The Project Gutenberg eBook of Plays of Gods and Men, by Lord Dunsany

[Note: this edition was prepared from the 1917 Unwin edition. Later US editions had many minor changes and an additional page of dialogue in "The Laughter of the Gods".]

Lest any idle person might think that I have had time to write plays
during the last few years I may mention that the first act of The
Tents of the Arabs was written on September 3rd, and the second act on
September 8th, 1910.

The first and second acts of The Laughter of the Gods were written on January 29th, and the third act on February 2nd and 3rd, 1911. A Night at an Inn was written on January 17th, 1912, and The Queen's Enemies on April 19, 20, 21, 24, 28, 29, 1913.

King Karnos
Voice-of-the-Gods (a prophet)
Ichtharion
Ludibras
Harpagas
First Sentry
Second Sentry
One of the Camel Guard
An Executioner
The Queen
Tharmia (wife of Ichtharion)
Arolind (wife of Ludibras)
Carolyx (wife of Harpagas)
Attendants

Act I

Scene: The jungle city of Thek in the reign of King Karnos.

Now I must leave you here and go down among the shops for I have not changed my hair since we came to Thek.

It was not necessary. The King would not take his court where they could not obtain necessities.

[To Ludibras] I wish to see the other palaces in Thek, [To Tharmia] then we can go on beyond the walls to see what princes live in the neighbourhood.

When he tarried year after year in monstrous Barbul-el-Sharnak, I feared that I would see the sun rise never more in the windy glorious country. I feared we should live always in Barbul-el-Sharnak and be buried among houses.

It is mountainous with houses: there are no flowers there. I wonder how the winds come into it.

Ah. Do you know that it is I that brought him here at last? I gave him orchids from a far country. At last he noticed them. "Those are good flowers," said he. "They come from Thek," I said. "Thek is purple with them. It seems purple far out on the sand to the camel men." Then…

No, it was not you brought him. He saw a butterfly once in Barbul-el-Sharnak. There had not been one there for seven years. It was lucky for us that it lived; I used to send for hundreds, but they all died but that one when they came to Barbul-el-Sharnak. The King saw it.

Something changed in his mind when he saw the butterfly. He became quite different. He would not have noticed a flower but for that.

What a beautiful thing the air is in the morning. I stand up very early and breathe it from my casement; not in order to nourish my body, you understand, but because it is the wild, sweet air of Thek.

Yes, it is wonderful rising up in the morning. It seems all fresh from the fields.

It took us two days to ride out of Bar-el-Sharnak. Do you remember how men stared at our camels? No one had gone away from the city for years.

I think it is not easy to leave a great city. It seems to grow thicker around you, and you forget the fields.

The jungle is like a sea lying there below us. The orchids that blaze on it are like Tyrian ships, all rich with purple of that wonderful fish; they have even dyed their sails with it.

They are not like ships because they do not move. They are like… They are like no tangible thing in all the world. They are like faint, beautiful songs of an unseen singer; they are like temptations to some unknown sin. They make me think of the tigers that slip through the gloom below them.

A little street goes down from the palace door; the other end of it touches the very jungle.

I will come with you, too. We will go down by the little street, and there will be the jungle. I will fetch a spear as we go.

It is a very little city. Two hundred of these cities would not build
Barbul-el-Sharnak.

No. But it is a finer palace, and Barbul-el-Sharnak is the centre of the world; men have drawn together there.

O! O! O!

Barbul-el-Sharnak, Barbul-el-Sharnak. O why did the King leave
Barbul-el-Sharnak?

It may be better for my husband to persuade him, for he was ever opposed to his coming to Thek.

He could have but little influence with His Majesty since the King has come to Thek.

It is of no use. Her nerves are all a-quiver. She weeps if you speak with her. If you argue a matter with her she cries aloud and maidens must come and fan her and put scent on her hands.

Hark, they are coming back. They are singing a hunting song…. why, they have killed a beast. All four of the men are bringing it on two branches.

Did you not hear how glad they were when they sang the hunting song? They say a wild dog does not turn from the trail, they will go on hunting now.

He only does what Ichtharion and Ludibras persuade him. He does not listen to the Queen.

She is not mad but she has a curious sickness, she is always frightened though there is nothing to fear.

That would be a dreadful sickness; one would fear that the roof might fall on one from above or the earth break in pieces beneath. I would rather be mad than to fear things like that.

[Enter King and retinue. He sits on the throne. Enter from other side Ichtharion, Ludibras, and Harpagas, each with his wife beside him, hand in hand. Each couple bows before the King, still hand in hand; then they seat themselves. The King nods once to each couple.]

Your Majesty, there is a legend in the World, that he who is greatest in the city of Barbul-el-Sharnak is the greatest in the world.

Your Majesty, little legends do not hive in the sacred ears of kings; nevertheless they hum among lesser men from generation to generation.

We will rest from things of State for awhile, shall we not? We will be happy, (shall we not?) in this ancient beautiful palace.

But is not Thek most beautiful? Are not the jungle orchids a wonder and a glory?

They have been thought so, your Majesty; they were pretty in
Barbul-el-Sharnak where they were rare.

But when the sun comes over them in the morning, when the dew is on them still; are they not glorious then? Indeed, they are very glorious.

I do not love it, your Majesty. I hate it very much. I know it is beautiful because your Majesty has said so.

Beautifully dressed! Of course I am beautifully dressed! But who is there to see me? I am alone in the jungle, and here I shall be buried.

Do not be unhappy, do not be at all unhappy. But I have been unable to persuade the King to return to Barbul-el-Sharnak. You will be happy here after a little while.

You are the King's adviser. Ha-ha-ha! You are the Grand High Vizier of the Court. Ha-ha-ha. You are the warder of the golden wand. Ha-ha-ha O, go and throw biscuits to the King's dog.

Throw little ginger biscuits to the King's dog. Perhaps he will obey you. Perhaps you will have some influence with the King's dog if you feed him with little biscuits. You——

No. They would say in Barbul-el-Sharnak "these were once at Court," and men that we have flogged would spit in our faces.

The gods? There are no gods now. We have been civilised over three thousand years. The gods that nursed our infancy are dead, or gone to nurse younger nations.

I refuse the listen to—— O, the sentries are gone. No, the gods are no use to us; they were driven away by the decadence.

We are not in the decadence here. Barbul-el-Sharnak is in a different age. The city of Thek is scarcely civilised.

