The Christmas Rose
SCENE 4
Robbers’ cave. It is dirty, kids are lying around, no preparations have been made.
ROBBER MOTHER: Come in, come in, if you’ve got any sense.
Warm yourself by the fire here.
If you’ve brought aught to sup on, eat it,
Our poor fare is nothing you’d care to eat.
Come, sit down.
They enter and sit; Robber Father turns his back to them.
ABBOT HANS: (To Robber Mother.)
Thank you. The cold has blown right through me,
And I’m tired and sore.
ROBBER MOTHER: Perhaps you shouldn’t have come,
I don’t want to be blamed for your death.
ABBOT HANS: No, it will be worth it.
I don’t regret the journey.
But my friend wanted to stop at every village.
You should have seen the hams and bread in long loaves,
Fresh straw for every floor, and every lad and lass as clean
As new fallen snow in their best of garments.
ROBBER MOTHER: A lot of work for the womenfolks!
ABBOT HANS: But worth it, surely, and for the children, especially.
The laughter and singing and games that will take place tonight
Will gladden their little hearts for many a month...
ROBBER MOTHER: You’ll hear sweeter songs by far tonight, but...
ABBOT HANS: Ah, but it’s a shame your youngsters can’t celebrate
With other Christian folk, tumble in the Christmas straw,
And run on the village street in their holiday clothes.
Don’t you think that for them the company of others is ....
ROBBER FATHER: (Interrupting angrily.)
You miserable monk, did you travel all this way
To coax my family from my side?
Don’t you know that I’m an outlaw?
To leave this forest is as good as death for me.
ABBOT HANS: I intend to get a letter of ransom from Bishop Absalon,
Which will allow you to start over, in the company of honest folk.
Robber Father and Robber Mother laugh.
ROBBER FATHER: Mercy from Bishop Absalon? That would truly be a miracle
Greater than any you’ll see tonight.
You’re a dreamer, my good Abbot, but I’ll promise you this:
The day I get a letter of ransom from Absalon,
I’ll never steal as much as a single goose again.
ABBOT HANS: (Reaches over and shakes Robber Father’s hand.)
That is our bargain, then.
Many miracles are at work in this world, my friend,
And a letter of ransom from Absalon is no more to be wondered at,
Than blossoms from the heart of the winter forest.
My heart tells me that are both within the realms of possibility
For me to see in the short time I have left.
LAY BROTHER: My lord Abbot, don’t tire yourself with...
ROBBER MOTHER: (Interrupting.)
We sit here and talk even while that which we talk about
Begins to happen around us.
Hark! I can hear, even in this cave, how the Christmas bells are ringing.
ABBOT HANS: You are right. Up, brother!
This I would not miss for the world.
LAY BROTHER: Good Abbot Hans, think you, is it not more likely
That some of this brigand’s fellows lie in wait there in the dark
To fell you and deliver you up to evil?
ABBOT HANS: Soften your heart, my brother, lest its hardness blind your eyes also.
(They go outside. It is cold and dark. Faint bells are heard.)
Yet even I must admit to some doubt. (To himself.)
Now that I stand here at the death of the year.
How can the bells ever awaken the forest from so deep a sleep?
A faint light pulses in and retreats; returns stronger. Dead parts of the forest start to awaken. The snow disappears.
ABBOT HANS: Ah, beat slowly, my heart, lest the wonder of this miracle overwhelm you.
That I, in the evening of my years, should be blessed to see this,
Is the greatest miracle.
LAY BROTHER: (Not believing.)
Whence these changes come, I cannot say.
But one thing I know – they do NOT come from heaven,
Else they would not be shown to these brigands and malefactors.
A fox and its young come up to Robber Mother. She scratches its head and praises young. An owl flies away, surprised at the light.
ABBOT HANS: (Picking strawberry.)
The berries ripen in my hand, between earth and mouth.
Time is turned inside out. Weeks and seasons pass in moments.
...Cowbells!
Blossoms from what far-off places,
Lambs crying for their mother,
My senses are overwhelmed.
LAY BROTHER: Deceptions everywhere! Truly we stand in mortal danger
Of falling into Satan’s clutches.
A bear comes up to Robber Father, who is picking berries. He smacks it on the nose.
ROBBER FATHER: Keep to your own ground! This is my turf!
