Part 48 "The Castle"

PART 48: THE CASTLE

Transcript made & edited by jack

CWs: illness, hacking/coughing/spitting, blood, sounds of drinking, imprisonment, abuse, murder, religious bigotry, assault, alcoholism, descriptions of gore, brainwashing, descriptions of self-mutilation

(BEGIN Part 48.)

 

(A slow piano melody. Distant, muffled thunder. Arthur hacks and spits.)

 

JOHN (concerned): Arthur. (Arthur chokes.) Jesus. 

 

ARTHUR: Was that… 

 

JOHN: It was. (Arthur sighs.) Blood. You need to rest. 

 

ARTHUR: Yes, well. We should have a room here. Where are…?

 

JOHN: It’s a hallway. A dark… unlit stone passage. There’s light ahead coming from a room to the right. (Arthur breathes heavily.) The walls are mostly barren. A suit of armor lay off to our left… though in the darkness, I can’t make out any finer detail. 

 

ARTHUR: I’m going to need to rely on you. More than ever.

 

JOHN: I know. I know. We have this. Let’s keep going. (Footsteps.) The room where the light is coming from is just ahead. A large, curved opening… it looks like it may be a common room of sorts. Here. (Arthur exhales.) Turn. There, we’re –

 

(A wooden creak. Occasional sound of turning pages.)

 

UNKNOWN MAN (gruff voice): Well! (John makes a surprised noise.) Look who decided to join us.

 

JOHN: Arthur, there’s a man sitting before a large fireplace. He’s wearing comfortable clothing, with a drink in his hand. (Arthur clears his throat.) His boots are off, they sit beside the fireplace. (A slurping noise.) He’s taking a long drink from his mug. The hearth is huge. Three ornate wooden highbacked chairs sit before the fireplace. (Wooden creaking.) They look as though they’ve been dragged there.

 

UNKNOWN MAN (gruff voice): Did you get lost in Goatswood?

 

ARTHUR: My apologies for being late, Lord… Evrard. (The unknown man huffs a laugh.)

 

UNKNOWN MAN 2 (French accent): Non. He is not. 

 

JOHN: Oh, Arthur! Another man sits in the corner, farthest from the fireplace. He’s wearing a red tunic and sits at a long table that seems to be center of this room. He’s reading from a book by candlelight.

 

ARTHUR: Sorry. I hear… (A prolonged coughing fit.)

 

UNKNOWN MAN (gruff voice): So you don’t know this lord, either. Figures.

 

ARTHUR: Either? You… You two were summoned as well? You don’t know…

 

UNKNOWN MAN 2 (French accent): No. None of us do.

 

ARTHUR: How many of… ‘us’ are there? 

 

JOHN: The man by the fire stands up. 

 

UNKNOWN MAN (gruff voice): Well, you’d better be the last. I’m sick and tired of waiting. Speaking of sick… who are you?

 

ARTHUR: W-Warin. Of Aravel. You?

 

BARNABAS: Barnabas of Ballechey. That there is Gerard of Vendhuile.

 

JOHN: The man looks up from his book to nod. 

 

ARTHUR: How long have you been waiting?

 

BARNABAS: Near on a week. 

 

ARTHUR: And Lord Evrard…

 

BARNABAS: Hasn’t yet graced us with his company.

 

ARTHUR: He hasn’t even made himself… present yet? (He coughs.)

 

GERARD: Not until we are all here. 

 

(Approaching footsteps.)

 

UNKNOWN MAN 3 (refined accent, growing closer): If the Lord has made himself available, finally, and we can – (In realization.) Ah, ah!

 

JOHN: Two more men have arrived, Arthur!

 

UNKNOWN MAN 3 (refined accent): I told you I heard the door open.

 

BARNABAS: Don’t suppose he left it unlocked this time.

 

ARTHUR: Locked?

 

JOHN: The one speaking is dressed in loose-fitting brown clothes. 

 

BARNABAS: They keep the doors locked.

 

ARTHUR: Why?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (refined accent): Please don’t mind Barnabas. (Objects shifting.) His extended stay here has left his mind free to create fantasies. Shadows where there are none. I am Friar Horbrooke.

 

ARTHUR: Friar?

 

JOHN: The young friar has stretched out a hand. It’s well-worn, calloused. But his face is warm and inviting. 

 

ARTHUR (exhaling): W-Warin, of Aravel. (Slight impact sound.) 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Ah.

 

JOHN: The man who entered with the friar has a stern, cold expression. He’s paid you no mind and gone straight for the fireplace.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: This stern gentleman, as I pried from him, is Langward Ardene. He’s rather… stoic. (Slurping noises.)

 

ARTHUR: Have you been here long?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: No. Most of us only just arrived.

 

BARNABAS (annoyed): Most?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Yes, yes. Barnabas here has been here a week, and –

 

BARNABAS: Aye. I told him.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Yes, yes. Whereas Gerard there arrived yesterday. I believe Langward here was this morning, and I only arrived a few short hours ago.

 

ARTHUR: I’m sorry to be the last, but glad I wasn’t overwhelmingly late – (A heavy wheezing cough.)

 

JOHN: With your cough, the quiet man by the fire, Langward, has shot you a look. An expression of concern. (Arthur clears his throat.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: That’s quite the cough.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, it’s… been rather a difficult travel, I’d say.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Yes, I was turned around in Goatswood. (Barnabas huffs a laugh. John exhales.) Not all of us have the means – (He trails off under John’s voice. Barnabas and Horbrooke have an unintelligible conversation.)

 

JOHN: If the lord hasn’t made himself known, ask how… they’ve been surviving. Are there servants, like the one outside?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: – none of your concern. 

 

ARTHUR (coughing): Sorry, excuse me. So if Lord Evrard hasn’t made himself known, Barnabas, how have you been keeping yourself… I-I mean, this week…

 

BARNABAS: The food on that table is all that’s prepared. As far as I can tell. The kitchen is down at the end of the hallway.

 

JOHN: He points to one of the passages opposite the one we entered through.

 

BARNABAS: The chambers are down the hall you entered through. I chose the largest room. Apologies in advance. Thankfully, there are plenty of good books to keep me busy. God knows the witch isn’t a talker. 

 

JOHN: The witch?

 

(A sad string piece starts.)

 

ARTHUR: What witch?

 

GERARD: There is a woman below, past the chamber. She does not speak, nor move. 

 

JOHN: The stoic man by the fire nods quietly, as if in agreement.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: What on Earth are you talking about?

 

BARNABAS: The only servants our gracious hosts has of any kind… in this castle… is the woman at the bottom of the stairs. 

 

ARTHUR: Which hallway? The one leading from the front door?

 

BARNABAS: Aye. Beyond the chambers is a set of stairs. The door at the top is locked. The one at the bottom… leads to a small room with one exit and she’s guarding that exit.

 

ARTHUR: Guarding? Against what?

 

LANGWARD (measured voice): Us. (Barnabas makes a noise of realization.)

