{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_5092/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_5092","id":"gutenberg_5092","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5092","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Cuchulain (Legendary character) -- Fiction","Fantasy fiction","Historical fiction","Mythology, Celtic -- Ireland"],"text":"Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE COMING OF CUCULAIN\n\nBy Standish O\u2019grady\n\n\nAuthor of\n\n\u201cTHE TRIUMPH AND PASSING OF CUCULAIN\u201d\n\n\u201cIN THE GATES OF THE NORTH\u201d\n\n\u201cTHE FLIGHT OF THE EAGLE\u201d\n\nETC.\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\nThere are three great cycles of Gaelic literature. The first treats\nof the gods; the second of the Red Branch Knights of Ulster and their\ncontemporaries; the third is the so-called Ossianic. Of the Ossianic,\nFinn is the chief character; of the Red Branch cycle, Cuculain, the hero\nof our tale.\n\nCuculain and his friends are historical characters, seen as it were\nthrough mists of love and wonder, whom men could not forget, but for\ncenturies continued to celebrate in countless songs and stories.\nThey were not literary phantoms, but actual existences; imaginary and\nfictitious characters, mere creatures of idle fancy, do not live and\nflourish so in the world\u2019s memory. And as to the gigantic stature and\nsuperhuman prowess and achievements of those antique heroes, it must not\nbe forgotten that all art magnifies, as if in obedience to some strong\nlaw; and so, even in our own times, Grattan, where he stands in artistic\nbronze, is twice as great as the real Grattan thundering in the Senate.\nI will therefore ask the reader, remembering the large manner of the\nantique literature from which our tale is drawn, to forget for a\nwhile that there is such a thing as scientific history, to give his\nimagination a holiday, and follow with kindly interest the singular\nstory of the boyhood of Cuculain, \u201cbattle-prop of the valour and torch\nof the chivalry of the Ultonians.\u201d\n\nI have endeavoured so to tell the story as to give a general idea of\nthe cycle, and of primitive heroic Irish life as reflected in that\nliterature, laying the cycle, so far as accessible, under contribution\nto furnish forth the tale. Within a short compass I would bring before\nswift modern readers the more striking aspects of a literature so vast\nand archaic as to repel all but students.\n\n\n\n\nSTANDISH O\u2019GRADY -- A TRIBUTE BY A. E.\n\n\nIn this age we read so much that we lay too great a burden on the\nimagination. It is unable to create images which are the spiritual\nequivalent of the words on the printed page, and reading becomes for too\nmany an occupation of the eye rather than of the mind. How rarely--out\nof the multitude of volumes a man reads in his lifetime--can he remember\nwhere or when he read any particular book, or with any vividness recall\nthe mood it evoked in him. When I close my eyes, and brood in memory\nover the books which most profoundly affected me, I find none excited my\nimagination more than Standish O\u2019Grady\u2019s epical narrative of Cuculain.\nWhitman said of his Leaves of Grass, \u201cCamerado, this is no book: who\ntouches this touches a man\u201d and O\u2019Grady might have boasted of his Bardic\nHistory of Ireland, written with his whole being, that there was more\nthan a man in it, there was the soul of a people, its noblest and most\nexalted life symbolised in the story of one heroic character.\n\nWith reference to Ireland, I was at the time I read like many others who\nwere bereaved of the history of their race. I was as a man who, through\nsome accident, had lost memory of his past, who could recall no more\nthan a few months of new life, and could not say to what songs his\ncradle had been rocked, what mother had nursed him, who were the\nplaymates of childhood or by what woods and streams he had wandered.\nWhen I read O\u2019Grady I was as such a man who suddenly feels ancient\nmemories rushing at him, and knows he was born in a royal house, that he\nhad mixed with the mighty of heaven and earth and had the very noblest\nfor his companions. It was the memory of race which rose up within me as\nI read, and I felt exalted as one who learns he is among the children\nof kings. That is what O\u2019Grady did for me and for others who were my\ncontemporaries, and I welcome these reprints of his tales in the hope\nthat he will go on magically recreating for generations yet unborn the\nancestral life of their race in Ireland. For many centuries the youth\nof Ireland as it grew up was made aware of the life of bygone ages, and\nthere were always some who remade themselves in the heroic mould before\nthey passed on. The sentiment engendered by the Gaelic literature was an\narcane presence, though unconscious of itself, in those who for the\npast hundred years had learned another speech. In O\u2019Grady\u2019s writings the\nsubmerged river of national culture rose up again, a shining torrent,\nand I realised as I bathed in that stream, that the greatest spiritual\nevil one nation could inflict on another was to cut off from it the\nstory of the national soul. For not all music can be played upon any\ninstrument, and human nature for most of us is like a harp on which can\nbe rendered the music written for the harp but not that written for the\nviolin. The harp strings quiver for the harp-player alone, and he who\ncan utter his passion through the violin is silent before an unfamiliar\ninstrument. That is why the Irish have rarely been deeply stirred by\nEnglish literature though it is one of the great literatures of the\nworld. Our history was different and the evolutionary product was a\npeculiarity of character, and the strings of our being vibrate most in\necstasy when the music evokes ancestral moods or embodies emotions akin\nto these. I am not going to argue the comparative worth of the Gaelic\nand English tradition. All I can say is that the traditions of our own\ncountry move us more than the traditions of any other. Even if there was\nnot essential greatness in them we would love them for the same reasons\nwhich bring back so many exiles to revisit the haunts of childhood. But\nthere was essential greatness in that neglected bardic literature which\nO\u2019Grady was the first to reveal in a noble manner. He had the spirit\nof an ancient epic poet. He is a comrade of Homer, his birth delayed\nin time perhaps that he might renew for a sophisticated people the\nelemental simplicity and hardihood men had when the world was young\nand manhood was prized more than any of its parts, more than thought\nor beauty or feeling. He has created for us or rediscovered one figure\nwhich looms in the imagination as a high comrade of Hector, Achilles,\nUlysses, Rama or Yudisthira, as great in spirit as any. Who could extol\nenough his Cuculain, that incarnation of Gaelic chivalry, the fire and\ngentleness, the beauty and heroic ardour or the imaginative splendour\nof the episodes in his retelling of the ancient story. There are writers\nwho bewitch us by a magical use of words, whose lines glitter like\njewels, whose effects are gained by an elaborate art and who deal with\nthe subtlest emotions. Others again are simple as an Egyptian image and\nyet are more impressive and you remember them less for the sentence than\nfor a grandiose effect. They are not so much concerned with the art of\nwords as with the creation of great images informed with magnificence of\nspirit. They are not lesser artists but greater, for there is a greater\nart in the simplification of form in the statue of Memnon than there\nis in the intricate detail of a bronze by Benvenuto Cellini. Standish\nO\u2019Grady had in his best moments that epic wholeness and simplicity, and\nthe figure of Cuculain amid his companions of the Red Branch which he\ndiscovered and refashioned for us is I think the greatest spiritual gift\nany Irishman for centuries has given to Ireland.\n\nI know it will be said that this is a scientific age, the world is so\nfull of necessitous life that it is waste of time for young Ireland to\nbrood upon tales of legendary heroes, who fought with enchanters, who\nharnessed wild fairy horses to magic chariots and who talked with\nthe ancient gods, and that it would be much better for youth to be\nscientific and practical. Do not believe it, dear Irish boy, dear Irish\ngirl. I know as well as any the economic needs of our people. They must\nnot be overlooked, but keep still in your hearts some desires which\nmight enter Paradise. Keep in your souls some images of magnificence\nso that hereafter the halls of heaven and the divine folk may not seem\naltogether alien to the spirit. These legends have passed the test\nof generations for century after century, and they were treasured\nand passed on to those who followed, and that was because there was\nsomething in them akin to the immortal spirit. Humanity cannot carry\nwith it through time the memory of all its deeds and imaginations, and\nit burdens itself only in a new era with what was highest among the\nimaginations of the ancestors. What is essentially noble is never out of\ndate. The figures carved by Phidias for the Parthenon still shine by the\nside of the greatest modern sculpture. There has been no evolution of\nthe human form to a greater beauty than the ancient Greeks saw and the\nforms they carved are not strange to us, and if this is true of the\noutward form it is true of the indwelling spirit. What is essentially\nnoble is contemporary with all that is splendid to-day, and, until the\nmass of men are equal in spirit, the great figures of the past will\naffect us less as memories than as prophecies of the Golden Age to which\nyouth is ever hurrying in its heart.\n\nO\u2019Grady in his stories of the Red Branch rescued from the past what was\ncontemporary to the best in us to-day, and he was equal in his gifts\nas a writer to the greatest of his bardic predecessors in Ireland. His\nsentences are charged with a heroic energy, and, when he is telling a\ngreat tale, their rise and fall are like the flashing and falling of\nthe bright sword of some great champion in battle, or the onset and\nwithdrawal of Atlantic surges. He can at need be beautifully tender\nand quiet. Who that has read his tale of the young Finn and the Seven\nAncients will forget the weeping of Finn over the kindness of the\nfamine-stricken old men, and their wonder at his weeping and the\nself-forgetful pathos of their meditation unconscious that it was their\nown sacrifice called forth the tears of Finn. \u201cYouth,\u201d they said, \u201chas\nmany sorrows that cold age cannot comprehend.\u201d\n\nThere are critics repelled by the abounding energy in O\u2019Grady\u2019s\nsentences. It is easy to point to faults due to excess and abundance,\nbut how rare in literature is that heroic energy and power. There is\nsomething arcane and elemental in it, a quality that the most careful\nstylist cannot attain, however he uses the file, however subtle he is.\nO\u2019Grady has noticed this power in the ancient bards and we find it in\nhis own writing. It ran all through the Bardic History, the Critical\nand Philosophical History, and through the political books, \u201cThe Tory\nDemocracy\u201d and \u201cAll Ireland.\u201d There is this imaginative energy in the\ntale of Cuculain, in all its episodes, the slaying of the hound, the\ncapture of the Laity Macha, the hunting of the enchanted deer, the\ncapture of the wild swans, the fight at the ford and the awakening of\nthe Red Branch. In the later tale of Red Hugh which he calls \u201cThe Flight\nof the Eagle\u201d there is the same quality of power joined with a shining\nsimplicity in the narrative which rises into a poetic ecstacy in that\nwonderful chapter where Red Hugh, escaping from the Pale, rides through\nthe Mountain Gates of Ulster, and sees high above him Slieve Mullion,\na mountain of the Gods, the birthplace of legend \u201cmore mythic than\nAvernus\u201d and O\u2019Grady evokes for us and his hero the legendary past, and\nthe great hill seems to be like Mount Sinai, thronged with immortals,\nand it lives and speaks to the fugitive boy, \u201cthe last great secular\nchampion of the Gael,\u201d and inspires him for the fulfilment of his\ndestiny. We might say of Red Hugh and indeed of all O\u2019Grady\u2019s heroes\nthat they are the spiritual progeny of Cuculain. From Red Hugh down to\nthe boys who have such enchanting adventures in \u201cLost on Du Corrig\u201d and\n\u201cThe Chain of Gold\u201d they have all a natural and hardy purity of mind,\na beautiful simplicity of character, and one can imagine them all in an\nhour of need, being faithful to any trust like the darling of the Red\nBranch. These shining lads never grew up amid books. They are as much\nchildren of nature as the Lucy of Wordsworth\u2019s poetry. It might be said\nof them as the poet of the Kalevala sang of himself,\n\n   \u201cWinds and waters my instructors.\u201d\n\nThese were O\u2019Grady\u2019s own earliest companions and no man can find better\ncomrades than earth, water, air and sun. I imagine O\u2019Grady\u2019s own\nyouth was not so very different from the youth of Red Hugh before his\ncaptivity; that he lived on the wild and rocky western coast, that he\nrowed in coracles, explored the caves, spoke much with hardy natural\npeople, fishermen and workers on the land, primitive folk, simple in\nspeech, but with that fundamental depth men have who are much in nature\nin companionship with the elements, the elder brothers of humanity: it\nmust have been out of such a boyhood and such intimacies with natural\nand unsophisticated people that there came to him the understanding of\nthe heroes of the Red Branch. How pallid, beside the ruddy chivalry\nwho pass huge and fleet and bright through O\u2019Grady\u2019s pages, appear\nTennyson\u2019s bloodless Knights of the Round Table, fabricated in the study\nto be read in the drawing-room, as anaemic as Burne Jones\u2019 lifeless men\nin armour. The heroes of ancient Irish legend reincarnated in the mind\nof a man who could breathe into them the fire of life, caught from sun\nand wind, their ancient deities, and send them, forth to the world to\ndo greater deeds, to act through many men and speak through many voices.\nWhat sorcery was in the Irish mind that it has taken so many years to\nwin but a little recognition for this splendid spirit; and that others\nwho came after him, who diluted the pure fiery wine of romance he gave\nus with literary water, should be as well known or more widely read. For\nmy own part I can only point back to him and say whatever is Irish in me\nhe kindled to life, and I am humble when I read his epic tale, feeling\nhow much greater a thing it is for the soul of a writer to have been the\nhabitation of a demigod than to have had the subtlest intellections.\n\nWe praise the man who rushes into a burning mansion and brings out its\ngreatest treasure. So ought we to praise this man who rescued from the\nperishing Gaelic tradition its darling hero and restored him to us,\nand I think now that Cuculain will not perish, and he will be invisibly\npresent at many a council of youth, and he will be the daring which\nlifts the will beyond itself and fires it for great causes, and he will\nalso be the courtesy which shall overcome the enemy that nothing else\nmay overcome.\n\nI am sure that Standish O\u2019Grady would rather I should speak of his work\nand its bearing on the spiritual life of Ireland, than about himself,\nand, because I think so, in this reverie I have followed no set plan but\nhave let my thoughts run as they will. But I would not have any to think\nthat this man was only a writer, or that he could have had the heroes\nof the past for spiritual companions, without himself being inspired to\nfight dragons and wizardy. I have sometimes regretted that contemporary\npolitics drew O\u2019Grady away from the work he began so greatly. I have\nsaid to myself he might have given us an Oscar, a Diarmuid or a Caoilte,\nan equal comrade to Cuculain, but he could not, being lit up by the\nspirit of his hero, be merely the bard and not the fighter, and no man\nin Ireland intervened in the affairs of his country with a superior\nnobility of aim. He was the last champion of the Irish aristocracy and\nstill more the voice of conscience for them, and he spoke to them of\ntheir duty to the nation as one might imagine some fearless prophet\nspeaking to a council of degenerate princes. When the aristocracy failed\nIreland he bade them farewell, and wrote the epitaph of their class in\nwords whose scorn we almost forget because of their sounding melody\nand beauty. He turned his mind to the problems of democracy and more\nespecially of those workers who are trapped in the city, and he pointed\nout for them the way of escape and how they might renew life in the\ngreen fields close to Earth, their ancient mother and nurse. He used\ntoo exalted a language for those to whom he spoke to understand, and it\nmight seem that all these vehement appeals had failed but that we know\nthat what is fine never really fails. When a man is in advance of his\nage, a generation unborn when he speaks, is born in due time and finds\nin him its inspiration. O\u2019Grady may have failed in his appeal to the\naristocracy of his own time but he may yet create an aristocracy of\ncharacter and intellect in Ireland. The political and social writings\nwill remain to uplift and inspire and to remind us that the man who\nwrote the stories of heroes had a bravery of his own and a wisdom of his\nown. I owe so much to Standish O\u2019Grady that I would like to leave it on\nrecord that it was he who made me conscious and proud of my country, and\nrecalled my mind, that might have wandered otherwise over too wide and\nvague a field of thought, to think of the earth under my feet and the\nchildren of our common mother. There hangs in the Municipal Gallery of\nDublin the portrait of a man with brooding eyes, and scrawled on the\ncanvas is the subject of his bitter meditation, \u201cThe Lost Land.\u201d I hope\nthat O\u2019Grady will find before he goes back to Tir-na-noge that Ireland\nhas found again through him what seemed lost for ever, the law of its\nown being, and its memories which go back to the beginning of the world.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE COMING OF CUCULAIN\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE RED BRANCH\n\n\n     \u201cThere were giants in the earth in those days, the same\n     were mighty men which were of yore men of renown.\u201d\n\n\nThe Red Branch feasted one night in their great hall at Emain Macha.\nSo vast was the hall that a man, such as men are now, standing in\nthe centre and shouting his loudest, would not be heard at the\ncircumference, yet the low laughter of the King sitting at one end was\nclearly audible to those who sat around the Champion at the other. The\nsons of Dithorba made it, giants of the elder time, labouring there\nunder the brazen shoutings of Macha and the roar of her sounding thongs.\nIts length was a mile and nine furlongs and a cubit. With her brooch pin\nshe ploughed its outline upon the plain, and its breadth was not much\nless. Trees such as the earth nourished then upheld the massy roof\nbeneath which feasted that heroic brood, the great-hearted children of\nRury, huge offspring of the gods and giants of the dawn of time. For\nmighty exceedingly were these men. At the noise of them running to\nbattle all Ireland shook, and the illimitable Lir [Footnote: Lir was the\nsea-god, the Oceanns of the Celt; no doubt the same as the British Lear,\nthe wild, white-headed old king, who had such singular daughters; two,\nmonsters of cruelty, and one, exquisitely sweet, kind, and serene, viz.:\nStorm, Hurricane, and Calm.] trembled in his watery halls; the roar of\ntheir brazen chariots reverberated from the solid canopy of heaven, and\ntheir war-steeds drank rivers dry.\n\nA vast murmur rose from the assembly, for like distant thunder or the\nfar-off murmuring of agitated waters was the continuous hum of their\nblended conversation and laughter, while, ever and anon, cleaving the\nmany-tongued confusion, uprose friendly voices, clearer and stronger\nthan battle-trumpets, when one hero challenged another to drink, wishing\nhim victory and success, and his words rang round the hollow dome.\nInnumerable candles, tall as spears, illuminated the scene. The eyes\nof the heroes sparkled, and their faces, white and ruddy, beamed with\nfestal mirth and mutual affection. Their yellow hair shone. Their\nbanqueting attire, white and scarlet, glowed against the outer gloom.\nTheir round brooches and mantle-pins of gold, or silver, or golden\nbronze, their drinking vessels and instruments of festivity, flashed and\nglittered in the light. They rejoiced in their glory and their might,\nand in the inviolable amity in which they were knit together, a host\nof comrades, a knot of heroic valour and affection which no strength or\ncunning, and no power, seen or unseen, could ever relax or untie.\n\nAt one extremity of the vast hall, upon a raised seat, sat their young\nking, Concobar Mac Nessa, slender, handsome, and upright. A canopy\nof bronze, round as the bent sling of the Sun-god, the long-handed,\nfar-shooting son of Ethlend, [Footnote: This was the god Lu Lam-fada,\ni.e., Lu, the Long-Handed. The rainbow was his sling. Remember that\nthe rod sling, familiar enough now to Irish boys, was the weapon of the\nancient Irish, and not the sling which is made of two cords.] encircled\nhis head. At his right hand lay a staff of silver. Far away at the other\nend of the hall, on a raised seat, sat the Champion Fergus Mac Roy,\nlike a colossus. The stars and clouds of night were round his head and\nshoulders seen through the wide and high entrance of the dun, whose\ndoors no man had ever seen closed and barred. Aloft, suspended from the\ndim rafters, hung the naked forms of great men clear against the dark\ndome, having the cords of their slaughter around their necks and their\nwhite limbs splashed with blood. Kings were they who had murmured\nagainst the sovereignty of the Red Branch. Through the wide doorway\nout of the night flew a huge bird, black and grey, unseen, and soaring\nupwards sat upon the rafters, its eyes like burning fire. It was\nthe Mor-Reega, [Footnote: There were three war goddesses:--(1) Badb\n(pronounced Byve); (2) Macha, already referred to; (3) The Mor-Rigu\nor Mor-Reega, who was the greatest of the three.] or Great Queen, the\nfar-striding terrible daughter of Iarnmas (Iron-Death). Her voice was\nlike the shouting of ten thousand men. Dear to her were these heroes.\nMore she rejoiced in them feasting than in the battle-prowess of the\nrest.\n\nWhen supper was ended their bard, in his singing robes and girt around\nthe temples with a golden fillet, stood up and sang. He sang how once a\nking of the Ultonians, having plunged into the sea-depths, there slew a\nmonster which had wrought much havoc amongst fishers and seafaring men.\nThe heroes attended to his song, leaning forward with bright eyes. They\napplauded the song and the singer, and praised the valour of the heroic\nman [Footnote: This was Fergus Mac Leda, Fergus, son of Leda, one of the\nmore ancient kings of Ulster. His contest with the sea-monster is the\ntheme of a heroic tale.] who had done that deed. Then the champion\nstruck the table with his clenched hand, and addressed the assembly.\nWrath and sorrow were in his voice. It resembled the brool of lions\nheard afar by seafaring men upon some savage shore on a still night.\n\n\u201cFamous deeds,\u201d he said, \u201care not wrought now amongst the Red Branch.\nI think we are all become women. I grow weary of these huntings in the\nmorning and mimic exercises of war, and this training of steeds and\ncareering of brazen chariots stained never with aught but dust and mire,\nand these unearned feastings at night and vain applause of the brave\ndeeds of our forefathers. Come now, let us make an end of this. Let us\nconquer Banba [Footnote: One of Ireland\u2019s many names.] wholly in all her\ngreen borders, and let the realms of Lir, which sustain no foot of\nman, be the limit of our sovereignty. Let us gather the tributes of all\nIreland, after many battles and much warlike toil. Then more sweetly\nshall we drink while the bards chaunt our own prowess. Once I knew a\ncoward who boasted endlessly about his forefathers, and at last my anger\nrose, and with a flat hand I slew him in the middle of his speech, and\npaid no eric, for he was nothing. We have the blood of heroes in our\nveins, and we sit here nightly boasting about them; about Rury, whose\nname we bear, being all his children; and Macha the warrioress, who\nbrought hither bound the sons of Dithorba and made them rear this mighty\ndun; and Combat son of Fiontann; and my namesake Fergus,[Footnote: This\nwas the king already referred to who slew the sea-monster. The monster\nhad left upon him that mark and memorial of the struggle.] whose crooked\nmouth was no dishonour, and the rest of our hero sires; and we consume\nthe rents and tributes of Ulster which they by their prowess conquered\nto us, and which flow hither in abundance from every corner of the\nprovince. Valiant men, too, will one day come hither and slay us as I\nslew that boaster, and here in Emain Macha their bards will praise them.\nThen in the halls of the dead shall we say to our sires, \u2018All that you\ngot for us by your blood and your sweat that have we lost, and the glory\nof the Red Branch is at an end.\u2019\u201d\n\nThat speech was pleasing to the Red Branch, and they cried out that\nFergus Mac Roy had spoken well. Then all at once, on a sudden impulse,\nthey sang the battle-song of the Ultonians, and shouted for the war\nso that the building quaked and rocked, and in the hall of the weapons\nthere was a clangour of falling shields, and men died that night for\nextreme dread, so mightily shouted the Ultonians around their king and\naround Fergus. When the echoes and reverberations of that shout ceased\nto sound in the vaulted roof and in the far recesses and galleries, then\nthere arose somewhere upon the night a clear chorus of treble voices,\nsinging, too, the war-chant of the Ultonians, as when rising out of the\nclangour of brazen instruments of music there shrills forth the clear\nsound of fifes. For the immature scions of the Red Branch, boys and\ntender youths, awakened out of slumber, heard them, and from remote\ndormitories responded to their sires, and they cried aloud together and\nshouted. The trees of Ulster shed their early leaves and buds at that\nshout, and birds fell dead from the branches.\n\nConcobar struck the brazen canopy with his silver rod. The smitten brass\nrang like a bell, and the Ultonians in silence hearkened for the words\nof their clear-voiced king.\n\n\u201cNo ruler of men,\u201d he said, \u201chowever masterful and imperious, could\nwithstand this torrent of martial ardour which rolls to-night through\nthe souls of the children of Rury, still less I, newly come to this high\nthrone, having been but as it were yesterday your comrade and equal,\ntill Fergus, to my grief, resigned the sovereignty, and caused me, a\nboy, to be made king of Ulla and captain of the Red Branch. But now\nI say, ere we consider what province or territory shall first see the\nembattled Red Branch cross her borders, let us enquire of Cathvah the\nArd-Druid, whether the omens be propitious, and whether through his art\nhe is able to reveal to us some rite to be performed or prohibition to\nbe observed.