FIFTH ACT

Rose-Flower.
There is no rider, coming from the army,
 In sight yet, Madam. Shall we play again?

(No answer.)

Moon-Blossom.
Come to the window. There. What white was that?
Rose-Flower.
The wind lifting the dust.
Moon-Blossom.
No. Yes, it was.
 Dust from a windflaw blowing down the glen.
 There is no rider, Madam. Shall we sing?

(No answer.)

Rose-Flower.
She is too stunned with sorrow to give orders.
 Shall we not sing to soothe her?
Moon-Blossom.
Sing, then, you.
Rose-Flower.
Speak to her first.
Moon-Blossom.
Madam——
Rose-Flower.
She will not answer;
 So speak some quiet thing.
Moon-Blossom.
Men are like wind-vanes that forever swing;
 Men are like winds forever wavering;
 Men are like water; men are like the tide:
 Women, the rock they ebb from, do abide.
Rose-Flower.
She will not speak. See, it is sunset now.
 And now the drums begin upon the housetops,
 And all the plain spreads out, burningly clear.
Jezebel.
What is that noise of evil that I hear?
Rose-Flower.
The prophet speaking in the market-place.
Moon-Blossom.
All afternoon his voice has shouted evil.
Jezebel.
It is as red as blood within this room.
 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?
Rose-Flower.
A rider.
Moon-Blossom.
In a white cloak, with a lance.
Rose-Flower.
One of King Ahab’s lancers, if in white.
Moon-Blossom.
Surely a rider from the army, Madam.
Rose-Flower.
Bringing good news, because he would not gallop
 Save with the news of triumph.
Jezebel.
What he brings
 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.)

Enter, without there!
Pharmas enters.
Yes? What is it, Pharmas?
Pharmas.
The Presence will forgive my interruption.
 There is a woman in the outer court
 Asks that you grant her audience for a moment.
Jezebel.
Why should I grant her audience? Who is she?
Pharmas.
She comes from Lower Egypt, as she says.
Jezebel.
What is her traffic with me?
Pharmas.
Madam, this.
 She brings cosmetics and Arabian gums.
Jezebel.
This is no time for such. I cannot see her.
Pharmas.
May the great Presence pardon if I speak.
 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.
Jezebel.
Did she say why?
Pharmas.
Yes, Madam; because once
 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.
Jezebel.
So our pasts come
 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.
Pharmas.
I will, O Splendour!

[Exit.

Rose-Flower.
Queen, is it wise to let a stranger come?
Jezebel.
No.
Moon-Blossom.
Then why see her?
Rose-Flower.
Would it not be better
 If, first, we questioned her?
Moon-Blossom.
Or searched for weapons?
Rose-Flower.
She well might carry daggers.
Moon-Blossom.
Or bring poison.
Jezebel.
No; let her come. I am involved in nets
 So close, that both the wise thing and unwise
 Are cords to catch me.
Rose-Flower.
She is here.
Pharmas (entering with Hamutal).
This way.
 Stand here until the Presence speaks to you.

[Exit.

Jezebel.
They tell me that you lived in Sidon once.
Hamutal.
Yes, lady, yes. I passed my childhood there.
Jezebel.
So. In which street or quarter was your home?
Hamutal.
The twisted stinking quarter of the poor,
 One where you never trod, near the fish-market.
Jezebel.
I trod there often, and its filthiest lane,
 Silvered with cat-gnawn droppings of the nets,
 Was blessed to me. It is blest in memory.
Hamutal.
Perhaps to others it is not so blest.
 I know my father starved there; so did I.
 That’s past. The question now is, Is the man
 Gone from the door?
Jezebel.
The man who brought you here?
 Look.
Rose-Flower (looking.)
He has gone.
Jezebel.
Why should he not be gone?
Hamutal.
They are all spies here, every man of them.
 And I have come here, Madam, to say this:
 You are in instant danger of your life.
Jezebel.
From whom?
Hamutal.
I cannot say. I will not say.
 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.
Jezebel.
I thank you for the thought, but first convince me
 That there is danger.
 I have lived here in danger twenty years.
 What horror comes to-day?
Hamutal.
Come to the window, Madam; but be hidden.
 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.
Jezebel.
I see they are not.
 Then, while they watch for me, their friends are watching
 My husband in the army? Is it so?
Hamutal.
No, do not ask me, Madam; I know nothing.
Rose-Flower.
How could our Queen escape with the gate watched?
 This is some treason, Madam, to betray you
 Out of the palace, into savage hands.
Jezebel.
Let’s see her face. Ah! no, she is not that.
 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?
Hamutal.
Madam, I swear I would not.
Moon-Blossom.
We could call
 The palace guards.
Rose-Flower.
Yes, call the palace guards and question her.
Hamutal.
Come to the doorway, Madam.
 You hear the sounds below? Your palace guards
 Are being feasted by your enemies;
 Women and drink have overcome your guards.
Rose-Flower.
Then how can she escape?
Hamutal.
The little door—
 The little, secret, unsuspected door
 Under the stair, leads to a passage-way
 Straight to the stables. I have brought the keys.
Jezebel.
You are my steward’s wife, then? No one else
 Could know about the door.
Hamutal.
Oh, hurry, hurry!
 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.
Jezebel.
And you?
 What kind of life awaits you, after this?
Hamutal.
A better kind of life than you have made
 For poor folk.
Jezebel.
Ah! fine words; but ten years hence,
 Nay, two years, one year, hence, you will remember
 My queenship as a dream, a golden dream.
Rose-Flower.
O Madam, take the keys; do not delay.
Moon-Blossom.
The men outside are beating at the gate.
Rose-Flower.
Look, Madam, they have scrambled from the bushes
 And beat upon the bars.
Hamutal.
O Heaven! Hark!
Jezebel.
What is it?
Hamutal.
Listen! Listen!
 Come from the door.
Rose-Flower.
What did you think you heard?
Hamutal.
Come nearer me.
Jezebel.
I am not terrified.
 Draw a deep breath and tell us what it is.
Hamutal.
I think that someone is outside the door,
 Listening to what we say.
Jezebel.
Be still a moment.
Hamutal.
It is a man.
Rose-Flower.
There is a noise of armour.
Moon-Flower.
Someone is breathing deeply just outside.
Hamutal.
What shall I do? What shall I do? O Heaven.
Jezebel.
Help her to veil. Treat her as one of you;
 Cover her features with the gossamer,
 Now let her hurry to the passage yonder.

