“Well, my pulse!” cried Conachúr. “And you have a new mantle!”
“Emer made it,” the Cú boasted. “She does the finest embroidery in the world. She told me so herself.”
“If she told you so——” said Conachúr. “Let me look at the sleeve. It is not bad, my delight. But I have a few pieces somewhere—Did you pass Conall Cearnach as you came in?”
“I did; he smiled a frozen smile at me, and clapped my shoulder with a fist of lead.”
“We were arguing about honour. If a person was placed under your protection and was then killed, what would you do, Cúcuceen?”
“I would kill the other person,” said Cúchulinn.
“If it was the king, my pet?”
“I would kill the king.”
Conachúr sat round at him in a rage.
“Would you kill me?” he demanded.