Federico García
Lorca
Blood Wedding
(Bodas de sangre)
1933
A
tragedy in three acts and seven scenes
Act
I
A. S. Kline © 2007 All Rights Reserved
This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose. Permission to perform this version of the play, on stage or film, by amateur or professional companies, and for commercial purposes, should be requested from the translator,
Contents
Cast List (in order of appearance)
Bridegroom
Mother of the Bridegroom
Neighbour
Mother-in-law of Leonardo
Wife of Leonardo
Leonardo
Young Girl
Maid to the Bride
Father of the Bride
Bride
Wedding Guests
Woodcutters
Moon
Death, as a Beggar-woman
Girls from the village
Women in mourning
(A room painted yellow)
BRIDEGROOM: (entering)
Mother.
MOTHER: What?
BRIDEGROOM: I’m
off.
MOTHER: Where to?
BRIDEGROOM:
To the vineyard (He makes as if to leave)
MOTHER: Wait.
BRIDEGROOM:
What is it?
MOTHER: Your lunch, my son.
BRIDEGROOM: Never
mind. I’ll eat grapes. Give me a knife.
MOTHER: And why?
BRIDEGROOM: To
cut them
MOTHER: (muttering)
Knives, knives…Curse them all, and the wretch who invented them…
BRIDEGROOM: Let’s change the subject.
MOTHER: And shotguns, and pistols, and little razors,
and even hoes and winnowing hooks.
BRIDEGROOM: Fine.
MOTHER: Whatever can cut through a man’s body, a lovely
man, in the flower of his life, who is off to the vines or the olives, because
they are his, his family’s….
BRIDEGROOM: (Lowering
his head) You’ve missed the point.
MOTHER: …and he doesn’t return. Or if he does return
it’s so we can lay a palm leaf or a big plate of salt on him so the body won’t
swell. I don’t know how you can carry a knife about you, or why I have these
serpent’s teeth in my kitchen.
BRIDEGROOM: Are you done yet?
MOTHER: If I lived a hundred years I could speak of
nothing else. First, your father, who brought me the scent of carnations, and
enjoyed me three short years, and then, your brother…is it right, is it
possible that so small a thing as a pistol or a knife can do for a man, a bull of
a man? I’ll never be quiet. The months pass and pain still pricks my eyes, to
the very roots of my hair.
BRIDEGROOM: Are we finished?
MOTHER: No. We are not finished. Can anyone give me
back your father or your brother? And they talk about prison. What is prison?
They still eat there, they smoke; they play their instruments! My dead push up
the grass, silently turning to dust; two who were like flowers….the killers, in
prison, coolly gazing at the mountains…
BRIDEGROOM: Do you want me to kill them?
MOTHER: No…if you want to
know, it’s this…How can I not speak when you go through that door? It’s this…I
don’t like you carrying a knife. It’s this…I wish you wouldn’t go to the
fields.
BRIDEGROOM: (Laughing)
Come now!
MOTHER: I wish you were a woman. You’d not go to the river
now, and we would sit and sew.
BRIDEGROOM: (Taking his mother’s arm and laughing)
Mother, what if I took you with me to the vineyard?
MOTHER: What use is an old woman in a vineyard? Are you going
to lay me down under the vines?
BRIDEGROOM: (Taking her in
his arms) Old, so old, so very old.
MOTHER: Your father would take me along. He was of the true
race. Good blood. Your grandfather left offspring everywhere. That’s what I
love. Man, man, harvest, harvest.
BRIDEGROOM: And I, mother?
MOTHER: You, what?
BRIDEGROOM: Must I say it again?
MOTHER: (Seriously) Ah!
BRIDEGROOM: You think it’s wrong?
MOTHER: No
BRIDEGROOM: Then…?
MOTHER: I just don’t know. Suddenly, like this, it always takes
me by surprise. I know she’s a good girl. It’s true isn’t it? Well-behaved.
Hard-working. She bakes her own bread, and sews her own skirts, yet I feel,
when she’s named, as if I’d been struck on the forehead with a stone.
BRIDEGROOM: That’s foolish.
MOTHER: More than foolish. I’ll be left alone. I only have you
left, and I’m sad you are leaving.
BRIDEGROOM: But you’ll come with us.
MOTHER: No. I can’t leave your father and brother here alone…I
must go and see them every morning, and if I went away, likely one of the
Felix’s would die, one of that family of killers, and they’d bury him beside
them. And it must not be! That! It must not be! Because I’d dig them up with my
nails and shatter them against the wall myself.
BRIDEGROOM: (Emphatically)
Talk about something else.
MOTHER: Forgive me. (Pause)
How long have you known her?
BRIDEGROOM: Three years. I can buy the vineyard now.
MOTHER: Three years. She had a fiancé, no?
BRIDEGROOM: I don’t know. I think not. A girl needs to take a good
look at the man she marries.
MOTHER: Yes? I looked at no one. I looked at your father, and
when they killed him I looked at the wall in front of me. One woman for one
man, and that’s it!
BRIDEGROOM: You know my girl is good.
MOTHER: No doubt. But I don’t think I know who her mother was.
BRIDEGROOM: What does that matter?
MOTHER: (Gazing at him)
Son.
BRIDEGROOM: What do you want?
MOTHER: It’s true! You’re right! When do you want me to ask
them for her?
BRIDEGROOM: (Happily) Is Sunday fine?
MOTHER: (Gravely)
I’ll take her the studded earrings, they’re heirlooms, and you can buy for her…
BRIDEGROOM: You know best…
MOTHER: Buy her some embroidered silk stockings, and for
yourself two suits…Three! You’re all I have!
BRIDEGROOM: I’m off. Tomorrow I’ll go see her.
MOTHER: Yes, yes; and then make me happy with six
grandchildren, at the very least, now that your father’s no longer here...
BRIDEGROOM: The first one is for you.
MOTHER: Yes, but have girls. So we can embroider and sew and
be tranquil.
BRIDEGROOM: I’m sure you’ll grow to like my bride.
MOTHER: I’ll like her. (She
goes to kiss him and draws back) Go, you’re too big for kisses. Give them
to your wife. (Pause.) Once she is
yours.
BRIDEGROOM: I’m going.
MOTHER: Dig over the field near the mill, you’ve been
neglecting.
BRIDEGROOM: It’s done!
MOTHER: Go with God. (The
Bridegroom leaves. The mother remains seated her back to the door. A Neighbour
dressed in dark clothes, wearing a headscarf, appears in the doorway.)
Enter.
NEIGHBOUR: How are you?
MOTHER: As you see.
NEIGHBOUR: I was down at the
shop and came to see you. We live so far apart….!
MOTHER: It’s twenty years since I’ve been to the top of the
street.
NEIGHBOUR: You’re right.
MOTHER: You think so.
NEIGHBOUR: Things happen. Two
days ago they brought my neighbour’s son home with both his arms mangled by the
harvester. (She sits.)
MOTHER: Rafael?
NEIGHBOUR: Yes. And what will
he do now? I often think your boy and my boy are better where they are, asleep,
and at rest, and not exposed to being made useless.
MOTHER: Hush. All that’s just talk…there’s no consolation.
NEIGHBOUR: Ay!
MOTHER: Ay! (Pause)
NEIGHBOUR: (Sadly). And your son?
MOTHER: He just went out.
NEIGHBOUR: At last he’ll buy
the vineyard!
MOTHER: He had luck.
NEIGHBOUR: Now he’ll marry.
MOTHER: (As though
waking up and moving her chair closer to her neighbour’s.) Listen.
NEIGHBOUR: (Confidingly.) Tell me.
MOTHER: Do you know my son’s fiancée?
NEIGHBOUR: A good girl!
MOTHER: Yes, but…
NEIGHBOUR: But you can’t say
anyone knows her well. She lives with her father, way off, miles from the
nearest house. But she’s a good girl. Accustomed to solitude.
MOTHER: And her mother?
NEIGHBOUR: Oh I knew her.
Beautiful. Her face shone like a saint’s; but she was not to my liking. She
didn’t love her husband.
MOTHER: (Loudly) Ah, the things people know!
NEIGHBOUR: Pardon me. I mean
no offence; but it’s true. Now, there was no talk of whether she was a decent
woman or not. There was nothing of that. She was proud.
MOTHER: Always the same!
NEIGHBOUR: Well, you asked me.
MOTHER: I wish no one knew anything about them, the living one
or the dead one. That they were like two thistles, no one noticed, that pricked
if anything came near.
NEIGHBOUR: You’re right. Your
son is a catch.
MOTHER: He is. Worth taking care of. I heard that the girl had
a fiancé a while back.
NEIGHBOUR: She was about fifteen.
He was married two years ago, to a cousin of hers in fact. Nobody remembers the
betrothal.
MOTHER: How come you remember, then?
NEIGHBOUR: You asked me…!
MOTHER: Everyone wants to know about what affects them. Who
was the boy?
NEIGHBOUR: Leonardo.
MOTHER: Which Leonardo?
NEIGHBOUR: Leonardo…of the
Felix family.
MOTHER: (Rising.) A
Felix!
NEIGHBOUR: Woman, what do you
hold Leonardo guilty of? He was barely eight at the time of the troubles.
MOTHER: It’s true…But I hear the name Felix (angrily) and that same Felix fills my
mouth with mud (she spits), and I
have to spit it out, spit it out, or kill them all.
NEIGHBOUR: Be calm. What good
does that do?
MOTHER: Nothing. But…you understand.
NEIGHBOUR: Don’t stand in the
way of your son’s happiness. Say nothing to him. You are old. I, too. You and I
must be silent.
