The Tragedy of Arthur: A Novel
GLOUCESTER
My words have then consumed but their own tails?
ARTHUR
Go, lead our furious arms for us. Take care
That you advance no swifter than the rear.
The hindmost rank27 is every army’s heel.28
GLOUCESTER
The body, lacking head, will range29 about
If king they saw in battle now’s dislodged.
It is too hard upon your first assay.30
Your nobles still mistrust and countermand
Each other’s words, bend not to my impose.31
Thick-sinew’d32 Cumbria and saucy33 Norfolk
Will bow to king but never seneschal.
Arthur, you are no single man, but king.
You must in every act revolve upon34
The country’s cares and gracious God’s intent
For this the flock of which you wield the crook.
ARTHUR
You show that I am truant35 in command.
Your warming sun-bright words have dried a path
Which I perceive at last through muddy cares.
GLOUCESTER
My lord, I am in all humility
Made glad and do admire this sovereign lord
Pursuing wiser course when ’tis revealed.
ARTHUR
To quell the noble plaints and cheer the men,
The colors of the king will ride on you,
My armor and close helm, my flag and shield.
You will not speak, but gesture royally,
Short-tongued36 for military stratagems
Outrav’ling37 in your bloodied silent mind.
And I will gallop up anon,38 to ride
With you afore the Humber’s far behind.
GLOUCESTER
What gear so notable39 can stay40 a king?
This pulls dishonor down on both our heads.
ARTHUR
Smooth not thy tongue, but smooth thy brow its cares.
Though kingdom’s needs concern my every thought,
A king is licensed still to be a man.
GLOUCESTER
Of this, I fear, my lord, you are mistook.
ARTHUR
’Tis of no moment, none by cock and pie.41
You’ll make a country ride on sun-gold day,
To glad these moody lords who want but some
Brief show of royal confidence, which you
From me reflect on steel and painted skin.42
And when, at Lincoln’s gate, the arrows sing,
To me they’ll sing, in my own proper coat.
GLOUCESTER
Yet list me still, my boy, my wayward boy.
ARTHUR
No longer, Duke of Gloucester, but thy king.
If chartered are thy words to gainsay kings,43
Still king it is that grants these liberties.
Or, soft, thy boy, but king as well, good Duke.
Now come and do as I command of thee.
Exeunt
[ACT II, SCENE V]
[Location: The road to Lincoln]
Enter Denton, Sumner, and Bell
DENTON
High words ride on high wind,1 I say. When they
would have your guts to stuff their pudding-bags,2
they start at singing of Troy for us to love our labors
more.
BELL
I grant York was but first I ever knew of war. Never
had I chance until now, I was not able, but what I saw
in York’s turned3 roads calls shame on talk like that.
SUMNER
A new warrior, la! And all the glories fall in for him.
And thou’rt equal to the king! Had his first taste at
York. Didst thou and he stand with shoulders
touching?
BELL
Why bend thy brows?4 Do I go boasting? Nay. I
walked in tremble-knee’d, sure. But did I skirr?5
When the dragon6 belched fire and the ordnance7
thundered, I stood firm. Knocked two Germans
down, I did. Lifted one his beaver back when I put
him on the turf. Put my blade through. I did, thus,
just pushed it through. Like when I would kill
coneys8 with my brother, like that, some, tough, yet
not so tough, in truth. It goes in soft. I never cared to
look the coney in his eye neither, when time came.
Nor cared to look at this big yellow9 one. Said
something in Saxonish, I suppose it was.
DENTON
Like as not only giving thee “rest you merry.”10
BELL
Think you so?
SUMNER
Or “fair fall you, valiant soldier.”
BELL
He may, he may have.
SUMNER
What block art thou? Needest thou be set to school in
Saxon talk to know he begged thee mercy or swore
out upon thy soul or cried for his new orphan or his
own Saxon mother in Saxonland, which is far from
York, I tell thee, too far to be wandering in hope of
friendly greetings. Hast thou hope he did forgive
thee? Honors thee thy valor? What tales to sing
thyself to bed withal!
BELL
No stories, but what I have seen I’ll sing: men do with
valor face death and all the doom beyond when for
their king they fight.
DENTON
Bend, boy, bend thy head, thy battle-mate’s on hoof.
Gloucester for Arthur passes
SUMNER
His visor down, all silence.
DENTON
A ghost, like. I first knew battle for his father. Thou
mightst have eaten butter had I stepped in cream.11
SUMNER
But this one fights the same as his sire, no fear at all in him.
DENTON
Is he not flesh? Is he of other stuff and feels not a
blade peel off skin? His eyes are agates? They do not
jelly if an arrow pinch ’em? His bones so hard as will
not splinter out the skin as I saw Nick Safe’s arm do?
BELL
What serves this talk? To fright a man before a battle’s
fought is no victory, nor like to win us one. Every
fool can say the price to flesh, but marching in
withal, as our king there does march, that’s a lesson,
not to gabble subtle meant to void an army’s guts
afore the fight. What more corruption could a
canker12 spread in corn or rose than that? Thou
mightst be a Saxon tongue to make us weak in heart.
