“Then they played a game of getting each other’s cloaks off without tearing them, and he would have their mantles off, one after the other, before they could, on their part, even unfasten the brooch that held his cloak. When they wrestled with each other, it was the same thing: he would have them on the ground before all of them together could upset him, or make him budge a foot.
“As the King stood and watched all this, he said: ‘’Tis well for the country into which this boy has come! A clever child indeed is he; were but his acts as a grown man to come up to the promise of his youth, he might be of some solid use to us; but this is not to be counted upon.’”
“Then,” Fergus said, breaking in upon the tale, “I was vexed because the King seemed to doubt the child, whether his after deeds would equal the promise of his youth; and I spoke up and said, ‘That, O King, I think not wisely said; have no fear for this boy, for as his childish deeds outstrip the acts of childhood, so will his manly feats outshine the deeds of heroes and great men.’ Then the King said to me, ‘Have the child called, that we may take him with us to the banquet.’
“So when Setanta came, the King invited him; but the boy said, ‘Excuse me now awhile; I cannot go just now.’ ‘How so?’ said the King, surprised. ‘Because the boy-corps have not yet had enough of play.’ ‘I cannot wait until they have,’ replied the King: ‘the night is growing late.’ ‘Wait not at all,’ replied the child; ‘I will even finish this one game, and will run after you.’ ‘But, young one, knowest thou the way?’ asked the King. ‘I will follow the trail made by your company, the wheels of their chariots and hoofs of the horses on the road,’ he replied.”
“Thereupon,”—continued Cormac,—“Conor starts; and in time for the banquet he reaches Culain’s house, where, with due honour, he is received. Fresh rushes had been strewn upon the floor, the tables all decked out, the fires burning in the middle of the room. A great vat full of ale stood in the hall, a lofty candlestick gave light, and round the fires stood servants cooking savoury viands, holding them on forks or spits of wood. Each man of the King’s guests entered in order of his rank, and sat at the feast in his own allotted place, hanging his weapons up above his head. The King occupied the central seat, his poets, counsellors, and chiefs sitting on either hand according to their state and dignity. As they were sitting down, the smith Culain came to Conor and asked him, ‘Good now, O King, before we sit at meat I would even know whether anyone at all will follow thee this night to my dwelling, or is thy whole company gathered now within?’ ‘All are now here,’ said the King, quite forgetting the wee boy; ‘but wherefore askest thou?’
“‘It is only that I have an excellent watch-dog, fierce and strong; and when his chain is taken off, and he is set free to guard the house, no one dare come anywhere within the same district with him; he is furious with all but me, and he has the strength and savage force of a hundred ordinary watch-dogs. This dog was brought to me from Spain, and no dog in the country can equal him.’ ‘Let him be set loose, for all are here,’ said Conor; ‘well will he guard this place for us.’
“So Culain loosed the dog, and with one spring it bounded forth out of the court of the house and over the wall of the rath, making a circuit of the entire district; and when it came back panting, with its tongue hanging from its jaws, it took up its usual position in front of the house, and there crouched with its head upon its paws, watching the high road to Emain. Surely an extraordinarily cruel and fierce and savage dog was he.
“When the boy-corps broke up that night, each of the lads returning to the house of his parent or his fosterer or guardian, Setanta, trusting to the trail of the company that went with Conor, struck out for Culain’s house. With his club and ball he ran forward, and the distance seemed short on account of his interest in the game. As soon as he arrived on the green of Culain’s fort, the mastiff noticed him, and set up such a howling as echoed loud through all the country-side. Inside the house the King and his followers heard, but were struck dumb with fear, nor dared to move, thinking surely to find the little lad dead at the door of the fort. As for the hound himself, he thought with but one gulp to swallow Setanta whole. Now the little lad was without any means of defence beyond his ball and hurley-stick. He never left his play till he came near. Then, as the hound charged open-jawed, with all his strength he threw the ball right into the creature’s mouth; and as for a moment the hound stopped short, choking as the ball passed down its throat, the lad seized hold of the mastiff’s open jaws, grasping its throat with one hand and the back of its head with the other, and so violently did he strike its head against the pillars of the door, that it was no long time until the creature lay dead upon the ground.
“When Culain and the warriors within had heard the mastiff howl, they asked each other, as soon as they got back their voices, ‘What makes the watch-dog cry?’ ‘Alas!’ the King said, ‘’tis no good luck that brought us on our present trip.’ ‘Why so?’ inquired all. ‘I mean that the little boy, my foster-son and Fergus’s, Setanta, son of Sualtach, it is who promised to come after me; now, even now, he is doubtless fallen by the hound of Culain.’ Then, when they heard that it was Conor’s foster-son who was without, on the instant to one man they rose; and though the doors of the fort were thrown wide they could not wait for that, but out they stormed over the walls and ramparts of the fort to find the boy.”