There was no whisper of answer. All sat there amazed, marvelling at the strange question. But at last Nuadh the King spoke.
“What meaning lives in thy words, Ildanna? For we know that thy father Kian is not slain, for he was not in the Great Battle.”
“Nevertheless he is slain, and here in this royal place my eyes behold them who slew him.”
When Lu of the Long Hand had spoken these words, every man looked from neighbour to neighbour in amaze. But all waited for the king to speak.
“What sayest thou, Nuadh of the Silver Hand, Ardree of Erin?”
“I have this to say, that if a man wittingly, and without the just cause of war, slew my father, and he innocent, I would not be content with exacting death, but would rather lop him limb from limb daily till he died.”
“And what say ye, chiefs and nobles of the Dedannan race?”
“We say as the Ardree says,” cried one and all, save the three who sat on golden-knobbed seats near the high king, though these too bowed their heads in acquiescence.
“And what say ye, ye sons of Turenn?”
At this all turned and looked upon Brian and Ur and Urba, who sat pale and stern. Brian answered for himself and his brothers.