MOTHER: I’m to say nothing.
NEIGHBOUR: (Kissing her) Nothing.
MOTHER: (Calmly)
Things…!
NEIGHBOUR: I’m off: soon my
men will be back from the fields.
MOTHER: See what a hot day it is.
NEIGHBOUR: The lads carrying
water to the reapers are burnt black with it. Farewell, my dear.
Farewell. (She
walks towards stage left. Halfway across she stops and slowly blesses herself.
)
Curtain
(A room painted pink, full of
copperware and flowers. In the centre a covered table. It is morning.
Leonardo’s mother-in-law is cradling a child. His wife, opposite her, is
sewing.)
about the great
stallion,
who wouldn’t drink
the water,
the water in its blackness,
in among the branches.
Where it finds the bridge,
it hangs there, singing.
Who knows what water is,
my child,
its tail waving,
through the dark green chambers?
WIFE: (Softly)
Sleep,
my flower,
the stallion won’t drink.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
Sleep,
my rose,
the stallion is crying.
His legs are wounded,
his mane is frozen,
in his eyes,
there’s a blade of silver.
They went to the river.
Ay, how they went!
Blood running,
quicker than water.
WIFE:
Sleep, my
flower,
the stallion won’t drink.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
Sleep,
my rose,
the stallion is crying.
WIFE:
It would not
touch
the wet shore,
his burning muzzle,
silvered with flies.
He would only neigh,
to the harsh mountains,
a weight of river, dead,
against his throat.
Ay, proud stallion
that would not drink the water!
Ay, pain of snowfall,
stallion of daybreak!
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
Do
not come here! Wait,
close the window,
with branches of dream,
and dreams of branches.
WIFE:
My child is sleeping.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
My
child is silent.
WIFE:
Stallion,
my child
has a soft pillow.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
Steel
for his cradle.
WIFE:
Lace for his
covers.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
A
singing, child, a singing.
WIFE:
Ay, proud
stallion
that wouldn’t drink the water!
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
Don’t
come here! Don’t enter!
Go up to the mountain
through the sombre valley,
to where the wild mare is.
WIFE: (Gazing)
My
child is sleeping.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
My
child is resting.
WIFE: (Softly)
Sleep,
my flower,
the stallion won’t drink.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Rising, and
very softly)
Sleep, my rose,
the stallion is crying.
(They take the child into another room. Leonardo enters.)
LEONARDO: And the child?
WIFE:
Asleep.
LEONARDO: He has not been well. He cried all night.
WIFE:
(Cheerfully) He’s as fresh as a rose
today. And you? Did you go to the blacksmith’s?
LEONARDO: I’ve just come from there. I’ve been
re-shoeing that horse for more than two months, and he’s always casting one.
They must catch on the stones.
WIFE:
Could
it be you ride him too hard?
LEONARDO: No. I barely ride him.
WIFE:
Yesterday
the neighbours said you were seen at the edge of the plain.
LEONARDO: Who said that?
WIFE:
The
women picking capers. It really surprised me. Was it you?
LEONARDO: No. What would I be doing in that wasteland?
WIFE:
That’s
what I said. But the horse was soaked in sweat.
LEONARDO: You saw him?
WIFE:
No.
My mother did.
LEONARDO: Is she with the child?
WIFE:
Yes.
Would you like a drink of lemonade?
LEONARDO: With ice-cold water.
WIFE:
You
weren’t home for lunch...!
LEONARDO: I was at the corn-factor’s, weighing the
wheat. There’s always a delay.
WIFE: (Preparing
the drink, attentively) And the price was good?
LEONARDO: It was fair.
WIFE:
I
could do with a new dress; and the baby a cap with ribbons.
LEONARDO: (Rising)
I’ll go and look at him.
WIFE:
Be careful, he’s asleep.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Entering) So who’s been racing that
horse? It’s down there, lathered, its eyes rolling in its head, as if it’s come
from the ends of the earth.
LEONARDO: (Sourly)
Me.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: He’s
yours; forgive me.
WIFE:
(Timidly) He was having the wheat
weighed.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: He can go back there, as far as I’m
concerned. (She sits.)
(Pause)
WIFE:
Your
drink. Is it cold enough?
LEONARDO: Yes.
WIFE:
Have
you heard my cousin’s getting engaged?
LEONARDO: When?
WIFE:
Tomorrow.
The marriage will be in a month. I hope they’ll invite us.
LEONARDO: (Gravely)
I’m not sure.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: I don’t think the mother’s too satisfied with
the marriage.
LEONARDO: And perhaps she’s right. The girl’s a worry.
WIFE:
I don’t like you both thinking ill of a good
girl.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: But when he says so it’s because he knows
her. Wasn’t she your girlfriend for three years or so? (Pointedly)
LEONARDO: But I finished with her. (To his wife.) Are you going to cry now?
Stop that! (He pulls her hands from her
face brusquely.) Let’s go and see the child. (They go out arm in arm.)
(A happy young girl appears. She
enters running.)
GIRL: Señora.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: What is it?
GIRL: The bridegroom’s down at the shops, and he’s
buying the best of all they have.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: He’s alone?
GIRL: No, with his mother. Very grave, very tall. (She imitates her.) But, what luxury!
GIRL: They’ve plenty of money.
GIRL: And they bought silk stockings! ...Ay, what
stockings! Stockings girls dream about! You can see: a swallow here (Showing her ankle), a boat here (Pointing to her calf) and here, a rose.
(Pointing to her thigh).
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Child!
GIRL: A rose with its pollen and stem! Ay! All in
silk!
MOTHER-IN-LAW: They’ll unite two fine fortunes.
(Leonardo and his wife return.)
GIRL: I came to tell you what they’ve been buying.
LEONARDO: (Sharply)
It doesn’t matter to us.
WIFE:
Leave
her alone.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Leonardo, she didn’t deserve that.
GIRL:
I’m
sorry. (She exits, crying.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW: Why do you have to be so unpleasant to
people?
LEONARDO: I didn’t ask for your opinion. (He sits down.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW: That’s fine.
(Pause)
WIFE:
(To Leonardo) What’s wrong? What
ideas are milling around inside that head of yours? Don’t push me off, so,
knowing nothing…
LEONARDO: Leave me alone.
WIFE:
No.
I want you to look at me and tell me.
LEONARDO: I’m off. (He
rises.)
WIFE:
Where
are you going?
LEONARDO: (Bitterly)
Can’t you be quiet?
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Energetically,
to her daughter) Hush! (Leonardo
exits) The child! (She goes out and
returns with him in her arms. The
wife remains standing…motionless.)
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
His
legs are wounded,
his mane is frozen,
in his eyes,
there’s a blade of silver.
They went to the river.
Ay, how they went!
Blood running,
quicker than water.
WIFE: (Turning about slowly as if dreaming.)
Sleep, my flower,
the stallion’s not drinking.
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
Sleep,
my rose,
the stallion is crying.
WIFE:
A singing, child, a singing.
who wouldn’t drink
the water!
WIFE: (Dramatically)
Don’t come here! Don’t enter!
Go up to the mountain!
Ay, pain of snowfall
stallion of daybreak!
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Weeping)
My child is sleeping…
WIFE: (Weeping, and slowly drawing closer.)
My child is resting…
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
Sleep,
my flower,
the stallion won’t drink.
WIFE: (Weeping and
leaning over the table.)
Sleep, my rose,
the stallion is crying.
Curtain
(Interior
of the cave-house where the Bride lives. At the back, a cross of large pink
flowers. The doors, curved archways, with lace hangings with pink ties. For the
walls, a hard white material, curved fans, blue vases and small mirrors.)
MAID: Enter… (Very
affable, full of hypocritical humility. The Bridegroom and his Mother enter.
The Mother is wearing plain black, with a lace mantilla. The Bridegroom wears
black corduroy with a large gold chain.)
Would you like to sit? They’ll be here in a
moment. (She goes out. The mother and son
remain seated, motionless as statues. A long pause.)
MOTHER: Did you bring your watch?
BRIDEGROOM: Yes. (He
takes it out and gazes at it.)
MOTHER: We must leave in good time. What a distance
these people live!
BRIDEGROOM: But
their land is good.
MOTHER: Good; but too remote. A four hour journey,
and not a house or a tree.
BRIDEGROOM: These are the dry plains.
MOTHER: Your father would have covered it with trees.
BRIDEGROOM:
Without water?
MOTHER: He’d have found some. The three years he was
married to me, he planted ten cherry-trees. (Recalling.) The three walnut-trees by the mill, a whole vineyard,
and an orpine, the one they call the Jupiter plant
that has purple leaves, which dried up. (Pause)
BRIDEGROOM: (Referring
to the Bride.) She must be getting ready.
(The Bride’s father enters. He is
an old man, with gleaming white hair. His head is slightly bowed. The Mother
and the Bridegroom stand and shake hands with him silently.)
FATHER: A long journey?
MOTHER: Four hours. (They all sit.)
FATHER: You must have come the long way round.
MOTHER: I’m too old now to come through the fields by
the river.
BRIDEGROOM: It makes her ill. (Pause)
FATHER: A fine crop of grass this year.
BRIDEGROOM: Fine indeed.
FATHER: In my day, this land wouldn’t yield grass. We
had to labour over it and shed tears to get anything from it.
MOTHER: It does now. But don’t worry. I’ve not come
to ask for anything.
FATHER: (Smiling.)
You’re richer than I. Vineyards are worth a fortune. Each plant is like a
silver coin. What I feel is that our fields….you understand….are too far apart.
