TWO CHILDREN WITH A TABLET:
With streets and people and houses
Temples and waterworks
They stood in the landscape.
Today only their names remain on this tablet.
THE BAKER:
Why so?
TWO CHILDREN:
One day at noon an uproar broke loose.
Into the streets swept a flood
Whose waves were men, and carried
Our goods away. In the evening
Only a foul smoke marked the spot
That was once a city.
THE BAKER:
Tell us more.
TWO CHILDREN:
And in those cities there were
Two hundred and fifty thousand children –
They are no longer. Mighty Lucullus
Came on us in his iron battle-waggon
And conquered us all.
LUCULLUS:
Yes, I smashed their impertinent cities!
And took their gold and all kinds of riches
And I took away their people to be our slaves.
Because they paid tribute to false gods.
But I overthrew them
So that the whole earth might see our gods
Were greater than all other gods.
THE COURT CRIER:
Whereupon the shadowy juryman
Who was once a baker
In Marsilia, the city by the sea
Makes a proposal.
THE BAKER:
Then we write to your credit, shadow
Simply this: Brought gold to Rome.
THE COURT CRIER:
You jurymen of the dead
Consider the testimony of the cities.
Pause.
THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:
The accused seems tired.
I declare a recess.
9
ROME
THE COURT CRIER:
The accused sits down.
He is exhausted, but he overhears
Talk behind the door
Where new shadows have appeared.
FIRST SHADOW:
I came to grief through an oxcart.
LUCULLUS softly:
Oxcart.
FIRST SHADOW:
It brought a load of sand to a building site.
LUCULLUS softly:
Building site. Sand.
SECOND SHADOW:
Isn’t it meal time now?
LUCULLUS softly:
Meal time?
FIRST SHADOW:
I had my bread and onions
With me. I haven’t a room any more.
The horde of slaves
They herd in from every spot under heaven
Has ruined the shoemaking business.
SECOND SHADOW:
I too am a slave.
Say rather, the lucky
Catch the unlucky’s bad luck.
LUCULLUS:
You there, is there wind still up above?
SECOND SHADOW:
Hark, someone’s asking a question.
FIRST SHADOW:
Whether there’s wind up above? Perhaps.
There may be in the gardens.
In the suffocating alleys
You don’t notice it.
10
THE HEARING IS CONTINUED
THE COURT CRIER:
Now the shadow that was once a fishwife
Has a question.
THE FISHWIFE:
There was talk of gold.
I too lived in Rome.
Yet I never noticed any gold where I lived.
I’d like to know where it went.
LUCULLUS:
What a question!
Should I and my legions set out
To capture a new stool for a fishwife?
THE FISHWIFE:
Though you brought nothing to us in the fish market
Still you took something from us in the fish market:
Our sons.
Tell me, what happened to you in the two Asias?
FIRST LEGIONARY:
I ran away.
SECOND LEGIONARY:
And I was wounded.
FIRST LEGIONARY:
I dragged him along.
SECOND LEGIONARY:
So then he fell too.
THE FISHWIFE:
Why did you leave Rome?
FIRST LEGIONARY:
I was hungry.
THE FISHWIFE:
And what did you get there?
SECOND LEGIONARY:
I got nothing.
THE FISHWIFE:
You stretch out your hand.
Is that to greet your general?
SECOND LEGIONARY:
It was to show him
It was still empty.
LUCULLUS:
I protest.
I rewarded the legionaries
After each campaign.
THE FISHWIFE:
But not the dead ones.
LUCULLUS:
I protest.
How can war be judged
By those who do not understand it?
THE FISHWIFE:
I understand it. My son
Fell in the war.
I was a fishwife in the market at the Forum.
One day it was reported that the ships
Returning from the Asian war
Had docked. I ran from the market place
And I stood by the Tiber for many hours
Where they were being unloaded and in the evening
All the ships were empty and my son
Came down none of the gangplanks.
Since it was chilly by the harbour at night
I fell into a fever, and in the fever sought my son
And ever seeking him more deeply
I grew more chilled, died, came here
Into the Realm of Shadows, and still sought him.
Faber, I cried, for that was his name.
And I ran and ran through shadows
And from shadow to shadow
Crying Faber, until a gatekeeper over there
In the camp of fallen warriors
Caught me by the sleeve and said:
Old woman, there are many Fabers here, many
Mothers’ sons, many, deeply mourned
But they have forgotten their names
Which only served to line them up in the army
And are no longer needed here. And their mothers
They do not wish to meet again
Because they let them go to the bloody war.