Listen! Let him prophesy to the King. Let him bid the King go hence lest they smite the city.

The King is more highly civilised even than we are. He will not care for the gods.

He cannot ignore them; the gods crowned his forefather and if there are no gods who made him King?

If the King disobeys the gods the people will tear him asunder, whether the gods created the people or the people created the gods.

[Enter Prophet with Harpagas. Ichtharion quickly sends Ludibras and
Harpagas away.]

This city is for the King, whose body is fragile, a very unhealthy city. Moreover, there is no work here that a King can profitably do. Also it is dangerous for Barbul-el-Sharnak to be long without a King, lest——

In this respect it does concern the gods—that if the gods knew this they would warn the King by inspiring you to make a prophecy. As they do not know this——

The gods of course cannot lie, but a prophet may sometimes utter a prophecy that is a good prophecy and helpful to men, thereby pleasing the gods, although the prophecy is not a true one.

The gods speak through my mouth; my breath is my own breath, I am human and mortal, but my voice is from the gods and the gods cannot lie.

Is it wise in an age when the gods have lost their power to anger powerful men for the sake of the gods?

We are three men and you are alone with us. Will the gods save you if we want to put you to death and slip away with your body into the jungle?

If you should do this thing the gods have willed it. If they have not willed it you cannot.

We do not wish to do it. Nevertheless you will make this prophecy—you will go before the King and you will say that the gods have spoken and that within three days' time, for the sake of vengeance upon some unknown man who is in this city, they will overthrow all Thek unless every man is departed.

Has it not been the custom since unremembered time for a prophet to have two wives?

You will be allowed to serve the gods no more if men know this. The gods will not protect you in this matter for you have offended also against the gods.

When the gods punish me who make them lie, they will know what punishment to give to you.

Act II

Look at them now, are they not beautiful? They catch the last rays of the lingering sun. Can you say that the orchids are not beautiful now?

Your majesty, we were wrong, they are most beautiful. They tower up from the jungle to take the sun. They are like the diadem of some jubilant king.

Yes, we will live here always. There is no city lovelier than Thek. Am
I not right?

[Enter mournfully with dejected head and walking very slowly
Voice-of-the-Gods.]

In three days' time the gods will destroy this city for vengeance upon some man, unless all men desert it.

Why… there will be a sound… as the riving of wood… a sound as of thunder coming up from the ground. A cleft will run like a mouse across the floor. There will be a red light, and then no light at all, and in the darkness Thek shall tumble in.

[The King sits in deep thought. Exit Prophet slowly; he begins to weep, then casts his cloak over his face. He stretches out his arms to grope his way and is led by the hand. The King sits thinking.]

[The King sits still in silence. He lifts a stick on his right to beat a little silver bell; but puts it down again. At last he lifts it up and strikes the bell. An Attendant enters.]

When the gods prophesy rain in the season of rain, or the death of an old man, we believe them. But when the gods prophesy something incredible and ridiculous, such as happens not nowadays, and hath not been heard of since the fall of Bleth, then our credulity is overtaxed. It is possible that a man should lie; it is not possible that the gods should destroy a city nowadays.

No, no, your Majesty. I would stay in the city, your Majesty. But if the gods do not destroy the city, if the gods have misled me.

If the gods have misled you they have chosen your doom. Why ask for mercy from me?

If the gods have misled me, and punish me no further, I ask mercy from you, O King.

Your Majesty! Is it safe to kill a prophet, even for any guilt? Will not the people——

Not while he is a prophet; but if he has prophesied falsely his death is due to the gods. The people once even burned a prophet themselves because he had taken three wives.

[Dead silence. A plaintive lament off. Enter the Queen. Her face is pale as paper.]

O your Majesty. Your Majesty. I have heard the lutanist, I have heard the lutanist.

I have heard Gog-Owza, the lutanist, playing his lute. And I shall die,
O I shall die.

No. No. No. You have not heard Gog-Owza. Send for her maidens, send for the Queen's maidens.

Hark. Why, I hear it too. That is not Gog-Owza, it is only a man with a lute; I hear it too.

O the King hears it too. The King will die. The great King will die. My child will be desolate for the King will die. Mourn, people of the jungle. Mourn, citizens of Thek. And thou, O Barbul-el-Sharnak, O metropolitan city, mourn thou in the midst of the nations, for the great King will die.

O but he is old; in a few days he will die; it is Gog-Owza, and the
King will die.

The young are always in danger; they go about among swords. He will die too and the great King and I. In a few days we will be buried.

Women are blossoms in the hand of Death. They are often close to Death.
She will die too.

It is some man down by the river playing his lute. I am told that sometimes a man will play all night.

O how I cry for the golden Hall of Song in Barbul-el-Sharnak. I think it would almost hold the city of Thek.

He was riding back again to Barbul-el-Sharnak. He was just starting. He said he did not hear it.

Ah, yes. How lovely it was! How beautiful it was when the King was there and strange musicians came from the heathen lands with huge plumes in their hair, and played on instruments that we did not know.

He cannot play like Nagra or dear Trehannion. It is because we have heard Trehannion that we do not like to listen.

Find the man that is playing the lute and give him this and let him cease to play upon his lute.

Then go and never return. You are deaf and also a fool. [To himself] The Queen will not sleep. [To Another] Bring music, bring music quickly. [Muttering] The Queen will not sleep.

[The man bows low and departs. He says farewell to a sentry.
The Queen leans from the casement muttering. Music heard off.]

A man is a small thing and the night very large and full of wonders.
You may well not see him.

Do not let the Queen know about this prophecy. She would think… I do not know what she would think.

O do not speak of the gods. The gods are very terrible; all the dooms that shall ever be come forth from the gods. In misty windings of the wandering hills they forge the future even as on an anvil. The future frightens me.

Call the Queen's maidens. Send quickly for her maidens. Do not let the future frighten you.

Men laugh at the gods; they often laugh at the gods. I am more sure that the gods laugh too. It is dreadful to think of the laughter of the gods. O the lute! the lute! How clearly I hear the lute. But you all hear it? Do you not? You swear that you all hear it?

I wish I could see him. Then I should know that he was only a man and not Gog-Owza, most terrible of the gods. I should be able to sleep then.

Here comes the man that I have sent to find him. You have found the lute player. Tell the queen that you have found the lute player.

