Deirdre of the Sorrows Part 8

DEIRDRE. Do not leave me, Naisi. Do not leave me broken and alone.

NAISI. I cannot leave my brothers when it is I who have defied the king.

DEIRDRE. I will go with you.

NAISI. You cannot come. Do not hold me from the fight.

[He throws her aside almost roughly.

DEIRDRE -- with restraint. -- Go to your brothers. For seven years you have been kindly, but the hardness of death has come between us.

NAISI -- looking at her aghast. -- And you'll have me meet death with a hard word from your lips in my ear?

DEIRDRE. We've had a dream, but this night has waked us surely. In a little while we've lived too long, Naisi, and isn't it a poor thing we should miss the safety of the grave, and we trampling its edge?

AINNLE -- behind. -- Naisi, Naisi, we are attacked and ruined!

DEIRDRE. Let you go where they are calling. (She looks at him for an instant coldly.) Have you no shame loitering and

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talking, and a cruel death facing Ainnle and Ardan in the woods?

NAISI -- frantic. -- They'll not get a death that's cruel, and they with men alone. It's women that have loved are cruel only; and if I went on living from this day I'd be putting a curse on the lot of them I'd meet walking in the east or west, putting a curse on the sun that gave them beauty, and on the madder and the stone-crop put red upon their cloaks.

DEIRDRE -- bitterly. -- I'm well pleased there's no one in this place to make a story that Naisi was a laughing-stock the night he died.

NAISI. There'd not be many'd make a story, for that mockery is in your eyes this night will spot the face of Emain with a plague of pitted graves. [He goes out.

CONCHUBOR -- outside. -- That is Naisi.

Strike him! (Tumult. Deirdre crouches down on Naisi's cloak. Conchubor comes in hurriedly.) They've met their death -- the three that stole you, Deirdre, and from this out you'll be my queen in Emain.

[A keen of men's voices is heard behind.

DEIRDRE -- bewildered and terrified. -- It is not I will be a queen.

CONCHUBOR. Make your lamentation a short while if you will, but it isn't long till

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a day'll come when you begin pitying a man is old and desolate, and High King also. . . .

Let you not fear me, for it's I'm well pleased you have a store of pity for the three that were your friends in Alban.

DEIRDRE. I have pity, surely. . . . It's the way pity has me this night, when I think of Naisi, that I could set my teeth into the heart of a king.

CONCHUBOR. I know well pity's cruel, when it was my pity for my own self destroyed Naisi.

DEIRDRE -- more wildly. -- It was my words without pity gave Naisi a death will have no match until the ends of life and time.

(Breaking out into a keen.) But who'll pity Deirdre has lost the lips of Naisi from her neck and from her cheek for ever? Who'll pity Deirdre has lost the twilight in the woods with Naisi, when beech-trees were silver and copper, and ash-trees were fine gold?

CONCHUBOR -- bewildered. -- It's I'll know the way to pity and care you, and I with a share of troubles has me thinking this night it would be a good bargain if it was I was in the grave, and Deirdre crying over me, and it was Naisi who was old and desolate.

[Keen heard.

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DEIRDRE -- wild with sorrow. -- It is I who am desolate; I, Deirdre, that will not live till I am old.

CONCHUBOR. It's not long you'll be desolate, and I seven years saying, "It's a bright day for Deirdre in the woods of Alban"; or saying again, "What way will Deirdre be sleeping this night, and wet leaves and branches driving from the north?" Let you not break the thing I've set my life on, and you giving yourself up to your sorrow when it's joy and sorrow do burn out like straw blazing in an east wind.

DEIRDRE -- turning on him. -- Was it that way with your sorrow, when I and Naisi went northward from Slieve Fuadh and let raise our sails for Alban?

CONCHUBOR. There's one sorrow has no end surely -- that's being old and lone- some. (With extraordinary pleading.) But you and I will have a little peace in Emain, with harps playing, and old men telling stories at the fall of night. I've let build rooms for our two selves, Deirdre, with red gold upon the walls and ceilings that are set with bronze. There was never a queen in the east had a house the like of your house, that's wait- ing for yourself in Emain.

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SOLDIER -- running in. -- Emain is in flames. Fergus has come back and is setting fire to the world. Come up, Conchubor, or your state will be destroyed!

CONCHUBOR -- angry and regal again.

-- Are the Sons of Usna buried?

SOLDIER. They are in their grave, but no earth is thrown.

CONCHUBOR. Let me see them. Open the tent! (Soldier opens back of tent and shows grave.) Where are my fighters?

SOLDIER. They are gone to Emain.

