have their own troubles now to weigh them down, but if they had not—then all the same you would not be seeing the colour of their blood. And, moreover—there are the books."
The old chief laughed—a mirthless and melancholy laugh.
"They have the right of it," he said, sighing. "They speak the true word—my father should have made a monk of me. I am not a fit master of my people. I have never desolated any man's country, or put out his eyes, or held him sleepless for a single night with terror of me. That is very bad for me. My cousins have only contempt for one who reads in books, and does not be riding out to sack some neighbour's castle, and drive his herds away. Their bards do well to make verses about my bloodless hands." He held out these hands, still unwithered by years, and white and shapely, and viewed them with a gloomy smile. "If they were stained red, my kinsmen would know me for a true O'Mahony—a true son of the People of the Bridge. What will you be thinking, Goron? It will be too late for me to begin now?"
Goron's eyes sparkled.
"If my counsel is asked," he said, promptly, "your people would leap for joy to have one good fight before they die."
Turlogh's face clouded with doubt.
"Poor souls. What would they be doing in a battle? I have made them a mock and a byeword in Carbery, Goron. I have taught them to till the land, and take fish from the sea, and make nets and build ditches; and these things they do very well. And if there were some of a warlike nature, with weapons to guard the bawns, all these my brother Donal has drawn with him to the army of the Earl. You yourself were of those who advised to quit Dunbeekin before the English came in sight, and bring hither the women and children and cattle into a place of safety. You spoke