The camel-guard have searched, your Majesty, and cannot find any man that is playing a lute.

Act III

We have done too much. We have done too much. Our husbands will be put to death. The prophet will betray them and they will be put to death.

It would have been better for us to have been clothed with rags than to bring our husbands to death by what we have done.

We have done much and we have angered a king, and (who knows!) we may have angered even the gods.

Even the gods! We are become like Helen. When my mother was a child she saw her once. She says she was the quietest and gentlest of creatures and wished only to be loved, and yet because of her there was a war for four or five years at Troy, and the city was burned which had remarkable towers; and some of the gods of the Greeks took her side, my mother says, and some she says were against her, and they quarrelled upon Olympus where they live, and all because of Helen.

O don't, don't. It frightens me. I only want to be prettily dressed and see my husband happy.

Oh yes, I have seen him. He walks about the palace. He is free but cannot escape.

He mutters as he walks. Sometimes he weeps; and then he puts his cloak over his face.

I do not trust a prophet. He is the go-between of gods and men. They are so far apart. How can he be true to both?

This prophet is false to the gods. It is a hateful thing for a prophet to prophesy falsely.

The gods have spoken a lie. The gods have spoken a lie. Can all their vengeance ever atone for this?

Why do you weep? Ah, you are going to die. You heard the death-lute.
You do well to weep.

No, your Majesty. It is the man that has played for the last three days. We all heard him.

Three days. Yes, it is three days. Gog-Owza plays no longer than three days. Gog-Owza grows weary then. He has given his message and he will go away.

We have all heard him, your Majesty, except the deaf young man that went back to Barbul-el-Sharnak. We hear him now.

Queen: Yes! But nobody has seen him yet. My maidens have searched for him but they have not found him.

Your Majesty, my husband heard him, and Ludibras, and while they live we know there is nothing to fear. If the King grew angry with them— because of any idle story that some jealous man might tell—some criminal wishing to postpone his punishment—if the King were to grow angry with them they would open their veins; they would never survive his anger. Then we should all of us say, "Perhaps it was Gog-Owza that Ichtharion or Ludibras heard."

I am sure that the prophet will betray you. But we have spoken to the Queen. We have told her it would be dreadful if the King were to grow angry with you, and she things she will cry all night if he is angry.

Poor frightened brain! How strong are little fancies! She should be a beautiful Queen. But she goes about white and crying, in fear of the gods. The gods, that are no more than shadows in the moonlight. Man's fear rises weird and large in all this mystery and makes a shadow of himself upon the ground and Man jumps and says "the gods." Why they are less than shadows; we have seen shadows, we have not seen the gods.

O do not speak like that. There used to be gods. They overthrew Bleth dreadfully. And if they still live on in the dark of the hills, why, they might hear your words.

Why! you grow frightened, too. Do not be frightened. We will go and speak with the prophet, while you follow the Queen; be much with her, and do not let her forget that she will cry if the King should be angry with us.

Because the guilt of the false prophecy is not his guilt; it is ours; and the King may spare him if he tells him that. Again, he mutters of vengeance as he walks; many have told me.

The King will not spare him even if he betrays us. It was he that spoke the false prophecy to the King.

The King does not in his heart believe in the gods. It is for cheating him that the prophet is to die. But if he knows we had planned it——

Why, we can say nothing. But we can learn what he will do from what he says to us.

He often relents at sunset; he looks out over the orchids in the evening. They are very beautiful then, and if he is angry his anger passes away just when the cool breeze comes at the set of sun.

Listen to me. Do not be so unhappy. There are no gods. Everybody knows that there are no gods. The King knows it.

There are gods, and they have a vengeance even for you. Listen and I will tell you what it shall be. Aye and for you also… Listen!… No, no, they are silent in the gloom of the hills. They have not spoken to me since I lied.

You are right; the gods will punish us. It is natural that they should not speak just now; but they will certainly punish us. It is not therefore necessary for any man to avenge himself upon us, even though there were any cause.

Indeed, it might even further anger the gods if a man should be before them to punish us.

The sun is falling low. I will leave you now, for I have ever loved the sun at evening. I go to watch it drop through the gilded clouds, and make a wonder of familiar things. After the sunset, night, and after an evil deed, the vengeance of the gods. [Exit R.]

He is as mad as the Queen; we must humour his madness if we ever see him more. I think that all will be well.

[An executioner steals after the Prophet; he is dressed in crimson satin to the knees; he wears a leather belt and carries the axe of his trade.]

The executioner keeps very close to him now. He comes closer every hour. There is not much time for him to change his fancies.

The executioner is very eager for him. He invented a new stroke lately, but he has not had a man since we came to Thek.

I do not like an eager executioner—the King sees him and it makes him think…

The Queen's maidens have persuaded her that there is nothing to fear.
They are quite excellent; they shall dance before me. The Queen will
sleep; they are quite excellent. Ah, Ichtharion. Come to me,
Ichtharion.

Yes, it is very beautiful at evening. I will watch them go down over the orchids. I will never see Barbul-el-Sharnak any more. I will sit and watch the sun go down on the orchids till it is gone and all their colours fade.

It is very beautiful now. How still it is! I have never seen so still a sunset before.

It is like a picture done by a dying painter, full of a beautiful colour. Even if all these orchids died to-night yet their beauty is an indestructible memory.

Your Majesty, the prophet walks about in the palace, and the executioner is close behind him. If the Queen saw him and the executioner would it not trouble her? Were it not better that he should be killed at once? Shall I whistle for the executioner?

Your Majesty, it is merciful to kill a man before the set of the sun. For it is natural in a man to love the sun. But to see it set and to know that it will not come again is even a second death. It would be merciful to kill him now.

I have said—at sunset. It were unjust to kill him before his prophecy is proven false.

Your Majesty, the prophet will pray for life if he is not killed now.
It would be pity to grant it.

O the gods are about to have lied. The gods will have lied. I have prophesied falsely and the gods will have lied. My death cannot atone for it nor the punishment of others.

O why did you let your voice come through my lips? O why did you allow your voice to lie? For centuries it has been said from city to city, "The gods cannot lie." The nomads have known it out upon the plains. The mountaineers have known it near the dawn. That is all over now. O King, let me die at once. For I have prophesied falsely and at sunset the gods will lie.

There is something a little dreadful in seeing the Queen so calm. She is like a windless sunset in the Winter before a hurricane comes and the snow swirls up before it over the world.

