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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A CHRISTMAS MASQUE, by                    
First Line: Good friends, you must be good friends indeed tonight
Last Line: Finished, the company part, however they will. And so all ends.
Subject(s): Christmas; Masques; Nativity, The


CHARACTERS

THE PROLOGUE

THE LORD CONRAD
WALTER, HIS SON
HIS HERALD
HIS JESTER
THREE CRUSADERS
A MESSENGER FROM THE LORD PHILIP
A CHAMPION OF THE LORD PHILIP
A CLOWN
A LITTLE CHILD

CRUSADERS, ATTENDANTS ON THE LORD CONRAD, MUSICIANS, SWORD-DANCERS, AND THE
LIKE.

The scene is in the Castle of the Lord Conrad, on a Christmas Eve,
during the Crusades.

The company being assembled on the lower floor, in the dress of
soldiers returned from Crusading wars, there is first a sound
of music above. And presently down the stair comes the
Prologue, bearing a staff surmounted by a cross. And
having saluted them he speaks:

THE PROLOGUE

GOOD friends, you must be good friends indeed
tonight. For if you would understand the
fancies we would unfold before you, you
must e'en make yourselves one and all
part of them. So when, in a little
while, one shall follow me, coming from an old world above to this world of you
rs below, you must take him as he comes; and feigning yourselves, as you seem,
not men of these our later days but warriors come home from wars in heathen
lands, you shall perchance taste such Christmas joys as once made Christmas see
m halfway from earth heavenward.

THE FIRST PART

Then a trumpet sounds above; and after saluting them again the Prologue goes
back up the stair. Then presently, after some nerry noise, down the stair
comes the Jester, tumbling. Who, gathering himself up, salutes the
company and begins:

THE JESTER
Figure that I am one fallen from heaven, even as Our Blessed Lord
fell on the first Christmas of all, unlooked for, among beasts
that bleat and bray. For in truth I bear you a message from above.

A CRUSADER, from among the company
Is this an hour for folly?

THE JESTER
Hist!—Who be ye all?

A SECOND CRUSADER
Our lord Conrad's servants and men at arms, fool, come
tired with our toils from the Holy Land.

THE JESTER
Hist, again!—And whither be ye come here?

A THIRD CRUSADER
To the threshold of our home.

THE JESTER
Our heavenly home or our earthly?

THE THIRD CRUSADER
Our earthly, fool.

THE JESTER
Fool thyself. Wouldst thou strip earth of her folly?
For what else marks the difference between earth and
Heaven save that folly sweetens not the skies?— Bear with me, then, that b
ear you, as I said, a message from above, or, to speak more plainly, from our
lord.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Take not His name in vain whose holy tomb,
Thrilling with Easter sunshine long ago,
Gave life to conquered death. That blessed seed
Awhile inurned there bloomed to the mystic flower,
Unseen, eternal, which perfumeth still
The souls of all the righteous.

THE JESTER
Hist! Hist! Hist!—
'T is thou art vain of thy sermon taking in vain the name of Our Blessed L
ord. The lord from whom I bear you message, God be praised, is no blessed one,
nor shall be, I hope, yet awhile, unless it be in the joy of your presence. He
is our good old lord Conrad, who bids me bid you—

THE THIRD CRUSADER
What?
A trumpet sounds above.

THE JESTER
Nay, that I have forgotten, save welcome home; but here comes one can
tell you better than I.

Then, with another sound of the trumpet, down the stair comes the
Herald; and having in turn saluted the company, he speaks:

THE HERALD
First for a Christmas greeting:—Glory to
The Lord on high, and on this earth to men
Of good-will peace.

THE CRUSADERS
Amen!

THE HERALD
Now to yourselves—
Come from the Holy Land in happy hour
To join in Christmas revels and forget
The toils wherethrough ye have won right to rest,
First here on earth and then eternally
In Abraham's bosom,—I am bidden bring
All words of welcome which your hungered hearts
May crave. Let each one image for himself
The words he most would cherish; then let each
Deem that those words are Conrad's. Even so,
If strength would suffer, he would greet you—each
According to your station—face to face.
But, since his age is feeble, as ye know,—
So that against his will he lingered here
While ye went forth to battle for the Lord,—
He must speak once for all. So, by my lips,
He bids you range yourselves, each in your place,
To hear his greeting;—in the foremost place
Walter, his son, and heir to this domain,

The Crusaders murmur among themselves.

Then the chief captains, finally the men at arms.

So he stands aside; and the Crusaders range themselves; but the
foremost place is left empty. Then presently down the stair comes a procession,
led by a choir who sing the March from Judas Maccabœus; and last of all
comes the old lord Conrad, led by him that spoke the Prologue, still bearing
his cross. And when all are down, and the music ended, and each in his
place, the Herald sounds his call again, and speaks:

THE HERALD
Now listen to the words our ancient lord
Would speak to all together.

