And when he had chanted these words, Ulad, who was young and wondrous fair to look upon, held out his arms to Fand, whom yet he did not see, for she was within the grianân.
“Then, if even not yet at the setting of the day,” the king muttered, “patience shall be upon me till the coming of a new day, and then it may be that Fand will hear my prayer.”
And so the night fell. But when the screaming of the gulls came over the loch, and the plaintive crying of the lapwings was upon the moorland, and the smell of loneroid and bracken was heavy in the wind-fallen stillness, Ulad turned, for he felt a touch upon his shoulder.
It was Connla who touched him, and he knew the man. He had the old wisdom of knowing all that is in the mind by looking into the eyes, and he knew how the man had come there.
“Let the men who are your men, O Connla, move away from here in their birlinn, and go farther up into the haven.”
And because he was a Wonder-Smith, and knew all, the islander did as Ulad bade, and without question. But when they were alone again he spoke.
“Ulad, great lord, I am a man who is as idle sand beneath the feet of you who know the ancient wisdom, and are young with imperishing years, and are a great king in some land I know not of—so, at the least, men say. But I know one thing that you do not know.”
“If you will tell me one thing that I do not know, O Connla, you shall have your heart’s desire.”
Connla laughed at that.
“Not even you, O Ulad, can give me my heart’s desire.”