HEAT 15 – Historical Fiction, Subject: A duel; Character: A cheating husband
I apologize for the format. I don’t know how to create the screenplay format in WordPress. :(
ROMA VINCIT, POPULUS PATIAR
(Rome Wins, The People Suffer)
Synopsis: During the Romanization of Britain, a contingent of Soldiers led by Vaginus “Womb-Wrecker” Constantinus fight against a Pictish village. The wizened village shamaness, Cünty Maeve, challenges virile Vaginus to a mystical duel where her imaginal pictures remind the soldiers of how civilization has robbed them.
EXT. PICTISH VILLAGE – EVENING
The MEN have blue skin, thanks to use of Woad. Very few wear more than a loincloth. The WOMEN carry themselves with great care, lustiness and honor. But they wear clothes! THE CÜNTY MAEVE, an ancient shaman from a nearby village, sits over a cauldron of a potion and she feeds it herbs and supplications to the Star Goddess.
Kruach, take this and put it on the fire.
KRUACH, a blue warrior of about 19 years, hoists the kettle on his shoulder and carries it proudly away. The Cünty joyfully regards his beautiful ass and sighs—it’s been a long while since she’s had some nookie. SULIS, late 30s, a war-weary chieftan, strides toward the sitting shaman. She regards the priestess.
Portents are ill. These Romans are made of stranger cloth than we’re used to.
They have already enslaved the villages to the South.
What the fae tell, their gods have all gone insane. Poor daughter of Metis…
The Cünty picks up a cup and shakes it. Runic stones inside rattle, and she pulls out three in rapid succession, throwing them on the ground. She reads the runes and shudders. She sees
A panoply of the future, including the demise of her village, the fall of Christian Rome, the Middle Ages, the Inquisition, the Renaissance, the colonies, the rise of the British Empire, flash images of iconography of the 20th and 21st centuries (including a clip from “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town”), and further into the future when tens of millions of people choose to commit suicide on a wintry day 3 days post-Solstice, to “Protest the Slavery.” Their departing souls form the glyph for “Awen” which is a celebratory signal for change.
Potion 7 leaves and dirt.
Oh, my word, Cünty…
Open the inner conduits to our serpentine brethren across the sea.
EXT. ROMAN ENCAMPMENT – DAWN
ROMAN SOLDIERS attend to the camp, industrious and focused in contrast to the Picts who were much more at ease with their self-expressions.
SOUNDS OF A WOMAN IN DISTRESS
Most of the soldiers ignore her plaints. One or two look off at a tent with yearning and maybe a tinge of envy.
A TENT, its cloth walls a-rumbling.
SOUND OF A VIOLENT SMACK
You want it, harlot!
INT. TENT – SAME
VAGINUS CONSTANTINUS, a hypermasculine icon of a man, rapes an unwilling WOMAN. FLAVIUS and ANTONINUS, two Roman soldiers near naked, hold her arms during this.
Your groin holds my namesake. Fucked by Vaginus Constantinus. Wombwrecker! All glory to Mars.
He thrusts and the woman screams.
The woman lies on the ground, either disassociating or dying. Vaginus and the two Roman soldiers leisurely attend to putting on their armor.
Another day, another village to enslave.
All in a day’s work.
Hope there are more ladies to overpower.
We must be judicious, my good Antoninus.
Bah. Get all the fertile juices as we can, make as many bastards as possible.
Really, my good leader? Even after your good wife sent her last scroll?
Vaginus scowls. Quick as a whip, punches him in the gut.
Careful warrior. One would think you were a Druid.
What’s to be done with her?
Same as the rest.
Antoninus looks over to the prone woman, with an evil leer in his eye.
EXT. PICTISH VILLAGE – DAY
The Cünty, Sulis and other VILLAGE WOMEN gather in a circle with the CHILDREN. The Cünty blesses each woman in turn. She smiles gently at each, conferring grace and divine empowerment.
She stops in front of MARI, a young mother, who holds a suckling CHILD.
Is it really this far gone, my good Cuntah?
The people of our Great Lover Island are in for an interminable hibernation.
I have been dreaming.
Me too. About a red people across the waters.
Kin to the far west. Even beyond the green shores of Eire. Another whole land thousands of leagues away.