I like everything joined together. There’s a thorn in my heart, a little plot
that’s a reproach in the middle of my fields, one that they won’t sell me for
all the gold in the world.
BRIDEGROOM: That’s always the way.
FATHER: If we could harness twenty pair of oxen to
drag your vineyards over here and lay them on a slope. What happiness…!
MOTHER: Why is that?
FATHER: What’s mine is hers, and what’s yours is his.
That’s why. To see it all joined together! Because to join things is beautiful!
BRIDEGROOM: It would be less work.
MOTHER: When I’m dead, you can sell, and buy over
here.
FATHER: Sell! Sell! Bah! Buy, buy everything. If I’d
had sons, I’d have bought everything from the mountains to the river. Because
it’s not such good land, but strong arms could make it good, and nobody comes
by to steal your crops, and you can sleep peacefully. (Pause.)
MOTHER: You know why I’ve come.
FATHER: Yes.
MOTHER: Well?
FATHER: It seems fine to me. They’ve talked it over.
MOTHER: My son is fit and able.
FATHER: My daughter the same.
MOTHER: My son is handsome. He has never known a
woman. His honour is brighter than a white sheet in the sun.
FATHER: What can I say of my girl? She’s up at three
with the morning star to make breakfast. Never speaks out; is as soft and
gentle as wool; she embroiders all sorts of embroidery, and can cut a rope with
her teeth.
MOTHER: God bless their house.
FATHER: May God bless it.
(The Maid appears with two trays.
One carrying glasses, the other sweetmeats.)
MOTHER: (To the
son) When do you want the wedding to be?
BRIDEGROOM: Next Thursday.
FATHER: The day when she’ll be just twenty-two.
MOTHER: Twenty-two! That would have been my eldest
son’s age if he’d lived. He’d be alive, warm and vibrant as he was, if men had
not invented knives.
FATHER: You shouldn’t dwell on it.
MOTHER: Every minute. Hand on heart.
FATHER: Thursday then. Is that right?
BRIDEGROOM: That’s right.
FATHER: We and the children will go to the church by car,
as it’s a fair distance, and the rest by carts and on horseback.
MOTHER: Agreed.
(The Maid crosses the room.)
FATHER: Tell her she can come in now. (To the Mother) I’m sure you’ll like her.
(The Bride appears. Her hands are
folded modestly and her head is bowed.)
MOTHER: Come
to me. Are you happy?
BRIDE: Yes, señora.
FATHER: You shouldn’t look so serious. After all in
the end she will be a mother to you.
BRIDE: I am happy. Why I said so, is because I want
to be married.
MOTHER: Naturally. (Taking her by the chin.) Look at me.
FATHER: She’s the image of my wife.
MOTHER: Yes? What lovely eyes! Do you know what
marriage is, little one?
BRIDE: (Serious)
I know.
MOTHER: It’s a man, and children, and a two foot thick wall against all the
rest.
BRIDEGROOM: Is anything more required?
MOTHER: No. How happy you’ll be! How happy!
BRIDE: I know my duty.
MOTHER: Here are some presents.
BRIDE: Thank you.
FATHER: You’ll take something?
MOTHER: Not for me. (To the son.) And you?
BRIDEGROOM: I will. (He
eats a sweetmeat. The Bride also eats.)
FATHER: (To the Bridegroom.) A glass of wine?
MOTHER: He never touches it.
FATHER: All the better!
(Pause. They are all standing.)
BRIDEGROOM: (To the
Bride) I’ll come tomorrow.
BRIDE: At what time?
BRIDEGROOM: At five.
BRIDE: I’ll be waiting for you.
BRIDEGROOM: When I have to leave you I feel a great chill
and a sort of knot in my throat.
BRIDE: When you’re my husband you won’t feel so.
BRIDEGROOM: That’s so.
MOTHER: We must go. The sun won’t wait. (To the Father) All agreed?
FATHER: Agreed.
MOTHER: (To the
Maid) Farewell.
MAID:
God
go with you.
(The Mother kisses the Bride, and
they prepare to leave in silence.)
MOTHER: (In the
doorway) Goodbye, daughter. (The Bride
answers with a wave of her hand.)
FATHER: I’ll see you out. (They leave.)
MAID:
I’m
longing to see the presents.
BRIDE: (Sharply)
Leave them be.
MAID:
Ay,
child, show me!
BRIDE: I don’t wish to.
MAID:
The stockings,
at least. They say they’re embroidered silk, woman!
BRIDE: I said no!
MAID:
For
heaven’s sake. Oh, well. It seems you don’t want marriage gifts.
BRIDE: (Biting
her hand, in pain.) Ay!
MAID:
Child,
what’s wrong? Do you think your reign is over? Don’t think sour thoughts.
Where’s the need? None at all. Let’s see the presents. (She shakes the box.)
BRIDE: (Catching
at her wrists.) Leave them alone.
MAID:
Ay,
woman!
BRIDE: Leave them, I said.
MAID:
You’re
stronger than a man.
BRIDE: Haven’t I done a man’s work? If only I were
one!
MAID:
Don’t
talk like this.
BRIDE: Hush. We’ll speak of something else.
(The light fades from the scene. A
long pause.)
MAID:
Did
you hear a horse in the night?
BRIDE: What time?
MAID:
At
three.
BRIDE: It must have been a horse that strayed from
the herd.
MAID:
No.
It carried a rider.
BRIDE: How do you know?
MAID:
Because
I saw him. He stopped by your window. I was startled.
BRIDE: Was it my fiancé? He passes by at that hour
sometimes.
MAID:
No.
BRIDE: You saw him?
MAID:
Yes.
BRIDE: Who was it?
MAID:
It
was Leonardo.
BRIDE: (Sharply)
Liar! Liar! Liar! What would he come here for?
MAID:
Wine.
BRIDE: Silence! Damn your tongue! (The sound of a horse is heard.)
MAID: (At the
window.) Look, Lean out. Was that him?
BRIDE: It was!
The Curtain falls quickly.
(The hallway of the Bride’s house.
The doorway is at the back. It is night. The Bride appears wearing a white
petticoat heavy with lace and embroidery, and a white bodice. Her arms are
bare. The Maid is similarly dressed.)
MAID: I’ll finish doing your hair here.
BRIDE: I can’t stand it inside, it’s so hot.
MAID:
In
this place it’s not even cool at dawn.
(The Bride sits on a low chair and
gazes at herself in a hand mirror. The Maid combs the Bride’s hair.)
BRIDE: My mother came from a place where there were
many trees. Rich land.
MAID:
She
was so full of life!
BRIDE: But she wasted away here.
MAID:
Her
fate.
BRIDE: As we all waste away. Even the walls are on
fire. Ay! Don’t tug so hard.
MAID:
It’s
so I can get this wave right. I want it to fall over your brow. (The Bride gazes at herself in the mirror.)
You’re so beautiful! Ay! (She kisses her
passionately.)
BRIDE: (Gravely)
Finish my hair.
MAID: (Combing her hair) You’re fortunate.
You’re going to embrace a man, and kiss him, and feel his weight!
BRIDE: Hush.
MAID:
And
the best is when you wake and feel him beside you, and his breath brushes your
shoulders, like a nightingale’s feather.
BRIDE: (Sharply)
Will you hush?
MAID:
But,
child! A marriage. What else is it? A marriage is such and nothing more. Is it
sweetmeats? Is it sprays of flowers? No. It’s a shining bed and a man and a
woman.
BRIDE: You shouldn’t say it.
MAID:
Perhaps
not. But that’s the true joy of it.
BRIDE: Or the true bitterness.
MAID:
I’m
going to place the orange-blossom here, so that the garland sets off your hair.
(She tries out a spray of orange-blossom.)
BRIDE: (Gazing
at herself in the mirror.) Give it me. (She
takes the orange-blossom and looks at it and lowers her head disconsolately.)
MAID: What’s this?
BRIDE: Leave me alone.
MAID: This is no time for sadness. (Animatedly) Give me the blossom. (The Bride throws it to the floor.) Child! That’s tempting fate,
throwing your garland on the ground. Raise your head! Don’t you want to be
married? Speak. You can still say no. (She
rises.)
BRIDE: It’s clouded. An ill wind at the heart of it:
who does not feel it?
MAID: You love your man.
BRIDE:
I
love him.
MAID: Yes, yes, it’s true.
BRIDE:
But
it’s such a huge step.
MAID: You have to take it.
BRIDE:
I’ve
promised I would.
MAID: I’ll fix your garland for you.
BRIDE: (Sitting
down) Make haste, because they’ll soon be here.
MAID: They’ve been on the road two hours already.
BRIDE: How far from here to the church?
MAID: Two miles by the river bank, double that if you go
by the road.
(The Bride rises and the Maid
gazes at her admiringly.)
MAID:
Let the bride wake
on
her wedding day.
Let
the world’s rivers
carry
her garland!
BRIDE: (Smiling)
Let us go.
MAID: (Kissing
her warmly and dancing round her.)
Let
her awake
beneath
the green branch
of
flowering laurel.
Let
her wake
to
the branch and spray
of
the laurel flowers!
(A loud knocking is heard.)
BRIDE: Open the door! It must be the first guests.
(She goes inside. The Maid opens
the door and expresses surprise.)
MAID: You?
LEONARDO: Yes. Good morning.
MAID: The first!
LEONARDO: Was I not invited?
MAID: Yes.
LEONARDO: So I came.
MAID: And your wife?
LEONARDO: I am on horseback. She’s coming by road.
MAID: And you didn’t meet up with anyone?
