FIFTH ACT
In sight yet, Madam. Shall we play again?
(No answer.)
Dust from a windflaw blowing down the glen.
There is no rider, Madam. Shall we sing?
(No answer.)
Shall we not sing to soothe her?
So speak some quiet thing.
Men are like winds forever wavering;
Men are like water; men are like the tide:
Women, the rock they ebb from, do abide.
And now the drums begin upon the housetops,
And all the plain spreads out, burningly clear.
They have gone out to war; is it not so?
I have been thinking till it all seems plain.
We are amusements only
In mightier life than ours.
God knows, we are not amusement to ourselves.
I am no Queen. I have no son; no husband;
No task, no place, and yet I covet news.
Look, by the rocks, beyond the spur; you see?
Save with the news of triumph.
Will not be what we look for, because life
Is unexpected, whether good or ill.
And at the door by which a horror enters
Another comes, a muffled one, a silent.
(There is a knocking.)
There is a woman in the outer court
Asks that you grant her audience for a moment.
She brings cosmetics and Arabian gums.
I told her that you would not buy her gear
At such a time, but she implored me still
To beg you to admit her to your presence.
Many long years ago she lived in Sidon,
Her father being sutler to the guard,
Your royal father’s bodyguardsmen, Madam.
She says she looked upon your presence there,
When you were a Princess. She does desire
To see that prophecy of future beauty
Fulfilled in you the Queen, if you the Queen
Would graciously permit her eyes to feast
Upon the sight of you.
To see what time had made of us. So be it.
A word of Sidon would be beauty to me
To-day. Let her come in.
[Exit.
If, first, we questioned her?
So close, that both the wise thing and unwise
Are cords to catch me.
Stand here until the Presence speaks to you.
[Exit.
One where you never trod, near the fish-market.
Silvered with cat-gnawn droppings of the nets,
Was blessed to me. It is blest in memory.
I know my father starved there; so did I.
That’s past. The question now is, Is the man
Gone from the door?
Look.
And I have come here, Madam, to say this:
You are in instant danger of your life.
I do not rightly know; but they are wicked—
Wicked and bold. Though others made them so.
I have come here to help you to escape.
That there is danger.
I have lived here in danger twenty years.
What horror comes to-day?
Look here. You see the side gate of the palace?
You see, behind the ruined wall, armed men?
They watch that side gate lest you leave the palace.
Now, on this side, see there, among those bushes,
More men-at-arms, watching the royal gate.
There at the water-gate are more armed men.
And they are not your guards.
Then, while they watch for me, their friends are watching
My husband in the army? Is it so?
This is some treason, Madam, to betray you
Out of the palace, into savage hands.
Look, woman; many Queens have been betrayed
Since men were ruled; betrayed to death and shame,
Most foully, by their subjects, whom they trusted.
There is no treachery on earth more devilish
To brand men blacker or to rake the heart worse.
You would not be the one to tempt me forth
To death and shame among my enemies?
The palace guards.
You hear the sounds below? Your palace guards
Are being feasted by your enemies;
Women and drink have overcome your guards.
The little, secret, unsuspected door
Under the stair, leads to a passage-way
Straight to the stables. I have brought the keys.
Could know about the door.
What matter who I am? You are the Queen.
You will find horses ready in the stables
For you and for your women. From the stables
You can escape, the postern is unlockt.
What kind of life awaits you, after this?
For poor folk.
Nay, two years, one year, hence, you will remember
My queenship as a dream, a golden dream.
And beat upon the bars.
Come from the door.
Draw a deep breath and tell us what it is.
Listening to what we say.
Cover her features with the gossamer,
Now let her hurry to the passage yonder.
[Exit Hamutal.
Is anyone behind the door there? Enter.
(She goes back and flings open the door.
Pashur is there. He comes in.)
But you shall hear my story, Queen or no.
Ay, it has been a hot day’s work to-day.
