The Lion and the Lamb

(William Marshal and Geoffrey the Bastard wait beneath a tree, amidst bits of foliage. A blank screen serves as background. Bertran de Born looks around and joins them a short distance away. Bertran is apparently invisible to the pair. Light then focuses on BB.)

BB: (To the audience) For the curious, it is November, 1188, in a land you may call France. But here, such distinctions aren't made so easily. Sweet France is not a single place, a nation united. Its many lands are owned by powerful families. In theory, we're ruled by an anointed king, but in truth, we're controlled by various dukes and counts.

And who, you ask, is the anointed king? (laughs) Young Philip Capet! Oh, his true dominions are insignificant. Paris, Orleans, a little more. His kingship is more an honor empty of any real power. Tradition may dictate that we owe King Philip our loyalty and homage, but we don't always feel up to such a bargain. Just as with any other duke or count, we may want what's his, and he may want what's ours as well. We argue, we destroy, we rearrange the spoils. It works quite well, our system!

(Light then hits W and G)

W: You're here already?

G: I couldn't sleep last night.

BB: (to the audience, and unseen by W and G) These men fight against King Philip for the English king, Henry Plantagenet.

(BB steps to front and center stage. W and G fade into dimmer light while spotlight focuses on BB)

To sing of Henry requires another tune entirely! For Henry's a king not just in name, but in wealth and power. What's more, his rule extends beyond the land of the English and their nearest neighbors. Henry is also duke of over half the French lands, and thus both vassal and enemy to young Philip. (letting the audience in on a secret). Our concerns lie more in Henry's French and Norman holdings. England means nothing to us, but that its men and coins subsidize our little wars. With such a purse, King Henry has the means to squash Philip like a piece of overripe fruit. Thus far, Philip has been clever with his alliances and avoided such a fate!

Now let me introduce you to some of our players!

(Goes over to the men, as if to examine them in greater detail. BB first points to W excitedly as if he just recognized him. Light hits both BB and W. W is calmly examining his weapons.) This man is William Marshal, acknowledged by all as the greatest knight alive! What a boon for King Henry to hold the services of such a worthy soldier!

(Walks over to G, not particularly impressed. The light follows him. We then see both BB and G in light. G is visibly anxious.) This one's Geoffrey, son of old King Henry. Well, I'd best be clear. He's one of Henry's bastards. As such, he lacks the legal rights of Henry's true sons, those conceived by Queen Eleanore. Henry and his queen once had a legitimate boy named Geoffrey. That son no longer walks the earth, though his footsteps still echo among the pages of our story. I shall tell you more about that one later.

(Goes back to front and center stage with light still on him.) Who am I? (bows) Viscount Bertran de Born, master of the Castle of Altafort. Nobleman and poet. Patriot to some, and traitor to others. Troubadour, mercenary and companion. I wish to be your guide to this fine feud. Oh, please don't thank me! Such troubles are my livelihood! (He steps to the side. Light fills the stage.)

W: Are you worried about the outcome of the negotiations?

G: Perplexed describes it better. Explain to me William, why we bother to "discuss" things! We've more men than Philip. We're better armed. He's clearly afraid to engage us. Yet we sit idly waiting for words, instead of taking action.

W: Sometimes a victory can be as costly as a defeat.

G: I'd just as soon do battle, and be done with it! (he swings around his sword in mock battle, as W watches him, amused).

BB: Bravo Geoffrey! Spoken like a true knight! Those of our estate *live* for battle! It's only when the great ones fight that the lords and vassals are prosperous!

W: Do you know if the King is awake?

G: Yes. I'm sure he'll be with us shortly.

W: And your brother, Richard?

G: Bah! No one ever knows anything of Richard. During the last truce he disappeared for weeks at a time. Father worries that he's made a separate peace with Philip.

W: Do you suspect that Richard's gone against us?

G: It's possible. The antics of Eleanore's sons never surprise me. And he has turned on us before.

BB: Shhh! King Henry approaches!

(Once Henry enters, he is never still. He paces, he surveys the land, he does exercises, he sits and repairs a tear in his shirt, etc. He only stops during the shadow play and during his key lines. As he moves around, G and W try to keep up. It isn't easy. This continues until the cue for Richard's entrance.)

H: (exuberant) My loyal William. My dearest Geoffrey. I'm glad to see you ready for the day. (looking around) But where's my rascal of a son, Richard? We need him here to show Philip Capet our unity.

G: Richard's whereabouts remain a mystery to us all. He's not one to share his secrets.

H: (slyly) He has secrets? Is that what you think?

