Scene 5
The Same. Titus. Afterwards, Philo.
[Enter a Servant.
Servant.
Titus the Captain craves an audience.
Joseph (about to go).
At once!
Alex.
And why not here?
Servant.
He’s here already
[Enter Titus.
Titus (in a whispered aside to Joseph).
What you have feared is come about; the folk
Rebels!
Joseph.
Be quick then, do what I’ve commanded!
Call out your cohort! Put it into action!
Titus.
Already done! And now I come to ask you
Whether you wish for prisoners or dead.
My eagle grips as thoroughly as he mangles
And you must know which better serves your ends.
Joseph.
Blood must not flow.
Titus.
Good. Then the hewing starts
Before they get their stoning well begun,
Else I had done it later.
Joseph.
Saw you Sameas?
Titus.
The Pharisee who once had nearly blundered
His head against my shield because his eyes
He always shuts as soon as e’er he spies me?
I saw him sure enough!
Joseph.
And how? Speak loud!
Titus.
In the open market-place ringed round by thousands
And cursing Herod loudly.
Joseph (to Alexandra).
Sameas
Took leave of you but one short hour ago.
Alex.
Saw you’t?
Titus (to Joseph).
You show yourself?
Joseph.
Soon as I can.
Meanwhile——
Titus.
’Tis good. I go. (About to go.)
Alex.
A word yet, Captain!
Say why the guard’s recalled from us.
Mar.
Is’t missing?
Alex.
Missing since yester-evening.
Joseph.
Since I bade it.
Titus.
And since the King in leaving said to me—
“Before you is the man who knows my will.
What he commands, that I command myself!”
[Exit.
Alex.
(to Joseph). And you?
Joseph.
I thought that Judas Maccabaeus
Were guard enough for you and for your daughter.
And, for the rest, you hear how matters stand
Without. I need the soldiers. (Aside.) If the Romans
Were near as this, I might have little luck.
To-day I stationed Galileans.
Alex. (to Mariamne).
Think you
That my mistrust is groundless still?
Mar.
I know not,
But now its sting infects. I feel ’tis strange!
And yet—If from the wall a javelin darted
It had not tricked my expectation more.
Alex.
Two thrusts, and then the throneward way is free:
For when the Maccabeans are no more
The turn comes round for the Herodians.
Mar.
I’d laugh you yet to ridicule if only
His wife were not Salome. By my brother
Her head is mine! For I shall say to Herod,
“As you avenge me on her so you love me!”
For she—’tis she! never that fellow there!
Alex.
Too early triumph! Our first call is action
And I’ve a notion we can use this outbreak.
Mar.
This outbreak! Nay. I wash my hands of it,
Because, if Herod comes again, there’s naught
For me to fear: and if he come no more
A death in any shape’s right opportune.
Alex.
I go.
[Turns to go.
Joseph (blocking her way).
Where?
Alex.
Firstly to the battlements
And then wherever it may please me go.
Joseph.
Your way is open to the battlements.
The castle’s barred.
Alex.
’Twould seem, then, we are prisoners?
Joseph.
Only till peace may be restored, no longer.
I must request——
Alex.
What brass effrontery’s this?
Joseph.
A stone is blind, a Roman javelin too;
They often find a mark where they should not;
’Twere therefore more discreet to give them room.
Alex. (to Mariamne).
I’ll go aloft and try with signalling
To make our friends acquainted with our plight.
Mar.
By signalling—your friends—Oh, Mother, Mother!
And so ’tis you at bottom, not the folk?
See to’t the pit you dig trips not yourself.
[Alexandra turns to go.
Joseph.
You will permit my guardsman offer you
His escort. Philo!
Alex.
So ’tis open war?
[Enter Philo. Joseph speaks with him, at first softly, then aloud.
Joseph.
You understand?
Philo.
Yes.
Joseph.
I’ the worst event!
Philo.
For that I’ll wait, then——
Joseph.
And your head’s my surety.
(Aside.) Methinks the soul of Herod’s over me!
Alex.
I go in his despite. Perhaps the soldier,
Although a Galilean, may be won.
I’ll try it!
[Exit, followed by Philo.
Joseph (aside).
