«Who is himself?» said Shea, almost at the same time as Brodsky said, «Who the hell are you?»

The charioteer pulled up with an expression of astonishment on his face. «I am Laeg mac Riangabra, and who would himself be but Ulster ’s hound, the glory of Ireland, Cuchulainn the mighty? He is after killing his only son and has worked himself into a rage. Ara! It is runing the countryside he is, and the sight of you Fomorians would make him the wilder.»

The charioteer cracked his whip, and the horses raced off over the hill, the flying clods dappling the sky. In the direction from which he had come, a good-sized sapling with dangling roots rose against the horizon and fell back.

«Come on!» said Shea, grabbing Belphebe’s hand and starting down the slope after the chariot.

«Hey!» said Brodsky, tagging after them. «Come on back and pal up with this ghee. He’s the number one hero of Ireland.»

Another rock bounced on the sward and from the distance a kind of howling was audible.

«I’ve heard of him,» said Shea, «and if you want to, we can drop in on him later, but I think that right now is a poor time for calls. He isn’t in apally mood.»

Belphebe said, «You name him hero, and yet you say he has slain his own son. How can this be?»

Brodsky said, «It was a bum rap. This Cuchulainn got his girlfriend Aoife pregnant way back when and then gave her the air, see? So she’s sore at him, see? So when the kid grows up, she sends him to Cuchulainn under a geas.»

«A moment,» said Belphebe. «What would this geas be?»

«A taboo,» said Shea.

Brodsky said, «It’s a hell of a lot more than that. You got one these geasa on you and you can’t do the thing it’s against even if it was to save you from the hot seat. So like I was saying this young ghee, his name is Conla, but he has this geas on him not to tell his name or that of his father to anyone. So when Aoife sends him to Cuchulainn, the big shot challenges the kid and then knocks him off. It ain’t good.»