G: I think he has little commitment to our cause. What's to keep him from forming his own alliance with the French? If you ask me, he's not to be trusted.

W: Nor is King Philip, sire. Like his late father, King Louis, Philip befriends your sons to turn them against you.

H: (with resignation) Ah, yes! My sons and their adventures in Paris! So, William, do you think me a fool for giving my sons lands that made them vassals to the King of the French?

W: (shocked) Your majesty! No such thought ever entered my mind!

H: Oh, you'd be right if it did. Those appointments proved my greatest blunder. (sighs) It gave them an allegiance to the French King when their loyalties should have been mine exclusively. Don't mistake me. There's no question of my worth as a king, but in family matters, I know I'm a cursed man. God has punished me through my rebellious sons. One by one, my offspring turn against me.

BB: (still unseen by the other actors, and with a sarcastic tone) This surprises you, King Henry? What did you expect? You gave them titles without power. Each was convinced the other had the better share. It was as natural as animals coupling in springtime, that your sons defied you to cleve to their liege Lord, the King of France.

G: It wasn't your fault, my Father.

W: The French Kings took unfair advantage of their position by poisoning the minds of your sons with visions of power.

H: (with muted anger) And let's not forget their bitch of a mother. She encouraged those pups to rise against me! She should bear the brunt of the blame. She bred not only my boys, but their illusions!

BB: (To audience) The beautiful Queen Eleanore. She bore them, and they in turn bore her likeness. Clever, handsome and disloyal! You wish to know more about the sons of Henry and Eleanore? I shall gladly tell you!

(The shadows of the various characters he describes appear behind the scene. For young Henry, we see a tall well built young knight surrounded by others. They are all shown eating, drinking, laughing, womanizing and patting each other on the back.)

There was young King Henry, his father's eldest. Young Henry's fine face, congenial nature, and skill in the martial sports, attracted many of the bachelors about him. Of course, the wealth he extracted from the old King also enhanced his popularity.

So generous was young Henry! He always verged on poverty to insure that his companions reaped glorious rewards. When necessary, he even pillaged the churches so that his men could be properly paid. (Wistfully) For these things, we all loved him.

(We now see Henry's shadow in a death throes as the others move in a panic.)

In the midst of his rebellion against his father we lost young Henry to an unexpected fever following a dinner of freshly caught fish. Such is the sadness of fate!

(The shadow play fades out and a new one begins. We now see the shadow of Richard. A handsome profile of a tall well built man. He is striking grand poses.)

Richard, God willing, you shall see today. Ah! What a hero! Richard makes men cower, and women swoon, for his good looks are almost as legendary as his strength! Legendary, too, are his sordid sexual perversities.

(Richard now lifts his sword, and begins swinging it as if in battle.)

Though in many ways a peacock, Richard fights with the fury of a wounded boar. He has fought against his father, and his brothers as well! Richard loves war more than a hawk loves quail! He has warred against me, and burned my castle, yet how can I not admire him?

(The shadow play fades out. It begins again as we now see Geoffrey, son of Eleanore, in the shadow play. He is seated and appears to be writing.)

And fair Geoffrey, the one I talked of before? Not this one (points to G), but the one who died. Younger than Richard, but older than John. The smartest of the bunch, some say, and the most eloquent. (sighs) That Geoffrey could corrupt two kingdoms with his tongue! (woman enters and sits on his lap, playing with his hair).

When he died, lovers lost their leader (we see him in a sexually suggestive pose with the woman. Then she kisses him, gets up and walks away as...), moneylenders their finest risk (a man comes in and gives him a money bag...), and mercenaries their steady pay (...as he hands the money bag to someone else. The play fades out). There was also great sadness in the King's court at Paris, for Geoffrey held a privileged position in both King Philip's household, (the shadow begins again as we see Geoffrey kneeling to a young man with a crown seated on a throne) and in King Philip's heart. (He kisses the King's hands affectionately, as the King strokes Geoffrey's hair.)

As for the last days of Geoffrey? (Shadow play ends abruptly.) He fell off his horse in a tournament, and was trampled to death.

I ask you, have you ever heard of such fine young men? How could anyone not praise these models of manhood?

And then there's John Lackland, the youngest of the sons.

(The shadow goes in on John standing there, unaware.)

H: Of all my sons, only my sweet little John has been a comfort.

BB: John? (coughs, John looks around as if someone caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to. The light fades out abruptly) Don't misunderstand my intentions. I'm not the judge of Henry's boys. I, too, have had my own family squabbles.

G: (hurt) What about me, Father? I've never deserted you.