CONRAD
Gentlemen,—
For whencesoever he that meanest stands
Among you sprang, his service to Our Lord
Hath won him title to nobility,—
Welcome to peace. And first sweet peace to them
Who once among us, faltering in the ways
Of darksome earth, stand now irradiate
In glorious presence of divinity.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Amen!

THE CRUSADERS, in unison
Amen!

THE JESTER
Ah, men that are no men,
But blithesome spirits!

CONRAD
From thy foolish wit
I take my cue.—Those blithesome spirits hover
About us here, until to sight like mine,—
Who hardly can discern the lineaments
Wherewith God marked His image on us all,—
Ye that are come again, and they whose forms
Sleep in the green-clad arms of Mother Earth,
Seem all alike, in this dear company
Of Christmas charity. So I bid to all
That ever were among us, welcome home.
How ye have toiled ye know, and I believe,
Who, old, blind, crippled, sent you in my name
To win the sepulchre of Jesu Christ
Back from the heathen. Ye shall tell your tales
While we are feasting; for that ye are come
To share our Christmas revels is a chance
So happy that to dim our happiness
I would not name a grief. And yet before
Ye follow me up to our Christmas board,
Know that a seat is lacking there tonight,
Because Our Lord, finding His heavenly feast
A shadow short of Heaven, hath summoned hence
My gracious lady, to complete His joy;
So I must sit alone to welcome you
Without her lovely presence.

THE CRUSADERS
God's will be done.

CONRAD
And so it is; for sure ye know how they
Who knew her best knew least the fleeting faults
That made her sweetly human.—Well, she left us
One who shall bravely show in time to come,
As he no doubt hath shown in leading you,
How her most gentle spirit, tempering
The ruder strain, though brave, he had from me,
Bred him to noblest knighthood— My dim sight
Is foolishly at fault. I cannot tell
Which of you there is Walter.
A pause.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Noble sir,—

CONRAD
That voice is not my son's.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
I would it were;
Gruff' though it be, 't is honest.

CONRAD
Does its tremor
Tenderly try to tell me Walter's voice
Shall gladden earth no more?

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Most noble sir,
Walter is here among us.

CONRAD
In God's name,
Why starts he not to greet me, then? When I
Was of his years I had not stood on form,
Waiting the end of tedious, empty words,
To crave a father's blessing.

THE SECOND CRUSADER
He starts not
Because he cannot.

CONRAD
Cannot?

THE THIRD CRUSADER
Ay, my lord,
We would not suffer him to hide his head
From your most righteous judgment.

CONRAD
Now, by all
The saints in Heaven, thou art treasonable!

THE JESTER
Father,—

CONRAD
Who speaks the name Walter alone
Hath right to speak?

THE JESTER
Father, 't is Christmas Eve;
And foolishly it seems to me that peace
Among men of good-will were fitter now
Than angriness.

CONRAD
But by the wounds of Him
Who bled for our salvation, I should be
Fitter for Hell than Heaven, if this fellow,
Slandering mine only son, went unrebuked!

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Judge us. (To those about him.) Bring forth young Walter.

So they thrust forward Walter, whose arms are bound; and those about Conrad s
tart and murmur in their surprise.

CONRAD
Who hath dared
Thus lay uncivil hand on him whose form
Embodied mine, your master's?

WALTER
Good my lord,
This fellow hath some reason in him.

CONRAD
What!

WALTER
Shall he speak out, or I?

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Most honoured sir,
Give ear to me awhile.

WALTER
Well, let him speak;
He is honest, though his wit be less alert
Than his tough brawn.

CONRAD, seating himself
Stand back, sir. Walter, sit
At my right hand.

WALTER
Nay, sir, I will stand like him
Till you have judged our cause.

CONRAD
How quarrelled you?

WALTER
There is no quarrel, sir. He is as honest
As you or I; only his honesty
Has grown at odds with mine, and he is one
Who cannot grant that others than himself
Can see in the sunlight.

CONRAD
Come, unriddle this.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
You know me plain and blunt, sir. When we fared
Forth from your presence—

CONRAD
Ay, I mind the time.

THE JESTER
And so do I. It was just three years ago,
When first the little voices of the birds
Carolled the dawn of spring-time.

CONRAD
Silence, fool.

THE JESTER
If all the fools kept silence, this grave world
Would nod with dreary wisdom.

CONRAD
Sirrah, peace.

THE JESTER
Ay, peace to all this joyful Christmas-tide.

