King only the Druid Coloman, and Toran the boaster, and Guthbinn of the sweet voice, who as yet was too young to fight.
"Drink, Aonan-na-Righ," shrilled Astrild from her seat at the King's left hand. "Drink: lest there be death in the cup."
Aonan took up the golden cup, and gave her back smile for smile. "I drink," he said, "to my mother, Acaill of Orgiall."
But the King snatched the cup from his fingers, and dashed it down on the board, so that the yellow mead spilled and stained Astrild's cloak; but she did not dare complain, for there was the red light in Cathal's eyes that was wont to make the boldest afraid.
"Bring me another cup," he said to one that stood near. "And now, will none of ye do honour to the toast of Aonan-naRigh? Bring ye also a cup for the prince; and, Guthbinn, put your harp aside."
So in silence they drank to the memory of Acaill of Orgiall, and afterwards they sought to spin together the threads of their broken mirth, but not easily, for Astrild, who was wont to be gayest, sat pale, with her hand on the knife hidden in her breast; and the King sat dumb and frowning, thinking, as Astrild knew, of dead Acaill: how he had loved and hated her, and, having slain her father and brothers, and brought her to Dunna Scaith a Golden Hostage wearing a golden chain, he had wedded her for her beauty's sake; and how until her child was born she had never so much as smiled or frowned for him; and how, when her babe lay in her arms, she sent for her husband, and said: "I thank thee, Cathal, who hast set me free by means of this babe. I bless thee for this last gift of thine, who for all thine other gifts have cursed thee." And Cathal remembered how he had held babe and mother to his heart, and said: "Good to hear soft words from thy mouth at last, O Acaill! Speak again to me, and softly. Butshe