Cuchullain started from a dream of more ancient battles, of wars in heaven.  Through the darkness of the room he saw the shadowy forms of the two daughters of Aed Abrait; not as before, the mystic maidens armed with Druid power, but women, melting, tender, caressing.  Violet eyes shining with gratitude; darker eyes burning with love, looked into his.  Misty tresses fell over him.

“I know not how the battle went,” he sighed.  “I remember the fire awoke. ....  Lu was with me. ....  I fell back in a blinding mist of flame and forgot everything.”

“Doubt it not.  Victory went with thee, warrior,” said Liban.  “We saw thee:  it was wonderful.  How the seven splendors flashed and the fiery stars roved around you and scattered the demons!”

“Oh, do not let your powers sink in sleep again,” broke forth Fand.  “What are the triumphs of earthly battles to victories like these?  What is rule over a thousand warriors to kingship over the skyey hosts?  Of what power are spear and arrow beside the radiant sling of Lu?  Do the war-songs of the Ultonians inspire thee ever like the terrible chant of fire?  After freedom can you dwell in these gloomy duns?  What are the princeliest of them beside the fiery halls of Tir-na-noge and the flame-built cities of the Gods?  As for me, I would dwell where the great ones of ancient days have gone, and worship at the shrine of the silent and unutterable Awe.”

“I would go indeed,” said Cuchullain; “but still—­but still—­:  it is hard to leave the green plains of Murthemney, and the Ultonians who have fought by my side, and Laeg, and—­”

“Laeg can come with us.  Nor need Conchobar, or Fergus or Conail be forgotten.  Far better can you aid them with Druid power than with the right arm a blow may make powerless in battle.  Go with Laeg to Iban-Cind-Trachta.  Beside the yew-tree there is a dun.  There you can live hidden from all.  It is a place kept sacred by the might of the Sidhe.  I will join you there.”

A month passed.  In a chamber of the Dun the Yew-tree, Fand, Cuchullain and Laeg were at night.  The two latter sat by an oaken table and tried by divination to peer into the future.  Fand, withdrawn in the dark shadow of a recess, lay on a couch and looked on.  Many thoughts went passing through her mind.  Now the old passion of love would rise in her heart to be quenched by a weary feeling of futility, and then a half-contempt would curl her lips as she saw the eagerness of her associates.  Other memories surged up.  “Oh, Mannanan, Father-Self, if thou hadst not left me and my heart had not turned away!  It was not a dream when I met thee and we entered the Ocean of Fire together.  Our beauty encompassed the world.  Radiant as Lu thy brother of the Sun we were.  Far away as the dawn seems the time.  How beautiful, too, was that other whose image in the hero enslaves my heart.  Oh, that he would but know himself, and learn that on this path the greatest is the only risk worth taking!  And now he holds back the charioteer also and does him wrong.”  Just then something caused her to look up.  She cried out, “Laeg, Laeg, do you see anything?”