And I have ridden out, and fought, and ridden
Back to this city, and the whole world sways
As from the falling shoulders of a horse.
And give God praise, because of victory.
Think for a moment what this day has been.
We marched this morning with our banners waving,
With the prophets raving, and the trumpets blowing,
With the charioteers of the King of Judah,
And the spears of the King, a thousand men.
We came to Ramoth when they least expected,
While they slept the noontide and thought it peace.
There we paid back upon the Syrians
A little of what we owed, by God.
You see these blackened ashes mixed with blood,
That is what Ramoth and her people are.
The King gave order you should see the work.
You see, ashes and blood; by God, I love them.
But that is not the message that I bring.
I bring a message about good King Ahab,
Who rode into the battle in his chariot
Against the chariots of Syria.
Keep yourselves quiet, Syrians, while I tell.
There was a man, who shall be nameless,
Who shall be blameless, or praised aloud,
He with an arrow shot King Ahab
Beneath the arm in the armour joint.
He did not die at once, but bled to death,
Down in the shadow of the willow trees.
His blood dripped from his chariot; the dogs licked it,
Even as the Teshbon prophet did foretell.
For the eagle fallen from heaven, for the burnt-out fire.
For the strength unknit, for the crown brought to the mire.
Have you declared this news to any yet?
That they may now declare it to the people:
The King is dead and now his son is King;
King Joram is the King in Israel.
Jehu, anointed by the Prophet’s oil,
Has killed your Joram with an arrow shot
Under his arm, and out right through his heart,
Killing him in his chariot as he drove.
And he has killed his ally, and has flung
Your Joram’s body, bloody as it is,
Down into Naboth’s vineyard, to the dogs.
Now Bidkar, captain of the charioteers,
Drives the good Jehu hither to be crowned.
Jehu is King, and you, you scarlet whore,
Abominable in the face of God,
You manless, soulless, crownless foreigner,
Shall taste the wrath of God and of God’s people.
Now for your spicery there shall be stink,
And where the delicate hair has known the comb
There shall be baldness, and where silk has lain
There shall be nakedness.
And where the red lips mocked God delicately
There shall be broken teeth biting on dust:
It shall be done to you ere this day passes.
[Exit Pashur.
Thus in an hour the world slips from the feet.
What change beyond this world summons us home?
What conclave of the spirits?
Dead: all three.
Bring me my jewels from the tiring-room.
[The Maids go, then return with casket.
Jehu is coming here to murder me.
He will be here in some few minutes now.
Yet there may still be time for you to go.
Put on these veils. Oh, hurry! We will take
The door the woman told of, and the horses,
And be in safety on the coast by dawn.
My life has been here and my death shall be
Near to my dead. But one task more, my friends.
Swift, from within, my cases of cosmetics,
My crownets and the settings for my hair,
The purple chlamys with the spangs of gold
That long ago my father won at Rhodes,
The robe that once the great Queen Helen had
When she was beauty’s self, and gave her beauty
To buy a little love in windy Troy.
(The Maids bring the gear.)
(Gives jewels.)
With all my thanks for service you have done me,
Year in, year out, for many bitter years.
I think no Queen has ever been so served.
Courage. Here is the key; draw your veils close.
What will they do to us, what will they do?
Down through the secret door and so away.
Master your tears. You, take her by the arm.
You will be sailing up the coast to Sidon
By sunrise; think.
(To Rose-Flower.) Sister. Friend.
When you reach Sidon, greet the King, my father,
And give him this, and bid him consecrate
A stone for me. Now go. The gods go with you.
[The Maidens go.
Since but a little time remains to me.
There is the dust of Jehu’s charioting;
The two Assyrian stallions which we gave him
Coming to end my house.
But first, those women.
Hush! All is still. They must have reached the stable.
That woman spoke the truth, the way was clear.
There is no noise of men arresting them.
The guards are still. Thus far they must be safe.
There is no sound; and see, those men are quiet.
