But when the young woman turned round he saw she was not Fedelma. She was little, and she had a face that was brown and tight like a nut. She made herself very friendly to the King of Ireland’s Son and went to him and took his hands and smiled into his face.
“You are welcome here,” said she.
“Who are you?” he asked. “I am Gilveen,” said she, “the second and the most loving of the three daughters of the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands.” She stroked his face and his hands when she spoke to him.
“And why did you send for me?”
“Because I know what great trouble you are in. My father is preparing a task for you, and it will be a terrible one. You will never be able to carry it out.”
“And what should you advise me to do, King’s daughter?”
“Let me help you. In this tower,” said she, “there are the wisest books in the world. We’ll surely find in one of them a way for you to get from this country. And then I’ll go back with you to your own land.”
“Why would you do that?” asked the King of Ire-land’s Son.
“Because I wish to be your wife,” Gilveen said.
“But,” said he, “if I live at all Fedelma is the one I’ll marry.”