King Eochaid ran, Toward peopled Tara, nor stood to draw his breath Until he came before the painted wall, The posts of polished yew, circled with bronze, Of the great door; but though the hanging lamps Showed their faint light through the unshuttered windows, Nor door, nor mouth, nor slipper made a noise, Nor on the ancient beaten paths, that wound From well-side or from plough-land, was there noise; And there had been no sound of living thing Before him or behind, but that far-off On the horizon edge bellowed the herds. Knowing that silence brings no good to kings, And mocks returning victory, he passed Between the pillars with a beating heart And saw where in the midst of the great hall Pale-faced, alone upon a bench, Edain Sat upright with a sword before her feet. Her hands on either side had gripped the bench, Her eyes were cold and steady, her lips tight. Some passion had made her stone. Hearing a foot She started and then knew whose foot it was; But when he thought to take her in his arms She motioned him afar, and rose and spoke: 'I have sent among the fields or to the woods The fighting men and servants of this house, For I would have your judgment upon one Who is self-accused. If she be innocent She would not look in any known man's face Till judgment has been given, and if guilty, Will never look again on known man's face.' And at these words he paled, as she had paled, Knowing that he should find upon her lips The meaning of that monstrous day.