Act 2

From the darkness...

WAR:                       Though I think big in truth I have

                                The eye of an artist so it is said

                                An eater of worlds I can be

                                Or a death of flies instead

 

                                No conflict is too small

                                To attract my foul intention

                                My pleasure is to wind things up

                                To encourage conflict my intention

 

                                It is I that misleads leaders

                                Not the subtle hand of fate

                                I love the delicious irony

                                Of religions causing hate

 

                                Perpetuating bigotry, nurturing spite

                                Clinging to a bloodied past

                                Opening up old wounds and fights

                                Keep them fighting ‘till at last

 

                                No-one living can recall

                                Just how the conflict started

                                But no-one left alive at all

        From hatred can be parted

 

Again the location is a railway carriage though it is in a distressed state. The atmosphere is gloomy and oppressive. There are dark figures hunched in the shadows. Shouts and groans can be heard, adding to the claustrophobia. The carriage door opens and OFFICER enters. His uniform and accent are different to STRONGARM and CLOVERLEAF. He bundles STRONGARM and CLOVERLEAF into the carriage. They are dressed in heavy winter clothes that have become dirty and tattered.  CLOVERLEAF supports STRONGARM who has bandages over his eyes and clutches a bundle of dirty rags to himself.

OFFICER:              Take refuge from your gloomy state

     Be seated now and contemplate

     Your nation that has met its fate

     Paid the price of heinous hate’s

     Destructive and consuming trait

CLOVERLEAF begins to stand.

                             Don’t rise with me to remonstrate

                             Such actions they come far too late

OFFICER leaves the carriage closing the door behind him.

CLOVERLEAF:       It is good to be out of the wind my friend

     The cold wind of despair

     A bleak wind that blows through my heart

     I take no comfort there

     I hear them cry for our return

     Those loved ones we hold dear

     The promise of a warm embrace

     Dispels decaying fears

     When back with family, home and hearth

     We’ll plough the land and till

     Sow the grain and harvest wheat

     And all shall have their fill

     Like springtime we shall soon return

     Bringing light and life

     A nation bowed and on its knees

    Can know the future’s bright

STRONGARM continues to sit silent and motionless...

                            The officer must have been in good humour

    When a carriage for ourselves he went to find

    Not so perhaps if he had hear a rumour

    Of how you speak and feel about his kind

    Instead he showed great mercy to the blind

    Had he not bundled both of us on board

    We’d face a long walk through the winter snow

CLOVERLEAF tries to chuckle good naturedly but the strain shows.

STRONGARM:                   (Not listening)

   We had a dog to guard the house

CLOVERLEAF:     (Lost in his own thoughts)

   If I close my eyes, shut them tight

   My senses fill with sound and sight

   Transported am I to my childhood home

   That sanctuary where boy to man had grown

   I smell the pancakes frying, almost taste

STRONGARM:                   A good dog by the name of Klaus

CLOVERLEAF:     That golden mountain heaped upon a plate

                           The kettle whistles cheerful in the grate

                           My mother busy fussing over tea

                           Serving syrup laden pancakes out to me

                           I’d eat every scrap, there’d be no waste

STRONGARM:    This one fact ransacked memory allows

                           A mind stripped in the slaughterhouse

                           No other thoughts I can espouse

CLOVERLEAF:     These thoughts you must chase from your head

(STRONGARM doesn’t respond and CLOVERLEAF becomes agitated)

   I said think hopeful things instead

   Once you’d pride, such faith unshaking

   I need you strong, not close to breaking

   Rouse yourself from this black hole

   And remember how you felt of old

(STRONGARM speaks quietly, keeping his head bowed)

STRONGARM     How can I be what I was when I don’t know what I was

                           When everything I knew or dreamed is scattered like dust

                           Blown by winds of bitterness and despair at a cause lost

   I’m blinded, broken hearted and bereft of sense of trust

   So I cling onto the darkness that has not deserted me

   The fears that plague me most are those that only I can see

   You cannot stop them haunting me; I beg you let me be

CLOVERLEAF: (With forced enthusiasm)