ABBOT HANS: This blossom shall I pluck for the bishop.
Or maybe this shines fairer still...
Or yet here. Who can choose?
When the beauty of one moment is so soon surpassed.
But, oh...no mortal beauty is this.
The angels come closer. Quiet descends, the animals are still and a harp is heard in the distance. Abbot Hans drops to his knees and clasps his hands.)
ABBOT HANS: Never in my dreams did I ever imagine that this should be granted me,
To taste the joys of heaven in this life, and hear the blessed angels sing Christmas carols.
LAY BROTHER: (Stands some distance off. No animals have approached him.)
Satan, get thee hence!
This is no true miracle. Its source is witchcraft.
The Evil One tempts us to see that which is not real!
(As the angels near, one little dove makes so bold as to approach Lay Brother and stops in front of him and coos.)
GO BACK TO HELL, WHENCE THOU ARE COME!
(He strikes at the dove, as he shouts, the songs and music cease. Birds, animals and angels fly away, and darkness and cold come back.)
ABBOT HANS: Ah, no! Do not go. Wait but a moment...
It’s of no avail.
So close, but driven away. I shall not have this chance again.
Songs, blossoms...BLOSSOMS! Oh, my Bishop must get his blossom
(Searches frantically for one.)
Cold! Hard! Oh, break these clods, my old hands.
(Clutches his heart with his left hand.)
AHHH...
(He smiles at the angel, who returns and leads his soul off. He falls to ground.)
LAY BROTHER: (At the cave where torches are being lit.)
Abbot Hans! Abbot Hans! My father, where are you?
Quick, we must find him.
(They go back. Lay Brother sees the Abbot’s figure on ground.)
Abbot Hans! Get up, get up!
Oh no! Oh no!
(Covers his face.)
ROBBER MOTHER: Death catches us all, my friend,
Yet few live such a life as our Abbot here.
ROBBER FATHER: (Looking at Lay Brother.)
The cold was too much for him.
LAY BROTHER: (Looking up.)
Yes, but not this cold. (Gestures at ground.)
The coldness of my heart, it is that which struck down him whom I most loved.
My eyes could not see that which he rejoiced in,
And I dashed from his lips, the cup of happiness
Which he was thirsting to drain to the last drop.
Woe is me!
SCENE 5
Ovid Cloister, Christmas Eve, one year later. The new Abbot, monks, and Bishop Absalon are present.
LAY BROTHER: (To Abbot.)
Father, I ask your leave to go out for a time.
The food is good, but I cannot eat.
Abbot Hans is too much on my mind. It is one year ago tonight
That he was taken from us...
NEW ABBOT: I know, my son. You go to his garden, do you not, where those two bulbs that were pried from Abbot Hans’ hand in the house of the dead lie planted, and have been tended so lovingly by you all this year? I know of your labors, and how disappointed you are that nothing came from them.
But go look again. It is only when men stop believing in miracles that they stop happening. Go, but return by twelve bells. The Bishop himself will say our Mass tonight in memory of Abbot Hans.
Lay Brother goes into the garden, walk in prayer, his hands clasped. He sees something on the ground, falls on his knees and brushes away leaves, etc.
LAY BROTHER: My Lord Abbot!
Bishop Absalon!
Brothers, come see!
(All pile out of the Cloister and look.)
My brothers, look! See what springs forth even at the darkest time of the year.
(Looks at the Bishop and then at the Abbot.)
NEW ABBOT: Go ahead, my son.
Lay Brother picks a blossom and hands it to Bishop Absalon.
LAY BROTHER: My lord Bishop, Abbot Hans sends you these,
In fulfillment of a bargain you and he once made.
BISHOP: (Silent a moment.)
Indeed...
Where else but from the fabled Christmas Garden could such a blossom spring...
Abbot Hans has kept his part, and I shall keep mine.
Let a letter of ransom be drawn tonight for Robber Father.
He shall be allowed to return and live an honest life.
Nothing will surprise me henceforth.
I think that you would like to take the letter to the forest,
Lay Brother, would you not?
LAY BROTHER: Yes, my Bishop, and I beg your permission to also...
BISHOP: Granted! I know what you will ask. It is what I myself would do.
Do what your heart commands.
LAY BROTHER: Thank you, Your Grace.
The End
By Mark Birdsall
Adapted from a Story by Selma Lagerlof