CONRAD
Proceed.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
We journeyed bravely, prayerfully
Across the frowning Alps. We came at last
To where the sunny seashore of the South
Blooms like the coasts of Heaven. In the port
From whence the Christian navies held their way
Unto that happy strand which Our Dear Lord
Blest with His holy feet, we for a while
Were brought to rest. Young Walter, till that time
Faithful and brave,—

WALTER
You see, my lord, he is honest—
Honest as you or I.

CONRAD
Let him speak on;
Then answer thou at large.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
In that soft clime
Of flowers and languor, where the smooth-limbed girls
Laugh like the soulless gods of ancient days
That lured old Romans Hell-ward, Walter fell
Asleep one day in the sunshine.—

WALTER
And therewith
Thawed my chill veins. Here in the frozen North
They had been conduits only of such humours
As make thin saints unearthly.

CONRAD
How now, Walter!

WALTER
He speaks the truth.

CONRAD
Truth!

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Truth, sir,—naked truth!
And from that sleep he wakened as you see him,
Unsouled, a thing of earth. I pleaded with him.
He laughed. I chided, minding how that you
Had given to my years the charge of him,
Unskilled as yet in warfare and the world.
Whereat he laughed again. And when at last
The thrilling trumpets blared the summons out
To gird us for our passage, he—your son
That should have leaped our leader,—

CONRAD
Well, sir?—Well?

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Vanished, we knew not whither.

WALTER
Till ye came
And found me there to greet you, faring back
Warworn and solemn.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Even so, my lord;
For when our prows butted the sun-drenched quays
Of Christendom again, we heard a laugh
Greeting our very names. And looking down
Amid the salty cordage, saw the form
That stands before you here.

WALTER
But not thus bound!—
Nor yet all free, for round my neck there hung
The cool arm of a lass—I never knew
Her name—whose merry eyes did then outshine
The radiance of the morning.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
With her like—

WALTER
Ay, there were others—others fair as she.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
He had outspent the hours, the months, the years
In wanton dalliance. And we the while
Had fronted countless perils—of the sea,
Cold, hungry, surging; ay, and of parched sands
That scorched with flameless fire; of battle, too,
Upholding with our lives the Oriflamme;—
For our deep vows had held us consecrate
To Christ, Our Lord.

THE JESTER
Who is the Prince of Peace;—
Remember that, father,—the Prince of Peace.

CONRAD
Peace, fool; let Walter answer.

THE JESTER
He keeps peace,
Setting you all example.

CONRAD
Walter, hast
Thou nothing to reply?

WALTER
Nothing that ye
Can understand, who hold that Prince of Peace
A vengeful master, shadowing all the world
With gray commandment.

THE SECOND CRUSADER
Even thus, my lord,
He jeered our holy warfare.

WALTER
In the name
Of heavenly peace, ye clothed in stiffening steel
These limbs God made for freedom. And the voice
Of heavenly peace ye stifled with alarums;
And for the sake of heavenly peace assaulted
The peace wherewith those far-off lands were blest
That harmed you not.

CONRAD
Not harmed us!—When the tomb
Wherein awhile His hallowed bones abode
Who gave His life for ours, lay subject to
Infidel conquest!

WALTER
Think you fire and sword
Can root again in that abandoned grave
The tree of Life?

THE THIRD CRUSADER
With blasphemies like these
He jeered our holy warfare!

WALTER
If your Prince
Of Peace proclaim such war, he is not for me!—
Hold me not coward! I would dare engage
With any that lift hand against ourselves;
But them that harm us not I rather would
Leave to their joys.

CONRAD
Sharing their godlessness?

WALTER
Ay, if you will.

CONRAD, rising
Down, Walter, to thy knees!
Crave pardon both of us and of our God,
Before this image of the Crucified!

WALTER
I see not with your eyes.—Let bloodless lips
Of painted saints that sadden altars kiss
Those earth-stained feet. I am wiser.—When the sun
Kindled the veins of the Spring, and happy girls
Laughed with the mating birds, there came to me
Another message than your mystic spells,
Unriddling eternity.—"Joy! Joy!"
Cried every voice of Nature, "so your joy
Leave others joyous too; for by and by
We fall asleep together. While ye wake
Let life thrill all your being!"—So again
I tell you all, if He whose downcast eyes
Ye call divine bid me disdain old earth,
Shunning her joys, wedding her sorrows,—ay,
And in His name breeding new sorrows, too,
Wherever He casts His shadow,—let Him work
His will even how He will. I bow not to
Such deity as His!

A pause.

CONRAD
Lord, I thank Thee
That Thou hast taken to Thy sheltering bliss
The saint that bore this recreant!—Open wide
The gates there!—From my heart I cast him out
That was my son and heir!

