At this point the tears of the Sorrowful Knight stopped his words. His listeners had to wait until he had mastered his grief before he could go on.
“When I saw my twelve noble sons thus changed before my eyes, I was filled with the great grief which has never left me. The lord of the castle had me thrown out into the night, and it was with difficulty that I found my way back to my home. Since then I never have left my castle.
“Each year, on May day, the deer comes to the gate and calls, ‘Here is the deer, but where are the hunters to follow it?’ Tomorrow she will come again, but no one here has heart for the chase.
“That, then, is my story. I ask you if any man could be happy with such a sorrow in his life?”
Dermot had listened with rising pity that soon turned into anger. He rose abruptly to his feet.
“I have but been sent to get your story, but no true Fenian is willing to let wickedness go unpunished. If you will go with me, there will be men to follow the deer tomorrow, and the sun shall not set before I have tried my strength against the enchantment of the lord of that castle.”
For the first time in twenty-one years the Sorrowful Knight no longer wept. He announced that he would go the next morning. The small chief and the Red Giant also promised to take part in the chase of the deer.
In the morning the deer came to the gate and called as was her custom, “Here is the deer, but where are the hunters to follow it?”
The four men had been waiting and now they set after her at full speed. All day long they followed her, and in the evening she approached a cave in the hillside.
“That is where she will disappear!” shouted the knight.