                           We shall be worthy of Euripides, his muse

   Shall sing our praise as gallant heroes

   We that were valiant though war brought us low

   May not be taking glorious victory home

   But can at least say honour is on our side

   Though fickle fate abandoned us to hide

(A mocking voice is heard from the shadows)

VOICE:               Foolish pair that hides and skulks and clings

  To honour like the wreckage of a stricken ship

  As though you can from this abyss be saved

  You are more lost than those gone to their graves

  A cup of shame is resting on your lip

  Of this pitiful escape no one shall sing

  Does not the pain of your dishonour sting?

  Now from this bitter cup dare you to sip

  And see the truth? Do one thing that is brave

  Does not for absolution your souls crave?

  Others died, you took a pleasure trip

  You’d lie dead too had you believed something

  Enough to face the enemy’s swords swing

  Those still alive from shame their tunics rip

  To be left in mud and mire then to rave

  A visit from forgiving death to crave

CLOVERLEAF: (Covering STRONGARM’S ears)

  These lies you speak pierce my vital beating heart like shards of ice

  My comrade’s ears I must protect from this poisonous venom

  You say all must die for honour; it’s too high an asking price

  I am proud we stopped the slaughter in the end summum bonum*

  For harsh interregnum

  Shall be softened in peace time

  No glory, no honour but a healing nation will suffice

  When soothing hearts and minds

  (*summum bonum ��" the highest good)

VOICE:               If you had truly believed in what was said

CLOVERLEAF:    If I’d truly believed I’d be lying dead

  My bones would moulder in foreign soil

  For my sacrifice no tears would be shed

  The cold and lifeless take no spoils

  Oblivion would be my reward instead

  Is this what would honour my ancestral blood?

  When filial fluid’s spilled righting old wrongs

  It Seeds hate, more killing, you know that it would

  My offspring would take up arms inspired by songs

  Marching to avenge my glorious demise

  And so the vicious cycle would continue

  As they fought to make right with every sinew

  There’d be nothing of themselves that’s just or wise

  The true victory has been found in defeat

  No folly of ours will our children repeat

VOICE:               Your twisted and empty words blow on the wind

                          Your offspring inherit the shame of your sin

  Ancestral blood that you sought to keep undefiled

  Stagnates in your veins and you will be reviled

  Now I must leave you alone with your disgrace

  And wonder you dare return to your birthplace

STRONGARM:   (As if waking from a dream)

                          I bear a heavy burden from the conflict that has ceased

                          But if I bear it gladly then perhaps I’ll be released

                          No longer will the darkness offer me a place to hide

                          I must face all my fears and take a good hard look inside

                          Help me to fight the demons that have plagued my troubled mind

                          Tell stories of the glories of the war we’ve left behind

CLOVERLEAF:    I’m not sure there was glory

  But I’ll gladly tell the story

  Of my part played in the war that has now ended

  The role I played was small

  But perhaps overall

  My record is more easily defended

  If I say how I regret

  Taking lives of those I met

  And the moral depths to which I had descended

  All in scarlet glory

                          Handsome, tall

                          One and all

                          Brass and buckles, shining black

                          Thigh length boots

                          Bearskin hats

                          One brave hero charges

  Cannons pound

  All around

  Death or glory, honour’s story

  Will not hide

  Filled with pride

  My brave horse fell badly

  Rider thrown

  All alone

  Through the smoke, starts to choke

  No man’s land

  Curse my luck

  One frightened soul’s challenge

  Truth of war

  Fear and gore

  Enemy soldier, not much older

  Just the same

  But less bold

  I drew my sword swiftly

  In a flash

  Cut a gash

  Open wound, crimson red

  Vanquished foe

  Falls down dead

(CLOVERLEAF pauses as he remembers his experiences)

                        Now I want to hear

                        Tell your story clear

                        Speak the truth and you shall be commended

STRONGARM:    Best not to dwell on what has passed

   Nor seek revenge; rather hope that

God’s will is done

  And leave all that avenging to the

Angels as it were...

