The Minstrel

An Incident in One Act.
PERSONS. THE KING, THE QUEEN, EARL ATHULF, THE MINSTREL.
Heralds, Pages, Men-at-Arms, Sentries. TIME: THE PAST.
SCENE:
Night in a hall of Castle Ydoyne. The roof is supported at the back by
rows of pillars of rough stone, between whose aisles is dimly seen an
open balcony. In front the paved floor is strewn with skins of animals of
the chase. Tapestry hangs against the walls. On the left is placed a broad
stone seat, and behind it a curtain conceals a door. Behind the pillars to
the left there is another door. On the right the floor rises gradually in a
broad sweep of low, carpeted steps, which lead to the large brassstudded
doors giving entrance to the throne room. When these are
opened a great double throne can be seen. Torches placed in rude
sconces against the foremost pillars and the walls light the hall, but the
end of the room that opens upon the balcony is in obscurity.
Standing on the steps is the Queen, a young and beautiful woman, fair,
and delicately framed. From under her golden crown a long plait of
tawny hair falls down her back. She is dressed in white, and in her
jewelled girdle wears a long-stemmed large dark rose.
She has just come in, and is looking down, in an attitude of surprise, at
the form of the Minstrel, who lies asleep on the broad low stairs. The
Minstrel is a young man, his costume sober black, the only relief to
which is a thin silver chain about his neck. His face is pale. By his side is
a small archaic harp.
The Queen takes the rose from her girdle, and plays with it absently, as
she contemplates the sleeping Minstrel.
THE QUEEN. Asleep! The Minstrel sleeps, and dreams, perchance,
Those quiet songs across whose melodies
Grey faces peer, and cold eyes glow again,
And dumb lips whisper memories long dead.
When all his soul lies open to his dreams
What happy strains the winds of sleep may waft
Across the loosened strings! So still! His soul
Has glided from the portal Sleep, and gone
With noiseless steps into the sister gate
Of Death. Then no more songs!
[The Minstrel stirs] Ah no, he smiles!
He has a wistful smile, as though . . .[impetuously] Ah, God!
If I could only sleep and know again
Those ever-hurrying dreams that all the night
Made happy children's laughter in my heart.
But now I dare not even dream.
[The Minstrel stirs] He moves . . .
That wistful smile again! Minstrel, awake!
Your Queen cares not to see you so in love
With that sweet sleep that will have none of her.
Minstrel, awake!
[She draws the rose lightly across his lips. He stirs again]
THE MINSTREL [murmuring] Oh, Blauncheflor!
THE QUEEN, My name!
Why mutters he my name? Sirrah, awake!
[She bends over him and takes him by the shoulder. The plait of her
hair sweeps his face. He opens his dark eyes, and after a moment of
wonder, raises himself upon one elbow, gazing at the Queen. She has
drawn back, and stands haughtily regarding him]
THE MINSTREL. The Queen! . . .Your pardon, lady! I was glad.
And so for very gladness fell asleep
To taste the moment to its uttermost
By weaving round it all the melody
Of errant fancies. So I fell asleep.
THE QUEEN. Happy to slip from happiness in life
To happiness in dreams.
[The Minstrel is about to rise] Nay, do not stir!
[She seats herself upon the steps]
THE MINSTREL [taking his harp] Your Majesty would hear me sing?
THE QUEEN [with a gesture of weariness] Nay, nay!
You could not sing a peace into a heart
That is all fire. Methinks your daily task
Is one of little use. Perchance you charm
An hour away with song, but at the close
Of your sweet magic all the thoughts that wait
Within the torture-chamber of the brain
Take up their work again, again begin
The torment of their endless questionings.
THE MINSTREL [rising] No, no! the sceptre that a singer holds
Is mightier than a king's. You sway a state,
And I mayhap one heart; you proudly build
Vast temples, teeming cities, and I weave
A little song of love; and when the years
Have come and passed, your cities and your fanes
Lie shattered, broken, desolate — but no!
Out of the silences that guard the place
A peasant sings my love-song to a maid.
THE QUEEN [leaning back] 'T is so, and yet——
THE MINSTREL [mounting a step] You scatter royal gifts,
Shower largess on a shouting populace;
And I bestow upon one troubled heart
The language that makes love articulate,
And lets a dumb and solitary grief
Flow like reviving tears. I swing a bridge
Of sympathy from soul to lonely soul;
And borne upon the current of my song
The hand that gropes shall find the hand that guides,
And Grief whose tears are shed shall comfort Grief,
And Sorrow still her sobbings on the breast
Of Sorrow.
