Czecho-Slovak Student Life/Volume 18/Number 5/Rival Banners

by Augustine Studeny

RIVAL BANNERS

A Drama in Three Acts. Written for S.L. by the
Rev. Augustine Studeny, O.S.B.

REV. AUGUSTINE STUDENY O. S. B.		AUTHOR OF RIVAL BANNERS

This fascinating drama, the first act of which we present in this issue, is based on Walter Scott’s Talisman, a thrilling Eastern romance, equal to the best of Scott’s efforts. The scene is laid in the Holy Land, about the year 1193, during the truce with the Saracens which preceeded the abandonment of the crusade led by Richard the Lion Hearted.

 

The author of the “Rival Banners”, Rev. Augustine Studeny, O. S. B., had been director of dramatic art at St. Procopius College for many years, producing some of the most outstanding plays in the history of that institution. Later he became associate editor of the Bohemian Benedictine Press in Chicago, and chaplain of the Chicago District Catholic Czech Alliance. When health failed him and a change of climate was suggested, the Rev. Augustine Studeny was appointed pastor of St. Wenceslaus Church in Dickinson, North Dakota, where he resides at present.

We shall publish the second act in the next issue of the S .L., and the third act in the May issue.

RIVAL BANNERS.
Dramatis Personae.

Richard, king of England.
De Vaux, nurse to Richard.
Blondel, minstrel to Richard.
Baldwin, Lord Archbishop.
Phillip, monarch of France.
Leopold, archduke of Austria.
Conrad, marquis of Montserrat.
Kenneth of Scotland.
Amaury, Sir Giles.
Henry.
Jocelyn.
Adonbec el Hakim, a Saracen physician.
Theodoric, a hermit.
Crusaders.
Soldiers.
Attendants.
Guards.
A herald.

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THE RIVAL BANNERS

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ACT ONE

Scene 1. (Chamber of the Council of the Crusade, Discover Phillip, Henry, Leopold, Conrad, Baldwin, Amaury, Kenneth, Guards, and Attendants.—A flourish of trumpets.)

PHILLIP: Royal and princely colleagues and brothers-in-arms! We have now reached our decision. This scroll contains our ultimatum—our terms to Saladin, the Soldan of Egypt and Syria, and leader of the Saracen armies. If he will have peace and avold further bloodshed and devastation of his country, let him accept these terms of peace, to wit: He shall release all Christians held as prisoners and hostages; secondly, he shall permit free pilgrimages in all the sacred places of the Holy Land; furthermore, he shall allow Christian garrisons in the six principal cities of Palestine; and finally, he shall re-establish the Kingdom of Jerusalem with all the possessions thereunto appertaining. In return wherefor, we, the league of Christian monarchs, shall bind ourselves to a peaceful evacuation of all Asia and Egypt; we shall allow and foster free intercommunication between the domains of the Soldan and the countries of Europe; and finally, we shall guarantee to aid him in maintaining his power for the preservation of peace in Syria and Egypt.—These, in substance, are our terms. If Saladin will have them, the blessings of peace and prosperity shall be his; if he shall, however, not be amenable to the justice and reason of these our claims, we shall maintain them at the point of our swords. For, my brothers, we have taken upon our selves, freely and gladly, a vow and an oath to redeem the sacred places of the homeland of our Saviour from the oppression and tyranny of the misbelieving Moslems. Our oath is registered in Heaven, and its symbol, the Cross, is on our shoulders. The last breath of our lives, and the last drop of our heart’s blood shall be spent to the end that the Holy Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church shall be exalted to her rightful place in the land of her birth; that her pride of place shall be re-established in the Holy City of David, the Mother of the Churches; that the pious pilgrims of Christendom shall have free and untrammeled access to those places which have been consecrated by the labors, the tears, and the very blood of our Blessed Redeemer.

CRUSADERS: Deus vult! Deus vult! God wills it! God wills it! Lead us on, King of France! Lead us on to Sion and the Holy Sepulchre!

HENRY: Soldiers of the Cross! I bid you remember that ye have crossed hill and dale, mountain and stream, sea and desert plain to wrest from the wretched hands of the misbelieving Paynim the most beloved treasures of every Christian heart—Bethlehem, where our King was born, Nazareth, where He lived, the Temple, where He prayed, the Holy Mount, where He died for our sins, the Tomb, wherein He was buried.—By the tears of your mothers and wives, by the prayers of your sisters and children, I ask ye, shall Mahommed reign where Christ our King died upon the Holy Rood? Shall Jerusalem remain another Mecca? Shall the Crescent supplant the Cross?

