As he gazed about him from the crowded hearth, Cormac could see, by the great brewing-vat in a corner that he was in the hall of a Flaith or nobleman--noblemen alone having the right to brew. The chief himself was sleeping in the gloom of an alcove--and was doubtless an ally of King Aedh’s and had taken part in the same skirmish, for the space in front of the building was all littered by spoil the victorious warrior had taken from an enemy--vats of good malt, purple cloaks, horse-trappings, honeycomb, and hogs’ flesh. A hush had fallen now on the great hall--after long feasting; but the steam and smell of flesh remained. Some of the feasters had fallen asleep with half filled platters beside them. The cauldron from which they had eaten still simmered over the central fire; in the great pot was thrust a long ladle of yew-wood--from which had been served the flesh of boar and deer stewed with leeks and hazel-nuts. A flickering light aloft, strove with the gloom and smoke; the light fell from a molten pool of raw bee’s-wax held in a high vase or bowl of bronze and carved yew. The air was full of the long, deep breath of slumber; for on the floor around the bed of the sleeping chief lay his warriors, slaves, and hounds--sleeping also. Nearly all the hall slumbered except two or three bards playing chess before the fire, some wretched hostages in fetters, and two men of the chief’s or king’s bodyguard who stood with hand on upright pike, on either side of his great bed. The bed was all gloom except when the fitful light gave momentary flashes of the gold with which the limbs of the king were twined--and of the great torque that encircled his waist. A look of disgust had passed over Ethne’s face when she entered the foul air of the great room. She sighed, more than ever, for the luxury and refinement of her Roman villa in Britain. She looked at the smouldering, central fire with its surrounding ashes and refuse of days long past; the earthen floor strewn with stale straw, gnawn bones, and spilt meal; the rough dressers laden with wooden platters, drinking horns, and vessels of yew and bronze; the gaping chests and cupboards which held meal, and clothes, and skins. Yet there was a barbaric splendour in the great size of the circular room; in the horse-trappings and arms of the king upon the walls; in the row of suspended shields belonging to the warriors, slumbering around their chief. Cormac was soon asleep stretched on a long leathern cushion covered by a sheep-skin. He was tired with his long day’s journey and glad to follow the example of the warriors around him. He did not wake again until long after dawn--when he was roused by the noise and uproar about him. There was scarcely room to move, the hall was so filled with a medley of jesters, horse-boys, clowns, and bards.