“I will not debauch your queen.”
“Lavarcham——!”
“No one shall make a leman of my babe.”
“She shall return in a few hours. Be with her at the Red Branch to-night. Do not fail on your life.”
“If I bring her my knife will be in her bosom.”
Conachúr leaned back in his chair and the terrible staring frown went from his face.
“We shall certainly marry Lavarcham to an hero. I am impatient, my heart, but strength and victory lies always with the one who can abide, and I can, even in torment. Have your way, woman.”
“It is the best way, master. You shall thank me yet for this way.”
He smiled wryly.
“Dear, my lord,” she continued earnestly, “there must be the ceremonies that befit a king’s wedding, and guests must be invited from the four great Provinces of Ireland. It cannot all be done before two little months.”