While they were thus conversing, Cuchulaind saw the breasts of the maiden over the bosom of her smock. Then he said: ‘Fair is this plain, the plain of the noble yoke.’ Then the maiden spoke these words: ‘No one comes to this plain,’ said Emer, ‘who does not slay as many as a hundred (comainm n-aircid) on each ford from the Ford of Scennmenn at Ollbine, to Banchuing Arcait21 where swift Brea breaks the brow of Fedelm.’ ‘Fair is this plain, the plain of the noble yoke,’ said Cuchullaind. ‘No one comes to this plain,’ said she, ‘who has not achieved the feat of slaying three times nine men with one blow (genid grainde), oh calf of the cow
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so as to preserve a man in the midst of each nine of them,’ ‘Fair is this plain, the plain of the noble yoke,’ said Cuchulaind, ‘No one comes to this plain,’ said she, ‘who does not meet Benn Suain, the son of Roscmelc, from summer's end to the beginning of spring, from the beginning of spring to May-day, from May-day to the beginning of winter.’ ‘It is said, it shall be done,’ said Cuchulaind. ‘It is offered, it is granted, it is taken, it is accepted,’ said Emer. ‘A question. What is the account of thee?’ said she, ‘I am the nephew (nia) of the man that disappears in another in the wood of Badb,’ said he. ‘And what is thy name?’ said she: ‘I am the hero (núadu) of the plague that befalls dogs,’ said he.