Authors: Owen Sheers
And then we were alone.
No one said anything. They just came forward and did what they had to. Both his brothers, Sergeant Phillips, Alfie, the Legion Twins. Hoisting two white sails up and over the cross they wound them round his chest as Sergeant Phillips and Rhys hammered out the nails from his hands and feet. Then they lowered him, lowered him like a flag, his body loose and heavy, into the lap of his mother.
For a moment she held him there, her son who’d forgotten her, then known her better than ever. As Joanne and Simon brought a shroud to cover him she sang, just as if she was singing him to sleep as a baby.
‘So sleep on now, come take your rest
The hour is soon to come.
Behold us now, for it is night
We’ll rise again at dawn.
And sleep.
And sleep.
And sleep.’
As she came to the end of her song Joanne began to pull back the shroud. She was right, we all wanted to see him one last time. His mam nodded, lifting her hand to stroke his hair. But when the shroud dropped away, he wasn’t there.
He’d gone. And in his place were flowers. Like someone had planted a spring meadow inside him and now, with his death, it had taken bloom. Joanne kept pulling back the shroud, and they kept falling out, a waterfall of flowers, as fresh as if just picked.
We all must have been staring at those flowers because the first I knew of Uncle Bryn standing up on the platform was when he hit his staff against it.
‘Bang,’ it went, and we all looked up to see him standing there, his big puppet-master’s hood half over his face.
He hit the platform twice more, quick and sharp.
‘Bang, bang.’ And then he spoke, loud and booming, as if calling to someone on the mountain.
‘It is finished!’
Ever the showman he followed his voice with a big sweeping bow, so when he stood up again that hood came falling off his head onto his shoulders.
And there he was, I swear. The Teacher. Bold as brass.
He looked over us all staring up at him, and then he spoke to us.
‘It has begun!’ he said.
And then he was gone.
So that’s what happened. And that’s how it happened. Here, to us. Someone else will probably tell you different but like I said, I know what I saw and I know what I remember. And I know he was here and then he wasn’t. And I know how we are now, well, it’s different to how we were before. And if it wasn’t for the Teacher then that wouldn’t be the case.
Believe me.
The Gospel of Us
was first commissioned and published as a limited edition of 1000 by NTW as part of its thirteenth production:
The Passion,
April 2011, Port Talbot. Many thanks to Lucy for speed-reading the first draft, Adele Thomas for all her work on the ground, Weird Naked Indian for providing the anthem for the performance
Home is Where the Heart is
, Taibach Rugby Club, the Naval Social Club, the cast and crew of
The Passion
and all the people of Port Talbot.
Weird Naked Indian,
Home is Where the Heart is
http://nationaltheatrewales.org/sites/default/files/HomeIsWhereTheHeartIs.m4a
www.port-talbot.com
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© Owen Sheers 2012
www.owensheers.co.uk
ISBN 978–1–85411–645–1
The right of Owen Sheers to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
A CIP record for this title is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted at any time or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright holder.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and incidents portrayed are the work of the author’s imagination. Any other resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Front cover design: Dave McKean www.mckean-art.co.uk
Back cover photograph: Owen Sheers www.owensheers.co.uk
Inner design and typesetting by [email protected]
The Gospel of Us
was first commissioned and published by National Theatre Wales as part of its production of The Passion, produced with Wildworks in Port Talbot in April 2011.
The publisher acknowledges the financial support of the Welsh Books Council.