e than any one else gave, so that Fionn became
displeased, and as the banquet proceeded he grew stern and silent.

CHAPTER II

[This version of the death of Uail is not correct. Also Cnocha is not in
Lochlann but in Ireland.]

The wonderful gift-giving of Goll continued, and an uneasiness and
embarrassment began to creep through the great banqueting hall.

Gentlemen looked at each other questioningly, and then spoke again on
indifferent matters, but only with half of their minds. The singers, the
harpers, and jugglers submitted to that constraint, so that every person
felt awkward and no one knew what should be done or what would happen,
and from that doubt dulness came, with silence following on its heels.

There is nothing more terrible than silence. Shame grows in that blank,
or anger gathers there, and we must choose which of these is to be our
master.

That choice lay before Fionn, who never knew shame.

"Goll," said he, "how long have you been taking tribute from the people
of Lochlann?"

"A long time now," said Goll.

And he looked into an eye that was stern and unfriendly.

"I thought that my rent was the only one those people had to pay," Fionn
continued.

"Your memory is at fault," said Goll.

"Let it be so," said Fionn. "How did your tribute arise?"

"Long ago, Fionn, in the days when your father forced war on me."

"Ah!" said Fionn.

"When he raised the High King against me and banished me from Ireland."

"Continue," said Fionn, and he held Goll's eye under the great beetle of
his brow.

"I went into Britain," said Goll, "and your father followed me there. I
went into White Lochlann (Norway) and took it. Your father banished me
thence also."

"I know it," said Fionn.

"I went into the land of the Saxons and your father chased me out of
that land. And then, in Lochlann, at the battle of Cnocha your father
and I met at last, foot to foot, eye to eye, and there, Fionn!"

"And there, Goll?"

"And there I killed your father."

Fionn sat rigid and unmoving, his face stony and terrible as the face of
a monument carved on the side of a cliff.

"Tell all your tale," said he.

"At that battle I beat the Lochlannachs. I penetrated to the hold of the
Danish king, and I took out of his dungeon the men who had lain
there for a year and were awaiting their deaths. I liberated fifteen
prisoners, and one of them was Fionn."

"It is true," said Fionn.

Goll's anger fled at the word.