Then wasn't the mind of the King's Son greatly troubled? If he held the hand
of Aefa or Gilveen he would lose his love Fedelma. He stood without putting
out his hand. "Put your hand through the hole of the door or go away from my
house altogether," said the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands.

The King of Ireland's Son ventured to put his hand through the hole in the
door. The hands of the maidens inside were all held in a bunch. But no sooner
did he touch them than he found that one had a broken finger. This he knew was
Fedelma's hand, and this was the hand he held.

"You may open the door now," said he to the Enchanter. He opened the door and
the King of Ireland's Son drew Fedelma to him. "This is the maiden I choose,"
said he, "and now give her her dowry."

"The dowry that should go with me," said Fedelma, "is the Slight Red Steed."
"What dowry do you want with her, young man?" said the Enchanter.

"No other dowry but the Slight Red Steed."

"Go round to the stable then and get it. And I hope no well-trained wizard
like you will come this way again."

"No well-trained wizard am I, but the King of Ire-land's Son. And I have found
your dwelling-place within a year and a day. And now I pluck the three hairs
out of your heard, Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands."

The beard of the Enchanter bristled like spikes on a hedgehog, and the balls
of his eyes stuck out of his head. The King's Son plucked the three hairs of
his beard before he could lift a hand or say a word. "Mount the Slight Red