THE QUEEN [leaving the steps] Yes, you comfort — but too late!
Had you the power to warn, to shew where sin
Lurked even in a lover's smile . . .
THE MINSTREL [starting towards her] My Queen!
THE QUEEN [taking him almost fiercely by the shoulder] Ah, had you
one still eve, a month agone,
But sung that little lilting song of love
That seems to smell of orchards vestal-white
With blossom, and that on my forehead lays
Cool hands of innocence — had you but sung
That little lilting song when someone stood
Pleading and pleading for my lips — ah, then!
Perchance I——
THE MINSTREL. Yes! yes!
THE QUEEN [releasing him, and looking past him. Her arm has fallen
heavily to her side] Could have slept and dreamed
As happily as you.
THE MINSTREL [sadly] Is it too late
To sing that poor song now?
THE QUEEN [moving to the seat] Before God, nay!
It is not yet too late.
THE MINSTREL [taking his harp] Then I shall sing!
THE QUEEN [after a pause] No, let me fight this fight out I let me
make
My fate my own, whether I win or fall!
[Swiftly turning to the Minstrel] I found you sleeping, and above you
stood
And wondered what your dreams were. And me thought
I heard your soft lips murmur——
THE MINSTREL [startled] Murmur what?
THE QUEEN. My name. "O Blauncheflor!" you sighed.
THE MINSTREL [affrighted] Your name?
My lips said that?
THE QUEEN [sinking into the seat] Yes, with a sigh so faint,
Meseemed I had not heard my name before.
THE MINSTREL [stepping impulsively towards her] My queen!
THE QUEEN [almost sternly] How comes it that a minstrel dare
Even to dream the name worn by his queen?
THE MINSTREL [softly turning away] Nay, it was not your name.
THE QUEEN [disappointed] Not mine? Then whose?
THE MINSTREL. The name of one I love.
THE QUEEN [with a little laugh] Then you can love? And she?
THE MINSTREL. She did not look for love so far
Beneath her. So she married; happily,
I think. And now my life seems only mine
To yield to her again in service.
THE QUEEN So,
You would still serve her?
THE MINSTREL. Once she loved my songs,
But songs are feeble things when here is life
To lay beneath her feet. If I might die
To serve her, that were happiness enough!
THE QUEEN [laughing] An ardent knight, forsooth!
THE MINSTREL [turning away] Though I have crushed
And stilled my endless longing, yet my heart
Pursues its memories in dreams, and speaks
Through my dead lips the name that once lay there
Close as a woman's kiss.
THE QUEEN [tenderly] And so her name——
THE MINSTREL. Like yours, was Blauncheflor.
THE QUEEN. Ah, so again!
I know now I have never heard my name
Before, so tranquilly its music dies
Upon your gentle lips. And this false love,
Was — was she beautiful?
THE MINSTREL [earnestly] Most wondrously.
THE QUEEN [with a little smile of confidence] As beautiful as I?
THE MINSTREL [after a pause, looking steadfastly at her] As
beautiful.
THE QUEEN [pausing and reading his face; then rising, and crossing
the room] I am right glad this maiden has been wed,
Else she and I would quarrel.
THE MINSTREL [starting forward passionately] Dear, my queen!
All I shall tell you, though it cost my life.
[She draws back, regarding him in surprise. At this moment a dark
figure glides down between the pillars, and pauses on seeing the Queen
and the Minstrel.
It is Earl Athulf, a swarthy, bearded man of middle age, dressed
magnificently. In his belt he carries a poignard.
The Minstrel makes obeisance to the Earl and silently withdraws,
leaving the Queen and the Earl confronting each other. As the Minstrel
departs the Queen turns]
THE QUEEN. I wait the King; beguile us till he come
With some sweet broken song.[With meaning] Until he come!
[The Minstrel with a silent obeisance retires out of sight beyond the
pillars]
THE QUEEN [turning gladly to Earl Athulf] Dear
Athulf! Here at last!
EARL ATHULF [kissing her hand] My queen! my love!
THE QUEEN. I sent for you.
EARL ATHULF. Dear, is it not too rash
To meet me here? The King may pass, and find——
THE QUEEN. Me in your arms? Ah, no![The Minstrel is heard crooning
a song] The Minstrel!
Hush!
'T is an old song.
EARL ATHULF [impatiently] I do not love his voice.
