“The king——!” Naoise gasped.
“I am afraid of that king,” she whispered urgently.
But her lover was pale and terrified.
It would be an affront that was never offered to a king in Eirè. It would be a cruelty: it would be an awful deed.
He turned to his brothers. “The king is our uncle, he loves us,” he said.
“Yes,” Ainnle agreed, “he loves us better than his own sons.”
“After Cúchulinn,” said Ardan, “he loves us best in the world.”
“And he loves me,” said Deirdre.
Naoise leaped to his feet.
“O gods of day and night!” he cried.