obar. Cuculain was accounted the greatest and most
skillful warrior of his time, and bards for ages after told how he kept
the ford. For by the laws of honor, amongst them, the host from Connacht
could not pass the ford so long as Cuculain held the ford and offered
single combat to the champions. They must take up his challenge one by
one; and while he stood there challenging, the host could not pass.

Many of their champions fell there by the ford, so that queen Meave's
heart chafed within her, and her army was hot to do battle, but still
Cuculain kept the ford. Last of the western champions came forth
Ferdiad, taught in the famous northern school of arms, a dear friend and
companion of Cuculain, who now must meet him to slay or be slain. This
is the story of their combat, as the traditions tell it:

When they ceased fighting on the first day, they cast their weapons away
from them into the hands of their charioteers. Each of them approached
the other forthwith, and each put his hand round the other's neck, and
gave him three kisses. Their horses were in the same paddock that night,
and their charioteers at the same fire; and their charioteers spread
beds of green rushes for them, with wounded men's pillows to them. The
men of healing came to heal and solace them, applying herbs that should
assuage to every cut or gash upon their bodies, and to all their
wounds. Of every healing herb that was laid on the hurts of Cuculain, he
sent an equal share to Ferdiad, sending it westward over the ford, so
that men might not say that through the healing virtue of the herbs he
was able to overcome him. And of all food and invigorating drink that
was set before Ferdiad, he sent an equal portion northwards over the
ford to Cuculain, for those that prepared food for him were more than
those who made ready food for Cuculain. Thus that night they rested.

They fought with spears on the next day, and so great was the strength
of each, so dire their skill in combat, that both were grievously
wounded, for all the protection of their shields. The men of healing art
could do little for them beyond the staunching of their blood, that it
might not flow from their wounds, laying herbs upon their red wounds.

On the third day they arose early in the morning and came forward to the
place of combat. Cuculain saw that the face of Ferdiad was dark as a
black cloud, and thus addressed him: "Thy face is darkened, Ferdiad, and
thine eye has lost its