Читать книгу Deirdre - James Stephens - Страница 9

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Maeve had her own bodyguard of soldiers, close on one thousand men, who had come with her from Connacht, and from whom she refused to be parted. She was herself their captain, and each man of them was devoted to her. They were mostly her own countrymen, and she drilled and exercised and was good to them with untiring patience and skill. She was the mother of the force, but a wag called her the wife of the regiment. These thousand men were in Conachúr’s mind as he arranged his visit to Leinster. He had often thought he must disband this force and replace it by his own men, or that he must win its allegiance and destroy it, so he also had been especially kind to the strange soldiers.

Now, on the eve of his journey, he thought it would be a good thing to bring them with him to Leinster; thus, as he explained to Maeve, giving them entertainment and exercise, while at the same time doing honour to his queen and her native province. But the proposition raised such a dreadful ire in the queen, she trod the chamber in such dudgeon and was so free in her speech, that Conachúr hastily and good-humouredly withdrew the suggestion; and bade her bear the soldiers’ discontent when they learned who stood between them and one of the pleasantest marches that a soldier could have.

Indeed, an argument with Maeve was not to be lightly undertaken. It was likely to last a long time, in the first place; and in the second, she had so precipitate a manner of speech and so copious a command of words that the listener’s mind quickly began to feel as if it were in a whirlpool, his head would fly round and round, and he must run away lest his brains burst out from his ears and he die giddily.

No one but Conachúr could hearken to Maeve’s speech on such occasions, and he only did it when he particularly wanted to. For, at times, that which would drive another man mad had a strangely soothing effect on him, and he could sit under that shrill tornado as peacefully as a daisy sits in the sunshine. At times, as one forces a restive horse much farther than it desires to go, he would impel into the brief tail-end of her sentence a philosophic and peaceful interjection which acted on her as the spur on the horse, so that he would drive her beyond the very bounds of utterance, and she would at last, from sheer tongue-weariness, topple from the peaks of speech into a silence so profound that nothing, it seemed, could ever draw her thence again; and then Conachúr would talk to her soothingly, reasonably, unforgivably, and it was Maeve would run.

But this time Conachúr fled: he was in no mood and had not the time for argument; he knew she would not yield, and he was so angry and hurried that he could not be the patient, humorous, and watchful comrade he had intended to be.

When he spoke of this matter to Lavarcham he did not speak with good humour, but he did not empty his mind even to the conversation-woman. It was not necessary.

“When I return from Leinster ...!” said he.

But the wise woman nodded only a half-hearted agreement, for she thought that, although it might only take two days to bury a thousand men, it would take a long time to bury those who would march to avenge them.

The rage and agitation into which his suggestion had thrown the queen was so great that she fell ill, and could not accompany her husband to Leinster. So that, as on a previous occasion, he had to travel without her, the understanding being that she would take the road after him, and, travelling more lightly, could perhaps catch on his company before they reached Naas, the court and capital of the King of Leinster.

With his force, but unknown to it, there went a youth—a long-striding, active, bull-like young man with a freckled face and red hair, and than whom there was no more jovial person in all Ireland, for if a man was striking at him with a spear he could make that man laugh so much that he would not be able to hit straight. His name was mac Roth. He was Maeve’s personal servant, her herald. But just as the word “conversation-woman” cloaked another occupation for Lavarcham, so the word “herald” hid the same usefulness in mac Roth. He was Maeve’s personal spy, but he also was her herald, and in after days, because of his knowledge, address, and courage, he was to be the chief herald of all Ireland.

He accompanied Conachúr’s force, but he was not with it. He was a mile in advance, or a perch behind, or he was to the right of it just at a small distance, or he was looking from a hill on the left as the gay cavalcade and silver-shining chariots went by in the valley.

He accompanied them in that manner unseen for two days, and then, murmuring a blessing on them and on their encampment, he left them in the night, taking from them the loan of an unwatched horse, and he rode back by short cuts to Emain.

When he reached the palace he was able to report that the king had gone so far he could not easily turn back; and at that news Maeve’s illness departed from her as suddenly as it had come.

In the morning she called for twenty of the chief men of her bodyguard and gave them careful, separate instruction. Then she informed the domestics that her quarters must be thoroughly cleaned while the king was away, and that everything she owned must be put out on the sunny lawn for airing and counting.

The palace chamberlain came in great haste, but that suave man was soothed by Maeve and sent away with his dignity unhurt, but his mind exercised. He communicated his news to Lavarcham, who had retired to the company of her “babe” outside Emania. Within the hour Lavarcham despatched a flying messenger to Conachúr, but just outside the city mac Roth, who was waiting for him in a hedge, buzzed a spear through that man’s back as he went thundering past. But in the night Lavarcham, who left little to chance, sent other messengers, so that if some miscarried others would not.

But Maeve’s plan was at work, the men she had chosen for a particular part were acting in that part, and inside of ten hours her company was deployed behind her baggage, her march to Connacht had begun, and Conachúr was a bachelor again.