[Pg 7]

[Pg 7]

“You hear,” said the poet. “A child has just been born in this house. She will bring evil to Ireland, and she will work destruction in Ulster as a ferret works destruction in a rabbit’s burrow.”

Cathfa then returned to his chess, leaving the company staring.

“You have the gift of comfortable prophecy,” said the king.

“Put an end to the prophecy by putting an end to the child,” Bricriu advised, “and then let us see how the gods manage their affairs.”

“Bricriu, my soul,” said the king, “you like troubling the waters, but to-night you seem to be afflicted with sense. Bring the creature to me.”

They carried the little morsel to him and she was laid across his knees.

“So you are to destroy my kingdom and bring evil to mighty Ireland?”

The babe reached with a tiny claw and gripped one finger of the king.

“See,” he laughed, “she places herself under my protection,” and he moved his finger to and fro, but the child held fast to it.

[Pg 8]

[Pg 8]

“Ulster is under your protection,” growled Bricriu.

The king, who did not like other men’s advice, looked at him.

“It is not soldierly, nor the act of a prince to evade fate,” said he who was to be known afterwards as the wide-eyed, majestic monarch. “Therefore, all that can happen will happen, and we shall bear all that is to be borne.”

Then he gave the child back to its trembling nurse.

Cathfa looked up from the chess-board.

“She is to be called the ‘Troubler,’” said he.

And from that day “Deirdre” was her name.

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