Daui Get down!

Conlag (to the Slave) You. We’re not here. Couple o’ ghosts, Gods even, out of the woods, just passing through. Bring you good luck, right? So sh.

Daui Get down!

Conlag and Daui scramble back into their hiding place. Viridio digs his heel into the ground.

Viridio My mark!

Brac Never!

Viridio Count of five! Three four five.

Brac, a laugh.

Brac Piss off.

Marban Make your play, brother.

Viridio Want me to make my play, brother?

Viridio throws the ball high with a feint to wrong foot his brothers. They run after the ball. Brac catches it. Viridio and Marban tear at his clothing.

Brac What’s the goal, what’s the goal?

Viridio That hole –

Marban That hole –

Brac Oh that hole –

Brac makes to go one way then goes another.

Viridio Slippery little arse –

Marban Up in the air!

Viridio and Marban run after Brac, grab him and throw him up in the air.

Brac Don’t throw me up in the air! You know I hate – (In the air.) going up in the air.

Brac lets go of the ball. They let go of Brac. Marban gets the ball, darts away, stops and calmly puts in on the ground.

Viridio What’s that?

Marban A goal.

Viridio and Brac stare at him.

Brac What goal?

Marban That goal.

Marban points at the ball and looks at the Slave.

Brac I can’t see a hole.

Viridio Hole for the goal, where is it?

Marban It’s a small hole.

Viridio Wormhole.

Viridio laughs.

Marban It is a wormhole.

Brac, on all fours, scrambles to the ball. He lifts it carefully and looks underneath.

Brac If you want to find a wormhole, send for a priest.

Viridio Second sight.

Brac Second sight, for seeing the turds of worms.

Viridio grabs the ball and dashes for a few paces.

Marban Brother!

All still.

(To the Slave:) What is it?

Nothing from the Slave. The brothers look around, sharply. Then Marban picks up a stone and tosses it to where Conlag and Daui are hiding.

Daui rises, talking fast.

Daui Travellers in trade. From Ireland. Where the fucking heroes come from. But do not take us light, do not take our powers lightly.

Conlag stands up slowly. A silence, all still. Daui slowly takes an ingot of iron from the bag. A thin bar, about a metre long, the ends pinched.

Irish iron. To forge, patting butter. Temper it with blood, the phosphorus will dazzle you. And it is very, very hard. Plough with this iron, gold will grow. And a sword? Go through your enemy’s gut, a fish through water. And a man’s head?

He swings the ingot, two-handed.

His body will stand there, not believing it’s his head, bouncing on his big goes. Eh?

A silence.

So could I see the mother or the father of your family?

A silence.

Conlag We’ll just go now –

Viridio walks to Daui and takes the ingot from him. He heaves it into the air, it spins, he catches it.