Duke and the Weaver
“The duke & the weaver” - play by karro moss, december 2019
I wrote, directed, and performed this play for A Winter Feast of Story and Song, a collaborative multimedia variety show and concert for the midwinter Solstice. Our team of artists, musicians, dancers, and poets crafted a cross-cultural weaving and magical masterwork of storytelling held at the Hallowed Halls in Portland, December 2019. Set to live music of Galen Heffernan, Jahnavi Veronica, Maryam Imam Gabriel, Loveness Wesa, and others, the show featured mummery and papier-mâché puppetry led by Moni Sears.
A moving and transportive ceremonial experience was brought to life through folk, jazz, theater, dance, comedic interludes, and more. From the opening altar-making (with gathered seeds, leaves, and windfallen evergreen boughs), to a closing call-and-response song-circle, the event immersed the audience through participation. The show was a fundraiser in the spirit of mutual-aid with the intention of building ecological and cultural resilience (beneficiaries: Parteras Fronterizas, Eloheh Indigenous Learning Center, and the Chinook Nation).
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Rich with imagery from Germanic and Arthurian legends and dramas from Medieval Europe, the play is a dialogue between the Duke, a prideful warrior who fears death, and the Weaver, a mysterious figure with six arms who is shrouded and hunched over a weaver’s loom decorated with feathers and bones.
The Weaver, voiced by multiple speakers, and represented by a puppet head with a eerie skeletal, proto-human face, evokes The Norns or Fates from the Norse or Greek mythos, or perhaps Spider Woman from Native legends from the Southwestern U.S.
The Duke is armed with a sword, dressed in black and golden armor with a dragon-headed crest on the helm and the Ouroborous— a circular serpent devouring its own tail— on his chest. During the encounter between the Duke and Weaver, an enchanted fountain or cauldron appears.
The archetype of The Fool enters briefly to present the Duke with a mirror; upon seeing his own reflection, the Duke breaks down into tears, removes his sword, armor and helmet, and offers them to into the waters. Reaching into the cauldron, the Duke emerges, reborn— wearing a mask, the face of a golden dragon. After his transformation, the Duke dances with the Fool and playfully throughout the audience.
THE DUKE & THE WEAVER
WEAVER: “Welcome.”
The Weaver becomes visible, six hands working at a loom.
DUKE: (startled) “Who’s there?”
WEAVER: “I have many names, but no matter. We meet at last.
I could say I’ve been expecting you, but in truth, I did not know when you’d choose to accept my invitation.”
DUKE: “Do you know to whom you speak? Surely not, for you would not be so careless with your riddles.”
WEAVER: “Forgive me, my Lord. The art of translation may be lost on many tongues.”
DUKE: (brandishes sword angrily) “Where are you? Show yourself!”
WEAVER: “You must let your eyes adjust. You, who have traveled so far across the reaches of time.
Give yourself a moment to become acquainted.”
DUKE: “Where are we? What is this place?”
WEAVER: “Listen...Listen deeply. Can you hear it?”
Sounds of trickling water. The conversation pauses for a moment.
DUKE: “Yes…but that is no answer.”
WEAVER: “You’ll remember, my Lord, that I only ask questions. Now, drink.”
A fountain appears, glowing from within. The Duke approaches cautiously.
DUKE: “What is here? Poison?”
WEAVER: “This is what you came for, is it not?”
DUKE: (fearful) “I…don’t want to die.”
WEAVER: “And yet, you already have. It is time for something new to be born.
Something that requires your sacrifice. What will you offer?”
DUKE: “I have nothing to give.”
WEAVER: (laughing) “Nothing. Yes, The Infinite All! A beautiful gift.
Oh but my Lord, will you give it with joy?”
DUKE: (angry & frustrated) “Enough of this! I will not fall for your tricks. Now show me the way out of this place!”
WEAVER: “Very well. I will guide you forward. But, my Lord, you must drink. It is the only way.”
The Duke hesitates, before drinking from the fountain. His demeanor shifts and he stumbles as if wounded.
He clutches at his chest. Drums begin, distant and slow at first, then rise like a heartbeat.
DUKE: “I...I feel...different.”
WEAVER: “Yes, courage fills your cup. Drink to your victorious surrender.”
DUKE: “I…don’t understand.”
WEAVER: “Understanding is not required. All that is asked is that you trust. Let your cup overflow.”
The Duke drinks again, relieved to have finally quenched his thirst.
WEAVER: “Good. Thank you for your gift. It is the last thread I need to begin.
(Whispers) Breathe in, stardust and spore. Breathe out, endless once more.”
Music rises. Star constellations emerge, dancing across the loom and stage. The Duke looks in wonder around him.
DUKE: “It’s...beautiful! What is happening?”
Drumming grows louder and quickens.
WEAVER: “The pattern is shifting. A Great Remembering is upon us.
I will weave the song. And you... will you dance?”
Lights off. Star constellations play across the stage. Music launches into full before fading into the darkness again.
End scene.
