ARDAN.
It’s seven years myself and Ainnle have been servants and bachelors for yourself and Deirdre. Why will you take her back to Conchubor?
NAISI.
I have done what Deirdre wishes and has chosen.
FERGUS.
You’ve made a choice wise men will be glad of in the five ends of Ireland.
OWEN.
Wise men is it, and they going back to Conchubor? I could stop them only Naisi put in his sword among my father’s ribs, and when a man’s done that he’ll not credit your oath. Going to Conchubor! I could tell of plots and tricks, and spies were well paid for their play. (He throws up a bag of gold.) Are you paid, Fergus?
[He scatters gold pieces over Fergus.
FERGUS.
He is raving. . . . Seize him.
OWEN.
— flying between them. — You won’t. Let the lot of you be off to Emain, but I’ll be off before you. . . . Dead men, dead men! Men who’ll die for Deirdre’s beauty; I’ll be before you in the grave!
[Runs out with his knife in his hand. They all run after him except Lavarcham, who looks out and then clasps her hands. Deirdre comes out to her in a dark cloak.
DEIRDRE.
What has happened?
LAVARCHAM.
It’s Owen’s gone raging mad, and he’s after splitting his gullet beyond at the butt of the stone. There was ill luck this day in his eye. And he knew a power if he’d said it all.