The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 78

_Char._ My heart can hold no more of peace than now Doth fill it, but I drink with you, my lord.

[_Drinks from goblet which Oswald has filled from chalice, and Oswald drinks from goblet filled by Charilus_]

_Osw._ [_Dropping his gla.s.s_] Is peace a fire?

I' faith, this kindles me!

Thou smileless priest, take off the Virgin's cup!

You think it needs another blessing, sir, Since my bold hand has touched it? Out with you!

[_Exit priest with chalice_]

That pinch-face has seen h.e.l.l and fasts to keep The ghost down. I'll not fast. Set to, my friends.

Fill up your bowls, for I've a health for you.

We drink to Berenice, bride to be Of Bertrand, prince of Suli and my son!

_A Lord._ [_As all lift their gla.s.ses_]

We pledge the bride of Bertrand--Berenice!

_Ber._ Drink not, my lords, till you have changed that name To Ardia, daughter of our n.o.ble guest, Lord Charilus!

_Fred._ [_Rising_] If this be sport, Earl Oswald, A world of groans shall pay for 't!

_Bere._ [_In mock swoon_] Oh.... I faint....

[_Her ladies help her_]

_Osw._ You bawling a.s.s! You thousand times a fool!

_Ber._ [_To Oswald_] You've woven a maze about me, and I'm blind With 't, yet I see to pluck one truth,--my bride Is Ardia. No other under Heaven! My lords, It is the wine----

_Osw._ Would then 'twere in your throat!

Is this the riddle of your morning smile?

Your fair compliance, soft submission? Sir, By my heart's blood, I'll give you to the sword Ere you shall make me father to a drab-- The spoil of your own l.u.s.t, the--What, you draw?

Ay, strike me down! Let me be first to fall Beneath your mighty sword! The rust has lain A lifetime on it, and a father's blood May cleanse it bright as Heaven!

_Ber._ O, my Christ!

_Osw._ Yea, call on him, and he will hear thee too, Who honorest so thy father!

[_Bertrand stands speechless_]

Now, my lords, Since he no longer brays, I have a tale To tell you. I, too, had a father, though The world has long forgot him.

_Fred._ No, my friend.

Well do I bear in mind his fair, proud face, And glory of his arms.

_Osw._ He was struck down Because a minion, straying from the hearth, Looked on his beauty with her nestling eyes.

_Fred._ For no more cause?

_Osw._ I swear it. Friends, if death Were the cold price for kissing of a jade, Who here would be alive? For so slight sin Was my brave father murdered. Charilus, speak!

Was not the princely heart of John of Clyffe Ripped with a hate-keen sword,--the sword of him Who claimed the lords.h.i.+p of those rebel lips That chose my father liege?

_Char._ It is too true.

_Osw._ Who better knows? Say that a wilding flies The builded bower, hearing a lordlier song Pa.s.s on the wind than her dull mate can tune, Must then the singer die, who scarcely knows His song is heard, or that a bold wing follows?

_Char._ Whether the earl of Clyffe sang then to woo, As I believe, or for the love of song, As you do say, my lord,--his death was sin, And he who wrought that woe shed tears enough To clear his stain, if tears may whiten souls.

_Osw._ A murderer's tears! But what of mine, the son's?

_Ber._ Your oath--your honor, sir! Where is the love You swore should cleanse your s.h.i.+eld?

_Osw._ Safe in my heart.

And burning for my father.

_Ber._ G.o.d of pity!

_Osw._ That was the love I spoke of.

_Ber._ All be deaf But h.e.l.l!

_Osw._ Hear the full tale, my friends. I swear The earl of Clyffe died for no more offence Than I have here set out,--and I, his only son, Kissed his red wounds and from his breast unbound This b.l.o.o.d.y scarf--[_taking scarf from his bosom_] that then was crimson, now In age-grown black bemourns my step that comes So sluggish to revenge. For thirty years Had pa.s.sed ere I beheld his murderer, Then face to face we stood ... and face to face We stand ... for this is he, this Charilus Of Kidmir--peace-lipped Cain--gray hypocrite, Whose blood is honey in his veins, whose eyes Stare on the world as he were some bland G.o.d Who made it and said "good."

_Char._ Sir, I would send My daughter to her brothers. Grant me this.

And I am ready for what death you please.

_Ard._ I will not go. One sword shall strike us both.

[_Turns to Oswald_]

But first a word to you. When Charilus falls, Say farewell to your son. He pledged his life To my two brothers for our father's safety, And you, who know him least, yet know he'll keep That pledge.

_Osw._ What, creature, will you lie?

_Ard._ I speak The truth. Strike, if you can, this gray old man, Silvered in service to the one high G.o.d, Sinless as sunlight, fair in sweetened age,-- Let forth his sainted blood, and Bertrand lives No longer than the shortest time between Suli and Kidmir.

_Osw._ That's a lifetime then!

He shall not step! I'll have him hung with chains Till he is fast as rooted oaks in earth!

_Ber._ [_Stunned_] A guest betrayed....

_Osw._ Betrayed? I promised him Such treatment as he gave my blood. And he Shall have it--death!

_Char._ Peace be my heir!

_Ber._ [_Takes stand by Charilus_] Death, sir?

First break this sword! Thy sin must be unnamed Until the angel who doth write thee d.a.m.ned Gives it foul christening. I break my pledge.

I will not go to Kidmir. Here I'll give My life for Charilus.

_Char._ No blow for me!

O, may I unavenged lie forgot, And my forgiving blood make barren ground Alive with asphodel----

_Ber._ Nay, I will strike, Though a father's sword meet mine!

[_Charilus trembles, and supports himself by Ardia's arm_]