{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_65950/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_65950","id":"gutenberg_65950","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65950","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Deirdre (Legendary character) -- Fiction","Epic literature, Irish -- Adaptations","Fantasy fiction","Historical fiction","Queens -- Ireland -- Fiction","Tales -- Ireland -- Adaptations"],"text":"AN T\u00c1IN B\u00d3 C\u00daALGNE\n\nDEIRDRE\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: Publisher's Logo]\n\n MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited\n LONDON \u00b7 BOMBAY \u00b7 CALCUTTA \u00b7 MADRAS\n MELBOURNE\n\n THE MACMILLAN COMPANY\n NEW YORK \u00b7 BOSTON \u00b7 CHICAGO\n DALLAS \u00b7 SAN FRANCISCO\n\n THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.\n TORONTO\n\n\n\n\n DEIRDRE\n\n BY\n JAMES STEPHENS\n\n\n MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED\n ST. MARTIN\u2019S STREET, LONDON\n 1923\n\n\n\n\n COPYRIGHT\n\n\n PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN\n\n\n\n\n    Do chum gl\u00f3ire D\u00e9 agus on\u00f3ra na h-Eireann.\n\n\n\n\nTable of Contents\n\n\n  Book I\n    Chapter I\n    Chapter II\n    Chapter III\n    Chapter IV\n    Chapter V\n    Chapter VI\n    Chapter VII\n    Chapter VIII\n    Chapter IX\n    Chapter X\n    Chapter XI\n    Chapter XII\n    Chapter XIII\n    Chapter XIV\n    Chapter XV\n    Chapter XVI\n    Chapter XVII\n    Chapter XVIII\n    Chapter XIX\n    Chapter XX\n    Chapter XXI\n    Chapter XXII\n    Chapter XXIII\n\n  Book II\n    Chapter I\n    Chapter II\n    Chapter III\n    Chapter IV\n    Chapter V\n    Chapter VI\n    Chapter VII\n    Chapter VIII\n    Chapter IX\n    Chapter X\n    Chapter XI\n    Chapter XII\n    Chapter XIII\n    Chapter XIV\n    Chapter XV\n    Chapter XVI\n    Chapter XVII\n    Chapter XVIII\n\n  By the Same Author\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\nOnce on a time Conach\u00far mac Nessa[1] was on a journey, and had to pass\nthe night at the house of Felimid mac Dall, his storyteller. He was\nannoyed because his wife, Maeve, had not come with him, but Maeve had\nthe knack of annoying him more than any one else was able to; so that\nwhen he thought of her his mind went intriguing and adventuring, for he\nwas always trying to get the better of her, and was seldom without the\nfeeling that she was getting or had just got the best of him.\n\nFor this reason he was irritable and could not look at any one with\nbenevolence except Fergus mac Roy. But he could not look otherwise than\nbenevolently on Fergus.\n\nMeantime, night was at hand, and one must sleep, and it is vexatious\nto sleep alone.\n\nHe clapped his hands, and said to the attendant who appeared:\n\n\u201cIs Felimid mac Dall married?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive my compliments to Felimid,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cand tell him that his\nwife is to sleep with me to-night.\u201d\n\nThe attendant vanished and the king was left alone. That is, he was\nleft to his thoughts, for when he was among those he was where other\nmen might not care to follow him. In fact, the large room wherein\nhe sat was almost uncomfortably filled with men: but they kept\nrespectfully apart, playing chess, and speaking in low voices to one\nanother.\n\nThe attendant returned.\n\n\u201cA R\u00ed Uasal!\u201d said he humbly.\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cThe master of the house regrets that his wife cannot sleep with you\nto-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere is something new,\u201d said the king sternly.\n\n\u201cHis wife is at this moment in childbed,\u201d murmured the discreet\nservant.\n\n\u201cThese women are always troublesome,\u201d said the king with jovial\nanger. \u201cShe troubles me by withdrawing herself from my comfort, and\nshe troubles my poor Felimid by giving him a child he could well do\nwithout.\u201d\n\nHe looked moodily on his gentlemen. There was Cathfa,[2] the famous\npoet, and Conall his grandson, to be known later as Cearnach (the\nvictorious), but already notable; bitter-tongued Bricriu, who was\nfamous or infamous according to one\u2019s judgement; Uisneac, who had\nmarried one of Cathfa\u2019s three daughters, and for whose little son\nNaoise the queens of Ireland would weep so long as Ireland had a\nmemory; and there was Fergus mac Roy.\n\nConach\u00far\u2019s eye travelled loweringly from one to the other of these men\nuntil it rested on Fergus, and on him it rested lovingly, benevolently.\n\nHe looked loweringly on the others because they did not stand in any\nparticular relation to him at the moment. He looked lovingly and mildly\non Fergus because he hated Fergus and had wronged him so bitterly that\nhe must wrong him yet more in justification. His wife and Fergus mac\nRoy were often in his thoughts, so he looked very lovingly on them and\nspeculated a great deal about their future.\n\nBut this night the young king was seriously out of humour, not only\nbecause of his wife\u2019s absence, but because of many things that had\nhappened. Three comets in succession had flashed across the sky as they\ndrove to the Story-teller\u2019s house. His leading chariot-horse had trod\nin a rabbit-hole and its leg was cracked at the fetlock; and one of his\nattendants had been taken with mortal vomitings, and it did not seem\nthat he would finish until he had emptied his body of his soul.\n\nConach\u00far called to his father:\n\n\u201cYou are a poet, and should be able to tell us the meaning of these\nvarious omens.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not hard to tell,\u201d said the calm magician.\n\n\u201cThen tell it,\u201d quoth the king testily.\n\nAs he spoke a thin wail came from somewhere in the building, and the\nmen present turned an ear to that little sound, and then a questioning\nor humorous eye on each other.\n\n\u201cYou hear,\u201d said the poet. \u201cA child has just been born in this house.\nShe will bring evil to Ireland, and she will work destruction in Ulster\nas a ferret works destruction in a rabbit\u2019s burrow.\u201d\n\nCathfa then returned to his chess, leaving the company staring.\n\n\u201cYou have the gift of comfortable prophecy,\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cPut an end to the prophecy by putting an end to the child,\u201d Bricriu\nadvised, \u201cand then let us see how the gods manage their affairs.\u201d\n\n\u201cBricriu, my soul,\u201d said the king, \u201cyou like troubling the waters, but\nto-night you seem to be afflicted with sense. Bring the creature to me.\u201d\n\nThey carried the little morsel to him and she was laid across his knees.\n\n\u201cSo you are to destroy my kingdom and bring evil to mighty Ireland?\u201d\n\nThe babe reached with a tiny claw and gripped one finger of the king.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d he laughed, \u201cshe places herself under my protection,\u201d and he\nmoved his finger to and fro, but the child held fast to it.\n\n\u201cUlster is under your protection,\u201d growled Bricriu.\n\nThe king, who did not like other men\u2019s advice, looked at him.\n\n\u201cIt is not soldierly, nor the act of a prince to evade fate,\u201d said he\nwho was to be known afterwards as the wide-eyed, majestic monarch.\n\u201cTherefore, all that can happen will happen, and we shall bear all that\nis to be borne.\u201d\n\nThen he gave the child back to its trembling nurse.\n\nCathfa looked up from the chess-board.\n\n\u201cShe is to be called the \u2018Troubler,\u2019\u201d said he.\n\nAnd from that day \u201cDeirdre\u201d was her name.\n\n[1] Conach\u00far = pron. Kun-a-hoor; mac = pron. mock.\n\n[2] Cathfa = pron. Kaffa.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nWhen Echaid Yellow-Heel was King of Ulster, he had a daughter called\nAssa. She was educated apart from her father\u2019s residence by twelve\ntutors, and none of these had ever trained a pupil who was so docile,\nso teachable, or so affectionate. She loved knowledge, and so she loved\nlearned men and would be always in their company.\n\nOne day she went on a visit to her father\u2019s court, and when she\nreturned to her lessons she found that her twelve tutors had been\nmurdered, and there was nothing to tell who had killed them.\n\nFrom that moment her nature changed. She put on the dress of a\nfemale warrior, gathered a company about her, and went marauding and\nplundering in every direction. She was no longer called Assa (the\nGentle), but Nessa, or the Ungentle, was her name thenceforth.\n\nCathfa, the son of Ross, was then a young, powerful, and ambitious man,\nlearning magic, or practising what he had learned, and it was he had\nslain the tutors, but Nessa did not know this. It may be that Cathfa\nhad visited the tutors during her absence, and, for young magicians do\nnot love argument, he may have killed them after a dispute.\n\nOnce, on one of her marauding expeditions, she went questing in a\nwilderness. At a distance there was a spring of clear water, and,\nwhile her people were preparing food, Nessa went to this spring to\nbathe. She was in the water when Cathfa passed, for he also was in that\nwilderness, and when he saw the girl\u2019s body he loved her, for she was\nyoung and lovely. He approached, and placed himself between the girl\nand her dress and weapons, and he held a sword over her head.\n\n\u201cSpare me,\u201d she pleaded.\n\n\u201cIf you will be my wife I will spare you,\u201d said Cathfa.\n\nShe agreed to that, for no other course was open to her, and they\nrejoined her party.\n\nThey were married, and Nessa\u2019s father gave them a bride-gift of land,\ncalled afterwards Rath Cathfa, in the country of the Picts in Cr\u00ed Ross.\nIn time a son was born to those two, namely, Conach\u00far mac Nessa, for it\nwas by his mother\u2019s name he was known, and it was for him that Cathfa\nmade the poem beginning:\n\n    Welcome to the stranger that has come here.\n\nThere are some who say, however, that Fachtna the Mighty had been the\nleman of Nessa, and that it was he was the father of Conach\u00far instead\nof Cathfa. If so, as Fachtna was the son of Maga, who was daughter of\nAnger mac an Og of the Brugh, then Conach\u00far had the blood of a god\nin his veins as well as the blood of a mortal, and much of his great\nsuccess and of his terrible failure can be accounted for; for the gods\nare unlucky in love, so, too, the son of a wise mother is unlucky in\nlove, as is also the man who is fortunate in war.\n\nAfter some time Nessa left her husband, taking her son with her. It may\nbe that she had discovered he was the murderer of her tutors. It may\nhave been that she did not love him; it may even be that she did not\nlike being wife to a magician, or he may have grown tired of her. But\nshe never returned to him again.\n\nBut when Conach\u00far was a youth Nessa was still the most beautiful woman\nof Ulster. The then King of Ulster, Fachtna the Mighty, died, and his\nyoung half-brother, Fergus, the son of Roy, wife of Ross the Red, son\nof Rury, came to the throne. Fergus was then eighteen years of age and\nConach\u00far was sixteen, and, like Conach\u00far, Fergus also was known by his\nmother\u2019s name instead of his father\u2019s.\n\nNessa came to the Ulster court with her son, and while there Fergus\nfell madly in love with her, and she could in no way avoid the\nimportunities of that monstrous youth, for Fergus was gigantic in bulk\nand stature.\n\n\u201cI shall marry you on one condition,\u201d said Nessa.\n\n\u201cI agree to it beforehand,\u201d said Fergus.\n\n\u201cYou know the great love I bear my son, Conach\u00far?\u201d\n\n\u201cI also love him,\u201d said Fergus.\n\n\u201cHis descent is kingly,\u201d she said, \u201cand I desire that he should be a\nking if it were only for a year. If you resign the crown to him during\nour first year of marriage I will marry you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will do that,\u201d said Fergus.\n\nThat was done, and for a year Fergus and Nessa lived happily together.\n\nBut Nessa was not entirely absorbed in love. She was still thinking of\nher son. During that year she arranged a marriage for Conach\u00far with\nClothru, the daughter of the High King of Ireland, and she spent a vast\ntreasure in working among the nobles and important people of Ulster, so\nthat they became of her son\u2019s party as against the party of her husband.\n\nIndeed, her young husband had no party, for he was the least suspicious\nman living in the world, and, except in matters of honour or war, he\nwould make no plans and take no trouble. Nor was Conach\u00far idle during\nhis year of kingship. His ability was marvellous, and his energy as\nwonderful. Feuds that seemed to be endless were settled by him. Foreign\naffairs that threatened or hung offered him no trouble. But it was from\nthe Judgement Seat that his fame spread most quickly.\n\n\u201cA fool,\u201d said the proverb, \u201ccan give judgement, but who will give us\njustice?\u201d No question was so tangled but that swift mind could pierce\nit; no matter was too ponderous to be weighed by him, or too light to\nescape his attention. He knew all, he attended to all; everything he\ntouched was bettered, and men said that until that year Ulster had\nnever known prosperity, or peace, or justice, but only the imitation of\nthese. Conach\u00far was every man\u2019s friend, and in a short time every man\nwas his.\n\nFergus returned to a court that had forgotten him, or that was so\nblinded by the new prodigy that they saw nothing when they looked\nelsewhere. It was held that Fergus had actually resigned the kingship,\nor that he had given it as a dowry to his wife; and, although the young\nlord may have been dismayed, the representation of the nobles, and, in\nparticular, the wit and cajolery of his wife, arranged that matter, so\nthat he made no effort to regain his kingdom, and in a short time he\nwas the most devoted admirer of Conach\u00far in the realm.\n\nIt is possible that Nessa left him then, or that she died, but we do\nnot hear of her again.\n\nConach\u00far\u2019s married life may have been happy, but it was short. At the\nend of about eight months Clothru returned to Connacht on a visit to\nthe High King, her father. We do not know what happened, but a dispute\narose between Clothru and her youngest sister, Maeve.[3] Maeve struck\na blow that killed Clothru, and Conach\u00far\u2019s first child was born in its\nmother\u2019s death agonies.\n\nWhen this news came to Ulster Conach\u00far set out to demand reparation\nor vengeance, but when he beheld Maeve his ideas underwent a horrible\nchange. He had never seen anything like this queenly creature. He had\nnot imagined that there could be in the world a girl so wonderful\nas she, for she was brave and able and of a marvellous loveliness.\nConach\u00far\u2019s hard mind would not flinch when once his lusts were aroused.\nHis vengeance and his desire made common cause. He married Maeve\nagainst her wish, and without her consent, and he bore her back with\nhim to Ulster, a queen, a captive, and, notwithstanding her crime, a\ndeeply wronged woman.\n\nFergus mac Roy and Maeve, these were his victims, and from them there\nwas to arise a story which would seem to the king as unending as time\nitself. Those two, and Deirdre!\n\n[3] It was this Maeve, anciently spelled \u201cMadb,\u201d who became afterwards\n\u201cMab\u201d the Queen of the Fairies of Spenser and Shakespeare.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nDeirdre grew up in a place apart at Emania. She saw no people of any\nkind, except Lavarcham, the king\u2019s \u201cconversation-woman,\u201d and her women\nservants; for always about the castle where she lived there was a guard\nof the oldest and ugliest swordsmen that were in Ulster. Their duty\nwas to let nobody pass in or out of the castle grounds; for it was the\nking\u2019s intention to outwit fate as he had outwitted all else that had\nmoved in his path.\n\nThus she grew in gentleness and peace, hearing no voice less sweet\nthan the voice of the birds that sang in the sunshine, or the friendly\ncalling of the wind she played with; seeing nothing more uncomely than\nthe gracious outline of far hills, the many-coloured sky that fled and\nwas never gone, the creatures that lived unmolested in the trees about\nthe castle, and the wild deer that grew tame in nearby brakes. All that\nshe knew was friendly to her and naught was rough. All that she drew\nnigh to stood for her approach. Naught fled from her, and she did not\nflee from anything.\n\nWatching her, as she stood or sat or went, the wise Lavarcham used to\nlose her senses, for all that was beautiful was here gathered into one\nform, as in one true ray of the sun is all that is lovely of the sun.\nThe running wind, and the wild creatures of the wood; the folk from the\nSh\u00ed, the Bochanachs and Bananocks, and the aerial beings that are not\nseen, might have stayed to look at Deirdre, but had they stayed they\ncould not have gone again, for they would have become eyes only, and\nthey would have perished in beauty, gazing on it.\n\nLavarcham was a wise woman. She could not have occupied and continued\nto hold her position in Conach\u00far\u2019s household had she not been wise. She\nwas known as the king\u2019s \u201cconversation-woman,\u201d and she could indicate\nan unpleasant truth as delicately as a poet can express the dimple\nin a lady\u2019s chin. But her real occupation, masked by the courteous\nword, was that of household spy. She went to and fro in the vast\npalaces at Emania, and nothing passed there, whether among the nobles\nor the servants, that she was not privy to, or which the king was not\nthereafter acquainted with. She could adapt herself to any situation\nand to every society; and if her chatter with the kitchen-maids was\njovial and in key, her conversation with a young princess or an old\nbard was not less balanced and elucidatory.\n\nShe had many things to teach a young girl, and she withheld no\nknowledge that could benefit the little one whom her heart had soon\nadopted as its own babe. The virtues as well as the arts were part\nof her experience, so that Deirdre grew in the love of chastity, of\nindustry, and of joyfulness.\n\nIn this way and in these teachings the years went by, unnoticed as\nyears. Day followed night, and night came after day in a timeless\nsuccession, each adding its unnoticeable little to her stature, its\nunseen tender curve to her limbs, its imperceptible deposit of memory\nto her mind.\n\nBut among the arts of which the tireless Lavarcham spoke there was one\nshe taught and retaught to Deirdre, and that art was Conach\u00far.\n\nAlthough she had never seen the king, yet the young girl knew him as\na mother knows her baby. She could have recited his babyhood, his\nadolescence, and now his maturity. She knew, as only Lavarcham did,\nwhy he did such a certain thing, and by what progressions this stated\nconsummation, marvelled at by others, had been arrived at. It was of\ninfinite interest to Deirdre, but its inevitable effect was to stamp\nthe unseen king with a seal of time, so that, although Lavarcham\ninsisted he was only thirty-five years of age, the young girl\u2019s mind\nregarded him as one who could have been father and grandfather to a\nhill.\n\nShe reported to Conach\u00far at proper intervals as to her ward, and he,\nif he had wished, might have checked the passing years by his memory\nof the stories Lavarcham told him of Deirdre learning to walk, and\nwalking; of Deirdre learning to talk, and talking: her teeth were\ncounted to him as she cut them, and when she bruised her knee slipping\ndown a bank, or when she wept for the cold fledgling she found on the\npath, or when she refused to weep in a thunderstorm, he was acquainted\nwith the facts, and nodded at them gravely as they were told.\n\nShe had been a round thing, all surprise and fluff, like a young duck:\nshe became a lank anatomy, all leg and hair and stare, like a young\ncolt: then she became a wild thing, all spring and peep and run, like\na young fawn; and now she was what Lavarcham continued to report and\ndilate on.\n\nBut the king could not believe one half of the tale that Lavarcham\ntold, for it seemed to him that such beauty as she reported was not\ncredible, and he knew that women speak foolishly when they talk of\nbeauty. He was, moreover, well satisfied with the queen who was with\nhim then, Maeve, the lovely daughter of the High King.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\nIt happened at last that Maeve came to the decision which for a long\ntime had been forming in her mind. She decided that she would not\nremain with the King of Ulster any longer, and, having so decided and\nfaced all its implications, she was not long in finding an opportunity\nto get away from him. It is not right to say that she \u201cfound\u201d an\nopportunity, for she was of those who create chance, and who do at all\ntimes everything that is in their minds.\n\nThere were many reasons why she might have been discontented as the\nwife of Conach\u00far. The similarity of their characters, their equally\nimperious temperaments, their equally untiring and almost identical\nhabits of mind, rendered each an object of suspicion and endless\ncogitation to the other. They could not rest together or apart, for\neach knew what, in certain circumstances, he or she would do, and\nunerringly credited the other with the performance of these surmised\ndeeds. Thus leisure, which might have been profitably spent by either,\nwas wasted by both in courteous ambuscades and counter or parallel\nschemes, so that the private habit of one was a perpetual cancelling of\nthe private desires of the other, and a state of exasperation existed\nbetween them which, as it could not come to the surface and be faced or\ndownfaced, ended by being a very poison to life.\n\nIn settling out these terms it is more proper to refer them to Maeve\nthan to the king, for in the large conduct of his affairs he could\nescape from his household and forget in the Council Hall or the\nJudgement Seat that which his wife was given only the greater leisure\nto remember in her Sunny Chamber or among her servants and sycophants.\n\nBut matrimony had been poisoned for them at the very fountain, and a\ndear, detestable memory for Maeve was that her husband had outraged\nher before he married her, and that he had taken her then and\nthereafter in her own despite.\n\nIf it had been a question of morality she might have forgiven Conach\u00far\nalmost before forgiveness could be prayed for, but it was not a moral\nviolence she raged against. She was a lady to whom nothing in the\nworld was so dear and instant as she was herself, and that any man\nshould lay an uninvited hand upon her outraged her sense of propriety\nas no general idea could have done. But she was as courageous as she\nwas beautiful and as unblushing as either. The world might have heard\nher statement of the virtues she demanded in a husband, and if the\nworld was alarmed the young queen permitted it to be as it pleased, on\ncondition that it did not interfere with her, nor question her wish.\n\n\u201cMy husband,\u201d she said, \u201cmust be free from cowardice, and free from\navarice, and free from jealousy; for I am brave in battles and combats,\nand it would be a discredit to my husband if I were braver than he. I\nam generous and a great giver of gifts, and it would be a disgrace to\nmy husband if he were less generous than I am. And,\u201d she continued,\n\u201cit would not suit me at all if he were jealous, for I have never\ndenied myself the man I took a fancy to, and I never shall whatever\nhusband I have now or may have hereafter.\u201d\n\nIt is possible that her husband did not fulfil these conditions as\ncompletely as Maeve desired. Of his courage there could be no doubt.\nHe had proved that on many an opponent, and although there were better\nsoldiers there were few who breasted danger with such gay violence. As\nto his generosity, that might be questioned by one so whole-hearted as\nMaeve, for although he would give often and largely there might be more\nof calculation than of spontaneity in the gift. But it is in the third\nof her stipulations that Conach\u00far would probably be found wanting; for,\ngiven his temperament, his furious passions, his habit of command, and\nhis endless cleverness, he should have been a very madman for jealousy.\nAll clever men are jealous: it is one of the forms of egoism.\n\nHe must have tracked the discontented lady with the persistence of a\nbloodhound and all the casual anonymity of a husband. He would have\nbeen always just there in the place where she least desired to see him;\nand it is possible that gentlemen on whom her eyes rested approvingly\nwould disappear before her eyes had adequately rested on them. It may\nhave seemed to Maeve that some one like Conach\u00far was standing at every\ncorner in Emain Macha,[4] and that at the few corners where he was not\nhis conversation-woman was, or some other withered crone was there\nblaring hideously on her yellow tusk and making a noise that would\nannoy a young woman, but which might absolutely terrify a young man.\n\nShe reviewed the situation and all the subsidiary situations. She\nthought of what her father, the High King, would say, and knew how\nhe should be answered and by what arts he might be made an ally. She\nthought of what her two sisters would urge, but she thought of them\nnegligently, considering that they would be more anxious to avoid than\nto meet her. And she thought of her third sister, about whom she need\nspeculate no more; and Maeve\u2019s hand that struck the blow had been as\nsteady as was her mind that contemplated its memory. Conach\u00far had come\nto demand vengeance and had exacted marriage. That was his vengeance,\nand she thought of the cold-minded, furious-blooded king in every\nalternation from astonishment to rage, and in every mood except that of\nfear, for she was not afraid of him, or of anything that lived.\n\n[4] Emain Macha = pronounced Evan Maha.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\nHer immediate intention was to get away from Ulster and so to order\nher conduct in the meantime that the king, who suspected everything\nand foresaw all, would have no suspicion of this: therefore, if she\ncogitated her plans she kept them in her own mind. She would have no\nconfidant until the action was decided and the hour for it had struck.\n\nAnd in this matter she had much to think of. But she patiently resolved\nthese complexities, so that each went at last into its place in her\nplan, and she had the leisure to review and revise it until she could\nbe certain that nothing was forgotten and that a perfect piece of\nmachinery had been created. The machine was not visible, but it would\nappear as at a wave of her hand, and it would begin to move at the hour\nof its birth. It was not by chance that this lady was called by a\nmasculine name,[5] for she had patience and tenacity and a clear, cool\nhead.\n\nHad it been merely a question of getting comfortably away there would\nhave been nothing in the prospect to exercise the queen. She would\nhave mounted her chariot, and, whether her husband was looking or not\nlooking, she would have driven wherever she wished to go: she would\nhave driven over him if he had stood in her way, and through his army\nif that had been unavoidable. The difficulty was that she did not\nintend to leave with Conach\u00far the possessions she had brought to Ulster\nand those that she had since acquired, for the High King had endowed\nhis daughter in a manner befitting his condition and the rank she was\nto occupy; and, as a wife\u2019s possessions were secured to her by the law\nof the land, she did not intend to leave Conach\u00far richer than he had a\nright to be.\n\nIt was the transport of this vast baggage which exercised the queen.\n\nShe owned flocks of sheep, herds of cattle, droves of horses and pigs.\nThese naturally had multiplied during her residence at Emain. She\nhad vessels of gold and silver, of findriny and bronze. She had rings\nand bracelets; shoulder torques as big as plates, and breast brooches\nthat were twice as big. She had pleasure chariots and war chariots;\nshe had rich fabrics of linen embroidered with gold and silver thread;\nmany-coloured, silken shawls with deep fringes of gold or with tassels\nand bobberies of silver. She had head-dresses of every material and\nmetal. Bronze spears, each with an hundred loose rings of gold that\nclashed musically up and down the handle, and on each of the rings\nthere chimed a little silver bell. She had shields and breastplates of\nsolid silver and gold, and they were set out with patterns of dainty\ngems. There were quilts of silk and fur, cushions that delighted the\nhead or the eye that rested on them. She had bird-cages of ivory and\ncrystal. Beds that had been chipped out of monster blocks of amethyst.\nCups of carved ivory, each with a different gem set inside at the\nbottom so that it twinkled at you while you drank. Chess-boards of\nprecious metals, and each man on the board had occupied the cunning\nartificer a long year of his age to fashion it. She had her own\nmachinery for brewing and baking. What had she not got? Her dresses\nalone would pack a house and burst out through the roof and tumble down\nthe glass of her Sunny Chamber like an untimely sunset for colour, and\nlike a billow of the sea for exuberance.\n\nShe did not intend that as much as one thread of her threads should\nremain behind her in Emain Macha.\n\n\u201cNo other queen shall waggle her toes in my draperies, nor enjoy what\nis proper for my enjoyment alone,\u201d thought Maeve.\n\nConach\u00far was preparing to go on a visit to Cairbre Niafar, King of\nLeinster, for he thought an alliance could be formed from which good\nmight possibly come to Ulster. The neighbouring kingdom of Connacht had\ngrown strong and stronger, and he knew that the people of that kingdom\nwould be glad to think that Leinster and he remained at arm\u2019s-length.\n\nHe would travel in state, and such a journey had to be organized\ncarefully. Houses for rest and entertainment on the way must be\narranged for. Heralds and messengers sent days in advance and\ndispositions made so that their reports might be received on his\njourney. Several thousand men would be in his company, and the shelter,\nfeeding, and entertainment of these had to be thought of. So for a\nlittle time he was busy. But he was not too busy to remark anything\nthat might chance to be remarkable.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLavarcham sat with him in his retired room at the centre of the\nRoyal Branch. From this room the great circular mass of his palace\nradiated in all directions to its ten-acre circumference, and in this\ndeep-placed, well-secured centre the king sat, as a spider might sit in\nthe middle of his gigantic web. The room he occupied was sufficiently\nlarge. The ceiling was an intricate medley and very encrustation of\ncarved wood, and pushing out of that chaotic centre came a great\nshoulder and a grotesque head which held in its mouth a bronze chain\nwith a crystal ball swinging from it, and that ball was so round and\npure it seemed to be one great drop of clear water. Sometimes Cathfa\ncame here, and would read matters in the crystal to the king. The walls\nof the room were panelled in polished red oak, and between each oaken\npanel was a panel of ruddy bronze, with a silver rail above it, and a\ngolden bird was perched at the end of each rail; so that the light from\nthe torches gleamed gently again from the walls and multiplied itself\nin faint winks and reflections about the room. There was one large\nchair there, and a small stool.\n\nLavarcham was seated on the stool. She was permitted to rest in her\nmaster\u2019s presence, for she usually had much to say to him and he always\nfound her interesting.\n\n\u201cGood my soul,\u201d said the king. \u201cI am glad that you are a woman.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not badly contented about that myself,\u201d she smiled.\n\n\u201cFor,\u201d he continued, \u201cif you had been a man I should have been afraid\nof you.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so, master?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause you could have taken my kingdom whenever you wanted it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, master, I would not accept a kingdom if I got one as a\npresent. There is too much responsibility and there is too much to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is no lie,\u201d he conceded.\n\n\u201cI like,\u201d she continued, \u201cto do my work, and then I like to forget my\nwork; but if I had the bad luck to be a king, or a queen, I should\nnever again know what a rest meant, as you, my dear master, do not know\nwhat it is to rest yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cStill,\u201d said the king smilingly, \u201cthe queen does get an occasional\nrest.\u201d\n\n\u201cA king wants rest but cannot get it; a queen, however, may not feel\nthe need to rest, and may not wish for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow do you intend that, my friend?\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean that a woman gives herself up more than a man does, and when\nshe so gives herself to love or power or hate she gives all that she\nhas, where a man may keep back something.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the queen, Lavarcham, as you have spoken of her, what do you think\nof her?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow would I dare to think about the queen, master?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you like her?\u201d he insisted.\n\n\u201cShe is very lovely.\u201d\n\n\u201cI perceive that you do not love the queen,\u201d said he; and then, after a\nmoment, but severely--\u201cDo you love me, Lavarcham?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do love you indeed,\u201d she answered gravely.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d he insisted, \u201cdo you love anybody else as well as me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI love nobody else except my babe.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, that fabulous babe! Is she still getting new teeth, or what is it\nshe is getting now?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is getting to be a beautiful young girl, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, yes, you told me that.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is thirteen years of age.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut tell me now, my heart, why did you draw the talk a moment ago to\nqueens and their hate and restlessness?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, master, I did not draw the talk round in that way.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d he mused, \u201cthe queen has not treated you courteously.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are wrong indeed,\u201d she said happily, \u201cfor this whole week past the\nqueen has been most kind to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd to-day she called me \u2018her Dear Branch, Lavarcham,\u2019 and spoke with\nme for an hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cHave you been among her women?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd her men?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey too.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat have you found?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing, master. Not a word, not a wink, not a stare, not a\nhesitation, not an eagerness, not a question; I found nothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd in the queen what did you notice?\u201d\n\n\u201cAffection for me, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish I were not going away,\u201d said the king. He stood from his chair\nand strode weightily in the room.\n\n\u201cI too wish it,\u201d his companion agreed.\n\nHe halted and regarded her gravely.\n\n\u201cBe very friendly with the queen,\u201d he counselled.\n\nBut Lavarcham smiled pityingly at him.\n\n\u201cWhy should I waste my time?\u201d said she.\n\nHe nodded at that also, and became deeply and unhappily thoughtful.\n\n[5] The word Maeve or Mab seems to mean \u201cIntoxication.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\nMaeve had her own bodyguard of soldiers, close on one thousand men,\nwho had come with her from Connacht, and from whom she refused to\nbe parted. She was herself their captain, and each man of them was\ndevoted to her. They were mostly her own countrymen, and she drilled\nand exercised and was good to them with untiring patience and skill.