Chapter V. Medieval Tavern

27 INT. DJANGO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

MADISON and CELIA enter, head to the kitchen. JERRICA and KAI enter, refill the wine, sit at a table. DJANGO enters with five oversized black, blackout glasses, approaches JERRICA from behind, hands on her shoulders.

DJANGO
You are Elenwen. A noble maiden. Tomorrow you marry for alliance. Tonight you’ve snuck out for one night to find a man who has nothing but rough hands. Make it count.

JERRICA fans herself. Scandalized. Delighted. DJANGO slips a pair of dark glasses on her from behind. From JERRICA’s POV: a flicker of medieval tavern. Then it’s gone. DJANGO turns his head toward KAI without moving his body.

DJANGO (CONT’D)
You’re the Fool. Voicing Elenwen’s inner voice. Her conscience.

KAI
Could be dangerous.

JERRICA
For who?

KAI
Both?

DJANGO
(hands on her shoulders)
This is just for Kai.

She takes off the glasses. Exits, slowly.

JERRICA
No hanky-panky, boys.

Jerrica disappears. Django checks. Pulls out his earpiece. Shows it to Kai. Kai leans in. Looks questioningly.

DJANGO
Feeds you lines.

He pulls out a microfiber cloth.

DJANGO (CONT’D)
A game character…

He wipes the earpiece thoroughly.

DJANGO (CONT’D)
…voiced by you.

Kai sits back. Processing. Not confusion, calculation.

KAI
Me?

DJANGO
No pressure. You can totally just play as yourself, obviously.

KAI
How does it work?

DJANGO
There’s Cyrano mode… where it tells you exactly what to say.

KAI
Cyrano… as in de Bergerac?

DJANGO
Bingo! It can also hint at an idea, and you voice it however. And then there’s Morpheus mode.

KAI
From the Matrix?

DJANGO
Morpheus is the god of dreams. Whispers to you in your sleep.

Recognizing the territory, Kai nods. In. Django seizes the moment and approaches Kai’s ear with the earpiece.

DJANGO (CONT’D)
Let’s roll with Morpheus. You get to bring your own voice. They shouldn’t notice the assist.

Django secures it in Kai’s ear. Hands him the dark glasses. Kai fiddles, puts them on. Django ushers him out.

DJANGO (CONT’D)
Celia! Madison!

They appear. Madison pushing Celia.

MADISON
Celia’s nervous.

Django escorts Celia to a chair reassuringly. Then gets a drink for Madison from the bar. In exaggerated DM mode:

DJANGO
You’re Tristan of House Thistleford. Heir to wealth and power. Tomorrow you marry Elenwen. An arrangement. You want more. So you’ve disguised yourself as a traveling minstrel called Mire. You are vulgar… and rough. See if she can love you without your name.

MADISON
Vulgar? Not how I roll.

Celia snorts. A look at Madison: the city changed you, sis.

MADISON (CONT’D)
(to Celia)
Don’t judge me… apparently I was just written that way.

DJANGO
(to Celia warmly)
You’re the Mother. Your son burns with unholy desires, but you’d rather he sin in the shadows. Protect the bloodline at all costs.

Celia’s eyes close. Open. Find the ceiling. Come back down.

MADISON
Wait… am I insecure…or am I romantic?

CELIA
I’m not sure I should be playing her mother.

MADISON
I would’ve preferred you to our actual mother.

CELIA
Have you had too much wine, sister?

MADISON
Define too much.

Django hands them their dark glasses.

DJANGO
Jerrica! Kai!

Puts his glasses on.

28 EXT. COUNTRY ROAD — NIGHT

A harvest moon over stubbled fields. Mist on wet earth. A road bends toward a glow. Fiddle and drum on the wind.

29 EXT. TAVERN — NIGHT

Low timber and stone. Every window burns amber. Smoke leaks from the chimney and shutters. PUSH IN on a wooden sign above the door. Hand-carved blackletter, gilded and weathered:

𝔅𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔩’𝔰 𝔚𝔥𝔦𝔰𝔨

On the door written in chalk: Harvest Moon Festival. Wind howls. Music swells.

