De Chatillon/De Chatillon, Act Four
ACT IV.
Scene I.—Camp of Melech, the Saracen Emir.
Melech, Sadi, Soldiers.
Mel. Yes! he I mean—Rainier de Chatillon!
Go, send swift riders o'er the mountains forth,
And through the deserts, to proclaim the price
I set upon his life!
Sadi. Thou gav'st the word
Before; it hath been done—they are gone forth.
Mel. Would that my soul could wing them! Didst thou heed
To say his life? I'll have my own revenge!
Yes! I would save him from another's hand!
Thou said'st he must be brought alive?
Sadi. I heard
Thy will, and I obey'd.
Mel. He slew my son—
That was in battle—but to shed her blood!
My child Moraima's! Could he see and strike her?
A Christian see her face, too! From my house
The crown is gone! Who brought the tale?
Sadi. A slave
Of your late son's, escaped.
Mel. Have I a son
Left? speak, the slave of which? Kaled is gone—
And Octar gone—both, both are fallen—
Both my young stately trees, and she my flower—
No hand but mine shall be upon him, none!—
[A sound of festive music without.
What mean they there? [An attendant enters.
Att. Tidings of joy, my chief!
Mel. Joy!—is the Christian taken?
Moraima enters, and throws herself into his arms.
Mor. Father! Father!
I did not think this world had yet so much
Of aught like happiness!
Mel. My own fair child!
Is it on thee I look indeed, my child?
[Turning to attendants.
Away, there!—gaze not on us! Do I hold
Thee in my arms! They told me thou wert slain.
Rainier de Chatillon, they said——
Mor. (hurriedly) Oh, no!
'Twas he that sent thee back thy child, my father.
Mel. He! why, his brother Aymer still refused
A monarch's ransom for thee!
Mor. (with a momentary delight.) Did he thus?
[Suddenly checking herself.
—Yes! I knew well! Oh! do not speak of him!
Mel. What! hath he wrong'd thee? Thou hast suffer'd much
Amongst these Christians! Thou art changed, my child.
There's a dim shadow in thine eye, where once——
But they shall pay me back for all thy tears
With their best blood.
Mor. (alarmed.) Father! not so, not so!
They still were gentle with me. But I sat
And watch'd beside my dying brother's couch
Through many days: and I have wept since then—
Wept much.
Mel. Thy dying brother's couch!—yes, thou
Wert ever true and kind.
Mor. (covering her face.) Oh! praise me not!
Look gently on me, or I sink to earth;
Not thus!
Mel. No praise! thou'rt faint, my child, and worn:
The length of way hath——
Mor. (eagerly.) Yes! the way was long,
The desert's wind breath'd o'er me. Could I rest?
Mel. Yes! thou shalt rest within thy father’s tent.
Follow me, gentle child! Thou look'st so changed.
Mor. (hurriedly.) The weary way,—the desert's burning wind——
[Laying her hand on him as she goes out.
Think thou no evil of those Christians, father!—
They were still kind.
Scene II.—Before a Fortress amongst Rocks, with
a Desert beyond.—Military Music.
Rainier de Chatillon—Knights and Soldiers.
Rai. They speak of truce?
The Knights. Even so. Of truce between
The Soldan and our King.
Rai. Let him who fears
Lest the close helm should wear his locks away,
Cry "truce," and cast it off. I have no will
To change mine armour for a masquer's robe,
And sit at festivals. Halt, lances, there!
Warriors and brethren! hear. I own no truce—
I hold my life but as a weapon now
Against the infidel! He shall not reap
His field, nor gather of his vine, nor pray
To his false gods—no! save by trembling stealth,
Whilst I can grasp a sword! Wherefore, noble friends,
Think not of truce with me!—but think to quaff
Your wine to the sound of trumpets, and to rest
In your girt hauberks, and to hold your steeds
Barded in the hall beside you. Now turn back,
[He throws a spear on the ground before them.
Ye that are weary of your armour's load:
Pass o'er the spear, away!
They all shout. A Chatillon!
We'll follow thee—all! all!
Rai. A soldier's thanks!
[Turns away from them agitated.
There's one face gone, and that a brother's!
(Aloud.) War!—
War to the Paynim—war! March and set up
On our stronghold the banner of the Cross,
Never to sink!
[Trumpets sound. They march on, winding
through the rocks with military music.
