C

Claude Jeredine Deloh

Playwright
The Kingfisher's Dive

Dramatis Personae ​
Reynald, first king of Altalusia​
Ranhi, daughter of the king
generals of the king's army​

Harunh
Bhim
march lords and petty barons
​
Delatreux
Ghulan
Paramvinh
Lailahni
wizards and witches​
Sangsot
Angus
Caithens
Beatrix
the jesters three, the Clownery
the mercenaries Kingfisher​
Mantegro, captain of the Kingfishers.
Philipe , bastard brother to Mantegro, lieutenant of the Kingfishers.
Ardun, sergeant at arms of the Kingfishers.
Branco, company medicant.
Alehanis, praetor of Seax and leader of the Imperial Forces
Pirimdas, primus khashatrii under Alehanis.
An Old Man
The Heron Blade
Prelude​

Enter the troubles and tribulations of a nascent kingdom. Freshly formed from the fragments of a peoples, long grown tired of a distant master's yolk.

Rebels, brigands, outlaws, they were all branded, for they defied the rightful rule. So ordained and written into edict. So proclaimed by those Barons and March Lords still loyal to Arshakan vestige, so far and to the north as the valleys of Thalo, where green pastures bare much harvest, and the slumbering aurochs rests.

A king, chosen amongst the rabble of petty lords and pettier knights. But a mason by trade. No drop of noble blood in him, save that blood so willing to spill. For their cause. For their land. For the dream that would become, fair Altalusia.

So our tale begins. Amidst the great turmoil beset upon the land. Not by the king's side, no, but upon the field, before two souls, common as any other. Called to this king and his cause, perchance, called by the glitter of gold and the fame that could come, more like. Unwitting of all the great cruelties, and all the great jokes that would await them.

As the Kingfisher's Dive.

Act 1
-
Scene 1
Bluster and Wind. Enter Mantegro with Philipe​

Mantegro - Tarry no longer, brother mine, for my blade seeks too eager its wicked work, my hand moved by the mere promise we might be free of this dreadful time.

Philipe - Calm thyself, brother! Steady thine hand! The iron storm approaches. Doth thou see it?

We cannot hope to withstand it, so fierce does it grow. But fret not! I have a plan.

Attend, we must, to the enemy within. Listen, they will, to you, oh brother mine. And if they do not...

Montegro - Then I cannot hold to any hope, save that iron mine own hand can hold.

Philipe - So quick to the iron, without one word yet told, less then those shared. Steady, I pray, steady, and stay that cold culling that comes so quick to thee. If not, as your wiser had begun-

Montegro - None the wiser then that night where in you found fire there below.

Philipe - You wound me.

Montegro - No more than you have wounded yourself, praying to skirts, and giving to cheeks that which-

Philipe - And even so! Dear brother, and still, I pray you pay your trust to me. For follies we both have a plenty, and virtues there too, however different they may be.

Montegro - Let there be no doubt of that.

Philipe - Never any doubt, fair Montegro, save that doubt you have in me.

Montegro - I meant no harm in it.

Philipe - Ah, but I did mean play in it. Come then, that we might discuss the storm to come, and how your virtue, and mine own cunning might save us all some woe.
 
Act 1
-
Scene 2
Mist and Pine. Enter a circle of wood witches and hedge wizards, Beatrix, Caithens, Angus, Sangsot, before an effigy of cedar and pine.​

Beatrix - Come the calling of the crow and the stirring of the bear, what tidings are there for us to spare?

Angus - What tidings, but those of roil and ruin.

Caithens - Do not despair, good Angus, that might we find means through this.

Angus - That might we find fields of salt, and lands despoiled. Nay, I see not but that which has come before, and then may come again..

Sangsot - May, yet so certain you seem in it.

Angus - So certain as the lands that shake neath the march of boots, and so set the birds to fly from home and nest, and any hope of rest.

Beatrix - Then the crows whisper true.

Angus - True as the breeze that carries them. But warnings of gathering clouds and heated winds. A storm.

Sangsot - A storm whose tail turns to twister, and would pit brother against their sister. Nothing new to this.