I do not like calm sunsets; they make me think that something is going to happen. Yes, the Queen is very quiet; she will sleep to-night.

I am not frightened any longer. All the wild fancies of my brain have left it. I have often troubled you with little fears. Now they are all at rest and I am afraid no longer.

I must not say. For you have often soothed me when I was frightened, and it were not well for me to trouble you at the last.

I do not quite know. But you know how I have ever feared the gods. The gods are going to do some dreadful thing.

You have indeed been very good to me. It seems a little while since the camels came to Argun-Zeerith by the iris marshes, the camels with the gold-hung palanquin, and the bells above their heads, high up in the air, the silver bridal bells. It seems a very little while ago. I did not know how swift the end would come.

Do not be troubled. We should not let Fate trouble us. The World and its daily cares, ah, they are frightful: but Fate—I smile at Fate. Fate cannot hurt us if we smile at it.

No, no. Look upon Thek. It is built of rock and our palace is all of marble. Time has not scratched it with six centuries. Six tearing centuries with all their claws. We are throned on gold and founded upon marble. Death will some day find me, indeed, but I am young. Sire after sire of mine has died in Barbul-el-Sharnak or in Thek, but has left our dynasty laughing sheer in the face of Time from over these age-old walls.

Not yet. The jungle hides it. It is not yet set. Look at the beautiful light upon the orchids. For how long they have flashed their purple on the gleaming walls of Thek. For how long they will flash there on our immortal palace, immortal in marble and immortal in song. Ah, how the colour changes.

[Loud and prolonged thunder. Flashes of red light and then total darkness. A little light comes back, showing recumbent figures, shattered pillars and rocks of white marble.]

[The Prophet's back is broken, but he raises the fore-part of his body for a moment.]

The Queen
Ackazárpses (her handmaid)
Prince Rhádamandáspes
Prince Zophérnes
The Priest of Horus
The King of the Four Countries
The Twin Dukes of Ethiopia
Tharni, Tharrabas, Harlee (Slaves)
Slaves.

Scene: An underground temple in Egypt.

[The Curtain rises on darkness in both parts of the stage. Two Slaves appear with tapers on the steps. As they go down the steps, they light the torches that are clamped against the wall, with their tapers. Afterwards when they come to the temple they light the torches there till they are all lit. The two Slaves are Tharni and Tharrabas.]

[The Queen appears with her handmaid, Ackazárpses, coming down the steps. Her handmaid holds her train. They enter the temple.]

No, no, Illustrious Lady. Nothing is ready. Your raiment—we must fasten it here [shoulder], and then the bow in your hair.

Indeed, Illustrious Lady, it is wrong that you should have enemies. One so delicate, so slender and withal so beautiful should never have a foe.

I have poured out dark wine to them, I have offered them fat, indeed, I have often offered them savoury things. I have said: The Queen should not have enemies; she is too delicate, too fair. But they will not understand.

If they could see my tears they would never permit such woes to be borne by one small woman. But they only look at men and their horrible wars. Why must men slay one another and make horrible war?

I blame your enemies, Illustrious Lady, more than the gods. Why should they trouble you who are so fair and so easily hurt by their anger? It was but a little territory you took from them. How much better to lose a little territory than to be unmannerly and unkind.

O speak not of the territory. I know naught of these things. They say my Captains took it. How should I know? O why will they be my enemies?

O they will never look at it. They will not know if it is orange or blue. I shall weep if they do not look at it. It is a pretty bow.

But you must not tremble, for your raiment is now perfect; yet if you tremble, alas! who may say how it will hang?

O I cannot bear it. I cannot bear it. There is Rhádamandáspes, that huge, fierce soldier, and the terrible Priest of Horus, and… and… O I cannot see them, I cannot see them.

O what shall we do?… Set this bow higher upon my head so that it must be seen. [Ackazárpses does so.] The pretty bow.

[She continues to look in a hand mirror. A Slave descends the stairs. Then Rhádamandáspes and Zophérnes. Rhádamandáspes and Zophérnes stop; the Slave stops lower down.]

She had no guards outside nor was there any hiding place for them.
There was the empty plain and the Nile only.

It is small and the stairway narrow; our friends are close behind us.
We could hold these steps with our swords against all her men.

True. They are narrow steps. Yet… Rhádamandáspes, I do not fear man or god or even woman, yet when I saw the letter this woman sent bidding us banquet with her I felt that it was not well that we should come.

She is much swayed by whims. They sway her as the winds in spring sway flowers—this way and that. This is one of her whims.

They name you Zophérnes, giver of good counsel, therefore I will turn back because you counsel it, though I would fain go down and banquet with this little playful lady.

Believe me, Rhádamandáspes, it is better. I think that if you had gone down these steps we scarcely should have seen the sky again.

Well, well, we turn back, though I would fain have humoured the Queen's whim. But look. The others come. We cannot turn back. There comes the Priest of Horus; we must go to the banquet now.

O but you do not need them. If you have come to kill me your great hands are enough. But why do you bring your swords?

He is but a fisherman; he lives upon the Nile. He nets fish; indeed he is nothing.

O speak not of my Captains. It troubles me to hear of violent men. But you have been my enemies, and I cannot bear to have enemies. Therefore I have asked you to banquet with me.

O look not so sternly at me. I cannot bear to have enemies. When I have enemies I do not sleep. Is it not so, Ackazárpses?

Only one man at a time could come that way. We are safe from man or beast. Nothing could enter that way for our swords.

Are there not viands before you, Prince Zophérnes, or are there too few fruits that you should blame me?

O my enemies, I would have you kind to me. And indeed there are no servitors, for I know what evil things you think of me——

I feared that if I had servitors you would think… you would say, "This wicked Queen, our enemy, will bid them attack us while we feast."

[First Duke of Ethiopia furtively hands food to his Slave
standing behind him, who tastes it.]

Though you do not know how I dread the sight of blood, and indeed I would never bid them do such a thing. The sight of blood is shocking.

And for miles around this temple and all along this river I have said, "Let there be no man." I have commanded and there are not. Will you not trust me now?

And you, Prince Zophérnes, with your fierce eyes that so frighten me, will you not trust me?

O Queen, it is part of the art of war to be well prepared when in an enemy's country, and we have been so long at war with your Captains that we perforce remember some of the art. It is not that we do not trust you.