NIMUE, a young girl of 13, looks at the Cünty as she approaches with the cauldron.
So, are all to die then?
Let me apply this potion and become very quiet, Nimue, you will survive.
Sad about the menfolk.
All we can do is love our brothers before they go off to battle.
I wish they’d don armor. Protect themselves.
True. But they’d become our adversaries soon enough.
All the women regard each other with sadness and they look At the BLUE MEN who are readying themselves for (slaughter) battle.
The best thing we can do is to render you safe, so that you might proceed safely across the sea.
Still, I must issue a challenge to these cheaters and dishonorables.
I thought we talked about this, Cünty.
You will not be the only woman to sacrifice herself today. The Mother of All has plans for me too.
The Cünty applies the potion to the face, arms and hands of the last WOMAN in the circle. She steps back, and she picks up a special broom. She sweeps the air with the broom inside the circle, and one by one each woman vanishes.
Still have some potent magic, Cünty.
I had to earn the “Cünty” Maeve title when my teachers deemed me ready. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to make reindeer fly.
There merit to this idea?
I’ve read the future, Sulis. These times are beauteous in comparison. The smart ones will choose death ere they reach 20. A time might come when the souls of many will mutiny.
Your lips to the Star Goddess’s all-hearing Ears. Well. Time to go say goodbye to all our menfolk.
And I say farewell to you, love. May the journey into the Summerlands be joyous.
She holds Sulis in her arms, sharing smiles and tears.
EXT. BATTLEFIELD – DAY
The Romans stand at the ready. Vaginus is on a horse, and he scopes out the opposition.
A line of the BLUE MEN, all naked as the day they were born, hold their spears aloft. Behind them Sulis and a fellow MALE WARRIOR sit on horses.
Yet another easy win, men.
No honor? They don’t even try to protect themselves.
SECOND ROMAN SOLDIER
They regard this as just another life to toss in the furnace. Baffling.
The more there are to slay, the more my own bloodthirst gets slaked. Bring ‘em on!
Antoninus, there is something amazingly and joyfully wrong with you.
SOUND OF AN ANIMAL HORN BLOWING
Vaginus looks up and out. Smirks.
Now the dreaded onslaught.
The defenseless Blue Warriors all rush toward the line of Romans. They willingly take the sword blows and arrows to their bodies as some Soldiers laugh.
Sulis rides behind them with her broadsword and gets a few choice kills when she too is taken out by an arrow.
SPLASHES OF RED OVERTAKE THE SCREEN, GRUESOME FADE TO RED, THEN WHITE
IN THE VILLAGE
The soldiers find The Cünty and no one else. Vaginus takes control and looks around.
Where is your chieftan?
An archer killed her in battle, O craven Vaginus.
Vaginus ignores her. The Cünty watches him.
POV THE CÜNTY
She “sees” his spirit, a black hole of darkness, a keening maw of need and angry despair.
Who are you? The priestess who makes things right?
I am Cünty of this area. I challenge you to a duel.
I would never fight an old crone like you.
She displays her powers to Vaginus. It’s as if all the trees begin to chant his name with an addition:
Vaginus old ladies to fear.
I’m not impressed by your parlor tricks.
She sweeps her staff and twirls it. A MURDER OF CROWS descends upon him, and flutter their wings in front of him. Once the flurry of wings has left, Vaginus is revealed to have been adorned with makeup and jewels. The other soldiers laugh despite themselves. Antoninus laughs hardest.
Vaginus, angered by this display, viciously runs him through, and hoists Antoninus’s dying body up as a warning to his cohorts.
No one makes me into a girl
Fight me then. I fight for the honor of that wife Claudia you left behind to come kill, pillage and of course, rape us kindly women. A cheerful cheater and abuser of my sisters, none of whom are here beyond myself, not that you can have this body either.
We’d just as soon kill you as fuck you.
Well, I can be grateful that minuscule blessing.
With as much dignity as he can, he wipes away some of the adornment and throws off the bedeckings.
You ready to die, old Cünty as you call yourself?
It seems telling that the Cünty should meet Vaginus for the duel of the millennium. What an odd sense of humor to name you Vaginus. Toughened you up, as if you were Lucia, eh?
