On the left of the stage we find the King´s chamber, on the right the chamber of the Queen. They are separated by trees in a garden. The King is asleep. The Scribe is standing on a rug next to the King´s bed, nibbling on his quill. He is waiting for the King to wake up.
King: (wakes up from a dream with an outcry) You bastard! (after a second, calmly) Where did we stop?
Scribe: (stammering with excitement) His Grace deigned…to speak of a complot against…His Grace…which was planned by…Bigthan and Teresh. This was possible…because His Grace forestalled the assassination by detecting the two conspirators… (The Scribe fumbles around.)
King: If you are looking for your inkpot, it´s hanging around your neck.
Scribe: I was looking for my…pen-knife. (He shows the King what he found. The King wants to hold it and tries the sharpness of the blade.)
King: I must say, sharper than a sword!
Scribe: I dared to ask whether it was man or god, who revealed the complot to His Grace.
King: And what did I reply?
Scribe: His Grace contemplated…and contemplated…and then deigned to fall asleep.
King: That´s nonsense, I suffer from insomnia!
Scribe: Your Grace must have dreamt of something, I would say it was not nice. However, that does not mean, god forbid, that something terrible should happen to His Grace! By no means! Sometimes bad dreams are good, so it is always useful to consult the dream with some authority, who can interpret it as a good one. (He sharpens his quill.) You bastard, His Grace said, and my heart almost stopped, as I was afraid that by this – pardon my English – bastard His Grace meant me, but as I already said…
King: If I don´t sleep, I cannot dream about anything, illegitimate brats including! (he whines) Why, for Ahriman´s sake, do they make these thrones so uncomfortable? Where did we stop?
Scribe: I dared to ask whether it was man or god, who revealed the complot…
King: As if you didn´t know that! That Jew, Mordechai. (He descends from his throne and tries to relieve his back by walking.) We owe him a reward…
Scribe: He can call himself lucky that you even thought of him, since all Jews in Persia are awaiting deserved punishment!
King: And I was thinking that that´s exactly the good opportunity to make my sense of justice come out. Loyalty rewarded, unfaithfulness punished by death. But what shall be the reward? If I give him money, there is no sum that would pay for my life and if I don´t give it to him, history will find me a…a…
Scribe: A tightwad?
King: (hears some unpleasant squeaking) Could you sharpen your quill somewhere else? This squeaking is giving me the shivers.
Scribe: That´s not me!
King: Then it must be Haman, he has new armour again. Where does he take the money for that? Tell him to stop squeaking out there and come here! (He sits on the throne again. The Scribe goes out and speedily returns with Haman, whose armour is squeaking with each step and even more so, when he is bowing to the King.) This squeaking of yours is giving me the goose bumps. Could you stand still for a minute?
Haman: That´s the new armour.
King: Exactly. (The King watches Haman and when he does not move, he continues.) And now give me some advice. How should a King reward a man, whom he wants to fairly and rightfully honour for his good services?
translated by Ester Žantovská
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