"Findings are keepings," said he loudly, and he closed his mouth and
stared very impertinently at the judge.
"It is to be given up," said the judge.
"Let them come and take it from me," said the seraph Cuchulain. And
suddenly (for these things are at the will of spirits) around his head
the lightnings span, and his hands were on the necks of thunders.
For the second time in his life Rhadamanthus was disturbed, again he
scratched his head--
"It's a fix," said he moodily. But in a moment he called to those
whose duty it was--
"Take him to this side," he roared.
And they advanced. But the seraph Cuchulain swung to meet them, and
his golden hair blazed and shrieked; and the thunders rolled at his
feet, and about him a bright network that hissed and stung--and those
who advanced turned haltingly backwards and ran screaming.
"It's a fix," said Rhadamanthus; and for a little time he stared
menacingly at the seraph Cuchulain.
But only for a little time. Suddenly he put his hands on the rests of
his throne and heaved upwards his terrific bulk. Never before had
Rhadamanthus stood from his ordained chair. He strode mightily forward
and in an instant had quelled that rebel. The thunders and lightnings
were but moonbeams and dew on that stony carcass. He seized the seraph
Cuchulain, lifted him to his breast as one lifts a sparrow, and tramped
back with him--
"Fetch me that other," said he, sternly, and he sat down.
Those whose duty it was sped swiftly downwards to find Brien of the
O'Brien nation; and while they were gone, all in vain the seraph
Cuchulain crushed flamy barbs against that bosom of doom. Now, indeed,
his golden locks were drooping and his plumes were broken and tossed;
but his fierce eye still glared courageously against the nipple of
Rhadamanthus.
Soon they brought Brien. He was a sight of woe--howling, naked as a
tree in winter, black as a tarred wall, carved and gashed, tattered in
all but his throat, wherewith, until one's ears rebelled, he bawled his
one demand.
But the sudden light struck him to a wondering silence, and the sight
of the judge holding the seraph Cuchulain like a limp flower to his
breast held him gaping--
"Bring him here," said Rhadamanthus.