JEREMIAH: What else you got?
PATRICK: I got . . . I got . . .
Beat.
JEREMIAH: This house and the original thirty-nine acres.
Beat.
PATRICK (barely audible): How much?
JEREMIAH: Thirty-nine acres at a dollar sixty-five an acre is sixty-four dollars and thirty-five cents.
PATRICK: The house?
JEREMIAH: Don’t need a house.
PATRICK: It’s gotta be worth something!
Beat.
JEREMIAH: Thirty dollars for the house.
PATRICK: That leaves me . . . I got . . . uh . . . I got this here watch. My daddy’s. Been in this family I don’t know how long. It’s real gold, see there? And it . . . uh, it plays this little music when you open it. Real sweet
JEREMIAH: Twenty dollars.
PATRICK: This here watch is real special. . . . My pa give it to me. . . .
JEREMIAH: I buy gold ’cause I can sell it at a profit. Ain’t no market for sentiment. Twenty dollars.
Beat.
PATRICK: Twenty dollars. That leaves . . . uh . . . I’m still short.
JEREMIAH: Thirteen dollars and twenty cents.
ZEKE: Let it go, Pa. Let’em have it.
PATRICK: I ain’t finished yet! (Beat.) You got family, Mr. Jeremiah?
JEREMIAH: Not anymore. My pa was kilt, and my sister . . . she died in childbirth.
PATRICK: I’m sure sorry to hear about your trouble. My . . . my pa . . . he’s dead, and my wife, Becca, she died birthin’ my youngest, Zachariah. So I know what . . . it’s like . . . we got somethin’ . . . we share somethin’ here.
This here . . . this land . . . it’s all I ever knowed. All I ever wanted. I know . . . know ever foot of this place. I bet if you was to blind me and take me somewheres on it, anywheres, I could tell you where we was just by the smell and the taste of the dirt. I could do that. I did a wrong thing, here. I see that. And the law don’t smile on no poor man when he do wrong. But my boys . . . they didn’t do nothin’. You gonna toss me off’n this land, well, you gotta right to do that, but I’m askin’ you to think of your own family, think of your pa and that sister of yours, and let my boys stay on. I’m beggin’ you. . . .
Beat.
JEREMIAH: Do it.
PATRICK: Do . . . ?
JEREMIAH: Beg me.
JUDGE: Mr. Jeremiah—really, sir, this is . . . !
JEREMIAH: Shut up! (Beat.) Beg me.
Patrick sinks slowly to his knees.
PATRICK: I’m begging you.
JEREMIAH: Mr. Jeremiah.
PATRICK: Mr. Jeremiah.
JEREMIAH: Sir.
PATRICK: Sir . . .
JEREMIAH: Don’t throw me off my land.
PATRICK: Don’t throw me off my land.
Beat.
JEREMIAH: Tell you what I’ll do. You’re right, what you said about me not bein’ no farmer. Not for a long time now, anyways. I’m gonna need help to work this land. I’ll let your boys, I’ll even let you, I will let you stay here on my land, in my house here, and sharecrop for me.
PATRICK: What’s “sharecrop”?
JEREMIAH: You work this land, and I take half of whatever you grow here. Corn, tobaccee, whatever.
PATRICK: We ain’t got no tools.
JEREMIAH: No sir, you don’t. No tools, no mules, and no seed. And you gonna need all of that. So I’ll give seed and tools . . . for another quarter of what you grow.
PATRICK: That don’t leave me and my boys but a quarter of that to live on.
JEREMIAH: Guess you better work hard, then. (Beat.) Take it or leave it, it don’t make me no nevermind.
Patrick rises slowly.
PATRICK: We’ll take it.
JEREMIAH: Course you still owe me twelve dollars and sixty-five cents, but you catch me in a generous mood today. So, what do you say we just let it ride?
PATRICK: That’d be mighty generous of you.
JEREMIAH: Cost you, say, ten percent a year to carry it.
Beat.
PATRICK: All right.
JEREMIAH: Cash, of course.
PATRICK: Of course.
JEREMIAH: Since you asked me in my pa’s name, I’ll go you even one step further. Just to show you that my heart’s in the right place, I won’t put no time on that loan. You pay me the balance whenever. Won’t cost you one penny more.
PATRICK: I appreciate that.
