University of Virginia Library

Scene IV

Samaria: the king's house. A large apartment; at the back closed curtains that separate it from an ante-room.
The body of Mariamne has been embalmed and laid in a high-erected sarcophagus with a crystal lid. Alexander and Aristobulus, her young children, creep up to it, toys in their hands.
Alexander.

O Aristobulus, one day I shall be
a man; then we shall be great soldiers. . . .
Let us play—let us play at taking Jerusalem.

[They sit on the floor beyond the sarcophagus and begin a game. Cypros, with lynx-like movement, steals down, where, unseen, she can observe them.
Aristobulus.

Here are not bricks enough.

Alexander
(taking his hand).

I will get you
bricks out where the sand wren is singing.
(Seeing Cypros.)
Why are you here? Why
do you watch us?

Cypros
(grinning through her wrinkles).

I am

the enemy that will destroy your city.
Have a care!

Aristobulus.

Women cannot destroy cities.
Move back!

Nicholas comes to the door with a deep obeisance.
Nicholas.

Lady Cypros, may I enter?
[She gives sign of assent.
I find the palace an unguarded tomb; all the
doors are wide, and all the ministrants dispersed
—the king absent.

Cyros.

I am guardian of the princes, I their
grandmother: I am guardian of the tomb.

[She laughs.
Nicholas.
The king—

Cypros
(suddenly clasping the knees of Nicholas).
If you could break the seal upon his heart!
He hunts the wilderness, and very far
Our young men tracked his wandering yesterday:
They heard a cry as lonely
As the rock-partridges in rocky close!
Sometimes at dead of night he brings a torch
To look at her, and laughs long in the flame;
And then the torch is lost, and I hear groaning
As never I have heard it since my travail.
I fear my son will die. You are without,
You move in the open earth—where is my son?

[Nicholas trembles and looks fearfully at the sarcophagus.
Nicholas.
This is the secret—and his centre here;
And this the pestilence he would escape,
And carries to the desert.
[He goes up to the sarcophagus.
Wonderful!
A mystery of Venus laid aside
To rest in the gold watches of the sea,
And like a trophy, or a spoil of war.

Cypros
(behind, plucking his sleeve).
Is she an evil spirit craving blood?

[A voice is heard in the tone of command, and silence falls on the whispering of women's voices behind the curtain. Herod lifts it and runs up rapidly to the sarcophagus. Cypros shrinks back.
Herod.
See, Nicholas!
I scan her eyelids . . . folly is not there,
Nor folly as a sackcloth on her face.
[Scanning Mariamne.
It is most curious, she grows
And changes like a sunrise in its clouds;
She is not fading from me. And sometimes
She smiles; and there are moments she forgives me,
And moments of revenge.
Suddenly Herod descends the steps of the sarcophagus, and motions to Nicholas to sit.
Well, friend! Well, Nicholas?
Tell me what tidings from Jerusalem.
'Tis long since we have met.
[Perceiving Cypros seated on the steps that lead up to the curtained ante-room.
How patient, mother,
You sit, how patient!
[He goes to her and lays his head on her knees.
There! I have been hunting,
And I am hungry.

Cypros.
Son, you are a-hungered?
You will do well, will live, though thin and wasted.

Herod.
Fetch me the meat I love—go, cook it for me . . .
The fresh meat from the hunt.
[Exit Cypros.
I am hungry past my wont. In all my hunting
I have killed nothing: it is all a void
Out on the shrieking fields and dunes . . .
I asked
My mother for fresh food . . . but I have planned
A greater festival. To-night I banquet.
Music!
[He turns sharply toward the sarcophagus.
No, no! I have not touched her harp.
No music!—I have passed into her garden,
And cut the roses one by one, a harvest
For the great banquet and the many wreaths.
It must be all accomplished of a sudden,
For I must end this solitude.
Full wickers
Of roses have been carried to the women—
They are weaving them within.
(Smiling.)
Philosopher,
And you will start a theme:
Was Alexander greater of his day
Than Cæsar was of his? Some swelling theme
To strike a noise from all.
But do not leave me!
[He moves round and perceives his sons.
Well, children—at your play?
[They rise and leave their toys on the ground.
Come back!
Why were you playing in this room?
[The children shrink before him. Herod convulsively clutches them and holds them down on each side.
Who was it gave you leave?—What scares you?

You love her? Listen, you shall always love
her. She is as a goddess—but we must not
be afraid of her; she is not close by you on
the earth as I am close. Children, I love

you in your play. I would not break it.
This city . . . you besiege it? (One of the boys nods; with trembling hands Herod picks up some of the toys.)

I will play with you.
You must talk and teach me how to play.
(The children remain stubborn.)
What
would you like to do? Would you like me
to tell you a story? (They shake their heads.)

Not a story? Not how I killed
Hezekiah, the robber-captain, when a lad
as young as David? (They still shake their heads.)

Not that;—but the vengeance I
took for my father Antipater, your grandfather;
blood for his blood . . . or the
Arabian War, the captives taken in their
thousands? You shall become great as I
am great: I can teach you. Will you listen?
When I was in Rome . . .

Alexander.
Father, we would go to Rome . . .
Send us away to Rome!

[They spring back frightened at themselves.
Herod.
To Rome?

[He remains staring at the thought. The younger boy turns back and kisses his hand.
Aristobulus.
May we go, father? May we go?
We shall come back again.

Herod.
Go, go for ever!
[They run away terrified.
They shall go, they shall go—shall be made kings.
How natural it is! . . .
And I am left alone. How natural
One's children should go forth from one to Rome . . .
And all the voices die!
I cannot be alone, for she is there.
And yet I should not dare to waken her,
Not from her sleep. And yet . . .
Call on her, call,
Call on her by her name! I dare not call.
She must not think I call, but she must be
Persuaded back to me. Go, bid her women
Call her as when she was their mistress. Set them
To stand behind the columns of the house,
And call her home.

Nicholas
(controlling his terror).
I will instruct the women.

Herod.
Fetch them to hear their charge.

[Nicholas opens the curtains: the women are weaving wreaths of roses for the guests of the evening. A nurse and the children are with them.
Nicholas.
The king commands you
To the king's presence.

[They drop the roses, some at once, some as they come forward.
Herod.
Women of my house,
The house is silent: there is but one name
To break for me the solitude. Disperse you
Among the columns; call your mistress back,
Call her to me, call one by one!
If this is but a frenzy to your thoughts,
Do not pursue your thoughts; stay them with me.
Call her as on the mountains God was called
By Jephthah's daughter and her troop of maidens,
The servants of her house.
You have soft voices;
I heard them creep about the silence.
Rouse them
Forth, as the desert lark's, to fetch your lady
Home to her house and husband.
Lift your roses—
The fresh blooms in your hands, disperse, and call her name.
[The women disperse.
Others must call! . . .
I am to her a stranger of the tents . . .
Woe to the tents lost in the stony plains!

[Suddenly women's voices severally and in unison call many times, near and far away.
Voices.
Mariamne! Mariamne! Mariamne!

[The children run to their nurse in terror, and she covers their heads with her veil. Herod bends his face down on the lid of the sarcophagus. The voices call on: through them his loud whisper is heard to the corpse.
Herod.
Mariamne!