He spied Nacrantal advancing thus unarmed, and, all as though he had not seen him come, he went on with the stalking of the birds.
Closer the warrior drew and with good aim he flung his spits of wood to pierce Cuchulain. But still the youth, not stopping for a moment in his task, leaped lightly over each spit as it fell, so that they struck the ground quite harmlessly, not one of them so much as touching him. The nine spits thrown, Nacrantal turned away and sought the camp. “Not much I think of this renowned Cuchulain of whom men talk so big; hardly had he perceived me coming up, than off he ran as fast as he could go!”
“We thought as much,” said Meave; “right well we knew that if a warrior brave and fully trained were sent against him, soon would this beardless braggart take to his heels.”
When Fergus heard these boasts of Meave, he grew ashamed; for strange, indeed, it seemed to him to hear it said that his young foster-son would flee from any single man, however bold or stout that man might be. Straightway he called for one of the princes of Ulster who was in Meave’s camp, and sent him to Cuchulain. This was the message that he bore. “Fergus would have Cuchulain understand, that though when standing before warriors he once had done great deeds, better it were that he should hide himself in some secret place where none could find him or hear of him more, than that he should run away from any single man, whoever that man might be. Say to Cuchulain that not greater is the shame that falls upon himself, than Ulster’s shame and ignominy and disgrace, because he stands to watch the border-land in Ulster’s stead.”
“Who said I ran away?” Cuchulain said, surprised, when the message was delivered to him. “Who dared to brag and tell such tales of me?”
“Nacrantal told this story in the camp, and all the warriors boast among themselves that at the very sight of a trained warrior you were afraid and quickly put to flight.”
“Did you and Fergus heed a boast like that?” replied the youth. “Do you and Fergus not yet understand that I, Cuchulain, fight no men unarmed, or messengers, or charioteers, but only men-at-arms, fully equipped? That man came out against me all unarmed; no weapons in his hand but bits of wood, with which he played some childish games, throwing them in the air. Let but Nacrantal come to-morrow morn and fight me like a warrior at the ford, with all his weapons, man-like, in his hand; he then shall take his answer back from me. And tell him, that if he comes before the day dawn, or long after it, he will find Cuchulain waiting there for him.”
Long and tedious seemed that night to Nacrantal, for eagerly he watched the coming of the hour when he should meet Cuchulain at the ford, and make an end of him. Early he rose, and bade his charioteer to bring his heavy weapons in a cart, while he went forwards to the meeting-place. There at the ford he saw Cuchulain stand, awaiting his coming, as he had promised.
“Are you Cuchulain?” said Nacrantal, for now he stood much closer to him and observed his youthfulness.
“What if I were?” said he. “If you are Cuchulain, indeed, I am come here to tell you that I will not fight with any beardless boy; not in the least inclined am I to carry back to camp the head of a little playful lamb!”