THIRD ACT
Smite at the bidding of your overlords;
Come, all you threatening things, who, with slant eyes,
Wait to snatch spirits in the mood unwise;
Come, eagle spirits, that do drink man’s blood,
Hurry on smeared wings hither to your food:
I, who am Prophet, give you King and Queen.
Enter Ashobal.
The King is coming hither.
“I am the herald of a mightier King,
Who bids me stand before this palace door
And cry a curse on Ahab and his wife.
Ahab, the dog, Ahab, the murderer,
And Jezebel the harlot murderess.”
Enter Ahab.
Will speak one word. What hast thou done, thou devil,
On Naboth, that most upright man of God!
He will be much at peace.
You, who hath murdered Naboth, to exult
Over his corpse, still bleeding as it is.
That he is dead, nor how, nor why. Explain.
Your bloody-hearted hirelings and the priests.
Which do you call my hirelings?
Idolaters who follow on your Queen.
Enter Jezebel.
Call those who follow me accurst?
Here is the man who dares call you and them
Accurst as murderers of Naboth dead.
He cursed his God and King here in my presence,
Breaking the kingdom’s laws of blasphemy.
I, who uphold this kingdom’s laws, gave order
That he should be arraigned for blasphemy.
Do I conclude that there are still some men
Who do their ruler’s bidding in this kingdom?
And easy laws for King and Queen to keep,
Living in purple in the ivory room;
And useful laws for killing enemies.
But there are other laws which do persist
After the enemies are killed. For Naboth
We left his body lying on its face,
And the wild dogs slink in and lick his blood;
And the bald birds that watch in heaven for deaths
Settle, and wait until the dogs have done.
But ... as those dogs and buzzards come to Naboth,
The dogs and kites of vengeance come to you.
I tell you this ...
Since you have sold yourself thus to work evil,
I will bring evil on you, take away
All your posterity, and make your house
Like Jeroboam’s house,
And like the accursed house, Baasha’s house.
Those of your house that die within the city
The dogs shall eat, and those that die afield
The fowls of the air shall eat; and Jezebel ...
Dogs shall eat Jezebel by the city wall.
Now royal rottenness in purple hedged,
I call a great cry from the Spirit of God.
Come all you dogs and vultures,
Come on your noiseless wings out of great Heaven,
Come upon padding footsteps stealthily.
Follow your victims in the hearts of men,
And by the ways of men, and take their blood
As they took his, as they took his, as they
Took his, upon the stones; blood, blood, that shrieks.
(The spirit passes out of him. He swoons.)
Against us, at this time, and for no reason.
Or had him publicly displayed and shamed.
I told you plainly of the need of action.
One of us rulers had to play the King
And check this rebel. Since you did not, I did.
And he is checked for ever, and his friends
Daunted: so daunted that you have the chance
Now to take hold and be indeed the King,
And rule according to your royal will,
Not as the frenzy of a rebel bids.
The little chance I had of governing.
You bring me to the pitch of having to choose
Between your fancies and the people’s will.
Perhaps it is too late to remedy
The evil that must follow from your folly.
Naboth is dead: this prophet shows our future;
If there be any future left for us.
Do not now answer me; I must debate this
Within myself. You may have ruined me,
But that or no, you have been mad, by Heaven.
[Exit Ahab.
Does but condemn another man’s endeavour.
How blest, not to decide, nor be, nor do,
But help the many to condemn the few.
Enter Joram.
Joram, my son, do you come to comfort your mother?
Joram.
No, mother, I do not. I come to look for my father.
Jezebel.
If you are looking for the King, this is the King.
Joram.
What is this body, Madam? The prophet? Is he dead?
Jezebel.
Only swooned from cursing your father and mother.
Joram.
Mother, you are talking very strangely.
Jezebel.
I have been mad, by Heaven. Why, Joram, you come to tell my father so; do you not, boy?
Joram.
I do not know how to answer you.
Jezebel.
You reckon me a curse upon this country?
