Chapter 1
PART I
PAID ON BOTH SIDES
A Charade
To Cecil Day-Lewis
Characters
LintzgarthNattrass
John NowerAaron Shaw*****
DickSeth Shaw
George****The Spy—Seth’s Brother
WalterBernard
KurtSeth’s Mother***
CulleyAnne Shaw
Stephen**
Zeppel—John Nower’s Servant
Number Six
Sturton
Joan—Mother of John Nower
Trudy***
Father Christmas*
The Doctor
Bo****
Po*****
The Man-Woman
The Doctor’s Boy**
The Photographer*
The Announcer*
The Chief Guest*
The Butler*
The Chorus
The starred parts should be doubled
[No scenery is required. The stage should have a curtained-off recess. The distinction between the two hostile parties should be marked by different coloured arm-bands. the chorus, which should not consist of more than three persons, wear similar and distinctive clothing.]
[Enter trudy and walter.]
trudy: You’ve only just heard?
walter: Yes. A breakdown at the Mill needed attention, kept me all morning. I guessed no harm. But lately, riding at leisure, Dick met me, panted disaster. I came here at once. How did they get him?
trudy: In Kettledale above Colefangs road passes where high banks overhang dangerous from ambush. To Colefangs had to go, would speak with Layard, Jerry and Hunter with him only. They must have stolen news, for Red Shaw waited with ten, so Jerry said, till for last time unconscious. Hunter was killed at first shot. They fought, exhausted ammunition, a brave defence but fight no more.
walter: Has Joan been told yet?
trudy: Yes. It couldn’t be helped. Shock, starting birth pangs, caused a premature delivery.
walter: How is she?
trudy: Bad, I believe. But here’s the doctor.
[Enter doctor.]
Well, Doctor, how are things going?
doctor: Better thanks. We’ve had a hard fight, but it’s going to be all right. She’ll pull through and have a fine infant as well. My God, I’m thirsty after all that. Where can I get a drink?
walter: Here in the next room, Doctor.
[Exeunt. Back curtains draw. joan with child and corpse.]
joan:
Not from this life, not from this life is any
To keep; sleep, day and play would not help there,
Dangerous to new ghost; new ghost learns from many,
Learns from old termers what death is, where.
Who’s jealous of his latest company,
From one day to the next final to us,
A changed one, would use sorrow to deny
Sorrow, to replace death? Sorrow is sleeping thus.
Unforgetting is not today’s forgetting
For yesterday, not bedrid scorning,
But a new begetting,
An unforgiving morning.
[Baby squeals.]
O see, he is impatient
To pass beyond this pretty lisping time:
There’ll be some crying out when he’s come there.
[Back curtains close.]
chorus:
Can speak of trouble, pressure on men
Born all the time, brought forward into light
For warm dark moan.
Though heart fears all heart cries for, rebuffs with mortal beat
Skyfall, the legs sucked under, adder’s bite.
That prize held out of reach
Guides the unwilling tread,
The asking breath,
Till on attended bed
Or in untracked dishonour comes to each
His natural death.
We pass our days
Speak, man to men, easy, learning to point,
To jump before ladies, to show our scars:
But no,
We were mistaken, these faces are not ours.
They smile no more when we smile back:
Eyes, ears, tongue, nostrils bring
News of revolt, inadequate counsel to
An infirm king.
O watcher in the dark, you wake
Our dream of waking, we feel
Your finger on the flesh that has been skinned,
By your bright day
See clear what we were doing, that we were vile.
Your sudden hand
Shall humble great
Pride, break it, wear down to stumps old systems which await
The last transgression of the sea.
[Enter john nower and dick.]
john nower: If you have really made up your mind, Dick, I won’t try and persuade you to stop. But I shall be sorry to lose you.
dick: I have thought it all over and I think it is the best thing to do. My cousin writes that the ranch is a thoroughly good proposition. I don’t know how I shall like the Colonies but I feel I must get away from here. There is not room enough . . . but the actual moving is unpleasant.
john nower: I understand. When are you thinking of sailing?
dick: My cousin is sailing to-morrow. If I am going I am to join him at the Docks.
john nower: Right. Tell one of the men to go down to the post-office and send a wire for you. If you want anything else, let me know.
dick: Thank you.
