Don Juan, libertine and womaniser, (Don Giovanni if you like Mozart) has been dragged down to Hell. But how is he being punished there? His manservant, Leporello, has seen it in a dream, and he's afraid...

Don Juan in Hell

by kandijayne

Leporello already had three or four empty tankards lined up beside him, and he was holding his head in his hands, with his elbows resting on the tavern bench, and moaning. This was not good, thought Ramon.

“Senor Leporello, there is a gentleman here who would like to hear about el Senor Don Juan Tenorio. He will make it worth your while…”

Leporello looked up, bleary eyed, and tried to take in both of them, the gentleman, and young Ramon.

“Sorry, I can’t do it. Not today. Sorry.”

He was beginning to slur his words very slightly, but still spoke clearly enough. He focussed on the gentleman, or tried to.

“My apologies, your honour. I ain’t feeling up to it today. Can’t do it. Come back another day. I’ll tell you all. I still got it, you know.”

He scrabbled about inside his jerkin and extracted a grubby, dog-eared notebook. He waved it around vaguely.

“Still got it. All the details. Don’t let it out of my sight. The names of all the bi-, all the wom-, all the ladies. Names and details and everything. Come back another day, your honour, tell you all. Sorry.” And his head slumped forward onto the tavern bench.

The gentleman glared at Ramon very hard, turned on his heel and without saying a word strode out of the tavern.

“Senor Leporello, this is not good. You must not start drinking, eh, hard liquor until the gentlemen offer to buy it for you. Why do you start early? You know it is not good for you.”

Ramon tried to remember his real name, to remonstrate with him using that, but could not recall it. He was always just Leporello, an Italian nickname he claimed to have picked up in Naples while in the Spanish army.

Leporello raised his head.

“Couldn’t do it. I ain’t had a wink of sleep. Not last night. Not since the dream.”

He tried to lean forward and his hands tried to clutch at Ramon, to hold onto his arm. The young man stepped backwards automatically, just out of reach.

“I seen him, Ramon! I seen the Master! I seen Don Juan, and he’s in Hell! Sweet Jesus and Mary, I had this dream, and it’s as clear to me now as your face – no, as this tankard sat here.

There was this mansion, see, very well appointed. I knew it was in Hell, ‘cos all around outside was fires. The walls was solid, but the flames showed through the walls!

And sitting at a table set for dinner was the old Commander. Or rather, a demon in his shape. Must have been, ‘cos Dona Anna said about her father, simply, ‘He is in Heaven.’ And I believed her. So must have been a demon. But a good likeness all the same.

And there was this maid there, bringing food, tidying the cutlery, that sort of thing. Slowly, as if she didn’t want to do it, as if she shouldn’t be there.

Anyway, she was a looker, far as I could see from the back or side view. Tall girl, basically slim, but with big – “

He gestured as if his hands were holding something in front of his chest.

“They stood proud, though. Didn’t droop at all. A well-padded arse too, but very trim waist, as if she’d got on a very tight girdle. Her hair was black and shiny, pinned up under her mob cap.

Anyhow, as she was passing by the Commander’s chair, what did he do but reach out and pinch her bum! She gasped and jerked upright, but managed not to drop the plate she was carrying.”

“Senor, this is all very well. But what has it got to do with your master?”

Leporello looked at Ramon as if he were in pain.

“But don’t you see? As she turned away I saw her full face for the first time. She bit her lip in frustration, and as I looked at her I saw – Oh God, Oh God, how to put this – I saw what she was. That maid – Oh God – that maid was him!

Sweet Jesus have mercy! Don Juan, that buck, my Master is now a wench! Oh God, that they’d do that to a man! Even the Inquisition never thought of that one.”

Leporello’s hands started shaking.

“Get me another drink, Ramon.”

He downed half the tankard in one gulp, and it seemed to calm him. He continued.

“ ‘Right Juanita,’ says the Commander – my God, that’s what they’re calling him now, Juanita – ‘Right, enough of this. Get upstairs and get ready. I’ll join you in a quarter of an hour. You know what’s wanted, but I’ll remind you.’

By all the saints, Ramon, I remember every word he said. It’s seared into my heart.

‘Lay out the cane on the coverlet. Kneel at the bedside, your arms on the coverlet, one hand each side of the cane. Make sure your skirt and petticoat are raised, and your drawers pulled down to your feet. Hold that position until I come.’

And then he – she – Oh God, Don Juan, he spoke. In a whisper, and it was a wench’s voice, but it was his voice. I could just about hear her, and she said

‘Please! As you are a gentleman, please no…’

The Commander cuts her off, sharpish.

‘No backchat from you, missy! That’s five strokes you’ve earned already, and we haven’t reviewed today’s performance yet! Say your catechism now.’

‘Uh…’

‘I mean it! Now!’

‘I am Juan Tenorio…’

‘Was.’

‘I was Juan Tenorio. Now I – I am simply Juanita, a maid.’

‘Go on.’

And very softly, as if the voice was almost breaking

‘I used to be a man. Now – now I am a man no longer. I exist only to give – to give pleasure to – to gentlemen.’

And then, Ramon, the Commander, he chuckled. Now the old Commander, in life he was a serious and dignified man. I never heard him laugh. Jesus, Ramon, that chuckle! It was the most sinister thing I ever heard!

‘It’s a good thing,’ says he, ‘you’re not completely broken, Juanita. For if you were broken, where would the punishment be? Right my girl, get upstairs, get ready to give your appraisal of your performance today. You’ve another long day tomorrow. We’re off to Italy, where a number of noblemen are most anxious to try you out. To see how well you fuck now you’re a girl.’ “

Leporello groaned.

“Jesus have mercy on a sinner! I’m damned, Ramon. I ain’t been to mass for years. I ain’t been to confession. I’m damned!”

“Why do you say that, Senor Leporello? This happened to Don Juan. Nothing to do with you.”

Leporello groaned again.

“But that’s not all. There’s more. When Don Juan – Juanita – had left the room… This is the worst bit. He knew I was there, the Commander. He knew I’d seen it all. And he turns and looks straight at me, and his eyes are black pits, and he says

‘And you too, Leporello. You helped him. He couldn’t have performed half his depravities without your help. You too, Leporello, when your time’s up. You’ll share his punishment.’

And then he laughs! Holy Mother of God, help me! They’re going to make me into a wench, like they did him!”

He raised his head to stare at Ramon with bloodshot eyes.

“Senor…”

“I don’t want to be a wench, Ramon! I don’t want to be a wench!”

Leporello’s head dropped back onto his arms, and he started sobbing, and nothing Ramon could say or do would get him to stop.

Copyright 2014
Kandijayne