Joram.
As my father’s officer I have to report what the citizens feel.
Jezebel.
You feel it with them.
Joram.
Whatever I feel I can restrain; but since you insist, I say that it is hard that my father should be ruined by your Syrian policy and gods and self.
Jezebel.
You are half-Syrian.
Joram.
Through you, I was. But in this war, while I lay wounded, a Syrian trooper kicked me and spurred me in the face. That took my last drop of Syrian blood; your blood. There is nothing Syrian in me now. But I mean to pay the Syrians for that kicking and spurring when they lie wounded. You have made father mild and Ahaziah like yourself; but after them perhaps I shall be King; perhaps sooner.
Jezebel.
You are leagued with your father’s enemies. And do you think that they will make you the King?
Joram.
It is not a question of what I think, but of the needs of this land.
Jezebel.
When the mob comes to sack the palace, there is always some prince to open the door.
Joram.
If I ever am the King, the Syrians will see.
Jezebel.
May it be long before you become King.
Joram.
Your killing Naboth may make it very long. But I am not here to talk with you, but with the King.
Jezebel.
As I told you, this is the King, here on the ground.
Enter Ahab.
Joram.
Save you, O King, I bring a message from the Council.
Ahab.
What is it?
Joram.
Something that would be better said by Ahaziah than myself.
Ahab.
Let me hear it.
Joram.
If I did not bring it as a message, it would be my duty as your officer to bring it as a report.
Jezebel.
The Council sends word by your son that you, the King, should banish the Queen.
Joram.
Madam, do not add to the pain of my mission. The Council is composed of manly and godly men, the best of our country, whose wills are worth the weighing. They bid me say, sir, this, that they deplore that such a King should have for counsellor one who brings peace with Syria, and the death of an upright man whom they esteemed.
Ahab.
By this counsellor they mean your mother, the Queen?
Joram.
Sir, you are ever wise and they ever respectful. They feel that a foreign influence is not for your people’s good, nor for justice in your people’s causes.
Jezebel.
My son, speak openly, for the people’s good.
Ahab.
What do they demand?
Joram.
They bid me say, sir, that they cannot doubt that you would care only for your people’s good, were it made apparent.
Jezebel.
Make it apparent.
Joram.
Sire, I would that the prince, my brother, might have had this task.
Jezebel.
I, too, wish that, my son. Is not banishment enough, then? Do they ask for my death?
Joram.
Sir, those are their feelings.
Ahab.
They hate my Queen and wish her gone?
Joram.
Sir, truth cannot be hidden from you.
Ahab.
And if I ignore their feelings, or crush their mutterings?
Joram.
Sir, they think you too great a man, for either way.
Ahab.
But if they err, and I do?
Joram.
You would not.
Ahab.
If I did, what then?
Joram.
Your Majesty has too good a memory.
Ahab.
What do you mean by that, boy?
Joram.
Sir, your father only came to the crown because a former King ignored men’s feelings. King Nadab ignored his subjects’ feelings. What happened to him? King Elah did. What happened to him? King Zimri did. What happened to him? Men now living saw all these Kings; and what came to them? The crown is granted on certain terms, according with the Life of this Race. My father, I beseech you, think what this Race asks.
Ahab.
I never cease to think it. Leave us.
[Exit Joram.
You heard what he said?
Jezebel.
Yes.
Ahab.
They want me to put you aside.
Jezebel.
Yes, Ahab.
Ahab.
What urged you to prosecute Naboth at such a time?
Jezebel.
Someone had to act.
Ahab.
You acted fatally.
Jezebel.
I was myself, Ahab; a princess of Sidon; your Queen.
Ahab.
This is not Sidon, but Shemer.
Dismiss me from your council and your court
And let me be; the hated foreign woman
Who tried and failed. I will be nothing here.
After these years of hatred it will be
Peace to be nothing. When my son returns,
(The captain, Ahaziah) send him hence.
I sent for him to help me govern here.