But if the King——
THE QUEEN [coming close to him] Sweet, it is dangerous,
But so is all our love. You do not fear?
EARL ATHULF. Fear! O my queen, with you?
THE QUEEN. And I have news, A rumour!
EARL ATHULF. What, the King?
THE QUEEN. Suspects!
EARL ATHULF. What, all?
THE QUEEN. All — more than all!
EARL ATHULF. Then let him find me thus —
[Clasping her] And kill me, here, like an intruder bee
Caught in the dainty chalice of a flower.
THE QUEEN [withdrawing herself gently] Nay, dear; this moment you
must fly!
EARL ATHULF. Leave you?
THE QUEEN. The King intends to banish you, and finds
The childish pretext of an embassy
To Yrmengarde, where you will meet your death —
The knife of an assassin.
EARL ATHULF [starting] Ha, my death!
THE QUEEN. So fly to-night!
EARL ATHULF [seizing her hand] Without you? No.
[The voice of the Minstrel is heard singing at the back of the hall]
THE QUEEN. Hush! Hush!
[They stand listening. The song grows louder and clearer, as the
Minstrel is seen coming down between the pillars]
Song — The Minstrel.
All for the kiss of a maid
Honour and duty we fling,
Love shall be ever obeyed —
Love is the King — the King!
[The last four words are almost shouted. The Queen disengages her
hand from Earl Athulf's clasp. At the last words of the Minstrel's song
they look at each other in sudden comprehension and start apart]
THE QUEEN [swiftly and in fear] The King!
[whispers] Wait here! I shall return.
EARL ATHULF [whispers] To-night!
[They stand motionless, one on each side of the room as the King
enters. He is a man of noble stature, simply dressed. He wears a golden
crown, carries a sceptre, and in his belt is a jewelled poignard. His face
expresses great determination, and clear intellect. He is preceded by two
heralds, and followed by two pages. He enters from the left by way of the
centre aisle. The Minstrel stands aside as the procession approaches, and
bends his head as the King passes. The King frowns slightly as his glance
takes in the presence of Earl Athulf. The Queen and the Earl make
obeisance to him]
THE KING. Earl Athulf, aptly met!
EARL ATHULF. Your Majesty?
THE KING. I was about to send for you; but lo! My Queen has found
you first.
THE QUEEN. We met, my liege, By chance.
THE KING. Kind chance! I have a task for you,
An embassy that will not brook delay.
You start for Yrmengarde to-morrow morn;
And travel with all speed.
EARL ATHULF. And when return, My liege?
THE KING [slowly] When it is safe.
THE QUEEN [starting forward] What means — ?
THE KING [sneeringly] The task Courts danger; and you fear?
EARL ATHULF. That word to me! Beware, I might forget your
kingship!
[He fingers his poignard]
THE KING [incensed at the action, and losing control of himself] Nay,
I want no majesty to meet you! Here,
I'll front you, man for man! You skulking thief!
That sought to steal a love you could not win.
[He draws his poignard]
EARL ATHULF [gladly] Ha, man for man! Your majesty is kind.
[They confront each other, about to attack, watching each other warily.
The Queen stands on the steps, as if transfixed with horror. The heralds
and the pages make no move. The Minstrel, who has sprung forward at
the first word of anger, now stands close to the Queen. He strikes a loud
chord on his harp. The sound makes the two antagonists pause. The
Queen rushes down between them]
THE QUEEN. Ah, do not strike!
THE KING. You start to-morrow, then?
EARL ATHULF [sheathing his poignard] I set forth at the dawn.
THE KING [sheathing his poignard] 'T is well! [shortly] Good-bye.
It may be long before we meet again.
THE QUEEN [horrified] Long?
EARL ATHULF [bending his head] Good, my liege, Farewell!
THE KING [aside] She meant to save
One . . .Ah! but which? Ah, not to know her heart!
Never to know her heart!
[He observes the Queen, who is about to speak to Earl Athulf] I wait
for you;
I have a cause to try.
THE QUEEN [aside to Earl Athulf] We cannot part
So coldly. Nay, I want a word — a kiss!
[To the King] A cause so late to-night?
THE KING. Dissension, sown
Of some haphazard word misunderstood,
Has grown between a husband and a wife —
Who wait me, strangers, wistful, but too proud
To plead for love.
THE QUEEN
[observing that Earl Athulf is about to go] They wait, you said? Yes?
[Aside, to Earl Athulf] Wait!