H: (with affection) Yes. You're my good Geoffrey. You two may have shared a name, but not a character.

G: (with distaste) No good ever came from Eleanore's Geoffrey!

H: After his death, his wife did grant me a grandson. I must credit him for that.

W: Yes. Young Arthur.

H: Well, I've yet to see the boy, so I can't assess his value. So many sons, and so little to show for it. Young Henry had the lack of foresight to die without legitimate male heirs, and as for Richard...What do you think, Willaim? Shall I ever know a child of his?

W: I don't believe that children are foremost on Richard's mind. He far prefers battle to procreation.

G: He wishes to be King of England, and to hold all your lands on the continent as well. Yet other than waging war, he remains unwilling to accept the responsibilities of leadership.

H: So you think Richard unworthy, Geoffrey? I know he's difficult. I know his expectations. I treat him gingerly. All those mistakes I made with young Henry. Now that he's dead, I'll be damned if I do the same with Richard.

W: The greatest danger from my lord, young Henry, came from his tie to his father-in-law, King Louis.

H: After I married my boy into that blasted house, he was lost to us! I thought his marriage to Princess Marguerite would bind our families. Instead things further unraveled!

G: (looks at William, who bows his head forlornly, for William was once falsely accused of a dalliance with Queen Marguarite) One must be careful of involvements with those beautiful daughters of Capet.

H: (embarrassed, and distracted) Uh, yes, Geoffrey. One should.

BB: (laughs at Henry's discomfort)

W: (composing himself) I don't think your son needs to worry about the charms of the daughters of Louis. Despite his betrothal to Alys Capet, the girl is basically harmless. Richard should worry more about the French knights, and the arms of Louis' son, Philip.

BB: Philip's arms are the least of his problems. It's the rest of the French King's body politic to which Richard should be wary!

G: And we must be wary of Richard.

W: Perhaps he has matured and no longer wavers in his loyalties?

G: It seems to me, a good solution would call for Richard and Princess Alys to at last be wed. They've been betrothed for years! It might settle him down, as well as give King Philip reason to withdraw.

H: Despite the soundness of such a solution, I refuse to push Alys and Richard into matrimony. I know the promises I've made, but by God's eyes, I can't bear to do such a thing! Alys is lovely, and eager to please, yet Richard despises her. Philip doesn't realize that I've his sister's best interests at heart.

H: Ah! Marriage is a horror. Look at my own as proof! How I'd love to be rid of Eleanore! It's a curse on me that her lands are so valuable. To think, I once thought myself lucky that King Louis divorced that wretched she-wolf, leaving her free to be mine.

W: What choice did he have? She gave him no sons.

H: Well, Eleanore and I had no problem there! After I mounted the aging mare, sons slithered out of her belly as regularly as worms in a rain shower! (with more seriousness) Oh, Eleanore was rich, and she was beautiful, but she was too clever for her own good. (sighs) I've no choice, but to let the scheming harpy rot as my prisoner, where she can do no harm.

G: We spend our time speaking of Eleanore, but what about Richard, her favorite? Right now, he's of greater concern.

H: You're right, Geoffrey. Though I locked the old crone up, her champion runs free. I've even welcomed him with kisses. What have you to say, Marshal? Have I've erred in this?

W: Your majesty, Richard has performed many regrettable actions. But to his account, he now fights as one of us. We've no real reason to suspect otherwise.

H: Perhaps, yet still, it's always hard to know on what path our Richard plans to ride. (pauses reflectively) In this life, I've learned there's little to which we can ever be certain. There was a time I thought that Philip Capet would never rise against me. When he first became a king, he was still a boy. As he looked at me, his eyes filled with adoration. Philip was my protege! He was almost like a son. In some ways he was more like me than my very own. (He sighs.) Once I fought against his enemies, but with the passage of time I became one of them. (Spits on the ground) That cocksure runt rejected all my years of knowledge! Bah! Youth can make men stupid.

W: I hear King Philip's horses approaching.

H: (anxiously) Where's Richard?

G: (nervously) Father! Behold! He rides with Philip and his men!

(Richard, Philip, and several knights from Philip's army arrive from off stage. At this, some soldiers of Henry move inwards. BB looks on with curiosity.)

H: Richard, what's the meaning of this?

R: I went out riding in the early morning, and came across King Philip. As it would be bad manners to ignore him, we returned to the camp together. H: (suspiciously) Your graciousness astounds me, my son.

P: (anxiously) Let's attend to business.

H: My very intention. What are your terms?

