"Will ye give me your daughter?" says Fraech. "The hosts will clearly
see she shall be given," says Ailill, "if thou wouldest give a dowry as
shall be named." "Thou shalt have it," says Fraech. "Sixty black-grey
steeds to me, with their bits of gold to them, and twelve milch cows,
so that there be milked liquor of milk from each of them, and an
ear-red, white calf with each of them; and thou to come with me with
all thy force and with thy musicians for bringing of the cows from
Cualgne; and my daughter to be given thee provided thou dost come" (or
as soon as[FN#27] thou shalt come). "I swear by my shield, and by my
sword, and by my accoutrement, I would not give that in dowry even of
Medb." He went from them out of the house then. Ailill and Medb hold
a conversation. "It shall drive at us several of the kings of Erin
around us if he should carry off the daughter. What is good is, let us
dash after him, and let us slay him forthwith, before he may inflict
destruction upon us." "It is a pity this," says Medb, "and it is a
decay of hospitality for us." "It shall not be a decay of hospitality
for us, it shall not be a decay of hospitality for us, the way I shall
prepare it."
[FN#27] This is Thurneysen's rendering ("Sagen aus dem alten Irland,"
p. 121).
Ailill and Medb go into the palace. "Let us go away," says Ailill,
that we may see the chase-hounds at hunting till the middle of the day,
and until they are tired." They all go off afterwards to the river to
bathe themselves.
"It is declared to me," says Ailill, "that thou art good in water.
Come into this flood, that we may see thy swimming." "What is the
quality of this flood?" he says. "We know not anything dangerous in
it," says Ailill, "and bathing in it is frequent." He strips his
clothes off him then, and he goes into it, and he leaves his girdle
above. Ailill then opens his purse behind him, and the ring was in it.
Ailill recognises it then. "Come here, O Medb," says Ailill. Medb
goes then. "Dost thou recognise that?" says Ailill. "I do recognise,"
she says. Ailill flings it into the river down.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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