THE KING’S THRESHOLD

LIST OF CHARACTERS

A PROLOGUE.[1]

An Old Man with a red dressing-gown, red slippers and red nightcap, holding a brass candlestick with a guttering candle in it, comes on from side of stage and goes in front of the dull green curtain.

I’ve got to speak the prologue. [He shuffles on a few steps.] My nephew, who is one of the play actors, came to me, and I in my bed, and my prayers said, and the candle put out, and he told me there were so many characters in this new play, that all the company were in it, whether they had been long or short at the business, and that there wasn’t one left to speak the prologue. Wait a bit, there’s a draught here. [He pulls the curtain closer together.] That’s better. And that’s why I’m here, and maybe I’m a fool for my pains.

And my nephew said, there are a good many plays to be played for you, some to-night and some on other nights through the winter, and the most of them are simple enough, and tell out their story to the end. But as to the big play you are to see to-night, my nephew taught me to say what the poet had taught him to say about it. [Puts down candlestick and puts right finger on left thumb.] First, he who told the story of Seanchan on King Guaire’s threshold long ago in the old books told it wrongly, for he was a friend of the king, or maybe afraid of the king, and so he put the king in the right. But he that tells the story now, being a poet, has put the poet in the right.

And then [touches other finger] I am to say: Some think it would be a finer tale if Seanchan had died at the end of it, and the king had the guilt at his door, for that might have served the poet’s cause better in the end. But that is not true, for if he that is in the story but a shadow and an image of poetry had not risen up from the death that threatened him, the ending would not have been true and joyful enough to be put into the voices of players and proclaimed in the mouths of trumpets, and poetry would have been badly served.

[He takes up the candlestick again.

And as to what happened Seanchan after, my nephew told me he didn’t know, and the poet didn’t know, and it’s likely there’s nobody that knows. But my nephew thinks he never sat down at the king’s table again, after the way he had been treated, but that he went to some quiet green place in the hills with Fedelm, his sweetheart, where the poor people made much of him because he was wise, and where he made songs and poems, and it’s likely enough he made some of the old songs and the old poems the poor people on the hillsides are saying and singing to-day.

[A trumpet-blast.

Well, it’s time for me to be going. That trumpet means that the curtain is going to rise, and after a while the stage there will be filled up with great ladies and great gentlemen, and poets, and a king with a crown on him, and all of them as high up in themselves with the pride of their youth and their strength and their fine clothes as if there was no such thing in the world as cold in the shoulders, and speckled shins, and the pains in the bones and the stiffness in the joints that make an old man that has the whole load of the world on him ready for his bed.

[He begins to shuffle away, and then stops.

And it would be better for me, that nephew of mine to be thinking less of his play-acting, and to have remembered to boil down the knap-weed with a bit of three-penny sugar, for me to be wetting my throat with now and again through the night, and drinking a sup to ease the pains in my bones.

[He goes out at side of stage.

THE KING’S THRESHOLD.

Scene: Steps before the Palace of King Guaire at Gort. A table in front of steps to right with food on it. Seanchan lying on steps to left. Pupils before steps. King on top of steps at centre.

[He goes out. The Pupils, who have been standing perfectly quiet, all turn towards Seanchan, and move a step nearer.

[Seanchan turns half round leaning on his elbow, and speaks as if in a dream.

[Seanchan is now sitting up. He still looks dreamily in front of him.

[Three men come in. Cian and Brian, old men carrying basket with food, and Mayor of Kinvara. They stand at the side listening.

[He lifts the Boy up.

[They lay the harps and trumpets down one by one and then go out very solemnly and slowly, following one another.

[He sits down on steps. Seanchan is silent.

[Goes over to table at right. While he is speaking Cian and Brian are in vain offering Seanchan food.

[Pouring wine into cup.

[Brian brings wine over towards Seanchan.

[He offers cup again. The King’s Household comes in. Chamberlain with long staff, a Soldier, a Monk, two Ladies, followed by Cripples who beg from the ladies, who keep close together at right, talking to each other at intervals. Soldier goes over to Mayor, and talks to him.

[A pause.

[Plucking sleeve of Mayor.

[Mayor and Servants have gone out.

[Cripple goes over and stands in front of Seanchan, bowing and smiling.

[Seanchan has been dragged some feet, clinging to the Monk’s habit.