P: (smoothly) The same as before. But I wish to add claim, as liege lord, the wardship of your grandson, Duke Arthur, son of Geoffrey and Constance of Brittany. (Henry nods in agreement in an off hand way.) And I want Gisors and the Vexin, which, as the dower of my sister, Marguerite, have rightfully been mine since the death of young King Henry.

H: Agreed. Agreed. Of course, this dower is to be transferred to your sister, Alys, upon her marriage to my son, Richard. (Philip nods his head.) Is there more?

P: Yes. (He pauses, knowing he is about to catapult something shocking into the procedings) Your son, Richard must be married to my sister, Alys, without delay. Richard must also immediately receive possession of Anjou, Maine, and Touraine.

G: My Lord! That's all the Angevin lands except Normandy and England!

P: And Richard must publicly be proclaimed heir to his father.

H: (with shock) Do you know what you are asking? (with anger and animation) You're mad! I cannot abide by any of these latter terms. By God's eyes, I cannot! Richard, is this your voice in these demands? What dung have you been filling his head with, Capet?

R: (furiously) So you refuse? What a father you are! Apparently, Philip spoke the truth! You wish to disown me for the sake of my little brother, John. You'd deprive me of a wife whose dowry would give me great advantage. May God strike your bowels! I'm worthy! I'm entitled! Yet still you deny this to me. You wish to give me nothing!

H: (livid) Nothing? My gift was your very creation! Or perhaps your mother convinced you that she alone was responsible for that...(Pauses and then adds maliciously)... or perhaps that Messalina finally confessed that you were sired by one of her many lovers!

(Richard, at the mention of his mother, poises to leap at him. At this last sentence he is about to strike Henry, but is held back by the surrounding knights.)

R: If I could get free, I'd rip out your lying tongue!

H: (laughs) No. You're mine, there's no way to deny it. Your temper alone proves my paternity!

R: (Richard shakes off the knights.) Let's hear that malignant mouth spew out some truth for a change. Are Philip's accusations falsehoods, or aren't they?

(Henry does not answer. Instead he looks at the ground.)

(Richard shakes his head in disgust. He solemnly unbuckles his sword, laying it in front of Philip. Richard kneels at the French King's feet. He puts his hands within Philip's.)

R: (in anger and defiance) For Aquitaine, Anjou, Maine, Normandy and Touraine, I offer homage to my liege lord, King Philip.

(Richard gives Philip the kiss of vassalage. The crowd gasps. BB claps his hands with glee. Richard, Philip and their men, ride off together.)

H: (still angry) Off they go together, laced as tightly as pigeons in a pie! Philip, my foulest enemy, and Richard, my deceitful son! Those two play a dangerous game (He shakes his fist at their exit. He is now downcast, and looks at Willaim and Geoffrey) ...and there shall be misery no matter who's the winner.

The Lay of the Honeysuckle--Song by Anonymous (to be played quietly throughout the scene. The tone is almost dreamlike, languid, seductive. The mood of the action and dialogue should reflect this.)

(Bedroom at Philip's palace in Paris. Though spartan, it's elegant in its quality and plainness. An enormous bed, a table by its side, a few chairs, and a large chest at the foot of the bed. A brass chamber pot. The bedding is of an unpretentious material. There is a tapestry of a hunting scene on the wall. BB sits quietly on one of the chairs in a corner while Richard undresses for the night. Richard appears a bit drunk.)

BB: Welcome to the French King's palace! I'm afraid you must find your way without me. I refuse to stay as young Philip is not fond of paying entertainers. He may be my Lord and King, but why should I praise him without a profit?

(Philip's voice from behind a curtain stage left): Richard?

BB: Besides, I'd think these two would rather be alone!

R: (he grabs his sword) Who's there?

P: It's Philip. I've come to ensure that you're content.

R: Then enter without fear. (Philip flings the curtain open as he enters, but stands at the threshold. As he steps in, BB leaves. Philip carries a flagon of wine and a single goblet that they will share throughout the scene.)

P: Have you enjoyed your stay in Paris so far? The food? The drink? Despite our court's modesty, I hope we've managed to accommodate your Southern tastes. (Philip holds the goblet and offers Richard more wine.

Richard puts his hand over Philip's, lifts the goblet, and takes a sip of the wine.)

R: (with courtesy) You've been a wonderful host, my Lord. The feast was more than plentiful, and I've had so much wine, my head spins. Which reminds me Philip, how do you drink so much, and yet never seem drunk? (Philip smiles, sips some wine, and shrugs his shoulders.) Now come inside! You fool no one with this pretext of hospitality! We need to "confer" on important matters! (He pulls Philip inward, while Richard closes the curtain. He takes Philip's hands and pulls him to sit on the bed.)

