“I will die for you.”
And when he had said that, all the people present touched his cheek with their lips, and the love and peace of Ireland entered into his soul, so that he was tranquil and proud and happy.
The executioner drew his wide, thin blade and all those present covered their eyes with their cloaks, when a wailing voice called on the executioner to delay yet a moment. The High King uncovered his eyes and saw that a woman had approached driving a cow before her.
“Why are you killing the boy?” she demanded.
The reason for this slaying was explained to her.
“Are you sure,” she asked, “that the poets and magicians really know everything?”
“Do they not?” the king inquired.
“Do they?” she insisted.
And then turning to the magicians:
“Let one magician of the magicians tell me what is hidden in the bags that are lying across the back of my cow.”