“Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!  Who has chanted that lay?”

“Easy for me to liken him,” says Fer rogain.  “Taulchinne the chief juggler of the King of Tara; he is Conaire’s conjurer.  A man of great might is that man.  Thrice nine will fall by him in his first encounter, and he will share prowess with every one in the Hostel, and he will chance to escape therefrom though wounded.  What then?  Even on account of this man only the Destruction should not be wrought.”

“Long live he who should spare him!” says Lomna Druth.

“Ye cannot,” says Ingcel, etc.

THE ROOM OF THE SWINEHERDS

“I beheld a trio in the front of the house:  three dark crowntufts on them:  three green frocks around them:  three dark mantles over them:  three forked ...(?) above them on the side of the wall.  Six black greaves they had on the mast.  Who are yon, O Fer rogain?”

“Easy to say,” answers Fer rogain:  “the three swineherds of the king, Dub and Donn and Dorcha:  three brothers are they, three sons of Mapher of Tara.  Long live he who should protect them! woe to him who shall slay them! for greater would be the triumph of protecting them than the triumph of slaying them!”

“Ye cannot,” says Ingcel, etc.

THE ROOM OF THE PRINCIPAL CHARIOTEERS

“I beheld another trio in front of them:  three plates of gold on their foreheads:  three short aprons they wore, of grey linen embroidered with gold:  three crimson capes about them:  three goads of bronze in their hands.  Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!”

“I know them,” he answered.  “Cul and Frecul and Forcul, the three charioteers of the King:  three of the same age:  three sons of Pole and Yoke.  A man will perish by each of their weapons, and they will share the triumph of slaughter.”

THE ROOM OF CUSCRAD SON OF CONCHOBAR

“I beheld another room.  Therein were eight swordsmen, and among them a stripling.  Black hair is on him, and very stammering speech has he.  All the folk of the Hostel listen to his counsel.  Handsomest of men he is:  he wears a shirt and a bright-red mantle, with a brooch of silver therein.”

“I know him,” says Fer rogain:  “’tis Cuscraid Menn of Armagh, Conchobar’s son, who is in hostageship with the king.  And his guards are those eight swordsmen around him, namely, two Flanns, two Cummains, two Aeds, two Crimthans.  They will share prowess with every one in the Hostel, and they will chance to escape from it with their fosterling.”

THE ROOM OF THE UNDER-CHARIOTEERS

“I beheld nine men:  on the mast were they.  Nine capes they wore, with a purple loop.  A plate of gold on the head of each of them.  Nine goads in their hands.  Liken thou.”