{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_52963/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_52963","id":"gutenberg_52963","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52963","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Clive, Mrs. (Catherine) 1711-1785","Cuchulain (Legendary character)","Heroes -- Ulster (Northern Ireland and Ireland) -- Legends","Tales -- Ulster (Northern Ireland and Ireland)"],"text":"Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n file which includes the original illustrations.\n See 52963-h.htm or 52963-h.zip:\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/52963/pg52963-images.html)\n or\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/52963/52963-h.zip)\n\n\n Images of the original pages are available through\n Internet Archive. See\n https://archive.org/details/cuchulainhoundo0hull\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\n\n More detail can be found at the end of the book.\n\n\n\n\n\nCUCHULAIN\nTHE HOUND OF ULSTER\n\n\n[Illustration: The Raven of Ill-omen]\n\n\nCUCHULAIN\nTHE HOUND OF ULSTER\n\nby\n\nELEANOR HULL\n\nAuthor of\n\u201cThe Cuchullin Saga in Irish Literature\u201d\n\u201cPagan Ireland\u201d \u201cEarly Christian Ireland\u201d\netc.\n\nWith Eight Illustrations by Stephen Reid\n\n\n \u201cBec a brig liomsa sin,\u201d ar Cuchulaind, \u201cgen\n go rabar acht aonla no aonoidchi ar bith acht go\n mairit m\u2019airdsgeula dom \u00e9s.\u201d\n _Stowe MS._, _C._ 6, 3.\n _R. Irish Academy_.\n\n \u201cThough the span of my life were but for a\n day,\u201d Cuchulain said, \u201clittle should I reck of\n that, if but my noble deeds might be remembered\n among men.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNew York\nThomas Y. Crowell Company\nPublishers\n\nPrinted in Great Britain\nby Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n PAGE\n\n INTRODUCTION 9\n\n CHAP.\n\n I. HOW CONOR BECAME KING OF ULSTER 15\n\n II. QUEEN MEAVE AND THE WOMAN-SEER 18\n\n III. THE BOY-CORPS OF KING CONOR 25\n\n IV. HOW CUCHULAIN GOT HIS NAME 33\n\n V. HOW CUCHULAIN TOOK ARMS 40\n\n VI. OF CUCHULAIN\u2019S FIRST FEATS OF CHAMPIONSHIP 47\n\n VII. CUCHULAIN\u2019S ADVENTURES IN SHADOW-LAND 57\n\n VIII. HOW CUCHULAIN WOOED HIS WIFE 68\n\n IX. MEAVE DEMANDS THE BROWN BULL OF COOLEY AND IS\n REFUSED 78\n\n X. THE PLUCKING OUT OF THE FOUR-PRONGED POLE 88\n\n XI. THE DEER OF ILL-LUCK 94\n\n XII. ETARCOMAL\u2019S WELL-DESERVED FATE 104\n\n XIII. THE FIGHT WITH SPITS OF HOLLY-WOOD 113\n\n XIV. THE COMBAT WITH FERDIA 118\n\n XV. THE FALL OF FERDIA 128\n\n XVI. ULSTER, AWAKE! 143\n\n XVII. THE END OF THE BOY-CORPS 151\n\n XVIII. THE \u201cRISING-OUT\u201d OF ULSTER 160\n\n XIX. THE HUMBLING OF QUEEN MEAVE 167\n\n XX. THE FAIRY SWAN-MAIDENS 171\n\n XXI. HOW CUCHULAIN WENT TO FAIRY-LAND 182\n\n XXII. DEIRDRE OF CONTENTIONS 194\n\n XXIII. THE UP-BRINGING OF DEIRDRE 201\n\n XXIV. THE SLEEP-WANDERER 208\n\n XXV. THE WILES OF KING CONOR 217\n\n XXVI. THE SORROWFUL DEATH OF USNA\u2019S SONS 224\n\n XXVII. THE FIGHT OF CUCHULAIN WITH HIS SON CONLA 241\n\n XXVIII. THE HOUND AT BAY 252\n\n XXIX. FAME OUTLIVES LIFE 264\n\n XXX. THE RED ROUT 270\n\n NOTES ON THE SOURCES 275\n\n\n\n\nIllustrations\n\n\n PAGE\n\n THE RAVEN OF ILL-OMEN _Frontispiece_\n\n QUEEN MEAVE AND THE DRUID 18\n\n CUCHULAIN SETS OUT FOR EMAIN MACHA 28\n\n CUCHULAIN DESIRES ARMS OF THE KING 42\n\n MACHA CURSES THE MEN OF ULSTER 80\n\n FERDIA FALLS BY THE HAND OF CUCHULAIN 140\n\n \u201cTHE MOMENT OF GOOD-LUCK IS COME\u201d 160\n\n CUCHULAIN COMES AT LAST TO HIS DEATH 268\n\n\n\n\nIntroduction\n\n\nThe events that circle round King Conor mac Nessa and Cuchulain\nas their principal figures are supposed to have occurred, as we\ngather from the legends themselves, about the first century of our\nera. According to one of the stories, King Conor is said to have\ndied in a paroxysm of wrath and horror, brought on by hearing the\nnews of the crucifixion of our Lord by the Jews. Though this story\nis evidently one of the few interpolations having their origin\nin Christian times (the main body of the legends being purely\npagan), the probability that they took shape about this period is\nincreased almost to certainty by the remarkable agreement we find\nin them with the accounts derived from classical writers who lived\nand wrote about this same period, and who comment on the habits\nof the Gauls of France, the Danube valley and Asia Minor, and the\nBelgic tribes who inhabited South-eastern Britain, with whom the\nRoman armies came into contact in the course of their wars of\naggression and expansion. The descriptions given by Poseidonius, a\ncentury before Christ, or Diodorus, C\u00e6sar and Livy half a century\nlater, agree remarkably with the notices found in these Irish\nstories of social conditions, weapons, dress, and appearance. The\nlarge wicker shields, the huge double-bladed swords lifted above\nthe head to strike, the courage amounting to rashness of the\nCelt in attack, the furious onset of the scythed war-chariots,\nthe disregard of death, the habit of rushing into battle without\nwaiting to don their clothes, the single combats, the great feasts,\nthe \u201cChampion\u2019s Bit\u201d reserved as a mark of distinction for the\nbravest warrior; these, and many other characteristics found in our\ntales, are commented upon in the pages of the Roman historians. The\nculture represented in them is that known to arch\u00e6ologists as \u201clate\nCeltic,\u201d called on the Continent the La T\u00e8ne period, _i.e._ the\nperiod extending from about 400 B.C. to the first century of the\nChristian era; and the actual remains of weapons, ornaments, and\ndress found in Ireland confirm the supposition that we are dealing\nwith this stage of culture.\n\nWe may, then, take it that these tales were formed about the\nbeginning of our era, although the earliest written documents\nthat we have of them are not earlier than the eleventh and\ntwelfth century. Between the time of their invention for the\nentertainment of the chiefs and kings of Ireland to the time of\ntheir incorporation in the great books which contain the bulk of\nthe tales, they were handed down by word of mouth, every bard and\nprofessional story-teller (of whom there was at least one in every\ngreat man\u2019s house) being obliged to know by heart a great number of\nthese romances, and prepared at any moment to recite those which\nhe might be called upon to give. In the course of centuries of\nrecitation certain changes crept in, but in the main they come to\nus much as they were originally recited. In some tales, of which\nwe have a number of copies of different ages, we can trace these\nchanges and notice the additions and modifications that have been\nmade.\n\nOver a hundred distinct tales belonging to this one cycle alone are\nknown to have existed, and of a great number of them one or more\ncopies have come down to us, differing more or less from each other.\n\nThe old story-tellers who handed down the romantic tales of\nIreland handled their material in a very free manner, expanding\nand altering as suited their own poetic feeling and the audience\nthey addressed. A reciter of poetic power fearlessly re-arranged,\nenlarged or condensed. As a general rule, the older the form of\na story the shorter, terser, and more barbaric is its character.\nIn the long tale of the T\u00e1in b\u00f3 Cuailgne, which forms the central\nsubject of the whole cycle, the arrangement of the episodes and the\nnumber of incidents introduced is quite different in the oldest\ncopy we have of it, that found in the compilation called (from the\nparticular piece of parchment on which it was written) the \u201cBook\nof the Dun (or Brown) Cow,\u201d compiled in 1100 in the monastery\nof Clonmacnois on the Shannon, from the version in the Book of\nLeinster, a great vellum book drawn up and written for Dermot\nmac Morrough, the King of Leinster who invited Strongbow and the\nNormans to come over from Wales half a century later. The oldest\nform of the story is often the more manly and self-restrained;\nthere is a tendency, as time goes on, not only to soften down\nthe more barbarous and rougher portions, but to emphasise the\npathetic and moving scenes, and to add touches of symbolism and\nimagination. Though they lack the brief dignity of the older\nversions, the more recent copies are often more attractive and full\nof poetry. For instance, we have in this book drawn largely on\nsome comparatively recent (seventeenth-eighteenth century) MSS. in\nthe British Museum, not hitherto translated, for the details (many\nof them full of poetic imagination) of the history of Cuchulain\u2019s\njourney into Shadowland to learn feats of bravery,[1] and in the\naccount of his death and the incidents that immediately follow\nit. In the different versions of the former story, the name of\nthe country to which Cuchulain went is variously given as Alba or\nScotland, Scythia, and the \u201cLand of Sc\u00e1thach,\u201d _i.e._ the home of\nthe woman-warrior from whom he learned. It is evident that Scythia\nis only a mistake for Sc\u00e1thach, made by some scribe and copied by\nothers. Sc\u00e1th means a \u201cShadow,\u201d and probably the original idea\nwas purely symbolic, meaning that the hero had passed beyond the\nbounds of human knowledge into an invisible world of mystery called\nShadowland. The writer of the copy that I have used returns to\nthis original idea, and the whole story, in his hands, becomes\nsymbolic and imaginative. So also, in the account of Cuchulain\u2019s\ndeath, the modern scribe introduces new details which add to the\nbeauty and striking effect of this most touching episode. To my\nmind the scribes, in making these additions, acted in a perfectly\nlegitimate manner, and I have not hesitated in this book, which\ndoes not aim at being a text-book, but a book written for the\npleasure of the young, to follow their example. I have freely, in\nminor points, re-arranged or pruned the tales, adding details from\ndifferent sources as suited my purpose, and occasionally expanding\nan imaginative suggestion indicated, but not worked out, by the\nscribe. But I have seldom allowed myself deliberately to alter a\nstory, or to introduce anything not found somewhere in the tales as\nthey have come down to us. An exception is the story of Cuchulain\u2019s\nvisit to fairy-land, commonly known as the \u201cSickbed of Cuchulain,\u201d\nwhich required a slight modification of the central situation in\norder to make it suitable reading for any children into whose hands\nthe book might chance to fall; it was too poetic and touching an\nepisode to be altogether omitted without loss to the conception of\nthe cycle as a whole.\n\nIt is, after all, the human interest of these old stories, and not\nprimarily their importance as folklore and the history of manners,\nthat appeals to most of us to-day. As the Arthurian legend all\nthrough the Middle Ages set before men\u2019s minds an ideal of high\npurpose, purity of life, and chivalrous behaviour in an age that\nwas not over-inclined to practise these virtues, so these old Irish\nromances, so late rescued from oblivion, come to recall the minds\nof men in our own day to some noble ideals.\n\nFor, rude as are the social conditions depicted in these tales,\nand exaggerated and barbaric as is the flavour of some of them,\nthey nevertheless present to us a high and often romantic code of\nnatural chivalry. There is no more pathetic story in literature\nthan that of the fight between the two old and loving friends,\nCuchulain and Ferdia; there is no more touching act of chivalry to\na woman than Cuchulain\u2019s offer of aid to his enemy Queen Meave, in\nthe moment of her exhaustion; there is no more delightful passage\nof playful affection than that between the hero and his lady in\nthe wooing of Emer. These tales have a sprightliness and buoyancy\nnot possessed by the Arthurian tales, they are fresher, more\nhumorous, more diversified; and the characters, more especially\nthose of the women, are more firmly and variously drawn. For Wales\nand for England Arthur has been for centuries the representative\n\u201cvery gentle perfect knight\u201d; for Ireland Cuchulain represented\nthe highest ideal of which the Irish Gael was capable. In these\nstories, as in Malory\u2019s \u201cMorte D\u2019Arthur,\u201d we find \u201cmany joyous\nand pleasant histories, and noble and renowned acts of humanity,\ngentleness and chivalry\u201d; and we may add, with Malory, \u201cDo after\nthe good and leave the evil, and it shall bring you to good fame\nand renomm\u00e9e.\u201d\n\n ELEANOR HULL\n\n\n\n\nCuchulain\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nHow Conor became King of Ulster\n\n\nThere was a great war between Connaught and Ulster, that is,\nbetween Conor, King of Ulster, and Meave, the proud and mighty\nQueen of Connaught. This was the cause of the war between them.\nWhen Conor was but a lad, his mother was a widow, and there was no\nthought that Conor would be king. For the King of Ulster at that\ntime was Fergus mac Roy, a powerful and noble king, whom his people\nloved; and though Conor was of high rank and dignity, he stood not\nnear the throne. But his mother, Ness, was ambitious for him, and\nshe used all her arts to bring it about that he should be called\nto the throne of Ulster. Ness was a handsome woman, and a woman of\nspirit, and in her youth she had been a warrior; and Fergus admired\nher, and she wrought upon him so that in the end he asked her to be\nhis wife. She made it a condition that for one year Fergus would\nleave the sovereignty, and that Conor should take his place; \u201cfor,\u201d\nsaid she, \u201cI should like to have it said that my son had been a\nking, and that his children should be called the descendants of a\nking.