CRUSADERS: No! No! Down with Mahommed! Down with false gods and their prophets! The Cross! The Cross! Lead us on to the Holy City and the Sepulchre.

BALDWIN: Soldiers of the Cross! Your enthusiasm for the cause of our holy religion ascends on angels’ wings to the throne of the Almighty. Be firm, be courageous, preserve unity and accord: and victory from Heaven shall descend upon the banner of the Cross.

PHIL.: Sir Kenneth, thou hast been chosen to carry our terms to the Soldan. Hast thou received Saladin’s pass through his armies?

KEN.: I have, your gracious majesty.

PHIL.: Then fare thee well, noble Knight, and God speed thee!

BALD.: God bless you, my son, and the purpose of thy journey! The intercession of Blessed Mary be with thee, that safely thou mayest return with the happy news of peace. Be thou not the crow that returneth not, but the white dove returning with the olive branch of peace. (Kenneth kneels for blessing, then exit.)

PHIL.: Now, friends, let us each depart to his contigent to prepare against an unfavorable answer. (Exeunt all, except Baldwin and Leopold.)

BALD.: Why so sad and downcast, my Lord? Methinks that, thanks to God, we have much reason to rejoice, considering that Tyre, Tripole, and this fair city of Acre are in our possession. And Jerusalem itself, God willing, shall soon be in our hands. In truth I say, there is much reason for joy.

LEO.: Aye, my lord archbishop, I am not unmindful of this. But other thoughts mar the pleasing aspect of the picture you draw. You, Your Grace, are a prince of the Church, and your one thought, surpassing every other consideration, is the liberation of the Holy Land, and the prosperity of the Holy Church in the sacred places of Palestine. But with us temporal princes this crusader’s zeal is not so pure and impersonal, I know the generosity and single-mindedness of Your Grace’s heart; therefore I speak freely. The question of honor, of fame, of respect and rank lies too deep in the heart of a knight and prince to be so easily set aside. I am, I think, a true crusader. I have made my vow eagerly, and I shall not lightly forgo the pledge. But still, my lord, I am a man, a knight, and a prince. Think you, that I can bear meekly and silently the arrogant assumptions and the insolent pride of Richard? He is a knight, and so am I; he is a crusader, and so am I; he is a king, and so am I a prince. My ducal sway is as great as his insular power. Yet he treats me, as well as all the chiefs, as if we were, not his equals, but his very vassals. I have borne it with patience this many a week; but, my lord, I know not whether my patience will outlast his insolence.

BALD.: My dear prince, I do perceive that you have good and reasonable grounds for your grievances. Yet, I beseech you, by the cгoss upon your shoulder to refrain from any acts which might disrupt the newly established harmony of the league. Richard, I am regretful to admit, is proud, impetuous, and intolerant of counsel and superiority; yet withal, he is a brave and true knight, an honorable and zealous crusader. I speak thus, not as his subject, but as a member of our common alliance.

LEO.: My lord archbishop, your words have moved me. I shall remember them, and try to profit by them. Yet I fear that Richard’s usurping ambition may prove too much for the spirit of toleration of our leaders. I am not the only one to complain, you must recollect; there are others, especially Conrad of Montserrat and the Templar.

BALD.: Aye indeed, my lord; these, God pity us, are more the enemies of Richard than the friends of our cause. I know that Conrad only with the greatest reluctance has joined our cause; for he is greatly disappointed over the quarrel with Guy de Lusighan concerning the succession to the throne of Jerusalem. And the Templar, I say it with great sorrow, is as unscrupulous as he is ambitious.

LEO.: Therefore it the more behooveth the King of England to be a little more chary of his claims to first honors, and yield to his equals in rank somewhat more of what is their due.—But farewell, my lord; I have urgent business in our camp. God give you good day. (Exit.)