Since I am nothing now, he must not stay.
But now that I am nothing, I say this:
That you must be upon your guard, King Ahab,
More; you must play the King, and being King,
Strike down this prophet and his friend, Lord Jehu,
For they are linked together against peace.
Only an instinct fortified by love
Stronger than any proof.
Jehu has been my captain of the horse,
My comrade in the field, my counsellor,
My soldier, who has shed his blood for me
In five campaigns, in many years of war.
This prophet is indeed the enemy
Of much that I have planned, but as for Jehu,
I know him, and I know that you have wronged him
And speak from bitterness.
By all our lives together, you beware
Of Jehu and this man.
Many years sooner, I had had no need
To be aware of any of my subjects.
I cannot longer countenance your dealings.
They neither suit my people nor the time. Therefore
I do dismiss you from your royalty,
From Queenship and command and counselling,
From all authority in Shemer here.
This shall be straightway published as my will.
And I am cold and broken as with blows,
But yet I hear—can you not hear—do you?
The vultures and the dogs coming for blood.
Listen. The vultures settle in the court,
And there are footsteps coming up the stair,
The footsteps of the dogs that come for blood;
For blood is coming upon this house, and I
Have told you that it comes; I am its herald.
Enter Jehu from in front, carrying armour. He comes on, stands motionless, then flings down a helmet; then, after a pause, a corselet; then, after a pause, a sword. Zakkur stands behind him.
Whose weapons are they? What has happened, Jehu?
Is it some challenge? Speak.
It’s Ahaziah’s sword. My son is dead?
(Jehu nods.)
To rest his horses, at the inn at Springs;
And leaning on the lattice, looking out,
He fell out of the upper balcony,
And died soon after, broken by the fall.
Here is the witness, who will tell you how.
Lord, when our Queen commanded the Prince to return here, she sent her orders by a Syrian of the Court.
Jezebel.
I did, by Malik.
Zakkur.
Malik was in the pay of the King of Syria.
Jezebel.
That is false. That lie has been exposed many times over.
Zakkur.
Madam, alas, it is now proven, by Malik’s confession.
Ahab.
Who are you who speak?
Zakkur.
A lieutenant in our late Prince’s troop, my lord.
Ahab.
Go on, then, about Malik.
Zakkur.
Before delivering his orders to our late Prince, he showed them to the Syrian officers in the garrison at Ramoth. They saw a chance of intercepting our Prince upon his way. They bribed Malik to lead the Prince, so as to halt at the inn at Springs. They did not wish to set upon him, because they expected the troop to be with the Prince. They sawed through the beams of the balcony of the inn so that when he set foot upon it, the floor should give way. The Prince did not bring his troop with him, but set out with myself, his galloper, and Malik. He halted at the inn, at Malik’s persuasion, much against his will, for he wished to be here. Then all happened as his murderers the Syrians had devised. He went upon the balcony, it fell, and he died from it.
After he had died, my lord, Malik urged us to come away, which I and my colleague would not, without examination. When we found that the beams had been sawn, remembering Malik’s Syrian birth and his suspicious wishes, first to halt there, then to come away, we taxed him with the crime and he confessed, and was secured.
The galloper waits at the inn for an escort for the body and the prisoner. It was decided that I should ride here at once with the news.
Jezebel.
Before he died, did he say anything?
Zakkur.
Yes, Madam; he muttered about the gods, and about you.
Jezebel.
What did he say?
Zakkur.
That we were to tell you that this was the gods’ reward for peace with Syria.
[She goes out.
My son, who was to follow me as King,
Killed by a Syrian plot, by treachery.
Killed, coming home to help me in my sorrows.
With Syria, against God’s ordinance.
Against this land can rank beside this deed;
The loss of such a Prince by such a crime
Will rouse this country, lord. You will keep peace
By your great policy, but through your people
A mighty cry for vengeance will arise.
This was his sword. He was to be the King
After my death, fulfilling all my dreams.