[The Monk plucks his habit away. Seanchan holds up his hand as if a bird perched upon it. He pretends to stroke the bird.

[The two young Princesses Buan and Finnhua come in. While he has been speaking Aileen and Essa have shrunk back holding each others hands.

[He has taken up dish and cup.

[Princess Buan holds out her hand for Seanchan to kiss it; he does not move.

[Seanchan takes the cup in one hand, in the other he holds for a moment the hand of the Princess.

[The Princesses have shrunk back in terror.

[He flings the wine in their faces.

[They go out to L., all except the Cripples. Seanchan is staggering in the middle of the stage.

[Clutching other Cripple.

[He points to food.

[They go out.

[He sinks down on steps.

Enter from R. Fedelm, Cian and Brian.

[They go out leaving Fedelm and Seanchan alone. Fedelm runs over to Seanchan and kneels down before him.

[He remains looking into the sky.

[Seanchan looks at her dreamily at first, then takes her hand.

[Fedelm, troubled, has covered her eyes with her hands.

[She helps him to rise. He walks slowly, supported by her till he comes to the table at R.

[He sinks on to the seat.

[He takes bread from Fedelm, hesitates, and then thrusts it back into her hand.

[Fedelm has sunk down on the ground while he says this, and crouches at his feet.

[He kisses her.

[Seanchan pushes bread away with Fedelm’s hand.

[He goes up steps.

[Princesses, Ladies, and Courtiers have come in with Pupils, who have halters round their necks.

[All the Pupils turn towards the King, holding out the ends of their halters.

[The King comes slowly down the steps.

[All kneel except Seanchan, Fedelm and Pupils. Seanchan rises slowly, supported by one of the Pupils and by Fedelm.

[He lays the crown on the King’s head.

[Some of the Pupils blow a blast upon their horns.

Curtain.

[1] Written for the first production of “The King’s Threshold” in Dublin, but not used, as, owing to the smallness of the company, nobody could be spared to speak it.

ON BAILE’S STRAND.

Scene: A great hall by the sea close to Dundalgan. There are two great chairs on either side of the hall, each raised a little from the ground, and on the back of the one chair is carved and painted a woman with a fish’s tail, and on the back of the other a hound. There are smaller chairs and benches raised in tiers round the walls. There is a great ale vat at one side near a small door, and a large door at the back through which one can see the sea. Barach, a tall thin man with long ragged hair, dressed in skins, comes in at the side door. He is leading Fintain, a fat blind man, who is somewhat older.

I will shut the door, for this wind out of the sea gets into my bones, and if I leave but an inch for the wind there is one like a flake of sea-frost that might come into the house.

What is his name, fool?

It’s a woman from among the Riders of the Sidhe. It’s Boann herself from the river. She has left the Dagda’s bed, and gone through the salt of the sea and up here to the strand of Baile, and all for love of me. Let her keep her husband’s bed, for she’ll have none of me. Nobody knows how lecherous these goddesses are. I see her in every kind of shape but oftener than not she’s in the wind and cries “give a kiss and put your arms about me.” But no, she’ll have no more of me. Yesterday when I put out my lips to kiss her, there was nothing there but the wind. She’s bad, Fintain. O, she’s bad. I had better shut the big door too.

[He is going towards the big door but turns hearing Fintain’s voice.

[Who has been feeling about with his stick.] What’s this and this?

They are chairs.

And this?

Why, that’s a bench.

And this?

A big chair.

[Feeling the back of the chair.] There is a sea-woman carved upon it.

And there is another big chair on the other side of the hall.

Lead me to it. [He mutters while the fool is leading him.] That is what the High King Concobar has on his shield. The High King will be coming. They have brought out his chair. [He begins feeling the back of the other chair.] And there is a dog’s head on this. They have brought out our master’s chair. Now I know what the horse-boys were talking about. We must not stay here. The Kings are going to meet here. Now that Concobar and our master, that is his chief man, have put down all the enemies of Ullad, they are going to build up Emain again. They are going to talk over their plans for building it. Were you ever in Concobar’s town before it was burnt? O, he is a great King, for though Emain was burnt down, every war had made him richer. He has gold and silver dishes, and chessboards and candlesticks made of precious stones. Fool, have they taken the top from the ale vat?

They have.

Then bring me a horn of ale quickly, for the Kings will be here in a minute. Now I can listen. Tell me what you saw this morning?