\nShe was the mother of the force, but a wag called her the wife of the\nregiment. These thousand men were in Conach\u00far\u2019s mind as he arranged\nhis visit to Leinster. He had often thought he must disband this force\nand replace it by his own men, or that he must win its allegiance and\ndestroy it, so he also had been especially kind to the strange soldiers.\n\nNow, on the eve of his journey, he thought it would be a good thing to\nbring them with him to Leinster; thus, as he explained to Maeve, giving\nthem entertainment and exercise, while at the same time doing honour\nto his queen and her native province. But the proposition raised such\na dreadful ire in the queen, she trod the chamber in such dudgeon and\nwas so free in her speech, that Conach\u00far hastily and good-humouredly\nwithdrew the suggestion; and bade her bear the soldiers\u2019 discontent\nwhen they learned who stood between them and one of the pleasantest\nmarches that a soldier could have.\n\nIndeed, an argument with Maeve was not to be lightly undertaken. It\nwas likely to last a long time, in the first place; and in the second,\nshe had so precipitate a manner of speech and so copious a command of\nwords that the listener\u2019s mind quickly began to feel as if it were in\na whirlpool, his head would fly round and round, and he must run away\nlest his brains burst out from his ears and he die giddily.\n\nNo one but Conach\u00far could hearken to Maeve\u2019s speech on such occasions,\nand he only did it when he particularly wanted to. For, at times, that\nwhich would drive another man mad had a strangely soothing effect on\nhim, and he could sit under that shrill tornado as peacefully as a\ndaisy sits in the sunshine. At times, as one forces a restive horse\nmuch farther than it desires to go, he would impel into the brief\ntail-end of her sentence a philosophic and peaceful interjection which\nacted on her as the spur on the horse, so that he would drive her\nbeyond the very bounds of utterance, and she would at last, from sheer\ntongue-weariness, topple from the peaks of speech into a silence so\nprofound that nothing, it seemed, could ever draw her thence again; and\nthen Conach\u00far would talk to her soothingly, reasonably, unforgivably,\nand it was Maeve would run.\n\nBut this time Conach\u00far fled: he was in no mood and had not the time for\nargument; he knew she would not yield, and he was so angry and hurried\nthat he could not be the patient, humorous, and watchful comrade he had\nintended to be.\n\nWhen he spoke of this matter to Lavarcham he did not speak with good\nhumour, but he did not empty his mind even to the conversation-woman.\nIt was not necessary.\n\n\u201cWhen I return from Leinster ...!\u201d said he.\n\nBut the wise woman nodded only a half-hearted agreement, for she\nthought that, although it might only take two days to bury a thousand\nmen, it would take a long time to bury those who would march to avenge\nthem.\n\nThe rage and agitation into which his suggestion had thrown the queen\nwas so great that she fell ill, and could not accompany her husband to\nLeinster. So that, as on a previous occasion, he had to travel without\nher, the understanding being that she would take the road after him,\nand, travelling more lightly, could perhaps catch on his company before\nthey reached Naas, the court and capital of the King of Leinster.\n\nWith his force, but unknown to it, there went a youth--a long-striding,\nactive, bull-like young man with a freckled face and red hair, and\nthan whom there was no more jovial person in all Ireland, for if a\nman was striking at him with a spear he could make that man laugh\nso much that he would not be able to hit straight. His name was mac\nRoth. He was Maeve\u2019s personal servant, her herald. But just as the\nword \u201cconversation-woman\u201d cloaked another occupation for Lavarcham, so\nthe word \u201cherald\u201d hid the same usefulness in mac Roth. He was Maeve\u2019s\npersonal spy, but he also was her herald, and in after days, because of\nhis knowledge, address, and courage, he was to be the chief herald of\nall Ireland.\n\nHe accompanied Conach\u00far\u2019s force, but he was not with it. He was a mile\nin advance, or a perch behind, or he was to the right of it just at a\nsmall distance, or he was looking from a hill on the left as the gay\ncavalcade and silver-shining chariots went by in the valley.\n\nHe accompanied them in that manner unseen for two days, and then,\nmurmuring a blessing on them and on their encampment, he left them in\nthe night, taking from them the loan of an unwatched horse, and he rode\nback by short cuts to Emain.\n\nWhen he reached the palace he was able to report that the king had gone\nso far he could not easily turn back; and at that news Maeve\u2019s illness\ndeparted from her as suddenly as it had come.\n\nIn the morning she called for twenty of the chief men of her bodyguard\nand gave them careful, separate instruction. Then she informed the\ndomestics that her quarters must be thoroughly cleaned while the king\nwas away, and that everything she owned must be put out on the sunny\nlawn for airing and counting.\n\nThe palace chamberlain came in great haste, but that suave man was\nsoothed by Maeve and sent away with his dignity unhurt, but his mind\nexercised. He communicated his news to Lavarcham, who had retired to\nthe company of her \u201cbabe\u201d outside Emania. Within the hour Lavarcham\ndespatched a flying messenger to Conach\u00far, but just outside the city\nmac Roth, who was waiting for him in a hedge, buzzed a spear through\nthat man\u2019s back as he went thundering past. But in the night Lavarcham,\nwho left little to chance, sent other messengers, so that if some\nmiscarried others would not.\n\nBut Maeve\u2019s plan was at work, the men she had chosen for a particular\npart were acting in that part, and inside of ten hours her company\nwas deployed behind her baggage, her march to Connacht had begun, and\nConach\u00far was a bachelor again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\nIt was as well that the king was in Leinster at the time of Maeve\u2019s\nflight. Had he been nearer home he would have been obliged to\ndo something, and, in such a situation, to do anything is to be\nridiculous. He knew Maeve too well to imagine that she would return for\na threat, yet he made the threats which seemed politic, for that was a\nmatter of course.\n\nBut the messengers who bore these rigorous intimations to her father\nbore others to Maeve, and in these the son of Ness was humble as no one\ncould imagine possible, and as his counsellors might not have deemed\nadvisable.\n\nThere was no arrangement which she might have suggested that he would\nnot have agreed to, but the difference between them was too radical to\nbe spanned by arrangements.\n\nMaeve was proud; she was vain to boot, and could not consent to be\nsecond to any one. Living with Conach\u00far she had to be second, whatever\nhe or she might desire. Indeed, living with him anywhere she would have\nto take second place, for the first place came to him so naturally,\nwith such ease and finality, it could not be questioned or revoked, or\ncontrived in any way.\n\nMore, and worse, she detested him for he had always dared her and\nsucceeded. She, it is true, had dared him, and on this occasion had\nsucceeded. But she could not live with him and dare him competently,\nwhich is just what he could do with her. Even if he abdicated the\nthrone to her he would keep the sceptre, and she could no more take it\nfrom him than she could have abstracted the speed from the lightning.\nIf she came back to Emania she would come back dead, or, should it\nhappen that she did come back alive, the king would at last have to\nkill her or she would kill the king. Conach\u00far knew it, and at last\nrenounced his vain embassies and hopes.\n\nIf we should wonder why he sent them, or why he should hope, the answer\nlay in his character. That clever, energetic man could not exist with a\ntame mate. A mere bodily satisfaction he, sated in such satisfactions,\nwould have exhausted in a week, and thereafter he would be without a\nrefreshment which is as much of the mind as of the body, and which, to\none of his temperament, has always most of the mind even when it seems\nfleshy to beastliness. She satisfied cravings of his nature which he\nhimself but dimly understood; and if, with her, the mistress was more\napparent than the wife, therein lies the desire and doom of a clever\nman.\n\nFor he was diabolically clever, and, so, not wise, and, so, not great.\nOnly the great escape slavery, and he was the slave to his ego and\nwould be whipped. A great man would not, because he could not, take\nmean advantages. But the manner in which Conach\u00far ousted Fergus from\nhis throne will command the admiration of his peers only, and obtain\nfrom them the justification which success requires. And yet he could\nretain the love of his victim, the trust of his people. He was so\nnear to greatness; there were such sterling qualities running with\nthe egotism; he could be so mild in difficulties, so clear-sighted in\ncounsel; he could be so staunch a friend; he could forgive with such\nroyal liberality; he could spend himself so endlessly for his realm.\nC\u00fachulain did not think of him as a bad man, nor did Fergus; and as to\nthe latter, he loved and honoured Conach\u00far above the men of Ireland.\nWas that a defect or a merit in Fergus? Was he too great or too simple?\nBut it was not for clever tricks he admired Conach\u00far, nor was it for\ntricks that his people referred to him as the \u201cwide-eyed, majestic\nking.\u201d\n\nHowever he bore the flight in public, he mourned for and craved for\nMaeve in private, and the illness which comes to a baulked will fell on\nhim, corroding his mind and his temper, so that even Lavarcham left him\nas much alone as her duties permitted.\n\nAgain and again by an effort of the will he would arouse from that sour\nbrooding to throw himself into work and into the grave joviality which\nhad once been his note; but, as instantly, he would relapse visibly\nto any eye, and might stare so sardonically and uncomprehendingly on\na suppliant that the latter would be glad to go away with his tale\nunlistened to.\n\nMatters were thus when a new plan began to brood in Lavarcham\u2019s mind,\nso that when she looked on her babe again it began to seem that she\nlooked on a queen, for she intended to marry Deirdre to Conach\u00far.\n\nAll Ulster wished the king to marry again, for a celibate prince is a\nscandal to the people.\n\nIt was the constant effort of those responsible in the State to marry\noff a young prince almost as soon as he came to the age of puberty.\nFor such youngsters are great rovers, with appetites as gluttonous as\ndogs, and so care-free that they are surprised and indignant if others\nquestion the action which they do not themselves weigh. It is certainly\na hardship and a tyranny if a neighbour should constrain a neighbour\u2019s\nwife to his own domestic uses, but it is only a hardship because the\naffair occurs between equals, among whom friendly observances are due,\nand between whom equal respect is grounded. Among equals anything that\nimplies inequality is a punishable wrong: but there is no hardship\nwhen the superior takes what he carelessly desires. It is community of\ninterests which makes equals, and the disturbance of this which makes\nenemies; but there is no community of interests between the prince and\nthe subject, and no man is aggrieved by an action which can only affect\nhis honour by increasing it. Nevertheless, so illogical is the mind of\nman, and so uncompromising is the sense of property, that men could\nbe found who would interrupt with a spear the careless pleasure of a\nprince; and there were some, blacksmiths mostly and cobblers, who would\ntake a cudgel to the king\u2019s majesty itself and beat it out of a warm\nbed.\n\nSo, when Lavarcham thought that she might conduct her ward between the\nlax arms of her sovereign, she but harboured an idea which every male\nperson in the realm who had a wife, a sister, or a daughter, hoped for\nwith fervour.\n\nNor did the idea occur only to her.\n\nWithin a month of Maeve\u2019s disappearance more young ladies began to\nappear in Emania than had been noticed there previously, so that\nConach\u00far, had he been in a condition to observe such things, might have\nnoticed that Ulster had begun to blossom like the rose.\n\nBut plottings such as these were of small use in the case of a man like\nConach\u00far, and it is likely that the first person to know what should\nbe done and what was expected from the head of the State was the king\nhimself. His duty as a king would point him the way: the necessity to\nrepair what had been damaged would claim his mind; and the desire to\nforget by replacing would be even more insistent; for if a hair of the\ndog that bit you is the specific against drunkenness, it is a medicine\nagainst love also, and is, alas! the only one we know of.\n\nTherefore the king did for a while take a fevered interest in the\nladies of his court, but he found, so jaundiced was his eye, that they\nwere neither worth looking at nor worth talking to, and he did not\ngrudge their companionship to any man.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo Lavarcham, at last, he opened his mind.\n\n\u201cI must marry, Lavarcham, my soul.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is plenty of time for that, master,\u201d said the wily woman.\n\n\u201cWhile I have no wife,\u201d Conach\u00far replied, \u201cthe people will talk of the\nwife I had, and the only way to stop that is to give them something\nelse to talk of.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true, indeed,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cI foresee,\u201d he continued, \u201cthat I shall be compelled to marry some one\nI do not care for.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn that case, master, you will be saved the trouble of choosing, for\nyou may take the first that comes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey seem to resemble one another like peas in a pod. Are women all\nalike, my friend?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are much of a pattern, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet----\u201d said the king, brooding deeply on one that had fled.\n\n\u201cOur little ward,\u201d Lavarcham continued thoughtfully, \u201cis rather\nunusual.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat age is she now?\u201d said the dull king.\n\n\u201cSixteen years and a few months.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo much. We must think of marrying her to some friend. Perhaps one of\nour kinsmen of Scotland. I must be reminded again of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome and see her, master, and then you will be able to decide how she\nshould be disposed of.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall go to see her some day.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n\nDeirdre\u2019s education in the art of the king continued, but it proceeded\nnow somewhat obliquely to its former trend.\n\nWhat woman in Lavarcham\u2019s place could avoid treating her master\u2019s later\naffairs without something of sentimentality creeping into the terms?\nAnd what young girl could regard Maeve otherwise than as a heroine for\nhaving dared so shocking a scandal, and such a round of perils? As\nLavarcham detailed Maeve, Deirdre interpreted her, and at the close of\nthe statement the judgement of each was so different, so opposed, that\na third person might have marvelled at the tricks the understanding can\nplay; for what was black to the one was not only white to the other,\nbut it was crimson and purple and gold; and what was treachery to\nLavarcham gleamed on Deirdre like a candid sunrise.\n\nWe assimilate knowledge less through our intellects than through our\ntemperaments; and a young person can by no effort look through the\neyes of an older. There are other ways by which a mutual perception\ncan be so deflected that the same thing is not similarly viewed, and\nso Lavarcham\u2019s appreciation of Maeve\u2019s conduct would differ from\nConach\u00far\u2019s, as his would be unlike Cathfa\u2019s or Bricriu\u2019s or Fergus mac\nRoy\u2019s, and as these would be obscure to one another. The element of\nself-interest in each would act as a prism, and each would understand\nas much of the tale as he desired to understand, but no more, and would\nforgive or condemn on these arrested findings.\n\nTo Lavarcham Maeve\u2019s flight was treachery and deserved punishment; but\nit was not, in her thought, a misfortune for which even Conach\u00far need\nweep. She had thoroughly disliked Maeve, for though she could impose on\nevery one she could not impress that imperious lady, and she had never\ndared tell one half of Maeve\u2019s doings lest the violent queen should\nsuspect, and loose a slash that would cut her in two halves in the very\npresence of the king.\n\nThe departure of Maeve meant also the departure of mac Roth, and to be\nfree from that jovial, crafty eye was so great a relief that Lavarcham\ncould have wept in thankfulness; for to be a spy is a simple thing,\nan occupation like any other, but to be spied upon when one is a spy\nis a monstrous inversion of what is proper, and might easily give one\npalpitations of the heart.\n\nMac Roth had her frightened, and could have cowed her any time he\nwished. In her own craft he was her master, for, after all, she was\nonly a household spy, but he was a--spy. She could glean from the\nkitchen or the Sunny Chamber everything that was there; but she must\nhave walls about her and work behind those; while mac Roth did not mind\nwhether he was in a room or in a forest; he would spy in a beehive; he\nwould spy on the horned end of the moon; he would spy in the middle of\nthe sea, and would know which wave it was that drowned him, and which\nwas the wave that urged it on.\n\nLavarcham was not only glad that Maeve was gone, she was jubilant;\nand, moreover, it gave her an opportunity that she could scarcely have\nhoped for to advance her babe in life without parting from her, and to\nstrengthen all her own grips on fortune.\n\nHitherto, when she had spoken of Conach\u00far to Deirdre she spoke of the\nking\u2019s majesty, but now, insensibly, she began to talk of a great man\nbowed under misfortune and a proper subject for female pity. But she\ncould not wipe out the king\u2019s majesty with that sponge nor alter one\nlineament of the portrait she had taken ten years to limn.\n\nThe king persisted for Deirdre, stern and aloof and almost incredibly\nancient, looming out from and overshadowing her infancy like a fairy\ntale; and was he not contemporary with Lavarcham, herself old enough to\nbe remembered but not thought of? Deirdre was interested in the king as\nshe was interested in the people of the Sh\u00ed,[6] without expectation,\nand with a little fear.\n\nBut to her reasonings and objections Lavarcham had one answer:\n\n\u201cMy soul and dear treasure, you cannot speak about men, for you have\nnot seen any.\u201d\n\nAnd at last one day Deirdre replied:\n\n\u201cIndeed, mother, I have seen them, these men you tell me of.\u201d\n\nLavarcham stared at her.\n\n\u201cAnd,\u201d the gleeful child continued, \u201cI have spoken to them.\u201d\n\nHer foster-mother became smoother than silk, and soft as the lap of\nkindness.\n\n\u201cTell me about that, my one love, and tell me how men seem to you now\nthat you have seen them.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not hard to tell,\u201d replied Deirdre; \u201cmen are as ugly as donkeys,\nand,\u201d she continued, \u201cthey are just as nice.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs ugly and as nice as donkeys!\u201d Lavarcham quoted in a daze.\n\n\u201cYes, mother, and I love them because they are so nice and ugly and\ngood.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what men are you talking of, my star?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am talking of the men outside the walls.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe guards?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd when did you see them?\u201d\n\nDeirdre laughed.\n\n\u201cWhy, I have seen them ever since I was that height,\u201d and she poised\nher hand two feet above the ground.\n\nLavarcham laughed at her and waggled a reproving finger.\n\n\u201cYou have not seen them very often, all the same.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have indeed,\u201d the girl replied triumphantly. \u201cI have seen them every\nday of my life for the last ten years.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you spoke to them?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I did. I know every one of them as well as I know you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do not, Deirdre!\u201d\n\n\u201cI do so: I know their names, and who they are married to, and how many\nchildren they have. O, I know everything about them.\u201d\n\n\u201cSly little fairy of the hills,\u201d cried her perplexed guardian, \u201cyou are\npoking fun at Lavarcham.\u201d\n\n\u201cI surely am not,\u201d Deirdre replied positively.\n\n\u201cWell, tell me about these men that are ugly and nice like donkeys.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d cried Deirdre, \u201cI shall prove to you that I know them.\n\n\u201cYou must know,\u201d she narrated, \u201cthat each of these men is always at\nthe same place outside the wall, but some of them are on guard during\nthe daytime and others are on guard during the night. Every second\nweek they change this order and the ones that have been on duty in\nthe night take up day duty, and the day men replace them; and so they\nchange and change about, year in and year out, under the charge of\ntwo captains and eight ancients. There are an hundred of these men\naltogether; twenty-five of them march from point to point all around\nthe walls during the day, but in the night seventy-five men march to\nand from smaller points. In the day also, one captain and two ancients\nmarch around and overlook the twenty-five guards, but a captain and six\nancients march about the men who are on duty at night.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh-ha,\u201d cried Lavarcham, \u201cyou have been told all this by the women\nservants.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey only tell me tales of the men of Dana and of the Sh\u00ed, and of how\ntheir children were born, and of the proper way to cure pimples.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, tell me more,\u201d sighed Lavarcham, \u201cuntil I see what it is that\nyou do know.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe captain of the troop is named Daol, but the men call him Fat-face.\nHe has fourteen children and is unhappily married, for he has told me\nmany times that if he had a better wife he would be a better man. One\nday when his wife was baking him a cake she baked a spell into it, so\nthat, although he had never felt ache or pain before, he was racked all\nthat day with torments; and ever since, when the moon changes and the\nwind goes round, he gets pains in his bones, and he beats his wife when\nhe gets home on the head of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are certainly acquainted with this Fat-face.\u201d\n\n\u201cI love him. He wears a great leathern belt with a sword hung from it,\nand, when he orders the men, he thrusts his two hands down through the\nbelt, stretches his legs very wide apart, and roars at them--but how\nhe roars! \u2018Troop!\u2019 he roars: \u2018turn by the right hand: trot\u2019; and all\nthe dear old men trot with their heads down very thoughtfully, until\nhe roars at them to stop trotting, and then they all sneeze, and talk\nabout their feet.\n\n\u201cSometimes he lets me drill the men.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe should not,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cHe had to,\u201d the girl replied, \u201cfor I threw stones at him from the top\nof the wall until he agreed to let me do it. But that was a long time\nago.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe should have reported all this.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you mean he should have told on me,\u201d cried Deirdre indignantly.\n\u201cIndeed I should like to see Fat-face daring to tell anything about me.\nWhy, the men would beat him if he told. I would get down off the wall\nand beat him myself.\u201d\n\n[6] The Sh\u00ed = Fairyland.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\n\nThis conversation greatly exercised Lavarcham, and she cast about\nfor some means whereby she might restrain her ward. It was waste of\ntime, as she quickly saw, for who that has been charged with a young\nperson aged sixteen has not been forced at last to renounce all real\nguardianship?\n\nAt that age the time has passed for prohibitions, and the time has not\nyet come when advice can be listened to except in the form of flattery.\nThe young body is eager for experience, and will be satisfied with\nnothing less actual, so the older person must grant freedom of movement\nor be run to death by that untiring energy. For a while the youngster\nwill drink deeply, secretly, of her own will, and will then disengage\nfor herself that which is serious and enduring from that which is\nmerely pleasant and unprofitable. For all people who are not mentally\nlacking are sober-minded by instinct, and when the eager limbs have had\ntheir way the being looks inwardly, pining to exercise the mind and to\nequip itself for true existence.\n\nAt fourteen years of age Deirdre was not the untameable little savage\nshe had been at twelve, and at the age of sixteen she had begun to long\nfor some one to whom she might submit her will and from whom she could\nreceive the guidance and wisdom and refreshment which she divined to be\nin herself, but which she could not reach.\n\nHer fury of activity would be broken by equal periods of languor,\nwherein she would sit as in a daze, staring at the sky and not seeing\nit, or looking at the grass with a vague wonder as to what this was\nupon which her eyes were resting. Wild creatures or tame would trot or\namble before her, but she was only conscious of a movement without a\nform. A bird might light and flirt and hop and fly, and her forsaken\nmind would touch those facts without gaining information from them,\nand would lose itself behind the movement vaguely, blindly, dizzily,\nuntil the bird mixed into the sky and the sky rounded and receded and\ndisappeared, leaving her eyes nothing to rest on and her errant mind\nwithout any support.\n\nShe would look on her arms, as they hung helplessly in the grass, and\nwonder that they were so unoccupied, and wonder that they were so\nempty. And an oppression came to her heart, gentle enough, but without\nend, as though something stirred there that could not stir, as though\nsomething sought to weep and could not weep; so that she must weep for\nit, and grieve for it, and be of a tenderness to that unknown beyond\nall the tenderness that she had sensed about her. And these idle tears\nwould arouse, or assuage her, so that she wondered why she wept, and\nshe would leap from such nonsense and speed away like one distraught\nwith excess of life and energy.\n\nShe would become affectionate then. She mothered the cow and its lanky\ncalf; the peeping rabbit and her popping brood. The shaggy mare and her\ndear, shy foaleen, an arm about each neck, listened to a conversation\nthey loved and seemed to understand. When she tried to leave them they\ntrotted behind with gentle, persistent feet and eyes of such pleading\nthat she must run passionately back, crying that she would come again,\nthat she would surely come back to them on the morrow. There was not a\nnest she did not know of, and the young grey mother, snuggling among\nthe leaves, would look gravely out at the grey eye that peeped within,\nand would hearken to a cooing so delicious, so burthened with love,\nthat her broody hour would pass uncounted, and she would forget her\nmate abroad, and the wide airs of the tree-tops.\n\nAt night the moon could woo her so passionately she must forsake\nher bed and go tiptoe among dark corridors until she came into the\npresence. What wild counsel did she receive from the glowing queen! Or\nwas it the unmoving quietude that whispered without words; intimations\nof--what? Shy touches at the heart, so that she, who feared nothing,\nwould look about her, startled as a young roe, who senses something on\nthe wind, and flies without more query.\n\nHow lovely to her was that suspense and fear, when her every nerve\nthrilled to a life more poignant than she had surmised; when something\nthat did not happen was perpetually occurring; when, as it were in a\nmoment, she might be told--what secrets! or be cautioned of something\nimminent and advised!\n\nShe lost herself in the moon, wooing it, wooed by it, until she seemed\nto move in the moon, and the moon to move in her; a sole whiteness,\na sole chillness, one equal potency--For what? for that, for it, for\nsomething, for nothing, for everything. She submitted her destiny\nto the delicate sweet lady of the sky, and one night, beckoned to,\ndrawn at, surrounded, a small moon shining in the moon, she went on\nand on, passing the grass to the turf; leaving the turf for the stony\nplaces; from there to the wall, and over the wall also; so lightly, so\nimperceptibly, so moonily, the drowsy guard did not see; or if he saw\n\u2019twas but a moonbeam that rose and fell, that fluttered and faded, that\nlapsed over a piece of hollow ground and glimmered away on the slope,\nmerging in the silver flood and the shades of ebony, and gone while he\nrubbed his eyes.\n\nSo she marched towards destiny.\n\nShe went among the darkness of trees, and farther, where the wood grew\nthin, into a dappled dancing of jet and silver; and, beyond, to where\nyoung voices called and called and called.\n\nSuch fresh young voices she had never heard before, used as she was to\nthe dry, clipped utterance of Lavarcham, the toothless mumble of the\nservants, the rusty bawling of Fat-face as of an obstinate door that\ntold of aches and reluctances, and the wheezing and grunting of his\nstiff companions. She stayed listening to those voices, young as her\nown, and as sweet; rattling like the waters that tumble and ride in the\nriver; chattering like a nestful of young birds in spring; soaring up\nand falling down with an infinite eagerness and joy; until it seemed\nthat a lark\u2019s song and the flight of a swallow had come together and\nfused into one streaming of sound.\n\nStanding behind a vast black tree her astonished heart released itself\nin tears, and she wept for her cloistered youth, and for all that she\ndid not know she had missed.\n\nThen boldly she trod forward and sat herself resolutely at the\ncamp-fire of the sons of Uisneac.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n\nThey received her with the scant show of surprise which youth, so proud\nof appearances, so jealous of its own dignity, extends to the unknown,\nand, after the brief word of welcome, and swift surmising glance,\nthe conversation which she had interrupted renewed itself, perhaps\na shade more boisterously because they had been surprised, a little\nmore hardily because they knew one was listening who was not of their\ncompany and might be critical.\n\nSoon, in their own despite, something ceremonious crept on them,\noverpowering their boisterousness and making each self-conscious,\nuntil, by the inevitable degrees, silence hovered and threatened about\nthe fire, and for moments nothing moved but the eye that flickered and\nwandered into woodland vistas, where delicate dark trees stood rimmed\nin silver, and everything on the ground crept and fled as the boughs\nswayed and the moon spilled through them.\n\nBut the silence only endured long enough for the look to become frank\nand the mutual examination a judgement. Then the eldest of the three\nboys seized the conversation to himself and upheld it, for he saw that\ntheir guest was so afflicted with shyness that she could not move hand\nor foot, and could not have replied if one had addressed her.\n\nHe spoke for occupation also, because, having looked at her, he feared\nor was too shy to look again; feared, too, that the others might\nobserve his embarrassment; and, being one to whom action was a first\nhabit, he did what he could do when he found that there was something\nwhich he could not do.\n\nHe did it well.\n\nListening to him Deirdre knew what was the mid surge of the stream\nshe had listened to, the top singing of the song she had heard. This\nwas the lark sustained at the top of flight, and the others the mazy\npattern of the swallows\u2019 wings. Listening she could collect herself;\nand, in a while, daring to hear, she dared to see, and then she heard\nno more; for when the eye is filled the ear is no more attended, and\nall that may be of beauty is there englobed, radiant, sufficient,\nexcessive.\n\nHow should I paint Naoise[7] as Deirdre saw him, or show Deirdre as\nshe appeared to the son of Uisneac? For than Deirdre there was no girl\nso beautiful unless it might be Emer the daughter of Forgall, soon to\nbe wooed by C\u00fachulinn; and Naoise himself could not be bettered by\nany among the men of his land unless it was by the \u201csmall, dark man,\ncomeliest of the men of Eir\u00e8,\u201d C\u00fachulinn himself.\n\nWhen we endeavour to tell of these things words cannot stand the trial.\nIt may be done by music, or by allusion, as the poets have always\ndone, saying that this girl is like the moon, or like the Sky-Woman\nof the Dawn, when they would indicate a beauty beyond what we know;\nand that she is like a rose when they would tell of a gentle and proud\nsweetness; that her wrist is crisp and delicate like the delicate foam\nthat mantles on a sunny tide; that the wise bee nestled in her bosom,\nfinding more of delight there than the hive gives; that she walks as a\ncloud, or as a queen-woman of the sky, seen only in vision, so that all\nother sights are but half seen thereafter and are scarcely remembered.\n\nIn these grave ways we may approach perfection, indicating distantly\nthat which cannot be unveiled in speech; or we may tell of the\nabasement which comes on the heart when beauty is seen; the sadness\nwhich is sharper than every other sadness; the despair that overshadows\nus when the abashed will concedes that though it would overbear\neverything it cannot master this, and that here we renounce all claim;\nfor beauty is beyond the beast, and like all else of quality it can\nonly be apprehended by its equal and enjoyed where it gives itself.\n\nStill, they were young, and with young people impressions that come\nquickly go as fast. They have so much in common; their interest in\nthe present is so quick; their faith in the future so fearless; their\nmemory of tenderness is so recent, and their experience of treachery\nso small, that friendship comes easier to them than enmity does, and\ntrust grows where suspicion withers; so in a little time they were\nagain at ease, and when the food they had been preparing was eaten they\nknew one another and were friends.\n\nNaoise was then almost nineteen years of age, his brother Ainnle,\nseventeen, and Ardan more than fourteen, while Deirdre herself was\nalmost a full sixteen years.\n\nIf she had listened before as it were to the chattering of a brook or\nthe outburst of a flight of birds, she now listened to a talk that was\nlike a mill-race for exuberance, and the cawing of a colony of rooks\nfor abundance; and yet, when she remembered it afterwards, she could\nnot remember much, or she recollected that they laughed more than they\nspoke. For the talk consisted more of questions than anything else,\nand the answer to each query was in nearly all cases an outbreak of\nlaughter and another question.\n\nDo you remember the day C\u00fachulinn came playing hurley into Emain?\n\nAnd the way he took the troop under his protection?\n\nAnd the night he went out a boy and came back a hound?\n\nJokes, hinted at, that had been played on foster-fathers; grisly jokes\nof the first combat of a comrade who had left his head where his feet\nshould be; questions that hinted at outrageous parties in the night,\nwhen the boys chased a wild boar and their fathers and foster-fathers\nhunted them; of punishments that had been evaded as a fox dodges a\ndog, and behold, when safety had been found, there was the punishment\nawaiting them.\n\nThey were young, but they had killed; and they rocked with glee as\nthey told by what marvellous strategy they had got in the lucky blow,\nand how the champion had gone down never to rise again, and they had\ntrotted home squealing and squawking with joy, with a head surveying\nthe world from the top of a spear, and it grinning down on them as\njoyously as they chattered up at it.