They
would not have been surprised if he had failed like the others,
who now were present. The champion, however, showed no signs of
failing or retreat. He sat sorrowfully in his place, and with a
sigh said to King Conor as they waited: "Do not leave this place
till all is over. Death is coming to me very surely, but I must
fulfil my agreement, for I would rather die than break my word."
Towards the close of day the stranger strode into the hall
exultant.
"Where is Cuchulain?" he cried.
"Here I am," was the reply.
"Ah, poor boy! your speech is sad to-night, and the fear of death
lies heavy on you; but at least you have redeemed your word and
have not failed me."
The youth rose from his seat and went towards him, as he stood
with the great axe ready, and knelt to receive the blow.
The hero of Ulster laid his head on the block; but the giant was
not satisfied. "Stretch out your neck better," said he.
"You are playing with me, to torment me," said Cuchulain. "Slay me
now speedily, for I did not keep you waiting last night."
However, he stretched out his neck as ordered, and the stranger
raised his axe till it crashed upwards through the rafters of the
hall, like the crash of trees falling in a storm. When the axe
came down with a terrific sound all men looked fearfully at
Cuchulain. The descending axe had not even touched him; it had
come down with the blunt side on the ground, and the youth knelt
there unharmed.
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