BALD.: There goes a true knight, but a proud prince. Lucifer, the prince of angels, fell because he stumbled on his pride. Leopold, thou art a princely man, but beware that thy pride be not thy stumbling stone. Thou wouldst not, I know, hesitate to strike thy way thru an army of infidels to rescue the Holy Cross from dishonor: yet thou wouldst, I greatly fear, as quickly strike at a Christian prince to avenge an insult to thy banner.—Aye, the national flag, that symbol of patriotic pride and consciousness, but alas! far more the cause of national jealousies and hatreds—that, forsooth, is much more to be feared than all the armies of the Saracen, (Exit.)

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Scene 2. (Richard’s pavilion. The King lies sick upon his couch. Standing by are: De Vaux, Henry, Baldwin, Blondel, and Jocelyn. Guards stand at the entrance.)

RICH.: Thou art a rough nurse, De Vaux, withal a willing one. Methinks that an old woman’s cap would become thy lowering features as a child’s bonnet would become mine. Then we should be a babe and nurse to frighten girls with.

DE VAUX: We have frightened men in our time, my liege; and I trust we shall live to frighten them again. What is a fever-fit that we should not endure it patiently so as to get rid of it the more easily?

RICH.: Fever-fit! Forsooth, a fever-fit! Thou mayest think, and justly, that it is a fever-fit with me; but what is it with all the other Christian princes—with dull France, the proud Austrian, with rebellious Conrad?—what is it with them? A lethargy, a disease that deprives them of speech and action—a canker that has eaten into the heart of all that is noble and chivalrous that has made them false—

BALD.: I beseech you, my lord, for the love of Heaven, take it less violently. You will be heard outside, and, God knows, there is contention and discord enough in the Crusade host. Bethink you, that if in these weeks they have refrained from seeking battle with the Saracen, it was because your majesty’s illness marred the mainspring of their enterprise—an archer could as soon discharge an arrow from a broken bow, than the Christian host obtain victory over the Moslems without Richard, the lion-hearted.

RICH.: You flatter me, my lord. On mine honor, this is smoothly said to soothe a sick man. For, why does a league of Christian monarchs, an assemblage of nobles, a convocation of all the chivalry of Europe droop with the sickness of one man, tho he be the King of England? Why should the illness, or Richard’s death, check the march of thirty thousand men as brave as himself, and as bold? If the banner of St. George wave not in the van of the Christian host, shall the other standards be furled as at a funeral? Why do not the powers assemble and choose one to whom they may entrust the guidance of the Crusade?

BALD.: Indeed, if it please your majesty, they have but this morning met in council, drawn up the terms of Saladin’s submission, and have deliberated about the firm and ready prosecution of the war, should the Soldan refuse to submit.

RICH.: Ha! drew up the terms of peace without consulting Richard? Are we forgotten, ere we have taken the last Sacrament? Do they hold us dead already?—But no! no! they are right.—Whom will they choose for chieftain?

BALD.: Rank and dignity point to the King of France.

RICH.: Oh, aye! Phillip of France and Navarre! His most Christian Majesty! Well, well! We only hope that he mistakes not the road to Paris for the road to Jerusalem.

DE VAUX: Your gracious majesty pleases to be sarcastic; though I for one subscribe to your sentiment. I cannot but fear that we shall but end where we began—without hope of praying at the Holy Sepulchre until Heaven restores King Richard to health.

RICH.: Why, what a thing is conscience that thru its means even such a thick-skulled old northern lord as thou, De Vaux, can bring his sovereign to confess his folly.—Yes, Sir Thomas, I confess my weakness, and the willfulness of my ambition and knightly pride. The Christian camp contains, no doubt, many a better knight than Richard of England, and it would be wise and worthy to assign to the best of them the leading of the Crusade;—but, by the standard of St. George, Sir Thomas, were such a knight to plant the banner of the Cross on the Temple while I was unable to bear my share of the noble task, he should, as soon as I was fit to lay lance in rest, undergo my challenge to mortal combat for having diminished my fame.—Ah! I am weak; my limbs grow weary.—Come, Blondel, my king of minstrels, give us a song.

BLON.: My voice is ever at the service of my royal patron. But, my liege, the hour grows late, and your grace is exhausted.

RICH.: Not a whit, man, not a whit. Come, music and a song.

DE VAUX: Nay, nay, your majesty! Indeed you must not waste precious hours of sleep in lying awake listening to a wandering minstrel’s idle songs.

RICH.: Thou art a mule, Sir Thomas, a very mule for dullness and obstinacy.—Come Blondel, a song I say.

