“What, me?” said the King of the Cats.
“Yes, your Majesty, for the sake of the deliverance of your subjects you will have to appear as a common cat.”
“And be submissive and eat scraps?”
“That will be only in the daytime,” said Quick-to-Grab, “in the night-time you will have your court and your feasts.”
“At least, let the place I stay in be no hovel,” said the King of the Cats. “I shall refuse to go into a house where there are washing days—damp clothes before a fire and all that.”
“I shall use my best diplomacy to safeguard your comfort and dignity,” said Quick-to-Grab, “please invest me as your Prime Minister.”
The King of the Cats invested Quick-to-Grab by biting the fur round his neck. Then the King and his Prime Minister parted. The King of the Cats took up quarters for a day or two in a round tower. Quick-to-Grab made a journey through the country-side. He went into every house and whispered a word to every cat that was there, and whether the cat was watching a mouse-hole, or chasing crickets, or playing with kittens, when he or she heard that word they sat up and considered.
III
Early, early, next day the King of Ireland’s Son rode out in search of the blue falcon, but although he rode from the ring of day to the gathering of the dark clouds he saw no sign of it on rock or tree or in the air. Very wearily he rode back, and after his horse was stabled he stood with Art in the meadows watching the cattle being driven by. And Art, the King’s Steward, said: “The Coming of the King of the Cats into King Connal’s dominion is a story still to be told. To your father’s Son in all truth be it told”—
Quick-to-Grab, in consultation with the Seven Elders of the Cat-Kin decided that the Blacksmith’s forge would be a fit residence for the King of the Cats. It was clean and commodious. But the best reason of all for his going there was this: people and beasts from all parts came into the forge and the King of the Cats might learn from their discussions where the Eagle-Emperor was and how he might be destroyed.