Charlie: Scenes: 14-17

SCENE 14 – Culloden House

Charlie is discussing tactics with Lochiel – enter Murray & Duncan Maclean

Lochiel
Mah prince, ah have some grave & grievous news
The English are amassing cross the moor
& in two hours shall full assembled be
It seems the wily Duke of Cumberland
Ten times the measure of old Johnnie Cope
& drove his army hard upon our heels
We have but little time to make amends
Past choices have brought great disaster near
But thinking fast & thinking on our heels
Still may fat English confidence be slain

Charlie
The matter, then, must this day reach its head
& let our LORD this nation’s fate define
With all ye mighty, loyal men of mine
How we have marched, & fought, & how we bled
All for this single martial consequence
When I can feel the triumph in our bones
For princes have a right to sit on thrones
Ordain’d by Heaven’s prime omnipresence
How such hot things engage my appetite
How are the men who must this morning fight?

Maclean
Och! Nae so braw, mah prince, these men are tired
Murray’s night march has worn away their feet
But still to fight yer cause are full inspired
& tho they’ve barely had an oat to eat
Since Inverness, that’s twa days & a night,
They stand in yonder field like golden wheat
That when bent over swiftly stands aright
Still five thousand grand lads shall for ye stand
& none of them would shirk the coming fight
As long as ye still vocal in command

Murray
But sire, pray listen, let us prudence take
On boggy heath oor highland charge must break
We will be bees buzzing about the bears
& oor small cannon not a match for theirs
Let us remove oor army to the peaks
& wear the foe down oer the coming weeks
Upon the ground found in oor very blood
Where Wallace, Bruce & even Rob Roy stood
For if we fight this vital battle here
The price must be your father’s crown I fear

Charlie
Nonsense – nonsense – nonsense – nonsense – nonsense
I have listened to such ‘prudence’ before
By now I could be sat on England’s throne
But I was down at Derby led afool
I shall not quaff that same vile draught again
Alert the men & ready them for war
& tell them God is with their prince today
If they be with him too, now let us pray
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et
Spiritus Sancti – let faith fuel the fray

D’Eguiles
Crow clouds have gather’d oer the moor
Rain bleaches faces white
Both Hell & Heaven set in store
The fated victims of a war
Brought to its final fight


SCENE 15 – Drummossie Moor

The Highland Lines – the rain & wind drives into the faces of the Macleans

Eric
Look at that da, the English have never been so well ordered before

David
Never mind, they wont be in any kind of order once we’ve git in & at em – just look at whose gathered here today – many a braw clan & hardy warrior – chieftans, taxmen, tenants, subtenants all joined together as one beating heart – Frasers, Farquharsons, Macdonells, Grants, Mackenzies, Ogilvys, Gordons, Appins & Atholls – ah – it’s a stirring sight for a true-born highlander

The sound of Scottish cannon

Fergus
That’s our guns

Angus
The battles started lads – ready your pistols

The sound of English cannon

David
It sounds like they’ve got muckle more guns than us

Angus
Aye, look at the Macphearsons, theyre dropping like flies

David
Dinna worry lads – hold ya nerve – the Prince knows what he’s doing

Cannonball whizzes past them

Eric
Oor guns have gone silent – they dinna seem t o be working, ken

Fergus
They’re doin bloody murder to us – why don’t we charge

Angus
Chief – let us at the English bastards

Maclean
Have courage lads, for oor cause is righteous

Eric
It wont be long before those guns destroy every clansman on this field – – if we dally any longer what chance will we have

David
Aye, the boys right, lets charge em Duncan

Maclean
The Prince has not given the order yet – we stand

Cannonball rips into lines

Maclean
Come on boys, lets sing – show them we’ve still got fire in our bellies –

SCOTLAND THE BRAVE

Hark! When the night is falling
Hark! Hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling, down through the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.
Towering in gallant fame
Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave.

Fergus is wounded by a cannoball

High in the misty Highlands,
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maidens’ eyes.
Far off in sunlit places,
Sad are the Scottish faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss of sweet Scottish rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming,
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the homeland again.

Maclean
Look, the Appins are off – Mackintoshes are cgarging like wildcats – come on lads – I’ve had enough of this – its time to put an end to this sorry affair -with me Macleans – CHARGE!!!!


SCENE 16 – Drummossie Moor

The British Lines

Cumberland
Come see the Pretender in the distance,
His rascally & ragged rebel bands,
The Irish… & there look! the flag of France
At last those fools are fed into our hands!
From Lancaster, Carlisle & Falkirk Moor
He slipped my net, I thought him rather shrewd,
But this, a broken field of boggy moor,
All credence lacks, his choice seems rather crude,
& should, methinks, have shut up in the town…
Now ve princes contest the British crown!

