Caravaggio - Act 1

We have to like... We're live? Alright. Here we go. So, historically, for those of you who have not been here, historically, before every read, we say three things. We say table, read, and we say the name of the script. So give us the pronunciation that you would like to hear on the script. Caravaggio. Caravaggio. Caravaggio. So, it's going to be table read, Caravaggio. I would like to have a little bit of excitement, a little bit of, like, happy to be here. Put a little something in your step. All right, on the couch, here we go. One, two, three. Table read Caravaggio. Caravaggio, written by Richard... That's a good way to start. You get the pressure on it right away. Yeah, thanks. Caravaggio, written by Richard Viteri, based on his stage play. On black, on screen, Rome 1610. Sounds of the city, loud, deep, human voices. Life at its fullest overlaps into following scene. Fade in on, exterior ghetto of Ortacio, the evil garden, Rome, night. Small groups of drunk men and prostitutes shout insults and seductions at one another. For wine! form-fitting blue jacket and brown vest. Caravaggio searches the ortaccio, looking for something which might be unattainable. Cut to exterior chapel of Santa Maria de Popolo, Rome, night. Drunk Caravaggio, Mancini, and Topper approach the chapel, sharing a satchel of wine. Caravaggio pushes open the chapel door. Interior chapel of Santa Maria de Popolo, Rome. Annibale Caracci, late 30s, stands in the aisle looking up at a painting. He's dressed humbly in brown, nondistinct clothing despite his fame. Though his eyes sparkle with intelligence, there is a pained expression on his face, as if haunted by some impending doom he can't articulate. Hearing voices at the front door, he covers the canvas and hides behind an altar. Caravaggio enters the chapel. I need more light. Mancini and Topper follow behind him laughing, blessing themselves and kneeling as they walk down the aisle. Oh, bless me, oh father, for I have sinned. God knows you're a sinner. He doesn't need to be reminded. Give me another torch. Mancini pulls the torch up off the center pew as Caravaggio stops at a covered painting, the same canvas Caracci was looking at. Caravaggio directs the light to brighten the canvas. The painting is enormous. It's the conversion of Saint Paul. It's an astonishing work for its time. It's bold in its showing of unblemished humanity. Its portrayal of fragile human beings in a religious setting presents to the Renaissance and Catholic mind a novel idea. God can be found in mankind's imperfections. All three are in awe, even the painting's creator. Magnificent. Splendid. You'll win the competition. You'll gain the commission. And be all my sins remembered. Caravaggio takes a slug of the wine, throws the satchel at Topper, then turns to the other side of the aisle and pulls away the canvas opposite his. And here is Karachi's. Caravaggio throws the torchlight across Karachi's painting. It is the same subject, the conversion of Paul, but it's a prettier painting, far less realistic, more idealized version of faith and suffering. Karachi peeks from behind the altar. Perfect saints with halos spinning like golden rings. Awful. Putrid. Yes, it is. But this is what the church wants. Caravaggio looks up to God and says, You despise what I paint because I expose you for what you are. In the shadows, Caracci knocks over a small unlit torch. All three men turn, ready to pounce. What was that? A demon. Caracci steps out from behind the altar. Caravaggio recognizes him and puts his rapier back in its sheath. I'll deal with this demon. Meet me at the tavern of the hall. Go! Mancini and Topper turn and leave the church. Caravaggio walks down the aisle to Caracci. Annibale. I'm shocked to hear you pray. All my prayers are in defiance. God will take notice. I only hope he does. Your work is brilliant. You will win the commission, not me. Caracci looks over Caravaggio's painting. Let me say now, to your face, that despite how much I despise your realistic style, I admire it. You painted like me once, not caring what anyone thought. Your butcher shop, the way the meat hung from hooks on the walls. I painted that when I was 21, when I lived near the arena. I sold it to a merchant for bread and meat. It was magnificent. I even said to myself, someday, Michele, you will do work as good as that. Caracci gives Caravaggio a slight bow of his head and walks away dejected and leaves the church. Caravaggio watches him. Screens of laughter overlap into