P: You're wrong if you think I wish to keep the nature of our friendship a secret. I'd just as soon shout it from the top of the castle walls.

R: Loud enough to deafen my father, I hope?

P: You'd like that, wouldn't you?

R: Nothing could make me happier!

P: I'm glad it pleases you, returning here with me, rather than with King Henry. I wouldn't want you to regret your actions.

R: (Richard takes the goblet and flagon from Philip and puts them on the table near the bed.) I never regret my actions, though I'm still bewildered by yours.

P: Why? Does it shock you that I revealed your father's treachery?

R: Certainly not! I wouldn't have expected you to do otherwise. No. This surprise is of another nature. (friendly, yet with veiled suspicion) Until you revealed your intentions this summer, I'd no idea that you even considered sharing a friendship with me. I'm honored. (Drawing his hand toward Philip's face, gently, yet without touching it.) Of course, this is assuming that your motives are sincere.

P: (casually) I've always wanted to be your friend, Richard. You've never failed to impress or intrigue me.

R: (coyly letting his hand drift away) Have I? I've intrigued with you, and against you. Now you say that you love me as a man loves a man, and it makes me wonder.

R: We've known each other for so long. And yet... (nostalgic) I remember seeing you at Rheims, not a decade ago, at your coronation. You were a skinny, sickly looking boy! So unsightly that even death refused to accept you! There you stood, so serious, dressed as simply as a Cistercian! I wondered how one so somber could be a King.

P: (laughs) How different from you and your brothers! Your brilliance shamed the sun...it blinds me still! (looks down and picks up Richard's shirt, which is of a very ornate material. Plays with it. Then puts it down. Thoughtfully, looks up at Richard) The clothes you wear, the elegance of your movements. Whenever Henry, Lion of England, and his pride made an appearance, it seemed to me as if God had come to call, and brought along his angels.

R: (with humorous irony) I suspect that Henry felt the same.

R: This is pretty praise, Philip, yet neither of us are fools. Despite your claims of admiration, we're natural enemies. Our lands make it so, as do our births. We both know that.

P: We needn't be foes. It doesn't always have to be that way. It's not how I want it. It's not how I ever wanted it. (touches Richard's shoulder w/tenderness)

R: I'll admit you always showed high regard towards for my brothers, Henry and Geoffrey. But never before did you show me any sign of affection.

P: Yet how could I not? How enchanting you are! Tall and well formed. Fair of face. Golden hair (he leans toward Richard and lets his fingers pass across Richard's hair) Your strength like Samson. Your valour like Judah Maccabee! Such wondrous qualities. Is there not a greater recipe for love?

R: (with some cynicism) This all depends on one's taste. (He looks outwards in the direction of the audience and says with truth and a little regret.) I recognize that I'm not easily loved. I'm not like my brother Henry, who courted popularity. (defensively and towards Philippe) Not that it disturbs me. I find it easier to buy my allegiances outright than to pay for them sweetly. I look not for admiration, so much as fear and respect!

P: (with sincerity and taking Richard's hands) And you have my respect. For this, and other things. Though, in the past, I've been forced to go against you, I'd far prefer to be your ally so that we might fight as one. (folds his hands together as if to emphasize this, and presents them to Richard and smiles) This, my friend, is my greatest dream!

R: (bringing Philip's hands up to his lips) Truly, Philip? I like that dream. Now tell me of the other dreams that fill your nights. Am I in them as well? (Drops Philip's hand. Picks up goblet, and downs it. Pours more. He looks at Philip as if challenging him.) What about my brothers, Philip? Did you flatter them as well as you flatter me?

P: But Richard, everyone adored young Henry! And he was husband to my sister. How could I not love the man? Such devotion is surely not a sin!

R: My eldest brother was a spoiled and shallow wastrel. All young Henry cared about was the tournament. That's all he knew. Even when he fought against our father, it was all a game to him. And because of that, he was used as a pawn during your father's reign. And as time went on, you held young Henry's reins as well, leading my brother against me.

P: (apologetically) Dear Richard, I'm a man, but I'm a man who is a king. Policy on occasion, forces me to do things that go against my own inclinations.

R: And what were your inclinations towards the since departed Geoffrey? Did you love *him* as a man, or as a king? At his death, they say your hands were forcibly pried from the bricks of the mausoleum while you cried, and begged to be admitted. Either you play the mourner well, or you were inordinately fond of my younger brother. Policy, perhaps?

P: (with profound saddness) Your brother was my closest friend, and true to me.

