“When Bras leads his Fomorians towards the Hill of Tara,” he said, “that will be time for me to raise the banner against him.”
“Listen, Nuadh of the Silver Hand, art thou not High King?” exclaimed Lu.
“Even so, Ildanna.”
“And is not thy first duty to lead the princes of Erin against the invader? If we are all as one, we can laugh at Balor of the Evil Eye and all the host he sends against us. If we are divided we shall surely fall.”
But for all the pleadings of Lu Ildanna, Nuadh refused to take the field. He had one answer to all pleas.
“Bras and his Fomorian host do no more than lay waste the lands of Connaught. Let then the king of Connaught see to his own. I have sent friendly messages to Balor, and in order to keep the peace have offered alliance and even to pay tribute again. But till war is declared against me I will do nothing.”
Furious against Nuadh of the Silver Hand, Lu Ildanna rode away.
“Dust upon thy home,” he muttered, “were it not for the ruin upon all Erin. Nevertheless, I have but one thing to do.”
Lu had not ridden far, when his heart rejoiced because of three strong warriors he saw approaching.
These were his father, Kian, and the two brothers of his father, Ald and Art. In that day the seven fairest champions in the northlands of Erin were Lu himself, Kian and his two brothers, and Brian, Ur, and Urba, the sons of Turenn. Each of these was a host in himself, both because of his own valour and for the great influence that each had upon the clansmen of the north.