They crossed the River of the Ox, and went over the Mountain of the Fox
and were in the Glen of the Badger before the sun rose. And there, at
the foot of the Hill of Horns, they found an old man gathering dew from
the grass.
“Could you tell us where we might find the Little Sage of the Mountain?”
Fedelma asked the old man.
“I am the Little Sage of the Mountain,” said he, “and what is it you
want of me?”
“To betroth us for marriage,” said Fedelma.
“I will do that. Come to my house, the pair of you. And as you are both
young and better able to walk than I am it would be fitting to let me
ride on your horse.”
The King’s Son and Fedelma got off and the Little Sage of the Mountain
got on the Slight Red Steed. They took the path that went round the Hill
of Horns. And at the other side of the hill they found a hut thatched
with one great wing of a bird. The Little Sage got off the Slight Red
Steed. “Now,” said he, “you’re both young, and I’m an old man and it
would be fitting for you to do my day’s work before you call upon me to
do anything for you. Now would you,” said he to the King of Ireland’s
Son, “take this spade in your hand and go into the garden and dig my
potatoes for me? And would you,” said he to Fedelma, “sit down at the
quern-stone and grind the wheat for me?”
The King of Ireland’s Son went into the garden and Fedelma sat at the
quern-stone that was just outside the door; he dug and she ground
while the Little Sage sat at the fire looking into a big book. And when
Fedelma and the King’s Son were tired with their labor he gave them a
drink of buttermilk.
She made cakes out of the wheat she had ground and the King’s Son washed
the potatoes and the Little Sage boiled them and so they made their
supper. Then the Little Sage of the Mountain melted lead and made two
rings; and one ring he gave to Fedelma to give to the King’s Son and one
he gave to the King’s Son to give to Fedelma. And when the rings were
given he said, “You are betrothed for your marriage now.”
They stayed with the Little Sage of the Mountain that night, and when
the sun rose they left the house that was thatched with the great wing
of a bird and they turned towards the Meadow of Brightness and the Wood
of Shadows that were between them and the King of Ireland’s domain. They
rode on the Slight Red Steed, and the Little Sage of the Mountain went
with them a part of the way. He seemed downcast and when they asked him
the reason he said, “I see dividing ways and far journeys for you both.”
“But how can that be,” said the King’s Son, “when, in a little while we
will win to my father’s domain?” “It may be I am wrong,” said the Little
Sage, “and if I am not, remember that devotion brings together dividing
ways and that high hearts win to the end of every journey.” He bade
them good-by then, and turned back to his hut that was thatched with the
great wing of a bird.
They rode across the Meadow of Brightness and Fedelma’s blue falcon
sailed above them. “Yonder is a field of white flowers,” said she, “and
while we are crossing it you must tell me a story.”
“I know by heart,” said the King’s Son, “only the stories that Maravaun,
my father’s Councillor, has put into the book he is composing--the book
that is called ‘The Breastplate of Instruction.’”
“Then,” said Fedelma, “tell me a story from ‘The Breastplate of
Instruction,’ while we are crossing this field of white flowers.”
“I will tell you the first story that is in it,” said the King’s Son.
Then while they were crossing the field of white flowers the King’s Son
told Fedelma the story of