“Be silent a while!” said Ingcel.  “Liken thou that, O Fer rogain.”

“I know not,” answers Fer rogain, “unless it is Luchdonn the satirist in Emain Macha, who makes this hand-smiting when his food is taken from him perforce:  or the scream of Luchdonn in Temair Luachra:  or Mac cecht’s striking a spark, when he kindles a fire before a king of Erin where he sleeps.  Every spark and every shower which his fire would let fall on the floor would broil a hundred calves and two half-pigs.”

“May God not bring that man (even Conaire) there to-night!” say Donn Desa’s sons.  “Sad that he is under the hurt of foes!”

“Meseems,” says Ingcel, “it should be no sadder for me than the destruction I gave you.  This were my feast that Conaire should chance to come there.”

Their fleet is steered to land.  The noise that the thrice fifty vessels made in running ashore shook Da Derga’s Hostel so that no spear nor shield remained on rack therein, but the weapons uttered a cry and fell all on the floor of the house.

“Liken thou that, O Conaire,” says every one:  “what is this noise?”

“I know nothing like it unless it be the earth that has broken, or the Leviathan that surrounds the globe and strikes with its tail to overturn the world, or the barque of the sons of Donn Desa that has reached the shore.  Alas that it should not be they who are there!  Beloved foster-brothers of our own were they!  Dear were the champions.  We should not have feared them tonight.”

Then came Conaire, so that he was on the green of the Hostel.

When Mac cecht heard the tumultuous noise, it seemed to him that warriors had attacked his people.  Thereat he leapt on to his armour to help them.  Vast as the thunder-feat of three hundred did they deem his game in leaping to his weapons.  Thereof there was no profit.

Now in the bow of the ship wherein were Donn Desa’s sons was the champion, greatly-accoutred, wrathful, the lion hard and awful, Ingcel the One-eyed, great-grandson of Conmac.  Wide as an oxhide was the single eye protruding from his forehead, with seven pupils therein, which were black as a chafer.  Each of his knees as big as a stripper’s caldron; each of his two fists was the size of a reaping-basket:  his buttocks as big as a cheese on a withe:  each of his shins as long as an outer yoke.

So after that, the thrice fifty boats, and those five thousands—­with ten hundred in every thousand,—­landed on the Strand of Fuirbthe.

Then Conaire with his people entered the Hostel, and each took his seat within, both tabu and non-tabu.  And the three Reds took their seats, and Fer caille with his swine took his seat.

Thereafter Da Derga came to them, with thrice fifty warriors, each of them having a long head of hair to the hollow of his polls, and a short cloak to their buttocks.  Speckled-green drawers they wore, and in their hands were thrice fifty great clubs of thorn with bands of iron.