\u201d\n\nThat proposal was not pleasing to Fergus, but it pleased the Red Branch,\nand they praised the wisdom of their king.\n\nThen Cathvah the Ard-Druid [Footnote: High Druid, or Chief Druid.\nSimilarly we have Ard-Ri or High King.] spake.\n\n\u201cIt hath been foretold,\u201d he said, \u201clong since, that the Ultonians shall\nwin glory such as never was and never will be, and that their fame shall\nendure till the world\u2019s end. But, first, there are prophecies to be\naccomplished and predictions to be fulfilled. For ere these things may\nbe there shall come a child to Emain Macha, attended by clear portents\nfrom the gods; through him shall arise our deathless fame. Also it hath\nbeen foretold that there shall be great divisions and fratricidal strife\namongst the children of Rury, a storm of war which shall strip the Red\nBranch nigh bare.\u201d\n\nFergus was wroth at this, and spoke words of scorn concerning the\ndiviner, and concerning all omens, prohibitions, and prophecies.\nConcobar, too, and all the Red Branch, rebuked the prophet. Yet he stood\nagainst them like a rock warred on by winds which stand immovable, let\nthem rage as they will, and refused to take back his words. Then said\nConcobar:\n\n\u201cMany are the prophecies which came wandering down upon the mouths\nof men, but they are not all to be trusted alike. Of those which have\npassed thy lips, O Cathvah, we utterly reject the last, and think the\nless of thee for having reported it. But the former which concerns the\nchild of promise hath been ever held a sure prophecy, and as such passed\ndown through all the diviners from the time of Amargin, the son of\nMilesius, who first prophesied for the Gael. And now being arch-king of\nthe Ultonians, I command thee to divine for us when the coming of the\nchild shall be.\u201d\n\nThen Cathvah, the Ard-Druid, put on his divining apparel and took his\ndivining instruments in his hands, and made his symbols of power upon\nthe air. And at first he was silent, and, being in a trance, stared out\nbefore him with wide eyes full of wonder and amazement, directing\nhis gaze to the east. In the end he cried out with a loud voice, and\nprophesying, sang this lay:\n\n    \u201cYea, he is coming. He draweth nigh.\n    Verily It is he whom I behold--\n    The predicted one--the child of many prophecies--\n    Chief flower of the Branch that is over all--\n    The mainstay of Emaiti Macha--the battle-prop of the Ultonians--\n    The torch of the valour and chivalry of the North--\n    The star that is to shine for ever upon the forehead of the Gael.\n    It is he who slumbers upon Slieve Fuad--\n    The child who is like a star--\n    Like a star upon Slieve Fuad.\n    There is a light around him never kindled at the hearth of Lu,\n    The Grey of Macha keeps watch and ward for him,\n\n        [Footnote: Madia\u2019s celebrated grey war-steed. The meaning\n         of the allusion will be understood presently.]\n\n    And the whole mountain is filled with the Tuatha de Danan.\u201d\n\n       [Footnote: These were the gods of the pagan Irish.\n        Tuatha=nations, De=gods, Danan=of Dana. So it means\n        the god nations sprung from Dana also called Ana. She\n        is referred to in an ancient Irish Dictionary as Mater\n        deorurn Hibernensium.]\n\nThen his vision passed from the Druid, he raised up his long white hands\nand gave thanks to the high gods of Erin that he had lived to see this\nday.\n\nWhen Cathvah had made an end of speaking there was a great silence in\nthe hall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE BOYS OF THE ULTONIANS\n\n   \u201cAnd dear the school-boy spot\n   We ne\u2019er forget though there we are forgot.\u201d\n\n                  BYRON.\n\n\n   \u201cThere were his young barbarians all at play.\u201d\n\n                  BYRON.\n\n\nIn the morning Fergus Mac Roy said to the young king, \u201cWhat shall we do\nthis day, O Concobar? Shall we lead forth our sweet-voiced hounds into\nthe woods and rouse the wild boar from his lair, and chase the swift\ndeer, or shall we drive afar in our chariots and visit one of our\nsubject kings and take his tribute as hospitality, which, according to\nthee, wise youth, is the best, for it is agreeable to ourselves and not\ndispleasing to the man that is tributary.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said Concobar, \u201clet us wait and watch this day. Hast thou\nforgotten the words of Cathvah?\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, in a manner I had,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cfor I never much regarded, the\nrace of seers, or deemed the birds more than pleasant songsters, and the\nstars as a fair spectacle, or druidic instruments aught but toys.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us play at chess on the lawn of the dun,\u201d said the king, \u201cwhile our\nboys exercise themselves at hurling on the green.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is agreeable to me,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cthough well thou knowest, dear\nfoster-son, that I am not thy match at the game.\u201d\n\nWhat the champion said was true, for in royal wisdom the king far\nexcelled his foster-father, and that was the reason why Fergus had\nabdicated the supreme captainship of the Red Branch in favour of\nConcobar, for though his heart was great his understanding was not fine\nand acute like the understanding of his foster-son.\n\nThe table was set for them upon the lawn before the great painted and\nglowing palace, and three-footed stools were put on either side of that\ntable, and bright cloths flung over them. A knight to whom that was a\nduty brought forth and unfolded a chess-board of ivory on which silver\nsquares alternated with gold, cunningly wrought by some ancient cerd,\n[Footnote: Craftsman.] a chief jewel of the realm; another bore in his\nhand the man-bag, also a wonder, glistening, made of netted wires of\nfindruiney, [Footnote: A bright yellow bronze, the secret of making\nwhich is now lost. The metal may be seen in our museums. In beauty it\nis superior to gold. ] and took therefrom the men and disposed them\nin their respective places on the board, each in the centre of his own\nsquare. The gold men were on the squares of silver, and the silver on\nthe squares of gold. The table was set under the shadowing branches of\na great tree, for it was early summer and the sun shone in his strength.\nSo Concobar and Fergus, lightly laughing, affectionate and mirthful, the\nchallenger and the challenged, came forth through the wide doorway of\nthe dun. Armed youths went with them. The right arm of Fergus was cast\nlightly over the shoulder of Concobar, and his ear was inclined to him\nas the young king talked, for their mutual affection was very great and\nlike that of a great boy and a small boy when such, as often happens,\nbecome attached to one another. So Concobar and Fergus sat down to\nplay, though right seldom did the Champion win any game from the King.\nConcobar beckoned to him one of the young knights. It was Conall Carna,\n[Footnote: Conall the Victorious. He came second to Cuculain amongst the\nRed Branch Knights. He is the theme of many heroic stories. Once in a\nduel he broke the right arm of his opponent. He bade his seconds tie up\nhis own corresponding arm.] son of Amargin, youngest of the knights of\nConcobar. \u201cSon of Amargin,\u201d said the king, \u201cdo thou watch over the boys\nthis day in their pastimes. See that nothing is done unseemly or unjust.\nObserve narrowly the behaviour and disposition of the lads, and report\nall things clearly to me on the morrow.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he moved one of the pieces on the board, and Conall\nCarna strode away southwards to where the boys were already dividing\nthemselves into two parties for a match at hurling.\n\nThat son of Amargin was the handsomest youth of all the province. White\nand ruddy was his beardless countenance. Bright as gold which boils over\nthe edge of the refiner\u2019s crucible was his hair, which fell curling upon\nhis broad shoulders and over the circumference of his shield, outshining\nits splendour. By his side hung a short sword with a handle of\nwalrus-tooth; in his left hand he bore two spears tipped with glittering\nbronze. Fergus and Concobar watched him as he strode over the grass;\nConcobar noted his beauty and grace, but Fergus noted his great\nstrength. Soon the boys, being divided into two equal bands, began their\npastime and contended, eagerly urging the ball to and fro. The noise\nof the stricken ball and the clash of the hurles shod with bronze, the\ncries of the captains, and the shouting of the boys, filled all the air.\n\nThat good knight stood midway between the goals, eastward from the\nplayers. Ever and anon with a loud clear voice he reproved the youths,\nand they hearkening took his rebukes in silence and obeyed his words.\nCathvah came forth that day upon the lawn, and thus spoke one of the\nboys to another in some pause of the game, \u201cYonder, see! the Ard-Druid\nof the Province. Wherefore comes he forth from his druidic chambers\nto-day at this hour, such not being his wont?\u201d And the other answered\nlightly, laughing, and with boyish heedlessness, \u201cI know not wherefore;\nbut well he knows himself.\u201d And therewith ran to meet the ball which\npassed that way. There was yet a third who watched the boys. He stood\nafar off on the edge of the plain. He had a little shield strapped on\nhis back, two javelins in one hand, and a hurle in the other. He was\nvery young and fair. He stood looking fixedly at the hurlers, and as he\nlooked he wept. It was the child who had been promised to the Ultonians.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nDETHCAEN\u2019S NURSLING\n\n\n     \u201cVery small and beautiful like a star.\u201d\n\n                    --HOMER.\n\n\n     \u201cI love all that thou lovest,\n     Spirit of delight;\n     The fresh earth in new leaves drest,\n     And the blessed night;\n     Starry evening and the morn,\n     When the golden mists are born.\u201d\n\n                    SHELLEY.\n\n\nSualtam of Dun Dalgan on the Eastern Sea, took to wife Dectera, daughter\nof Factna the Righteous. She was sister of Concobar Mac Nessa. Sualtam\nwas the King of Cooalney [Footnote: Now the barony of Cooley, a\nmountainous promontory which the County of Louth projects into the Irish\nSea.] a land of woods and mountains, an unproductive headland reaching\nout into the Ictian Sea.\n\nDectera bare a son to Sualtam, and they called him Setanta, That was his\nfirst name. His nurse was Dethcaen, the druidess, daughter of Cathvah\nthe druid, the mighty wizard and prophet of the Crave Rue. His\nbreast-plate [Footnote: A poetic spell or incantation. So even the\nChristian hymn of St. Patrick was called the lorica or breastplate of\nPatrick.] of power, woven of druidic verse, was upon Ulla [Footnote:\nUlla is the Gaelic root of Ulster.] in his time, upon all the children\nof Rury in their going out and their coming in, in war and in peace.\nDethcaen [Footnote: Dethcaen is compounded of two words which mean\nrespectively, colour, and slender.] sang her own songs of protection\nfor the child. His mother gave the child suck, but the rosy-cheeked,\nbeautiful, sweetly-speaking daughter of Cathvah nursed him. On her\nbreast and knee she bare him with great love. Light of foot and\nslender was Dethcaen; through the wide dun of Sualtam she went with\nher nursling, singing songs. She it was that discovered his first ges,\n[Footnote: Ges was the Irish equivalent of the tabu.] namely, that no\none should awake him while he slept. He had others, sacred prohibitions\nwhich it was unlawful to transgress, but this was discovered by\nDethcaen. She discovered it while he was yet a babe. With her own hands\nDethcaen washed his garments and bathed his tiny limbs; lightly and\ncheerfully she sprang from her couch at night when she heard his voice,\nand raised him from the cradle and wrapped him tenderly, and put him\ninto the hands of his mother. She watched him when he slumbered; there\nwas great stillness in the palace of Sualtam when the child slept. She\nrepeated for him many tales and taught him nothing base. When he was\nthree years old, men came with hounds to hunt the stream which ran past\nDun Dalgan. [Footnote: Now Dundalk, capital of the County of Louth.]\nEarly in the morning Setanta heard the baying of the hounds and the\nshouting of the men. They were hunting a great water-dog which had\nhis abode in this stream. Setanta leaped from his couch and ran to the\nriver. Well he knew that stream and all its pools and shallows; he knew\nwhere the water-dog had his den. Thither by circuit he ran and stood\nbefore the month of the same, having a stone in either hand. The hunted\nwater-dog drew nigh. Maddened with fear and rage he gnashed his teeth\nand growled, and then charged at the child. There, O Setanta, with the\nstroke of one stone thou didst slay the water-dog! The dog was carried\nin procession with songs to the dun of Sualtam, who that night gave a\ngreat feast and called many to rejoice with him, because his only son\nhad done bravely. A prophet who was there said, \u201cThou shalt do many\nfeats in thy time, O Setanta, and the last will resemble the first.\u201d\n\nSetanta played along the sand and by the frothing waves of the sea-shore\nunder the dun. He had a ball and an ashen hurle shod with bronze;\njoyfully he used to drive his ball along the hard sand, shouting among\nhis small playmates. The captain of the guard gave him a sheaf of toy\njavelins and taught him how to cast, and made for him a sword of lath\nand a painted shield. They made for him a high chair. In the great hall\nof the dun, when supper was served, he used to sit beside the champion\nof that small realm, at the south end of the table over against\nthe king. Ever as evening drew on and the candles were lit, and the\ninstruments of festivity and the armour and trophies on the walls and\npillars shone in the cheerful light, and the people of Sualtam sat down\nrejoicing, there too duly appeared Setanta over against his father by\nthe side of the champion, very fair and pure, yellow-haired, in his\nscarlet bratta fastened with a little brooch of silver, serene and grave\nbeyond his years, shining there like a very bright star on the edge of a\nthunder-cloud, so that men often smiled to see them together.\n\nWhile Sualtam and his people feasted, the harper harped and trained\nsingers sang. Every day the floor was strewn with fresh rushes or dried\nmoss or leaves. Every night at a certain hour the bed-makers went round\nspreading couches for the people of Sualtam. Sometimes the king slept\nwith his people in the great hall. Then one warrior sat awake through\nthe night at his pillow having his sword drawn, and another warrior sat\nat his feet having his sword drawn. The fire-place was in the midst of\nthe hall. In winter a slave appointed for that purpose from time to time\nduring the night laid on fresh logs. Rude plenty never failed in the dun\nof Sualtam. In such wise were royal households ordered in the age of\nthe heroes. For the palace, it was of timber staunched with clay and was\nroofed with rushes. Without it was white with lime, conspicuous afar\nto mariners sailing in the Muirnict. [Footnote: The Irish Sea or St.\nGeorge\u2019s Channel. Muirnict means the Ictian Sea.] There was a rampart\nround the dun and a moat spanned by a drawbridge. Before it there was\na spacious lawn. Down that lawn there ever ran a stream of sparkling\nwater. Setanta sailed his boats in the stream and taught it here to be\nsilent, and there to hum in rapids, or to apparel itself in silver and\nsing liquid notes, or to blow its little trumpet from small cataracts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nSETANTA RUNS AWAY\n\n\n     \u201cFor a boy\u2019s way is the wind\u2019s way.\u201d\n\n                      --LONGFELLOW\n\n\nAnd now the daily life of that remote dun no longer pleased the boy, for\nthe war-spirit within drave him on. Moreover he longed for comrades and\nplayfellows, for his fearful mother permitted him no longer to associate\nwith children of that rude realm whose conversation and behaviour she\nmisliked for her child. She loved him greatly and perceived not how he\nchanged, or how the new years in their coming and their going both gave\nand took away continually.\n\nIn summer the boy sat often with the chief bard under the thatched eaves\nof the dun, while the crying swallows above came and went, asking many\nquestions concerning his forefathers back the ascending line up to Rury,\nand again downwards through the ramifications of that mighty stem, and\nconcerning famous marches and forays, and battles and single combats,\nand who was worthy and lived and died well, and who not. More than all\nelse he delighted to hear about Fergus Mac Roy, who seemed to him the\ngreatest and best of all the Red Branch. In winter, cradled in strong\narms, he listened to the reminiscences and conversation of the men of\nwar as they sat and talked round the blazing logs in the hall, while the\nlight flickered upon warlike faces, and those who drew drink went round\nbearing mead and ale.\n\nUpon his seventh birthday early in the morning he ran to his mother and\ncried, \u201cMother, send me now to Emain Macha, to my uncle.\u201d\n\nDectera grew pale when she heard that word and her knees smote together\nwith loving fear. For answer she withdrew him from the society of the\nmen and kept him by herself in the women\u2019s quarter, which was called\ngrianan. The grianan was in the north end of the palace behind the\nking\u2019s throne. In the hall men could see above them the rafters which\nupheld the roof and the joining of the great central pillar with the\nsame. From the upper storey of the grianan a door opened upon the great\nhall directly above the throne of the king, and before that door was a\nrailed gallery.\n\nThence it was the custom of Dectera to supervise in the morning the\nlabours of the household thralls and at night to rebuke unseemly\nrevelry, and at the fit hour to command silence and sleep. Thence too\nin the evening, ere he went to his small couch, Setanta would cry out\n\u201cgood-night\u201d and \u201cgood slumber\u201d to his friends in the hall, who laughed\nmuch amongst themselves for the secret of his immurement was not hid.\nMoreover, Dectera gave straight commandment to her women, at peril of\nher displeasure and of sore bodily chastisement, that they should not\nspeak to him any word concerning Emain Macha. The boy as yet knew not\nwhere lay the wondrous city, whether in heaven or on earth or beyond\nthe sea. To him it was still as it were a fairy city or in the land of\ndreams.\n\nOne day he saw afar upon the plain long lines of lowing kine and\nof laden garrans wending north-westward. He questioned his mother\nconcerning that sight. She answered, \u201cIt is the high King\u2019s tribute\nout of Murthemney.\u201d [Footnote: A territory conterminous with the modern\nCounty of Louth.]\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d he said, \u201chow runs the road hence to the great city?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat thou shalt not know,\u201d said his mother, looking narrowly on the\nboy.\n\nBut still the strong spirit from within, irresistible, urged on the lad.\nOne day while his mother conversed with him, inadvertently she uttered\ncertain words, and he knew that the road to Emain Macha went past the\nmountain of Slieve Fuad. [Footnote: Now the Fews mountain lying on the\ndirect way between Dundalk and Armagh.] That night he dreamed of Emain\nMacha, and he rose up early in the morning and clambered on to the roof\nof the palace through a window and gazed long upon the mountain. The\nnext night too he dreamed of Emain Macha, and heard voices which were\nunintelligible, and again the third night he heard the voices and\none voice said, \u201cThis our labour is vain, let him alone. He is some\nchangeling and not of the blood of Rury. He will be a grazier, I think,\nand buy cattle and sell them for a profit.\u201d And the other said, \u201cNay,\nlet us not leave him yet. Remember how valiantly he faced the fierce\nwater-dog and slew him at one cast.\u201d When he climbed to the roof, as his\nmanner was, to gaze at the mountain, he thought that Slieve Fuad nodded\nto him and beckoned. He broke fast with his mother and the women that\nday and ate and drank silently with bright eyes, and when that meal was\nended he donned his best attire and took his toy weapons and a new ball\nand his ashen hurle shod with red bronze.\n\n\u201cWherefore this holiday attire?\u201d said his mother.\n\n\u201cBecause I shall see great people ere I put it off,\u201d he answered.\n\nShe kissed him and he went forth as at other times to play upon the\nlawn by himself. The king sat upon a stone seat hard by the door of the\ngrianan. Under the eaves he sat sunning himself and gazing upon the sea.\nThe boy kneeled and kissed his hand. His father stroked his head and\nsaid, \u201cWin victory and blessings, dear Setanta.\u201d He looked at the lad as\nif he would speak further, but restrained himself and leaned back again\nin his seat.\n\nDectera sat in the window of the upper chamber amongst her women. They\nsat around her sewing and embroidering. She herself was embroidering a\nnew mantle for the boy against his next birthday, though that indeed was\nfar away, but ever while her hands wrought her eyes were on the lawn.\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d cried Setanta, \u201cwatch this stroke.\u201d\n\nHe flung his ball into the air and as it fell met it with his hurle,\nleaning back and putting his whole force into the blow, and struck it\ninto the clouds. It was long before the ball fell. It fell at his feet.\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d he cried again, \u201cwatch this stroke.\u201d\n\nHe went to the east mearing of the spacious lawn and struck the ball\nto the west. It traversed the great lawn ere it touched the earth and\nbounded shining above the trees. Truly it was a marvellous stroke for\none so young. As he went for his ball the boy stood still before the\nwindow. \u201cGive me thy blessing, dear mother,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cWin victory and blessing for ever, O Setanta,\u201d she answered. \u201cTruly\nthou art an expert hurler.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese feats,\u201d he replied, \u201care nothing to what I shall yet do in\nneedlework, O mother, when I am of age to be trusted with my first\nneedle, and knighted by thy hands, and enrolled amongst the valiant\ncompany of thy sewing-women.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat meaneth the boy?\u201d said his mother, for she perceived that he spoke\nawry.\n\n\u201cThat his childhood is over, O Dectera,\u201d answered one of her women, \u201cand\nthat thou art living in the past and in dreams. For who can hold back\nTime in his career?\u201d\n\nThe queen\u2019s heart leaped when she heard that word, and the blood forsook\nher face. She bent down her head over her work and her tears fell.\nAfter a space she looked out again upon the lawn to see if the boy had\nreturned, but he had not.\n\nShe bade her women go and fetch him, and afterwards the whole household.\nThey called aloud, \u201cSetanta, Setanta,\u201d but there was no answer, only\nsilence and the watching and mocking trees and a sound like low laughter\nin the leaves; for Setanta was far away.\n\nThe boy came out of that forest on the west side. Soon he struck the\ngreat road which from Ath-a-clia [Footnote: Ath-a-cliah, i.e., the\nFord of the Hurdles. It was the Irish name for Dublin.] ran through\nMurthemney to Emain Macha, and saw before him the purple mountain of\nSlieve Fuad. In his left hand was his sheaf of toy javelins; in his\nright the hurle; his little shield was strapped upon his back. The boy\nwent swiftly, for there was power upon him that day, and with his ashen\nhurle shod with red bronze ever urged his ball forward. So he went\ndriving, his ball before him. At other times he would cast a javelin\nfar out westward and pursue its flight. Ever as he went there ever flew\nbeside him a grey-necked crow. \u201cIt is a good omen,\u201d said the boy, for he\nknew that the bird was sacred to the Mor-Reega.\n\nHe was amazed at his own speed and the elasticity of his limbs. Once\nwhen he rose after having gathered his thrown javelin, a man stood\nbeside him who had the port and countenance of some ancient hero, and\nwhose attire was strange. He was taller and nobler than any living man.\nHe bore a rod-sling in his right hand, and in his left, in a leash of\nbronze, he led a hound. The hound was like white fire. Setanta could\nhardly look in that man\u2019s face, but he did. The man smiled and said--\n\n\u201cWhither away, my son?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo Emain Macha, to my uncle Concobar,\u201d said the boy.\n\n\u201cDost thou know me, Setanta?\u201d said the man.\n\n\u201cI think thou art Lu Lam-fada Mac Ethlend,\u201d [Footnote: Lu the\nLong-Handed son of Ethlenn. This mysterious being, being one of the\ndeities of the pagan Irish, seems to have been the Sun-god.] answered\nSetanta.\n\n\u201cI am thy friend,\u201d said the man, \u201cfear nothing, for I shall be with thee\nalways.\u201d\n\nThen the man and the hound disappeared as if they had been resolved\ninto the rays of the sun; Setanta saw nothing, only the grey-necked crow\nstarting for flight. Then a second man in a wide blue mantle specked\nwith white like flying foam came against him and flung his mantle over\nSetanta. There was a sound in his ears like the roaring of the sea.\n[Footnote: This man was Mananan son of Lir. He was the Sea-god.]\nChariots and horses came from the east after that. Setanta recognised\nthose who urged on the steeds, they were his own people. \u201cSurely,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201cI shall be taken now.\u201d The men drave past him. \u201cIf I mistake\nnot,\u201d he said, \u201cthe man who flung his mantle over me was Mananan the son\nof Lir.\u201d\n\nDivers persons, noble and ignoble, passed him on the way, some riding in\nchariots, some going on foot. They went as though they saw him not.\n\nIn the evening he came to Slieve Fuad. He gathered a bed of dried moss\nand heaped moss upon his shield for a pillow. He wrapped himself in his\nmantle, and lay down to sleep, and felt neither cold nor hunger. While\nhe slept a great steed, a stallion, grey to whiteness, came close to\nhim, and walked all round him, and smelt him, and stayed by him till the\nmorning.\n\nSetanta was awaked by the loud singing of the birds. Light of heart the\nboy started from his mossy couch and wondered at that tuneful chorus.\nThe dawning day trembled through the trees still half-bare, for it was\nthe month of May.\n\n\u201cHorses have been here in the night,\u201d said the boy, \u201cone horse. What\nmighty hoof marks!\u201d He wondered the more seeing how the marks encircled\nhim. \u201cI too will one day have a chariot and horses, and a deft\ncharioteer.\u201d He stood musing, \u201cIs it the grey of Macha? [Footnote: The\ngoddess Macha, already referred to, had a horse which was called the\nGrey of Macha--Liath-Macha. He was said to be still alive dwelling\ninvisibly in Erin.] They say that he haunts this mountain.\u201d He hastened\nto the brook, and finding a deep pool, bathed in the clear pure water\nand dried himself in his woollen bratta [Footnote: The Gaelic word for\nmantle.] of divers colours. Very happy and joyous was Setanta that day.