SCENE 4

_The Castle on Zion. A Hall._

MOSES, ARTAXERXES, JEHU, _and other_ SERVANTS _preparing a feast_.

_Afterwards_ SOEMUS, SILO, JUDAS.

MOSES.

Come, Artaxerxes! Still with wits a-rambling? Look sharp, look sharp! You play no clock with us.

ART.

Had you done that for livelong years, as I, You’d be in just the case that touches me, More so if every night you got to dreaming You had the old-time post still in your care. I make machine-like grasp with my right hand Toward my left hand’s pulse-tick, counting, counting, And counting off to sixty ere the thought Comes over me I am a clock no more.

MOSES.

Then once for ever--mark ye that with us You’re not to take the time. We have for that The sand and the sun-dial. For yourself, You’ll take the time like all of us--for action. Sheer lazy-lumpishness!

ART.

Nay, let me swear it!

MOSES.

Peace, peace! You’ve never counted at your meals. What’s more, oath-swearing’s not the mode with us, And (_aside_) if the King had not been half a heathen We’d not be blessed with this outlandish slave. Why, here the music-makers come! Look sharp!

[_Goes out to the others._

JEHU.

Say, is it really true, this tale of you They tell?

ART.

Why what’s to stop it being true? And must I then a hundred times aver it? At the great satrap’s court I was a clock, Well-off at that, much better than with you. At nights I had a spell, then ’twas my brother, And in the day too when I went to eat. And I must say I do not thank your King That with the other prisoners of war He dragged me here. True, toward the end my post Was somewhat hard. They marched me to the field And what with arrows right and left a-flying And men a-falling, you will botch your count More easily of course than in a hall Where folks are come together for the dancing. I screwed my eyes up tight, for I’m no hero Such as my father was. He found an arrow Standing at post--he was a clock like us, Me and my brother, every one a-clocking-- Even then he called the hour and died. What say ye? That was a man! A trifle over-kind That trick of Fate to drive at him the arrow!

JEHU.

And have you then no sand among your people That you must do this?

ART.

We? Have _we_ no sand? Enough to blot and bury all Judaea! It’s just because the satrap there with us Will have things better done than others do them. Why, know you not a man’s pulse tallies truer, If he be sound and have no fevered blood, Than ever sand of yours runs through its pipes? And have your dials any jot of use If it should please the sun to stop his shining? (_Counts_). One! Two!

MOSES (_coming back_).

Off! Off! The guests are coming now!

ART.

So that’s the feast? Why _there_ I saw feasts, look ye, Where never fruit went past the lips if not Brought from some foreign part; where penalty, Oft the death-penalty, was fixed if ever A single water-drop were drunk; where people All trussed with hempen cerements and with pitch Beplastered, in the garden-parks at nights Were burnt for torches----

MOSES.

Peace! What evil then Had those poor fellows on the satrap done?

ART.

Done? Naught at all! With us a funeral Is far more gorgeous than a wedding here.

MOSES.

And I suppose you gobble up your dead? It pairs well with the rest o’ the tale!

ART.

But then Is it not true as well that once your Queen Melted a pearl to nothing in her wine, That was more costly than the King’s whole realm, And that she gave this wine unto a beggar Who gulleted it down like common stuff?

MOSES.

It is not true, thank God!

ART. (_to_ JEHU).

Well--but you said it!

JEHU.

Because I felt it was a brave thing for her, And such is told of the Egyptian Woman.

MOSES.

Be off with you!

ART. (_pointing to the roses which_ JEHU _carries_).

Real roses! Why they’re cheap. Among our folk we’ve silvern ones and golden. These should be sent to other lands where flowers Are costly--rare as gold and silver here.

[_The servants scatter. The guests, among them_ SOEMUS, _have been assembling during the latter half of this scene. Music and dancing._ SILO _and_ JUDAS _detach themselves from the others and advance to the foreground_.

SILO.

What does this mean?

JUDAS.

You ask what does this mean? The King is coming back, and that to-day.

SILO.

You think so?

JUDAS.

Can you ask? Could there well be Another ground than this for such a feast? Go, practise some new-fangled bob o’ the back!

SILO.

Yet it was said that----

JUDAS.

Sham and Flam, as ever, If it were said some evil overtook him, But quite in order, since there’s many a one That wishes him this evil. Do men dance In houses where there’s wailing for the dead?

SILO.

Then soon there’ll be a deal of blood set pouring-- The dungeons since the outbreak are cram full.

JUDAS.

I know that better than you e’er could know’t; I’ve dragged them in; full many a one, myself. For ’twas so crass, this outbreak, so wrong-headed, That every man who did not bend his thoughts To hang himself was bound to stem its current. You know I have no heartfelt love for Herod However low I set my back a-bobbing-- But he has right in this--the Romans are Too mighty for our strength, we are no more Than a mere insect in the lion’s gullet. It cannot sting him, for it’s gulped and gone.

SILO.

I’m only sorry for my gardener’s son Who threw a stone against the Roman Eagle And had the ill success to hit his mark.

JUDAS.

How old is he?

SILO.

Let’s see! How long is it From when I broke my foot? He was born then. I know it since his mother could not nurse me. Yes, that’s right! Twenty!

JUDAS.

Then he suffers naught.

[MARIAMNE _and_ ALEXANDRA _appear_.

The Queen!

[_Is about to go._

SILO.

What do you mean by that? A word more!

JUDAS.

Good; but between ourselves! Because he’s twenty He suffers naught. But if he were nineteen Or one-and-twenty ’twould befall him ill. Next year the case is altered.

SILO.

Cease your jest!

JUDAS.

I tell you it is thus, and if you’ll know The why, because the King’s self has a son Of twenty years, and yet he knows him not. The mother took the child when he forsook her By stealth away and swore a solemn oath She would corrupt it----

SILO.

Oh, the hideous woman! A heathen!

JUDAS.

Likely so; but I know not-- Corrupt it so that he’d be forced to kill it. But to my mind it was a frenzy-freak That spumed away with the first foaming rage; But still it pricks his peace, and no death-sentence Has ever been fulfilled on any person Whose years have tallied with his own son’s age. Comfort your gardener, but--between ourselves!

[_They disappear among the others._