following scene. Cut to Interior Brothel, Piazza del Popolo, Night. Caravaggio enters the torch-lit two-story structure. He struts into the brothel with a wide, charming smile amid shouts of, Michele! Coming from most of the topless or scantily clad women, and Caravaggio from some of the male patrons. A young prostitute, Isabella, rushes over to him and he hugs her. Michele, Ranuccia Tomasone and his brothers were here asking for me. Oh, I'm sure they were. Isabella, you are a true beauty, but stay out of the sun. Now, give me something to eat and drink. Caravaggio notices a young man, Fabrizio, drinking at a table with a stump for a left hand as a young woman sits silently beside him. Fabrizio, what happened? He holds up the bandaged stump. I lost it to a Spaniard in Milano. He insulted me. Well, lucky you are right-handed. A poet writes with his heart, but still needs his fingers. And she must be a great inspiration Caravaggio sits at a table with Mancini and Topper As Isabella brings bread to the table And Topper grabs her ass as she walks past her She playfully snaps at him As young woman number two steps past the table Caravaggio jumps and stops at her Touching her face She's startled and still Botticelli would call you Venus You are from Florence, yeah? Si, how did you know? Your complexion is so rare in Rome. Just then, Karavaggio sees a woman sitting alone at a table. She's leaner, 20s, captivating, vulnerable, and self-contained all at the same time. He ignores everything around him, walks over to her, stops, and stares in silence. She looks up at him. What? You've never seen a woman before? Women I've seen. You, I haven't. He moves to her, but just then a soldier steps out of nowhere, takes her hand and pulls her from the table into the other room, and she's gone. Hey, Michele. Caravaggio turns up and sees Maria, 30s, standing on the stairs, her arms folded across her chest, staring at him. Earthy, boisterous and voluptuous, she demands attention. When you're here in my house, it's me you look at and nobody else. When I am in your house, I look at you and no one else. He walks to her slowly, impulsively pulls her into another rock. Interior, private room, brothel, night. Caravaggio and Maria pull one another's clothes off, making love like ferocious creatures. With the door half open, blasts of torchlight, shouts and laughter explode beyond them. They are completely oblivious to it all. Cut to exterior brothel, Piazza del Popolo, dawn. Caravaggio pushes open the brothel doors, shattering the early morning silence. He's drunk, exhausted, and spent. He steps outside and bumps into a drunk. Caravaggio and the drunk step back, grabbing at their daggers. They recognize one another. The drunk is Ranuccio Tomassoni. Ah, Ranuccio. I thought I smelled lily sweet perfume. Caravaggio and Ranuccio lock eyes. Ranuccio, 30s, is a well-built, handsome, clean-shaven man, unlike Caravaggio, not dressed as an artist, but as a swordsman and a wealthy one at that, in fine silk blue and gold, with a family emblem embodied on his vest. He wears guards on his wrists for sword fighting and rings on his fingers, and expensive bracelets, and a colorful scarf of the finest silk. Ranuccio calls over his shoulder. Who a cretin Michele de Marici Two more drunk men step out of the shadows They are Ottavio and Giovanni Tomassoni 30s wearing rapiers in their belts and expensive jewelry. They have the poise of military men. Caravaggio stiffens as the Tomassoni brothers slowly take a stance, ready to pounce on Caravaggio. You owe me ten scudis. And you'll have it. when I am ready. Ranuccio grins as he and his brothers edge closer to Caravaggio. The brothel door flings open and Mancini and Toppa stumble out. When they realize what they just walked into, they put their hands on their rapiers and stand to either side of Caravaggio. The sides are now even. Your father was a warrior, but his sons, they belong in a convent. All six men step back, pull their swords from their belts, ready to pounce when thumping of boots on cobblestone rattles the dawn. They all turn to see several knights of Malta walking across the piazza in their direction. The knights are stunningly attired in black and silver, with the bold emblem of the knights of Malta on their chest plates. They carry their long swords proudly and intimidate by their sheer presence and reputation. Both sides back away. Caravaggio can't take his eyes off of the knights. To be a knight of the Order of Maltus, the highest honor. Ranuccio