The King's Threshold; and On Baile's Strand Part 9

_Third King._ They are about the house.

_Fourth King._ Rush out! Rush out! Before they have fired the thatch.

_Young Man._ Aoife is far away. I am alone.

I have come alone in the midst of you To weigh this sword against Cuchullain's sword.

[_There is a murmur amongst the KINGS._

_Concobar._ And are you n.o.ble? for if of common seed You cannot weigh your sword against his sword But in mixed battle.

_Young Man._ I am under bonds To tell my name to no man, but it's n.o.ble.

_Concobar._ But I would know your name and not your bonds.

You cannot speak in the a.s.sembly House If you are not n.o.ble.

_A King._ Answer the High King.

_Young Man._ [_Drawing his sword._]

I will give no other proof than the hawk gives That it's no sparrow.

[_He is silent a moment, then speaks to all._

Yet look upon me, Kings; I too am of that ancient seed and carry The signs about this body and in these bones.

_Cuchullain._ To have shown the hawk's gray feather is enough, And you speak highly too.

[_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._

Give me that helmet!

I'd thought they had grown weary sending champions.

That leathern coat will do. The High King there Being old in wisdom can think of times to come, But the hawk's sleepy till its well-beloved Cries out amid the acorns, or it has seen Its enemy like a speck upon the sun.

What's Emain to the hawk when that clear eye Is burning nearer up in the high air?

That buckle should be tighter. Give me your s.h.i.+eld.

There is good level ground at Baile's Yew-tree, Some dozen yards from here, and it's but truth That I am sad to-day and this fight welcome.

[_He looks hard at the YOUNG MAN, and then steps down on the floor of the a.s.sembly House. He grasps the YOUNG MAN by the shoulder._

Hither into the light.

[_Turning to one of the YOUNG KINGS._

The very tint Of her that I was speaking of but now: Not a pin's difference.

[_To the YOUNG MAN._

You are from the North, Where there are many that have that tint of hair, Red-brown, the light red-brown. Come nearer, boy!

For I would have another look at you.

There's more likeness, a pale, a stone pale cheek.

What brought you, boy? Have you no fear of death?

_Young Man._ Whether I live or die is in the G.o.ds' hands.

_Cuchullain._ That is all words, all words, a young man's talk; I am their plough, their harrow, their very strength, For he that's in the sun begot this body Upon a mortal woman, and I have heard tell It seemed as if he had outrun the moon, That he must always follow through waste heaven, He loved so happily. He'll be but slow To break a tree that was so sweetly planted.

Let's see that arm; I'll see it if I like.

That arm had a good father and a good mother, But it is not like this.

_Young Man._ You are mocking me.

You think I am not worthy to be fought, But I'll not wrangle but with this talkative knife.

_Cuchullain._ Put up your sword, I am not mocking you.

I'd have you for my friend, but if it's not Because you have a hot heart and a cold eye I cannot tell the reason. You've got her fierceness, And n.o.body is as fierce as those pale women.

[_To the YOUNG KINGS._

We'll keep him here in Muirthemne awhile.

_A Young King._ You are the leader of our pack and therefore May cry what you will.

_Cuchullain._ You'll stop with us And we will hunt the deer and the wild bulls, And, when we have grown weary, light our fires In sandy places where the wool-white foam Is murmuring and breaking, and it may be That long-haired women will come out of the dunes To dance in the yellow fire-light. You hang your head, Young man, as if it was not a good life; And yet what's better than to hurl the spear, And hear the long-remembering harp, and dance?

Friends.h.i.+p grows quicker in the murmuring dark; But I can see there's no more need for words And that you'll be my friend now.

_First Old King._ Concobar, Forbid their friends.h.i.+p, for it will get twisted To a reproach against us.

_Concobar._ Until now I'd never need to cry Cuchullain on And would not now.

_First Old King._ They'll say his manhood's quenched.

_Cuchullain._ I'll give you gifts, but I'll have something too, An arm-ring or the like, and if you will We'll fight it out when you are older, boy.

_An Old King._ Aoife will make some story out of this.

_Cuchullain._ Well, well, what matter, I'll have that arm-ring, boy.

_Young Man._ There is no man I'd sooner have my friend Than you whose name has gone about the world As if it had been the wind, but Aoife'd say I had turned coward.

_Cuchullain._ I'll give you gifts That Aoife'll know and all her people know To have been my gifts. Mananan, son of the sea, Gave me this heavy embroidered cloak. Nine Queens Of the Land-under-Wave had woven it Out of the fleeces of the sea. O! tell her I was afraid, or tell her what you will.

No! tell her that I heard a raven croak On the north side of the house and was afraid.

_An Old King._ Some witch of the air has troubled Cuchullain's mind.

_Cuchullain._ No witchcraft, his head is like a woman's head I had a fancy for.

_Second Old King._ A witch of the air Can make a leaf confound us with memories.

They have gone to school to learn the trick of it.

_Cuchullain._ But there's no trick in this. That arm-ring, boy.

_Third Old King._ He shall not go unfought, I'll fight with him.