Angus - Ever the doubter, you. Sangsot of Balihot, the Wizard turned Shrew. Nothing new save that dirt you turn to hide in.

Sangsot - Prudence, oh fiery Angus. Calm, so that we might gather more before we all spill out.

Angus - Of seed? Of bosom breast? What blood would be left to spill out, whilst we but dally?

Caithens - Set fire too soon, and lose any hope of long flame. What tinder gathered, too few to keep bright the spark.

Beatrix - Long through the mantled dark.

Angus - Far the Praetor’s boots are yet, but here in, there will be wolves.

Sangsot - Of Delatreux, of Ghulan.

Angus - And still you pray we wait?!

Sangsot - And still I say we reason. Might be swift wings find another and his host.

Beatrix - On midnight wings, our words doth fly. Of Delatreux and Ghulan, and the march near nigh.

Angus - Make ready the woods then, as only we can.

Caithens - Dark is the day that the trees need march.

Beatrix - Darker still those days beyond that. Should we but see them, might we find light there in.
 
Act 1
-
Scene 3

Where in Montegro and Philipe are lost in the woods, and find a wounded crow, carrying a message. ​

Montegro - Now, as these mists do surround, and all sense of time and place does leave us hollow with want, I find myself asking, oh brother mine, was there not some cunning, we had discussed.

Philipe - There was much discussing of a cunning, where in where it went, however, I am not sure. Marry, the linguist, hath not strode her wide step this way in some time.

Montegro - Fool, that you are, must you always be so?

Philipe - Were I anything less, then how could I best serve you? Half a self, hath no spine to stiffen and to stand with.

Montegro - Yet with half a wit?

Philipe- Yet with half a wit, here I stand, for my belief in that silvered tongue of yours. Adrift in a mire of woodland and detritus.

Montegro - My own tongue silver? Then yours, surely, must be gold.

Philipe - Gold, untarnished, amidst the humble roots, tis so, as is my loyalty to you, dear Montegro.

Montegro - Vain prattler.

Philipe - But a truth teller turned soothsayer, Here in this wyld where one might find wisdom there upon which the old empires were built.

Montegro - Pray tell, dear Philipe. Doth thou hear yon sound? (A distressed and warped crowing in the near distance)

Philipe - Why, Dear Montegro, had I no sense to hear said sound, I would feel it still. Along the hairs that so stand to attention, brave soldiers all, tall across my skin. Pricking there betwixt the very digits I plant against the earth, and with which white knuckled and bloodless, I hold my own iron, in some vain hope that its keen edge may yet defend me against so wretched a sound.

Montegro - Hold, now, dear brother, to your own steel true. Your wits, half measured as they might be, stay them sharp. It is but the cry of a witch’s wings, struck down from the wind.

Philipe - Yet I see no fletching, nor trail of shroud’s smoke. Nor hath I er heard such sounds born from common crow.

Montegro - Hawks talons leave no trace, but the red gash across flesh, and those feathers torn there from so soft their tender weave. Tis no mere carrion, come to collect what death has promised, but an ink-plumed messenger.

Philipe - A portent, then, my brother. We must away. Fast as our soles will carry us, we must away!

Montegro - Hark, fair Philipe, cunning and clever as you are, do not give in to such falsities as that. Stay your galloping heart, and spy there, clutched betwixt those talons dark.

Philipe - But, is that a parchment?

Montegro - A missive, I am sure. From some such force that would use black wings to carry its word.

Philipe - Could it be then?

Montegro - A gift. From those stars above that wink through that most wondrous shroud, ever our mantle.

Philipe - Or our curse.

Montegro - So oft, the two are one and the same. Only those eyes which read the letter may discern where upon the scales of fate the matter doth lay.

Philipe - Here then, give it here! So that I may read it aloud, and that you might discern, what words such wings hath carried here before us.

Montegro - When I do not lack for letters of my own?

Philipe - So that whatever evils may be there in, sweet Montegro, may lash at me ever more, and grow too tired to ever reach you.

