Now there was in Patrick’s train Keth Mac Maragh, his strong man, the same that carried him on his back through the bogs an’ was his champion whin it came to fightin’ barbarians who would not accept the Gospil with whole heads. Keth was moreover a bit of a shanachy, or story-teller, in his way, with a head full of the old tales an’ histories set down in the Book of the Dun Cow, which made him the frind of ivery small boy wheriver Patrick carried on the good work. So whin he heard the multitude cry out: “O, Wurra-Wurra!” at the downfall of Cromm Cruach, Keth was disturbed in his mind. Niver before had he heard those words of lamentation uttered by a multitude all in spontaneous accord. Yet in the mouths of sorrowin’ girls forsaken by their lovers, an’ old women at a wake or grievin’ over sheep with the foot-rot, they were words as familiar in Patrick’s time as they are to this day. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] But the thing that most disturbed the mind of Keth Mac Maragh was the sight of Finola of the White Shoulder, wan of Patrick’s three embroideresses—which means a Christian mimber of Patrick’s own household—turnin’ her pretty face to the West with the multitude an’ joinin’ in the cry of “Wurra-Wurra!” ’Twas sure a haythin act, an’ as Keth had been for a long time swate on this same Finola, findin’ her white shoulder a plisant place to rist his head on, he wint speedily an’ taxed her with it. But Finola only hung her pretty head an’ was silent. [Illustration] “Finola,” says Keth, “ye ought to be ashamed of yoursilf, you a mimber of the good Patrick’s household an’ a ’broiderer of the sacred vestmints.” Niver a word answered Finola, but only hung her head the lower. Then said Keth Mac Maragh with a keen look at the girl: “Finola, ’tis yoursilf has told the truth though not a word has passed your lips. Cromm Cruach, which our good Patrick has overthrown, was not the only great false god in Ireland.” [Illustration] [Illustration] Now the girl appeared startled, but her head still drooped an’ she answered neither yes nor no. With a smile half hid by the hair on his lip, Keth spoke sternly to her: “Finola, I have it from your own lips that you came to Patrick at Tara from your people over in the West country. ’Tis over in the West stands another great idol, an’ the name of it is Wurra-Wurra.” At these words Finola began trimbling violently, though she spoke no word, an’ her head still drooped. Keth Mac Maragh showed the girl no mercy. “’Tis in my mind, Finola,” he said, “to make a journey over into the West country, an’ find this heathen god, Wurra-Wurra, an’ cast him down even as Patrick cast down Cromm Cruach.” Now the girl lifted her head and spoke up quickly: “But you are not in orders, Keth, an’ have no Bishop’s staff to raise against this idol—if so there be one.”