No More Learning

It is a rough house of
timber; through the doors and some of the windows one
can see the great spaces of the wood, the sky dimming,
night closing in. But a window to the left shows the
thick leaves of a coppice; the landscape suggests
silence and loneliness. There is a door to right and
left, and through the side windows one can see anybody
who approaches either door, a moment before he enters.
In the centre, a part of the house is curtained off;
the curtains are drawn. There are unlighted torches in
brackets on the walls. There is, at one side, a small
table with a chessboard and chessmen upon it, and a
wine flagon and loaf of bread. At the other side of
the room there is a brazier with a fire; two women,
with musical instruments beside them, crouch about
the brazier: they are comely women of about forty.
Another woman, who carries a stringed instrument,
enters hurriedly; she speaks, at first standing in the
doorway. _


FIRST MUSICIAN.

I HAVE a story right, my wanderers,
That has so mixed with fable in our songs,
That all seemed fabulous. We are come, by chance,
Into King Conchubar's country, and this house
Is an old guest-house built for travellers
From the seashore to Conchubar's royal house,
And there are certain hills among these woods,
And there Queen Deirdre grew.

SECOND MUSICIAN.

That famous queen
Who has been wandering with her lover, Naisi,
And none to friend but lovers and wild hearts?

FIRST MUSICIAN.

[_Going nearer to the brazier.
_]

Some dozen years ago, King Conchubar found
A house upon a hillside in this wood,
And there a comely child with an old witch
To nurse her, and there's nobody can say
If she were human, or of those begot
By an invisible king of the air in a storm
On a king's daughter, or anything at all
Of who she was or why she was hidden there
But that she'd too much beauty for good luck.
He went up thither daily, till at last
She put on womanhood, and he lost peace,
And Deirdre's tale began. The King was old.
A month or so before the marriage day,
A young man, in the laughing scorn of his youth,
Naisi, the son of Usnach, climbed up there,
And having wooed, or, as some say, been wooed,
Carried her off.

SECOND MUSICIAN.

The tale were well enough
Had it a finish.

FIRST MUSICIAN.

Hush! I have more to tell;
But gather close that I may whisper it:
I speak of terrible, mysterious ends--
The secrets of a king.

SECOND MUSICIAN.

There's none to hear!

FIRST MUSICIAN.

I have been to Conchubar's house, and followed up
A crowd of servants going out and in
With loads upon their heads: embroideries
To hang upon the walls, or new-mown rushes
To strew upon the floors, and came at length
To a great room.

SECOND MUSICIAN.

Be silent; there are steps!

[_Enter FERGUS, an old man, who moves about from door
to window excitedly through what follows.