“You are ready, Ainnle?”
“How shall I know when to open the door?” Ainnle roared.
“My wits are going!” said Naoise. “We shall fight in silence, and when you hear our battle-cry open the door at that instant.”
“Wait!” said Buinne. “Heavier blades are wanted for this sortie. It should be two-handed work at the edge of a thirty-foot line, and the shields must be left behind.”
“My wits are indeed going!” said Naoise.
“I shall bring him back,” said Buinne. “I take him under my protection,” he growled.
“You two,” said Naoise, “keep your shields. Buinne and I take the great swords, and we leave our armour off for speed. The outside men must run twice as quick as the inside ones,” he explained to Buinne.
Buinne nodded and began to unlace his battle-coats. Deirdre flew to help him, and she looked at him with such soft affection that the youth marvelled. Naoise was bending the great blade that he got from Manannan mac Lir, the God of the Sea.
“Now, Ainnle, the door! Buinne is out first, I second, Iollann and Ardan together. Ready! ... Pull!”
They were gone.