Edwin Davies Schoonmaker

“ Ely— Pierre!
Pierre— (Still looking up.) Oh, surely,
Surely the hands that lifted Oswald up,
Lifted our abbey too, and we are close
To heaven. Perhaps about us in the air
Are voices and the wings of those that hear
Our very whispers,—martyrs, saints, Saint Giles.
Ely—You make it terrible to live in flesh.
Pierre—Oh, terrible! It is terrible to live
Where every word drops in an angel's ear.
I feel that every breath should be a prayer.
Ely—I feel so too, Pierre. These acts of grace—
Pierre—Are but the sparks of power.
[Pg 79]
(He starts toward the chapel.) ”

“ Jacques Sar— After this shower of blood?
Bacqueur—From that black planet came the thunder stone
That tore the field back there.
Hugh Capet— You think he would?
Jardin—Now hear what Jardin says. If he could ask,
For what he suffered in the Holy Wars,
Two gifts of Heaven, and two strong saints should soar
Past the green steeples of these poplars here
And fold their white wings in that street and say:
"Soldier, what are they?" What would Jardin say?
First this: (He steps back upon the steps.)
Up yonder is a holy monk
Whom God has blessed above all living men. ”

“ Rudolph— No.
Fritz—He ravages the whole wide—
Rudolph— (Moving his hand horizontally.)
This way, yes;
But that way?
(Pointing up.)
No. He dare not face the light
That father Woden pours upon the peaks.
Under Valhalla's eaves the dark elf died
When the dawn smote him; so the dragon there.
His paws would break off on the mountain sides.
Fritz—We will stay here and cut them off.
Rudolph— Those paws?
Those huge, red, century-scarred paws? With what?
Fritz—They want our woods and crofts, that's what they want.
Rudolph—The Saxon sword is broken. ”

“ Rudolph— Witchcraft.
Fritz—You mean that they will burn her?
Rudolph— Do they not
Burn witches in the city...? We can die;
We on our swords can perish; but the girl...?
(He goes off through the wood, leaving Fritz silent upon the bridge.)
Fritz— (To himself.)
Canzler will lay his sword upon her throat.
(With bowed head he walks on across the bridge. As he passes into the deeper shadows the white sheep's pelt lying in the bank at the roadside catches his eye. He goes curiously toward it, when, seeing the post, he glances up and stops suddenly. For a time he stands as one appalled.) ”

“ The times are fire, and fight for Benedict.
To build the abbey, Father must have gold.
To get the gold, the people must be bilked.
But Father will return them light for gold.
I never doubt the end he has in view."
Louis—You are the brain, Father; I, the hand.
You know that I would help you. You know that.
Abbot—Anyway, Louis, I am justified.
For simple souls find joy in simple faith.
Go down into the village. Guido tells me
Their faces shine because of this bright thing.
It purifies and cheers them. Cyprian says
There is no power that does not come from God. ”

“ And trouble us no more, we must do that?
Rudolph—No; we must leave, and starve it.
Fritz— It don't starve.
More hunger means more flesh. Let's feed it steel.
Rudolph—Steel draws the blood and brings the hunger on.
Fritz—Then draw the life. We don't feed it enough.
Rudolph—It eats the blade—
Fritz— Then feed it hilt and all.
Rudolph—It eats our swords and they come out in claws.
As Canzler says, a thousand spears have but
Peeled off its poisonous scales, and where they fall
A deadly fire burns and the elves die.
Fritz—We will call Wittikind. ”

“ Like light and shade over the mountain slopes,
Each wrestling not for victory but strength.
[Pg 93]
Louis—And you and Benedict?
Abbot— I am not his foe.
I come from Florence and he comes from Rome.
Louis—And you love painted windows.
Abbot— I love God;
He loves the Church. There is the difference.
He iterates with fire in his eyes
That Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell,
But not a word that Ignorance shall fall
Or Passion lose her lightning in the deep.
I wrestle with the bright against the dark. ”

“ Hugh Capet—Signal! signal!
(Above, sounds the battle-horn, this time nearer.)
Jacques Sar—Now!
Jules Bacqueur—Now then!
Cries—Now! Now! NOW!
(Slowly the priest lifts the crucifix.)
All—God's with us! God's with us!
(They go springing up the mountain. A flash of lightning strikes the uplifted crucifix and clings for a moment like a wreath of blue fire round the brow of the priest whose face shows white as chalk. The crucifix slips from his fingers and he reels and falls backwards.)
Cries—Men! Men! Men! ”

