Then the cloak was flung off. The stooping figure became erect, and in the shining moonlight Edain beheld her warrior-lover, Ebor!
Making a gesture to her to draw back, he placed his two spear shafts against the casement, and in a second he was in the room, and the Lady Edain was in his arms.
He looked around him and saw the sleeping maidens.
“We need not fear their awakening,” he said softly. “All in the dun, even the guards, are under the spell of the strain of slumber. Craiftine came hither a while ago, and reduced all to sleep, save Cathal, son of Rory, the captain of the guard, but he, too, now is under its spell. He lent me his harp, which, even in my hands, retains some of its power. But we have no time to spare. Array yourself quickly. My horse is below the rampart; we have not a moment to lose.”
Edain needed no word to urge her. In a second she was ready. In another Ebor was carrying her in his arms across the spear shafts to the rampart.
Letting himself down and then standing on the horse’s back, he caught her descending, placed her on the steed before him, and swifter than light galloped off to the shelter of the forest.
But, alas, for Ebor, as they rode away he glanced towards the banks of the shining river, and he saw the woman of the Sidhe weaving her fateful spells.
The pathways of the silent forest were well known to Ebor, and he rode on with his charge over pleasant mossy ways, reminding Edain of those which she had seen in her dream. They had gone not more than a quarter of a mile when she, who had been prattling merrily to Ebor, uttered a frightened cry:
“Oh, Ebor, look; there are armed men!”
“They are friends, Edain,” he replied, “friends, and now my bonnie bride is safe at last.”