“It is time for battle,” said the king, and the two closed in combat. The king, being so tall, had the advantage. “I might as well make him shorter,” thought Conal, and with one blow he cut the two legs off the king at the knee joints. The king fell. No sooner was he down than the druid had him tied with hard cords of enchantment. Conal whistled through his finger. The Short Dun Champion, hearing the whistle, screamed to be freed from the ballast. The men took him out. He went in on the strand with one bound, and when he came up to where the High King was lying, Conal said, “Cut this man at the breastbone, take out his heart with his liver, and give them as food to my hound whelp.”
“He is well bound by your druid; but firmly as he is bound, I am in dread to go near him to do this.”
Conal then drew his own sword, and with a blow swept the head off the High King. Then Conal, Donach the Druid, and the Short Dun Champion went to the ship and sailed homeward. On their way, where should they sail but along the coast of Spain? While they were sailing, Conal espied three great castles, and not far from them a herd of cattle grazing.
“Will one of you go and inquire why these three castles are built near together?” asked Conal of the two island brothers.
“I will go,” said the elder.
He went on shore to the herdsman and asked, “Why are those three castles so near one another?”
“I will tell you,” said the herdsman; “but you must come first and touch my finger-tips.”
No sooner had the champion done this, than the man drew a rod of enchantment, struck him a blow, and turned him to stone.
Conal saw this from the ship, and asked, “Who will go in now?”