\u201d Fergus and the people of Ulster liked not her request, but\nshe was firm, and Fergus all the more desired to marry her, because\nhe found it not easy to get her; so, at the last, he gave way to\nher, and he resigned the kingdom for one year into the hands of\nConor.\n\nBut, as soon as Conor was king, Ness set about to win away the\nhearts of the people of Ulster from Fergus, and to transfer them\nin their allegiance to Conor. She supplied her son with wealth,\nwhich he distributed secretly among the people, buying them over\nto his side; and she taught him how to act, so that he won over\nthe nobles and the great men of the province. And when, the year\nbeing out, Fergus demanded back the sovereignty, he found that the\nleague formed against him was so strong that he could do nothing.\nThe chiefs said that they liked Conor well, and that he was their\nfriend, and they were not disposed to part with him; they said,\ntoo, that Fergus having abandoned the kingdom for a year, only to\ngain a wife, cared little for it, and had, in fact, resigned it.\nAnd they agreed that Fergus should keep his wife, if he wished, but\nthat the kingdom should pass to Conor. And Fergus was so wrath at\nthis, that he forsook his wife, and went with a great host of his\nown followers into Connaught, to take refuge with Queen Meave and\nwith Ailill, her spouse. But he swore to be revenged upon Conor,\nand he waited only an opportunity to incite Meave to gather her\narmy together that he might try to win back the sovereignty, or at\nleast to revenge the insult put upon him by Conor and by Ness.\n\nNow Fergus mac Roy was of great stature, a mighty man and a famous\nwarrior, and his strength was that of a hundred heroes. And all men\nspoke of the sword of Fergus, which was so great and long that men\nsaid that it stretched like a rainbow or like a weaver\u2019s beam. And\nat the head of his hosts was Cormac, the Champion of the White\nCairn of Watching, a son of Conor, who liked not the deed of his\nfather; for he was young, and he had been one of the bodyguard of\nFergus, and went with Fergus into exile to Connaught. And that was\ncalled the Black Exile of Fergus mac Roy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nQueen Meave and the Woman-Seer\n\n\nCraftily Fergus wrought upon Queen Meave that she should espouse\nhis cause and lead an army into Ulster\u2019s coasts, to win the kingdom\nback for him again. And Meave was no way sorry to make war, for\nConnaught and the North at all times were at strife, and frays and\nbattle-raids were common between them. So with light heart Queen\nMeave sent heralds out and messengers through Connaught to collect\nher armed bands, bidding them meet her within three months\u2019 space\nbefore her palace-fort of Cruachan. And in three months a goodly\nhost was gathered there, and tents were pitched, and for awhile\nthey tarried round the palace-courts, eating and drinking, so that\nwith good heart and strength they might set forth to march towards\nUlster\u2019s borders.\n\nNow, in the dark and dead of night before the break of day when\nall the host should start their forward march, Meave could not\nsleep; and stealthily she rose and bid them make her chariot ready,\nthat she might seek a Druid whom she knew, and learn from him the\nprospects of the expedition and what should be the fate before her\nhosts.\n\n[Illustration: Queen Meave and the Druid]\n\nFar in the depths of a wide-spreading wood the Druid dwelt. An\nold and reverend man was he, and far and wide men knew him for\na prophet and a seer. The \u201cKnowledge that enlightens\u201d he\npossessed, which opened to his eyes the coming days and all the\nsecret things the future held. Gravely he came out to meet the\ntroubled Queen, and he from her chariot handed her, as proudly she\ndrew up before his door.\n\n\u201cWe have come to thee, O Druid and magician,\u201d said the Queen, \u201cto\nask of thee the fate and fortune of this expedition against Ulster\nwhich we have now in hand, whether we shall return victorious or\nnot.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait but awhile in patience,\u201d said the aged man, \u201cand I will read\nthe future, if the gods allow.\u201d\n\nFor two long hours Meave waited in the hut, while on the hearth the\nfire of peat burned low, and a strange dimness spread about the\nhouse as though a mist had risen between herself and the magician,\nwho, on his palms performed his curious rites, and in a slow and\nsolemn chant sang charms and incantations; by strange and magic\narts known to his craft seeking the \u201cKnowledge that enlightens.\u201d\nAnd, at the last, when all was still, he rose to his full height,\nstretched out his arms, and called upon the gods of fire, and air,\nand wind, and light, to open up and lay before his gaze the future\nthings that were in store for Meave and for her hosts.\n\nThen he made total darkness in his hut, and ate a curious food,\nconcocted by magicians; and when he had eaten, he fell into a\nsleep, his servant watching over him, his two palms laid upon his\ncheeks. Then in a minute, or two minutes, he uttered sounds, but\nlike one talking in his sleep, and the servant bade Meave question\nhim, for his sleep of inspiration was upon him. So Meave said: \u201cIn\nmine host this day are many who do part from their own people and\ntheir friends, from their country and their lands, from father and\nfrom mother. Now, if these all return not safe and sound, upon me\nwill be the anger of their friends, and me they will upbraid. Tell\nme, then, will these return alive?\u201d\n\nAnd the magician said: \u201cThese might return; but yet I see a little\nboy who stands upon the way to hinder them. Fair he is and young\nand but a boy; and yet on every path I see him, holding back\nthy hosts, slaughtering and pursuing, as though the strength of\nthe gods were in his arms. On every path they fall, in every\nbattlefield the ground is strewn with dead, and in the homes of\nConnaught men and women weep the sons and husbands who return no\nmore. Who this youth may be I know not, but I see that he will\nbring trouble on thy hosts.\u201d\n\nThen Meave trembled at the saying of the Druid; but she asked\nagain, \u201cAmong all those who will remain behind and those who go,\nthere is none dearer to us than we are to ourselves; inquire\ntherefore of thy gods if we ourselves shall come alive out of this\nhosting?\u201d\n\nThe wizard answered: \u201cWhoever comes or comes not, thou thyself\nshalt come.\u201d\n\nThen Meave mounted her chariot again, and turned her horses\u2019\nheads towards Cruachan. But heaviness was at her heart, and deep\ndejection lay upon her mind, and moodily she thought of what the\nDruid prophesied to her.\n\nThey had not driven far when suddenly the horses swerved aside and\nreared and snorted with affright. Meave started up, and shaking off\nher reverie, in the dim twilight of the breaking dawn, close up\nbeside her chariot-shaft, she saw a woman stand. Red as a foxglove\nwere her cheeks and blue as the spring hyacinth beneath the forest\ntrees her sparkling eyes. Like pearls her teeth shone white between\nher lips, and all her skin was fair as the white foam that dances\non the wave. Around her fell, in waving folds of green, a cloak\nsuch as the fairy women wear, which hides them from the eyes of\nmortal men.\n\nBut while she looked in wonder on the maid, astonished at her\nlovely face and mien, Meave saw her garment change to dusky red.\nAnd in the dimness, she perceived the maiden held a sword, point\nupward, in her hand, a massive sword, such as a mighty man-of-war\nmight wield. And from the point blood dripped, and one by one the\ndrops fell on the Queen, till all her cloak, and garments, and the\nchariot-floor ran red with streams of blood.\n\nAnd terror came on Meave, and all in vain she sought to force her\nhorses forward, but still they reared and curvetted, but would not\nadvance. \u201cGirl,\u201d cried the Queen at last, \u201cwhat doest thou here,\nand who and what art thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a woman of the fairy race,\u201d the maid replied; \u201cI come\nto-night to tell thee of thy fortunes, and the chance that shall\nbefall thee and thy hosts upon this raid that thou dost make on\nUlster.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is thy name, and wherefore thus, without my will, hast thou\npresumed to come and speak with me?\u201d replied the angry Queen.\n\n\u201cGreat cause have I to come; for from the fairy-rath of thine own\npeople, near to Cruachan, am I here; and Feidelm the prophetess my\nname.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, O prophetess Feidelm,\u201d said Queen Meave, \u201chow seest\nthou our host?\u201d but yet she trembled as she spoke. And Feidelm\nsaid, \u201cI see thy hosts all red, I see them all becrimsoned.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou seest ill, O prophetess,\u201d said Meave; \u201cfor in the courts of\nEmain now the King lies sick and ill; my messengers have been to\nhim, and nought there is that we need fear from Ulster. Therefore,\nO Feidelm, woman-prophet Feidelm, tell us now but the truth; how\nseest thou our hosts?\u201d\n\n\u201cI see them all dyed red, I see them all becrimsoned,\u201d said the\ngirl again.\n\n\u201cIt cannot be,\u201d said Meave. \u201cFor many months my spies have been\nin Ulster, and this well I know; that in Ulster they dream not of\nthe coming of a host. Now tell us this time true, O Feidelm, O\nwoman-prophet Feidelm, how seest thou our host?\u201d\n\nBut again the maiden answered as before: \u201cI see all red on them, I\nsee them all becrimsoned.\u201d\n\nThen Meave grew angry, and fury came upon her, and she called on\nher charioteer to slay the fairy maid. But the man was afraid to\ntouch her, so strange and formidable did she stand there, holding\nthe dripping sword upright.\n\nThen once again Meave answered her: \u201cGirl, I care not for thy\nthreats, for well I know, that when the men of Ulster come\ntogether, frays and quarrels will arise among themselves, either\nas regards the troop which shall precede the host, or that one\nwhich shall follow; or about precedence among the leaders, or about\nforays for cattle and for food. Therefore, I conclude that they\nwill fall upon each other, and that it will be but a little matter\nfor me to disperse them, and return again with spoils to Cruachan.\u201d\n\nThen the maiden\u2019s face grew grave, and she spoke as though she\nsaw a vision, and Meave trembled as she listened to her words. \u201cI\nsee thy host,\u201d she said, \u201ccrimson and red, fall back before the\nmen of Ulster. Yet the host of Ulster seems not a mighty host,\nbut faint and weak through sickness, and the King of Ulster lies\non his bed. Through all my dreams there comes a lad, not old in\nyears, but great in weapon-feats. Young though he is, the marks of\nmany wounds are on his skin, and round his head there shines the\n\u2018hero\u2019s light.\u2019 A face he has the noblest and the best, and in his\neyes sparkle the champion\u2019s gleams; a stripling, fair and modest in\nhis home, but in the battle fierce and tough and strong, as though\nhe wore a mighty dragon\u2019s form. In either of his hands four darts\nhe holds, and with a skill before unknown, he plies them on your\nhost. A formidable sword hangs by his side, and close beside him\nstands his charioteer, holding his pointed spear. A madness seems\nto seize him in the fight; by him your hosts are all hewn down, and\non the battle-field the slain, foot laid to foot and hand to hand,\ndo thickly lie. Before the hosts of Ulster all unmoved he stands\nas if to guard them from the fight; all on himself the burden of\nthe uneven contest falls. Strong heroes cannot stand before his\nblows, and in the homes of Connaught women weep the slain who come\nnot back. This is the vision that I see, and this the prophecy of\nFeidelm, Cruachan\u2019s woman-seer.\u201d\n\nThen all her pride and courage fled from Meave, and fearfully she\nasked the woman-seer, \u201cWhat is the name by which this youth is\nknown?\u201d\n\nAnd Feidelm said: \u201cTo all the world the youth\u2019s name will be known,\nCuchulain son of Sualtach, of the Feats; but in the North, because\nhe guards their homes as a good watch-dog guards the scattered\nflocks upon the mountain-side, men call him lovingly, \u2018The Hound of\nUlster.\u2019\u201d\n\nThen to her fairy-dwelling Feidelm returned, and Meave went to her\ntent again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nThe Boy-Corps of King Conor\n\n\nNow all that she had heard that night so troubled Meave that she\nthought not well to proceed upon her hosting at that time. She\nlay upon her bed and pondered long upon the fairy woman\u2019s words,\nand more and more she wondered who this youth might be, the lad\nof mighty feats whom all men called \u201cThe Hound of Ulster.\u201d When\ndaylight came, she sent a message to the captains of her host,\ncommanding them to tarry yet a day, till she should learn further\nabout the youth who stood upon her path and seemed a threatening\nterror to her hosts. Then like a king and queen they robed\nthemselves and sat within their tents, Ailill and she, and sent a\nherald forth commanding Fergus and the chief of Ulster\u2019s exiles to\nappear before them, to tell them of Cuchulain.