\n\nNames that Deirdre was unfamiliar with, and some that she knew from\nthe servants\u2019 talk, flew from mouth to mouth. Conall the Victorious,\nBricriu the Prank-player, Laer\u00ed called the Triumphant, Fergus mac Roy,\nthese youngsters spoke of as familiarly as she might have told of the\nbirds in her garden, and criticized them with all the unsparing freedom\nof youth.\n\nThey did not consider that these great men were in any way superior to\nthemselves: the contrary was certainly in their minds. It was evident\nthat Ardan and Ainnle thought their brother Naoise could whip any other\nchampion rather easily: but Naoise was modest and would say nothing for\nor against this theory.\n\nDeirdre was as convinced as the boys were that Naoise could beat any\ncombination of champions that might have the ill-luck to move against\nhim. She knew it from his complexion, from his curling hair. Oh! she\nknew it from a variety of proofs, and she was inclined to be angry when\nhe argued with the younger boys that C\u00fachulinn[8] was the greatest man\nalive. But on that subject the agreement was so unanimous, so hearty,\nthat she might doubt but could not question it.\n\n\u201cWhat I should like,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cwould be to see a fight and a\ncombat between our C\u00fachulinn and Fergus mac Roy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat would be a fight indeed,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cbut we shall never see\nit. They love each other.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be a queer thing,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cif a boy were to fight with\nhis own foster-father.\u201d\n\n\u201cI heard that a boy once did, and killed him too,\u201d said Ardan.\n\n\u201cWho did? Who did?\u201d\n\n\u201cI forget his name.\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause you never heard it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur young Ardan makes things up in his head,\u201d said Naoise, in a\nfatherly voice, while Ardan hid his blushes by attending to the fire.\n\n\u201cDo you think,\u201d Ainnle inquired, \u201cthat C\u00fachulinn could beat Fergus if\nthey fought?\u201d\n\nNaoise regarded that query judicially.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know indeed,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cI think C\u00fachulinn could beat anybody,\u201d Ardan broke in.\n\nNaoise continued, without regard to his youngest brother:\n\n\u201cIt was Fergus that taught C\u00fachulinn all his battle feats, and Fergus\nknows everything that the C\u00fa knows, but it may easily be that our C\u00facuc\ndoes not know all the things that Fergus knows.\u201d\n\n\u201cFergus,\u201d cried Ainnle indignantly, \u201cwould not keep a thing back, for\nhe wants C\u00fachulinn to be the best champion in Eir\u00e8.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think that is true,\u201d replied the very judicial Naoise, \u201cbut there\nare some things a fighter knows and can\u2019t teach even if he wants to.\nThey are not tricks, they are what Conach\u00far calls ways, and Fergus has\n\u2018ways\u2019 in combat, as if he had been born in a fight and could go to\nsleep in it if he wanted to.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you remember,\u201d cried Ainnle, \u201cthe champion that stopped to scratch\nhimself while he was fighting?\u201d\n\n\u201cHo, ho,\u201d laughed Ardan.\n\n\u201cAnd the other champion chipped his hind end off while he was bending,\u201d\ngurgled Ainnle.\n\n\u201cWasn\u2019t that man a great fool?\u201d said Ardan solemnly.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d laughed Naoise, \u201cit was just that he thought he had time to do\nit. I saw that combat. It must have been that a wasp or hornet slid\ninto his leg band. He gave a jump and a quick bend to get at his leg,\nbut the other man jumped after him; then he gave another great jump and\nanother bend, and he got a little trip at the same time--that is how\nthe other champion slashed him; but everybody was laughing so much that\nhis life was spared, so he kept his head if he lost his tail.\u201d\n\n\u201cHo, ho, ho!\u201d roared Ardan.\n\nAnd it was his laughter that made Deirdre part with a squeal of glee\nwhich so astonished her that she leaped to her feet and fled among the\ntrees, and so home.\n\nShe had not spoken to the boys beyond the word of blessing and greeting\nwhich could not be omitted. Ardan and Ainnle considered that it was\nquite right a girl should be silent in the presence of champions, but\nNaoise thought it was a pity she did not speak, for he was inclined to\nfancy that her voice would be pleasant to listen to.\n\n[7] Naoise = pron. neesh-eh.\n\n[8] C\u00fachulinn = pron. Ku-hullin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\n\nIf it rested only with the boys the girls might go unmarried, for boys\nhave urgent interests and have little of the leisure for dream which\ngirls enjoy.\n\nThey feel, moreover, at a loss in that art wherein a girl seems\ninstinctively wise; for as a young bee will undertake untaught the\ncurious angles and subtle perfections of his home, so a girl will\nadventure herself in love without misgiving and without teaching.\n\nThe secret of the bee and of the girl is that they give their whole\nminds to their idea; and this powerful concentration, wherein the\nbeing comes to a oneness of desire, moves to its ends as unerringly as\na bird wings to the sole hedge he aims for among all the hedges of a\ncountry-side.\n\nSo, although Naoise did think again of their visitor, his thought of\nher was but one among many, for he had grave businesses in hand, and,\nexcept when he slept, his leisure for dreaming was limited.\n\nHe had long since left the Boy Troop at Emania. He had performed the\nfeats by which an apprentice rises to be a master, and a full two years\nhad passed since Conach\u00far, in the presence of a solemn concourse, had\nreceived him into the Red Branch, and bestowed on him the armour which\nhe had won, and the shield which he would honourably guard.\n\nHe was a gentleman by birth, but he was now a soldier also, and must\nlift his hand for those who besought protection or against those who\nderided it. He would move habitually where death urged about him at no\ngreater distance than the length of a spear, and he would look upon\ndeath as being so instant a part of life, that he must woo the one as\nearnestly as he loved the other.\n\nHis thought of Deirdre was also complicated by the knowledge that she\nwas his master\u2019s ward, and his personal loyalty to Conach\u00far was such\nthat he would not dwell even in imagination on that which belonged to\nthe king.\n\nStories of Deirdre had long ago come abroad. The fact of her lonely\nkeeping lent a romantic charm to gossip, and all that was said about\nher was stressed by the singular condition of her birth and upbringing.\nThe old servants hinted and blinked and nodded, indicating thus a\nbeauty for which there was no parallel; and the ancient guards, partly\nin brag, partly in truth, lent an aid to the spread of the Deirdre\nrumour.\n\nThese things, however, were to be talked about, but they were not to\nbe further looked into, for she belonged to the king, and curiosity\nitself went lightly in the presence of that notable fact. Therefore, so\nfar as a young man could, Naoise put Deirdre out of his mind, or only\nremembered her as a delicious apparition, and he warned his brothers\nthat they must on no account mention her escapade.\n\nBut if this was the case with the boy it was not so with the girl.\nFor good or ill her imagination had been captured, and through it her\nsenses had awakened. Her fancies had now a home to fly to, and while\nthe unrest proper to her years grew as stealthily as her limbs, it was\nno longer unnoted. She had a direction and she leaned there as ardently\nand unconsciously as a flower turns to the sun.\n\nNow she became a creature of another reverie; no longer staring vaguely\ninto space, but looking there, and seeing what even the wise Lavarcham\ncould not surmise.\n\nThis powerful brooding of desire is a magical act, and the object of it\ndoes not remain entirely unaffected; for, even if no coherent message\nis despatched, the unrest is shared in however diffused a form, and it\nmay be that in sleep Naoise was no longer the master of his dreams.\n\nBut the real scope of an action is with the actor, and Deirdre,\nbrooding on Naoise, was Deirdre brooding on herself, and taking\nconscious control and direction of her own growth and culture.\nLavarcham noticed the difference; for when she spoke to the girl she\nwas replied to by the woman, and she sensed in her ward something\nintractable, obedient still, and yet as removed from her cognizance,\nand so from her control, as she was herself from the cognizance of any\nperson about her.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\n\nTherefore, when she next spoke to the king her mind was stirred by\nuneasiness, and she had all that feeling of haste and work to be done\nwhich comes to us when we seem void of direction and are yet spurred on\nto an intuitive urgency.\n\n\u201cLavarcham, my soul,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cyou always get your way, for you\ninsist and insist, and at last whatever you wish must be done or there\nis no peace in the household or the kingdom.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn good truth,\u201d said Lavarcham, \u201cI do not recognize my fault this\ntime.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe forget by repetition,\u201d cried the king, \u201cand you have so dinned our\nears these ages past about your babe that I must consent to see her or\nperish from your importunities.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I am glad of,\u201d replied Lavarcham, \u201cfor she is growing and needs\nother guidance than I can give. You should find her a husband,\u201d said\nthe crafty woman.\n\n\u201cThat must be done,\u201d the king murmured.\n\nHe was silent for a few minutes, for the thought of marriage reminded\nhim of his own adventures in that condition, and when he spoke it was\nwith an elaborate carelessness.\n\n\u201cHave you heard any news of the High King?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have heard, but it is only a rumour, that his daughter, the queen\nMaeve, has been married again, and that the High King has bestowed on\nher the kingdom of Connacht.\u201d\n\n\u201cA number of our young men,\u201d said he, with a hard smile, \u201chave for long\nenough disliked that kingdom and its people: it may become difficult to\nkeep them from crossing the border.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne of their men,\u201d said Lavarcham, \u201ccrosses the Black Pig\u2019s Dyke often\nenough.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd, woe on it,\u201d said Conach\u00far, with a cheerful laugh, \u201che gets back\nagain. We must strengthen the Connacht marches, or that man will make\nour fortifications the laughter of all Ireland. It is Cet mac Magach\nyou speak of.\u201d\n\n\u201cConall Cearnach\u2019s uncle indeed,\u201d Lavarcham replied.\n\n\u201cBut Conall crosses their borders too,\u201d said the king. \u201cMy memory is\nweakening,\u201d he continued; \u201cwhat is it that Conall boasts of?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe boasts that he never goes to sleep without the head of another\nConnachtman lying in the crook of his knees.\u201d\n\n\u201cSome day he may forget to remember that Cet mac Magach is his uncle,\nand if he brings that head home we shall give it an honourable welcome.\nBut about your babe, I shall go and look at her to-morrow. All your\nover-statements will crowd on your mind to-morrow, my poor friend, and\nyou will be very unhappy.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d Lavarcham admitted, \u201cwe look with a loving eye on the person\nwe love, and so may see less or more than is visible to other people.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn love,\u201d Conach\u00far replied, \u201cwe see only what we love to see, and as\nthat is unreal we should not look lovingly on anything, and so we may\nget sight of what is really visible.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true, master,\u201d said Lavarcham humbly.\n\n\u201cIt is with such an eye that I shall look on your babe to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! my poor Deirdre,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cThe Troubler has not given much trouble yet,\u201d laughed Conach\u00far.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\n\nLavarcham went home.\n\nThe sense of urgency and unmeditated haste which for some time had been\nin her mind was greater than ever, as though she were being pressed\nto an action, thoroughly comprehended indeed, but for which she had\nno plan and no explanation. There was something to be done; she knew\nwhat it was but could not state it: and there was also something which\nprevented its accomplishment; and she was similarly aware and unaware\nof what this latter obstruction was.\n\nThis sense of being controlled without being consulted, of being given\na key without being told what door it opens, is common to all people\nwho plan and are not sufficiently disengaged to observe that they\nare being overridden by their own contrivance; for there is a point\nup to which we control desire, but at the stage where other people\u2019s\ninterests intersect ours those alien desires and our own meet: they\ncease to be many and become one thing, and we are ridden in community\nby the jinn we liberated. But we know with a profound, unconscious\ncertitude all that is happening, and are enlisted for those intuitive\npurposes beyond the control of interest or prudence or reason. Habit\nalone remains to guide us in these trackless ways, and it was her habit\nof verbal reticence which calmed Lavarcham.\n\nHer first impulse had been to tell Deirdre with a rush that the king\nwas coming to see her on the next day. Her second impulse was cautious.\nIf I tell this, she thought, the child will not sleep all night, and\nshe will be heavy-eyed and dull before the king.\n\nTherefore she did not mention the matter to Deirdre.\n\nBut she was no longer the calm lady whom the world knew. She would sit\ndown and stand up, and go wandering from room to room, and return from\nthese ramblings, to begin them all over again. She sat by Deirdre\u2019s\nside and took her hand, peering long and earnestly into the face she\nloved: dwelling on the set of her eyes, the line of her cheek, the\npoise of her lips and her chin: watching how her teeth shone and\ndisappeared as she spoke, what her tongue looked like as it became\nvisible for a short red flash: looking now at her ears and now at her\nhair; or standing well away to take her in as a girl, as a completion,\nwith all details merged and the human unit standing full formed at the\neye.\n\nShe cogitated what dress Deirdre should wear on the morrow: what\nornaments for her neck and hair; and then she thought, in a fever of\ninspiration, that she would take no thought of these: that the girl\nshould be dressed even more plainly than usual: that there should be no\nornaments upon her of any kind: that there should be nothing to look at\nbut the girl herself with her hair for a crown, and her eyes for all\nother attraction: the light eagerness of her limbs should be their own\nwitness: the colour of her cheek should be sufficient wonder for any\neye.\n\nAnd again she thought that men do not understand these things at a\nglance; that they are used to looking for that which they have already\nseen; and that they spend time, not so much in appreciating that which\nis present, as in trying to account for the absence of that which they\nhad expected to see. And she remembered again that it was Conach\u00far\nhimself who was coming, with a mind which would ponder exactly what was\npresented to it, and an eye that would regard no more than could be\nseen.\n\nShe determined, in terror, that she would not prepare Deirdre in any\nway for the visit, and that until she was called into the presence the\nchild should know nothing even of an impending visitor.\n\nShe arranged that this should happen, and at the accustomed hour the\ntorches were quenched and the folk of the household betook themselves\nto their beds.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\n\nBut at the hour she considered suitable Deirdre rose again from her bed.\n\nShe could not rest there, although she lay with the endless patience of\na cat, staring hour after hour into the gloom and seeing in it more of\nradiance than the sun could show.\n\nShe was living at last.\n\nThe sense that all the morrows were provided for, and that all the\nminutes of all the morrows were calculated and ordained, dropped from\nher for ever, for she had become at last an identity instead of a\npuppet to be pulled here and ordered there, and to do only what was\nwilled by other people; for first the imagination awakes, and then the\nsenses, and lastly the will, when the urge of life is focussed.\n\nThinking of these other people, of Lavarcham and the grisly servants,\nof the ramshackle, sneezing guards, all ringing her about from\nfreedom, a sense of rage came into her soul, so that at moments she\nwas no longer a girl but a wild cat, and she could have scratched and\nscreeched and died in one senseless outrage.\n\nHer mind, too, was overflowing with that same sense of urgency, as\nthough something clamoured to be done immediately and at a pace faster\nthan limbs could manage. What was it she wanted? She did not know, but\nshe knew definitely that she wanted it with a whole uncontrollable\nmental greed that made of her a person she did not recognize and could\nnot battle with.\n\nBut with all that tumult of mind she was patient with the marvellous\npatience of youth, for no grown person has one tithe of the patience of\na child, who, from the hour he is born until the day when he snatches\nliberty from reluctant elders, leads a life that is one unending lesson\nin attending. They can wait, for they know that the future is theirs\nand will come to them over whatever obstruction. And she could wait.\n\nWhen Lavarcham trod softly in her chamber she pretended to be asleep,\nand amused herself staring behind closed lids at the red light which\nthe torch carried even through that darkness. She thought her guardian\nwould never go away, and lifting one scrap of an eyelash she saw\nLavarcham brooding upon her with such a fixity of attention, with so\nprofound a scrutiny, as surprised her. So curious and prolonged was\nthis examination that she almost opened her eyes to demand a reason\nfor this scrutiny from the face of ivory and jet that was bending over\nhers. But she did not do so, for young people can bear starings and\nexaminations which would madden them later in life, and are able to\nconsider that affairs which actually circle upon them are yet not their\nbusiness.\n\nLavarcham sighed deeply, and as in a passion of what?--fear, hope,\ndoubt--and then the light began to recede, and went farther away, and\ndisappeared.\n\nDeirdre knew every motion that Lavarcham made at night. Now she did\nthis, next she would do that, afterwards she would do such another\nthing: an unvarying sequence of small details which she had watched or\nlistened to since the first hour that she was able to watch or listen.\nSo that when she came from her bed she left it with the certainty that\nshe might do so, and that all the habitual details had culminated in\nthe habitual sleep into which Lavarcham placed herself even when it did\nnot overcome her.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\n\nThe moon was at her last quarter, a pale thin sickle that shone and\ndisappeared and reappeared in a mass of hastily scudding cloud. During\nthat eclipse obscurity fell on the air, and a yet vaster quietude\nenveloped the earth. Then the sickle reappeared, and with it more than\nthe darkness lifted. Something even more mysterious than darkness\nvanished intermittently; that brooding as of an infinite presence\nseemed to recede, and the normal world, beautiful and comprehended,\ncame silverly to the view.\n\nThrough these glooms and visions Deirdre fled, observing every shadow\nas a hare does, who, knowing that this shade is a danger and that one\na protection, ventures a pace or stays as his hard-won knowledge bids\nhim.\n\nA cloud of such a size meant a shadow of such a duration. This cloud\nwill carry one across the lawn, and when it has passed, the trees\nyonder will be won and their desired shade. From the south another\ncloud was coming, bulky as a two-acre field and buoyant as a gossamer.\nFolded in its gloom the wall could be crossed and the shelter of trees\nor of long grass reached before the moon came riding, delicately, in a\nradiance that was one half silver and one half blue.\n\nSo she fled. The lark watching from a dew-drenched covert was not more\ndiscreet as it turned again to the slumber that she had broken; and\nwhen she took the wall the bat that whirled from it made more noise\nthan she did.\n\nAt times, when there was neither light nor dark, a world of grey and\npurple that was thirty feet high and fifteen feet around enclosed\nher in. And she stretched her ears towards the bounds of that small\nuniverse before she ventured another step.\n\nWonderful and terrifying were these dim oases of vision; and across\nthem, coming from no place and dallying a moment ere they went on to\nnowhere, more silent than the night itself and as incomprehensible,\ngrey moths were flitting; dim as ghosts they were, and as aloof;\nbeating a tireless gauze on no errand, tacking back and forth, and\ndisappearing in one flirt of a noiseless wing. Small creatures seemed\nto wait until her foot must fall on them, and then, with a sound that\nlasted for two long seconds of panic, they were gone; they disappeared,\nand the world was utterly empty of them. At these sounds she stood, her\nheart beating up at her throat and a sense of angry despair flooding\nover and about her. Then she moved again; slipping into and out of\nshadows as featly as the moonbeam slipped into and out of a cloud.\n\nShe knew where she was going, but not what she was going to do. She\nwould see him again because she must, and after that, if there was more\nto be done the time to do it would bring the doing. But the one large\napprehension was as yet sufficient for her mind--that she would see him\nagain, and that they would talk together. She was sure that this time\nhe would speak to her, and that whatever he said would be wiser and\nsweeter and stranger than any words she had yet listened to; and she\nwondered, without thought, what his magical utterance would mean and\nhow it could possibly be replied to; knowing yet that her replies were\nalready formed, and that the only word she need utter until she died\nwas the word \u201cyes.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\n\nShe stood again behind a tree, looking on the camp-fire and the three\nfigures that stretched or moved about it. She listened, but now\nwithout joy, to the babel of laughter which sped between them. Back\nand forth it went, endless, tireless. Youth calling and answering to\nyouth; catching a facile fire from each other, and tossing it back as\ncarelessly. Spendthrift they were as young gods; care-free as young\nanimals; with minds untroubled because they need not work, and bodies\nthat were at ease because they were active; scorning the darkness in\na gaiety that was delicious because it was thoughtless, and with a\nthoughtlessness that was lovely because it was young. But, to her,\nwatching, listening, waiting, all that merriment was a torment. She\nwas their peer in youth and activity, but she was their superior in\nthat she was thoughtful, for desire is thought not yet translated,\nand her desire would swell about the world and banish all else from\nexistence so that she could fashion the regal solitude in which so\ngigantic a mystery might be contemplated.\n\nWhy, she thought frowningly, did these children not go to sleep? And\nwhy, she wondered, should older people submit to annoyance or be forced\nto await any young person\u2019s convenience?\n\nBut the night was advanced, and young people will sleep. Soon they\nstretched about the fire, and each composed himself to the slumber\nwhich comes as deliciously in its season as waking does; and, for their\nlife favoured it, they fell into sleep as precipitately as though they\nwere falling down a cliff.\n\nShe could scarcely wait for the five minutes that was required. Then\nshe plucked a scrap of moss and tossed it on Naoise\u2019s breast.\n\nAs he fell asleep so he sprang awake: he went dead asleep: he came\nwide awake, with every faculty alert, and his limbs as composed for\nmovement as for rest. He saw the scrap of moss lying on his bosom, and,\nknowing that such things do not travel of their own accord, he looked\nfor the cause, searching keenly among the boles that stretched in\nendless gleam and gloom about them.\n\nShe stood forward a pace.\n\nHad she really moved, or was she impelled? Surely a hand had taken her\nby the shoulder and pushed her forward! But in the moment that she\nmoved panic seized her as suddenly and overwhelmingly as a hawk swoops\nupon a mouse. She lifted a hand to her breast so that her heart might\nnot be snatched away, but the hand went on to her lips and covered them\nin terror lest they should call. She turned with one swift and flying\ngesture, but the foot that aimed for flight continued its motion, and\nthe full circle held her again facing the terror. For he had already\nrisen, lithe as a cat and as noiseless, and in three great strides he\nwas standing beside her, standing over her, encompassing her about; not\nnow to be retreated from or escaped from or eluded in any way.\n\nAnd as her heart had leaped so his leaped also, and they stood in an\ninternal tumult, so loud, so intimate and violent, that the uproar and\nrush of a storm was quietude in the comparison.\n\nThey could not speak. There were no words left in the world. There were\nonly eyes that plunged into and fled from each other, and a mighty hand\nthat had gripped her arm and would never release it again. A hand that\npushed her backwards and backwards, away from the friendly logs that\ncrackled and flamed; away from the quiet forms that might have rescued\nher but that lay as though slumbering in stone. She might have escaped\nwith one sound, but the law of her being was that she must not make a\nsound. She might have escaped by just a show of reluctance; one small\nopposition, nay, hesitation, to the pressure of that hand. But she\nwould not make that infinitesimal wraith of motion. A weariness as of\npiled worlds went from his finger to her mind, and it was forbidden her\nto have any longer an initiative. A lethargy that was utter surrender\nstole into her limbs. She did not think, she did not desire: she was\nas void of speculation as though she were dead; and while his hand\ncontinued to guide she would go, and when it ceased she would no longer\nbe capable of either movement or repose.\n\nAll fear of interruption had passed, and yet they went on cautiously,\nnoiselessly, as though interruption was imminent or unescapable;\nputting trees and yet more trees between them and the leaping fire;\nstriving to forget the fire; seeking a more involved darkness, and\nfinding everywhere a gloom that yet revealed them. They could not\ndiscover darkness. They could not get to a place where they could cease\nto see each other. Always it looked black farther on, and always when\nthey got there they could each see the pale confronting face of the\nother, with the darkness everywhere but in those faces.\n\nThey stopped perforce, with that feeling of tremendous discouragement\nwherein passion sinks back upon itself, where desire ceases and nothing\nis instant but weariness. His hand yet held her, but it gripped no\nlonger: it lay on her arm as a dead weight: she had only to move an\ninch and it would fall away: she had but to turn and he would not\nfollow her even with his eyes; but the energy which had drained from\nhim flooded into her in one whirling stream, and when his hand fell\naway hers took up the duty it relinquished.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\n\nIf Lavarcham had ever permitted herself excitement she would have\nbeen excited the next day. But there is a curious means by which we\nmay postpone the spending of our emotions. There are many people who\ncan only do a particular thing on condition that they do it in two\ndirections. They can repress themselves only when they are engaged\nin repressing some one else; for the thing we are doing outwardly\nand to others is always the thing that we are doing inwardly and to\nourselves. If we treat others benevolently we are assuredly being kind\nto ourselves: if we mete out torment we will receive that measure and\nwill writhe in it. A tyrant is ultimately one who is striving for\nself-mastery by the wrong method. But in order to be good you must do\ngood, or to be anything you must do that thing concretely, for life\nis movement and all else is movement too. Lavarcham by unconscious\nprocesses discovered that Deirdre needed the utmost disciplinary and\nrepressive measures that could be applied to a human being.\n\n\u201cThe child is running wild,\u201d she complained to the air that circulated\nabout Deirdre\u2019s head.\n\n\u201cBut I have not done a thing,\u201d cried Deirdre.\n\n\u201cThere are a thousand things you should have done,\u201d Lavarcham replied.\n\n\u201cWhat are they?\u201d Deirdre demanded.\n\nBut Lavarcham did not know.\n\nShe certainly felt within herself the necessity for doing a thousand\nthings. She felt so busy that there must really be a thousand things to\nbe done. But she knew also that nothing remained for her to do, and,\nconsequently, that Deirdre was to blame.\n\nThe real thing she had to do was to master her own excitement, and she\nperceived at a glance that Deirdre was in a very excited condition\nindeed.\n\n\u201cYou must sit quietly, my treasure,\u201d she counselled. \u201cYou must not\nmove from one place to another, taking things up and putting them down.\nYou will become fidgety yourself and will give every one about you the\nfidgets also.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut----\u201d Deirdre expostulated.\n\n\u201cAnd you must not give back-answers. When you are told to do a thing\nyou must do it cheerfully and patiently----\u201d\n\n\u201cBut----\u201d cried Deirdre.\n\n\u201cFor,\u201d Lavarcham continued, \u201clacking this self-control and gentleness\nof movement no girl can become a lady.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d Deirdre exploded, \u201cI have not done a thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know, my one treasure, that everything I say is for your good, and\nwhen I counsel you it is because I consider you need just that counsel.\nYou are distraught to-day, my bud of the branch, and there is no reason\nwhy you should not be as calm to-day as you were yesterday or any\nday. This is only to-day, but to-morrow will come and to-day will be\nforgotten.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not understand in the least----\u201d Deirdre began.\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to understand, my beloved. There is not a reason in\nthe world why you should be troubled. Sit now at your embroidery, and\ndo not leave it until I give permission.\u201d\n\nDeirdre was indeed excited, but Lavarcham had not the smallest\nperception of this: nor was it visible. It was a very intimate\nexcitement, which could be brooded and enjoyed as well over a piece\nof embroidery as in any other way. And Lavarcham watched her, sensing\nnothing of that deep agitation and memory and dream.\n\nI was wise, she thought, not to tell the news, for the child seems even\nmore beautiful to-day than she has ever seemed before. She has slept\nwell.\n\nWhile they were thus sitting a servant hurried into the room, with her\neyes bolting from her head, and a gabble on her lips which Lavarcham\nonly repressed by ferocity, for she surmised at once that the king had\narrived, and she did not even yet wish Deirdre to know of the visit.\n\nShe rose and precipitated herself against the servant.\n\n\u201cIs that how you enter a room, ill-bred slave? Was it among the cattle\nthat you learned manners? Begone at once,\u201d she cried, \u201cand do not\ncome into a room again until you have asked and received permission\nto enter. What is the world coming to?\u201d she continued angrily as she\nhustled the servant through the door and down the corridor.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s the son of Ness----\u201d the servant babbled.\n\n\u201cAnd if it is,\u201d said Lavarcham, \u201cthere is the more reason for you to be\nattentive and respectful and unseen. Go to your place and stay there\nuntil I send for you.\u201d\n\nShe returned then, and, still simulating ill-temper, she dismissed\nDeirdre to her own room.\n\n\u201cYou have not properly trimmed your finger-nails,\u201d she scolded; \u201cthere\nis a black spot under one of them. You are not seemly. Go to your room\nat once, little blossom, and when you come back come so that your\nfosterer need not be ashamed of her charge.\u201d\n\nSaying so, she marched Deirdre to her room and thrust her in. Then she\nreturned, and, seating herself at the embroidery from which she had\ndriven her ward, she prepared to receive the king.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\n\n\u201cWell, my heart,\u201d said the king, as he strode through the door of the\nSunny Chamber.\n\nWith a keen glance he took in all that was to be seen. The woodwork of\nthe walls and floors that were polished and polished again until they\nshone like crystal. The great carved chairs, each placed at the same\nprim distance from the other and from the wall; and the skins and furs\nthat formed geometrical patterns and gradations of colour on the floor.\n\nConach\u00far shook his head as he regarded.\n\n\u201cMethodical,\u201d he said, as he sat down.\n\n\u201cOrderly, master,\u201d she corrected gently.\n\n\u201cIt is a woman\u2019s room,\u201d he insisted. \u201cNo man could live in it.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo man does,\u201d said the humble dame.\n\n\u201cAnd by merely entering I have ruined it already,\u201d the king continued\nin a grievous tone; \u201cI have kicked three rugs out of alignment,\u201d he\nsaid ruefully.\n\n\u201cIt is a small matter,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cI am certain that your heart is ill at ease, and although your hands\nare folded they are twitching to restore these rugs; rearrange them if\nyou must, my good friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the king permits me,\u201d she cried joyfully, and with a few deft\ntouches she replaced the rugs.\n\n\u201cYou may sit down,\u201d said the king. \u201cAnd now, where is this baby you\ndeafen the world about?\u201d\n\nLavarcham clapped her hands, and, to the servant who appeared in the\ndoorway--\n\n\u201cTell your mistress, Deirdre, that she is required immediately--and do\nnot tell her that a visitor is with me, or woe betide you.\u201d\n\nThe servant disappeared.\n\nConach\u00far looked at her quizzically.\n\n\u201cThe girl does not know that I was coming?\u201d\n\nLavarcham pursed her lips.\n\n\u201cI have not mentioned it to her.\u201d\n\nThe king, with his elbow on his knee, continued to regard her mockingly.\n\n\u201cIs it that you are careful or careless, my friend?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am careful, master. I am always careful,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d he continued gently, \u201cshe will not be apparelled so as to be\nlooked on by a visitor.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe will be seen as she would be seen any hour of any day, and thus it\nwill be known, master, that Lavarcham does her duty.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are the wonder of Emania,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cI hear a step,\u201d he\ncontinued, and, removing his elbow from his knee, he stretched out a\ngreat leg and turned towards the door.\n\nDeirdre entered like a whirlwind of legs and laughter, and, seeing a\nhuge man staring at her, she halted as if she had been stopped by a\nwall, whirled about and would have vanished again but that Lavarcham\u2019s\nvoice restrained her.\n\n\u201cThe king has come to visit us, my pulse,\u201d said the suave Lavarcham.\n\nThe blood pounded into Deirdre\u2019s heart and into her temples; for\nan instant her body seemed to be filled with noise and blindness,\nand in the next instant the lady, trained for every emergency and in\nevery etiquette, was mistress again. Deirdre advanced, made a great\nreverence, and knelt at the king\u2019s knee.\n\nHe gave her his hand to kiss.