  I do not know what is in my heart

  It feels hot and hard like anxiety

  I hope it is forgiveness

  But I dare not look too closely

  While somewhere, in the darkest place

  A foul figure squats on haunches

  Muttering of its bleak intentions

  Eyes, red with anger, glinting in the shadows

  It senses our approach and turns its head

Towards the light

                          With terrifying speed it lashes out

                          And snaps its jaws to reveal a row

                                                                Of cruel jagged teeth

                          Crooked and tangled as a mangrove

                          Yet sharper than any razor’s edge

                          So do I fear the memory and yet

                          Know I must look in its face

                          And remember how...

  Wearily I watched the darkness

  Creep across the field of glory

  What was gained had now been taken

  Snatched from us by grasping hands

  All that was and ever shall be

  Swept away by cruel fortune

  And the few who were still living

  Had regrouped for one last stand

  As the witching hour approached us

  Night was rent by clarion call

  Shapes emerging from the darkness

  Twisted, blackened gods of war

  Faces scarred from endless conflict

  Evil glinting in their eyes

  We few brave souls stood to face them

  For a cause we thought was just

  Combat was both brief and bloody

  Sabres crossed and cannons blast

  A thin red line, we could not hold them

  I of my comrades was the last

  Still breathing amongst the fallen

  Praying that I would survive

  I could not see now, only feeling

  Through mud and wire to my own side

CLOVERLEAF:    It is before the dawn that nefarious night is darkest

  That obscure and cheerless dusk that feeds our fears

  Must flee, astonished and confounded by morn’s brightness

  Starless dismal black retreating means that day is near

  And with that recondite rogue flee too our apprehensions

  Making way for hope’s arrival with the new day

  Then does courage rise with the sun’s bold ascension

  And the strength to take bold action come what may

STRONGARM:    Your words are like a tonic that brings new resolve

  I feel night’s terrors banished from my mind

  What you see of our nation must be devolved

  Be honest; take no pity on the blind

CLOVERLEAF:    I wish I could lend a lie to my lips

  And tell you that all is well

  That our nation has not known hardship

  And so your fears dispel

  But that’s not what’s before my eyes

  Not what I must describe

  That ours has become a nation of sighs

  Our people a cursed tribe

  Where once there were fertile lands

  With crops rich for the harvest

  There is only barren wasteland

  Where war raged the hardest

  Blackened earth and wire and mud

  Scar the landscape all around

  Sown only with the bones and blood

  As dead were buried in the ground

  Wandering among the ruins

  Of what had once been towns

  In tattered rags war’s orphans

  Their faces etched with frowns

  Scratch and beg from hunger

  No comfort do they find

  All they can do is wonder

  Why they’ve been left behind

  But look I spy the Sentinel

  I hardly bear observe

  Upon a scene so dreadful

  A description would unnerve

STRONGARM:    What is it? You must tell me

   I pray you must continue

   The Sentinel’s loved dearly

    Symbol of our virtue

    It cannot be destroyed

    That which has always stood

    Of good must be devoid

    An enemy that could

CLOVERLEAF:      I could lie to you and say that all is well

    Your life was built on falsehoods after all

    Like as in a trance or bewitched under  spell

    Misplaced faith that hastened your downfall

    But deceptions such as this would do no good

    Only in truth will redemption be found

    Mendacity won’t purify the blood

    Rather it would all our sins compound

    So I must tell you what’s before my eyes

    The Sentinel is gone, has been destroyed

    Instead of gold that glitters with the sunrise

    The landscape of its glory is devoid

    Blackened ruins now are all that stand

    Where once there was the pride of all the land

STRONGARM:      This news you bring is too much to bear

                             The Sentinel no longer stands he there

     For a thousand years it’s been our guide

     On its protection all our kind relied

     Without the guiding wisdom it brought

     The comfort and protection that we sought

     Our future must surely be without hope

     As blindly in the dark we grope