“I too will keep the compact brought by Fergus’ hand, and to the letter I will carry it out,” the hero said; “only abide awhile with me, and let us waste a little time in talk of olden days.”
“I dare not stay to talk at this time, O beloved foster-son,” Fergus replied; “the men of Erin doubt me, and will think that I am proving traitor to their cause, and betraying them to thee; for well they know I love thee, though, alas! at this time I am fighting with my country’s foes and thine. One thing I ask of thee for old affection’s sake, because thou art my pupil and my friend, that if at any moment in this war, thou and myself art found opposing each the other face to face, thou then wilt turn and flee before me, that upon my pupil and my foster-son I be not forced to redden my sword in fight. Promise me this.”
“Though I be indeed thy pupil and thy foster-son,” replied the youth, “yet loth am I to promise this; never have I turned my back on any friend or foe, and to flee even before thee, O Fergus, likes me not. Ask me not this, but any other thing gladly and joyfully I grant to thee.” “No need for thee to feel like this,” Fergus replied; “no shame to thee is what I contemplate, but only that our ancient love and friendship be not marred. Do in this thing but what I ask, and I in my turn, in the final battle of the Raid, when thou art wounded sore and drenched with blood, will turn and flee from thee. And surely if the men of Erin see Fergus in flight, they too will fly, and all the host of Meave will scatter and disperse, like clouds before the sun.”
“On these terms willingly I give my word; for so will Ulster profit by my flight. Now fare thee well, good Fergus. Bid the host of Meave to send their strongest and their best to combat with me, one by one, and I will give a good account to Ulster of them, or will die.” Then a right loving leave they took each of the other, and Fergus set out to return to the camp.
But the lad Etarcomal sat on still, looking at Cuchulain, and for the first time the hero noticed him.
“Who are you, and what are you staring at, fellow?” he asked. “I look at you,” he said. “You can see me easily enough, I am not very big. But if you knew it, little animals can be dangerous sometimes, and so can I. But now that you have had a good look at me, tell me what you think of me.”
“I do not think much of you,” Etarcomal said. “You seem to me a very nice, wonderfully pretty youth and clever at playing sports and feats; but that anyone should think of you as a good warrior or a brave man, or should call you the ‘Hero of Valour’ or the ‘Hammer of Destruction,’ that I cannot understand. I do not know, indeed, why anyone should be afraid of you. I am not afraid of you at all.”
“I am aware,” said Cuchulain, “that you came hither under the protection of my master Fergus, and that he is surety for your safe return; but by the gods whom I adore, I swear that if it were not for the honour of Fergus, only your broken bones and disjointed members should have been sent back to Meave after those insolent words.”
“No need to threaten me,” said Etarcomal; “I was here when you made an agreement with Fergus to fight every day one of the men of Ireland. By that wonderful agreement that he made with you, none other of the men of Erin shall come to-morrow to meet you but only I myself. To-day I do not touch you, but let you live a little longer.”
“However early you may choose to come to the ford,” said Cuchulain, “you will find me there before you. I promise you I will not run away.”