RIDE A COCK HORSE
a play
by Roger Maybank
‘With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever She goes.’
Characters: LADY
MAID
MAN
(The backdrop and side curtains of the stage are hung with ‘finely carved’ closed shutters, suggesting a large and handsome room; in which the only furniture is an elegant ‘lady’s couch’, centre stage, and a small ‘serving table’, upstage, with a decanter full of water on it, and an empty glass.)
(As the lights come up, LADY, a ‘lovely woman’, a little past her prime, is seated on the couch. She is wearing a cloak of many colours, to which are attached numerous paper flowers, leaves, and fruits, of all colours. In her hair and on her arms are others. Around her on the floor, many more are carelessly scattered. She is holding her hands in front of her, as if about to remove other flowery ornaments, when, as if changing her mind, she lets her hands fall listlessly to her lap.)
LADY: It is time, and long past time, and still I am waiting.
MAID: (brushing a couple of flower ornaments from the couch to the floor) Yes, milady. It’s been, for certain, a very long time o’ waitin’.
LADY: (standing up, walking about restlessly) I have given so greatly to the world, bringing its bare earth to flower and fruit; and what gratitude have I received for it? For whatever I have bestowed, more is desired, a desire which knows no end. And so the end must come with my going. But it is not coming. Why?
MAID: I hope your ladyship’s not meanin’ you’ll be endin’ your generous givin’, with his comin’. Since if there’s bein’ no more o’ it, the earth’ll hardly be more’n a pile o’ ashes. And what’d we all be doin’ then for livin’?
LADY: Your living will continue, inevitably. And the better for the ashes, as they will be food for your souls. Since the food with which I have been so long blessing you, (‘grandly’ flinging flowers to the floor) has fed nothing but your ever-craving bodies.
MAID: Bodies is havin’ their needs too, ma’am.
LADY: They will easily be cared for, as their desires will diminish, when their souls are fed with the inner nourishment which he will be bringing to them all through me.
MAID: And when will that good day be happenin’, ma’am?
LADY: How may I know, who am only a poor weak link in the chain of descending glory?
MAID: Poor an’ weak or not, milady, he’ll not be able to be doin’ without you.
LADY: (continuing to walk about restlessly.) If, at least, his messenger would deign to make his appearance, so that I might know when to expect himself..
MAID: That’d be difficult, milady, an’ likely to be misleadin’ to you, if he’s not knowin’ that for sure himself.
LADY: And why would he not be sure?
MAID: If you’re not mindin’ me sayin’ so, milady, It may be he’s thinkin’ you’re not yourself bein’ quite ready to be receivin’ ‘im.
LADY: He has no reason for thinking so, after all the great length of time I have been waiting.
MAID: If you’ll be allowin’ me to say so, ma’am, waitin’s not always a clear sign o’ makin’ ready.
LADY: Nor the floor that is scattered with what were the flowers of my own being? Little though they may look it now.
MAID: They’re looking still well enough, madam; except for close lookin’, when, as you were yourself sayin’ once or twice, it can be seen clear enough they’re only coloured paper an’ paste. That bein’ all we were havin’ to hand in the workshop. So he may be thinkin’, wherever from he’s lookin’, that you’ve not thrown nothin’ at all.
LADY: Only my life-blood, clotted and dry in them now; deforming them into an appearance of twisted paper, the skilled product of your ‘workshop’.
MAID: Yours as well as mine, ma’am.
LADY: (with a grand gesture) Nothing is mine! Nothing at all. When I am able at last to divest myself of these remaining ornaments, and my bright autumn declines to the hoar of winter..
MAID: Whore’s a hard word for any woman, milady. There’s none would dream of sayin’ it o’ you.
LADY: The hoar I speak of is the chill white of winter, when my body will be naked of all colour.
MAID: Bein’ naked’s not bein’ a.., ma’am. We’re all o’ us naked, wearin’ our clothes or not.
LADY: Naked in that manner I am fully content to be; though unseen by the world, even in its lustful imagination. As I shall still be sheltered in my cloak, though all the ornaments be gone from it.
(She casts from her, in a ‘generous’ gesture, a flowery ornament in each hand.)
MAID: Maybe that’s what he’s waitin’ for, milady, before showin’ you his own face; which you’re sayin’, if I been understandin’ you, will be flamin’ brighter’n we’ll be wantin’ to be lookin’ at.
LADY: It will be fruitless his showing it at all, if the witness is not here to tell of it, to enable the unwitting world to have some pale reflection of the event. I hope he has not lost his way upon the road.
MAID: It’s a long enough road to here from wherever he’s to be comin’ from, madam; an’ the dark o’ the nights bein’ deep..