THE KING. The wife is thirsty for the words of love
That are to her love's self; the husband loves,
But knows a kiss can never sum up life.
THE QUEEN. And your decision?
THE KING. There is need for none. He loves, and love must pardon.
THE QUEEN. All?
THE KING Aye, all.
Love is not love until it dare forgive.
Love sees the imperfection in the flower
And loves the crumpled petal, for he knows
Each flaw is but a wish that blindly probes
In quest of some new beauty, dimly dreamed.
Love knows, but dare not judge. Love's final word
Is Love.[To the Queen] Come to the judgment-hall!
[The heralds sound a trumpet blast; the doors swing open; the pages
follow as the King ascends the steps to the throne room]
EARL ATHULF [as the queen dallies in passing him] Farewell!
[He waits with bowed head. The Queen joins her consort. A moment
later she glances round again, and deliberately throws down the red rose
that she has taken from her girdle. Earl Athulf, however, does not
observe her action. The Minstrel sees the rose fall, and after a quick
glance at the Earl, he steps forward so as to conceal it from him. The
King and his consort, and their train, have by this time left the hall. The
Minstrel picks up the flower and puts it silently to his lips; then follows
the King. The doors are closed. Earl Athulf is left standing silent with
bowed head. Men-at-arms enter and extinguish some of the torches,
leaving only three torches on each side wall, and one affixed to each of
the nearest two pillars. The room is somewhat darkened. The men-atarms
silently retire. Earl Athulf, with a gesture of defeat, turns, and flings
himself upon the seat.
The voice of the Minstrel is heard singing in the outer room]
Song — The Minstrel.
The flowers lift their lips to the bee;
He kisses their bosoms of bloom.
Their fragrance and favours are free —
They are brides and the bee is the groom.
But he who steals love from her nest
Must fear for the wrath of her mate;
There's a vengeance that waits for his breast —
At his heart there's a poignard of hate!
EARL ATHULF [with a shudder] That song! It almost chills my veins to
death.
I dare not . . .Yet the Queen shall fly with me!
Before, I loved her merely; now the King
Throws down the gage I'll take the lists with him,
And fight him for the prize — a woman's heart —
And win!
[He rises. A fanfare is heard in the judgment room] The King has left
the hall. 'T is late;
[One of the eight torches expires] That dying torch is herald of the
dawn,
When we must both be far. The royal fool
Has kissed his faithful queen a cold good-night,
And haply sleeps content; while I —
[The throne room doors open and the Queen enters stealthily] And
she —
THE QUEEN [coming into his arms] My love!
EARL ATHULF. The King?
THE QUEEN. We parted in the hall. He kissed me.
[She shudders] Athulf, let me have your lips
Quick — so!
[She kisses him passionately] His subjects praise him, for to all
He grants the justice that they clamour for;
[Withdrawing herself and crossing the hall] And all I ask is just a little
wisp
Of love to wind about my heart and his! . . .
Justice for all the realm — and for his wife,
Hungry and passionate for love, he keeps
Chill words of courtesy, thin kindnesses
That make me wince! I do not ask for much;
For if he has not love to give, my heart
Would be content with those poor fripperies
Of sentiment — dear tricks of eye and tongue
A woman loves to dally with, and deck
A paltry love with till she cheats herself
That it grows beautiful. All that I asked
Was just that faint unconscious groping kiss
Of fingers that each other blindly find
As two pace side by side; just that rich glance
That lingers half-forgotten on the face
Of her he loves; that quick exchange of trust —
That question asked and answered in a look —
When lovers meet and part; that lower tone
Which seems to draw one close like a caress.
I did not ask for much!
[The Minstrel is seen at the door, which has been left open]
EARL ATHULF [taking her in his arms] I give you all,
And more!
[He kisses her]
THE QUEEN [relinquishing all effort] So sweet!
[The Minstrel passes silently and unobserved by them among the
pillars]
EARL ATHULF. My Blauncheflor!
THE QUEEN [aside] My name!
Yet not my name. No other lips can draw
Its sweetness out until it seems a song.
[To the Earl] You love me?
EARL ATHULF [passionately] All, body and soul!
THE QUEEN. And name?
EARL ATHULF. Your name is but the perfume of the flower —
Pure, delicate, and perfect; but I pluck
The blossom's self, and so I cull its all —
Beauty and grace and perfume — Blauncheflor!
THE QUEEN. But my poor Minstrel takes my name alone
Upon his lips, and is content to love
The fragrance. Ah, I like that kind of love!
