Deirdre of the Sorrows | Page 6

LAVARCHAM -- very crossly. -- You're great boys taking a welcome
where it isn't given, and asking questions where you've no call to. . . . If
you'd a quiet place settled up to be playing yourself, maybe, with a
gentle queen, what'd you think of young men prying around and
carrying tales? When I was a bit of a girl the big men of Ulster had
better manners, and they the like of your three selves, in the top folly of
youth. That'll be a story to tell out in Tara that Naisi is a tippler and
stealer, and Ainnle the drawer of a stranger's cork.
NAISI -- quite cheerfully, sitting down beside her. -- At your age you
should know there are nights when a king like Conchubor will spit
upon his arm ring, and queens will stick their tongues out at the rising
moon. We're that way this night, and it's not wine we're asking only.
Where is the young girl told us we might shelter here?
LAVARCHAM. Asking me you'd be? We're decent people, and I
wouldn't put you tracking a young girl, not if you gave me the gold
clasp you have hanging on your coat.
NAISI -- giving it to her. -- Where is she?
LAVARCHAM -- in confidential whisper, putting her hand on his arm.
-- Let you walk back into the hills and turn up by the second cnuceen
where there are three together. You'll see a path running on the rocks
and then you'll hear the dogs barking in the houses, and their noise will
guide you till you come to a bit of cabin at the foot of an ash-tree. It's
there there is a young and flighty girl that I'm thinking is the one you've
seen.
NAISI -- hilariously. -- Here's health, then, to herself and you!
ARDAN. Here's to the years when you were young as she!
AINNLE -- in a frightened whisper. -- Naisi!

[Naisi looks up and Ainnle beckons to him. He goes over and Ainnle
points to something on the golden mug he holds in his hand.
NAISI -- looking at it in astonishment. -- This is the High King's. . . . I
see his mark on the rim. Does Conchubor come lodging here?
LAVARCHAM -- jumping up with extreme annoyance. -- Who says
it's Conchubor's? How dare young fools the like of you -- (speaking
with vehement insolence) come prying around, running the world into
troubles for some slip of a girl? What brings you this place straying
from Emain? (Very bitterly.) Though you think, maybe, young men can
do their fill of foolery and there is none to blame them.
NAISI -- very soberly. -- Is the rain easing?
ARDAN. The clouds are breaking. . . . I can see Orion in the gap of the
glen.
NAISI -- still cheerfully. -- Open the door and we'll go forward to the
little cabin between the ash-tree and the rocks. Lift the bolt and pull it.
[Deirdre comes in on left royally dressed and very beautiful. She stands
for a moment, and then as the door opens she calls softly.
DEIRDRE. Naisi! Do not leave me, Naisi. I am Deirdre of the Sorrows.
NAISI -- transfixed with amazement. -- And it is you who go around in
the woods making the thrushes bear a grudge against the heavens for
the sweetness of your voice singing.
DEIRDRE. It is with me you've spoken, surely. (To Lavarcham and
Old Woman.) Take Ainnle and Ardan, these two princes, into the little
hut where we eat, and serve them with what is best and sweetest. I have
many thing for Naisi only.
LAVARCHAM -- overawed by her tone. -- I will do it, and I ask their
pardon. I have fooled them here.
DEIRDRE -- to Ainnle and Ardan. -- Do not take it badly that I am

asking you to walk into our hut for a little. You will have a supper that
is cooked by the cook of Conchubor, and Lavarcham will tell you
stories of Maeve and Nessa and Rogh.
AINNLE. We'll ask Lavarcham to tell us stories of yourself, and with
that we'll be well pleased to be doing your wish.
[They all go out except Deirdre and Naisi.
DEIRDRE -- sitting in the high chair in the centre. -- Come to this
stool, Naisi (pointing to the stool). If it's low itself the High King would
sooner be on it this night than on the throne of Emain Macha.
NAISI -- sitting down. -- You are Fedlimid's daughter that Conchubor
has walled up from all the men of Ulster.
DEIRDRE. Do many know what is foretold, that Deirdre will be the
ruin of the Sons of Usna, and have a little grave by herself,