 

JOHN: It’s the man by the fire speaking.

 

BARNABAS: He does talk!

 

LANGWARD: She is no witch. 

 

BARNABAS: Believe what you want, but she says no words. Believe me, I tried. She stands before a door… she will not move. She will not speak. And… 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: And?

 

BARNABAS: She cannae see. 

 

(A sad melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: She can’t… see? 

 

BARNABAS: She wears a wrapping around her eyes, covering ‘em. Like a blindfold. 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Have you tried getting past her?

 

BARNABAS: You’re welcome to try, but it seems like our host dinnae want any of his servants to talk.

 

JOHN: The men all share a look. An uncertain moment of… apprehension. Barnabas has turned back to his spot before the fireplace. The friar has entered properly, and found a spot at the table opposite the Frenchman. (Wooden creaking.) It seems a quiet moment has washed over the room. The stoic man, Langward, still stands by the fire. This room is large, it is a common room as I thought. There is one passage on the side of the room we entered from, and two that exit on the opposite.  

 

So if we had continued down the hallway from which we entered, we’d find the chambers and the stairwell. (Slurping noises. The tap of ceramic. Occasional flipping pages.) Up is a locked door, down… the woman. From what Barnbas said, at least once of the two remaining passages that lead out of this room on the opposite side, heads to the kitchen. 

 

What about the other one? Ask them, Arthur.

 

ARTHUR (coughing): So, ahm… of the three ways out of this room, one is where I-I came from, the f-front door and chambers, one leads to a hallway that heads to the kitchen. What about the other?

 

BARNABAS: The hallway to the kitchen has a library as well. And a few old closets. The other passageway houses the chapel, and… let’s just say, a lesser house of God.

 

ARTHUR: Lesser? (Barnabas cackles.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: The garderobe.

 

ARTHUR: Oh. (Cough.) Right. So then. What do we do now?

 

LANGWARD: We wait. 

  

JOHN: Arthur, if our host is to arrive soon, this may be a good moment to talk to one of them. Individually. Whoever you want to. (A melancholy piece begins.) Langward… isn’t going to offer much. The Frenchman… seems like he may know things, but how tight-lipped he is about them is anyone’s guess. (Distant scribbling.) The friar seems like an open book… but he’s only just arrived. That leaves Barnabas. He may be a braggart, but hopefully his week here has uncovered something. (Arthur clears his throat and sniffs.) To your left, sitting by the fireplace. (Two sets of footsteps.)

 

Langward has stepped away. He clearly doesn’t want to talk. There’s a chair next to Barnabas. Here, here!

 

ARTHUR: May I? 

 

JOHN: He nods. (He grunts in exertion.) He takes a deep drink from his mug. (Drinking noises.) He smells of wine and old leather. He sports a scraggly beard, unkempt and animalistic. (Creaking furniture.) His eyes are sharp… his perched eyebrows give him an almost angered expression, even when he smiles. 

 

BARNABAS: Here’s to hoping you’re the last one. (Drinking noises.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Well, given that there is only one room left, I’d say he is. (Barnabas belches loudly.)

 

BARNABAS: So where is Aravel, anyway? (A tap on the table.)

 

JOHN: Deflect. He’s ribbing you, h-he doesn’t care! Fire back at him.

 

ARTHUR: Why, do you want to visit when this is all over? 

 

(A suspenseful sting. Furniture creaks.) 

 

JOHN: He smiles. (Arthur exhales. Barnabas laughs.)

 

BARNABAS: Oh, this? Locked in a castle with four men I don’t know? You assume much. 

 

ARTHUR: Such as?

 

JOHN: His wicked gaze meets ours. His eyes are wild and fiery. 

 

BARNABAS: We’re all going to leave here alive. (He chuckles darkly.)

 

JOHN: The Frenchman has stopped reading.

 

BARNABAS: Oh, lighten up! It’s only death. (He laughs. Arthur starts to cough.)

 

JOHN: Ask him about his time here. 

 

ARTHUR (clearing his throat): So, you’ve been here for a week. Surely you’ve… poked and prodded plenty. 

 

BARNABAS: Aye. 

 

ARTHUR: Well? (He coughs.) What have you found?

 

BARNABAS: Our gracious host is right above us. I heard him moving around at times. He’s got space up there, too, moving around. I dinnae know what he looks like, even.

 

JOHN: Ask the others.

 

ARTHUR: Does… anyone?

 

JOHN: Silence. (Drinking noises.) Push him for his perspective. His thoughts on what’s happening. They may or may not be right, but. It’ll give us an understanding of who he is.

 

ARTHUR: What do you think is going on?

 

BARNABAS: I think this Evrard knows me well. Knows all of us well. I imagine we have more in common than we realize. I may not know what our host looks like, but I know him. I see him reflected in the works in the library, the food on the table. The rooms… he’s like all of us. Seeking answers. (Arthur coughs harshly.)

 

JOHN: Answers? Press that.

 

ARTHUR (rasping): What do you mean?

 

BARNABAS: Oh, come now. 

 

ARTHUR: What? (Furniture creaking.)

 

JOHN: He’s leaning in closer. He’s… staring at us. Studying our eyes. Our face. 

 

BARNABAS: I see it on you, Warin. You’re just like us. 

 

JOHN: Meaning?

 

ARTHUR: Just like you?

 

BARNABAS: You too have seen them. 

 

ARTHUR: Seen what?

 

BARNABAS: The cracks. 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Once again, you’re making quite the assumptions about us, Barnabas. (Arthur exhales.)

 

BARNABAS: Am I? (Furniture creaking.)

 

JOHN: He sits back in the chair, returning his gaze to the fire.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: He too pressed this upon me, only a short while ago. (Arthur coughs severely, drowning out Horbrooke.) Barnabas believes we’re all coming apart at the seams. 

 

BARNABAS: I dinnae say that!

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: He believes that we all search for answers –

 

BARNABAS: You found yours, no? That’s what you proclaimed –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (indignant): That is not what I said. I too –

 

LANGWARD: Enough. Listen. (Distant footsteps.)

 

JOHN: Footsteps.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Is that from the front?

 

BARNABAS: No.

 

JOHN: Arthur. Someone approaches from the direction of the chambers. All eyes are on the archway we entered from. The room is silent. Waiting. (The footsteps grow louder.)

 

UNKNOWN MAN: Greetings, guests. 

 

JOHN: A man stands at the archway leading into this room from the front hall. He sports a well-manicured jet black beard that ends in a point at his chin. His mustache is large and pointed. His dark hair is short, and gives an almost modern appearance. His eyes are light, blue-gray, but he has dark circles around them that make them appear sunken and tired. To his right, the woman! The… witch. Her eyes are indeed wrapped by a blindfold, though she doesn’t seem to have any issue navigating. The room is silent. 

 

LORD EVRARD: My name is Lord Evrard. Thank you for attending this… gathering. 

 

JOHN: He slowly enters the room, but only slightly. 