DE VAUX: Very well, my lord, if it please you to list to silly songs, I for my part have more list to my bed than to have my ears tickled.

RICH.: Thy ears tickled! That must be with a peacock’s feather, and not with sweet sounds. Hark thee, Thomas, do thine ears know the singing of Blondel from the braying of an ass?

DE VAUX: In faith, my liege, I cannot well say; but setting Blondel aside, who is a born gentleman, I shall never, for the sake of your grace’s question, look on a minstrel, but I shall think of an ass.

RICH.: And might not your manners have excepted me, who am gentleman born as well as Blondel, and like him, a guild-brother of the Joyous Science?

DE VAUX: Your grace should remember that it is useless asking for manners from a mule.

RICH.: What an ill-conditioned animal art thou, Thomas.

DE VAUX: Your grace is pleased to call me a brute, forgetting that I serve the Lion who is acknowledged the King of brutes.

RICH.: By St. George, there thou breakest thy lance freely upon my brow. I have always said that thou hast a sort of wit, De Vaux—narry one must strike with a sledge-hammer to make it sparkle.—Well then, farewell and goodnight, master-mule, and get thee to thy litter without any music being wasted on thee. (Exit De Vaux, Blondel singing.)

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Scene 3. (Before the Grotto of Engaddi. Enter Kenneth.)

KEN.: (Off stage.) There, my noble steed; rest thy weary limbs; thy master will do likewise.—Confound those Saracen hounds. Here a good Christian knight near rides his worthy steed to death thru these burning sands, and wherefore?—to hear the sallow-faced and black-hearted Moslems declare they will have none of our peace. “Jerusalem,” says this precious dog of a Soldan, “is our city.” Out on the misbeliever! Well, if he will not have our peace, why we’ll let him have the edge of our swords. One good Christian knight is worth an army of these unbaptized villains.—Well, Sir Kenneth, thou bearest the Cross upon thy right shoulder; thou hast taken many a step from thy native hills of Scotland to these desert sands; and it will go hard with thee, if thou dost not, for every step thou hast taken, send one yelping Paynim to his father, the devil.—What ho! By my soul, here comes one of these lemon-colored misbelieving cut-throat rascals.—Art thou friend or foe? (Stands at guard. Enter Adonbec, with drawn sword and charges him. Kenneth strikes the scimitar from the Saracen’s grip.)

ADON.: (Approaching Kenneth with right arm upraised.) Sir Knight, thou art brave, I see. But since there is peace between thy people and my nation, why should there be war between thee and me?

KEN.: ’Tis well thou hast bethought thee of this in time, ere I had sent thy worthless soul to keep company with thy false prophet. Yet if it pleases thee, I am well content. But what pledge dost give, that thou wilt keep the peace?

ADON.: The word of a true follower of the Prophet. I will ask no pledge of thee, brave Nazarene, knowing well that treason dwells not with courage.

KEN.: By the cross of my sword, Saracen, thou speakest like a true man. I will be thy companion for the while; for I am weary and would refresh myself.

ADON.: By Mahommed, the Prophet of Allah, there is no treachery in my heart towards thee.—But sit thee down, while I haste to the Grotto, and fetch thee fresh drink. (Exit.)

KEN.: Well, here’s to do! A wandering Paynim meets a Christian knight, strikes at him with his crooked sabre, yields to his sword, and then offers him refreshment. May this be a portend?—A Christian Crusader and a heathen Moslem; the Cross and the Crescent; Christ and Mahommed—shall the first conquer the second? Shall the mosque become the Temple, Jerusalem another Rome?—It shall, it must and will! (Re-enter Adonbec.)

ADON.: Here, Sir Knight, take and drink of this crystal water, sweet as the morning dew of Paradise, and soft as the silver moonbeams.

KEN.: Ave Maria! let us be thankful. Thou art kind, brave Saracen.

ADON.: By the corner-stone of Caaba, Sir Knight, it is a pleasure for me to do a service to thy bravery.—But let me be pardoned, if I ask the name of the companion whom Allah hath given me to-day to meet in battle and in peace?

KEN.: It is not worth publishing. But know that among my fellow-crusaders I am known simply as Kenneth of Scotland.—But, brave Saracen, do thou tell what tribe of Arabia claims thy descent, and what name you are known by.

