Whatever length the other two went, Lawn Dyarrig didn’t go the half of it till he stepped out of the basket and went down on his own feet. It was not far he had travelled in Terrible Valley when he met seven hundred heroes guarding the country.
“In what place here has the Green Knight his castle?” asked he of the seven hundred.
“What sort of a sprisawn goat or sheep from Erin are you?” asked they.
“If we had a hold of you, that’s a question you would not put the second time; but if we haven’t you, we’ll not be so long.”
They faced Lawn Dyarrig then and attacked him; but he went through them like a hawk or a raven through small birds. He made a heap of their feet, a heap of their heads, and a castle of their arms.
After that he went his way walking, and had not gone far when he came to a spring. “I’ll have a drink before I go farther,” thought he. With that he stooped down and took a drink of the water. When he had drunk he lay on the ground and fell asleep.
Now there wasn’t a morning that the lady in the Green Knight’s castle didn’t wash in the water of that spring, and she sent a maid for the water each time. Whatever part of the day it was when Lawn Dyarrig fell asleep, he was sleeping in the morning when the girl came. She thought it was dead the man was, and she was so in dread of him that she would not come near the spring for a long time. At last she saw he was asleep, and then she took the water. Her mistress was complaining of her for being so long.
“Do not blame me,” said the maid. “I am sure that if it was yourself that was in my place you’d not come back so soon.”
“How so?” asked the lady.