“And what do you think of all this?”

“What do I think?” burst forth Laeg with sudden fire; “I think you had better be leaving those women of the Sidhe alone, and they you.  That Fand would lose her soul for love, and the spell they’ve cast over you is evil, or it wouldn’t make a warrior like you as helpless as a toddling babe.”

In letting loose his pent-up wrath Laeg had unconsciously loosened as well the reined-in steeds, who sprang forward impetuously, and the jolting of the car was all that Cuchullain could bear in his enfeebled state.  Recovering himself, the charioteer drew them in check again, inwardly upbraiding himself for carelessness.

Sorrowful and broken was the voice of the warrior as he said: 

“On the morrow, Laeg, you shall bear a message to Emer.  Tell her the Sidhe have thrown a spell of helplessness upon me while deceiving me with false visions of my aiding them in their war with the evil enchanters.  Ask Emer to come to me, for her presence may help to rouse me from this spell that benumbs my body and clouds my mind.”

Then Laeg sought to console him, saying: 

“No, no; the Sidhe wrong no one.  Their message to you was true; but their messengers were women, and you were a warrior.  That is why the mischance came, for it is ever the way with a woman to become foolish over a warrior, and then there is always a muddle.  And when Emer comes—­,” he checked his indiscreet utterance by pretending to have a difficulty in restraining the horses, and then added confusedly:  “Besides, I’d rather be in your plight than in Fand’s.”

“Has Emer come?” asked Cuchullain, drawing himself up on his couch and resting on his elbow.

“Yes,” said Laeg dejectedly; “I have brought her.  She has been talking to me most of the journey.  Now she’ll be after talking to you, but you needn’t mind; it isn’t her ususal way, and she isn’t as unreasonable as might be expected.  She puts most of the blame of your illness on me, though perhaps that is because it was me she was talking to.  Insists that as I can go to the Plain of Fire where the Sidhe live I ought to be able to find a way of curing you.  She has expressed that idea to me many times, with a fluency and wealth of illustration that would make a bard envious.  Here she comes now.  I’ll just slip out and see if the horses are being properly cared for.”

He had not overstated the case, for the sweet face of Emer was clouded with wrath as she approached the sick-bed of her husband.  Bitterly she reproached him for what she claimed was only a feigned illness, and expressed her conviction that no theory would account for his conduct save that, faithless to her his wife, he had fallen in love.  But Cuchullain made no answer, for not only was he invincible in battle, but also wise in the matter of holding his tongue when a woman warred against him with words.

“You are looking stronger,” said Laeg, when next he saw him alone.