I am all alone with my handmaid and none will trust me! O Ackazárpses, I am frightened: what if my enemies should slay me and carry me up, and cast my body into the lonely Nile.

No, no, Illustrious Lady. They will not harm you. They do not know how their fierce looks distress you. They do not know how delicate you are.

In Ethiopia when we feast with queens it is our custom not to eat at once but to await the Queen till she has eaten.

It has been the custom of all that held my office, from the time when there went on earth the children of the Moon, never to eat till the food is dedicate, by our sacred signs, to the gods. [He begins to wave his hands over the food.]

The King of the Four Countries does not eat. And you, Prince
Rhádamandáspes, you have given royal wine unto your slave.

O Queen, it is the custom of our dynasty… and has indeed long been so,… as many say,… that the noble should not feast till the base have feasted, reminding us that our bodies even as the humble bodies of the base——

Alas for me, Ackazárpses, they will not feast with me, but mock me because I am little and alone. O I shall not sleep to-night, I shall not sleep. [She weeps.]

Yes, yes, Illustrious Lady, you shall sleep. Be patient and all shall be well and you will sleep.

They do not believe you would poison them. But they do not know if the meat was killed with a poisonous arrow or if an asp may have inadvertently bitten the fruit. These things may happen, but they do not believe you would poison them.

[He peels a fruit slowly, glancing constantly at the others. Meanwhile the catches in the Queen's breath grow fewer, she begins to dry her eyes.]

It is an ancient wine and grew in Lesbos, looking from Mytelene to the South. Ships brought it overseas and up this river to gladden the hearts of man in holy Egypt. But to me it brings no joy.

We have eaten your fruits and drunk your wine; and we have asked your pardon. Let us now depart in amity.

No, no! No, no! You must not go! I shall say… "They are my enemies still," and I shall not sleep. I that cannot bear to have enemies.

O feast with me a little longer and make merry, and be my enemies no more. Rhádamandáspes, there is some country eastwards towards Assyria, is there not? I do not know its name—a country which your dynasty claims of me…

…and for whose sake you are my enemy and your fierce uncle, Prince Zophérnes.

We fought somewhat with your armies, Queen. But indeed it was but to practise the military art.

I will call my Captains to me. I will call them down from their high places and reprove them and bid them give the country back to you that lies eastwards towards Assyria. Only you shall tarry here at the feast and forget you ever were my enemies… forget…

And in the matter of the merchant men that trade amongst the isles, they shall offer spices at your feet, not at mine, and the men of the isles shall offer goats to your gods.

Stay then and feast with me. For not to have enemies is the beggar's joy; and I have looked from windows long and long, envying those that go their way in rags. Stay with me, dukes and princes.

Illustrious Lady, the generosity of your royal heart has given the gods much joy.

The gratitude of Horus shall shine on you. My little Ackazárpses, how happy you are in having so royal a mistress.

No, nothing. Sometimes the spirit of prophecy comes on me. It comes not often. It seemed to come then. I thought that one of the gods spoke to me clearly.

I thought he said… speaking here [right ear] or just behind me…
Drink not to the Future. But it was nothing.

O no, Illustrious Lady, for we forget the past; your good wine has made us forget the past and its quarrels.

Ah, the present! The present that places me by so lovely a lady. I drink to the present.

And we, we will drink to the future, and to forgetting—to the forgetting of our enemies.

…for when Winter comes the pigmies at once put themselves in readiness for war and having chosen a place for battle wait there for some days, so that the cranes when they arrive find their enemy already arrayed. And at first they preen themselves and do not give battle, but when they are fully rested after their great journey they attack the pigmies with indescribably fury so that many are slain, but the pigmies…

[She goes to door. Silence falls. All watch her. She and Ackazárpses slip out. For a moment silence. Then all draw their wide swords and lay them before them on the table.]

[Meanwhile the Queen has gone up the stairs. She beats with a fan on the wall thrice. The great grating lifts outwards and upwards very slowly.]

When I was a little child I played beside you, picking mauve flowers. I threw you down the sweet Egyptian flowers. It is the little Queen that calls to you, Nile. The little Queen that cannot bear to have enemies.

Men speak of other rivers. But I do not hearken to fools. There is only Nile. It is the little child that prays to you who used to pick mauve flowers.

I have prepared a sacrifice to god. Men speak of other gods: there is only Nile. I have prepared a sacrifice of wine—the Lesbian wine from fairy Mitylene—to mingle with your waters till you are drunken and go singing to the sea from the Abyssinian hills.

Fruits also I have made ready, all the sweet juices of the earth; and the meat of beasts also.

Hear me, O Nile: for it is not the meat of beasts only. I have slaves for you and princes and a King. There has been no such sacrifice. Come down, O Nile, from the sunlight. O ancient Egyptian river!

[A green torrent descends from the great hole. Green gauzes rise from the floor; the torches hiss out. The temple is flooded. The water from under the doors rises up the steps, the torches hiss out one by one. The water, finding its own level, just touches the end of the Queen's skirt and stops. She withdraws the skirt with catlike haste from the water.]

The King
Bel-Narb, Aoob (camel-drivers)
The Chamberlain
Zabra (a notable)
Eznarza (a gypsy of the desert)

Scene: Outside the gate of the city of Thalanna.

Act I

We shall see the lights come out, looking back from the camel-track; that is the last we shall see of it.

How cunningly the Desert hides his wells. You would say he had an enmity with man. He does not welcome you as the cities do.

I think they are loveliest a little after dawn when night falls off from the houses. They draw it away from them slowly and let it fall like a cloak and stand quite naked in their beauty to shine in some broad river; and the light comes up and kisses them on the forehead. I think they are loveliest then. The voices of men and women begin to arise in the streets, scarce audible, one by one, till a slow loud murmur arises and all the voices are one. I often think the city speaks to me then: she says in that voice of hers, "Aoob, Aoob, who one of these days shall die, I am not earthly, I have been always, I shall not die."

