ster: what has not been
lost shall not be lost, if it be not lost through you to-day (?).

'Go in some other direction, O Conchobar,' said Cormac to his
father; 'this man will not put out his rage on the Ulstermen any
more here.'

Fergus turned away. He slew a hundred warriors of Ulster in the
first combat with the sword. He met Conall Cernach.

'Too great rage is that,' said Conall Cernach, 'on people and race,
for a wanton.'

'What shall I do, O warriors?' said he.

'Smite the hills across them and the champions (?) round them,'
said Conall Cernach.

Fergus smote the hills then, so that he struck the three Maela
[Note: i.e. flat-topped hills.] of Meath with his three blows.
Cuchulainn heard the blows then that Fergus gave on the hills or on
the shield of Conchobar himself.

'Who strikes the three strong blows, great and distant?' said
Cuchulainn.

... Then Loeg answered and said: 'The choice of men, Fergus Mac
Roich the very bold, smites them.' ...

Then Cuchulainn said: 'Unloose quickly the hazeltwigs; blood covers
men, play of swords will be made, men will be spent therefrom.'

Then his dry wisps spring from him on high, as far as ---- goes;
and his hazel-twigs spring off, till they were in Mag Tuag in
Connaught ... and he smote the head of each of the two handmaidens
against the other, so that each of them was grey from the brain of
the other. They came from Medb for pretended lamentation over him,
that his wounds might burst forth on him; and to say that the
Ulstermen had been defeated, and that Fergus had fallen in opposing
the battle, since Cuchulainn's coming into the battle had been
prevented. The contortion came on him, and twenty-seven skin-tunics
were given to him, that used to be about him under strings and
thongs when he went into battle; and he takes his chariot on his
back with its body and its two tyres, and he made for Fergus round
about the battle.

'Turn hither, O friend Fergus,' said Cuchulainn; and he did not
answer till the third time. 'I swear by the god by whom the
Ulstermen swear,' said he, 'I will wash thee as foam [Note: Reading
with L.L.] (?) is washed in a pool, I will go over thee as the tail
goes over a cat, I will smite thee as a fond mother smites her son.'

'Which of the men of Ireland speaks thus to me?' said Fergus.

'Cuchulainn Mac Sualtaim, sister's son to Conchobar,' said
Cuchulainn; 'and avoid me,' said he.

'I have promised even that,' said Fergus.

'Your