“It seemed to me like the shout of an Irishman.”
“It may be Ardan returning.”
“It is not his call.”
“It is Fergus and his two sons,” said Deirdre miserably. “They are coming to us with three sips of honey in their mouths.”
“What is in Fergus’ mouth is in his heart also,” Naoise cried joyfully. “One time or another even your dream may be wrong, for if Fergus agrees to be a messenger the message will be as true as his own truth.”
“Remember,” said Deirdre, “that I told you they were coming without having seen them.”
Fergus and his two sons, with Ardan doing circles and whoops around them, rose on a slope of the hill, and came striding over the tussocks. Behind them came the shield-bearer and the shield itself, and at the sight Ainnle fled to meet them, but Naoise drew back to keep Deirdre company, for she had not moved.
“It is Fergus,” he said, with shining eyes.
“He has come for our blood,” said white-lipped Deirdre.
“Queen of queens,” her husband laughed, “you do not know Fergus.”