\n\n\u201cYou may rise, my fawn,\u201d said the monarch.\n\nShe arose and stood with downcast eyes. She did not dare to look at\nhim. All that came within her vision was a mighty leg draped in green\nsilk, from which long tassels of gold swung gently. The king stared\nnarrowly at her, and Lavarcham stared narrowly at the king.\n\n\u201cGo now, my dear,\u201d said Lavarcham, \u201cand see that refreshments are\nbrought for the king.\u201d\n\nDeirdre again made her deep reverence, and, on rising, her hasty upward\nglance was caught by Conach\u00far\u2019s eye. She trod swiftly backwards,\nstaring, and it was with parted lips and wide eyes that she disappeared\nfrom the room.\n\nBut the king continued staring at the doorway like one who has seen\na vision and is striving with every fibre to recreate that which has\nvanished.\n\n\u201cWas I not right, master?\u201d said Lavarcham gently.\n\n\u201cShe is the Bud of the Branch,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cShe is the Fragrant\nApple of the Bough.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid I not say that she was beautiful?\u201d cried the gleeful and vehement\nlady.\n\n\u201cYou did not say so,\u201d he replied sternly. \u201cYou never told me of this.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, master, you would not believe me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt could not be told,\u201d the thoughtful monarch admitted. \u201cIf the\nflight of the swallow could be imparted by words, or the crisping of\nfoam: if the breath of the lily could be uttered, or the beauty of a\nyoung tree on a sunny hill: then this Troubler might be spoken of.\nHave you noticed, my friend, how the sun paints glories and wonders\non the sky as he goes west in the evening, or at early morn with what\nnoble tenderness he comes again: she is radiant and tender as the sun,\nLavarcham.\u201d\n\n\u201cThus it is,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cShe is nine times sweeter than the cuckoo on the branch,\u201d he cried.\n\u201cI give her the Pass before all the women of the world, for she is\nnotable and delicate and dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you will marry her as is fitting,\u201d Lavarcham pleaded. \u201cYou will\nnot give my baby to a rough gentleman.\u201d\n\nThe king stood furiously from his chair.\n\n\u201cShe is for no man but the king,\u201d he stormed. \u201cShe shall be my one wife\nuntil Doom.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\n\nIn ten seconds the floor rugs had sailed from their anchorages and were\nlying some neatly inside out and all in woeful askewness. The chairs\nleft their military formation; some stood seat to seat like couples\npreparing for a dance, others in the woeful, slack isolation of those\nwho stare after uncivil partners that have fled. And in this wreckage\nof a woman\u2019s room Conach\u00far strode.\n\n\u201cLavarcham,\u201d he cried, \u201cthere shall be great deeds done in Ireland from\nthis day.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, my dear lord.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am twenty years younger than I was an hour ago. I could leap like a\nyoung buck, Lavarcham.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, my dear lord,\u201d she stammered.\n\n\u201cPoets shall sing more wisely in Eir\u00e8 because of this day; harpers\nshall play more sweetly; the magicians shall win increase of power, for\nthrough me this land shall be possessed by power and beauty.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, my sweet lord,\u201d cried the transformed woman.\n\n\u201cYou shall be with me always, Lavarcham.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, my master!\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall marry thee to an hero, and thy descendants for ever shall sit,\neven in the presence of a king.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, I shall kneel, and all my seed shall kneel in the house of my\ndear lord.\u201d\n\n\u201cSit down, my soul, and let us talk. Lavarcham,\u201d he said, \u201cthat girl\nshall be my wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have dreamed of this day,\u201d she murmured.\n\n\u201cYou knew I would marry her?\u201d\n\n\u201cI knew that my lord loves the best, and that she is the best. I\ntrained her for my lord.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is the best,\u201d he conceded. \u201cShe is better than the best.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king will never blush for his bride, nor I for my training,\u201d she\ncontinued, \u201cfor in everything that becomes a lady she is well taught.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo!\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cThere is no ceremony of court or camp that she does not understand.\nThere is no domestic care that she is not mistress of. She can touch\nthe harp like a master, she can make a poem like a bard.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou give me pleasure, Lavarcham, but all these she need do or not do\nas she pleases. Tell me rather of herself, what is her mode? What is\nher way of thinking?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is loving and obedient as a pet fawn, and she is wild-spirited as\na wild fawn. She is thoughtful for others; she loves knowledge, and she\nfears nothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cEven lacking all this, there is yet the makings of a queen in her.\u201d\n\nLavarcham nodded a satisfied head.\n\n\u201cBut she does not lack, and she is a queen. In a week, when she has\nbecome used to the crowd and the court, all the others will fall back\nto their own places and she will remain in her place.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think it will be so. But,\u201d and he aroused again, \u201cyou have said\nnothing about the curve of her cheek, Lavarcham.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat would a poor woman say of that!\u201d she cried gleefully.\n\n\u201cI saw her neck when she bent over my hand, and I saw the two great\ntresses falling away on either side. Lavarcham, that was a wonder to\nsee!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe see with our own sight, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen she stood up I saw the lips that had touched my hand: and I\nlooked in her eyes as she went away. There is no end to those depths\nof light, and I can imagine that they would change as the deep sea\nchanges. If she were angry they would be--thus; and if she smiled they\nwould be thus again; the same and different. If she smiled her lips\nwould move in the smile. How do her lips go when they smile, Lavarcham?\u201d\n\n\u201cThese are things which women are blind to, master; they are seen only\nby men. You must ask your poets to tell of them, for this is man\u2019s\ntalk, and no woman is versed in it.\u201d\n\n\u201cLavarcham!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, master!\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall take her away with me this day.\u201d\n\n\u201cMaster!\u201d\n\n\u201cBring her to the Red Branch at nightfall.\u201d\n\n\u201cMaster!\u201d\n\n\u201cAt nightfall, you hear me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not do it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat will you not do, slave, that I order?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not debauch your queen.\u201d\n\n\u201cLavarcham----!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one shall make a leman of my babe.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe shall return in a few hours. Be with her at the Red Branch\nto-night. Do not fail on your life.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I bring her my knife will be in her bosom.\u201d\n\nConach\u00far leaned back in his chair and the terrible staring frown went\nfrom his face.\n\n\u201cWe shall certainly marry Lavarcham to an hero. I am impatient, my\nheart, but strength and victory lies always with the one who can abide,\nand I can, even in torment. Have your way, woman.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the best way, master. You shall thank me yet for this way.\u201d\n\nHe smiled wryly.\n\n\u201cDear, my lord,\u201d she continued earnestly, \u201cthere must be the ceremonies\nthat befit a king\u2019s wedding, and guests must be invited from the four\ngreat Provinces of Ireland. It cannot all be done before two little\nmonths.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall have one week, my friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cA week! O my master!\u201d\n\n\u201cA woman\u2019s mind runs to gauds and tricks and rites, but in a week we\ntwo shall be married, and you may have ceremonies for a year afterwards\nif you wish for them.\u201d\n\nLavarcham wrung her hands.\n\n\u201cO my sweet lord----\u201d\n\n\u201cIt shall be so,\u201d said the king.\n\nLavarcham sat dumb.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cIn this house,\u201d he continued impatiently, \u201crefreshments are long in\nappearing, and after those excitements and battlings we need them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey only wait permission to enter,\u201d she stammered, and clapped her\nhands.\n\nDeirdre appeared with three servants carrying silver trays. She took\none and knelt to present it to the king.\n\n\u201cNay, you shall partake with me, and Lavarcham shall serve us. Let\nthose others go.\u201d\n\nAt a sign from Lavarcham the servants placed their trays on tables and\nretired with terrified courtesies.\n\n\u201cTaste from the cup, my brightness,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cand afterwards I\nshall taste.\u201d\n\n\u201cA R\u00ed Uasal!\u201d Deirdre stammered.\n\n\u201cAll precedence is yours from this hour. Are you not called the\nTroubler?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am, lord.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have troubled the king, O sky-woman. Do not be shy with me or\nfrightened, for although a king is terrible to all he is not fearful to\na queen. Drink from my cup, O queen.\u201d\n\nDeirdre glanced hastily towards Lavarcham, for this conversation had\ntaken a turn which her training had not provided for, but her guardian\nwas sitting bemused, in a trance of benevolence and admiration.\n\nShe sipped from the cup, and, with a tiny smile of apology and fear,\ntendered it again to the staring king. He took the vessel, and her hand\nwith it.\n\n\u201cI imagined it so,\u201d he said; \u201cI imagined how the thin red lip would\narch and curve and cling to the cup; and I foresaw how it would cling\nand uncurve and re-arch and withdraw. The poets tell of such wonders\nwhen they can, but I know these things by my own virtue better than\nthey do. One day, O shy cluster of delight, you will sing to me: my\nharper shall listen to that when I can bear a companion, for I may\ngrudge a sight or a sound of you even to the men of art. I shall see\nyour hair done otherwise, and this way again. I shall see you stir\nabout me, this side and that and backwards; a thousand harmonies of\nmovement that I divine and a thousand that I know nothing of. Do not be\nfearful, O little twisted loop of the ringlets, for you are my beloved.\nYou shall have no weariness or lack for ever, for I shall fold you in\nmy affection as a hawk folds air within her wings. You shall leave\nthese bleak halls and yon mangy field to sit at the banquets in the Red\nBranch: to be the Queen of Ulster, the pearl of the world, and my own\nheart\u2019s comrade.\u201d\n\nDeirdre was the more alarmed, not only because a strange and mighty\ngentleman was holding a strange and monstrous discourse to her, but\nhe was holding her hand, and she did not know how to retrieve it. She\nthought it would not be polite to laugh, although she vastly wanted\nto, and she knew it would be foolish to cry, although she was so\nbewildered and terrified that an ocean of frightened tears was surging\nbehind her eyes.\n\n\u201cLavarcham, my sweet mother,\u201d she murmured in distress.\n\nAnd that low plaint went to Conach\u00far\u2019s heart like a sword of delight,\nso that his soul was shaken and he could have wept for pity and love.\n\n\u201cReturn to your embroidery, my child,\u201d said Lavarcham. \u201cI shall come to\nyou later and prepare your mind for all that is in store for you.\u201d\n\nDeirdre stood up then and fled, only remembering her courtesy at the\ndoorway.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\n\nLavarcham came to her as promised, and she told Deirdre for hours of\nthe delights to come.\n\n\u201cIn a week,\u201d she said, \u201cyou will be gone from here, and our home will\nbe desolate indeed. But although the king called this a bleak den, and\nspoke of our demesne as a mangy field, he was not right in doing so.\nA house is bleak that has no children running and shouting in it, and\nthis house will be bleak when you are gone; but in all other respects\na cleaner or better appointed dwelling will not be found in the Five\nGreat Fifths of Ireland; mark me well, child, the king was excited and\nunjust, and I shall tell him so. When you rule in Emania you will find\nhow difficult it is to keep all things in order, and how hard it is to\nhave even one room clean; for men will be stirring at all hours of the\nday and night in your palace, and although they can make a home in a\nfield men make nothing but dirt in a house.\n\n\u201cYou will have much to do and to remember, my secret bud, but, above\nall, you must remember the genealogies of Ireland and the precedences\nof the court as I have taught them to you, and in any doubt or dispute\nask me rather than the herald. The chief cause of trouble in a country\nis the herald, for he is always wrong, and even when he is right in\nfact he is wrong in tact. Do not take any other woman\u2019s counsel in\nthose matters; do not even seek it--the one wish of all women is to\nadvance their husbands, and themselves by consequence, and they will\nruin the world if they are let.\n\n\u201cDo not forget that, after the king, the first man in the land is\nFergus the son of Roy. Be quick in respect to him, but be slow to sit\nby him or to talk with him, for Conach\u00far loves him on the surface,\nbut he hates him in the bone. The first woman in the land is the wife\nof Fergus, the king\u2019s mother. Be obedient to Ness in everything. Be\nquick in your courtesies to her. Give her many kisses. Be careful\nnot to love her, for her love is uncertain as a cat\u2019s paw, and where\nshe strikes she draws blood. But these two are not often at Emania.\nThey live in their fortress, deep in love, or in thought, as Conach\u00far\nfancies.\n\n\u201cYou will see Findcheam, the wife of Amargin the Wonderful,\nand Dervorgilla, wife of Lugad of the Red Stripes,\nFedelm-of-the-Fresh-Heart, the wife of Laer\u00ed the Victorious, and\nNiab, the daughter of Celtchar mac Uthecar, and Brig Brethach, his\nwife. Hussies all! spit-fires and scratch-cats! There is Lendubair,\nConall Cearnach\u2019s wife, and Findige, wife of Eogan mac Durthacht, and\nFedelm-of-the-Nine-Shapes, the king\u2019s daughter. They, and an hundred\nothers. You will meet them all.\n\n\u201cThey have all been whispering of you this year back: and they have\ntold more lies of you than will be told again until you die. You will\nlike them at first, for many of them are nearly of your age, and they\nwill fuss and gallop and chatter about you like daws. Give them all the\nlistening you like, give them all the kisses they will take--Oh, you\nwill be kissed from morning to night, my pet--but do not give one of\nthem a moment\u2019s confidence.\n\n\u201cThe king will talk to you urgently, whispering in your ear like a\nmadman. There is nothing he will not tell you in the night, however\ndeep it is, or hidden; for a man in love will give all that he has\nto the beloved; he would give his soul if he knew how to do it; and\nConach\u00far will think that by telling all his secrets to you he will\nsomehow tell all your secrets to himself. Men are so. But that which\nhe tells must be uttered to no other ear, for what is whispered in the\npalace will be shouted down the Boyne. You can tell me all, for I am\ndifferent; I am your nurse, your mother, and your one friend, but to no\nother person must you shape even one syllable.\n\n\u201cWhen the king has confided to you all that he can think of he will\nbeg you to confide in him: he will pray you to tell him all that you\nhave even done or thought--when he tells you of the wild glees and\nsavageries of love tell him in return of how you feed your pet fawn;\nfor a man, and the gods know why, delights to think that his beloved\nhas a fawn in the valley, and he will listen for ever to the tale of\nhow it is fed and of its grateful eyes.\n\n\u201cYou will meet many men in the palace, and each gentleman that you\nspeak to will be looked at closely by the king. Until this day he has\nbeen aware of women as one is aware of the sun, but now he will grow\naware of men as one is aware of a wound. You will not see him look,\nbut look he will; and when you seem most free from observation he will\nbe studying you. Whether it be a captain or a butler that your eyes\nrest on, he will know, without looking, at whom you are looking, and\nthereafter he will examine that person for himself, and he will examine\nyou in curious ways about that person. Any question he ever asks about\na man will be a trap for you. Answer him carelessly about them all, and\nmake the same answer about them all.\n\n\u201cIt is safe to say of all men that they are nice, but do not say that\none is nicer than another. There is no end to the windings of his mind,\nand if you say that one man is ugly and another not he will dream about\nthe distinction and will dream you terribly into his dream. A dreaming\nman is magical, for he will make the dream come true against his own\nwish and interest, and Conach\u00far is at the age to have those dreams.@\n\n\u201cBe gentle and uncertain with him. Be wild and coy. Do not, although\nhe prays you, be familiar with him. Tire quickly of dalliance, for in\nmiddle life a man likes not to think that he has wearied first. Dance\noften but do not gambol. Be girlish but not childish. Do not pluck his\nbeard or tickle him. Sit sparingly on his knee. It is only old men who\nlike baby tricks, and he is not, by fifteen years, old enough for that.\n\n\u201cDiscuss your dresses and ornaments with him: ask his advice about your\nribbons; he will laugh at you and chide you, but he will love that to\nbe done, and he will love you for doing it. Should he be sportive among\nwomen, pout then a little, make a small lament, but take no heed of it.\nHe has outlived all the chances of desire.\n\n\u201cHe will love you only, and each day he will love you more. What fear\nthere is will be on his side; he will be afraid of men; and there your\nheed must be endless, for you must not hurt the king even by a second\u2019s\nthoughtlessness. His equal is not in Eir\u00e8 for majesty and wisdom. He\nis a great king, a great man, a royal hero. O my lamb! all that is of\ngood luck and of noble fate has come to you, and you should thank the\nking for ever on your knees, and thank your poor Lavarcham who planned\nthis happiness.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\n\nAnd Conach\u00far lived anew as he drove homewards.\n\nHe did not see the humble people who louted and stared as he dashed by,\nnor the others who stood at strict attention marvelling at a king who\nreturned no salute.\n\nHis feet were so light he could have bounded in the chariot, but his\nheart was lighter still.\n\nIt flew into his brain and stayed there, buoyant as a bubble, creative\nas a moon; so charging his mind with its own essence that all which\nwas material merged in a flash to the spirit. The earth was eased of\ngrossness and became a shimmer of colours and transparencies; an aura\nof gold and green rose on the crests of the manifolding hills. The\ntender involutions of no bird\u2019s song were heard, for all songs merged\ninto that of the lyrical earth and the clouds and the shining spaces\nbetween them. The world was singing for Conach\u00far, and he was song. For\nto the clairvoyance of love all that is unseen takes on sweet shape,\nand all that we see we are shapen to. A new world emerges softly\nfrom the old: not imperceptibly and unreckoned, but by such divine\ngradations as we may note and rejoice in. Then the creator is manifest\nin his creation, and all in us. We are it and all: we are the soul of\nthe world, and our own soul: we are the victors, for we are beyond\nfear: we are the masters, for we are beyond desire.\n\nHow should fear or lust reach to the tops we spurn! The sour-faced\nbeggar shaking his oaken bowl may have our purse and a clasp of the\nhand to boot. Yon shaking anatomy that hovers and limps shall have our\nown health if none other is at hand, for all now is soft and easy, and\nat one bend of a brow the Land of Heart\u2019s Desire may be in being.\n\nSo Conach\u00far went, dreaming; the shaper of a world that was malleable to\nhis wish.\n\nTo this hour he had triumphed in all that he had undertaken, but he\nhad been unfriended, forging alone as in granite all that he willed,\nand feeling at every instant the rigour of life and the intractability\nof events. He saw that nothing he had yet done was so completed that it\nmight be forgotten. Here an event had left dissatisfaction in its wake:\nthere it had left an enemy. But from henceforth his work would have the\nclean finish of the spring, and all that he planted should grow from\nthe root.\n\nHe would have double strength; his titanic own, and hers, breathing in\nhim like an elixir, exciting him, heartening him. She was--what was\nshe not! She was his to-morrow. She was his all and his last chance.\nShe was his future, vivifying all that had grown stale, and unfolding\nhorizons where an uttermost end had seemed. For at times an ending\ncomes on every man, and thereafter there is nothing to strive for,\nthere being nothing left to hope for; energy winces from the thought\nof any task, and the future but prolongs a present that is insipid and\nwearisome.\n\nThe departure of Maeve had been such an ending for Conach\u00far. Life had\nhalted there for him, or had moved in a round of sameness which chafed\nand tormented his whirling mind. But he could forget her now and start\nafresh, for when he looked on Deirdre she went into his blood and into\nhis bones, so that to be removed from her was as though he were distant\nfrom his own arms or his own head.\n\nHe was impatient, and wished that all should know, as at one shout, his\nglorious news, but he yet would not speak of it to any one. He knew\nthat he might safely leave the publishing of that event to Lavarcham,\nand that ere nightfall every house in a radius of twenty miles would be\ntalking of the king\u2019s marriage.\n\nDown every road that ran from Emain Macha messengers would be going\nin swift chariots to tell the tale and to bid those who were worthy\nto the wedding feast. Not stopping for more than a few minutes at any\nplace; changing horses at the guest-houses, and dashing off again; some\ndeep into Connacht in the west, others eastwards into Leinster, and\nmore again speeding the long centre of Ireland to the two Munsters.\nThese distant kings and princes would think they had been slighted by\nsuch short notice, or by a notice that could only reach them after the\nevent. But his wedding feast should endure for three months, and there\nwould be pleasure and leisure for all. At this moment, if Lavarcham was\ndoing her duty (and she was never neglectful), the ostlers should be\npulling the great chariots out and backing the snorting horses between\nthe shafts.\n\nTo-morrow would be a new day.\n\nEvery person who observed the king would look on him with something\nelse in the regard. Many reserves would be down, many barriers broken;\nfor all people look differently on the king when he is in love, and\nthey try to bathe in his fortunate regard.\n\nThe men would glance at him shyly and subtly: each look a reminder\nand a well-wishing. While he stood among them he and they would laugh\nwithout any word being said, and they would be more familiar with him\nthan they would otherwise dare. But if one dared to clap his shoulder,\nConach\u00far would clap that comrade\u2019s shoulder again.\n\nThe women would look at him more openly; more softly and broodingly;\neach mutely assuring him that all which was to come would be good; each\ntelling him that woman guards for man all that which no man can give;\neach telling that because he loved one woman he must love all, and that\nwomen are truly lovable, and are precious beyond all precious things.\nHe would see that they all wished to touch him, so that he might know\nthey were truly woman and not different from her he delighted in;\nand he would see them turn from him, humbled and aggrieved, seeking\nanxiously in other eyes for the confirmations which he must not give.\n\nFor when the king is in love the world goes mad, and all who love him\nmust cherish each other or sicken of their suppressed loyalty and\nadoration.\n\nFor weeks to come Ulster would be an orgy. The man who had dodged\nmarriage as a fox tricks the hen-wife would tumble into it with a thud:\nthose who craved for and feared it would find that they were married\nin a morning: maids would become daring and men shy. From one, walking\ncoyly in the moonlight, a shoulder-band might slip, and the moon and a\nman would be rewarded for being out at night. One who stood and spoke\nmight suddenly shape her lips thus, and the man who looked would go\nblind in his brains and stay so to the last quarter of the moon. A wave\nof frolic and daring would go from the king, and thrill to the last\nhamlet in his kingdom; for although war is glorious, death is its ruler\nand companion; but from love life flows and everything that is lovely.\n\nAnd, as his heart rose thus, Conach\u00far knew that he was the life of his\npeople, for he was king and lover, and that all swung about him as the\nworld swings round the sun.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\n\nBut for Deirdre a night went by which to the end of her days she would\nnot care to remember.\n\nShe had seen the king at last: that being, all memory and dream,\nhalf monster and half baby, whom she remembered from Lavarcham\u2019s\nendless tale. She had seen the grave brow, the graver eyes, the\nbushy, reddish-yellow hair looped back to the slope of his poll, and\nthe yellow beard cleft at the centre and foaming in two points to\nthe breast. She could not have thought that a man might be so huge,\nso steady, so masterful. He was a being to whom one might pray, or\nfor whom one might die joyfully. If a lord came striding from the\nSh\u00ed surely he would look as Conach\u00far did: massive and dazzling and\nwonderful; with an eye from which one winced as from the sun, and with\na voice that trolled and astonished like the note of a beaten drum. She\nremembered his hand that could hold both of her own with ease, and the\ngreat ridge of his shoulders, sloping away like the easy run and fall\nof a mountain.\n\nAnd this terrific being claimed her as his wife!\n\nNothing but terror filled her heart at that prospect, for she could\nnot see him in any terms of intimacy or affection. He was and would\nremain as remote as her childhood, and no mere nearness could make him\npresent. And he would be as unaccountable as are the elements that\nsmile to-day and rage to-morrow in hurricane. What woman could reckon\nhis parts or his total? He was like some god that had come out of the\nhills to astonish and terrify.\n\nAnd there was Naoise!\n\nAs her memory retrieved the beloved name her heart went bustling to her\nthroat, and she sat raging and terrified.\n\nIt was not that he would be defrauded of her: it would be his own\nbusiness to be woeful on that count; but she would be defrauded of\nhim, and her proper lack was as yet sufficient for her mood, for\nlacking him what could be returned to her? Her hands went cold and her\nmouth dry as she faced such a prospect.\n\nThe youth who was hers! Who had no terrors for her! Who was her equal\nin years and frolic! She could laugh with him, and at him. She could\nchide him and love him. She could give to him and withhold. She could\nbe his mother as well as his wife. She could annoy him and forgive him.\nFor between them there was such an equality of time and rights that\nneither could dream of mastery or feel a grief against the other. He\nwas her beloved, her comrade, the very red of her heart, and her choice\nchoice.\n\nDeirdre leaped from the bed, but she could not leap from her thoughts,\nand she could not attempt the crazy and mazy corridors of her home to\nfly to him; for the excited household was clattering and chattering in\nthe corridors, and she could no more escape by them than a bird can\nescape by its cage.\n\nIt was not until two nights had passed that she could dare the wall;\nand in the intervening days she must listen to Lavarcham, endless in\ncaution and advice.\n\nDo this, but do not on your life do that. Remember this always, and\nthis and this and this. There seemed as much to remember not to forget\nas there was to remember to remember.\n\nDeirdre would turn an eye on her guardian so lack-lustre at times, and\nagain so woeful or wild, that the good lady marvelled.\n\n\u201cDo not be frightened, my silk of the flock,\u201d her guardian soothed,\n\u201cthere is every cause for joy and none for fear. In three days you\nwill be the most envied lady in Ulster, and in four you will be the\nhappiest. Tell Lavarcham what is in your mind and what you are afraid\nof?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am in dread of the king,\u201d said Deirdre.\n\n\u201cThat will pass,\u201d Lavarcham advised, \u201cand in a few days you will wonder\nthat you could have been frightened. But a maid is a maid: all that\nshe thinks or dreams is founded on inexperience, and has nothing to\ndo with reality: the world pours into a young girl\u2019s lap heedless of\nwhat she wished or dreaded; for no person can either hope or fear until\nthey know actually that which is hopeful or frightful. All you need do\nis to accept what your heart approves of, and what your heart rejects\nyou can throw away. There is everything to hope for and nothing to be\nafraid of.\u201d\n\nBut her chance did come at last.\n\nShe found the sons of Uisneac still at their encampment, but they\nwere a silent trio. They were more than silent: they were abashed and\nembarrassed.\n\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d Deirdre murmured, feeling the constraint.\n\n\u201cWe are bidden to your wedding,\u201d said Naoise shyly.\n\nThe mild candour of his voice went into her heart like a sword, so that\nshe could not speak to him, and it was to his brother she turned.\n\n\u201cWhat shall we do, dear Ainnle?\u201d she asked.\n\nBut he had no answer for her, and it was the youngest who replied.\n\n\u201cLet us all run away,\u201d Ardan cried, and his face went suddenly red and\nhis eager eyes shone like stars.\n\nNaoise glanced at Deirdre from under his brows.\n\n\u201cWhere could we run to from the king?\u201d Ainnle grumbled impatiently.\n\n\u201cAnd we do not come of a race that run away,\u201d said Naoise.\n\nSilence fell. But the statement of his own quality had unlocked a door\nof bitterness in Naoise\u2019s heart.\n\n\u201cNor will you easily find the girl who will run away from a kingdom,\u201d\nhe continued as though addressing reasonable counsel to his juniors.\n\nDeirdre faced him gravely and lovingly.\n\n\u201cI will run away with you,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cThe king----!\u201d Naoise gasped.\n\n\u201cI am afraid of that king,\u201d she whispered urgently.\n\nBut her lover was pale and terrified.\n\nIt would be an affront that was never offered to a king in Eir\u00e8. It\nwould be a cruelty: it would be an awful deed.\n\nHe turned to his brothers. \u201cThe king is our uncle, he loves us,\u201d he\nsaid.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d Ainnle agreed, \u201che loves us better than his own sons.\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter C\u00fachulinn,\u201d said Ardan, \u201che loves us best in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he loves me,\u201d said Deirdre.\n\nNaoise leaped to his feet.\n\n\u201cO gods of day and night!\u201d he cried.\n\nHe seemed to plead to Deirdre for comprehension and pity.\n\n\u201cConach\u00far reared me like his own son: I sat in his lap: he buckled this\nsword on me with his own hand, he put his two palms on my shoulders\nwhen I won my weapons, and he kissed me three times on each cheek. I\nlove and venerate him.\u201d\n\nAgain silence throbbed among them.\n\n\u201cI shall go home to Lavarcham,\u201d said Deirdre.\n\nThe boys looked at her and at each other and at the ground and did not\nknow where to look any more.\n\n\u201cI also shall be reared by the son of Ness,\u201d she said gently. \u201cI too\nshall sit in his lap. He will not buckle a sword on me, but he will\nunbuckle my girdle with his own hands; he will put his two palms on my\nshoulders, and he will kiss me many times on each cheek.\u201d\n\nNaoise beat a fist against his brow.\n\n\u201cI am the king\u2019s man,\u201d he stammered.\n\nBut she turned her fleet smile and trembling lips on him.\n\n\u201cAm I to tell the king how well we loved each other, night after night\namong the trees? or would it be better to keep that as a secret among\nus four: they say that men can keep secrets.\u201d\n\nThe two lads blushed painfully and turned away.\n\nNaoise was as one who has renounced life.\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to be done,\u201d said his dry lips. And then, shaking his\nshoulders, he tossed care from them.\n\n\u201cWe shall be beyond the trees at this hour to-morrow night with the\nchariots,\u201d he said. \u201cIf the hour passes and you do not come we shall\nattack the guards and take you out.\u201d\n\nHe turned to the others.\n\n\u201cYou must come with us, wherever we go, my brothers, for when the king\nfinds that I am gone he will slay you two for eric.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe wouldn\u2019t kill me,\u201d Ardan boasted, \u201cfor I wouldn\u2019t let him.\u201d\n\n\u201cNobody but C\u00fachulinn could kill you,\u201d Ainnle scoffed.\n\n\u201cYou couldn\u2019t, anyway,\u201d the youngest retorted.\n\n\u201cLittle boasting Pillar of Combat!\u201d his brother gibed. \u201cPooh!\nBattle-Torch of the Gael!\u201d\n\nAnd in terrified merriment they made the rest of their arrangements.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\n\nLavarcham left the king\u2019s presence.\n\nShe came away bowed and blind and dizzy, shuffling in any direction\nand unaware of why she was walking or where she was going. An hundred\nthoughts, battling furiously for precedence, kept her thoughtless; an\nhundred pictures, each striving for place and examination, kept her\nblind. She was all a din and whirl and swirl, as though the winds that\nraged in gust and countercurrent through her brain were blowing her\nalong. At times she would remember that she did not wish to go where\nshe was going, and she would spin furiously aside and go as stupidly in\nanother path; and at times she would discover that she was standing,\nstill and collected as a stone, a nothing; staring on nothing. Great\nsighs broke from her miserable heart; or she was so shattered by dry\nsobbings that it seemed her bones must part company with her flesh and\nwith each other; and again, with her two hands gripped on her mouth\nshe squeezed back a medley of screams, and listened, as in amazement,\nto the thin whinings that forced through the crooked spaces in her\nfingers. Again, the cautious woman would peep and peer to see if any\nperson was nigh to observe her, and before that survey could make its\nround she would forget what she was looking for, and think that _they_\ncould not be seen from this place, for they have hours\u2019 start, and will\nbe--where? by this time.\n\nWith what unbelieving anguish that flight had forced itself upon her!\nShe had gone trotting and ambling and panting about her rooms and\nfields, calling--\n\n\u201cDeirdre, Deirdre, Deirdre?\u201d\n\nSearching for her baby in a work-basket or on the flat of a ceiling,\nwhile the servants gibbered and squealed and bubbled and blared at her\nand at each other.\n\nWith what an iron dismay the thought of Conach\u00far came on her,\ndesolating and unreckoned as the thunderclap which howls on the heels\nof its howling brother.\n\nHe must be told.\n\nAnd at that she poked up her nose like a moonstruck dog pealing scream\non scream, until the attending hags fled into corners as the mice do\nwhen they are frightened, and screamed with her and at her and at the\nroof.\n\nShe went to Conach\u00far.