\n\nWhen they were gathered, Fergus, Cormac son of Conor and the rest,\nAilill addressed them. \u201cWe hear strange tales of one of Ulster\u2019s\nchiefs, a youthful hero whom men call the \u201cHound.\u201d From you, O\nchiefs of Ulster, we would learn all you can tell about this famous\nlad. What age hath he? and wherefore hath he gained this name? and\nhave his deeds become known to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cHis deeds are known to us, indeed,\u201d Fergus replied, \u201cFor all the\nland of Ulster rings with this young hero\u2019s renown.\u201d\n\n\u201cShall we find him hard to deal with?\u201d then said Meave. \u201cLast night\nI met a fairy-maid, who told me to beware, for among the warriors\nof the North, this lad would trouble us the most.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will trouble you the most, indeed,\u201d said Cormac and Fergus\nwith one voice. \u201cYou will not find a warrior in your path that is\nso hard to deal with, not a hero that is fiercer, nor a raven more\ngreedy of prey, nor a lion that is more dangerous than he. You\nwill not find another man to equal him, whether of his age or of\na greater age, so strong and terrible and brave is he, nor is his\nmatch in Erin either for his beauty or his prowess or in all deeds\nand feats of skill.\u201d\n\n\u201cI care not for all this,\u201d said haughty Meave; \u201cnot these the\nthings I fear; for, after all, whatever you may say, Cuchulain,\nlike another, is but one; he can be wounded like a common man,\nhe will die like any other, he can be captured like any warrior.\nBesides, his age is but that of a grown-up girl; his deeds of\nmanhood come not yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so indeed,\u201d said Fergus and they all. \u201cIt would be strange\nif he to-day were not the equal of any grown-up man or many men;\nfor even when he was in his fifth year, he surpassed all the\nchieftain\u2019s sons of Emain Macha at their play; when he was but\nseven he took arms, and slew his man; when he was a stripling he\nwent to perfect himself in feats of championship with Sc\u00e1th, the\nwoman-warrior of Alba; and now to-day when he is nearly seventeen\nyears old, his strength must be equal to the strength of many men.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell us,\u201d said Meave, \u201cwho is this warrior-lad; tell us also of\nhis boyish feats and how the name of \u2018Ulster\u2019s Hound\u2019 came to be\nhis.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell you,\u201d said Fergus; \u201cfor Cuchulain is my own foster-son\nand Conor\u2019s; though they say, and I myself believe it, that he\nis of the offspring of the gods, and that Lugh of the Long Arms,\nGod of Light, is guardian to the boy. But Sualtach is his father,\na warrior of Ulster, and the child was reared by the seaside\nnorthward on Murthemne\u2019s plain, which is his own possession. At\nmy knees he was brought up, and Amergin the poet was his tutor;\nthe sister of King Conor nourished him with Conall the Victorious\nin her home. For at his birth Morann the judge prophesied of his\nfuture renown. \u2018His praise,\u2019 he said, \u2018will be in all men\u2019s mouths,\nhis deeds will be recounted by kings and great men, warriors and\ncharioteers, poets and sages. All men will love him; he will\ngive combat for Ulster against her enemies; he will decide your\nquarrels; he will avenge your wrongs. Welcome the little stranger\nwho is here.\u2019\u201d\n\nAnd Meave and Ailill said, \u201cThat is a brave account to give of a\nyoung child; no wonder is it that Ulster prides herself in him; but\ntell us now, Fergus, for eager are we all to hear, the feats of\nCuchulain as a little boy.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Cuchulain sets out for Emain Macha]\n\n\u201cI will tell you that,\u201d said Fergus. \u201cWhen he was yet a tiny boy,\nnot much past four years old, some one in passing by Murthemne told\nhim a long tale of the boy-corps of King Conor in Emain Macha;\nthat the King had established it for all the sons of nobles and\nof chiefs, to train them up in strength and bravery. He told him\nthat the King had set apart a playing-ground for the boys, close to\nhis own fort, and there every day they practised games of skill,\nand feats of arms, and wrestled and threw each other. He told him,\ntoo, that the King took so much interest in the boy-corps, that\nscarce a day passed by that he did not spend some time in watching\nthe pastimes of the lads, for he looked to them to be his future\nmen-of-war and leaders of his hosts. He told the little boy that\nwhen they had proved themselves fit by skill and aptness for a\nhigher grade, the King bestowed on them a set of war-gear suited\nto their age, small spears and javelins, a slender sword, and all\nequipment like a champion. Now when the boy heard this, a great\nlonging arose within his little mind to see the boy-corps and join\nin their sports and practising for war. \u2018I would wrestle, too,\u2019 he\nsaid, \u2018and I am sure that I could throw my fellow.\u2019 But I and his\nguardians,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cobjected that he was yet too young, and\nthat when he was ten years old it would be soon enough to test his\nstrength against the older boys. For to send a boy of four years\nold or five to take his part among lads of ten or twelve we thought\nnot well, for we feared that harm would come to him, knowing that\nhe must ever, since his babyhood, be in the midst of all that was\ngoing on. Therefore, we said, \u2018Wait, my child, until some grown\nwarrior can go with thee, to protect thee from the rough practice\nof the elder boys and bid them have a care for thee, or else till\nConor the King, thy fosterer, himself calls thee hither under his\nproper charge.\u2019 But the lad said to his mother, that it was too\nlong to wait, and that even on this instant he would set off; \u2018And\nall you have to do, mother, is to set me on my way, for I know\nnot which way Emain lies.\u2019 \u2018A long and weary way for a young boy\nit is to Emain,\u2019 said his mother, \u2018for the range of the Slieve\nFuad Mountains must be crossed.\u2019 \u2018Point me but out the general\ndirection,\u2019 he replied. \u2018Over there, to the north-west, lies the\npalace of the king.\u2019 \u2018Let me but get my things, and I am off,\u2019 he\nsaid.\n\n\u201cThese were the things that the child took in his hand. His hurley\nof brass and his ball of silver in one hand, his throwing javelin\nand his toy spear in the other. Away he went then, and as he went,\nthis would he do to make the way seem short. He would place his\nball on the ground and strike it with his hurley, driving it before\nhim ever so far; then he flung the hurley after it, driving that as\nfar again; then, always running on, he threw his javelin, and last\nof all his spear. Then he would make a playful rush after them,\npick up the hurley, ball, and javelin as he ran, while, before ever\nthe spear\u2019s tip touched the earth, he had caught it by the other\nend. Thus on he ran, scarce feeling tired, so engrossed was he in\nthe game.\n\n\u201cAt last Cuchulain reached Emain, and sought out the palace of the\nKing and the playing-field where the boys were practising, three\ntimes fifty in number, under the charge of Follaman, one of Conor\u2019s\nyounger sons; the King himself being present, watching the game.\n\n\u201cThe youths had been practising martial exercises, but when\nCuchulain came up they were hurling on the green. Without waiting\nfor anyone, the little fellow dived in amongst them and took a\nhand in the game. He got the ball between his legs and held it\nthere; not suffering it to travel higher up than his knees or\nlower than his ankle-joints, so making it impossible for any of\nthem to get a stroke at it, or in any way to touch it. In this way\nhe got it gradually nearer and nearer the end of the field; then\nwith one effort he lifted it up and sent it home over the goal.\nIn utter amazement the whole corps looked on. But Follaman their\ncaptain cried--\u2018Good now, boys, all together meet this youngster\nwho has come in we know not whence, and kill him on the spot as\nhe deserves. The boy insults us that he comes amongst us without\nplacing himself under the protection of some chief\u2019s son in order\nthat his life should be preserved; for it is not allowed to the\nson of any private person or common warrior to intrude upon your\ngame, without first having asked permission and taken a pledge of\nthe chiefs\u2019 sons that his life shall be respected; we admit not\ncommon men to the boy-corps save under the protection of some youth\nof higher rank.\u2019 For they did not know Cuchulain, neither did he\nknow the rules of the boy-corps. \u2018Have at him, all of you,\u2019 cried\nFollaman, \u2018and give him what he deserves; no doubt he is the son\nof some private man, who has no right to intrude into your play\nwithout safe conduct. Defend your honour and the honour of the\ncorps.\u2019 Then the whole of the lads gathered round Cuchulain and\nbegan to threaten him, and together with one throw they hurled at\nhim their toy spears, on every side at once. But Cuchulain stood\nfirm, and one and all he parried them and caught them on his little\nshield. Then all together they threw at him their hurley-sticks,\nthree fifties at a time; but all of them he parried, catching a\nbundle of them on his back. Then they tried their balls, throwing\nthem all together, but he fended them off with arms and fists and\nthe palms of his hands, catching them into his bosom as they fell.\nAfter a long while of this his \u2018hero-fury\u2019 seized Cuchulain. His\nhair rose upright on his head, and in his wrath and fierceness\nit seemed as though a light poured forth from each single hair,\ncrowning him with a crown of fire. A strong contortion shook him,\nand he grew larger and taller as he stood before the lads, so that\nthey shrank terrified before him. He made for them like a young\nlion springing on his prey, and before they could reach the door\nof the fort fleeing from him for safety, he had stretched fifty of\nthem on the ground.\n\n\u201cNow it happened that the King and I,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cwere playing\nchess together at a table in the open air, on the borders of the\nplaying field, amusing ourselves while the boys\u2019 games were going\non. Five of the boys, not seeing in their haste where they were\nrunning, rushed past the place where Conor and I were sitting, and\nnearly overturned the table with the chess. Cuchulain was in full\npursuit, and he seemed about to leap the table to make after them,\nwhen the King caught him by the arm.\n\n\u201c\u2018Hold, my little fellow,\u2019 said the King, restraining him, \u2018I see\nthis is no gentle game thou playest with the boy-corps.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What could I do?\u2019 replied the lad. \u2018I came to-day, O King, from a\nfar land to join myself with them, and they have not been good to\nme; I have not had the reception of a welcome guest.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What is your name, little one?\u2019 said the King. \u2018Setanta, son of\nSualtach, is my name; your own foster-son am I, and the foster-son\nof Fergus,\u2019 said the boy. \u2018It was not fitting that I should have\nhad this rough reception.\u2019 \u2018But knewest thou not the rules of the\nboy-corps, that a new-comer must go under their protection, so that\nthey will respect his life?\u2019 said the King. \u2018That I knew not,\u2019 said\nthe boy, \u2018otherwise I should have conformed to their rules; do thou\nthyself undertake my protection, I pray thee, O King.\u2019 The King\nliked the fine spirit of the lad, and his open face and bravery\nin his self-defence, and he said, \u2018I will do that, my boy.\u2019 Then\nhe called the boy-corps together, and said, \u2018I, myself, have taken\nupon me the protection of this little boy; promise me now that he\nshall play amongst you safely.\u2019 \u2018We promise it,\u2019 they said. Then\nall made off to play again; but Setanta does just what he will\nwith them, wrestling and throwing them, and soon fifty of them are\nstretched upon the ground. Their fathers think that they are dead,\nand raise a cry against Setanta. But no such thing; merely had he\nwith his charges, pulls, and pushes so frightened them, that they\nfell down at last through terror on the grass.\n\n\u201c\u2018What on earth is the lad at with them now?\u2019 asks Conor.\n\n\u201c\u2018You bound them over to protect me,\u2019 said the boy, \u2018but you never\nbound me over to protect them; and I avow that until they place\nthemselves under my protection, as I am placed under theirs, I will\nnot lighten my hand from them.\u2019 \u2018I place them under thy protection\nthen,\u2019 said Conor. \u2018And I grant it,\u2019 said the lad.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said Fergus to Queen Meave and Ailill, \u201cI submit that a\nyoungster who, at the age of four or five years did all this, need\nnot excite your wonder, because now being turned seventeen years,\nhe prove a formidable foe to Connaught in time of war.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think not indeed,\u201d said Ailill; and sulkily Meave said,\n\u201cPerhaps, indeed, he may.