SCENE IV.
Before the mansion.
4.4.1
The barons were called to the mansion by the Leader for an urgent assembly. They came forth and were greeted by
the leader with his Queen, and the step children of the leader. He held the retrieved arrows in his hand. The leader
was upset with his mood while he pranced around the chamber where the meeting was to be held.
“Why, lords, what wrongs are these!” Saturday looked to the assembled. “Was ever seen a leader in Rome thus
overborne, troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent of legal justice, used in such contempt?”
“My lords, you know, as know the Might-ful Gods,” Saturday threw the arrows on the flooring. “However these
disturbers of our peace buzzed into the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd, But even with law, against the willful
sons of old Adrian. And what an if?”
“His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits.” Saturday had heard of the madness that inflicted Titus. “Shall we be
thus afflicted in his wreaks? His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress.”
“See here's to Jove, and this to Mercury; This to Apollo; this to the god of war; Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets
of Rome!” Saturday threw the scrolls he had retrieved from the arrows. The barons picked up the scrolls and read
the notes. They sighed among themselves. It was truly the words of a mad man there; seeking the Gods to call on
their wrath on the Romans.
“What's this but libeling against the senate, and blazoning our injustice every where?” Saturday appealed to the
barons. “A goodly humor, is it not, my lords? As who would say, in Rome no justice prevailed but if I live, his
feigned ecstasies shall be no shelter to these outrages: but he and his shall know that justice lives in Saturday' health,
whom, if she sleep, he'll so awake as she in fury shall cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives.”
“My gracious lord, my lovely Saturday.” Tamara stepped in to speak to the leader. “Lord of my life, commander of
my thoughts, calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age.”
Tamara feigned kindness and sympathy when in her heart was vicious undermining words to stroke the fire in the
leader. It was like in sex, when you indulged in foreplay to bring on the lust within the body to inject the pleasures
into it. She was such a vixen then.
“The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr'd his heart; and rather
comfort his distressed plight than prosecute the meanest or the best for these contempts.” The Queen offered some
consoling words but it made the leader more enraged. It was then the clown stepped in bearing the pigeons. He
approached the assembled without any greeting or approval.
“How now, good fellow! Wouldst thou speak with us?” The clown spoke up while he approached the Queen. “Yea,
forsooth, an your mistership be emperial.”
“Queen I am, but yonder sit the leader.” Tamara corrected the clown for his insolence. The clown likes to pick on
her for the butt of his jokes. She had found him unbearable at times with his antics; lewd in display for he played to
her whorish design with the leader. She had seen her fair share of jesters during her time as Queen of the Goths; they
do not last long before they lose their tongues if not their heads but this one prevailed much too long for her liking.
“'This he?” The clown asked when he looked to the leader. That drew some smiles from the assembled barons.
“God and Saint Stephen give you good den.” The clown point to the chamber and then winked at the Queen. He then
reached into his basket and drew out the letter.
“I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here.” The clown spoke up but he pushed the pigeons back into
the basket. He was heard whispering to the birds that the Queen will roast them alive. That also drew some smiles
from the barons. Saturday grabbed the letter and read it. He then threw it at the clown.
“Go, take him away, and hang him presently.” Saturday commanded the servants but the clown ran helter in the
chamber with the servants in the chase.
“How much money must I have?” The clown jest at the leader while he showed his gold coin but it was the Queen
who spoke.
“Come, sirrah, you must be hanged.” The Queen looked to the clown but the later laughed at the notion of death.
“Hanged! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end.” The clown laughed while he stretched his neck as it
he was in the noose.
“Aargh..” The clown imitated the sound of suffocation. He then collapsed on the flooring and looked to the leader.
He bowed to the leader and allowed himself to be led away.
“Soon, Gods, I will be there.” The clown shouted out. In his madness, to the clown, death may bring him to the
Gods where he may torment them with his jests. The chamber was silent after the clown was led away. It was for a
while until Saturday spoke up.
“Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! Shall I endure this monstrous villany? I know from whence this same device
proceeds.” Saturday looked to the baron in his anger. “May this be borne?--as if his traitorous sons, that died by law
for murder of our brother, have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully! Go, drag the villain hither by the hair; Nor
age nor honour shall shape his privilege.”
Saturday looked to the barons for their allegiance. These bastards held no allegiance except to the victor. He knew
them well; they have obliged him as leader only on the rank he held but behind it, they have dissent against him.
And his Queen.
“For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman.” Saturday proudly declared his personal decision to end the farce
created by Titus. “Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, in hope thyself should govern Rome and me.”
A servant of the leader stepped in. He was a personal guard of the leader and a great warrior. He bowed before his
leader and then to the baron.
“What news with thee, AEmilius?” Saturday asked his trusted servant. AEmilius was his scout to the Goths.
“Arm, arm, my lord!” The servant voiced out in distress. “Rome never had more cause. The Goths have gathered
head; and with a power high-resolved men, bent to the spoil. They hither march again, under conduct of Lucas, son
to the old Adrian who threats, in course of this revenge, to do as much as ever Coriolanus did.”
Coriolanus had fought against his own people for his honor, and ended up penning the peace treaty for them.
“Is it warlike Lucas, General of the Goths?” Saturday asked. He had reports of the banished Adrian gathering
support. “These tidings nip me, and I hang the head as flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms.”
“Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach, this he the common people love so much. Myself hath often over-heard
them say, when I have walked like a private man, that Lucas' banishment was wrongfully, and they have wished that
Lucas were their leader.” Saturday spoke of his discomfort.
“Why should you fear? is not your city strong?” Tamara asked in distress. She had seen power in her life, and even
at the last defeat, she still prevailed victor. She was not sure then if she will be victor once more.
“Ay, but the citizens favor Lucas, and will revolt from me to succor him.” Saturday explained his concern.
“Leader, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name.” Tamara comforted the other. “Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do
fly in it?”
“The eagle suffers little birds to sing, and is not careful what they mean thereby, knowing that with the shadow of
his wings he can at pleasure stint their melody.” Tamara stressed on the power of the leaders with the influences of
seduction. “Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome. Then cheer thy spirit for know, thou leader, I will enchant
the old Adrian with words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep.”
“When as the one is wounded with the bait, the other rotted with delicious feed.” Tamara smiled at her plan.
“But he will not entreat his son for us.” Saturday held back on the plan.
“If Tamara entreat him, then he will, for I can smooth and fill his aged ear with golden promises; that, were his heart
almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue.” Tamara boasted of her ability.
She turned to AEmilius.
“Go thou before, be our ambassador: say that the leader requests a parley of warlike Lucas, and appoint the meeting
even at his father's house, the old Adrian.”
“AEmilius, do this message honourably.” The leader commanded him. “And if he stand on hostage for his safety,
bid him demand what pledge will please him best.”
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