LADY: If the the dark has caused him to fall, so that he is seeing nothing but the myriad stars above him, he will know his way neither here, nor back.
MAID: With only the two ways to choose from, madam, an’ the prints o’ his feet likely still visible in the one; an’ there bein’ no others walkin’ that partic’lar road, it’s seemin’ to me we’ll not that much longer now be waitin’.
LADY: (removing a ‘flower brooch’ from her gown, gazing at it) And what may be causing you to think so?
MAID: (indicating the ornaments on the floor) All those lovely ornaments lyin’ everywhere about you, showin’ the much passin’ o’ the time. And those still on you showin’ the comparative little of it, and so o’ the road in front o’ him, there’s left to come. We’ll very soon, madam, be hearin’ the noise o’ his feet on the gravel outside.
LADY: (carelessly casting the brooch from her) Well, that may be, and I hope it will. But if it is not, and much more time passes, I shall proceed without him.
MAID: Oh, madam, I wouldn’t be doin’ that. With no witness, as you were just sayin’ yourself, how will them of us left be knowin’?
LADY: You will be my witness.
MAID: Oh, I couldn’t, milady; not having the wits nor words for that sort o’ work. If you can just be waitin’ a shade longer.
LADY: I have waited half a lifetime.
MAID: I know, madam.
LADY: And I am tired to death of it.
MAID: Yes, madam. He’ll be just round the corner now.
LADY: Well then, I shall wait a little longer. And in the—to be hoped—short while left to us, you may turn over those ‘ornaments’, as you call them, which are lying, like tide-turned turtles, on their backs. There is no need for him, nor anyone else, to know they are but paper and paste. (preening herself) On my body, of course, they are beautiful; but what may they do on their own, poor things, but find themselves ground underfoot?
MAID: And serve’em right; playin’ all this while somethin’ they was not.
LADY: While they were on my body, they were what they were.
MAID: Yes, ma’am; but your not wantin’ ’em longer, they’re nothin’ but dust.
LADY: (walking about restlessly) Well, that is true. Alas for them. (stopping and turning her head, as if listening) There was, a moment ago and somewhere near, a beautiful sound; of..birds, I think. A sweet trilling.
MAID: That’ll be the bells, madam. On your toes.
LADY: (with a little laugh) A charming fancy. (looking down) There are no bells on my toes. (standing still, ‘listening’) And unfortunately, the sound of the birds has died away.
MAID: That’s ’cause you’ve stopped walkin’.
LADY: You may say so, or what else you like. There are no bells on my toes.
MAID: No, ma’am. Nor rings on your fingers, neither.
LADY: (drawing back a sleeve of her cloak) Rings, one or two, there may be.
MAID: Would you be likin’ me to remove ’em?
LADY: There is no need. As he will do it. When he comes.
MAID: Very well, madam.
LADY: (sinking down onto the couch, sighing) If only he will come.
MAID: Him bein’ a little bit late, ma’am, ain’t so surprisin’, the journey soundin’ to me like one that few’d be up to; certainly not meself. It must be a hard thing to be jumpin’ from star to star. Though I suppose, if you’re on the way down, as he’ll be, you’re havin’ a bit o’ momentum. If he is on his way, o’ course, which we’re havin’ no real way o’ knowin’.
LADY: As to his being on his way, there is no question in my mind; although the distance, as you say, is great, and the realms of air he will be descending through, though ever denser, will still only just be able to support his foot—even aided in this, as they will be, by his glorious outstretched wings—until he has approached so near me that I may, in this very dense air we are ourselves breathing, reach out my hand to receive from him the visible sign of the invisible realm from which he has descended.
MAID: (moving among the scattered ornaments, turning some over) And what’ll be that ‘visible sign’ he’ll be givin’ you, milady?
LADY: A lily, of course, of six pure white petals, the emblem of the world whence he has come.
MAID: I’m supposin’ I’ll not be seein’ that, bein’ o’ poor sight in such matters so far beyond me daily experience. Nor smellin’ the fine scent o’ it neither. But I’ll be seein’ it maybe in the light ‘ll be reflectin’ from your own face.
LADY: (carelessly) Even that will probably be beyond your ability to bear.
(MAID, stands still, lifts her head as if listening.)
MAID: He’s come, milady. He’s at the door.
LADY: That is not possible, nor could it be fruitful. As there is no witness.
MAID: It’s the witness I was meanin’, ma’am.
(A sound of knocking.)
LADY: Well, whoever it may be, there is clearly someone is at the door.
MAID: (Going to stage left) I’ll be answerin’ it then.
LADY: (‘improving her appearance’) That will be as well.
