 | The Accuser |  |
1
ACT I
SceneJerusalem: a room in the King's house, giving on a marble terrace, which is seen through columns of marble. Pomegranate-trees, in blood-red flower, stand formal along the terrace; scarlet curtains are looped back with purple cords against each column.
Herod leans over the terrace eagerly, paces it several times, and then looks out still more eagerly. After a while, he turns from the parapet and faces the room, his hands wrapped in his purple robe.
Herod.
Accused—
How freshly in my heart, as spring accuses
Some winter morn with all her windy light!
Acussed . . . that I have left
My first-born son behind me with my youth,
Antipater, my Arab! Almost Roman
My sons by Mariamne, and they mock me
A little for the wildness in my heart,
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When all the deserts spread their boundaries.
My Arab son—
And reared as I was reared, and of my race,
And shy . . . oh, that will be a bond . . . my Arab!
[Perceiving his sister, who enters and prostrates herself before him.
Salome!
Salome.
Herod, and a suppliant too,
And of the moment's opportunity,
And pleading by the pressure of the moment.
Are you not watching for your Arab son,
Antipater, and, wistful as a lover,
Roving from column on to column?
Give me
My Arab lover, Herod, though he may not
Become a Jew, lest he be stoned to death
By his own people . . .
Say that I am old
And in the shadow—but he seeks my shade,
As it were comfort from the noontide sun!
Give him to me, and for my sole delight,
As his delight is in me.
Herod.
No, Salome.
Two generations of our father's blood
Part us alone from Arab heathendom:
We must be Jewish in our nuptials, and
Our offspring Roman in the breath they draw.
Salome
(from the ground).
For whom, my brother,
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In a roused lion's face?—Antipater,
The child of Doris, the Arabian Doris,
Daughter of Esau with red-threaded hair,
Doris, whom you abandoned. . . .
Herod.
Ay, abandoned . . .
And drew a roseleaf of God's rose, as amber
Draws such a roseleaf, to my heart—as amber,
Drew the red roseleaf Mariamne, Peace!
[Alexander and Aristobulus enter along the terrace.
Her children! Ah, their names, the royal names,
Aristobulus, Alexander. . . .
[Salome rises sullenly. Herod involuntarily makes a movement toward the young men. Salome draws back to the parapet of the terrace, where Herod had before been keeping watch.
Alexander
(advancing).
Father,
You called us?
Herod.
No.
Alexander.
Our names—I heard our names!
Herod.
I did not call.
Alexander.
And yet I heard my name, I heard my brother's,
I heard . . .
Herod.
Eavesdropping!
Alexander.
No!—Not that . . . her name.
You spoke it, father, as you loved its measure.
[There is silence.
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And you did call us, father.
Herod.
No—
Come here, you have not kissed me.
[He takes Aristobulus' face in his hands.
Like your uncle,
The priest, your uncle . . .
[He stops speaking and dreams.
Kiss me, Alexander;
But kiss me. . . . And you heard your mother's name?
Fie, you were listening! Go!
[The young men pass down the terrace between the pomegranate-flowers and the red curtains.
. . . Her obstinate, still death—shut in her doom,
As water locked up in chalcedony!
[Turning toward Salome.
Is he not like his mother?
Ha, these pictures
Of the dead that loved us so, these living things
That do not love us! And the beauty cold
And stubborn on their faces. Mariamne!
—That was the name I called.
Salome
(advancing quickly and again kneeling).
Your watcher, Herod!
Antipater is here! Now my reward!
Oh, joy! This is a portent and precursive—
Behind, at your recall, there is my lover. . . .
Herod.
I will not see that laughter in your eyes,
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Be you to please me! Greet Antipater! . . .
Tell me a little; you have seen him. Speak!
Is his hair silvered?
A Eunuch enters
Eunuch.
Sire,
The young prince from the East world come to you.
Herod.
Bring the young prince.
[Exit Eunuch.
[Herod watches the door. As the curtain opens, Salome, after making in vain a gesture of suppliant appeal, moves away from Herod. She meets Antipater, who bows low, but she turns from him, sweeping her cloak away from him, and goes out. Antipater stands in the midst of the room.
Herod.
My son—your father!
Antipater.
Majesty!
[He prostrates himself.
Herod.
Your father!
Stand! Let me know you.