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nHow Cuchulain got his Name\n\n\nThat evening at supper, Meave sat silent, as though she were\nrevolving matters in her mind. When supper was ended and she\nand her husband and Fergus, with one or two others of her chief\ncaptains, sat in the tent-door around the fire, looking out on the\nhosts who rested at close of day by the forest fires, singing and\ntelling tales, as was their wont after the evening meal, Meave said\nto Fergus, \u201cJust now you spoke of that little boy as Setanta, but I\nhave heard him called Cuchulain, or Culain\u2019s Hound; how did he get\nthat name?\u201d\n\nAnd Cormac, Conor\u2019s son, answered eagerly, \u201cI will tell you that\nstory myself, for I was present, and I know the way of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, tell us now,\u201d said Meave and Ailill both at once. And Cormac\nsaid--\u201cIn Ulster, near Cuchulain\u2019s country, was a mighty artificer\nand smith, whose name was Culain. Now the custom is, that every\nman of means and every owner of land in Ulster, should, once in a\nyear or so, invite the King and his chiefs to spend a few days, it\nmay be a week or a fortnight, at his house, that he may give them\nentertainment. But Culain owned no lands, nor was he rich, for\nonly the fruit of his hammer, of his anvil and his tongs, had he.\nNevertheless he desired to entertain the King at a banquet, and he\nwent to Emain to invite his chief. But he said, \u2018I have no lands or\nstore of wealth; I pray thee, therefore, to bring with thee but a\nfew of thy prime warriors, because my house cannot contain a great\ncompany of guests.\u2019 So the King said he would go, bringing but a\nsmall retinue with him.\n\n\u201cCulain returned home to prepare his banquet, and when the day\nwas come, towards evening the King set forth to reach the fort\nof Culain. He assumed his light, convenient travelling garb, and\nbefore starting he went down to the green to bid the boy-corps\nfarewell.\n\n\u201cThere he saw a sight so curious that he could not tear himself\naway. At one end of the green stood a group of a hundred and fifty\nyouths, guarding one goal, all striving to prevent the ball of a\nsingle little boy, who was playing against the whole of them, from\ngetting in; but for all that they could do, he won the game, and\ndrove his ball home to the goal.\n\n\u201cThen they changed sides, and the little lad defended his one goal\nagainst the hundred and fifty balls of the other youths, all sent\nat once across the ground. But though the youths played well,\nfollowing up their balls, not one of them went into the hole, for\nthe little boy caught them one after another just outside, driving\nthem hither and thither, so that they could not make the goal. But\nwhen his turn came round to make the counter-stroke, he was as\nsuccessful as before; nay, he would get the entire set of a hundred\nand fifty balls into their hole, for all that they could do.\n\n\u201cThen they played a game of getting each other\u2019s cloaks off without\ntearing them, and he would have their mantles off, one after the\nother, before they could, on their part, even unfasten the brooch\nthat held his cloak. When they wrestled with each other, it was\nthe same thing: he would have them on the ground before all of them\ntogether could upset him, or make him budge a foot.\n\n\u201cAs the King stood and watched all this, he said: \u2018\u2019Tis well for\nthe country into which this boy has come! A clever child indeed is\nhe; were but his acts as a grown man to come up to the promise of\nhis youth, he might be of some solid use to us; but this is not to\nbe counted upon.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d Fergus said, breaking in upon the tale, \u201cI was vexed\nbecause the King seemed to doubt the child, whether his after deeds\nwould equal the promise of his youth; and I spoke up and said,\n\u2018That, O King, I think not wisely said; have no fear for this boy,\nfor as his childish deeds outstrip the acts of childhood, so will\nhis manly feats outshine the deeds of heroes and great men.\u2019 Then\nthe King said to me, \u2018Have the child called, that we may take him\nwith us to the banquet.\u2019\n\n\u201cSo when Setanta came, the King invited him; but the boy said,\n\u2018Excuse me now awhile; I cannot go just now.\u2019 \u2018How so?\u2019 said the\nKing, surprised. \u2018Because the boy-corps have not yet had enough\nof play.\u2019 \u2018I cannot wait until they have,\u2019 replied the King: \u2018the\nnight is growing late.\u2019 \u2018Wait not at all,\u2019 replied the child; \u2018I\nwill even finish this one game, and will run after you.\u2019 \u2018But,\nyoung one, knowest thou the way?\u2019 asked the King. \u2018I will follow\nthe trail made by your company, the wheels of their chariots and\nhoofs of the horses on the road,\u2019 he replied.\u201d\n\n\u201cThereupon,\u201d--continued Cormac,--\u201cConor starts; and in time for the\nbanquet he reaches Culain\u2019s house, where, with due honour, he is\nreceived. Fresh rushes had been strewn upon the floor, the tables\nall decked out, the fires burning in the middle of the room. A\ngreat vat full of ale stood in the hall, a lofty candlestick gave\nlight, and round the fires stood servants cooking savoury viands,\nholding them on forks or spits of wood. Each man of the King\u2019s\nguests entered in order of his rank, and sat at the feast in his\nown allotted place, hanging his weapons up above his head. The\nKing occupied the central seat, his poets, counsellors, and chiefs\nsitting on either hand according to their state and dignity. As\nthey were sitting down, the smith Culain came to Conor and asked\nhim, \u2018Good now, O King, before we sit at meat I would even know\nwhether anyone at all will follow thee this night to my dwelling,\nor is thy whole company gathered now within?\u2019 \u2018All are now here,\u2019\nsaid the King, quite forgetting the wee boy; \u2018but wherefore askest\nthou?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018It is only that I have an excellent watch-dog, fierce and strong;\nand when his chain is taken off, and he is set free to guard the\nhouse, no one dare come anywhere within the same district with him;\nhe is furious with all but me, and he has the strength and savage\nforce of a hundred ordinary watch-dogs. This dog was brought to me\nfrom Spain, and no dog in the country can equal him.\u2019 \u2018Let him be\nset loose, for all are here,\u2019 said Conor; \u2018well will he guard this\nplace for us.\u2019\n\n\u201cSo Culain loosed the dog, and with one spring it bounded forth out\nof the court of the house and over the wall of the rath, making a\ncircuit of the entire district; and when it came back panting, with\nits tongue hanging from its jaws, it took up its usual position in\nfront of the house, and there crouched with its head upon its paws,\nwatching the high road to Emain. Surely an extraordinarily cruel\nand fierce and savage dog was he.\n\n\u201cWhen the boy-corps broke up that night, each of the lads returning\nto the house of his parent or his fosterer or guardian, Setanta,\ntrusting to the trail of the company that went with Conor, struck\nout for Culain\u2019s house. With his club and ball he ran forward, and\nthe distance seemed short on account of his interest in the game.\nAs soon as he arrived on the green of Culain\u2019s fort, the mastiff\nnoticed him, and set up such a howling as echoed loud through all\nthe country-side. Inside the house the King and his followers\nheard, but were struck dumb with fear, nor dared to move, thinking\nsurely to find the little lad dead at the door of the fort. As for\nthe hound himself, he thought with but one gulp to swallow Setanta\nwhole. Now the little lad was without any means of defence beyond\nhis ball and hurley-stick. He never left his play till he came\nnear. Then, as the hound charged open-jawed, with all his strength\nhe threw the ball right into the creature\u2019s mouth; and as for a\nmoment the hound stopped short, choking as the ball passed down its\nthroat, the lad seized hold of the mastiff\u2019s open jaws, grasping\nits throat with one hand and the back of its head with the other,\nand so violently did he strike its head against the pillars of the\ndoor, that it was no long time until the creature lay dead upon the\nground.\n\n\u201cWhen Culain and the warriors within had heard the mastiff howl,\nthey asked each other, as soon as they got back their voices, \u2018What\nmakes the watch-dog cry?\u2019 \u2018Alas!\u2019 the King said, \u2018\u2019tis no good luck\nthat brought us on our present trip.\u2019 \u2018Why so?\u2019 inquired all. \u2018I\nmean that the little boy, my foster-son and Fergus\u2019s, Setanta, son\nof Sualtach, it is who promised to come after me; now, even now, he\nis doubtless fallen by the hound of Culain.\u2019 Then, when they heard\nthat it was Conor\u2019s foster-son who was without, on the instant to\none man they rose; and though the doors of the fort were thrown\nwide they could not wait for that, but out they stormed over the\nwalls and ramparts of the fort to find the boy.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuick they were,\u201d said Fergus, interrupting, \u201cyet did I outstrip\nthem, and at the rampart\u2019s outer door I found the child, and the\ngreat hound dead beside him. Without a pause I picked up the boy\nand hoisted him on my shoulder, and thus, with all the heroes\nfollowing, we came to Conor, and I placed him between the monarch\u2019s\nknees.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, so it was,\u201d said Cormac, taking up the story again where he\nhad left it; \u201cbut let me tell of Culain. The smith went out to find\nhis dog, and when he saw him lying there, knocked almost to pieces\nand quite dead, his heart was vexed within him. He went back to the\nhouse, and said, \u2018\u2019Twas no good luck that urged me to make this\nfeast for thee, O King; would I had not prepared a banquet. My life\nis a life lost, and my substance is but substance wasted without\nmy dog. He was a defence and protection to our property and our\ncattle, to every beast we had and to our house. Little boy,\u2019 said\nhe, \u2018you are welcome for your people\u2019s sake, you are not welcome\nfor your own; that was a good member of my family thou didst take\nfrom me, a safeguard of raiment, of flocks and herds.\u2019 \u2018Be not\nvexed thereat,\u2019 replied the child, \u2018for I myself will fix on my own\npunishment. This shall it be. If in all Ireland a whelp of that\ndog\u2019s breed is to be found, \u2019tis I myself will rear him up for thee\ntill he be fit to take the watch-dog\u2019s place. In the meantime, O\nCulain, I myself will be your hound for defence of your cattle and\nfor your own defence, until the dog be grown and capable of action;\nI will defend the territory, and no cattle or beast or store of\nthine shall be taken from thee, without my knowing it.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well hast thou made the award,\u2019 said they all, \u2018and henceforward\nshall your name be changed; you shall no longer be called Setanta;\nCu-Chulain, or the \u201cHound of Culain,\u201d shall your name be.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I like my own name best,\u2019 the child objected. \u2018Ah, say not so,\u2019\nreplied the magician, \u2018for one day will the name of Cuchulain ring\nin all men\u2019s mouths; among the brave ones of the whole wide world\nCuchulain\u2019s name shall find a place. Renowned and famous shall he\nbe, beloved and feared by all.\u2019 \u2018If that is so, then am I well\ncontent,\u2019 replied the boy.\n\n\u201cSo from that day forth the name Cuchulain clung to him, until the\ntime came when he was no longer remembered as the Hound of Culain\u2019s\nFort, but as the guardian and watch-dog of defence to the Province\nagainst her foes; and then men loved best to call him \u2018The Hound of\nUlster.\u2019\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d continued Cormac, \u201cit would be reasonable to expect that the\nlittle boy, who, at the age of six or seven years slew a dog whom a\nwhole company would not dare to touch when he was at large, would,\nat the age of a grown youth, be formidable to Ulster\u2019s foes.\u201d\n\nAnd Meave was forced to admit that it was likely that he would.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nHow Cuchulain took Arms\n\n\nWhen Meave had thought awhile, she said, \u201cAre there yet other\nstories of this wondrous boy?\u201d \u201cIndeed,\u201d cried Fiacra, one of the\ncompanions of Cormac, who came with him when he went from Ulster\ninto exile, \u201cthe story of his taking arms is not told yet, and I\nthink it more than all the other stories you have heard.\u201d \u201cHow so?\u201d\nsaid Meave; \u201ctell it to us now.\u201d\n\nThen Fiacra said, \u201cThe very year after Cuchulain got his name, he\nwas playing outside the place where Caffa the magician sat with\neight of his pupils teaching them his lore. It chanced that he was\ntelling them, as the magicians and Druids are wont to believe, that\ncertain days were lucky for special acts and other days unlucky.\n\u2018And for what,\u2019 asked one of the boys, \u2018would this day at which we\nnow are be counted lucky?