 

LORD EVRARD: No doubt… you have all questioned why you have come here. First, may I introduce: Alia Showl. 

 

JOHN: He gestures to the woman.

 

LORD EVRARD: She is here to maintain a certain amount of… decorum. Respect. And safety. 

 

BARNABAS: Safety from what?

 

JOHN: Evrard ignores the question.

 

LORD EVRARD: Each of you is here, because you, like myself, have sought answers to questions that others dare not seek answers to. You also represent a facet of the growing curiosity that exists in this world, and are each willing to push beyond what our society deems right in the pursuit of that truth. Friar Dorian Horbrooke. (Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: He gestures to the friar.

 

LORD EVRARD: Also known by the scholastic accolade ‘Dr. Horribilis’, a polymath, philosopher, scientist, theologian. And friar. Your study of nature, life, death… is narrowly regarded by those who see your true self as genius. Some call you a wizard, but your application of the empirical method on ancient texts is unmatched. (Short pause. Footsteps.) Prince Warin, of Aravel.

 

JOHN: He looks directly at us. 

 

LORD EVRARD: Aristocratic, captivating. And clever. Your ability to fit into most any situation and do whatever you see as necessary has revealed you as a vital step toward the future of this country. Your ability to debate, beguile, and manipulate so many… has won you not only Aravel, but the love of your people. You exemplify charisma, and yet, endeavor to find more beyond what you already possess. Your hunger drives you. 

 

Gerard de Vendhuile. Your designs, architecture, and art are amongst the most progressive this land has seen. The architecture you’ve designed will be most assuredly widely used over the next short while, as our countries continue to grow together as one. But your mind, your dreams, your… vision… exists in places that only truly the blessed can inhabit. Cities devoted to singular purposes, ones beyond ourselves…

 

Langward Ardene. As a physician and accomplished surgeon, the magna you’ve written is not only a widely read publication throughout the land, but soon to become one of the standard texts of medical knowledge for years to come. Your ability to distinguish diseases and plagues and their contagious manner is powerful, and world-altering knowledge, and yet… you never dared believe that all that exists is only before us. Your esoteric vision of a world beyond ours has not only welcomed new and strange possibilities, but defined the indefinable. 

 

And finally, Barnabas of Ballechey. As an astronomer, you’ve come to see the world in a way that few others can. Your view of the stars and your experience in alchemy marks you as one of the most influential and important people in this day and age. But beyond that, you’ve seen what most others only dare to see: you’ve witnessed visions that have brought us all here together. Visions that the others will not and can not understand yet. The cracks, as you so eloquently put it. (Arthur exhales.)

 

JOHN: He smiles a grin that reeks of satisfaction. 

 

(Wooden creaking.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: So. You know us, and now… we all know each other. Better, at least. 

 

GERARD (quietly): But why are we here?

 

LORD EVRARD: You all seek answers. And I have found it.

 

LANGWARD: Found what?

 

LORD EVRARD: The answer. 

 

ARTHUR: Which is…?

 

(A rising suspenseful sting.) 

 

LORD EVRARD: The Blackstone. 

 

(‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.)

 

BARNABAS (in shock): The Blackstone?

 

ARTHUR (in realization): The Blackstone.

 

LORD EVRARD: I am not affiliated with the Order, as you are, Langward. But I’m sure you, of all people here, recognize its name.

 

LANGWARD (exhaling): Blackstone… the Order of the Fallen Star has –

 

LORD EVRARD: Yes. And I have found it. But its power is one that deserves, demands the kind of devotion that each of you exemplifies. It does not simply belong to your Order because you’ve dedicated your life to its pursuit.

 

LANGWARD: How dare you. (Footsteps.)

 

LORD EVRARD (assertively): Instead, I have sought you out. (Langward grunts.) Each of you. Because you deserve to witness its power, you deserve to receive its gifts. You deserve… to be here. And so. Tomorrow night, once we’re rested, celebrated in small fashion, and prepared accordingly… I will take you down to its resting place and reveal it to you. To each of us. And until then, Alia will ensure that no one decides to take it for themselves.

 

JOHN: He turns to the woman.

 

LORD EVRARD: If you would return to your post, my dear.

 

JOHN: She nods. (Footsteps.)

 

LORD EVRARD: Now. We have much time. For now, I would like to greet my guests and enjoy the evening. Barnabas… (Furniture creaking.) If you would speak to me in the study, I would very much like to apologize. (Footsteps.) Warin, please see yourself to your room and the rest of you… please make yourselves comfortable.

 

(A disgusted noise from Langward and hurried footsteps.)

 

JOHN: Langward storms off, he’s seething at the prospect at not getting the Blackstone for the Order. I-I…

 

(Evrard and Barnabas’ conversation continues underneath John and Arthur’s conversation.)

 

GERARD (urgently): Langward, wait. (Following him.) Langward.

 

JOHN: Arthur, I… it looks like Gerard is following him. Barnabas and Evrard are looking to head to the study. With this revelation, should we still give Evrard the gift?

 

LORD EVRARD (audible): The study is a…(Unintelligible.)

 

JOHN: The ring from the Order, which could solidify our being here! 

 

BARNABAS: (Unintelligible.) –As I’ve been waiting here.

 

JOHN: But also could mess things up. 

 

LORD EVRARD: I promise you – (Unintelligible.)

 

JOHN: Perhaps it’s better to hold onto it, even though… not giving him a gift may reflect poorly on us.  (Arthur clears his throat and sniffs.) You’ve turned away. (Arthur coughs.) You want to keep it?

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Yes. Yeah. 

 

JOHN: Alright. Okay. I suppose it’s to the room. Give these men some space. Straight ahead. (Footsteps.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: I don’t recall you saying ‘prince’, Prince Warin. 

 

JOHN: The friar has joined us in the hallway. He smiles with a thin grin. (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Did I not?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: No. I’ve never known a prince not to announce… nay, proclaim himself as one. Especially one with so many… scars.

 

JOHN: Tell him that Lord Evrard explained why. You’re a charismatic man. (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: I’d hardly be able to fit in most any situation, if I announced myself as a prince from the onset. No? (He coughs.)

 

JOHN: He stares at you: a perplexed look, as if trying to read your expression. 

 

(A short pause.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: No, I suppose you wouldn’t.

 

ARTHUR: If you’ll excuse me. (Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: The hallway is ahead. To the right, we’ll head to the chamber –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (overlapping): If  you don’t mind, I think I’ll join you. (John grunts.) I’d rather not… be alone in this castle. (He titters.)

 

JOHN: He’s following. (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR (flatly): Sure. Why not?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Our rooms are next to each other. I’ve taken the one at the end of the hallway, on the left. Closest to the stairway. (Arthur sighs.) I hope you don’t mind.

 

ARTHUR: Not at all.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: You’re beside mine. (Arthur coughs.)

 

JOHN: The friar is a sheepish man. (A mysterious melody begins.) His lips are thin, his eyes docile, like a lamb’s. He walks with his hands held together at his waist, as if praying. As I mentioned, his robes are brown and meld together as if they’re one piece. His shoes are elaborately tied. Quite the knots keeping them on. And –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (overlapping): So! What do you make of all this, then?