\nAnd he spread out the bratta to dry, and put on his shirt of fine linen\nand his woollen tunic that reached to the knees in many plaits. Shoes he\nhad none; bare and naked were his swift feet.\n\n\u201cThis is the mountain of Fuad the son of Brogan,\u201d [Footnote: An ancient\nMilesian hero. Brogan was uncle of Milesius.] said he. \u201cI would I\nknew where lies his cairn in this great forest that I might pay my\nstone-tribute to the hero.\u201d Soon he found it and laid his stone upon the\nheap. He climbed to the hill\u2019s brow and looked westward and saw far away\nthe white shining duns of the marvellous city from which, even now, the\nmorning smoke went up into the windless air. He trembled, and rejoiced,\nand wept. He stood a long time there gazing at Emain Macha. Descending,\nhe struck again the great road, but he went slowly; he cast not his\njavelins and drave not his ball. Again, from a rising ground he saw\nEmain Macha, this time near at hand. He remained there a long time\nfilled with awe and fear. He covered his head with his mantle and wept\naloud, and said he would return to Dun Dalgan, that he dared not set\nunworthy feet in that holy place.\n\nThen he heard the cheerful voices of the boys as they brake from the\nroyal palace and ran down the wide smooth lawn to the hurling-ground.\nHis heart yearned for their companionship, yet he feared greatly, and\nhis mind misgave him as to the manner in which they would receive him.\nHe longed to go to them and say, \u201cI am little Setanta, and my uncle is\nthe king, and I would be your friend and playfellow.\u201d Hope and love and\nfear confused his mind. Yet it came to him that he was urged forwards,\nby whom he knew not. Reluctantly, with many pausings, he drew nigh to\nthe players and stood solitary on the edge of the lawn southwards, for\nthe company that held that barrier were the weaker. He hoped that some\none would call to him and welcome him, but none called or welcomed.\nSilently the child wept, and the front of his mantle was steeped in his\ntears. Some looked at him, but with looks of cold surprise, as though\nthey said, \u201cWho is this stranger boy and what doth he here? Would that\nhe took himself away out of this and went elsewhere.\u201d The boy thought\nthat he would be welcomed and made much of because he was a king\u2019s son\nand nephew of the high King of Ulla, and on account of his skill in\nhurling, and because he himself longed so exceedingly for companions and\ncomrades, and because there were within him such fountains of affection\nand loving kindness. And many a time happy visions had passed before\nhis eyes awake or asleep of the meeting between himself and his future\ncomrades, but the event itself when it happened was by no means what he\nhad anticipated. For no one kissed him and bade him welcome or took him\nby the right hand and led him in, and no one seemed glad of his coming\nand he was here of no account at all. Bitter truly was thy weeping, dear\nSetanta.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE NEW BOY\n\n\n\u201cI to surrender, to fling away this! So owned by God and Man! so\nwitnessed to! I had rather be rolled into my grave and buried with\ninfamy.\u201d--Battle-chaunt of a hero of the Saxons.\n\nOnce, struck sideways out of the press, the ball bounded into a clear\nspace not far from Setanta. \u201cThou of the Javelins,\u201d cried the captain\nof the distressed party, \u201cthe ball is with thee.\u201d He roared mightily at\nSetanta. On a sudden Setanta, filled with all the glow and ardour of the\nmimic battle, cast his javelins to the ground, slipped the strap of his\nshield over his head, flung the shield beside his javelins on the grass\nand pursued the bounding ball. He out-ran the rest and took possession\nof the ball. Now to the right he urged it, now to the left. He played it\ndeftly before every opponent who sought to check his career, and swiftly\nand cunningly carried it past each of these, and finally with a clear\nloud stroke sent it straight as a sling-bolt through the middle of the\nnorth goal. The boys of his adopted party shouted, and they praised his\nplaying and that final victorious stroke. Setanta went back after that\nand stood by himself near the south goal. His face was flushed and his\neyes sparkled, and he himself trembled with joy, yet was he not in the\nleast exhausted or out of breath.\n\nThe captain of the northern company came down with his boys and all the\nboys who were chief in authority, and they surrounded Setanta and said,\n\u201cThou art here a stranger and on sufferance. We know thee not, but thou\nart a good hurler and not otherwise, as we think, unmeet to bear us\ncompany. Receive now our protection, and we will divide the sides again\nwith a new division and continue the game, for thou art very swift and\ntruly expert in the use of thy hurle.\u201d\n\nThe boys regulated all things according to the laws and customs of their\nelders. And everywhere it was the custom that the weak should accept\nthe protection of the strong and submit themselves to their command.\nSo slaves received masters, so runaways and fugitives got to themselves\nlords, and sheltered themselves under their protection and paid dues.\nSetanta\u2019s brow fell, and he answered, \u201cPut not upon me, I pray you,\nthese hard terms. I would be your friend and comrade, I cannot be your\nsubject being what I am.\u201d\n\nAnd they said, \u201cWho art thou?\u201d\n\nAnd he answered, \u201cI am the son of Dectera of Dun Dalgan, and nephew of\nthe king.\u201d\n\nThen the boy who was captain of the whole school, and the biggest and\nstrongest, stood over him, and said--\n\n\u201cThou, the king\u2019s nephew! the son of Sualtam and Dectera of Dun Dalgan!\nand comest hither without chariots and horsemen and a prince\u2019s retinue\nand guard. Nay, thou art a churl and a liar to boot, and hie thee hence\nnow with wings at thy heels or verily with sore blows I shall beat thee\noff the lawn.\u201d\n\nThereat the blood forsook thy face, O Setanta, O peerless one, and thou\nstoodest like a still figure carved out of white marble, with the pallor\nof death in thy immortal face. But that other, indignant to see him\nstand as one both deaf and dumb, and mistaking his pallor for fear,\nraised his hurle and struck with all his might at the boy. Setanta\nsprang back avoiding the blow, and ere the other could recover himself,\nstruck him back-handed over the right ear, whose knees were suddenly\nrelaxed and the useless weapon shaken from his hands. Then some stood\naside, but the rest ran upon Setanta to beat him off the lawn and struck\nat him all together, as well as they could, for their numbers impeded\nthem, and fiercely the stranger defended himself, and many a shrewd\nstroke he delivered upon his enemies, for the slumbering war-spirit now,\nfor the first time, had awaked in his gentle heart. Many times he was\noverborne and flung to the ground, but again he arose overthrowing\nothers, never quitting hold of his hurle, and, whenever he got a free\nspace, grasping that weapon like a war-mace in both hands, he struck\ndown his foes. The skirts of his mantle were torn, only a rag remained\nround his shoulders, fastened by the brooch; he was covered with blood,\nhis own and his enemies\u2019, and his eyes were like burning fire. Then\nConall Carna being enraged ran towards the boys, meaning to rebuke\ntheir cowardice and with his strong hands hurl them asunder and save the\nstranger boy. There was not a knight in all Ireland those days who loved\nbattle-fairness better than Conall Carna. Truly he was the pure-burning\ntorch of the chivalry of the Ultonians in his time. But as he ran one\nwithheld him and a voice crying \u201cForbear\u201d rang in his ears. Yet he saw\nno man. He stood still, being astonished, and became aware that\nthis tumult was divinely guided, for as in a trance he saw and heard\nmarvellous things. For the war-steeds of the Ultonians neighed loudly\nin their stables, and from the Tec Brac, the Speckled House of the Red\nBranch, rose a clangour of brass, the roar of the shield called Ocean,\nand the booming of the Gate-of-Battle, and the singing of swords long\nsilent, and the brazen thunder of the revolution of wheels; and he saw\nstrange forms and faces in the air, and the steady sun dancing in the\nheavens, and a man standing beside the stranger whose face was like\nthe sun. The son of Amargin saw and heard all, for he was a seer and a\nprophet no less than a warrior. But meantime his battle-fury descended\nupon Setanta, his countenance was distraught and his strength was\nmultiplied tenfold, and the steam of his war-madness rose above him. He\nstaggered to no blow, but every boy whom he struck fell, and he charged\nthis way and that, and wherever he went they opened before him. Then\nseeing how they closed in behind him and on each side, he beat his\nway back to the grassy rampart in which was the goal, and, facing his\nenemies, bade them come against him again in their troops, many against\none. \u201cYou have offered me your protection,\u201d he said, \u201cand I would not\nendure it, but now I swear to you by all my gods that you and I do\nnot part this day till you have accepted my protection, or till I lie\nwithout life on this lawn a trophy of your prowess and a monument of the\nchivalry and hospitality of the Red Branch.\u201d Then a boy stood out from\nthe rest. He was freckled, and with red hair, and his voice was loud and\nfierce.\n\n\u201cThou shalt have a comrade in thy battle henceforward,\u201d he said,\n\u201cO brave stranger. On the banks of the Nemnich, [Footnote: Now the\nNanny-Water, a beautiful stream running from Tara to the sea.] where it\nsprings beneath my father\u2019s dun on the Hill of Gabra, nigh Tara, I met a\nprophetess; Acaill is her name, the wisest of all women; and I asked\nher who would be my life-friend. And she answered, \u2018I see him standing\nagainst a green wall at Emain Macha, at bay, with the blood and soil of\nbattle upon him, and alone he gives challenge to a multitude. He is thy\nlife-friend, O Laeg,\u2019 she said, \u2018and no man ever had a friend like him\nor will till the end of time.\u2019\u201d\n\nSo saying he ran to Setanta, and kneeling down he took him by his right\nhand, and said, \u201cI am thy man from this day forward.\u201d And after that he\narose and kissed him, and standing by his side cried, \u201cO Cumascra Mend\nMacha, O stammering son of Concobar, if ever I was a shield to thee\nagainst thy mockers, come hither; and thou too come O Art Storm-Ear, and\nthou Art of the Shadow, and thou O Fionn of the Songs, and you O Ide and\nSheeling, who were nursed at the same breast and knee with myself.\u201d So\nhe summoned to him his friends, and they came to him, and there came to\nhim, uninvited, the three sons of Fergus and others whose hearts were\nstirred with shame or ruth. Yet, indeed, they were few compared with\nthe multitude of his enemies. Then for the first time the boy\u2019s soul was\nconfused, and he cried aloud, and bowed his head between his hands, and\nthe hot tears gushed forth like rain from his eyes, mingled with blood.\nSoon, hearing the loud mockery and derisive laughter of his enemies, he\nhardened his heart and went out against them with these his friends, and\ndrove them over the whole course of the playing-ground, and, hard by\nthe north goal, he brake the battle upon them and they fled. Of the\nfugitives some ran round the King and the Champion where they sat,\nbut Setanta running straight sprang lightly over the chess table. Then\nConcobar, reaching forth his left hand, caught him by the wrist and\nbrought him to a stand, panting and with dilated eyes.\n\n\u201cWhy art thou so enraged?\u201d said the King, \u201cand why dost thou so maltreat\nmy boys?\u201d\n\nIt was a long time before the boy answered, so furiously burned the\nbattle-fire within him, so that the King repeated his question more than\nonce. At last he made answer--\n\n\u201cBecause they have not treated me with the respect due a stranger.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho art thou thyself?\u201d said the King.\n\n\u201cI am Setanta, son of Sualtam and of Dectera thy own sister, and it is\nnot before my uncle\u2019s palace that I should be dishonoured.\u201d\n\nConcobar smiled, for he was well pleased with the appearance and\nbehaviour of the boy, but Fergus caught him up in his great arms and\nkissed him, and he said--\n\n\u201cDost thou know me, O Setanta?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think thou art Fergus Mac Roy,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cWilt thou have me for thy tutor?\u201d said Fergus.\n\n\u201cRight gladly,\u201d answered Setanta. \u201cFor in that hope too I left Dun\nDalgan, coming hither secretly without the knowledge of my parents.\u201d\n\nThis was the first martial exploit of Setanta, who is also called\nCuculain, and the reward of this his first battle was that the boys at\nhis uncle\u2019s school elected him to be for their captain, and one and all\nthey put themselves under his protection. And a gentle captain made he\nwhen the war-spirit went out of him, and a good play-fellow and comrade\nwas Setanta amongst his new friends.\n\nThat night Setanta and Laeg slept in the same bed of healing after the\nphysicians had dressed their wounds; and they related many things to\neach other, and oft times they kissed one another with great affection,\ntill sweet sleep made heavy their eyelids.\n\nSo, impelled by the unseen, Setanta came to Emain Macha without the\nknowledge of his parents, but in fulfilment of the law, for at a certain\nage all the boys of the Ultonians should come thither to associate there\nwith their equals and superiors, and be instructed by appointed tutors\nin the heroic arts of war and the beautiful arts of peace. Concobar Mac\nNessa was not only King of Ulster and captain of the Red Branch, but was\nalso the head and chief of a great school. In this school the boys did\nnot injure their eyesight and impair their health by poring over books;\nnor were compelled to learn what they could not understand; nor were\ninstructed by persons whom they did not wish to resemble. They\nwere taught to hurl spears at a mark; to train war-horses and guide\nwar-chariots; to lay on with the sword and defend themselves with sword\nand shield; to cast the hand-stone of the warrior--a great art in those\ndays; to run, to leap, and to swim; to rear tents of turf and branches\nswiftly, and to roof them with sedge and rushes; to speak appropriately\nwith equals and superiors and inferiors, and to exhibit the beautiful\npractices of hospitality according to the rank of guests, whether kings,\ncaptains, warriors, bards or professional men, or unknown wayfarers; and\nto play at chess and draughts, which were the chief social pastimes\nof the age; and to drink and be merry in hall, but always without\nintoxication; and to respect their plighted word and be ever loyal to\ntheir captains; to reverence women, remembering always those who bore\nthem and suckled when they were themselves helpless and of no account;\nto be kind to the feeble and unwarlike; and, in short, all that it\nbecame brave men to feel and to think and to do in war and in peace.\nAlso there were those who taught them the history of their ancestors,\nthe great names of the Clanna Rury, and to distinguish between those who\nhad done well and those who had not done so well, and the few who had\ndone ill. And these their several instructors appointed by Concobar\nMac Nessa and the council of his wise men were famous captains of the\nUltonians, and approved bards and historians. And over all the high king\nof Ulster, Concobar Mac Nessa, was chief and president, not in name\nonly but in fact, being well aware of all the instructors and all the\ninstructed, and who was doing well and exhibiting heroic traits, and who\nwas doing ill, tending downwards to the vast and slavish multitude whose\noffice was to labour and to serve and in no respect to bear rule,\nwhich is for ever the office of the multitude in whose souls no god has\nkindled the divine fire by which the lamp of the sun, and the candles\nof the stars, and the glory and prosperity of nations are sustained and\nfed. Such, and so supervised, was the Royal School of Emain Macha in the\ndays when Concobar Mac Nessa was King, and when Fergus Mac Roy Champion,\nand when the son of Sualtam, not yet known by his rightful name, was a\npupil of the same and under tutors and governors like the rest, though\nhis fond mother would have evaded the law, for she loved him dearly,\nand feared for him the rude companionship and the stern discipline, the\nearly rising and the strong labours of the great school.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE SMITH\u2019S SUPPER PARTY\n\n\n  \u201cBearing on shoulders immense\n    Atlantean the weight,\n   Well nigh not to be borne,\n    Of the too vast orb of her fate.\u201d\n\n               MATTHEW ARNOLD.\n\n\nOne day, in the forenoon, a man came to Emain Macha. He was grim and\nswarthy, with great hands and arms. He made no reverence to Concobar or\nto any of the Ultonians, but standing stark before them, spake thus, not\nfluently:--\u201cMy master, Culain, high smith of all Ulster, bids thee to\nsupper this night, O Concobar; and he wills thee to know that because\nhe has not wide territories, and flocks, and herds, and tribute-paying\npeoples, only the implements of his industry, his anvils and hammers and\ntongs, and the slender profits of his labour, he feareth to feast all\nthe Red Branch, who are by report mighty to eat and to drink; he would\nnot for all Ireland bring famine upon his own industrious youths, his\njourneymen and his apprentices. Come therefore with a choice selection\nof thy knights, choosing those who are not great eaters, and drinkers,\nand you shall all have a fair welcome, a goodly supper, and a\nproportionate quantity of drink.\u201d That speech was a cause of great mirth\nto the Ultonians; nevertheless they restrained their laughter, so that\nthe grim ambassador, who seemed withal to be a very angry man, saw\nnothing but grave countenances. Concobar answered him courteously,\nsaying that he accepted the invitation, and that he would be mindful of\nthe smith\u2019s wishes. When the man departed the Red Branch gave a loose\nrein to their mirth, each man charging the other with being in especial\nthe person whose presence would be a cause of sorrow to the smith.\n\nCulain was a mighty craftsman in those days. It was he who used to make\nweapons, armour, and chariots for the Ultonians, and there was never in\nIreland a better smith than he. In his huge and smoky dun the ringing of\nhammers and the husky roar of the bellows seldom ceased; even at night\nthe red glare of his furnaces painted far and wide the barren moor\nwhere he dwelt. Herdsmen and shepherds who, in quest of estrays, found\nthemselves unawares in this neighbourhood, fled away praying to their\ngods, and, as they ran, murmured incantations.\n\nIn the afternoon Concobar, having made as good a selection as he could\nof his chief men, set forth to go. As they passed through the lawn he\nsaw Setanta playing with his comrades. He stopped for a while to look,\nand then called the lad, who came at once and stood erect and silent\nbefore the King. He was now full ten years of age, straight and\nwell-made and with sinews as hard as tempered steel. When he saw the\ncompany looking at him, he blushed, and his blushing became him well.\n\n\u201cCulain the smith,\u201d said Concobar, \u201chath invited us to a feast. If it is\npleasing to thee, come too.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is pleasing indeed,\u201d replied the boy, for he ardently desired to see\nthe famous artificer, his people, his furnaces, and his engines. \u201cBut\nlet me first, I pray thee, see this our game brought to an end, for the\nboys await my return. After that I will follow quickly, nor can I lose\nmy way upon the moor, for the road hence to the smith\u2019s dun is well\ntrodden and scored with wheels, and the sky too at night is red above\nthe city.\u201d\n\nConcobar gave him permission, and Setanta hastened back to his\nplaymates, who hailed him gladly in his returning, for they feared that\nthe King might have taken him away from them.\n\nThe King and his great men went away eastward after that and they\nconversed eagerly by the way, talking sometimes of a certain recent\ngreat rebellion of the non-Irian kings of Ulla, [Footnote: The Ultonians\nwere descended from Ir, son of Milesius.] and of each other\u2019s prowess\nand the prowess of the insurgents, and sometimes of the smith and his\nstrange and unusual invitation.\n\n\u201cSay no word and do no thing,\u201d said Concobar, \u201cat which even a very\nangry and suspicious man might take offence, for as to our host and his\nartificers, their ways are not like ours, or their thoughts like our\nthoughts, and they are a great and formidable people.\u201d\n\nThe Red Branch did not relish that speech, for they thought that\nunder the measureless canopy of the sky there were no people great or\nformidable but themselves.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nSETANTA AND THE SMITH\u2019S DOG\n\n\n                  \u201cHow he fell\n From heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove\n Sheer o\u2019er the crystal battlements; from morn\n To noon, from noon to dewy eve,\n A Summer\u2019s day, he fell; and with the setting sun\n Dropped from the zenith like a falling star,\n On Lemnos.\u201d\n\n                  MILTON.\n\n\nWhen Culain saw far away the tall figures of the Ultonians against the\nsunset, and the flashing of their weapons and armour, he cried out with\na loud voice to his people to stop working and slack the furnaces\nand make themselves ready to receive the Red Branch; and he bade the\nhousehold thralls prepare the supper, roast, boiled and stewed, which\nhe had previously ordered. Then he himself and his journeymen and\napprentices stripped themselves, and in huge keeves of water filled by\ntheir slaves they washed from them the smoke and sweat of their labour\nand put on clean clothes. The mirrors at which they dressed themselves\nwere the darkened waters of their enormous tubs.\n\nCulain sent a party of his men and those who were the best dressed\nand the most comely and who were the boldest and most eloquent in the\npresence of strangers, to meet the high King of the Ultonians on the\nmoor, but he himself stood huge in the great doorway just beyond the\nthreshold and in front of the bridge over which the Red Branch party was\nto pass. He had on him over his clothes a clean leathern apron which was\nnot singed or scored. It was fastened at his shoulders and half covered\nhis enormous hairy chest, was girt again at his waist and descended\nbelow his knees. He stood with one knee crooked, leaning upon a long\nash-handled sledge with a head of glittering bronze. There he gave a\nfriendly and grave welcome to the King and to all the knights one by\none. It was dusk when Concobar entered the dun.\n\n\u201cAre all thy people arrived?\u201d said the smith.\n\n\u201cThey are,\u201d said Concobar.\n\nCulain bade his people raise the drawbridge which spanned the deep\nblack moat surrounding the city, and after that, with his own hands he\nunchained his one dog. The dog was of great size and fierceness. It was\nsupposed that there was no man in Ireland whom he could not drag down.\nHe had no other good quality than that he was faithful to his master\nand guarded his property vigilantly at night. He was quick of sight and\nhearing and only slept in the daytime. Being let loose he sprang over\nthe moat and three times careered round the city, baying fearfully.\nThen he stood stiffly on the edge of the moat to watch and listen, and\ngrowled at intervals when he heard some noise far away. It was then\nprecisely that Setanta set forth from Emain Macha. Earth quaked to the\ngrowling of that ill beast.\n\nIn the meantime the smith went into the dun, and when he had commanded\nhis people to light the candles throughout the chamber, he slammed to\nthe vast folding doors with his right hand and his left, and drew forth\nthe massy bar from its place and shot it into the opposing cavity. There\nwas not a knight amongst the Red Branch who could shut one of those\ndoors, using both hands and his whole strength. Of the younger knights,\nsome started to their feet and laid their hands on their sword hilts\nwhen they heard the bolt shot.\n\nThe smith sat down on his high seat over against Concobar, with his\ndusky sons and kinsmen around him, and truly they contrasted strangely\nwith the bravery and beauty of the Ultonians. He called for ale, and\nholding in his hands a huge four-cornered mether of the same, rimmed\nwith silver and furnished with a double silver hand-grip, he pledged\nthe King and bade him and his a kindly welcome. He swore, too, that no\ngeneration of the children of Rury, and he had wrought for many, had\ndone more credit to his workmanship than themselves, nor had he ever\nmade the appliances of war for any of the Gael with equal pleasure.\nConcobar, on the other hand, responded discreetly, and praised\nthe smith-work of Culain, praising chiefly the shield called Ocean\n[Footnote: Concobar\u2019s shield. When Concobar was in danger the shield\nroared. The sea, too, roared responsive.], which was one of the wonders\nof the north-west of Europe. The smith and all his people were well\npleased at that speech, and Culain bade his thralls serve supper, which\nproved to be a very noble repast. There was enough and to spare for\nall the Ultonians. When supper was ended, the heroes and the artificers\npledged each other many times and drank also to the memory of famous men\nof yore and their fathers who begat them, as was right and customary;\nand they became very friendly and merry without intoxication, for\nintoxication was not known in the age of the heroes.\n\nThen said Concobar: \u201cWe have this night toasted many heroes who are\ngone, and, as it is not right that we should praise ourselves, I propose\nthat we drink now to the heroes that are coming, both those unborn, and\nthose who, still being boys, are under tutors and instructors; and for\nthis toast I name the name of my nephew Setanta, son of Sualtam, who,\nif any, will one day, O Culain, if I mistake not, illustrate in an\nunexampled manner thy skill as an artificer of weapons and armour.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he then a boy of that promise, O Concobar?\u201d said the smith, \u201cfor if\nhe is I am truly rejoiced to hear it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is all that I say,\u201d answered the King somewhat hotly, \u201cand of a\nbeauty corresponding. And of that thou shalt be the judge to-night, for\nhe is coming, and indeed I am momentarily expecting to hear the loud\nclamour of his brazen hurle upon the doors of the dun, after his having\nleapt at one bound both thy moat and thy rampart.\u201d\n\nThe smith started from his high seat uttering a great oath, such as men\nused then, and sternly chid Concobar because he had said that all his\npeople had arrived. \u201cIf the boy comes now,\u201d he said, \u201cere I can chain\nthe dog, verily he will be torn into small pieces.\u201d\n\nJust then they heard the baying of the dog sounding terribly in the\nhollow night, and every face was blanched throughout the vast chamber.