The door opens and Colm comes in. He is a lad of twenty.

The Singer

CHARACTERS

MacDARA, the Singer

COLM, his Brother

MAIRE NI FHIANNACHTA, Mother of MacDara

SIGHLE

MAOILSHEACHLAINN, a Schoolmaster

CUIMIN EANNA

DIARMAID OF THE BRIDGE

The wide, clean kitchen of a country house. To the left a door, which when open, shows a wild country with a background of lonely hills; to the right a fireplace, beside which another door leads to a room. A candle burns on the table.

Maire ni Fhiannachta, a sad, grey-haired woman, is spinning wool near the fire. Sighle, a young girl, crouches in the ingle nook, carding. She is bare-footed.

MAIRE.

Mend the fire, Sighle, jewel.

SIGHLE.

Are you cold?

MAIRE.

The feet of me are cold.

SIGHLE rises and mends the fire, putting on more turf; then she sits down again and resumes her carding.

SIGHLE.

You had a right to go to bed.

MAIRE.

I couldn't have slept, child. I had a feeling that something was drawing near to us. That something or somebody was coming here. All day yesterday I heard footsteps abroad on the street.

SIGHLE.

'Twas the dry leaves. The quicken trees in the gap were losing their leaves in the high wind.

MAIRE.

Maybe so. Did you think that Colm looked anxious in himself last night when he was going out?

SIGHLE.

I may as well quench that candle. The dawn has whitened.

She rises and quenches the candle; then resumes her place.

MAIRE.

Did you think, daughter, that Colm looked anxious and sorrowful in himself when he was going out?

SIGHLE.

I did.

MAIRE.

Was he saying anything to you?

SIGHLE.

He was. [(They work silently for a few minutes then Sighle stops and speaks.)] Maire ni Fhiannachta, I think I ought to tell you what your son said to me. I have been going over and over it in my mind all the long hours of the night. It is not right for the two of us to be sitting at this fire with a secret like that coming between us. Will I tell you what Colm said to me?

MAIRE.

You may tell me if you like, Sighle girl.

SIGHLE.

He said to me that he was very fond of me.

MAIRE

Who has stopped spinning).

Yes, daughter?

SIGHLE.

And . . . and he asked me if he came safe out of the trouble, would I marry him.

MAIRE.

What did you say to him?

SIGHLE.

I told him that I could not give him any answer.

MAIRE.

Did he ask you why you could not give him an answer?

SIGHLE.

He did; and I didn't know what to tell him.

MAIRE.

Can you tell me?

SIGHLE.

Do you remember the day I first came to your house, Maire?

MAIRE.

I do well.

SIGHLE.

Do you remember how lonely I was?

MAIRE.

I do, you creature. Didn't I cry myself when the priest brought you in to me? And you caught hold of my skirt and wouldn't let it go, but cried till I thought your heart would break. `They've put my mammie in the ground', you kept saying. `She was asleep, and they put her in the ground.'

SIGHLE.

And you went down on your knees beside me and put your two arms around me, and put your cheek against my cheek and said nothing but `God comfort you; God comfort you.' And when I stopped crying a little, you brought me over to the fire. Your two sons were at the fire, Maire. Colm was in the ingle where I am now; MacDara was sitting where you are. MacDara stooped down and lifted me on to his knee --- I was only a wee shy child. He stroked my hair. Then he began singing a little song to me, a little song that had sad words in it, but that had joy in the heart of it, and in the beat of it; and the words and the music grew very caressing and soothing like, . . . like my mother's hand when it was on my cheek, or my mother's kiss on my mouth when I'd be half asleep ---

MAIRE.

Yes, daughter?

SIGHLE.

And it soothed me, and soothed me; and I began to think that I was at home again, and I fell asleep in MacDara's arms --- oh, the strong, strong arms of him, with his soft voice soothing me --- when I woke up long after that I was still in his arms

with my head on his shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He smiled at me and said, `That was a good, long sleep.' I . . . put up my face to him to be kissed, and he bent down his head and kissed me. He was so gentle, so gentle. [(Maire cries silently.)] I had no right to tell you all this. God forgive me for bringing those tears to you, Maire ni Fhiannachta.

MAIRE.

Whist, girl. You had a right to tell me. Go on, jewel . . . my boy, my poor boy!

SIGHLE.

I was only a wee shy child ---

MAIRE.

Eight years you were, no more, the day the priest brought you into the house.

SIGHLE.

How old was MacDara?

MAIRE.

He was turned fifteen. Fifteen he was on St. MacDara's day, the year your mother died.

SIGHLE.

This house was as dear to me nearly as my mother's house from that day. You were good to me, Maire ni Fhiannachta, and your two boys were good to me, but ---

MAIRE.

Yes, daughter.

SIGHLE.

