Irish Fairy Tales by James Stephens Page B

themselves.
    The time had come for the squires to take their stations behind their masters and mistresses. But, for the moment, the great room was seated, and the doors were held to allow a moment of respect to pass before the servers and squires came in.
    Looking over his guests, Conn observed that a young man was yet standing.
    â€œThere is a gentleman,” he murmured, “for whom no seat has been found.”
    We may be sure that the Master of the Banquet blushed at that.
    â€œAnd,” the king continued, “I do not seem to know the young man.”
    Nor did his herald, nor did the unfortunate Master, nor did anybody; for the eyes of all were now turned where the king’s went.
    â€œGive me my horn,” said the gracious monarch.
    The horn of state was put to his hand.
    â€œYoung gentleman,” he called to the stranger, “I wish to drink to your health and to welcome you to Tara.”
    The young man came forward then, greater-shouldered than any mighty man of that gathering, longer and cleaner limbed, with his fair curls dancing about his beardless face. The king put the great horn into his hand.
    â€œTell me your name,” he commanded gently.
    â€œI am Fionn, the son of Uail, the son of Baiscne,” said the youth.
    And at that saying a touch as of lightning went through the gathering so that each person quivered, and the son of the great, murdered captain looked by the king’s shoulder into the twinkling eye of Goll. But no word was uttered, no movement made except the movement and the utterance of the Ard-Rí.
    â€œYou are the son of a friend,” said the great-hearted monarch. “You shall have the seat of a friend.”
    He placed Fionn at the right hand of his own son Art.

Chapter 12
    I t is to be known that on the night of the Feast of Samhain the doors separating this world and the next one are opened, and the inhabitants of either world can leave their respective spheres and appear in the world of the other beings.
    Now there was a grandson to the Dagda Mor, the Lord of the Underworld, and he was named Aillen mac Midna, out of Shí Finnachy, and this Aillen bore an implacable enmity to Tara and the Ard-Rí.
    As well as being monarch of Ireland her High King was chief of the people learned in magic, and it is possible that at some time Conn had adventured into Tir na n-Og, the Land of the Young, and had done some deed or misdeed in Aillen’s lordship or in his family. It must have been an ill deed in truth, for it was in a very rage of revenge that Aillen came yearly at the permitted time to ravage Tara.
    Nine times he had come on this mission of revenge, but it is not to be supposed that he could actually destroy the holy city: the Ard-Rí and magicians could prevent that, but he could yet do a damage so considerable that it was worth Conn’s while to take special extra precautions against him, including the precaution of chance.
    Therefore, when the feast was over and the banquet had commenced, the Hundred Fighter stood from his throne and looked over his assembled people.
    The Chain of Silence was shaken by the attendant whose duty and honour was the Silver Chain, and at that delicate chime the hall went silent, and a general wonder ensued as to what matter the High King would submit to his people.
    â€œFriends and heroes,” said Conn, “Aillen, the son of Midna, will come to-night from Slieve Fuaid with occult, terrible fire against our city. Is there among you one who loves Tara and the king, and who will undertake our defence against that being?”
    He spoke in silence, and when he had finished he listened to the same silence, but it was now deep, ominous, agonized. Each man glanced uneasily on his neighbour and then stared at his wine-cup or his fingers. The hearts of young men went hot for a gallant moment and were chilled in the succeeding one, for they had all heard of Aillen out of Shí Finnachy in the north. The lesser