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is the day,\u201d said Caffa, \u201con which any youth who should\nassume arms, as became a champion of war, should attain eternal\nfame; beside him, no warrior\u2019s name in Ireland should ever more be\nnamed, or spoken in the same breath with it, for his glory would\ntranscend them all. For such a youth, however, no happy thing were\nthis, for he should die at an early age, no long-lived warrior he;\nhis life shall be but fleeting, quickly o\u2019er.\u201d\n\nOutside the house Cuchulain overheard the conversation of the\nteacher with his boys. Instantly and without a moment\u2019s pause he\nlaid aside his hurley and his ball, and put off his playing-suit.\nThen, donning his ordinary apparel, he entered the sleeping-house\nof the King. \u201cAll good be thine, O King,\u201d said he. \u201cBoy, what hast\nthou now come to ask of me?\u201d replied the King. \u201cI desire,\u201d said he,\n\u201cto take arms as a warrior and champion to-day.\u201d \u201cWho told thee\nto ask for this?\u201d said the King, surprised. \u201cMy master Caffa, the\nmagician,\u201d answered he. \u201cIf that is so, thou shalt not be denied,\u201d\nreplied the King, and he called on those who were about him to give\nthe lad two spears and sword and shield: for in Emain the King had\nalways ready seventeen complete equipments of weapons and armature;\nfor he himself bestowed weapons on a youth of the boy-corps when he\nwas ready to bear arms, to bring him luck in using them. Cuchulain\nbegan to try those weapons, brandishing and bending them to try\ntheir strength and fitness to his hand; but one after another they\nall gave way, and were broken into pieces and little fragments.\n\u201cThese weapons are not good,\u201d said he; \u201cthey are but the equipment\nof a common warrior, they suffice me not.\u201d Then when he had tried\nthem all, and put them from him, the King said: \u201cHere, my lad, are\nmy own two spears, my own sword and shield.\u201d Then Cuchulain took\nthese weapons, and in every way, by bending them from point to\nhilt, by brandishing them, by thrusting with them, he proved their\nstrength and mettle. \u201cThese arms are good,\u201d said he, \u201cthey break\nnot in my hand. Fair fall the land and country whose King can wield\narmour and weapons such as these!\u201d\n\nJust at the moment Caffa came into the tent. Wondering, he asked:\n\u201cIs the little boy so soon assuming arms?\u201d \u201cAy, so it is,\u201d said the\nKing. \u201cUnhappy is the mother whose son assumes arms to-day,\u201d said\nthe magician. \u201cHow now?\u201d cried the King; \u201cwas it not yourself who\nprompted him?\u201d \u201cNot so, indeed,\u201d said Caffa. \u201cMad boy, what made\nyou then deceive me, telling me that Caffa it was who prompted\nyou to ask for arms?\u201d \u201cO King of Heroes, be not wrath,\u201d replied\nthe lad. \u201cNo thought, indeed, had I to deceive. When Caffa was\ninstructing his pupils in the house to-day, I overheard, as I was\nplaying with my ball outside, one of the lads asking him what\nspecial virtue lay in this day, and for what it was a lucky day.\nAnd he told them that for him who should assume arms this day, his\nluck should be so great that his fame would outstrip the fame of\nall Ireland\u2019s heroes, and he would be the first of Ireland\u2019s men.\nAnd for this great reward no compensating disadvantage would accrue\nto him, save that his life should be but fleeting.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue is that, indeed,\u201d said Caffa, \u201cnoble and famous thou shalt\nbe, but short and brief thy life.\u201d \u201cLittle care I for that,\u201d\nreplied the lad, \u201cnor though my life endured but for one day and\nnight, so only that the story of myself and of my deeds shall last.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen get thee into a chariot, as a warrior should, and let us test\nthy title to a future fame.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Cuchulain desires Arms of the King]\n\nSo a chariot of two horses was brought to Cuchulain, and every way\nhe tried its strength, driving it furiously round and round the\ngreen, goading the horses and turning suddenly. But for this usage\nthe chariot was not fit, and it broke beneath him. Twelve chariots\nwere brought to him, and he tested them all in this manner, but all\nof them he reduced to fragments. \u201cThese chariots of thine, O\nConor, are no good at all, they serve me not, nor are they worthy\nof me, thy own foster-son.\u201d\n\nThen the King cried: \u201cFetch me here Ivar, my own charioteer, and\nlet him harness my steeds into the kingly chariot, and bring it\nhere to serve Cuchulain.\u201d Then the kingly chariot of war was\nbrought and Cuchulain mounted, testing it every way; and well it\nserved him at every test. \u201cThe chariot is good, and the steeds are\ngood, they are worthy of me,\u201d said the boy; \u201cit is my worthy match.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, boy, it is time that thou wert satisfied at last; now I will\ntake the horses home and put them out to graze,\u201d said Ivar.\n\n\u201cNot yet awhile,\u201d said Cuchulain. \u201cDrive but the horses round the\nkingly fort.\u201d Ivar did so, and then he said again: \u201cBe satisfied\nnow, my lad; I go to turn the horses out to grass.\u201d For it was but\nseldom that King Conor went forth in his war-chariot, because the\nmen of Ulster willed not that the King should expose his person in\nbattle; so Ivar was grown idle, and fat through his idleness, and\nhe liked not at all the unwonted exertion that the wee boy asked of\nhim.\n\n\u201cNot yet awhile,\u201d said Cuchulain again; \u201ctoo early is it to turn\nin; drive now towards the playing-fields that the boy-corps may\nsalute me on this the first day of my taking arms.\u201d They did so,\nand the boy-corps gathered round. \u201cThese are a warrior\u2019s arms\nthat thou hast taken!\u201d cried they all, surprised to see him thus\nequipped in the King\u2019s own warrior-gear, and driving in the chariot\nof the King. \u201cJust so, indeed,\u201d replied the boy. Then they wished\nhim well in his warrior-career. \u201cMay success in winning of spoils,\nand in blood-drawing, be thine,\u201d they cried. \u201cBut all too soon it\nis thou leavest us and our boyish sports for deeds of war.\u201d \u201cIn no\nway do I wish to part with the beloved boy-corps,\u201d replied the lad;\n\u201cbut it was a sign of luck and good fortune that I should take arms\nto-day; therefore I thought not well to miss my luck.\u201d\n\nThen Ivar urged the child again, for he was growing tired of the\nthing, to let him take the horses out to graze. \u201c\u2019Tis early yet,\nO Ivar,\u201d said the boy; \u201cwhither then goes this great High-road I\nsee?\u201d \u201cThat is the High-road to the borders of the Province, and to\nthe Ford of Watching or the Look-out Ford,\u201d replied the charioteer.\n\u201cWhy is it called the Look-out Ford?\u201d asked then the boy. \u201cBecause\nthere, on the extreme limits of the Province, a watcher who is a\nprime warrior of Ulster always stands, prepared to challenge any\nstranger, before he pass the ford, of his business in the Province:\nif he who comes be a bard or peaceful man, to grant him protection\nand entertainment; but if he be a foe, to challenge him to combat\nat the ford. And seldom,\u201d said the charioteer, \u201cdoes a day pass,\nbut at the ford some enemy is slain. As to the bards who pass in\npeace, no doubt it is the kindness of that warrior they will praise\nwhen once they come to Emain, and stand before the King.\u201d \u201cWho\nguards the ford this day, if thou dost know?\u201d inquired Cuchulain.\n\u201cConall the Victorious, Ulster\u2019s foremost man of war, it is who\nholds the ford this day.\u201d \u201cAway then,\u201d cried the lad, \u201cgoad on thy\nsteeds, for we will seek the ford and Conall.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe horses are already tired, we have done enough for this one\nday,\u201d quoth Ivar. \u201cThe day is early yet, and our day\u2019s labours\nhardly yet begun,\u201d replied the youth; \u201caway with you along this\nroad.\u201d\n\nThey come at last to the ford\u2019s brink, and there beside the Ford of\nWatching stood young Conall, at that time Ulster\u2019s foremost man of\nwar.\n\nWhen he saw the lad driving fully equipped for war in the chariot\nof the King, he felt surprise. \u201cAre you taking arms to-day, small\nboy?\u201d he said. \u201cHe is indeed,\u201d said Ivar. \u201cMay triumph and victory\nand drawing of first blood come with them,\u201d answered Conall,\nfor he loved the little lad, and many a time he had said to his\nfellows: \u201cThe day will come when this young boy will dispute the\nchampionship of Ireland with me.\u201d \u201cNevertheless,\u201d said he to\nCuchulain, \u201cit seems to me that oversoon thou hast assumed these\narms, seeing that thou art not yet fit for exploits or for war.\u201d\nThe boy heeded not this, but eagerly asked, \u201cWhat is it thou doest\nat the Ford of Watching, Conall?\u201d \u201cOn behalf of the Province I keep\nwatch and ward, lest enemies creep in.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive up thy place to me, for this one day let me take duty,\u201d said\nCuchulain. \u201cSay not so,\u201d replied the champion, \u201cfor as yet thou art\nnot fit to cope with a right fighting-man.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen on my own account must I go down into the shallows of yon\nlake, to see whether there I may draw blood on either friend or\nfoe.\u201d \u201cI will go with thee, then, to protect thee, to the end that\non the border-marshes thou run not into danger.\u201d \u201cNay, come not\nwith me, let me go alone to-day,\u201d urged the lad. \u201cThat I will not,\u201d\nsaid Conall, \u201cfor, were I to allow thee all alone to frequent these\ndangerous fighting grounds, on me would Ulster avenge it, if harm\nshould come to thee.\u201d\n\nThen Conall had his chariot made ready and his horses harnessed;\nsoon he overtook Cuchulain, who, to cut short the matter, had gone\non before. He came up abreast with him, and Cuchulain, seeing this,\nfelt sure that, Conall being there, no chance for deed of prowess\nwould come his way; for, if some deed of mortal daring were to be\ndone, Conall himself would undertake the same. Therefore he took up\nfrom the road a smooth round stone that filled his fist, and with\nit he made a very careful shot at Conall\u2019s chariot-yoke. It broke\nin two, and the chariot came down, Conall being thrown forward over\nhis horses\u2019 heads.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this, ill-mannered boy?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cI did it in order to see whether my marksmanship were good, and\nwhether there were the makings of a man-at-arms in me.\u201d \u201cPoison\ntake both thy shot and thyself as well; and though thy head should\nnow fall a prize to some enemy of thine, yet never a foot farther\nwill I budge to keep thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe very thing I asked of thee,\u201d replied the boy, \u201cand I do so in\nthis strange manner, because I know it is a custom among the men of\nUlster to turn back when any violence is done to them. Thus have\nI made the matter sure.\u201d On that, Conall turned back to his post\nbeside the Look-out Ford, and the little boy went forward southward\nto the shallows of the marshy loch, and he rested there till\nevening-tide.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nOf Cuchulain\u2019s First Feats of Championship\n\n\nThen Ivar said, \u201cIf one might venture to make a suggestion to such\na little one, I should rejoice if we might now turn back and find\nour way home to Emain again. For at this moment in the hall supper\nis being carved and the feast has just begun; and though for you\nyour appointed place is kept at Conor\u2019s side until you come, I,\non the contrary, if I come late must fit in where I may among the\ngrooms and jesters of the house. For this reason I judge it now\nhigh time that I were back to scramble for my place.\u201d\n\n\u201cHarness the horses and prepare the chariot,\u201d Cuchulain said, and\nthinking that they now were going home, the charioteer most gladly\nhastened to obey. \u201cWhat mountain is that over there?\u201d inquired the\nboy. \u201cSlieve Mourn,\u201d replied the driver. \u201cLet us go thither,\u201d said\nthe lad. They reach the mountain\u2019s foot, and, \u201cWhat is that cairn\nI see upon the top?\u201d said he again. \u201cThe White Cairn is its name,\u201d\nquoth Ivar sulkily. \u201cI would like to visit the White Cairn,\u201d said\nthe boy. \u201cThe hill is high, and it is getting late,\u201d replied the\ncharioteer. \u201cThou art a lazy loon,\u201d Cuchulain says, \u201cand the more\nso that this is my first day\u2019s adventure-quest, and thy first day\u2019s\ntrip abroad with me.\u201d \u201cAnd if it is,\u201d cried Ivar, \u201cand if ever we\nget home again, for ever and for ever may it be my last!\u201d\n\nThey gained the topmost peak, and far away descried a stretch of\nlevel country. \u201cCome now, driver,\u201d said the lad, \u201cdescribe to\nme from here the whole of Ulster\u2019s wide domain; its forts and\ndwellings, fords and meadow-lands, its hills and open spaces. Name\nevery place in order, that thus I may the better know my way about.\n\n\u201cWhat is yon well-defined plain with hollow glens and\nrunning streams before us to the south?\u201d \u201cMoy Bray,\u201d replied\nthe charioteer. \u201cThe names, again, of all the forts and\npalaces scattered over it?