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. [_Naisi comes back quickly, followed by the others._ AINNLE. — _coming in very excited._ — That man knew plots of Conchubor’s. We’ll not go to Emain, where Conchubor may love her and have hatred for yourself. FERGUS. Would you mind a fool and raver? AINNLE. It’s many times there’s more sense in madmen than the wise. We will not obey Conchubor. NAISI. I and Deirdre have chosen; we will go back with Fergus. ARDAN. We will not go back. We will burn your curaghs by the sea. FERGUS. My sons and I will guard them. AINNLE. We will blow the horn of Usna and our friends will come to aid us. NAISI. It is my friends will come. AINNLE. Your friends will bind your hands, and you out of your wits. [_Deirdre comes forward quickly and comes between Ainnle and Naisi._ DEIRDRE. — _in a low voice._ — For seven years the Sons of Usna have not raised their voices in a quarrel. AINNLE. We will not take you to Emain. ARDAN. It is Conchubor has broken our peace. AINNLE. — _to Deirdre._ — Stop Naisi going. What way would we live if Conchubor should take you from us? DEIRDRE. There is no one could take me from you. I have chosen to go back with Fergus. Will you quarrel with me, Ainnle, though I have been your queen these seven years in Alban? AINNLE. — _subsiding suddenly._ — Naisi has no call to take you. ARDAN. Why are you going?