Vaginus nods at a Warrior. He charges at her, and she takes her staff toward his blade and causes it to bend backwards toward himself. He thrusts himself on his own petard.
If you want someone in your stead, a priest of Jove would be more my speed.
They are worth much more than I am, my good Cünty. A vile word to speak. Cünty.
A truth you speak there. One day the sacredness of the female cup will return.
So what is this duel to be? Staves? Hand to hand?
She throws her staff away.
Pictures and words. I intend to win through my prodigious singing and imagination.
The Soldiers all laugh, and Vaginus laughs the hardest.
As they laugh THE CÜNTY ’s eyes go soft.
She “sees” the spirits of the Roman soldiers, several of whom are still luminous and innocent. The ones who have greyer spirits begin to fade away.
By all means. Regale us with your powerful stories.
Well, an empty sheath as you should then easily engorge to the pretty pictures I paint. Look, here come some of our friends. Don’t shoot your arrows into them, for now.
The animals of the forest begin to appear. The soldiers who had the greyness in their spirit wince in pain and groan. They fall into unconsciousness. A DEER walks up to one SOLDIER and licks his face. Two Mourning Doves float down to another SOLDIER and coo in his lap. He pets them.
Years ago, in your woods, these interactions happened all the time. These are not simply animals that we would consider a choice addition to our plates. Our winged brothers, the sister with the antlers.
The trees and flowers being to sing in unison a hymn to the delight of their existence. It brings tears to the eyes of the soldiers. The soldiers all look at each other. They look toward The Cünty
They see two of her for just a second.
They shake their eyes, and she seems to have but moved over to her right a few feet. Other forest creatures who seem like little WINGED HUMANS appear.
We lived in a friendlier world then. Knew our place.
ONE SOLDIER, OF GALLIC DESCENT
Sees relatives from his Celtic lineage walk through the forest. They smile sadly at him, nodding their heads. They speak in Gallego-Portugues to him and he starts to cry.
A SAXON SOLDIER, tough and grizzled,
Sees his young dead SISTER AND FATHER, bound towards him and land in his lap.
Well, how is my boyoh?
Miss you in the meadows.
What infernal, awful magic—Cünty you must stop this!
Oh, it will be stopped. Violently so. Witness the beauty. Do you wish to leave it behind? My words are nothing in comparison to the Divine Alignment that She provides, the Lover that is this grand land we all inhabit.
Enough, you evil sorceress.
Your leader calls the end. Remember that which is lost one day it will return.
Vaginus grabs his sword, and he walks up to the Cünty. Slices off her head for her good pictures.
Her head on the ground seems to smile a saintly grin at the men.
The Forest goes silent. The soldiers who have been able to stay awake, mesmerized by The Cünty’s pictures, look out into the trees which now offer only their hollow witness. No words, no music. Just inert green matter. Again? Or was it ever? Vaginus, in a rage, takes his sword and starts slashing at everything in sight.
POV INVISIBLE WOMEN
They begin to back up quietly as he slashes his pathway through. They can see each other, and they nod at one another. They silently move towards a path they know and leave.
The other soldiers who fell asleep start to wake up. They grunt and groan with awful headaches.
This is an evil place. We must make it vanish.
The headachey men stand up and woozily seek to grab their weapons, while the sad and mournful soldiers rock back and forth, keening for that memory of home that haunts them.
If you simpering men don’t get up and join me in the purification of this wretched space for Rome, then you shall be joining in happy dirt yourselves.
One by one, the men get up and they half-heartedly join in on destroying the space. Most turn numb to accommodate this plan, but Flavius can’t go on. He takes his sword and runs at Vaginus, who gladly slays him for his troubles. Flavius falls down dead, one more body to be burned in the wreckage.
I want every so-called wise woman, or Cünty rounded up and dispatched. Cunties, your name will be forever a filthy epithet. Forever a vile name for any woman who dares to stand up to male prowess. So decrees this Warrior for Mars!
Death to the Cunts!
EXT. FOREST/EDGE OF BEACH – DAWN
The Pictish women and children have now become visible again. They emerge from the forest. A boat awaits them, and there already on board is The Cünty.
Cünty! You beat us here?
The Mother knows–that’s all I’ll tell. Come! The people of Bran await us.
They board the vessel as we