(MAN enters. He is in the prime of middle age, elegantly dressed in a short pale grey coat, with gloves, and a broad-brimmed hat. The trousers enclosing the lower parts of his legs are white, and appear to be ‘eastern’ pantaloons. As he looks about him, appearing not to see well in the light of the room, he brushes at his clothes, as if feeling himself dusty. Seeing LADY, he peers at her in mild wonder, walking slowly about the couch.)
MAN: What a beautiful bed of flowers.
(Seeing MAID, he bows to her.)
MAN: How do you maintain such fine flowers within these walls? Water for them, I suppose there is. But, (looking up) untouched, as they must be, by any sunlight.. (looking around) And the windows, though many, being shuttered against the day..
MAID: The ‘flower bed’ you’re seein’, sir, is the lady her very self.
MAN: (blinking and peering at LADY) Ah, I had not realized. A very good morning to you, Madam. You are, I assume, the lady of this house?
MAID: (under her breath) And who else might be? Surely not meself.
LADY: You may come a little nearer, that I may see you more clearly.
MAID: (in undertone to MAN) Her eyes’ve had a lot o’ work to do in their lives, makin’ the world you’re seein’ about you. If your own eyes is open to it.
(As MAN approaches her, LADY gracefully lifts herself up from the couch. She walks slowly, and at some distance, around him, peering at him.)
LADY: You are not quite what I had in mind for a witness. But, as you are here, and time is of the essence, you will have to do; that the world may have some small, bare experience of my journey, and consequent encounter.
MAN: A bare witness to what bare journey, if I may be so bold as to ask,..madam?
LADY: (moving away) I am disappointed that you speak so easily of boldness, as it is not the quality I was looking for; it tending to follow its own will, disregarding that of others.
MAN: Of your own, that is to say?
LADY: In this particular situation. As you are in my house; my realm, I might almost call it.
MAID: (in undertone to MAN) An’ you’ll be best not carryin’ any doubt in you about that.
MAN: In some houses, in some lands, that realm is at the disposal of the guest. (bowing to Lady) But customs, of course, are variable. My own journey has been long, and wearying; (looking about him) and I am still, I fear, far from the end of it. Yours, I trust, will be easier.
LADY: It will not be easy. (casting from her a flowery ornament with each hand) As it will be nothing less than my renunciation of the world.
MAN: (with a slight smile) That would be a journey difficult, and perhaps too painful, to witness.
LADY: And what is it you imagine yourself to be witnessing? My death? The corruption of my body? My sun-bleached bones?
MAN: I was thinking only of the dying of the flesh that is covering them. Bare as it will be; having lost, as it appears that it must, the flowers still brightly adorning it. A winter body, white as ice. And as still.
LADY: For myself, within it, it will be as wide as the world.
MAN: But unwitnessed by those without.
LADY: Witnessed it will be; and by yourself. Why else might you have come here, but to enable the world, unable themselves to accompany me, to benefit from the many external auspicious signs, which you will describe to them?
MAN: To see such signs, and to speak of them to others, will be but small compensation for the loss of yourself.
LADY: A pretty speech. But I shall not be lost. Since everywhere will be where I am. (looking keenly at MAN) As it is even now, though in another manner. Were it not, you’d not yourself have found your way here; slowly and, I suppose, stumbling over unseen obstacles, as is the way of the unblessed.
MAN: The way was indeed somewhat difficult, and dusty. And your house, large as it is, was not evident to my eyes. And, as it was periodically dark, in accord with the turning of the world, I did sometimes, as you surmise, stumble. But I am content if it will be of some benefit to yourself.
LADY: (turning away from MAN) Well, you may rest now, awhile, from your journey. I have no immediate need of your assistance. (to MAID, carelessly, as she removes a flower and casts it from her) Give him something to refresh him.
MAID: Yes, milady. (to MAN) What would you be likin’,sir?
MAN: Only a glass of water. To clear my throat of dust.
MAID: I’ll be gettin’ that for you straight, sir.
(MAID goes to the table, pours out a glass of water, takes it to MAN, who gazes steadily at LADY, who continues gracefully casting her many flowery ornaments from her.)
MAN: (half to himself) It is a difficult journey, certainly.
MAID: Sir?
MAN: Your lady’s journey. If she is able to accomplish it. One like her, as I’ve read—though I believe she was a goddess, someone of that kind—removed all her clothes as she descended to the underworld. It eludes my memory as to why she felt it necessary to remove them.
MAID: She’d ha’ been havin’ someone with her, I expect, to help her in that.
MAN: It is probable. To the degree perhaps that the teller of the tale saw no need to mention it.
MAID: Maids o’ that kind ain’t often mentioned.