LEONARDO: I overtook them.
MAID: You’ll kill that beast, over-riding it.
LEONARDO: When it’s dead, it’s dead! (Pause)
MAID: Sit down. Nobody’s about yet.
LEONARDO: And the bride?
MAID: I’m going to dress her myself, now.
LEONARDO: The bride! She must be happy!
MAID: (Changing
the subject) And the child?
LEONARDO: What child?
MAID: Your son.
LEONARDO: (Recalling
himself as if from a trance) Ah!
MAID: Are they bringing him?
LEONARDO: No.
(A
pause. The sound of singing far off.)
MAID:
Let the bride wake
on her
wedding day.
LEONARDO:
Let the bride wake
on
her wedding day.
MAID: There they are. But they’ve still a way to come.
LEONARDO: (Rising)
The bride will wear a large garland, no? It shouldn’t be too large. A little
one would suit her much better. And has the bridegroom brought orange-blossom
yet, for her corsage?
BRIDE: (Appearing
in her petticoat and wearing the garland of orange-blossom) He has brought
it.
MAID: (Sharply)
You mustn’t show yourself like that.
BRIDE: Why not? (Gravely)
Why did you ask if he’d brought the orange-blossom? Have you a reason?
LEONARDO: None. What reason should I have? (Approaching her) You, who know me, know
I’ve no reason. Tell me, then. What did I mean to you? Try exercising your memory.
Oh, a pair of oxen and a miserable shack weren’t enough for you. That’s the
trouble.
BRIDE: Why are you here?
LEONARDO: To witness your marriage?
BRIDE: Just as I witnessed yours!
LEONARDO: Forced to it by you, tied by both hands. They
may kill me, but now they daren’t show me contempt. Though with their silver,
that shines so bright, they show contempt for everyone.
BRIDE: That’s a lie!
LEONARDO: I don’t want to discuss it, because I’m a
hot-blooded man, and I don’t want the whole place to hear my voice.
BRIDE: I can shout louder.
LEONARDO: It’s pointless. You can’t have what’s gone.
(The bride looks at the door, full of
anxiety.)
BRIDE: You’re right. I shouldn’t even be speaking to
you. But my spirit’s angered that you’ve come to spy on me at my wedding and
deliberately ask about the orange-blossom. Go and wait for your wife, outside.
LEONARDO: Can’t you and I even speak to one another?
MAID: (Angrily)
No you can’t.
LEONARDO: After my marriage I thought, day and night,
about who was to blame, and every time I thought about it the guilty one
altered; for there’s always a guilty party!
BRIDE: A man on horseback can go anywhere, and knows
how to put pressure on a woman lost in a wasteland. But I have my pride. This
is my wedding. And I’ll lock myself away with my husband, whom I must love
above all other things.
LEONARDO: Pride won’t serve you. (He draws nearer.)
BRIDE: Don’t come near me!
LEONARDO: To be silent and consumed by fire is the worst
punishment on earth, of those we inflict on ourselves. What use was pride to
me, not seeing you, and you alone, lying there night after night? None at all!
It served to stoke the flames higher! Because one thinks time is a cure, and
the walls will shut things out, and it’s not true, it’s not true. When flames
reach the heart, they can’t be quenched!
BRIDE: (Trembling)
I must not listen to you. I must not hear your voice. It’s as though I
drank a bottle of something sweet and lay on a carpet of roses. And I’m dragged
down, and know I’m drowning, but I slip backwards.
MAID: (Seizing
Leonardo by the lapels) You must leave, right now!
LEONARDO: This is the last time I’ll speak to her.
Don’t you worry.
BRIDE: I know it’s madness, and I know it causes me
pain deep in my heart, and here I am listening meekly, watching him throw his
arms about.
LEONARDO: No peace until I’ve said the words. I married. Now you marry.
MAID: (To Leonardo)
And she will be married!
VOICES: (Singing,
drawing closer)
Let the bride wake
on
her wedding day.
BRIDE: Let the bride wake! (She runs off to her room)
MAID: There they are now. (To Leonardo) Don’t you come
near her again.
LEONARDO: Don’t worry. (He exits stage left.)
(It is
daybreak.)
A GIRL:
Let
the bride wake
on
her wedding day;
let
the wheel turn,
our
garlands display.
VOICES: Let the bride wake!
MAID: (Animated)
Let
her awake
beneath
the green branch
of
love in flower.
Let
her wake to the branch and the spray
of
the laurel!
SECOND GIRL: (Entering)
Let her
awake
with
floating hair,
a
singlet of snow,
shoes
gleaming with silver,
and
on her brow jasmine.
MAID:
Ay,
the sweet girl
while
the moon shines!
FIRST GIRL:
Ay, now her lover
comes
to the olive-grove!
A BOY: (Entering,
with his sombrero held high)
Let
the bride wake,
let
her wedding spill
out
over the fields,
with
dishes of flowers,
and
loaves of delight.
VOICES: Let the bride wake!
SECOND GIRL:
The
bride
has
put on her white garland,
the
bridegroom
ties
on her ribbons of gold.
MAID:
For
a lemon grove
the
bride shall not sleep.
THIRD GIRL: (Entering)
For
an orange grove
the
bridegroom brings silver and cloth.
(Three
guests enter)
FIRST BOY:
Let the dove wake!
Dawn
clears
the
fields of shadow.
FIRST GUEST:
The
bride, the white bride,
a
maiden today,
tomorrow
a wife.
FIRST GIRL:
Come,
dark-haired girl
with
your silken train.
SECOND GUEST:
Come
little dark one,
let
the chill dawn rain dew.
FIRST BOY:
Awake,
bride, awake
blossom
fills the air.
MAID:
A
tree I’d embroider
with
gems and ribbons
and
love in each gem
with
joy all around.
VOICES: Let the bride wake!
FIRST BOY: The
wedding is come!
THIRD GUEST:
The
wedding is come,
when
you will love,
come,
flower of the mountains
the
captain’s daughter.
FATHER: (Entering)
The
captain’s daughter
I
give to the bridegroom.
Here
he comes with oxen as dowry!
THIRD GIRL:
The
bridegroom seems
a
flower of the sun.
Under
his feet
carnations
are springing.
MAID: Oh,
my fortunate child!
SECOND BOY: Let
the bride awake.
MAID: Oh,
and her lover!
FIRST GIRL:
The
wedding bells ring
on
the morning breeze.
SECOND GIRL: Let
the bride come forth.
FIRST GIRL: Let
her come, let her come!
MAID:
Let
the bells peal
Let
the bells ring!
FIRST BOY: Forth
she comes! Now she is here!
MAID:
Like
a bull
the
marriage is risen!
(The bride
appears. She is wearing a black dress, of around 1900, tight at the hips, with
a long train with gauzy pleats and stiff lace. On top of her hair rests a
garland of orange-blossom. Guitars sound. The girls kiss the bride.)
THIRD GIRL: What
have you perfumed your hair with?
BRIDE: (Laughing) Nothing at all.
SECOND GIRL: (Gazing
at the dress) That material is something special.
FIRST BOY: Here is the groom!
BRIDEGOOM: Good health to all!
FIRST GIRL: (Placing
a flower behind his ear.)
The
bridegroom seems
a
flower of the sun.
SECOND GIRL:
Calm
breezes
flow
from his eyes.
(The
groom goes to stand beside the bride.)
BRIDE:
Why are you wearing those shoes?
BRIDEGOOM: They’re shinier
than the black ones.
LEONARDO’S
WIFE:
(Entering and kissing the bride.)
Bless you both. (They talk together
animatedly.)
LEONARDO:
(Entering like
someone performing a chore.)
This
day of the wedding,
we
garland your brow.
WIFE:
So the country is bright
with your river
of hair.
MOTHER: (To the father.) Why are those two here?
FATHER: They’re family.
Today is a day of forgiveness!
MOTHER: I’ll tolerate it, but I don’t forgive.
BRIDEGOOM: How the garland
brings a glow to you!
BRIDE:
Let’s go quickly to the church!
BRIDEGOOM: You’re in a hurry?
BRIDE:
Yes. I want to be your wife, and be alone with you, and hear no
voice but yours.
BRIDEGOOM: I want that too!
BRIDE: And I only want to see
your eyes. And for you to hold me so tight that even if my mother, my dead
mother, called me, I could not break free of you.
BRIDEGOOM: My arms are strong. I’m going to hold you
for the next forty years.
BRIDE: (Dramatically, taking his arm.) Forever!
FATHER: Quickly now! Bring
the horses, and the carts! The sun’s already risen.
MOTHER:
Take care! Let’s not bring ill on the day.
(The
large door at the back opens. They begin to leave.)
MAID:
Leaving
your house,
young
girl so white
you
seem to sail
like
a star through the air.
FIRST GIRL:
Pure
in body and soul,
leaving
your house, to be wed.
(They
prepare to leave.)
SECOND GIRL:
Now you leave your house
to
pass to the church!
MAID:
The
breeze strews
flowers
on the sand.
THIRD GIRL: Ay!
The white bride!
MAID:
A
dark breeze
the
lace of her veil.
(They
leave. The sound of guitars, wooden triangles and tambourines. Leonardo and his
wife remain, alone.)
WIFE: Let’s go.
LEONARDO: Where?
WIFE: To the
church. But don’t ride there. Come with me.
LEONARDO: In the cart?
WIFE: How else?
LEONARDO: I’m not the man to go by cart.
WIFE: And I’m not
the woman to go to a wedding without my husband. I can’t take much more!
LEONARDO: Me neither!
