…King Grim-Gaze the slug-man struck the silver sceptre that was in his hand against the bronze pillar of his couch three times, and by the third stroke, the combatants had let drop their hands to their sides.
“I restrain you, men of Albion, lest your mien be the paler: your shields are likely to be splintered in the attack for that to which you have not yet attained. My feast has to be celebrated and my wish is to divide the Champion’s Portion among all the host, and to decide with reference to it according to the will of Maeve, she whose mouth is sweet, in the Cave of Cruachan. Tomorrow, the heroes shall ride there for judgement, enjoy the food and ale before you, and let rivalry be put aside until the feast is over.”
So did the men of Albion return to their seats round the fire, to make light of the night, long into morning…
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