MAN: (smiling ironically) Because unseen, if their work is well done. As it appears that yours is here. (looking around) This is a large and beautiful room—and I suppose but one of many—for a woman alone, as it appears that she is. (looking at LADY) She has, however, from what I understand, some expectation of..someone coming to..see her.
MAID: That’ll be yourself, sir.
MAN: (as if surprised) Surely not. As she gave me to understand that I could be, at best, a surrogate.
MAID: Whatever that might be bein’, sir, the usin’ of it is showin’ you to be a man o’ letters, as she’ll be needin’, for her witness, that she’s wantin’.
MAN: I am literate, certainly, for all the good it has done me. A skill common enough, and rarely necessary to anyone witnessing what is actually happening.
(LADY, while continuing to cast ornaments from her, listens with increasing attention to their conversation.)
MAID: For the passin’ of it on, what you’ve seen; that others can be seein’.
MAN: (with dry smile) If they, in their turn, are ‘literate’.
MAID: They’ll all be findin’ someone who is; and payin’ him the little he’ll be wantin’, to tell it.
MAN: Anyone may say he can read; and tell whatever story comes into his head.
MAID: I’m seein’ that, sir. But for yourself, you’re bein’ well able to read an’ write?
MAN: Yes, I can read and write.
MAID: And you’d be tellin’ ’em what you hadn’t seen?
MAN: I don’t think I’d be equal to that. Literacy is not always—indeed is rarely—conducive to imagination.
LADY: You will have no need, in the small role allotted you, to display any imagination at all; as it would be far beneath the radiance of the event itself. You need only to record it mentally, and convey what you are able to, to the world. And in that humble role, it would be a courtesy in you to remove your hat; as you are but a visitor, and to a lady.
MAN: I feel some..awkwardness in doing so.
LADY: I feel sure it may be overcome.
MAN: It may. (sweeping off his hat in a ‘generous gesture’, revealing an inner cap, covered in smooth white feathers, with its peak in the shape of the beak of an eagle) And it has been.
(He bows to LADY. She and MAID both stare at his head, LADY with clear eyes, MAID in alarm.)
MAID: Oh my dear!
LADY: (in ironic ‘admiration’) A feather-cut. How elegant.
MAN: The feathers are uncut. Ever uncut. Untouched but by the wind.
LADY: And, until this moment, your hat.
(MAN holds out the hat to MAID, who takes it, and sets it on the table.)
MAN: The hat was a kind of ‘courtesy’, although you saw it otherwise. The courtesy which shelters us from what we are unready to see.
LADY: An unreadiness which is in the eye of the beholder.
(Withdrawing her attention, LADY removes a flowery brooch from her bosom, looks at it a moment, casts it ‘in a lovely gesture’ from herself.)
MAN: (to himself, turning from her) Who has, from all appearances, arrived before time.
MAID: I’ll be takin’ your gloves too, sir, if you’re willin’. And if it’s some refreshment more than water you’re wantin’, I’d be happy to provide it. (aside to MAN) Madam no longer concernin’ herself with such daily things.
MAN: (removing his gloves, giving them to MAID) You are fortunate in that; or for what would she need you near her?
MAID: You’re in the right there, sir; though I wasn’t seein’ it.
MAN: But you do not, as I notice, gather—as you have my hat and gloves —the ornaments which she has scattered from herself.
MAID: It was herself’s firm sayin’ I was not to.
MAN: (smiling) Her loss then is the house’s gain.
LADY: The world’s gain, you may say. The flowers given them in my going from them.
MAN: What were yours are now everyone’s?
LADY: If they care to take them, as mementos; although there is no life in them, they being nothing but coloured paper, now that they are removed from the life of my body. Which is the fear, that of losing their sense of life, which is pulsing in those still feeding on my body. (suddenly smiling warmly at MAN) And in that, now that your hands are free of impediment, you may be helpful. (holding out her arm, on which are many ‘flowering’ bracelets) Come nearer.
(MAN takes a step or two towards her.)
LADY: Your first, and simple task is to touch my arm, just above the elbow.
MAN: (reaching his hand towards her arm) That is a task I feel equal to.
LADY: Lightly, only lightly—to still the frightened and quivering awareness of the bracelets sliding from it. A task to which she (indicating MAID) is not equal; her own hand, in foolish sympathy with the loss the bracelets are experiencing, shivering so greatly.
MAID: I’m not likin’ to be watchin’ them bracelets goin’, and nothin’ comin’ to replace ’em, that I’m seein’.
MAN: (gently caressing LADY’s arm) My own sympathy is rather with your arm. And the loss it is experiencing.
