Everything had been well but for a miracle that began to trouble all
men; and all women, who, indeed, talked of it without ceasing. The
feathers of the grey hawk had begun to grow in the child's hair, and
though, his nurse cut them continually, in but a little while they
would be more numerous than ever. This had not been a matter of great
moment, for miracles were a little thing in those days, but for an
ancient law of Eri that none who had any blemish of body could sit
upon the throne; and as a grey hawk was a wild thing of the air which
had never sat at the board, or listened to the songs of the poets in
the light of the fire, it was not possible to think of one in whose
hair its feathers grew as other than marred and blasted; nor could
the people separate from their admiration of the wisdom that grew in
him a horror as at one of unhuman blood. Yet all were resolved that
he should reign, for they had suffered much from foolish kings and
their own disorders, and moreover they desired to watch out the
spectacle of his days; and no one had any other fear but that his
great wisdom might bid him obey the law, and call some other, who had
but a common mind, to reign in his stead.
When the child was seven years old the poets and the men of law were
called together by the chief poet, and all these matters weighed and
considered.
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