“I have helped you in everything,” said Fedelma, “and in the last task I could not have helped you if you had not been true to me when Aefa and Gilveen brought you to them. Now the three tasks are done, and you can ask my father for one of his daughters in marriage. When you bring him the Ring of Youth he will ask you to make a choice. I pray that the one chosen will be myself.”
“None other will I have but you, Fedelma, love of my heart,” said the King of Ireland’s Son.
VIII
The King of Ireland’s Son went into the house before the setting of the sun. The Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands was seated on his chair of gold. “Have you brought me the Ring of Youth?” he asked.
“I have brought it,” said the King’s Son.
“Give it to me then,” said the Enchanter.
“I will not,” said the King’s Son, “until you give what you promised me at the end of my tasks—one of your three daughters for my wife.”
The Enchanter brought him to a closed door. “My three daughters are within that room,” said he. “Put your hand through the hole in the door, and the one whose hand you hold when I open it—it is she you will have to marry.”
Then wasn’t the mind of the King’s Son greatly troubled? If he held the hand of Aefa or Gilveen he would lose his love Fedelma. He stood without putting out his hand. “Put your hand through the hole of the door or go away from my house altogether,” said the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands.
The King of Ireland’s Son ventured to put his hand through the hole in the door. The hands of the maidens inside were all held in a bunch. But no sooner did he touch them than he found that one had a broken finger. This he knew was Fedelma’s hand, and this was the hand he held.