The immediate thunder-blast of interdict: An after ague-fit of trembling. Look! He bows, he bares his head, he is coming hither. Still with a smile. Enter KING HENRY and WALTER MAP. Henry. We have had so many hours together, Thomas, So many happy hours alone together, That I would speak with you once more alone. Becket. My liege, your will and happi ness are mine. [Exeunt King and Becket. Herbert. The same smile still. Walter Map. Do you see that great black cloud that hath come over the sun and cast us all into shadow? Herbert. And feel it too. Walter Map. And see you yon sidebeam that is forced from under it, and sets the church-tower over there all a-hell-fire as it were? Herbert. Ay. Walter Map. It is this black, bellsilencing, anti-marrying, burial-hindering interdict that hath squeezed out this sidesmile upon Canterbury, whereof may come conflagration. Were I Thomas, I wouldn't trust it. Sudden change is a house on sand; and tho' I count Henry honest enough, yet when fear creeps in at the front, honesty steals out at the back, and the King at last is fairly scared by this cloud- this interdict. I have been more for the King than the Church in this matter yea, even for the sake of the Church: for, truly, as the case stood, you had safelier have slain an archbishop than a she-goat: but our recoverer and upholder of customs hath in this crowning of young Henry by York and London so violated the immemorial usage of the Church, that, like the gravedigger's child I have heard of, trying to ring the bell, he hath half-hanged himself in the rope of the Church, or rather pulled all the Church with the Holy Father astride of it down upon his own head. Herbert. Were you there? Walter Map. In the church rope? — no. I was at the crowning, for I have pleasure in the pleasure of crowds, and to read the faces of men at a great show. Herbert. And how did Roger of York comport himself? Walter Map. As magnificently and archiepiscopally as our Thomas would have done: only there was a dare-devil in his eye-I should say a dare-Becket. He thought less of two kings than of one Roger the king of the occasion. Foliot is the holier man, perhaps the better. Once or twice there ran a twitch across his face as who should say what's to follow? but Salisbury was a calf cowed by Mother Church, and every now and then glancing about him like a thief at night when he hears a door open in the house and thinks the master.' Herbert. And the father-king? Walter Map. The father's eye was so tender it would have called a goose off the green, and once he strove to hide his face, like the Greek king when his daughter was sacrificed, but he thought better of it: it was but the sacrifice of a kingdom to his son, a smaller matter; but as to the young crownling himself, he looked so malapert in the eyes, that had I fathered him I had given him more of the rod than the sceptre. Then followed the thunder of the captains and the shouting, and so we came on to the banquet, from whence there puffed out such an incense of unctuosity into the nostrils of our Gods of Church and State, that Lucullus or Apicius might have sniffed it in their Hades of heathenism, so that the smell of their own roast had not come across it Herbert. Map, tho' you make your butt too big, you overshoot it. Walter Map. -For as to the fish, they de-miracled the miraculous draught, and might have sunk a navy Herbert. There again, Goliasing and Goliathising! Walter Map. Well, there were Abbots - but they did not bring their women; and so we were dull enough at first, but in the end we flourished out into a merriment; for the old King would act servitor and hand a dish to his son; whereupon my Lord of York his fine-cut face bowing and beaming with all that courtesy which hath less loyalty in it than the backward scrape of the clown's heel-'great honour,' says he, from the King's self to the King's son.' Did you hear the young King's quip? Herbert. No, what was it? Walter Map. Glancing at the days when his father was only Earl of Anjou, he answered: -'Should not an earl's son wait on a king's son?' And when the cold corners of the King's mouth began to thaw, there was a great motion of laughter among us, part real, part childlike, to be freed from the dulness -part royal, for King and kingling both laughed, and so we could not but laugh, as by a royal necessity-part childlike again - when we felt we had laughed too long and could not stay ourselves— many midriff-shaken even to tears, as springs gush out after earthquakes - but from those, as I said before, there may come a conflagration - tho', to keep the figure moist and make it hold water, I should say rather, the lacrymation of a lamentation; but look if Thomas have not flung himself at the King's feet. They have made it up again - for the moment. Herbert. Thanks to the blessed Magdalen, whose day it