’Tis then, now, that Conaire son of Eterscel went towards the Hostel along the Road of Cualu.

’Tis then that the reavers came till they were in the sea off the coast of Bregia overagainst Howth.

Then said the reavers:  “Strike the sails, and make one band of you on the sea that ye may not be sighted from land; and let some lightfoot be found from among you to go on shore to see if we could save our honors with Ingcel.  A destruction for the destruction he has given us.”

“Who will go on shore to listen?  Let some one go,” says Ingcel, “who should have there the three gifts, namely gift of hearing, gift of far sight, and gift of judgment.”

“I,” says Mane Honeyworded, “have the gift of hearing.”

“And I,” says Mane Unslow, “have the gift of far sight and of judgment.”

“’Tis well for you to go thus,” say the reavers:  “good is that wise.”

Then nine men go on till they were on the Hill of Howth, to know what they might hear and see.

“Be still a while!” says Mane Honeyworded.

“What is that?” asks Mane Unslow.

“The sound of a good king’s cavalcade I hear.”

“By the gift of far sight, I see,” quoth his comrade.

“What seest thou here?”

“I see there,” quoth he, “cavalcades splendid, lofty, beautiful, warlike, foreign, somewhat slender, weary, active, keen, whetted, vehement, a good course that shakes a great covering of land.  They fare to many heights, with wondrous waters and invers[7].”

[Footnote 7:  Mouths of rivers.]

“What are the waters and heights and invers that they traverse?”

“Easy to say:  Indeoin, Cult, Cuilten, Mafat, Ammat, Iarmafat, Finne, Goiste, Guistine.  Gray spears over chariots:  ivory-hilted swords on thighs:  silvery shields above their elbows.  Half red and half white.  Garments of every color about them.

“Thereafter I see before them special cattle specially keen, to wit, thrice fifty dark-gray steeds.  Small-headed are they, red-nosed, pointed, broad-hoofed, big-nosed, red-chested, fat, easily-stopt, easily-yoked, foray-nimble, keen, whetted, vehement, with their thrice fifty bridles of red enamel upon them.”

“I swear by what my tribe swears,” says the man of the long sight, “these are the cattle of some good lord.  This is my judgment thereof:  it is Conaire, son of Eterscel, with multitudes of the men of Erin around him, who has travelled the road.”

Back then they go that they may tell it to the reavers.  “This,” they say, “is what we have heard and seen.”

Of this host, then, there was a multitude, both on this side and on that, namely, thrice fifty boats, with five thousand in them, and ten hundred in every thousand.  Then they hoisted the sails on the boats, and steer them thence to shore, till they landed on the Strand of Fuirbthe.

When the boats reached land, then was Mac cecht a-striking fire in Da Derga’s Hostel.  At the sound of the spark the thrice fifty boats were hurled out, so that they were on the shoulders of the sea.