LADY: It can bear that, as the choice is its own. (sliding a bracelet from her wrist) Ah, it is sliding away easily now; you are more skilled in your work than appeared. (taking the bracelet in the fingers of her other hand) And how beautiful the bracelet is which your fingers have released. More nearly worthy than most of the beauty of my arm. Let it go. (casting it carelessly to the floor) Like everything unliving, it has only been staining my virginal body.
(LADY gazes into space. Her hands, as if of their own accord, remove ornaments and cast them from her.)
MAN: (in undertone to MAID, his hand resting lightly on LADY’s upper arm) Your lady is a virgin? I would not have thought it from the many colours of her cloak..
MAID: Cloaks is but cloaks, sir, and the time o’ that partic’lar one o’ them in the world is passin’, as you’re easily hearin’, if you’re listnin’. It’s been with her for as long as I been knowin’ ‘er meself; old as I’m now lookin’, an’ her so young.
MAN: She is not then so young as she appears?
MAID: How she’s appearin’ is how you might be lookin’ an’ seein’. In herself there ain’t no years gathered nor gatherin’, they’re all passin’ right through ‘er, like the ringin’ o’ bells. Which I’m hearin’ meself, an’ feelin’ me flesh quiverin’ with, in the silence o’ every night.
MAN: (‘absently’ lifting his fingers from LADY’s arm) And has that been a preservative to your own body?
MAID: Ain’t no signs o’ it, that I’m seein’.
LADY: Do not remove your hand.
MAN: I thought your arm might be tiring of my touch.
LADY: On the contrary. Feeling your touch, my ornaments are a little more willing to..go. As flowers in a field yield themselves more easily to uprooting, if the fingers touching their roots are gentle.
MAID: An’ if they’re knowin’ why they’re bein’ uprooted; which, if they are, they’re a step ahead o’ me.
MAN: (unbuttoning his coat) As the room, although spacious, is beginning to feel the heat of the day.. And as my clothes, unlike yours, enclose me closely..
LADY: You are free to remove those which constrict you.
MAN: I may then remove my coat?
LADY: You may, of course.
MAID: I’ll be helpin’ you with that, sir.
MAN: (beginning to remove his coat) There is no need.
MAID: It’s my work, sir. You’ll not be takin’ that from me?
MAN: (extending his arms to let MAID draw the sleeves from them) I would not take from you anything at all that you may need or want.
(MAID’s removal of MAN’s coat reveals a loose shirt of white silk, with a green loosely-knotted, tie, and the upper part of his ‘pantaloon’ trousers tied at his waist with a simple cotton cord. (MAID stares at MAN, as she folds the coat and lays it on the table. LADY looks at him ‘carelessly’, as she removes flowery ornaments from her cloak.)
LADY: Nor from me?
MAN: (glancing round the room, unknotting his tie) There is nothing, so far as I can see, that you are wanting. (removing his tie, looking around, as if to see where best to lay it) Where might I best..?
LADY: Cast it where you like.
(MAN throws it to the floor among the flowery ornaments.)
LADY: (smiling) A snake among the flowers, tempting them.
MAN: Breathing in the scent of their bodies. (slightly bowing to LADY) And of yours.
LADY: That may be, for a little while yet. But it will soon perish with them.
MAN: But not that of those which are yet with you.
LADY: Their death too is upon them; as you will soon discover if you will rest your fingers again on my arm. The single thing, as you have not seen, that I am wanting.
MAN: (laying his fingers lightly on LADY’s arm) That is the want of the ornaments, not of yourself.
LADY: While they rest on my body, they are myself, and have been ever since my eyes first opened to the day.
MAN: (gently caressing her arm) Which, being but bare light, was not yourself.
LADY: There is no need to caress my arm, only to touch it, that the bracelets will slide freely from it .
MAN: As otherwise they will not?
LADY: No. As they are naturally fearful of the world they are going to, as it is other than themselves.
MAN: And my presence reassures those still with you that the danger of that other world is as little as its light is to you? So that they will go gladly?
LADY: (faintly smiling) Not gladly. As they will still sense that going will mean only their decay and death. Of which they have had no experience. Nor desire. But they will go. (pause) Indeed, I believe they will now go without your touch to encourage them. You may remove your hand.
(With some evident reluctance MAN lets his hand fall from LADY’s arm. She walks away from him and about the stage, the bells on her toes tinkling. She slides all her armlets and bracelets from her arms, and brushes all the remaining flowers from her cloak. MAID nervously follows after her. MAN watches her keenly.)
LADY: (to MAID, coming to a halt) Do any still remain?
MAID: (walking around LADY) No, madam; none that I’m seein’.
LADY: (inhaling deeply) Then I may breathe freely.
