“Is this the spirit you discuss grave matters we have followed Columba all the leagues from Iona to ponder and pray upon? It is not meet that ye brawl over such things as ye brawl over your chess and your horse-racing!” He turned sternly on the chess-player. “Know you not that Columba has taken the bards under his protection?” “Ay, that do I know well; and I know better that our Christian spirit of forbearance is ill-suited to them--and I know too that some of them make a cloak of Christianity, when at heart they belong all to one faith--fire and blood! Fili they term themselves and half our men are turning Fili. And why not? ’Tis an easy life--for we must keep them and their mares and their stallions--their greyhounds and beagles! Grow barley for their winter fodder, and dower their daughters when they marry! Drones they are, and like rooks for flocking--ever in hordes--see how they crowd on us now winter is coming--swaggering to our firesides to idle and brag there all the winter and tell their idle tales!” The speaker paused, turned about and wildly waved his sword. “Away with them--away with them. Neither grist nor gold do they bring us! Greedy gules they be, swilling and guzzling all! And now, forsooth, must the Church--the Church--maintain their horses for them! Away with them, I say, away with them! I am aweary of warring against them with tongue and book--let us to work and settle the question with pick and knife!” The quarrel spread like wild-fire in the hall, till everyone had taken his place on the two sides that were glaring at each other. It was a marvel how the scene had arisen from the simple accident. Cormac found himself in the angry ranks with his hand on his knife. There was a sudden rush to the open air to gain room for combat. No sooner were they outside than they were driven back by a long line of galloping horsemen. There were shouts of “Back! Back!” and “Make room”; a great procession was passing through the village.