Of all his friends in the land of the Celts, Olaf knew that he could rely upon none more surely than upon the faith and fidelity of the young chief of the Clan O’Niall.
“Dost thou think she dreads thy taking her from her own Isle, that it drives the bloom from her cheek?” Eogan was asking the Norseman, as they walked together one day beside the Liffey, under the shadow of the gray stone dwellings,
“I know not. Thy own physician, Connaire, in whom thou dost place such faith, as do so many, tells me that my princess is fading away with some subtle disease. I have thought that I would spread the sails of the ‘Alruna’ and take her over the sea. Mayhaps the breath from the strong salt waves will coax back the glow to her cheek, and the light to her eyes.”
Eogan was silent, and Olaf continued: “She could take a bevy of her maidens to bear her company, and I have even hoped that thou and thy lady might honor my viking ship with your presence.”
“It would give me great joy to go with thee over the sea, my friend. We might even catch a glimpse of the shore of thy far North kingdom. But my father ages fast. My last lad is too young to trust to the perils of the sea, and is too new in this world to take his mother’s eyes away from him, even for a little space. Who knows but thou might strive to carry us off to thy North kingdom, and we would say farewell to Erne forever.”