[Antipater rises and faces the King.
. . . Seasoned! In my dreams
I saw you as a lad, Antipater;
Not of my height, my building in the frame,
And round the eyes and temples mastership.
Thin! You have hunted daily?
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(with a smile).
Ibexes,
Wild asses, the gazelle . . .
Herod.
And your gazelle-hounds,
Had one of them my name?
Antipater.
No, Majesty, your name
Was never lightly heard: or by the hearth,
Or by the fountain of the sands, or under
The shadow of the night-clouds, ever whispered;
I heard it, and I feared it, Majesty.
Herod.
You had protection?
Antipater.
Obodas,
King of Arabia, fed us. In his wars
I was made warrior—all my camel-droves
Caught from their pastimes on spear-rattling nights.
Herod.
Mature of body and of wits provided
And sharpened for the pinch. . . . You have loved women?
Antipater
(again with a smile).
All must have some suspension, Majesty,
Some respite in the hollows of the sand. . . .
Herod.
You bring no wife?
Antipater.
Great Majesty, no wife—
My filial love
From the far-vanishing, the unblest plains:
Although I drank you as a legend there,
Although my mother told me of your youth,
Although upon the desert was your name.
Herod.
My name upon the desert? Oh, the shrill,
Shrill solitudes!
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As crowding up the entry of my brain:
If a long throng
Of loaded dromedaries pass the gate,
They must file two and two, not all at once.
She told you of my youth: there let me linger!
[Repressing Antipater.
No, no! Her voice
Soft as the flow of spices—hush!—
Do not break on me your impetuous voice,
A hurricane of that sweet spice . . .
[He looks at Antipater, as if gauging the years.
She is dead?
Antipater.
Dead!—waiting duteous at your palace-door,
Waiting that in her eyes she may receive
Again the mirror of your eyes, and then
Home to her grave . . .
The years are falling on her heavily.
Herod.
The way is very long for her!
Antipater.
But swifter
She travelled than my swiftness and more eager...
Herod.
She must go back. What should she do among us—
Among the Mariamnes of to-day,
Young wives, fresh voices? My Antipater,
Being your mother, I must prize her so
As the green sacred jade, no longer quarried.
She must be hidden.
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(bending low).
At your pleasure, lord,
She will return . . . by stages very slow . . .
Without my aid. . . . That will not trouble her,
My lord, for she approaches to the shrine
Of a dear idol: let her snuff your image,
Fondle your feet, and creep back to the desert.
Herod.
She told you of my youth. . . . Have you yet found
The thing she said, Antipater?
Antipater.
My lord,
I am the thing she told me of—your son.
She has reared me for you, father; for your pleasure.
Each hour I passed beside her was religious.
By heart she knew your first campaign—the marching
On Idumæa, held with three thousand foot,
Four thousand horse.... The push toward Galilee,
Its garrisons. The city Sepporis
Seized as by magic in a wondrous snow:
The sudden fight with robbers, the defeat,
And then your left wing bearing down their right,
So that they fled. . . .
Herod.
The left wing of my army—No, my right.
No, no! . . . But fetch her in!
[Antipater glides out.
How marvellous
She should remember—and the critical,
Grave point forgotten! . . .
[Antipater brings in Doris: she falls at
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Doris.
Is he not fair, our son?
Is he not wrought to your desire? My lord,
Your blessing on him, yea,
Your blessing on your first-born!
[Herod sets Antipater at his right hand.
He will guard you
From all your enemies; no fear that any
In secret any more shall trouble you.
Now may I speak a little to my lord
Of what this is to me to see his face?
[Doris gazes up: there is a long silence.
Blessing it is to me to see your face!
Herod
(uneasily).
You are not dazzled? . . . And it is not seemly
That you should look upon a King so long . . .
Doris, for I am King of Jewry now . . .
You must not . . . We are aged: time is between us,
And I would spare you, Doris. It afflicts me
To see your darkened cheeks.
What do you see?
Doris.
I see all that you bid me see—the King.
Before a crown
Was on your head I saw it on your head!
And it is not so high as I have seen it,
Nor are the gems so bright.
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Your eyes are bright, your eyes that were my gems,
Your eyes are brightening on me, and your face
Is still as a still pool when stubbornly
It shapes in its unruffled depths the sun.
