"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XVII"

            (THE FOOL, yet again, prods the sleeping POPE.)

THE POPE

Stop that, thou idiot!  I am the Pope!  Now, to my ruling.

            (He shuffles through sheets of foolscap.)

                   THE POPE (Continued)

The case is simple---simple?---am I right?  A young man wrote some manuscripts---plays---about members of his family, about his sister and mother.  He also, if I be not mistaken, wrote in the names of his sister and mother, as if claiming their authorship.  But what is authorship?  Who wrote the Letter to the Hebrews?  ’Tis a comely letter---

THE FOOL

            (Admonishing)
Popey-poo.

THE POPE

In conclusion, I like not this era.  I wish we were in the wilderness, and I---your Moses---could stone ye for gathering sticks.  But, alas, here I am; and I must rule.  Thus saith your Renaissance Pope . . .

            (A mild tremor.  The crowd reacts.)

                 THE POPE (Continued)

What shaketh the ground?

THE FOOL

As if nature herself were trying to stall your---

            END OF PART XVII.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XVI"

THE POPE

In closing, I wonder at my having been summoned---summoned?---from the dead---from the dead?  It striketh me mysterious that I should be called to rule on such hobgoblins as internets, or whatso ye call them.  This ordeal speaketh, methinks, to a longing for truth---as though the past held more of that commodity.  Ask my nephews or sons.  I am old---so old that, in the meanderings of my Renaissance mind, I do sometimes reach transport to another epoch.  I used to think these instances of divine revelation.  But, I doubt now but that they are wadings through the forests of time.  At my age . . . Renaissance, Rome, hunting and . . .

            (He falls asleep.  His FOOL pokes him.)

                 THE POPE (Continued)

What then?

THE FOOL

The peasants await your ruling.

THE POPE

So they do.  Romulus and Remus.  So they do.

            (His eyelids droop.)

            END OF PART XVI.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XV"

            (The courtroom.  Its clean white 21^st Century walls are made baroque by a
            malfunctioning fluorescent.  The gallery is filled with red cardinals.  Cut-outs
            of Mrs. Ho were ordered but did not arrive.  All are waiting, waiting.  MR.
            BALDHAWK stands on the side of the plaintiff.  WESTWARD HO stands on
            the side of the defense.  Perhaps THE POSTMAN is his lawyer.  He stands
            near WESTWARD.)

            (The other members of the Ho family are conspicuously absent.  SUNNY is at the
            hotel.  She sits poolside and reads her book so loudly that, perhaps, she can be
            heard even here.  SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND enters.  He scans the room for his
            wife.  WESTWARD looks at him.  SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND avoids either side.)

              (MRS. HO appears.  She has been through a war.  Her eyes are tireder than
            before.  But her lipstick and headscarf are red like the cardinals.  She has not
            shone so bright since her husband’s death.  MR. BALDHAWK turns to her, then
            turns away.  He makes no motion for her to join him, but she knows what he
            means.  She decides to sit in the back.  She tries to get SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND
            to acknowledge her, but he leaves to find his wife.  Without seeing, WESTWARD
            knows that his mother is in the courtroom.)

            (Oyez oyez.  The BAILIFF comes out of a closet with his giant stick and bangs it
            thrice on the ground.  MRS. HO shudders involuntarily.  WESTWARD closes his
            eyes.  SUNNY loses her place.  MR. BALDHAWK chokes lightly.)

            END OF PART XV.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XIV"

WESTWARD

Yicheng . . . we don’t have much to say to each other . . .

SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND

We sometimes speak---

WESTWARD

Where is my mother?  Where is Sunny?

SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND

I don’t know where your mother is---

WESTWARD

But Sunny?

            (SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND looks out the window.)

SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND

I wish the postman was here.

            (He looks out for a bit longer and then sits on a kitchen stool.)

                  SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND (Continued)

She’s at a hotel . . .

WESTWARD

At a---?

SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND

She hates the tensions in the house.  I don’t---

WESTWARD

Will she be at the trial?

SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND

I don’t know; also, I don’t care.  There have been too many tensions.  It has been how much time---?

WESTWARD

Fourteen episodes---

SUNNY’S MAN FRIEND

Yes.  It’s too many.  We need the Pope to decide his decision so that we can get back to as we were.

            (The bell chimes.)

            END OF PART XIV.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XIII"

            (A pottery play.  Found on a future pot by Mrs. Ho, Sunny’s granddaughter-in-
            law.)

[S. HO?:]  Baldhawk . . . no more . . .

[(B]ALDHAWK stands in the sun. 
[ . . .] wings.)

[BALD]HAWK:  I would never have helped [ . . .]

HO:  Don’t be cruel . . .

(MR. BALDHAWK moves his hands [ . . .]
[. . .] window?  Is he trying to escape?

S. HO:  (Continuing)  I haven’t [. . .]

BALDHAWK:  I tho[? . . .]

(He stops speak[ing . . . )]

[. . .]: Will you [. . .]

            END OF PART XIII.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XII"

            (An airport.  SUNNY is with MR. BALDHAWK.)

SUNNY

I have a magazine that I’m not reading.

MR. BALDHAWK

No, thank you.  I could have handled this on my own.

SUNNY

I’m sure---

MR. BALDHAWK

It’s my car---

SUNNY

Do you think---?

MR. BALDHAWK

I don’t see---

SUNNY

She doesn’t trust you yet.  Not fully.

            (MR. BALDHAWK scuffles his foot on the carpet.  He pats his lines of
            recession.)

MR. BALDHAWK

I see.

SUNNY

Ah, the board just changed.

MR. BALDHAWK

It did?

SUNNY

Yes.  Rome.  The Renaissance.  Arriving now.  Let’s go.
 

MR. BALDHAWK

Let’s go.

            (They stare at the board.)

            END OF PART XII.

"The Trial of Westward Ho, Part XI"

             (Rome, the Renaissance.  The POPE unfolds a strange letter, airmailed from a 
            later date.  After reading, he raises his eyes from the paper.)

THE POPE

What is the meaning of this?  Cardinals?

            (Men in red flutter in.)

                  THE POPE (Continued)

Cardinals, what is this missive?  Who gave it me?

THE CARDINALS

            (Twittering)
’Twas not we!  ’Twas not we!

THE POPE

Sons whom I call my nephews?

            (The SONS mosey along.)

THE SONS

Shhh, Pops.

THE POPE

I am too old to care.  Did one of ye---one of ye ingrates---write this?

THE SONS

Never!  Where’s a mirror?

THE POPE

My fool?

            (A FOOL pops out of a butter churn.)

THE FOOL

Pop goes the jester!

THE POPE

Wrotest thou this?

THE FOOL

Now, Popey-pie . . . you know I don’t write.  But if you’ll grumble a bit less and read a bit more, you’ll see ’tis from a lady from the future; and she wants you to try her sons.

THE POPE

I’ve sons enough---

THE SONS

Nephews, you mean.

THE FOOL

Try as in court of law, sir Popey-Wopey, good sir.

THE POPE

I see.

            (He bites at an odd root.)

                  THE POPE (Continued)

Sith I am old, I’ll to it.

            (THE FOOL juggles, the SONS hide, the CARDINALS sing.)

            END OF PART XI.