He saw the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands waiting at the goat-house, now counting the goats that came along and now looking at the sun. When he saw the King of Ireland’s Son coming with his capture he was so angry that he struck an old full-bearded goat that had stopped to rub itself. The goat reared up and struck him with his horns. “Well,” said the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands, “you have performed your first task, I see. You are a greater enchanter than I thought you were. Whitefoot the Fawn can go in with my goats. Go back now to your own sleeping-place. To-morrow I’ll come to you early and give you your second task.” The King of Ireland’s Son went back and into the dry water-tank. He was tired with his day’s journey after Whitefoot the Fawn. It was his hope that Fedelma would come to him and give him shelter for that night. IV Until the white moon rose above the trees; until the hounds went out hunting for themselves; until the foxes came down and hid in the hedges, waiting for the cocks and hens to stir out at the first light--so long did the King of Ireland’s Son stay huddled in the dry water-tank. By that time he was stiff and sore and hungry. He saw a great white owl flying towards the tank. The owl perched on the edge and stared at the King’s Son. “Have you a message for me?” he asked. The owl shrugged with its wings three times. He thought that meant a message. He got out of the tank and prepared to follow the owl. It flew slowly and near the ground, so he was able to follow it along a path through the wood. The King’s Son thought the owl was bringing him to a place where Fedelma was, and that he would get food there, and shelter for the rest of the night. And sure enough the owl flew to a little house in the wood. The King’s Son looked through the window and he saw a room lighted with candles and a table with plates and dishes and cups, with bread and meat and wine. And he saw at the fire a young woman spinning at a spinning wheel, and her back was towards him, and her hair was the same as Fedelma’s. Then he lifted the latch of the door and went very joyfully into the little house. But when the young woman at the spinning wheel turned round he saw that she was not Fedelma at all. She had a little mouth, a long and a hooked nose, and her eyes looked cross-ways at a person. The thread she was spinning she bit with her long teeth, and she said, “You are welcome here, Prince.” “And who are you?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “Aefa is my name,” said she, “I am the eldest and the wisest daughter of the Enchanter of the Black Back-lands. My father is preparing a task for you,” said she, “and it will be a terrible task, and there will be no one to help you with it, so you will lose your head surely. And what I would advise you to do is to escape out of this country at once.”