turns to Caravaggio. One day, I will soak the piazza with your blood. Ranuccio and his brothers disappear into an enormous rising sun, orange and red, glaringly rising over the rooftops, soaking the street with its brutal light. Caravaggio to Mancini. One day I will soak the piazza with Ranuccio's blood and be damned. The sun drowns Caravaggio in blood-red light. The light sound of horses overlaps into the following scene. To black. Fade in on flash-forward several weeks. A full white moon in a milky-white sky. Exterior carriage. Rome. Night. A carriage races through the streets. Visible is the insignia of a cardinal of the Catholic Church, giving it significant status. Interior carriage roam, continuous. The only passenger is Caravaggio, 30s, wearing a dramatic-looking black cape, drinking wine from a satchel, peering through the window to see if he's being followed. He looks differently than he did when we saw him earlier. He's now focused, concerned, and alert. Cut to... Exterior papal security roadblock, night. The carriage pulls up to two guards. The first guard steps over to the carriage. This road is closed to all in and out of Rome. Caravaggio leans toward the window. I'm traveling with special commission from Cardinal de Monte. Caravaggio hands the first guard official papers. A second guard joins the first. The guards look over the papers. Where are you traveling to? Malta. Malta is under siege from the Turks. Are you a knight? No, but I am a guest of the knights. Impressed, the first guard hands Karavai Jo his papers. Be alert, sir. The roads are treacherous with bandits. I will be on alerts, but would you like some wine, gentlemen? No, thank you. The second guard waves to the driver. Interior carriage, night. Caravaggio takes a slug from the satchel, then peers out the window looking down at the flickering lights of Rome, glimmering like stars. Cut to exterior carriage, boat dock, continues. The carriage stops. Caravaggio steps out and it quickly pulls away, leaving it. He staggers, then manages to steady himself. Without luggage, other than a satchel to hold a sketchbook and ink, He moves to the small but seaworthy boat, also with a flag and insignia of a cardinal of the Catholic Church. He steps up to a dock guard and presents him the official papers. I believe you've been waiting for me. The dock guard looks them over and hands them back. We were, but the tide isn't. We shove off immediately. Caravaggio steps aboard, and it is clear he's the only passenger. He recognizes Andrea, a young sailor. Andrea? My son Matthew? He steps over to him and touches his face gently. Caravaggio, so you are the passenger we were waiting for. You do know that Malta is a treacherous destination. Not as treacherous as Rome. It's for me right now. All hands to cast off! I have to man my post. Can I find you later? Caravaggio reaches out his hand and holds it tenderly. Yes. Let's find one another in the shadows. Andrea rushes off as the boat slowly pulls away from the dock. Caravaggio stands at the stern, turns, and looks forward into the darkness where the boat is headed. His eyes, his demeanor, reveal anticipation and hope as the stars and the full moon light the vessel's way. Cut to exterior boat, Turanian Sea, dawn. A boat sails along on the calm seas. Cut to exterior boat, terrain in sea, continuous. Caravaggio is on the deck searching the skyline for Malta. The boat's grisly captain stands beside him. Caravaggio sees something faintly on the horizon. Malta! Caravaggio strains to get a better view. The fortress stands high on the rocky promontory of Mount Sceberis. Thunder blasts in the distance. Caravaggio looks up perplexed since the sky is clear. Thunder? Cannon! The captain goes back to his work as Caravaggio looks towards Malta undeterred. Cut to exterior harbour, Castle Sant'Angelo, Malta, dawn. Caravaggio's boat slowly enters the harbour, and now that he can see the harbour clearly, what he sees puts a pit in his stomach. Smoke rises up from the docks where anchored boats burn. the shoreline littered with dead and mangled bodies, the ruins of a recent vicious and bloody battle. Knights race to and fro, putting out fires and tending to the wounded. Moans and cries of pain emanate from the shoreline and echo out toward the harbour. Cut to exterior, boat, beach, Malta, continuous. Since the dock is damaged, Caravaggio's boat runs aground on the beach. Caravaggio views the carnage, smells the stench of burning flesh, and sees the blood in the water. As he's about