\n\nShe stood mumbling and staring outside the door and then trotted in,\nwhispering at him:\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s gone.\u201d\n\nAnd Conach\u00far echoed, in uncomprehending amazement:\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s gone.\u201d\n\nLavarcham stared into the king\u2019s face that was carved in the granite of\nsuspense and astonishment.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s gone, little Deirdre\u2019s gone,\u201d she yelled, and emptied her thin\nfingers on the air as though she emptied them of Deirdre. She clapped\nher hands together with a dreadful giggle, and flapped her arms along\nher thighs like some ungainly crow that has been set dancing drunk on\nmead.\n\n\u201cWhen a maid goes a man goes with her,\u201d she croaked.\n\nShe flopped to the door and hopped out of it and popped back.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s gone,\u201d she cried. \u201cShe\u2019s gone; she ran away with a man\u201d; and she\nwobbled to the doorway again, nodding and tittering at the king until\nshe disappeared.\n\nThe servants and guards were listening with their eyes staring, their\nmouths open, and their breathing forgotten.\n\nA whisper, a thrill, a terrible constriction of the heart fled through\nthe vast palace, and went zigzagging like wildfire about Ulster. And\nin the centre of that Conach\u00far stood, alone; with his fists closed and\nhis eyes closed; listening to the whispers that were an inch away and\nan hundred miles away; that were over him and under him and in him:\nlistening to the blanching of his face and to the liquifying of his\nbones: listening in a rage of curiosity and woe for the more that might\nbe said and all the more that might be thought: trying, as with one\ngripping of the mind, to sense all the bitterness that might be; to\nexhaust it in one gulp, and re-awaken as at a million removes from all\nthat had ever been or could be till Doom.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\nTime flies, scattering on all that had seemed important the ash of\nforgetfulness, and so crowding memory into memory that the thing we\nrecollect has no longer the shape or colour that strode against us once\nupon a time.\n\nFor all men but the dreamer time flies. But it may be stationary for\nhim who can recreate in the night all that he forces to oblivion in the\nmorning. His woeful yesterdays can be timely at any time, for nothing\nthat touches him will rust or fade, and he may be seen to wince at a\nword which his contemporaries have lost the significance of.\n\nThe seven years that passed had not touched Conach\u00far. He was still the\nmasterful king, the unremitting lawgiver. He was still the idol of his\npeople. What would a banquet in the Red Branch be if the king were\naway? But he was never absent, and wherever there was music or frolic\nor laughter the Son of Ness was urging it on, and would be eager for\nmore when the youngest companion was wearied to stupidity. Not time nor\nthought could blunt the edge of his bodily or mental energy, so vast\nwas it, and misfortune beat as unavailingly against him as the wind did\nagainst oaken Emania.\n\nTo be energetic and self-sufficing is to be happy; but while one\ndesire remains in the heart happiness may not come there. For to\ndesire is to be incomplete: it is the badge of dependence, the signal\nof unhappiness, and to be freed from that is to be freed from every\nfetter that can possibly be forged. Man becomes god when he finds his\nsatisfactions within himself, but his dreams then are other than those\nthat harried Conach\u00far as a pack of hounds harry a fox.\n\nFor Ulster might forget, and those who had not been outraged might\nforgive, but he would not forget or forgive until he was as dead as\nthose should be against whom his mind was directed like the point of a\nsecret spear.\n\nDeirdre and the sons of Uisneac had fled to Scotland, where they had\nkinsmen and acquaintances who had grown up with them in Emain Macha\nas fosterages from the Scottish courts, or as lords and captains in\nConach\u00far\u2019s mercenary armies. They may have met C\u00fachulinn there, for it\nwould be about that time that he was under the tuition of the female\nwarrior and witch, Scatach; and, if so, they should have met his\ncomrade Ferdiad also, he who was to assail the ford afterwards with\nwhat a hand! and it may have been during their exile that C\u00fachulinn\nfell in love with Scatach\u2019s daughter, and that the child was born who\nwould receive such a woeful stroke on B\u00e1ile\u2019s Strand.\n\nIt is one of the wise arrangements of providence that no person can\neither eat of the same thing or talk of the same thing for more than\na week; and so, when gossip\u2019s time had passed, Ulster, unless it\nmight be to some travelling historian, spoke no more of the king\u2019s\nmisfortune. Such an historian would have learned that Deirdre was tall\nand short, and that she was dark and fair and sallow: for every woman\nhe interviewed would lend her own contours and complexion to such an\nheroine, and would, as they reprobated or forgave, endow her with the\nmoral qualities which they best appreciated--their own. Lavarcham could\ntell the truth and so could Conach\u00far, but they would not be questioned\nfor some years to come.\n\nThe king had downfaced the whole matter from the start. He went to\nthe chase that day. He sat at the banquet that night. He visited\nhis foreign troops the next day, and the day after he inspected the\nfortifications at the Pass of the Fews and a length of the Black Pig\u2019s\nDyke on either side. There was the Boy Troop to be reviewed and their\ncompetitions to be scrutinized. There were the unending ceremonies of\nthe court, the Judgement Seat, and of the embassies from all parts\nof his realm and from overseas: there were gifts to be received and\nreturned: counsels to be given and listened to. There was an eternal\nvariety of occupations for the king, who, although he might employ a\nday of eighteen hours\u2019 work, could have something yet to think of ere\nhe slept.\n\nC\u00fachulinn and Conall Cearnach had been equal kings with him, but they\nhad (Lavarcham had assisted in that) surrendered their powers to\nConach\u00far, who was now known and described as Emperor of Ulster.\n\nWhat allegiance he gave to the High King of Ireland we do not know, and\nit may have been part of his plan to arrive at that dignity himself.\nA Connacht prince was then, and for a thousand years afterwards, High\nKing of Ireland, and although the effort of Connacht and Ulster to\nachieve supreme rule may now be forgotten, the effects of those bitter\nwars lasted longer than an historian would dare to count.\n\nSo far as Ulster was concerned the king might have been at ease. His\nhonour was as safe as his kingdom, and as for the other actors in his\ndrama their condition was so manifestly gentle and their youth so\nextreme that no taint of ugliness or treachery could remain in the\ntale, or in the mind of the person who heard it. It could, in a while,\nhave been told of as a regrettable childish misadventure, and one which\nnot even the king need further remember.\n\nBut the king remembered.\n\nIt was to escape such a memory that he plunged into affairs and\nbanquets and a whole roystering self-expenditure which would have\ndevitalized any other man. He prolonged his day until it could not for\nvery weariness be further extended, and then he went to bed.\n\nNo: he went to Deirdre\u2019s bed where Naoise slept, and over which he\nhovered sleepless, though in sleep, and in a torment that poisoned the\nvery sunlight when he awakened.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nConach\u00far mac Nessa was preparing a feast.\n\nHousehold banquets were common matters at his court, but this was to be\na State banquet, and every person who could be thought of as noble or\nnotable was invited to the Red Branch.\n\nAs well as an aristocracy of birth there was in every Irish court an\n\u00e9lite of excellence. Those who were foremost in learning, the arts, or\nthe crafts, had the privilege of visiting the king equally with those\nwhose merit rose from their fathers\u2019 graves or their skill at arms. A\nking was then close to his people, and he was by training and habit a\nconnoisseur in many things which all could understand. A commonwealth\nof taste is the only one which can admit equality--it is democracy. He\ncould commend with knowledge the man who built a house or the man who\ndid the carvings in it. He could speak to the maker of his chariots\nor the breaker of his horses in terms that apprehended to the last\nshading the matter that was being discussed, and, so, to the expert\nwho cured his bacon or the sturdy master who superintended the brewing\nof his beer. All arts were household arts; all crafts were arts; and\nthe knowledge of these was culture. A gentleman would know of all the\nmusic that was worthy of being played, for a musical person formed part\nof every household. He would remember the songs that had outlived time\nand could discuss their excellences; and the only art which he need\nregard as occult would be poetry itself; for, while all other arts come\nby memory and experiment, poetry, which is not an art, comes solely by\ngrace.\n\n\u201cLavarcham,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201chave you heard any talk of the banquet?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, master, I have heard nothing else.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill there be any notable absentees?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone but those who are dying of wounds or sickness.\u201d\n\n\u201cC\u00fachulinn has stayed at home for some time now?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor a year after marriage one is still newly married,\u201d the\nconversation-woman submitted.\n\n\u201cI fear that boy\u2019s love for me has bounds,\u201d Conach\u00far pursued.\n\n\u201cThe king has been too kind to him,\u201d cried Lavarcham harshly.\n\n\u201cThe king cannot help himself,\u201d he corrected, \u201cfor I love the lad, and\nI could no more do him an ill turn that I could do one to myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cI, too, love him,\u201d said Lavarcham, \u201cbut he is more forward than is\nproper, even in a prince.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you tell me, Lavarcham, why he objected to my sovereign privilege\nwith his wife?\u201d\n\n\u201cPride,\u201d she replied briefly. \u201cHe is prouder than ten kings.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so, and it is a gentleman\u2019s prerogative to be proud,\u201d he\ncontinued. \u201cBut if such objections were allowed government would become\nimpossible. Do the people still talk of his refusal?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe people know that the king did sleep with Emer.\u201d[9]\n\n\u201cYes, they may know that, but do they know that Fergus slept on the\nother side of her as a guard?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d she replied; \u201cthat is known to but five people, and they are all\nloyal to the king.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me,\u201d and Conach\u00far scrutinized her gravely, \u201cdo you love C\u00fachulinn\nbetter than me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI love you best of all, master,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cI think you do, my friend, but they say that every woman loves the C\u00fa.\n\n\u201cAs to Fergus\u201d--he muttered and went silent for a moment--\u201cI do not yet\nknow how much Fergus loves me. I am not sure that a loyal man would\nhave undertaken a duty against his sovereign such as Fergus accepted\nfor C\u00fachulinn.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe did it because he loves both of you, master, and it is surely\nbetter that such an arrangement should be known only between friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cPossibly,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cAnd yet I had passed my word that if my\nright was conceded I would not touch the girl. Is a king\u2019s word not\naccepted any longer by those Ferguses and C\u00fachulinns?\u201d he cried\nfuriously.\n\n\u201cIt was C\u00fachulinn\u2019s doing,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cIt may have been Fergus\u2019s,\u201d he retorted, and went moodily silent. \u201cWho\nknows what that man thinks of?\u201d\n\n\u201cFeasts,\u201d said Lavarcham. \u201cHe loves food.\u201d\n\n\u201cI was tempted,\u201d the king gritted, \u201cto try in the night whether he\ndared obstruct me, and to see if he dared thrust the sword he went to\nbed with into his king--but I had passed my word. If,\u201d he continued\nirritably, \u201cthe C\u00fa had only asked Conall Cearnach or Cruscrid Menn or\nany gentleman of the household to be his surety instead of the man he\ndid ask, I could have borne it.\u201d\n\nLavarcham chuckled respectfully.\n\n\u201cHow did that night pass, master?\u201d she inquired.\n\nConach\u00far gave a great laugh.\n\n\u201cFergus and I went to bed, and the girl went to bed between us, and we\nall had our clothes on. My bed is small enough for me when I am alone,\nbut to pack a large girl into it with all her clothes on, and then\nto pack an overgrown vast bullock of a man like Fergus into it also,\ncannot be done. I made but one resolve that night, that on no account\nwould I be pushed out of my own bed, and I was not; but every time that\nFergus closed an eye he fell on the floor and the girl woke up and\nscreamed.\u201d\n\nLavarcham let out a shrill titter, and begged the king\u2019s pardon.\n\n\u201cHow did Emer behave?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cShe went to sleep,\u201d said Conach\u00far sourly. \u201cShe slept hard and kicked\nhard for seven long hours; and this I know, that if she has the round\nknee of a woman, which she has, for it was thudded into my back a\nthousand times, she has also the sharp elbows of a girl, so that after\na time it seemed to me that there was a bundle of live bodkins in the\nbed. I never knew how long a night could be until that night: and we\nhad even to prolong it out of courtesy to the lady! I shall keep a\npainful memory of that sweet girl until I die, and the C\u00fa is welcome to\nevery royal remittance he can desire on her behalf. But now, about the\nbanquet. Is everything in order?\u201d\n\n\u201cEverything, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe brewers, the bakers, the cooks, they have their equipment and\ninstructions?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour butlers must answer for that, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, but as you went among these people how did they seem? What do\nthey say about the feast?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are excited and delighted. All their talk is of the famous people\nand the great retinues that are coming, and of how Ulster will show the\nFive Kingdoms what a real feast is like.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are good folk all,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cThey are very good folk. You\nhave no other news?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to report, master, but that everything is well.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have no tidings from Scotland?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone, master, or little.\u201d\n\n\u201cEven a little news is news,\u201d said he. \u201cTell it, however little it be.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey have been chased again,\u201d said Lavarcham in a low voice.\n\u201cEverywhere they go they are hunted like foxes. They live under the\nweather, crouching like wild creatures in the bracken of a hill-side,\nor hiding in rocks and caves by a howling shore.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey were delicately reared,\u201d he murmured.\n\n\u201cThey never knew hardship,\u201d Lavarcham whimpered, \u201cand my babe----\u201d\n\n\u201cAh yes, your babe! How old would she be now, that babe of yours?\u201d\n\n\u201cClose on twenty-three years, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I am forty-seven. She has all her days in front of her still.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat days will they be, and she quaking in a burrow like a hare, or\nrising thin-legged from the bog like a yellow bittern?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is still the King of Scotland who pursues them?\u201d Conach\u00far queried.\n\n\u201cYes; since he set eyes on her seven years ago he has given them no\nrest, and he will give none until he has killed the three brothers and\ntaken the girl for himself. That is the welcome of a king in Scotland.\nIt is not the welcome the same lord got when he came here in fosterage.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is still a young man,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cYoung or old, it is not the act of a prince.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe acts of a prince need a prince\u2019s criticism,\u201d said the king\nseverely.\n\nLavarcham went silent.\n\n\u201cYoung men go wild at times, and it is their right; but older men can\nbe of a wildness that no young man can understand,\u201d said the king.\n\nHe twisted sternly on Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cLove is told of in this way and that, but it is not told of as it\nis.... It is savagery in the blood, and pain in the bone, and greed and\ndespair in the mind. It is to be thirsty in the night and unslaked in\nthe day. It is to carry memory like a thorn in the heart. It is to drip\none\u2019s blood as one walks. Leave men to the things they know, and do you\nmeddle with your own female businesses.\u201d\n\n\u201cThose children,\u201d said Lavarcham stubbornly, \u201care a woman\u2019s business,\nand his own subjects are matter for a king.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are our kinsmen indeed,\u201d said Conach\u00far thoughtfully, \u201cand their\ntroubles shall be looked into. We shall speak of this again after the\nbanquet.\u201d\n\nLavarcham\u2019s eyes were shining:\n\n\u201cYes, master,\u201d she crooned.\n\n\u201cSend in our butlers and all our masters,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n[9] Emer = pronounced Ever.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nThe king and the guests of honour, mainly members of his family and\ntheir wives, sat on a raised dais overlooking the banqueting hall.\n\nIt was at the heart of the banquet. The food had been eaten, and mead\nand ale and wine were circulating. Gentlemen were politely pledging\neach other\u2019s ladies, and the ladies were feverishly considering each\nother\u2019s costumes and ornaments.\n\n\u201cEvery one,\u201d Emer explained in her clear, sweet voice to C\u00fachulinn,\n\u201cevery one who has any hair at all wears it this way.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the Connacht fashion,\u201d said Cruscraid the Stammerer.\n\n\u201cIt is Maeve\u2019s fashion,\u201d Emer corrected.\n\n\u201cThere must be three plaits,\u201d she continued; \u201ctwo twisted round the\nhead and caught in a brooch, and one hanging down the back. I think it\nis a charming fashion.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d Conach\u00far smiled, \u201cthat our ladies might content themselves\nwith our own good Ulster customs.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are Ulster customs, indeed,\u201d said Emer, \u201cbut there are no\nfashions. One must go to Connacht for that.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it depended on the ladies,\u201d said Laer\u00ed, \u201cwe might let the grass\ngrow over the Black Pig\u2019s Dyke.\u201d\n\n\u201cShoulder torques are worn smaller in Connacht just now,\u201d Emer\ncontinued, eyeing superciliously the ornaments of a neighbour. \u201cJust\nlike mine,\u201d she added complacently.\n\nC\u00fachulinn laughed boisterously.\n\n\u201cJust like yours,\u201d he mocked. \u201cWhy, you know well, my dove, I took that\ntorque on the last spoil I made in Connacht.\u201d\n\nGreat good humour descended on Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cIs that where the torque came from, my soul? Your sweet lady must show\nit to me more closely. You had a hard fight on that occasion?\u201d\n\n\u201cI got away from them,\u201d the C\u00fa answered modestly.\n\n\u201cYou got away from them only when you got home,\u201d Bricriu jeered. \u201cIt\nwas good running, my sweet.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey were very persistent,\u201d the C\u00fa admitted laughingly, \u201cbut I got\naway with my spoil.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know how the Connacht men explain the fact that you are still\nalive?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will be an unpleasant explanation if it is explained by Bricriu,\u201d\nsaid Emer.\n\n\u201cI should like to hear it,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cThey are telling each other that our C\u00fa was so beautiful they could\nnot bear to kill him: think of that, C\u00facuc.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a stupid sentimental reason,\u201d growled Laer\u00ed.\n\n\u201cIt is a good, honourable reason,\u201d Emer flashed. \u201cIt is not a reason\nyou will ever give for letting a man escape.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Bricriu; \u201cLaer\u00ed\u2019s excuse when he doesn\u2019t bring his man home\nis that he couldn\u2019t catch him.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that,\u201d Laer\u00ed retorted, \u201cwould be the Connacht men\u2019s reason for not\ngetting the C\u00fa, if a Connachtman could tell the truth about anything.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey tell the truth when it is pleasant,\u201d said Emer, \u201cand when it is\nnot pleasant they tell a lie: they are a polite people, which is more\nthan we are.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! Oh!\u201d Conach\u00far laughed.\n\n\u201cTheir lies come from a good heart and a love of happiness, while our\ntruths come grumph, grumph, grumph like the snarling of a badly trained\ndog.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! Oh!\u201d Conach\u00far roared.\n\n\u201cConall, what do you say of these Connacht people? You also have been\namong them lately.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are honourable fighters,\u201d said Conall.\n\n\u201cNo man can pray for a better enemy than a Connachtman,\u201d Fergus\nassented. \u201cThey come on where another would go back, and when they go\nback it is either through pity or poetry.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201ctheir compliment to the C\u00fa has been repaid, and\nwe can talk of something else. What do you think of our banquet?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to be said,\u201d cried Emer; \u201cit is perfect.\u201d\n\n\u201cEverybody seems happy,\u201d said the complacent king, as he looked down\nthe Red Branch.\n\nHis guests also stared down the hall.\n\n\u201cThey seem happy and are happy,\u201d said C\u00fachulinn. He turned to his\nservant and charioteer:\n\n\u201cLaeg,\u201d he cried, \u201cyou do not love me! My cup is empty.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy darling,\u201d Laeg replied, \u201cyou have drunk as much as is good for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall drink as much as is bad for me if I please,\u201d said C\u00fachulinn,\n\u201cso bring me some mead, my treasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall bring you ale or cider.\u201d\n\n\u201cMead,\u201d said the C\u00fa.\n\n\u201cAle, my little love,\u201d said the charioteer.\n\n\u201cBring mead for the C\u00fa when he wants it,\u201d Emer ordered indignantly.\n\n\u201cSweet mistress,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cwe have to bring him home to-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen give him ale,\u201d said Emer.\n\n\u201cIt will surely be ale,\u201d cried the delighted Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cMead,\u201d C\u00fachulinn pleaded.\n\n\u201cYou will want to fight the moon and stars as we go home,\u201d Emer rebuked\nhim.\n\n\u201cI can fight on ale just as well,\u201d C\u00fachulinn asserted.\n\n\u201cAnd it is good heady ale,\u201d the king assured him.\n\n\u201cLet it be ale, then,\u201d said C\u00fachulinn.\n\n\u201cI think that not one person whom we know is absent from this banquet,\u201d\nsaid Fiachra the Fair, Conach\u00far\u2019s youngest son.\n\nThe conversation turned as they all looked down the great hall. \u201cThere\nis So-and-so, and So-and-so.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho,\u201d said Emer, \u201cis that tall, sad man with three men\u2019s chins about\nhim?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is such a one,\u201d said Fiachra.\n\n\u201cAnd the black bulk beside him with the beard that was stolen from a\nporcupine?\u201d\n\n\u201cHis name is Borach, the son of Annt\u00e9. He has a fortified rock half in\nand half out of the sea. He catches sharks through his window, and his\nbanquets are all made of fish.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is preparing a banquet for me,\u201d Conach\u00far cried.\n\n\u201cI shall not accept a feast from that man,\u201d said Fergus.\n\n\u201cYou must if he asks you,\u201d C\u00fachulinn replied, \u201cfor it is geasa[10] on\nyou not to refuse a feast.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is so; but the feast must be ready before I am offered it, and\nas I do not visit his part of the world I shall never have to eat his\nsharks.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think there is no one absent?\u201d asked Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cNot one,\u201d they agreed.\n\n\u201cI am sharper than you all,\u201d he continued, \u201cfor I can count three who\nare not here.\u201d\n\nAgain they scrutinized the hall without finding any missing friends.\nThey appealed to the herald who stood by Conach\u00far\u2019s chair. He, too, was\nmystified.\n\n\u201cWhat three are they?\u201d said Fiachra.\n\n\u201cThe three sons of Uisneac,\u201d the king replied smilingly. \u201cThe three\nLights of Valour of the Gael.\u201d\n\nAt the words a moment\u2019s silence came on the dais and no person knew\nexactly what to say or do. Fergus turned his direct gaze on the king.\n\n\u201cThey are in Scotland,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cThey went there seven years ago when Naoise ran away with Deirdre,\u201d\nsaid Conach\u00far.\n\nConall Cearnach turned his harsh forehead to the king:\n\n\u201cThey are in great distress,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI have just heard so,\u201d the king replied gravely. \u201cWe must bring them\nhome.\u201d\n\nAt the words the face of every person changed. It was as though a\ncordial had been dropped into each heart.\n\nC\u00fachulinn flashed enthusiasm and delight at the king:\n\n\u201cYou will let them come back?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey shall be at our next banquet.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I could love you more,\u201d Fergus affirmed, \u201cI would love you more for\nthat.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know you love me well,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cand I love you, my heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have been wearying to see Naoise again,\u201d cried C\u00fachulinn.\n\n\u201cWhat is he like?\u201d said Emer.\n\n\u201cHe is under geasa about his return,\u201d Bricriu interposed.\n\nConach\u00far turned abruptly to him.\n\n\u201cWhat geasa is that?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will come back in the company of Fergus or of Conall or of the C\u00fa,\notherwise he will not come back.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cHe was always a sensible, far-seeing boy,\u201d Bricriu continued\nthoughtfully.\n\nThe king\u2019s eye rested on Bricriu for one weighty moment ere he replied:\n\n\u201cWe shall send one of the three, or all of the three to fetch him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is she like?\u201d Emer insisted.\n\nBricriu replied:\n\n\u201cShe has been sleeping in ditches for six years. She will be like\nnothing that you have ever heard of, sweet lady.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe----\u201d said C\u00fachulinn.\n\n\u201cShe----\u201d said every voice at the one moment.\n\n\u201cShe,\u201d said Conach\u00far with a grave smile, \u201cwas called the Troubler; she\nhas given and received her share of trouble.\u201d\n\n[10] Geasa = taboo.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\n\u201cYou understand?\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cI understand well, master,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cFirst you are to send Conall to me. Half an hour afterwards you shall\nsend C\u00fachulinn. In another half-hour you shall send me Fergus, and when\nhe comes you shall see that Borach is in waiting.\u201d\n\n\u201cI understand well, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn a little while you shall see your babe again.\u201d\n\nShe scrutinized his face humbly and gravely.\n\n\u201cYou are most gentle, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you not contented?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am filled with joy and grief,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cAnd grief!\u201d the king echoed mildly.\n\n\u201cShe will not be the girl I knew,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cHow so?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe will have been destroyed by hardship.\u201d\n\n\u201cGirls are tougher than women pretend,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cA man grows directly from the boy he was,\u201d she continued. \u201cHe keeps\nthe boy you knew even when he is an old man. But a girl grows suddenly\nat an angle to all that she was. She becomes a stranger in a year.\u201d\n\n\u201cHum!\u201d he scoffed.\n\n\u201cThe Deirdre we knew is dead, and some weather-wise, weather-wasted\nwoman will look at me with unknown eyes and say, \u2018How do you do.\u2019 I\nshall not know how to talk to her,\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cIf it is so we shall see it so,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cGo now and send me\nConall, and then the others in the order I told you.\u201d\n\nLavarcham left the room.\n\nWhen she was beyond the king\u2019s hearing she stood for a good five\nminutes musing deeply within herself; listening as it were to her\nheart, to her instincts, to that monitor on whom we call when the times\nare momentous and doubtful and there is no other help but our own to\nbe summoned. She sighed inaudibly, tremulously, and went about her\nbusiness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nConall Cearnach stood in the doorway.\n\n\u201cGood, O Chief and King!\u201d he saluted.\n\n\u201cLife and happiness!\u201d Conach\u00far replied briskly. \u201cSit here, my heart,\nfor there is but one chair. I shall walk up and down while we discuss\nthis business.\u201d\n\nHis guest sat down.\n\n\u201cIt is about Uisneac\u2019s boys. You think they should come home?\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery one thinks so; there is a gap among your gentlemen while they\nare away.\u201d\n\nConach\u00far nodded.\n\n\u201cThere is an even worse gap among your captains.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd among the boys growing from the troop,\u201d Conall resumed, \u201cthere\nis no one to replace these three. They were already at the force of\nmanhood, and even then their skill and knowledge were remarkable.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue,\u201d Conach\u00far agreed. \u201cThey were trained by me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe last six years of combat and ambuscade and flight will have made\nthem but the better soldiers.\u201d\n\nThe king strode to his visitor and laid a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\u201cConall, my friend, these three have treated me shamefully.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe only way to forgive a thing is to forget it. You have forgiven,\nConach\u00far--and forgotten.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf they returned with you, Conall, and if evil happened to them while\nunder your surety, what would you do?\u201d\n\nConall rose from his chair, and in rising displaced the king\u2019s hand. He\nlooked at the king with his steady, pale regard.\n\n\u201cIf evil came to a person placed under my protection I would kill the\nperson by whom that evil came.\u201d\n\nConach\u00far laughed merrily.\n\n\u201cEven the king himself?\u201d he quizzed.\n\n\u201cI would kill any person that dishonoured me,\u201d said Conall sternly.\n\n\u201cYou would be quite right to do so,\u201d said Conach\u00far heartily.\n\nHe seated himself in the chair that Conall had vacated.\n\n\u201cThe matter I wish to discuss is your uncle, Cet mac Magach, Cet of\nConnacht. That man scorns our borders, and his depredations are costly\nand impertinent. Our young men also are not equal to that able reiver.\nCould you not talk to him, Conall, and draw him off us?\u201d\n\n\u201cI talk to Connachtmen with a sword.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may talk to him that way if you please.\u201d\n\nConall reviewed the invitation imperturbably.\n\n\u201cI would not care to kill Cet mac Magach. He is my mother\u2019s brother.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he is not an easy person to kill,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cWe shall make\nour own arrangements about him. Blessing and long life to you!\u201d\n\nThe dismissed champion strode from the room.\n\n\u201cThat man,\u201d Conach\u00far thought moodily, \u201chas been hammered together stone\nby stone, and is no more than a petrified vanity. He loves nothing but\nhis honour, which is that he loves himself.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome in, the C\u00fa,\u201d he called. \u201cCome in, and an hundred welcomes, my\nsweet lad.\u201d\n\nC\u00fachulinn, magnificent in red silk and gold embroideries, came leaping\nin.\n\n\u201cWell, my pulse!\u201d cried Conach\u00far. \u201cAnd you have a new mantle!\u201d\n\n\u201cEmer made it,\u201d the C\u00fa boasted. \u201cShe does the finest embroidery in the\nworld. She told me so herself.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf she told you so----\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cLet me look at the sleeve. It\nis not bad, my delight. But I have a few pieces somewhere--Did you pass\nConall Cearnach as you came in?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did; he smiled a frozen smile at me, and clapped my shoulder with a\nfist of lead.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe were arguing about honour. If a person was placed under your\nprotection and was then killed, what would you do, C\u00facuceen?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would kill the other person,\u201d said C\u00fachulinn.\n\n\u201cIf it was the king, my pet?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would kill the king.\u201d\n\nConach\u00far sat round at him in a rage.\n\n\u201cWould you kill me?\u201d he demanded.\n\n\u201cI would,\u201d C\u00fachulinn returned as fiercely. \u201cI would kill any one who\ndestroyed a person under my protection.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou would _not_ kill me, C\u00fachulinn!\u201d\n\n\u201cAs sure as dawn begins the day.\u201d\n\n\u201cBegone, young puppy! Begone, cockscomb!\u201d he thundered.\n\n\u201cHonour----\u201d C\u00fachulinn commenced.\n\n\u201cYou do not love me,\u201d the king stormed.\n\n\u201cI do love you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBegone,\u201d the king roared, and stamped the floor.\n\nThe laughing C\u00fachulinn backed before his rage.\n\n\u201cI do love you,\u201d he shouted; and he continued to shout, \u201cI love you....\nI love you,\u201d until he reached the end of the corridor and turned the\ncorner, where the guards poked each other in the ribs and giggled with\njoy.\n\nConach\u00far tugged at his beard half in anger and half in laughter.\n\nAnother vanity in a mantle, he thought. That boy loves me indeed, and\nhe would as surely kill me, for it is certain that I could not think of\nkilling him. Is there no person in my realm who loves me better than\nhis own poor pride? And what a three that--Naoise--must choose for his\nsureties!\n\nHe strode savagely up and down the room.\n\n\u201cWe shall see now what Fergus is like,\u201d he sneered. \u201cHe professes to\nadore me, and eyes me with the devotion of a dull dog. A dull dog he\nis, and a monster of sufficiency to boot.