I do not think that cities are loveliest at dawn. We can see dawn in the desert any day. I think they are loveliest just when the sun is set and a dusk steals along the narrower streets, a kind of mystery in which we can see cloaked figures and yet not quite discern whose figures they be. And just when it would be dark, and out in the desert there would be nothing to see but a black horizon and a black sky on top of it, just then the swinging lanterns are lighted up and lights come out in windows one by one and all the colours of the raiments change. Then a woman perhaps will slip from a little door and go away up the street into the night, and a man perhaps will steal by with a dagger for some old quarrel's sake, and Skarmi will light up his house to sell brandy all night long, and men will sit on benches outside his door playing skabash by the glare of a small green lantern, while they light great bubbling pipes and smoke nargroob. O, it is all very good to watch. And I like to think as I smoke and see these things that somewhere, far away, the desert has put up a huge red cloud like a wing so that all the Arabs know that next day the Siroc will blow, the accursed breath of Eblis the father of Satan.

Yes, it is pleasant to think of the Siroc when one is safe in a city, but I do not like to think about it now, for before the day is out we will be taking pilgrims to Mecca, and who ever prophesied or knew by wit what the desert had in store? Going into the desert is like throwing bone after bone to a dog, some he will catch and some of them he will drop. He may catch our bones, or we may go by and come to gleaming Mecca. O-ho, I would I were a merchant with a little booth in a frequented street to sit all day and barter.

Aye, it is easier to cheat some lord coming to buy silk and ornaments in a city than to cheat death in the desert. Oh, the desert, the desert, I love the beautiful cities and I hate the desert.

He is staring across the desert the way that the camels go. They say that the King goes down to the edge of the desert and often stares across it. He stands there for a long time of an evening looking towards Mecca.

Of what use is it to the King to look towards Mecca? He cannot go to Mecca. He cannot go into the desert for one day. Messengers would run after him and cry his name and bring him back to the council-hall or to the chamber of judgments. If they could not find him their heads would be struck off and put high up upon some windy roof: the judges would point at them and say, "They see better there!"

No, the King cannot go away into the desert. If God were to make me King I would go down to the edge of the desert once, and I would shake the sand out of my turban and out of my beard and then I would never look at the desert again. Greedy and parched old parent of thousands of devils! He might cover the wells with sand, and blow with his Siroc, year after year and century after century, and never earn one of my curses—if God made me King.

Yes, I am like the King. Because his father disguised himself as a camel-driver and came through our villages. I often say to myself, "God is just. And if I could disguise myself as the King and drive him out to be a camel-driver, that would please God for He is just."

If you did this God would say, "Look at Bel-Narb, whom I made to be a camel-driver and who has forgotten this." And then he would forget you, Bel-Narb.

I would not do this thing, Aoob. I would not do it. It is only what I say to myself as I smoke, or at night out in the desert. I say to myself, "Bel-Narb is King in Thalanna." And then I say, "Chamberlain, bring Skarmi here with his brandy and his lanterns and boards to play skabash, and let all the town come and drink before the palace and magnify my name."

Bel-Narb! Bel-Narb! Child of two dogs. Come and untether your camels.
Come and start for holy Mecca.

A crown should not be worn upon the head. A sceptre should not be carried in Kings' hands. But a crown should be wrought into a golden chain, and a sceptre driven stake-wise into the ground so that a King may be chained to it by the ankle. Then he would know that he might not stray away into the beautiful desert and might never see the palm trees by the wells. O Thalanna, Thalanna, how I hate this city with its narrow, narrow ways, and evening after evening drunken men playing skabash in the scandalous gambling house of that old scoundrel Skarmi. O that I might marry the child of some unkingly house that generation to generation had never known a city, and that we might ride from here down the long track through the desert, always we two alone till we came to the tents of the Arabs. And the crown—some foolish, greedy man should be given it to his sorrow. And all this may not be, for a King is yet a King.

I had hoped for freedom this evening, for the faces of the camels are towards Mecca, and I would see the caravans move off into the desert where I may not go.

It is a little country tributary to your Majesty, beyond Zebdarlon, up among the hills.

Almost, had it not been for this, almost I had asked you to let me go away among the camel-drivers to golden Mecca. I have done the work of a King now for five years and listened to my councilors, and all the while the desert called to me; he said, "Come to the tents of my children, to the tents of my children!" And all the while I dwelt among these walls.

Your Majesty will appoint the commanders by name. A tribe of your Majesty's fighting men must be summoned from Agrarva and another from Coloono, the jungle city, as well as one from Mirsk. This must be done by warrants sealed by your hand. Your Majesty's advisers await you in the council-hall.

Look, look! It is the shadows of the camels moving towards Mecca. How silently they slip over the ground, beautiful shadows. Soon they are out in the desert flat on the golden sands. And then the sun will set and they will be one with night.

No, no, I do not wish to watch the camels. They can never take me out to the beautiful desert to be free forever from cities. Here I must stay to do the work of a King. Only my dreams can go, and the shadows of the camels carry them, to find peace by the tents of the Arabs.

Now the whole caravan has started. Hark to the drivers of the baggage-camels. They will run behind them for the first ten miles, and tomorrow they will mount them. They will be out of sight of Thalanna then, and the desert will lie all round them with sunlight falling on its golden smiles. And a new look will come into their faces. I am sure that the desert whispers to them by night saying, "Be at peace, my children, at peace, my children."

[Meanwhile the Chamberlain has opened the door for the King and is waiting there bowing, with his hand resolutely on the opened door.]

Yes, I will come. Had it not been for Iktra I might have gone away and lived in the golden desert for a year, and seen holy Mecca.

It happened suddenly. The men of Iktra met with a few of your Majesty's fighting men and an arrow chanced to kill the leader of the revolt, and therefore the mob fled away although they were many, and they have all cried for three hours, "Great is the King!"

I will even yet see Mecca and the dreamed-of tents of the Arabs. I will go down now into the golden sands, I——

Your Majesty, it cannot be. We could not govern the people for more than a year. They would say, "The King is dead, the King——"

It has been thought more advisable that your Majesty should wed in Tharba. The passes across the mountains belong to the King of Tharba and he has great traffic with Sharan and the Isles.

But, your Majesty, the ambassadors start this week; the princess will be here in three months' time.

Farewell, I am in haste. I go to make ready for the desert. [Exit through door still speaking.] The olden, golden mother of happy men.

One from whom God had not withheld all wisdom would not have given that message to our crazy young King.

It is like much gold. Who are the Arabs that the King's favour should be cast among them? The walls of their houses are canvas. Even the common snail has a finer wall to his house.

Yet you will govern Thalanna while he is away. You can increase the taxes of the merchants and the tribute of the men that till the fields.

