“A Christian! ’Twas a slight thing that—to humour thy fond old father—when in return he gave me gold and lands!”
The boy’s eyes drooped proudly. He turned and left the hut, and the old hound slunk after him.
Two heavy hands seized Ethne’s shoulders—and the Saxon’s blue eyes flamed into the purple ones.
It was the age when primitive passions held sway—and this young girl, reared in the gentle faith of the Christians—now that her anger was roused, was every whit as fierce as Ethne.
Ethne seized her knife, but the Saxon wrenched it from her grasp and threw it to the farther end of the hut.
“Viper!” cried Elgiva. “Foul woman and false friend! Thou art un-chaste, un-loving! Thou hast stolen his heart, and now seek to defile him in thy Druid rites. He shall not sacrifice, I tell thee, he shall not sacrifice!”
Ethne was inarticulate with rage. The two women fought like animals. Ethne tore at the girl with her teeth, but Elgiva prevailed—and at length threw the Celt, bruised and bleeding to the ground.
Then she wept. Not from rage or anger; but from fear and the knowledge of her own weakness. For she knew with Cormac she was powerless.
CHAPTER V.
Why Ethne Hates the Christians.
Elgiva had spoken the truth when she had said that Ethne had no love for the dead Griffith, because he had not made her his wife.