R: We must be speaking of a different Geoffrey. The only thing constant about my brother, was the name of his wife.

P: You didn't know him as well as I.

R: You didn't know him as long as I.

P: (Sweetly.) It upsets you?

R: (Quietly turning away, and with some truth) Perhaps because I too wish to inspire such devotion.

P: (Lifts goblet, sips some, strokes its base a bit, offers it to Richard) But you do!

R: (suspiciously he rejecting the goblet) Do I? I want no alliance to a man I cannot trust.

P: (softly) Believe me, dear Richard, I love you more than my very soul.

R: (with both accusation and desperation) Did you say these same words to Geoffrey?

P: (with a voice of dismissal) Geoffrey's dead. There's no need to discuss him. (Again offers Richard the goblet)

R: (Takes the goblet, downs some more wine, then puts goblet down.) Still, you wish to raise his son.

P: (stroking Richard's cheek with the back of his hand) Are you suspicious of my regard for Arthur, as well?

R: (jokingly) As if I'd think you intend to raise the lad out of love for his father rather than for a political benefit!

P: I'm fond of the boy. I truly am. You need a son of your own, Richard. Give me a nephew, you and Alys. Name him after me! Then you shall see love.

R: (uncomfortable) I don't care for that aspect of kingship. This necessity of "breeding." I'm a man, not a horse.

P: Oh, but lineage is everything. What greater gift can we give to our kingdoms than well made boys? (laughs to himself)

R: (suspiciously) Why do you laugh?

P: It just entered my thoughts that if Eleanore and my father had made an heir as intended, then you and I would never have come to be!

R: (growling) Maman was miserable with your father.

P: (countering) And she grew miserable with yours! (Somewhat wistfully) Still, Louis loved her. This, no doubt, was his downfall.

R: He loved her twice. We know this only because it yielded our common sisters. As for loving her more, I remain unconvinced.

P: Louis abstained out of piety. He was destined to be a cleric, and meant neither to be husband nor King. It was only the death of his elder brother that placed him on the throne. (Pours more wine in the goblet and sips a bit. Puts goblet down. With pride.) Of course, I was always meant to be a monarch. I may have admired my father's religious fervor, but to my mind, a King has no place in a cloister!

R: On this we agree! (Richard picks up wine and downs it) Perhaps we are not as different as I once thought. Don't take my intentions amiss. I'm hopeful about the things you say. I think there can be great profit in our *friendship.* So talk on. I wish to hear more. And perhaps before the night expires and our talk concludes, you and I can discover other similarities in our philosophies of life.

P: (seriously) I have no life, but to rule. (Richard looks a bit disturbed, but Philip smiles and strokes Richard's hair) And to wisely love those whom I master. (Takes goblet from Richard and pours more wine from the flagon.)

R: (facetiously) Master? Take my measure, Philip. You may think me your man, but I'm not accustomed to being ruled.

P: By all rights, you're still my subject.

R: Your subjects are too many, whereas I care about few, and only those *I* master. I deal best in military matters. (points to bed) Let this cloth of linen be our field of battle, and I'll show you how I make a conquest of a King! (Richard looks up at him, and smiles.)

P: Think carefully on the things you say, my friend. You're clearly very drunk.

R: If I could only prick the fabric beneath that cloak of sobriety! How skilled you'd find my weaving!

P: If you weave any more, my friend, you'll land on the floor.

R: (angrily) Are you laughing at me? That's a foolhardy action.

P: (earnestly) I've no fear of you, and nothing to hide. I wish only to embrace you.

R: (drunk, and amused, yet with growing insistence, and some seriousness) To embrace me...and what's mine? You're a clever one! You plot to capture me with honeyed sincerities, and then bind me in fellowship as love's prisoner! Are your motives so bold, or is it really that you're so simple? What's the truth? Take care, young King. I humble men who rise against me. How easily I've watched them fall! In the end, I realized they were all...beneath me. But your capture, my Philip, would assure me a worthy prize.

P: (Bemused) You think me of as your prey? And easy prey, at that! That's an error, my friend. You should realize, I'm not as inexperienced as my age might indicate. (Take the cup and sips some wine.)

R: (Pulls himself up, and draws even closer, though physically a bit unsteady. Smiling.) Perhaps we should put it to the test. Unsheathe your weapon, and I shall prepare mine.

P: (amused) You can barely stand, my dear, Richard. In your state, I doubt that your *sword* could aim straight.

R: There are many who could attest to the truth of my aim, and the reliability of my charges no matter what the circumstance!