About the young man and the fighting?

Yes.

And after that we can go and eat the fowl, for I am hungry.

Time enough, time enough. You’re in as great a hurry as when you brought me to Aine’s Seat, where the mad dogs gather when the moon’s at the full. Go on with your story.

I was creeping under a ditch, with the fowl in my leather bag, keeping to the shore where the farmer could not see me, when I came upon a ship drawn up upon the sands, a great red ship with a woman’s head upon it.

A ship out of Aoife’s country. They have all a woman’s head on the bow.

There was a young man with a pale face and red hair standing beside it. Some of our people came up whose turn it was to guard the shore. I heard them ask the young man his name. He said he was under bonds not to tell it. Then words came between them, and they fought, and the young man killed half of them, and the others ran away.

It matters nothing to us, but he has come at last.

Who has come?

I know who that young man is. There is not another like him in the world. I saw him when I had my eyesight.

You saw him?

I used to be in Aoife’s country when I had my eyesight.

That was before you went on shipboard and were blinded for putting a curse on the wind?

Queen Aoife had a son that was red haired and pale faced like herself, and everyone said that he would kill Cuchullain some day, but I would not have that spoken of.

Nobody could do that. Who was his father?

Nobody but Aoife knew that, not even he himself.

Not even he himself! Was Aoife a goddess and lecherous?

I overheard her telling that she never had but one lover, and that he was the only man who overcame her in battle. There were some who thought him one of the Riders of the Sidhe, because the child was great of limb and strong beyond others. The child was begotten over the mountains; but come nearer and I will tell you something.

You have thought something?

When I hear the young girls talking about the colour of Cuchullain’s eyes, and how they have seven colours, I have thought about it. That young man has Aoife’s face and hair, but he has Cuchullain’s eyes.

How can he have Cuchullain’s eyes?

He is Cuchullain’s son.

And his mother has sent him hither to fight his father.

It is all quite plain. Cuchullain went into Aoife’s country when he was a young man that he might learn skill in arms, and there he became Aoife’s lover.

And now she hates him because he went away, and has sent the son to kill the father. I knew she was a goddess.

And she never told him who his father was, that he might do it. I have thought it all out, fool. I know a great many things because I listen when nobody is noticing and I keep my wits awake. What ails you now?

I have remembered that I am hungry.

Well, forget it again, and I will tell you about Aoife’s country. It is full of wonders. There are a great many Queens there who can change themselves into wolves and into swine and into white hares, and when they are in their own shapes they are stronger than almost any man; and there are young men there who have cat’s eyes and if a bird chirrup or a mouse squeak they cannot keep them shut, even though it is bedtime and they sleepy; and listen, for this is a great wonder, a very great wonder: there is a long narrow bridge, and when anybody goes to cross it, that the Queens do not like, it flies up as this bench would if you were to sit on the end of it. Everybody who goes there to learn skill in arms has to cross it. It was in that country too that Cuchullain got his spear made out of dragon bones. There were two dragons fighting in the foam of the sea, and their grandam was the moon, and nine Queens came along the shore.

I won’t listen to your story.

It is a very wonderful story. Wait till you hear what the nine Queens did. Their right hands were all made of silver.

No, I will have my dinner first. You have eaten the fowl I left in front of the fire. The last time you sent me to steal something you made me forget all about it till you had eaten it up.

No, there is plenty for us both.

Come with me where it is.

[Who is being led towards the door at the back by Barach.] O, it is all right, it is in a safe place.

It is a fine fowl. It was the biggest in the yard.

It had a good smell, but I hope that the wild dogs have not smelt it. [Voices are heard outside the door at the side.] Here is our master. Let us stay and talk with him. Perhaps Cuchullain will give you a new cap with a feather. He told me that he would give you a new cap with a feather, a feather with an eye that looks at you, a peacock’s feather.

No, no.

[He begins pulling Fintain towards the door.

If you do not get it now, you may never get it, for the young man may kill him.

No, no, I am hungry. What a head you have, blind man! Who but you would have remembered that the hen-wife slept for a little at noon every day!

[Who is being led along very slowly and unwillingly.] Yes, I have a good head. The fowl should be done just right, but one never knows when a wild dog may come out of the woods.

