Heroes come upon the green bearing the body of Giolla na Naomh on a bier; there

Are women keening it. The bier is laid in the centre of the green.

THE KING.

He has brought me back my sword. He has guarded my banner well.

THE ABBOT.

(lifting the sword from the bier)

Take the sword.

THE KING.

No, I will let him keep it. A King should sleep with a sword. This was a very valiant King. [(He takes the sword from the Abbot and lays it again upon the bier. He kneels.)] I do homage to thee, O dead King, O victorious child! I kiss thee, O white body, since it is thy purity that hath redeemed my people. [(He kisses the forehead of Giolla na Naomh. They commence to keen again.)]

THE ABBOT.

Do not keen this child, for he hath purchased freedom for his people. Let shouts of exultation be raised and let a canticle be sung in praise of God.

The body is borne into the monastery with a Te Deum.

THE SCENE CLOSES.

The Master

CHARACTERS

CIARAN, the Master

Pupils: IOLLANN BEAG

ART

BREASAL

MAINE

RONAN

CEALLACH

DAIRE, the King

MESSENGER

THE ARCHANGEL MICHAEL

A little cloister in a woodland. The subdued sunlight of a forest place comes through the arches. On the left, one arch gives a longer vista where the forest opens and the sun shines upon a far hill. In the centre of the cloister two or three steps lead to an inner place, as it were a little chapel or cell. Art, Breasal, and Maine are busy with a game of jackstones about the steps. They play silently. Ronan enters from the left.

RONAN.

Where is the Master?

ART.

He has not left his cell yet.

RONAN.

He is late. Who is with him, Art?

ART.

I was with him till a while ago. When he had finished his thanksgiving he told me he had one other little prayer to say which he could not leave over. He said it was for a soul that was in danger. I left him on his knees and came out into the sunshine.

MAINE.

Aye, you knew that Breasal and I were here with the jackstones.

BREASAL.

I served his Mass yesterday, and he stayed praying so long after it that I fell asleep. I did not stir till he laid his hand upon my shoulder. Then I started up and said I, `Is that you, little mother?' He laughed and said he, `No, Breasal, it's no one so good as your mother.'

RONAN.

He is merry and gentle this while back, although he prays and fasts longer than he used to. Little Iollann says he tells him the merriest stories.

BREASAL.

He is fond of little Iollann.

MAINE.

Aye; when Iollann is late, or when he is inattentive, the Master pretends not to notice it.

BREASAL.

Well, Iollann is only a little lad.

MAINE.

He is more like a little maid, with his fair cheek that reddens when the Master speaks to him.

ART.

Faith, you wouldn't call him a little maid when you'd see him strip to swim a river.

RONAN.

Or when you'd see him spring up to meet the ball in a hurley match.

MAINE.

He has, certainly, many accomplishments.

BREASAL.

He has a high, manly heart.

MAINE.

He has a beautiful white body, and, therefore, you all love him; aye, the Master and all. We have no woman here and so we make love to our little Iollann.

RONAN.

(laughing)

Why, I thrashed him ere-yesterday for putting magories down my neck!

MAINE.

Men sometimes thrash their women, Ronan. It is one of the ways of loving.

ART.

Maine, you have been listening to some satirist making satires. There was once a Maine that was called Maine Honey-mouth. You will be called Maine Bitter-Tongue.

MAINE.

Well, I've won this game of jackstones. Will you play another?

CEALLACH.

(enters hastily)

Lads, do you know what I have seen?

ART.

What is it, Ceallach?

CEALLACH.

A host of horsemen riding through the dark of the wood. A grim host, with spears.

MAINE.

The King goes hunting.

CEALLACH.

My grief for the noble deer that the King hunts!

BREASAL.

What deer is that?

CEALLACH.

Our Master, Ciaran.

RONAN.

I heard one of the captains say that the cell was to be surrounded.

ART.

But why does the King come against Ciaran?

CEALLACH.

It is the Druids that have incited him. They say that Ciaran is over-turning the ancient law of the people.

MAINE.

The King has ordered him to leave the country.

BREASAL.

Aye, there was a King's Messenger here the other day who spoke long to the Master.

ART.

It is since then that the Master has been praying so long every day.

RONAN.

Is he afraid that the King will kill him?

ART.

No, it is for a soul that is in danger that he prays. Is it the King's soul that is in danger?

MAINE.

Hush, the Master is coming.

CIARAN.

(comes out from the inner place; pupils rise)

Are all here?

BREASAL.

Iollann Beag has not come yet.

CIARAN.

Not yet?

CEALLACH.

Master, the King's horsemen are in the wood.

CIARAN.

I hope no evil has chanced to little Iollann.

MAINE.

What evil could chance to him?

CEALLACH.

Master, the King is seeking you in the wood.

CIARAN.

Does he not know where my cell is?

BREASAL.

The King has been stirred up against you, Master, rise and fly before the horsemen surround the cell.

CIARAN.

No, if the King seeks me he will find me here . . . I wish little Iollann were come. [(The voice of Iollann Beag is heard singing. All listen.)] That is his voice.

ART.

He always comes singing.

MAINE.

Aye, he sings profane songs in the very church porch.

RONAN.

Which is as bad as if one were to play with jackstones on the church steps.

CIARAN.

I am glad little Iollann has come safe.

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 498