WIFE: Why do you
look at me like that? With daggers in your eyes.
LEONARDO: Let’s go!
WIFE: I don’t know
what’s happening. But I think, and don’t wish to think. I know one thing. It’s
over already. And I have a child. And another on the way. Let’s go you say. The
same fate overtook my mother. But I’m not moving from here.
(There
are voices.)
VOICES:
Leaving
your house,
to
go to the church
you
seem to sail
like
a star through the air!
WIFE: (Weeping)
You
seem to sail
like
a star through the air!
I flew from my house too, just like that. With
the whole world before me.
LEONARDO: (Rising.) Let’s go.
WIFE: But
together!
LEONARDO: Yes. (Pause.) Come on!
(They leave.)
VOICES:
Leaving
your house,
young
girl so white
you
seem to sail
like
a star through the air.
The Curtain falls slowly
(Exterior of the Bride’s house. An
atmosphere of grey-whites and cold blues. Large cacti. Everything sombre and
silvery. A panorama of brownish plateaux, hardened, as though they formed a
country moulded in ceramics.)
MAID: (Arranging glasses and trays on a table)
Turning,
the
wheel, turning
and the
water passing by,
as the
wedding day arrives,
parting
the branches,
and the moon gleaming
on the white verandah.
(In a loud voice) Lay out
those tablecloths!
(In a voice full of pathos)
Singing,
the
lovers, singing
and
the water passing by,
as the wedding day arrives,
glowing with the frost
and coated with the honey
of the bitter almond-trees.
(In a loud voice) Get the wine
ready!
(In a voice full of pathos)
Lover,
lover
of the earth.
Watch
the water passing
as
your wedding-day arrives.
Gather
up your skirts
beneath
your husband’s wing,
and
go from your house.
For
the bridegroom is a dove
with
his breast on fire
and
the fields wait the news
of
blood being shed.
Turning,
the
wheel, turning
and the
water passing by.
Now the
wedding day arrives,
let
the water glow!
MOTHER: (Entering) At last!
FATHER: Are we the first to
return?
MOTHER: No. Leonardo arrived, a
few minutes ago, with his wife. He drove like a demon. His wife nearly died of
fright. He travelled the road as though he was galloping it on horseback.
FATHER: He’s looking for
trouble. Only bad blood there.
MOTHER: What kind of blood do you expect?
His whole family has it. It’s from his great-grandfather, who began their
murderous ways, and the rest of the evil race inherited it, with their knives
and their false smiles.
FATHER: Forget about all
that!
MAID: How can she forget about it?
MOTHER: I grieve to the depths of
my being. When I’m confronted with them, I only see the hand that murdered my
loved ones. Do you see me? Am I mad? Well, it is madness not to have screamed
out all that my heart should utter. There’s a cry in my heart every moment,
against the ones who should be punished, and wrapped in their shrouds. But they
leave me with my dead and I have to be silent. Then people criticise. (She takes off her
shawl.)
FATHER: This isn’t the day
to raise such things.
MOTHER: When the conversation runs
that way, I have to speak out. And today above all. Because now there’ll be no
one left in the house but me.
FATHER: Hoping for fresh company.
MOTHER: That’s my dream.
Grandchildren. (They sit down.)
FATHER: I hope they have plenty. This land needs unpaid
labour. They must wage war on the weeds, the thistles, the stones that emerge
from nowhere. And that labour must come from the owners, to punish and tame it,
and sow the seed. They need a host of sons.
MOTHER: And daughters! Men are creatures
who pass on the wind! They’re forced always to deal with weapons. Girls need
never set foot in the street.
FATHER: (Cheerfully) I’m sure they’ll have both.
MOTHER: My son will do well by
her. He’s from good stock. My father could have had many sons with me.
FATHER: What I wish is that the thing could be done in a
day. That they could produce two or three full-grown men straight away.
MOTHER: But it’s not like that.
It’s so slow. That’s why it’s so terrible to see the blood of a single one spilt
on the ground. A fountain that spurts for a moment and has cost years of our
life. When I reached my son, he was lying in the middle of the street. I
moistened my hand with blood, and tasted it with my tongue. Because it was
mine. You don’t know what that means. In a monstrance, of crystal and topaz, I
would place that earth soaked with blood.
FATHER: Well, we must wait. My daughter is broad-hipped
and your son is strong.
MOTHER: I trust so. (They rise.)
FATHER: Prepare the trays of food.
MAID: It’s done.
LEONARDO’S WIFE: (Entering) I hope all will go well!
MOTHER: Thank you.
LEONARDO: Are you having a
feast?
FATHER: Not much of one. People can’t stay long.
MAID: Here they come, now!
(Guests enter in cheerful groups. The newly-weds enter arm in arm.
Leonardo leaves.)
BRIDEGROOM: I’ve never seen so
many people at a wedding.
BRIDE: (Sombrely) Never.
FATHER: It’s splendid.
MOTHER: Entire families have come.
BRIDEGROOM: People who never
leave their homes.
MOTHER: Your father sowed, and you
are reaping the harvest.
BRIDEGROOM: There are cousins
of mine I’ve never met before.
MOTHER: All the ones from the
coast.
BRIDEGROOM: (Smiling) They were nervous at handling
the horses. (They talk.)
MOTHER: (To the bride) What are you thinking about?
BRIDE: I’m not thinking of
anything.
MOTHER: So many blessings can
weigh heavy. (Guitars are heard)
BRIDE: As lead.
MOTHER: (Forcefully) Ignore their weight. You should be light as a dove.
BRIDE: Will you stay here
tonight?
MOTHER: No. My house is empty.
BRIDE: You should stay.
FATHER: (To the mother) Look at the dance they’re performing. A dance from
the shores of the sea.
(Leonardo appears and sits down. His wife stands behind him, looking
tense.)
MOTHER: They’re my husband’s cousins.
Good for ever when there’s dancing.
FATHER: It’s good to see them.
Something new for this house! (He goes
out)
BRIDEGROOM: (To the bride) You liked the
orange-blossoms?
BRIDE: (Gazing at him) Yes.
BRIDEGROOM: They’re real wax.
They’ll last forever. I’d have liked to cover your whole dress with them.
BRIDE: There was no need.
(Leonardo exits silently stage right.)
FIRST GIRL: Let’s go and unpin
your veil.
BRIDE: (To the bridegroom) I’ll be back soon.
WIFE: May you be happy with my
cousin!
BRIDEGROOM: I’m sure I will.
WIFE: Just the two of you, here,
not going far, creating a home. If only I too lived out here.
BRIDEGROOM: Why not buy some
fields? Hill land is cheap, and it’s healthier for raising children.
WIFE: We’ve no money. And the
way we’re going!
BRIDEGROOM: Your husband is a
good worker.
WIFE: Yes, but he likes to chop
and change too much. Flitting from one thing to another. He’s not steady.
MAID: You’re not eating? I’ll go
and wrap some wine-cakes for your mother, she loves them.
BRIDEGROOM: Give her three
dozen.
WIFE: No, no. A few will be
enough.
BRIDEGROOM: It’s a special day.
WIFE: (To the maid) And Leonardo?
MAID: I’ve not seen him.
BRIDEGROOM: He must be with the
rest, outside.
WIFE: I’ll go and see. (She leaves)
MAID: It’s all beautiful.
BRIDEGROOM: You’re not dancing?
MAID: No one has asked me.
(Two girls pass by behind them, during the whole scene there is a
constant movement to and fro of characters.)
BRIDEGROOM: (Cheerfully) They don’t know any better.
Lively elders dance better than the young.
MAID: So, you’re full of
compliments, young man? What a family yours is! Men amongst men! When I was a
little girl I was at your grandfather’s wedding. What a presence! It was as if
a mountain was getting married!
BRIDEGROOM: I haven’t quite the
same stature.
MAID: But you’ve the same
gleam in your eye. Where’s the little one?
BRIDEGROOM: Taking off her
veil.
MAID: Oh! Look. Since you
won’t be asleep by
BRIDEGROOM: (Smiling) I never eat late at night.
MAID: (Maliciously) If not you, then the bride.
(She leaves)
FIRST BOY: (Entering) Come and drink with us!
BRIDEGROOM: I’m waiting for the
bride.
SECOND BOY: She’ll still be
here at dawn.
FIRST BOY: Which is when it’s
nicest.
SECOND BOY: Just one,
now.
BRIDEGROOM: Let’s go.
(They leave. Sounds of merriment. The bride enters. Two girls run from
the opposite side to greet her.)
FIRST GIRL: Who did you
give the first pin to, me or her?
BRIDE: I’m not sure.
FIRST GIRL: You gave it
to me, right here.
SECOND GIRL: No, to me in
front of the altar.
BRIDE: (Troubled by some internal struggle) I don’t know.
FIRST GIRL: It’s just
that I’d like you to…
BRIDE: It doesn’t concern me.
I’ve too much to think of.
SECOND GIRL: Forgive us.
(Leonardo crosses the scene in the background)
BRIDE: (Seeing Leonardo) And I’m preoccupied right now.
FIRST GIRL: We didn’t
know!
BRIDE: You will when your turn
arrives. These things are serious.
FIRST GIRL: You’re
unhappy?
BRIDE: No. Forgive me.
SECOND GIRL: For what?
But either pin means one will be married doesn’t it?
BRIDE: Either.
FIRST GIRL: It’s just
that one of us will marry before the other.
BRIDE: Do you wish to so much?
SECOND GIRL: (Shyly) Yes.
BRIDE: But why?
