Book Read Free

Bertolt Brecht: Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder 1

Page 22

by Bertolt Brecht


  JAMES: The time has come to find shelter for our skins. And so we must carry out our orders. Shovel, good sir. Should you still want to relieve yourself you can do it here.

  GAVESTON: Now it’s moving more toward Bristol. When the wind blows you can hear the Welshman’s horses. Have you ever read the Trojan war? Much blood will be shed for my mother’s son too. Ned must often ask where his friend is.

  JAMES: Hardly, sir. Everyone at Killing worth will tell him not to wait for you any longer. Shovel, good sir. The rumour goes that your worthy Irish corpse has been seen in the knacker’s yard at Killingworth. If one dare believe a rumour you have lost your head, sir.

  GAVESTON: Whose is this grave?

  James is silent.

  GAVESTON: Shall I not see the King again, James?

  JAMES: The King of Heaven perhaps. The King of England, not.

  SOLDIER: Today many a man shall perish by a soldier’s hand.

  JAMES: What time is it?

  SOLDIER: About twelve o’clock.

  Seven in the evening.

  Edward, Spencer, Baldock, the captured barons, among them Mortimer. Spencer counts the prisoners and notes down their names.

  EDWARD:

  Now ’tis time. This is the hour

  When the murder of my dearest friend

  To whom, right well you knew, my soul was knit

  The murder of Daniel Gaveston, shall be purged.

  KENT:

  Brother, all was done for you and England.

  EDWARD freeing him:

  So sir, you have spoken. Now be gone.

  Exit Kent.

  EDWARD:

  Now lusty lords, not only chance of war

  But sometimes the justice of the cause can conquer.

  Methinks you hang your heads but

  We’ll advance them.

  Recreants! Rebels! Accursed slaves!

  Did you butcher him?

  When we sent to ask by messenger

  With seal and bond, also

  By letter, that he come

  And speak with us again.

  Did you say yes? Say! Did you butcher him?

  Behead him? Thou, Winchester, hast a great head.

  Therefore thy head shall overlook the rest

  As much as thou in rage outwent’st the rest.

  ARCHBISHOP:

  I look into your perjured face

  And I have done, no words can penetrate.

  For such as thee ’tis hard to trust the lips

  Of one who speaks to save himself, spoke he the truth.

  All proof hast thou blotted from the earth

  And ours, thine, thy friend’s strands

  So tangled all eternity shall not unravel them.

  Tis but temporal that thou canst inflict.

  EDWARD:

  What know’st thou, Lancaster?

  LANCASTER:

  The worst is death, and better die

  Than live with thee in such a world.

  MORTIMER aside:

  But with me

  Who more than Edward their butcher is

  They’d go down to the worms

  In harmony.

  EDWARD:

  Away with them! Their heads!

  LANCASTER:

  Farewell time.

  Two nights since when the slender moon arose

  God was with us. And now

  A little larger moon’s on high we’re undone.

  Farewell, good Mortimer.

  ARCHBISHOP:

  Good Mortimer, farewell.

  MORTIMER:

  Who loves his country as we do

  Dies with light heart.

  England shall weep for us. England forgets not.

  Archbishop, Lancaster, lords – except Mortimer – are led off.

  EDWARD:

  Have they found a certain Mortimer

  Who, when I summoned them to Killingworth

  Quarry, most cunningly came not?

  SPENCER:

  Indeed, my lord. Here he is.

  EDWARD:

  Take away the others. This one would not forget.

  Our Majesty has special plans for him.

  Release him so the memory of this day

  Of Killingworth fade not in England.

  You Mortimers reckon

  Dim-eyed, are at home in books

  Like worms. But Edward is not found

  In books, he reads not, reckons not

  Knows naught, but is nature’s friend

  And feeds himself on very different food.

  You may go, Lord Mortimer. Go round and round

  A wandering witness beneath the sun

  How Edward Longshanks’ son avenged

  His friend.

  MORTIMER:

  As to your friend Daniel Gaveston

  He walked at five o’clock

  When the King of England turned a tiger

  Alive still in the wood at Killingworth.

  Had you, when my friends began to speak

  Not drowned their cries with drumming

  Had not too little trust

  Too harsh a passion, too hot a rage

  Clouded your eye, he’d be living now

  Your favourite, Gaveston.

  Exit.

  EDWARD:

  If Gaveston’s corpse is found, take care

  To give it honourable burial. Yet seek it not.

  He was like a man who walks away into the wood:

  Behind him bushes close again, grass

  Springs up again and he is swallowed in the

  Undergrowth.

  But we will this day’s sweat

  Wash from our body, eat and rest

  Till called to cleanse the realm of the last of fratricide

  And war.

  For I will not set foot again in London

  Nor sleep save in a soldier’s hammock

  Until this generation like a raindrop

  In the sea, is lost in me.

  Come, Spencer.

  Three in the morning.

  Light wind.

  ANNE:

  Since Edward of England hears not prayers

  Or urgent cries and throws me on Coldheart Mortimer

  I will put on my widow’s weeds.

