CHAPTER XI
“It is as you thought, master,” said Lavarcham. “The girl is ruined.”
“You saw her?”
“Her cheeks are hollow and her eyes are red. One would pity her, master. Indeed, I shall go to see her to-morrow.”
“You did not want to see her any more,” said the king.
“It was so,” she replied humbly. “But my heart was wrung when I looked on her wretchedness.”
“And the young men?”
“They are stout young men, master.”
“And the guards that I posted?”
“They were at their posts.”
“There ends a tale, and seven of my poor years ...!” said Conachúr. “What did she look like, woman?”
“She is thin and haggard, and she leaned by the table as though all the weariness of the world were in her sides.”
“Thus ...!” said Conachúr. “And we fash ourselves for these things and spend our years and our pith ...! Fill my cup, Lavarcham. Let the years go and the rest, for we are fools and children. Get to your rest, friend, and let me mourn my foolish years and all my nonsense.”
“Nay, go to your bed also, sweet king,” said Lavarcham. “You shall rest to-night, for that bad dream is ended. You will be troubled no more. To-morrow will be a new day, and all that the world has is for the king.”
“It is so,” said Conachúr. “This will be the last of those nights. Go to your bed, good soul, and I shall go to mine in a moment.”
Lavarcham left the palace with her mind in a turmoil of weariness and fear, but with hope dawning in her soul. She sent secret runners to the men of Uisneac and to those of Fergus mac Roy, warning them that their chiefs were in urgent danger; and when she slept she was too happy even to rememberwhat the king might do when he discovered her treachery. That memory would be for the morrow.
But the king did not sleep.
“I shall wait the report of that guard,” he said, “and then I will be able to sleep.”
The guard came moaning and limping.
“What ails you, man?” said the astonished king.
“Naoise,” the guard stammered. “He has knocked out my eye.”
He removed his hand from his face, and there was one eye there, and a bloody mess where the other should have been.
“Did I not tell you,” the king stormed, “that they were murderous men? Did you take no heed in your work.”
“It was the woman saw me,” the guard stammered. “She told the man, and before I could move he threw a chessman at me and knocked out my eye. My leg is broken too, master, for I fell from the window.”
“You will make a better herdsman than soldier,” said the king harshly. “You are one-legged, one-eyed, and stupid. Go to your bed, and be careful that you do notcut your throat by taking off your boots. What did the woman look like?”
“What woman, majesty?”
“The woman I sent you to look at.”
“She looked like the woman I saw in the crystal.”
“I know she did. What did she look like, fool?”
“She looked like the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Conachúr turned his great head and wide eyes on the soldier.
“Be careful how you report to me, guard. How did that woman look? Is she thin-faced? Is she pale and haggard and wretched?”
“She is not, majesty. She is red-lipped and sweet-eyed and delicious. She is the loveliest woman that moves in the world.”
“Sit on that stool. Do not mind your eye for a moment. We shall mind it for you in a little time. Answer my questions. Did that woman look young or old?”
“She looked young as a bride.”
“Are her cheeks thin?”
“They are not thin; they are round and rosy.”
“Are her eyes red and sunken?”
“They are clear as sweet water, majesty; they are coloured—— But for looking into them I should have got away, for, having looked, I could not but keep on looking until Naoise threw his chessman.”
“You are muddled,” said Conachúr sternly.
“I would give my other eye for another look at her,” said the guard savagely.
Conachúr leaped furiously to his feet.
“You shall be cared for,” he said. “Go to your bed. A doctor shall be sent to you. A comrade will help you along.... Ho, there!” he thundered. “Ho, there, the guards!”