They will only pay taxes and tribute to the King, who gives of his bounty to just and upright men when he is in Thalanna. But while he is away the surfeit of his wealth will go to unjust men and to men whose beards are unclean and who fear not God.

A little gold perhaps from evil-doers for justice. Or a little money to decide the dispute of some righteous wealthy man; but no more till the King returns, whom God prosper.

No. When he comes by with his retinue and escort I will walk beside his horse and tell him that a progress through the desert will well impress the Arabs with his splendour and turn their hearts towards him. And I will speak privily to some captain at the rear of the escort and he shall afterwards speak to the chief commander that he may lose the camel-track in a few days' time and take the King and his followers to wander in the desert and so return by chance to Thalanna again. And it may yet be well with us. We will wait here till they come by.

But if he be not Thakbar but some greedy man who demands more gold than we would give to Thakbar?

No, he is in great haste. He will pass before sunset. He will make them mount at once.

[As they look a man comes through the doorway wearing a coarse
brown cloak which falls over his forehead. Exit furtively L.]

Act II

[The King, wrapped in a camel-driver's cloak, sits by Eznarza, a gypsy of the desert.]

Did you think in those days on the sands, or among the tents in the mornings, that my year would ever end, and I be brought away by strength of my word to the prisoning of a palace?

Is it then Time that has mocked our futile prayers? Is he then greater than God that he has laughed at our praying?

We may not say that he is greater than God. Yet we prayed that our own year might not pass away. God could not save it.

The prayer was not laughable. Only he that is lord of the years is obdurate. If a man prayed for life to a furious, merciless Sultan well might the Sultan's slaves laugh. Yet it is not laughable to pray for life.

Yes, we are slaves of Time. To-morrow brings the princess who comes from Tharba. We must bow our heads.

My people say that the desert is his country. He smites not his own country, my people say. But he overwhelms all other lands of the world.

They say that he loves the Sphinx and does not harm her. They say that he does not dare to harm the Sphinx. She has borne him many gods whom the infidels worship.

There is a little child of man that is mightier than he, and who saves the world from Time.

Who is this little child that is mightier than Time? Is it Love that is mightier?

He scares Love away with weak white hairs and with wrinkles. Poor little Love, poor Love, Time scares him away.

Yes. I will call to him when the wind is from the desert and the locusts are beaten against my obdurate walls. I will call to him more when I cannot see the desert and cannot hear the wind of it.

He shall bring back our year to us that Time cannot destroy. Time cannot slaughter it if Memory says no. It is reprieved, though banished. We shall often see it though a little far off and all its hours and days shall dance to us and go by one by one and come back and dance again.

Why, that is true. They shall come back to us. I had thought that they that work miracles whether in Heaven or Earth were unable to do one thing. I thought that they could not bring back days again when once they had fallen into the hands of Time.

It is a trick that Memory can do. He comes up softly in the town or the desert, wherever a few men are, like the strange dark conjurors who sing to snakes, and he does his trick before them, and does it again and again.

We will often make him bring the old days back when you are gone to your people and I am miserably wedded to the princess coming from Tharba.

They will come with sand on their feet from the golden, beautiful desert; they will come with a long-gone sunset each one over his head. Their lips will laugh with the olden evening voices.

O, come into the city and be Queen there. I will send its princess back again to Tharba. You shall be Queen in Thalanna.

I go now back to my people. You will wed the princess from Tharba on the morrow. You have said it. I have said it.

A King's word is like a King's crown and a King's sceptre and a King's throne. It is in fact a foolish thing, like a city.

Come. He shall bring back to us, before we part, one of those days that were banished.

Let it be the first day. The day we met by the well when the camels came to El-Lolith.

Our year lacked some few days. For my year began here. The camels were some days out.

You were riding a little wide of the caravan, upon the side of the sunset. Your camel was swinging on with easy strides. But you were tired.

You had come to the well for water. At first I could see your eyes, then the stars came out, and it grew dark and I only saw your shape, and there was a little light about your hair: I do not know if it was the light of the stars, I only knew that it shone.

No, no. Only their shadows. We went together then to Holy Mecca. We dwelt alone in tents in the golden desert. We heard the wild free day sing sings in his freedom, we heard the beautiful night wind. Nothing remains of our year but desolate shadows. Memory whips them and they will not dance.

[Eznarza covers her face. The King rises softly and walks up the steps. Enter L. the Chamberlain and Zabra, only noticing each other.]

But it is noon now. Our fatness has left us. Our enemies mock at us.
If he do not come God has forgotten us and our friends will pity us!

[The King's hand is on the door. When Bel-Narb says this he goes down the steps again and sits beside the gypsy. She raises her head from her hands and looks at him fixedly. He watches Bel-Narb, and the Chamberlain and Zabra. He partially covers his face Arab fashion.]

Indeed, your Excellency, he is the King. When the King went into the desert disguised I fed his camel. Indeed he is the King.

If some one could recognize your Majesty, some one besides this man who came with you, then we should all be certain.

In holy Mecca, in green-roofed Mecca of the many gates, we knew him for the King.

I will raise up my head of a night time against the sky, and the old, old, unbought stars shall twinkle through my hair, and we shall not envy any of the diademmed queens of the world.

CURTAIN

A. E. Scott-Fortescue (the Toff, dilapidated gentleman) William Jones (Bill) Albert Thomas Jacob Smith (Sniggers) (All Merchant Sailors.) 1st Priest of Klesh 2nd Priest of Klesh 3rd Priest of Klesh Klesh

[Sniggers and Bill are talking. The Toff is reading a paper.
Albert sits a little apart.]

[The Toff continues to read a sporting paper; he takes no notice of what is said.]

Those clever ones are the beggars to make a muddle. Their plans are clever enough, but they don't work, and then they make a mess of things much worse than you or me.

He's keeping us here because those niggers can't find us. The three heathen priests what was looking for us so. But we want to go and sell our ruby soon.

The slip, all three of them. The fellows with the gold spots on their foreheads. I had the ruby then, and I give them the slip in Hull.

Yes, they know if you've got it. Well, they sort of mouched after me, and I tells a policeman and he says, O they were only three poor niggers and they wouldn't hurt me. Ugh! When I thought of what they did in Malta to poor old Jim.

Well, I did better than that. I walks up and down through Hull. I walks slow enough. And then I turns a corner and I runs. I never sees a corner but I turns it. But sometimes I let a corner pass just to fool them. I twists about like a hare. Then I sits down and waits. No priests.

