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"Hush now!" said Mongan; "I hear the feet of the one that will help us crossing the Maine." It is another river in Kerry, between the Caragh and the north-east: on the road, that is, between Mongan's palace and the Great Plain. That way he was consoling her again and again; and she again and again breaking out with her lamentations.
Said he: Mongan loved Duv Laca of the White Hand better than he loved his life, better than he loved his honour. The kingdoms of the world did not weigh with him beside the string of her shoe. He would not look at a sunset if he could see her. He would not listen to a harp if he could hear her speak, for she was the delight of ages, the gem of time, and the wonder of the world till Doom.
Forgoll, enraged at being contradicted by a mere layman, threatened to pronounce awful incantations against Mongan, which might put rat-hood on him, or anything. The end of it was that Mongan was given three days to prove his statement; if he should not have done so by that time, he and all his possessions were to become the property of the file.
He was hearing the footsteps at every river between Kerry and Antrim: at the Liffey, and then the Boyne, and then the Dee, and after that, at Carlingford Lough, and at last at Larne Water, a little to the south of the palace. "Enough of this folly," said Forgoll; "pay you me what is mine." A man came in from the ramparts; "What news with you?" asks Mongan.
She loved Mongan with ecstasy and abandon, and for that also he called her Flame Lady. But there may have been something of calculation even in her wildest moment, for if she was delighted in her affection she was tormented in it also, as are all those who love the great ones of life and strive to equal themselves where equality is not possible.
"No," said Mongan, "I'll send them a mile down the stream, and then they can come to land." Mongan then took on himself the form of Tibraide' and he turned mac an Da'v into the shape of the clerk. "My head has gone bald," said the servant in a whisper. "That is part of it," replied Mongan. "So long as we know," said mac an Da'v. They went on then to meet the King of Leinster.
"These," said the King of Leinster, "are the most beautiful cows in Ireland, and," he continued thoughtfully, "Duv Laca is the most beautiful woman in Ireland." "There is no lie in what you say," said Mongan. "Is it not a queer thing," said the King of Leinster, "that I should have what you want with all your soul, and you should have what I want with all my heart?"
Mongan corrected him, and the Bard was so incensed at the correction that he threatened to satirise the kingdom so that it should become barren. And he would only agree to withhold his terrible satire if Mongan would give him his wife. "Mrs. Mongan?" "Yes, just so," Ulick replied, laughing.
"If I had come here with horses and treasure you would be in your right to take these from me, but you have no right to ask for what you are now asking." "I do ask for it," said Branduv menacingly, "and you must not refuse a lord." "Very well," said Mongan reluctantly, and as if in great fear; "if you will make the exchange I will make it, although it breaks my heart."
How sad it is that I should begin to see the sort of things I thought I saw." "Sit in this chair, mother," said Mongan, "and tell me what you thought you saw," and he slipped a spike under her, and mac an Da'v pushed her into the seat, and she died on the spike. Just then there came a knocking at the door.
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