Lord Bury
Most noble Duke, as I surveyed the moor
Close to those blasted pipes of shrieking skirl
Above me passed the first shots of the war…
& as you hear our answer is aswirl
Their lines harangued by wind & hail & sleet
With cannonballs theirs is a sorry lot
& hastening th’onset of their defeat
We rain upon them thick shards of grape shot
But wait! what is that roar? at last they charge!
Our guns shall seek the measure of their targe!

Wolfe
Sir, now your men in mortal combat meet,
All is confusion, noise, concern & heat
On the left the thickest of the fighting
Barrel’s brave boys on their broadswords biting
But of this day the king will never fret
Those heathen fall beneath infernal fire
Or spitted on an English bayonet
& on the right their charge shows no desire
Strict discipline & guts rip thro that shield
This godless place becomes their killing field

Cumberland
Orpheus to my ears! the fleeing shout
& come to a decision the matter
Tis strange to see the nation’s bravest rout
Those boasted broadswords not as they flatter
Not since Lord Noll had they such a thrashing
Let Lord Ancram pursue them with the horse
Hold no quarter, slaughter, sabres slashing
& extirpate that race as fighting force
Destroy clannism, burn their homes & grain
So these wretches shall never rise again!

Wolfe
Great tidings sir, when London hears the news
The oldest wines shall happily be drunk
The Bonnie Prince & all his bonnet blues
Into the freezing Moray Firth hath sunk
The flower of the highlander lies strewn
Upon this ghastly field & down the roads
Shall ride many a merciless dragoon
All to the weeping streets of Inverness
So far we have counted a thousand swords
Now raise a cry for Britain & God bless

D’Eguile
The crucial battle has been fought
The tartan torn & strewn
The fleeing rats so easy caught
& VENGEANCE shall cut Celtic throat
Beneath a weeping moon


SCENE 17 – Drummossie Moor

The Highland army is routing / Angus supports a wounded Eric across the field near to a wounded Fergus / the Bonnie Prince urging men to fight / Lochiel & Murray by him

Lochiel
The battle is lost sire

Charlie
Nonsense – where is everybody going, the battle may still be won, do your dare desert your Prince

Fergus
Angus, Angus, help me

Angus
Sorry, lad, my hands are full here wi mi grandson – you’re on your own boy

Fergus
Tell Rosie that I love her, will ya, & look after oor bairn

Charlie
Old man, put that fellow down, turn round & get back to the battle

Angus
Sod ya battle

Angus & Eric leave the field

Lochiel
You see, all is going to pot, you can be of no great succour, before so general a route which shall soon be – seize upon this opportunity, sire, & carry yourself away

Charlie
Very well – I shall see you all at Ruthven

Exit Charlie

Murray
Aye, run, ye cowardly Italian

Lochiel
I think we’d better go too, Lochiel, The Irish & the French are still holding their ground – they will buy us time to escape this place of death

Murray
Aye – it is an end to a bad affair – we must regroup at Ruthven – go swiftly & safely brother

Lochiel
Aye – & you, good luck, Ruthven is 40 miles, take the back roads by Cawdor Castle – I will see you at the barracks

Exit Lochiel & Murray / enter Rosie – she sees Fergus

Rosie
Fergus – och my boy, my love
{Fergus tries to speak, but coughs up blood}
No – don’t speak darling – let me see your wound

Rosie opens his shirt, the wound is massive / she turns away in disgust, then begins to sing

YE JACOBITES

Rosie
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear, lend an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name,
Your faults I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I must blame, you shall hear.

What is Right, and What is Wrang, by the law, by the law?
What is Right and what is Wrang by the law?
What is Right, and what is Wrang?
A short sword, and a lang,
A weak arm and a strang, for to draw.

What makes heroic strife, famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?
What makes heroic strife?
To whet th’ assassin’s knife,
Or haunt a Parent’s life, wi’ bluidy war?

Then let your schemes alone, in the state, in the state,
Then let your schemes alone in the state.
Then let your schemes alone,
Adore the rising sun,
And leave a man alone, to his fate.

Enter British soldiers

Soldier One
Stop your damned singing woman

Soldier Two pushes her to one side & bayonets Fergus

Soldier Two
So you are pregnant are you, well, we certainly don’t want any babies with a claymore crying revenge now, do we

Soldier Two bayonets Rosie slowly in her belly – exit soldiers


THE CONCHORDIA FOLIO

“Its worth a pop, right, to knock that Shakespeare
Off his feffin’ perch!”

35062508_10156430365647520_5136386788406853632_n.jpg

Interview: Damian Beeson Bullen

Posted on January 23, 2020, in Charlie!, Conchordia. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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