'Cause 'e won't let you speak. 'E's got 'is plans and 'e thinks we're silly folk. Things must be done 'is way. And all the time I've give 'em the slip. Might 'ave 'ad one of them crooked knives in him before now but for me who give 'em the slip in Hull.

It's getting silly, Bill. Our money's gone and we want to sell the ruby. Let's get on to a town.

All right. Only let's go. [to the Toff] We're going, do you hear? Give us the ruby.

[He gives them a ruby from his waistcoat pocket: it is the size of a small hen's egg.]

Good-bye, old man. We'll give you your fair share, but there's nothing to do here, no girls, no halls, and we must sell the ruby.

No, no, of course not. Of course you ain't, and you've helped us a lot. Good-bye. You'll say good-bye?

If they can do things like this there's no one can save us but you, Toffy—I always knew you were a clever one. We won't be fools any more. We'll obey you, Toffy.

You're brave enough and strong enough. There isn't many that would steal a ruby eye out of an idol's head, and such an idol as that was to look at, and on such a night. You're brave enough, Bill. But you're all three of you fools. Jim would have none of my plans and where's Jim? And George. What did they do to him?

Well, then, your strength is no use to you. You want cleverness; or they'll have you the way that they had George and Jim.

Those black priests would follow you round the world in circles, year after year, till they got the idol's eye. And if we died with it they'd follow our grandchildren. That fool thinks he can escape men like that by running round three streets in the town of Hull.

Yes, I believe there's no announcement in the Society papers. But I took this country seat especially to receive them. There's plenty of room if you dig; it is pleasantly situated and what is most important it is in a very quiet neighbourhood. So I am at home to them this afternoon.

And remember you've only my wits between you and death, and don't put your futile plans against those of an educated gentleman.

If you're a gentleman, why don't you go about among gentlemen instead of the likes of us?

But Toffy, they can see us. One doesn't let the enemy do that. I don't see why….

Because I don't want any noise at my party. We might get guests that hadn't been invited. Knives are a different matter.

[All draw knives. The Toff signs to them not to draw them yet.
Toffy has already taken back his ruby.]

Yes. Listen to me. You shall do as you see me do. You will all pretend to go out. I'll show you how. I've got the ruby. When they see me alone they will come for their idol's eye.

They will creep up behind me. Then my friends, Sniggers and Bill and
Albert, who gave them the slip, will do what they can.

If you're a little slow you will see enacted the cheerful spectacle that accompanied the demise of Jim.

[He goes past the windows to the inner door R.; he opens it inwards. Then under cover of the open door he slips down on his knee and closes it, remaining on the inside, appearing to have gone out. He signs to the others who understand. Then he appears to re-enter in the same manner.]

Now, I shall sit with my back to the door. You go out one by one so far as our friends can make out. Crouch very low to be on the safe side. They mustn't see you through the window.

[The other two follow Bill. All three are now crouching inside the door R. The Toff puts the ruby beside him on the table. He lights a cigarette.]

[The door in back opens so slowly that you can hardly say at what moment it began. The Toff picks up his paper.]

[A Native of India wriggles along the floor ever so slowly, seeking cover from chairs. He moves L. where the Toff is. The three sailors are R. Sniggers and Albert lean forward. Bill's arm keeps them back. An armchair had better conceal them from the Indian. The black Priest nears the Toff.]

[Bill watches to see if any more are coming. Then he leaps forward alone (he has taken his boots off) and knifes the Priest.]

All right. You shall now see my demise at my Yorkshire residence. You must receive guests for me.

[He leaps up in full view of the window, flings up both arms and
falls on to the floor near the dead Priest.]

[There is a long pause. Again the door opens, very very slowly. Another Priest creeps in. He has three golden spots upon his forehead. He looks round, then he creeps up to his companion and turns him over and looks inside each of his clenched hands. Then he looks at the recumbent Toff. Then he creeps towards him. Bill slips after him and knifes him like the other with his left hand over his mouth.]

Yes, they're dead, my perspicuous Albert. But Bill and I are going to resuscitate them.——. Come on.

That's right, Bill. [Does the same.] Come and help us, Sniggers——
[Sniggers comes] Keep low, keep low. Wave their arms about, Sniggers.
Don't show yourself. Now, Albert, over you go. Our Albert is slain.
Back you get, Bill. Back, Sniggers. Still, Albert. Mustn't move when
he comes. Not a muscle.

[A Face appears at the window and stays for some time. Then the door opens and looking craftily round the third Priest enters. He looks at his companions' bodies and turns round. He suspects something. He takes up one of the knives and with a knife in each hand he puts his back to the wall. He looks to the left and right.]

Aye, that's all there are. There were only three in the temple. Three priests and their beastly idol.

It's worth all they've got in the shop. Worth just whatever we like to ask for it.

That won't be easy. It's a pity it isn't small and we had half a dozen. Hadn't the idol any other on him?

No, he was green jade all over and only had this one eye. He had it in the middle of his forehead, and was a long sight uglier than anything else in the world.

Why, I don't suppose anything happens that our Toff doesn't foresee.
Does it, Toffy?

Why, then we'll go to London and upset the ruby business. We'll have really come through this job very nicely.

I think the first thing we ought to do is give a little supper to old
Toffy. We'll bury these fellows to-night.

Well, get me some water. This whiskey's too much for my head, and I must keep it clear till our friends are safe in the cellar.

Toffy, I've been thinking about my share in that ruby. I don't want it, Toffy, I don't want it.

You shall have it, Toffy, you shall have it yourself, only say
Sniggers has no share in this 'ere ruby. Say it, Toffy, say it.

No more nonsense, Sniggers, we're all in together in this, if one hangs we all hang; but they won't outwit me. Besides, it's not a hanging affair, they had their knives.

Toffy, Toffy, I've always treated you fair, Toffy. I was always one to say, Give Toffy a chance. Take back my share, Toffy.

[Enter a hideous Idol. It is blind and gropes its way. It gropes its way to the ruby and picks it up and screws it into a socket in the forehead.]

[Sniggers still weeps softly; the rest stare in horror. The Idol steps out, not groping. Its steps move off then stops.]

[He rises and walks out. One moan is heard. Sniggers goes to window. He falls back sickly.]

The Toff: [Laying his hand very gently on Sniggers' arm, speaking softly and winningly.]

CURTAIN.

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