«Get out the head bag and fetch me the trophies, dear,» said Cuchulainn.
II
Laeg Rummaged in the rear of the chariot and produced a large bag and a heavy sword, with which he went calmly to work. Belphebe had turned back, as the rescuer came toward the three. Shea saw a smallish man with curly black hair, not older than himself; heavy black eyebrows and onlya faint fuzz on his cheeks to compare with the heavy beards of the defunct five. He was not only an extremely handsome man; there was also a powerful play of musculature under his loose outer garment. The hero’s face bore an expression of settled and brooding melancholy, and he was dressed in a long-sleeved white cloak embroidered with gold thread, over a red tunic.
«Thanks a lot,» said Shea. «You just saved our lives, in case you wondered. How did you happen along?»
«Twas Laeg came to me with a tale of three strangers, who might be Fomorians by the look to them, and they were like to be set on by the Lagenians. Now I will be fighting any man inIreland that gives me the time, but unless you are a hero it is not good to fight at five to two, and it is time that these pigs of Lagenians learned their manners. So now it is time for you to be telling me who you are and where you come from and whither bound. If you are indeed Fomorians, the better for you — King Conchobar is friends with them this year, or I might be making you by the head shorter.»
Shea searched his mind for details of the culture pattern of the men of Cuchulainn’s Ireland. A slip at the beginning might result in their heads being added to the collection bumping each other in Laeg’s bag like so many cantaloupes. Brodsky beat him to the punch.
«Jeepers!» he said, in a tone which carried its own message. «Imagine holding heavy with a zinger like you! I’m Pete Brodsky — give a toss to my friends here, Harold Shea and his wife Belphebe.»
He stuck out his hand.
«We do not come from Fomoria, but from America, an island beyond their land,» said Shea.
Cuchulainn acknowledged the introduction to Shea with a stately nod of courtesy. His eyes swept over Brodsky, and he ignored the outthrust hand. He addressed Shea. «Why do you travel in company with such a mountain of ugliness, dear?»