January 5, 1066

STIGAND, EDITH, HAROLD and RODBERT are positioned around EDWARD as shown in the tapestry panel. EDITH is crying softly, wiping her eyes with her veil while EDWARD, supported by RODBERT, seems to have just awoken from a fevered sleep. HAROLD leans in with STIGAND to hear the dying king’s feeble words.

RODBERT: (To HAROLD) My lord…my lord, your Excellency, he speaks.

(HAROLD leans in as EDWARD struggles to speak in a weak, halting voice)

EDWARD: (Looking absently at STIGAND) Do you…do you feel that visions…visions at death…do you feel they are…they are from God?

STIGAND: My king?

EDWARD: (Now looking past those around him, as if reliving his vision again) Two monks came to my bedside. The twain I had known in my life before, and long dead in Normandy they were, though I now saw them beside me. They came with a message…a message from…from God Himself! (Edward tries to sit up more fully, but is too weak. RODBERT assists him as HAROLD moves as if to stop him, wanting to hear the king’s words. EDWARD resumes his tale) Such a terrible message…the earls…the bishops and abbots…all those in holy orders…are not what they seem. (EDWARD turns his eyes to STIGAND, who seems suddenly uncomfortable.EDWARD attempts to point towards STIGAND) They are not His servants. They are in league with the devil! (Shouting weakly) The devil! (Pauses, recovering his meager strength) Within a year of my death…within a year of this day!

EDITH: (Unable to hold back her grief or her voice) My lord, my lord! Do not speak so!

HAROLD: (Breaking his gaze from EDWARD to EDITH, placing his hand on her shoulder and speaking in a gentle but firm tone) Be silent, sister…let him speak. (Turning back to EDWARD, who is now speaking fully to him)

EDWARD: On that day, that day a year from this…God’s wrath will fall upon England…(His voice breaks in pain and grief at the prophecy) He shall deliver it into the hands of…the enemy. (He seems suddenly confused and mumbles absently) The enemy, the enemy…(He continues) Devils shall come with fire and sword…the havoc of war…And…and only…only when a green tree is halved at the middle of its trunk…and the upper portion join together without the help of human hands…and when these halves flower with fruit…only can this land’s sins be forgiven…and England find respite from her suffering. (He falls back fully, as if exhausted. Those gathered about the bed seem disconcerted, afraid of what he has said)

STIGAND: (Whispering to HAROLD) Do not heed his words, my lord…his mind is broken with his age and his disease…he knows not what he says.

HAROLD: (Going to EDITH and helps her to her feet, his arm around her. To STIGAND) Do not speak of our king in such a way, Excellency. He has served our people well.

STIGAND: (Almost sneering) Indeed…he has repaid your father’s efforts well. Banishment has always served as just treatment for faithful followers. (Turning to EDITH) Just as the convent is the proper place for a wife and queen.

EDITH: (Grief-racked and angered) Would you speak thus of a man who has done naught but served God in what feeble, mortal ways he can, when you, you anathema-plagued hypocrite, call yourself a man of God and hold the hatred of five popes? (She moves toward STIGAND, as if her anger is turning her to violence) Would you indeed call this man, this man driven by the needs of his country, by the calling of his God, a God you only feign to know –

HAROLD: (Catching EDITH by the shoulders and pulling her back, cutting her off) Peace, sister…do not waste your breath on this man. (Darkly) Power and ambition corrupt even the men that God employs.

RODBERT: (Urgently) My lord! My lord earl!

EDWARD: (Weakly) Harold…Harold Godwinson…

HAROLD: (Quickly turns and knees beside EDWARD) My king, I am here. (EDWARD seems about to say something; his mouth is open, trembling. Then he reaches out with a trembling hand and HAROLD reaches out as well. Their fingers brush. Then EDWARD, with a long, pained sigh, whatever he was going to say left unheard, falls back against RODBERT)

RODBERT: (Lowering EDWARD’s limp head, closing the dead man’s eyes) So passes our king…(All bow their heads in respect, EDITH weeping silently, STIGAND with not altogether genuine sorrow, HAROLD with a confused look of sadness mixed with strange excitement. HAROLD, during the silence, looks down at the hand that touched that of the king’s)

RODBERT: Archbishop…the Earl Harold –

STIGAND: Yes…yes…an heir. A successor.

HAROLD: (Still looking at his hand) Sister Edith, go and tell your women that the king is dead.

EDITH: (Looking to the body of her husband, then to STIGAND with anger) In league with the devil. I often wondered why you speak with clenched teeth. It hides your forked tongue. (Exits)

RODBERT: King Edward is dead…(Almost triumphant) But what of King Harold?

STIGAND: Haste was ever your way, steward. Indeed…his intention was very clear. (HAROLD looks up, holding his breath) But the witan must still convene and agree.

RODBERT: Would they refuse our king’s dying wish?

HAROLD: (Half to himself) Duke William…Tostig…

STIGAND: (To HAROLD) My lord, I urge you to accompany me –

HAROLD: (Cuts him off) Does such a gesture make me king?

RODBERT: It proves that King Edward wishes for you to follow in his stead!

STIGAND: My lord, you’ve grown pale.

HAROLD: (Subdued) And what of his dream? What of Duke William? I swore and oath to him, excellency. I swore to secure the throne for him. I swore it. (Under his breath, no one can hear) Perjury…shall I commit perjury?

STIGAND: You said it was the price for your freedom. It is invalid.

HAROLD: And Edgar? He has a blood claim.

STIGAND: He hasn’t yet reached fourteen years!

HAROLD: Then am I to be regent?

RODBERT: A warrior, a warrior chosen by our king to follow him! A king, a king!

STIGAND: We shall see what the witan has to say. And believe me…they have foreseen what has happened…and nothing could please them more. A true Saxon on the throne at last! (Exits, RODBERT, after seeing to the body of EDWARD, follows)

HAROLD: Perjury…I swore. I swore on holy relics. I swore to make him king. King. (Looks down at his hand) Did my king know that this hand…this hand he took…has sworn a lie over holiness? Did he feel the tingle of corrupted flesh that has so desecrated…this flesh that rode and fought with William as if he was a brother? This flesh that swore to fulfill a promise…this hand that will hold a scepter it swore to another man…am I the cause of the stricken tree’s plight? Have I dealt a deathblow to God’s love for England? This hand…(He falters, as if afraid, and battling with his ambition.A long pause) Perjury…God forgive me. God forgive us all.