THE JESTER
Leaving thyself,
Father, no hairs save these that frost thy chin?

CONRAD
Crack thou thy jests! They shall not crack my heart
For all his emptiness.—Let one or two
Of you thrust from our doors this craven thing,
That once we deemed the vessel of our hopes
Upon the seas of the future.

WALTER
I will go
Unthrust. Lay no hand on me.

So they make way, silent; and Walter passes out.

CONRAD
Gentlemen,
Think not because this luckless hap hath come
To me that I would have your Christmas-tide
Go cheerless. Still that feast is spread above
Where each of you hath place. There merriment
Shall rule our jolly night, and ye shall hear
Me laugh with the loudest. There is stuff in me
Shall shame that devil back to gaping Hell
Who tempts us dim the radiance of this night,
Made glorious with the coming of Our Lord,
For earthy sorrow.—Good lieutenant, thou
Shalt walk with me.—Strike up the music there!

So the Herald sounds his trumpet; and presently thereafter begins the
Chorus. And so, led by Conrad and the First Crusader, all proceed to
the hall above.

THE SECOND PART

And in the hall above they sit them down and feast; in the midst
of which feasting there is merrymaking, songs and the like. And
when at last the feast draws to a close the Herald, rising,
sounds a call. And when the company grow quiet, he speaks:

THE HERALD
Now listen to the words our ancient lord
Would speak to all together.

THE JESTER
Saving one,
Alas!

CONRAD
Name thou not him! Or else go crack
Thy jests to howling winter!—Gentlemen,
Ye have made merry with me, stout of heart,
Forgetting, one and all, the frost that came
To blight our bud of hope. So merrily
Let us all onward where the swordsmen wait
To wield in play such weapons as your strength
Made fearful, used in earnest. Merrily
The hours have passed; merrily let them pass,
Till, brightly as the heavenly angels shone
Before the wondering shepherds long ago,
Shall glow through every portal of our home
The hallowed dawn of Christmas.—Sound a march!

And thereupon the Herald sounds his call; and the music
strikes up. And so, quitting the feast, the company make
their way to the great hall above.

THE THIRD PART

In which uppermost hall they range themselves, some on seats and benches abou
t the walls, some standing about the entrance, leaving a space in the midst of
all for the sports. And when Conrad has seated himself on his dais, with the
Jester by him, and the Bearer of the Cross, and the Herald, the sports
begin, a sword-dance and the like, as long as may be. Then by and by
there comes from them about the entrance a jeering cry. And when the dancers st
op their dance to listen, voices are heard merrily shouting.

A VOICE
There he runs.

ANOTHER VOICE
Stop his way there.

A THIRD VOICE
Ha! Ha! Caught again.

And those about the door join in the laugh.

A CLOWN, without, whimpering
For God's sake, merry sirs, let me go,—let me in.

CONRAD
Who interrupts our revels?

THE THIRD CRUSADER, who is by the doorway
An it please you,
Here comes some quaking clown would force his way
Into your presence, whom we gently stop.

THE CLOWN, without, howling
Wrench not mine elbow again, good gentlemen. I will say whatever ye will,
God save us all.

THE JESTER
Now if that be not the voice of mine own brother it is that of one as
stout and steadfast. Prithee, father, bid him welcome.

CONRAD
This is some pastime. Let the fellow in.

So, with laughter, those about the door thrust forward the Clown, a
country fellow, who trembles and rubs his arm, which they, in their
play, have twisted.

THE JESTER, coming forward to meet him
Art thou indeed my brave big brother?

THE CLOWN
Will they wrench mine arm again, sweet sir, if I make answer?

THE JESTER
Not they, 'faith; here's my hand on't.

THE CLOWN
Nay;—with your kind, excellent leave, nay.—'T was
thus they beguiled me without.—And as for thy brotherhood,
who knows?—save that on the mother's side it cannot be,
mine being Joan the milkmaid, that died bearing me at
fifteen, God rest her soul. I would we were all with her.

THE JESTER
So do not I; for o' winter nights I love warmer
cheer. Instance this horn of wine. Pledge us,
brother; for beyond peradventure we are brethren in Father Adam.

THE CLOWN, starting to drink, and dropping the horn for trembling
O Lord! Here is a merry Christmas indeed!

THE JESTER
Expound to us, brother, the special cause of thy jovial merriment.

THE CLOWN
Nay, that I am feared to do since they
twisted mine elbow without there for
bidding them all save themselves while yet there is time.

THE JESTER
This reverend man is plainly
some Puritan preacher of the
Word, come that he may exhort us all to salvation.

