"But I know it,"
said Ket. "Once I went on a foray to the East, and was attacked by a
troop, Lama Gabad among them. He flung a lance at me. I seized the
same lance and flung it back, and it shore off his hand, and it lay
there on the field before him. Shall that man's son measure himself
with me?" And Angus went to his bench and sat down.
"Keep up the contest," then cried Ket tauntingly, "or let me divide
the boar." "That thou shalt not," cried another Ulster warrior of
great stature. "And who is this?" said Ket. "Owen Mor, King of Fermag,"
said the Ulstermen. "I have seen him ere now," said Ket. "I took a
drove of cattle from him before his own house. He put a spear through
my shield and I flung it back and it tore out one of his eyes, and
one-eyed he is to this day." Then Owen Mor sat down.
"Have ye any more to contest the pig with me?" then said Ket. "Thou
hast not won it yet," said Moonremar, son of Gerrkind, rising up. "Is
that Moonremar?" said Ket, "It is," they cried.
"It is but three days," said Ket, "since I was the last man who won
renown of thee. Three heads of thy fighting men did I carry off from
Dun Moonremar, and one of the three was the head of thy eldest son."
Moonremar then sat down.
"Still the contest," said Ket, "or I shall carve the boar." "Contest
thou shalt have," said Mend, son of Sword-heel.
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