The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays Part 42

DRISCOLL. What is it you're seeing?

FENTON. It _is_--

JOHN TALBOT (_turning from the window_). 'Tis Hugh Talbot comes!

'Tis the Captain of the Gate!

BUTLER. With them? A prisoner?

JOHN TALBOT. No, no! No prisoner! He wears his sword.

(BUTLER _s.n.a.t.c.hes up his piece and resumes watch._)

FENTON. Then he'll have made terms with them! Terms!

NEWCOMBE (_embracing_ DRISCOLL). Terms for us! Terms for us!

JOHN TALBOT. I told ye truth. He has come. Hugh Talbot has come.

(_Goes to door._)

HUGH TALBOT (_speaks outside_). Open! I come alone, and in peace.

Open unto me!

JOHN TALBOT. Who goes there?

HUGH TALBOT (_outside_). The Captain of the Gate!

(JOHN TALBOT _unbars the door, and bars it again upon the entrance of_ HUGH TALBOT. _The latter comes slowly into the room. He is a man in his late thirties, a tall, martial figure, clad in much-worn velvet and leather, with sword at side. The five salute him as he enters._)

HUGH TALBOT (_halts and for a moment surveys his followers_). Well, lads?

(_The five stand trembling on the edge of a nervous break, unable for the moment to speak._)

NEWCOMBE. We thought--we thought--that you--that you--

(_Breaks into childish sobbing._)

FENTON. What terms will they grant us, sir?

JOHN TALBOT. Sir, we have held the bridge.

HUGH TALBOT. You five--

JOHN TALBOT. Bourke is dead, sir, and Tregarris, and Langdale, and--and James Talbot, my brother.

DRISCOLL. And we've had no water, sir, these many hours.

HUGH TALBOT. So! You're wounded, Phelimy.

DRISCOLL. 'Tis not worth heeding, sir.

HUGH TALBOT. Kit! Kit! (_At the voice_ NEWCOMBE _pulls himself together._) A light here! d.i.c.k, you've your pouch under your hand?

FENTON. 'Tis here, sir.

(_Offers his tobacco pouch._)

HUGH TALBOT (_filling his pipe_). Leave the window, Myles! They've promised us a half hour's truce--and Cromwell's a man of his word.

NEWCOMBE (_bringing a lighted candle_). He'll let us pa.s.s free now, sir, will he not?

HUGH TALBOT (_lighting his pipe at the candle_). You're not afraid, Kit?

NEWCOMBE. I? Faith, no, sir. No! Not now!

HUGH TALBOT. Sit ye down, Phelimy, lad! You look dead on your feet. Give me to see that arm! (_As_ HUGH TALBOT _starts toward_ DRISCOLL, _his eye falls on the open keg of powder. He draws back hastily, covering his lighted pipe._) Jack Talbot! Who taught ye to leave your powder uncovered, where lighted match was laid?

BUTLER. My blame, sir.

(_Covers the keg._)

JOHN TALBOT. We opened the keg, and then--

FENTON. Truth, we did not cover it again, being somewhat pressed for time.

(_The five laugh, half hysterically._)

HUGH TALBOT (_sitting by fire_). And you never thought, maybe, that in that keg there was powder enough to blow the bridge of Cashala to h.e.l.l?

JOHN TALBOT. It seemed a matter of small moment, sir.

HUGH TALBOT. Small moment! Powder enough, put case ye set it there, at the stairhead--d'ye follow me?--powder enough to make an end of Cashala Bridge for all time--aye, and of all within the Gatehouse. You never thought on that, eh?

JOHN TALBOT. We had so much to think on, sir.

HUGH TALBOT. I did suspect as much. So I came hither to recall the powder to your minds.

DRISCOLL. We thought--(BUTLER _motions him to be silent._) We thought maybe you would not be coming at all, sir. Maybe you would be dead.

HUGH TALBOT. Well? What an if I had been dead? You had your orders. You did not dream of giving up the Bridge of Cashala--eh, Myles Butler?

BUTLER (_after a moment_). No, sir.

HUGH TALBOT. Nor you, d.i.c.k Fenton?

FENTON. Sir, I--No!

HUGH TALBOT (_smoking throughout_). Good lads! The wise heads were saying I was a stark fool to set you here at Cashala. But I said: I can be trusting the young riders that are learning their lessons in war from me. I'll be safe putting my honor into their hands. And I was right, wasn't I, Phelimy Driscoll?