MacDara was like sun and moon to me, like dew and rain to me, like strength

and sweetness to me. I don't know did he know I was so fond of him. I think he did, because ---

MAIRE.

He did know, child.

SIGHLE.

How do you know that he knew? Did he tell you? Did you know?

MAIRE.

I am his mother. Don't I know every fibre of his body? Don't I know every thought of his mind? He never told me; but well I knew.

SIGHLE.

He put me into his songs. That is what made me think he knew. My name was in many a song that he made. Often when I was at the fosaidheacht he would come up into the green mám to me, with a little song that he had made. It was happy for us in the green mám that time.

MAIRE.

It was happy for us all when MacDara was here.

SIGHLE.

The heart in the breast of me nearly broke when they banished him from us.

MAIRE.

I knew it well.

SIGHLE.

I used to lie awake in the night with his songs going through my brain, and the music of his voice. I used to call his name up in the green mám. At Mass his

face used to come between me and the white Host.

MAIRE.

We have both been lonely for him. The house has been lonely for him.

SIGHLE.

Colm never knew I was so fond of MacDara. When MacDara went away Colm was kinder to me than ever, but, indeed, he was always kind.

MAIRE.

Colm is a kind boy.

SIGHLE.

It was not till yesterday he told me he was fond of me; I never thought it, I liked him well, but I never thought there would be word of marriage between us. I don't think he would have spoken if it was not for the trouble coming. He says it will be soon now.

MAIRE.

It will be very soon.

SIGHLE.

I shiver when I think of them all going out to fight. They will go out laughing: I see them with their cheeks flushed and their red lips apart. And then they will lie very still on the hillside, so still and white, with no red in their cheeks, but maybe a red wound in their white breasts, or on their white foreheads. Colm's hair will be dabbled with blood.

MAIRE.

Whist, daughter. That is no talk for one that was reared in this house. I am his mother, and I do not grudge him.

SIGHLE.

Forgive me, you have known more sorrow than I, and I think only of my own sorrow. [(She rises and kisses Maire.)] I am proud other times to think of so many young men, young men with straight, strong limbs, and smooth, white flesh, going out into great peril because a voice has called to them to right the wrong of the people. Oh, I would like to see the man that has set their hearts on fire with the breath of his voice! They say that he is very young. They say that he is one of ourselves --- a mountainy man that speaks our speech, and has known hunger and sorrow.

MAIRE.

The strength and the sweetness he has come, maybe, out of his sorrow.

SIGHLE.

I heard Diarmaid of the Bridge say that he was at the fair of Uachtar Ard yesterday. There were hundreds in the streets striving to see him.

MAIRE.

I wonder would he be coming here into Cois-Fhairrge, or is it into the Joyce country he would go? I don't know but it's his coming I felt all day yesterday, and all night. I thought, maybe, it might be ---

SIGHLE.

Who did you think it might be?

MAIRE.

I thought it might be my son was coming to me.

SIGHLE.

Is it MacDara?

MAIRE.

Yes, MacDara.

SIGHLE.

Do you think would he come back to be with the boys in the trouble?

MAIRE.

He would.

SIGHLE.

Would he be left back now?

MAIRE.

Who would let or stay him and he homing like a homing bird? Death only; God between us and harm!

SIGHLE.

Amen.

MAIRE.

There is Colm in to us.

SIGHLE

(looking out of the window)

Aye, he's on the street.

MAIRE.

Poor Colm!

The door opens and Colm comes in. He is a lad of twenty.

COLM.

Did you not go to bed, mother?

MAIRE.

I did not, Colm. I was too uneasy to sleep. Sighle kept me company all night.

COLM.

It's a pity of the two of you to be up like this.

MAIRE.

We would be more lonesome in bed than here chatting. Had you many boys at the drill to-night?

COLM.

We had, then. There were ten and three score.

MAIRE.

When will the trouble be, Colm?

COLM.

It will be to-morrow, or after to-morrow; or maybe sooner. There's a man expected from Galway with the word.

MAIRE.

Is it the mountains you'll take to, or to march to Uachtar Ard or to Galway?

COLM.

It's to march we'll do, I'm thinking. Diarmaid of the Bridge and Cuimin Eanna and the master will be into us shortly. We have some plans to make and the master wants to write some orders.

MAIRE.

Is it you will be their captain?

COLM.

It is, unless a better man comes in my place.

MAIRE.

What better man would come?

COLM.

There is talk of the Singer coming. He was at the fair of Uachtar Ard yesterday.

MAIRE.

Let you put on the kettle, Sighle, and ready the room. The master will be asking a cup of tea. Will you lie down for an hour, Colm?

COLM.

I will not. They will be in on us now.

MAIRE.

Let you make haste, Sighle. Ready the room. Here, give me the kettle.

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 681