\nThen without was heard a noise of trampling feet and short furious yells\nand sibilant gaspings, as of one who exerts all his strength, after\nwhich a dull sound at which the earth seemed to shake, mingled with a\nnoise of breaking bones, and after that silence. Ere the people in the\ndun could do more than look at each other speechless, they heard a clear\nbut not clamorous knocking at the doors of the dun. Some of the smith\u2019s\nyoung men back-shot the bolt and opened the doors, and the boy Setanta\nstepped in out of the night. He was very pale. His scarlet mantle was in\nrags and trailing, and his linen tunic beneath and his white knees red\nwith blood, which ran down his legs and over his bare feet. He made a\nreverence, as he had been taught, to the man of the house and to\nhis people, and went backwards to the upper end of the chamber. The\nUltonians ran to meet him, but Fergus Mac Roy was the first, and he took\nSetanta upon his mighty shoulder and bore him along and set him down at\nthe table between himself and the King.\n\n\u201cDid the dog come against thee?\u201d said Culain.\n\n\u201cTruly he came against me,\u201d answered the boy.\n\n\u201cAnd art thou hurt?\u201d cried the smith.\n\n\u201cNo, indeed,\u201d answered Setanta, \u201cbut I think he is.\u201d\n\nAt that moment a party of the smith\u2019s people entered the dun bearing\nbetween them the carcass of the dog from whose mouth and white crooked\nfangs the blood was gushing in red torrents; and they showed Culain\nhow the skull of the dog and his ribs had been broken in pieces by some\nmighty blow, and his backbone also in divers places. Also they said:\n\u201cOne of the great brazen pillars which stand at the bridge head is bent\nawry, and the clean bronze denied with blood, and it was at the foot of\nthat pillar we found the dog.\u201d So saying, they laid the body upon the\nheather in front of Culain\u2019s high seat, that it might be full in his\neye, and when they did so and again sat down, there was a great silence\nin the chamber.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nSETANTA, THE PEACE-MAKER\n\n\n   \u201cThe swine-herd\n      [Footnote: One of the minor gods. He resembles Mars\n      Sylvanus of the Romans to whom swine were sacrificed.]\n     of Bove Derg, son of the Dagda,\n    The feasts to which he came used to end in blood.\u201d\n\n              GAELIC BARD.\n\n\nCulain sat silent for a long time looking out before him with eyes like\niron, and when at last he spoke his voice was charged with wrath and\nsorrow.\n\n\u201cO Concobar,\u201d he said, \u201cand you, the rest, nobles of the children of\nRury. You are my guests to-night, wherefore it is not lawful that I\nshould take vengeance upon you for the killing of my brave and faithful\nhound, who was a better keeper of my treasures than a company of hired\nwarriors. Truly he cost me nothing but his daily allowance of meat, and\nthere was not his equal as a watcher and warder in the world. An eric,\ntherefore, I must have. Consult now together concerning its amount and\nlet the eric be great and conspicuous, for, by Orchil [Footnote: The\nqueen of the infernal regions.] and all the gods who rule beneath the\nearth, a small eric I will not accept.\u201d\n\nConcobar answered straight, \u201cThou shalt not get from me or from the\nUltonians any eric, small or great. My nephew slew the beast in fair\nfight, defending his life against an aggressor. But I will say something\nelse, proud smith, and little it recks me whether it is pleasing to thee\nor not. Had thy wolf slain my nephew not one of you would have left this\ndun alive, and of your famous city of artificers I would have made a\nsmoking heap.\u201d\n\nThe Ultonians fiercely applauded that speech, declaring that the smiths\nshould get no eric, great or small, for the death of their monster. The\nsmiths thereupon armed themselves with their hammers, and tongs, and\nfire-poles, and great bars of unwrought brass, and Culain himself seized\nan anvil withal to lay waste the ranks of the Red Branch. The Ultonians\non their side ran to the walls and plucked down their spears from the\npegs, and they raised their shields and balanced their long spears,\nand swords flashed and screeched as they rushed to light out of the\nscabbards, and the vast chamber glittered with shaking bronze and shone\nwith the eyeballs of angry men, and rang with shouts of defiance and\nquick fierce words of command. For the Red Branch embattled themselves\non one side of the chamber and the smiths upon the other, burning with\nunquenchable wrath, earth-born. The vast and high dome re-echoing rang\nwith the clear terrible cries of the Ultonians and the roar of the\nchildren of the gloomy Orchil, and, far away, the magic shield moaned at\nEmain Macha, and the waves of the ocean sent forth a cry, for the peril\nof death and of shortness of life were around Concobar in that hour.\nAnd, though the doors of thick oak, brass-bound, were shut and barred,\nthere came a man into the assembly, and he was not seen. He was red all\nover, both flesh and raiment, as if he had been plunged in a bath of\nblood. His countenance was distraught and his eyes like those of an\ninsane man, and sparks new from them like sparks from a smith\u2019s stithy\nwhen he mightily hammers iron plucked white from the furnace. Smoke\nand fire came from his mouth. He held in his hand a long boar-yard. The\nlikeness of a boar bounded after him. He traversed the vast chamber with\nthe velocity of lightning, and with his boar-yard beat such as were\nnot already drunk with wrath and battle-fury, and shot insane fire into\ntheir souls. [Footnote: This was the demon referred to in the lines at\nthe head of the chapter.]\n\nThen indeed it wanted little, not the space of time during which a man\nmight count ten, for the beginning of a murder grim and great as any\nrenowned in the world\u2019s chronicles, and it is the opinion of the learned\nthat, in spite of all their valour and beautiful weapons, the artificers\nwould then and there have made a bloody end of the Red Branch had the\nbattle gone forward. But at this moment, ere the first missile was\nhurled on either side, the boy Setanta sprang into the midst, into the\nmiddle space which separated the enraged men, and cried aloud, with a\nclear high voice that rang distinct above the tumult--\n\n\u201cO Culain, forbear to hurl, and restrain thy people, and you the\nUltonians, my kinsmen, delay to shoot. To thee, O chief smith, and thy\ngreat-hearted artificers I will myself pay no unworthy eric for the\ndeath of thy brave and faithful hound. For verily I will myself take thy\ndog\u2019s place, and nightly guard thy property, sleepless as he was, and I\nwill continue to do so till a hound as trusty and valiant as the hound\nwhom I slew is procured for thee to take his place, and to relieve me\nof that duty. Truly I slew not thy hound in any wantonness of superior\nstrength, but only in the defence of my own life, which is not mine but\nmy King\u2019s. Three times he leaped upon me with white fangs bared and eyes\nred with murder, and three times I cast him off, but when the fourth\ntime he rushed upon me like a storm, and when with great difficulty I\nhad balked him on that occasion also, then I took him by the throat and\nby his legs and flung him against one of the brazen pillars withal to\nmake him stupid. And truly it was not my intention to kill him and I am\nsorry that he is dead, seeing that he was so faithful and so brave, and\nso dear to thee whom I have always honoured, even when I was a child at\nDun Dalgan, and whom, with thy marvel-working craftsman, I have for\na long time eagerly desired to see. And I thought that our meeting,\nwhensoever it might be, would be other than this and more friendly.\u201d\n\nAs he went on speaking the fierce brows of the smith relaxed, and first\nhe regarded the lad with pity, being so young and fair, and then with\nadmiration for his bravery. Also he thought of his own boyish days,\nand as he did so a torrent of kindly affection and love poured from his\nbreast towards the boy, yea, though he saw him standing before him with\nthe blood of his faithful hound gilding his linen lena and his white\nlimbs. Yet, indeed, it was not the hound\u2019s blood which was on the boy,\nbut his own, so cruelly had the beast torn him with his long and strong\nand sharp claws.\n\n\u201cThat proposal is pleasing to me,\u201d he said, \u201cand I will accept the eric,\nwhich is distinguished and conspicuous and worthy of my greatness and of\nmy name and reputation amongst the Gael. Why should a man be angry for\never when he who did the wrong offers due reparation?\u201d Therewith over\nhis left shoulder he flung the mighty anvil into the dark end of the\nvast chamber among the furnaces, at the sound of whose falling the\nsolid earth shook. On the other hand Concobar rejoiced at this happy\ntermination of the quarrel, for well he knew the might of those huge\nchildren of the gloomy Orchil. He perceived, too, that he could with\nsafety entrust the keeping of the lad to those people, for he saw\nthe smith\u2019s countenance when it changed, and he knew that among those\nartificers there was no guile.\n\n\u201cIt is pleasing to me, too,\u201d he said, \u201cand I will be myself the lad\u2019s\nsecurity for the performance of his promise.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, I want no security,\u201d answered the smith. \u201cThe word of a scion of\nthe Red Branch is security enough for me.\u201d\n\nThereafter all laid aside their weapons and their wrath. The smiths with\na mighty clattering cast their tools into the dark end of the chamber,\nand the Ultonians hanged theirs upon the walls, and the feasting and\npledging and making of friendly speeches were resumed. There was no more\nany anger anywhere, but a more unobstructed flow of mutual good-will and\nregard, for the Ultonians felt no more a secret inclination to laugh at\nthe dusky artificers, and the smiths no longer regarded with disdain the\nbeauty, bravery, and splendour of the Ultonians.\n\nIn the meantime Setanta had returned to his place between the King and\nFergus Mac Roy. There a faintness came upon him, and a great horror\novershadowed him owing to his battle with the dog, for indeed it was no\ncommon dog, and when he would have fallen, owing to the faintness, they\npushed him behind them so that he lay at full length upon the couch\nunseen by the smiths. Concobar nodded to his chief Leech, and he came\nto him with his instruments and salves and washes. There unobserved he\nwashed the cruel gashes cut by the hound\u2019s claws, and applied salves and\nstitched the skin over the wounds, and, as he did so, in a low voice he\nmurmured healing songs of power.\n\n\u201cWhere is the boy?\u201d said Culain.\n\n\u201cHe is reposing a little,\u201d said Concobar, \u201cafter his battle and his\nconflict.\u201d\n\nAfter a space they gave Setanta a draught of mighty ale, and his heart\nrevived in him and the colour returned to his cheeks wherein before was\nthe pallor of death, and he sat up again in his place, slender and fair,\nbetween Concobar and Fergus Mac Roy. The smiths cried out a friendly\nwelcome to him as he sat up, for they held him now to be their\nfoster-son, and Culain himself stood up in his place holding in both\nhands a great mether [Footnote: A four-cornered quadrangular cup.] of\nale, and he drank to all unborn and immature heroes, naming the name\nof Setanta, son of Sualtam, now his dear foster-son, and magnified his\ncourage, so that the boy blushed vehemently and his eyelids trembled\nand drooped; and all the artificers stood up too and drank to their\nfoster-son, wishing him victory and success, and they drained their\ngoblets and dashed them, mouth downwards, upon the brazen tables, so\nthat the clang reverberated over Ulla. Setanta thereupon stood up while\nthe smiths roared a welcome to their foster-son, and he said that it\nwas not he who had gained the victory, for that someone invisible had\nassisted him and had charged him with a strength not his own. Then he\nfaltered in his speech and said again that he would be a faithful hound\nin the service of the artificers, and sat down. The smiths at that time\nwould not have yielded him for all the hounds in the world.\n\nAfter that their harpers harped for them and their story tellers related\ntrue stories, provoking laughter and weeping. There was no story told\nthat was not true in the age of the heroes. Then the smiths sang one\nof their songs of labour, though it needed the accompaniment of ringing\nmettle, a song wild and strange, and the Ultonians clear and high sang\nall together with open mouths a song of battle and triumph and of the\nmarching home to Emain Macha with victory; and so they spent the night,\ntill Concobar said--\n\n\u201cO Culain, feasting and singing are good, but slumber is good also.\nDismiss us now to our rest and our slumber, for we, the Red Branch, must\nrise betimes in the morning, having our own proper work to perform day\nby day in Emain Macha, as you yours in your industrious city.\u201d\n\nWith difficulty were the smiths persuaded to yield to that request, for\nright seldom was there a feast in Dun Culain, and the unusual pleasure\nand joyful sense of comradeship and social exaltation were very pleasing\nto their hearts.\n\nThe Ultonians slept that night in the smiths\u2019 hall upon resplendent\ncouches which had been prepared for them, and early in the morning,\nhaving taken a friendly leave of the artificers, they departed, leaving\nthe lad behind them asleep. Setanta remained with the smiths a long time\nafter that, and Culain and his people loved him greatly and taught him\nmany things. It was owing to this adventure and what came of it that\nSetanta got his second name, viz., the Hound of Culain or Cu-Culain.\nUnder that name he wrought all his marvellous deeds.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE CHAMPION AND THE KING\n\n\n     \u201cSing, O Muse, the destructive wrath of Achilles, son\n     of Peleus, which brought countless woes upon the Achaeans.\u201d\n\n                           --Homer.\n\n\nConcobar Mac Nessa sat one day in his high chair, judging the Ultonians.\nHis great Council sat before him. In the Champion\u2019s throne sat Fergus\nMac Roy. Before the high King his suitors gave testimony and his brehons\npleaded, and Concobar in each case pronounced judgment, clearly and\nintelligently, briefly and concisely, with learning and with equity.\n\n\u201cRight glad am I, O Concobar,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cthat thou art in the King\u2019s\nthrone, and I where I sit. Verily, had I remained in that chair of\nhonour and distress, long since would these historians and poets and\nsubtle-minded lawyers have talked and rhymed me into madness, or into my\ngrave.\u201d\n\nConcobar made answer--\u201cDear foster-father, the high gods in their wisdom\nhave fashioned us each man to illustrate some virtue. To thee they have\ngiven strength, courage, and magnanimity above all others; and to me,\nin small measure, the vision of justice, and the perception of her\nbeautiful laws. A man can only excel in what he loves, and verily I love\nwell the known laws of the Ultonians.\u201d\n\nA great man just then entered the hall. His mantle was black. In the\nbreast of it, instead of a brooch, he wore an iron pin. He came swiftly\nand without making the customary reverences. His face was pale, and his\ngarments torn, his dark-grey tunic stained with blood. He stood in the\nmidst and cried--\n\n\u201cO high King of the Ultonians, and you the wise men and sages of the\nchildren of Rury, to all of you there is now need of some prudent\nresolution. A great deed has been done in Ulla.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d said the King.\n\n\u201cThe abduction of the Beautiful Woman by Naysi, son of Usna. Verily,\nshe is taken away and may not be recovered, for the Clan Usna came last\nnight with a great company to the dun and they stormed it in their might\nand their valour, and their irresistible fury, and they have taken\naway Deirdre in their swift chariots, and have gone eastwards to the\nMuirnicht with intent to cross the sea northwards, and abide henceforth\nwith their prize in the land of the Picts and of the Albanah, beyond the\nstormy currents of the Moyle.\u201d\n\nFergus Mac Roy, when he heard that word, sat up with eyes bright-blazing\nin his head. Dearer to him than all the rest were those sons of Usna,\nnamely--Naysi, Anli, and Ardane, and dearest of the three was Naysi,\nwho excelled all the youth of his time in beauty, valour, and\naccomplishments.\n\n\u201cBind that man!\u201d cried Concobar. His voice rang terribly through the\nvast chamber. Truly it sheared through men\u2019s souls like a dividing\nsword.\n\nHis guards took the man and bound him. \u201cLead him away now,\u201d said\nConcobar, \u201cand stone him with stones even to the parting of body with\nsoul.\u201d\n\nThe man was one of Deirdre\u2019s guard.\n\nA great silence fell upon the assembly after that and no man spoke, only\nthey looked at the King and then again at the Champion, and, as it were,\nquestioned one another silently with their eyes. It was the silence\nbehind which run the Fomorh, brazen-throated and clad with storm. Well\nknew those wise men that what they long apprehended had come now to\npass, namely, the fierce and truceless antagonism of the King and of the\nex-King. Well they knew that Concobar would not forgive the Clan Usna,\nand that Fergus Mac Roy would not permit them to be punished. Therefore,\ngreat and mighty as were the men, yet on this occasion they might be\nlikened only to cattle who stand aside astonished when two fierce bulls,\nrending the earth as they come, advance against each other for the\nmastery of the herd. In the high King\u2019s face the angry blood showed as\ntwo crimson spots one on either cheek, and his eyes, harder than steel,\nsparkled under brows more rigid than brass. On the other hand, the face\nof the Champion darkened as the sea darkens when a black squall descends\nsuddenly upon its sunny and glittering tides, wrinkling and convulsing\nall the face of the deep. His listlessness and amiability alike went\nout of him, and he sat huge and erect in his throne. His mighty chest\nexpanded and stood out like a shield, and the muscles of his neck,\nstronger than a bull\u2019s, became clear and distinct, and his gathering ire\nand stern resolution rushed stormfully through his nostrils. The King\nfirst spoke.\n\n\u201cTo the man who has broken our law and abducted the child of ill omen, I\ndecree death by the sword and burial with the three throws of dishonour,\nand if taken alive, then death by burning with the same, and if\nhe escapes out of Erin, then sentence of perpetual banishment and\nexpatriation.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe shall not be slain, and he shall not be burned, and he shall not be\nexiled. I say it, even I, Fergus, son of the Red Rossa, Champion of the\nNorth. Let the man who will gainsay me show himself now in Emain Macha.\nLet him bring round the buckle of his belt.\u201d\n\nHis eyes, as he spoke, were like flames of fire under a forehead dark\ncrimson, and with his clenched fist he struck the brazen table before\nhis throne, so that the clang and roar of the quivering bronze sounded\nthrough all the borders of Ulla.\n\n\u201cI will gainsay thee, O Fergus,\u201d cried the King, \u201cI am the guardian and\nthe executor of the laws of the Ultonians, and those laws shall prevail\nover thee and over all men.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll laws in restraint of true love and affection are unjust,\u201d said\nFergus, \u201cand the law by which Deirdre was consigned to virginity was the\nunrighteous enactment of cold-hearted and unrighteous men.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nDEIRDRE\n\n\n     \u201cBeautiful the beginning of love,\n      A man and a woman and the birds of Angus above them.\u201d\n\n                    GAELIC BARD.\n\n\nThe birth of the child Deirdre, daughter of the chief poet of Ulla, was\nattended with a great portent, for the child shrieked from the mother\u2019s\nwomb. Cathvah and the Druids were consulted concerning that omen. They\naddressed themselves to their art of divination, and having consulted\ntheir oracles and gods and familiar spirits, they gave a clear counsel\nto the Ultonians.\n\n\u201cThis child,\u201d they said, \u201cwill become a woman, in beauty surpassing all\nthe women who have ever been born or will be born. Her union with a man\nwill be a cause of great sorrow to the Ultonians. Let her, therefore,\nbe exposed after birth; or, if you would not slay the Arch-Poet\u2019s only\nchild, let her be sternly immured; let her be reared to womanhood in\nutter and complete and inviolable solitude, and live and die in her\nvirginity.\u201d\n\nThe Ultonians determined that the child should live and be immured.\nThese things took place in the reign of Factna the Righteous, father of\nConcobar. When the child was born she was called Deirdre. The Ultonians\nappointed for her a nurse and tutoress named Levarcam. They built for\nher and for the nurse a strong dun in a remote forest and set a ward\nthere, and they made a solemn law enjoining perpetual virginity on the\nchild of ill omen, and the Druids shed a zone of terror round the dun.\n\nConcobar Mac Nessa in the wide circuit of his thoughts consulted always\nfor the inviolability of that law, and the stern maintenance of the\nwatching and warding.\n\nUnseen and unobserved, forgotten by all save the wise elders of the\nUltonians and by Concobar their King, whose thoughts ranged on all sides\ndevising good for the Red Branch, the child Deirdre grew to be a maiden.\nThough her beauty was extraordinary, yet her mind was as beautiful as\nher form, so that the Lady Levarcam loved her exceedingly.\n\nOne day when the first flush of early womanhood came upon the maiden,\nshe said to her tutoress as they sat together and conversed--\n\n\u201cAre all men like those our guards who defend us against savage beasts\nand the merciless Fomorians, dear Levarcam?\u201d\n\n\u201cThose our guards are true and brave men,\u201d said Levarcam.\n\n\u201cSurely they are,\u201d said the girl, \u201cand we lack no courtesy and due\nattention at their hands, but dear foster-mother, my question is not\nanswered. Maybe it is not to be answered and that I am curious overmuch.\nAre all men grim, grave, and austere, wearing rugged countenances scored\nwith ancient wounds, and bearing each man upon his shoulders the weight\nof some fearful responsibility? Are all men like that, dear Levarcam?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, indeed,\u201d said the other, \u201cthere are youths too, gracious, and gay,\nand beautiful, as well as grave men such as these.\u201d\n\nThey sat together in their sunny grianan, [Footnote: A derivative\nfrom Grian, the sun. The grianan was an upper chamber, more elegantly\nfurnished than the hall, usually with large windows and therefore\nwell lit and reserved for the use of women.] embroidering while they\nconversed. It was early morning and the air was full of the noises and\nodours of sweet spring-time.\n\n\u201cI know that now,\u201d said the maiden, \u201cwhich I only guessed before, for\nwaking or sleeping I have dreamed of a youth who was as unlike these\nmen as the rose-tree with its roses is unlike the rugged oak-tree or the\nwrinkled pine that has wrestled with a thousand storms. I would wish to\nhave him for a playfellow and pleasant acquaintance. Of maidens, too,\nsuch as myself I have dreamed, yet they do not appear to me to be so\nalluring or so amiable as that youth.\u201d\n\n\u201cDescribe him more particularly,\u201d said Levarcam. \u201cTell me his tokens one\nby one that I may know.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is tall and strong but very graceful in all his motions; and of\nspeech and behaviour both gay and gracious. He is white and ruddy,\nwhiter than snow and ruddier than the rose or the fox-glove, where the\nheroic blood burns bright in his comely cheeks. His eyes are blue-black\nunder fine and even brows and his hair is a wonder, so dense is it, so\nlustrous and so curling, blacker than the crow\u2019s wing, more shining than\nthe bright armour of the chaffer. His body is broad above and narrow\nbelow, strong to withstand and agile to pursue. His limbs long and\nbeautifully proportioned; his hands and feet likewise, and his step\nelastic Smiles seldom leave his eyes and lips, and his mouth is a\nfountain of sweet speech. O that I were acquainted with him and he with\nme? I think we should be happy in each other\u2019s company. I think I could\nlove him as well as I do thee, dear foster-mother.\u201d\n\nAs she spoke, Deirdre blushed, and first she stooped down over her\nwork and then put before her face and eyes her two beautiful hands,\nrose-white, with long delicate nails pink-flushed and transparent; and\ntears, clearer than dewdrops, gushed between her ringers and fell in\nbright showers upon the embroidery. Then she arose and flung her soft\nwhite arms around Levarcam and wept on her bosom.\n\n\u201cThere is one youth only amongst the Red Branch,\u201d said Levarcam, \u201cwho\nanswers to that description, namely Naysi, the son of Usna, who is\nthe battle-prop of the Ultonians and the clear-shining torch of their\nvalour, and what god or druid or power hath set that vision before thy\nmind, I cannot tell.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould that I could see him with eyes and have speech with him,\u201d\n answered the girl. \u201cIf but once he smiled upon me and I heard the sweet\nwords flow from his mouth which is beyond price, then gladly would I\ndie!\u201d\n\n\u201cThou shall both see him and have speech with him, O best, sweetest,\ndearest, and loveliest of all maidens. Truly I will bring him to thee\nand thee to him, for there is with me power beyond the wont of women.\u201d\n\nNow Levarcam was a mighty Druidess amongst the Ultonians. So the lady in\nwhom they trusted forgot the ancient prophecies and the stern commands\nof the Red Branch and of their King, owing to the great love which she\nbore to the maiden and the great compassion which grew upon her day by\nday, as she observed the life of the solitary girl and thought of the\ncruel law to which all her youth and beauty and wealth of sweet love\nbeyond all the jewels of the world were thus barbarously sacrificed by\nthe Ultonians in obedience to soothsayers and Druids.\n\nNaysi, son of Usna, once in a hunting became separated from his\ncompanions. He wandered far in that forest, seeking some one who should\ndirect him upon his way. Oftentimes he raised his voice, but there was\nno answer. Such were his beauty, his grace, and his stature, that he\nseemed more like a god than a man, and such another as Angus Ogue, son\nof Dagda, [Footnote: Angus Ogue was the god of youth and beauty, son of\nthe Dagda who seems to have been the genius of earth and its fertility\nor perhaps the Zeus of our Gaelic mythology.] whose fairy palace is\non the margin of the Boyne. His head and his feet were bare. His short\nhunting-cloak was dark-red with flowery devices along the edge. On his\nbreast he wore a brooch of gold bronze; carbuncles and precious stones\nwere set in the bronze, and it was carved all over with many spiral\ndevices. His shirt below the mantle was coloured like the tassels of the\nwillow trees. His hair was fastened behind with a clasp and an apple of\nred gold, and that apple lay below the blades of his ample shoulders.