much as a blade of grass or a grain of sand to be seen,” he said, “with the bodies of fighting men that are stretched on them; and there is no man of the two armies that is not stretched in that bed of blood, but only the chief man of the household of the King of the World, and your own foster-son, Cael, son of Crimthan of the Harbours.”  “Rise up and go to him,” said Finn.  So Fergus went where Cael was, and asked what way was he.  “It is a pity the way I am,” said Cael, “for I swear by my word that if my helmet and my armour were taken from me, there is no part of my body but would fall from the other; and by my oath,” he said, “it is worse to me to see that man beyond going away alive than I myself to be the way I am.  And I leave my blessing to you, Fergus,” he said; “and take me on your back to the sea till I swim after the foreigner, and it is glad I would be the foreigner to fall by me before the life goes out from my body.”  Fergus lifted him up then and brought him to the sea, and put him swimming after the foreigner.  And Finnachta waited for him to reach the ship, for he thought he was one of his own people.  And Cael raised himself up when he came beside the ship, and Finnachta stretched out his hand to him.  And Cael took hold of it at the wrist, and clasped his fingers round it, and gave a very strong pull at him, that brought him over the side.  Then their hands shut across one another’s bodies, and they went down to the sand and the gravel of the clear sea.

CHAPTER XIII.  CREDHE’S LAMENT

Then there came the women and the musicians and the singers and the physicians of the Fianna of Ireland to search out the kings and the princes of the Fianna, and to bury them; and every one that might be healed was brought to a place of healing.

And Credhe, wife of Cael, came with the others, and went looking through the bodies for her comely comrade, and crying as she went.  And as she was searching, she saw a crane of the meadows and her two nestlings, and the cunning beast the fox watching the nestlings; and when the crane covered one of the birds to save it, he would make a rush at the other bird, the way she had to stretch herself out over the birds; and she would sooner have got her own death by the fox than her nestlings to be killed by him.  And Credhe was looking at that, and she said:  “It is no wonder I to have such love for my comely sweetheart, and the bird in that distress about her nestlings.”

Then she heard a stag in Druim Ruighlenn above the harbour, that was making great lamentations for his hind from place to place, for they had been nine years together, and had lived in the wood at the foot of the harbour, Fidh Leis, and Finn had killed the hind, and the stag was nineteen days without tasting grass or water, lamenting after the hind.  “It is no shame for me,” said Credhe, “I to die for grief after Cael, since the stag is shortening his life sorrowing after the hind.”