“Ruin is not a sure thing, O King: but if it were, better ruin than dishonour.”
“Dost thou speak as a lord of high birth, or as one of the common people?”
“I speak as the son of Kian the Noble.”
“Even so; but for each noble in my kingdom there are a thousand Dedannans of no rank. I am their king. I speak for them.”
For a time thereafter Lu sat brooding. His silence was worse than his scornful words. Nuadh the King saw what was in his mind, and dreaded that he would go forth in his wrath. Thrice he half rose as though to lay hands upon Lu to restrain him, and thrice he sat back uncertain what to do.
Then suddenly Lu rose, and in the eyes of all men drew slowly from its sheath his great white sword. At sight of the “Answerer,” there was a shiver among the Dedannans, so great was the terrible fame of this sword, but still more because the drawing of it there and then by Lu of the Long Hand meant that the flame was in his blood.
“Beware!” cried the king.
But Lu laughed a grim laugh. Then, lifting the “Answerer” on high, and knitting his brows into a heavy frown, he sprang in among the Fomorians.
It was like the leap of lightning among wild cattle, that. Hither and thither the “Answerer” flashed, and at each blow a Fomorian head whirled to the ground; yea, as a sharp prow will divide the wave-crest from the wave, so the great sword severed the head from the shoulders of each Fomorian, shoring through helmet or thick fell of hair as through water.
It was not till a whirlwind of swords flashed and circled around Lu that those about him woke from their stupor. Then with a loud shout the sons of Manannan and others of the Fairy Host leaped forward and joined in the fray.