MAID: And what’ll you be wantin’ me to be doin’ with all them ornaments, milady?
LADY: Nothing. As they are dead, let them rest.
(She removes her cloak, hands it ‘carelessly’ to MAID, leaving her clad in nothing but a white body stocking.)
LADY: (in ‘actor’ undertone to MAID) I hope, for this moment of nakedness I must undergo, that there are no holes in this body stocking, in places unfitting for a virgin to be seen.
MAID: (walking around LADY, clockwise) There are no such places, madam, none at all.
LADY: A further proof, given its great age and endless use, that the world, in breathless fright at my altering life, has ceased its turning.
MAID: Its fright’s natural enough, milady, with your leavin’ us all on our own.
LADY: I shall not be leaving you, I shall merely be altering—though dramatically—my presence among you. As you will see, if you will replace my cloak upon me.
(MAID holds up the cloak for LADY to slide her arms through the sleeves.)
LADY: No, no. With the fine grey lining outwards. The time for bright colours is past.
(MAID, with some evident reluctance, turns the cloak inside out, revealing a lining of ‘dove-grey silk’, and offers it again to LADY’s outstretched arms, which LADY slides into the sleeves with a sigh of content, and clasps the cloak round her.
LADY: (to MAN) Now I am ready for your approach.
MAN: I am greatly honoured to be allowed, and able, to approach someone so beautiful.
LADY: Such as I am, I am. I can change nothing more.
MAN: Perhaps, if I help you..
LADY: And in what manner may you..?
MAN: By some indication of my own..surrendering.
LADY: And what might that be?
(MAN partly opens his shirt, partly revealing his chest, covered with black ‘eagle feathers’, and the head of a large serpent at his sternum. LADY stares at the serpent’s head.)
MAID: Oh, madam! A snake! Do be watchin’ yourself!
(MAN opens his shirt altogether, lets it fall from his shoulders, revealing that the whole of his torso and his arms to his wrists are covered in black ‘eagle feathers’. At his hips are the curled claws of the eagle; and from the top of his pantaloons, the upper half of a serpent’s body rises up on his feathered belly to its head at his sternum.)
LADY: (in ‘controlled’ voice) That is very far from my idea of ‘surrender’.
MAN: It is not the outer walls of the fortress which surrender; but the will at its centre.
MAID: Like the hawk to the dove, ma’am, he’s meanin’. If I’m understandin’.
LADY: You are, perhaps, understanding. If I am myself. But the claim of the hawk so to surrender speaks of an event which I have never observed. (to MAN) A ‘surrender’, I suppose, to encourage the ‘timid dove’, in its turn, to do the same.
MAN: And it will not?
LADY: It is not the surrender of equals; as, within this dove-grey cloak, all the flowers and fruits of the earth are still breathing.
MAN: Naturally. As within these many black feathers are flickering all the stars of the bare night sky.
LADY: Which has made them altogether unlike what I envisioned as your white wide-spread wings against the sky.
MAID: (under her breath) It’ll be them though what ‘ve brought ‘im down here so quick through all them stars he had to get through. There’s nothin’ like wings for flyin’.
MAN: Envisionings are often deceptive. (smiling) As the sky itself, feeling the wings pass through it, was not deceived.
MAID: An’ all o’ them stars are bein’ still right here with you?
MAN: Where else might they be?
MAID: (staring at MAN in alarm) You won’t be lettin’ ’em out here, them stars?
MAN: Given the great size of each one of them, the lady’s fine house would be ablaze in a moment, and ashes the next. The feathers on my body were not black until they nestled within them.
MAID: Them on your head’s still white. They thinkin’ maybe it was a bigger star’n they were, an’ would burn ’em all up.
MAN: (smiling) Or the feathers too thin and small for them to hide in.
LADY: The feathers on your body have greater power to contain the stars than has my house?
MAN: They know them better, having been born, and lived all their lives among them. As you have lived all your life among the flowers and fruits of the earth.
LADY: But it seems you are not willing to give to the stars the same freedom I have given to those flowers and fruits.
MAN: (smiling) I am, I suppose, not quite ready. (stroking the head and upper body of the snake) As..she is not yet ready to receive their light. Nor their light to enter her.
(MAN and LADY look steadily at each other.)
LADY: She never will be ready, if the starlight is not.
MAN: Not while her toes are wearing bells.
LADY: She has toes to wear bells?
MAN: She has. (touching his hand to the cord of his pantaloons) If you will..allow me..
LADY: And if I will not?
MAN: (bowing his head and removing his hand from the cord) Then there is nothing more for me to do here. (turning away) And the stars may return to the sky whence they came.
