The king ordered out then the four knights of valor to kill Cian. He was as well trained as they, for he had been practising from his twelfth year, and he was more active. They were at him all day, and he at them: he did not let one blow from them touch his body; and if a man were to go from the Eastern to the Western World to see champions, ’tis at them he would have to look. At last, when Cian was hungry, and late evening near, he sprang with the strength of his limbs out of the joints of his bones, and rose above them, and swept the heads off the four before he touched ground.
The young champion was tired after the day, and went to the old man. The old man asked, “What have you done?”
“I have knocked the heads off the four champions of valor.”
The old man was delighted that the first day had thriven in that way with Cian. He looked at the sword. “Oh, there is no danger,” cried he; “you have the best sword I have ever seen, and you’ll need it, for you’ll have more forces against you to-morrow.”
The old man and Cian spent the night in three parts,—the first part in eating and drinking, the second in telling tales and singing songs, the third in sound sleep.
The old man told how he had been the champion of Spain, and at last when he grew old the king gave him that house.
Next morning Cian washed his face and hands, prayed for help and mercy, ate breakfast with the old man, went to the pole of combat, and gave a greater blow still than before.
“What do you want this day?” asked the Tongue-speaker.
“I want three hundred men on my right hand, three hundred on my left, three hundred after my poll, three hundred out in front of me.” The king sent the men out four deep through four gates. Cian went at them, and as they came he struck the heads off them; and though they fought bravely, in the evening he had the heads off the twelve hundred. Cian then left the field, and went to the old man.
“What have you done after the day?” asked the old man.