The King's Threshold; and On Baile's Strand

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
Am well-nigh drunken with the odour of it,
And if I dared – I dare not.
Cian.
Drink it, sir.
Brian.
Drink a few drops.
Seanchan.
Drink it yourself, old man,
For you have come a journey, and I daresay
You did not eat or drink upon the road.
Cian.
How can I drink it when your honour’s thirsty?

[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.

Chamberlain.
Well, have you it in imagination still
To overthrow the dignity of the King,