ADON.: Sir Kenneth, I am happy that thy name is such as I can utter. For me, I am Emir Adonbee el Hakim, Saladin’s physician. The mountains of Curdistan saw my birth, and Seljook is my tribe.

KEN.: What, art thou a physician? How comes it, then, that thou, who followest the merciful profession of a mediciner, shouldst be so skillful a warrior as thou but a moment ago gav’st me proof?

ADON.: Sir Kenneth, I know that amongst you a knight enjoys great fame and renown. Your people hold it a great honor that a man be able to defend the weak and succour the oppressed. Know then, that in our nation a warrior is also held in great esteem. Mahommed, Prophet of God, hath promised to his faithful sons a heavenly reward for every slain unbeliever. To gain this reward in the greatest measure, we are trained from boyhood in all the arts of war. So was I trained; and, from my grandfather, I have besides received deep instruction in the arts of healing. Thus, when religion bids, I take my sword and slay;— when humanity calls, I take my phial and heal.

KEN.: By St. George, Emir Adonbee, if thou art as good a physician as I know thou art a brave soldier, mayhap thou art he whom Saladin hath promised to send to our sick Richard of the Lion’s Heart?

ADON.: I am he, brave Nazarene. Our noble Saladin is so desirous of meeting Melech Ric, whom thou namest the Lion’s Heart, in a personal combat on the field of battle, that he bade me use all my skill and knowledge to restore him to his former strength. It is now that I am on my way to his tent.

KEN.: On mine honor, Saracen, thou shouldst have been more careful of thy life: if not for thy own sake, at least for the sake of the noble King Richard. Supposing that, a moment ago, I had cut off thy head with all its wit and wisdom? Precious small thanks had I from Richard!—But come thee, let us hasten to the camp.

ADON.: Hark thee, Sir Kenneth! ’Tis the hour of prayer. Pause thee the while thy servant performs his orisons. (Kneels and chants) Allah il Allah! Allah acbar! Allah Il Allah! Allah acbar! God is great and Mahommed is His Prophet! (Enter Theodoric, who has a scourge attached to his girdle. He leaps upon Adonbec.)

THEO.: Ha! Thou infidel dog!

ADON: Hamako—fool—unloosen me! Or I will use my dagger!

THEO.: Thy dagger! Infidel dog! Hold it in thy grip, if thou canst! (He wrenches the dagger from Adonbec’s hand, and menaces him with it.) Thy dagger? I will plunge it into thy devil-worshipping heart: ’twere fitter there than in thy hand.

ADON.: Help, Nazarene! Or this raving prophet will slay me.

THEO.: Slay thee? Aye, and well thou deservest death for singing thy blasphemous hymns to the devil and his prophet.

KEN.: Hold, man, whoever thou art! Be thou good or evil, know that I am a sworn companion to this Saracen; therefore I bid thee loosen him, or I will do battle with thee in his behalf.

THEO.: (Rising.) Ho, and a proper quarrel it were for a crusader to fight for an unbeliever against one of his own faith. Art thou come to fight for the Crescent, or the Cross? Forsooth, a proper soldier of the Cross art thou to listen unheeding to the praises of satan.—I knew thee, Adonbec, and the purpose of thy journey. Thou mayest thank thy star and Richard’s illness that thy heart is not now the grave of the dagger.

KEN.: And who mayest thou be, old man?

ADON.: Why, thou shouldst know him. ’Tis Hamako, half mad-man, half prophet ’Tis not the first time I have borne with this mad usage, for our holy Prophet bids us reverence those in whom the light of natural reason has been darkened in order that the light of prophecy might shine the brighter.

THEO.: (Going about, and waving the scourge round his head) I am Theodoric of Engaddi! I am the walker of the desert! I am the friend of the Cross, and the friend of the friends of the Cross! I am the scourge of infidels, heretics, and devil-worshippers! Avoid ye, avoid ye! Down with Mahommed, Termagaunt, and all the traitors of the Cross!—Hasten, Sir Kenneth of Scotland, to Richard’s camp. Hasten, thy heathen friend—for Richard needs ye both. Treason stalks in the shadow of the banner of the Cross! Murder creeps in the banner of St. George!—Beware ye, beware ye! I am Theodoric of Engaddi! I am the walker of the desert! Avoid ye, avoid ye! (Exeunt, in opposite directions.)

(End of First Act. The Second Act will be published in the April issue of the S. L.)

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