\nIn one hand he bore a broken leash of red bronze, and in the other two\nhunting spears with blades of flashing findruiney and the hafts were\nlong, slender, and shining. By his thigh hung a short sword in a sheath\nof red yew and beside it the polished and nigh transparent horn of the\nUrus, suspended in a baldrick of knitted thread of bronze. The grass\nstood erect from the pressure of his light feet. His manly face had not\nyet known the razor; only the first soft down of budding manhood was\nseen there. His countenance was pure and joyous with bright beaming\neyes, and his complexion red and white and of a brilliancy beyond words.\nIn his heart was no guile, only indomitable valour and truth and\nloyalty and sweet affection. He had never known woman save in the way of\ncourtesy. The very trees and rocks and stones seemed to watch him as he\npassed.\n\nThen suddenly and unawares an ice-cold air struck chill into his inmost\nbeing, the bright earth was obscured and the sun grew dark in the\nheavens and menacing voices were heard and horrid forms of evil,\nmonstrous, not to be described, came against him, and they bade him\nreturn as he had come or they would tear him limb from limb in that\nforest. Yet the son of Usna was by no means dismayed, only he flushed\nwith wrath and scorn and he drew his sword and went on against the\nphantoms. In truth Naysi was at that moment passing through the zone of\nterror which the Ultonian Druids had shed around the dun where Deirdre\nwas immured. The phantoms gave way before him and Naysi passed beyond\nthe zone. \u201cSurely,\u201d he said, \u201cthere is some chief jewel of the jewels of\nthe world preserved in this place.\u201d\n\nHe came to an opening in the forest. Beyond it there was a great space\nwhich was cleared and girt all round by trees. There was a dun in\nits midst. Scarlet and white were the walls of that dun. There was\na watch-tower on one side of the dun and a man there sitting in the\nwatchman\u2019s seat; a grianan on the other with windows of glass. The roof\nof the dun was covered all over with feathers of birds of various hues,\nand shone with a hundred colours. The doorway was the narrowest which\nNaysi had ever seen. The door pillars were of red yew curiously carved,\nhaving feet of bronze and capitals of carved silver, and the lintel\nabove was a straight bar of pure silver. A knotted band or thickening\nran round the walls of the dun like a variegated zone, for the colours\nof it were many and each different from the colours on the walls. In\nthe world there was no such prison as there was no such captive as that\nprison held. Armed men of huge stature and terrible aspect went round\nthe dun. Their habiliments were black, their weapons without ornament,\nthe pins of their mantles were of iron. With each company went a slinger\nhaving his sling bent, an iron bolt in the sling, and his thumb in the\nstring-loop, men who never missed their mark and never struck aught,\nwhether man or beast, that they did not slay. Great hounds such as were\nnot known amongst the Ultonians went with those men. They were grey\nabove and tawny beneath, as large as wild oxen after the growth of\none year. They were quick of sight and scent, fiercer than dragons and\nswifter than eagles; they were not quick of sight and scent to-day. The\nLady Levarcam had great power. In and around that dun were three hundred\nmen of war, foreigners, picked men of the great fighting tribes of\nBanba. Such was the decree of the Ultonians and their wise King,\nso greatly did they fear concerning those prophecies and omens and\nconcerning the child who in Emain Macha shrieked out of her mother\u2019s\nwomb. Naysi regarded the dun with wonder and amazement, and with\namazement the astonishing rigour of the watch and ward which were kept\nthere, and the more he looked the more he wondered. It seemed to the\nhunter that he had chanced upon one of the abodes of the enchanted races\nof Erin, namely the Tuatha De Dana or the Fomorians, whom the sons of\nMilesius by their might had driven into the mountains and unfrequented\nplaces and who, now immortal and invisible, and possessing great druidic\npower, were worshipped as gods by the Gael. He knew he was in great\nperil, but his stout heart did not fail; he was resolved to see this\nadventure to an end.\n\nAs he was about to step out into the open two women came from the door\nof the grianan. One of them was old; she leaned upon her companion and\nin her right hand held a long white wand squared save in the middle\nwhere it was rounded for the hand grip, very long, unornamented, and\nunshod at either extremity. Naysi paid slight attention to her, though,\nas she was the first to come forth, he observed these things. The other\nwas young, tall, slender, and lissom, her raiment costly and splendid\nlike a high queen\u2019s on some solemn day, and like a queen\u2019s her behaviour\nand her pacing over the flowery lawn. Never had that hunter seen such a\nform, so proudly modest and virginal, such sweetness, grace, and majesty\nof bearing. Presently, having passed a company of the guards, she flung\nback the white, half-transparent veil that concealed her face. Then the\nsudden radiance was like the coming unlocked for out of a white cloud of\nthat very bright star which shines on the edge of night and morning. All\nthings were transfigured in her light. Before her the grass grew greener\nand more glittering and rare flowers started in her way. A silver basket\nof most delicate craftsmanship, the work of some cunning cerd, was on\nher right arm. It shone clear and sparkling against her mantle which\nwas exceedingly lustrous, many times folded, darkly crimson, and of\nsubstance unknown. She towered above her aged companion, straight as\na pillar of red yew in a king\u2019s house. So, unwitting, jocund, and\ninnocent, fresh and pure as the morning, she paced over the green\nlawn, going in the direction of that youth, even Naysi, son of Usna the\nUltonian. Naysi\u2019s loudly beating heart fell silent when he saw how she\ncame straight towards him; he retreated into the forest, so amazing and\nso confounding was the radiance of that beauty. A company of those grim\nwarders, silent and watchful, followed close upon the women. As they\nwent they slipped the muzzles from the mouths of their dogs and lead\nthem forward leashed. The countenances of the men shewed displeasure.\nFrom the tower the watchman cried aloud words in an unknown tongue,\nhoarse, barbaric accents charged with energy and strong meaning. His\nvoice rang terribly in the hollows of the forest. There was a counter\nchallenge in the forest repeated many times, the voices of men mingled\nwith the baying of hounds. There was a ring of sentinels and dogs far\nout in the forest. The son of Usna had gone through the ring. For twice\nseven years and one that astonishing watch and ward had been maintained\nday and night without relaxation or abatement. When they came to the\nedge of the forest Levarcam addressed the commander of that company.\nShe said, \u201cThe Lady Deirdre would be alone with me in the forest for a\nlittle space to gather flowers and listen to the music of the birds\nand the stream, relieved, if but for one moment, of this watching and\nwarding.\u201d\n\nThe man answered not a word. He was of the Gamanrdians, dwellers by the\nSue, which feeds the great Western River; [Footnote: The Shannon.] his\npeople were of the Clan Dega in the south, and of the children of Orc\n[Footnote: In scriptural language \u201cof the seed of the giants,\u201d huge,\nsimple-hearted and simple-minded men, who could obey orders and ask no\nquestions.] from the Isles of Ore in the frozen seas. [Footnote: The\nOrkney Islands.] The blood of the Fomoroh was in those men. The women\nwent on, and that grim company followed, keeping close behind. When they\ngained the first cover of the trees Levarcam turned round and stretched\nover them her wand. They stood motionless, both men and dogs. Then the\nwomen went forward, and alone.\n\n\u201cFill thy basket now with forest flowers, O sweetest, and dearest, and\nfairest of all foster-children, and listen to the songs of the birds\nand the music of the rill. Cull thy flowers, darling girl, and cull the\nflower of thy youth, the flower that grows but once for all like thee,\nthe flower whose glory puts high heaven to shame, and whose odour makes\nmad the most wise.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere shall I gather that flower, O gentlest and most amiable of\nfoster-mothers? Is it in the glade or the thicket, or on the margent of\nthe rill?\n\n\u201cIt is not to be found by seeking, O fairest of all maidens. Gather it\nwhen thou meetest with it in the way. Wear it in thy heart, be the end\nwhat it may. Verily thou wilt not mistake any other flower for that\nflower.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not thy meaning, O wise and many-counselled woman, but there is\nfear upon me, and trembling, and my knees quake at thy strange words.\nNow, if the whole world were swallowed up I should not be surprised.\nSurely the end of the world is very nigh.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the end of the world and the beginning of the world; and the end\nof life and the beginning of life; and death and life in one, and death\nand life will soon be the same to thee, O Deirdre!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is amazement upon me, and terror, O my foster-mother, on account\nof thy words, and on account of the gathering of this flower. Let us\nreturn to the dun. Terrible to me are the hollow-sounding ways of the\nunknown forest.\u201d\n\n\u201cFear not the unknown forest, O Deirdre. Leave the known and the\nfamiliar now that thy time has come. Go on. Accomplish thy destiny. It\nis vain to strive against fate and the pre-ordained designs of the high\ngods of Erin. Truly I have failed in my trust. I see great wrath in\nEmain Macha. I see the Red Branch tossed in storms, and a mighty riving\nand rending and scattering abroad, and dismal conflagrations, and the\nblood of heroes falling like rain, and I hear the croaking of Byves.\n[Footnote: Badb, pronounced Byve, was primarily the scald-crow or\ncarrion-crow, secondarily a Battle-Fury.] Truly I have proved a brittle\nprop to the Ultonians, but some power beyond my own drives me on.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat wild words are these, O wisest of women, and what this rending and\nscattering abroad, and showers of blood and croaking of Byves because I\ncull a flower in the forest?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, it is nothing. Have peace and joy while thou canst, sweet Deirdre.\nThus I lay my wand upon thy bosom and enjoin peace!\u201d\n\n\u201cThou art weary, dear foster-mother. Rest thee here now a little space,\nwhile I go and gather forest flowers. They are sweeter than those\nthat grow in my garden. O, right glad am I to be alone in the forest,\nrelieved from the observation of those grim-visaged sentinels, to stray\nsolitary in the dim mysterious forest, and to think my own thoughts\nthere, and dream my dreams, and recall that vision which I have seen. O\nNaysi, son of Usna, sweeter than harps is the mere sound of thy name, O\nUltonian!\u201d\n\nDeirdre after that went forward alone into the forest.\n\nNaysi, when he had started back into the forest stood still for a long\ntime in his retreat. It was the hollow of a tall rock beside a falling\nstream of water, all flowing snow or transparent crystal. Holly trees\nand quicken trees grew from its crest, and long twines of ivy fell down\nbefore like green torrents. Behind them he concealed himself, when he\nheard the cries and the challengings and the baying of the hounds. Then\nhe saw the maiden come along the forest glade by the margent of the\nstream, her basket filled and over-flowing with flowers. The sentient\nstream sang loud and gay to greet her approaching, with fluent liquid\nfingers striking more joyously the chords of his stony lyre. Light\nbeyond the sun was shed through the glen before her. Birds, the\nbrightest of plumage and sweetest of note of all the birds of Banba,\n[Footnote: One of Ireland\u2019s ancient names.] filled the air with their\nsongs, flying behind her and before her, and on her right hand and on\nher left. Through his lattice of trailing ivy the son of Usna saw her.\nHer countenance was purer and clearer than morning-dew upon the rose or\nthe lily, and the rose and lily, nay, the whiteness of the snow of one\nnight and the redness of the reddest rose, were there. Her eyes were\nblue-black under eyebrows black and fine, but her clustering hair was\nbright gold, more shining than the gold which boils over the edge of the\nrefiner\u2019s crucible. Her forehead was free from all harshness, broad and\nintelligent, her beautiful smiling lips of the colour of the berries of\nthe mountain ash, her teeth a shower of lustrous pearls. Her face and\nform, her limbs, hands and feet, were such that no defect, blemish or\ndisproportion could be observed, though one might watch and observe\nlong, seeking to discover them. In that daughter of the High Poet and\nHistorian of the Hound-race of the North, [Footnote: The hound was the\ntype of valour. Though Cuculain was pre-eminently the Hound, the Gaelic\nequivalents of this word will be discovered in most of the famous\nnames of the cycle.] child of valour and true wisdom, the body did not\npredominate over the spirit, or the spirit over the body, for as her\nform was of matchless, incomparable, and inexpressible beauty, so her\nmind was not a whit less well proportioned and refined. Jocund and\nhappy, breathing innocence and love, she came up the dell. The birds\nof Angus [Footnote: Angus Ogue\u2019s kisses became invisible birds whose\nsinging inspired love.] unseen flew above her and shed upon her\nunearthly graces and charms from the waving of their immortal wings.\nA silver brooch lay on her breast, the pin of fine bronze ran straight\nfrom one shoulder to the other. On her head was a lustrous tyre or leafy\ndiadem shading her countenance, gold above and silver below. Her short\nkirtle was white below the rose-red mantle, and fringed with gold thread\nabove her perfect and lightly stepping feet. Shoes she wore shining with\nbrightest wire of findruiney. As she came up the dell, rejoicing in her\nfreedom and the sweetness of that sylvan place and the solitude,\nshe contemplated the bright stream, and sang clear and sweet an\nunpremeditated song.\n\nNaysi stepped forth from his place, putting aside the ivy with his\nhands, and came down the dell to meet her in her coming. She did not\nscream or tremble or show any signs of confusion, though she had never\nbefore seen any of the youths of the Gael. She only stood still and\nstraight, and with wide eyes of wonder watched him as he drew nigh, for\nshe thought at first that it was the genius of that glen and torrent\ntaking form in reply to her druidic lay. Then when she recognised\nthe comrade and playfellow of her vision, she smiled a friendly and\naffectionate greeting. On the other hand, Naysi came trembling and\nblushing. He bowed himself to the earth before her, and kissed the grass\nbefore her feet.\n\nThey remained together a long time in the glen and told each other\nall they knew and thought and felt, save one feeling untellable, happy\nbeyond all power of language to express. When Deirdre rose to go, Naysi\nasked for some token and symbol of remembrance.\n\nAs they went she gathered a rose and gave it to Naysi.\n\n\u201cThere is a great meaning in this token amongst the youths and maidens\nof the Gael,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cI know that,\u201d answered Deirdre. Deirdre returned to Levarcam.\n\n\u201cThou hast gathered the flower,\u201d said Levarcam.\n\n\u201cI have,\u201d she replied, \u201cand death and life are one to me now, dear\nfoster-mother.\u201d\n\nNaysi went away through the forest and there is nothing related\nconcerning him till he reached Dun Usna. It was night when he entered\nthe hall. His brothers were sitting at the central fire. Anli was\nscouring a shield; Ardane was singing the while he polished a spear and\nheld it out against the light to see its straightness and its lustre.\nThey were in no way alarmed about their brother.\n\n\u201cI have seen Deirdre, the daughter of Felim,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cThen thou art lost!\u201d they answered; the weapons fell from their hands\nupon the floor.\n\n\u201cI am,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cWhat is thy purpose?\u201d they said.\n\n\u201cTo storm the guarded dun, even if I go against it alone, To bear away\nDeirdre and pass into the land of the Albanagh.\u201d [Footnote: The Albanagh\nwere the people who inhabited the north and west of Scotland, in fact\nthe Highlanders. In ancient times they and the Irish were regarded as\none people.]\n\n\u201cThou shalt not go alone,\u201d they said. \u201cWe have shared in thy glory and\nthy power, we will share all things with thee.\u201d\n\nThey put their right hand into his on that promise. One hundred and\nfifty nobles of the nobles of that territory did the same, for with\nNaysi as their captain they did not fear to go upon any enterprise. They\nknew that expatriation awaited them, but they had rather be with Naysi\nand his brothers in a strange land than to live without them in Ireland.\nSo the Clan Usna with their mighty men stormed the dun and bore off\nDeirdre and went away eastward to the Muirnicht. And they crossed the\nMoyle [Footnote: The sea between Ireland and Scotland. \u201cSilent, O Moyle,\nbe the roar of thy waters,\u201d] in ships into the country of the Albanagh,\nand settled on the delightful shores of Loch Etive and made swordland of\nthe surrounding territory. Great, famous, and long remembered were the\ndeeds of the children of Usna in that land.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHERE WAS WAR IN ULSTER\n\n\n \u201cEach spake words of high disdain\n  And insult to his heart\u2019s best brother,\n  They parted ne\u2019er to meet again.\u201d\n\n          --COLERIDGE\n\n\nIt was on account of this that there arose at first that dissidence\nand divergence of opinion in the great Council at Emain Macha between\nConcobar Mac Nessa and Fergus Mac Roy, Concobar standing for the law\nwhich he had been sworn to safeguard and to execute, and Fergus casting\nover the lovers the shield of his name and fame, his authority and his\nstrength, and the singular affection with which he was regarded by all\nthe Ultonians.\n\nAfter Fergus had made that speech in disparagement and contempt of the\nsolemn enactment and decree in accordance with which Deirdre had been\nimmured, Concobar did not immediately answer, for he knew that he was\nheated both on account of the abduction and on account of the words of\nFergus. Then he said--\n\n\u201cThe valour of the Red Branch, whereby we flourish so conspicuously\nherein the North, doth not spring out of itself, and doth not come by\ndiscipline, teaching, and example. It has its root in a virtue of which\nthe bards indeed, for bardic reasons, make little mention though it hold\na firm place in the laws of the Ultonians both ancient and recent. This,\nour valour, and the famous kindred virtues through which we are strong\nand irresistible, so that the world has today nothing anywhere of\nequal glory and power, spring from the chastity of our women, which is\nconspicuous and clear-shining, and in the modesty and shamefastness of\nour young heroes, and the extreme rarity of lawless relations between\nmen and women in Ulla, the servile tribes excepted, of whom no man\nmaketh any account. Against such lawlessness our wise ancestors have\ndecreed terrible punishments. According to the laws of the Ultonians,\nthose who offend in this respect are burned alive in the place of the\nburnings, and over their ashes are thrown the three throws of dishonour.\nAnd well I know that these laws ofttimes to the unthinking and to those\nwho judge by their affections merely, seem harsh and unnatural. Yea\ntruly, were I not high King, I could weep, seeing gentle youths and\nmaidens, and men and women, whom the singing of Angus Ogue\u2019s birds have\nmade mad, led away by my orders to be devoured by flame. But so it is\nbest, for without chastity valour faileth in a nation, and lawlessness\nin this respect begetteth sure and rapid decay, and I give not this\nforth as an opinion but as a thing that I know, seeing it as clearly\nwith my mind, O Fergus, as I see with my eyes thy countenance and form\nand the foldings of thy fuan [Footnote: Mantle.] and the shape and\nornamentation of the wheel-brooch upon thy breast. Without chastity\nthere is no enduring valour in a nation. And thou, too, O Fergus,\nsitting there in the champion\u2019s throne, hast more than once or twice\nheard me pronounce the dread sentence without word of protest or\ndissent. But now, because it toucheth thee thyself, strongly and\nfiercely thy voice of protest is lifted up, and unless I and this\nCouncil can over-persuade thee, this thy rebellious purpose will be thy\nown undoing or that of the Red Branch. Are the sons of Usna dear only to\nthee? I say they are dearer to me, but the Red Branch is still dearer,\nand it is the destruction of the Red Branch which unwittingly thou\nwouldst Compass. Nor was that law concerning the inviolable virginity\nof the child of Felim foolish or unwise, for it was made solemnly by the\nUltonians in obedience to the united voice of the Druids of Ulla,\nmen who see deeply into the hidden causes of things and the obscure\nrelations of events, of which we men of war have no perception.\u201d\n\nSo spoke Concobar, not threateningly like a sovereign king, but\npleadingly. On the other hand Fergus Mac Roy, rearing his huge form,\nstood upon his feet, and said--\n\n\u201cTo answer fine reasonings I have no skill, but I swear by the sun and\nthe wind and the earth and by my own right hand, which is a stronger\noath than any, that I will bring back the sons of Usna into Ireland, and\nthat they shall live and flourish in their place and sit honourably in\nthis great hall of the Clanna Rury, whether it be pleasing to thee or\ndispleasing. For I take the Clan Usna under my protection from this day\nforth, and well I know that there is not in Erin or in Alba a man\nborn of a woman, no nor the Tuatha De Danan themselves, who will break\nthrough that protection!\u201d\n\n\u201cI will break through it,\u201d said the King.\n\nAfter that Fergus departed from Emain Macha and went away with his\npeople into the east to his own country. There he debated and considered\nfor a long time, but at last, so great was his affection for the\nClan Usna, that he went over the Moyle in ships to the country of the\nAlbanagh and brought home the sons of Usna, and they were slain by\nConcobar Mac Nessa, according as he had promised by the word of\nhis mouth. Then Fergus rebelled against Concobar, drawing after him\ntwo-thirds of the Red Branch, and amongst them Duvac Dael Ulla and\nCormac Conlingas, Concobar\u2019s own son, and many other great men, but\nthe chiefest and best and most renowned of the Ultonians adhered to\nthe King. The whole province was shaken with war and there was great\nshedding of blood, but in the end Concobar prevailed and drove out\nFergus Mac Roy. After that expulsion Fergus and three thousand of the\nRed Branch fled across the Shannon and came to Rath Cruhane, and entered\ninto military service with Meave who was the queen of all the country\nwest of the Shannon.\n\nThere is nothing told about Cuculain in connection with this war. It is\nhard to imagine him taking any side in such a war. But, in fact, he\nwas still a schoolboy under tutors and governors and could not lawfully\nappear in arms, seeing that he was not yet knighted. He was either with\nthe smiths or, having procured a worthy hound to take his place, he had\ngone back to the royal school at Emain Macha. But the time when Cuculain\nshould be knighted, that is to say, invested with arms, and solemnly\nreceived into the Red Branch as man to the high King of all Ulla, now\ndrew on, and such a knighting as that, and under such signs, omens,\nand portents, has never been recorded anywhere in the history of the\nnations.\n\nIn the meantime, Fergus and his exiles served Queen Meave and were\nsubduing all the rest of Ireland under her authority, so that Meave,\nQueen of Connaught, became very great and proud, and in the end\nmeditated the overthrow of Ulster and the conquest of the Red Branch.\nQueen Meave and Fergus leading the joined host of the four remaining\nprovinces, Meath, Connaught, Munster, and Leinster, certain of success\nowing to a strange lethargy which then fell on the Ultonians, did invade\nUlster. But as they drew nigh to the mearings they found the in-gate\nof the province barred by one man. It is needless to mention that man\u2019s\nname. It was Dethcaen\u2019s nursling, the ex-pupil of Fergus Mac Roy, the\nlittle boy Setanta grown into a terrible and irresistible hero. It was\nby his defence of Ulster on that occasion against Fergus and Meave\nand the four provinces, that Cuculain acquired his deathless glory and\nbecame the chief hero of the north-west of the world. So these chapters\nwhich relate to the abduction of Deirdre and the rebellion and expulsion\nof Fergus, are a vital portion of the whole story of Cuculain. We must\nnow return to the hero\u2019s schoolboy days which, however, are drawing to a\nmemorable conclusion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE SACRED CHARIOT\n\n\n     \u201cHe dwelt a while among the neat-herds\n     Of King Admetus, veiling his godhood.\u201d\n\n                 Greek Mythology.\n\n\n     \u201cAt Tailteen I raced my steeds against a woman,\n     Though great with child she came first to the goal,\n     Alas, I knew not the auburn-haired Macha,\n     Thence came affliction upon the Ultonians.\u201d\n\n                 CONCOBAR MAC NESSA.\n\n\nConcobar Mac Nessa on a solemn day called Cuculain forth from the ranks\nof the boys where they stood in the rear of the assembly and said--\n\n\u201cO Setanta, there is a duty which falls to me by virtue of my kingly\noffice, and therein I need an assistant. For it is my province to keep\nbright and in good running order the chariot of Macha wherein she used\nto go forth to war from Emain, and to clean out the corn-troughs of\nher two steeds and put there fresh barley perpetually, and fresh hay\nin their mangers. Illan the Fair [Footnote: He was one of the sons of\nFergus Mac Roy slain in the great civil war.] was my last helper in this\noffice, till the recent great rebellion. That ministry is thine now, if\nit is pleasing to thee to accept it.\u201d\n\nThe boy said that it was pleasing, and the King gave him the key of the\nchamber in which were the vessels and implements used in discharging\nthat sacred function.\n\nAfterwards, on the same day, the King said to him, \u201cWash thyself now in\npure water and put on new clean raiment and come again to me.\u201d\n\nThe boy washed himself and put on new clean raiment. The King himself\ndid the same.\n\nConcobar said: \u201cGo now to the chamber of which I have given thee the key\nand fill with oil the silver oil-can and take a towel of the towels of\nfawn-skin which are there and return.\u201d He did so; and Concobar and his\nnephew, armed youths following, went to the house of the chariot.\n\nEre Concobar turned the wards of the lock he heard voices within in the\nchariot-house. There, one said to another, \u201cThis is he. Our long watch\nand ward are near the end.\u201d And the other said, \u201cIt is well. Too long\nhave we been here waiting.\u201d\n\n\u201cHast thou heard anything, my nephew?\u201d said Concobar.