FIRST GIRL: Because… (Hugging her friend)
(Both run off. The bridegroom appears and slowly embraces the bride from
behind.)
BRIDE: (Startled) Don’t do that!
BRIDEGROOM: Are you frightened
of me?
BRIDE: Ay! It’s you.
BRIDEGROOM: Who else would it
be? (Pause) Your father, or me.
BRIDE: That’s true!
BRIDEGROOM: Except that your
father would have embraced you more gently.
BRIDE: (Gravely) That’s for certain!
BRIDEGROOM: Because he’s old. (He embraces her firmly and a little roughly)
BRIDE: (Curtly) Don’t!
BRIDEGROOM: Why not? (He releases her.)
BRIDE: Because…of all the guests.
Someone might come in.
(The Maid crosses in the background without looking at them.)
BRIDEGROOM: Why not? It’s
sanctioned.
BRIDE: Yes. But wait…later.
BRIDEGROOM: What’s wrong? You
seem troubled!
BRIDE: It’s nothing. Don’t leave
me.
(Leonardo’s wife appears)
WIFE: I didn’t mean to
interrupt…
BRIDEGROOM: Yes?
WIFE: Has my husband been here?
BRIDEGROOM: No.
WIFE: It’s just that I can’t
find him and his horse is not in the stable.
BRIDEGROOM: (Cheerfully) He’ll have taken it for a
gallop.
(The Wife leaves, looking anxious. The Maid enters.)
MAID: Are you happy with it all?
BRIDEGROOM: I wish it was over.
The Bride is a little tired.
MAID: What is it, child?
BRIDE: It’s like a throbbing in
my head.
MAID: A bride from these hills
needs to be tougher than that. (To the
Bridegroom) You’re the one to cure it, now she’s yours. (She hurries out.)
BRIDEGROOM: (Embracing the Bride) Let’s go and dance.
(He kisses her.)
BRIDE: (Distressed) No. I want to lie down for a while.
BRIDEGROOM: I’ll keep you
company.
BRIDE: What! With all the guests
still here? What would they say? Let me just be quiet for a while.
BRIDEGROOM: Whatever you wish!
But don’t let it take all night!
BRIDE: (From the doorway) I’ll be fine later.
BRIDEGROOM: I hope so!
(The Mother enters)
MOTHER: My son.
BRIDEGROOM: Where have you
been?
MOTHER: Wandering about here and
there? Are you pleased?
BRIDEGROOM: Yes.
MOTHER: And your wife?
BRIDEGROOM: A bit upset. It’s a
difficult day for brides!
MOTHER: A difficult day? It’s the
best one of all. For me it was like coming into an inheritance. (The Maid enters and goes towards the bride’s
room) It’s like ploughing the fresh earth, and planting new crops.
BRIDEGROOM: You are leaving?
MOTHER: Yes. I need to be home.
BRIDEGROOM: Alone?
MOTHER: Alone. No. My head is full
of thoughts: of men and conflict.
BRIDEGROOM: Conflict that is no
longer conflict, though.
(The Maid enters swiftly and disappears hastily in the background.)
MOTHER: That’s what life is,
conflict.
BRIDEGROOM: Whatever you say!
MOTHER: Try to be affectionate
towards your wife. But if she gets a bit above herself, or turns awkward, give
her a caress that hurts a little, a bite, and then follow it with a gentle
kiss. She won’t be upset, because she’ll know you’re a man, her master, who
gives the orders. I learnt that from your father. And as he’s no longer here, I
must teach you how to be firm with her.
BRIDEGROOM: I’ll do just as you
say.
FATHER: (Entering) My daughter?
BRIDEGROOM: She went in.
FIRST GIRL: We want the
newly-weds. We’re having a round dance!
FIRST BOY: (To the Bridegroom) You’re to lead off.
FATHER: (Re-appearing) She’s not there!
BRIDEGROOM: No?
FATHER: She must have gone up to
the verandah.
BRIDEGROOM: I’ll go and see. (He exits.)
(The sound of guitars and merriment.)
FIRST GIRL: They’re off! (She leaves.)
BRIDEGROOM: (Returning) She’s not there.
MOTHER: (Anxiously) No?
FATHER: Where can she have gone?
MOTHER: (Anxiously) No?
MAID: (Entering) And the little one. Where is she?
MOTHER: (Gravely) We don’t know.
(The Bridegroom exits. Three guests enter.)
FATHER: (Dramatically) She’s not dancing?
MAID: There’s no sign of her, there.
FATHER: (Excitedly) There’s a crowd in there. Go and look hard!
MAID: I have looked hard!
FATHER: (Tragically) Where can she be?
BRIDEGROOM: (Returning) Nothing. She’s
nowhere to be found.
MOTHER: (To the Father) What is all
this? Where is your daughter?
(Leonardo’s wife enters.)
WIFE: They’ve fled! They’ve
fled, she and and Leonardo. On his horse. She was
holding him tight: they went past like the wind.
FATHER: That’s not true! No! Not my daughter!
MOTHER: Yes, your daughter! Child of a suspect mother, and he, he’s the same. Yet
she’s my son’s wife!
BRIDEGROOM: We’ll hunt them down! Find me a horse!
MOTHER: A horse, quick, bring me a horse! I’d give what I have for one, my eyes
my tongue even…
A VOICE: Here!
MOTHER: (To the Bridegroom) Go, go! (He starts to leave with two of the guests.)
No. Wait. That family are so swift to kill, so certain…and yet…hurry, and I
must follow!
FATHER: It can’t have been her. She’d
rather drown herself in the well.
MOTHER: Someone honest, and pure, would run to drown themselves; but, no! Yet she’s
my son’s wife now. There are two lots of kinfolk here. (Everyone enters.) My family, and yours. All of you…hunt them down!
Shake the dust from your shoes. Go, help my son! (The crowd splits in two) For he has family, here; his cousins from
the coast, and you who’ve come from miles around. Hunt them! Take every road.
The hour of blood is here once more. Both lots of kinfolk. You and yours, I and
mine. Go! Go!
Curtain
(
FIRST WOODCUTTER: Have they found them?
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: No. But they’re
searching everywhere.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: They’ll find them.
SECOND WOODCUTTER: Sssh!
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
What?
SECOND WOODCUTTER: They’re closing in from all directions.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: When the moon rises they’ll see them.
SECOND WOODCUTTER: They ought to let them go.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: The world is large. There’s room for all.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: But they’ll kill them.
SECOND WOODCUTTER: They followed their inclination: they were
right to flee.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: They tried to deceive themselves, but in the
end blood proved stronger.
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
Blood!
FIRST WOODCUTTER: They followed the urge of their blood.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: But blood that
sees the light the earth soon drinks.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: So? Better to die of loss of blood than live
with poison in your veins.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: Hush!
FIRST WOODCUTTER: Why? What do you hear?
THIRD WOODCUTTER: Cicadas, frogs, and the night lying in wait.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: There’s still no sound of a horse.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: No.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: Then he’s making love to her.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: Her body is his,
and his is hers.
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
They’ll hunt them down and kill them.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: But their blood will have mingled, and
they’ll be like two empty vessels, two dry streams.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: There’s heavy
cloud, perhaps the moon will be hidden.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: The bridegroom will find them, moon or no
moon. I saw him leave. Like a raging meteor. His face ashen. Revealing the
family destiny.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: A family that dies in the street.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: That’s it!
THIRD WOODCUTTER: Do you think they’ll break through the
circle?
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: Tricky. There are
knives and guns in a three mile circuit.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: He rides a fine horse.
SECOND WOODCUTTER: But with a woman.
FIRST WOODCUTTER: Here is the tree.
SECOND
WOODCUTTER: Forty foot high.
We’ll soon have it down.
THIRD WOODCUTTER: The moon’s coming out. We’ll have to hurry.
(A brilliant light shines out from
stage left)
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay, the moon rises
moon
of the sharp knives.
SECOND WOODCUTTER:
Full
of blood-wet jasmine!
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay,
moon alone!
Moon
of the green blades!
SECOND
WOODCUTTER:
Silvering
the bride’s face.
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
Ay,
ill moon!
Leave
the dark branch to love.
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay,
sad moon!
Leave
the dark branch to love.
(They exit. From the light
stage-left the Moon appears. The Moon is a young woodcutter, with a white face.
The scene acquires a bright blue glow.)
MOON:
White
swan in the river,
the
eye of cathedrals,
false
dawn in the leaves,
am
Who
can escape? Who sobs
in
the valley’s tangle?
The
moon leaves a knife
behind
in the air,
a
lead-coloured trap
that
seeks blood’s cry.
Let
me in! I come frozen
through
walls and windows!
Open
roofs and breasts
where
I can be warmed!
I’m
chilled! My ashes
of
somnolent metals
seek
the crown of the fire
among
streets and mountains.
But I
bring the snow
to
their shoulders of jasper,
and I
flood, cold and harsh,
the
depths of the lakes.
But
this night my cheeks
will
be stained with red blood,
and
the reeds clustered
in
wide swathes of air.
I
have no shadow,
nowhere
they can hide!
Let
me enter a breast
where
I can be warmed!
A
heart of my own!
Burning!
Spilling itself
on
the hills of my breast;
Let
me come in! Oh, let me! (To the branches)
No
shadow. My rays
must
shine everywhere,
and
in dark of the trees
spread
a rumour of dawn,
so my
cheeks this night
will
be stained with red blood,
and
the reeds clustered
in
wide swathes of air.
Who’s
that hiding! Speak out!
No!
There’s no escape!
I’ll
make the horse gleam
with
a fever of diamond.
