of more than a dead leaf? O Cathbad, go and preach to the unenchanted.' He hastened to Emer's bower. There she sat, as fresh and quiet as a newly opened flower, but shedding tears for him. She asked him to enter, but he would not.
'Look at the enemy!' he said, 'and there is only me to oppose them.'
'They are phantoms, Cohoolin, such as even I could oppose.'
'Girl, I will never stop until I have assaulted the enemy.'
His mother, Dectora, tried to keep him back, or at least to wait until his cousin Conall the Victorious could join him.
'No,' he said, 'if I am to die then I cannot hide away from death. If I am not to die nothing can hurt me. In any case, what is there to fear? I have been through more than I believe I shall ever see again, and I never feared it nor do I now think that there was cause to fear. If my time has come it is not friendly to keep me back to die under a roof. And fame outlives life.'
All wailed for him as he departed with only Cathbad in his company.
At the first ford they saw a slender maiden with yellow hair and body as white as milk bending over the water. She was weeping as she washed and wrung out the blood from garments that were all crimson.
'Do you see that, Cohoolin?' said Cathbad. 'That is Bibe's daughter. It is thy garments she is washing out, and by that thou mayst know what will be the end of fighting for thee to-day.'
'Be not troubled, Cathbad. What if this daughter of a witch be washing blood out of those garments? Maybe they belong to those who are to perish by this sword