 

ARTHUR: It seems I’m in quite the company. Evrard has certainly been… vocal about how much we… function outside of society.

 

JOHN: Yes. Press him for what Evrard meant about that. Each of these men sounded as though –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (interrupting): I can’t speak for the others, but I’m quite concerned with what Evrard said about me. 

 

ARTHUR: Are you?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (scathingly): Some call me a wizard. What nonsense. I’m a friar, a man of God. 

 

ARTHUR: And which god is that?

 

JOHN: He stops. 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: What do you mean?

 

ARTHUR: It’s a simple question. Evrard seems to imply that… our pursuits have led us down a path of –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (cutting him off): The Almighty God.

 

JOHN: He studies our face again. 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: And what god do you follow?

 

JOHN (uncertain): Tell him… tell him… tell him that…

 

ARTHUR: None.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (irritated): Heathen. 

 

ARTHUR: From Doctor Horribilis? (Footsteps begin.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (scoffing): That nonsense.

 

ARTHUR: Is it? Truly?

 

JOHN: He’s hiding something. (Arthur coughs.) They all are. 

 

ARTHUR: So what do you make of all this, then? You deny to be anything other than a kindly monk.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: I claimed no such thing.

 

ARTHUR: Well then, what have you done to deserve this gift? This witnessing of the Blackstone, the way Evrard has put it?

 

(Friar Horbrooke sighs.)

 

JOHN: He looks… almost… torn. As if questioning whether to answer. Press him. Offer him a path forward, to share what’s on his mind. If he can reveal what he and Prince Warin may have in common… 

 

ARTHUR: Do you not sense it? (He coughs.) W-With the others? There is more to their beliefs. We all seek answers, Evrard said that. Their desire to push the boundaries of their respected fields is exactly why they’re here. No different than you. No different than me.

 

(Friar Horbrooke sighs.)

 

JOHN: He hesitates.

 

ARTHUR (deliberately): What boundaries have you pushed? 

 

JOHN (sighing): That’s broken him, pushed him back. Damn. 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (amidst Arthur’s coughs): You’re not quite as charismatic as Evrard claimed, Prince. I will say, revealing previews of all of his little players was quite the… maneuver.

 

(A melancholy melody begins.)

 

JOHN: He continues to walk towards the chambers. (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Maneuver?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Why reveal so much in each of us?

 

ARTHUR: Well, why not?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Come, Prince. You’re not that naive. You’ve heard of the Blackstone, have you not?

 

ARTHUR: I have. We all have.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: All except Barnabas, it sounded like.

 

ARTHUR: Well, what’s that got to do with it?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Whatever power the Blackstone offers, it is not a power you share. 

 

ARTHUR: What does that mean?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: That Barnabas was more right than he knows. In that I don’t wish to be alone in this castle.

 

JOHN: He walks ahead.  (Footsteps.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: In fact, I shall endeavor to return to my room for the night.

 

ARTHUR: For the entire evening?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: It has been a long day of travel for me, and I am keen to climb into bed and sleep peacefully.

 

ARTHUR: Good night, Friar Horbrooke. (A low, metal creak.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Good night. I recommend you sleep… with one eye open. (The door squeaks shut.)

 

JOHN: Jesus. O-Our door’s just here, before us. (Footsteps. A door opens and closes.) Our chambers are small: slitted, glassless windows to the outside frame the simple bed between them. A cold fireplace lay on the right wall. The stone floor and walls fill the room with an ominous sense of dread. It’s very dark in here. (The lighter flicks.) You better make sure no one sees you with that. There are candles everywhere. To the left of the bed. (Footsteps.) There, there! (The sound of flame. Arthur coughs severely and makes noises of pain.) Jesus, Arthur. Are you okay? (‘Noel’s Theme’ begins.)

 

ARTHUR: No. I feel… very rough, John.

 

JOHN: I’m sorry. But you need to keep it together.

 

ARTHUR: I know, I know.

 

JOHN: You’re doing great, just… stay with me.

 

ARTHUR: Alright, alright. So. We’ve found the Blackstone.

 

JOHN: It seems like Evrard has. And he’s offering to show it to these men! But why? (A low melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: And what was the friar getting at? Evrard not sharing this power… revealing who we are and what we do to…

 

JOHN: It didn't help but cause suspicion. At least, for us. 

 

ARTHUR: Maybe we’re not alone. 

 

JOHN: What do you mean?

 

ARTHUR: It sounded like that’s what the friar was getting at. That Evrard was only keen to cast suspicion.

 

JOHN: He did it in quite the subtle way. There were no outright proclamations of ill intent.

 

ARTHUR: No, but this setting, this… this castle, these people! All of them already seem on edge. B-But why? Why the song and dance? And why share the Blackstone? 

 

JOHN: I don’t know. (Arthur grunts. Wood creaks.) Sit.

 

ARTHUR: It helps me think. (Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: Fine. 

 

ARTHUR: Evrard knew that Langward was from the Order of the Fallen Star, a-and yet he invited him.

 

JOHN: Right.

 

ARTHUR: Well, that’s like inviting a player from the opposing football team to watch you score a goal against them. (He inhales.) 

 

JOHN: But he’s invited Langward to participate in witnessing.

 

ARTHUR: While expressly telling him that the Stone was not going to return to the Order. He’s taunting him.

 

JOHN: So Evrard is taunting Langward.

 

ARTHUR: And the friar. It seemed like… he didn’t like the title, Dr. Horribilis. He was almost offended in the hallway.

 

JOHN: So is Evrard revealing truths about us, to… to what? Turn us against each other? Why? (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: I don’t know. But if he does have the Blackstone… and this castle… as you said the hag said… is a place where they worship the Great Old Ones… then Evrard is not to be trusted.

 

JOHN: Unless.

 

ARTHUR: Unless?

 

JOHN: Unless what he says is true. The friar was contemplating telling us something.

 

ARTHUR: What do you mean?

 

JOHN: I wonder… if Evrard told the truth. And merely wanted us to… understand that we all share… a similar goal. 

 

ARTHUR: The pursuit of truth.

 

JOHN: Or the belief in something more… sinister. 

 

ARTHUR: Cultists.

 

JOHN: I think we both felt that. 

 

ARTHUR: But they all seemed at odds with each other.

 

JOHN: Perhaps these guests aren’t united under the same… belief.

 

ARTHUR: You think…

 

JOHN: Look, we’ve seen cultists that worship the King in Yellow! Some that worship Shub-Niggurath.

 

ARTHUR: Well, not in this timeline. Shub doesn’t exist.

 

JOHN (interrupting): My point is… perhaps this is less about creating doubt… and more about… finding one of them that is… 

 

ARTHUR (realizing): Worthy.

 

JOHN: Exactly.

 

ARTHUR: Well. If it’s our way to find the Blackstone… we best become worthy. 