(The Moon vanishes among the trees
and leaves the scene to its gloom. An old woman appears dressed in dark-green
rags. She is bare-footed. Her face is hidden in the folds of her cloak. This
character does not appear in the cast list.)
BEGGARWOMAN:
The
moon is gone, and they are near by.
They’ll
not leave here. The sound of the river
will
drown in the sound of the trees
the
broken flight of their cries.
It
must be here, and soon. I am weary.
The
chests, and the white sheets ache
await
on the empty bedroom floors
the
heavy corpses with slashed throats.
Not a
bird will stir and the breeze,
will
sweep the sound of their cries
away
with her through the black trees,
or
bury them deep in gleaming mud.
The
moon! The moon! (Impatiently)
The
moon! The moon!
(The Moon emerges. The intense
light returns.)
MOON: They’re nearer now.
Some by the hill, the rest by the
river.
I’ll light their way. What do you
need?
BEGGARWOMAN: Nothing.
MOON:
The
air is hardening, and double-edged.
BEGGARWOMAN:
Light
their waistcoats, pluck off the buttons,
so
that later the knives will know the road.
MOON:
But let them die slowly. Let
the blood seep
slow
through my fingers, a delicate whisper.
Already
my ashen valleys are stirring
they
yearn for that fount, its quivering flow!
BEGGARWOMAN:
We
won’t let them pass the stream! Now, silence!
MOON: They’re here!
(The Moon vanishes. Leaving the
scene in darkness.)
BEGGARWOMAN: Swiftly! Light! Did you hear me? They must
not escape!
(The Bridegroom and a boy appear.
The Beggar-woman sits, and covers herself with her cloak.)
BRIDEGROOM: Through here.
FIRST BOY: You’ll never find them.
BRIDEGROOM: (Energetically)
When I do find them!
FIRST BOY: I think they’ve gone another way.
BRIDEGROOM: No. I heard a horse galloping not long ago.
BOY: It may be another horse.
BRIDEGROOM: (Dramatically)
Listen. There’s only one horse for me in all the world, and it’s that one. Do
you understand? If you’re going to follow me, follow in silence.
FIRST BOY: I only meant…
BRIDEGROOM: Hush. I’m sure I’ll find them here. See this
arm? Well it’s not mine. It’s the arm of my brother, of my father, of all my
family’s dead. And it holds such power I could tear up this tree by its roots,
if I wished. Now let’s go on, because I feel their anger here in a manner that
makes it impossible for me to breathe easily.
BEGGARWOMAN: (Moaning)
Ay!
FIRST BOY: Did you hear that?
BRIDEGROOM: Go through there, then work your way back.
FIRST BOY: It’s like a hunt.
BRIDEGROOM: It is a hunt. The greatest you can undertake.
(The boy leaves. The Bridegroom
moves swiftly to the left and stumbles over the Beggar-woman.)
BEGGARWOMAN: Ay!
BRIDEGROOM: What is it?
BEGGARWOMAN:
I’m cold.
BRIDEGROOM: Where are you travelling to?
BEGGARWOMAN: (In the
quavering voice of a mendicant) Far from here…
BRIDEGROOM: Where are you from?
BEGGARWOMAN: From there….from afar.
BRIDEGROOM: Have you seen a man and woman riding a horse?
BEGGARWOMAN:
(Rousing herself) Wait… (She gazes at him). A handsome young man.
(She rises) Handsomer still if he
were sleeping.
BRIDEGROOM: Answer me, have you seen them?
BEGGARWOMAN: Wait….What broad shoulders! Wouldn’t you
prefer to lie flat on them, and not have to stand on your feet which are so
small?
BRIDEGROOM: (Shaking
her) I asked if you’ve seen them? Have they passed this way?
BEGGARWOMAN: (Energetically)
They have not; but they’re descending
the hillside. Can’t you hear them?
BRIDEGROOM: No.
BEGGARWOMAN: Do you know the way?
BRIDEGROOM: I’ll find it; come what may!
BEGGARWOMAN: I’ll go with you. I know this country.
BRIDEGROOM: (Impatiently)
Come then! Which way?
BEGGARWOMAN: (Dramatically)
Through here!
(They leave swiftly. Two violins
are heard far off which express the forest. The Woodcutters return, carrying
their axes on their shoulders. They pass slowly through the trees.)
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay!
Death enters!
Death
of the sharp knives.
SECOND WOODCUTTER:
Don’t
let the blood spurt!
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay!
Death enters,
Death
of the dry leaves.
THIRD WOODCUTTER:
Don’t drown the flowers of the wedding!
SECOND
WOODCUTTER:
Ay!
Sad death!
Leave
the green leaves of love.
FIRST WOODCUTTER:
Ay!
Ill death!
Leave
the green leaves of love.
(They leave as they finish
speaking. Leonardo and the Bride appear.)
LEONARDO:
Hush!
BRIDE:
I’ll go on alone from here.
Go
back! I want you to go!
LEONARDO:
Hush,
I said!
BRIDE:
With your teeth,
with
your hands, if you can,
cut
from my honest neck
the
chain you’ve set there,
leave
me forgotten
in my
house of earth.
And
if you won’t kill me
like
a nascent viper,
place
in the bride’s hands
the
stock of your rifle.
Ay,
what grief, what fire
runs
through my head!
What
glass cuts at my tongue!
LEONARDO:
There’s
no going back; hush!
Because
they’re encircling us
and I
must take you with me.
BRIDE:
Then it will be by force.
LEONARDO:
By
force? Who was it then
first
slipped down the stairs?
BRIDE:
I did.
LEONARDO:
Who
put a fresh
bridle on the horse?
BRIDE:
I did. It’s true.
LEONARDO:
And
whose hands
fastened
my spurs?
BRIDE:
These hands which are yours,
and
which if they could
would
quell the blue branches
and
the stir of your veins.
I
love you! I love you! Go!
For
if I could only kill you,
I’d
wrap you in a shroud
with
violet fringes.
Ay, what
grief, what fire
runs
through my head!
LEONARDO:
What
glass cuts at my tongue!
Because
I wished to forget
and
build a wall out of stone
between
your house and mine.
It’s
true? Don’t you remember?
And
when I saw you afar
I
threw sand in my eyes.
But
then I climbed on my horse
and
the horse came to your door.
With
the silver pins of your veil
my
blood turned to darkness,
and
dreams they filled my flesh
with
the rank odour of weeds.
But
the guilt of it isn’t mine,
the
guilt belongs to the earth
it is
the perfume that rises
from
your breasts and your hair.
BRIDE:
Ay, what madness! I wish
neither
bed nor board from you,
yet
there’s no hour of the day
that
I don’t long to see you,
for you
draw me, and I go,
and
you tell me to return
and I
follow you through the air,
like
a straw lost in the wind.
I
left a fine man behind
and
all his family there
in
the midst of the wedding
dressed
in my wreath of flowers.
But
you’ll suffer for it,
and I
don’t want you to.
Leave
me! Go far away!
There’s
none here to defend you.
LEONARDO:
The
birds of the morning
are
stirring in the trees.
The
night itself is dying
in a
hard edge of stone.
Let’s
find some dark corner,
where
I can always love you,
where
people will not matter
nor
the venom they engender.
(He embraces her tightly)
BRIDE:
And I’ll sleep at your feet
to
watch over your dreams.
naked,
I’ll lie on the ground,
just like
a bitch on heat. (Dramatically)
That’s
what I am! I see you
And
your beauty makes me burn.
LEONARDO:
One
fire lights another.
The
one little flame
destroys
the whole crop.
Let’s
go! (He gathers her up.)
BRIDE:
Where will we go?
LEONARDO:
Anywhere
where the men
encircling
us can’t go.
Where
I can gaze at you!
BRIDE: (Sarcastically)
Take
me from fair to fair,
all
honest women’s shame
so
the people can stare,
with
my wedding sheet
like
a banner in the wind.
LEONARDO:
I
too would leave you
if I
thought as they do.
But
I’ll go where you go.
You
too. Take a step. Come.
Splinters
of moonlight pierce
my
waist and your hips.
(The whole scene is intense, full
of deep sensuality.)
BRIDE:
Did you hear?
LEONARDO:
Someone
comes.
BRIDE:
Go!
It’s
right I should die here
with
my feet in the water,
with
thorns now in my hair.
And
for the leaves to mourn,
a
lost girl and a maiden.
LEONARDO:
Hush.
They are here.
BRIDE:
Go now.
LEONARDO:
Silence.
They won’t hear us.
You
go first. Go on, I say!
(The Bride hesitates)
BRIDE:
Both together!
LEONARDO: (Hugging
her tightly)
Well,
as you wish!
If
they part us,
then
I’ll be dead.
BRIDE:
And I too shall die.
(They embrace and leave. The Moon
appears very slowly. The scene acquires a fiery blue light. The two violins are
heard. Suddenly two loud screams are heard, and the violins fall silent. With
the second scream the Beggar-woman appears, with her back to the audience. She
opens her cloak, and occupies centre stage, like a great bird with immense
wings. The Moon halts. The curtain falls in the midst of absolute silence.)
Curtain
(A white room with archways and
thick walls. White stairways to the left and right. At the back a wall of the
same colour with a large arch. The floor should also be of a brilliant white.
This simple room has the monumental feel of a church. There are no half-tones
or shadows, not even enough to create a sense of perspective. Two girls dressed
in dark blue are winding a skein of red wool. Another young girl is also present)
FIRST GIRL:
Skein,
skein
what
would you be?
SECOND GIRL:
Dress
of jasmine,
tie
of crystal.
