ouse and took their seats therein, and
fastened their red steeds to the door of the house.

That is the Forefaring of the Three Reds in the _Bruden Da Derga_.

This is the way that Conaire took with his troops, to Dublin.

'Tis then the man of the black, cropt hair, with his one hand and one
eye and one foot, overtook them. Rough cropt hair upon him. Though a
sackful of wild apples were flung on his crown, not an apple would fall
on the ground, but each of them would stick on his hair. Though his
snout were flung on a branch they would remain together. Long and thick
as an outer yoke was each of his two shins. Each of his buttocks was the
size of a cheese on a withe. A forked pole of iron black-pointed was in
his hand. A swine, black-bristled, singed, was on his back, squealing
continually, and a woman big-mouthed, huge, dark, sorry, hideous, was
behind him. Though her snout were flung on a branch, the branch would
support it. Her lower lip would reach her knee.

He starts forward to meet Conaire, and made him welcome. "Welcome to
thee, O master Conaire! Long hath thy coming hither been known."

"Who gives the welcome?" asks Conaire.

"Fer Caille here, with his black swine for thee to consume that thou be
not fasting tonight, for 'tis thou art the best king that has come into
the world!"

"What is thy wife's name?" says Conaire.

"Cichuil," he answers.

"Any other night," says Conaire, "that pleases you, I will come to
you,--and leave us alone to night."

"Nay," say the churl, "for we will go to thee to the place wherein thou
wilt be tonight, O fair little master Conaire!"

So he goes towards the house, with his great, big-mouthed wife behind
him, and his swine short-bristled, black, singed, squealing continually,
on his back. That was one of Conaire's tabus, and that plunder should be
taken in Ireland during his reign was another tabu of his.

Now plunder was taken by the sons of Donn Desa, and five hundred there
were in the body of their marauders, besides what underlings were with
them. This, too, was a tabu of Conaire's. There was a good warrior in
the north country, "Wain over withered sticks," this was his name. Why
he was so called was because he used to go over his opponent even as a
wain would go over withered sticks. Now plunder was taken by him, and
there were five hundred in the body of their marauders alone, besides
underlings.

There was after that a troop of still haughtier heroes, namely,