JEREMIAH: But each year, what you can’t pay on the interest? That gets added to the rest of it.
Beat.
PATRICK: All right.
JUDGE: Well, gentlemen, if both parties are satisfied, this court approves the settlement and is adjourned. Mr. Jeremiah, if you will be so kind as to have the necessary documents drawn up and filed with this court in Louisville.
JEREMIAH: If you could hold on just a minute, Judge, there is one more piece of business I’d like to introduce.
The Judge looks at him in confusion. Jeremiah whistles loudly. Then a short MAN, wearing an old poncho and a large hat that nearly obscures his face, limps on. He looks at Jeremiah.
JEREMIAH: It’s over.
The Man pulls off his hat and a cascade of long gray hair tumbles down. It is STAR ROWEN. She stares at her son.
STAR: To hi ju [How are you?], Chuji.
Beat.
PATRICK: I thought you were dead.
STAR: Maybe I am. Maybe you dream me. Crossin’ a muddy river . . .
PATRICK: Dead . . .
STAR: They’s lots of times I wisht I were. But the thought of you always kept me goin’.
ZACH: Who is she, Pa?
STAR: Ain’t you gonna make me known to my own kin? I’m Star Rowen. Your grandma. Who you boys?
ZEKE: I’m Ezekiel.
ZACH: Zachariah.
Beat.
PATRICK: Why’d you come back?
STAR: I don’t know. See you humbled. Curse you to your face. Something like that. But I think hating you so long just done burned me out inside, ’cause I stand here and I don’t feel nothin’ for you one way or t’other. (Beat.) Maybe I come home to die. I think maybe that’s it. (To Jeremiah:) I seen all I need to.
She exits slowly. Patrick looks over to Jeremiah.
JEREMIAH: I’m Jeremiah Talbert.
PATRICK: Talbert.
JEREMIAH: Star come get me the night you run her off. The night you killed my pa and took my sister, Rebecca. For the longest time, I was gonna kill you. But somehow that didn’t seem enough—just killin’ you. So I decided to let you live, but take away everything in your life that meant anything to you, just like you done to me. And now I own you, Rowen—own all of you Rowens. (Beat.) You know, I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I hope you live a long time, Patrick. I hope you live a long, long time. (Beat.) Two weeks from today, I spect to see all you Rowens over at what used to be the Talbert homestead. Your daddy knows the way, boys. You’re gonna build your uncle Talbert a new house. With a big porch. And ever morning I get up I’m gonna sit on my big porch and drink a big cup of coffee and watch you Rowens workin’ my land. (Beat.) I’m done, Judge. Court’s adjourned.
Jeremiah exits. The Judge rises.
JUDGE: Mr. Rowen . . . good day to you, sir.
The Judge tips his hat, and then he and the two Deputies start to exit. Grey stops.
GREY: I’m . . . I’m sure sorry for all your trouble, Mr. Rowen. I wisht I could help you, but . . .
He gestures helplessly, then exits.
JEREMIAH (offstage): Sallie! Jessie!
SALLIE: I can’t curse you, Mr. Rowen—you done that yourself when you sold the best part of you. You take care of yourself, Mr. Zach.
She and Jessie exit. Patrick stands and then goes over to where the Ju
dge sat. He picks up the jug, hefts it, and then turns it upside down.
PATRICK: Man didn’t even leave me a drink. Ain’t that just like the law.
Zach goes into the house. He returns with his rifle and starts to exit the opposite direction from the Judge.
Where you think you’re goin’?
ZACH: I don’t know. Anywheres.
PATRICK: Don’t you look down your nose at me, boy. What I did, I did here for you and your brother. All of it!
ZACH: I know that, Pa—that’s the worst part of it.
PATRICK: What kinda man turns his back on his own family?!
ZACH: You and Zeke know more about that’n I do.
He starts off again.
PATRICK: YOU LEAVE HERE, DON’T YOU EVER COME BACK! YOU HEAR! YOU LEAVE, YOU AIN’T PART OF THIS FAMILY NO MORE! I CUT YOU OUTTA ME LIKE A BOIL! (He turns on Zeke.) How about you, boy! You gonna turn tail and run off, too?!
ZEKE: I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Pa.
PATRICK: I don’t need you, you know! Don’t need any of you! AAAAHHHH!! (He falls to his knees, sobbing.) My b-b-boy, gone. He gone. All gone. All gone.
