Barker - Barker: Plays Two

OBERON BOOKS
LONDON

First published in this collection in 2006 by Oberon Books Ltd.
Electronic edition published in 2012

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Reprinted in 2011, 2012

The Castle first published in Great Britain by John Calder
(Publishers) Limited in 1990

Copyright Howard Barker 1990, 2006

Howard Barker is hereby identified as author of these plays in accordance with section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.

All rights whatsoever in these plays are strictly reserved and application for performance etc. should be made before rehearsal to Judy Daish Associates Ltd, 2 St Charles Place, London W10 6EG. No performance may be given unless a licence has been obtained, and no alterations may be made in the title or the text of the plays without prior written consent.

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PB ISBN: 978-1-84002-648-1

Digital ISBN: 978-1-84943-347-1

Cover image and design: Dan Steward

Printed, bound and converted by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon,
CR0 4YY.

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THE CASTLE
A Triumph

What is Politics, but the absence
of Desire?

STUCLEY, a Knight
BATTER, a Servant
KRAK, an Engineer
SKINNER, a Witch
ANN, a Changed Woman
NAILER, a Priest
CANT, a Villager
HUSH, a Villager
SPONGE, a Villager
HOLIDAY, a Builder
BRIAN, a Builders Mate
POOL, a Circuit Judge
SOLDIERS
PRISONERS
WOMEN

A Hill. A MAN, wrapped against the rain, stares into a valley. A SECOND MAN enters. He stares at the first.

BATTER: Thinking, this is a puddle, this is. This is a wet and bone-wrecking corner of Almighty negligence. Thinking, oh, these shifting sheets of dropping damp. Christ, I did wrong to, or Mohammed, is it? Oh, my sun, my date trees, you poor bugger, out of hot bricked yards and cool mosaics, YOU HAVE TO BE A GREAT HAIRY ENGLISH BASTARD TO WEAR THIS! OI!

(He tears open his clothing, exposing his chest to the weather.)
England, your great frozen paw, Oi!
(The other has not moved.)
You are looking on my meadow. On my meadow which
(He stares in disbelief.)
NO CUNT HAS MOWN!
(He turns to ANOTHER off.)
Have you seen this!
(STUCLEY enters, follows the direction of his finger.)

STUCLEY: Oh, the faithless bastards

BATTER: Fallow, every fucking thing!

STUCLEY: Oh, the disloyal bastards

BATTER: Not one in cultivation!

STUCLEY: My first glimpse and

BATTER: And the wood not coppiced!

STUCLEY: My first glimpse and

BATTER: And the pond not cleared, and no bugger with the cattle!

STUCLEY: ALL BASTARD ROTTEN!

(He turns to BATTER.)
Ask them what they my territory what they

BATTER: (Running off.) Hey!

STUCLEY: They have stripped me of every kind thought by this. Lying in their mess and squirming in the hot straw I imagine, while we suffered, I APOLOGIZE I FEEL SO ASHAMED!

(He shakes his head in despair.)
All the good things I told you of this place and we clap eyes on the dead opposite. Im glad its raining, good! Piss rain you bastard sky, all I ever said is contradicted, good! All the glowing eyes round camp fires is pure fuck now, Im lord of pigshit and made a proper fool of

BATTER: (Running, shouting.) ITS US! STUCLEY AND RETAINERS AFTER SEVEN YEARS!

STUCLEY: You stick yourself in every sordid place, and run your ribs against the stakes, chucking blood down by the panful, and what do they do? They roost! They roost and shit the good estate in your absence, Christ, we will break their hearts for this! What are you staring at?

KRAK: I am looking at this hill, which is an arc of pure limestone

STUCLEY: So it is, it is, yes, oh, I am so full of good, why does everything betray me? BECAUSE IT IS THE WAY OF THE WORLD! GOOD! All tenderness is doomed to ridicule, poetry is lies and mercy only fit for giggling over! Is my wife dead? Must be, must be because I love her so, shes dead, it stands to reason, WHERE IS SHE BURIED? What was it, fever? Fever, merciful fever? No, she was banged to death by bandits, CAN YOU FIND SOMEONE OR NOT?

BATTER: Some filth is coming, I dont know who, some staggering filth, but I wouldnt know my mother after this time, if Christ had gilded her.
(A WOMAN enters.)
Do you know us or not?

CANT: Youre Batter.

BATTER: She knows me! And my face ploughed up with scars!

CANT: Done much murder?

STUCLEY: DONE MUCH MURDER? DONE MUCH MURDER? IM YOUR LORD YOU WHITE RAG, YOU!

CANT: How beautiful you are, you great male things, I would kiss you if youd let me, or in the bush there something better

STUCLEY: WHAT?

CANT: Oh, come on, weve had old men here, who only move by memory, not great stallion bits like yours, all

STUCLEY: WHAT IS THIS!

CANT: My mans not come back so you do his business for him here
(She goes to lift her skirts. STUCLEY knocks her aside with a staggering blow.)

STUCLEY: I wont be fouled by you, mad bitch, whats happened here, what! I slash your artery for you!
(He draws a knife.)
Down you, in the muck and nettle!
(She screams.)
MY TERRITORY!
(He straddles her.)

BATTER: Hey!
(STUCLEY wounds her, she screams.)

STUCLEY: My shame, you LOOK WHAT YOUVE MADE ME DO! Ive Ive
(He tosses the knife away, wipes his hand.)
To come home and hear vile stuff of that sort is when I am so clean for my lover is no homecoming, is it?

KRAK: So much emotion is, I think, perfectly comprehensible, given the exertion of travelling, and all your exaggerated hopes. Some anti-climax is only to be expected.

STUCLEY: Yes.

(He shrugs.)
Yes.

KRAK: The only requirement is the restoration of a little order, the rudiments of organization established, and so on. The garden is a little overgrown, and minds gone wild through lack of discipline. Chaos is only apparent in my experience, like gravel shaken in water abhors the turbulence, and soon asserts itself in perfect order. As forthe absence of hospitality, that does not offend me either, but I should like a desk at some stage.
(Pause. BATTER stares at him.)

BATTER: Well, Ill be fucked.

(Pause.)

No, I will be. He raddles my brains, he does. He pits his long, dark fingers in my ears and stirs them up. GIVE ME MY BRAINS BACK, YOU!