Then Medb sent a hundred men of her special retinue to kill
Cuchulainn. . He killed them all on Ath Ceit-Chule. Then Medb said:
'It is cuillend [Note: Interlinear gloss: 'We deem it a crime.']
to us, the slaying of our people.' Hence is Glass Chrau and
Cuillend Cind Duin and Ath Ceit-Chule.
Then the four provinces of Ireland took camp and fortified post in the Breslech Mor in Mag Murthemne, and send part of their cattle and booty beyond them to the south into Clithar Bo Ulad. Cuchulainn took his post at the mound in Lerga near them, and his charioteer Loeg Mac Riangabra kindled a fire for him on the evening of that night. He saw the fiery sheen of the bright golden arms over the heads of the four provinces of Ireland at the setting of the clouds of evening. Fury and great rage came over him at sight of the host, at the multitude of his enemies, the abundance of his foes. He took his two spears and his shield and his sword; he shook his shield and brandished his spears and waved his sword; and he uttered his hero's shout from his throat, so that goblins and sprites and spectres of the glen and demons of the air answered, for the terror of the shout which they uttered on high. So that the Nemain produced confusion on the host. The four provinces of Ireland came into a tumult of weapons about the points of their own spears and weapons, so that a hundred warriors of them died of terror and of heart-burst in the middle of the camp and of the position that night.
When Loeg was there, he saw something: a single man who came straight across the camp of the men of Ireland from the north-east straight towards him.
'A single man is coming to us now, O Little Hound!' said Loeg.
'What kind of man is there?' said Cuchulainn.
'An easy question: a man fair and tall is he, with hair cut broad, waving yellow hair; a green mantle folded round him; a brooch of white silver in the mantle on his breast; a tunic of royal silk, with red ornamentation of red gold against the white skin, to his knees. A black shield with a hard boss of white metal; a five pointed spear in his hand; a forked (?) javelin beside it. Wonderful is the play and sport and exercise that he makes; but no one attacks him, and he attacks no one, as if no one saw him.'
'It is true, O fosterling,' said he; 'which of my friends from the síd is that who comes to have pity on me, because they know the sore distress in which I am, alone against the four great provinces of Ireland, on the Cattle-Foray of Cualnge at this time?'
That was true for Cuchulainn. When the warrior had reached the place where Cuchulainn was, he spoke to him, and had pity on him for it.
'This is manly, O Cuchulainn,' said he.
'It is not much at all,' said Cuchulainn.