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 hundred years ago, in the closing decade of the tenth century, there was a great fair held in the city of Dublin. This gathering was one of more than usual interest, and held an attraction to the throngs assembled, like the concluding chapters of a romance. For it was reported, far and near, that on the fifth day of the fair, the Princess Gyda, the famous Irish beauty, would choose a husband from among the hundreds of suitors who sought her hand. Her brother, King Kavaran, had despatched couriers to all the provinces to invite the eligible young nobles to be present at the fair Gyda’s decision. Not one who could come had absented himself; and in the heart of each and every one was the hope that the choice of the princess might fall upon him. Even those who had never looked into her blue eyes had heard of her charms. The bards had been stringing their harps in her praise, in every castle, from sea to sea.

The Princess Gyda was a widow. Since her first smile after her grief for the late earl, her husband, there had arisen a great competition as to who should be his successor. A hundred acknowledged suitors