to put his foot down into the sea, he stops and looks up to see Eilof de Vignacor. I knew that was going to happen. Vignacor, I'm doing, okay? That's it. As he's about to put his foot down into the sea, he stops and looks up to see Aelof de Vinicor standing on the beach, dressed magnificently in his battle attire, with blood staining his breastplate and a gold sword in his hand. He stands over the bodies of two dead Turks he clearly just killed. Aelof has a beard that is going grey, and it hides several deep scars, but not all of them. His nose has been broken several times in battle, and is elegantly dressed in brown leather and silver. He's oblivious to the surrounding hell-like environment, looks to Caravaggio and proudly lifts his chin. His eyes shine with delight to see Caravaggio and a slow smile crosses his lips. Just then, a cloud of smoke covers the beach from the burning carcass of a small ship stuck in the harbour. Caravaggio coughs and when the smoke is gone, so is Alof. Cut to interior entrance hallway, Castle Sant'Angelo, continuous Caravaggio steps up into the castle and is quickly confronted by Stefano della Croce Early thirties, tall, well-built, a knight with the rank of captain I am Stefano della Croce, the Grand Master's captain at arms and at your service This way, please Stefano leads Caravaggio along the path Your visit took us by surprise We only received the Cardinal's message last night I hope you had a smooth crossing Oh, we weren't attacked by bandits nor Turks? God was with you Well, I didn't see him, but then it was the dead of night Hmm, well, this way, please He turns and walks down the hallway And Caravaggio follows Interior hallway, Castle Sant'Angelo, continuous As they walk, despite how austere the castle seems, Caravaggio notices weapons and even some artwork on the walls. He notices one painting in particular and stops. Stefano also stops, perplexed. There's something wrong. I'm admiring this tempester. You appreciate his battle scenes. Oh, I applaud his use of blood and death, darkness. I know very little of art, but I can see the artist understands war. And I know very little of war, but I can see that the Grand Master understands art. Stefano nods, then leads Caravaggio further down the hallway. Exterior, hallway outside Caravaggio's room. Continuous. Stefano stops in front of a thick wooden door with Caravaggio behind him He opens the door to a room which resembles a prison cell Your quarters Interior Caravaggio's room, continuous. Caravaggio enters deeper into the small room. It is stark, unadorned. There is a table with a bucket of water and a Bible sitting on it, as well as a small enclave where to kneel and pray. The window has iron bars on it. There is a bed with a mattress, a blanket, and a single pillow, but nothing else. He touches the mattress and makes a face. The Grand Master will call for you when he is ready. He turns and leaves Caravaggio alone, closing the door. Caravaggio hears a key in the lock. Wait! He shoves the door, but it doesn't move. It is locked. Caravaggio sits on the hard bed facing the window and looks north towards Rome, imagining what is going on at the Vatican. Cut to... Exterior, St. Peter's Basilica, Rome. Day. A dark brooding sky with a shaft of light cutting through the overcast, desperate to dispel the gloom. Interior, Vatican Office of the Treasure Council, Rome. Day. Cardinal Del Monte, 50s, who has the cunning intelligence of a fox and the physical presence of a lion, enters. A shaft of sunlight cuts through the large windows. Del Monte hurries past bishops and cardinals walking directly up to Pope Clement VIII, 60s. Dressed in his papal robes and magnificent jewels and his red velvet robe, he's pious, old, and ill. Your Holiness. He kisses the Pope's ring as the Pope reaches out his hand. Why isn't Caravaggio here? A thousand and apologies, but Caravaggio is attending a new and very important commission. Pope Clement VIII nods to what everyone in the room is facing, two large paintings hanging side by side, covered by velvet curtains. Proceed. Cardinal de Monte bows, then faces the gathering. Annibale Caracci. Caracci, still dressed humbly, stands and walks to one of the curtains and pulls it open, unveiling his own painting, The Assumption of the Virgin. There is a gasp at the piety and visual beauty of the painting. Cardinal Del Monte then walks to the other curtain, pulling it aside, revealing Caravaggio's The Death of the Virgin. Caravaggio's canvas immediately elicits moans