Columba's indignation knew no bounds. The judgment was unfair and unjust, he declared; Diarmaid should bear the penalty. With dashing eyes and burning heart he turned his back on King and courtiers, and strode from the royal presence. He was now a man with a grievance, who considered that he had been most unjustly treated, but the resentment which was as yet but smouldering in his heart was soon to be fanned into a flame. It came to pass that Diarmaid made a great feast at Court and invited all the princes and nobles of Erin to attend. Games were held for several days in the green meadows of Tara, that the young athletes might show their skill in wrestling. Now brawling and quarrelling at these royal games had been strictly forbidden by the King on account of the serious accidents that had happened on former occasions. But the blood of young Ireland was hot and undisciplined, and in a moment of anger, Curnan, the heir of the Prince of Connaught, struck the son of the King's steward and felled him to the ground. The act was altogether unpremeditated, but the blow had struck the lad in a vital spot; when they tried to raise him, they found that he was dead. Young Curnan dared not face the wrath of Diarmaid, and fled for protection to Columba, who was his kinsman. It was an acknowledged thing that an abbot or the founder of a religious house had the right to give sanctuary even to great criminals, and the claim was universally respected. But Diarmaid was very angry and sent messengers who dragged the boy from the very presence of Columba and`put him to death on the spot. This fresh insult was more than Columbcille could bear. The rights of the Church had been violated in his person. His own people, the Hy-Nialls of the north, should judge between him and Diarmaid, he declared, and set forth on his journey northwards, breathing vengeance as he went. The King himself was not a little apprehensive as to what might be the results of his arbitrary action; he stationed guards on all the roads that led northwards, and even tried to detain the fugitive in prison. But Columbcille successfully evaded the traps that had been set to catch him, and by a lonely path across the mountains went his way to Tir-Connell. As he journeyed he sang a song of confidence in the God in whom he trusted to protect the right. I am alone upon the mountain Do Thou, O God, protect my path. Then shall I have no fear, Though six thousand men were against me. What protection shall guard thee from death? The Son of Mary shall cause thee to prosper. The King who has made our bodies He it is in whom I believe. My Lord is Christ the Son of God, Christ, the Son of Mary, the great abbot, Father, Son and Holy Ghost. So singing he went speedily and in safety to his own country, where he recounted his wrongs to the men of his own race.