EARL ATHULF. The love that sips a sweet and passes on;
But mine is steadfast. Then at dawn we fly?
[The voice of the Minstrel is heard faintly singing from the balcony].
THE QUEEN [dreamily] Listen! the Minstrel sings again. Oh, hush!
EARL ATHULF [passionately] The Minstrel! Nay, the only voice I 'll
hear
Is yours — yours when you whisper shamefaced words
Of love that almost dies to know itself!
THE QUEEN [repulsing him abstractedly] Listen! the song again.
EARL ATHULF. Nay, answer me!
You come? My heart, you have not said!
THE QUEEN [moving away] Oh, hush!
Song — The Minstrel.
The flowers lift their lips to the bee;
He kisses their bosoms of bloom.
Their fragrance and favours are free,
They are brides and the bee is the groom.
But he who steals love from her nest
Must fear for the wrath of her mate:
There's a vengeance that waits for his breast:
At his heart there's a poignard of hate!
[Another of the torches expires. The Queen comes forward, and putting
her hand on Earl Athulf's shoulder looks long into his face. At last he
turns away. The Queen moves back among the pillars]
EARL ATHULF [to himself] The poignard and the hate! Yes, each is
sure.
[He turns to the Queen, who stands with her back to him] Dear love!
haply 't were better that I fled Alone.
THE QUEEN [without turning, in a low voice] Alone?
EARL ATHULF. We might be captured, slain.
'T were best I hurried to the confines first,
Where I shall bide until a safer way
Opens for you to join me. Ill must come
Of this mad haste. Better that we should wait.
THE QUEEN [turning on him fiercely] You traitor, can love wait?
EARL ATHULF [withdrawing] Discretion!
THE QUEEN. Fool!
Capitulating to a braggart song!
Gird on your love, and beat his arrows down!
You would not leave me now, whose lips have drained
The brimming goblet of your love, to taste
The dregs of his chill kisses. No, dear heart!
[She throws herself into his arms; he staggers forward with her. They
stand swaying.] You dare not thrust me from you!
EARL ATHULF [passionately clasping her] Ah, for-give!
I love you; you have made me strong.
THE QUEEN. Sweet love!
[Another of the torches expires]
EARL ATHULF. The courtyard is below; we meet there then
At dawn — I scent the day e'en now.
THE QUEEN. Yes! Yes!
[The voice of the Minstrel is heard again. They stand in each other's
arms, listening]
Song — The Minstrel.
All for the kiss of a maid
Honour and duty we fling;
Love! and be never afraid;
Love is the king, the king!
Love has the world at his lure;
Yet here is a truth that is sure —
Love to endure
Must be passionate-pure —
Love must be passionate-pure!
THE QUEEN [withdrawing slowly from his arms] That song, that little
lilting song of love,
That seems to smell of orchards vestal-white
With blossom, and that on my forehead lays
Cool hands of innocence — that song again!
EARL ATHULF. The sickly qualm has passed, and now I know
I love you more than all — than life, than death,
Than honour!
THE QUEEN. Honour! — no. Sure never joy
Can come of such a selfish love as ours.
Duty is more than love. I dare not go!
EARL ATHULF [seizing her wrist] Be valiant! From my breast my
peevish doubts
Have faded with the song.
THE QUEEN. Not dead, the song!
It lives! it lives within my heart!
[Another torch dies. The first faint flush of dawn steals down between
the pillars, vaguely showing the outlines of the open balcony and the
distant ramparts of the castle. Earl Athulf strides to the balcony]
EARL ATHULF. The day!
My steed waits in the courtyard.
[He returns to the hall] Come, my sweet!
THE QUEEN [wildly] I cannot think; that song beats in my brain
Remorselessly!
EARL ATHULF. Ere day is white I start.
What word have you for me?
THE QUEEN [slowly] But one — Farewell!
EARL ATHULF. You will not come?
THE QUEEN. Farewell!
EARL ATHULF. One kiss!
THE QUEEN. Farewell!
Speed for your life! I dare not even kiss.
She moves toward the left door. The day grows brighter]
EARL ATHULF. The river of the morn comes rippling in,
And I must spur. But as I pass below
I 'll rein my steed beneath the balcony
One moment. Should you call —
THE QUEEN [suddenly arrested] Yes! Yes!
EARL ATHULF. My steed
Shall bear a double burden o'er the moat,
And so — I wait your call.