of disbelief from those who have no understanding of his achievement, as well as size of all from those who know what he has accomplished. I choose Annibale Caracci's canvas to adorn the chapel. Pope Clement VIII stands and leaves the room. As soon as he does, everyone rushes to examine the paintings. Caracci steps forward and bows in gratitude, then quickly steps closer to Caravaggio's painting, looking up at it. Cardinal Del Monte steps over to him. You deserve to win the commission. Who is his model? Her name is Lena. Where is he? He should have arrived on Malta this morning. Malta? For God's sake, why? The Grandmaster requested him to paint his portrait. And does the Grandmaster know that Caravaggio is wanted for murder? Let's pray the news continues to travel slowly. You actually believe you can get him a pardon? Without a pardon, he's a dead man A bishop steps over to Del Monte and Caracci Our pontiff would like to see you for dinner this evening In his private quarters Of course The bishop walks away Del Monte turns and sees Caracci once again staring at Caravaggio's painting Where can I find this wiener? The ghetto of Ortachio Why? I need to know how he does it. They both look at the painting. Cut to... Exterior, Valletta, Malta, Night. The moon throws a light over the stone fortress. Knocking overlaps into the following scene. Interior, Caravaggio's room, Malta, Night. The room is pitch black. The knocking wakes Caravaggio. Hmm? He stumbles out of bed just as the door opens. The Grand Master is ready for you. Cut to interior hallway, outside the Grand Master's chambers. Night. As they walk through the torch-lit hallway, Caravaggio notices frescoes on the wall. Stefano stops at the door. He is expecting you. He opens the door and both men enter. Interior, the Grand Master's private chambers, continuous. Alof de Vignacor is sitting behind a thick wooden table. Caravaggio takes him and the room in. The high ceiling is covered with a mural and the large windows are stained glass. There is art everywhere on the walls. Alof looks up from his paperwork. Caravaggio notices he looks pained. His eyes can't hide what he still suffers from. All his old war wounds and other more deeper agonies. I apologize for the hour. Welcome to Valletta and my sanctuary. Titian Raphael Tempesto. And in your hallway you have a taste for grisly scenes of slaughter, martyrdom. Well, I do indulge myself, but the frescoes have a purpose. They keep the glory of the Order ever before my eye. And the others? Haylove stands and gestures to the paintings. Titian is here for his understanding of human nature. Raphael for his understanding of human grandeur. Tempesta for his understanding of human history. And who do you have here for an understanding of the human soul? Alov smiles. Caravaggio smiles back. I'm Alov de Vignacourt. Yes. Yes, you are, and I am honored. Caravaggio bows in reverence. It gives me great pleasure to welcome the great Caravaggio to Malta. And it gives me even greater pleasure to be here. Alov sits and gestures to Caravaggio to join him. He does. We met once before in Rome. I was at the unveiling of your painting, The Calling of St. Matthew. Yes, in the Contarelli Chapel. Yes, yes, I remember meeting you well. The two men share a moment of mutual respect and admiration. You came to our island at a difficult time. The Turks attacked just before you sailed into the harbor. Well, I've heard how your knights protect our civilization, but now, for the first time, I have witnessed it. Yes, they will return. And I will be at your service if you need my sword. Have you ever fought in a battle? No. Well, then it is fortunate that it is your brush I employed. We were concerned that we would be unable to get you interested in coming here, considering all the commissions you are offered in Rome. Well, Rome was growing stale for me. Stale? An interesting choice of words. Why, sir? On my last visit, I witnessed how it had become a savage, sinful city, and an embarrassment to the Vatican itself. Yes, the Vatican can be quite sensitive. I was told you traveled with very little. I didn't want to miss the tide. Alof notices Stefano's attitude toward Caravaggio with curiosity. Do you know much about us? Well, I know that you are both God's great warriors. Our motto is discipline, trust, and death to the infidel. We live sparsely, we pray for God's guidance, and we are celibate. Celibate? Yes. To purge the soul, no doubt. The soul, the heart, the mind. We are having a dinner in your honor