“I saw the loveliest face that ever brightened the world. It seemed like the face of a sky-woman or a lady of the Shí.”
“Sit on this little stool, and fill my cup. What age are you, guard?”
“Twenty-two years, majesty.”
“What is your name?”
“I am called Strong Fist, sir.”
“I remember you, Tréndorn, you are my hereditary man. Your father was my man before you. How did he die?”
“He was killed by Naoise, the son of Uisneac, sir.”
“I remember,” said Conachúr, “and your two brothers were killed by that Naoise. Do you remember that also?”
“I would not forget it, sir.”
“There are things that one should not forget, guard. Would you do an ill turn to the same Naoise?”