30 INT. MEDIEVAL TAVERN - NIGHT

Low-beamed room, smoke-blackened. A hearth at the back throws orange light. A rough-fingered lute cuts through the noise. Boots stomp time. The BARKEEP pulls ale. A FARMHAND laughs. A SERVING WENCH puts an ale down and turns to leave. Simultaneously: the farmhand repeats the exact same laugh; the wench reverses, picks up and puts down the ale again.

MIRE, Madison, boot on a stool by the fire, lute across his thigh. He has a goatee and beard shadow. Road-dirty leathers. A WENCH leans past to refill his cup; his free hand finds her hip. She smacks it off, laughing, and moves on. He watches her go.

The FOOL, Kai, standing on a table, catches his reflection in a polished bronze platter on the tavern wall. Motley. One leg yellow, one red. Bells at cap, wrists, ankles. A ring of drunks around him. He looks down. A FARMHAND throws a crust: Go on then, fool. Someone shakes the table. The bells chime without him. The room howls. He bows, small.

The MOTHER, Celia, sits veiled, upright. A full cup before her, untouched. A WENCH leans over the next table, pouring ale for a FARMER, seductive. He grins up at her.

She crosses to the Mother’s table, sloshes a refill without looking. The mother lifts the veil, her eyes find the wench. The wench feels it and turns.

The door bangs open. Candles bend. All except Mire look up. ELENWEN, Jerrica, hood up, cloak clutched at the throat. She steps just inside the threshold. Unclasps the cloak. Eyes work the room.

In the corner, a HOODED FIGURE, Django, in grey robes. A 20- sided die between his fingers. No drink. He looks to Mire.

Mire approaches, appraising Elenwen. Body first, then eyes.

MIRE
Well well well. What’s a morsel like you doing unescorted?

She doesn’t answer.

MIRE (CONT’D)
I’ve sung for nobles, peasants, and the occasional stablehand’s daughter. None had an ass that made me lose my rhyme.

He traces her silhouette in the air. Not touching. His hands curve wider at the hip. Elenwen’s ass grows to match.

MIRE (CONT’D)
Your eyes tell a story my flute yearns to play.

He produces a small wooden flute from his belt.

ELENWEN
A poet, are we? For a common minstrel.

MIRE
In fact… I feel a ballad rising.

The flute grows.

MIRE (CONT’D)
Come. I’ll perform it for you… in private quarters.

The flute grows again. Elenwen’s eyes drop to it.

ELENWEN
Bold words for a traveling man. Do you make such offers to every lady, or am I… special?

MIRE
Not to every ale-soaked skirt who giggles and lifts her petticoat after two verses.

A wench raises her petticoat at Mire. Mire waves her away without looking. Edges into Elenwen’s space.

MIRE (CONT’D)
You make my blood run hotter.

They circle each other. Testing.

ELENWEN
Tell me, minstrel - what thrills you more? Taking a tavern wench who can match your appetites… or corrupting a lady who is beyond your reach?

MIRE
A lady… always the lady. The danger… the fall from grace.
(beat)
But only if she truly wants me… not just the thrill of slumming.

ELENWEN
And you’d know the difference?

He steps back. Reappraises.

MIRE
Maybe I am the one being played?

HOODED FIGURE
You could roll.

The hooded figure holds out the die as he stands up. Then keeps rising. Dissolves into the rafters. Mire and Elenwen disappear. Then the Fool. The Mother is left looking around.

27 INT. DJANGO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

Django, Jerrica, Madison and Kai with their glasses off. Celia’s glasses still on, looking around.

MADISON
Roll for me, mother. Roll for persuasion.

No response from Celia.

MADISON (CONT’D)
Celia!

Celia takes off her glasses. Looks around. Takes the die from Django. Rolls. Die clatters. Celia stoops to read.

CELIA
Nine.

DJANGO
Partial success. You push forward, but she may have doubts.

All put their glasses back on. Django last.

30 INT. MEDIEVAL TAVERN - NIGHT

A shimmer in the rafters. Django drops. Lands soft. Sits.

MIRE
Your body hasn’t fled. Your hand hasn’t struck me.
(beat)
Confess you want me.

ELENWEN
I want—

The Fool pulls Elenwen aside. Whispering urgently.

FOOL
Wait. Do not confess it.

ELENWEN
Why?

FOOL
You came to be taken. Not to take.

ELENWEN
But I like this. I like being the danger.

FOOL
Surrender control. So you never choose what happens.

ELENWEN
Why?