Doris, I thrust you to Arabia,
So, in such youth. . . . What in Arabia
Has been your fate?
Doris.
Herod, to guard our son.
Herod.
You had no second husband, when, still handsome,
My little one, I left you?
Doris.
I was Doris,
I was a flower, and the flower fades, my lord:
You must not vex yourself that I am old.
Herod.
Depart, go home, go from my presence home!
Salute your son.
[Doris, without a glance at Antipater, clings to Herod.
Doris.
Your feet!
[Then she rises, veiling herself, and moves away, as if set toward the desert.
Herod
(nodding).
Farewell! . . .
Antipater,
This is a royal creature, of the wisdom
There should be found in woman, of the beauty
That is eternal in her. Royal, royal!
And she shall be the first among my wives.
Antipater, my first-born, draw her to me!
[Antipater runs after his mother and leads her back.
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Thus on the lower step at my right hand.
Now I am made secure, now at the last
I shall draw even breath.
[Suddenly rising from his throne.
Ho, eunuchs!
Several enter
Bring me
A fanlike robe of state; bring me the chain
Of amethysts, a pearl by every grape;
And golden shoes and female crown of gold.
Some others call
The Princes to an audience instantly.
[Antipater has lifted a hem of Herod's rich robe, and has been staring at the jewels.
You catch my cloak—what is it?
Antipater
(quickly dropping the cloak).
Your protection!
[The royal dress is brought in and laid on Doris.
Herod.
Queen over every other queen!
[The young men Alexander and Aristobulus re-enter, but draw back.
My sons,
Come to my feet and make obeisance here
To this my wife and Queen restored to me;
Then from my hand receive your brother's hand,
My eldest, much-loved son's. Antipater,
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Aristobulus this.
Alexander.
I know
Nothing of what you say . . .
Father, I cannot
Touch what is strange, and give away the name
I call Aristobulus. . . . And this lady!—
O father, I have counted every grape
And every pearl she wears about her neck,
When I was in the Queen my mother's arms.
She wears that robe . . . the very robe
My grandmother has worn, Queen Alexandra,
Worn by my mighty ancestress her mother,
And by my mother of the royal race.
One day for this
May she be dressed in sackcloth and be shut
So close that she may never see the light
That comes by the sun's shining! . . .
O my brother,
This woman is a crow that trails the glory,
Our mother wore, before her children's eyes.
[Herod, who has listened with growing admiration on his face, steps down to Alexander.
Herod.
Mariamne!
(Softly in his ear.)
Oh, beware!
My Alexander,
You are all mine, my creatures from your birth,
To raise and to set down even as I will:
You breathe upon this earth but of my will.
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As to an empire; to that eagle-ensign,
I stream above you, bow!
This agèd Queen,
This brother from the desert—circumstance,
Nothing for you to stir against! My love
An empire over you.
[Alexander sobs on his father's shoulder.
Child, by your race
Of kings, and by the charge of you that Cæsar
Took side by side even with the world itself,
Do homage to your lord's authority,
Your father's. Show to this old Queen respect.
Antipater, come here! Receive this hand.
Antipater.
I am in such amazement even as you:
Forgive me that I breathed before your birth,
Who never thought to see your faces, brothers.
[To Aristobulus.
But as bewildered and as in the dark,
Let our hands touch, by the King's Majesty,
[Aristobulus silently gives his hand. Herod, taking Alexander's, lays it in Antipater's. At the touch of Antipater's fingers Alexander lifts his head, his eyes flash into Antipater's, and he snatches back his hand.
As in the dark. . . .
Herod
(to his Eunuchs).
Lead forth
Queen Doris, of the Women's Palace Queen.
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[Antipater kisses her hand; Herod leads her down the steps of the throne; Alexander and Aristobulus slightly incline as she is led out.
Sons,
We shall all hunt together in three hours.
Your brother is a cunning hunter—ibex,
Wild asses, and gazelles he has hunted daily.
(To Antipater.)
Have you set chetahs on gazelles, my son?
I have often loosed a chetah . . .
[Alexander and Aristobulus have moved away down the terrace between the pomegranate-flowers and blood-red curtains. Herod turns from Antipater.
Gone!
Antipater laughs low. Herod shrugs his shoulders, and, putting an arm round Antipater, moves away down the room.
| The Accuser | |