[They go out through the big door at the back. As they go out Cuchullain and certain Young Kings come in at the side door. Cuchullain, though still young, is a good deal older than the others. They are all very gaily dressed, and have their hair fastened with balls of gold. The young men crowd about Cuchullain with wondering attention.

[They gather about the ale vat and begin to drink.

[Concobar, a man much older than Cuchullain, has come in through the great door at the back. He has many Kings about him. One of these Kings, Daire, a stout old man, is somewhat drunk.

[He goes to the back of stage to welcome a company of Kings who come in through the great door. The other Kings gradually get into their places. Cuchullain sits in his great chair with certain of the young men standing around him. Others of the young men, however, remain with Daire at the ale vat. Daire holds out the horn of ale to one or two of the older Kings as they pass him going to their places. They pass him by, most of them silently refusing.

[Concobar who is now seated in his great chair, opposite Cuchullain, beats upon the pillar of the house that is nearest to him with a rod of silver, till the Kings have become silent. Cuchullain alone continues to talk in a low voice to those about him, but not so loud as to disturb the silence. Concobar rises and speaks standing.

[He takes thin boards on which plans have been carved by those about him.

[The sound of a trumpet without.

[The great door at the back is flung open; a Young Man, who is fully armed and carries a shield with a woman’s head painted on it, stands upon the threshold. Behind him are trumpeters. He walks into the centre of the hall, the trumpeting ceases.

[There is a murmur amongst the Kings.

[He is silent a moment, then speaks to all.

[Cuchullain comes down from his great chair. He remains standing on the steps of the chair. The Young Kings gather about him and begin to arm him.

[He looks hard at the Young Man, and then steps down on the floor of the Assembly House. He grasps the Young Man by the shoulder.

[Turning to one of the Young Kings.

[To the Young Man.

[To the Young Kings.

[Drawing his sword.

[He begins spreading the cloak out on a bench, showing it to the Young Man. Suddenly Concobar beats with his silver rod on a pillar beside his chair. All turn towards him.

[To the Young Man.

[He goes towards the door at back, followed by Young Man. He turns on the threshold and cries out, looking at the Young Man.

[He goes out, followed by Young Man. The other Kings begin to follow them out.

[Sound, of fighting outside.

[They all go out, leaving the house silent and empty. There is a pause during which one hears the clashing of the swords. Barach and Fintain come in from side door. Barach is dragging Fintain.

You have eaten it, you have eaten it, you have left me nothing but the bones.

O, that I should have to endure such a plague. O, I ache all over. O, I am pulled in pieces. This is the way you pay me for all the good I have done you!

You have eaten it, you have told me lies about a wild dog. Nobody has seen a wild dog about the place this twelve month. Lie there till the Kings come. O, I will tell Concobar and Cuchullain and all the Kings about you!

What would have happened to you but for me, and you without your wits? If I did not take care of you what would you do for food and warmth?

You take care of me? You stay safe and send me into every kind of danger. You sent me down the cliff for gull’s eggs while you warmed your blind eyes in the sun. And then you ate all that were good for food. You left me the eggs that were neither egg nor bird. [The blind man tries to rise. Barach makes him lie down again.] Keep quiet now till I shut the door. There is some noise outside. There are swords crossing; a high vexing noise so that I can’t be listening to myself. [He goes to the big door at the back and shuts it.] Why can’t they be quiet, why can’t they be quiet! Ah, you would get away, would you? [He follows the blind man who has been crawling along the wall and makes him lie down close to the King’s chair.] Lie there, lie there. No, you won’t get away. Lie there till the Kings come, I’ll tell them all about you. I shall tell it all. How you sit warming yourself, when you have made me light a fire of sticks, while I sit blowing it with my mouth. Do you not always make me take the windy side of the bush when it blows and the rainy side when it rains?

O good fool, listen to me. Think of the care I have taken of you. I have brought you to many a warm hearth, where there was a good welcome for you, but you would not stay there, you were always wandering about.

The last time you brought me in, it was not I who wandered away, but you that got put out because you took the crubeen out of the pot, when you thought nobody was looking. Keep quiet now, keep quiet till I shut the door. Here is Cuchullain, now you will be beaten. I am going to tell him everything.

[Comes in and says to the fool.] Give me that horn.

[The fool gives him a horn which Cuchullain fills with ale and drinks.

Do not listen to him, listen to me.

What are you wrangling over?