are spent and
our drivers tired, and when they are exhausted, why should we too not be
exhausted?" And in this wise he spake, and he uttered these words at that
place:--

"We need not our chariots break--
This, a struggle fit for giants.

[W.3626.] Place the hobbles on the steeds,
Now that din of arms is o'er!"

"Yea, we will cease, if the time hath come," replied Ferdiad. They ceased
[1]then.[1] They threw their arms away from them into the hands of their
charioteers. Each of them came towards his fellow. Each laid his hand on
the other's neck and gave him three kisses. Their horses were in the one
pen that night, and their charioteers at the one fire. Their charioteers
prepared [2]two[2] litter-beds of fresh rushes for them with pillows for
wounded men on them. The curing and healing men came to attend and watch
and mark them that night; for naught else could they do, because of the
direfulness of their cuts and their stabs, their gashes and their numerous
wounds, but apply to them philtres and spells and charms, to staunch their
blood and their bleeding and their deadly pains. Of every magic potion and
every spell and every charm that was applied to the cuts and stabs of
Cuchulain, their like share he sent over the ford westwards to Ferdiad. Of
every food and every savoury, soothing and strong drink that was brought
by the men of Erin to Ferdiad, an equal portion he sent over the ford
northwards to Cuchulain, for the victuallers of Ferdiad were more numerous
than the victuallers of Cuchulain. For all the men of Erin were Ferdiad's
nourishers, to the end that he might ward off Cuchulain from them. But the
indwellers of the Plain of Breg alone were Cuchulain's nourishers. They
were wont to come daily, that is, every night, to converse with him.

[1-1] Stowe.

[2-2] Stowe.

They abode there that night. Early on the morrow they arose and repaired to
the ford of combat. Cuchulain marked an evil mien and a dark mood that day
[3]beyond every other day[3] on Ferdiad. "It is evil thou appearest to-day,
O Ferdiad," spake Cuchulain; "thy hair has [W.3653.] become dark[a] to-day,
and thine eye has grown drowsy, and thine upright form [LL.fo.85b.] and thy
features and thy gait have gone from thee!" "Truly not for fear nor for
dread of thee is that happened to me to-day," answered Ferdiad; "for there
is not in Erin this day a warrior I could not repel!" [1]"Alas, O Ferdiad,"
said Cuchulain, "a pity