At that Darthool smiled gravely, but said no more. Only in her heart she remembered what Lavarcam, in bitter irony, had told her once, that when a man foresaw evil and fore-fended it he was wise and strong in his courage, but that if a woman did the same she was timorous and whim-borne. In the house of the Red Branch the strangers were rendered all honour. Generous and pleasant foods and bitter cheering drinks were supplied to them, so that the whole company was joyful and merry, save the sons of Usna, and Darthool, who were weary with their journeying.[24] Thus after they had eaten and drunken, Nathos and Darthool lay down upon high couches of white and dappled fawn-skins, and played upon the gold and ivory chessboard. It was at this time that a secret messenger came from Concobar to tell him if Darthool were as beautiful as when she fled from Erin. This messenger was no other than Lavarcam. The woman embraced Darthool tenderly, and kissed the hands and brow of Nathos. Then, looking upon them through her tears, she said: “Of a surety it is not well for ye twain to be playing thus upon the second dearest thing in all the world to Concobar, Darthool being the dearest, and ye having taken both from him, Nathos, and now ye twain being in his house and in his power. And this I tell you now, that I am sent hither by Concobar to see if Darthool has her form and beauty as it was of old. Thy beauty then was a flame before his eyes, Darthool, and now it will be as a torch at his heart.” Suddenly Darthool thrust the chessboard from her. “I have the sight upon me,” she said in a strange voice with a sob in it. “And what is that sight, my queen?” asked Nathos. “I see three torches quenched this night. And these three torches are the three Torches of Valour among the Gael, and their names are the names of the sons of Usna. And more bitter still is this sorrow, because that the Red Branch shall ultimately perish through it, and Uladh itself be overthrown, and blood fall this way and that as the whirled rains of winter.” Then taking the small harp by her side, she struck the strings and sang: A bitter, bitter deed shall be done in Emain to-night, And for ages men will speak of the fratricidal fight; And because of the evil done, and the troth unsaid, Emain of dust and ashes shall cover Emain the White. Of a surety a bitter thing it is thus to be led Into the Red Branch house, there to be rested and fed, And then to be feasted with blood and drunken with flame, And left on the threshold of peace silent and cold and dead. The three best, fairest, and noblest of any name, Are they all to be slain because of a woman’s fame? Alas! it were better far there were dust upon my head, And that I, and I only, bore the heavy crown of shame.