[The fool is putting the feathers into his hair. Cuchullain takes a handful of feathers out of the heap and out of the fool’s hair, and begins to wipe the blood from his sword with them.
Barach.
He has taken my feathers to
wipe his sword. It is blood that he is wiping from his sword!
Fintain.
Whose blood? Whose blood?
Cuchullain.
That young champion’s.
Fintain.
He that came out of Aoife’s country?