CONCHUBOR -- to Deirdre. -- There are none to harm you. Stay here until I come again.

[Goes out with Soldier. Deirdre looks round for a moment, then goes up slow- ly and looks into grave. She crouches down and begins swaying herself backwards and forwards, keening soft- ly. At first her words are not heard, then they become clear.

DEIRDRE. It's you three will not see age or death coming -- you that were my com- pany when the fires on the hill-tops were put out and the stars were our friends only. I'll turn my thoughts back from this night, that's

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pitiful for want of pity, to the time it was your rods and cloaks made a little tent for me where there'd be a birch tree making shelter and a dry stone; though from this day my own fingers will be making a tent for me, spreading out my hairs and they knotted with the rain.

[Lavarcham and Old Woman come in stealthily on right.

DEIRDRE -- not seeing them. -- It is I, Deirdre, will be crouching in a dark place; I, Deirdre, that was young with Naisi, and brought sorrow to his grave in Emain.

OLD WOMAN. Is that Deirdre broken down that was so light and airy?

LAVARCHAM. It is, surely, crying out over their grave. [She goes to Deirdre.

DEIRDRE. It will be my share from this out to be making lamentation on his stone always, and I crying for a love will be the like of a star shining on a little harbour by the sea.

LAVARCHAM -- coming forward. -- Let you rise up, Deirdre, and come off while there are none to heed us, the way I'll find you shelter and some friend to guard you.

DEIRDRE. To what place would I go away from Naisi? What are the woods with- out Naisi or the sea sh.o.r.e?

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LAVARCHAM -- very coaxingly. -- If it is that way you'd be, come till I find you a sunny place where you'll be a great wonder they'll call the queen of sorrows; and you'll begin taking a pride to be sitting up pausing and dreaming when the summer comes.

DEIRDRE. It was the voice of Naisi that was strong in summer -- the voice of Naisi that was sweeter than pipes playing, but from this day will be dumb always.

LAVARCHAM -- to Old Woman. -- She doesn't heed us at all. We'll be hard set to rouse her.

OLD WOMAN. If we don't the High King will rouse her, coming down beside her with the rage of battle in his blood, for how could Fergus stand against him?

LAVARCHAM -- touching Deirdre with her hand. -- There's a score of woman's years in store for you, and you'd best choose will you start living them beside the man you hate, or being your own mistress in the west or south?

DEIRDRE. It is not I will go on living after Ainnle and after Ardan. After Naisi I will not have a lifetime in the world.

OLD WOMAN -- with excitement. -- Look, Lavarcham! There's a light leaving the Red

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Branch. Conchubor and his lot will be com- ing quickly with a torch of bog-deal for her marriage, throwing a light on her three com- rades.

DEIRDRE -- startled. -- Let us throw down clay on my three comrades. Let us cover up Naisi along with Ainnle and Ardan, they that were the pride of Emain. (Throwing in clay.) There is Naisi was the best of three, the choicest of the choice of many. It was a clean death was your share, Naisi; and it is not I will quit your head, when it's many a dark night among the snipe and plover that you and I were whispering together. It is not I will quit your head, Naisi, when it's many a night we saw the stars among the clear trees of Glen da Ruadh, or the moon pausing to rest her on the edges of the hills.

OLD WOMAN. Conchubor is coming, surely. I see the glare of flames throwing a light upon his cloak.

LAVARCHAM -- eagerly. -- Rise up, Deirdre, and come to Fergus, or be the High King's slave for ever!

DEIRDRE -- imperiously. -- I will not leave Naisi, who has left the whole world scorched and desolate. I will not go away when there is no light in the heavens, and no

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flower in the earth under them, but is saying to me that it is Naisi who is gone for ever.

CONCHUBOR -- behind. -- She is here.

Stay a little back. (Lavarcham and Old Woman go into the shadow on left as Con- chubor comes in. With excitement, to Deirdre.) Come forward and leave Naisi the way I've left charred timber and a smell of burning in Emain Macha, and a heap of rub- bish in the storehouse of many crowns.

DEIRDRE -- more awake to what is round her. -- What are crowns and Emain Macha, when the head that gave them glory is this place, Conchubor, and it stretched upon the gravel will be my bed to-night?

CONCHUBOR. Make an end of talk of Naisi, for I've come to bring you to Dundeal- gan since Emain is destroyed.

[Conchubor makes a movement towards her.

DEIRDRE -- with a tone that stops him. -- Draw a little back from Naisi, who is young for ever. Draw a little back from the white bodies I am putting under a mound of clay and gra.s.ses that are withered -- a mound will have a nook for my own self when the end is come.

CONCHUBOR -- roughly. -- Let you rise