O gods, send messengers to make them safe!
Ay, there they go, on horseback. They are free.
Now let me pray. “O thou great fire of life,
Of whom all lives of men are but the sparks,
Take back this spark into the fire that burns
In the great sun, in all the lesser suns,
In the suns’ moons, and everything that lives
In wild blood, and the pushing of the spring;
And if my ways were darkness, give me darkness,
And if my ways were brightness, give me light.”
Now I will decorate myself for death,
As once before, when I was crowned a bride
Here to the King.
First, with this pencil, I
Darken my brows, because they go to death.
And make my eyes bright, since I join my husband
And go again to look upon my sons.
Next I will set this scarlet on my lips,
And on my cheek, lest men should think me pale
And say that I, the Queen, am pale from fear.
Now I will draw Queen Helen’s robe about me.
This golden bird is Helen’s very hair
That Paris kissed in Troy, my father told me.
Lastly, I will make consecrate my hair
With royal gold, for I will die a Queen.
Now am I as the beauty that I was,
When in my father’s palace near the sea
The princes of the Islands came to court me,
Phorbas, and Kreon, and Andemakos,
Kings of the Islands, bright-eyed from the sea,
Men who had gone as strangers to strange lands,
And there made friends by something kindling in them:
Not like this Queen whom once they courted there.
Where are they now, those men who loved me once?
Perhaps alive still in their island homes.
Decked with the precious things of half the world,
And thinking of me sometimes, as men do
Think of old loves long over utterly.
And Tsor of Mura, whom I might have married,
Had I been wise. He will still think of me.
Now will I bare my throat that they may kill me.
How the blood beats that soon will cease to beat!
Poor servant blood, that kept this flesh alive
Knowing not why, and now shall serve no more
This captive soul that was an earthly Queen.
And I without this servant shall not know
The hour of pain, the sleepless night, the day
Anxious as fever with this troublous world;
Shall know, it may be, nothing more forever,
Or know, it may be, all things burningly,
Know god the spirit as a lover would.
Now I will look if those who come to kill
Are on their way.
(Goes to window.)
Which I have hated! Little evil lanes,
Filthy with dogs and lepers and blind men
Made eyeless by the flies. O nest of vipers,
Within few moments I shall pass from you.
Once an Egyptian told me that at death
The soul has power to will its resting-place:
So do I will that I be far from here,
At Sidon on a hilltop near the sea,
Looking at Kittim at a sun-setting,
When all the peaks rise up like crowns of gods
And flame with the gods’ thoughts. And past those peaks,
Beyond, in the imagined, never seen,
Behind its reef of rocks, and beautiful
With marble and with wonders and with waters,
Is Mura, where my lover was a King.
But hark, they come. I would go forth to Sidon.
To Sidon, or to Kittim, or to Mura,
Some place of the sea-princes near the sea.
I would go forth to Sidon or to Mura,
To Mura, or to Sidon, or to Kittim—-
(She sings.)
Last night I heard the wild geese cry.
Oh, ho!
The rain has come, the snows are gone.
Oh, ho!
Will blow the spice smell in the mouth.
Oh, ho!
And sail the green seas with the King,
And find, maybe, a finer thing
Than any here.
Oh, ho!
Enter Pharmas and Ashobal.
They ask to see you at the window yonder.
So that this land which you have wrecked may find
Some little peace!
Who killed his master?
(He clambers up to look in.)
(Speaks to Pharmas and Ashobal.)
Who of you men within are for King Jehu?
Seize her and throw her down
(Throw her down.)
Tread her; come up, you; over her; once more.
Tread her again. I’ll teach you who is master.
Ride over her, you fellows, every one.
Ride over her and trample on her body;
Let the beasts kick her. That’s the way. Again.
You tread the harlot who has wrecked this land.
Come here and hold my horses, one of you.
Give me a hand, you men, and let me in.
Enter Jehu (by the window).