THE CLOWN
Now it is that same
salvation, look you,
from which I would
bid you all save
yourselves, save that ye bid me not. For having fed me in the kitchen below, I
was e'en making my way home as best I might, being led astray with good cheer;
and then did I see him; and so came stumbling back to warn you.

THE JESTER
The misty terms of our reeling earth, good brother, do something obscure
the heavenly vision which hath struck the scales from thine eyes. Tell us,
then, whom thou dost mean, saying "him."

THE CLOWN
Nay, that ye shall never have from me; for they twisted mine arm in
the stair when I came out of breath with shouting how there is an armed
man riding fast down upon you who have laid down your arms.

CONRAD
An armed man? What mean you?

THE SECOND CRUSADER, coming swiftly from without, through the press
Good my lord,
This quaking carle hath reason. Close at hand
A steely foe comes stealing through the night
To break our Christmas peace.

At the which word the company murmur, surprised and wroth.

THE CLOWN
Now will I run hide myself in the cellar; and such of you as dread
salvation had best do the like.
And so he runs out.

CONRAD
And who shall dare
Intrude him thus upon us?

THE SECOND CRUSADER
To the gate,
Where I kept watch, came riding one who bore
Message from one I would not name tonight
Save that he names himself—thine enemy
And neighbour, Philip.

THE HERALD, who has passed to the doorway
Here is one, my lord,
Who claims his right to parley, in the name
Of stout Lord Philip.

And therewith boldly enters the Messenger of Philip.

CONRAD
Dares Lord Philip send—
He whom the years have proven more and more
Marrer of all that seems to me God's will—
Message to me seasoning our Christmas cheer
With salt of earthy business?

THE MESSENGER
Even so,
Most honoured Conrad; ay, and dares entrust him
To that nobility which you have held
Through all these years of conflict. Here I come
Unarmed, with message not of enmity,
Unless yourself so find it.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Give the word,
My lord, and we will serve this fellow as
His manners warrant.

CONRAD
He stands in our house,
Unguarded, in the semblance of a guest.—
Stay in your places.—(To the Messenger.) Speak your tidings out;
We will give answer.

THE MESSENGER
Philip, noble sir,
Bids me commend him to you, urging first
How through the years of feud which ye have waged—
Ye and your fathers—one against the other,
No tongue so loose hath ever yet been found
To stain the fame of either. Honestly
Each has maintained his quarrel.

CONRAD
This is true.

THE MESSENGER
Therefore, at this sweet season, when throughout
Both Heaven and earth glad tidings of good-will
Do spread them, he holds hope that from henceforth
Your honest enmity may turn itself
To friendship just as honest.

CONRAD
That shall be
Even as he will. Let him but satisfy
Our claim upon those lands his grandsire seized
When ours lay sleeping, and the enmities
Of all these years shall fade.

THE MESSENGER
And that shall be,
Most honoured sir, even as yourself shall will.

CONRAD
He knows my will.

THE MESSENGER
He knew it, as it stood
Before this grief came on you in the which
He shares your sorrow.—

CONRAD
Cease thy mocking speech,
Injurious fellow!

THE MESSENGER
Nay, sir, you mistake.
Here is no mockery. My master's heart
Goes out to you this widowed Christmas-tide
Which finds you heirless.

CONRAD
Heirless!

THE MESSENGER
He has heard
The story of young Walter,—ay, and how
You played the Roman. Wherefore, in the place
Of that dishonest boy, he bids me offer
Himself to be your heir.

THE SECOND CRUSADER
Now, by the saints,
This rudeness goes too far.

CONRAD
Assail him not!—
If I have caught thee right, thy master, Philip,
Will make his peace with me, if only I
Will grant that he, thy master, when my time
Shall come, may enter here, as lord of all.

THE MESSENGER
And so, most honoured sir, in harmony
Those jars should blend wherewith throughout the years
Our country has been vexed.

CONRAD
Well, tell thy master
I have no need for heirs. That heir I had
Has proved too little solace in mine age
To make me yearn for more.

THE JESTER
The old lion rouses.
There is mettle in him yet.

CONRAD
Ay, so there is.—
Tell that to Philip, too.—If that the mind
Should take me to provide myself against
The hour of my parting, never an heir
His courtesy would choose me should so serve
My turn, but there is mettle in me yet
To get a better.

At the which word the company laugh, deriding the Messenger, and the
Jester, coming forward with a cup of wine, greets him, mocking.

THE JESTER
Brother, pray you drink
A cup with me before you part, for sure
We two are fellow fools.

THE MESSENGER, putting the Jester aside
Since ye thus flout
His friendship, know that Philip, my liege lord,
Is wiser than ye hold him. He hath sent
Another message too, foreseeing how
This might fall out.