Enter Gaston, an aged vassal of Rainier's, as an
armed follower—Rainier addresses him.
You come at last! And she—where left you her?
The Paynim maid?
Gas. I found her guides, my lord,
Of her own race, and left her on the way
To reach her father's tents.
Rai. Speak low!—the tale
Must rest with us. It must be thought she died.
I can trust you.
Gas. Your father trusted me.
Rai He did, he did!—my father! You have been
Long absent, and you bring a troubled eye
Back with you. Gaston! heard you aught of him?
Gas. Whom means my lord?
Rai. (impatiently.) Old man, you know too well—
Aymer, my brother.
Gas. I have seen him.
Rai. How!
Seen him! Speak on.
Gas. Another than my chief
Should have my life before the shameful tale!
Rai. Speak quickly.
Gas. In the desert, as I journey'd back,
A band of Arabs met me on the way,
And I became their captive. Till last night—
Rai. Go on! Last night?
Gas. They slumber'd by their fires—
I could not sleep; when one—I thought him one
O' the tribe at first—came up and loosed my bonds,
And led me from the shadow of the tents,
Pointing my way in silence.
Rai. Well, and he—
You thought him one o' the tribe.
Gas. Ay, till we stood
In the clear moonlight forth;—and then, my lord——
Rai. You dare not say 'twas Aymer?
Gas. Woe and shame!
It was, it was!
Rai. In their vile garb too?
Gas. Yes,
Turban'd and robed like them.
Rai. What!—did he speak?
Gas. No word, but waved his hand,
Forbidding speech to me.
Rai. Tell me no more!—
Lost, lost—for ever lost! He that was rear'd
Under my father's roof with me, and grew
Up by my side to glory!—lost! Is this
My work?—who dares to call it mine? And yet,
Had I not dealt so sternly with his soul
In its deep anguish—What! he wears their garb
I' the face of heaven? You saw the turban on him?
You should have struck him to the earth, and so
Put out our shame for ever!
Gas. Lift my sword
Against your father's son!
Rai. My father's son!
Ay, and so loved!—that yearning love for him
Was the last thing death conquer'd! See'st thou there?
[The banner of the Cross is raised on the fortress
The very banner he redeem'd for us
I' the fight at Cairo! No! by yon bright sign,
He shall not perish! This way—follow me—
I'll tell thee of a thought.
(Suddenly stopping him.) Take heed, old man!
Thou hast a fearful secret in thy grasp:
Let me not see thee wear mysterious looks.
But no! thou lovest our name!—I'll trust thee, Gaston! [Exeunt.
Scene III.—An Arab Encampment round a few
palm-trees in the Desert—Watch-fires in the
background—Night.
Several Arabs enter with Aymer.
Arab Chief. Thou hast fought bravely, stranger;
Now, come on
To share the spoil.
Aym. I reck not of it. Go,
Leave me to rest
Arab. Well, thou hast earn'd thy rest
With a red sabre. Be it as thou wilt
[They go out.—Be throws himself under a palm-tree.
Aym. This were an hour—if they would answer us.
—They from whose viewless world no answer comes—
To hear their whispering voices. Would they but
Speak once, and say they loved!
If I could hear thy thrilling voice once more,
It would be well with me. Moraima! speak!
Rainier enters disguised as a dervise.
Moraima, speak! No! the dead cannot love!
Rai. What doth the stranger here!—is there not mirth
Around the watch-fires yonder?
Aym. Mirth!—away!—
I've naught to do with mirth. Begone!
Rai. They tell
Wild tales by that red light; would'st thou not hear
Of Eastern marvels?
Aym. Hence! I heed them not.
Rai. Nay, then hear me!
Aym. Thee!
Rai. Yes, I know a tale
Wilder than theirs.
Aym. (raising himself in surprise.) Thou know'st!—
Rai. (without minding, continues.) A tale of one
Who flung in madness to the reckless deep
A gem beyond all price.
Aym. My day is closed.
What is aught human unto me?
Rai. Yet mark!
His name was of the noblest—dost thou heed?—
Even in a land of princely chivalry;
Brightness was on it—but he cast it down.
Aym. I will not hear—speak'st thou of chivalry?
Rai. Yes! I have been upon thy native hills.
There's a gray cliff juts proudly from their woods,
Crown'd with baronial towers—rememberest thou?
And there's a chapel by the moaning sea—
Thou know'st it well—tall pines wave over it,
Darkening the heavy banners, and the tombs.