\n\n\u201cI have heard nothing,\u201d said the lad.\n\nConcobar opened the great folding-doors. There was a sound there like\nglad voices mingled with a roar of revolving wheels, and then silence.\nSetanta drew back in dismay, and even Concobar stood still. \u201cI have not\nobserved such portents before in the chariot-house,\u201d he said. The King\nand his nephew entered the hollow chamber. The chariot was motionless\nbut very bright. One would have said that the bronze burned. It was of\ngreat size and beauty. By its side were two horse-stalls with racks\nand mangers, the bars of the rack were of gold bronze which was called\nfindruiney, and the mangers of yellow brass. The floor was paved with\ncut marble, the walls lined with smooth boards of ash. There were no\nwindows, but there were nine lamps in the room. \u201cIt will be thy duty to\nfeed those lamps,\u201d said Concobar.\n\nConcobar took the fawn-skin towel from the boy and polished the chariot,\nand the wheels, tyres, and boxes, and the wheel-spokes. He oiled the\nwheels too, and mightily lifting the great chariot seized the spokes\nwith his right hand and made the wheels spin.\n\n\u201cGo now to the chamber of which I have given thee the keys,\u201d he said,\n\u201cand bring the buckets, and clear out the mangers to the last grain,\nand empty the stale barley into the place of the burning, and afterwards\ntake fresh barley from the bin which is in the chamber and fill the\nmangers. Empty the racks also and bring fresh hay. Thou wilt find it\nstored there too; clean straw also and litter the horse-stalls.\u201d\n\nThe boy did that. In the meantime Concobar polished the pole, and the\nyoke, and the chains. From the wall he took the head-gear of the horses\nand the long shining reins of interwoven brass and did the same very\ncarefully till there was not a speck of rust or discolouration to be\nseen.\n\n\u201cWhere are the horses, my Uncle Concobar?\u201d said the boy.\n\n\u201cThat I cannot rightly tell,\u201d said Concobar, \u201cbut verily they are\nsomewhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat are those horses?\u201d said the boy. \u201cHow are they called? What their\nattributes, and why do I fill their racks and mangers?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are the Liath Macha and Black Shanglan,\u201d said Concobar. \u201cThey have\nnot been seen in Erin for three hundred years, not since Macha dwelt\nvisibly in Emain as the bride of Kimbaoth, son of Fiontann. In this\nchariot she went forth to war, charioteering her warlike groom. But they\nare to come again for the promised one and bear him to battle and to\nconflict in this chariot, and the time is not known but the King of\nEmain is under gesa [Footnote: Terrible druidic obligations.] to keep\nthe chariot bright and the racks and mangers furnished with fresh hay,\nand barley two years old. He is to wait, and watch, and stand prepared\nunder gesa most terrible.\u201d\n\n\u201cMaybe Kimbaoth will return to us again,\u201d said the boy.\n\n\u201cNay, it hath not been so prophesied,\u201d answered the King. \u201cHe was great,\nand stern, and formidable. But our promised one is gentle exceedingly.\nHe will not know his own greatness, and his nearest comrades will not\nknow it, and there will be more of love in his heart than war.\u201d So\nsaying Concobar looked steadfastly upon the boy.\n\n\u201cConall Carnach is as famous for love as for war,\u201d said Setanta. \u201cHe\nis peerless in beauty, and his strength and courage are equal to his\ncomeliness, and his chivalry and battle-splendour to his strength.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, lad, it is not Conall Carnach, though the women of Ulla sicken and\ndroop for the love of him. Verily, it is not Conall Carnach.\u201d\n\nSetanta examined curiously the great war-car.\n\n\u201cWas Kimbaoth assisting his wife,\u201d he asked, \u201cwhen she took captive the\nsons of Dithorba?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said the King, \u201cshe went forth alone and crossed the Shannon\nwith one step into the land of the Fir-bolgs, and there, one by one, she\nbound those builder-giants the sons of Dithorba, and bore them hither in\nher might, and truly those five brethren were no small load for the back\nof one woman.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas anyone seen her in our time?\u201d asked the lad.\n\n\u201cI have,\u201d said Concobar. \u201cI saw her at the great fair of Tailteen. There\nshe pronounced a curse upon me and upon the Red Branch. [Footnote: At\nTailteen a man boasted that his wife could outrun Concobar\u2019s victorious\nchariot-steeds. Concobar compelled the woman to run against his horses.\nShe won the race, but died at the goal leaving her curse upon the Red\nBranch.] The curse hath not yet fallen, but it will fall in my time,\nand the promised one will come in my time and he will redeem us from its\npower. Great tribulation will be his. Question me no more, dear Setanta,\nI have said more than enough.\u201d\n\nThey went forth from the sacred chamber and Concobar locked the doors.\n\nAs they crossed the vacant space going to the palace, Concobar said--\n\n\u201cWhy art thou sad, dear Setanta?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not sad,\u201d answered the boy.\n\n\u201cTruly there is no sadness in thy face, or thy lips, in thy voice or thy\nbehaviour, but it is deep down in thine eyes,\u201d said the King. \u201cI see it\nthere always.\u201d\n\nSetanta laughed lightly. \u201cI know it not,\u201d he said.\n\nConcobar went his way after that, musing, and Setanta, having replaced\nthe sacred vessels in their chamber and having locked the door, strode\naway into the boys\u2019 hall. There was a great fire in the midst, and the\nboys sat round it, for it was cold. Cuculain broke their circle, pushing\nthe boys asunder, and sat down. They tried to drag him away, but\nhe laughed and kept his place like a rock. Then they called him \u201ca\nFomorian, and no man,\u201d and perforce made their circle wider.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE WEIRD HORSES\n\n\n   \u201cOn the brink of the night and the morning\n    My coursers are wont to respire,\n    But the earth has just whispered a warning,\n    That their flight must be swifter than fire,\n    They shall breathe the hot air of desire.\u201d\n\n                    SHELLEY.\n\n\nOne night when the stars shone brightly, Setanta, as he passed by\nCathvah\u2019s astrological tower, heard him declare to his students that\nwhoever should be knighted by Concobar on a certain day would be famous\nto the world\u2019s end. He was in his coming out of the forest then with\na bundle of young ash trees under his arm. He thought to put them to\nseason and therewith make slings, for truly he surpassed all others in\nthe use of the sling. Setanta went his way after that and came into the\nspeckled house. It was the armoury of the Red Branch and shone with all\nmanner of war-furniture. A fire burned here always, absorbing the damp\nof the air lest the metal should take rust. Setanta flung his trees into\nthe rafters over the fire very deftly, so that they caught and remained\nthere. He said they would season best in that place.\n\nAs he turned to go a man stood before him in the vast and hollow\nchamber.\n\n\u201cI know thee,\u201d said the boy. \u201cWhat wouldst thou now?\u201d\n\n\u201cThou shalt go forth to-night,\u201d said the man, [Footnote: This man was\nLu the Long-Handed, the same who met him when he was leaving home.] \u201cand\ntake captive the Liath Macha and Black Shanghlan. Power will be given to\nthee. Go out boldly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not wont to go out fearfully,\u201d answered the lad. \u201cGreat labours\nare thrust upon me.\u201d\n\nHe went into the supper hall as at other times and took his customary\nplace there, and ate and drank.\n\n\u201cThy eyes are very bright,\u201d said Laeg.\n\n\u201cThey will be brighter ere the day,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cThat is an expert juggler,\u201d said Laeg. \u201cHow he tosseth the bright\nballs!\u201d\n\n\u201cCan he toss the stars so?\u201d said Setanta.\n\n\u201cThou art strange and wild to-night,\u201d said Laeg.\n\n\u201cI will be stranger and wilder ere the morrow,\u201d cried Setanta.\n\nHe stood up to go. Laeg caught him by the skirt of his mantle. The piece\ncame away in his hand.\n\n\u201cWhither art thou going, Setanta?\u201d cried the King from the other end of\nthe vast hall.\n\n\u201cTo seek my horses,\u201d cried the lad. His voice rang round the hollow\ndome and down the resounding galleries and long corridors, so that men\nstarted in their seats and looked towards him.\n\n\u201cThey are stabled since the setting of the sun,\u201d said the chief groom.\n\n\u201cThou liest,\u201d answered the boy. \u201cThey are in the hills and valleys of\nErin.\u201d His eyes burned like fire and his stature was exalted before\ntheir eyes.\n\n\u201cGreat deeds will be done in Erin this night,\u201d said Concobar.\n\nHe went forth into the night. There was great power upon him. He crossed\nthe Plain of the Hurlings and the Plain of the Assemblies and the open\ncountry and the great waste moor, going on to Dun-Culain. Culain\u2019s new\nhound cowered low when he saw him. The boy sprang over moat and rampart\nat one bound and burst open the doors of the smith\u2019s house, breaking the\nbar. The noise of the riven beam was like the brattling of thunder.\n\n\u201cThat is an unusual way to enter a man\u2019s house,\u201d said Culain. He and his\npeople were at supper.\n\n\u201cIt is,\u201d said Setanta. \u201cThings more unusual will happen this night. Give\nme bridles that will hold the strongest horses.\u201d Culain gave him two\nbridles.\n\n\u201cWill they hold the strongest horses?\u201d said the boy.\n\n\u201cAnything less than the Liath Macha they will hold,\u201d said the smith.\n\nThe boy snapped the bridles and flung them aside. \u201cI want bridles that\nwill hold the Liath Macha and Black Shanglan,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cFire all the furnaces,\u201d cried Culain. \u201cHandle your tools; show your\nmight. Work now, men, for your lives. Verily, if he get not the bridles,\nsoon your dead will be more numerous than your living.\u201d\n\nCulain and his people made the bridles. He gave them to Cuculain. The\nsmiths stood around in pallid groups. Cuculain took the bridles and\nwent forth. He went south-westwards to Slieve Fuad, and came to the Grey\nLake. The moon shone and the lake glowed like silver. There was a great\nhorse feeding by the lake. He raised his head and neighed when he heard\nfootsteps on the hill. He came on against Cuculain and Cuculain went\non against him. The boy had one bridle knotted round his waist and\nthe other in his teeth. He leaped upon the steed and caught him by the\nforelock and his mouth. The horse reared mightily, but Setanta held him\nand dragged his head down to the ground. The grey steed grew greater and\nmore terrible. So did Cuculain.\n\n\u201cThou hast met thy master, O Liath Macha, this night,\u201d he cried. \u201cSurely\nI will not lose thee. Ascend into the heavens, or, breaking the earth\u2019s\nroof, descend to Orchil, [Footnote: A great sorceress who ruled the\nworld under the earth.] yet even so thou wilt not shake me away.\u201d\n\nIreland quaked from the centre to the sea. They reeled together, steed\nand hero, through the plains of Murthemney. \u201cMake the circuit of Ireland\nLiath Macha and I shall be on the neck of thee,\u201d cried Cuculain. The\nhorse went in reeling circles round Ireland. Cuculain mightily thust the\nbit into his mouth and made fast the headstall. The Liath Macha went a\nsecond time round Ireland. The sea retreated from the shore and stood in\nheaps. Cuculain sprang upon his back. A third time the horse went round\nIreland, bounding from peak to peak. They seemed a resplendent Fomorian\nphantom against the stars. The horse came to a stand. \u201cI think thou art\ntamed, O Liath Macha,\u201d said Cuculain. \u201cGo on now to the Dark Valley.\u201d\n They came to the Dark Valley. There was night there always. Shapes of\nDeath and Horror, Fomorian apparitions, guarded the entrance. They came\nagainst Cuculain, and he went against them. A voice from within cried,\n\u201cForbear, this is the promised one. Your watching and warding are at\nend.\u201d He rode into the Dark Valley. There was a roaring of unseen rivers\nin the darkness, of black cataracts rushing down the steep sides of the\nValley. The Liath Macha neighed loudly. The neigh reverberated through\nthe long Valley. A horse neighed joyfully in response. There was a\nnoise of iron doors rushing open somewhere, and a four-footed thunderous\ntrampling on the hollow-sounding earth. A steed came to the Liath Macha.\nCuculain felt for his head in the dark, and bitted and bridled him ere\nhe was aware. The horse reared and struggled. The Liath Macha dragged\nhim down the Valley. \u201cStruggle not, Black Shanglan,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cI\nhave tamed thy better.\u201d The horse ceased to struggle. Down and out of\nthe Dark Valley rodest thou, O peerless one, with thy horses. The Liath\nMacha was grey to whiteness, the other horse was black and glistening\nlike the bright mail of the chaffer. He rode thence to Emain Macha with\nthe two horses like a lord of Day and Night, and of Life and Death.\nTruly the might and power of the Long-Handed and Far-Shooting one was\nupon him that night. He came to Emain Macha. The doors of Macha\u2019s\nstable flew open before him. He rode the horses into the stable. Macha\u2019s\nwar-car brayed forth a brazen roar of welcome, the Tuatha De Danan\nshouted, and the car itself glowed and sparkled. The horses went to\ntheir ancient stalls, the Liath Macha to that which was nearer to the\ndoor. Cuculain took off their bridles and hanged them on the wall. He\nwent forth into the night. The horses were already eating their barley,\nbut they looked after him as he went. The doors shut to with a brazen\nclash. Cuculain stood alone in the great court under the stars. A\ndruidic storm was abroad and howled in the forests. He thought all that\nhad taken place a wild dream. He went to his dormitory and to his couch.\nLaeg was asleep with the starlight shining on his white forehead; his\nred hair was shed over the pillow. Cuculain kissed him, and sitting on\nthe bed\u2019s edge wept. Laeg awoke.\n\n\u201cThou wert not well at supper,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cand now thou hast been\nwandering in the damp of the night, and thou with a fever upon thee, for\nI hear thy teeth clattering. I sought to hinder thee, and thou wouldst\nnot be persuaded. Verily, if thou wilt not again obey me, being thy\nsenior, thou shalt have sore bones at my hands. Undress thyself now and\ncome to bed without delay.\u201d\n\nCuculain did so.\n\n\u201cThou art as cold as ice,\u201d said Laeg.\n\n\u201cNay, I am hotter than fire,\u201d said Cuculain.\n\n\u201cThou art ice, I say,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cand thy teeth are clattering like\nhailstones on a brazen shield. Ay, and thine eyes shine terribly.\u201d\n\nLaeg started from the couch. He struck flintsparks upon a rag steeped in\nnitre, and waved it to a flame, and kindled a lanthorn. He flung his\nown mantle upon the bed and went forth in his shirt. The storm raged\nterribly; the stars were dancing in high heaven. He came to the house of\nthe Chief Leech and beat at the door. The Leech was not in bed. All\nthe wise men of Emain Macha were awake that night, listening to the\nportents.\n\n\u201cSetanta, son of Sualtam, is sick,\u201d said Laeg.\n\n\u201cWhat are his symptoms?\u201d said the Leech.\n\n\u201cHe is colder than ice, his eyes shine terribly, and his teeth clatter,\nbut he says that he is hotter than fire.\u201d\n\nThe Leech went to Cuculain. \u201cThis is not a work for me,\u201d he said, \u201cbut\nfor a seer. Bring hither Cathvah and his Druids.\u201d Cathvah and and his\nseers came. They made their symbols of power over the youth and chanted\ntheir incantations and Druid songs. After that Cuculain slept. He slept\nfor three days and three nights. There was a great stillness while\nthe boy slept, for it was not lawful at any time for anyone to awake\nCuculain when he slumbered.\n\nOn the third morning Cuculain awoke. The bright morning sunshine was\nall around, and the birds sang in Emain Macha. He called for Laeg with a\nloud voice and bade him order a division of the boys to get ready their\nhorses and chariots for charioteering exercise and fighting out of their\ncars.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTHE KNIGHTING OF CUCULAIN\n\n\n     \u201cThen felt I like a watcher of the skies\n     When a new planet swims into his ken.\u201d\n\n                        KEATS.\n\n\nThe prophecies concerning the coming of some extraordinary warrior\namongst the Red Branch had been many and ancient, and by certain signs\nConcobar believed that his time was now near. Often he contemplated his\nnephew, observed his beauty, his strength, and his unusual proficiency\nin all martial exercises, and mused deeply considering the omens. But\nwhen he saw him slinging and charioteering amongst the rest, shooting\nspears and casting battle-stones at a mark before the palace upon the\nlawn, and saw him eating and drinking before him nightly in the hall\nlike another, and heard his clear voice and laughter amongst the boys,\nhis schoolfellows and comrades, then the thought or the faint surmise or\nwish that his nephew might be that promised one passed out of his mind,\nfor the prophesyings and the rumours had been very great, and men\nlooked for one who should resemble Lu the Long-Handed, son of Ethlend,\n[Footnote: This great deity resembled the Greek Phoebus Apollo. He led\nthe rebellion of the gods against the Fomorian giants who had previously\nreduced them to a condition of intolerable slavery. Some say that he was\nCuculain\u2019s true father. His favourite weapon was the sling, likened here\nto the rainbow. It was not a thong or cord sling, but a pliant rod such\nas boys in Ireland still make. The milky way was his chain.] whose sling\nwas like the cloud bow, who thundered and lightened against the giants\nof the Fomoroh, who was all power and all skill, whose chain wherewith\nhe used to confine Tuatha De Danan and Milesians, spanned the midnight\nsky. The rumours and prophecies were indeed exceeding great and\nCuculain, though he far surpassed the rest, was but a boy like others.\nHe stood at the head of Concobar\u2019s horses when the King ascended his\nchariot. His shoulder was warm and firm to the touch when the King\nlightly laid his hand upon him.\n\nOne night there were terrible portents. All Ireland quaked; there was\na druidic storm under bright stars; the buildings rocked; a brazen\nclangour sounded from the Tec Brac; there were mighty tramplings and\ncries and a four-footed thunder of giant hoofs, and they went round\nIreland three times, only the third time swifter and like a hurricane\nof sound. Cuculain was abroad that night. There was deep sleep upon the\npeople of Emain, only the chiefs were awake and aware. Cuculain was sick\nafter that. The Druids stood around his bed.\n\n\u201cThe world labours with the new birth,\u201d said Concobar. \u201cMaybe my nephew\nis the forerunner, the herald and announcer of the coming god!\u201d\n\nOne evening, after supper, when the lad came to bid his uncle good-night\nas his custom was, he said, \u201cIf it be pleasing to thee, my Uncle\nConcobar, I would be knighted on the morrow, for I am now of due age,\nand owing to the instructions of my tutor, Fergus Mac Roy, and thyself,\nand my other teachers and instructors, I am thought to be sufficiently\nversed in martial exercises, and able to play a man\u2019s part amongst the\nRed Branch.\u201d\n\nHe was now a man\u2019s full height, but his face was a boy\u2019s face, and his\nstrength and agility amazed all who observed him in his exercises.\n\n\u201cHas thou heard what Cathvah has predicted concerning the youth who is\nknighted on that day?\u201d said the King.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered the lad.\n\n\u201cThat he will be famous and short-lived and unhappy?\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly,\u201d he replied.\n\n\u201cAnd doth thy purpose still hold?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he answered, \u201cbut whether it be mine I cannot tell.\u201d\n\nConcobar, though unwilling, yielded to that request.\n\nLoegairey, the Victorious, son of Conud, son of Iliach, the second best\nknight of the Red Branch and the most devoted to poetry of them all\ncame that night into the hall while the rest slumbered. The candles\nwere flickering in their sockets. Darkness invested the rest of the vast\nhollow-sounding chamber, but there was light around the throne and couch\nof the King, owing to the splendour of the pillars and of the canopy\nshining with bronze, white and red, and silver and gold, and glittering\nwith carbuncles and diamonds, and owing to the light which always\nsurrounded the King and encircled his regal head like a luminous cloud,\nseen by many. He was looking straight out before him with bright eyes,\nconsidering and consulting for the Red Branch while they slept. Two\ngreat men having their swords drawn in their hands, stood behind him, on\nthe right and on the left, like statues, motionless and silent.\n\nLoegairey drew nigh to the King. Distraction and amazement were in his\nface. His dense and lustrous hair was dishevelled and in agitation round\nhis neck and huge shoulders. He held in his hand two long spears with\nrings of walrus tooth where the timber met the shank of the flashing\nblades; they trembled in his hand. His lips were dry, his voice very\nlow.\n\n\u201cThere are horses in the stable of Macha,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d answered the King.\n\nConcobar called for water, and when he had washed his hands and his\nface, he took from its place the chess-board of the realm, arranged the\nmen, and observed their movements and combinations. He closed the board\nand put the men in their net of bronze wire, and restored all to their\nplace.\n\n\u201cGreat things will happen on the morrow, O grandson of Iliach,\u201d he said.\n\u201cTake candles and go before me to the boys\u2019 dormitory.\u201d\n\nThey went to the boys\u2019 dormitory and to the couch of Cuculain. Cuculain\nand Laeg were asleep together there. Their faces towards each other and\ntheir hair mingled together. Cuculain\u2019s face was very tranquil, and his\nbreathing inaudible, like an infant\u2019s.\n\n\u201cO sweet and serene face,\u201d murmured the King, \u201cI see great clouds of\nsorrow coming upon you.\u201d\n\nThey returned to the hall.\n\n\u201cGo now to thy rest and thy slumber, O Loegairey,\u201d said the King. \u201cWhen\nthe curse of Macha descends upon us I know one who will withstand it.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely it is not that stripling?\u201d said Loegairey. But the King made no\nanswer.\n\nOn the morrow there was a great hosting of the Red Branch on the plain\nof the Assemblies. It was May-Day morning and the sun shone brightly,\nbut at first through radiant showers. The trees were putting forth young\nbuds; the wet grass sparkled. All the martial pomp and glory of the\nUltonians were exhibited that day. Their chariots and war-horses ringed\nthe plain. All the horses\u2019 heads were turned towards the centre where\nwere Concobar Mac Nessa and the chiefs of the Red Branch. The plain\nflashed with gold, bronze, and steel, and glowed with the bright mantles\nof the innumerable heroes, crimson and scarlet, blue, green, or purple.\nThe huge brooches on their breasts of gold and silver or gold-like\nbronze, were like resplendent wheels. Their long hair, yellow for the\nmost part, was bound with ornaments of gold. Great, truly, were those\nmen, their like has not come since upon the earth. They were the heroes\nand demigods of the heroic age of Erin, champions who feared nought\nbeneath the sun, mightiest among the mighty, huge, proud, and\nunconquerable, and loyal and affectionate beyond all others; all of\nthe blood of Ir, [Footnote: On account of their descent from Ir, son of\nMilesius, the Red Branch were also called the Irians.] son of Milesius,\nthe Clanna Rury of great renown, rejoicing in their valour, their\nsplendour, their fame and their peerless king. Concobar had no crown. A\nplain circle of beaten gold girt his broad temples. In the naked glory\nof his regal manhood he stood there before them all, but even so a\nstranger would have swiftly discovered the captain of the Red\nBranch, such was his stature, his bearing, such his slowly-turning,\nsteady-gazing eyes and the majesty of his bearded countenance. His\ncountenance was long, broad above and narrow below, his nose eminent,\nhis beard bipartite, curling and auburn in hue, his form without any\nblemish or imperfection.\n\nCuculain came forth from the palace. He wore that day a short mantle of\npale-red silk bordered with white thread and fastened on the breast\nwith a small brooch like a wheel of silver. The hues upon that silk were\nnever the same. His tunic of fine linen was girt at the waist with a\nleathern zone, stained to the resemblance of the wild-briar rose. It\ndescended to but did not pass his beautiful knees, falling into many\nplaits. The tunic was cut low at the neck, exposing his throat and the\nknot in the throat and the cup-shaped indentation above the breast. On\nhis feet were comely shoes sparkling with bronze plates. They took the\ncolour of everything which they approached. His hair fell in many curls\nover the pale-red mantle, without adornment or confinement. It was the\ncolour of the flower which is named after the dearest Disciple, but\nwhich was called sovarchey by the Gael. A tinge of red ran through the\ngold. As to his eyes, no two men or women could agree concerning their\ncolour, for some said they were blue, and some grey, and others hazel;\nand there were those who said that they were blacker than the blackest\nnight that was ever known. Yet again, there were those who said that\nthey were of all colours named and nameless. They were soft and liquid\nsplendours, unfathomable lakes of light above his full and ruddy\ncheeks, and beneath his curved and most tranquil brows. In form he was\nsymmetrical, straight and pliant as a young fir tree when the sweet\nspring sap fills its veins. So he came to that assembly, in the glory of\nyouth, beauty, strength, valour, and beautiful shame-fastness, yet proud\nin his humility and glittering like the morning star. Choice youths, his\ncomrades, attended him. The kings held their breaths when he drew nigh,\nmoving white knee after white knee over the green and sparkling grass.\nWhen the other rites had been performed and the due sacrifices and\nlibations made, and after Cuculain had put his right hand into the right\nhand of the King and become his man, Concobar gave him a shield,\ntwo spears and a sword, weapons of great price and of thrice proved\nexcellence--a strong man\u2019s equipment. Cuculain struck the spears\ntogether at right angles and broke them. He clashed the sword flat-wise\non the shield. The sword leaped into small pieces and the shield was\nbent inwards and torn.\n\n\u201cThese are not good weapons, my King,\u201d said the boy. Then the King gave\nhim others, larger and stronger and worthy of his best champions. These,\ntoo, the boy broke into pieces in like manner.