was something else – I’ll find the word
That was to keep it in my memory.
“Pride” – that’s the word, – we would not have you think,
Weighty as these considerations are,
That they have been as weighty in our minds
As our desire that one we take much pride in,
A man who has been an honour to our town,
Should live and prosper, therefore we beseech you
To give way in a matter of no moment,
A matter of mere sentiment, a trifle,
That we may always keep our pride in you.
Seanchan.
Their pride, their pride, what do they know of pride?
My pupils do not know it, for they beg
From the King’s favour what is theirs by right,
And how can men, that God has made so weak
They need a rich man’s favour every day,
Know anything of pride?
Cian.
[To Mayor.] You have spoken it wrongly.
You have forgotten something out of it about the cattle dying.
Mayor.
Maybe you do not know, being much away,
How many of our cattle died last winter
From lacking grass, and that there was much sickness
Because the poor had nothing but salt fish
To live upon. The people all came out
And stood about the doors as I went by.
Seanchan.
What would you have of me?
For there are men that shall be born at last
And find sweet nurture that they may have voices
Even in anger like the strings of harps.
Yet how could they be born to majesty
If I had never made the golden cradle?
Mayor.
What is it? “Father” – “Mother”; that is it;
Your father sends this message.
Cian.
He is listening.
Mayor.
He says that he is old and that he needs you,
And that the people will be pointing at him
And he not able to lift up his head
If you should turn the King’s favour away.
And he adds to it, that he cared you well,
And you in your young age, and that it’s right
That you should care him now.
Cian.
And when he spoke
He cried because the stiffness of his bones
Prevented him from coming.
Mayor.
But your mother
Has sent no message, for when they had told her
The way it is between you and the King
She said, “No message can do any good,
He will not send the answer that you want;
We cannot change him,” and she went indoors,
Lay down upon her bed and turned her face
Out of the light. And thereupon your father
Said, “Tell him how she is, and that she sends
No message.” I have nothing more to say.
Cian and Brian, you can set out the food.
[He sits down on steps. Seanchan is silent.
Mayor.
I have a horse waiting outside the town
To bring me home, and all the neighbours wait
Your answer. What answer am I to bring?
Seanchan.
Give them my answer – no, I have no answer:
My mother knew it.
Mayor.
Maybe you have forgotten
That all our fields are so heaped up with stones
That the goats famish, and the mowers mow
With knives, and that the King half promised us —
Seanchan.
Thrust that old cloak of yours into your mouth
Till it’s done gabbling.
Mayor.
But —
Cian.
You have said enough;
I knew that you would never speak it right.
Seanchan.
Our mothers know us, they know us to the bone,
They knew us before birth, and that is why
They know us even better than the sweethearts
Upon whose breasts we have lain.
Brian.
We have brought your honour
The food that you have always liked the best,
Young pigeons from Kinvara, and watercress
Out of the stream that’s by the blessed well,
And dulse from Duras. Here is the dulse, your honour,
It is wholesome, and has the good taste of the sea.
Seanchan.
O Brian, you would spread the table for me
As you would spread it when I was in my childhood;
But all that’s finished.
Mayor.
I knew he would not care
For country things now that he’s grown accustomed
To the King’s dishes. I told Brian too
He’d have his pains for nothing. But he’s old.
[Goes over to table at right. While he is speaking Cian and Brian are in vain offering Seanchan food.
And what dishes! Venison from Slieve Echtge
Fattened with poor men’s crops; flesh of wild pig;
Not fat nor lean, but streaky and right well cured;
Bread that’s the whitest that I’ve ever seen.
Cian.
You’re in the right, you’re in the right, he will not eat.
[Pouring wine into cup.
Mayor.
Bring him some wine, it will give him strength to eat.
[Brian brings wine over towards Seanchan.
No wonder if the King is proud and merry,
And keeps all day in the saddle, when even I
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