
CAULFIELD: (EVEN MORE CONFUSED) Edwards isn't here.
NICHOLAS: Where is she?
CAULFIELD: She's at the crime scene, sir. In Hampstead. Did she- Did she not phone you?
NICHOLAS: Which crime scene? The Parks house or the church?
CAULFIELD SCOFFS. HE'S GOING TO ENJOY THIS.
CAULFIELD: No, Inspector. Neither of those.
NICHOLAS: Caulfield, what are you-
CAULFIELD: The call came through while Edwards was coming in - you know how she likes to get in early, sir. There's been another murder. Another body, with a summoning like you found at the Parks house. I've got the address here.
NICHOLAS: Let me see.
CAULFIELD: Constable Edwards was all set on toddling off to see what the matter was, but I gave her very clear instructions to phone you first, sir. Very clear indeed.
NICHOLAS: (FORCIBLY CALM) I'm sure you were, Sergeant. Thank you for letting me know. Unfortunately, I wasn't home last night and came straight into the office, so I expect Constable Edwards just couldn't reach me.
CAULFIELD: Most likely, sir.
NICHOLAS: I need to use the phone - run down and hail me a cab, would you?
CAULFIELD: I was in the middle of something-
NICHOLAS: Now, Sergeant.
CAULFIELD: Yes, sir. Right away.
NICHOLAS GOES INTO HIS OFFICE SHUTTING THE DOOR BEHIND HIM.
NICHOLAS: (TO HIMSELF) Bloody hell, Edwards...!
HE LIFTS THE PHONE RECEIVER
NICHOLAS: Hello, Operator? Put me through to Mayfair 2729, please.
THEME MUSIC PLAYS
H.R. OWEN: The Lion and the Adder is a Monstrous Productions podcast. With special thanks to art.
Episode 6 starred, in order of appearance: Méabh de Brún as Evelyn 'Bash' Sebastian; H.R. Owen as Robin Sylvester; AMC as Constable Edwards; Michael McGeachin as Sergeant Caulfield; Paul Warren as Nicholas Hawthorn; Ella Gans as Ariadne Pollett; David Ault as Cecil Roderick; Eric Mok as George Gladwell; and Joshua Tay as Security with additional voices from Sonia Himalaya.
It was written by H.R. Owen, script edited and directed by Sophie B., and sound designed by Eira Major.