I can do no otherwise,
Howe’er it bring mistrust on me; the outbreak
Compels me to this step; I dare not now
Allow her from my sight unless I make
The dead impossible through my own folly,
For every hour this courier may come.
Himself I long have thought to see no more.
Mar.
Say, when died Herod?
Joseph.
When died he?
Mar.
And how?
You surely know it since you dare so much.
Joseph.
What do I dare then? You propose me riddles.
Mar.
Naught, if you think I cannot find defence
So soon as e’er the Romans think my life
Is threatened; all, if you mistake therein.
Joseph.
Who threatens then your life?
Mar.
You ask me still?
You!
Joseph.
I?
Mar.
And can you swear the contrary?
Swear it upon your child’s head? You are silent!
Joseph.
You have no right of challenge to the swearing.
Mar.
Who hears such challenge gives it of himself,
But woe to you if Herod comes again!
I’ll say to him two things ere the first kiss,
I’ll say to him that you devised my murder,
I’ll say to him my oath; now gauge yourself
The fate that gathers for you if he comes.
Joseph.
And what—what was the oath? If it bring horror
Yet I must know it.
Mar.
Hear it to your bane!
That I with my own hand will kill myself
If he—oh had I but foreboded this
I had not turned me with a cold good-bye,
Nay, surely not! I would have kept the bearing
I had begun, and all would now be well,
For you at first were a far other man.
Joseph.
For me, I’ve naught to fear.
Mar.
Because you think
It is impossible that he return.
Who knows? And if! I hold the oath I swore,
But not till I avenge myself on you,
Avenge me on you—hear the word and tremble!
Sharp as he would avenge me. Come then, draw
Your instant sword! You dare not? I believe you!
And watch me close as e’er you can, I’ll find
A certain way unto the Captain Titus.
You lost your hazard when I pierced your husk.
Joseph (aside).
True, true! (To Mariamne.) I hold you to your word! You’d take
The same, the very vengeance he would wreak;
That vow you swore to me: forget it not.
Mar.
So speaks a wandering wit. That Herod loves me,
Yea, loves me more than I can love myself,
There’s none can doubt; no, not Salome even,
Your sinister-hearted wife, although she double
Just for that cause her hate, and even although
Just for that cause, and spurred by vengeful lust,
She may have filled you with this murder-thought.
And that it comes from her I know, and will
Pierce to her feeling nerve; her pain for you
Shall be my latest joy upon this earth.
Joseph.
You err. But that’s all one: I have your word.
Mar.
You say that once again? You—impious!
Oh what an uprush of night-spawnéd thoughts
And what mistrust you wake within my breast!
You speak such words as though I had been chosen
For altar-beast and you for altar-priest—
By Herod’s very self. Is’t so? At parting
There fell from him—I think thereon with horror—
A word of darkness. Answer!
Joseph.
This I give,
Soon as the need shall come, soon as I know
That he——
Mar.
No more can give you level lie,
If you, poltroon and vile, charged him with what
Numbs thought with fear, unmeasured and unnamed,
To sweep your own name sweet in my esteem?
I tell you, I but listen to you now
Since now, perhaps, before I make an end,
He may step through the door and strike you down.
Be silent then for aye or speak at once.
Joseph.
And if ’twere so? I say not it is so,
But if it were? What other would it be
Than confirmation of the thing you feel,
Than noble proof he loves as ne’er before
A man has loved his wife?
Mar.
What is’t you say?
Methinks my ears have heard that word before!
Joseph.
Why, I’d have thought ’twould please your quick of pride
To know he felt not death was half so bitter
As this, the thought he’d——
Mar.
Come, what will you stake
Myself can bring it for you to an end?
—As this, the thought he’d leave me here behind him
Amid a world where lives an Antony.
Joseph.
Well—yes then! But I say not that he’s said it—
Mar.
He’s said it? He has—Oh, what has he not?
Oh, that he came to end it!
Joseph.
Mariamne!
(Aside.) My feet are in the gin! True, I did naught
But what I must; and yet a horror grips me
That he—before my eyes comes Aristobulus.
Accurséd be the dead that flings a shadow
Ere it steps into life!
Mar.
Like to a crazy blister of the brain
Whose swollen puffiness at times will split,
So was it—From this hour my life begins.
Until to-day I dreamed!