CHAPTER XIV
“The king himself is there,” said Naoise.
“Let us hunt him,” cried Ardan in savage glee.
“He will move about,” Naoise replied. “We would never know where he is, and we should only waste time. We have but to hold out until the morning, and we can do it with ease. Why!” he cried, “we have forgotten our days of travel; Fergus himself may be here to-morrow.”
“He will travel day and night, and by chariot where we came on foot,” said Iollann. “He may be here in the morning.”
Naoise nodded joyfully.
“He will have choked whatever is in it out of Borach’s throat long before this,” Iollann continued, “and he will be an angry man.”
“If he came, even alone,” said Naoise, “that rabble would fly.”
“They will fly before he comes,” Ardan boasted, “for it’s my turn to go out now, and I shall show them a trick or two.”
“It’s two by two now, babe,” said Ainnle, “so we are going out together.”
“That man,” Ardan mourned, “is trying to cheat me of my fame. Fight for me, Deirdreen! Back me up, Naoise!”
“Hark to them battering,” said Iollann.
“How angry some people get!” Ardan giggled.
“Let us make a full sortie,” Buinne cried. “We five could eat those soldiers.”
“One must be left for the door,” Naoise replied. “Ardan——”
“No door for me!” said Ardan violently.
“Ainnle,” said Naoise, “our lives will depend on the doorman.”
“I shall go out the next time all by myself,” Ainnle bargained.
His brother nodded, while Ardan danced for joy.
“Pooh!” Ainnle gibed. “He thinks he is Cúchulinn!”
Ardan squared up and began to shoulder him and to speak very roughly.
“And I am better than Cúchulinn,” he concluded.
Ainnle seized his head and gave him three kisses.
“Little brother!” he said, “you are even better than I.”
“You are a good brother,” said Ardan. “I shall not divorce you,” and he returned the three kisses.
“Are we ready all?” said Naoise. “Then let us arrange this sally.”
“It shall be in two parties. Buinne and——” he halted for one moment; “Buinne and Ardan, Iollann and myself.”
“You trust Ardan to me!” said Buinne shortly.
“Why not?” said Naoise.
Deirdre was staring at her husband with a fixed, white stare, and Naoise’s throat went suddenly dry. He strode to her.
“What is it?” he murmured.
“I have no vision,” she whispered. “I do not know.”
“You still think——?”
“I know it,” she said, “but I do not know when.”
He closed his eyes and turned again.
“We go through this door. Once out, you turn to the left, Buinne, and I to the right, and away each on a grand half-circle. When we meet we form in line and charge back to this same door: six feet between each man for sword-play; Buinne and I on the outside.”
“I shall be quite on the outside,” said Buinne.
“As you will, friend,” said Naoise. “Get to the bolts, Ainnle. You two will watch over each other?” he said, but it was at Buinne he looked.
“I shall bring him back,” said the gruff man.
“If one of Buinne’s hairs is touched,” Ardan boasted, “I shall give him one of my own hairs instead of it.”
“You are ready, Ainnle?”
“How shall I know when to open the door?” Ainnle roared.
“My wits are going!” said Naoise. “We shall fight in silence, and when you hear our battle-cry open the door at that instant.”
“Wait!” said Buinne. “Heavier blades are wanted for this sortie. It should be two-handed work at the edge of a thirty-foot line, and the shields must be left behind.”
“My wits are indeed going!” said Naoise.
“I shall bring him back,” said Buinne. “I take him under my protection,” he growled.
“You two,” said Naoise, “keep your shields. Buinne and I take the great swords, and we leave our armour off for speed. The outside men must run twice as quick as the inside ones,” he explained to Buinne.
Buinne nodded and began to unlace his battle-coats. Deirdre flew to help him, and she looked at him with such soft affection that the youth marvelled. Naoise was bending the great blade that he got from Manannan mac Lir, the God of the Sea.
“Now, Ainnle, the door! Buinne is out first, I second, Iollann and Ardan together. Ready! ... Pull!”
They were gone.
Ainnle and Deirdre slammed the door,and he stood with his back leaning against it, staring as it were inwardly, and listening with every pore of his body. Deirdre threw her arms about his neck.
“O Ainnle! dear Ainnle!”
“It is lonely here,” he muttered.
Her head drooped on his breast.
“Do not faint, sister; the door has yet to be opened, and you must help with the bolts. Hear those clowns roaring!”
“If our own men would but shout once!” she moaned.
“I should open the door immediately,” he smiled, “and this noble combat would have a stupid end.”
“To-morrow will never come,” she moaned.
“Do not make my teeth chatter,” said Ainnle.
“We must attend to the door,” he continued. “I shall draw the top bolt now. Crouch down with your hands on the bottom one, and, when the shout comes, draw it; I will draw the middle one, and when I say, ‘Pull,’ drag with me on the door. It is almost too heavy for one man to move, but between us—and they will push from the outside.”
Deirdre crouched at his knees. A vast confusion of noise began to draw nigh.
“They are coming back,” said Ainnle. “Draw your bolt now, sister, and take hold of the knob.”
Above the infernal uproar there came the shout they knew.
“Pull!” he roared.
The door gave, a great push from without helped it, and the four leaped through. A blade leaped in behind them and was snapped in pieces as Ainnle, and a shoulder helping, smashed-to the door.
Buinne was panting heavily.
“That deserves a rest,” he said.
And the other three began with one voice to narrate the sortie to the two who had been within.