CONRAD
Speak it.—In form thou still
Art here our Christmas guest.

THE MESSENGER
He bids you, then,
Defend yourselves as best ye may. About
Your castle walls his force draws close, wherewith
He comes to seize that which ancestral law
Proclaims his own. For when a noble house
Ends childless, then the custom of our land
Gives their possessions to the fostering care
Of him whose fiefs lie nearest.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Good my lord,
We are come in happier hour than we knew.
These arms we bear, blest in the holy wars
Of Palestine, shall still do service, ere
They rust in lazy drowsing.

THE MESSENGER
Look without,
Before ye boast too high. For every soldier
Warm with his Christmas wassail here, there come
Three men at arms in Philip's bold array.
Ay, and his van, while we were parleying,
Hath stolen into your very court.

CONRAD
What ho!
Ye by the casement—speaks this fellow true?

So they by the casement throw it open, and therewith, from the court without,
comes a great shout of mocking defiance.

THE SECOND CRUSADER
They are upon us!

CONRAD
Seize this shifty knave
Who dared beguile while his thieves stole in,
Cloaked in his parlous parley!

CRUSADERS, surrounding the Messenger, threatening
Cut him down!—
Have at him!

THE MESSENGER
I appeal to Conrad here;
I am unarmed.

CONRAD
And therefore shall our arms,
Washed pure with blood drawn in the glorious cause
Of Jesu Christ, stay stainless of those jellies
That clog thy veins.—Put up your weapons there.
And one of you go tell this fellow's master,
Who waits below craving admittance to
Our presence, that our pleasure is that he
Still wait. So, if he rudely force himself
Upon us, he may chance to find his way
Blocked with bobbing carcass of his henchman,
Whom we thereon shall hang, to grace our portal
In lieu of arras.

THE THIRD CRUSADER
That dishonest foe
Shall have his message straightway.
So he goes out, swiftly.

CONRAD
Let one bring me
Those trusty arms wherewith in elder days,
When these my limbs were stoutly bold, as still
Ye shall find my rising heart, I blithely rode
To chanting victory. Though mine eyes be dim
For all the petty uses of this world,
There is in them yet a fire shall dazzle those
That, facing me, shall see their glancing flash
Beneath my dented beaver.

THE JESTER
Father, ere
The flood-tide of thy wisdom rise and whelm
This little bay of peace, where we have rode
So buoyant, waiting Christmas, prithee, mark
Some ebbings of my folly.

CONRAD, while they bring arms, and he dons them
Merrily
I have shared your feast; and merrily, ye see,
I gird me now to lead you. Merriment
Hath place here still. Speak on.

From without comes a disturbance, as of angry murmur.

THE SECOND CRUSADER
Lord Philip's men
Hear now our merry message.

THE JESTER
To the which
I speak sad epilogue. Our Blessed Lord,
Who feasts tonight on high, can work His will
Despite us troublous men. His reverend ways
May teach us all, amid these haps of earth,
Lessons shall shrink your wisest wisdoms here
To follies weak as mine.

CONRAD
Why, that is sure.—
Buckle my belt more tightly. Do not fear
To pull.—But what of that, most pregnant fool?

THE JESTER
Why, even this: that glorious Lord hath deigned
To summon hence our mistress,—

CONRAD
Blessing us
With a most sainted bedesman, who on high
Shall pray our ventures onward.

THE JESTER
And He hath deigned
Mysteriously to cut that chain whereof
Thyself, last link, art powerless to bind
The clanking past to the future. Were we not
Best, then, to bow ourselves unto His will
Submissive? For that Christmas dawns apace
When His sweet word hath bidden us adore Him,
The Prince of Peace.

CONRAD
And who shall say but Peace
Hovers above our banners?—Gentlemen,
Even as I dreamed my faint infirmities
Gave warrant that I rest, so your brave selves
Perchance have dreamt that those most gallant toils
Wherefrom ye are returned were all that God
Had need for from you. Yet we both together
Must fight this one fight more, for His sweet sake
Who would not have His Christmas dawn anew
Dimmed here with misty warfare. Tonic steel
Nerves once again my sinews, till your own
Scarce knot them stouter; and mine age-bleared eyes
Turn eagle's as they sink their vision deep
In those infinities of quivering light
That swim before the purposes of God.
She that was erst my comfort here below
Kneels by His throne, to guard his ear against
Distracting prayers from other, lesser saints,
Proving our loss our blessing. That lewd boy,
Our only craven, hath been plucked away
Both from our hearts and presence. So our arms,
Sure in the certainty of heavenly right,
Shall find their strength full trebled when they lift
Its power against aggression.

THE THIRD CRUSADER, swiftly entering
Philip, sir,
Prepares him to enforce his claim.