“ Fritz— We—
Rudolph— We—?
Fritz— We have our swords.
[Pg 11]
Rudolph—We have them now.
Fritz— And we can keep them.
Rudolph— We
Can neither keep our swords nor keep ourselves.
Who is it plants the white cross in our land?
The Frank? The Wend? The Saxon; we ourselves.
No; in that fire that burns up from the south
Thousands of our swords have melted and become
Scales on the dragon's back and teeth and claws
That now tear out our hearts. To-day swords strike
For Woden, and to-morrow the strange god
With those same swords storms Valhal, and lays low
Its golden roof. ”

“ Wiglaf—Wild deer shall listen and no foot be heard.
Canzler—Have you forgotten your inspired word?
(Fritz and Rudolph exchange glances.)
Wiglaf—But centuries may pass ere that child comes.
(Selma comes from the cottage and begins to gather dry leaves and chips about the doorway. She is singing to herself and her voice comes faintly through the trees.)
Canzler—Or in these hard days have you, too, lost faith
In Woden?
Wiglaf—Wiglaf lose faith in Woden!
O chief!
(Looking down.)
What shall Wiglaf say? Shall the skald,
Whose eye sees through the darkness, see no light? ”

“ The bitter words. This is the day of days.
Within I shine, though round about the storm
Spreadeth her gloom. Even my hands are dark.
The thunder peals the muster of the dead.
(Faint shouts, left.)
Pierre— (Falling upon his knees.)
They've bitten him! they've bitten him! Pray! pray! pray!
Father Benedict—Nay, Pierre, these are shouts of them whose mouths
Shall sing upon the mountains when my hand
Shall rend the hound and pluck the blind from death.
His breath is in the hollow of my hand,
And though he taunted me and though I might—
(He blows in his palm.) ”

“ Louis enters, carrying a flagon and a silver cup, his face showing terror. Seeing the Priest, he stops suddenly as though amazed, then enters slowly.)
Father Benedict—I care not were he nine times circled
round,
As Hell is, I would—
Abbot— (Lifting his hand.)
Let me finish. Then,
If with eyes open you will venture on,
Do it. The night is wild. Heaven hath shaken down
Many a pine upon the mountain tops,
And steeples too, no doubt, and towns, who knows?
No man can tell what dawn shall look on. ”

“ If we admit their principle that Faith,
Or anything outside the fact that one
Is a man, is the basis of the rights of man,
We shame our Saxon fathers who fought and died
For a lie, if this be true. For when the South
Pushed through the Frankish forest with her sword
Between her teeth, and stained with blood, and held
Her hands out, saying, "Here, take this or this,"
Our fathers chose the darkness of the grave
From the red hand, and left the black hand filled
With that which now to keep itself alive
Eats Hartzel's land and licks its fangs toward us. ”

“ Canzler—The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout.
(Fritz bows his head and walks back among the trees.)
Rudolph— (From a pent-up heart.)
Shall it, Wiglaf?
Canzler— The bare North shall be green.
Wiglaf—Be red.
Canzler— Wiglaf!
Wiglaf— The young leaves come out red.
As one who puts his ear against a door
(He gets down and puts his ear to the earth.) ”

“ Don't treat the old man that way, Benedict.
You do not know how keenly Father feels
The issue of this bout. Amazed I stood
Just yonder by the chapel steps and watched
Your spears break into fire. O Benedict,
What skill, what skill, what admirable skill!
Father Benedict—In dialectics I do boast some skill.
Louis—Compared to Father's admirable skill!
Father Benedict— (With a leer toward the Abbot.)
For what I have I thank no heathen sage.
Louis—With that composure which the gods must feel
Your reached your spear and slipped his lady's glove—
Father Benedict—His lady's glove? ”

“ A flash of lightning reveals, in the rear, the dwarf climbing up the mountain, leading Oswald by the hand. Instantly loud and prolonged shouting bursts up from about a hundred feet below. The two come hurrying forward along the ledge. Oswald's face is streaked with blood and from the end of its black cord, his silver crucifix, likewise stained, dangles almost to his knees. Gradually it slips lower and lower till it finally falls and lies upon the grass. Having reached the path, they make their way up and are soon lost to view. ”

“ Canzler— It is following them.
Rudolph—Here he comes running up the mountain!
Canzler— Where?
Rudolph—Wait till the lightning shows the slopes again.
[Pg 209]
(They listen. The shouts draw nearer.)
Canzler—The Bailiff's blood has roused them.
Rudolph— With that blood
Val-father has enticed it from its lair
To tempt the mountains and to seek for more.
(Lightning.)
Up here! Coming up here!
Canzler— (Shouting.) Fritz!
Rudolph— The dark bloom,
Whose scattered roots the years have fed, at last
Unfolds its petals to the sun. The North
In all her graves is waiting for the dawn. ”