 

JOHN: And there’s the rub. 

 

ARTHUR: Which is?

 

JOHN: If each of these men are so devoted to their cause… to their god, to their beliefs… to being the one that Evrard chooses… then… 

 

ARTHUR (solemnly): How far would they go to ensure it?

 

BARNABAS (muffled, at a distance): Oh, God. Murder!

 

ARTHUR (gasping): Fuck.

 

BARNABAS: Help! Help! (The door opens. The voices grow clearer.) My God! Murder!

 

JOHN: Murder. It came from the common room!

 

BARNABAS: Murder!

 

JOHN: Where are you –

 

ARTHUR: The friar. 

 

JOHN: Left, left. (Knocking on wood.) The door is locked, Arthur. (More knocking.)

 

ARTHUR: Friar! (He tries the handle.)

 

JOHN: We should see what’s happening. 

 

ARTHUR: But the friar… (Calling out. More knocking.) Friar! 

 

JOHN: He’s probably already in bed. (Wooden impact. Arthur’s grunt of exertion.) Let’s go.

 

BARNABAS (muffled, at a distance): Murder! (Arthur jolts.)

 

ARTHUR: Fine, fine!

 

JOHN: Thank you! The friar doesn’t matter. We know he’s in his room. (Footsteps.) We saw him, w-what we need to –

 

ARTHUR (whispering urgently): Yes, yes, look. No matter what… we need to touch that body.

 

(A slow melody begins.)

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: John!

 

JOHN: You…

 

ARTHUR: You know, better than anybody – 

 

JOHN (uncertain): Yes, but…

 

ARTHUR (exasperated): But what?

 

JOHN: I, uh… I-I don’t know. (A muffled conversation at a distance, unintelligible.) I suppose… but…

 

EVRARD (quietly): To be joined by…

 

JOHN: We’re here. (Barnabas grunts angrily.) The common room.

 

BARNABAS: And you. Where were you? 

 

JOHN: He’s speaking to us.

 

ARTHUR: I…

 

JOHN: Barnabas is here.

 

ARTHUR: I was…

 

JOHN: With Gerard and Evrard.

 

ARTHUR: I was… (He coughs.)

 

JOHN: Langward is…

 

ARTHUR: I was in my room. 

 

JOHN: Missing.

 

ARTHUR: Where were you?

 

BARNABAS: Here.

 

JOHN: Gerard is sitting at the table looking down at his hands. (Furniture creaks.) He looks nervous. Barnabas stands pacing behind him. Evrard… stands by the fire. I can’t read his expression. 

 

ARTHUR: What’s happened?

 

LORD EVRARD: No. Not yet. We wait for the friar. 

 

ARTHUR: Wait?

 

BARNABAS: Langward is dead. (A suspenseful tone. Scathingly.) And this… Frenchman did it.

 

ARTHUR (coughing): How? How do you know?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (panting): What’s all this, then?

 

JOHN: The friar has entered.

 

BARNABAS: Where were you?

 

JOHN: He looks… sweaty.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Asleep in my chambers, like I told the prince here. (A slow melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: Didn’t you hear me banging on your door?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Of course I did. It woke me. I was fast asleep, I had to get dressed.

 

BARNABAS: Is that so?

 

JOHN: The friar’s shoes are still tied, just as they were. If he was in bed… something’s –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: What happened?

 

BARNABAS: Murder.

 

ARTHUR: Where is Langward’s body?

 

BARNABAS: In the chapel.

 

ARTHUR: Tell us exactly what happened.

 

LORD EVRARD (amidst footsteps): Barnabas and I were in the study, sharing a glass of wine, when I suggested we join those still awake in the common room.

 

BARNABAS: We came in here to see him. (Furniture creaks.)

 

JOHN: He nudges Gerard.

 

BARNABAS: Standing just outside the hallway to the chapel: shifty, nervous, and drenched in sweat. (Louder.) Like you there, Friar! Nervous sleeper?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Why were you sweating?

 

BARNABAS: Why indeed there, Frenchman?

 

ARTHUR: Who found the body?

 

BARNABAS: We all did. When Langward wasn’t with him, we all went in… together, to see why.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: All three of you?

 

BARNABAS: Aye.

 

ARTHUR: And…? (Rising suspenseful tones.)

 

LORD EVRARD: His throat was slit.

 

BARNABAS: From behind.

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Jesus. 

 

LORD EVRARD: Indeed. 

 

ARTHUR: Did you…? (Slow footsteps.)

 

JOHN: Gerard doesn’t look up. S-Straight ahead. Yes, yes. (Arthur exhales.) A little… here, here!

 

ARTHUR: Well, did you kill Langward? (Furniture creaks. A short pause.)

 

GERARD: No. (The friar scoffs.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (sarcastically): Well, that solves that, then. (Normally.) Clearly, you did. The question is: why? Why did you kill Langward?

 

GERARD: I did not.

 

BARNABAS: Bollocks!

 

JOHN: Arthur, step in. (He speaks over Barnabas and Evrard.)

 

BARNABAS (muffled): I’m not going to be sleeping with a killer the entire time.

 

LORD EVRARD (muffled): That is not the intention we gather here –

 

JOHN: If he did kill Langward, we need to know why.

 

ARTHUR: Look, look. Let’s say you didn’t. (Barnabas scoffs.) What were you doing? What happened? You were the last to see him alive. Why did you follow Langward into the chapel, i-in the first place? (He coughs severely. Furniture creaks.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: What does that matter?

 

LORD EVRARD: Quiet, Friar. (Arthur clears his throat.) Answer the question, Gerard. (A slow melody begins.) 

 

GERARD (carefully): Langward and I… have… had… a common… interest. 

 

ARTHUR: Such as?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (annoyed): What does it matter? He was with him. I can’t believe Barnabas is the only other person here seeing how this is –

 

BARNABAS (cutting him off): I’d like to hear the answer, too. If you don’t mind, Friar. (The friar scoffs.)

 

GERARD: We share a common allegiance to the Order of the Fallen Star.

 

JOHN: Evrard… smirks, almost. Satisfied. 

 

ARTHUR: Does that answer satisfy you, Lord Evrard?

 

LORD EVRARD: In a way. 

 

ARTHUR: Where were you when he died?

 

GERARD: I had kept my allegiance secret, but when Langward was revealed to be part of the Order, I saw an opportunity for us to… work together. 

 

LORD EVRARD: To find the Blackstone and claim it for yourselves?

 

GERARD: Oui. 

 

(The friar and Barnabas scoff.)

 

LORD EVRARD (facetiously): How honorable. 

 

ARTHUR: Do you have any way of proving that you’re part of the Order?

 

GERARD: I have this. (Fabric shifting. A clatter of metal.) 

 

JOHN: He’s pulled out a ring. Similar to ours, a slight variation in material and design, but… definitely part of the same Order. I can’t…

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Or… you took that from him.

 

GERARD: Took?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: I saw it.

 

BARNABAS: Aye. I did, too.