is. Re-enter HENRY and BECKET. (During their conference the BARONS and BISHOPS of FRANCE and ENGLAND come in at back of stage.) Becket. Ay, King! for in thy kingdom, as thou knowest, I could fall down and worship thee, my Thomas, For thou hast trodden this wine-press alone. Becket. Nay, of the people there are many with me. Walter Map. I am not altogether with you, my lord, tho' I am none of those that would raise a storm between you, lest ye should draw together like two ships in a calm. You wrong the King: he meant what he said to-day. Who shall vouch for his to-morrows? One word further. Doth not the fewness of anything make the fulness of it in estimation? Is not virtue prized mainly for its rarity, and great baseness loathed as an exception? for were all, my lord, as noble as yourself, who would look up to you? and were all as base as- - who shall I say - Fitzurse and his followingwho would look down upon them? My lord, you have put so many of the King's household out of communion, that they begin to smile at it. Becket. At their peril, at their peril Walter Map. For tho' the drop may hollow out the dead stone, doth not the living skin thicken against perpetual whippings? This is the second grain of good counsel I ever proffered thee, and so cannot suffer by the rule of frequency. Have I sown it in salt? I trust not, for before God I promise you the King hath many more wolves than he can tame in his woods of England, and if it suit their purpose to howl for the King, and you still move against him, you may have no less than to die for it; but God and his free wind grant your lordship a happy home-return and the King's kiss of peace in Kent. Farewell! I must follow the [Exit. King. Herbert. Ay, and I warrant the customs. Did the King Speak of the customs? Becket. No! To die for it — I live to die for it, I die to live for it. The State will die, the Church can never die. The King's not like to die for that which dies; But I must die for that which never dies. Must murder her one shepherd, that the sheep May feed in peace. False figure, Map would say. Earth's falses are heaven's truths. And when my voice Is martyr'd mute, and this man disappears, That perfect trust may come again between Eleanor. What does she call him? Eleanor. Pretty one, how camest thou? Geoffrey. There was a bit of yellow silk here and there, and it looked pretty like a glowworm, and I thought if I followed it I should find the fairies. Eleanor. I am the fairy, pretty one, a good fairy to thy mother. Take me to her. Geoffrey. There are good fairies and bad fairies, and sometimes she cries, and can't sleep sound o' nights because of the bad fairies. Eleanor. She shall cry no more; she shall sleep sound enough if thou wilt take me to her. I am her good fairy. Geoffrey. But you don't look like a good fairy. Mother does. You are not pretty, like mother. Eleanor. We can't all of us be as pretty as thou art -- (aside) little bastard. Come, here is a golden chain I will give thee if thou wilt lead me to thy mother. Geoffrey. No-no gold. Mother says gold spoils all. Love is the only gold. Eleanor. I love thy mother, my pretty boy. Show me where thou camest out of the wood. Geoffrey. By this tree; but I don't know if I can find the way back again. Eleanor. Where's the warder? Geoffrey. Very bad. Somebody struck him. Eleanor. Ay? who was that? Geoffrey. Can't tell. But I heard say he had had a stroke, or you'd have heard his horn before now. Come along, then; we shall see the silk here and there, and I want my supper. [Exeunt. Enter GEOFFREY and ELEANOR. Geoffrey, the pain thou hast put me to! [Seeing Eleanor. Ha, you! How came you hither? Eleanor. Your own child brought me hither! Geoffrey. You said you couldn't trust Margery, and I watched her and followed her into the woods, and I lost her and went on and on till I found the light and the lady, and she says she can make you sleep o' nights. Kosamund. How dared you? Know you not this bower is secret, Of and belonging to the King of England, More sacred than his forests for the chase? Nay, nay, Heaven help you; get you hence in haste Lest worse befall you. Eleanor. Child, I am mine own self Of and belonging to the King. The King Hath divers ofs and ons, ofs and belongings, Almost as many as your true Mussulman — Belongings, paramours, whom it pleases him To call his wives; but so it chances, child, That I am his main paramour, his sultana. But since the fondest pair of doves will jar, Ev'n in a cage of gold, we had words of late, And thereupon he call'd my children bastards. Do you believe that you are married to I should believe it. here Puts that belief asleep. Your answer, beauty! Do you believe that you are married to him? Rosamund. Geoffrey, my boy, I saw the ball you lost in the fork of the great willow over the brook. Go. See that you do not fall in. Go. |