\u201d\n\nIf he dares to thwart me--the king gloomed, and went into a bitter rage\nof meditation.\n\nA great voice boomed on him.\n\n\u201cGood my soul, Conach\u00far!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is Fergus,\u201d cried the king joyfully, and strode to meet his visitor.\n\n\u201cCome, my pulse and best. Sit you and I shall stand. Nay, sit,\u201d he\nchided gently. \u201cIndeed, if things were right you should sit always, and\nthis man,\u201d tapping his own breast, \u201cshould bend a lover\u2019s knee before\nyou. You bear no ill-will, sweetheart, for that trick of long ago?\u201d\n\nThe giant sat.\n\n\u201cI never think of it, or I think of it with relief when I remember the\nJudgement Seat, and the knots and tangles and questions that came day\nby day. I was not bad at justice, but I was a sad fumbler at law, and\nthe best man has the best place, my dear. Do not torment yourself with\nmemories of that old----\u201d\n\nHe halted for a word.\n\n\u201cTreachery,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cThat is not the word I wanted,\u201d Fergus laughed. \u201cYou are too\nsensitive, Conach\u00far. The nobles agreed and I agreed that you should be\nthe king, and I am your most loving subject.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do love me?\u201d\n\n\u201cHave I not proved it?\u201d the other smiled.\n\n\u201cMany a time. Times out of mind,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\nHe turned aside and closed his eyes. A pang of dull hate smouldered and\nstirred in him.\n\n\u201cIf this man were dead!\u201d he thought with weary despair. \u201cIf this man\nwould but cease and disappear and begone, how free my soul could be!\u201d\n\nHe turned again to Fergus.\n\n\u201cLet us talk of other things,\u201d he said. \u201cThose sons of Uisneac----\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did a rare deed there,\u201d said the other approvingly.\n\n\u201cRare or not rare they will be brought back, and you shall go for them.\u201d\n\nFergus nodded.\n\n\u201cIf they claim my protection----\u201d he began.\n\n\u201cThey do claim it, and they will return under your protection.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I shall go for them. I shall be glad to see these boys again:\nthey had the makings of great fighters in them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is settled,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cYou can start to-day?\u201d he inquired.\n\n\u201cI can start within the hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood.\u201d\n\nConach\u00far mused, and turned thoughtful eyes on his companion.\n\n\u201cIf anything happened to these three while they were under your\nprotection, Fergus, what would you do?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would kill the person who interfered with my protection.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo matter who it was?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo matter who it was.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder would our mutual love withstand even an attack on honour,\u201d\nsaid Conach\u00far thoughtfully. \u201cThere are bounds to love, but I doubt that\nI could lift a hand against you even if you attacked my honour.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur love is a great bond,\u201d said Fergus simply; \u201cit would be hard to\ndestroy.\u201d\n\n\u201cNevertheless,\u201d the king smiled, \u201cif I injured your honour--say that I\nattacked these sons of Uisneac while in your surety, your affection for\nme would scarcely withstand that.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat would be a hard case indeed,\u201d Fergus laughed.\n\n\u201cYou would kill me?\u201d the king queried with a genial smile.\n\n\u201cYou know,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cthat I could not kill you whatever you did.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe love one another well,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cIt is a great thing to love\nas we do, my friend.\n\n\u201cBut now,\u201d he continued briskly, \u201cwe must attend to this troublesome\nbusiness, and we must have a third person present in order that the\nworld may know how we despatch it.\u201d\n\nHe clapped his hands, and, to the servant who appeared:\n\n\u201cWho is in waiting?\u201d\n\n\u201cBorach, lord.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell him to come here.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is the man who feeds his guests on sharks,\u201d said Fergus.\n\n\u201cHe is on duty of honour to-day,\u201d the king replied carelessly, \u201cand\nhe will be witness to the world of my instructions and of your charge.\nCome forward, good Borach.\u201d\n\nThe bulky man strode in.\n\n\u201cYou shall listen to my instructions to our dear Fergus, and you shall\nbe the witness to this arrangement.\u201d\n\nFergus thereupon stood up and Conach\u00far seated himself.\n\n\u201cFergus, my friend, you shall go to Scotland and bring back to this\ncourt the three sons of Uisneac and the woman Deirdre. There shall be\nno delay about the execution of this duty.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere shall be no delay,\u201d Fergus affirmed.\n\n\u201cThe instant they set foot in Ireland you shall proceed here with them;\nand if, from any cause whatsoever, you cannot come yourself, you shall\ncause them to come to me without the delay of even one half-hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will be done,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cbut I shall be with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith you or without you, whether they arrive by day or by night in\nIreland, they shall be sent here to me without the delay of even one\nhalf-hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will be done,\u201d said Fergus.\n\n\u201cI bind that on you to the letter,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cI accept it so,\u201d Fergus returned. \u201cI shall bring my two sons to\nScotland, and if, by any miracle, I should be delayed myself, they\nshall go forward with every speed and deliver these four people safely\nat Emain Macha.\u201d\n\n\u201cA speedy return to you,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cGo at once, my dear friend.\nBut you, Borach, stay yet awhile. I have the matter of our feast to\ndiscuss with you.\u201d\n\nFergus smiled broadly as he withdrew.\n\n\u201cSharks,\u201d he murmured quite joyfully. \u201cSharks!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\nOn the slope of a sunny hill overlooking Loch Eitche, Deirdre was\ncooking the meal which her husband and his brothers had run to earth\nand carried home on their shoulders.\n\n\u201cThe food is ready,\u201d she called.\n\n\u201cIt is not as ready as I am, for I could eat land and water,\u201d Ardan\naverred.\n\n\u201cWe shall not give you any,\u201d she mocked.\n\n\u201cServe the greedy person right,\u201d said Ainnle. \u201cHe eats in his sleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I must get the part I killed,\u201d Ardan protested.\n\n\u201cWhat part is that?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know its name, but it is the tenderest part.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is also a thievish person,\u201d said Ainnle indignantly; \u201che is\ntrying to claim the part I killed.\u201d\n\n\u201cFight for me, Naoise!\u201d Ardan implored. \u201cBe on my side, Deirdreen!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall be served last,\u201d said Deirdre severely, \u201cand you shall get a\ntough piece.\u201d\n\n\u201cOchone! ochone for ever!\u201d he lamented.\n\n\u201cHow do you like that piece?\u201d said Deirdre vindictively.\n\n\u201cI could eat a cow\u2019s horn if you cooked it,\u201d he wheedled. \u201cWon\u2019t you\ngive me more in a minute, little sister?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall give you ten kisses,\u201d said Deirdre.\n\n\u201cDo not go between that man and his meat,\u201d Ainnle warned; \u201che will bite\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe law says that you are my brother, but I shall certainly divorce\nyou,\u201d the other cried, \u201cand then you will be sorry.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are silent, Naoise!\u201d said Deirdre.\n\n\u201cNo man can talk with his mouth full except me,\u201d Ardan explained.\n\n\u201cHalf an hour ago,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cI saw a ship beating in from the sea.\u201d\n\n\u201cA fishing-boat?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think it was a boat from Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy should you think so?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt had the cut of an Irish boat.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it is any of our friends from Ireland,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cthey will be\nalmost at the strand now.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have no friends in Ireland,\u201d Deirdre returned coldly.\n\n\u201cRun to the strand, Ardan my pulse, and see who came in that ship.\u201d\n\nThe boy scrambled to his feet.\n\n\u201cIf they are friends I\u2019ll give them kisses. If they are enemies I\u2019ll\nsteal their supper.\u201d\n\nBut Deirdre was woebegone as she looked on the two brothers.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you, little sister?\u201d Ainnle inquired.\n\n\u201cI had a dream last night,\u201d she replied, \u201cand it troubles me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe share all things, and our troubles. Tell us your dream.\u201d\n\nDeirdre looked away distantly to the sea.\n\n\u201cI dreamed that three birds came flying from Emain Macha.\u201d\n\n\u201cHappy birds,\u201d said Naoise dreamily, \u201cthat can fly, and fly back.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey had each a sip of honey in their beaks. They left the three sips\nof honey with us, and they took away from us three sips of our blood.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe ending,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cis not so sweet as the beginning.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow do you interpret that dream?\u201d his brother asked.\n\n\u201cI think that three people will come to us carrying a sweet, deceitful\nmessage from Conach\u00far.\u201d\n\n\u201cA dream is a dream,\u201d he soothed her.\n\n\u201cAnd my dreams!\u201d she cried. \u201cHow many times have we fled on the advice\nof my dream? and as we looked back we saw that happening which we fled\nfrom. Is that true, brother?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true. Our Deirdre has second sight.\u201d\n\nNaoise turned his shoulder along the grass, and laid his ear to the\nwind.\n\n\u201cI hear a shout,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cIt is some man of these parts giving a hunting call,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cIt seemed to me like the shout of an Irishman.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be Ardan returning.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not his call.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is Fergus and his two sons,\u201d said Deirdre miserably. \u201cThey are\ncoming to us with three sips of honey in their mouths.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is in Fergus\u2019 mouth is in his heart also,\u201d Naoise cried joyfully.\n\u201cOne time or another even your dream may be wrong, for if Fergus agrees\nto be a messenger the message will be as true as his own truth.\u201d\n\n\u201cRemember,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cthat I told you they were coming without\nhaving seen them.\u201d\n\nFergus and his two sons, with Ardan doing circles and whoops around\nthem, rose on a slope of the hill, and came striding over the tussocks.\nBehind them came the shield-bearer and the shield itself, and at the\nsight Ainnle fled to meet them, but Naoise drew back to keep Deirdre\ncompany, for she had not moved.\n\n\u201cIt is Fergus,\u201d he said, with shining eyes.\n\n\u201cHe has come for our blood,\u201d said white-lipped Deirdre.\n\n\u201cQueen of queens,\u201d her husband laughed, \u201cyou do not know Fergus.\u201d\n\nAt that the whole band came together, and they all kissed each other\nfondly.\n\n\u201cWelcome to this land,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cAnd thou art Deirdre!\u201d cried Fergus, as he kissed her on either cheek.\n\nShe smiled wanly as she returned his kisses.\n\n\u201cWe shall teach you to laugh in Ireland,\u201d he trolled.\n\n\u201cWhat news is there from the lovely country?\u201d her husband demanded.\n\n\u201cThe best. The news that you are to return there.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cThe king himself has sent me to bring you home under my surety and\nprotection.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhoo-oop!\u201d said Ardan.\n\n\u201cHe bids me tell you that he has forgiven you, and wishes you all\nhappiness.\u201d\n\nBut Deirdre turned to him, smiling and fearful.\n\n\u201cWe are happy here in Scotland,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cone cannot be satisfied when one is in exile, for\nhis native land is dearer to a man than any other.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is truly a dear country,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cAnd it is well known,\u201d Fergus continued, \u201cthat if a man of Ireland had\nthe lordship of another country he would yet be unhappy unless he could\nsee Ireland every day.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so,\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cThere is no one knows its truth better than the sons of Uisneac,\u201d\ncried Naoise.\n\n\u201cYou see,\u201d the great man chided her.\n\n\u201cI know that this is a dear land,\u201d said Deirdre stubbornly, \u201cand that\nhere the sons of Uisneac might rise to any destiny they aimed for.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be so,\u201d Naoise affirmed. \u201cBut Ireland is dearer to me than\nScotland.\u201d\n\n\u201cScotland is safer,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cWill you be safer in Scotland than with me?\u201d cried Fergus in\namazement. \u201cI have yet a little power,\u201d he smiled.\n\n\u201cWe will go with you,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cDo not go, my pulse,\u201d said Deirdre in great agitation. \u201cDo not trust\nyourself where Conach\u00far is.\u201d\n\n\u201cWomen and cats dislike change,\u201d Naoise laughed, \u201cbut you will love\nthis change.\u201d\n\nIn half an hour they strode down the hill, and in an hour their sails\nwere bent for Ireland.\n\nIt was then Deirdre made her first poem, beginning\n\n    A lovable land is that in the east,\n    Marvellous Alba....\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\nAs they approached harbour they noticed a band waiting at the\nlanding-place, and these people raised mighty cheers as the ship swung.\n\n\u201cThat man!\u201d said Fergus, indicating one who stood apart and issued\ncommands. \u201cI surely know that man! It is Borach,\u201d he laughed. \u201cIt is\nthe man who feeds people on sharks,\u201d and he explained to his party all\nthat he had heard of Borach at the banquet.\n\n\u201cThe gods be praised,\u201d he murmured, \u201cwe cannot wait for his feast even\nif he offers it.\u201d\n\nWhen they landed Borach ran to meet them. He kissed Fergus three times,\nand he kissed each of the others also.\n\n\u201cWelcome to this land,\u201d he said; \u201call Ireland welcomes you.\u201d\n\nHe looked with his black, deep-set peep at Deirdre and kissed her, but\nwhen she looked at him he turned aside.\n\nHe was ill at ease, and all his movements were self-conscious and\nunhappy. He turned, almost truculently, to Fergus.\n\n\u201cFergus,\u201d he said, \u201cI am honoured to see you in my lordship.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are kind,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cand I shall bind you to visit me in mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am so delighted,\u201d Borach continued hastily, \u201cthat I have prepared a\nfeast for you, such as is only offered to a king.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king did say,\u201d Fergus rumbled joyfully, \u201cthat you had a feast\nready for him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is the feast I am offering to you,\u201d said Borach.\n\n\u201cWhat?\u201d cried the giant.\n\n\u201cThe king has notified me that he cannot come to my banquet, so I am\noffering it to you instead.\u201d\n\nFergus stared at him.\n\n\u201cYou were present, and you heard Conach\u00far\u2019s instructions that there\nshould be no delay on this journey. I shall come and feast with you\nanother time, my dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cI insist that you stay and feast with me for one week,\u201d Borach growled.\n\n\u201cYou insist!\u201d he murmured in astonishment.\n\n\u201cI invoke your geasa,\u201d said the other stubbornly. \u201cYou must remain with\nme for a week.\u201d\n\nAt that Fergus became one purple mass from the crown of his head to the\nsoles of his feet, and his face swelled so that the bystanders feared\nhe would burst with the excess and violence of his rage. Borach was\nnervous, but his own men were around him, and although he was terrified\nof Fergus he was yet more frightened of the king.\n\n\u201cI insist,\u201d he shouted, \u201cand you cannot refuse a feast that is offered\nto you kindly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is a trick,\u201d said Fergus. \u201cYou know my oath; you listened to it,\nfor the king made me swear in your very presence, that, was it by day\nor by night, I should speed the sons of Uisneac to him from the moment\nwe landed. And you offer me a feast and a week\u2019s delay! What dog\u2019s deed\ndo you intend, you Borach? Do you not value your life?\u201d he roared.\n\n\u201cI value my life indeed,\u201d Borach replied, \u201cand\u201d--looking round on his\nattendants--\u201cand I shall take great care of it. I hold you to the\nfeast, Fergus.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome apart with me,\u201d said the bewildered giant to his companions, \u201cand\nlet us discuss this wonder.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat ought we to do?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cIt seems that you must make a choice,\u201d said Deirdre timidly.\n\n\u201cWhat choice is there, sweet queen?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have to choose whether you will forsake the feast or forsake us,\u201d\nshe murmured.\n\nHer heart swelled as she spoke, so that her voice was not steady, for\nshe was astonished and unhappy and her mind was bewildered.\n\n\u201cIn truth I must leave one or the other,\u201d said Fergus.\n\nNaoise and his brothers stared at the fogged noble.\n\n\u201cDear champion,\u201d she pleaded, \u201cit would be more fitting to leave the\nfeast, but it would not be right to leave us in the middle of our\nenemies.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I cannot leave a feast,\u201d Fergus explained, \u201cfor that is my\ncompact with the gods. One cannot break his geasa.\u201d\n\nThey stared at him and at one another in consternation.\n\n\u201cWhatever is in his mind, this Borach will not release me from the\neating of his accursed sharks,\u201d Fergus continued wrathfully. \u201cEat them\nI must, but I shall leave my sons with you, and they will protect you\non the road to Emain.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cyou are doing a great deal for us! The\nprotection we seek is that of your name and fame and station. Any other\nprotection we do not value, for we are well used to taking care of\nourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut----\u201d said Fergus.\n\n\u201cWe did not come here under your weapons,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cwe came under\nyour guarantee.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mistake me,\u201d said Fergus mildly. \u201cMy sons carry my guarantee, and\nwith them you will be as secure as though I were present.\u201d\n\nHe turned to Rough-Red Buinne and Iollann the Fair.\n\n\u201cIs not that so?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so,\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cThe Council of All Ireland would not tolerate the breaking of this\nnotable surety,\u201d said Iollann. \u201cIt is known now through the whole\ncountry.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what man would dare to break my guarantee?\u201d Fergus inquired.\n\nNaoise bit his lip.\n\n\u201cLet us go on,\u201d said he.\n\nHe turned his level gaze on Fergus\u2019 sons.\n\n\u201cYou are our guarantors,\u201d he said, \u201cand we accept your protection.\u201d\n\nThey returned to where the black-avised chieftain was waiting, and\nhim Fergus stared and out-stared until he was reduced to a mass of\nunhappiness.\n\n\u201cI shall eat sharks because I must, Borach,\u201d he thundered.\n\n\u201cWhat sharks are you talking about?\u201d said Borach.\n\n\u201cLead me to your miseries of the deep,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cbut do not talk\nto me about them.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\nAs the travellers proceeded they were morose and thoughtful, and even\nArdan\u2019s high spirits flagged. But as they looked on a native sky, and\non the fields and hedgerows of an Irish countryside, something of their\ndisquietude was eased and a lightening of the heart became apparent in\neach of them.\n\n\u201cDear girl,\u201d said Naoise, and he placed an arm about her shoulders. \u201cWe\nare in Ireland,\u201d he said.\n\nAt the word every misery fled from Ardan\u2019s breast, so that he began\nto look truculently on his brother Ainnle, and even to give him an\noccasional shoulder as they marched.\n\nDeirdre leaned to her husband.\n\n\u201cI have had other visions,\u201d she said.\n\nShe moved her hand languidly towards Fergus\u2019 two sons, who strode a few\npaces in advance.\n\n\u201cThese are our sureties!\u201d she mocked.\n\n\u201cThey represent their father,\u201d Naoise affirmed.\n\n\u201cThey represent nothing but themselves,\u201d she answered, \u201cand if their\nfather leaves us for a feast, they will leave us for any other prank.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was his geasa,\u201d said Naoise patiently.\n\n\u201cWhatever it was,\u201d said Deirdre.\n\n\u201cWe are utterly alone,\u201d she continued. \u201cWe have no backing of any kind,\nand we will arrive in Emain Macha at the absolute mercy of Conach\u00far.\u201d\n\nShe seized her husband\u2019s arm.\n\n\u201cYou also are under geasa not to return unless in the company of\nFergus. He may be delayed for a week. Let us camp here and wait until\nhe comes up with us.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear child,\u201d said Naoise, \u201chow can we insult these good youths?\u201d\n\nBut Deirdre was in terrible agitation.\n\n\u201cI dread appearing in the presence of Conach\u00far if Fergus is not by us.\u201d\n\n\u201cHis guarantee is with us,\u201d and Naoise indicated the two young men.\n\u201cThere it is, four legs of it marching stoutly.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt least,\u201d she pleaded, \u201clet us go to C\u00fachulinn\u2019s fortress in Dun\nDealgan and wait there until he or Fergus can come with us--if you will\ndo that, I shall complain no more.\u201d\n\n\u201cFergus,\u201d he replied, \u201chas bound himself before the king that he would\nsend us on without an hour\u2019s delay.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he bound himself to stay with us, but he has broken his word.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe must keep his word for him with the king,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cAnother person\u2019s honour is another person\u2019s business. That compact is\nbroken by him, and your geasa is not kept by keeping his. Let us turn\nto Dun Dealgan and take C\u00fachulinn\u2019s protection.\u201d\n\nNaoise indicated the two who were marching in front.\n\n\u201cI shall ask their advice, and if they agree to it we will go to Dun\nDealgan.\u201d\n\nHe called the two, and put the question to them. But they were\nscandalized.\n\n\u201cYou have no confidence in us,\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cAnd none in our father\u2019s word,\u201d said Iollann.\n\n\u201cThis woe has come on us because of your father\u2019s word, and he has left\nus in our danger for a feast,\u201d she raged.\n\n\u201cThe whole world,\u201d said Buinne, \u201cknows Fergus mac Roy, and the worth of\nhis protection.--You know it,\u201d he said to Naoise, \u201calthough your queen\ndoes not.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are right,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cWe may go on without misgiving, my dove.\u201d\n\nAnd they went on.\n\nOn their journey the next day they reached Slieve Fuad. Deirdre strayed\nbehind, and in the movement and conversation her absence was not\nnoticed for a long time. Naoise retraced his path from the White Cairn\nof the Watching, and came on her sleeping in a grassy hollow. When he\nawakened her she stared and clutched him, and cried wildly and bitterly.\n\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d he asked in alarm.\n\n\u201cI have had a vision,\u201d she sobbed. \u201cI have had a dreadful vision.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat did you see?\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw Iollann with no head on him, and I saw Buinne with his head\nsafe on his shoulders.\u201d\n\nNaoise took her in his arms.\n\n\u201cBe glad,\u201d he laughed, \u201cthat one of our friends will escape the doom\nyou have planned for us all.\u201d\n\nBut she stared at him in distraction.\n\n\u201cNo friend of ours will escape,\u201d she moaned.\n\n\u201cBut Buinne kept his head on in your dream!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe man who had no head had been fighting for us, and the man who had\na head was fighting against us,\u201d she whispered.\n\nNaoise was shocked.\n\n\u201cHow you have changed, my one treasure,\u201d he said mournfully.\n\nShe threw her arms about him.\n\n\u201cDo not speak unkindly to me,\u201d she begged.\n\n\u201cThat lovely mouth spoke always lovely things, and now it speaks\nnothing but evil.\u201d\n\nShe closed his lips with her hand.\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d she said. \u201cDo not say more. Or say only that you love me. You\ndo love me, my husband?\u201d\n\n\u201cLittle tender wife!\u201d he smiled. \u201cAfter all the dangers we have gone\nthrough you are frightened at last.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d she breathed, \u201cI am terribly frightened. I die of fear for us\nall. When I remember Conach\u00far.... He looked so at me, Naoise! He----!\nCome with me to Scotland. We will be safe there. We will be happy\nagain. We will hunt in the Woods of Cuan and Glen da Rua. I shall never\ncomplain again in this life if you will come with me to Scotland.\nLet us go away. You and I, and our darlings, Ainnle and Ardan. He is\nso young to be killed, our brother Ardan. He is but twenty-one years\nold, and he is gay and loving and fearless. We will be together again;\nwe four: alone and happy. Listen! we will hunt and feast and defend\nourselves and fear nothing. You shall win a kingdom there: in sweet\nAlba of the heathery uplands; but let us fly from Conach\u00far. You do\nnot know him. Only I and Lavarcham know that terrible king. He is\nthoughtful. He is bitter and unforgiving, and his memories are rooted\ndeep like the roots of a deep tree.\u201d\n\nBut Naoise put her hands away.\n\n\u201cIf you must speak badly of others,\u201d he said coldly, \u201cspeak to me of\nforeigners, and not of my own people!\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, my husband!\u201d said Deirdre. \u201cAlas and alas for all of us!\u201d\n\nShe rose wearily.\n\n\u201cDo not be angry with me. Let that last unhappiness be spared me. I am\nyour wife, Naoise. I would prefer that evil should happen to all the\nworld rather than one small misfortune should come to you. I am not\nDeirdre any more. I am Misery.\u201d\n\nBut he kissed and petted her, putting back the hair from her brow and\nframing her face in his hands.\n\n\u201cWe are here now,\u201d he said, \u201cand no matter what awaits us we must go to\nmeet it. You would not wish me to run away, Deirdreen.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe ran away before,\u201d she said, \u201cand we have greater reason to run away\nnow than we had then. The spider is waiting for us in the web.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou forget, and you will keep on forgetting it, that we are under the\nprotection of Fergus, and through him we are under the protection of\nall Ireland.\u201d\n\nBut she looked at him almost angrily.\n\n\u201cFergus,\u201d she scoffed. \u201cHe is a traitor, that Fergus. He is being used\nby the king to betray us.\u201d\n\nNaoise bit his lip and his eyes became hard and sombre.\n\n\u201cLet us go on,\u201d he said. \u201cWe should reach Ard Saileach ere the\nevening.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n\nThey stood on the slope of a hill in a rounded and rolling country\nlooking down on Emain Macha. The evening was advanced, and the late\nsunlight, all a glimmer of gold, was shining tenderly on the city, so\nthat the mighty ten-acre palace of Conach\u00far shone back again as though\nit also were a sun. The great bronze doors, polished like mirrors, were\nblazing in red lakes of flame, the glass windows of the women\u2019s sunny\nrooms were like blinding pools of gold, and the roofs, painted in broad\nreaches of red and green and orange, glowed and sparkled in the mellow\nevening.\n\n\u201cIt is good to look on that again,\u201d said Naoise in a low voice.\n\n\u201cI had almost forgotten it,\u201d said Ainnle.\n\nBut Ardan squatted in the grass and stared and stared with his soul in\nhis eyes.\n\n\u201cYou have not seen the city for seven years!\u201d said Buinne.\n\nNaoise drew Deirdre to him.\n\n\u201cAre you not contented now, my heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cOur wanderings are ended,\u201d he continued tenderly. \u201cWe are outlaws no\nmore, and that long vagabondage is done with. You will sleep at last in\na bed,\u201d he smiled.\n\n\u201cOh, my dear!\u201d she breathed.\n\n\u201cWe are home again,\u201d he said, and his heart filled suddenly so that he\ncould not tell if it were really joy that stayed his tongue and blinded\nhis eyes, or if the grief of seven long years had risen within him like\na wintry tide.\n\nBut Deirdre was not happy. She saw Ainnle\u2019s contained joy, and the\necstasy in Ardan\u2019s eyes.\n\n\u201cAlas, my darlings!\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cYou still think,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cthat the king of such a land can act\ntowards us like a traitor?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall give you a sign,\u201d she replied mournfully and gently. \u201cIf\nConach\u00far lodges us this night in his own house we are safe.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has sent for us of his own royal will,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cand he will\nlodge us, as is proper, in the Royal Branch.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor trusting gentlemen!\u201d said Deirdre. \u201cConach\u00far could not live again\nin the house where you three had lodged. He will send us to the Red\nBranch.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if he does?\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cI,\u201d Ardan cried, \u201cam going to put a new edge on my sword if he does.\nThere is a good edge on it already,\u201d he explained, \u201cbut I am going to\nput edges all over it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf we are sent to the Red Branch,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cI shall let you give\nmy blade a rub too.\u201d\n\n\u201cI call on Iollann and Buinne for protection,\u201d Ardan cried indignantly.\n\u201cThat man makes me work for him like a horse,\u201d he complained.\n\nNaoise turned to the two sons of Fergus.\n\n\u201cIf we are sent to the Red Branch what will you do?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will go there with you,\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cThe king\u2019s house is always filled with guests,\u201d Iollann said. \u201cHe\ncannot know just when we should arrive, and he may have no place for us\nat a moment\u2019s notice.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is nothing Conach\u00far does not know,\u201d said Deirdre. \u201cBorach will\nhave sent a runner to tell of our arrival, and his own spies will have\ntold the king in what place we camped each night, and at what hour we\nmarched again in the morning. He knows now that we are here, and if he\nsends us to the Red Branch we are lost.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am as full of curiosity as an old woman,\u201d Naoise laughed. \u201cLet us go\non and find out everything that is going to happen.\u201d\n\nIn a short time they were among the streets and booths around Emain\nMacha, but the twilight had descended and the passers-by did not\nrecognize the six travellers.\n\n\u201cYonder is the Speckled Branch, the Armoury,\u201d said Ainnle. \u201cThe Boy\nTroop will be going to bed shortly. You remember those nights, Naoise,\nand all the chattering?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the climbing out of windows by a cord,\u201d said Ardan. \u201cAnd the\nscrambling back again while the comrades above threw all the world at\nthe guards who were trying to stick spears in us as we shinned up.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is the Red Branch,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cIs it truly full of dead men\u2019s heads?\u201d Deirdre chattered through\nfrozen lips.\n\n\u201cThere is generally a head or two,\u201d he answered carelessly,\n\u201cConnachtmen mostly.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery hairy, beardy, toothy kinds of heads,\u201d said Ardan. \u201cI remember\nthem, and they used to get hairier and beardier and toothier every\nsecond day. At last,\u201d he explained to Deirdre, \u201cthere wouldn\u2019t be any\nhead at all, no face at all, only a mat of hair as long as a woman\u2019s,\nand it in knots, and a shiny grin among the knots.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are all wrong,\u201d said Ainnle. \u201cA dead man\u2019s hair grows lank and\nlong like a drink of water.\u201d\n\n\u201cPooh!\u201d said Ardan. \u201cYou remember everything! You are the great man of\nthe world! The wind knots them and twists them and wobbles them all in\nand out like a doormat.\u201d\n\n\u201cYonder is Conach\u00far\u2019s house, the Royal Branch,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cWe will give a good thundering knock at the door and make them jump,\u201d\nsaid Ainnle gleefully.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll give it a kick,\u201d said Ardan.\n\nNaoise did give a thundering knock.\n\nThe door opened and a guard appeared.\n\n\u201cWho asks admission at this hour?\u201d he demanded.\n\n\u201cThe sons of Uisneac.\u201d\n\nThe guard stared.\n\n\u201cCome in, nobles, and sit for a moment while I seek instructions.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet a message be sent to the king,\u201d said Buinne, \u201cthat the protection\nof Fergus mac Roy and those he protects have arrived as he ordered.\u201d\n\nThe chamberlain came, Scel, son of Barnene.\n\n\u201cThe household have retired,\u201d he said. \u201cBut the king sends his regrets\nand courtesies, and has instructed that his noble guests are to be\nlodged in the Red Branch for this night. A guard will escort you\nthere.\u201d He motioned to the captain of the guard, who ranged his men.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t forget about the edges you promised to do for me,\u201d said Ardan to\nhis brother.\n\n\u201cNo wriggling, young lazy-bones,\u201d Ainnle retorted. \u201cYou shall do your\nwork and be respectful to your betters also.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs not that man a tyrant?\u201d said Ardan. He turned to the captain of\nthe guard. \u201cHold me away from him, good sir,\u201d he implored.\n\n\u201cI am at your orders, gentlemen,\u201d said the smiling captain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\n\nBut Conach\u00far had not retired.