DENTON
A fig13 for all thy corn and flowers, boy.
BELL
Thy breath stinks enough. A flower might cover o’er thy toothless mouth and worse.
SUMNER
That stink he borrowed of certain French
companions, all now burning night and day, and off
to powder tubs.14
DENTON
I’ll learn you both some Saxon words, you knaves.
BELL
I need no more words of thee, coward, nor can my nose take none.
Trumpets
SUMNER
Quiet now, the both. That’s Lincoln there and the trumpets sound.
BELL
After York, it will be nothing. I had some chance to be
at York at all. They’ll stand me a spigot at the Pard’s
Head,15 if I tell my tale.
DENTON
Again a fool, before and after a fool, a fool from claw
to beak. You sit mum, not you who tells it, you, the
man by you tells it and you sit mute as marble and
first you say it was not this, it was nothing, then you
say you want no talk, and then, when the noise fo
r a
tale is up, then, then you say, “So. I’ll tell you how it
was at York, but it’s no tale I can tell swift, and—” and
you wait a time, you cough, and say, “Throat’s dry.”
Then old Francis opens wide the taps for a man who was at York.
Trumpets
BELL
That’s the trumpet of our company. To the walls and
later learn me more of this soldier science.
Exeunt
[ACT II, SCENE VI]
[Location: Lincoln]
Alarums and excursions, including Gloucester in Arthur’s armor
Enter Mordred, Calvan, Colgerne, Scottish and Pictish nobles, Saxon soldiers
MORDRED
What dev’lish hag was mother to this fiend?
Yet Arthur holds the field, untouched by blades!
No man is he but war itself come down
To earth to look upon the death of souls.
We melt before his charge, our heart is broke!
COLGERNE
No Uter, he: more war-like is the son.
He stalks full silent as with windpipe slit.
CALVAN
We are enow still armed and holding ranks
That with a voice to stir us to our task
We yet can thrash back south these enemies
And hoist our father’s arms on Lincoln’s walls.
But ope your throat and lust’ly call the fight!
MORDRED
Great Calvan’s words do fill my lungs with air:
On northmen, on! To arms, to arms, to th’fight!
In Arthur’s blood I’ll bathe my limbs tonight,
And Britain stride undoubted in my right!
Alarums and exeunt
[ACT II, SCENE VII]
[Location: Lincoln]
Alarums, excursions. Enter Gloucester for Arthur and Hebrides. They fight.
Hebrides is slain. Enter English nobles
NORFOLK
The shamèd enemy displays his haunch!1
DERBY
’Tis Lincoln now, not York, that English tongues
Will speak when they would conjure victory.
Four-fold the threat we doubted lurked in stealth,2
The city was well-manned and fortified,
But Arthur’s greyhound-sight did note a gap
And lusty-blooded split it with his arm.
CUMBRIA
While Gloucester passed the battle’s day at rest.
By this proud flesh3 upon my arms and face,
All striped these many years in England’s wars,
That seneschal is recreant4 and base.
SOMERSET
But softly, Cumbria, hold tongue. The king
Doth wave us off to solitary pray.
Exeunt
[Gloucester unhelms and kneels]
GLOUCESTER
Deception ’pon deception preys and fats
Itself, the stronger to deceive anew.
’Twas ever thus, but now is Gloucester’s name
All shard bestrewn,5 so Arthur’s fledgèd6 name
Might tower7 up to all the world’s esteem.
Because I winked at his small boyish deeds,
Now habit binds me tighter, cuts my flesh,
And I omit behaviors grosser still.
What kingdom have we won this day at war?
What rule deserve from such unhonest8 toil?
Enter Arthur as friar9
ARTHUR
[Aside] Why here’s a glass that shows one’s better face.
Were I of suppler knee, as there I seem,
I’d bow to earth my joints and plant my thanks.
Would this one here could reign instead of me,
A wise old king, resolved yet never rash.
I would I saw such pious king as this
When I do peer into my subjects’ eyes.
But no.
Imperfect is the glass of others’ eyes
Wherein we seek in hope of handsome glimpse
Yet find dim shapes, reversed and versed again,
Which will not ease our self-love’s appetites.
But let us make more pleasant now our thoughts:
I’ll hood myself and from my bloodied twin
[Hooding himself]
Glean news of Lincoln’s fate and mine.— [To Gloucester] O, King!
Might errant10 friar ease your soul’s distress?
In earth and blood you are o’er-crusted, still
The soul may be clean searched11 and truly healed.
GLOUCESTER
Thou startled, priest, and near did feel my blade.
ARTHUR
Confess and I will shrive you back to war
New-cleansed and shent.12
GLOUCESTER
But I must hoard my act.
The blackest sins I bear are sins I share,
So my conspirator must kneel with me.13
And kings, what’s more, may whisper14 but to popes,
Or to your lord, my Bishop Caerleon.