Fantasy fiction; Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Mythology, Celtic -- Fiction
Then Costello mounted and Duallach mounted, but when they had ridden a
little way Costello tightened the reins and made his horse stand still.
Many minutes passed, and then Duallach cried: 'It is no wonder that
you fear to offend Dermott of the Sheep, for he has many brothers and
friends, and though he is old, he is a strong man and ready with his
hands, and he is of the Queen's Irish, and the enemies of the Gael are
upon his side.'
And Costello answered flushing and looking towards the house: 'I swear
by the Mother of God that I will never return there again if they do not
send after me before I pass the ford in the Brown River,' and he rode
on, but so very slowly that the sun went down and the bats began to fly
over the bogs. When he came to the river he lingered awhile upon the
bank among the flowers of the flag, but presently rode out into the
middle and stopped his horse in a foaming shallow. Duallach, however,
crossed over and waited on a further bank above a deeper place. After
a good while Duallach cried out again, and this time very bitterly: 'It
was a fool who begot you and a fool who bore you, and they are fools of
all fools who say you come of an old and noble stock, for you come of
whey-faced beggars who travelled from door to door, bowing to gentles
and to serving-men.
With bent head, Costello rode through the river and stood beside him,
and would have spoken had not hoofs clattered on the further bank and a
horseman splashed towards them. It was a serving-man of Dermott's, and
he said, speaking breathlessly like one who had ridden hard: 'Tumaus
Costello, I come to bid you again to Dermott's house. When you had gone,
his daughter Winny awoke and called your name, for you had been in her
dreams. Bridget Delaney the Dummy saw her lips move and the trouble upon
her, and came where we were hiding in the wood above the house and took
Dermott of the Sheep by the coat and brought him to his daughter. He
saw the trouble upon her, and bid me ride his own horse to bring you the
quicker.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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