“Iosa.”
“And will you have no other name than that?”
“I am called Iosa mac Dhe.”
“And is it living in this house you are?”
“Ay. But Art, my little lad, I will kiss your eyes, and you shall see who sup with me.”
And with that the prince that was called Iosa kissed me on the eyes, and I saw.
“You will never be quite blind again,” he whispered, and that is why all the long years of my years I have been glad in my soul.
What I saw was a thing strange and wonderful. Twelve men sat at that table, and all had eyes of love upon Iosa. But they were not like any men I had ever seen. Tall and fair and terrible they were, like morning in a desert place; all save one, who was dark, and had a shadow upon him and in his wild eyes.
It seemed to me that each was clad in radiant mist. The eyes of them were as stars through that mist.
And each, before he broke bread, or put spoon to the porridge that was in the bowl before him, laid down upon the table three shuttles. Long I looked upon that company, but Iosa held me in his arms, and I had no fear.