So Loegaire was called to Cobthach that he might leave him his blessing before he died. Now when Loegaire went in to his brother the leg of a hen's chick is broken on the floor of the house. ‘Unlucky was thine illness’, says Loegaire. ‘This is fitting’, says Cobthach: ‘all has departed, both blood and bone, both life and wealth. Thou hast done me damage, my lad, in breaking the hen's leg. Bring it hither that I may put a bandage round it.’2 ‘Woe is me’, says Loegaire, ‘the man has decay and destruction: he is delivered into neglect.’ ‘Come, tomorrow’, says Cobthach, ‘that my tomb be raised by thee, and that my pillar-stone be planted, my assembly of mourning be held, and my burial-paean be performed; for I shall die swiftly.’ ‘Well’, says Loegaire, ‘it shall be done.’