The Madness of Naram-Sin

SOLO SCENE
               

                The Madness of Naram-Sin

                SOLO SCENE

          (The Mirror. The Stain. The Curse of Akkad.)



(The king's chambers.
On the table — a still-damp clay tablet.
Military maps.
Decrees of execution.
Among them — a small blackened stylus.
In the background — an immense bronze mirror.
Naram-Sin stands motionless.
He still gazes toward where Enheduanna left.
The door closed long ago.
Silence.)



               NARAM-SIN


She is gone...
(Long pause.)
She is gone...
leaving me
a single question.

(Almost a whisper.)

To be...
or not to be a god?...

(Closes his eyes.)

Accusing me
of having created a God within myself,
she never asked...
whether I could remain
a Man
beside her.

(Long silence.)

Yes, Priestess...
I became a God
not out of pride.
I became a God
because a man
cannot bear
that weight.

(Pause.)

Yes...
your Word was only the shadow
of my Grandfather.
And today
it no longer governs my hand.
It has become
an echo.
An echo
that drowns out
the march of my soldiers.
I know...
the world belongs
to those who march.
Not to those
who wait
beside the water-clock.

(Slowly approaches the table.
Takes the stylus.)

Your lessons were not in vain...
Priestess...
Your invisible presence here...
robs me of all support.

(Takes the tablet.
Tries to write a word.
His hand trembles.
The stylus splits the clay with a crack.
He stares for a long moment at the gash.)

Do you see this...

Enheduanna?

Instead of a sign —
a wound.

Your Word...
my hand
does not know how to write it.
It knows only
how to cut.

(Pause.)

Only a stain.
Filthy.
Hideous.
On the sacred clay.

(Very quietly.)

My soul is
a criminal.
I no longer know
how to simply kill.
I need
a justification.
I need
to explain to myself
every death.

(Raises his head.)

You planted your Word
too deeply within me.
I am cursed
by this new
humanity.

(Very long pause.)

I must
become a God...
so as not
to lose my mind
realizing
that I am —
a Man.

(Very quietly.)

I must become a God...
so as not to go mad...
realizing...
that I am a Man...

(Remains silent for a long time.
Then suddenly rushes toward the mirror.)

I will go to Lebanon!
Because
in the cursed silence of Ur
every second
I hear
the weeping of your soul!
My mind
shatters,
like splinters of wood
in a storm!
I need
the noise of battle!
The clash of shields!
The cries of the dying!
I will bury the mountains of Lebanon
under corpses!
I will flood them with blood!
Only so that...
I no longer hear
your Word!

(Turns away sharply.)

To be a man?
But man is
weak!
He weeps.
He grows old.
He rots in the earth.
He dies
of hunger
and oblivion.
No!
I do not want
to be a man!

(Cry.)

I must become a God!

(Pause.)

If I am not
a God...
then what am I?

(Approaches the window.
Stares for a long time into the desert.)

Yes...
Lebanon...

(Quieter.)

Yes...
Lebanon...

(Suddenly clutches his head with both hands.)

No!
No!
No!
And why...
Lebanon?...

(Very long pause.)

But...
who is guilty?
Her?

(Points to the door.)

Me?

(Points to the mirror.)

No!

(Very quietly.)

Them...
The dead.
The shadows.
My grandfather.
This entire lineage
of kings.
Of conquerors.
Of priests.

(Lifts his face upward.)

Do you hear me?
Both of you?
One
taught me
to strike.
The other —
to listen.

One said:

"Take the world."
The other said:
"Understand her."

And now
my soul is torn
between you.

(Strikes the tablet against the table.)

Why?!
Why
did you send me
to her?!

(Cry.)

Why?!

(Silence.
The light turns cold.
The face of Sargon appears on the wall.)



Thomas DJERAK