nd each man keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Are we in Faery?" the Flame Lady asked.

"We are," said Mongan.

When they had gone a little distance they came to a grove of ancient
trees. Mightily tail and well grown these trees were, and the trunk of
each could not have been spanned by ten broad men. As they went among
these quiet giants into the dappled obscurity and silence, their
thoughts became grave, and all the motions of their minds elevated
as though they must equal in greatness and dignity those ancient and
glorious trees. When they passed through the grove they saw a lovely
house before them, built of mellow wood and with a roof of bronze--it
was like the dwelling of a king, and over the windows of the Sunny Room
there was a balcony. There were ladies on this balcony, and when they
saw the travellers approaching they sent messengers to welcome them.

Mongan and his companions were then brought into the house, and all was
done for them that could be done for honoured guests. Everything within
the house was as excellent as all without, and it was inhabited by seven
men and seven women, and it was evident that Mongan and these people
were well acquainted.

In the evening a feast was prepared, and when they had eaten well there
was a banquet. There were seven vats of wine, and as Mongan loved wine
he was very happy, and he drank more on that occasion than any one had
ever noticed him to drink before.

It was while he was in this condition of glee and expansion that the
Flame Lady put her arms about his neck and begged he would tell her the
story of Duv Laca, and, being boisterous then and full of good spirits,
he agreed to her request, and he prepared to tell the tale.

The seven men and seven women of the Fairy Palace then took their
places about him in a half-circle; his own seven guards sat behind
them; his wife, the Flame Lady, sat by his side; and at the back of
all Cairid, his story-teller sat, listening with all his ears, and
remembering every word that was uttered.

CHAPTER V

Said Mongan:

In the days of long ago and the times that have disappeared for ever,
there was one Fiachna Finn the son of Baltan, the son of Murchertach,
the son of Muredach, the son of Eogan, the son of Neill. He went from
his own country when he was young, for he wished to see the land of
Lochlann, and he knew that he would be welcomed by the king of that
country, for Fiachna's father and Eolgarg's father h