\n\nHe was seated in the central room away in the heart of his monstrous\npalace, and the great crystal ball swung at his shoulder. He had stared\ninto it for hours and had seen nothing.\n\nLavarcham also was there, seated humbly on a stool.\n\n\u201cFill my cup,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cI am thirsty to-night, my heart. I could\ndrain a sea and not drown this thirst.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are troubled, lord. All this business has fevered you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you! Are you not excited at the thought of seeing your babe again?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have interested myself in so many things these seven long years,\nmaster, I have almost forgotten her. She has dropped out of my mind,\nand now I would as readily not see her as see her.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought you loved that babe!\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter all, she is not my babe. Felimid mac Dall\u2019s wife bore her.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it so?\u201d Conach\u00far mused. \u201cI had almost forgotten that old tale.\u201d\n\n\u201cI had but the labour of rearing her, and of being disappointed by\nher,\u201d she said bitterly.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cYou did not fill my cup, Lavarcham.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did, master, but you have emptied it.\u201d\n\n\u201cFill it again, good friend.... She was beautiful, Lavarcham! She was a\nthing of joy and wonder!\u201d\n\n\u201cYoung girls are beautiful while they are young, master, but in a few\nyears they look like any other person.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think so?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey get fat or they get thin. It is not girls that are lovely,\nmaster, it is youth.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I am forty-seven years of age! The years go by doing what I know\nto me, but for her there has been only the time to ripen what was\nimmature. The green fruit will be ruddy and fragrant worked on by the\nsun and the wind. What age is she now, woman?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is seven years older in time, and twenty years older in hardship.\nShe will have forgotten how to lie in a bed, or how to eat proper food.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe will surely have changed,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\nA brisk moment returned to the great man, and he aroused himself.\n\n\u201cHow will she look after her years of lying in the butt of a wet ditch\nor in the bog?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh me!\u201d said Lavarcham.\n\n\u201cShe will have plodded over tough hills with a thin belly and a dry\nlip. She will have slept with her fingers in her mouth to keep them\nwarm in the winter. She will be lean and red-handed and windy-faced;\nwith the arches of her feet broken down by too much walking, and her\nknees sagging under her like an old ploughman\u2019s. Is that how the\nTroubler will look, Lavarcham?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think, master, that she may be a long, thin, tough woman. She will\nbe rheumatic----\u201d\n\n\u201cShe will awaken in the night coughing like a sick horse,\u201d said the\ncheerful king.\n\n\u201cI do not wish to see her,\u201d said Lavarcham sourly.\n\n\u201cNo more do I,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cLet her go.... My cup!\u201d he murmured.\n\u201cLavarcham, you do not attend me well.\u201d\n\nAgain he became moody.\n\n\u201cIf I were not the king I would steal to the Red Branch and spy on\nher ruin through a window. I should like to see that she is lank and\ndepressed.... Go you, Lavarcham; the guards know your privileges. Look\nthrough the window and bring me back that tale.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not want to see her at all, master. Let her stay with the people\nshe has chosen, and let her torment our sleep no more.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo, nevertheless, and bring me a full account of her. Fill up my\nglass. Examine her carefully, my soul, so that you can bring me a true\nreport. But do not delay, for I shall be waiting for you. I am lonely\nto-night, woman; I am very lonely. Send me a man of the guard to fill\nmy cup!\u201d\n\nLavarcham, with every sign of distaste, almost of annoyance, set on her\nerrand.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cSit there, and take your ease,\u201d the king ordered the guard who came\nin. \u201cDo not stare at the floor, good soul, nor at the ceiling. Ah me!\nstand behind my chair then, and when my cup is empty refill it for me.\u201d\n\nThe embarrassed soldier moved gratefully to cover, and the king fell\nagain to his woeful meditations.\n\n\u201cGuard!\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cA R\u00ed Uasal!\u201d the guard rolled sonorously.\n\n\u201cHave you ever looked in a crystal?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever, king.\u201d\n\n\u201cLook in this crystal, my friend. Can you see anything?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is a fog in the crystal.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt has been there these three days. Look again, good lad.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think there is a woman\u2019s face.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat sort of a woman?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt has gone, majesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat sort was she?\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw the loveliest face that ever brightened the world. It seemed\nlike the face of a sky-woman or a lady of the Sh\u00ed.\u201d\n\n\u201cSit on this little stool, and fill my cup. What age are you, guard?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwenty-two years, majesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is your name?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am called Strong Fist, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cI remember you, Tr\u00e9ndorn, you are my hereditary man. Your father was\nmy man before you. How did he die?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe was killed by Naoise, the son of Uisneac, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cI remember,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cand your two brothers were killed by that\nNaoise. Do you remember that also?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would not forget it, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are things that one should not forget, guard. Would you do an\nill turn to the same Naoise?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I had that chance I would take it, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is in the Red Branch,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cHe is there with the woman\nwhose face you saw in the crystal. Go there for me, good soldier, and\nlook through the window. See that no person within observes you, for\nthese are murderous and skilful men, and if they saw you they would\nstop your breath.\u201d\n\nThe guard stood glowering.\n\n\u201cIn what way do I get equal with Naoise?\u201d he demanded.\n\n\u201cEach thing in its time, good soul, for you would not understand how\nthe king moves. This is but the first step, and the second shall be\ntaken in no short time. Climb to the window, and look carefully at the\nwoman who is there with Naoise. Examine her well and bring me back news\nof how she seems and what she looks like. You have seen women before?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have, majesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know what to look for; you will know how to look at a woman. Go.\nFill my cup, guard, and go on my errand.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n\n\u201cStill,\u201d said Ardan, \u201cwe are not treated too badly. There is plenty of\nfood.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd there are beds in the alcove,\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cWe shall sleep well to-night,\u201d said Deirdre, and she burst into tears.\n\nThey sat dumb, each feeling as if a chill wind had touched him.\n\n\u201cForgive me,\u201d said Deirdre. \u201cI shall not complain any more. Let us sit\nto our meat.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall eat and eat and eat,\u201d said Ardan. \u201cI am so hungry I could\ngrowl over my food.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall be served first, Ardaneen,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cand if there is\none tender piece you shall have it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur Buinne is even hungrier than I am; let him have the first piece.\u201d\n\nDeirdre looked kindly at Buinne, but as she looked her eyes widened and\nshe went white to the lips. She spoke to him with a shy smile.\n\n\u201cYou will have the first piece, Buinne,\u201d she stammered.\n\n\u201cI shall take what comes,\u201d said Rough-Red Buinne.\n\nDeirdre sank back in her chair.\n\n\u201cNaoise, my dear,\u201d she said, \u201cplease carve for me. I am not well.\u201d\n\n\u201cBuinne is sensible,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cHe has a head on his shoulders.\u201d He\nstumbled in his carving, and cast a swift glance at Deirdre.\n\n\u201cThe first portion,\u201d he continued gravely, \u201cshall be for Buinne, the\nsecond for Iollann, the third for Deirdre, the fourth for Ainnle, the\nfifth for Ardan, and the sixth for Naoise.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy piece is to be the tenderest,\u201d said Ardan complacently; \u201cDeirdre\nsaid so. Fight for me, Deirdreen!\u201d\n\n\u201cArdan, my dear brother,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201ccome to me and give me ten\nkisses.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll miss my turn,\u201d he wailed, as he moved round to her.\n\nThey ate their supper, and were sitting at chess--that is, Deirdre and\nNaoise were playing, while the others watched the game--when there came\na tapping at the door which was nearest to them. Naoise held a piece\npoised in his fingers.\n\n\u201cGo, Ainnle, and challenge that person.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a woman\u2019s voice,\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cLet her come in.\u201d\n\nThe great bolts were pushed back, and Lavarcham entered.\n\n\u201cMy babe, my treasure!\u201d she cried, and she ran to Deirdre.\n\n\u201cOh, my sweet mother!\u201d said Deirdre.\n\n\u201cI have no time,\u201d Lavarcham panted. \u201cI must fly back to the king. He\nsent me to spy on you through the window.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is danger, mother?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is terrible danger. Conach\u00far\u2019s household men are standing to\narms in the Speckled Branch, and there is a posse at each of the gates\nof this place. He will attack before morning. Oh, Deirdre, Deirdre,\nthat you could have come here knowing Conach\u00far as I taught him to you!\nWhat madness brought you from Scotland, child? Are you glad to see\nme? Do you love your mother still, little one? I have told the king\nthat you would be ruined with hardship and sorrow; alas! you are more\nbeautiful than ever. I shall tell him that you are one-eyed and lame,\nI shall tell him anything to quieten him for this night. To-morrow\nNaoise\u2019s people will get news of your return and he may fear to attack.\nIf only I can quieten him for this night! He is drinking. He may go\nto sleep. Oh, my darling, my one love! I must fly. Keep all the doors\nbarred. Do not open to any one. I shall send messengers to Uisneac\u2019s\npeople. Kiss me again. Oh, my love of all loves! I must fly.\u201d\n\n\u201cAinnle, Ardan, run round all the doors. See that they are secure,\u201d\nsaid Naoise.\n\nHe turned to Buinne and Iollann.\n\n\u201cYour father may be too late to help us. I give you back your\nprotection, gentlemen.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall stay with you,\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d said Iollann.\n\n\u201cGood comrades!\u201d Naoise cried, and his eyes sparkled with delight and\ngratitude.\n\n\u201cWe are five,\u201d he said, \u201ctrained to arms from the moment we could\nwalk. No person of our quality will be against us, for no gentleman\nof Ireland would take part in such an attack. There will be only the\ncommon soldiery: hardy men, but as skilful at our trade as ploughmen.\nThey cannot break in, for the Red Branch was designed not to be broken\ninto. These bronze doors----\u201d\n\n\u201cThe windows!\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cGod pity the man that gets in through a window!\u201d said Naoise.\n\u201cMoreover, they are too high. A man\u2019s legs would be splintered if he\njumped from them.\u201d\n\n\u201cFire!\u201d said Ardan.\n\n\u201cConach\u00far will not burn his own fortress.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is a man at the window now,\u201d said Deirdre.\n\nNaoise\u2019s hand was on the table. He picked up a heavy chessman of gold\nand ivory and with an underhand flick he sent it buzzing up and through\nthe glass.\n\nA roar of pain came from without and then a scream. \u201cMy eye! my eye!\u201d a\nvoice wailed.\n\n\u201cHe won\u2019t peep through windows again in a hurry,\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cConach\u00far has overreached himself,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cWe can hold out until\nthe morning, and if Lavarcham sends her messages my people will be\nbaying around Conach\u00far like wolves, and there will be many another one\nwith them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe people of Fergus mac Roy will be with them,\u201d cried Buinne.\n\n\u201cThat king will learn what it is to dare my father\u2019s protection,\u201d\nIollann raged.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said Naoise joyfully, \u201cwe are as safe as if we were in Scotland.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf we are only as safe as that!\u201d said Ardan with a giggle. \u201cBuinne, my\nsoul, we used to be running from morning until night. We ate our food\non the run. We used to run in our sleep. I tell the world that in six\nyears I have not felt safe for a minute until this minute, for there\nare stout walls around us, and food to last a week\u2019s siege. The gods be\npraised,\u201d he said piously, \u201cwe cannot run even if we have to.\u201d\n\nThe band of young men shouted with laughter, and Deirdre chimed in as\njoyously as any of them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\n\n\u201cIt is as you thought, master,\u201d said Lavarcham. \u201cThe girl is ruined.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou saw her?\u201d\n\n\u201cHer cheeks are hollow and her eyes are red. One would pity her,\nmaster. Indeed, I shall go to see her to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did not want to see her any more,\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cIt was so,\u201d she replied humbly. \u201cBut my heart was wrung when I looked\non her wretchedness.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the young men?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are stout young men, master.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the guards that I posted?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey were at their posts.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere ends a tale, and seven of my poor years ...!\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\u201cWhat did she look like, woman?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is thin and haggard, and she leaned by the table as though all the\nweariness of the world were in her sides.\u201d\n\n\u201cThus ...!\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cAnd we fash ourselves for these things\nand spend our years and our pith ...! Fill my cup, Lavarcham. Let the\nyears go and the rest, for we are fools and children. Get to your rest,\nfriend, and let me mourn my foolish years and all my nonsense.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, go to your bed also, sweet king,\u201d said Lavarcham. \u201cYou shall rest\nto-night, for that bad dream is ended. You will be troubled no more.\nTo-morrow will be a new day, and all that the world has is for the\nking.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cThis will be the last of those nights. Go\nto your bed, good soul, and I shall go to mine in a moment.\u201d\n\nLavarcham left the palace with her mind in a turmoil of weariness and\nfear, but with hope dawning in her soul. She sent secret runners to the\nmen of Uisneac and to those of Fergus mac Roy, warning them that their\nchiefs were in urgent danger; and when she slept she was too happy even\nto remember what the king might do when he discovered her treachery.\nThat memory would be for the morrow.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut the king did not sleep.\n\n\u201cI shall wait the report of that guard,\u201d he said, \u201cand then I will be\nable to sleep.\u201d\n\nThe guard came moaning and limping.\n\n\u201cWhat ails you, man?\u201d said the astonished king.\n\n\u201cNaoise,\u201d the guard stammered. \u201cHe has knocked out my eye.\u201d\n\nHe removed his hand from his face, and there was one eye there, and a\nbloody mess where the other should have been.\n\n\u201cDid I not tell you,\u201d the king stormed, \u201cthat they were murderous men?\nDid you take no heed in your work.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was the woman saw me,\u201d the guard stammered. \u201cShe told the man, and\nbefore I could move he threw a chessman at me and knocked out my eye.\nMy leg is broken too, master, for I fell from the window.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will make a better herdsman than soldier,\u201d said the king harshly.\n\u201cYou are one-legged, one-eyed, and stupid. Go to your bed, and be\ncareful that you do not cut your throat by taking off your boots. What\ndid the woman look like?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat woman, majesty?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe woman I sent you to look at.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe looked like the woman I saw in the crystal.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know she did. What did she look like, fool?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe looked like the most beautiful woman in the world.\u201d\n\nConach\u00far turned his great head and wide eyes on the soldier.\n\n\u201cBe careful how you report to me, guard. How did that woman look? Is\nshe thin-faced? Is she pale and haggard and wretched?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is not, majesty. She is red-lipped and sweet-eyed and delicious.\nShe is the loveliest woman that moves in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cSit on that stool. Do not mind your eye for a moment. We shall mind\nit for you in a little time. Answer my questions. Did that woman look\nyoung or old?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe looked young as a bride.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre her cheeks thin?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are not thin; they are round and rosy.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre her eyes red and sunken?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are clear as sweet water, majesty; they are coloured----But for\nlooking into them I should have got away, for, having looked, I could\nnot but keep on looking until Naoise threw his chessman.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are muddled,\u201d said Conach\u00far sternly.\n\n\u201cI would give my other eye for another look at her,\u201d said the guard\nsavagely.\n\nConach\u00far leaped furiously to his feet.\n\n\u201cYou shall be cared for,\u201d he said. \u201cGo to your bed. A doctor shall\nbe sent to you. A comrade will help you along.... Ho, there!\u201d he\nthundered. \u201cHo, there, the guards!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\n\n\u201cWhat do you hear, Ardan?\u201d\n\n\u201cBig feet, and a big lot of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe doors are well secured?\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery bolt is drawn.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the door we arranged for is left with only one bolt shot?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. It is a quick, well-oiled bolt. It will open and close again like\nlightning.\u201d\n\nThere came a loud command, and, in a moment, a thundering knock.\n\nNaoise strode to the door.\n\n\u201cWho goes there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king\u2019s men.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe want the woman who is with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that all you want?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd we want Naoise, the son of Uisneac.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are both here,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cOpen this door,\u201d the voice commanded.\n\n\u201cAh, no,\u201d Naoise laughed; \u201cwhy should we do your business, honest man?\u201d\n\nThere was no reply for a moment, but the rumble of conversation could\nbe heard; then the voice came again:\n\n\u201cYou others, Ainnle and Ardan and the sons of Fergus, open this door\nand you shall go free.\u201d\n\nNaoise looked gravely at his companions.\n\n\u201cThat is the necessary second part,\u201d said Buinne, hitching his\nsword-belt round.\n\nNaoise\u2019s brothers took no notice, but their faces grew savage and their\neyes narrowed and sparkled.\n\n\u201cIollann and Deirdre, keep an eye on the windows,\u201d Naoise warned.\n\nIollann dangled a sling in his hand and Deirdre held another with a\ncopper bolt in it.\n\n\u201cIf,\u201d said the voice, \u201cthe woman Deirdre comes out we will go away.\u201d\n\n\u201cWatch the windows,\u201d Naoise warned; \u201cthey are talking to keep us\noccupied.\u201d\n\nDeirdre\u2019s arm swung viciously, and a wild yell told that the bolt had\ngone home.\n\n\u201cI thought so,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cThey cannot get in through the windows\nbecause of the bars, but they could manage to fly an arrow through,\nalthough it would be an awkward shot.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cwe could go to sleep here!\u201d\n\nA series of thundering knocks came on the door.\n\n\u201cA ram!\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cHalf an hour of that might bring even these doors down,\u201d said Naoise.\n\nHe turned to his companions.\n\n\u201cArdan, yours will be the first sortie. They will not be prepared,\nlad, for it is very awkward to work a ram and to keep guard at the\nsame time. Do not mind the men with the ram; they will be unarmed. But\nbehind them there will be a mass of men. You know how deep a fighter\ncan penetrate! It depends on his own weight. The instant you touch that\nweight fight backwards. When you are two yards from the door Ainnle\nwill shout. Turn then and run. I shall have the door closed on you\nalmost before you are through. The moment the door slams, you, Buinne,\npush in the bottom bolt. I shall slide the middle one with my right\nhand and will be reaching for the top one with my left. You are ready!\nArdan, listen to me. The men immediately in front of you will give back\na step until they start to come on. Fight, therefore, to the right\nsidewards, and with the point all the time. Keep your left covered with\nthe shield, and if there is a press cut with its cutting edges. The\nmoon is high, and you will be able to see. No foolhardiness, boy! The\nmoment you touch weight fight backwards, and then sweep broadly with\nthe edge, and, when Ainnle shouts, run.\u201d\n\nHe turned again.\n\n\u201cBuinne, stand to the bolts. Iollann, Ainnle, Deirdre, place yourselves\nso, and sling the ramsmen or they may cumber his retreat.\u201d\n\nUnder the thundering batter of the ram and the savage roaring of the\ninvaders the bolts were half drawn.\n\n\u201cReady all!\u201d said Naoise. \u201cReady, Ardan?\u201d\n\nArdan hunched the shield to his left side and crouched, staring.\n\n\u201cGood boy!\u201d said Naoise. \u201cNow, Buinne--Pull!\u201d\n\nThey heaved the great door wide and Ardan went through it like an arrow.\n\n\u201cSling, children,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cKeep me informed, Ainnle. I must stick\nbehind the door.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is at them, and well in.... Ah!\u201d said Ainnle, and he slung\nshrewdly. \u201cHe has forgotten to thrust and is cutting. My thanks,\nIollann, for that bolt. His shield work is excellent, brother, but he\nwill cut. There is his limit, if he knows it. He is fighting back,\nand now he is thrusting where he should use the sweeping blade for a\nretreat! That ramsman, Iollann! This one for me, and you, sister, for\nthe crouching man. I shall shout now.\u201d\n\n\u201cArdan!\u201d he roared.\n\nThe boy dropped his combat as a dog drops a toad. In three seconds he\nwas through the doorway, and in four the door had slammed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNaoise towered long and lean over his young brother.\n\n\u201cGood lad!\u201d he said. \u201cWell done, Ardan!\u201d\n\n\u201cI killed a million,\u201d said Ardan.\n\nA savage, raging yell came from without.\n\n\u201cThey will begin to warm to it now,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cand we must keep\nthem occupied. It is your turn, Ainnle. Give your sling to Ardan.\u201d\n\nAinnle whizzed at one window and Deirdre at another. Two loud shouts\nwere heard.\n\n\u201cWhether they are hit or not their skulls are cracked by the fall,\u201d\nsaid Naoise, \u201cbut the windows do not matter. Come to this door.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy cannot I go out?\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cYou and I are the heaviest metal, my heart, and when the real fighting\ncommences we shall have plenty to do. This is only a little fun for the\nboys. Ainnle, listen carefully. You will slip out by this door, and\nwill run, and fight as you run. Range where you please, but run always.\nIn five minutes--do not delay, Ainnle--make for yonder door. This one\nwill be shut, and the slings-men will be inside that door to cover your\nretreat. It is understood?\u201d\n\nAinnle nodded, and made his blade whistle through the air. He heaved\nthe shield from his back to his shoulder.\n\n\u201cThe instant you are in, Ainnle, fly to this door again, while we close\nthe other behind you. Open all the bolts but one; Buinne will help,\nand I and Iollann will dart out for five minutes. I wish to see what\narrangements they are making.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you protecting my brother?\u201d said Buinne savagely.\n\n\u201cNo, my heart, I am giving him a run and spying their dispositions.\u201d\n\n\u201cI claim this combat,\u201d said the rough young man.\n\n\u201cYou shall have one immediately afterwards. You and I together will\nmake the tour of this fortress, shoulder to shoulder, Buinne. Will not\nthat content you?\u201d Naoise laughed.\n\n\u201cI was beginning to feel lonely,\u201d said Buinne. \u201cWe shall have a\npleasant run.\u201d\n\n\u201cTen minutes for our run,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cReady, Ainnle?\u201d\n\nHis brother nodded.\n\n\u201cRun straight out, thirty feet out if you can. Double then as you\nplease. Remember the door you are to come in by, and do all the damage\nyou can. If you are in difficulty give our call.\u201d\n\n\u201cI could not get into difficulty in five minutes,\u201d Ainnle smiled.\n\n\u201cReady, Buinne? Pull!\u201d\n\nAinnle sped out, and the door slammed on him like thunder.\n\nThe uproar without had been terrific, but now it redoubled, and at\ntimes a long scream topped the noise as spray tops a wave.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cWe cannot see our brother,\u201d said Deirdre nervously.\n\n\u201cWe know his work,\u201d Naoise replied. \u201cHe is as safe for five minutes as\nif he were in bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour combat, Naoise!\u201d she breathed.\n\n\u201cIt will be the easiest of them all. There will be a rough companion\nwith me. Run all to the other door,\u201d he cried. \u201cIollann! Deirdre!\nArdan! Your slings! The bolts, Buinne! Pull, my soul!\u201d\n\nFar out in the moonlight Ainnle was coursing like a deer. The moon\nflashed on his blade and on his shield. Men ran from him, and men ran\nto head him off, and into the middle of these he went diving like a\nfish. A band from the right came rushing for the open door.\n\n\u201cOut, Buinne, for ten seconds, and back when he is through.\u201d\n\nNaoise and Buinne leaped out with whirling weapons. There was a clatter\nof shields, a medley of shouts and curses, and in ten seconds they were\nin again and the door was closed.\n\n\u201cYou opened a minute too early,\u201d said Ainnle. \u201cI was all right.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did some damage?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot badly.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t kill as many as I did,\u201d said Ardan.\n\n\u201cPooh!\u201d Ainnle retorted. \u201cNo one could kill as many as you except\nC\u00fachulinn.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us arrange the next sortie,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\n\nConach\u00far had come to the Red Branch, and a great roar of cheering\ngreeted him. He strode to the captain of his troop.\n\n\u201cWell, my soul?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have begun, majesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow is it going?\u201d\n\n\u201cExcellently,\u201d said the captain. \u201cWe have lost about forty men already.\u201d\n\nConach\u00far stared at him.\n\n\u201cHow did that happen?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt happened because of the king\u2019s royal decision to lodge these men in\na fortress.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have five hundred men here!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen they are all killed,\u201d said the captain sourly, \u201cwe can call out\nanother five hundred.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is the difficulty?\u201d his master growled.\n\n\u201cA fortress with six doors. They leap in and out of these doors the\nway frogs leap in a pool. While we are using the ram on this door\nthey make a sally by another door, this door, any door--and they are\nthe devil\u2019s own fighters! We don\u2019t know where to expect them, and\nany one of those within is the equal of ten of our men in fighting,\nand the superior of them all in tricks. I am to have them out before\nmorning--it is the king\u2019s orders, but I don\u2019t know how it is to be\ndone.\u201d\n\n\u201cRam all the doors,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cI have but one ram. I can get others to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow will be too late,\u201d said the king furiously. \u201cWe shall have\nhalf Ulster on our backs to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI want scaling ladders, grapnels,\u201d said the officer angrily. \u201cThis\nwork has been thrown on us at a moment\u2019s notice, and we are not\nprepared for it. I can get them out in a day, but not in a night.\u201d\n\n\u201cAttack a door with your ram,\u201d snarled Conach\u00far, \u201cand guard your other\ndoors.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am doing that,\u201d said the captain, \u201cand my men, I fear, are beginning\nto love the work.\u201d\n\nHe returned to his place, and in a few minutes the thud and batter of\nthe ram was heard again. Conach\u00far strode there and watched the work\nwith savage impatience. The captain returned and stood by him.\n\n\u201cYou put good doors in the Red Branch, majesty,\u201d he said cheerfully;\n\u201can hour of that ramming will begin to make them quiver.\u201d\n\nA shout arose, but it was multiplied from every side by the roaring\nsoldiery, and one could not tell from which direction danger came.\n\n\u201cThey have popped out somewhere,\u201d said the captain. \u201cIn about two\nminutes they will pop in again, somewhere--they know but we don\u2019t,--and\nin those two minutes we will lose five men or twenty.\u201d\n\n\u201cStick to the ram!\u201d Conach\u00far roared. \u201cKeep at that door, my men!\u201d\n\nA wild yelling came from the side and a burst of men came pell-mell\nround the corner. Weapons were striking everywhere and anywhere.\n\n\u201cWhich are our men and which are theirs?\u201d said the captain. \u201cOurs don\u2019t\nknow in this light which is friend and which is enemy. _They_ know,\u201d\nhe said bitterly; \u201cbut we are killing one another.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTwo figures detached themselves in the moonlight. They were bounding\nlike great cats, and wherever there was a mass they bounded into it,\nburst through it, and leaped on.\n\n\u201cHo, Conach\u00far!\u201d a voice called. \u201cDo you remember Naoise?\u201d\n\n\u201cHo, traitor king!\u201d another boomed. \u201cDo you remember Fergus?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is Naoise and Buinne this time,\u201d said the captain.\n\nThe two figures leaped at the ramsmen. The ram was dropped and the\nunarmed crew fled yelling. The door that was being battered opened and\nshut, and the two figures were gone.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s how it\u2019s done!\u201d said the captain.\n\n\u201cGet to the ram!\u201d Conach\u00far roared.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\n\n\u201cThe king himself is there,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cLet us hunt him,\u201d cried Ardan in savage glee.\n\n\u201cHe will move about,\u201d Naoise replied. \u201cWe would never know where he\nis, and we should only waste time. We have but to hold out until the\nmorning, and we can do it with ease. Why!\u201d he cried, \u201cwe have forgotten\nour days of travel; Fergus himself may be here to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will travel day and night, and by chariot where we came on foot,\u201d\nsaid Iollann. \u201cHe may be here in the morning.\u201d\n\nNaoise nodded joyfully.\n\n\u201cHe will have choked whatever is in it out of Borach\u2019s throat long\nbefore this,\u201d Iollann continued, \u201cand he will be an angry man.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf he came, even alone,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cthat rabble would fly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will fly before he comes,\u201d Ardan boasted, \u201cfor it\u2019s my turn to go\nout now, and I shall show them a trick or two.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s two by two now, babe,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cso we are going out\ntogether.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat man,\u201d Ardan mourned, \u201cis trying to cheat me of my fame. Fight for\nme, Deirdreen! Back me up, Naoise!\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cHark to them battering,\u201d said Iollann.\n\n\u201cHow angry some people get!\u201d Ardan giggled.\n\n\u201cLet us make a full sortie,\u201d Buinne cried. \u201cWe five could eat those\nsoldiers.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne must be left for the door,\u201d Naoise replied. \u201cArdan----\u201d\n\n\u201cNo door for me!\u201d said Ardan violently.\n\n\u201cAinnle,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cour lives will depend on the doorman.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall go out the next time all by myself,\u201d Ainnle bargained.\n\nHis brother nodded, while Ardan danced for joy.\n\n\u201cPooh!\u201d Ainnle gibed. \u201cHe thinks he is C\u00fachulinn!\u201d\n\nArdan squared up and began to shoulder him and to speak very roughly.\n\n\u201cAnd I am better than C\u00fachulinn,\u201d he concluded.\n\nAinnle seized his head and gave him three kisses.\n\n\u201cLittle brother!\u201d he said, \u201cyou are even better than I.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a good brother,\u201d said Ardan. \u201cI shall not divorce you,\u201d and he\nreturned the three kisses.\n\n\u201cAre we ready all?\u201d said Naoise. \u201cThen let us arrange this sally.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt shall be in two parties. Buinne and----\u201d he halted for one moment;\n\u201cBuinne and Ardan, Iollann and myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou trust Ardan to me!