\u201d Then Ivar pointed out the kingly\ndwelling-places of Tara and Taillte, and the summer palace of\nCletty on the river Boyne; the Fairy Mound of Angus Og, the god of\nYouth and Beauty, and the burial-tomb of the Great God or Dagda\nM\u00f3r. And at the last he showed beneath the hill where lay the fort\nof the three fierce and warlike sons of Nechtan the Mighty.\n\n\u201cAre those the sons of Nechtan of whom I heard it said that the\nUlstermen who are yet alive are not so many as have fallen by\ntheir hands?\u201d \u201cThe same,\u201d said Ivar. \u201cAway then, with us straight\nto Nechtan\u2019s fort,\u201d Cuchulain cried. \u201cWoe waits on him who goes\nto Nechtan\u2019s fort,\u201d replied the charioteer; \u201cwhoever goes or goes\nnot, I for one will never go.\u201d \u201cAlive or dead thou goest there,\nhowever,\u201d said the boy. \u201cAlive I go then, but sure it is that dead\nI shall be left there,\u201d replied the charioteer.\n\nThey make their way then down the hill and reach the green before\nthe fort at the meeting of the bogland and the stream; and in the\ncentre of the green they saw an upright pillar-stone, encircled\nby an iron collar on its top. Words were engraven on the collar\nforbidding any man-at-arms or warrior to depart off the green,\nonce he had entered it, without challenging to single combat\nsome one of those living within the fort. Cuchulain read the\nwriting, and he took the collar off the pillar-stone, and with all\nhis strength he hurled it down the stream, for it was thus the\nchallenge should be made.\n\n\u201cIn my poor opinion,\u201d said the charioteer, \u201cthe collar was much\nsafer where it was, and well I know that this time, at all events,\nthou wilt find the object of thy careful search, a quick and\nviolent death.\u201d \u201cGood, good, O driver, talk not over much, but\nspread for me the chariot coverings on the ground, that I may sleep\na while.\u201d\n\nNow the charioteer was frightened, for he knew the fierceness and\nill-fame of the sons of Nechtan, and he grumbled that Cuchulain\nshould be so rash and foolhardy in a land of foemen as to sleep\nbefore their very door; but for all that he dared not disobey, and\nhe took the cushions out of the chariot and spread them on the\nground, and covered Cuchulain with the skins; and in a moment the\nlittle fellow was asleep, his head resting peacefully on his hand.\nJust then Foll, son of Nechtan, issued from the fort. Ivar would\nwell have liked to waken up Cuchulain, but he did not dare, for the\nchild had said before he fell asleep: \u201cWaken me up if many come,\nbut waken me not for a few;\u201d and Foll mac Nechtan came alone. At\nsight of the chariot standing on his lands, the warrior thundered\nforth, \u201cDriver, be off at once with those horses; let them not\ngraze upon our ground; unyoke them not.\u201d \u201cI have not unyoked them,\u201d\nsaid the charioteer. \u201cI hold the reins yet in my hands, ready\nfor the road.\u201d \u201cWhose steeds and chariot are they?\u201d enquired the\nman. \u201cThe steeds of Conor, King of Ulster,\u201d said Ivar. \u201cJust as I\nthought,\u201d said Foll; \u201cand who has brought them to these borders?\u201d\n\u201cA young bit of a little boy,\u201d said Ivar, hoping to hinder Foll\nfrom fighting him. \u201cA high-headed wee fellow, who, for luck, has\ntaken arms to-day, and come into the marshes to show off his form\nand skill as though he were a grown champion.\u201d \u201cIll-luck to him,\nwhoever he is,\u201d said Foll; \u201cwere he a man capable of fight, I would\nsend him back to the King dead instead of alive.\u201d \u201cCapable of fight\nhe is not, indeed, nor a man at all,\u201d said Ivar, \u201cbut only a small\nchild of seven years, playing at being a man.\u201d\n\nCuchulain in his sleep heard the affront that the charioteer put\nupon him, and from head to foot he blushed a rosy red. His face he\nlifted from the ground and said: \u201cI am not a child at all, but ripe\nand fit for action, as you will see; this \u2018small child\u2019 here has\ncome to seek for battle with a man.\u201d \u201cI rather hold that fit for\naction thou art not,\u201d replied Foll, surprised to find the little\nfellow rising from his sleep and speaking with such boldness.\n\u201cThat we shall know presently,\u201d replied the boy; \u201ccome down only\nto the ford, where it is customary in Ireland that combats should\ntake place. But first go home and fetch your arms, for in cowardly\nguise come you hither, and never will I fight with men unarmed, or\nmessengers, or drivers in their cloaks, but only with full-weaponed\nmen-of-war.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat suits me well,\u201d said Foll, and he rushed headlong for his\narms. \u201cIt will suit you even better when we come to the ford,\u201d\nsaid Cuchulain. Then Ivar warned Cuchulain that this Foll was no\nordinary foe; \u201che bears a charmed life,\u201d said he, \u201cand only he who\nslays him with one stroke has any chance of killing him at all. No\nsword-edge can bite or wound him, he can only be slain by the first\nthrust of a spear, or blow of a weapon from a distance.\u201d \u201cThen I\nwill play a special feat on him,\u201d returned the boy; \u201csurely it is\nto humble me you warn me thus.\u201d With that he took in his hand his\nhard-tempered iron ball, and with a strong and exact throw just as\nFoll was coming forth, full-armoured from the fort, he launched\nthe ball, which pierced the warrior\u2019s forehead, so that he fell\nheadlong on the ground, uttering his last cry of pain, and with\nthat he died.\n\nWithin the fort his brothers heard that cry, and the second brother\nrushes out. \u201cNo doubt you think this is a great feat you have done,\nand one to boast of,\u201d he cried. \u201cI think not the slaying of any\nsingle man a cause to boast at all,\u201d replied the boy; \u201cbut hasten\nnow and fetch your weapons, for in the guise of an unweaponed\nmessenger or chariot-boy come you hither.\u201d \u201cBeware of this man,\u201d\nsaid Ivar; \u201cTuacall, or \u2018Cunning\u2019 is his name, for so swift and\ndexterous is he, that no man has ever been able to pierce him with\nany weapon at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not fitting that you speak like this to me,\u201d said Cuchulain.\n\u201cI will take the great spear of Conor, and with it I will pierce\nhis shield and heart, before ever he comes near me.\u201d\n\nAnd so he did, for hardly was the Cunning One come forth out of the\nfort, than Cuchulain threw the heavy spear; it entered his heart\nand went out behind him. As he fell dead, Cuchulain leaped on him,\nand cut off his head.\n\nThen the third son of Nechtan came out, and scoffed at the lad.\n\u201cThose were but simpletons and fools with whom thou hast fought\nhitherto,\u201d he said; \u201cI challenge thee to come down to the ford,\nand out upon the middle of the stream, and we will see thy bravery\nthere.\u201d Cuchulain asks him what he means by this, and Ivar breaks\nin: \u201cDo you not know that this is Fandall, son of Nechtan, and\nFainle or Fandall, a \u2018Swallow,\u2019 is his name, because he travels\nover the water with the swiftness of a swallow, nor can the\nswimmers of the whole world attempt to cope with him. Beware of him\nand go not to the ford.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot fitting are such words to be spoken to me,\u201d replied the lad,\n\u201cfor do you not remember the river we have in Emain, called the\nCallan? When the boy-corps break off their sports and plunge into\nthe stream to swim, do you not know that I can take one of them\non either shoulder or even on my palms, and carry them across the\nwater without wetting so much as their ankles? For another man,\nyour words are good; they are not good for me.\u201d\n\nThen came Fainle forth, and he and the lad entered the stream\ntogether, and swam out and wrestled in deep water. But suddenly,\nby a swift turn, the youngster clasped his arms about him, laid\nhim even with the top of the water, and with one stroke of Conor\u2019s\nsword cut off his head, carrying it shoreward in his hand, while\nthe body floated down the current. Behind him he heard the cry of\ntheir mother, the wife of Nechtan, when she saw her three sons\nslain. Then Cuchulain sent her out of the fort, and he and his\ncharioteer went up and harried it, and set it all in flames; for\nan evil and a pirate fort had that fort been to Ulster, bringing\nmany of their warriors to death, and spoiling all their lands.\nThen Cuchulain and Ivar turned to retrace their steps, carrying in\ntheir hands the heads of Nechtan\u2019s sons. They put their spoils and\nthe three heads into the chariot, sticking the dripping heads upon\nthe chariot-pole that passed out behind, and set out in triumph\ntowards Emain and the palace of the King.\n\n\u201cYou promised us a good run to-day,\u201d said Cuchulain to the\ncharioteer, \u201cand we need it now after the contest we have made;\naway with us across Moy Bray, and round the mountain of Slieve\nFuad.\u201d Then Ivar spurred the horses forward with his goad, and so\nfast did they race onward that they outstripped the wind in speed,\nand left the flying birds behind them. To while away the time,\nCuchulain sent stones speeding before him from his sling; before\nthe stone could reach the ground, the chariot had caught it up and\nit fell again into the chariot floor.\n\nAt the foot of Slieve Fuad a herd of antlered deer were feeding\nbeside a wood. Never before had Cuchulain seen a herd of deer;\nhe marvelled at their branching antlers, and at the speed and\nlightness with which they moved from place to place. \u201cWhat is that\ngreat flock of active cattle yonder?\u201d enquired the boy. \u201cThose\nare not cattle, but a herd of wild deer that wander in the dark\nrecesses of the hills,\u201d replied the charioteer. \u201cWhich would the\nmen of Ulster think the greatest feat, to capture one dead or to\nbring one home alive?\u201d \u201cAssuredly to capture one alive,\u201d said Ivar.\n\u201cDead everyone could bring one down, but seldom indeed can one\nbe captured alive.\u201d \u201cGoad on the horses,\u201d said the lad; and this\nthe driver did, but the fat horses of the King, unused to such a\ndrive and rate of motion as they had had that day, turned restive\nand plunged into the bog, where they stuck fast. Eagerly Cuchulain\nsprang down, and leaving the charioteer to struggle with the\nhorses, he set off after the flying deer, and by sheer running came\nup to them, caught two of the largest stags by the horns, and with\nthongs and ropes bound them behind the chariot between the poles.\n\nAgain, on their way to Emain, a flock of swans passed overhead,\nflying before them. \u201cWhat birds are those?\u201d enquired the boy. \u201cAre\nthey tame birds or wild?\u201d \u201cThose are wild swans,\u201d said Ivar, \u201cthat\nfly inland from the rocks and islands of the sea to feed.\u201d \u201cWould\nthe Ulstermen think better of me if I brought them in dead or if I\ncaptured them alive?\u201d again enquired the boy. \u201cAssuredly to bring\nthem down alive.\u201d\n\nThen Cuchulain took his sling and with a well-aimed shot he brought\ndown one or two of the swans. Again and again he aimed until\nseveral of the birds were lying on the path before them. \u201cIvar, go\nyou and fetch the birds alive,\u201d said the boy.\n\n\u201cIt is not easy for me to do that,\u201d he said. \u201cThe horses are become\nwild and I cannot leave them or leap out in front of them. If then\nI try to get out at the side, I shall be cut to pieces with the\nsharp rims of the chariot-wheels; if I get out behind, the stags\nwill gore me with their horns.\u201d \u201cThat is not a warrior\u2019s speech,\nbut the speech fit a coward,\u201d said the lad. \u201cBut come now, step\nout fearlessly upon the antler of the deer, for I will bend my eye\non him, so that he will not stir or harm you, nor will the horses\nmove when I have overlooked them.\u201d This then was done. Cuchulain\nheld the reins, while Ivar got out and collected the fallen birds.\nWith long cords the birds were fastened to the chariot, and thus\nthey went on to Emain, with the wild stags running behind the\nchariot, and the flock of birds flying over it, and on the poles\nthe bleeding heads of the three sons of Nechtan the Mighty.\n\nOn the walls of Emain a watchman was at the look-out post. \u201cA\nsolitary warrior draws near to thee, O Conor, and terribly he\ncomes! Upon the chariot pole are bleeding heads; white birds are\nflying round the car, and wild unbroken stags are tethered fast\nbehind. Wildly and with fury he draws near, and unless some means\nbe taken to abate his rage, the young men of Emain\u2019s fort will\nperish by his hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cWarriors will not stay his hand. I know that little boy; it is\nmy foster-son, who on this day has taken arms and made his first\nchampion-raid. But before women he is ever courteous and modest;\nlet then the women-folk of Emain\u2019s fort, and our noble wives, go\nforth to meet him, for that will tame his rage.\u201d So the champion\u2019s\nwives and the women of Emain went out in a troop to meet him, and\nwhen he saw them come, the fury of war passed from Cuchulain, and\nhe leaned his head upon the chariot-rail, that they might not see\nthe battle rage that was upon his face. For in the presence of\nwomen Cuchulain was ever calm and gentle-mannered.