P: You have that reputation. (seductively) But is there prudence using force against me, hoping that I might yield? With mutual consent we need only join together to gain that which we both covet.

R: (He drinks from the goblet, still in Philip's hand. Then, Richard takes it from him and lecherously smiles.) The dawn moves quickly, and so must I. Let me bow to your wisdom, young king. Tonight, proclaim that I'm yours. You've won my heart with your pleas and your persistence. And your youthful smile. Yes, we shall share the sweet kiss of peace, and as your beloved vassal, I shall gladly get down on my knees as you desire me, and give you your proper homage. (Puts goblet down, and leans closer towards him.)

(The setting is barren, but for a surrounding of dead stumps. Henry is on horseback. He is physically weak, but putting up a good appearance. He is surrounded by several knights, including William Marshal, though not Geoffrey the Bastard.)

BB: (walks on stage, shaking his head) Poor Henry! All those losses have made him ill. The war against Richard and King Philip has ended with Henry at their mercy. I think the destruction of Le Mans proved his undoing. That was the place of his birth. Today, all that remains are the cinders!

You don't believe the sorrow in my voice? At times even I regret the brutality of war, despite my insistence on its necessity.

H: (Obviously a broken man, he nervously turns to William Marshall) Where's my Geoffrey? The one who said he'd never leave me?

W: He hasn't gone, my Lord. Not in his heart. But he begs your permission that he not attend this day. His love for you is so great that he finds your defeat far too painful.

H; So he cannot bear to witness such a degrading spectacle, and chooses to turns his eyes from my shame? (heartfelt) How good he is! He's my true son, William, it's the others who were base born.

(Richard and Philippe enter on horseback.)

H: (summing up all his strength) Ah! At last! The young French King and his concubine!

R: Shut up, old man!

H: If that's how you feel, perhaps you should silence everyone in Christendom, for all speak of the great devotion between Richard, Duke of Aquitaine, and the King of France. It's said that at each meal, you eat from the same dish and drink from the same goblet. I was told that separate beds could not keep you apart at night! (shakes his head) For most men, sharing quarters with their lords would be a chaste honor. But my son is unlike most men, and incapable of keeping the lust for his fellow-men in check. The world may look upon your comradeship as commendable, but I know better.

R: Careful Father, for I'm privy to your secrets as well!

H: I suppose one night in your private chambers you both vowed eternal love and fidelity. I was young once, and know how long such promises last.

P: Ignore him, Richard. He's only trying to make us grow angry so we'll quarrel and separate.

H: (to Richard) I've never cared before with whom you fondled in the dark. These things were no concern of mine. Yet this isn't some adolescent minstrel with whom you dally.

R: You know nothing of my relations with King Philip. You disgust me. You're incapable of any feelings, except of the basest kind.

H: By God's ears, Richard, can you teach me better? Tell me, what should I make of your joyous union? Are you two so close because of a "sacred" love, the kind daily consecrated in the troubadours' songs? (laughs) I remember how devoted your mother was to that pitiful drivel. I never realized you also shared such tender sentiments! (Richard glares at him in hatred throughout. Philip gestures to Richard as if to tell him to keep his cool.) Perhaps your common aversion to me unites you? Or is it merely a formality, like a marriage, to bind an alliance. I hope you found the dower gratifying, my son!

(Philip turns his head in embarrassment.)

H: What's this? Do I see Philip of France show some shame? Or perhaps this is a deception? Such a handsome mask you wear, King Philip. It's a pity that you were born a king, you'd have made an excellent courtier. (turns to Richard) And you have faith that this man will keep his word to you? Why I'd wager that in a joust between the young French King's morality, and the pursuit of his desires, Philip's higher principles would easily be knocked in the dust.

R: Leave him alone! Not everyone shares your vile nature.

H: Ah! My son! You are as loyal as a Lancelot! Gallantly defending your lover! Your mother would be proud. Of course, there was a time, you once defended me. And look at me now! (He almost falls off his horse in a faint.)

P: Richard! He's ill! That message we received about his sickness wasn't a lie!

R: He's faking! He's fine. It's just a trick to gain our sympathy.

H: If you'd struck me with a lance, you couldn't wound me more than with these words. (Richard spits in his direction, whereas Philip dismounts.)

P: King Henry, please, I've placed my cloak upon the ground for you. Come down, and allow yourself more comfort.

H: (brushing him aside.) Leave me alone! I didn't come here for a pleasant chat!

P: So be it. You know our terms of peace. The same as before, plus all the lands we now occupy. And with the addition of an indemnity of 20,000 marks.

H: I'm helpless now. I'm at your mercy. Terms granted.

