The Irish Cycle: Lord Malahide

[dedalus]

The Irish Cycle: Lord Malahide
Malahide Castle, 1537

Her eyes are hazel with flecks of green,
such a fine noble carriage, a proud woman’s gait;
her black sweeping hair shows a blueish sheen
as she stands before me, my wife and mate.

Fourteen years. Two children.
One miscarriage, her racking sobs in the night.
Her eyes reveal nothing; I hardly know her.

Why, I wonder, have I ignored her all these years,
under the same roof, food from the same table;
my voice when I speak holds back my tears:
can I bridge this chasm, am I still able?

- Dear wife.
- My lord husband.

A pause. I clear my throat.

- The children?
- Quite safe, My Lord. They sleep.
- I have need to speak with you.
- My Lord?
- O, not like this, for goodness’ sake!
Come, let us move into a private chamber.
- Shall I disrobe?
- No, no, no, no, no – it’s not like that at all!
- Have I displeased you in some way?
- Not at all, my dear, quite the contrary …
O’REILLY !!!
- Sir, yes sir?
- Bring us some wine, like a good fellow.
- Very good, sir. The usual, is it?
- No, no … bring in the good Spanish.
- Not much left, sir. Are ye sure?
- Just do what I tell you, dammit!
- Rightyo, sir.
- And don’t say rightyo!
- Righty …very good, sir.

We moved into the wind-cooled room
with its Italian marble walls and floor;
I felt a passing chill, hint of the waiting tomb,
then softly, firmly shut the door.

- My Lord?
- My dear, I cherish and respect you.
- My Lord is most gracious.
- O, stop that! The fact is I love you.
- Love, my Lord?
- Perhaps I haven’t made my feelings plain.
- Lady Agnes, Lady Jane,
Lady Patricia, the parlour maid,
and that little blonde wench in the kitchen?
My Lord has made his feelings plain enough.
- O, come now, that means nothing!
- My Lord, I think it does.

Knock-knock

- What now?
- The wine, sir.
- Bring it in, blast you!
- Rightyo, sir.
- And don’t you bloody well …
- Ah, sorry, sir.
The good Spanish, sir.
Not much left of it, mind,
I was just after telling the cook …
- Would you pour the wine, O’Reilly.
Pour it, man, and clear off!
- There was fourteen sat down to breakfast
and every one of them dead before dinner.
- Not now, O’Reilly.
- Tis a vision, sir.
These things will all come to pass.
- I’ll wring your neck, O’Reilly.
How’s that for a vision?
- Rightyo, sir.

A pause. A tasteless sip of priceless wine.

- My dear, the situation …
- I am aware of the situation.
The enemy has marched from Dublin.
We will soon be under attack.
- Yes, well, I suppose the whole castle knows.
- And now my Lord is … afraid?

When she spoke those words, the love drained from my heart,
and I gazed at her coldly from across four hundred years;
like my father and grandfathers I too would play the part,
And would never, could never, succumb to craven fears.

- You misunderstand me, my Lady.
- I think I understand you well enough.
- I see. You will stay with the children.
Neither they nor you will come to any harm.

There was a glint in her eyes, a faint hint of derision
in those hazel, green-flecked eyes,
and I could suddenly catch a glimpse of myself
as seen by her through all those years.
Upon this, I reflected, ruefully,
as I strapped on my nearly new armour
and called for my old but sharpened sword.
Soon came the enemy to the gates:
dear God, these brazen, upstart English!
Well, it was the usual confused affair,
a lot of noise and dust and private agonies.
We were deemed to have won since we didn’t quite lose,
the traditional form of Irish victory,
and our lives settled back to their normal round.
I continue to live at the castle,
Robert, Lord Admiral of Malahide,
and the adjoining seas surrounding,
with my lady wife and children.
She looks at me now with apprehension.
O’Reilly has a brother, a prosperous smuggler;
we have twenty new barrels of good Spanish wine.
Upon occasion, as a means of diversion,
I ride to Dublin with a light escort,
there to visit charming friends of mine.

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Malahide Castle was built by the Talbots in 1185 and remained in the family until the death of the last in the male line, Sir Milo, in 1973. The castle and surrounding parklands were sold to the Irish State in 1975 and are a popular picnic destination for Dubliners. The pleasant seaside village bearing the same name is now home to Adam Clayton and the Edge of the rock band U2.

[Minstrel]

Bren.

Another seamless, humorous in places and flowing piece. Difficult to criticise because it's in your own definitive style. All I can say is that it's interesting, enjoyable and held my attention, like a nosey neighbour, throughout.

Cheers.

[oranggunung]

Ded

Highly accomplished. The interweaving of styles reads seamlessly, and is a vision of ambrosia to the eyes. Once again, the content makes me think that you have a wealth of historical knowledge, either that or a time machine.


We were deemed to have won since we didn’t quite lose,
the traditional form of Irish victory,

My favourite lines of the piece. Historical and contemporary simultaneously.

Wonderful.


og