Naoise, bewitched by her beauty, consented. Accompanied by his two brothers, Ardan and Ainle, and their followers, he fled with Deirdre to Alba, where they made alliance with one of its kings, and wandered over the land, living by following the deer, and by helping the king in his battles.
The revengeful Conchobar bided his time. One day, as the heroes of the Red Branch feasted together at Emain Macha, he asked them if they had ever heard of a nobler company than their own. They replied that the world could not hold such another. “Yet”, said the king, “we lack our full tale. The three sons of Usnach could defend the province of Ulster against any other province of Ireland by themselves, and it is a pity that they should still be exiles, for the sake of any woman in the world. Gladly would I welcome them back!”
“We ourselves,” replied the Ultonians, “would have counselled this long ago had we dared, O King!”
“Then I will send one of my three best champions to fetch them,” said Conchobar. “Either Conall the Victorious, or Cuchulainn, the son of Sualtam, or Fergus, the son of Roy; and I will find out which of those three loves me best.”
First he called Conall to him secretly.
“What would you do, O Conall,” he asked, “if you were sent to fetch the sons of Usnach, and they were killed here, in spite of your safe-conduct?”
“There is not a man in Ulster,” answered Conall, “who had hand in it that would escape his own death from me.”
“I see that I am not dearest of all men to you,” replied Conchobar, and, dismissing Conall, he called Cuchulainn, and put the same question to him.
“By my sworn word,” replied Cuchulainn, “if such a thing happened with your consent, no bribe or blood-fine would I accept in lieu of your own head, O Conchobar.”
“Truly,” said the king, “it is not you I will send.”