“Thou sayest sooth,” said the seneschal, and Feargus took his harp and soon, such was his skill, and such was the beauty of the music of Albainn which he played, that they forgot the harper and cried, “Well done! well done! thou art the king of minstrels.”

They took him to the hall and there, as he entered, he beheld the prince seated at the middle of the table and at his right hand and his left a great and motley company of wild and savage men, on the faces of most of whom drunkenness had left its mark. The prince himself was a man of bloated visage, but well featured and powerful of form and with an air of some courtliness. He was, moreover, much younger than most of his companions. At his right hand sat Torfrida dressed in red and cloth of gold, a jewel of wondrous beauty in her hair. Feargus thought her pale at first, but so lively and bright was she, and so merrily she chatted with the prince, that he was surprised. Instead of finding her distressed he found her gay, and so far from being appalled by the thought of her marriage with the prince on the coming day, she was bright and lively. Feargus looked again—this was no feigned composure or merriment. Had she forgotten him, and, glad to escape the dangers of their journey, was she going to wed the prince? The thought flashed across his brain only to be crushed back, and he was ashamed that it had even entered his heart. A merry peal of laughter rang through the hall and thrilled him, and the thought returned again, again to be forced back. Then he struck his harp, avoiding all those airs which Torfrida knew, and so, the meal over, Torfrida sped lightly through the hall to her chamber leaning on the arm of the prince. Feargus stood up in the corridor as they passed, for move he could not, and he watched him bid her farewell at the door, she giving him her hand to kiss and waving it to him as he passed along to the hall. And when the door of her chamber closed on her Feargus felt his knees give under him; his strength melted away; his body shook so that his harp nigh fell from his hands. Anger against her he felt none but only grief. There life ended for him; all the pain, the weariness, the danger he had passed through for her and with her, returned to him and crushed him. Now he was in the snowstorm, now in the robbers’ cave, now he leapt into the waters of Aire after the host of Penda; now she plucked him by the beard and awoke him from his madness with her touch—how beautiful she looked in that moment of recognition, was ever human creature so lovely before! Then he saw her dying face upturned in the boat and cut his arm that she might drink. Anger—no, he could never feel anger towards her, and towards him—if she loved him he should go unscathed, and what help he could give should be his. Then the water gathered in his eyes and despair seized him, and he groped with his hand for his sword to slay himself, and then he staggered forward a step or two and sank to earth knowing no more.

CHAPTER XXV
OF THE FEAST IN SIEGFRIED’S HALL

Long time he lay, till at length he became ware of one kneeling beside him, while strong wine was poured between his teeth; then soft lips kissed his forehead and a soft voice whispered in his ear, “Awake, oh, awake! Oh, what aileth thee, my Feargus? Now thou openest thine eyes. Thanks be to God! hadst thou died I would have slain myself—there, drink a little.” And then she kissed him again and wept and kissed, between joy and grief. “Canst thou arise,” she said at length, “for there is danger in lying here lest any should come. Better sit in my chamber till thou art well—my tire-woman is abed.”

So Feargus arose and stepped into the light, but he no longer dare look at her, but stood before her shamefaced and cringed on the ground beneath, kissing her feet and asking forgiveness.

“I know not what it is that I must forgive; what hast thou ever done that should need my forgiveness?”

Then Feargus told her and she went white and trembled, and wept again, and refused his kisses and turned from him, till at last she forgave him and he arose. And she told him all that had happened since she was taken captive, and how she had set the tapestry on fire and been beaten by the earl’s mother and had tried to find the battlements to fling herself from them, and how she had gone instead into the hall where her enemy was and been again sorely beaten. And he was full of rage and indignation and grief and shame at his own doubts of one so noble and devoted.

“Then,” said she, “know that I knew thee the moment thou didst enter despite thy disguise, for no other harper that ever me saw doth hold his harp as fondly and strike it just as thou dost; but even had this not been so, I should have known thee for Feargus among ten thousand, and so overjoyed was I at seeing thee that I could scarce contain myself, for never did I think the ring would betray him so quickly and I had little hope indeed. Now thou must go, and at thy signal I will do as thou hast bidden me, to-morrow, and I pray we may get hence with whole skins, but my heart fails me at the thought.”