LADY: I did not say I will not..allow. I only..asked.
MAN: (turning to her again) Then I..may..?
LADY: You may.
(MAN loosens the cord around his waist, allowing the loose, billowing pantaloons to fall to his feet, revealing that each of his legs is tattooed with the body of a spiralling snake, each counter-spiralling to the other; and which become, at his black-feathered groin, the one snake which rises up his belly to his sternum. MAID looks at the snake fearfully; LADY, with clear eyes, at MAN’s ankles.)
MAID: Oh, milady, do be careful.
LADY: (to MAN) I do not see any bells.
MAN: (looking down) There are indeed none visible. They are hidden, it would seem, in the fallen clothing.
LADY: Nor did I hear any when, earlier, you were walking.
MAN: No, nor did I. (smiling broadly) I must be readier than I thought; and have given them their freedom, without knowing it. (looking steadily at LADY) And so, if you are willing to give the same freedom to your bells, and rings, the freedom you have already given to your flowers..
LADY: How does one give freedom to that which is not?
MAN: There are no bells on your toes?
LADY: (gesturing to the serpents) No more than there are, or probably ever were, on..theirs.
MAID: (in undertone to MAN) Even when she’s walkin’ about, an’ we’re hearin’ the bells then, even herself, she’s not allowin’ it’s the bells is makin’ the ringin’. But birds.
MAN: (smiling) Whose throats are strangled when she herself is still. And there is nowhere else now for them to go, the whole world being enclosed within her cloak.
MAID: Only chance’d be, for what I’m thinkin’ you’re wantin’, is your takin’ ’em bells yourself from off her toes. As she were sayin’ earlier you would be doin’. But you’d be better, to my mind, to be startin’ first with her rings; which she’s half admittin’ to be wearin’; and a lady’s normal likin’ better a man touchin’ first her hand than her foot.
MAN: That I quite understand. And It is easier to touch something which is known to be there; although my eyes, my own witness to the rings, cannot at the moment see them any better than she can see the birds; and for the same reason: that they are buried in her cloak. With the only difference that the rings are within the lining of it; and the birds, as invisible to me as the stars are to her, are singing on its once-outer and colourful side. In the world that was.
MAID: About them birds I’m not knowin, since I never was seein’ ’em. But the rings is right there, as you’re sayin’, in the folds o’ her cloak; and you can be touchin’ ’em easy enough, if you’re willin’.
MAN: I am more than willing. (to LADY) Whether there are, or are not, bells embellishing your toes, there are certainly rings on your fingers.
LADY: There are. Yes. One or two.
MAN: I have not any on mine.
LADY: (looking at his hands) You have not.
MAN: May I then, to make us closer in..bareness, remove yours?
LADY: (gazing into space) If you will.
MAN: I will.
LADY: (extending her hand) Then do so.
MAID: (in an undertone, showing MAN a length of string) You’ll be needin’ this for stringin’ ’em on, as they’ll not be fittin’ on any one o’ your own fingers.
(MAN takes the string and removes all the rings from the fingers of LADY’s right hand, touching each to his lips before sliding it onto the string.)
LADY: I begin to feel quite naked.
MAN: (sliding the rings from her left hand) The graceful cloak is concealing it. (smiling) Unhappily.
MAID: (to LADY) You won’t be full naked anyway, and no danger o’ it— body stockin’ or not—so long as you got them bells there on your toes.
(LADY pays MAID no attention. She watches MAN tie the ends of the string together, and settle the string around his neck.)
LADY: And what bareness is the ‘graceful cloak’ of those many feathers concealing?
MAN: A bareness as different as possible from that which your cloak is sheltering, where birds will always be singing, and sounding to the world outside like the tinkling of the little bells you’re wearing on every one of your toes. But if the feathers were to fall from me, there would be only the silence of the open night, and no one at all not to hear it.
LADY: I am greatly surprised that you are hearing any bells tinkling at the moment. I hear none myself, as I am as still as the wintry body you foresaw.
MAN: Even at midwinter, birds may sing; and bells ring.
LADY: When the toes on which they are ringing are frozen?
MAN: The ringing will melt the ice, and the grass will grow between the toes. (kneeling down in front of LADY) And I will kiss the bells, as I kissed your rings, as I remove them. Not daring, yet, to kiss your feet.
MAID: That’ll be meltin’ th’ice for sure. Settin’ the grass growin’.
(MAN gently wraps LADY’s right foot in his hands, and as she lifts it, looking both ‘willing’ and uneasy, he removes the bell from her big toe.)
MAN: (to MAID) Not wishing to take away from you your work—though you were not able to do it alone—if you will cup your hands..
(MAID cups her hands.)
