It was not long before Cormac became aware that a woman formed one in the group of people around him. Although half-hidden by the foliage of the tree, she was quite close to him--so close that her flowing lenn almost brushed his knee, and the saffron fragrance of her robes was quite distinct to him. It was a strange thing to see a fair and delicately-dressed woman amongst these rude jugglers. Cormac was full of wonder. He wished he could see the girl’s face. Every moment his wonder increased; was she some high-born Druidess, mated by caprice with one of these low serpent-charmers? No, the ring on her hand would never be worn by a Druidess; he could see her hand, plainly with the ring upon it--bearing the monogram of Our Lord, the bezel ornamented with a dove within an olive branch. What power in the loosely-lying hand and arm! White and delicate, but of a strength to wield a battle-axe. And the wide sloping shoulders and snow-white column of her throat, gleaming like marble through the meshes of her yellow hair--such women, surely, stood before the southern sculptors when they chose their images to bear the weight of temple and palace! Where had he seen such women? Not amid the nervous fiery creatures of his own race, not among the beautiful fragile ladies of Roman-Britain. A faint dislike, a sudden shuddering sense of disaster came upon him--he knew now where he had seen such great, fair, goddess-like women! But they had not been thus clothed in delicate raiment, glossy-haired, perfumed, and dainty--but dishevelled and gory with hair streaming in the fore-ranks of the Saxons. Every moment his wish to see her face grew stronger. He could see she made her replies unwillingly to the man at her side; and evidently wished to remain silent and unnoticed. Indeed, there were strong reasons why she should desire to escape notice, for at these great fairs men and women were kept apart under fear of death. Cormac looked with rage at the girl’s persecutor. Every minute he was attracting attention to her; others besides Cormac had turned their eyes on the pair. Cormac was powerless; to interfere was to attract more notice to the woman. Her persecutor was one of his own countrymen; of a low, juggling order with a Pictish accent of the coarsest kind--a snake-charmer with gold rings in his ears and a speckled cloak such as the Druids wore. He had ringed himself round with hissing serpents--on arm and ankle, round neck and trunk.