[Exit dick. Enter zeppel.]
zeppel: Number Six wishes to see you, sir.
john nower: All right, show him in.
[Enter number six.]
Well, what is it?
number six: My area is Rookhope. Last night at Horse and Farrier, drank alone, one of Shaw’s men. I sat down friendly next till muzzed with drink and lateness he was blabbing. Red Shaw goes to Brandon Walls to-day, visits a woman.
john nower: Alone?
number six: No, sir. He takes a few. I got no numbers.
john nower: This is good news. Here is a pound for you.
number six: Thank you very much, sir.
[Exit number six.]
john nower: Zeppel.
zeppel: Sir.
john nower: Ask George to come here at once.
zeppel: Very good, sir.
[john gets a map out. Enter george.]
john nower: Red Shaw is spending the day at Brandon Walls. We must get him. You know the ground well, don’t you, George?
george: Pretty well. Let me see the map. There’s a barn about a hundred yards from the house. Yes, here it is. If we can occupy that without attracting attention it will form a good base for operations, commands both house and road. If I remember rightly, on the other side of the stream is a steep bank. Yes, you can see from the contours. They couldn’t get out that way, but lower down is marshy ground and possible. You want to post some men there to catch those who try.
john nower: Good. Who do you suggest to lead that party?
george: Send Sturton. He knows the whole district blindfold. He and I as boys fished all those streams together.
john nower: I shall come with you. Let’s see: it’s dark now about five. Fortunately there’s no moon and it’s cloudy. We’ll start then about half-past. Pick your men and get some sandwiches made up in the kitchen. I’ll see about the ammunition if you will remember to bring a compass. We meet outside at a quarter past.
[Exeunt. Enter kurt and culley.]
kurt: There’s time for a quick one before changing. What’s yours?
culley: I’ll have a sidecar, thanks.
kurt: Zeppel, one sidecar and one C.P.S. I hear Chapman did the lake in eight.
culley: Yes, he is developing a very pretty style. I am not sure though that Pepys won’t beat him next year if he can get out of that double kick. Thanks. Prosit.
kurt: Cheerio.
[Enter walter and trudy.]
walter: Two half pints, Zeppel, please. [To kurt.] Can you let me have a match? How is the Rugger going?
kurt: All right, thank you. We have not got a bad team this season.
walter: Where do you play yourself?
kurt: Wing 3Q.
walter: Did you ever see Warner? No, he’d be before your time. You remember him don’t you, Trudy?
trudy: He was killed in the fight at Colefangs, wasn’t he?
walter: You are muddling him up with Hunter. He was the best three- quarter I have ever seen. His sprinting was marvellous to watch.
zeppel (producing Christmas turkey): Not bad eh?
trudy (feeling it): Oh a fine one. For tomorrow’s dinner?
zeppel: Yes. Here, puss . . . gobble, gobble . . .
trudy (to walter): What have you got Ingo for Christmas?
walter: A model crane. Do you think he will like it?
trudy: He loves anything mechanical. He’s so excited he can’t sleep.
kurt: Come on, Culley, finish your drink. We must be getting along.
[To walter.] You must come down to the field on Monday and
see us.
walter: I will if I can.
[Exit kurt and culley.]
trudy: Is there any news yet?
walter: Nothing has come through. If things are going right they may be back any time now.
trudy: I suppose they will get him?
walter: It’s almost certain. Nower has waited long enough.
trudy: I am sick of this feud. What do we want to go on killing each other for? We are all the same. He’s trash, yet if I cut my finger it bleeds like his. But he’s swell, keeps double shifts working all night by flares: His mother squealed like a pig when he came crouching out.
Sometimes we read a sign, cloud in the sky,
The wet tracks of a hare, quicken the step
Promise the best day. But here no remedy
Is to be thought of, no news but the new death;
A Nower dragged out in the night, a Shaw
Ambushed behind the wall. Blood on the ground
Would welcome fighters. Last night at Hammergill
A boy was born fanged like a weasel. I am old,
Shall die before next winter, but more than once shall hear
The cry for help, the shooting round the house.
walter: The best are gone.
Often the man, alone shut, shall consider
The killings in old winters, death of friends.
Sitting with stranger shall expect no good.
Spring came, urging to ships, a casting off,
But one would stay, vengeance not done; it seemed
Doubtful to them that they would meet again.
F...
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