Is not the cross upon thy fathers' tombs!—
Christian! what dost thou here?
Aym. (starting up indignantly.) Man! who art thou?
Thy voice disturbs my soul. Speak! I will know
Thy right to question me.
Rai. (throwing off his disguise, stands before him
in the full dress of a Crusader?)
Aym. Brother! (Retreating from him with horror.)
—Her blood is on your hands!—keep back!
Rai. (scornfully.) Nay, keep the Paynim's garb from touching mine.
Answer me thence!—what dost thou here?
Aym. You shrink
From your own work!—you, that have made me thus!
Wherefore are you here? Are you not afraid
To stand beneath the awful midnight sky,
And you a murderer? Leave me.
Rai. I lift up
No murderer's brow to heaven!
Aym. You dare speak thus!—
Do not the bright stars, with their searching rays,
Strike through your guilty soul? Oh, no!—tis well,
Passing well! Murder! Make the earth's harvests grow
With Paynim blood!—Heaven wills it! The free air,
The sunshine—I forgot—they were not made
For infidels. Blot out the race from day!
Who talks of murder? Murder! when you die
Claim your soul's place of happiness i' the name
Of that good deed!
(In a tone of deep feeling.)
If you had loved a flower
I would not have destroy'd it!
Rai. (with emotion.) Brother!
Aym. (impetuously.) No!—
No brother now. She knelt to you in vain;
And that hath set a gulf—a boundless gulf—
Between our souls. Your very face is changed—
There's a red cloud shadowing it: your forehead wears
The marks of blood—her blood!
(In a triumphant tone)
But you prevail not! You have made the dead
The mighty—the victorious! Yes! you thought
To dash her image into fragments down,
And you have given it power—such deep sad power,
I see naught else on earth!
Rai. (aside.) I dare not say she lives.
(To Aymer, holding up the cross of his sword.)
Once by our father's grave I ask'd, and here,
I' the silence of the waste, I ask once more—
Have you abjured your faith?
Aym. Why are you come
To torture me? No, no! I have not. No!
But you have sent the torrent through my soul,
And by their deep strong roots torn fiercely up
Things that were part of it—inborn feelings, thoughts—
I know not what I cling to!
Rai. Aymer! yet
Heaven hath not closed its gates! Return, return,
Before the shadow of the palm-tree fades
I' the waning moonlight. Heaven gives time. Return,
My brother! By our early days—the love
That nurtured us!—the holy dust of those
That sleep i' the tomb!—sleep! no, they cannot sleep!
Doth the night bring no voices from the dead
Back on your soul?
Aym. (turning from him.) Yes—here!
Rai. (indignantly turning off.) Why should I strive?
Why doth it cost me these deep throes to fling
A weed off? [Checking himself.
Brother, hath the stranger come
Between our hearts for ever? Yet return—
Win back your fame, my brother!
Aym. Fame again!
Leave me the desert!—leave it me! I hate
Your false world's glittering draperies, that press down
Th' o'erlabour'd heart! They have crush'd mine. Your vain
And hollow-sounding words are wasted now:
You should adjure me by the name of him
That slew his son's young bride!—our ancestor—
That were a spell! Fame! fame!—your hand hath rent
The veil from off your world! To speak of fame,
When the soul is parch'd like mine! Away!
I have join'd these men because they war with man,
And all his hollow pomp! Will you go hence?
(Fiercely.) Why do I talk thus with a murderer? Ay,
This is the desert, where true words may rise
Up unto heaven i' the stillness! Leave it me!—
The free wild desert!
Arab Chief enters.
Arab. Stranger, we have shared
The spoil, forgetting not——A Christian here!
Ho! sons of Kedar!—'tis De Chatillon!
This way!—surround him! There's an Emir’s wealth
Set on his life! Come on!
[Several Arabs rush in and surround Rainier,
who, after vainly endeavouring to force his
way through them, is made prisoner.
Rai. And he stands there
To see me bought and sold! Death, death!—not chains!
[Aymer, who has stood for a moment as if
bewildered, rushes forward, and strikes down
one of the Arabs.
Aym. Off from my brother, infidel!
[The others hurry Rainier away.
(Recollecting himself.) Why, then, heaven
Is just! So! now I see it! Blood for blood!
[Again rushing forward.
No! he shall feel remorse! I'll rescue him,
And make him weep for her! [Exit.