In this
retreat, never having seen the friendly face of man, they were one day
startled to hear voices and the baying of hounds approaching them
through the wood, and they thought that the sons of Morna were upon
them at last, and that their hour of doom was at hand. Soon they
perceived a company of youths coming towards their hut, with one in
front who seemed to be their leader. Taller he was by a head than the
rest, broad shouldered, and with masses of bright hair clustering
round his forehead, and he carried in his hand a large bag made of
some delicate skin and stained in patterns of red and blue. The old
men thought when they saw him of a saying there was about the mighty
Lugh, who was brother to the wife of Cumhal, that when he came among
his army as they mustered for battle, men felt as though they beheld
the rising of the sun. As they came near, the young men halted and
looked upon the elders with pity, for their clothing of skins was
ragged and the weapons they strove to hold were rusted and blunt, and
except for their proud bearing and the fire in their old eyes they
looked more like aged and worthless slaves in the household of a
niggardly lord than men who had once been the flower of the fighting
men of Erinn.
But the tall youth stepped in front of his band and cried aloud--
"Which of ye is Crimmal, son of Trenmor?" And one of the elders said,
"I am Crimmal.
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