And Cumhal
went on beating at the door, and presently he heard the lay brother's
foot once more, and cried out at him, 'O cowardly and tyrannous race
of friars, persecutors of the bard and the gleeman, haters of life
and joy! O race that does not draw the sword and tell the truth! O
race that melts the bones of the people with cowardice and with
deceit!'
'Gleeman,' said the lay brother, 'I also make rhymes; I make many
while I sit in my niche by the door, and I sorrow to hear the bards
railing upon the friars. Brother, I would sleep, and therefore I make
known to you that it is the head of the monastery, our gracious
abbot, who orders all things concerning the lodging of travellers.'
'You may sleep,' said Cumhal, 'I will sing a bard's curse on the
abbot. 'And he set the tub upside down under the window, and stood
upon it, and began to sing in a very loud voice. The singing awoke
the abbot, so that he sat up in bed and blew a silver whistle until
the lay brother came to him. 'I cannot get a wink of sleep with that
noise,' said the abbot. 'What is happening?'
'It is a gleeman,' said the lay brother, 'who complains of the sods,
of the bread, of the water in the jug, of the foot-water, and of the
blanket. And now he is singing a bard's curse upon you, O brother
abbot, and upon your father and your mother, and your grandfather and
your grandmother, and upon all your relations.
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