\n\n\u201cSon of Nessa, these are still worse,\u201d he said, \u201cnor is it well done, O\nCaptain of the Red Branch, to make me a laughing-stock in the presence\nof this great hosting of the Ultonians.\u201d\n\nConcobar Mac Nessa exulted exceedingly when he beheld the amazing\nstrength and the waywardness of the boy, and beneath delicate brows his\neyes glittered like glittering swords as he glanced proudly round on\nthe crowd of martial men that surrounded him. Amongst them all he seemed\nhimself a bright torch of valour and war, more pure and clear than\npolished steel. He then beckoned to one of his knights, who hastened\naway and returned bringing Concobar\u2019s own shield and spears and sword\nout of the Tec Brac, where they were kept, an equipment in reserve. And\nCuculain shook them and bent them and clashed them together, but they\nheld firm.\n\n\u201cThese are good arms, O son of Nessa,\u201d said Cuculain.\n\n\u201cChoose now thy charioteer,\u201d said the King, \u201cfor I will give thee also\nwar-horses and a chariot.\u201d\n\nHe caused to pass before Cuculain all the boys who in many and severe\ntests had proved their proficiency in charioteering, in the management\nand tending of steeds, in the care of weapons and steed-harness, and\nall that related to charioteering science. Amongst them was Laeg, with\na pale face and dejected, his eyes red and his cheeks stained from much\nweeping. Cuculain laughed when he saw him, and called him forth from\nthe rest, naming him by his name with a loud, clear voice, heard to the\nutmost limit of the great host.\n\n\u201cThere was fear upon thee,\u201d said Cuculain.\n\n\u201cThere is fear upon thyself,\u201d answered Laeg. \u201cIt was in thy mind that I\nwould refuse.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, there is no such fear upon me,\u201d said Cuculain.\n\n\u201cThen there is fear upon me,\u201d said Laeg. \u201cA charioteer needs a champion\nwho is stout and a valiant and faithful. Yea, truly there is fear upon\nme,\u201d answered Laeg.\n\n\u201cVerily, dear comrade and bed-fellow,\u201d answered Cuculain, \u201cit is through\nme that thou shalt get thy death-wound, and I say not this as a vaunt,\nbut as a prophecy.\u201d\n\nAnd that prophecy was fulfilled, for the spear that slew Laeg went\nthrough his master.\n\nAfter that Laeg stood by Cuculain\u2019s side and held his peace, but his\nface shone with excess of joy and pride. He wore a light graceful frock\nof deerskin, joined in the front with a twine of bronze wire, and a\nshort, dark-red cape, secured by a pin of gold with a ring to it. A band\nof gold thread confined his auburn hair, rising into a peak behind his\nhead. In his hands he held a goad of polished red-yew, furnished with\na crooked hand-grip of gold, and pointed with shining bronze, and where\nthe bronze met the timber there was a circlet of diamond of the diamonds\nof Banba. He had also a short-handled scourge with a haft of walrus\ntooth, and the rope, cord, and lash of that scourge were made of\ndelicate and delicately-twisted thread of copper. This equipment was the\nequipment of a proved charioteer; the apprentices wore only grey capes\nwith white fringes, fastened by loops of red cord.\n\nLaeg was one of three brothers, all famous charioteers. Id and Sheeling\nwere the others. They were all three sons of the King of Gabra, whose\nbright dun arose upon a green and sloping hill over against Tara\ntowards the rising of the sun. Thence sprang the beautiful stream of the\nNemnich, rich in lilies and reeds and bulrushes, which to-day men call\nthe Nanny Water. Laeg was grey-eyed and freckled.\n\nThen there were led forward by two strong knights a pair of great and\nspirited horses and a splendid war-car. The King said, \u201cThey are\nthine, dear nephew. Well I know that neither thou, nor Laeg, will be a\ndishonour to this war equipage.\u201d\n\nCuculain sprang into the car, and standing with legs apart, he stamped\nfrom side to side and shook the car mightily, till the axle brake, and\nthe car itself was broken in pieces.\n\n\u201cIt is not a good chariot,\u201d said the lad.\n\nAnother was led forward, and he broke it in like manner.\n\n\u201cGive me a sound chariot, High Lord of the Clanna Rury, or give me\nnone,\u201d he said. \u201cNo prudent warrior would fight from such brittle\nfoothold.\u201d\n\nHe brake in succession nine war chariots, the greatest and strongest in\nEmain. When he broke the ninth the horses of Macha neighed from their\nstable. Great fear fell upon the host when they heard that unusual noise\nand the reverberation of it in the woods and hills.\n\n\u201cLet those horses be harnessed to the Chariot of Macha,\u201d cried Concobar,\n\u201cand let Laeg, son of the King of Gabra, drive them hither, for those\nare the horses and that the chariot which shall be given this day to\nCuculain.\u201d\n\nThen, son of Sualtam, how in thy guileless breast thy heart leaped, when\nthou heardest the thundering of the great war-car and the wild neighing\nof the immortal steeds, as they broke from the dark stable into the\nclear-shining light of day, and heard behind them the ancient roaring\nof the brazen wheels as in the days when they bore forth Macha and her\nmartial groom against the giants of old, and mightily established in\nEiriu the Red Branch of the Ultonians! Soon they rushed to view from\nthe rear of Emain, speeding forth impetuously out of the hollow-sounding\nways of the city and the echoing palaces into the open, and behind them\nin the great car green and gold, above the many-twinkling wheels, the\ncharioteer, with floating mantle, girt round the temples with the gold\nfillet of his office, leaning backwards and sideways as he laboured\nto restrain their fury unrestrainable; a grey long-maned steed,\nwhale-bellied, broad-chested, with mane like flying foam, under one\nsilver yoke, and a black lustrous, tufty-maned steed under the other,\nsuch steeds as in power, size, and beauty the earth never produced\nbefore and never will produce again.\n\nLike a hawk swooping along the face of a cliff when the wind is high, or\nlike the rush of March wind over the smooth plain, or like the fleetness\nof the stag roused from his lair by the hounds and covering his first\nfield, was the rush of those steeds when they had broken through the\nrestraint of the charioteer, as though they galloped over fiery flags,\nso that the earth shook and trembled with the velocity of their motion,\nand all the time the great car brayed and shrieked as the wheels\nof solid and glittering bronze went round, and strange cries and\nexclamations were heard, for they were demons that had their abode in\nthat car.\n\nThe charioteer restrained the steeds before the assembly, but\nnay-the-less a deep purr, like the purr of a tiger, proceeded from the\naxle. Then the whole assembly lifted up their voices and shouted for\nCuculain, and he himself, Cuculain, the son of Sualtam, sprang into\nhis chariot, all armed, with a cry as of a warrior springing into his\nchariot in the battle, and he stood erect and brandished his spears, and\nthe war sprites of the Gael shouted along with him, for the Bocanahs and\nBananahs and the Geniti Glindi, the wild people of the glens, and the\ndemons of the air, roared around him, when first the great warrior of\nthe Gael, his battle-arms in his hands, stood equipped for war in his\nchariot before all the warriors of his tribe, the kings of the Clanna\nRury and the people of Emain Macha. Then, too, there sounded from the\nTec Brac the boom of shields, and the clashing of swords and the cries\nand shouting of the Tuatha De Danan, who dwelt there perpetually; and Lu\nthe Long-Handed, the slayer of Balor, the destroyer of the Fomoroh, the\nimmortal, the invisible, the maker and decorator of the Firmament, whose\nhound was the sun and whose son the viewless wind, thundered from heaven\nand bent his sling five-hued against the clouds; and the son of the\nillimitable Lir [Footnote: Mananan mac Lir, the sea-god.] in his mantle\nblue and green, foam-fringed passed through the assembly with a roar of\nfar-off innumerable waters, and the Mor Reega stood in the midst with a\nfoot on either side of the plain, and shouted with the shout of a host,\nso that the Ultonians fell down like reaped grass with their faces to\nthe earth, on account of the presence of the Mor Reega, and on account\nof the omens and great signs.\n\nCuculain bade Laeg let the steeds go. They went like a storm and three\ntimes encircled Emain Macha. It was the custom of the Ultonians to march\nthrice round Emain ere they went forth to war.\n\nThen said Cuculain--\u201cWhither leads the great road yonder?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo Ath-na-Forairey and the borders of the Crave Rue.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd wherefore is it called the Ford of the Watchings?\u201d said Cuculain.\n\n\u201cBecause,\u201d answered Laeg, \u201cthere is always one of the King\u2019s knights\nthere, keeping watch and ward over the gate of the province.\u201d\n\n\u201cGuide thither the horses,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cfor I will not lay aside my\narms till I have first reddened them in the blood of the enemies of my\nnation. Who is it that is over the ward there this day?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is Conall Carnach,\u201d said Laeg.\n\nAs they drew nigh to the ford, the watchman from his high watch-tower on\nthe west side of the dun sent forth a loud and clear voice--\n\n\u201cThere is a chariot coming to us from Emain Macha,\u201d he said. \u201cThe\nchariot is of great size; I have not seen its like in all Eiriu. In\nfront of it are two horses, one black and one white. Great is their\ntrampling and their glory and the shaking of their heads and necks.\nI liken their progress to the fall of water from a high cliff or the\nsweeping of dust and beech-tree leaves over a plain, when the March wind\nblows hard, or to the rapidity of thunder rattling over the firmament. A\nman would say that there were eight legs under each horse, so rapid and\nindistinguishable is the motion of their limbs and hoofs. Identify those\nhorses, O Conall, and that chariot, for to me they are unknown.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd to me likewise,\u201d said Conall. \u201cWho are in the chariot? Moderate, O\nman, the extravagance of thy language, for thou art not a prophet but a\nwatchman.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are two beardless youths in the chariot,\u201d answered the watchman,\n\u201cbut I am unable to identify them on account of the dust and the rapid\nmotion and the steam of the horses. I think the charioteer is Laeg, the\nson of the King of Gabra, for I know his manner of driving. The boy who\nsits in front of him and below him on the champion\u2019s seat I do not know,\nbut he shines like a star in the cloud of dust and steam.\u201d Then a young\nman who stood near to Conall Carna, wearing a short, red cloak with a\nblue hood to it, and a tassel at the point of the hood, said to Conall--\n\n\u201cIf it be my brother that charioteers sure am I that it is Cuculain who\nis in the fighter\u2019s seat, for many a time have I heard Laeg utter foul\nscorn of the Red Branch, none excepted, when compared with Sualtam\u2019s\nson. For no other than him would he deign to charioteer. Truly though he\nis my own brother there is not such a boaster in the North.\u201d\n\nThen the watchman cried out again--\n\n\u201cYea, the charioteer is the son of the King of Gabra, and it is\nCuculain, the son of Sualtam, who sits in the fighter\u2019s seat. He has\nConcobar\u2019s own shield on his breast, and his two spears in his hand.\nOver Bray Ros, over Brainia, they are coming along the highway, by the\nfoot of the Town of the Tree; it is gifted with victories.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave done, O talkative man,\u201d cried Conall, \u201cwhose words are like the\nwords of a seer, or the full-voiced intonement of a chief bard.\u201d\n\nWhen the chariot came to the ford, Conall was amazed at the horses and\nthe chariot, but he dissembled his amazement before his people, and when\nhe saw Cuculain armed, he laughed and said,--\n\n\u201cHath the boy indeed taken arms?\u201d\n\nAnd Cuculain said, \u201cIt is as thou seest, O son of Amargin; and moreover,\nI have sworn not to let them back into the Chamber-of-Many-Colours\n[Footnote: Tec Brac or Speckled House, the armoury of the Ultonians.]\nuntil I shall have first reddened them in the blood of the enemies of\nUlla.\u201d\n\nThen Conall ceased laughing and said, \u201cNot so, Setanta, for verily thou\nshalt not be permitted;\u201d and the great Champion sprang forward to lay\nhis fearless, never-foiled, and all conquering hands on the bridles\nof the horses, but at a nod from Cuculain, Laeg let the steeds go, and\nConall sprang aside out of the way, so terrible was the appearance of\nthe horses as they reared against him. \u201cHarness my horses and yoke my\nchariot,\u201d cried Conall, \u201cfor if this mad boy goes into the enemies\u2019\ncountry and meets with harm there, verily I shall never be forgiven by\nthe Ultonians.\u201d\n\nHis horses were harnessed and his chariot yoked,--illustrious too were\nthose horses, named and famed in many songs--and Conall and Ide in their\nchariot dashed through the ford enveloped with rainbow-painted clouds\nof foam and spray, and like hawks on the wing they skimmed the plain,\npursuing the boys. Laeg heard the roar and trampling, and looking back\nover his shoulder, said,--\n\n\u201cThey are after us, dear master, namely the great son of Amargin and my\nhaughty brother Ide, who hath ever borne himself to me as though I were\na wayward child. They would spoil upon us this our brave foray. But they\nwill overtake the wind sooner than they will overtake the Liath Macha\nand Black Shanglan, whose going truly is like the going of eagles. O\nstorm-footed steeds, great is my love for you, and inexpressible my\npride in your might and your beauty, your speed and your terror, and\nsweet docility and affection.\u201d\n\n\u201cNevertheless, O Laeg,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cslacken now their going, for\nthat Champion will be an impediment to us in our challengings and our\nfightings; for when we stop for that purpose he will overtake us, and,\nbe our feats what they may, his and not ours will be the glory. Slacken\nthe going of the horses, for we must rid ourselves of the annoyance and\nthe pursuit of these gadflies.\u201d\n\nLaeg slackened the pace, and as they went Cuculain leaped lightly from\nhis seat and as lightly bounded back again, holding a great pebble in\nhis hand, such as a man using all his strength could with difficulty\nraise from the ground, and sat still, rejoicing in his purpose, and\ngrasping the pebble with his five fingers.\n\nConall and Ide came up to them after that, and Conall, as the senior and\nthe best man amongst the Ultonians, clamorously called to them to turn\nback straightway, or he would hough their horses, or draw the linch-pins\nof their wheels, or in some other manner bring their foray to naught.\nCuculain thereupon stood upright in the car, and so standing, with feet\napart to steady him in his throwing and in his aim, dashed the stone\nupon the yoke of Conall\u2019s chariot between the heads of the horses and\nbroke the yoke, so that the pole fell to the ground and the chariot\ntilted forward violently. Then the charioteer fell amongst the horses,\nand Conall Carna, the beauty of the Ultonians the battle-winning and\never-victorious son of Amargin, was shot out in front upon the road, and\nfell there upon his left shoulder, and his beautiful raiment was defiled\nwith dust; and when he arose his left hand hung by his side, for the\nshoulder-bone was driven from the socket, owing to the violence of the\nfall.\n\n\u201cI swear by all my gods,\u201d he cried, \u201cthat if a step would save thy head\nfrom the hands of the men of Meath, I would not take it.\u201d\n\nCuculain laughed and replied, \u201cGood, O Conall, and who asked thee to\ntake it, or craved of thee any succour or countenance? Was it a straight\nshot? Are there the materials of a fighter in me at all, dost thou\nthink? Thou art in my debt now too, O Conall. I have saved thee a\nbroken vow, for it is one of the oaths of our Order not to enter hostile\nterritory with brittle chariot-gear!\u201d\n\nThen the boys laughed at him again, and Laeg let go the steeds, and\nvery soon they were out of sight. Conall returned slowly with his broken\nchariot to Ath-na-Forairey and sent for Fingin of Slieve Fuad, who was\nthe most cunning physician and most expert of bone-setters amongst the\nUltonians. Conall\u2019s messengers experienced no difficulty in finding the\nhouse of the leech, which was very recognisable on account of its shape\nand appearance, and because it had wide open doors, four in number,\naffording a liberal ingress and free thoroughfare to all the winds. Also\na stream of pure water ran through the house, derived from a well of\nhealing properties, which sprang from the side of the uninhabited hill.\nSuch were the signs that showed the house of a leech.\n\nWhen they drew nigh they heard the voice of one man talking and of\nanother who laughed. It happened that that day there had been borne\nthither a champion, in whose body there was not one small bone unbroken\nor uninjured. The man\u2019s bruises and fractures had been dressed and set\nby Fingin and his intelligent and deft-handed apprentices, and he lay\nnow in his bed of healing listening joyfully to the conversation of\nthe leech, who was beyond all others eloquent and of most agreeable\ndiscourse.\n\nWhen Conall\u2019s messengers related the reason of their coming, Fingin\ncried to his young men, \u201cHarness me my horses and yoke my chariot. There\nare few,\u201d he said, \u201cin Erin for whom I would leave my own house, but\nthat youth is one of them. His father Amargin was well known to me. He\nwas a warrior grim and dour exceedingly, and he ever said concerning\nthe boy, \u2018This hound\u2019s whelp that I have gotten is too fine and sleek\nto hold bloody gaps or hunt down a noble prey. He will be a women\u2019s\nplaymate and not a peer amongst Heroes.\u2019 And that fear was ever upon him\ntill the day when Conall came red out of the Valley of the Thrush, and\nhis track thence to Rath-Amargin was one straight path of blood, and\nhe with his shield-arm hacked to the bone, his sword-arm swollen and\nbursting, and the flame of his valour burning bright in his splendid\neyes. Then, for the first time, the old man smiled upon him, and he\nsaid, \u2018That arm, my son, has done a man\u2019s work to-day.\u2019\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nACROSS THE MEARINGS AND AWAY\n\n\n   \u201cSay, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth.\n   From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of the North?\u201d\n\n                  CAMPBELL.\n\n\nAs for the boys, they proceeded joyfully after that pleasant skirmish\nand friendly encounter, both on account of the discomfiture of him who\nwas reckoned the prime champion of the Ultonians, and because they were\nat large in Erin, with no one to direct them, or to whom they should\nrender an account; and their happiness, too, was increased by the\nmettle, power and gallant action of the steeds, and by the clanking of\nthe harness and the brazen chains, and the ringing of the weapons of\nwar, and the roar of the revolving wheels, and owing to the velocity of\ntheir motion and the rushing of the wind upon their temples and through\ntheir hair.\n\nThen Cuculain stood up in the chariot, and surveyed the land on all\nsides, and said--\n\n\u201cWhat is that great, firm-based, indestructible mountain upon our left\nhand, one of a noble range which, rising from the green plain, runs\neastward. The last peak there is the mountain of which I speak, whose\nfoot is in the Ictian sea and whose head neighbours the firmament.\u201d\n\nAnd Laeg said, \u201cMen call it Slieve Modurn, after a giant of the elder\ntime, when men were mightier and greater than they are now. He was of\nthe children of Brogan, uncle of Milesius, and his brothers were\nFuad and Eadar and Breagh, and all these being very great men\nare commemorated in the names of noble mountains and sea-dividing\npromontories.\u201d\n\n\u201cGuide thither the horses,\u201d said Cuculain. \u201cIt is right that those who\ntake the road against an enemy should first spy out the land, choosing\njudiciously their point of onset, and Slieve Modurn yonder commands a\nmost brave prospect.\u201d\n\nLaeg did so. There, in a green valley, they unharnessed the horses and\ntethered them to graze, and they themselves climbed the mountain and\nstood upon the top in the most clear air. Thence Laeg showed him the\ngreen plain of Meath extending far and wide, and the great streams of\nMeath where they ran, the Boyne and the Blackwater, the Liffey and the\nRoyal Rye, and his own stream the Nanny Water, clear and sparkling,\nwhich was very dear to Laeg, because he had snared fish there and\nerected dams, and had done divers boyish feats upon its shores.\n\nCuculain said, \u201cI see a beautiful green hill, shaped like an inverted\newer, on the south shore of the Boyne. There is a noble palace there.\nI see the flashing of its lime-white sides, and the colours of the\nvariegated roof and around it are other beautiful houses. How is that\ncity named O Laeg, and who dwells there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is the hill of Temair,\u201d answered Laeg, \u201cTara\u2019s high citadel. Well\nmay that city be beautiful, for the seat of Erin\u2019s high sovereignty is\nthere. The man who holds it is Arch-king of all Erin.\u201d\n\n\u201cWestward by south,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cI see another city widely built,\nand unenclosed by ramparts and defensive works, and hard by there is a\nmost smooth plain. At one end of the plain I see a glittering, and also\nat the other.\u201d\n\nAnd Laeg said, \u201cThat is the hill of Talteen, so named because the mother\nof far-shooting Lu, the Deliverer, is worshipped there, and every year,\nwhen the leaves change their colour, games and contests of skill are\ncelebrated there in her honour. So it was enjoined on the men of Erin\nby her famous son. Chariot races are run there on that smooth plain.\nThe glittering points on either side of it are the racing pillars of\nburnished brass, the starting-post, and that which the charioteers graze\nwith the glowing axle. Many a noble chariot has been broken, and many\na gallant youth slain at the further of those twain. It was there that\nConcobar raced his steeds against the woman with child, concerning which\nthings there are rumours and prophesyings.\u201d\n\nSo Cuculain questioned Laeg concerning the cities of Meath, and\nconcerning the noble raths and duns where the kings and lords and\nchief men of Meath dwelt prosperously, rejoicing in their great wealth.\nCuculain said, \u201cNone of these kings and lords and chief men whom thou\nhast enumerated have at any time injured my nation, and there is not one\nupon whom I might rightly take vengeance. But I see one other splendid\ndun, and of this thou hast said no word, though thrice I have questioned\nthee concerning it.\u201d\n\nLaeg grew pale at these words, and he said,\n\n\u201cWhat dun is that, my master?\u201d\n\nCuculain said, \u201cO fox that thou art, right well thou knowest. It is not\na little or mean one, but great, proud, and conspicuous, and vauntingly\nit rears its head like a man who has never known defeat, but on the\ncontrary has caused many widows to lament. Its white sides flashed\nagainst the dark waters of the Boyne, and its bright roofs glitter above\nthe green woods. There is a stream that runs into the Boyne beside it,\nand there are bulwarks around it, and great strong barriers.\u201d\n\nLaeg answered, \u201cThat is the dun of the sons of Nectan.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us now leave Slieve Modurn,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cand guide thither my\nhorses, for I shall lay waste that dun, and burn it with fire, after\nhaving slain the men who dwell there.\u201d\n\nThen Laeg clasped his comrade\u2019s knees, and said, \u201cTake the road, dear\nmaster, against the royalest dun in all Meath, but pass by that dun.\nThe men are not alive to-day who at any time approached it with warlike\nintent. Those who dwell there are sorcerers and enchanters, lords of all\nthe arts of poison and of war.\u201d\n\nCuculain answered, \u201cI swear by my gods that Dun-Mic-Nectan is the only\ndun in all Meath which shall hear my warlike challenge this day. Descend\nthe hill now, for verily thither shalt thou fare, and that whether thou\nart willing or unwilling.\u201d\n\nNow, for the first time, his valour and his destructive wrath were\nkindled in the soul of Dethcaen\u2019s nursling. Laeg saw the tokens of it,\nand feared and obeyed. Unwillingly he came down the slopes of Slieve\nModurn, and unwillingly harnessed the horses and yoked the chariot,\nand yoked the horses. Southwards, then, they fared swiftly through the\nnight, and the intervening nations heard them as they went. When they\narrived at the dun of the sons of Nectan it was twilight and the dawning\nof the day. Before the dun there was a green and spacious lawn in full\nview of the palace, and on the lawn a pillar and on the pillar a huge\ndisc of shining bronze. Cuculain descended and examined the disc, and\nthere was inscribed on it in ogham a curse upon the man who should enter\nthat lawn and depart again without battle and single combat with the men\nof the dun. Cuculain took the disc from its place and cast it from him\nsouthwards. The brazen disc skimmed low across the plain and then soared\non high until it showed to those who looked a full, bright face, like\nthe moon\u2019s, after which, pausing one moment, it fell sheer down and sank\ninto the dark waters of the Boyne, without a sound, or at all disturbing\nthe tranquil surface of the great stream, and was no more seen.\n\n\u201cThat bright lure,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cshall no more be a cause of death to\nbrave men. This lawn, O Laeg, is surely the richest of all the lawns in\nthe world. Close-enwoven and thick is the mantle of short green grass\nwhich it wears, decked all over with red-petalled daisies and bright\nflowers more numerous than the stars on a frosty night.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is not surprising,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cfor the lawn is enriched and made\nfat by the blood that has been shed abundantly now for a long time, the\nblood of heroes and valiant men--slain here by the people of the dun.\nVery rich too, are the men, both on account of their strippings of the\nslain, and on account of the druidic well of magic which is within the\ndun. For the people come from far and near to pay their vows at that\nwell, and they give costly presents to those sorcerers who are priests\nand custodians of the same.\u201d\n\n\u201cNoble, indeed, is the dun,\u201d said Cuculain. \u201cBut it is yet early, for\nthe sun is not yet risen from his red-flaming eastern couch, and the\npeople of the dun, too, are in their heavy slumber. I would repose now\nfor a while and rest myself before the battles and hard combats which\nawait me this day. Wherefore, good Laeg, let down the sides and seats\nof the chariot, that I may repose myself for a little and take a short\nsleep.