But the Irla, seeing so many of his knights slain, was mad with wrath; and, snatching up his sword and shield, he attacked Innsa; and they fought a long and bloody fight. Now the Irla was fresh and strong, while Innsa was weary and sore wounded; and at length the young hero fell in the ford, and the Irla beheaded him, and, exulting in his victory, brought the head away. Finn and his companions, as they sat in miserable plight in the Palace of the Quicken Trees, heard the clash of arms at the ford, and the shouts and groans of warriors; and after a time all was still again; and they knew not how the fight had ended. And now the Irla, thinking over the matter, deemed it unsafe to go to the Palace of the Quicken Trees without a larger body of knights; so he returned towards the Palace of the Island, intending to bring Innsa's head to the King of the World. When he had come within a little distance of the palace, he met Ficna, who was then on his way back to the ford; and seeing that he was coming from the Palace of the Island, he deemed that he was one of the knights of the King of the World. Ficna spoke to him, and asked whither he had come. "I come," replied the Irla, "from the ford of the Palace of the Quicken Trees. There, indeed, on our way to the palace, to slay Finn the son of Cumal, we were met by a young champion, who defended the ford and slew my knights. But he fell at length beneath my sword; and, lo, I have brought his head for a triumph to the King of the World!" Ficna took the head tenderly, and kissed the cheek thrice, and said, sorrowing-- "Alas, dear youth! only this morning I saw the light of valour in those dim eyes, and the bloom of youth on that faded cheek!" Then turning wrathfully to the Irla, he asked-- "Knowest thou to whom thou hast given the young warrior's head?" And the Irla replied, "Hast thou not come from the Palace of the Island, and dost thou not belong to the host of the King of the World?" "I am not one of his knights," answered Ficna; "and neither shalt thou be, after this hour!" Whereupon they drew their swords, and fought where they stood; and the foreign Irla fell by the avenging sword of Ficna, the son of Finn. Ficna beheaded him and returned to the ford, bringing the head, and also the head of Innsa. And when he had come to the ford, he made a grave of green sods on the bank, in which he laid the body and the head of Innsa, sometimes grieving for the youth, and sometimes rejoicing that his death had been avenged. Then he went on to the Palace of the Quicken Trees, bringing the Irla's head; and when he had come nigh the door, he called aloud to Finn, who, impatient and full of anxious thoughts, asked-- "Tell us, Ficna, who fought the battle at the ford, and how it has ended." "Thine own foster son, Innsa, defended the ford against many foes, whose bodies now encumber the stream." "And how is it now with my foster son?" asked Finn.