________________________________________________
Title: Brude
Author: Cale Young Rice [
More Titles by Rice]
[This sketch, written in 1898, was in no sense conceived for the stage.]
(A Dramatic Fantasy)
Dealing with:
Boadicea, queen of the Britons.
Lamora, a Gaulish captive.
Brude, a Druid.
Cormo, a warrior.
Corlun, Druid high-priest,
and
Horma, a wandering hag.
[SCENE: A Hall of hewn wood, on the island of Mona, in which BOADICEA sits enthroned and attended. On her right, warriors, long-haired, mustached and painted with woad. On the left, a band of Druids robed in white: among them BRUDE, whom she watches jealously from time to time. On the floor in front of her cringes LAMORA, held by CORMO.
Boadicea.
Britons, hear!
Ye know how my lord,
Caerleon's liege,
Swore feal to the Romans
His lorn wife and daughters--
When the wolf, Death,
Gnawed life from his heart.
Ye know how the Roman,
Ravenous traitor,
Slaves us with thongs
Of brutal behest.
Will ye still daunt
Your necks to the noose?
All.
No! no! Queen! no, no, no!
Boadicea.
Then, warriors of iron,
Sworded with terror,
Fly to your henges!
Fight till ye crowd
Hell with the ghosts
Of ethlings that Britons hate.
Warriors.
To the slaughter! Hro! to the slaughter!
[They rush from the hall in haste.]
Boadicea (continuing).
And ye, Druid seers,
Heard by the gods,
Feared by the fiends,
Ye must away!
To your dark fane,
The gaunt oak-forest
Holy with mistle!
White-robed as spirits,
Gold knives uplifting,
Sing to the serpents,
Seek the Charmed Egg!
Druids (bowing with weird signs).
Great is the Queen.
Her Druids hear.
But shall no gift be made?
Boadicea.
Yea ... since Lactantius,
God more than all gods,
Will not be soothed
By sheep or cattle,
On your high altar
Slay ye this maiden of Gaul!
[Points to LAMORA, who cries out to her, then to BRUDE]
Lamora.
Nay, Queen, O pity!
O, Brude, win pity!
Let her not yield me
Prey to the gods.
Rather in battle
'Gainst the hard Roman
Would I be trampled
Into the grave.
Trampled by war-hoofs ...
Into a grave of blood!
Boadicea.
Proud-lip! mocker!
Dare you sputter
Shame on the awful gods?
[Strikes her down.... BRUDE watches helpless.]
Corlun (coming forward).
Kneel, Druids, kneel!
Then bear her away!
Meet me at midnight,
Druids' day,
Deep within Mona's wood.
[They kneel, then go, bearing LAMORA.]
[SCENE II: Sunset. A rocky cave near the forest. BRUDE facing back and forth with restless muttering.]
Brude.
O thou Lactantius,
Whom other gods
Worship with trembling,
While their star-chariots
Roll to the sea!
Symbolled by circles,
Endless in being,
Dost thou love life-blood
As Druids say?
When the white maiden's
Pierced on the altar
Dost thou drink praises
From her wide wound?
So teach the seers,
So did I, Brude, swear--
Till I saw Lamora!
Her eyes are love-fires,
Her words are sorcery
Stronger than god-laws!
But ... who comes hither?
[Has heard a moan.]
Hither harasser
Of these my thoughts?
Ha! is it Lamora
Followed by Cormo?
Curses like vampires
Fall on his head!
[Steps aside.]
Lamora (entering in despair).
Mother! sweet mother,
Far in the Eastland,
Soon must thy daughter
Pass from earth's day!
Ne'er shall a boy-babe
Suck from her bosom
Valor to strangle
Wolves in the lair!
Never shall husband
From the red war-fields
Bring her the foeman's spoils!
Cormo (behind her).
Lamora, proud one--
Lamora.
Leave me, viper!
Stand from me farther!
Will you e'en now
With tongue spit poison
On my last ebbing hour?
Cormo.
Nay, maiden, cruel,
But I will aid thee.
Words are as smoke,
Deeds as flame!
Hear! I will save thee
From Druid talons
And bear thee whither thou wilt:
Give but thy vow to wed me!
Lamora.
Wed thee?--thee?...
Never--while cliffs
O'er the plain jutting
Plight void death to the leaper!
Never while waves
Curl gray lips
Yearning to gulf the doomed!
Cormo.
Then thou shalt die! shalt die!
