“Go then,” said Cahal, “and tell him to come out himself to me.”
Wet Mantle came out, and the two fought seven days and six nights. Wet Mantle called for a truce then and got it. The hero went to his castle, cured himself, and was as fresh the eighth morning as the first. They began to fight, and the struggle continued three days and two nights. Wet Mantle called for a truce, and received it the second time. On the eleventh morning he was well again, and ready for the struggle.
“Oh, then, it is foolish and simple you are, and small good in your travelling the world,” cried a goldfinch to Cahal. “Why are you out here in hunger and cold, and he cured and fresh in his castle? Give him no rest the next time, but fight till you tire him and take the mantle from him. He’ll be as weak as a common man then, for it is in the mantle his strength is.”
On the eleventh morning they began for the third time and fought fiercely all day. In the evening Wet Mantle called for a rest.
“No,” said Cahal, “you’ll get no rest. There is no rest for either of us. You must fight till you or I yield.”
They fought on till the following evening. Wet Mantle called for rest a second time.
“No rest till this battle is ended,” cried Cahal.
They held on all that night venomously, and were fighting at noon of the following day. Then Cahal closed on his enemy, and tore the mantle from his body.
The hero without his mantle had no more strength than a common man.