“It was a fat bullock thou didst have with thee once upon a day,” replied Moonremar of Ulster, “even thine own brother, and by the rushy road of Conlad he came and went not back.”

“’Twas a better man than he, even Irloth, son of Fergus mac Leda, who fell by the hand of Echbael in Tara Luachra,” replied Lugad of Munster.

“Echbael?” cried Keltchar, son of Uthecar Hornskin of Ulster.  “Is it of him ye boast, whom I myself slew and cut off his head?”

And thus the heroes bandied about the tales and taunts of their victories, until at length Ket, son of Maga of the Connachtmen, arose and stood over the boar and took the knife into his hand.  “Now,” he cried, “let one man in Ulster match his deeds with mine, or else hold ye your peace and let me carve the boar!”

For a while there was silence, and then Conor King of Ulster, said to Logary the Triumphant, “Stay that for me.”  So Logary arose and said, “Ket shall never carve the boar for all of us.”

“Not so fast, Logary,” said Ket.  “It is the custom among you Ulstermen that when a youth first takes arms he comes to prove himself on us.  So didst thou, Logary, and we met thee at the border.  From that meeting I have thy chariot and horses, and thou hadst a spear through thy ribs Not thus wilt thou get the boar from me.”  Then Logary sat down on his bench.

“Ket shall never divide that pig,” spake then a tall fair-haired warrior from Ulster, coming down the hall.  “Whom have we here?” asked Ket.  “A better man than thou,” shouted the Ulstermen, “even Angus, son of Lama Gabad.”  “Indeed?” said Ket, “and why is his father called Lama Gabad [wanting a hand]?” “We know not,” said they.  “But I know it,” said Ket.  “Once I went on a foray to the East, and was attacked by a troop, Lama Gabad among them.  He flung a lance at me.  I seized the same lance and flung it back, and it shore off his hand, and it lay there on the field before him.  Shall that man’s son measure himself with me?” And Angus went to his bench and sat down.

“Keep up the contest,” then cried Ket tauntingly, “or let me divide the boar.”  “That thou shalt not,” cried another Ulster warrior of great stature.  “And who is this?” said Ket.  “Owen Mor, King of Fermag,” said the Ulstermen.  “I have seen him ere now,” said Ket.  “I took a drove of cattle from him before his own house.  He put a spear through my shield and I flung it back and it tore out one of his eyes, and one-eyed he is to this day.”  Then Owen Mor sat down.

“Have ye any more to contest the pig with me?” then said Ket.  “Thou hast not won it yet,” said Moonremar, son of Gerrkind, rising up.  “Is that Moonremar?” said Ket, “It is,” they cried.

“It is but three days,” said Ket, “since I was the last man who won renown of thee.  Three heads of thy fighting men did I carry off from Dun Moonremar, and one of the three was the head of thy eldest son.”  Moonremar then sat down.