and bind him and lay him on the ground and fasten his tongue outside
his mouth with thorns and put honey on it and sprinkle honey near.
Then the grey ants would come from one of their big mounds. My father
found gold once when he was digging.

KING ARGIMENES (pointedly) Did your father free himself?

ZARB No. Because the King's Overseer found him looking at the gold and
killed him. But he would have freed himself if he could have bribed
the guard. (A prophet walks across the stage attended by two guards.)

SLAVES He is going to the King. He is going to the King.

ZARB He is going to the King.

KING ARGIMENES Going to prophesy good things to the King. It is easy
to prophesy good things to a king, and be rewarded when the good
things come. What else should come to a king? A prophet! a prophet! (A
deep bell tolls slowly. King Argimenes and Zarb pick up their spades
at once, and the old slaves at the back of the stage go down on their
knees immediately and grub in the soil with their hands. The white
beard of the oldest trails in the dirt as he works. King Argimenes
digs.)

KING ARGIMENES What is the name of that song that we always sing? I
like the song.

ZARB It has no name. It is our song. There is no other song.

KING ARGIMENES Once there were other songs. Has this no name?

ZARB I think the soldiers have a name for it.

KING ARGIMENES What do the soldiers call it?

ZARB The soldiers call it the tear-song, the chaunt of the low-born.

KING ARGIMENES It is a good song. I could sing no other now. (Zarb
moves away digging.)

KING ARGIMENES (to himself as his spade touches something in the
earth.) Metal! (Feels with his spade again.) Gold perhaps!--It is of
no use here. (uncovers earth leisurely. Suddenly he drops on his knees
and works excitedly in the earth with his hands. Then very slowly,
still kneeling, he lifts, lying flat on his hands, a long greenish
sword, his eyes intent on it. About the level of his uplifted forehead
he holds it, still flat on both hands, and addresses it thus:)

O holy and blessed thing. (Then he lowers it slowly till his hands
rest on his knees, and looking all the while at the sword.)

KING ARGIMENES Three years ago tomorrow King Darniak spat at me,
having taken my kingdom from me. Three times in that year I was
flogged, with twelve stripes, with seventeen stripes, and with twenty
stripes. A year and eleven months ago, come Moon-day, the King's
Overseer struck me in the face