The House of Rimmon | Page 5

a sackbut full o' wind.
HAZAEL: And what is a politician?
SHUMAKIM: A statesman that has dropped his mask and cracked his sackbut. Men trust him for what he is, and he never deceives them, because he always lies.
IZDUBHAR: Why do you call me a patriot?
SHUMAKIM: Because you know what is good for you; you love your country as you love your pelf. You feel for the common people,--as the wolf feels for the sheep.
SABALLIDIN: And what am I?
SHUMAKIM: A fool, master, just a plain fool; and there is hope of thee for that reason. Embrace me, brother, and taste this; but not too much,--it will intoxicate thee with sobriety.
[The hall has been slowly filling with courtiers and soldiers: a crowd of people begin to come up the steps at the rear, where they are halted by a chain guarded by servants of the palace. A bell tolls; the royal door is thrown open; the aged King crosses the hall slowly and takes his seat on the throne with the four tall sentinels standing behind him. All bow down shading their eyes with their hands.]
BENHADAD: The hour of royal audience is come. I'll hear the envoys of my brother king, The Son of Asshur. Are my counsellors At hand? Where are the priests of Rimmon's House?
[Gongs sound. REZON comes in from the rear, followed by a procession of priests in black and yellow. The courtiers bow; the King rises; REZON takes his stand on the steps of the throne at the left of the King.]
BENHADAD; Where is my faithful servant Naaman, The captain of my host?
[Trumpets sound from the city. The crowd on the steps divide; the chain is lowered; NAAMAN enters, followed by six soldiers. He is dressed in chain-mail, with a silver helmet and a cloak of blue. He uncovers, and kneels on the steps of the throne at the King's right.]
NAAMAN: My lord the King, The bearer of thy sword is here.
BENHADAD: [Giving NAAMAN his hand, and sitting down.] Welcome, My strong right arm that never failed me yet! I am in doubt,--but stay thou close to me While I decide this cause. Where are the envoys? Let them appear and give their message.
[Enter the Assyrian envoys; one in white and the other in red; both with the golden Bull's head embroidered oh their robes. They come from the right, rear, bow slightly before the throne, and take the centre of the hall.]
WHITE ENVOY: [Stepping forward.] Greeting from Shalmaneser, Asshur's son, The king who reigns at Nineveh And takes his tribute from a thousand cities, Unto Benhadad, monarch in Damascus! The conquering Bull has come out of the north; The south has fallen before him, and the west His feet have trodden; Hamath is laid waste; He pauses at your gate, invincible,-- To offer peace. The princes of your court, The priests of Rimmon's house, and you, the King, If you pay homage to your overlord, Shall rest secure, and flourish as our friends. Assyria sends to you this gilded yoke; Receive it as the sign of proffered peace.
[He lays a yoke on the steps of the throne.]
BENHADAD: What of the city? Said your king no word Of our Damascus, and the many folk That do inhabit her and make her great? What of the soldiers who have fought for us? The people who have sheltered 'neath our shield?
WHITE ENVOY: Of these my royal master did not speak.
BENHADAD: Strange silence! Must we give them up to him? Is this the price at which he offers us The yoke of peace? What if we do refuse?
RED ENYOY: [Stepping forward.] Then ruthless war! War to the uttermost. No quarter, no compassion, no escape! The Bull will gore and trample in his fury Nobles and priests and king,--none shall be spared! Before the throne we lay our second gift; This bloody horn, the symbol of red war.
[He lays a long bull's horn, stained with blood on the steps of the throne.]
WHITE ENVOY: Our message is delivered. Grant us leave And safe conveyance, that we may return Unto our master. He will wait three days To know your royal choice between his gifts. Keep which you will and send the other back; The red bull's horn your youngest page may bring; But with the yoke, best send your mightiest army!
[The ENVOYS retire, amid confused murmurs of the people, the King silent, his head sunken on his breast.]
BENHADAD: Proud words, a bitter message, hard to endure! We are not now that force which feared no foe; Our host is weakened, and our old allies Have left us. Can we face this raging Bull Alone, and beat him back? Give me your counsel.
[Many speak at once, confusedly.]
What babblement is this? Were ye born at Babel? Give me clear words and reasonable speech.
RAKHAZ: [Pompously] O King,