tomorrow night. In my honor? Yes. My men want to meet you, and I want you to meet them. It might help you in your creation of my portrait. He stands and walks to the door as Caravaggio follows. Here, away from your life in Rome, you will soon find that the world outside these walls means nothing. Nothing, Grandmask? Nothing? He gestures to the end of the empty hall. You may go back to your room to rest. Stefano will direct you. Alof closes the door, leaving Caravaggio alone with Stefano. Without saying a word, Stefano turns and walks down another corridor. Caravaggio follows. Cut to interior Caravaggio's room, continuous. Caravaggio enters the dark room. He turns quickly to Stefano. The bed is too hard. The window too small. I need light in the morning. I am Caravaggio! This room is no better than a prison cell. We all live like this. You can always travel back to Rome. The next boat sails the first thing tomorrow with the morning tide. What is it about me you don't like, Stefano? Is it my face? My attire? Anything? What? You are correct. About? Valletta was not made for comfort. It was once a prison. Stefano closes the door and locks it behind him. And why are you locking me in? He hears only Stefano's boots moving down the hallway. Fool! Caravaggio lies back on the bed and wonders about what is going on in Rome. He is a murderer. Cut to interior papal chambers Rome continuous Cardinal Del Monte and Pope Clement VIII sit across one another at a table enjoying their dinner Caravaggio killed Renuccio in self Renuccio Tomassani's family has been very generous to our Holy Mother Church. Caravaggio is a great painter. Yeah, tell that to Renuccio's brothers. They demand retribution. However, this painter of yours does intrigue me. He isn't afraid. He's been on his own most of his life. Like many today, his mother and father were both killed by plague. I first met him when he was a young man living on the streets. It's no secret that your stable of artists has made you a wealthy man, Francesco. I have no doubt that you have enough saved to get our Holy Mother Church out of debt. Ah, rumors of my financial well-being are greatly exaggerated Yes, and as numerous as the sightings of Christ directly after the crucifixion Your point, Your Holiness You have secured safe passage for Caravaggio to Malta without my permission Another rumor? No I am the Pope Nothing escapes me Does this portage of yours have faith? In abundance, your holiness. Pope Clement gestures to his assistant, who quickly hands him official papers. Pope Clement hands the papers to Cardinal Del Monte. His arrest record, it's biblical in scale. He once threw artichokes at a waiter and nearly blinded him. He said the artichokes were rotten. Cardinal Del Monte places the papers down. He has seen them before. Allow him to return to Rome and he will make his penance. The Pope coughs. God is calling me. I pray that God be still. We need you here. The Pope catches Cardinal Del Monte's obvious attempt at false flattery and laughs. Always in such a hurry to take my place. Our conversation is over. Enjoy dessert elsewhere. There will be no pardon for Caravaggio. The Pope reaches out his hand for Cardinal Del Monte to kiss his ring. He does, bows, and leaves. Thunderous voices from the Knights of Malta overlaps into, cut to, exterior dining hall, Castle Sant'Angelo, Malta, night. A hundred knights, loud and exuberant, intimidating and fierce, enter and fill the enormous hall. They are followed by knights with missing limbs. They are followed by several young boy valets, and behind them, two dozen Turkish slaves in chains who are there to serve the food and drink. On the wall high above is the knight's emblem. Caravaggio enters, escorted by Stefano, and brought to his prominent seat at the head of the table. The knights watch him in silence, judging him quietly. Alof enters, sits beside Caravaggio. Stefano sits beside Alof. Alof stands facing the knights. Once again, we have proven to the world that we knights are the glorious shield of Christian Europe and a bulwark against the Turks. Cheers and shouts fill the room as some knights draw their swords and thrust them into the air or at the slaves who are immobilized by fear. to tradition and to God our Father. They drink their wine in silence. A bishop appears at the door. Let us pray. They all bow their heads in prayer. Caravaggio looks around at the sudden, sincere, solemn atmosphere of the room. Riotous laughter overlaps into cut to interior dining hall, castle