Faber, my son, Faber
Whom I carried, whom I brought up
My son, Faber!
And I stood, held by my sleeve
And my cries died out in my mouth.
Silently I turned away, for I desired no longer
To look upon my son’s face.
THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:
The court recognises that the mother of the fallen
Understands war.
THE COURT CRIER:
Jurymen of the dead
Consider the testimony of the warriors!
Silence.
THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:
But the jurywoman is moved
And in her trembling hands
The scales may tip. To regain her composure
She needs
A recess.
11
THE HEARING IS CONTINUED
CHORUS:
The jurywoman has recovered.
THE COURT CRIER:
Accused, step forward!
THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:
Lakalles! Our time runs out. You do not make use of it.
Anger us no more with your triumphs!
Have you no witnesses
To any of your weak points, mortal?
Your business goes badly. Your virtues Seem to be of little use.
Perhaps your weaknesses will leave some loopholes
In the chain of violent deeds.<
br />
I counsel you, shadow
Recollect your weaknesses.
THE COURT CRIER:
And the juryman who was once a baker
Puts a question.
THE BAKER:
Yonder I see a cook with a fish.
He seems cheerful. Cook
Tell us how you came to be in the triumphal procession.
THE COOK:
Only to show
That even while waging war
He found time to discover a recipe for cooking fish.
I was his cook. Often
I think of the beautiful meat
The gamefowl and the black venison
Which he made me roast.
And he not only sat at table
But gave me a word of praise
Stood over the pots with me
And himself mixed a dish.
Lamb à la Lucullus
Made our kitchen famous.
From Syria to Pontus
They spoke of Lucullus’s cook.
THE COURT CRIER:
And the juror who was once a teacher says:
THE TEACHER:
What is it to us that he liked to eat?
THE COOK:
But he let me cook
To my heart’s content. I thank him for it.
THE BAKER:
I understand him, I who was a baker.
How often I had to mix bran with the dough
Because my customers were poor. This fellow here
Could be an artist.
THE COOK:
Thanks to him!
That is why I call him human.
THE COURT CRIER:
Jurors of the dead, consider
The testimony of the cook.
Silence.
THE COURT CRIER:
And the juryman who was once a farmer
Puts a question.
THE FARMER:
Over there, is someone who carries a fruit tree.
THE TREE BEARER:
This is a cherry tree.
We brought it from Asia. In the triumphal procession
We carried it along. And we planted it
On the slopes of the Apennines.
THE FARMER:
Oh, so it was you, Lakalles, who brought it?
I once planted it too, but I did not know
That you introduced it.
THE COURT CRIER:
And with a friendly smile
The juryman who was once a farmer
Discusses with the shadow
Who was once a general
The cherry tree.
THE FARMER:
It needs little soil.
LUCULLUS:
But it doesn’t like the wind.
THE FARMER:
The red cherries have more meat.
LUCULLUS:
And the black are sweeter.
THE FARMER:
My friends, this of all the detestable souvenirs
Conquered in bloody battle
I call the best. For this sapling lives.
It is a new and friendly companion
To the vine and the abundant berrybush
And growing with the growing generations
Bears fruit for them. And I congratulate you
Who brought it to us. When all the booty of conquest
From both Asias has long mouldered away
This finest of all your trophies
Renewed each year for the living
Shall in spring flutter its white-flowered branches
In the wind from the hills.
12
THE JUDGEMENT
CHORUS:
Up jumps the jurywoman, formerly a fishwife in the market.
THE FISHWIFE:
And did you still find
A penny in those bloody hands? Does the murderer
Bribe the court with the booty?
THE TEACHER:
A cherry tree! That conquest
Could have been made
With just one man
But he sent eighty thousand down here.
THE BAKER:
How much
Must they pay up there
For a glass of wine and a bun?
THE COURTESAN:
Must they always put their skins
On sale in order to sleep with a woman?
THE FISHWIFE:
Yes, into oblivion with him!
THE TEACHER:
Yes, into oblivion with him!
THE BAKER:
Yes, into oblivion with him!
CHORUS:
And they look at the farmer
Who praised the cherry tree:
Farmer, what do you say?
Silence.
THE FARMER:
Eighty thousand for a cherry tree!
Yes, into oblivion with him!
THE JUDGE OF THE DEAD:
Yes, into oblivion with him! For
With all this violence and conquest Only one realm is extended:
The Realm of the Shadows.
THE JURORS:
And already
Our grey underworld
Is full of half-lived lives.
THE FARMER:
Yet here
We have no ploughs for strong arms.
