There were no servants in this palace; nor was there need for them. The High King found that his hands had washed themselves, and when later on he noticed that food had been placed before him he noticed also that it had come without the assistance of servile hands. A cloak was laid gently about his shoulders, and he was glad of it, for his own was soiled by exposure to sun and wind and water, and was not worthy of a lady’s eye.
Then he was invited to eat.
He noticed, however, that food had been set for no one but himself, and this did not please him, for to eat alone was contrary to the hospitable usage of a king, and was contrary also to his contract with the gods.
“Good, my hosts,” he remonstrated, “it is geasa (taboo) for me to eat alone.”
“But we never eat together,” the queen replied.
“I cannot violate my geasa,” said the High King.
“I will eat with you,” said Segda (Sweet Speech), “and thus, while you are our guest you will not do violence to your vows.”
“Indeed,” said Conn, “that will be a great satisfaction, for I have already all the trouble that I can cope with and have no wish to add to it by offending the gods.”
“What is your trouble?” the gentle queen asked. “During a year,” Conn replied, “there has been neither corn nor milk in Ireland. The land is parched, the trees are withered, the birds do not sing in Ireland, and the bees do not make honey.”
“You are certainly in trouble,” the queen assented.