CHAPTER XVII
“We are yet three,” said Naoise. “Draw the bolts, Ainnle, for one sortie of friendship. We have no doorman, for Deirdre could not close or open the door by herself. You and I, Ainnle. Be quiet, Ardan! Come, my brother, and put all your arm into the blade. We will come in by the door we go out of. This door! Be ready for our shout, Ardan!”
They went out and returned with red weapons, and for a long time they sat in the dim flare of a torch watching by their dead comrade.
“He was a brave boy,” said Deirdre.
“He did not obey my order,” her husband sighed. “I do not know what he did.”
“I smell—smoke,” said Ainnle suddenly.
“I have smelled something for a longtime,” said Deirdre, “but I could not think what it was. I am weary because of the death of this good friend.”
But little by little the vast building became full of smoke, and in a while a fierce roar and crackling was heard also.
Naoise was again the hardy leader.
“They have fired the fortress! We do not know what happened while Iollann was away, but Conachúr has reached the end of the world. Who could have foretold that he would fire the Red Branch! We must prepare for all that can happen.”
“We are not dead yet,” said Ardan.
“What do you counsel, brother?” said Ainnle.
“Sit down, there is less smoke on the floor.”
A ruddy glare could be seen by each window.
“Fire is laid all round the building. We must make our plans quickly.”
Ainnle turned gleefully to his younger brother.
“You shall run after all, my poor friend.”
“In good truth,” Ardan grinned, “I thought in Scotland that I should neverwant to run again, but I feel now that we have been staying too long in the one place. After all,” he said complacently, “I am a man of action.”
“And, of course,” Ainnle gibed, “no one can run as quickly as you can.”
“No one,” said Ardan, “except Deirdre.”
“Listen,” said Naoise. “We have still more than a chance. We can run. Scotland trained us in that certainly, and if we can surprise but forty yards on the men without, we shall outrun their best in twenty minutes.”
“Where shall we run to?”
“We shall take the road to our own lordship. If Lavarcham’s message has been sent, our kinsmen should be marching at this moment on Emain. But,” he said, and pointed, “we cannot wait for them.”
They looked in silence.
A huge golden flame licked screaming through the window, wavered hither and thither like some blindly savage tongue, and roared out again.
“It was ten feet long and three feet thick,” said Ardan in a whisper.
“In ten minutes we shall go,” said Naoise.
“What arms?”
“Shield and spear, brother. Strip off all armour. We must run lightly.
“I shall be out first,” he continued. “Give me twenty seconds before you follow, Ainnle, I can make room in twenty seconds. You will run ten paces to the left of the door. Deirdre and Ardan will run immediately into our interval; turn all to the right, and at my shout, run. Single file; Ainnle at the end. If I shout ‘halt,’ you two turn about and protect the rear. When I shout ‘run,’ drop every combat and fly. You, Deirdre, take Iollann’s shield.”
“And his spear,” said Deirdre.
“Keep actually at my back, beloved, and each time we halt drop flat on the ground.”
He was shouting his instructions now, for the voice of the fire was like the steady rage and roar of the sea, and through every window monstrous sheets of flame were leaping and crashing.
“This door,” said Naoise. “A kiss for every one,” he called. “We shall win yet. Pull, Ainnle!”
“The door is red-hot,” said Ainnle.
“Back for a mantle; two. Now grip. Pull! Give me twenty seconds, Ainnle.”
He leaped across fire and disappeared.
The others leaped after him, with a wild yell from Ardan.
Conachúr had sent a flying messenger to the palace.
“Bring Cathfa back with you,” he ordered. “Tell him I want him. Say that the king beseeches him to come.”
The captain of his troop stood by.
“Alas for the Red Branch!” he said mournfully.
“All that can be destroyed can be rebuilt,” said Conachúr. “I shall rebuild the Red Branch.”
He was in terrible distress and agitation.
“The morn is nigh,” he said.
And he strode unhappily to and fro, with his eyes on the ground and his mind warring.
Far to the east a livid gleam appeared. The darkness of a summer night, which is yet a twilight, was shorn of its soft beauty, and in the air there moved imperceptibly and voluminously a spectral apparition of dawn. A harsh, grey, iron-bound upper-worldbrooded on a chill and wrinkled earth. The king’s eyes and the eyes of his captain scanned each other from colourless, bleak faces. There was no hue in their garments; their shields were dull as death; and their hands, each clutching a weapon, seemed like the knotted claws of goblins.
A slow, sad exhalation came from the king’s grey lips, like the plaint of some grim merman of the sea, rising away and alone amid the chop and shudder of his dismal waters.
“The fire is catching,” the captain murmured. “Hark to that crackling!”
“We shall have light,” the king murmured. “The Red Branch will flame.”
“Within ...!” said the captain moodily, and he looked with stern mournfulness on the vast pile.
“They must soon come out,” he muttered.