See, you, and you, and you, I take the sword
And draw it out and swear upon its hilt
To take a vengeance on the murderers
Who brought him to his death.
At having trusted in my enemies,
And been ill-paid, I will ask help from God;
Counsel and help in any act of justice.
Go, gather me the prophets, let them seek
Illumination, then bring word to me
Whether the spirit do approve a war.
I will go seek for guidance, though my heart
Seeks less for guidance now than for release.
[Exit Ahab.
He has won Naboth, I have Ahaziah.
So much is true; and in an hour from now
We can be marching hence with Ahab’s self,
If all your prophets will but prophesy.
I want him killed in war, outside the city.
Go, bid the prophets prophesy for war.
[Exit Prophet, with Zakkur.
Princes should not be rude to rising men,
For men may rise. You will be rude no more.
I have been rude to you, my Ahaziah.
I kicked the lips that once were rude to me.
My foot is on your heart’s blood, Ahaziah.
Curtain.
FIFTH CHORUS
And Queen Helen at his bedside stood and looked upon him dead,
He who once had bought her beauty, to be bride to him, by barter,
He whom she had loathed and fled from, now lay silenced on the bed.
Thoughts of Paris in his beauty when their love was at its height.
Paris in his morning, and the King in his uncleanness,
And this dead mean thing, her master, and the winner of the fight.
Save the soft-foot watchers whispering;
All was dark, save in the porch
The wind-blown fire of a torch,
And the sentries still as in a stound,
With their spear-heads drooped upon the ground.
To a fever of a love for me who saw me passing by:
When they saw me, all their eyes grew bright, and all their pulses quickened,
And to win me or to keep me they went up to Troy to die.
I am old, my hair is grey, and none remembers
What a fire in men’s hearts Queen Helen kindled
Ere the fire in Queen Helen turned to embers.”
Save the wind-blown torch-flame guttering,
And a moth that came
Beating with his wings about the flame,
And the sentries drawing breath,
With their spear-heads drooped saluting death.
And the beauty gave the gift of death to all who came to woo me;
Now of all the men who loved me, none remain,
And of both the men who had me neither knew me
Surely all my past was evil, for its fruit is bitter pain.
Where my beauty made no widow, nor no orphan wanting bread;
Where no human sorrow suffers the disaster of my glory,
And my eyes may lose the vision of the hauntings of the dead.”
Brought from home and wives and children to be bones upon the plain;
All the panther-like for beauty, all the lion-like for daring,
And they lie among the bindweed now, uncovered by the rain.”
Save the soft-foot watchers whispering;
All was dark, save in the porch
The wind-blown fire of a torch,
And the sentries still as in a stound
With their spear-heads drooped upon the ground.
And to sea, away from Hellas, but she dared not show her face,
For the women and the orphans would have killed her without pity:
She had sown her crop of death too far, she found no resting-place.
Where the shepherd’s pipe or viol stirred the blind man to his verse,
Till the hearers swayed and trembled and the rough man touched his neighbour,
They would talk of Troy with sadness, but of Helen with a curse.
SIXTH CHORUS
In storm, in the Ida forest, alone, not knowing the road,
She saw a light in the blackness; she turned to the light,
She came to the fort on the crag, the panther-women’s abode.
Those women fierce from the killing of lion or boar or man;
They came with their torches round her, they stared at her hard,
They knew her for Helen the Queen from whom their sorrows began.
Her beauty a throat for their knives, her body a prey—
Helen, who ruined their lovers, the root of their ill—
She said: “I am Helen. Avenge yourselves on me. You may.”
“God used you to bring things to be; evil things to our city,
Evil things to yourself, for your face declares you have paid;
You have come to the truth like ourselves; we take not vengeance, but pity.”
Then they welcomed her into their hold, and when morning broke clear,
They rode with her down to the ruins of what had been Troy;
There they left her alone in the wreck of the thing overdear
That the gods cannot grant to mankind, but unite to destroy.