“That strife shalt thou have,” said Cuscrid the Stammerer, of Macha, king Conor’s son.

“Who is this?” said Ket. “’Tis Cuscrid,” said all; “he hath a form which is as the form of a king.”

“Nor hath he aught to thank thee for,” said the youth.

“Good!” said Ket.  “It was against me that thou didst come on the day when thou didst first make trial of thy weapons, my lad:  ’twas in the borderland that we met.  And there thou didst leave the third part of thy folk behind thee, and thou didst fly with a spear-thrust through thy throat so that thou canst speak no word plainly, for the spear cut in sunder the sinews of thy neck; and from that hour thou hast been called Cuscrid the Stammerer.”  And in this fashion did Ket put to shame all the warriors of the province of Ulster.

But as he was exulting near to the Boar, with his knife in his hand, all saw Conall, the Victorious enter the palace; and Conall sprang into the midst of the house, and the men of Ulster hailed him with a shout; and Conor himself took his helmet from his head, and swung it on high to greet him.

“’Tis well that I wait for the portion that befalls me!” said Conall.  Who is he who is the divider of the Boar for ye?”

“That office must be given to the man who stands there,” said Conor, “even to Ket, the son of Mata.”

“Is this true, O Ket?” said Conall.  “Art thou the man to allot this Boar?” And then sang Ket: 

Conall, all hail! 
Hard stony spleen
Wild glowing flame! 
Ice-glitter keen! 
Blood in thy breast
Rageth and boils;
Oft didst thou wrest
Victory’s spoils: 
Thou scarred son of Finuchoem,[FN#16] thou truly canst claim
To stand rival to me, and to match me in fame!

And Conall replied to him: 

Hail to thee, Ket! 
Well are we met! 
Heart icy-cold,
Home for the bold! 
Ender of grief! 
Car-riding chief! 
Sea’s stormy wave! 
Bull, fair and brave! 
Ket! first of the children of Matach! 
The proof shall be found when to combat we dart,
The proof shall be found when from combat we part;
He shall tell of that battle who guardeth the stirks,
He shall tell of that battle at handcraft who works;
And the heroes shall stride to the wild lion-fight,
For by men shall fall men in this palace to-night: 
Welcome, Ket![FN#17]

[FN#16] Pronounced Finn-hoom.

[FN#17] The short lines of this rhetoric have the metre of the original Irish.

“Rise thou, and depart from this Boar,” said Conall.

“What claim wilt thou bring why I should do this?” said Ket.

“’Tis true indeed,” said Conall, “thou art contending in renown with me.  I will give thee one claim only, O Ket!  I swear by the oath of my tribe that since the day that I first received a spear into my hand I have seldom slept without the head of a slain man of Connaught as my pillow; and I have not let pass a day or a night in which a man of Connaught hath not fallen by my hand.”