“Your men are posted?”
“Every door is held. When they pop out this time——”
“They will have no place to pop into,” said Conachúr. “I have them,” he growled; and he threw his hand in the air and grippedit, as though in that blanched fist he held all that could never escape from him.
“They will fight,” said the captain, “and they are woeful fighters.”
“You are nervous, man,” said Conachúr. “At this hour and after this night,” said the captain, “our men could fly from those three like scared rabbits.”
“I fear that,” said Conachúr.
“They may get away,” said the captain. Conachúr advanced on him so savagely and with such a writhe of feature that the man fell back.
“Dog!” said Conachúr. “If they escape I shall take your head.”
“They are surrounded,” the captain stammered; “they cannot escape.”
“They can escape,” Conachúr roared. “You know they can escape. Your men are cowards and idiots, and what are you? Oh, am I not a thwarted man! Am I not a forsaken king! Where is Cathfa? Where is the druid?” he cried.
“Majesty,” the captain implored, “do not curse us. The great magician is coming.”
The magician indeed had come.
“What has set you raging, Conachúr?” he asked.
“Father,” said Conachúr, “if you do not assist me I am lost.”
The old, old man looked at him.
“Tell me your tale, son. Whom have you locked up in fire?”
“The sons of Uisneac are there,” said Conachúr. “They will escape me,” he said.
“They are my grandchildren,” said Cathfa.
“It is the woman with them,—it is Deirdre I want. She was mine. She was stolen from me. I am not myself without her. I am a dead man while she is with Naoise.”
“What do you fear from boys roared round by flame?”
“They may escape with her. When they come out my men may run from them. If they escape this time, father, I am dead.”
“If I help you, Conachúr——?”
“I shall do anything you ask. Nothing you can demand will be too much for Conachúr.”
“It is the woman you want?”
“The woman only.”
“It is not the blood of these boys you lust for?”
“The woman, father, only the woman.”
“I shall help you, Conachúr. Do not lay one finger on my daughter’s sons, the sons of your young sister.”
“They are out,” the captain said, as a great roar came from the soldiers.
Conachúr moved to that direction.
“Quick, quick,” he said, twitching his father’s mantle in his impatience. “They will escape me.”
“They shall not escape me,” Cathfa answered. “There is no need for haste.”
They were out, indeed, and, like two grim lions or woeful griffins of the air, Naoise and Ainnle were raging in that press. Into their interval leaped Ardan, with but one eye peeping from the shield and a deadly hand thrusting from the rim. Back and forth they leaped with resistless savagery. Men flew at them and from them. Everywhere was a wild yelling of orders and thewilder screaming of stricken men. But, over all, Naoise’s voice came pealing—
“Up, Deirdre. Run!”
She was at his back in an instant, the shield covering her side; her spear darted viciously by his right elbow, and a venturesome man dropped squealing. Five feet behind, Ardan was leaping like a cat, all eyes and points, and ten paces behind him Ainnle was bounding.
“Halt,” roared Naoise.
Deirdre was again on the ground. Ardan ranged tigerishly to right and left, while Ainnle whirled on the pursuers in ten-foot bounds.
Conachúr had arrived with Cathfa. Men were falling before them at the rate of three a second. So dreadful was Naoise’s onslaught in the front that none would face him. Men tumbled over each other when he charged.
“The men will run away in a second,” said the captain.
“Get into themêlée, coward,” roared Conachúr.... “Cathfa——!” he implored.
The officer whizzed out his blade and leaped forward. In three seconds he was dead, and five who followed him were rolling in their agony along the ground.
Naoise’s voice came in a wild shout.
“Up, Deirdre. Run!”
The four were again in line. The men in front melted to either side of that dreadful file.
“Run!” said Naoise. “We are out!”
In front of him there was but Conachúr and Cathfa. Conachúr drew his great sword and stood crouching; and at him, with a dreadful smile, Naoise came on. Cathfa moved two paces to the front and stared fixedly at Naoise. He extended his two arms widely——
Naoise dropped on one knee, rose again, leaped high in the air and dropped again on his knee. Deirdre fell to the ground and rose up gasping. Ardan rolled over on his back, tossed his shield away, and came slowly up again, beating the air with his hands. Ainnle went half way down, rose again, and continued his advance on tiptoe.
A look of dismay and rage came on Naoise’s face. He moved with extraordinary slowness to Deirdre and lifted her to his shoulder.
“We are lost,” he said. “That magician——!”
“Keep on swimming,” Ardan giggled. “There was never water here before, but the whole sea has risen around our legs, and we may paddle to Uisneac.”
The arms dropped from their hands, and, in fact, they swam.
Not for a minute or two did the soldiers dare advance, and then they did so cautiously. They picked up the fallen weapons, and then only did they lay hands on the raging champions.
Cathfa dropped his arms to his sides.
“We are taken,” said Naoise. “Our run is ended.”