It is thus they were binding their covenants and their compact, and they made a song there:
'Thou shalt have a reward,' etc.
There was a wonderful warrior of Ulster who witnessed that bargaining, and that was Fergus Mac Roich. Fergus came to his tent.
'Woe is me! the deed that is done to-morrow morning!' said Fergus.
'What deed is that?' said the folk in the tent.
'My good fosterling Cuchulainn to be slain.'
'Good lack! who makes that boast?'
'An easy question: his own dear ardent foster-brother, Fer Diad Mac Damain. Why do ye not win my blessing?' said Fergus; 'and let one of you go with a warning and with compassion to Cuchulainn, if perchance he would leave the ford to-morrow morning.'
'On our conscience,' said they, 'though it were you yourself who were on the ford of combat, we would not come as far as [the ford] to seek you.'
'Good, my lad,' said Fergus; 'get our horses for us and yoke the chariot.'