laughter many a time echoed along the Loch's green waters and up the
hills, till the does peered and wondered from among the heather, and the
heron, startled at his fishing, flew upwards croaking, with flapping
wings. Happy were those days for Deirdré, and with utter sadness she
looked back to them afterwards, when the doom foretold had fallen upon
her. Happy sped the days, till once in the gray of the dawn, while
Deirdré was resting in their green refuge with Naisi, she cried out in
her sleep and waked, telling him, weeping, that she had heard the voice
of the bird of doom in her dreams.

The voice she heard was indeed the voice of their doom; yet it was a
cheerful voice, full of friendly gladness; the voice of Fergus, son of
Roeg, former King of Emain, and now come to Loch Etive as messenger of
Concobar, Fergus came up from the sea-beach towards the answering shout
of the sons of Usnac, and glad greetings passed among them at the door
of their refuge. Fergus looked long in admiration at the blue eyes and
golden locks, the clear skin and gentle breast of Deirdré, nor
wondered, as he looked, that Naisi had dared fate to possess her. Then
Fergus told the story of his coming; how they had discovered the flight
of the sons of Usnac from Emain, and how terrible was the black anger of
Concobar; what passionate fire had gleamed in his eyes as he tossed the
golden locks back from his shoulders and grasped the haft of his spear,
and pledged himself to be avenged on Naisi and all his kin, swearing
that he would have Deirdré back again.

Thus Fergus told the tale, laughingly, as at a danger that was past, a
storm-cloud that had lost its arrows of white hail and was no longer
fearful. For, he said, Concobar had forgotten his anger, had promised a
truce to the sons of Usnac, and most of all to Naisi, and had bidden
them return as his guests to Emain of Maca, where Deirdré should dwell