He spoke to her then, mastering his heart to do it.
"I do not seem to know you," he said.
"You do not know me indeed," she replied.
"It is the more wonderful," he continued gently, "for I should know every person that is here. What do you require from me?"
"I beg your protection, royal captain."
"I give that to all," he answered. "Against whom do you desire protection?"
"I am in terror of the Fear Doirche."
"The Dark Man of the Shí?"
"He is my enemy," she said.
"He is mine now," said Fionn. "Tell me your story."
"My name is Saeve, and I am a woman of Faery," she commenced. "In the Shí many men gave me their love, but I gave my love to no man of my country."
"That was not reasonable," the other chided with a blithe heart.
"I was contented," she replied, "and what we do not want we do not lack. But if my love went anywhere it went to a mortal, a man of the men of Ireland."
"By my hand," said Fionn in mortal distress, "I marvel who that man can be!"
"He is known to you," she murmured. "I lived thus in the peace of Faery, hearing often of my mortal champion, for the rumour of his great deeds had gone through the Shí, until a day came when the Black Magician of the Men of God put his eye on me, and, after that day, in whatever direction I looked I saw his eye."
She stopped at that, and the terror that was in her heart was on her face.