\u201d\n\nFor just then precisely an unwonted drowsiness and desire for slumber\npossessed Cuculain.\n\n\u201cWitless and devoid of sense art thou,\u201d answered Laeg, \u201cfor who but\nan idiot would think of sweet sleep and agreeable repose in a hostile\nterritory, much more in full view of those who look out from a foeman\u2019s\ndun, and that dun, Dun-Mic-Nectan?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo as I bid thee,\u201d said Cuculain. \u201cFor one day, if for no other, thou\nshalt obey my commands.\u201d\n\nLaeg unyoked the chariot and turned the great steeds forth to graze on\nthe druidic lawn, which was never done before at any time. He let\ndown the chariot and arranged it as a couch, and his young master laid\nhimself therein, composing his limbs and pillowing tranquilly his head,\nand he closed his immortal eyes. Very soon sweet slumber possessed him.\nLaeg meanwhile kept watch and ward, and his great heart in his breast\ncontinually trembled like the leaf of the poplar tree, or like a rush in\na flooded stream. The awakening birds unconscious sang in the trees, the\ndew glittered on the grass; hard by the royal Boyne rolled silently.\nThe son of Sualtam slumbered without sound or motion, and the charioteer\nstood beside him upright, like a pillar, his grey bright eyes fixed upon\nthe house of the sorcerers, the merciless, bloody, and ever-victorious\nsons of Nectan, the son of Labrad.\n\nOf the people of the dun, Foil, son of Nectan, was the first to awake.\nIt was his custom to wander forth by himself early in the morning,\ndevising snares and stratagems by which he might take and destroy men at\nhis leisure. He was more cruel than anything. By him the great door of\nthe dun, bound and rivetted with brass, was flung open. With one hand he\nbackshot the bar, which rushed into its chamber with a roar and crash\nas of a great house when it falls, and with the other he drew back the\ndoor. It grated on its brazen hinges, and on the iron threshold, with a\nnoise like thunder. Then Foil stood black and huge in the wide doorway\nof the dun, and he looked at Laeg and Laeg looked at him. The man\nwas ugly and fierce of aspect. His hair was thick and black; he was\nbull-necked and large-eared. His mantle was black, bordered with dark\nred; his tunic, a dirty yellow, was splashed with recent blood. There\nwere great shoes on his feet soled with wood and iron. In his hand he\nbore a staff of quick-beam, as it were a full-grown tree without its\nbranches. He being thus, strode forward in an ungainly manner to Laeg,\nand with a surly voice bade him drive the horses off the lawn.\n\n\u201cDrive them off thyself,\u201d said Laeg.\n\nHe sought to do that, but owing to the behaviour of the steeds, he\ndesisted right soon, and turned again to Laeg.\n\n\u201cWho is the sleeping youth?\u201d said he, \u201cand wherefore hath he come hither\nin an evil hour?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is a certain mild and gentle youth of the Ultonians,\u201d replied Laeg,\n\u201cwho yester morning prosperously assumed his arms of chivalry for the\nfirst time, and hath come hither to prove his valour upon the sons of\nNectan.\u201d\n\n\u201cMany youths of his nation have come hither with the same intent,\u201d said\nthe giant, \u201cbut they did not return.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis youth will,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cafter having slain the sons of Nectan,\nand after having sacked their dun and burned it with fire.\u201d\n\nFoil hearing that word became very angry, and he gripped his great\nstaff and advanced to make a sudden end of Laeg first, and then of the\nsleeper, Laeg, on his side, drew Cuculain\u2019s sword. Hardly and using all\nhis strength, could he do so and at the same time hold himself in an\nattitude of defence and attack, but he succeeded. His aspect, too, was\nhigh and warlike, and his eyes shone menacingly the while his heart\ntrembled, for he knew too well that he was no match for the man.\n\n\u201cGo back now for thy weapons of war,\u201d he cried, \u201cand all thy\nwar-furniture, and thy instruments of sorcery and enchantment. Truly\nthou art in need of them all.\u201d\n\nWhen Foil saw how the enormous sword flashed in the lad\u2019s hand, and saw\nthe fierceness of his visage and heard his menacing words, he returned\nto the dun. The people of the dun were now awake, and they clustered\nlike bees on the slope of the mound, and in the covered ways beneath\nthe eaves and along the rampart, and they hissed and roared and shouted\nwords of insult and contumely, lewd and gross, concerning Laeg and\nconcerning that other youth who slept in such a place and at such a\ntime. But Laeg stood still and silent, with his eyes fixed on the dun,\nand with the point of his sword leaning on the ground, for his right\nhand was weary on account of its great weight. Very ardently he longed\nthat his master should awake out of that unreasonable slumber. Yet he\nmade no attempt to rouse him, for it was unlawful to awake Cuculain\nwhen he slept. Conspicuous amongst the people of the dun were Foil\u2019s\nbrethren, Tuatha and Fenla, Tuatha vast in bulk, and Fenla, tall and\nswift, wearing a mantle of pale blue. Around Fenla stood the three\ncup-bearers, who drew water from the magic well, Flesc, Lesc, and Leam\nwere their names. At the same time that Foil reappeared in the doorway\nof the dun, fully armed and equipped for battle, Cuculain awoke and\nsat up. At first he was dazed and bewildered, for divine voices were\nsounding in his ears, and fleeting visionary presences were departing\nfrom him. Then he heard the people how they shouted and saw his enemy\ndescending the slope of the dun, sights and sounds indeed diverse from\nthose his dreams and visions. With a cry he started from his bed, like\na deer starting from his lair, and the people of the dun fell suddenly\nsilent when they beheld the velocity of his movements, the splendour of\nhis beauty, and the rapidity with which he armed himself and stood forth\nfor war.\n\n\u201cThat champion is Foil, son of Nectan,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cand there is not\none in the world with whom it is more difficult to contend both in other\nrespects and chiefly in this, that there is but one weapon wherewith he\nmay be slain. To all others he is invulnerable. That weapon is an iron\nball having magic properties, and no man knows where to look for it,\nor where the man hath hidden it away. And O my dear master, thou goest\nforth to certain death going forth against that man.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave no fear on that account,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cfor it has been revealed\nto me where he hides it. It is a ges to him to wear it always on his\nbreast above his armour, but beneath his mantle and tunic. There it is\nsuspended by a strong chain of brass around his neck. With that ball I\nshall slay him in the manner in which I have been directed by those who\nvisited me while I slept.\u201d\n\nThen they fought, and in the first close so vehement was the onset of\nFoil, that Cuculain could do no more than defend himself, and around the\ntwain sparks flew up in showers as from a smithy where a blacksmith and\nhis lusty apprentices strongly beat out the red iron. The second was\nsimilar to the first, and equally without results. In the third close\nCuculain, having sheathed his sword, sprang upwards and dashed his\nshield into the giant\u2019s face, and at the same time he tore from its\nplace of concealment the magic ball, rending mightily the brazen chain.\nAnd he leaped backwards, and taking a swift aim, threw. The ball flew\nfrom the young hero\u2019s hand like a bolt from a sling, and it struck the\ngiant in the middle of the forehead below the rim of his helmet, but\nabove his blazing eyes, and the ball crashed through the strong frontal\nbone, and tore its way through the hinder part of his head, and went\nforth, carrying the brains with it in its course, so that there was a\nfree tunnel and thoroughfare for all the winds of heaven there. With a\ncrash and a ringing, armour and weapons, the giant fell upon the\nplain and his blood poured forth in a torrent there where he himself\ninvulnerable had shed the blood of so many heroes. Laeg rejoiced greatly\nat that feat, and with a loud voice bade the men of the dun bring forth\ntheir next champion. This was Tuatha the second son of Nectan, and the\nfiercest of the three, he buffeted his esquires and gillas, while they\narmed him, so that it was a sore task for them to clasp and strap and\nbrace his armour upon him that day, for their faces were bloody from his\nhands, and the floor of the armoury was strewn with their teeth. That\narmour was a marvel and astonishment to all who saw it, so many thick,\nhard skins of wild oxen of the mountains had been stitched together to\nfurnish forth the champion\u2019s coat of mail. It was strengthened, too,\nwith countless bars and rings of brass sewed fast to it all over, and\nit encompassed the whole of his mighty frame, from his shoulders to his\nfeet. The helmet and neckpiece were one, wrought in like manner, only\nstronger. The helmet covered his face. There was no opening there\nsave breathing slits and two round holes through which his eyes shone\nterribly. On his feet were strong shoes bound with brass. To any other\nman but himself this armour would have been an encumbrance, for it was\ngood and sufficient loading for a car drawn by one yoke of oxen; but so\nclad, this man was aware of no unusual weight. When they had clasped him\nand braced him to his satisfaction, and, indeed, that was not easy, they\nput upon him his tunic of dusky grey, and over that his mantle of dark\ncrimson, and fastened it on his breast with a brooch whose wheel alone\nwould task one man\u2019s full strength to lift from the ground.\n\nThen Tuatha went forth out of the dun, and when his people saw him they\nshouted mightily, for before that they had been greatly dismayed, and\ncast down on account of the slaying of Foil, whom till then they had\ndeemed invincible. They were all males dwelling here together in sorcery\nand common lust for blood. No woman brightened their dark assemblies\nand the voice of a child was never heard within the dun or around it. So\nthey rejoiced greatly when they beheld Tuatha and saw him how wrathfully\nhe came forth, breathing slaughter, and heard his voice; for terribly\nhe shouted as he strode down from the dun, and he banned and cursed\nCuculain and Laeg, and devoted them to his gloomy gods. Beneath his feet\nthe massive timbers of the drawbridge bent and creaked.\n\nSaid Laeg, \u201cThis man, O dear Setanta, is far more terrible than the\nfirst, for he is said to be altogether invulnerable and proof against\nany weapon that was ever made.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not altogether thus,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cbut if the man escapes the\nfirst stroke he is thenceforward invincible, and surely slays his foe.\nTherefore give into my hand Concobar\u2019s unendurable and mighty ashen\nspear, for I must make an end of him at one cast or not at all.\u201d\n\nTuatha now rushed upon Cuculain, flinging darts, of which he carried\nmany in his left hand. Not one of them did Cuculain attempt to take upon\nhis shield, but altogether eluded them, for now he swerved to one side\nand now to another, and now he dropped on one knee and again sprang\nhigh in air, so that the missile hurtled and hissed between his gathered\nfeet. Truly since the beginning of the world there was not, and to the\nend of the world there will not be, a better leaper than thy nursling,\ndaughter of Cathvah; and behind him all the lawn was as it were sown\nthick with spears, and these so buried in the earth that two-thirds of\ntheir length was concealed and a third only projected slantwise from the\ngreen and glittering sward. When the man with all his force, fury, and\nvenom had discharged his last shaft and seen it, too, shoot screaming\nbeneath the aerial feet of the hero, he roared so terribly that the\nshores and waters of the Boyne and the surrounding woods and groves\nreturned a hollow moan, and, laying his right hand on the hand-grip of\nhis sword, he rushed upon Cuculain. At that moment Cuculain poised the\nbroad-bladed spear of Concobar Mac Nessa and cast it at the man, who was\nnow very near, and came rushing on like a storm, having his vast sword\ndrawn and flashing. That cast no one could rightly blame whether as to\nforce or direction, for the brazen blade caught the son of Nectan full\non breast under the left pap and tore through his thick and strong\narmour and burst three rib bones, and fixed itself in his heart, so that\nhe fell first upon his knees, stumbling forward, and then rolled over\non the plain and a torrent of black blood gushed from his mouth and\nnostrils.\n\n\u201cThat was indeed a brave cast,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cfor the coat is the\nthickness of seven bulls\u2019 hides, and plated besides, and the rib-bones,\nthrough which Concobar\u2019s great spear impelled by thee hath burst his\nvictorious way, are stronger than the thigh-bones of a horse; but pluck\nout the spear now, for it is beyond my power to do so, and stand well\nupon thy guard, for the two combats past will be as child\u2019s play to\nthat which now awaits thee. Fenla, the third son of Nectan, is preparing\nhimself for battle. He is called the Swallow, because there is not a\nman in the world swifter to retreat, or swifter to pursue. He is more at\nhome in the water than on the dry land, for through it he dives like a\nwater-dog, and glides like an eel, and rushes like a salmon when in the\nspring-time he seeks the upper pools. Greatly I fear that his challenge\nand defiance will be to do battle with him there, where no man born of\nwoman can meet him and live.\u201d\n\n\u201cSay not so, O Laeg,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cand be not so afraid and cast\ndown, but still keep a cheerful heart in thy breast and a high and brave\ncountenance before the people of the dun. For my tutor Fergus paid a\ngood heed to my education in the whole art of war and especially as to\nswimming. He is himself a most noble swimmer and I have profited by his\ninstructions. Once he put me to the test. It was in the great swimming\nbath in the Callan, dug out, it is said, by the Firbolgs in the ancient\ndays, and the trial was in secret and its issue has not been revealed to\nthis day. On that occasion I swam round the bath holding two well-grown\nboys in my right arm and two in my left, and there was a fifth sitting\non my shoulders with his hands clasped on my forehead, and my back was\nnot wetted by the Callan. Therefore dismiss thy fear and answer thou\ntheir challenge with a strong voice and a cheerful countenance.\u201d\n\nLaeg did that and he answered their challenge with a voice that rang,\nstriking fear into the hearts of those who heard him. Forthwith, then,\nFenla, wearing sword and shield, sprang at a bound over the rampart and\nfoss, and his course thence to the Boyne was like a flash of blue and\nwhite and he plunged into the dark stream like a bright spear, and\ndiving beneath the flood he emerged a great way off, and cried aloud for\nhis foe.\n\n\u201cI am here,\u201d cried Cuculain, at his side. \u201cCease thy shouting and look\nto thyself, for it is not my custom to take advantage of any man.\u201d\n\nMarvellous and terrible was the battle which then ensued between these\nchampions. For the spray and the froth and the flying spume of the\nconvulsed and agitated waters around that warring twain, rose in white\nclouds, and owing to the fierceness of the combat and the displacement\nof the waters around them, the Boyne on either hand beat her green\nmargin with sudden and unusual billows, for the divine river was taken\nwith a great surprise on that occasion. Amid the roar of the waters ever\nsounded the dry clash of the meeting swords and the clang of the smitten\nshields and the ringing of helmets. Sometimes one champion would dive\nseeking an advantage, and the other would dive too, in order to elude\nor meet the assault. Then the frothing surface of the stream would\nclear itself, and the Boyne run dark as before, though the mounted water\nshowed that the combat still raged in its depths. The swallows, too, had\nbeen scared away, returning, skimmed the surface, and the bird which\nis the most beautiful of all darted a bright streak low across the dark\nwater. Anon the submerged champions, coming to the surface for breath,\nrenewed their deadly combat amid foaming waters and clouds of spray.\nThe full particulars of this combat are not related, only that the\nwizard-champion grew weaker, while his vigour and strength continued\nunabated with the son of Sualtam, and that in the end he slew the other,\nand in the sight of all he cut off his head and flung it from the middle\nBoyne to the shore, and that the headless trunk of Fenla, son of Nectan,\nfloated down-stream to the sea. When the people of the dun saw that,\nthey brake forth west-ward and fled. Then Cuculain and Laeg invaded the\ndun, and they burst open the doors of the strong chambers, and of the\ndungeons beneath the earth, and let loose the prisoners and the hostages\nand the prepared victims, and they broke the idols and the instruments\nof sorcery, and filled in the well. After that they replenished the\nvacant places of the war-car with things the most precious and such as\nwere portable, and gave all the rest to the liberated captives for a\nprey. Last of all they applied fire to the vast dun, and quickly the\ndevouring flames shot heavenward, fed with pine and red yew, and rolled\nforth a mighty pillar of black smoke, reddened with rushing sparks and\nflaming embers. The men of Tara saw it, and the men of Tlatga, and\nof Tailteen, and of Ben-Eadar, and they consulted their prophets and\nwizards as to what this portent might mean, for it was not a little\nsmoke that the burning of Dun-Mic-Nectan sent forth that day.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE RETURN OF CUCULAIN\n\n\n     \u201cThe golden gates of sleep unbar\n     When strength and beauty met together\n     Kindle their image like a star\n     In a sea of glassy weather.\u201d\n\n                      SHELLEY.\n\n\nThen Laeg harnessed the horses and yoked the chariot. To the brazen\npeaks of the chariot he fastened the heads of Foil and of Tuatha, with\nFoil\u2019s on the left hand and Tuatha\u2019s on the right; and the long-haired\nhead of the water-wizard he made fast by its own hair to the ornament of\nsilver that was at the forward extremity of the great chariot pole. When\nthis was done, and when he had secured his master\u2019s weapons and warlike\nequipments in their respective places, the youths ascended the chariot,\nand Laeg shook the ringing reins and called to the steeds to go, and\nthey went, and soon they were on the hard highway straining forward to\nthe north. The sound of the war-car behind them outroared the roaring\nof the flames. Cuculain was a pale red all over, for ere the last combat\nwas at an end that pool of the Boyne was like one bath of blood. His\neyes blazed terribly in his head, and his face was fearful to look upon.\nLike a reed in a river so he quaked and trembled, and there went out\nfrom him a moaning like the moaning of winds through deep woods or\ndesolate glens, or over the waste places of the earth when darkness is\nabroad. For the war-fury which the Northmen named after the Barserkers\nenwrapped and inflamed him, body and spirit, owing to those strenuous\ncombats, and owing to the venom and the poison which exhaled from those\nchildren of sorcery, that spawn of Death and Hell, so that his gentle\nmind became as it were the meeting-place of storms and the confluence of\nshouting seas. A man ran before him whose bratta on the wind roared\nlike fire, and there was a sound of voices calling and acclaiming, and a\nnoontide darkness descended upon him and accompanied him as he went, and\nall became obscure and shapeless, and all the ways were murk. And\nthe mind of Laeg, too, was disturbed and shaken loose from its strong\nfoundations.\n\n\u201cBut now,\u201d said Cuculain, \u201cthere ran a man before us. Him I do not see,\nbut what is this herd of monstrous deer, sad-coloured and livid, as with\nhorns and hoofs of iron? I have not seen such at any time. Lurid fire\nplays round them as they flee.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo deer of the earth are they,\u201d said Laeg. \u201cThey are the enchanted herd\nof Slieve Fuad, and from their abode subterrene they have come up late\ninto the world surrounded by night that they may graze upon Eiriu\u2019s\nplains, and it is not lawful even to look upon them.\u201d\n\n\u201cPursue and run down those deer,\u201d said Cuculain.\n\n\u201cThere is fear upon me,\u201d said Laeg.\n\n\u201cAlive or dead thou shalt come with me on this adventure, though it lead\nus into the mighty realms of the dead,\u201d cried Cuculain.\n\nLaeg relaxed his hands upon the reins and let the steeds go, and they\nchased the enchanted herd of Slieve Fuad. There was no hunting seen like\nthat before in Erin. So vehement was the chase that a twain of the herd\nwas run down and they upon their knees and sobbing. Cuculain sprang from\nthe chariot and he made fast one of the deer to the pole of the chariot\nto run before, and on to the hinder part of it to run behind. So they\nwent northward again with a deer of the herd of Hell running before them\nand another following behind.\n\n\u201cWhat are those birds whiter than snow and more brilliant than stars,\u201d\n said then Cuculain, \u201cwhich are before us upon the plain, as if Heaven\nwith its astral lights and splendour were outspread before us there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are the wild geese of the enchanted flocks of Lir,\u201d answered Laeg.\n\u201cFrom his vast and ever-during realms beneath the sea they have come up\nthrough the dim night to feed on Banba\u2019s plains. Have nought to do with\nthose birds, dear master.\u201d\n\nCuculain stood up in his chariot with his sling in his hand, and he\nfitted thereto small bolts, and slang. He did not make an end before he\nhad overthrown and laid low three score of the birds of Lir.\n\n\u201cGo bring me those birds,\u201d said he to Laeg. The horses were plunging\nterribly when he said that.\n\n\u201cI may not, O my master,\u201d said Laeg. \u201cFor even now, and with the reins\nin my hand, I am unable to restrain their fury and their madness, to\nsuch a degree have their noble minds been disturbed by the sorcery and\nthe druidism and the enchantment with which they are surrounded. And\nI fear that soon the brazen wheels will fail me, or that the axle-tree\nwill fail me by reason of their collidings with the rocks and cliffs of\nthe land, when the horses shall have escaped from my control and shall\nhave rushed forth like hurricanes over the earth.\u201d\n\nForthwith Cuculain sprang out in front of the chariot, and seized them\nby their mouths and they in their rearing, and with his hands bowed down\ntheir heads to the earth, and they knew their master and stood still\nwhile they quaked. Laeg collected the birds, and Cuculain secured\nthem to the chariot and to the harness. The birds returned to life\nand Cuculain cut the binding cords, so that the birds flew over and on\neither side of the chariot, and singing besides.\n\nIn that manner, speeding northward, Cuculain and Laeg drew nigh to\nEmain Macha. Concobar and the Ultonians happened at that very time to\nbe seeking a druidic response from the prophetess Lavarcam concerning\nCuculain and concerning Laeg, for their minds misgave them that beyond\nthe mearings of the Province the lads had come to some hurt, and\nLavarcam, answering them, said:\n\n     \u201cLook to yourselves now ye children of Rury,\n     Your destruction and the end of your career are at hand.\n     Close all gates, shoot every bar.\n     For Dethcaen\u2019s nursling, Sualtam\u2019s son, draweth nigh.\n\n     \u201cVerily he is not hurt, but he hath wounded.\n     Champions the mightiest\n     he hath victoriously overthrown.\n     Though he come swiftly it is not in flight.\n     Take good heed now while there is time.\n     He cometh like night in raiment of darkness,\n     Starry singing flocks are round his head,\n     Soon,O Concobar, his unendurable hand will be upon you;\n     Soon your dead will outnumber your living.\u201d\n\n\u201cClose all the gates of Emain,\u201d cried Concobar, \u201cand treble-bar all\nwith bars. Look to your weapons ye heroes of the Red Branch. Man the\nramparts, and let every bridge be raised.\u201d\n\nSo the high king shouted, and his voice rang through the vast and high\ndun and rolled along the galleries and far-stretching corridors, and was\nheard by the women of Ulla in their secluded chambers. And at the same\ntime the watchman from the watch-tower cried out. Then the women held\ncouncil together, and they said:\n\n\u201cMoats and ramparts and strong doors will not repel Cuculain. He will\nsurely o\u2019erleap the moat and burst through the doors and slay many.\u201d\n\nAnd as they debated together they said that they alone would save the\ncity and defeat the war-demons who had Cuculain in their power. For they\nsaid--\u201cHis virginity is with him, and his beautiful shamefastness, and\nhis humility and reverence for women, whether they be old or young, and\nwhether they be comely or not comely. And this was his way always, and\nnow more than formerly since young love hath descended upon him in the\nform of Emer, daughter of Fargal Manach, King of Lusk in the south.\u201d\n\nThen the women of the Ultonians did a great and memorable deed, and such\nas was not known to have been done at any time in Erin.\n\nThey bade all the men retire into the dun after they had lowered the\nbridge; and when that was done three tens of them, such as were the most\nillustrious in rank and famous for accomplishments, and they all in the\nprime of their youth and beauty, and clad only in the pure raiment of\ntheir womanhood, came forth out of the quarters of the women, and in\nthat order, in spite of shame they went to meet him. When Cuculain saw\nthem advancing towards him in lowly wise, with exposed bosom and hands\ncrossed on their breasts, his weapons fell from his hands and the\nwar-demons fled out of him, and low in the chariot he bent down his\nnoble head. By them he was conducted into the dun, into a chamber which\nthey had prepared for him, and they drew water and filled his kieve, and\nthere Laeg ministered to him. He was like one fiery glowing mass--like\niron plucked red out of the furnace.\n\nWhen he had entered his bath the water boiled around him. After he had\nbathed and when he became calm and cool Laeg put upon him his beautiful\nbanqueting attire, and he came into the great hall lowly and blushing.\nAll were acclaiming and praising him, and he passed up the great\nhall and made a reverence to the King, and he sat down at the King\u2019s\nfootstool. All who saw him marvelled then more at his beauty than at his\ndeeds. He was sick after that, and came very near to death, but in\nthe end he fell into a very deep sleep from which he awoke whole and\nrefreshed, though it was the opinion of many that he would surely die.\nCuculain was seventeen years of age when he did these feats.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg\u2019s The Coming of Cuculain, by Standish O\u2019Grady","title":"The Coming of Cuculain","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":38092}