“Harder, however, it is for me,” says Lomna Druth:  “woe is me before every one! woe is me after every one!  ’Tis my head that will be first tossed about there to-night after an hour among the chariot-shafts, where devilish foes will meet.  It will be flung into the Hostel thrice, and thrice will it be flung forth.  Woe to him that comes! woe to him with whom one goes! woe to him to whom one goes! wretches are they that go! wretches are they to whom they go!”

“There is nothing that will come to me,” says Ingcel, “in place of my mother and my father and my seven brothers, and the king of my district, whom ye destroyed with me.  There is nothing that I shall not endure henceforward.”

“Though a ... should go through them,” say Ger and Gabur and Fer rogain, “the Destruction will be wrought by thee to-night.”

“Woe to him who shall put them under the hands of foes!” says Lomna.  “And whom sawest thou afterwards?”

THE ROOM OF THE PICTS, THIS

“I saw another room there, with a huge trio in it:  three brown, big men:  three round heads of hair on them, even, equally long at nape and forehead.  Three short black cowls about them reaching to their elbows:  long hoods were on the cowls.  Three black, huge swords they had, and three black shields they bore, with three dark broad-green javelins above them.  Thick as the spit of a caldron was the shaft of each.  Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!”

“Hard it is for me to find their like.  I know not in Erin that trio, unless it be yon trio of Pictland, who went into exile from their country, and are now in Conaire’s household.  These are their names:  Dublonges son of Trebuat, and Trebuat son of Hua-Lonsce, and Curnach son of Hua Faich.  The three who are best in Pictland at taking arms are that trio.  Nine decads will fall at their hands in their first encounter, and a man will fall for each of their weapons, besides one for each of themselves.  And they will share prowess with every trio in the Hostel.  They will boast a victory over a king or a chief of the reavers; and they will afterwards escape though wounded.  Woe to him who shall wreak the Destruction, though it be only on account of those three!”

Says Lomna Druth:  “I swear to God what my tribe swears, if my counsel were taken, the Destruction would never be wrought.”

“Ye cannot,” says Ingcel:  “clouds of weakness are coming to you.  A keen ordeal which will endanger, etc.  And whom sawest thou there afterwards?”

THE ROOM OF THE PIPERS

“There I beheld a room with nine men in it.  Hair fair and yellow was on them:  they all are equally beautiful.  Mantles speckled with colour they wore, and above them were nine bagpipes, four-tuned, ornamented.  Enough light in the palace were the ornament on these four-tuned pipes.  Liken thou them, O Fer rogain.”