 

ARTHUR: Saw what?

 

LORD EVRARD: Langward wore a ring like this as well.

 

GERARD (exhaling): Perhaps, but this one is mine.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Well, then this should be easy to solve.

 

ARTHUR: How? I-I…

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: If Langward’s corpse no longer has the ring, we know Gerard here took it off of him.

 

ARTHUR (flustered): B-But hold – why? That would only implicate him, if –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Because of exactly the point he’s trying to make.

 

BARNABAS: If they were working together… why would Gerard kill Langward? If he can prove they’re both from the Order…

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Then at least some of the suspicion is gone. I would venture that Gerard counted on us not noticing that Langward wore a ring at all. A fatal mistake.

 

JOHN: Arthur, h-hold on. This… This could be dangerous.

 

LORD EVRARD: Then we check the body.

 

BARNABAS: Aye.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: And if it’s not there, we each turn out our pockets.

 

JOHN (desperate): Arthur! If that ring isn’t there, then we are fucked! We’re still carrying our ring! (Furniture creaking. Footsteps.) They’re moving to the –

 

ARTHUR (sudden): H-H-H-Hold on, for a second, for a moment! For a moment, just – just wait a second. Look.

 

BARNABAS: Nervous there, Warin?

 

ARTHUR (exhaling): The friar and I were speaking. Evrard clearly brought us here for a reason.

 

BARNABAS: The Lord was with me. The friar with you. Only Gerard was alone. 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Mind you… I left the prince in the hallway. I did not see him enter his room. 

 

BARNABAS: Is that so?

 

ARTHUR (exhaling): I was in my room, I swear to you.

 

BARNABAS: Then there’s no reason not to check the body. Right, Gerard?

 

JOHN: He’s sweating nervously. I-I think…

 

GERARD: He was… the prince was.

 

BARNABAS: And how do you know that?

 

GERARD: After speaking to Langward, he suggested I check to see if you had left your bedroom door unlocked, Lord Evrard. 

 

LORD EVRARD: Did he?

 

GERARD: But I waited at the end of the hallway there, until both the friar and the prince had entered their rooms –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: See?

 

GERARD: But I saw you leave yours once again.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (outburst): Liar!

 

ARTHUR (surprised): You left your room?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: I did not. He’s lying! Clearly trying to manipulate us. I say, we check for the ring. I want to see this body.

 

GERARD: Don’t you mean ‘again’?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (furious): You miserable –

 

LORD EVRARD: Enough. Barnabas and I did not see if Langward still wore his ring. If he does not… we decide on further action. Agreed?

 

BARNABAS: Aye.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Yes.

 

GERARD: I…

 

ARTHUR: Alright.

 

GERARD (exhaling): Fine. Oui. (Multiple footsteps. Muffled conversation.) 

 

JOHN: A-Arthur, they’re leaving. To the chapel! 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Move, quickly! We need to touch the body without all eyes on us!

 

JOHN: Why? (A slow melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: If they see us touching the body, they may think we’ve tampered with it…o-or taken the ring, e-especially with our gloves off. 

 

JOHN (urgently): Wait, stop! Arthur, look. We have no idea what touching the body could even reveal. His throat was slit from behind, remember?

 

ARTHUR (unconvinced): Still.

 

JOHN: Listen to me. We’re at the back, right now. They’re all leading the way. It would be the perfect time to ditch the ring. Leave it here on the table, o-or toss it into the fire! It’s the only piece of evidence we have linking us to the murder.

 

ARTHUR: I…

 

JOHN: We’re alone. But only for a moment. Quickly!

 

ARTHUR): No. We need to push past them, to the –

 

JOHN: Arthur, listen to me. We cannot believably push past all of them in time to touch the body and not have a sea of questions from them. It would only implicate us further. 

 

ARTHUR: We need –

 

JOHN: And with the ring still on us, that only makes all of this more impossible. Look, I’d be lying if I said I wanted to touch Langward, but even with my wants put aside, we need to act upon this first. We can try and find time to touch the body after. 

 

ARTHUR (huffing): Fine. Is there a… a dish or something? (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.)

 

JOHN: A dish?

 

ARTHUR: Something to hide the ring in. I don’t want to lose it outright. It may come in handy.

 

JOHN: Right, right. Sure. Straight ahead! (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Perfect, perfect.

 

JOHN: To the right of the eastern exit of this room, the way they all exited. There’s a small end table. Here, here. Just to the right of the door. On it is an ornate metal bowl with carved objects in it. Some sort of decoration. (Metal clinking. Footsteps.) There. Now let’s go. We’ve taken too long already.

 

(Rising suspenseful music.)

 

BARNABAS: And what are you doing?

 

(Both Arthur and John gasp.)

 

ARTHUR: Jesus!

 

JOHN: Arthur! Barnabas is here. He was waiting just beyond the turn down the passageway to the chapel. I-I –

 

ARTHUR: What are you doing? (Sarcastic.) Spying on me?

 

BARNABAS: Depends if you’re doing something worth spying on. 

 

JOHN: He didn’t see us. He was too far into the passageway.

 

ARTHUR: What are you…?

 

JOHN: He may have heard the metal, but. (Footsteps.)

 

ARTHUR: Come on. You don’t want to keep them.

 

BARNABAS: Hold on there, prince. (A sound of impact.) Ol’ Langward isn’t going to get deader.

 

JOHN: He’s pressed his large hand into our chest to stop us from moving. 

 

ARTHUR (seriously): Get your hand off of me.

 

JOHN: His hand remains.

 

ARTHUR: Now.

 

JOHN: He smirks and removes his hand. (Fabric shifting.)

 

BARNABAS: Jumpy, are we?

 

ARTHUR: A man is dead.

 

BARNABAS: Aye. A man. 

 

ARTHUR: And?

 

BARNABAS: Well, I think Gerard is done. 

 

ARTHUR: What? You’re so certain it was him.

 

BARNABAS: I know it was him. I’m having a tough time understanding why you seem so reluctant to believe that.

 

ARTHUR: I’m not, I just… I want to hear him out before condemning him. (He coughs severely.)

 

JOHN: He studies your face with a cleverness. It’s hidden slightly, behind the veneer of alcohol. But it’s there.

 

BARNABAS: I watched him, well before all of you arrived. He acted… different toward Langward. And I know people. 

 

ARTHUR: I can smell the wine on your breath. Do you really believe you’re the best judge of character? (Fabric shifts.)

 

JOHN: He smiles.

 

BARNABAS: It’s why I can trust you. That, and you’re the only one not sweating when you arrived.

 

ARTHUR: I… (He sniffs.) 

 

BARNABAS: Well. Less sweaty. You’ve got quite the illness there, haven’t you? Prince. 

 

ARTHUR: Can we join the others now?

 

BARNABAS: Hold on. (One footstep.) I want to know if I can count on you. 

 

ARTHUR: Count on me? (A slow melody begins.)

 

JOHN: His demeanor gets… serious. A coldness behind his almost… playfulness.