\n\nYet so warm and ardent was he from his warrior-raid, that the\nchampions of Ulster bathed him in three baths of cold water before\nhis heat and travel-stains were passed away from him. And the water\nof the baths was heated fiery-hot by his plunge into it. But when\nhe was washed, and arrayed in his hooded tunic and mantle of bright\nblue, fastened with its silver brooch, the little man\u2019s fury had\nall gone from him; he blushed a beautiful ruddy hue all over, and\nwith eyes sparkling, and his golden hair combed back, he came to\ntake his place beside the King. And Conor was proud of the boy, and\ndrew him between his knees and stroked his hair; and his place was\never beside the King after that.\n\nNow a little boy that at the age of seven years--continued Fiacra,\nwho told the tale--could kill a man, yea, two or three men, whom\nall the champions of Ulster feared, and who could do such deeds, it\nwere not wonderful if, in your war with Ulster, O Queen Meave, he\nshould prove a formidable foe.\n\nAnd Meave said thoughtfully, \u201cIt were not wonderful indeed.\u201d\n\nThen the company broke up, preparing for the march upon the morrow.\nBut that night Meave said to her spouse: \u201cI think, O Ailill, that\nthis young champion of Ulster is not of the make of mortal men,\nnor is he quite as other champions. And though our host is good\nand sufficient for ordinary war, to meet a foe like this, it seems\nto me that a great and mighty force is needed; for I am of opinion\nthat the war on which we are now come will not be a battle of a\nnight or a day, but that it will be a campaign of many days and\nweeks and months against that lad. Therefore, at this time, let\nus return home again, and when a year or two is out, I shall have\ngathered such a host that the gods themselves could not withstand\nit.\u201d Thus Meave spoke boastfully, and Ailill was well content, for\nhe liked not the war. So for that time, they all turned home again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nCuchulain\u2019s Adventures in Shadow-Land\n\n\nWhile Cuchulain was still a little lad, but strong and brave and\nfull of spirit, it came into his mind that he would like to go out\ninto the world to perfect himself in every kind of soldierly art,\nso that he might not be behind any warrior in feats of strength\nand skill. He went first to the Glen of Solitude in Munster, but\nhe did not long remain there, but returned to Ulster, to invite\nhis companions to go with him to visit the woman-warrior Sc\u00e1th who\ndwelt in \u201cShadow-land.\u201d Where the land was, Cuchulain knew not, but\nhe thought it was in Alba, or mayhap in the Eastern world.\n\nThree of the chiefs of Ulster consented to go with him, Conall,\nwhom men in after days called The Victorious, because of his many\ncombats, and Laery the Triumphant, and Conor, Ulster\u2019s king. Conall\nwas close friend to Cuchulain, and they had vowed to each other\nwhile yet they were but boys, that whichever of the two of them\nshould first fall in battle or single combat, the other would\navenge his death, whether he were at that time near at hand or far\nacross the world in distant climes. And though Cuchulain was the\nyounger, he it was who first fell, and Conall avenged his death in\nthe Red Rout, as we shall hear. He was a great wanderer, and he was\nfar away across the seas when Cuchulain fell, but for all that his\npromise held him, and his love for his friend, and amply and fully\nhe avenged him on his foes.\n\nThen these three friends set out together in Conall\u2019s boat the\n\u201cBird-like,\u201d which needed not to be guided or rowed, but which sped\nat its own will across the deep-green, strong-waved ocean, like\nthe winging flight of a swift bird. It took its own way to strange\nlands, where none of those who travelled in the boat had ever been\nbefore, and they came at last to a dark gloomy shore where dwelt\na fierce woman-warrior, Donnell the Soldierly, and her daughter,\nBig-fist.\n\nHuge and ugly and gruesome were they both, with big grey eyes, and\nblack faces and rough bright-red hair, and so cruel and vengeful\nwere they that it was dangerous to quarrel with either of them. Yet\nthey knew many feats of arms, so that the three warriors stayed\nwith them a year and a day, learning all they knew. But Cuchulain\nwas fain to go away from them, for the darkness and the gloom of\nthe place and the ugly deeds of Big-fist troubled him, and he liked\nnot at all to remain with her.\n\nThe year and the day being past, Cuchulain was walking by the brink\nof the sea revolving these things in his mind, when he saw close\nbeside him, sitting on the shore, a man of enormous size, every\ninch of him from top to toe as black as coal. \u201cWhat are you doing\nhere?\u201d said the big black man to Cuchulain. \u201cI have been here a\nyear and a day learning feats of prowess and heroism from Donnell,\u201d\nsaid the little lad. \u201cHow so?\u201d said the big black man. \u201cIf you\nwant to learn true knightly skill and feats of valour, it is not\nhere that you will learn them.\u201d \u201cIs that true?\u201d said Cuchulain.\n\u201cIt is true, indeed,\u201d said the big black man. \u201cIs there any\nwoman-champion in the world who is better than the woman-champion\nthat is here?\u201d said Cuchulain. \u201cThere is indeed,\u201d said the big\nblack man; \u201cfar better than she is Sc\u00e1th, daughter of Ages, King\nof Shadow-land, who dwells in the Eastern world.\u201d \u201cWe have heard\nof her before,\u201d said Cuchulain. \u201cI am sure you have,\u201d said the big\nblack man; \u201cbut great and distant is the region of Shadow-land,\nlittle man.\u201d \u201cWill you tell me all about it, and where it is, and\nhow to find it?\u201d said Cuchulain, eagerly. \u201cNever will I tell you\na word about it to the end of time,\u201d said the black man surlily.\n\u201cO hateful, withered spectre, now may knowledge and help fail you\nyourself, when most you stand in need of them,\u201d cried the boy, and\nwith that the phantom disappeared.\n\nCuchulain did not sleep a wink that night thinking of the great\nfar-distant country of which the big black man had told him; and at\nbreak of day on the morrow he sprang from his bed and sought his\ncompanions, Conor and Conall and Laery. \u201cWill you come with me to\nseek for Shadow-land?\u201d he asked, when he had told them the tale of\nthe big black man. \u201cWe will not come,\u201d said they, \u201cfor last night\na vision appeared to each of us, and we could not put it away from\nus. We saw before us our own homes, and the kingly courts of Emain\nMacha standing right before us in the way, and we heard the voices\nof our wives weeping for our absence, and the call of our clans and\nwarriors for their chiefs; therefore to-day we bid you farewell,\nfor we return together to our homes. But go you on to Shadow-land\nand perfect yourself in feats with Sc\u00e1th, daughter of Ages, and\nthen return to us.\u201d It seemed to Cuchulain that it was the big\nblack man who had raised this vision before the chiefs, that they\nmight separate themselves from him, so that he might find his death\ntravelling to Shadow-land alone. So he bid the chiefs farewell with\na heavy heart, and they set off for Erin in Conall\u2019s boat, the\n\u201cBird-like;\u201d and as soon as it was out of sight, speeding over the\nwaves of the blue, surging ocean, Cuchulain set out alone along the\nunknown road. For he was determined to reach Shadow-land, or to die\nin the attempt. He went on for many days over great mountains and\nthrough deep impenetrable forests, and dark, lonely glens, until\nhe came to a wide-spreading desert and a lightless land. Black and\nscorched and bare was that desert, and there was no path or road\nacross it, and no human habitation was in sight. Cuchulain stood\nwondering and fearing to adventure forth alone across that terrible\nstony trackless waste, for he knew not whither to turn, or how to\ngo. Just then he saw a great beast like a lion coming out of the\nforest on the border of the desert, and advancing towards him,\nwatching him all the time. Now Cuchulain was but a little lad, and\nhe had no weapons with him, and he was afraid of the mighty beast\nand tried to escape from him; but whichever way he turned, the\nbeast was there before him, and it seemed to Cuchulain that it was\na friendly beast, for it made no attempt to injure him, but kept\nturning its side to Cuchulain, inviting him to mount. So Cuchulain\nplucked up his courage and took a leap and was on its back. He did\nnot try to guide it, for of its own accord the lion made off across\nthe plain, and for four days and nights they travelled thus through\nthe dim, lightless land until Cuchulain thought they must have come\nto the uttermost bounds of men. But they saw a small loch and a\nboat on it, and boys rowing the boat backward and forward amongst\nthe reeds of the shore, and the boys laughed at the sight of the\nhurtful beast doing service to a human being. Then Cuchulain jumped\noff the back of the lion and he bade it farewell and it departed\nfrom him.\n\nThe boys rowed him across the loch to a house where he got meat and\ndrink, and a young man with a face bright like the sun conducted\nhim on his way until he came to the Plain of Ill-luck, and there he\nleft him. Difficult and toilsome was the journey across the Plain\nof Ill-luck; on one half of the plain the feet of the wayfarer\nwould stick fast in the miry clay, so that he could not move on,\nbut thought he would sink into the earth at every step; and on the\nother half of the plain the grass would rise up beneath his feet\nand lift him up far above the ground upon its blades, so that he\nseemed to be walking in the air.\n\nNo road or comfortable way ran across that plain, and Cuchulain\ncould not have made his way across, but that the young man with\nthe face like the sun had given him a wheel to roll before him,\nand told him to follow wherever the wheel led. So he rolled the\nwheel, and bright shining rays darted out of the wheel and lighted\nup all the land. The heat that came out of the wheel dried up the\nclay, so that it became hard and firm to walk upon, and it burned\nup the grass, so that it made a clear path before Cuchulain all the\nway. And the noisome evil airs of the plain were sucked up by the\nheat and sunshine of the wheel, so that Cuchulain went on gladly\nand cheerfully until he came to the Perilous Glen. Then Cuchulain\nwas afraid again, for he saw before him a narrow glen between high\nrocky mountain fastnesses, and only one road through it, and that\nas narrow as a hair. And on either side of the road and among the\nrocks were cruel savage monsters waiting to devour him. But the\nyouth with the shining face had given him an apple, and he rolled\nthe apple before him as he went along, and when the monsters saw\nthe apple, they ceased watching Cuchulain and sprang after the\napple. But the apple ran on and on, so that they could not come\nup with it, and as it ran the narrow path grew wider, so that\nCuchulain could follow it with ease. By that means he passed the\nPerilous Glen, and he took the road that led across the terrible\nhigh mountains, until he came to the Bridge of the Leaps. And on\nthe other side of the bridge was the isle where Sc\u00e1th or Shadow,\ndaughter of Ages, lived.\n\nNow this is how the Bridge of the Leaps was made. It was low at\nthe two ends, but high in the middle, and it passed over a deep\nand precipitous gorge, up which came foaming the waters of the\nwild tempestuous ocean. And fearful strange beasts and fishes were\nmoving about in the waters below, which made a man\u2019s heart quail\nwith fear to look upon, for it was certain that if he should fall,\nthey would seize him in their jaws and devour him.\n\nOn the near side of the bridge were many youths playing hurley on\nthe green, and Cuchulain saw amongst them champions from Ulster,\nFerdia, son of Daman, and the sons of Naisi, and many others. They\ngreeted him kindly and gladly, and they asked news of Ulster and\nof their friends and companions in Erin; and Cuchulain was glad to\nsee the faces of his friends, for he was weary and fatigued after\nhis journey and after the terrors of the way across the Plain of\nIll-luck and the Perilous Glen. Then Cuchulain asked Ferdia, for he\nwas older than he, \u201cHow shall I get across the Bridge of the Leaps,\nto reach the fort of Sc\u00e1th?\u201d \u201cYou cannot cross it,\u201d said he; \u201cfor\nthis is the manner of that bridge; when anyone steps on one end\nof the bridge the other end leaps up, and flings the passenger off\nagain upon his back. Not one of us has crossed the bridge as yet,\nfor there are two feats that Sc\u00e1th teaches last of all, the leap\nof the Bridge, and the thrust of the spear that is called the Body\nSpear, which moves along the water. When we have achieved valour,\nshe will teach us the leap of the Bridge, but the thrust of the\nBody Spear she will not teach to any man of us at all, for she\nreserves that feat for the champion who excels in all other feats,\nand who is, out of all her pupils, the one whom she likes best.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me, O Ferdia, how Shadow herself crosses the bridge when she\ncomes to teach you feats,\u201d said Cuchulain. \u201cOnly by two leaps can\nthat bridge be crossed,\u201d they all reply; \u201cthat is, one leap into\nthe very centre of the bridge, and one upon the firm ground beyond;\nbut if the leap is missed, it is likely that the passer-by will\nfall into the gulf below, and woe to him if he should fall.