alaces among the sea-flowers, and they
wrought fair embroidery with gold and jewels, and sang, as they
wrought, a fairy music like the chiming of silver bells. Three fifties
of them sat or played in their great hall as Brian entered, and they
gazed on him but spoke no word. Then Brian strode to the wide hearth,
and without a word he seized from it a spit that was made of beaten
gold, and turned again to go. But at that the laughter of the
sea-maidens rippled through the hall and one of them said:

"Thou art a bold man, Brian, and bolder than thou knowest; for if
thy two brothers were here, the weakest of us could vanquish all the
three. Nevertheless, take the spit for thy daring; we had never
granted it for thy prayers."

So Brian thanked them and bade farewell, and he rose to the surface of
the water. Ere long his brethren perceived him as he shouldered the
waves on the bosom of the deep, and they sailed to where he was and
took him on board. And thus ended the quest for the seventh portion of
the eric of Kian.

After that their hopes revived a little, and they set sail for the
land of Lochlann, in which was the Hill of Mochaen. When they had
arrived at the hill Mochaen came out to meet them with his three sons,
Corc and Conn and Hugh; nor did the Sons of Turenn ever behold a band
of grimmer and mightier warriors than those four.

"What seek ye here?" asked Mochaen of them They told him that it had
been laid upon them to give three shouts upon the hill.

"It hath been laid upon me," said Mochaen, "to prevent this thing."

Then Brian and Mochaen drew sword and fell furiously upon each other,
and their fighting was like that of two hungry lions or two wild
bulls, until at last Brian drove his sword into the throat of Mochaen,
and he died.

With that the Sons of Mochaen and the Sons of Turenn rushed fiercely
upon each other. Long and sore was the strife that they had, and the
blood that fell made red the grassy place wherein they fought. Not one
of them but received wounds that pierced him through and through, and
that heroes of less hardihood had died of a score of times. But in the
end the sons of Mochaen fell, and Brian, Iuchar, and Iucharba lay over
them in a swoon like death.

After a while Brian's senses came back to him, and he said, "Do ye
live, dear brothers, or how is it with you?" "We are as good as dead,"
said they; "let us be."

"Arise," then said Brian, "for truly I feel death coming swiftly upon