THE JURORS:
Nor
Hungry mouths, when above
You have so many of both. What except dust
Can we heap over the
Slaughtered eighty thousand? And you up there
Need houses! How often still
Shall we meet them on our paths which lead nowhere
And hear their terribly eager questions – what
Is the summer like this year, and the autumn
And the winter?
CHORUS:
Now hear the report
Of the Asiatic legions!
Roman legionaries appear in formation.
THE LEGIONARIES:
In the murderer’s tunic
In the ravager’s plunder gang
We fell
The sons of the people.
Yes, into oblivion with him!
Like the wolf
Who breaks into the herd
And has to be destroyed
We were destroyed
In his service.
Yes, into oblivion with him!
Had we but
Left the aggressor’s service!
Had we but
Joined with the defenders!
CHORUS:
And the slaves who bore the frieze
Cried out:
THE SLAVES:
Yes, into oblivion with him! How long
Shall he and his kind sit
Inhumanly above other humans and raise
Lazy hands and fling peoples
Against each other in bloody warfare?
How long shall we
And our kind endure them?
ALL:
Yes, into oblivion with him and into oblivion
With all like him!
THE COURT CRIER:
And from the high bench they rise up
The spokesmen of the world-to-be
Of those with many hands, to take
Of those with many mouths, to eat
Eagerly gathering
Avidly living world-to-be.
For a complete catalogue of Methuen Drama titles
write to:
Methuen Drama
36 Soho Square
London
W1D 3QY
or you can visit our website at:
www.methuendrama.com
Methuen Drama World Classics
include
Jean Anouilh (two volumes)
Brendan Behan
Aphra Behn
Bertolt Brecht (eight volumes)
Büchner
Bulgakov
Calderón
Čapek
Anton Chekhov
Noël Coward (eight volumes)
Feydeau
Eduardo De Filippo
Max Frisch
John Galsworthy
Gogol
Gorky (two volumes)
Harley Granville Barker (two volumes)
Victor Hugo
Henrik Ibsen (six volumes)
Jarry
Lorca (three volumes)
Marivaux
Mustapha Matura
David Mercer (two volumes)
Arthur Miller (five volumes)
Molière
Musset
Peter Nichols (two volumes)
Joe Orton
A. W. Pinero
Luigi Pirandello
Terence Rattigan (two volumes)
W. Somerset Maugham (two volumes)
August Strindberg (three volumes)
J. M. Synge
Ramón del Valle-Inclán
Frank Wedekind
Oscar Wilde
Methuen Drama Contemporary Dramatists
include
John Arden (two volumes)
Arden & D’Arcy
Peter Barnes (three volumes)
Sebastian Barry
Dermot Bolger
Edward Bond (eight volumes)
Howard Brenton (two volumes)
Richard Cameron
Jim Cartwright
Caryl Churchill (two volumes)
Sarah Daniels (two volumes)
Nick Darke
David Edgar (three volumes)
David Eldridge
Ben Elton
Dario Fo (two volumes)
Michael Frayn (three volumes)
John Godber (three volumes)
Paul Godfrey
David Greig
John Guare
Lee Hall (two volumes)
Peter Handke
Jonathan Harvey (two volumes)
Declan Hughes
Terry Johnson (three volumes)
Sarah Kane
Barrie Keefe
Bernard-Marie Koltès (two volumes)
Franz Xaver Kroetz
David Lan
Bryony Lavery
Deborah Levy
Doug Lucie
David Mamet (four volumes)
Martin McDonagh
Duncan McLean
Anthony Minghella (two volumes)
Tom Murphy (five volumes)
Phyllis Nagy
Anthony Neilson
Philip Osment
Gary Owen
Louise Page
Stewart Parker (two volumes)
Joe Penhall
Stephen Poliakoff (three volumes)
David Rabe
Mark Ravenhill
Christina Reid
Philip Ridley
Willy Russell
Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt
Ntozake Shange
Sam Shepard (two volumes)
Wole Soyinka (two volumes)
Simon Stephens
Shelagh Stephenson
David Storey (three volumes)
Sue Townsend
Judy Upton
Michel Vinaver (two volumes)
Arnold Wesker (two volumes)
Michael Wilcox
Roy Williams (two volumes)
Snoo Wilson (two volumes)
David Wood (two volumes)
Victoria Wood
Methuen Drama Modern Plays
include work by
Edward Albee
Jean Anouilh
Brecht Collected Plays: 4: Round Heads & Pointed Heads; Fear & Misery of the Third Reich; Senora Carrar's Rifles; Trial of Lucullus; Dansen; How Much Is ... and Misery , Carr (World Classics) Page 44