“It is a good, honourable reason,” Emer flashed. “It is not a reason you will ever give for letting a man escape.”
“No,” said Bricriu; “Laerí’s excuse when he doesn’t bring his man home is that he couldn’t catch him.”
“And that,” Laerí retorted, “would be the Connacht men’s reason for not getting the Cú, if a Connachtman could tell the truth about anything.”
“They tell the truth when it is pleasant,” said Emer, “and when it is not pleasant they tell a lie: they are a polite people, which is more than we are.”
“Oh! Oh!” Conachúr laughed.
“Their lies come from a good heart and a love of happiness, while our truths come grumph, grumph, grumph like the snarling of a badly trained dog.”
“Oh! Oh!” Conachúr roared.
“Conall, what do you say of these Connacht people? You also have been among them lately.”
“They are honourable fighters,” said Conall.
“No man can pray for a better enemy than a Connachtman,” Fergus assented. “They come on where another would go back, and when they go back it is either through pity or poetry.”