rs there are to the house, and at each door a hundred warriors
will fall by his hand. And when every one in the house has ceased to ply
his weapon, 'tis then he will resort to a deed of arms. And if he chance
to come upon you out of the house, as numerous as hailstones and grass
on a green will be your halves of heads and your cloven skulls and your
bones under the edge of his sword.

"'Tis my opinion that he will not chance to get out of the house. Dear
to him are the two that are with him in the room, his two fosterers,
Dris and Snithe. Thrice fifty warriors will fall before each of them in
front of the Hostel and not farther than a foot from him, on this side
and that, will they too fall."

"Woe to him who shall wreak the Destruction, were it only because of
that pair and the prince that is between them, the over-king-of Erin,
Conaire son of Eterscel! Sad were the quenching of that reign!" says
Lomna Druth, son of Donn Desa.

"Ye cannot," says Ingcel. "Clouds of weakness are coming to you," etc.

"Good cause hast thou, O Ingcel," says Lomna son of Donn Desa. "Not unto
_thee_ is the loss caused by the Destruction: for thou wilt carry off
the head of the king of another country, and thyself will escape.
Howbeit 'tis hard for me, for I shall be the first to be slain at
the Hostel."

"Alas for me!" says Ingcel, "peradventure I shall be the frailest
corpse," etc.

"And whom sawest thou afterwards?"

THE ROOM OF THE REARGUARDS

"There I saw twelve men on silvery hurdles all around that room of the
king. Light yellow hair was on them. Blue kilts they wore. Equally
beautiful were they, equally hardy, equally shapely. An ivory-hilted
sword in each man's hand, and they cast them not down; but it is the
horse-rods in their hands that are all round the room. Liken thou that,
O Fer rogain."

"Easy for me to say. The king of Tara's guardsmen are there. These are
their names: three Londs of Liffey-plain: three Arts of Ath cliath
(_Dublin_): three Buders of Buagnech: and three Trenfers of Cuilne. I
swear what my tribe swears, that many will be the dead by them around
the Hostel.

And they will escape from it although they are wounded. Woe to him who
shall wreak the Destruction were it only because of that band! And
afterwards whom sawest thou there?"

LE FRI FLAITH SON OF CONAIRE, WHOSE LIKENESS THIS IS

"There I beheld a red-freckled boy in a purple cloak. He is always
a-wailing in the house. A stead wherein is the