In the dim light he thought it was Conachúr himself was behind the shield, and from the daring and mighty onslaught of the opponent he saw there was no time to lose. He burst his blue-green spear through the press and through the back of Iollann.
Iollann staggered to the wall of the Red Branch.
“Who has struck me from behind?” he said.
“I, Conall Cearnach.”
“Great and horrible is the deed you have done, Conall.”
“Who are you?” Conall demanded.
“I am Iollann the Fair, sent by my father to protect the sons of Uisneac.”
“By my hand,” said Conall fiercely, “I shall undo some of what I have done,” and with one side twist of the sword he lifted the head from Fiachra.
“Help me to that door, Conall,” said Iollann. “The sons of Uisneac are within.”
The appalled soldiery shrank back, and on Conall’s arm they came to the door. There Iollann gave his shout. A feeble one it was, but it was heard and the door opened. Iollann staggered in.