The Hound of Ulster by Rosemary Sutcliff Page A

my word!’
    â€˜Come you and prove it, then,’ said Uath the Stranger, ‘for it is one thing to say and another to do!’
    And with a great cry Cuchulain came leaping down the hall and seized the axe from the giant’s hand, and springing up from the floor, smote the Stranger’s head from his shoulders without even waiting for him to kneel down.
    Uath the Stranger lurched like an oak tree in a gale, then steadied, and took back the axe from Cuchulain as though there were nothing odd in the way of it at all, and strode after his head which had bounced like a great hurley ball far off under one of the benches; and so walked down the hall and out into the night, the flames of the torches burning blue behind him.
    Next night Cuchulain took his usual place among the warriors. And though the rest, watching him, saw that he was very white and that he scarcely touched the food but drank more than usual of the mead, he had not the look of a man who would take one step backward from the thing that he had come to meet.
    Late into the evening, once again the wind rose and the door burst open, and in strode Uath the Stranger, wearing his terrible majesty like a cloud of darkness upon him, and cried out, striking the butt of his axe against the roof-tree, ‘Whereis Cuchulain? Let him come out to me now, if he would keep his bargain!’

    Cuchulain rose in his place and stepped forward. ‘I am here.’
    â€˜The sadness is in your voice,’ Uath said, ‘and who shall wonder. Let it be a comfort to you when the axe falls, that you have redeemed the honour of Ulster.’ He fingered the axe edge with head cocked, as a harper tuning his instrument. ‘Kneel down, now.’
    Cuchulain cast one last look round the great hall, seeing Emer’s white stone-still face among the women’s benches, and the faces of the King, and his friends, and the hounds that he had loved. Then he knelt and laid his head on the great log beside the fire.
    â€˜Stretch out your neck farther,’ said the voice of Uath, tree-tall above him.
    â€˜You are playing with me as a cat plays with a bird!’ Cuchulain said angrily. ‘Kill me swiftly, for I did not torment you with waiting last night!’
    The stranger swung up his axe until the butt of it broke through the rafters with a crash like that of a great tree falling in a storm, then brought it sweeping down in a glittering arc; and the crash of the blow seemed to make the whole hall jump on its foundations. And of the men watching, some covered their eyes, and some could not look away from the horror.
    But the young warrior knelt perfectly unharmed, and beside him, no longer the hideous stranger, stood Curoi of Kerry, leaning on his great axe which had bitten deep into the paved floor, smashing the flagstones within a hand’s breadth of Cuchulain’s head.
    â€˜Did I not send you the word through my Queen that I would bring you my decision by and by?’ said Curoi. ‘Rise up now, Cuchulain.’ And as Cuchulain got slowly to his feet andlooked about him, as though he were not sure even now that his head was secure upon his shoulders, he said, ‘Is the thing still in doubt? Here stands the Champion of all the Heroes of Ireland. The only one among you all, who dared to keep his bargain with death because he gave his word. There is none among the Heroes of Ulster to equal the Hound for courage and truth and honour, and therefore to him I adjudge the Championship and the Champion’s Portion at any feast where he may be present, and to Emer his wife, the first place among the princesses of Emain Macha.’ For an instant he seemed almost as terrible as Uath the Stranger had been. ‘This is the word of Curoi of Kerry, and woe to any warrior who shall dispute it!’
    And as he spoke, suddenly it was only his voice that was there, and the firelight shining through the place where he had been. And with the last words