“What a craven thing you are!” cried Ethne. She was glad to see a flush of anger on the boy’s face. “And what of your promises to me—the Christians are always boasting that they keep their promises—have I not done my part, were you forced into anything against your will?”
“I do not blame you,” Cormac said proudly. “The fault was mine—but I will not continue.”
“I do not know what you mean by repeating you will not continue—you will not continue. I promised to rally warriors around you, so that you might rescue Elgiva’s mother—and I will do it. I promise you, if you wish it, that you shall not be led into any more of our festivals—since you cannot resist the joy of them!”
“Have no fear of my entering upon them again,” said Cormac.
“I hoped to make a man of you!” exclaimed Ethne.
“Then give me man’s work to do!” cried Cormac, fiercely, “and not the work of fiends and beasts. Give me warriors to lead into battle, and let me die at their head if need be!”
“You shall have them!” cried Ethne, with sparkling eyes.
“When?” he asked.
“When we go North—an army awaits us there. We will start to-morrow.”
For a time he wavered; then consented to go with her.