It seemed to me that each was clad in radiant mist. The eyes of them were as stars through that mist. And each, before he broke bread, or put spoon to the porridge that was in the bowl before him, laid down upon the table three shuttles. Long I looked upon that company, but Iosa held me in his arms, and I had no fear. "Who are these men?" he asked me. "The Sons of God," I said; I not knowing what I said, for it was but a child I was. He smiled at that. "Behold," he spoke to the twelve men who sat at the table, "behold the little one is wiser than the wisest of ye." At that all smiled with the gladness and the joy, save one: him that was in the shadow. He looked at me, and I remembered two black lonely tarns upon the hillside, black with the terror because of the kelpie and the drowner. "Who are these men?" I whispered, with the tremor on me, that was come of the awe I had. "They are the Twelve Weavers, Art, my little child." "And what is their weaving?" "They weave for my Father, whose web I am." At that I looked upon the prince, but I could see no web. "Are you not Iosa the Prince?" "I am the Web of Life, Art lennavan-mo." "And what are the three shuttles that are beside each Weaver?" I know now that when I turned my child's eyes upon these shuttles I saw that they were alive and wonderful, and never the same to the seeing. "They are called _Beauty_ and _Wonder_ and _Mystery_." And with that Iosa mac Dhe sat down and talked with the Twelve. All were passing fair, save him who looked sidelong out of dark eyes. I thought each, as I looked at him, more beautiful than any of his fellows; but most I loved to look at the twain who sat on either side of Iosa. "He will be a Dreamer among men," said the prince; "so tell him who ye are." Then he who was on the right turned his eyes upon me. I leaned to him, laughing low with the glad pleasure I had because of his eyes and shining hair, and the flame as of the blue sky that was his robe. "I am the Weaver of Joy," he said. And with that he took his three shuttles that were called Beauty and Wonder and Mystery, and he wove an immortal shape, and it went forth of the room and out into the green world, singing a rapturous sweet song. Then he that was upon the left of Iosa the Life, looked at me, and my heart leaped. He, too, had shining hair, but I could not tell the colour of his eyes for the glory that was in them. "I am the Weaver of Love," he said; "and I sit next the heart of Iosa." And with that he took his three shuttles that were called Beauty and Wonder and Mystery, and he wove an immortal shape, and it went forth of the room and out into the green world, singing a rapturous sweet song. Even then, child as I was, I wished to look on no other. None could be so passing fair, I thought, as the Weaver of Joy and the Weaver of Love.