The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (3.1894)

164 A Song and a Tale
said, " but she wiH learn. Keep thou my word to her, Aonan ;
sing a dirge for her beauty a-dying."
" I cannot sing," Aonan-na-Righ said, shivering as there rose
another shriek. " Let them slay her, my lord, and have done."
" My wiH runs otherwise," said Cathal, smiling. " Sing, if
thou lovest thy life."
" My lord knows that I do not," Aonan answered ; and Cathal
smiled again.
" Belike not ; but sing and lessen the Dane's punishment.
When the song is finished she shall be released, and even tended
well."
So Aonan sang the song of the Dane-land over the water, and
the Danes that died in the Valley of Keening—which is now called
Waterford ; of the white skin and red hair of Astrild ; of her
grace and daring ; of the sons that lay dead on the battle-place ;
of Coloman the dreamer that read the stars ; and of the beautiful
boy whose breast was a nest of nightingales. And then he sang—
more softly—of the Isle of the Noble where Acaill dwelt, and how
she would have shadowed Astrild with her pity if she had lived ;
and then he stopped singing and knelt before the King, dumb for
a moment with the passion of his pity, for from the open door
they could hear a woman moaning still.
" Lord," he said, " make an end. My life for hers—if a life
the King must have ; or my pain for hers—if the King must needs
feed his ears with cries."
" Graciously spoken, and like Acaill's son," King Cathal said.
"And Astrild shall be set free. You within the chamber take
the Dane to her son the lord Coloman's keeping ; and thou, my
son Aonan, tarry here till I return. I may have a fancy to send
thee with a message to thy mother before dawn. Nay, but come
with me, and we will go see Coloman, and ask how his mother
does.