THE SECOND CRUSADER
Why, then
His henchman shall go hang.

CONRAD
Stop!—Guard the stair!—
And let us, ere we lift a single hand
To enforce our justice, bend our reverent heads
Before the God of Battles.—To your knees!
So all kneel them down.
Divine Protector of Eternal Right,
Have mercy on their souls, whose lives this hour
Of combat shall unbody. By Thy side
Kneels now our sainted lady. Let her voice,
Low, sweet, and clear,—even as these quavering notes
That rise from earth sound harsh,—pray that Thou keep
Us pure of heart throughout this trial to come;
So whatsoever means the Mystery
Of Thine unbounded might shall take to uncoil
The perils that environ us, not one
Among us shall breathe any lesser prayer
Than that we learned of Thee—Thy will be done.

And thereupon all bow their heads, and the choir sings a little while. And
when the singing is done, certain Crusaders gather about Philip's Messenger, th
reatening.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Now, ere we press us forward, give us leave
To work God's will upon this prisoner,
Who tricked us with his parley.

CONRAD
Even so.—
Sirrah, thy time is come.

THE MESSENGER
Do what ye will,
Ye cannot quell my soul. Beguiling you,
I did my duty.

CONRAD
Hang him!

So they lay hands on the Messenger, to hang him. But just then there is a
confused noise about the door, and presently, through the press, Walter,
armed, forces his way, thrusting aside them that would prevent him.

WALTER
Stay your hands!

So they that hold the Messenger give way for a moment; and in the
confusion, the Messenger escapes. Whereupon the Crusaders gather
threatening about Walter. But them, too, he thrusts aside, saying,

Come, give me way!

And so he is before Conrad, where he kneels him down, saying,

Dear father, here I kneel
To crave unearned indulgence.

CONRAD
Craven boy,
Now thy misdeeds have stirred this tempest up
Fleest thou to us for shelter?

WALTER, rising
Nay, I come
To purge myself of that unworthiness
Mine eyes were blind to when the dazzling rays
Of dalliance danced before them.—Deal with me
As with the Prodigal that sire of old
Who took his wanderer back, and thou shalt find me
Still thine own son, and hers in whose dear name
I pray this mercy.

THE JESTER
Father, my poor folly
Doth seem to hear in these unwonted words
An answer to the prayer thou didst breathe out
A little while ago.

CONRAD
Can thy heart so rise
That thou wouldst fight beside us, child?

WALTER
My heart
Rises so far the higher that, if thou
Wilt grant the boon, I offer here myself
Champion for thee and all these gallant men
Who, while I idled, toiled.

THE THIRD CRUSADER
This may not be!

THE SECOND CRUSADER
We who have toiled have right to toil us on,
Where honour is to win!

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Now God forbid
That you forget how this unreverent youth
Stirred up these storms that vex our Christmas-tide,
Not only dallying, but renouncing Him
Who gave His life for ours.

WALTER, kneeling him down once more
For the which
Here, on my knees, I crave the pardon both
Of ye who heard me rave, and more of Him,
The First great Champion of all mankind.
And so he rises up again.
For when I marked the flood of Philip's force
Eddy about our walls, another flood
Unseen washed clear my soul. And I remembered
What my dear mother taught in years gone by,
When I was still a little simple boy.

THE JESTER
Father, she sendeth answer to thy prayer.

WALTER
For she would bid me strive to do for mine
Even as He hath done for all.—And thus
I knew His face at last. And thereupon
I made my way through Philip's mailed men
Unto his presence, where I pleaded with him
That ere the Christmas morning gladden earth
With peace and all good-will, he should draw back
His armed claim, trusting his cause alone
To such stout champions as he should choose
To match their skill with mine. And noble Philip
Will grant that boon if but thy mercy will
Grant me that in thy presence here I fight
With two in turn, and conquer.

CONRAD
Gentlemen,
Ye have heard this weakling boy essay to undo
His mischiefs. Tell me if ye are content
To trust yourselves to me.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Ay, even as
Our fathers and their fathers trusted them
To you and yours.

CONRAD
Truly, I cannot tell
Whether mine age stays wise. But as the hours
Fleet on that bring the Christmas dawn apace,
They quicken in my heart a mood that deadens
All hot desire of bloodshed. If this boy
Shall win his double fight, all shall have peace.
And if he fall, and with him all my claim
To lordship, why, there is none but he and I
Shall suffer. To the rest comes either way
The Christmas peace ye toiled for.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Honoured Conrad,
Think not we shall forsake you.

