Their hair was amazingly thick and long, and was massed into great shocks on their heads, and might turn a sword stroke.

Even Dalfin had twisted his up into somewhat like what it might have been before he left Ireland, lest he should be out of the fashion, and it spoilt his looks, though it would be many a long day before he had it properly matted together again.

It was strange to see men tossing these shocks aside as they turned.
One other thing I noted at once, and that was how every man, high or low, carried a long-handled axe, bright and keen.

It was the only weapon of some, and if they knew how to handle it, maybe they needed no other.
Among all that crowd there were only two men who seemed to shine in any magnificence.

One was the old king, who sat waiting us in a great chair, clad in royal robes of scarlet and white and green which no Irish looms could have compassed, with a little golden crown on his white hair, and the torque round his neck.