“ SCENE FOUR—A forest on the mountain tops. Untouched by the storm, which has swept the lower slopes, the trees here stand calm and motionless. Flowers are everywhere. Far off, between the innumerable trunks, is seen a space of dark sky rifted near the horizon and bright with the red and gold of the new dawn. From the left, into this forest stillness, silent as the scene itself, comes the dwarf leading Oswald by the hand. ”

“ Away to the center and left, a stretch of bottom land with cultivated fields. One gets a nearer view of the snow-capped peaks seen from the mountain side in the first Scene and from the courtyard of the abbey in the second. In the foreground at the roadside, is a large olive tree with its dark shadow lying directly beneath it, for over the landscape is a clear light as of a noonday sun shining from a cloudless sky.
Under the tree, with several willow baskets strung together lying upon the ground beside him, sits the dwarf, Sigurd, polishing Oswald's silver crucifix upon his knee. ”

“ A lone green sprig with barren woods all round.
Can we shake off the snow and say, "Appear,"
To the young race asleep within the trees?
Cry out above the dragon winter, "Die"?
You cannot hurry in its growth one leaf.
Yet you would thrust a sword in Oswald's hands,
Thinking to hurry Prophesy along.
If naked strength can save us, why not chief's?
Why Oswald, if the battle is to be now?
Without the aid of Woden, he is naught.
Fritz—Without it, naught, and with it, everything.
Rudolph—Val-father calls to-day then? ”

“ There is a loud crash of thunder followed, above, by the shouts of the Saxons who come charging down upon them. Attempting to rescue the priest's body, before which Bacqueur has thrown his great shield, the villagers receive the shock and are driven back fighting down the mountain, Fritz hacking at Hugh Capet's head-with his battle ax, Rudolph charging old Jacques, while Canzler with one slash of his magic sword slices in two Bacqueur's great shield which falls like paper from his hands. ”

“ That peculiar light which one sometimes sees when clouds are rifted during a storm illumines the scene and makes the green grass and trees show almost like flame. Below, voices are heard, and soon, climbing up the mountain, Father Benedict appears, his face pale, his eyes set before him. Upon the skirt of his snow-white chasuble there is seen, slanting down, a red streak as though he had pressed against a bloody sword-blade. ”

“ In an old abbey down in Italy
There hangs an ancient chime of seven bells.
Oft when a child I heard them in the dawn
Singing like angels in the Apennines,
Their tones so blended, so harmoniously
Tuned to the planets that, when twilight fell,
They were the echoes of the Pleiades.
Those old, old bells! I hear them still sometimes.
We children called them by the golden names
Archangels wear. Well, in a storm one night
Raphael went down. Some say a huge black hand
[Pg 109] Strangled him in his tower and hurled him down.
And others say—mark, Benedict—that God—
Father Benedict—Anathema! ”

“ Canzler has parried the thrust, and his sword has passed through the chain hauberk deep into the Bailiff's breast. The latter staggers back, his astonishment that steel armor should be pierced by mortal sword giving way to a look of chagrin, and after endeavoring to steady himself with the blade of his sword, falls flat, his armor clanking on the road. The villagers drop their stones and flee terror-stricken. ”

“ Therefore, my son,
Lift up your face and let white words go forth
And usher in the Sabbath. Truth in the heart
Is fire under water, but on the lips
It lighteth every man the Way of Life.
(The Priest goes toward the chest near the door.)
Benedict, will you do as Pilate did?
Father Benedict—Is he the Lord?
Abbot— He is—
[Pg 163]
Father Benedict— Then who are you?
Abbot—He is a child of our Lord's.
Father Benedict— So am I.
Abbot—So you are, Benedict, a full grown child.
Father Benedict—Even if I don't pray here
(With a disdainful motion toward the priedieu.) ”

“ The Devil is a big, long-legged crane,
Wading the marsh of life, and we are frogs,
Tadpoles and water-bugs. I'll fast and pray.
(He shields his flickering taper with his gown and makes his way across the court toward the chapel.)
SCENE FOUR—A desolate mountain road along the top of a cliff that plunges down from the edge of a pine-wood. Overhead the wind is heard moaning in the trees, and upon the ground patches of moonlight wave to and fro. From the left, past some bushes which almost hide the road from view, the dwarf, Sigurd, appears carrying the monk, Oswald, limp in his arms. ”

“ In the distance, between the dark boles, patches of sky with the fading light of evening. The scene slopes down into a clump of tangle-wood on the left. Up the slope, upon a stump that stands out from among the trees, Selma is sitting with her head bowed, her face almost hidden by her hair which has fallen forward across her shoulders. She is dressed in dappled fawn-skin. In her hand she has a spray of dog-wood blossoms from which she is thoughtlessly tearing the leaves. From the thicket below, three fairies steal in one after another, having in their hands wild-flowers and ferns. ”