To be
born at four,
and
to die at ten.
A
strand of wool,
a
chain at your feet,
and a
knot to bind
the
bitter laurel.
YOUNG GIRL:
Did
you go to the wedding?
FIRST GIRL:
No.
YOUNG GIRL:
Neither
did I!
What
happened there
among
the dark vines?
What happened there
in
the olive branches?
What
happened there
that
no one’s returned?
Did
you go to the wedding?
SECOND GIRL:
We
both said no.
YOUNG GIRL: (Leaving)
Neither did I!
SECOND GIRL:
Skein,
skein
what
would you sing?
FIRST GIRL:
Waxen
wounds
sorrow
of myrtle.
Sleep
in the morning,
waking
at nightfall.
YOUNG GIRL:
(From the doorway)
The
thread runs
over
the stones.
The
blue hills
it
leaves behind.
Runs,
runs, runs
and
serves at last
to handle
a knife
to
sever a life.
(She exits)
SECOND GIRL:
Wool,
wool
what
would you tell of?
FIRST GIRL:
A
voiceless lover.
A
crimson husband.
By
the silent river
I saw
them lying.
(She stops and gazes at the wool)
YOUNG GIRL:
Run,
run run,
the
thread winds here.
Shrouds
of earth
I
hear them coming.
Bodies
laid out,
sheaths
of ivory!
(She exits. Leonardo’s wife and
Mother-in-law appear filled with anguish.)
FIRST GIRL: Are they coming soon?
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Bitterly)
We don’t know.
SECOND GIRL: What about the wedding?
FIRST GIRL: Tell me.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Sharply)
There’s nothing to tell.
WIFE: I want to turn back, I want to know.
MOTHER-IN-LAW: (Forcefully)
You,
take to your house.
Bravely,
alone in your house.
To
grow old and to weep.
Through
the locked door.
Never.
Not dead or alive.
We’ll
nail shut the windows.
Let
rain and the night
fall
over the bitter grass.
WIFE: What can have happened?
MOTHER-IN-LAW:
No
matter.
Hide your face in a veil.
Your
children are yours
alone.
On the bed
make
a cross of ash
where
his pillow lay.
(They exit.)
BEGGARWOMAN: (From
the doorway)
A
crust of bread, pretty girls?
YOUNG GIRL:
Go away!
(The girls huddle together)
BEGGARWOMAN:
And why?
YOUNG GIRL:
Because
of your whining. Be gone.
FIRST GIRL:
Child!
BEGGARWOMAN:
I
could ask for your eyes! A cloud
of
birds follows me: do you want one?
YOUNG GIRL:
I
want to be gone from you!
SECOND GIRL: (To the Beggar woman)
Ignore her.
FIRST GIRL:
Did you come by the river path?
BEGGARWOMAN:
That’s the way I came.
FIRST GIRL: (Timidly)
May I ask?
BEGGARWOMAN:
I saw
them: they come: two torrents
quiet
at last between the great stones,
two
men between the horse’s hooves.
Dead
in the beauty of night. (With delectation.)
Dead,
yes, dead.
FIRST GIRL:
Silence,
old woman, silence!
BEGGARWOMAN:
Crushed
flowers their eyes, their teeth
like
two fists of hardened snow.
Both
of them fell, the bride returned
her
hair, her dress dyed with blood.
Covered
with blankets they come
on
the shoulders of handsome lads.
It is
so; that’s all. It was just.
On
the golden flower, black sand.
FIRST GIRL:
Black
sand.
SECOND GIRL:
On the golden flower.
YOUNG GIRL:
Beneath
the flower of gold
They
carry them from the river.
Dark-haired
the one,
dark-haired
the other.
Let
the nightingale of shadow
fly,
and call to the flower of gold!
(She leaves. The stage is empty.
The Mother enters with a neighbour. The neighbour has been weeping.)
MOTHER: Hush.
NEIGHBOUR: I can’t.
MOTHER: Hush,
I said. (In the doorway.) Is there no
one here? (She raises her hands to her
face.) My son should have been here. But now my son is an armful of
withered flowers. Now my son is a dark voice behind the mountains. (Angrily, to the neighbour) Will you be
quiet? I’ll have no tears in this house. Your tears are tears from your eyes,
nothing more, but mine will flow when I’m alone, from the soles of my feet,
from the root, and they’ll flow hot as blood.
NEIGHBOUR: Come home with me; you can’t want to stay
here.
MOTHER: Here.
Here, where I am. And in peace. They’re all dead now. I’ll be able to sleep at
night, sleep free of the fear of guns and knives. Other women will lean
sleepless from their windows, drenched by the rain, to catch sight of their
sons’ faces. Not
NEIGHBOUR: Have pity on yourself.
MOTHER: (Smoothing her hair back with her hands)
I must be calm. (She remains seated)
Because the neighbours will come, and I don’t wish them to see me so wretched.
So poverty-stricken! A woman without a single son to clasp to her breast.
(The Bride appears. her orange
blossom has vanished and she is wearing a black shawl.)
NEIGHBOUR: (Approaching
her angrily) Where are you going?
BRIDE: I’ve come.
MOTHER: (To the neighbour) Who is it?
NEIGHBOUR: Don’t you see?
MOTHER: That’s why I ask who she is? To pretend I don’t
know, to avoid sinking my teeth in her throat. Viper! (She rushes at the Bride as if to strike her, but stops short. To the
neighbour) Do you see her? Here she is, and she weeps, and I halt here, and
I fail to tear out her eyes. I don’t understand it myself. Did I not love my
son enough? Well; and her honour? Where is her precious honour now? (She strikes the Bride, who falls to the
ground.)
NEIGHBOUR: For God’s sake! (She tries to separate them)
BRIDE: (To the
neighbour) Let her go; I came here so that she could kill me,so that they could take me with them. (To the Mother) But not with your bare
hands; with shears, with a sickle, with whatever force might break my bones.
Let her be! I want her to know, in her anger, I am pure, and that they’ll bury
me without any man having gazed on the whiteness of my breasts.
MOTHER: Be
silent; what does that matter to me?
BRIDE: Because I ran with another, I ran! (Anguished) You too, you would have gone.
I was a woman on fire, wounded inside and out, and your son was a stream of
water that could give me sons, land, health; but the other was a dark river,
filled with branches, that brought me the murmur of its reeds, and its song
between clenched teeth. And I went with your son who was like a child born of
water, cold, while the other sent flocks of birds that prevented me walking,
and sent frost into the wounds of a poor withered woman, a girl scorched by the
flames. I did not want it. Listen to
me! I did not want it. Do you hear? I
did not want it. Your son was my goal, and I did not betray him, but the other
seized me in his arms like a wave of the sea, struck me like the kick of a
mule, and I must be dragged along forever, forever, forever, forever, even if I
had been old and all your son’s sons had held me back by the hair!
(Another
neighbour enters)
MOTHER: She’s
not to blame. Nor I! (Sarcastically)
Who is then? A fine whore, a light sleeper it is, who throws away her orange
blossom to seek a corner of the bed warmed by another woman!
BRIDE: No more. No more! Take your revenge; here I am!
Look how tender my throat is; it would cost you less effort to cut it than to
cull a dahlia in your garden. But, what you say is not so! I’m as chaste and
pure as a new-born babe. And with the power to prove it. Light a fire. Let’s
put our hands into its flames; you for your son, I, for my body. You’ll be the
first to withdraw.
(Another
neighbour enters)
MOTHER: What
does your purity matter to me? What does your death matter? What does nullity
after nullity matter to me? Blessed are the crops, because my sons lie beneath
them; blessed is the rain, because it moistens their faces. Blessed is God, who
unites us in rest.
(Another
neighbour enters)
BRIDE: Let me weep with you.
MOTHER: Weep,
but over there, stand in the doorway.
(The young girl enters. The Bride
stands in the doorway, the Mother centre-stage.)
WIFE: (Entering
and moving to the left)
He
was the finest of horsemen
who
now is a mound of snow.
Through
the fairs and mountains,
and
women’s arms he rode.
Now
the mosses of
offer
a crown for his brow.
MOTHER:
Sunflower of your mother,
mirror
of all the earth.
Set a
cross on his breast
of
bitter oleander;
a
sheet now to cover him
a
sheet of gleaming silk,
and
water there to weep
between
his quiet hands.
WIFE:
Ay!
Let four boys lift him
on
their weary shoulders!
BRIDE:
Ay!
Let four young men
carry
death through the air!
MOTHER:
Neighbours.
YOUNG GIRL: (In
the doorway) They’re bringing them now.
MOTHER:
It’s no matter.
The
Cross. The Cross.
WOMEN:
Sweet
are the nails,
Sweet
is the Cross,
Sweet
is the name
of
Jesus.
BRIDE: May the Cross shelter the dead and the living.
MOTHER:
Neighbours: with a knife,
with
a little knife,
on a
fatal day between two and three,
two
men killed for love.
With
a knife.
With
a little knife
that
barely sits in the hand,
but
penetrates deep
through
the startled flesh
to
reach the point
where
trembles enmeshed
the
dark root of a cry.
BRIDE:
And
this is a knife,
a
little knife
that
barely sits in the hand;
a
fish without scales, or the river,
so
that one fine day, between two and three,
with
this knife
were
quenched two strong men
whose
lips turn yellow.
MOTHER:
It scarcely sits in the hand.
But
penetrates, chill,
through
the startled flesh
to
reach the point
where
trembles enmeshed
the
dark root of a cry.
(The neighbours, kneeling on the
floor, weep)
Curtain