Antonio Monologue

‘Brilliant, Antonio. You are not bored after all. You are thinking about what I’m saying. And can you think of other costs?’
‘Well…I suppose it costs money to store it here. These men of yours have to be paid. Who pays for transporting it from the olive groves?’
‘I can see I’m going to make a good merchant of you, my friend. You’ve learnt more than most people know already and you’ve only been here two minutes! Any other points you want to make? Any questions?’
‘Just one point really, those barrels of olive oil are very bulky and heavy. If you are going to make a lot of money, say from one wagon load of goods, don’t you want to buy goods with greater value for the libra?’
Tariq’s laugh sounded like an elephant blowing down its trunk. ‘I’ll
‘Same time, same place?’
‘Definitely!’
*** Early the following morning, there was a loud knock on Antonio’s door. He wondered if he should be expecting a call. He had just sat down for a modest breakfast. Could this be any connection with his killing of Pedro’s deputy? Had Pedro’s brethren somehow caught up with him? Antonio would take no chances and loaded his snaplock. He then gingerly went to the door and quickly opened it and pointed his gun at anyone standing there. A man in a battered tricorne hat stood there. ‘No need for that, señor! Are you Señor Antonio Hidalgo?’ ‘I am the same.’ ‘Well, put that gun away, señor. I’ve got your horse right here. You left it in Valladolid and the corregidor instructed me to bring it back to you.’ Antonio grinned in relief and thanked the man. He walked out to where the man had tied the horse up. The old mare looked at him as if to say she didn’t approve of being deserted in that way. ‘It’s so good to see you back here, old girl. Let’s go around to the stables and I’ll give you some food and a
Iago the Bad had failed to arrive and had therefore disappointed Antonio who set his violin case on the street in front of him and started to play alone. For some reason unbeknown to Antonio, the plaza thronged with an unusually large number of people. He decided he would start playing anyway so started with a tune by Vázquez that he knew so well he could easily play it and be looking around for Iago, and generally look at the activities of this extraordinary crowd, at the same time. There were a number of men building some sort of platform at the eastern end. He wondered whether it could be a stage and that there would soon be a play performed, a Juan del Encima or a Lope de Vega. The staging seemed plenty large enough. Then, after about half an hour of making this construction, during which Antonio had repeated the Vázquez at least four times, the same group of constructors unloaded about twenty or so chairs from a wagon that arrived in front of the stage. They put them in orderly lines on the stage and left it, completely unattended. Many of those already present in the plaza moved to positions in front of the stage to become part of an audience of a show which had yet to