 

BARNABAS: Aye. Things are about to get messy. I want to know if you and I are on the same side. 

 

ARTHUR (purposefully): I’m on the side… of the truth. Whatever that is. Aren’t you?

 

JOHN: His eyes narrow. 

 

ARTHUR: Did you kill Langward, Barnabas? You seem awfully intent on Gerard being the one to doubt. 

 

BARNABAS: I told you, I was with Evrard. 

 

ARTHUR: The whole time?

 

JOHN: His toothy smile slides across his face. (Fabric shifts.) But his eyes don’t change. 

 

BARNABAS: I’m excited for you to see. (Arthur sighs and takes a shaky inhale. Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: He’s turned and walked down the passageway towards the chapel. Arthur, we… (He exhales.) Follow him. (Footsteps.) As I said, the passage turns south immediately after leaving the common room. It’s why I didn’t see Barnabas, and why I’m pretty confident he didn’t see us. There’s a privy to our right, here, along the wall. The passage turns sharply, east again, after a short distance, and… 

 

I can see the chapel, and the others inside. There’s no door to speak of entering this room, so. 

 

(In horror.) Jesus Christ. 

 

A-Arthur… the chapel is a small, stone room with large framed paintings on the walls. Wooden benches to kneel upon, two on either side of the aisle lay before an altar of sorts. It sits on the far wall of this room, just up a few short wooden steps. It depicts a large, wooden cross with ornate tables on either side of it. And just before the cross, on the floor… before the steps… is… Langward.

 

His body is sprawled upon the steps, faced to the side in a… grotesque tableau of agony. His face wears a horrible scream and the altar, the cross… the white linen that covers the ornate tables to either side… are speckled in the crimson hue of Langward’s blood. It looks as if he were kneeling on the stairs when someone came up from behind… and slit his throat, painting the altar and everything that lay before him.

 

The friar is… up there, looking at the body. He walks daintily around the corpse, attempting to avoid the deeper pools of blood that have formed. Gerard is kneeling on one of the pews to our right while Evrard stands over him. (Wood creaks.) Gerard looks… worried. 

 

ARTHUR: Well? (The friar grunts in exertion.)

 

JOHN: The friar reaches down with open palms. 

 

LORD EVRARD: Slowly, so we can see. 

 

JOHN: He reaches down to one hand, and… (Fabric shifting.) And he… he holds it up. There’s no ring on this hand. (Wood creaks.)

 

GERARD: And the other?

 

JOHN: He’s walking to the other, which lay under the body. 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (breathless): I need to…?

 

BARNABAS (aggressive): Just pull it! He’s dead.

 

(Sounds of movement. Horbrooke grunts.)

 

JOHN: He’s pulled the hand out from under Langward and holds it up. No ring.

 

BARNABAS: Aye.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (announcing): No ring.

 

GERARD: But…

 

BARNABAS: Well, there you have it.

 

GERARD: I… This is madness, I did not kill him.

 

ARTHUR: No one’s saying you did. (Wood creaks.) We’re only saying that you’re the prime suspect. Gerard, I –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: I’m saying he did.

 

BARNABAS: As am I.

 

ARTHUR (frustrated): Now wait a minute. Wait a minute, we… we said we would turn out our pockets, reveal if anyone here had the ring.

 

JOHN: Arthur! Are you forgetting what’s in your bag?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Right. Well.

 

JOHN: We have things in there that –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Mine is quite simple. I have nothing to hide. 

 

BARNABAS: Is that so?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: My pockets are empty. 

 

BARNABAS: I suppose we should check the chambers, then. We need to be thorough.

 

JOHN: The friar purses his lips. 

 

(Wood creaks.) 

 

GERARD: His throat was slit. And what of the weapon?

 

BARNABAS: I have a dagger.

 

JOHN: Arthur, we have a dagger in our bag.

 

ARTHUR: As do I.

 

GERARD: Of course I do, but –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: I do not. 

 

GERARD: It would not be that hard to find one, no? A-And what of the witch?  (A slow melody begins.)

 

LORD EVRARD: What of her?

 

GERARD: She is a suspect too, no? (The friar huffs a laugh.)

 

LORD EVRARD: She is not a suspect. (Slow footsteps.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Well, now that’s… well, that’s not quite true. Lord Evrard, why is she not here? 

 

LORD EVRARD: She will be, to take this body away. 

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Hold on, now. This witch, this… woman you’ve told us about. You’ve told us she’s here for our safety, and so far, she seems to be doing quite an awful job.

 

BARNABAS: Who cares about the fucking witch?

 

(Barnabas and the others, sans Arthur and John, continue to argue underneath John’s voice.)

 

JOHN: Arthur, where are you – (Footsteps.) Oh. The body is before us. Did you want to see it? H-His neck looks… cut, quite deeply. From behind, for sure. I mean, it would be tough to be before him in such a small space. The altar and tables… up the few steps, are dusty. Unused. We can’t touch the body, not here. There’s still too many eyes.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: –your point being made. 

 

BARNABAS: And they just admit to having a weapon themself!?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Well, not so fast there, Barnabas.

 

BARNABAS (enraged): Why are we even debating this!?

 

ARTHUR: Enough, enough!

 

BARNABAS: Enough is it, Prince?

 

ARTHUR: We want to be certain it’s Gerard, then we turn out our pockets. (A short pause.) Like the bloodthirsty Scotsman demands. Right? Drunkard?

 

JOHN: He sneers. Arthur, what are you – ?

 

BARNABAS: Aye.

 

ARTHUR: Well, then. Let us return to the common room, all of us. If you can manage that, Barnabas. I’m sure this far into the drink, you may have trouble seeing straight.

 

JOHN (stupefied): What are you doing? Barnabas stares daggers at you, Arthur. 

 

ARTHUR: Would you like me to lead the way, Barnabas?

 

JOHN: What the fuck are you – ?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Enough. Let us return to the common room. (Multiple pairs of footsteps. Fabric shifts.)

 

JOHN: Arthur, I don’t know what your plan is. Everyone’s heading back to the common room. Arthur, Barnabas leads the way right in front of you. I-I don’t… Why are you touching a wall? (Arthur exhales.) Y-You’re trying to… you want to know when…? When we’re at the passage back to the common room? Why? I mean… w-we’re almost there.

 

ARTHUR: I’m no friend to you, Barnabas. Do you hear me? Killer. (Footsteps stop.)

 

JOHN: He’s turned.

 

BARNABAS: There’s about to be another murder if you don’t shut your fucking gob, Warin. Do you hear –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Gentlemen, I feel like you’re getting too distracted by this.

 

JOHN: We’re at the passage to the common room.

 

(The background noise cuts out.)

 

ARTHUR: Take your best shot.

 

(Barnabas growls. The sound of a punch, and Arthur’s grunt of pain.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (exasperated): In God’s name!

 

JOHN: Arthur, Barnabas hit you! 

 

BARNABAS: I will kill you! 

 

(More fighting. Barnabas makes noises of fury.)

