The Playboy of the Western World | Page 8

he went down at my feet like an empty sack,
and never let a grunt or groan from him at all.
MICHAEL -- [making a sign to Pegeen to fill Christy's glass.] -- And
what way weren't you hanged, mister? Did you bury him then?
CHRISTY -- [considering.] Aye. I buried him then. Wasn't I digging
spuds in the field?
MICHAEL. And the peelers never followed after you the eleven days
that you're out?
CHRISTY -- [shaking his head.] -- Never a one of them, and I walking
forward facing hog, dog, or divil on the highway of the road.
PHILLY -- [nodding wisely.] -- It's only with a common week-day kind
of a murderer them lads would be trusting their carcase, and that man
should be a great terror when his temper's roused.
MICHAEL. He should then. (To Christy.) And where was it, mister
honey, that you did the deed?
CHRISTY -- [looking at him with suspicion.] -- Oh, a distant place,
master of the house, a windy corner of high, distant hills.
PHILLY -- [nodding with approval.] -- He's a close man, and he's right,
surely.
PEGEEN. That'd be a lad with the sense of Solomon to have for a
pot-boy, Michael James, if it's the truth you're seeking one at all.
PHILLY. The peelers is fearing him, and if you'd that lad in the house
there isn't one of them would come smelling around if the dogs itself
were lapping poteen from the dungpit of the yard.
JIMMY. Bravery's a treasure in a lonesome place, and a lad would kill
his father, I'm thinking, would face a foxy divil with a pitchpike on the
flags of hell.
PEGEEN. It's the truth they're saying, and if I'd that lad in the house, I
wouldn't be fearing the loosed kharki cut-throats, or the walking dead.
CHRISTY -- [swelling with surprise and triumph.] -- Well, glory be to

God!
MICHAEL -- [with deference.] -- Would you think well to stop here
and be pot-boy, mister honey, if we gave you good wages, and didn't
destroy you with the weight of work?
SHAWN -- [coming forward uneasily.] -- That'd be a queer kind to
bring into a decent quiet household with the like of Pegeen Mike.
PEGEEN -- [very sharply.] -- Will you whisht? Who's speaking to you?
SHAWN -- [retreating.] A bloody-handed murderer the like of . . .
PEGEEN -- [snapping at him.] -- Whisht I am saying; we'll take no
fooling from your like at all. (To Christy with a honeyed voice.) And
you, young fellow, you'd have a right to stop, I'm thinking, for we'd do
our all and utmost to content your needs.
CHRISTY -- [overcome with wonder.] -- And I'd be safe in this place
from the searching law?
MICHAEL. You would, surely. If they're not fearing you, itself, the
peelers in this place is decent droughty poor fellows, wouldn't touch a
cur dog and not give warning in the dead of night.
PEGEEN -- [very kindly and persuasively.] -- Let you stop a short
while anyhow. Aren't you destroyed walking with your feet in bleeding
blisters, and your whole skin needing washing like a Wicklow sheep.
CHRISTY -- [looking round with satisfaction.] It's a nice room, and if
it's not humbugging me you are, I'm thinking that I'll surely stay.
JIMMY -- [jumps up.] -- Now, by the grace of God, herself will be safe
this night, with a man killed his father holding danger from the door,
and let you come on, Michael James, or they'll have the best stuff drunk
at the wake.
MICHAEL -- [going to the door with men.] And begging your pardon,
mister, what name will we call you, for we'd like to know?
CHRISTY. Christopher Mahon.
MICHAEL. Well, God bless you, Christy, and a good rest till we meet
again when the sun'll be rising to the noon of day.
CHRISTY. God bless you all.
MEN. God bless you. [They go out except Shawn, who lingers at door.]
SHAWN -- [to Pegeen.] -- Are you wanting me to stop along with you
and keep you from harm?
PEGEEN -- [gruffly.] Didn't you say you were fearing Father Reilly?
SHAWN. There'd be no harm staying now, I'm thinking, and himself in

it too.
PEGEEN. You wouldn't stay when there was need for you, and let you
step off nimble this time when there's none.
SHAWN. Didn't I say it was Father Reilly . . .
PEGEEN. Go on, then, to Father Reilly (in a jeering tone), and let him
put you in the holy brotherhoods, and leave that lad to me.
SHAWN. If I meet the Widow Quin . . .
PEGEEN. Go on, I'm saying, and don't be waking this place with your
noise. (She hustles him out and bolts