“We have two lands,” interrupted Ardan, “we who are of both Alba and Erin. Nevertheless, it would ill befit us not to look upon ourselves of the Red Branch first and foremost. So if Nathos is ready to go with thee, so also are Ailne and I myself.”
“I am ready,” said Nathos, though he kept his eyes away from those of Darthool.
“And ye know that my guaranty is sure?” added Fergus.
“It is sure,” said Nathos.
That night all were full of joyous pleasure, save only Darthool, who in her heart knew that the shadowy feet of Fate were all about them, and that she at least and perhaps none other there would ever again see Alba.
On the morrow all set sail. As they left the beautiful shores, than which for sure there are none more beautiful in all the realms of the Gael, Darthool took her harp and sat back among the deerskins in the stern of the galley and sang:
“Ionmhuin tir, an tir ud shoir—
Alba go na h’-iongantaibh;
Nocha ttiocfainn aiste ale,
Muna ttagainn le Naoise,”