salute thee, that thou art the enemy of our forefathers’ enemies, the Danes.”
“They tell me,” the Norseman said, “that this great assemblage of knights has been called together that a beautiful princess may choose her husband.”
“It is even so,” Eogan replied, a little nettled at what he considered the stranger’s amusement at Gyda’s whim, and to the young Chief O’Niall no lightest fancy of the princess was the subject of the least mirth.
The Norseman marked the frown on Eogan’s face, and drove it off with the next question. “Is she very beautiful, this princess?”
“The sky of midsummer midnight is not darker blue than her eyes. The robin’s breast on the Christmas snow is not brighter than the glow of her cheek. She is the most beautiful of women in a land of beauty.”
“Sir Chief, I might question that saying, since we think our Norse maids, with their clear blue eyes and their flaxen hair, fairer than the Irish maids, but on this day we must devote ourselves to praise of the Irish princess who has called us together. I myself have come to find a face that has followed my dreams since I landed on these shores from my viking ship.”
“Where didst thou see the face?”
“As I walked out from the city and towards the Hill of Tara, I did see descending the slope, a group of maidens. I stood still as they passed me; and one,