  Four times I let him spit upon my hair

  But now, rather, do I stand bareheaded

  Under heaven. For at the fifth time

  The wind changes and heaven has another face

  And changed is the breath upon my lips.

  To London!

  Mortimer has entered meanwhile.

  MORTIMER:

  Yet not so, my lady.

  London warms but watery soup for our kind.

  ANNE:

  Where is your army, Earl Mortimer?

  MORTIMER:

  My army lies

  Dead between meadows and a quarry.

  And a pitiless bog has swallowed many

  A mother’s son. Where is your husband, lady?

  ANNE:

  With his dead Gaveston.

  MORTIMER:

  And France’s sister?

  ANNE:

  At the crossroads between London and Scotland.

  He charged me to levy troops in Scotland

  On the day of Killingworth.

  MORTIMER:

  He charged me

  To wander as a living witness

  To the day of Killingworth.

  Seven heads he struck from the hydra; may he

  Find seven times seven when he wakes.

  Enmeshed in marches and encampments

  He will never free himself from war

  Or from dead Gaveston.

  ANNE:

  He abused his wife for all to see.

  MORTIMER:

  He misused his kingdom like a pimp.

  ANNE:

  He bound me in chains and packed me off.

  MORTIMER:

  He gutted the land like a bleeding hunk of game.

  ANNE:

&
nbsp; Strike him, Mortimer!

  MORTIMER:

  Because he spurned you like a mangy bitch.

  ANNE:

  Because he spurned me like a worthless bitch.

  MORTIMER:

  You who were queen.

  ANNE:

  Who was a child in innocence

  Not knowing the world or men.

  MORTIMER:

  Devour him!

  ANNE:

  I shall become a she-wolf

  Ranging bare-toothed through the scrub

  Not resting

  Until the earth covers Edward long since dead –

  Edward Gloucester, my husband sometime

  Yesteryear – earth covers him.

  She throws three lumps of earth behind her.

  Rousing the poor from out the woods

  Myself sullied by the wicked guile of the world and men

  Ranging like a she-wolf, by wolves mounted

  Drenched by the rain of exile

  Hardened by foreign winds.

  MORTIMER:

  Earth upon Edward of England!

  ANNE:

  Earth upon Edward Gloucester!

  MORTIMER:

  To Scotland!

  ANNE:

  Ah Mortimer, war comes, whose end shall be

  To drown this island in the deep wide sea.

  AFTER FOUR YEARS OF WAR KING EDWARD IS STILL LIVING IN CAMP. LANDING OF QUEEN ANNE. THE DAY OF HARWICH (23 SEPTEMBER 1324)

  Camp near Harwich

  Edward, Spencer, Baldock.

  EDWARD:

  So, after many treacheries in four years’ war

  Triumpheth England’s Edward with his friends.

  Enter a courier with a message.

  SPENCER:

  What news, my lord?

  EDWARD tearing up the message:

  None. What news have you?

  SPENCER:

  None.

  EDWARD:

  Why man, they say there is a great slaughter.

  And execution done through the realm.

  BALDOCK:

  That was, unless I do mistake, four

  Years ago, my lord.

  EDWARD:

  Four good years. Living under canvas

  And campaigning are a pleasure.

  Horses are good. Wind cleanses the lungs.

  And if skin shrivels and hair falls out

  Rain washes the kidneys and all is better

  Than London.

  BALDOCK:

  Would rather we could rail at London

  In London.

  EDWARD:

  Have you still that list?

  SPENCER:

  Indeed, my lord.

  EDWARD:

  I pray you, let us hear it. Read it, Spencer.

  Spencer reads the list of the executed peers.

  EDWARD:

  Methinks one name is lacking. Mortimer.

  Have you proclaimed reward for such

  As bring him in?

  SPENCER:

  We have, sire, and renew it every year.

  EDWARD:

  Shows he his face in England he’ll soon be here.

  Enter another messenger.

  SECOND MESSENGER:

  Rumours tell of ship on ship from the North.

  EDWARD:

  That means nothing. Those are herring fishers

  Coming from the North.

  Exit messenger.

  EDWARD:

  Touching the other names upon thy paper

  They were still barking four years ago

  Now they bark no more, nor bite.

  BALDOCK to Spencer:

  He credits nothing. Since his decline whatever’s

  Said to him he hastens to forget.

  EDWARD:

  Yet where are the Scottish troops?

  Always you hear of troops. Falsely. Yet of

  The Scottish troops for which we sent the Queen

  Four years ago comes not a word.

  Enter the army.

  FIRST SOLDIER:

  The king’s army, proved in four years’ strife

  And having slain so many lords like rats

  Lacking now uniforms, supplies, and footwear

  Prays King Edward, son to Edward Longshanks

  Father of the English army, that this year

  They may eat Thames eels again.

  SOLDIERS:

  Long live King Edward!

  SECOND SOLDIER:

  Our women would be breeding. Only because

  This war perchance may never end, now

  The King has sworn he’ll not sleep in a bed

  Until the enemy are on their knees.

