Chapter 5

_The Banqueting-hall_.

_Enter_ ALBOVINE _and_ ROSAMUND.

ALBOVINE.

This June makes babes of men; last night I deemed When thou hadst wished me peace as I passed forth A footfall pressed behind me soft and fast, And turning toward it I beheld nought: thee I saw, and Almachildes hard at hand Turned back toward thee: nought stranger: yet my heart Sprang, and sank back. I laughed against myself, That manhood should be girlish, when the heat Burns life half out within us. Even thine eyes, Like stars before the wind that brings the cloud, Look fainter. Ere they fill the banquet full And bid the guests about us where we sit, Tell me if aught be worse than well with thee.

ROSAMUND.

Nought.

ALBOVINE.

Wilt thou swear it, sweet?

ROSAMUND.

By what thou wilt— By God and man—by hell and earth and heaven. I know what ails thy loyal heart of love And binds thy tongue for fear to bid me know. The cup we drank of when we feasted last Tastes bitter on it yet. Thou wilt not bid me Pledge thee therein again. If I bid thee, Pledge me thou shalt—and seal thy pardon.

ALBOVINE.

Be not Too sweet for woman.

ROSAMUND.

Cross me not in this.

ALBOVINE.

Mine old fast friend Narsetes hath my word Plighted. All funeral reverence shall inter The royal relic, and all thought therewith Of strife between thy father’s child and me Or less than love and honour.

ROSAMUND.

Nay, my lord, Let the dead thing live as a lifelong sign Of perfect plight in love and union. This Were no dishonour done to fatherhood But honour shown to wedlock. Here is spread The feast, the bride-feast of my love and thine, Whereat the cup of death shall serve our lips To drink forgetfulness of all but love. Herein thou shalt not thwart me.

ALBOVINE.

God forbid.

ROSAMUND.

God hath forbidden: and God shall be obeyed. Bid thy Narsetes play the cup-bearer, And I will pour the wine: my hand shall fill The sacramental draught of love that seals Our eucharist of wedlock.

ALBOVINE.

Yea, I know To drink with thee is even to drink with God. Thou art good as any God was ever.

ROSAMUND.

Ay? We know not till we die.

ALBOVINE.

Thou art wise and true As ever maid was born of the oldworld north In the oldworld years of legend. Bid Narsetes Bring thee the chalice: thou shalt mix the draught Whence we will drink life, if true love be life, Even from the lipless mouth of bone that speaks Death.

ROSAMUND.

I will mix it well with honey and herb Sweet as the mead our fathers drank, and dreamed Their gods so drank in heaven—draughts deep and strong As life is strong and death is deep. I go To bid Narsetes hither.

[_Exit_.

ALBOVINE.

Nay, by God, Whoever God be, never Christ or Thor Beheld or blessed a nobler wife, whose love Was found through proof of purity by fire More like our northern stars and snows and suns, And sane in strong sufficiency of soul As womanhood by godhead from the womb Elected and exalted.

_Enter_ NARSETES.

NARSETES.

King, thy wife Hath given me back thy message given her.

ALBOVINE.

Ay? And thou hast given her back my cup, then?

NARSETES.

King, I have given it. Loth to give it if I were, Ye know: she knows as thou: thou knowest as she.

ALBOVINE.

What ails thee to distaste thy duty? Man, Thou shouldst be glad, being loyal. Knowest thou not Her will it was that we should pledge therein To-night, this hour, our lifelong love, and seal it More surely so than priest or prayer can seal?

NARSETES.

Her will it was, I know, not thine. I would Thou hadst not yielded up to hers thy will.

ALBOVINE.

Thou liest: I have not yielded it: I have given Love, willing as the springtide sea gives up Her will to the eastern sea-wind’s.

NARSETES.

Love should give No more than love should crave of love: and this Is such a gift as hate might crave of death Or priests of God when angered.

ALBOVINE.

Hark thee, man. Thou art old, and when I loved thee first and found thee My lord and leader down the ways of war, My master born by right of manfulness And steersman through the surf of battle, time Gaped as a gulf between us: sire and son We might be: now I bid thee hold thy peace, Lest all these memories perish, and their death Give life more strong than theirs to wrath, and leave thee Shelterless as a waif of the air when storm Drives bird and beast to deathward. What I bade thee I bid thee do, and leave me.

NARSETES.

King, I go.

[_Exit_.

ALBOVINE.

What, have I played the Berserk with my friend? So should not kings. What meant he? Men wax old, And age eats out the natural sense of love Which gives the soul sight of such nobler things As trust may see by grace of truth more fair Than doubt would fear to dream of. Rosamund Knows more by might of faith and love than he. And yet I would, and yet I would not, fool As even in mine own eyes I am, she had not Given me this proof, desired of me this sign, How clear her soul is toward me save of love, To attest her pardon of me. Would it were Sunrise to-morrow!

_Enter_ ALMACHILDES _and_ HILDEGARD.

Whence come these, to bring Sunrise about me? Nay, I bade you be Here. Does thy memory too not fail thee, boy, Burnt out by stress of summer

ALMACHILDES.

No.

ALBOVINE.

Nor hers?

HILDEGARD.

How might it, king? Thou art good to us.

ALBOVINE.

All things born Seem good to lovers in their spring of love, And all men should be. Maiden, God doth well To give us foresight of the sight of heaven By looking in such eyes as love like thine Kindles and veils for love’s sake. Fain was I To see my boy’s bride and her bridegroom here Before the feast broke in on us, and bless Their love with mine—if mine be blessing.

HILDEGARD.

Sire, As the earth gives thanks in spring for the April sun I would and cannot yield you thanks for this.

ALMACHILDES.

I cannot thank at all. I cannot thank God.

ALBOVINE.

Art thou mazed with love? For her thou canst not Thank God? What feverish doubt of love or life Crazes or cramps thy spirit?

ALMACHILDES.

I cannot say. My heart, if any heart be left in me, Is as it was not thankless: yet, my king, I know not how to thank thee.

ALBOVINE.

Thank me not: I did not bid thee thank me. Love thy love, And God be with you: so may God be found Thankworthier. Keep some heart in thee awhile For God’s and her sake.

ALMACHILDES.

All I may I will.

_Re-enter_ ROSAMUND, _followed by_ NARSETES _and Guests_.

ALBOVINE.

Sit, friends and warriors: thou, my boy, next me, And by my wife thy bride. This night, that leaves But two days more for June to burn and live, Plights with my queen’s troth mine in life and death This last one time for ever, in the cup Whence none shall drink hereafter. Not in scorn, Sirs, but in honour now the draught is pledged Between us, ere this relic stand enshrined And hallowed as a saint’s on the altar. Queen, I drink to thee.

ROSAMUND.

I thank thee. Good Narsetes, Give him the chalice. Women slain by fire Thirst not as I to pledge thee.

[_As_ ALBOVINE _is about to take the cup_, ALMACHILDES _rises and stabs him_.

ALBOVINE.

Thou, my boy?

[_Dies_.

ROSAMUND.

I. But he hears not. Now, my warrior guests, I drink to the onward passage of his soul Death. Had my hand turned coward or played me false, This man that is my hand, and less than I And less than he bloodguilty, this my death Had been my husband’s: now he has left it me.

[_Drinks_.

How innocent are all but he and I No time is mine to tell you. Truth shall tell. I pardon thee, my husband: pardon me.

[_Dies_.

NARSETES.

Let none make moan. This doom is none of man’s.