 

JOHN: What are you doing? He’s nearly twice your size, Arthur! We’re in the entryway back into the common room, and… near the side table where you – (In realization.) Oh.

 

BARNABAS: You son of a –

 

JOHN: Oh, I understand! Arthur! Turn his body! To the right, a little more! There! Push him! Now! (Rising suspenseful music.) Trip him!

 

BARNABAS: Motherfucker –

 

(A collision – sounds of an impact, Barnabas’ grunts of pain, and metal clinking.)

 

JOHN: You pushed him into the side table with the ring on it. (Barnabas pants.)

 

ARTHUR: Alright, alright! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

 

JOHN: The ring is just to the right of him on the floor.

 

ARTHUR: I’m sorry. Enough. (Barnabas growls.) Enough. (Calmer.) I’m sorry. Barnabas stopped me in the passageway and asked me to vouch for him, and I-I couldn’t. I couldn’t… what… what… what is that? What fell out of your pocket, Barnabas? (The others gasp in realization.)

 

BARNABAS: What?

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: A ring.

 

BARNABAS: How?

 

GERARD: You…

 

JOHN: Barnabas picks up the ring and stands. (Metal clinking, fabric shifting.)

 

ARTHUR: You… You had the ring.

 

BARNABAS: I did not!

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Barnabas? Where did you get that?

 

BARNABAS: I didn’t! He must’ve been in the – (He cuts himself off.)

 

JOHN: His eyes flick to us. 

 

BARNABAS (realizing): You… you clever little…

 

GERARD: You were so insistent it was me, now look who’s culpable now!

 

BARNABAS: I was with Evrard!

 

ARTHUR: Evrard, did he – ?

 

JOHN: Evrard is gone, I-I…

 

BARNABAS: I wasn’t holding this! This fucking prince is –

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (annoyed): Barnabas, calm down.

 

GERARD: How the tables have turned.

 

BARNABAS (angry): I will kill you, Frenchman!

 

JOHN: Arthur, you need to rein them in! 

 

BARNABAS (overlapping with John): No matter what this bastard has planted on me –

 

JOHN: You need to investigate this. Put this all in order, calm them down.

 

BARNABAS: I still know you’re guilty!

 

ARTHUR (loudly): Alright, alright! Stop. Stop. (A short pause.) Barnabas, I’m sorry. I let my anger get the better of me.

 

BARNABAS: You are dead!

 

ARTHUR (snapping): Enough! Look, men. Regardless of what we may think… clearly there isn’t enough certainty to claim any one thing. Right, Friar? 

 

JOHN: He looks… hesitant, for the first time.

 

ARTHUR: You were certain it was Gerard, but now… don’t Barnabas’ claims seem…? (He coughs.)

 

BARNABAS: You shut your fucking mouth.

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE (slowly): He’s right, Barnabas. 

 

ARTHUR: There is a way we can do this, without wild accusations. We can do this methodically. You each have your disciplines. You’re scientists, you have methods. Let us not toss out reason. (A slow melody begins.) The weapon. We all have weapons. But finding out which one was used would help us… deduce who could’ve used theirs. 

 

And then, motive. And clarifying opportunity. All of these will help us solve this. A-And I know… at least two of you… want to help me solve this. (Approaching footsteps.) 

 

JOHN: Evrard has re-entered the room. (He makes a noise of surprise.) The… the witch is with him. She passes by… she’s heading to the chapel. (Departing footsteps.)

 

FRIAR HORBROOKE: Evrard. The prince here has quite the approach. I suppose… we’ve lost our tempers, a bit. Gotten ahead of ourselves, so to speak. And I agree with him, for now.

 

GERARD: I do, as well.

 

ARTHUR: What say you, Evrard?

 

JOHN: Evrard walks to the fireplace. (Slow footsteps.) He’s staring at the embers.

 

ARTHUR: Evrard.

 

LORD EVRARD (sighing): Do you believe… you are a decent man, Warin? 

 

ARTHUR (taken aback): What?

 

LORD EVRARD: A decent man. Are you?

 

ARTHUR: Yes. Yes, I-I think so. 

 

LORD EVRARD: The inhabitants of this castle… as has been the case for many a year… worship a god that no decent man would care to worship. A god that inhabits the farthest places of existence. Beyond the stars. 

 

My father, before his death, begged to witness what lay beyond those stars. He begged, like a dog. Years of worship… years of loyalty… to our… Ancient One. This otherworldly Elder Thing that I grew up worshiping as well finally granted my father’s request. And so along with his followers, his congregation, all that worshiped here in the castle. We witnessed. He laid upon the forest floor, surrounded by the motherless trees. He was… taken. 

 

Not in body. No, his body remained. But his mind… his mind became witness to all. To… everything. A mere moment for us, birthed around ceremony and celebration, but for him, a culmination of his lifelong dream to witness. To witness what? I will never know. When he returned, when his mind returned… he sat up, a grin plastered on his face like I’d never seen.

 

Not deception, not peace, not joy. A smile with no discernible emotion but a smile all the same. And it was the same smile he kept when he brought his hands up to his lower jaw and began to pull. We watched in awe as the meat in his cheeks began to stretch and tear. As the bones in his jaw began to break, as the blood began to pour down his front.

 

We watched as my father, with his other hand across his face holding the upper half of his skull, tore his jaw– (Each word emphatic.) Clean off his head. 

 

All the while… smiling. For as long as he could. 

 

(Unsettling music begins.)

 

JOHN: Arthur, the… (Slow footsteps.) The body of Langward enters, floating. The witch, she’s… bringing the body past us, moving between the four men and Evrard. The body floats. She and Langward’s body are leaving through the west passage, back to the chamber rooms. (Departing footsteps.)

 

LORD EVRARD: None of us are decent men. All of you worship the way I do. The way my father did. Some of you know not even the names of the alien deities you find yourself devoting your lives to, for none of us share the same allegiance. But that matters not to me. So I will speak plainly. I care not why Langward was murdered, I care not who murdered Langward. I care not… about any of you.

 

(A somber melody begins.)

 

Tomorrow, I show you the Blackstone. Whether it is all of you… or one of you… I could care less. Whether it is Langward’s killer, the sole survivor, or the murderer who slits each of your throats while you sleep tonight… I need only one of you.

 

JOHN: He… He turns to the exit. To the west.

 

LORD EVRARD: So I will leave you each for the evening. I have ensured my door cannot be opened and I will rest soundly and safely tonight. And I will see each of you, or perhaps only one of you, in the morning. 

 

(Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: He’s… He’s leaving.

 

LORD EVRARD (at a distance): Oh, and to be perfectly fair… when Langward died, Barnabas was not with me. (Even further.) Good luck.

 

(The friar exhales.) 

 

JOHN: The friar stands, mouth agape. Gerard looks… fearful. (Gerard exhales.) And Barnabas? Barnabas smiles… a sadistic, barbarous grin. 

 

(A click, followed by static.)

 

(END Part 48.)