FOOL
Because that is your real desire. To be claimed without asking.

The mother glances at the hooded figure: What is this?

27 INT. DJANGO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

Jerrica taking off her glasses. Swatting playfully at Kai.

JERRICA
Whoa! Not the conscience I thought I’d get.

Everyone takes off their glasses. Jerrica examines Kai.

JERRICA (CONT’D)
You sound more like my id.

KAI
(glancing at Django)
I might have gotten conscience and subconscious mixed up.

JERRICA
I think you know exactly what you’re doing.

Django redirects. To Celia:

DJANGO
What would you say to your son?

Celia hesitates as if to ask. Then puts on her glasses.

30 INT. MEDIEVAL TAVERN - NIGHT

MOTHER
Careful, my son. Your desire can feel like clarity. But sometimes it’s just the thrill of rebellion.

MIRE
I need to know… can I truly be loved. Not like you and father.

MOTHER
Don’t run from it just because they failed at it.

She holds Mire’s gaze. Something unfinished.

MIRE
Wouldn’t you have wanted more than an arrangement?

MOTHER
Of course I wanted more… but my little girl fairy tale had to bow to purpose. Real intimacy asks for more than heat. Desire is fleeting. Stability endures.

27 INT. DJANGO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

Madison reaches out and squeezes Celia’s hand.

30 INT. MEDIEVAL TAVERN - NIGHT

FOOL
Stability is cute and all, but Elenwen could use some heat. With a reckless chaser.

27 INT. DJANGO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

Jerrica barks a laugh. Flutters her hand towards Kai.

JERRICA
Kai gets me!

30 INT. MEDIEVAL TAVERN - NIGHT

ELENWEN
What’s wrong, minstrel?
Not so bold when faced with a woman who knows what she wants?

MIRE
Yo. You astonish me, maiden. Your daring excites me. But you different from these other bit—beguiling… Yeah… beguiling ladies. Consider your risk here. You know me only as a wandering songsmith. Not as any other, perhaps?

ELENWEN
I know the kind of songs you sing for silver. Music! This “minstrel” owes me a dance!

Tavern music kicks in. Mire takes Elenwen’s hand. Spins her into a wild tavern dance. The lead keeps shifting. Neither willing to follow. The hooded figure rises.

31 INT. MEDIEVAL TAVERN - DANCE SEQUENCE

Django as the Hooded Figure steps through a dramatic thick cloud of fog.

HOODED FIGURE
(booming echoed voice)
The harvest moon makes everyone mad! Dance, you fools! Dance!

The hooded figure claps rhythm. Nudges the Fool toward the Mother. He bows, stiff, overcorrected. The gesture is clear: May I have this dance?

The mother smiles. Curtsies. Takes his hand. They attempt a waltz. Awkward at first. Then suddenly they’re moving as if they’ve always known the steps.

Joined by the other three and all five are in joyous choreography (and then others from the tavern). Flash mob! Looking at each other: how do we know this? Django smiles.

Kai busts out with incredible solo moves. Others form a circle and watch.

Circle dissolves, Mire and Elenwen find their own groove. Laughing. Lost in it. Mire and Elenwen slow down, faces close. Closer.

HOODED FIGURE (CONT’D)
Alright, alright.

Hooded figure ascends and disappears.

27 INT. DJANGO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

Everyone taking off their glasses. Jerrica looking at Madison who is turning to Django.

DJANGO
Today… today is the wedding day.
(to Madison)
You had full knowledge that your tavern conquest was your bride-to-be masquerading as a common wench.
(to Jerrica)
You are unaware that Tristan was last night’s vulgar minstrel whose surprisingly tender touch still burns.
(to Celia)
You’re now the Bishop. Noble weddings require the Church’s highest authority.
(to Kai)
You’re still her inner voice.

Django approaches and whispers to Kai.

DJANGO (CONT’D)
Continue or switch to Cyrano?

Kai nods. Django makes a quick adjustment, surreptitiously.

32 INT. MEDIEVAL CHAPEL - MORNING

ELENWEN, in a wedding dress, stands across from TRISTAN in noble finery. The BISHOP between them. The FOOL behind ELENWEN. A HOODED FIGURE watches.

BISHOP
(hands in blessing)
We gather to witness a sacred covenant. In marriage, we abandon the games we play in taverns and choose instead the truth of daylight.

