[18] Cluan Tarbh, Clontarf; so called from the roaring of the
   waves on the strand.

And Brian said to Turenn, “Go now, dear father, with all speed to Lugh at Tara.  Give him the cooking-spit, and tell how thou hast found us after giving our three shouts upon the Hill of Mochaen.  Then beseech him that he yield thee the loan of the pigskin of the King of Greece, for if it be laid upon us while the life is yet in us, we shall recover.  We have won the eric, and it may be that he will not pursue us to our death.”

Turenn went to Lugh and gave him the spit of the sea-nymphs, and besought him for the lives of his sons.

Lugh was silent for a while, but his countenance did not change, and he said, “Thou, old man, seest nought but the cloud of sorrow wherein thou art encompassed.  But I hear from above it the singing of the Immortal Ones, who tell to one another the story of this land.  Thy sons must die; yet have I shown to them more mercy than they showed to Kian.  I have forgiven them; nor shall they live to slay their own immortality, but the royal bards of Erinn and the old men in the chimney corners shall tell of their glory and their fate as long as the land shall endure.”

Then Turenn bowed his white head and went sorrowfully back to Dun Turenn; and he told his sons of the words that Lugh had said.  And with that the sons of Turenn kissed each other, and the breath of life departed from them, and they died.  And Turenn died also, for his heart was broken in him; and Ethne his daughter buried them in one grave.  Thus, then, ends the tale of the Quest of the Eric and the Fate of the Sons of Turenn.

CHAPTER III

The Secret of Labra

In very ancient days there was a King in Ireland named Labra, who was called Labra the Sailor for a certain voyage that he made.  Now Labra was never seen save by one man, once a year, without a hood that covered his head and ears.  But once a year it was his habit to let his hair be cropped, and the person to do this was chosen by lot, for the King was accustomed to put to death instantly the man who had cropped him.  And so it happened that on a certain year the lot fell on a young man who was the only son of a poor widow, who dwelt near by the palace of the King.  When she heard that her son had been chosen she fell on her knees before the King and besought him, with tears, that her son, who was her only support and all she had in the world, might not suffer death as was customary.  The King was moved by her grief and her entreaties, and at last he consented that the young man should not be slain provided that he vowed to keep secret to the day of his death what he should see.  The youth agreed to this and he vowed by the Sun and the Wind that he would never, so long as he lived, reveal to man what he should learn when he cropped the King’s hair.