‘It is not that indeed,’ said Medb; ’but to give you a chariot worth three sevens of cumals [See previous note about cumal.] and the equipment of twelve men, and the equal of Mag Murthemne from the arable land of Mag Ai; and that you should be in Cruachan always, and wine to be poured for you there; and freedom of your descendants and of your race for ever without tribute or tax; my leaf-shaped brooch of gold to be given to you, in which there are ten score ounces and ten score half-ounces, and ten score crosach and ten score quarters; Findabair, my daughter and Ailill’s daughter, for your one wife, and you shall get my love if you need it over and above.’

‘He does not need it,’ said every, one:  ’great are the rewards and gifts.’

‘That is true,’ said Fer Diad, ’they are great; and though they are great, O Medb, it is with you yourself they will be left, rather than that I should go against my foster-brother to battle.’

‘O men,’ said she, said Medb (through the right way of division and setting by the ears), ‘true is the word that Cuchulainn spoke,’ as if she had not heard Fer Diad at all.

‘What word is this, O Medb?’ said Fer Diad.

‘He said indeed,’ said she, ’that he would not think it too much that you should fall by him as the first fruits of his prowess in the province to which he should come.’

’To say that was not fitting for him.  For it is not weariness or cowardice that he has ever known in me, day nor night.  I swear, etc., [Note:  The usual oath, ‘by the god by whom my people swear,’ understood.] that I will be the first man who will come to-morrow morning to the ford of combat.’

‘May victory and blessing come to you,’ said Medb.  ’And I think it better that weariness or cowardice be found with you, because of friendship beyond my own men (?).  Why is it more fitting for him to seek the good of Ulster because his mother was of them, than for you to seek the good of the province of Connaught, because you are the son of a king of Connaught?’

It is thus they were binding their covenants and their compact, and they made a song there: 

        ‘Thou shalt have a reward,’ etc.

There was a wonderful warrior of Ulster who witnessed that bargaining, and that was Fergus Mac Roich.  Fergus came to his tent.

‘Woe is me! the deed that is done to-morrow morning!’ said Fergus.

‘What deed is that?’ said the folk in the tent.

‘My good fosterling Cuchulainn to be slain.’

‘Good lack! who makes that boast?’

’An easy question:  his own dear ardent foster-brother, Fer Diad Mac Damain.  Why do ye not win my blessing?’ said Fergus; ’and let one of you go with a warning and with compassion to Cuchulainn, if perchance he would leave the ford to-morrow morning.’

‘On our conscience,’ said they, ’though it were you yourself who were on the ford of combat, we would not come as far as [the ford] to seek you.’