Sant'Angelo, Malta. Later. Several roasted pigs are being cut up in the center of the room as the slaves pour wine out of large barrels, then serve it. Ailov turns to Caravaggio. Come with me. Ailov turns to a door in the stone wall behind him. He enters and disappears. Caravaggio follows. Interior, inner sanctum, continuous. Caravaggio enters a small room, lit by torches and encased in grey and brown stone with a large barred window which looks out to the sea. This is where I want to pose for the portrait. In the morning, the light is glorious. Of course, as soon as you decide, paints and brushes will be delivered. Grandmaster, you should be aware that I dislike doing portraits. And why is that? I don't paint, please I am painting your portrait because in Rome when the knights enter the piazza The hoodlums fall back and the cavalier bow with admiration That said, your eyes will stay on your side of the canvas until the portrait is completed And you take the portrait as is But I will have suggestions Then get Annabale Karachi. I don't want Karachi. It is you that I want. Why do you dislike his work? Do you question his face? No, I question his taste. Alov bursts out in laughter. There's a moment of genuine affection between the two men. Return to the festivities. You are the guest of honor. So I am. Interior dining hall later. Caravaggio puts his arm around a knight sitting beside him and both are laughing. Then Caravaggio jumps up on the table and raises his cup. To the great Knights of Malta! The knights respond and cheer. The knights now bang on the table with their plates and pans making a pulsating sexual sound. Some knights are joining in, but others seem offended Caravaggio then leads some of the knights on the table in a dance Where they are swinging their hips, shouting and swaying Caravaggio slips and falls to his chair laughing Stefano emerges from the other side of the table Stefano! What do you think of my brothers in arms? They are great men, all of them, including you, Stefano Uh-huh. How long have you been a knight? Ten years. I came here from Marseille when I was a boy. I studied under the Grandmaster himself. I learned soldiering from him. And your family? They are my family. Well, you are fortunate then. Just then, a knight pulls Caravaggio back to the table. Caravaggio dances crazily on the table with other knights. Some of them are making obscene gestures. Stefano watches Caravaggio and their eyes lock. Stefano leaves. Cut to exterior ramparts, Castle Sant'Angelo, continuous. Still drunk and believing he was following Stefano, Caravaggio finds himself walking along the castle walls. A guard is off in close distance, keeping a lookout. A young boy, Roberto, a page, appears on the far side of the rampart. He is blonde and his hair is lit by the moonlight. Hey, did Stefano come this way? Roberto shakes his head. Ah, you don't speak, but you understand, good? Roberto nods. I'm from Rome. It's crowded, noisy, right? Now I would be with my friends in the Tavern of the Hawk or the Tavern of the Moor unless we go to the Ortraccio, the garden of evil. A light falls across them. They look up. The light is from a window above them. Roberto eases back out of the light, not wanting to be seen. Roberto! Both Caravaggio and Roberto look down the rampart and see Stefano walking towards them. Afraid, Roberto quickly turns and runs away in the other direction. Stefano reaches Caravaggio, but looks past him. I'm looking for a page. You just broke curfew. Caravaggio drunkenly stumbles, gathers himself, and gives a mock bow. Many pardons. Whatever you put in your wine here in Malta is certainly potent. We are aware of your life in Rome. The bars, the brothels, the fights, the prostitutes. I say to you, Michelangelo de Marisi Caravaggio, tread carefully. Oh, and I say to you, your eyes shine magnificently in this light. Stefano glares sharply at Caravaggio and is about to walk away when Caravaggio catches him by the arm. I have no intention of offending. Without answering, Stefano turns and leaves the rampart. Caravaggio turns and faces the wind coming out from the darkness in the sea. Laughter fills the night air and overlaps him, too. Flashback 2. Exterior brothel. Piazza del Popolo. Night. Caravaggio and Ranuccio lock eyes in the early morning twilight. One day, I will soak the piazza with your blood. I will soak it with yours. Flashback end. Exterior ramparts. Castle Sant'Angelo. Night. Caravaggio stands alone. Renocchio He's drained by the memory End of Act One