ACT THREE SCENE ONE CAER ARIANRHOD, ARFON Enter Arianrhod. |
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| Arianrhod |
I had a troubled dream. I walked through snow, Frozen hard. Treacherous. Wind buffeted me. And there, ahead, a broken shape. But alive, moving. A bird. I called my man. What is it? |
| Gwydion |
(Calling from off.) Arianrhod..! |
| Arianrhod |
A goshawk. Levering itself on one broken wing Its head turns, beak open, to hiss a threat. |
| Gwydion |
(Calling from off.) Arianrhod..! |
| Arianrhod |
It stared at me, with burning golden eye, It rose, puffed out, lifting itself on one crooked wing, Splayed feathers extended like fingers Then it leapt from the snow... and laughed at me. |
| Enter Gwydion. |
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| Gwydion |
It's me. Your sister your brother, your darkness. Bearer of woe and bringer of your pain. |
| Arianrhod |
And then I realised. Gwydion still haunts me. But no longer Llew. Or that girl of flowers Who will somehow decide our fates. My outcast son. I don't see him anymore. He's suddenly disappeared from my dreams. That's your doing. |
| Gwydion |
Why d'you think that? |
| Arianrhod |
You steal from me. Plunder my very thoughts. It's your game, to leave me broken, empty. Did you steal my cub in the dark of night? Were you the gale that carried off my kestrel chick? |
| Gwydion |
No. I've stolen nothing from you. |
| Arianrhod |
You have. You stole my happiness. My youth. You know you did. And then you stole for him. You and he turning up here in the guise Of poor shoemakers. Tempting me down to the boat Where your wares were set out. You furled Seaweed around my foot and magicked it into leather Shaped to a perfect sandal. I marvelled at your skills. |
| Gwydion |
Yes, we worked a perfect ploy... look there my lady! My young apprentice, the arrow pulled on his bowstring D'you see what he's aiming at? |
| Arianrhod |
Oh, that tiny wren! That's flitted onto the prow... |
| Gwydion |
His arrow will split the bird between its rump And its wing. Fire the arrow lad... There! Are you impressed with his threading skills my lady? |
| Arianrhod |
He's a lion with the truest hand I've seen. |
| Gwydion |
Lion with the True Hand! Llew Llaw Gyffes. D'you not recognise me Arianrhod? Now you do! And you've just named your son! And then the other time when I magicked the hubbub Of an army attacking your fort. Soldiers shouting Horses galloping, swords and shields and screams And you in a panic thrust weapons into my hands And the hands of my young squire, not looking To see who we were. You'd armed your son! |
| Arianrhod |
Get away from here Gwydion. From my lands, And from my dreams. If I could banish you forever... |
| Gwydion |
No more than you can banish spring scents or foul air. You're cursed with my presence. There'll be no peace. But it's not me making your dreams empty and arid. You're growing old now. Your horizons are drawing in. |
| Arianrhod |
Old before my time. Deserted by you all. Dishonoured. And I disown you all. You, our dead brother, and Llew. |
| Gwydion |
The disowning maims your soul, not mine. And Llew is happy. A complete man at last. With a wife he loves and a family to build. His future will be full of warmth and laughter While you wither away, a forgotten husk. Farewell then sister. I'll let you contemplate Life's losses in your fort's waking tomb And perhaps across the still air of Snowdonia Some nights you'll hear the strains of young laughter From Ardudwy. I go. And only the far-off sounds Of my voice will return to agitate you. |
| Arianrhod |
Go! Go to Annwn to rot with the corpse Of your monstrous brother Gilfaethwy! |
| Exeunt. |