ELENWEN
My lord… Your eyes seem familiar.
(Beat)
Tell me truthfully… where were you last night?

TRISTAN
I was among the common folk. Learning about life beyond these castle walls.

ELENWEN
And… what did you learn?

TRISTAN
I learned of a common wench. Such easy companionship free of pomp and circumstance. But that very ease troubles me now.

The Fool slides up to Elenwen. Repeating a heard voice:

FOOL
Oh what a clever snare. Give yourself to him and you’re a whore. Reject him and you’re incapable of loving. Ask him. Which damnation pleases him best?

ELENWEN
(to Tristan)
You set a trap. Why?

TRISTAN
To see if love was possible. A lady masquerading as a wench? Why?

FOOL
(to Elenwen but voice carrying)
Your husband should value a wife who understands pleasure.
What’s he want, some sheltered virgin? Who thinks holding hands causes pregnancy? “Oh my lord, not the wrists! Are you trying to give me triplets?” She’d just lie there… perfectly still… while the chambermaid bounces up and down doing the work for her.

The Fool mimes the chambermaid. Elenwen amused. Tristan not.

ELENWEN
(to Tristan)
I come to this marriage prepared, not ignorant, my lord.

TRISTAN
Prepared… or already given to another?

ELENWEN
Given to you, my lord.
Though you lacked the courage to reveal yourself.

BISHOP
(with authority)
Children! Are you ready to be wed?

ELENWEN
(laughing)
Apparently not.

27 INT. DJANGO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

Django hands Madison the die. Madison rolls it.

DJANGO
Seven. You remain conflicted and hesitating.

32 INT. MEDIEVAL CHAPEL - MORNING

TRISTAN
(backing away)
I… I don’t know if I can…

BISHOP
My children, we have all been tested—in taverns and in towers, in darkness and in daylight. But mark this well: the flesh makes promises the spirit must keep.

The bishop slaps the alter with her palm.

BISHOP (CONT’D)
You stand here not as lovers drunk on yesterday’s wine, but as noble warriors preparing for tomorrow’s battles. Purpose must prevail over passion.

Elenwen and Tristan look at each other.

FOOL
(pointing to Tristan)
Look at him. Just another provincial noble who can’t handle a woman.

ELENWEN
(to the Fool)
But is he not noble for wanting to know me true?

FOOL
Careful. Every choice shrinks you, until there’s no woman left.

ELENWEN
But his rhythm never falters, no matter how long the dance.

FOOL
So get a fucking metronome.

TRISTAN
Wait…is your inner voice negging me? I am Tristan, House Thistleford, Commander of— fuck it, you know who I am.

ELENWEN
Commander Fuckit—why not court me honestly?

FOOL
Just take her hand lordling, before God and gossip alike. Wed the woman who matched you jest for jest. Or else admit you only ever wanted a maiden meek enough to worship your flute.

TRISTAN
Your conscience is incredibly hostile. And why is it talking to me? Is this what’s in your head? I cannot… I will not be bound by this farce.
(Beat)
You have too much id showing.

Madison storms away from the altar. Then spins into nothingness. Silence in the chapel.

15 INT. DURBIN GALLERIES - NIGHT

MUSIC playful loose

Flashback. MADISON and a MAN we never see the face of, both in their underwear, laughing. She pushes him back against a wet canvas. Paint everywhere. On both of them.

27 INT. DJANGO’S STUDIO APARTMENT - NIGHT

Everyone taking off their glasses. Madison collects herself. Jerrica does too.

KAI
Bravo. Bravo.
(clapping)
The way you just… stormed off! I felt so bad for Jerrica. And guilty for causing it.

Madison turns back toward the group, grinning and taking a theatrical bow.

MADISON
Thank you, thank you. I do excellent dramatic exits.

JERRICA
Left at the altar! Fucking classic.

Madison and Celia turn away, into their own conversation. Kai looks at Madison. Then at Jerrica.

A flicker of concern across Jerrica’s face. She turns to Django. Her eyes ask: Was that a punishment.

HOLD. From across the room. High. The angle of a thing mounted in the corner, watching down. The five of them small below. Jerrica smallest of all. Nothing in the frame moves. Then Jerrica shivers.

They mobilize to return to Madison’s apartment.