“What do you want to-day?” asked the king.
“I want to see Fin MacCool, or to fight for him.”
“Fight you may,” said the king; “but see him you will not.”
“Well,” said Dyeermud, “it is too early in the evening for me to rest without having the blood of enemies on my sword, so send out against me seven hundred of your best-armed men on my right hand, seven hundred on my left, seven hundred behind me, and twenty one hundred before my eyesight.”
Fin’s death was delayed; and the men that he asked for put out against Dyeermud. Coming sunset, he had the last head cut from the last body, and, going through his day’s work, made heaps of the bodies, and piles of the heads.
“Will you give me shelter from the night air?” asked Dyeermud, then turning to the castle.
“I will, and welcome,” said the king, pointing to a long house at a distance.
Dyeermud went to the long house, and to his wonder saw there a troop of wild small men without faith, but no food, fire, or bed. These men were the agents of the king, who put to death all people who went against his law. Though a small race of people, they were strong through their numbers.
When Dyeermud entered, they rose, and began to fill every cranny and crack they could find in the building.