P: We also require no reprisals against anyone who turned against you.

H: Agreed. But I insist on a list of those names.

P: Very well. Now all that's needed is the kiss of peace.

(Richard dismounts.)

H: Oh no! I couldn't bear the kiss of peace from my treasonous offspring! I'd rather die.

R: (furiously) And you will, if you don't follow the custom!

P: Please, King Henry. You must grant him the kiss of peace! (Henry, with the help of William Marshal and another knight, dismounts. He and Richard are about to kiss.)

H: (in a stage whisper to Richard) The Lord grant that I may not die till I've had my revenge on you!

(Richard laughs at this, mounts his horse, as Philip mounts his own. Together, they ride away.)

(Music--In Occasu Sideris)

(The Abbey at Fontevraud where Henry lies in state behind a semi-transparent curtain. Geoffrey the Bastard and William Marshall enter to mourn over Henry.)

W: It all comes to this.

G: (in a daze) "Shame, shame on a defeated king!" (turns to William) Those were the last words he said to me. (with fury) I blame Richard! His betrayal killed my father.

W: (trying to calm him.) No. I can't believe it was him. Revenge on Richard could have given King Henry the will to live.

G: (Almost ashamed to make this admission) There *was* another cause, William. When I read King Philip's list of those who had gone against our King, the first name written was my half brother, John's. This news broke my father's heart. He cried out to God, "Let the world go as it will. I care for nothing more!"

W: (stunned) King Henry thought so highly of John.

G: I believe he wanted John to succeed him. He fought against Richard for John's sake.

W: To think that this son too should betray him! What tragedy!

G: At my father's death procession, I saw few mourners. Mostly just the curious, and buzzards circling the corpse. They grabbed at his robes, stealing every garment, and each jewel. Once he was wondrous. Now he's left with nothing.

W: (shaking his head) This was no way to treat a king.

G: I covered his naked body with my cloak.

W: You did right, Geoffrey. Though only a natural son, you surely were his truest.

G: (Looks offstage.) Look! Here comes Richard! Why is he here?

W: I sent for him. King Henry was his father, he should be present.

R: Geoffrey. William.

G: (facetiously) So you've come to pay your respects to our father?

R: I've come to see William Marshal.

W: (slight bow, and with some surprise) Me, your majesty? What does this concern?

R: When last we were in battle, you thought to kill me. You failed, and instead, you killed my horse. The beast and I tumbled to the ground. I endured an indignity, though my body suffered no harm.

W: (calmly, trying to withold some fear) If I'd tried to kill you, you'd be dead. I killed your horse so that if God pleased he could take your life. I left it in His hands.

R: I believe at the time, you said "let the devil take you, for I shall not!"

W: (with dignity and sincerity) My apologies, my lord. It was said in the heat of anger.

R: Still, Marshal, I can't ignore the fact that through all the fighting you never abandoned my father no matter how hopeless the cause. You're remarkable! You've the tenacity and virtue of a saint, yet your fist strikes with the fierceness of Satan. Never could I find a more worthy knight. I want that same loyalty shown to my father, continued in my service. And have no fear, that young heiress my father promised you as bride shall be yours.

W: (trying to conceal his excitement and gratitude at the last bit of news.) I'm at your service, King Richard.

R: As for you, Geoffrey, our father always expressed a desire that you should be an archbishop. You've been putting it off, but I think the time has come. I know you lack enthusiasm over this choice of career. No doubt, you'd hoped that someday the crown might land on your head. Our father's love blinded you to the fact that you are merely a bastard, and the son of a common harlot.

(Geoffrey is furious, and about to say something, but wisely holds back.)

R: I wish to see my Father now, so I beg your leave.

(William bows, and Richard moves to behind the transparent curtain where Henry's body lies.)

G: How is it that you agreed to follow him, after what he did to the King?

W: I stood by King Henry, both young and old. I never faltered. Now, there's a new King. I must stand by him as well. Richard is your King too, Geoffrey. And your half brother. To be his man is your duty. The players have changed, but the game continues.

(Geoffrey looks towards where Richard, and the body of Henry lies.)

G: (with disgust and wonder) Look at the new King now! What does he feel as he stares at our Father?

W: He shows nothing in his face.

G: William! Look! The corpse of the King! It bleeds profusely!

G: It's an accusation!

(Richard, somewhat afraid, flees from the body and enters the stage again. He passes William and Geoffrey and stops right before exiting.)

R: (shouting angrily) From the devil he came, and to the devil he'll go! (motions William to follow him. William does so, leaving Geoffrey alone with the body.)