[Exit Hamutal.

We will be ridded of uncertainty.
 Is anyone behind the door there? Enter.

(She goes back and flings open the door.
Pashur is there. He comes in.)

Who are you, fellow? And what brings you here?
Pashur.
A messenger, with news. And who are you?
Rose-Flower.
She is your Queen, so speak with reverence.
Pashur.
A Queen! God spare us: soldiers own no Queen.
 But you shall hear my story, Queen or no.
Rose-Flower.
Is the King dead? Speak! Is King Ahab dead?
Pashur.
Learn to respect a royal messenger.
 Ay, it has been a hot day’s work to-day.
Jezebel.
If you be from the King, tell us your story.
Pashur.
Ay, I am from the King. That is God’s truth.
 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.
Rose-Flower.
So the King lives! Thank God!
Pashur.
Yes, the King lives.
 And give God praise, because of victory.
Jezebel.
I give God praise.
Pashur.
Queen, it has been a day.
 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.
Jezebel.
You mean, they did not know that there was war?
Pashur.
They knew it well enough before we ended.
 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.
Jezebel.
He was behind the King, then, when he shot.
Pashur.
He wished his work to be successful, lady.
Jezebel.
So the King died?
Pashur.
The Queen knows everything.
 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.
Rose-Flower.
Let us mourn for the King, for the cedar fallen,
 For the eagle fallen from heaven, for the burnt-out fire.
Moon-Blossom.
For the light that shone and is dark, for the word spoken.
 For the strength unknit, for the crown brought to the mire.
Jezebel.
My King is dead! I knew that he was dead.
 Have you declared this news to any yet?
Pashur.
Not yet.
Jezebel.
Then go; declare it to the priests,
 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.
Pashur.
You are too quick. Joram is not the King.
 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.

Jezebel.
My King, my sons, are killed! So Jehu wins.
 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.

You women, who were with me from the first,
 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.
Rose-Flower.
And time for you, O Queen; you could fly too.
 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.
Jezebel.
I am the daughter of a Queen, my friends.
 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.)

That is the last task you shall do for me.

(Gives jewels.)

And this the last least gift that I can give,
 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.
Rose-Flower.
O mistress, come with us!
Moon-Blossom.
Beloved mistress!
 What will they do to us, what will they do?
Jezebel.
Nothing. They will not find you. You will go
 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.
Moon-Blossom.
And where will you be, lady?
Jezebel.
As it is written for me.
 (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.

I will prepare myself for burial,
 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.)

O prison of a city
 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.)

The April moon is in the sky,
 Last night I heard the wild geese cry.
 Oh, ho!
The brooks are bright on Lebanon,
 The rain has come, the snows are gone.
 Oh, ho!
The north wind faints and soon the south
 Will blow the spice smell in the mouth.
 Oh, ho!
Then shall my bird the ship take wing
 And sail the green seas with the King,
 And find, maybe, a finer thing
 Than any here.
 Oh, ho!

Enter Pharmas and Ashobal.

Pharmas.
Madam, King Jehu and his men are come:
 They ask to see you at the window yonder.
Jehu (outside.)
Come out, you Jezebel, and taste God’s judgment,
 So that this land which you have wrecked may find
 Some little peace!
Jezebel.
Had Zimri peace
 Who killed his master?
Jehu.
Let me see this whore!

(He clambers up to look in.)

And who is with her?

(Speaks to Pharmas and Ashobal.)

Who is on my side?
 Who of you men within are for King Jehu?
Pharmas and Ashobal.
We are, great King!
Jehu.
Then throw her down to me.
 Seize her and throw her down
Ashobal and Pharma (together.)
Down with you, Mistress

(Throw her down.)

Jehu.
Get up, you horses. Would you shrink from flesh?
 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).