Druids shall gash
Streamings of life
Out of thy shrinking sides!
Lamora.
Then die I will!...
But not thro fear.
Coward of Britons,
Will I e'er mother
Child of thy loins.
Rather let flames,
Tongues of the gods,
Suck the red life from my breast.
Yea, let the gods,
Glutless as men,
And, as women,
Treacherous, vain--
Strike, at the call of thy Queen!
[Goes, followed by CORMO.]
Brude (coming forward).
No! thou shalt live, live, live!
[Goes into cave, then comes forth with a knife.]
[SCENE III: Midnight. A stormy glade in the forest. On one side a cromlech whereon LAMORA lies bound: CORLUN beside her with an uplifted blade of gold. On the other side Druids--around a pot of serpents over a fire in the cavern of an uprooted tree.]
[BRUDE is among them, watchful.]
Corlun (chanting).
Orpo!--Ai!--
Now shall the Roman
Backward be driven,
O gods!
Orpo!--Ai!--
For to the death stroke
Lamora's given,
O gods!
Orpo! Ai!--
Her skyward soul
Thro the dank dark shall rise,
As the morn's sun
Unto your halls
Far o'er the skies.
And she shall say
Thus Druids crave
Help of the helpers of men.
Druids
(incanting around the cavern).
Orpo!--Ai!--
Serpents are spawned
Of devils' spit,
O gods!
Orpo!--Ai!--
Spit boiled with blood
In caverns lit
By fungous fangs
From Mona's wood.
[They circle. BRUDE steals behind CORLUN.]
Orpo!--Ai!--
Serpents are spawned
In magic broth
To coil and wriggle,
Writhe and twist;
Till their froth
Becomes a mist,
Till the mist
An egg shall form--
Charm that Druids prize.
Brude (with a sudden cry).
Corlun, the gods
Wait for thy soul!
[Slays him.]
Lamora, fly!
With me, fly--
Thro the black forest!
[Has cut her bonds.]
Great Lactantius,
Maker of gods,
Loves not the maiden's death-cry!
[They escape.]
Druids (in terror).
Corlun is slain!
Corlun! slain!
Woe to the Druids!
Woe from the heavens!
Woe from the ireful Queen!
[They pursue confusedly.]
SCENE IV: Dawn; far in the forest. Enter BRUDE and LAMORA faintingly to a spot where HORMA, the hag, unseen by them is gathering herbs.]
Lamora.
Strength no more
Wings me for flight.
With hunger of sleep I faint.
[Falls.]
Brude (sinking by her).
Yet ere thy sleep,
Maid like the dawn,
List to my heart's wild uttering!
All I have dared
Was for thy love--
Tho but to love thee
Would I dare all!
Lamora.
Ah! What is love,
Brude wise and noble?
Is it this burning
Far in my breast
Melting my soul to thine?
Is it this power
Hid in my eyes
Shaping thy face
On hill and cloud?
Is it this whisper,
As of sea-waves,
Singing thy name to me?
Yea! So now we may sleep.
[They lie down. HORMA, the hag, who has heard them, creeps maundering up and gazes at them.]
Horma.
Owl and eaglet?
Have they fled?
Then let witch-toads sing!
Oaths forgotten,
Would they wed?
Then let bull-bats,
Wild a-wing,
Flap the moon from heaven!
Deep in the forest--
Ha! ho! ho!
[Breaks off, hearing shouts. Continues.]
They'll be slain!
[Fleeing.]
They'll be slain!
Brude (waking).
What was my dream?...
[Hears the shouts.]
Lamora! Lamora!
[They start up and look at each other. Silence.]
Lamora (at length).
So was it doomed.
Now we must cross
Thro the death-fog
Unto the blest.
But side by side,
And ere they come.
[Hands him her knife.]
Here we shall die.
But in the Meadows
Where the thin shades
Wander and wander,
Ever in love we'll live!
Fold first thy arms around me.
[They embrace.]
Brude (starting from her).
Hear! they have come--
Cormo! The Queen!...
Lamora.
Then strike! for thy face
Alone would I see in death!
Brude (killing her then himself).
Cormo!... Queen!... Death!
Ye shall never ... tear us apart!
[Falls with her in his arms, as BOADICEA and warriors enter.]
Boadicea (seeing them).
Dead!... Leave them, food
For beast and bird!
Leave them! away! away!
[All go with pride and spurning.]
[The end]
Cale Young Rice's poem: Brude
________________________________________________
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