\u201d said Buinne shortly.\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d said Naoise.\n\nDeirdre was staring at her husband with a fixed, white stare, and\nNaoise\u2019s throat went suddenly dry. He strode to her.\n\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d he murmured.\n\n\u201cI have no vision,\u201d she whispered. \u201cI do not know.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou still think----?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d she said, \u201cbut I do not know when.\u201d\n\nHe closed his eyes and turned again.\n\n\u201cWe go through this door. Once out, you turn to the left, Buinne, and\nI to the right, and away each on a grand half-circle. When we meet we\nform in line and charge back to this same door: six feet between each\nman for sword-play; Buinne and I on the outside.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall be quite on the outside,\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cAs you will, friend,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cGet to the bolts, Ainnle. You two\nwill watch over each other?\u201d he said, but it was at Buinne he looked.\n\n\u201cI shall bring him back,\u201d said the gruff man.\n\n\u201cIf one of Buinne\u2019s hairs is touched,\u201d Ardan boasted, \u201cI shall give him\none of my own hairs instead of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are ready, Ainnle?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow shall I know when to open the door?\u201d Ainnle roared.\n\n\u201cMy wits are going!\u201d said Naoise. \u201cWe shall fight in silence, and when\nyou hear our battle-cry open the door at that instant.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait!\u201d said Buinne. \u201cHeavier blades are wanted for this sortie. It\nshould be two-handed work at the edge of a thirty-foot line, and the\nshields must be left behind.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy wits are indeed going!\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cI shall bring him back,\u201d said Buinne. \u201cI take him under my\nprotection,\u201d he growled.\n\n\u201cYou two,\u201d said Naoise, \u201ckeep your shields. Buinne and I take the great\nswords, and we leave our armour off for speed. The outside men must run\ntwice as quick as the inside ones,\u201d he explained to Buinne.\n\nBuinne nodded and began to unlace his battle-coats. Deirdre flew to\nhelp him, and she looked at him with such soft affection that the youth\nmarvelled. Naoise was bending the great blade that he got from Manannan\nmac Lir, the God of the Sea.\n\n\u201cNow, Ainnle, the door! Buinne is out first, I second, Iollann and\nArdan together. Ready! ... Pull!\u201d\n\nThey were gone.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAinnle and Deirdre slammed the door, and he stood with his back\nleaning against it, staring as it were inwardly, and listening with\nevery pore of his body. Deirdre threw her arms about his neck.\n\n\u201cO Ainnle! dear Ainnle!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is lonely here,\u201d he muttered.\n\nHer head drooped on his breast.\n\n\u201cDo not faint, sister; the door has yet to be opened, and you must help\nwith the bolts. Hear those clowns roaring!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf our own men would but shout once!\u201d she moaned.\n\n\u201cI should open the door immediately,\u201d he smiled, \u201cand this noble combat\nwould have a stupid end.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow will never come,\u201d she moaned.\n\n\u201cDo not make my teeth chatter,\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cWe must attend to the door,\u201d he continued. \u201cI shall draw the top bolt\nnow. Crouch down with your hands on the bottom one, and, when the shout\ncomes, draw it; I will draw the middle one, and when I say, \u2018Pull,\u2019\ndrag with me on the door. It is almost too heavy for one man to move,\nbut between us--and they will push from the outside.\u201d\n\nDeirdre crouched at his knees. A vast confusion of noise began to draw\nnigh.\n\n\u201cThey are coming back,\u201d said Ainnle. \u201cDraw your bolt now, sister, and\ntake hold of the knob.\u201d\n\nAbove the infernal uproar there came the shout they knew.\n\n\u201cPull!\u201d he roared.\n\nThe door gave, a great push from without helped it, and the four leaped\nthrough. A blade leaped in behind them and was snapped in pieces as\nAinnle, and a shoulder helping, smashed-to the door.\n\nBuinne was panting heavily.\n\n\u201cThat deserves a rest,\u201d he said.\n\nAnd the other three began with one voice to narrate the sortie to the\ntwo who had been within.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\n\nBuinne stood up.\n\n\u201cNaoise,\u201d he said sternly.\n\n\u201cMy soul?\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cYou interfered in my combat.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour end of the line was almost too heavy for any man, dear heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did it twice.\u201d\n\n\u201cThirty feet out is a great distance. All the press was in your path. I\ndid but lighten it when my own front was easy.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will accept no man\u2019s assistance,\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cWe are comrades,\u201d Naoise replied gently. \u201cWe give and take help.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid I call for help?\u201d the other growled.\n\nNaoise\u2019s great chest rose, but his voice was calm.\n\n\u201cNo man will ever hear you call for help, Buinne.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet no man give what is not called for.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut for that help, Buinne, you would now be dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cI was not fit for the end of the line?\u201d said Buinne harshly.\n\n\u201cYou are young yet, comrade, but in two years you will have the speed\nand smash that such a post calls for.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour speed! your smash!\u201d said the sardonic Buinne.\n\n\u201cThe world knows,\u201d Ainnle interposed, \u201cthat the four greatest champions\nof Ireland are C\u00fachulinn, Fergus, Conall, and Naoise.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd Ainnle,\u201d Buinne completed with a grin.\n\nThe young man turned his dancing length of whipcord and his narrowed\nbrow on Buinne.\n\n\u201cI, myself----\u201d he said gently.\n\n\u201cAnd so could I,\u201d said Ardan.\n\n\u201cDo not quarrel,\u201d Naoise interrupted. \u201cIn two years Buinne will be the\nequal of any man you have named. Hush,\u201d he said.\n\nHe bent his head sideward and hearkened in amazement. The others\nlistened, with their eyes turned questioningly on each other. They\nlistened to nothing, for the ram had ceased and there was a silence of\nthe dead without.\n\nIn a few moments there came a gentle tapping, then a louder knocking at\nthe door.\n\nNaoise stood before it, frowning.\n\n\u201cWho goes there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe herald.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d\n\n\u201cParley.\u201d\n\n\u201cSay what you have to say, herald.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the woman Deirdre is put out through this door the troops will\nmarch away.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what then?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo vengeance will be for ever exacted against the sons of Uisneac.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no answer,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cI have yet a message,\u201d said the voice.\n\n\u201cDeliver it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is for the ear of the sons of Fergus.\u201d\n\nBuinne strode forward.\n\n\u201cDeliver it,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cThere is no quarrel,\u201d said the herald, \u201cbetween the king and Fergus\nmac Roy. The king\u2019s love for Fergus is such that he wishes at any cost\nto save his two sons from a death that is certain.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cThe king says that if these young men retire from the combat he will\nbestow a lordship on them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat lordship?\u201d\n\n\u201cA cantred of land greater than that which Fergus himself has, and the\nking\u2019s friendship.\u201d\n\nBuinne looked under steep red brows at Naoise.\n\n\u201cI shall go out,\u201d he said.\n\nHe turned to his brother.\n\n\u201cYou will come out with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall not,\u201d said Iollann.\n\nHis brother stamped a foot.\n\n\u201cMy father is my chief,\u201d said Iollann. \u201cWhat he orders I do. I cannot\nprotect the sons of Uisneac as he commanded, but I can fight beside\nthem.\u201d\n\nBuinne turned.\n\n\u201cHerald,\u201d he roared, \u201ctell Conach\u00far that I shall go out to him.\u201d\n\nHis hand went to the door, but Naoise stepped forward.\n\n\u201cDo not touch a bolt,\u201d he commanded. \u201cYou shall go out by the door I\nchoose. That door,\u201d he pointed, and strode to it. \u201cIollann, Ainnle,\nstand so with the spears. Ardan, Deirdre, sling from this point.\nBuinne, stand so, one foot beyond the swing of the door.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe may meet again, Naoise,\u201d said Buinne.\n\n\u201cIf we meet in the press, Buinne, I may perhaps spare you for the sake\nof my brother Iollann. Ready, Buinne! When the door is opened I shall\ncount three. Be gone ere the last count or I shall smash you to a pulp.\u201d\n\nNaoise gave one mighty heave, and counted. Then Buinne was gone and the\ndoor had closed again.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cI claim this sortie,\u201d said Iollann, as the ram recommenced on the door.\n\n\u201cIt is my turn,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cbut we will go together, friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish to go alone, and bring honour back to the name of Fergus. I am\na better fighter than you think,\u201d he insisted.\n\n\u201cYou are a good fighter, in truth,\u201d said Naoise, \u201cbut a solitary\nventure is now dangerous. They are more accustomed to the light and\nto our methods, for there is nothing to vary in them. We must emerge\nby a door, and they are watching every door like hawks. But before you\ngo, Iollann, there is one work we must do for safety\u2019s sake. Listen\ncarefully, my dear ones.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\n\n\u201cThis is endless,\u201d Conach\u00far gritted. \u201cHas that Buinne come out yet?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe men will shout when he appears.\u201d\n\n\u201cBring him here and we will get their dispositions from him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to get, majesty. Their plan is the simplest. They\nhave six doors: they choose one to come out by and one to get in by.\nThat is the whole plan.\u201d\n\n\u201cPost men in such a way that when one does come out he will not be able\nto get in again through that door or any door. Send for reinforcements\nand put fifty men against each door.... Those ramsmen have women\u2019s\nshoulders,\u201d he growled. \u201cThey would beat a mud wall down in a month.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must give shortly,\u201d said the captain, \u201cbut there will be no\nentrance when the door is down.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo?\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cThey will have the inside barricaded, and our men will not dare that\nnarrow, black, impeded passage. We could leave an hundred dead in that\ndoorway and be no farther.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cThere is Buinne,\u201d the captain continued, as a shout came from the side.\n\n\u201cBuinne,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cyou will fight for me?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lordship, Conach\u00far?\u201d said the gruff young man.\n\n\u201cIt shall be as I said, and more,\u201d said the king. (It was given as\npromised, and was known for long as Dal Buinne, but it is now called\nSlieve Fuad.)\n\nBuinne told what he could of the defence, but, as the captain had\nforeseen, there was nothing to tell.\n\n\u201cThis door,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cwill be down shortly. Have they barricaded\nit on the inside?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey have not,\u201d said Buinne.\n\nThe captain became active and violent.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d he cried, \u201cthere is always something forgotten. Get at the ram,\nyou there,\u201d he roared. \u201cPut your shoulders into it.\u201d\n\nHe turned to the king.\n\n\u201cWe have them!\u201d he said.\n\nConach\u00far, with his eyes gleaming and a savage smile curling his lips,\nstrode towards the rammers, but as he moved, the door swung open and\nfour men leaped from its yawning blackness. In a second two of the\nramsmen were dead, and the rest were flying wildly, bustling the very\nking in their passage.\n\n\u201cBy my hand!\u201d the captain gurgled.\n\nTwo of the assaulters lifted the ram and trotted with it through\nthe door. The other two made an onslaught of such ferocity that the\nsoldiers were appalled. Then one fled back through the door, which\ninstantly slammed, and the other sped like lightning around the\nbuilding.\n\n\u201cAfter him!\u201d roared Conach\u00far.\n\nBut the captain remained where he was, howling and dancing with rage.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve lost my ram,\u201d he bawled. \u201cI\u2019ve lost my ram.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have you, Iollann!\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cTraitor to your king!\u201d he\ngrowled.\n\n\u201cTraitor to your friends,\u201d Iollann retorted.\n\n\u201cDeliver yourself to me,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cand you shall be spared.\u201d\n\n\u201cI came out for a purpose,\u201d said Iollann. \u201cI demand single combat.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are no gentlemen here,\u201d Conach\u00far replied, \u201cexcept your brother,\nso your claim cannot be granted.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall cuff him,\u201d said Buinne, \u201cbut I will not fight him,\u201d and he\nstrode away.\n\n\u201cI shall take this combat,\u201d said a voice.\n\nConach\u00far turned and saw his own son, Fiachra, standing there, and his\nheart sank.\n\n\u201cYou have no arms,\u201d he said harshly.\n\n\u201cYou will lend me yours,\u201d said Fiachra.\n\nConach\u00far stared on the fierce circle that surrounded him. He stared at\nIollann, who stood with his back to the Red Branch swinging his blade,\nand he knew that the combat must take place.\n\n\u201cIollann and I were born on the same night,\u201d said Fiachra. \u201cIt is an\nequal combat.\u201d\n\nConach\u00far took off his own battle-coats and gave them to Fiachra. He\ngave him his shield, the enchanted Aicean, and his green sword.\n\n\u201cFight, then,\u201d he said, \u201cand remember my teaching. Remember my shield\nwork and my thrust.\u201d\n\nThey fought then, but at the first stroke from Iollann the great shield\nroared; for that virtue was in the Bright-Rim, to roar when the man it\ncovered was struck at, and in answer to its roar the Three Waves of\nIreland, the Wave of Tua, the Wave of Cl\u00edona, and the Wave of Rury,\nroared in reply, and thereby all Ireland knew that a king was in danger.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAway in the palace Conall Cearnach sat drinking, listening to some\ngreat brawl, as he thought. He heard the roaring of Aicean, and leaped\nto his feet.\n\n\u201cThe king is in danger!\u201d he said.\n\nHe seized his weapons and fled from the palace of Macha, and came on\nthe great combat.\n\nIn the dim light he thought it was Conach\u00far himself was behind the\nshield, and from the daring and mighty onslaught of the opponent he\nsaw there was no time to lose. He burst his blue-green spear through\nthe press and through the back of Iollann.\n\nIollann staggered to the wall of the Red Branch.\n\n\u201cWho has struck me from behind?\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI, Conall Cearnach.\u201d\n\n\u201cGreat and horrible is the deed you have done, Conall.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d Conall demanded.\n\n\u201cI am Iollann the Fair, sent by my father to protect the sons of\nUisneac.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d said Conall fiercely, \u201cI shall undo some of what I have\ndone,\u201d and with one side twist of the sword he lifted the head from\nFiachra.\n\n\u201cHelp me to that door, Conall,\u201d said Iollann. \u201cThe sons of Uisneac are\nwithin.\u201d\n\nThe appalled soldiery shrank back, and on Conall\u2019s arm they came to the\ndoor. There Iollann gave his shout. A feeble one it was, but it was\nheard and the door opened. Iollann staggered in.\n\n\u201cFight bravely, Naoise!\u201d he said, and with that he sank on the floor,\nand he was dead.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOutside the Red Branch Conach\u00far ran hither and thither like a man\nenraged by madness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\n\n\u201cWe are yet three,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cDraw the bolts, Ainnle, for one\nsortie of friendship. We have no doorman, for Deirdre could not close\nor open the door by herself. You and I, Ainnle. Be quiet, Ardan! Come,\nmy brother, and put all your arm into the blade. We will come in by the\ndoor we go out of. This door! Be ready for our shout, Ardan!\u201d\n\nThey went out and returned with red weapons, and for a long time they\nsat in the dim flare of a torch watching by their dead comrade.\n\n\u201cHe was a brave boy,\u201d said Deirdre.\n\n\u201cHe did not obey my order,\u201d her husband sighed. \u201cI do not know what he\ndid.\u201d\n\n\u201cI smell--smoke,\u201d said Ainnle suddenly.\n\n\u201cI have smelled something for a long time,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cbut I could\nnot think what it was. I am weary because of the death of this good\nfriend.\u201d\n\nBut little by little the vast building became full of smoke, and in a\nwhile a fierce roar and crackling was heard also.\n\nNaoise was again the hardy leader.\n\n\u201cThey have fired the fortress! We do not know what happened while\nIollann was away, but Conach\u00far has reached the end of the world. Who\ncould have foretold that he would fire the Red Branch! We must prepare\nfor all that can happen.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are not dead yet,\u201d said Ardan.\n\n\u201cWhat do you counsel, brother?\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cSit down, there is less smoke on the floor.\u201d\n\nA ruddy glare could be seen by each window.\n\n\u201cFire is laid all round the building. We must make our plans quickly.\u201d\n\nAinnle turned gleefully to his younger brother.\n\n\u201cYou shall run after all, my poor friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn good truth,\u201d Ardan grinned, \u201cI thought in Scotland that I should\nnever want to run again, but I feel now that we have been staying too\nlong in the one place. After all,\u201d he said complacently, \u201cI am a man of\naction.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd, of course,\u201d Ainnle gibed, \u201cno one can run as quickly as you can.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one,\u201d said Ardan, \u201cexcept Deirdre.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cListen,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cWe have still more than a chance. We can run.\nScotland trained us in that certainly, and if we can surprise but forty\nyards on the men without, we shall outrun their best in twenty minutes.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere shall we run to?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe shall take the road to our own lordship. If Lavarcham\u2019s message\nhas been sent, our kinsmen should be marching at this moment on Emain.\nBut,\u201d he said, and pointed, \u201cwe cannot wait for them.\u201d\n\nThey looked in silence.\n\nA huge golden flame licked screaming through the window, wavered hither\nand thither like some blindly savage tongue, and roared out again.\n\n\u201cIt was ten feet long and three feet thick,\u201d said Ardan in a whisper.\n\n\u201cIn ten minutes we shall go,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cWhat arms?\u201d\n\n\u201cShield and spear, brother. Strip off all armour. We must run lightly.\n\n\u201cI shall be out first,\u201d he continued. \u201cGive me twenty seconds before\nyou follow, Ainnle, I can make room in twenty seconds. You will run ten\npaces to the left of the door. Deirdre and Ardan will run immediately\ninto our interval; turn all to the right, and at my shout, run. Single\nfile; Ainnle at the end. If I shout \u2018halt,\u2019 you two turn about and\nprotect the rear. When I shout \u2018run,\u2019 drop every combat and fly. You,\nDeirdre, take Iollann\u2019s shield.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd his spear,\u201d said Deirdre.\n\n\u201cKeep actually at my back, beloved, and each time we halt drop flat on\nthe ground.\u201d\n\nHe was shouting his instructions now, for the voice of the fire was\nlike the steady rage and roar of the sea, and through every window\nmonstrous sheets of flame were leaping and crashing.\n\n\u201cThis door,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cA kiss for every one,\u201d he called. \u201cWe shall\nwin yet. Pull, Ainnle!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe door is red-hot,\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cBack for a mantle; two. Now grip. Pull! Give me twenty seconds,\nAinnle.\u201d\n\nHe leaped across fire and disappeared.\n\nThe others leaped after him, with a wild yell from Ardan.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nConach\u00far had sent a flying messenger to the palace.\n\n\u201cBring Cathfa back with you,\u201d he ordered. \u201cTell him I want him. Say\nthat the king beseeches him to come.\u201d\n\nThe captain of his troop stood by.\n\n\u201cAlas for the Red Branch!\u201d he said mournfully.\n\n\u201cAll that can be destroyed can be rebuilt,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cI shall\nrebuild the Red Branch.\u201d\n\nHe was in terrible distress and agitation.\n\n\u201cThe morn is nigh,\u201d he said.\n\nAnd he strode unhappily to and fro, with his eyes on the ground and his\nmind warring.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFar to the east a livid gleam appeared. The darkness of a summer night,\nwhich is yet a twilight, was shorn of its soft beauty, and in the air\nthere moved imperceptibly and voluminously a spectral apparition of\ndawn. A harsh, grey, iron-bound upper-world brooded on a chill and\nwrinkled earth. The king\u2019s eyes and the eyes of his captain scanned\neach other from colourless, bleak faces. There was no hue in their\ngarments; their shields were dull as death; and their hands, each\nclutching a weapon, seemed like the knotted claws of goblins.\n\nA slow, sad exhalation came from the king\u2019s grey lips, like the plaint\nof some grim merman of the sea, rising away and alone amid the chop and\nshudder of his dismal waters.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cThe fire is catching,\u201d the captain murmured. \u201cHark to that crackling!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe shall have light,\u201d the king murmured. \u201cThe Red Branch will flame.\u201d\n\n\u201cWithin ...!\u201d said the captain moodily, and he looked with stern\nmournfulness on the vast pile.\n\n\u201cThey must soon come out,\u201d he muttered.\n\n\u201cYour men are posted?\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery door is held. When they pop out this time----\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will have no place to pop into,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cI have them,\u201d he\ngrowled; and he threw his hand in the air and gripped it, as though in\nthat blanched fist he held all that could never escape from him.\n\n\u201cThey will fight,\u201d said the captain, \u201cand they are woeful fighters.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are nervous, man,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cAt this hour and after this\nnight,\u201d said the captain, \u201cour men could fly from those three like\nscared rabbits.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear that,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cThey may get away,\u201d said the captain. Conach\u00far advanced on him so\nsavagely and with such a writhe of feature that the man fell back.\n\n\u201cDog!\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cIf they escape I shall take your head.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are surrounded,\u201d the captain stammered; \u201cthey cannot escape.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey can escape,\u201d Conach\u00far roared. \u201cYou know they can escape. Your\nmen are cowards and idiots, and what are you? Oh, am I not a thwarted\nman! Am I not a forsaken king! Where is Cathfa? Where is the druid?\u201d he\ncried.\n\n\u201cMajesty,\u201d the captain implored, \u201cdo not curse us. The great magician\nis coming.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe magician indeed had come.\n\n\u201cWhat has set you raging, Conach\u00far?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cFather,\u201d said Conach\u00far, \u201cif you do not assist me I am lost.\u201d\n\nThe old, old man looked at him.\n\n\u201cTell me your tale, son. Whom have you locked up in fire?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sons of Uisneac are there,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cThey will escape me,\u201d\nhe said.\n\n\u201cThey are my grandchildren,\u201d said Cathfa.\n\n\u201cIt is the woman with them,--it is Deirdre I want. She was mine. She\nwas stolen from me. I am not myself without her. I am a dead man while\nshe is with Naoise.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you fear from boys roared round by flame?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey may escape with her. When they come out my men may run from them.\nIf they escape this time, father, I am dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I help you, Conach\u00far----?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall do anything you ask. Nothing you can demand will be too much\nfor Conach\u00far.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the woman you want?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe woman only.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not the blood of these boys you lust for?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe woman, father, only the woman.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall help you, Conach\u00far. Do not lay one finger on my daughter\u2019s\nsons, the sons of your young sister.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cThey are out,\u201d the captain said, as a great roar came from the\nsoldiers.\n\nConach\u00far moved to that direction.\n\n\u201cQuick, quick,\u201d he said, twitching his father\u2019s mantle in his\nimpatience. \u201cThey will escape me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey shall not escape me,\u201d Cathfa answered. \u201cThere is no need for\nhaste.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThey were out, indeed, and, like two grim lions or woeful griffins\nof the air, Naoise and Ainnle were raging in that press. Into their\ninterval leaped Ardan, with but one eye peeping from the shield and a\ndeadly hand thrusting from the rim. Back and forth they leaped with\nresistless savagery. Men flew at them and from them. Everywhere was a\nwild yelling of orders and the wilder screaming of stricken men. But,\nover all, Naoise\u2019s voice came pealing--\n\n\u201cUp, Deirdre. Run!\u201d\n\nShe was at his back in an instant, the shield covering her side; her\nspear darted viciously by his right elbow, and a venturesome man\ndropped squealing. Five feet behind, Ardan was leaping like a cat, all\neyes and points, and ten paces behind him Ainnle was bounding.\n\n\u201cHalt,\u201d roared Naoise.\n\nDeirdre was again on the ground. Ardan ranged tigerishly to right and\nleft, while Ainnle whirled on the pursuers in ten-foot bounds.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nConach\u00far had arrived with Cathfa. Men were falling before them at the\nrate of three a second. So dreadful was Naoise\u2019s onslaught in the front\nthat none would face him. Men tumbled over each other when he charged.\n\n\u201cThe men will run away in a second,\u201d said the captain.\n\n\u201cGet into the _m\u00eal\u00e9e_, coward,\u201d roared Conach\u00far.... \u201cCathfa----!\u201d he\nimplored.\n\nThe officer whizzed out his blade and leaped forward. In three seconds\nhe was dead, and five who followed him were rolling in their agony\nalong the ground.\n\nNaoise\u2019s voice came in a wild shout.\n\n\u201cUp, Deirdre. Run!\u201d\n\nThe four were again in line. The men in front melted to either side of\nthat dreadful file.\n\n\u201cRun!\u201d said Naoise. \u201cWe are out!\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn front of him there was but Conach\u00far and Cathfa. Conach\u00far drew his\ngreat sword and stood crouching; and at him, with a dreadful smile,\nNaoise came on. Cathfa moved two paces to the front and stared fixedly\nat Naoise. He extended his two arms widely----\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNaoise dropped on one knee, rose again, leaped high in the air and\ndropped again on his knee. Deirdre fell to the ground and rose up\ngasping. Ardan rolled over on his back, tossed his shield away, and\ncame slowly up again, beating the air with his hands. Ainnle went half\nway down, rose again, and continued his advance on tiptoe.\n\nA look of dismay and rage came on Naoise\u2019s face. He moved with\nextraordinary slowness to Deirdre and lifted her to his shoulder.\n\n\u201cWe are lost,\u201d he said. \u201cThat magician----!\u201d\n\n\u201cKeep on swimming,\u201d Ardan giggled. \u201cThere was never water here before,\nbut the whole sea has risen around our legs, and we may paddle to\nUisneac.\u201d\n\nThe arms dropped from their hands, and, in fact, they swam.\n\nNot for a minute or two did the soldiers dare advance, and then they\ndid so cautiously. They picked up the fallen weapons, and then only did\nthey lay hands on the raging champions.\n\nCathfa dropped his arms to his sides.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cWe are taken,\u201d said Naoise. \u201cOur run is ended.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\n\nCathfa had gone away, and Conach\u00far strode to his prisoners.\n\n\u201cSo! Naoise,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cSo! uncle,\u201d said Naoise.\n\n\u201cI win in the end. I always win at last,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\nHe looked at each with his stern smile, and when he spoke again it was\nto Deirdre.\n\n\u201cLittle fawn! you have run wild for a long time. You shall rest at\nlast.\u201d\n\nBut she made only the reply that a fawn makes, the reply of parted lips\nand terror-stricken eyes.\n\n\u201cYou shall come to me,\u201d he said.\n\nThen she moistened her trembling lips and looked at Naoise.\n\n\u201cDo not look at him,\u201d said Conach\u00far. \u201cHe is already a dead man; let\nhim be forgotten. All tricks and troubles are ended for you, sweet\nbird; you shall have peace.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you have peace to-morrow, Conach\u00far?\u201d said Naoise. \u201cFergus is\nmarching on you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe at ease, nephew,\u201d and the king smiled grimly. \u201cI shall take care of\nFergus when he comes. For long I have wanted to take care of Fergus.\nBut, first, I shall take care of you, Naoise, and of your traitor\nbrothers. Your hour is on you,\u201d he said, \u201cand you die now.\u201d\n\n\u201cChurl and rogue----!\u201d said Ainnle.\n\nBut a gesture from his brother stopped him.\n\n\u201cLet this king do his business,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cThat must be done,\u201d said Conach\u00far.\n\nHe turned briskly and moved away.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow the day was at hand, and these four looked on a world that was\nspectral and misshapen, but which was yet the world. On high the clouds\ncould be seen, a grey immensity, stony as the face of Conach\u00far, and a\nchill wind moaned thinly about them. But far away the grey misery of\nmorn had lightened, and a silver gleam, slender as a rod, crept up the\neast.\n\nTo that gleam their eyes turned, and from it to each other\u2019s faces.\n\nAt the guards who ringed them in they did not look, or they looked\nunseeingly. But those gaunt apparitions stared like statues on the four\nand did not move a lip.\n\n\u201cThe sun will rise in a little,\u201d said Ardan.... \u201cThat magician has\ngone,\u201d he whispered. \u201cIf we leaped at the guards----!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo good, brother, they are too many and we have no arms.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe should have one merry minute,\u201d said Ardan.\n\n\u201cWe have had a merry night,\u201d said Ainnle, \u201cbe contented, babe.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNaoise looked lovingly on his brothers.\n\n\u201cWe were always together,\u201d he said. \u201cWe shall always be together.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I ...!\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cam I to be left out at last?\u201d\n\n\u201cSweet girl,\u201d said Naoise, \u201che will kill us, but you will be spared.\nYou shall see that sun come up. You shall look at it for us.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear husband,\u201d she said, \u201cdo you still love me? Do you truly love me?\u201d\n\nHis eyes gave her answer.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cHere comes Conach\u00far,\u201d said Ainnle.\n\n\u201cAnd a large person with him,\u201d said Ardan.\n\nIt was Main\u00e8 Rough-Hand, son of the King of the Fair Norwegians, they\nsay; but others think it was Eogan, son of Durthacht, the prince of\nFerney.\n\n\u201cYou shall die at the hand of a gentleman as befits your rank,\u201d said\nConach\u00far.\n\n\u201cI shall be the first,\u201d said Ardan briskly. \u201cI am first in every great\ndeed,\u201d he explained to Conach\u00far.\n\n\u201cHark to him!\u201d Ainnle laughed. \u201cRespect your elders, young person, and\nthe heads of your family.\u201d\n\nBut Ardan appealed to Main\u00e8.\n\n\u201cLet me be first, sweet sir,\u201d he pleaded. He turned confidingly to\nConach\u00far. \u201cI cannot bear to see my brothers killed,\u201d he said....\n\nDeirdre knelt by the bodies, and she sang their keen, beginning:\n\n \u201cI send a blessing eastward to Scotland.\u201d\n\nWhen she had finished the poem she bowed over her husband\u2019s body: she\nsipped of his blood, and she died there upon his body.\n\n SO FAR, THE FATE OF THE SONS OF UISNEAC,\n AND THE OPENING OF THE GREAT T\u00c1IN\n\n\n_Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. Clark, Limited, _Edinburgh_.\n\n\n\n\nBY THE SAME AUTHOR\n\n\n THE CROCK OF GOLD. Crown 8vo. 6s. net.\n\n THE CROCK OF GOLD. With Illustrations in Colour and Black and White by\n Wilfred Jones. 8vo. 12s. net.\n\n HERE ARE LADIES. Crown 8vo. 6s. net.\n\n THE DEMI-GODS. Crown 8vo. 6s. net.\n\n THE CHARWOMAN\u2019S DAUGHTER. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.\n\n IRISH FAIRY TALES. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.\n\n IRISH FAIRY TALES. With 16 Plates in Colour and other Illustrations in\n Black and White by Arthur Rackham. Fcap. 4to. 15s. net.\n\n THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG: THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN. Poems. Crown\n 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.\n\n REINCARNATIONS. Poems. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.\n\n THE HILL OF VISION. Poems. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. net.\n\n SONGS FROM THE CLAY. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.\n\n\nLONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber\u2019s Notes:\n\n\nA number of typographical errors were corrected silently.\n\nCover image is in the public domain.\n\nTable of Contents added.","title":"Deirdre","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":45767}