Montegro - Ever the dramatic.

Philipe - Ever the faithful, surely.

Montegro - Where else would I place it.

Philipe - See now, what words did those wings carry.

(To all) March does the south. Their eyes and mouths are many. Their ears are few. Hands, countless armed with their timeless steel, yet too far still for us to kneel. Beware, oh leal. Beware, oh faithful. For the traitors amongst us. The Badger bold, and the Kestrel clutching, would see the nascent dream borne between the wylds and the Mhearan proud undone.

Montegro - So fate has found us.

Philipe - Stay your hand, Montegro, do not be brash.

Montegro - Ardun!

Ardun - My Ser!

Philipe - And here goes the song.

Montegro - Ready the Kingfishers! We ride for the Hold of Ghul!

Ardun - As the captain commands!

Philipe - Good, goodly! Most right! On that much we can agree, but hear me, oh brother, please, if for but a nun’s warm gasp.

Montegro - If you wish to set me off my task, Philipe, I will not hear it. The villains have been painted clear upon the canvas, and no clearer a picture shall there be than this.

Philipe - Again, there it is, again! That ground upon which we both stand, do you see, oh brother mine? It is that same purpose we share, I means only-

Montegro - You mean to fill my head with pretty words, and paltry schemes, is that not so, Philipe?

Philipe - Come now, brave and valiant Montegro, schemes? Yes! Of course! Schemes a plenty! But paltry?! Must you make such a habit of felling my pride?

Montegro - Were it that shame had even a finger’s worth to hold you with, brother.

Philipe - When riches and glory has all ten and then more for me to enjoy? Pray, lend me your ear, for but a moment, and should you find my words not sweet, then I will do as I have always done, my brother, and follow thine boldness through to the end.

Montegro - You’ve bent my ear to your schemes, Philipe, go on.

Philipe - And on I shall go. Sooth, we once served beneath the banners of Ghulan, did we not?

Montegro - We did. A cruel taskmaster, the man, but not without his honors. Were it not for his son, loathsome wretch that he was-

Philipe - Ah, but he did throw a good feast, did he not?

Montegro - Whilst the good folk starved. Whilst the better men bled and pissed and shat in fields far from his keep! Aye, he did indeed throw a bloody good feast.

Philipe - And were it not for so loathsome a son, then might we have found better fortunes beneath that Petty Baron, Ghulan. But our metal is not so tarnished in the father’s eye. He knows us to be good men, with stout arms, and… a fair bit of wit.

Montegro - You flatter yourself.

Philipe - Someone must! And so, I shall do as the need demands!

Montegro - Who’s need but your own?

Philipe - My need lends itself to yours, oh brother mine, and so to the needs of our men. And so, I counsel. Let us not ride to Ghulan as warring host, so plainly loyal to the new crowned king, but as those swords for hire that we are! With gold in our eye, and hungry there for its opportunity to find us.

Montegro - You would have us betray the newfound realm? Our mother lands, so freshly freed from her shackles rusted and cold stained with her blood?!

Philipe - I would have us show as such, oh honest and brutal Montegro. I would have us let them open their gates to us. So that we might then show true our colors when least they expect. Let us find his halls, and sup upon his food. And whence the good dealing is done, and the real business needs us gone, upon that throne, over yon rocks, well, a rope we drop. Good and long.

Montegro - You would have us perform treachery.

Philipe - Guile, the scholars might call it. Tact, the historians will remember it as. But what matter is it, whence our banner flies high over the Hold of Ghul, its lands, its tidings, they will be ours to tend to! Ours to put to work, and yield what comes from them.

Montegro - So same would be the result if we but face the man afield. O’er the ladders and upon his walls. Least then, the skalds, the heralds, and the bards would not sing of our dark doing, but of our courage! Or mettle!

Philipe - And so they will still sing, Montegro, for this will be but the first of many such contests that will find us. And have the Fishers the souls to spare amidst such bloody business? Pray, head my counsel. Let us win the day, and that day that comes there after.

Montegro - And that day that comes there after. So they will sing. And now, we ride.
 
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