Zeke holds his father.
ZEKE: It’s all right, Pa, I’m here. You still got me. Ezekiel’s here.
PATRICK: All gone. Everything. All g-g-gone . . .
ZEKE: Listen to me, Pa. Listen to me. Stop it! Cryin’ ain’t gonna bring nothin’ and nobody back, you hear!? Listen to me. You get angry. You hear? Get angry! You hear me! YOU GET ANGRY!
Zeke slaps and shakes his father until Patrick pushes him away.
You angry now? You listenin’ to me?
PATRICK: I’m listenin’.
ZEKE: We gonna get it back, you hear? All of it! We gonna get it all back and more! You hear me? Don’t matter how long it take, how many years, we gonna get ours agin!
PATRICK: I’m listenin’.
ZEKE: We ain’t lost no war here. War’s just startin’. We got to be patient. Got to hide our hearts and put on our stone faces and smile these people to death.
PATRICK: Smile?
ZEKE: That’s right. We gonna “yessir” Mr. Talbert, and smile on him and his, and we gonna wait.
Patrick begins crying again. Zeke cradles him in his arms.
PATRICK: Ain’t never gonna see my b-b-boy no more. My Zach!
ZEKE: It’s all right, Pa.
PATRICK: My b-b-boy’s gone and I ain’t never gonna see him again.
ZEKE: Hush now. Got to be strong. Got to be stone. The Lord, he ain’t gonna forget us. No way. No sir. He just be testin’ us.
PATRICK: My boy . . .
ZEKE: We got to wander in this desert here, like them Hebrews, but then he gonna bring us home.
PATRICK: My boy . . .
ZEKE: And then . . . (Beat.) Then we gonna settle up.
Slow fade to black.
GOD’S
GREAT
SUPPER
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”
—STEPHEN CRANE
CHARACTERS
JED ROWEN age twenty-eight
EZEKIEL ROWEN age sixty-one, Jed’s father
PATRICK ROWEN age eighty-five, Jed’s grandfather
JOLEEN ROWEN age fifty-five, Jed’s mother
RICHARD TALBERT age thirty-nine, landowner, son of Jeremiah Talbert
RANDALL TALBERT (BOY) age ten, Richard’s only son
ROSE ANNE TALBERT Richard’s daughter
JULIA ANNE TALBERT Richard’s daughter
FIRST SHARECROPPER
SECOND SHARECROPPER
UNION COLONEL
FIRST REBEL
SECOND REBEL
BOATMAN
TOMMY NOLAN
CARL DAWKINS
GUS SLOCUM
WILLIAM CLARKE QUANTRILL
FIRST UNION SOLDIER
SECOND UNION SOLDIER
CHURCH CHOIR
MOURNERS AT GRAVESIDE
NARRATOR: God’s Great Supper.
Forty-two years later. The year is 1861. The Rowen homestead. God’s Great Supper.
Darkness. We hear a sound that is vaguely familiar but unrecognizable. [Perhaps it has been slightly altered electronically.] The sound grows louder and more insistent—threatening. Then the backdrop explodes with a collage of giant images, and we recognize the sound: angry scavenger birds, crows mostly, fighting over a meal. The sound of their feeding grows to a crescendo and then stops.
A single spot comes up center on JED ROWEN. He speaks directly to the audience.
JED: When I hear the crows, I know I’m dreamin’. My dream always begins with me in church.
In the darkness behind him can dimly be seen a large group of MEN and WOMEN quietly singing “Blessed Be the Tie That Binds.”
My pa, Ezekiel, preaches from the dark chapter of the Bible, the one that always scared me as a kid: the Book of Revelations.
A second spot comes up: on EZEKIEL. The power of the Word fills him like a bonfire. His face is flushed and wet with sweat as he guides his congregation through the glory of John’s vision of Armageddon.
EZEKIEL: “Then I saw an angel standing in the sun, and he cried aloud to all the birds flying in mid-heaven, ‘Come and gather for God’s great supper, to eat the flesh of horses and their riders, the flesh of all men, slaves and free, great and small!’”
Spot fades out on Ezekiel.