MAN: And bring them near.
(MAID brings them near to him. He kisses the bell and lays it in her hands; and another and another, as he removes them, until all the bells from the toes of both feet of LADY are lying in MAID’s cupped hands, and LADY’s face is expressionless and calm.)
MAID: What are ye wantin’ me now to be doin’ with ’em?
MAN: (absently, gently caressing the air near LADY’s feet) What you will.
MAID: (sliding the bells into her apron pocket) They’ll be safe enough in there, until they’re wanted again.
LADY: (gazing into the distance) I shall not be wanting them again.
MAID: Well, somebody else might; so it’ll be for the good to be keepin’ ’em safe. (to MAN) An’ as it’s lookin’ to me like them rings o’ hers is rufflin’ your fine feathers, I’ll be takin’ good care o’ them too, if you’re likin’.
MAN: I was not aware of any ‘ruffling’ of my feathers. (touching the string of rings) Nor even that the rings were around my neck. But as, when the feathers in their inevitable turn are gone, there will be nothing to keep the rings from falling endlessly through space, you are right to take them from me.
(He lifts the string of rings from his head, and gives it to MAID, who drops it into her apron pocket.)
LADY: And when will the feathers ‘inevitably’ be gone?
MAN: When we are gone from your garden.
LADY: There is no garden, of mine or of any other.
(She lets her cloak fall from her body, and lightly touches his feathered shoulder.) Why will the feathers not fall with the rings?
MAN: There will be no feathers to fall.
LADY: (sliding her fingers lightly over the feathers on MAN’s chest to the head of the serpent, which she gently caresses) She will then fall through the air all alone?
MAN: She will not fall at all, as she has never left the earth.
LADY: (lifting her hands from MAN’s body) Then what is the need for rings? Or bells? Since she wears none, nor ever has.
MAN: None at all for her. But for you, they are yourself, whether you wear them or not. So wherever you are, they will be ringing.
LADY: But unheard.
MAN: (smiling) By any witness. But ourselves.
(Gently they close each other in their arms, and stand centre stage, unmoving. Their eyes are open, gazing over each other’s shoulder into space. MAID looks at them in mild curiosity.)
MAID: No sign o’ that lily she said he’d be givin’ her. But it don’t look like she’s missin’ it.
(She walks around them, lightly and curiously touches each of them. They appear to feel nothing.)
MAID: Sleepin’, looks like; except their eyes is open. They’ll be gettin’ dust in ’em. (shrugging) Well, nothin’ I can be doin’ about that.
(Seeing LADY’s fallen cloak, she stoops to pick it up.)
MAID: I’ll better be lookin’ after that for ‘er. For when she’ll next be needin’ it; which there’s no knowin’ when it’ll be. (looking at and feeling the cloak) It’s a nice enough cloak. Sure too good to be throwin’ away.
(She reverses the cloak so its colourful side is showing, gazes at it.)
MAID: Wearin’ it’ll be the best way o’ keepin’ it.
(She slips her arms into the sleeves of the cloak, looks about her as she closes it around her body. She wanders down stage through the scattered flower ornaments, sits down among them, turns her head this way and that, as if listening.
MAID: I’m missin’ the sound o’ them bells.
(Like an innocent girl, she fastens a flower ornament, then another and another, to the cloak.
MAID: It’s beautiful they’re makin’ it. (shy smile) An’ meself, maybe.
(She half-opens the cloak, reaches inside to the pocket in her apron, pulls out one of the little bells, makes it ring near her ear.)
MAID: Funny him kissin’ it. (bringing it to her lips) Maybe the feel o’ his lips is still on it.
(She kisses it, holds it from her.)
MAID: Don’t feel nothin’.
(She slips it onto one of her toes, reaches her hand into her apron pocket.)
MAID: Maybe a’ other one. Or a ring, maybe.
(She pulls out the string of rings, removes the rings from the string, kisses the rings one by one, slides them onto her fingers.)
MAID: Gettin’ a bit o’ feelin’ o’ him now.
(She pulls bells out of her pocket, kisses them one by one, slides them onto her toes.)
(She glances over her shoulder at unmoving MAN and LADY.)
MAID: Clear enough she’ll not be wantin’ ’em herself no more. (looking at the rings on her hands, as she moves them ‘gracefully’ through the air) So, like he said, I can be doin’ with ’em what I’m wantin’.
(She stretches out her legs, and lifts her feet from the stage. She waves her feet in the air, and smiles to herself as she listens to the tinkling of the bells.)
(The lights fade out.)
Tiruvannamalai, 21. ii. 2018.
(lightly edited, Tiruvannamalai, 23. iii. 2018.)
Roger Maybank 