THE QUEEN. Perhaps —
[She turns to go] Perhaps — !
[She goes out silently through the left door. Another torch expires]
EARL ATHULF. These women and their moods!
So all is lost —
Save life; and now for flight!
[He goes to the door at the right, but pauses as he sees the Minstrel
coming down between the pillars. Earl Athulf descends the steps. They
confront each other].
EARL ATHULF. The Minstrel!
THE MINSTREL. I!
EARL ATHULF. So your sleek song can steal into a heart
My kisses could not stir. You meddling fool!
Your song stabs deep, but here's a keener song,
My poignard for your heart!
[He raises his poignard. The Minstrel, being defenceless, retreats to
the pillars]
THE MINSTREL [breathlessly] I have no sword!
[Earl Athulf follows him to the pillars and stabs him in the breast]
THE MINSTREL [staggering down toward the seat] Ah, God!
EARL ATHULF [following him with raised poignard, ready to repeat
the stroke] Sweet music when a dagger plays!
THE MINSTREL. A coward stroke!
[He supports himself against the seat]
EARL ATHULF [putting up his poignard] No need for more! So
soon —
So swiftly is the music stilled!
THE MINSTREL [in agony] My queen!
[To Earl Athulf] You kill the singer, but the song lies deep,
Beyond the reach of dagger, in her heart!
You cannot murder me; the song was mine,
And I the song!
EARL ATHULF [sneering] Content yourself with that!
[Another torch expires. The room is filled with the dim white light of
the day. Earl Athulf goes out swiftly through the throne room]
THE MINSTREL [staggering across and sinking upon the steps] To die
for her! O, God is wondrous good!
My songs were beaten back! but here's my life
To save her. Blauncheflor!
[One of the two torches left expires. In his agony the Minstrel stirs, and
unconsciously takes the position in which he was first seen asleep. The
hall is now quite light. The Queen enters from the left door and moves to
the pillars. She has taken off her crown and is clad as if for a journey]
THE QUEEN. My name again!
Then Athulf calls. That song has ceased to pulse
Within my weary brain, and I can think.
Yes, love has won; I dare risk all for love!
And Athulf wins me!
[She listens] If he should have passed —
[She goes to the balcony and looks out] No, for I'll hear the clatter of
his horse
Upon the stones.
THE MINSTREL. O Blauncheflor!
[She comes down to the steps and sees the Minstrel]
THE QUEEN. Again
The Minstrel sleeping! Nay, he gave his songs
To save me, so I'll kiss him where he dreams;
The gift of my stained lips is little worth,
And yet 't is all I have. It grieves me sore
Even to part from him; he served me well.
[She bends over him to kiss him] He sleeps most soundly; he shall
never know.
[She starts, as she notices the blood at his breast. Then, horrified — ]
What — hurt!
THE MINSTREL [with a last effort plucking the red rose from his
doublet, and putting it to his lips] O Blauncheflor!
THE QUEEN. Again my name!
Dear God! not dead?
[She leans over him and lifts him to her, looking anxiously into his
face. Her cloak falls to her feet. He opens his eyes, then his form
suddenly relaxes] Too late!
[She kisses his forehead reverently. From below is heard the noise of a
horse in the paved court-yard. The Queen recognises it and listens] 'T is
Athulf! Yes!
He waits beneath the balcony.
[The noise ceases. She looks back into the Minstrel's face. Suddenly she
is overcome with horror] Oh! stabbed
By Athulf! Murderer! I dare not call.
[She waits, listening, with the body in her arms. After a pause, the
noise of the horse's steps is heard again. She reverently puts down the
body. As she does so she notices the red rose in the Minstrel's hand. She
uncloses the fingers and takes it; then rises] A rose? What does he with a
rose in death?
[The voice of a sentry is heard outside]
THE VOICE OF THE SENTRY. Who passes?
THE VOICE OF EARL ATHULF. Athulf, on the King's commands!
THE VOICE OF THE SENTRY. Pass then in peace, Earl Athulf!
[The distant noise of the portcullis falling is heard. The Queen makes a
gesture of relief. She looks down at the body, then at the rose. Suddenly
she understands]
THE QUEEN. O, dear God!
The Minstrel, too . . .and never said . . .
My rose!
[The day is clear and white. She stands looking down upon the dead
Minstrel. The last torch flickers out. Under the stress of her grief the
Queen crumples the rose. Its petals fall in a little shower upon the
Minstrel's face].