JED: I sneak out of church and into an apple orchard where the trees are so full of crows the branches crack under their weight. The fruit rots on the ground. The trees are all beaks and eyes and appetite. There’s a cold church picnic laid out on tables underneath the trees, and I sit down and a ragged woman puts a plate of food in front of me. She goes and kneels next to her sister. I’m hungry and I eat. I eat alone ’cept for this one man who sits acrost from me, his hat pulled low so I can’t see his face. I can see his hands, though, and his nails are torn and bleeding.
When I finish my plate the woman brings another one. And when I finish that, another one. And then another. I eat till I am full to burstin’, but I’m afraid to stop. Afraid what might happen to me if I stop eatin’. I make myself sick, and when I look up again the man removes his hat and I know him now—he’s Quantrill. William Clarke Quantrill. “Have some more, Jed,” Quantrill says, and he laughs. And then the women begin to speak.
Two spots come up to reveal two women—ROSE ANNE and JULIA ANNE—kneeling on either side of the stage. Both women are so gaunt and haggard it is impossible to determine their real ages. Their faces are raw and sunburnt. They are dirty, barefoot, and their clothes are in tatters. They speak directly to the audience without apparent notice of each other.
ROSE ANNE: These are the names . . .
JULIA ANNE: These are the names . . .
ROSE ANNE: Tom Nolan . . .
JULIA ANNE: Tom Nolan . . .
ROSE ANNE: Carl Dawkins . . .
JULIA ANNE: Carl Dawkins . . .
ROSE ANNE: Sam Jackson . . .
JULIA ANNE: Sam Jackson . . .
ROSE ANNE: Isaac Gatlin . . .
JULIA ANNE: Isaac Gatlin . . .
ROSE ANNE: Josh Gatlin . . .
JULIA ANNE: Josh Gatlin . . .
ROSE ANNE: Edward Hayes . . .
JULIA ANNE: Edward Hayes . . .
ROSE ANNE: Jed Rowen . . .
JULIA ANNE: Jed Rowen . . .
ROSE ANNE: Jed
Rowen . . .
JULIA ANNE: Jed Rowen . . .
ROSE ANNE: Jed Rowen . . .
Beat.
JED: And then I wake up.
The light on the two women fades out and then Jed’s spot goes out. Darkness.
The lights come up and we recognize the front of the Rowen cabin. The structure shows signs of disrepair and neglect. It is early summer, 1861.
Patrick Rowen, now eighty-five, sits on an old chair on the porch, his lap covered with a threadbare blanket despite the beat. He is blind. His son Ezekiel sits leaning against a porch post, apparently asleep. A small BOY, ten years old, darts across the stage. He is well dressed, perhaps even a little overdressed for the country. He carries, tucked under one arm, a bundle wrapped in cloth. The Boy considers Ezekiel and Patrick nervously and then whispers loudly into the cabin:
BOY: Jed?
No response. The Boy tries to sneak past both men and into the house. With surprising agility, Patrick grabs him by the scruff of his neck, emitting a weird, high-pitched laugh as he does so. Immediately, Ezekiel is awake. He grabs the terrified Boy from Patrick and drags him kicking and screaming into the yard.
EZEKIEL: What do you think you’re doin’ here, boy?
BOY: Lemme go! Lemme go!
EZEKIEL: Didn’t I tell you not to come snoopin ’round here, you damn devil’s whelp!
BOY: I wasn’t doin’ nothin’!
EZEKIEL: The hell you say! What were you doin’ on my porch?
BOY: I just wanted to talk to Jed!
EZEKIEL: Liar! You was sneakin’ and spyin’, weren’t ya?!
BOY: No I wasn’t!
JOLEEN ROWEN, Ezekiel’s wife, comes out onto the porch.
JOLEEN: Ezekiel, what is it? I’m tryin’ to get me some rest in here.
EZEKIEL: God damns all liars, boy! He gives’em to the devil and Satan rolls’em in corn meal and fries’em up like catfish! Terrible is the fire that burns’em and terrible is the sound of their screams!
The Boy is sobbing now.
BOY: I wasn’t doin’ nothin’!
JOLEEN: What you got there, Ezekiel?
EZEKIEL: Got me that Talbert boy, Randall! Put the big pot on, Joleen, we gonna eat tonight!
JOLEEN: Shoot, not enough on that boy to make two mouthfuls.
She moves to Patrick and wipes his chin and strokes his head.
The Kentucky Cycle Page 8