  FIRST SOLDIER:

  And now that many a man’s gone home

  Saying it was for a will, beer-licence, childbed

  It were good to know if the king intends

  To go to London or not.

  THIRD SOLDIER:

  Go you to London, sire?

  FOURTH SOLDIER:

  Or what shall you do?

  EDWARD:

  Wage war against the cranes of the air

  The fish in the deep sea that faster spawn than die

  Monday against the great Leviathan, Thursday in Wales

  Against the vultures; now, to eat.

  SPENCER:

  The watery diet has given the king

  A little fever. Go.

  Spencer and Baldock push the soldiers out.

  EDWARD:

  Bring me to drink, Baldock.

  Exit Baldock.

  SPENCER:

  They’ll not come back again.

  Will you really not to London, sire?

  Enter third messenger.

  MESSENGER:

  My lord, armed men are moving through the wood at Harwich.

  EDWARD:

  Let them. They are the servants

  Of Welsh traders.

  He sits and eats.

  Have ships been sighted?

  THIRD MESSENGER:

  Yes, sire.

  EDWARD:

  Villages burn in the North?

  THIRD MESSENGER:

  Yes, sire.

  EDWARD:

  It is the Queen with Scottish troops

  For us.

  SPENCER:

  Hardly.

  EDWARD:

  I will not have you watch me whiles I eat.

  Exeunt Spencer and Messenger.

  EDWARD alone:

  There is sorrow in my heart my son

  Should be suborned to prop their wickedness.

  Enter Spencer.

  SPENCER:

  Fly, sire! Tis not the time to eat!

  Shall I call your army to the battle!

  EDWARD:

  No. Edward knows his army’s far away and home.

  SPENCER:

  Will you not fight against Roger Mortimer?

  EDWARD:

  Help me God! He is like a fish

  In home water.

  Exit with Spencer and soldiers.

  Off-stage marching, battle, retreat.

  Enter Mortimer, Anne, Young Edward, troops.

  ANNE:

  Successful battles gives the God of Kings

  To those that fight in the shadow of right. As we

  Are proven by success and thus by right, thanks be

  To Him that steered the planets for us. We are

  Come in arms to this part of our isle

  Lest a breed of men baser than all others

  Knitting strength with strength lay England waste

  Hacking its own body with its bloody

  Weapons. As has been clearly shown

  By the most dreadful fall of suborned Edward who —

  MORTIMER:

  If, my lady, you would be a soldier, you must

  Not show passion in your speech.

  Changed is

  The face of this isle, today England’s queen

  Is landed with her son Edward.

 
Enter Rice ap Howell.

  RICE AP HOWELL:

  The fleeing Edward, by all foresaken

  Is sailing with the wind to Ireland.

  MORTIMER:

  May it sink him or leave him in the lurch.

  My lords, since now we hold the kingdom from

  The Irish sea even to the Channel

  Raise young Edward on our shields!

  Let our party swear an oath to him!

  Show the soldiers the Lord Warden of the realm!

  Young Edward is led out. Exeunt omnes except Mortimer and the Queen.

  ANNE:

  Now he has his Scottish troops

  And his bitch comes and springs at him.

  All that remains of him are half-eaten

  Kitchen scraps and a tattered hammock

  While my body, almost virgin-like, takes life.

  MORTIMER:

  We must send troops to the South.

  Tomorrow morning you must be in London.

  Still no news of the Irish fleet.

  It will join with us, I hope. Are you weary?

  ANNE:

  Are you working?

  MORTIMER:

  I secure you England.

  ANNE:

  Ah, Mortimer, there is less pleasure than I thought

  Tasting the fruit of this victory. It is stale

  In the mouth, it’s watery, it’s not

  Amusing.

  MORTIMER:

  Because of Edward?

  ANNE:

  Edward? I know him not. It is his smell

  Here in the tent.

  It was better in the Scottish hills

  Than here in swampy lowlands. What do you think

  To offer me now, Mortimer?

  MORTIMER:

  You are

  Glutted. It is your bloated flesh.

  Wait for London.

  Enter Baldock with a drink.

  MORTIMER:

  Who art thou, fellow?

  BALDOCK:

  King Edward’s Baldock, and I bring to drink.

  MORTIMER taking the drink from him:

  Hang him!

  BALDOCK:

  I cannot recommend that, noble sir.

  Not that I am unwilling to depart;

  It is our mortal lot and lasts not long.

  But in Ireland my mother’d not rejoice to see it.

  Leaving the tent to fetch him to drink –

  Ah ’twixt fortune and misfortune there’s not time

  To drink a sip of water – I loved him much

  And yet, returning to the tent

  I must alas, so soon betray him. Indeed

  Without me you’ll not take him; for I alone

  Have entry to his heart. And further

  Madam, you’d not know him, nor his mother

  Nor his innocent son

  For time and life so have altered him.

  MORTIMER:

  Good, bring him to us!

  BALDOCK:

  The Bible teaches how it’s done.

  When your people come with manacles and

  With thongs I will say to him: Beloved lord

  Be of good cheer, here is a napkin. And the man

  To whom I give the napkin, that is he.

 

‹ Prev