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"The rascals!" said he. "What, what would Mananna'n say to that?" "The one in front carrying the big book is Tibraide'. He is the priest of Cell Camain, and he is the chief of those two." "Indeed, and indeed!" said mac an Da'v. "The one behind must be his servant, for he has a load on his back." The priests were reading their offices, and mac an Da'v marvelled at that.
"What is the bridge for?" said Tibraide' Mongan and mac an Da'v followed them. When they got to the middle of the bridge it broke under them, and they were precipitated into that boiling yellow flood. Mongan snatched at the book as it fell from Tibraide''s hand. "Won't you let them drown, master?" asked mac an Da'v.
It was a water of villainous depth and of detestable wetness; of ugly hurrying and of desolate cavernous sound. At a little to their right there was a thin uncomely bridge that waggled across the torrent. Tibraide' rubbed his eyes, and then he looked again. "Do you see what I see?" said he to the clerk.
They met him near the place where the games were played. "Good my soul, Tibraide'!" cried the King of Leinster, and he gave Mongan a kiss. Mongan kissed him back again. "Amen, amen," said mac an Da'v. "What for?" said the King of Leinster. And then mac an Da'v began to sneeze, for he didn't know what for.
At that news the men of the household picked up clubs and cudgels and every kind of thing that was near, and made a violent and woeful attack on Tibraide''s men The King of Leinster came in then, and when he was told Tibraide' was Mongan he attacked them as well, and it was with difficulty that Tibraide' got away to Cell Camain with nine of his men and they all wounded.
"There never was a year when Tibraide''s were as plentiful as they are this year. There is a Tibraide' outside and a Tibraide' inside, and who knows but there are some more of them under the bed. The place is crawling with them," said he. Mongan pointed at Tibraide'. "Don't you know who that is?" he cried. "I know who he says he is," said the Chamberlain.
"No," said Mongan, "I'll send them a mile down the stream, and then they can come to land." Mongan then took on himself the form of Tibraide' and he turned mac an Da'v into the shape of the clerk. "My head has gone bald," said the servant in a whisper. "That is part of it," replied Mongan. "So long as we know," said mac an Da'v. They went on then to meet the King of Leinster.
Mongan agreed to play a trick on the priests. He looked at them hard for a minute, and then he waved his hand at them. The two priests stopped, and they stared straight in front of them, and then they looked at each other, and then they looked at the sky. The clerk began to bless himself, and then Tibraide' began to bless himself, and after that they didn't know what to do.
The King of Leinster came back then. He went to Duv Laca's room. "Where is Tibraide'?" said he. "It wasn't Tibraide was here," said the hag who was still sitting on the spike, and was not half dead, "it was Mongan." "Why did you let him near you?" said the king to Duv Laca. "There is no one has a better right to be near me than Mongan has," said Duv Laca, "he is my own husband," said she.
"He was," replied Cairide'. "Indeed, indeed!" said the abbot. After a while he continued: "There is only one part of your story that I do not like." "What part is that?" asked Cairide'. "It is the part where the holy man Tibraide' was ill treated by that rap by that by Mongan."
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