CONRAD
Good lieutenant,
Ye have trusted you to me.—So I give judgment.—
Walter, as in the wondrous days of old
The hosts of Saul set all their chances on
That shepherd's sling from whose anointed race
Our Saviour sprang, so now I trust ourselves
To thine untested arms.—And to the Lord
I turn me once again, uttering His prayer—
Thy Will be done!

THE CRUSADERS
Amen!

WALTER
Father, I give
Exultant thanks to God.

THE HERALD, by the door
The champion
Of Philip waits without.

CONRAD
Summon him in.

So they usher in the Champion of Philip, who advances, followed by certain
supporters. And having saluted the company, he speaks:

THE CHAMPION
Here stand I, Geoffrey, Philip's champion,
Come to maintain against young Walter, son
Of Conrad, all the claims my master hath
Upon these lordships. So I here await
The signal to begin.

WALTER
And here stand I,
Walter, the son of Conrad, ready to
Defend against this Geoffrey, champion
Of Philip, all those rights which from of old
Prove Philip's claims unrighteous. So, like Geoffrey,
I here await the signal to begin.

CONRAD
Bid them set on.

THE HERALD
Now God defend the right!

So Walter and the Champion engage; and presently after a fierce bout,
Walter has him down.

THE CHAMPION
O, I am slain!

And thereupon the Crusaders raise a joyful shout.

THE JESTER
Father, the lion's cub
Proveth himself a lion.

And now, as amid confusion they that came with the Champion bear him
out, Walter is seen to reel. Whereat the Crusaders murmur, anxious.

CONRAD
Walter, art
Thou hurt?

WALTER
Why, thinkest thou, father, men can fight
Good fights unscarred? I bleed.

CONRAD
My son! My son!
Thou art indeed the son I dreamed should be
The courage of mine age.

A trumpet sounds from without.

WALTER
Dear father, though
My body faint, thou, looking in mine eyes,—
As thou wast wont to do when long ago
I sat upon thy knee,—shalt see my spirit
Dreads not this fresh encounter.

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Let me take
His place!

THE SECOND CRUSADER
Let me!—Thou art old!

THE THIRD CRUSADER
Let me!—This boy
Is hurt beyond his strength!

WALTER
Nay, gentlemen,
Still trust yourselves to me. It takes much blood
To pay for basking idle in the sun.
The sin was mine, not yours; the debt is mine;
And I will pay it.

THE HERALD
Philip, noble sir,
Advances now his second champion.

THE SECOND CRUSADER
Bring wine!

THE FIRST CRUSADER
Bring water!—Walter reels with faintness!

WALTER
O, let not any liquors of this world
Profane me now. But, father, let me kneel
Once more before thee. Rest thy reverend hand
In blessing on my head; and if thou deign
Give that refreshment which my soul most craves
Beyond all else, advance again that image
I once disdained, of Him who gave His life
For all mankind.

So Conrad signs to him that bears the Cross, who presently advances. And as W
alter kneels before it, adoring, Conrad lays his hand on Walter's head
tenderly.

CONRAD
God's blessing on thee, child.

THE HERALD, at the door
Make way for Philip's second Champion!

Then, instead of the trumpet, which announced the first Champion, is heard th
e sound of a harp. To the which gentle music, as the company part, to make way
for the new Champion to advance, there enters a little Child, robed in white,
and bearing a casket, whereon rests a sprig of olive. And to the harp-music
the little Child timidly advances to Conrad, saying no word, but looking up tru
stfully at last, and so offers him the casket. The which Conrad takes, in
wonder; and opening it, draws forth a scroll.

CONRAD
Mine eyes are dim with age, I cannot read
The message writ here. Walter, who shalt be
Myself again when I am gone, I pray thee
Be now myself a little while, and read.

WALTER
Alas, dear father, all the world doth reel
Before mine eyes; I cannot see to read.

THE JESTER
Why, then there is nothing left but that you give
The scroll to me. For these fair gentlemen
Who press about us are not learned clerks
Like you—and me.
So he takes the scroll and reads.
"Philip doth send to Conrad
A Christmas greeting of good-will and peace.—
Forasmuch as the gallant deed of young Walter hath proved him beyond
peradventure so fit for his heirship, let us agree that from this
Christmas dawn all feud between us shall die. And let that death
of enmity be the last death wrought in our quarrels; for thus
shall we serve God best." Then turning to the company, the
Jester speaks on.
Now even as at night I came to you like one falling
from Heaven to earth, so now as the morning beginneth to glow I soar before you
like one rising back from earth toward Heaven. Therefore it is fit that I
speak you all your Christmas greeting: Glory to the Lord on High; and on
earth Peace, Good-will towards men.—And so, let the music swell.

And thereupon the singers begin their last chant. And when this is
finished, the company part, however they will. And so all ends.





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