"I will be going hence," he said, "to bury the holy man, my kinsman, my Lord Bishop. His commands rest upon me, and they are welcome. No other such honour has fallen to me in all my years. But honours that have no substance to the touch are not alike in all eyes. Moreover, this transparent gem of pure piety whom I will be laying in his appointed grave was not close in blood to us. His people have our name, and they are Kian's sons as well as we, but their birthplace is strange to us. In Muskerry of the Rushes they do not be giving us of the coast much praise or affection. It is their custom to speak of us as pirates and heathen, and even he who lies dead within was not slow to utter that same word. The saint of his vows, too, the holy maiden of the O'Driscolls—Mughain—is no friend to us of lvehagh. Our sea-forts are spattered with the blood of the O'Driscolls, and my great father, Fineen, son of Conogher of the Steeds, broke down their shrine of Mughain at Dunashad. Therefore you are not bound by any near tie to give your lives for this burial. I will not be laying it on any man for his duty that he should come with me. Those with minds to the contrary will be freer returning now to the hills, for their greater safety, or holding this place till my brother comes back from the army of the Earl. I will be taking with me none but willing people, and I will have it known to them that they are not like to see Dunbeekin again with any mortal vision."
When Turlogh in another hour led forth from his gates the funeral train of the Bishop, no breathing creature remained behind. There went with him, to the last one, the robed men of his household, and his galloglasses and kernes, and the hooded women of years, who struck their hands together and screamed the death-wail as they walked; and the younger maidens with short veils,