\u201d Then\nCuchulain looked at the bridge and he looked at the foaming gorge\nbelow, and at the open-mouthed monsters in the tossing waves, and\nhe waited awhile until his strength was returned. But as evening\nfell he rose, and gathering all his forces together, he leaped upon\nthe bridge. Three times he tried to cross it, and three times it\nflung him again upon the bank, so that he fell upon his back; and\nthe young men jeered at him, because he tried to cross the bridge\nwithout Sc\u00e1th\u2019s help. Then Cuchulain grew mad with anger, and he\nleaped at one bound upon the very centre and ridge of the bridge.\nHere he rested a moment, and then he leaped again, and he gained\nthe firm ground on the further side, and he strode straight up to\nthe fort of Shadow, and struck three thunderous knocks upon the\ndoor.\n\n\u201cTruly,\u201d said Sc\u00e1th, \u201cthis must be someone who has achieved valour\nsomewhere else,\u201d and she sent Uthach the Fearful, her daughter, to\nbring him in, and welcome him to the fort.\n\nFor a year and a day he remained with Sc\u00e1th, and learned all that\nshe could teach him, and he became the most renowned warrior of\nhis time, or of any other time; and because Shadow loved his skill\nand his strength and comeliness, she taught him the feat of the\nBody Spear, which she had never taught to any before. And she\ngave the spear into his own keeping. When Ferdia saw the spear,\nhe said, \u201cO Sc\u00e1th, teach me also this feat, for the day will come\nwhen I shall have need of it.\u201d But she would not, for she wished\nto make Cuchulain invincible, and that he should have one feat\nthat was not known to any but himself. And she gave him the Helmet\nof Invisibility, which Manannan mac Lir, the ocean god, brought\nout of Fairy-land; and the mantle of Invisibility made of the\nprecious fleeces from the land of the Immortals, even from the\nKingdom of Clear Shining; and she gave him his glorious shield,\nwith knobs of gold, and chased all round with carvings of animals,\nand the combats of fighting men, and the sea-wars of the gods.\nAnd he became companion and arms-bearer to Ferdia, because he was\nthe younger and because they loved each other, and all the time\nhe was with Sc\u00e1th they went together into every danger, and every\nperil, and they took journeys together, and saw strange sights. And\nbecause the twain loved each other, they swore that never in life\nwould either hurt or wound the other, or do combat or quarrel with\nthe other, but that for ever and for ever they twain would aid and\nsupport each other in war and in combat, and in all the pleasant\nloving ways of peace. But Sc\u00e1th knew that other days were coming,\nfor she was a seer, and when Cuchulain bade her farewell, to return\nto Ireland, she spoke to him these words out of her prophet\u2019s\nshining ken: \u201cBlessing and health go with thee! Victorious Hero,\nChampion of the Kine of Bray! Chariot Chief of the two-horsed\nchariot! Beloved Hero of the gods! Perils await thee; alone before\nthe foe I see thee stand, fighting against a multitude, fighting\nthy own companion and friend. Red from many conflicts are thy\nwarrior weapons; by thee men and champions will fall; the warriors\nof Connaught and of Meave, the hosts of Ailill and of Fergus\nscatter before thy sword. The Hound of Ulster will be renowned. At\nhis death will the glory of Ulster fail, the glory of Erin will\ndepart from her.... Farewell, farewell, Cuchulain.\u201d\n\nThen Cuchulain parted from her, and turned to go back to Erin, and\na magic mist overtook him so that he knew not how he went, or by\nwhat road he came to the borders of the white-flecked, green-waved\nocean, but he found Manannan\u2019s horses of the white sea-foam\nawaiting him near the shore upon the surface of the mighty main,\nand he caught their tossing white-tipped manes and they bore him\nout across the waves, and so he came to Ireland again. It was on\nthe night of his return that he found and caught his two chariot\nhorses, the Grey of Macha, and the Black Steed of the Glen, and\nthis is how he caught them. He was passing along the borders of\nthe Grey Lake that is near the Mountain of Slieve Fuad, pondering\non the fate that was before him, and the work that he would do.\nSlowly he walked along the reedy, marshy ground that lay along the\nlake, till he saw a mist rise slowly from the mere and cover all\nthe plain. Then, as he stood to watch, he saw the form of a mighty\nsteed, grey and weird and phantom-like, rise slowly from the centre\nof the lake, and draw near to the shore, until it stood with its\nback to him among the rushes of the water\u2019s edge. Softly Cuchulain\ncrept down behind the steed; but it seemed not to hear him come,\nfor it was looking out towards the centre of the lake. Then with a\nsudden leap, Cuchulain was on its neck, his two arms clasped upon\nits mane. When it felt the rider on its back, the noble animal\nshuddered from head to foot, and started back and tried to throw\nCuchulain, but with all his might he clung and would not be thrown.\nThen began a struggle of champions between those two heroes, the\nKing of the Heroes of Erin and the King of Erin\u2019s Steeds. All night\nthey wrestled, and the prancing of the steed was heard at Emain\nMacha, so that the warriors said it thundered, and that a great\nstorm of wind had arisen without. But when it could by no means\nthrow Cuchulain from its back, the horse began to career and course\nround the island, and that night they fled with the swiftness of\nthe wind three times round all the provinces of Ireland. With a\nbound the wild steed leaped the mountains, and the sound of its\ncoursing over the plains was as the break of the tempestuous surf\nupon the shore. Once only did they halt in their career, and that\nwas in the wild and lonely glen in Donegal that is called the Black\nGlen, where the ocean waves roll inward to the land. From out the\nwaters arose another steed, as black as night, and it whinneyed\nto the Grey of Macha, so that the Grey of Macha stopped, and the\nBlack Steed of the Glen came up beside it, and trotted by its\nside. Then the fury of the Grey of Macha ceased, and Cuchulain\ncould feel beneath his hand that the two horses were obedient to\nhis will. And he brought them home to Emain and harnessed them to\nhis chariot, and all the men of Ulster marvelled at the splendour\nof those steeds, which were like night and day, the dark steed and\nthe light, and one of them they called the Grey of Macha, because\nMacha was the goddess of war and combat, and the other they called\nthe Black Steed of the Glen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nHow Cuchulain Wooed his Wife\n\n\nIt was on a day of the days of summer that Emer, daughter of\nForgall the Wily, sat on a bench before her father\u2019s door, at his\nfort that is called Lusk to-day, but which in olden days men spoke\nof as the Gardens of the Sun-god Lugh, so sunny and so fair and\nfertile was that plain, with waving meadow-grass and buttercups,\nand the sweet may-blossom girdling the fields. Close all about the\nfort the gardens lay, with apple-trees shedding their pink and\nwhite upon the playing fields of brilliant green; and all the air\nwas noisy with the buzz of bees, and with the happy piping of the\nthrush and soft low cooing of the doves. And Emer sat, a fair and\nnoble maid, among her young companions, foster-sisters of her own,\nwho came from all the farms and forts around to grow up with the\ndaughters of the house, and learn from them high-bred and gentle\nways, to fashion rich embroideries such as Irish women used to\npractise as an art, and weaving, and fine needlework, and all the\nways of managing a house. And as they sat round Emer, a bright\ncomely group of busy girls, they sang in undertones the crooning\ntender melodies of ancient Erin; or one would tell a tale of early\nwars, and warrior feasts or happenings of the gods, and one would\ntell a tale of lover\u2019s joys or of the sorrows of a blighted love,\nand they would sigh and laugh and dream that they too loved, were\nwooed, and lost their loves.\n\nAnd Emer moved about among the girls, directing them; and of all\nmaids in Erin, Emer was the best, for hers were the six gifts of\nwomanhood, the gift of loveliness, the gift of song, the gift of\nsweet and pleasant speech, the gift of handiwork, the gifts of\nwisdom and of modesty. And in his distant home in Ulster, Cuchulain\nheard of her. For he was young and brave, and women loved him for\nhis nobleness, and all men wished that he should take a wife. But\nfor awhile he would not, for among the women whom he saw, not one\nof them came up to his desires. And when they urged him, wilfully\nhe said: \u201cWell, find for me a woman I could love, and I will marry\nher.\u201d Then sent the King his heralds out through every part of\nUlster and the south to seek a wife whom Cuchulain would care to\nwoo. But still he said the same, \u201cThis one, and this, has some bad\ntemper or some want of grace, or she is vain or she is weak, not\nfitted as a mate to such as I. She must be brave, for she must\nsuffer much; she must be gentle, lest I anger her; she must be fair\nand noble, not alone to give me pleasure as her spouse, but that\nall men may think of her with pride, saying, \u2018As Cuchulain is the\nfirst of Ulster\u2019s braves, the hero of her many fighting-fields, so\nis his wife the noblest and the first of Erin\u2019s women, a worthy\nmate for him.\u2019\u201d\n\nSo when the princely messengers returned, their search was vain;\namong the daughters of the chiefs and noble lords not one was\nfound whom Cuchulain cared to woo. But one who loved him told him\nof a night he spent in Forgall\u2019s fort, and of the loveliness and\nnoble spirit of Forgall\u2019s second girl Emer, the maiden of the\nwaving hair, but just grown up to womanhood. He told him of her\nnoble mien and stately step, the soft and liquid brightness of her\neyes, the colour of her hair, that like to ruddy gold fresh from\nthe burnishing, was rolled around her head. Her graceful form he\npraised, her skilfulness in song and handiwork, her courage with\nher father, a harsh and wily man, whom all within the house hated\nand feared but she. He told him also that for any man to win the\nmaiden for his wife would be a troublesome and dangerous thing, for\nout of all the world, her father Forgall loved and prized but her,\nand he had made it known that none beneath a king or ruling prince\nshould marry her, and any man who dared to win her love, but such\nas these, should meet a cruel death; and this he laid upon his sons\nand made them swear to him upon their swords, that any who should\ncome to woo the girl should never leave the fort alive again.\n\nAll that they said but made Cuchulain yet the more desire to see\nthe maid and talk with her. \u201cThis girl, so brave, so wise, so fair\nof face and form,\u201d he pondered with himself, \u201cwould be a fitting\nmate for any chief. I think she is the fitting mate for me.\u201d\n\nSo on the very day when Emer sat upon her playing-fields, Cuchulain\nin the early morn set forth in all his festal garb in his chariot\nwith his prancing steeds, with Laeg before him as his charioteer,\nand took the shortest route towards the plain of Bray, where lie\nthe Gardens of the Sun-god Lugh. The way they went from Emain lay\nbetween the Mountains of the Wood, and thence along the High-road\nof the Plain, where once the sea had passed; across the marsh that\nbore the name the Whisper of the Secret of the Gods. Then driving\non towards the River Boyne they passed the Ridge of the Great Sow,\nwhere not far off is seen the fairy haunt of Angus, God of Beauty\nand of Youth; and so they reached the ford of Washing of the Horses\nof the Gods, and the fair, flowering plains of Lugh, called Lusk\nto-day.\n\nNow all the girls were busied with their work, when on the\nhigh-road leading to the fort they heard a sound like thunder from\nthe north, that made them pause and listen in surprise.\n\nNearer and nearer yet it came as though at furious pace a band of\nwarriors bore down towards the house. \u201cLet one of you see from the\nramparts of the fort,\u201d said Emer, \u201cwhat is the sound that we hear\ncoming towards us.\u201d Fiall, her sister, Forgall\u2019s eldest girl, ran\nto the top of the rath or earthen mound that circled round the\nplaying-fields, and looked out towards the north, shading her eyes\nagainst the brilliant sun. \u201cWhat do you see there?\u201d asked they all,\nand eagerly she cried: \u201cI see a splendid chariot-chief coming at\nfurious pace along the road. Two steeds, like day and night, of\nequal size and beauty, come thundering beneath that chariot on the\nplain. Curling their manes and long, and as they come, one would\nthink fire darted from their curbed jaws, so strain and bound they\nforward; high in the air the turf beneath their feet is thrown\naround them, as though a flock of birds were following as they go.\nOn the right side the horse is grey, broad in the haunches, active,\nswift and wild; with head erect and breast expanded, madly he moves\nalong the plain, bounding and prancing as he goes. The other horse\njet-black, head firmly knit, feet broad-hoofed, firm, and slender;\nin all this land never had chariot-chief such steeds as these.\u201d\n\n\u201cHeed not the steeds,\u201d the girls replied, \u201ctell us, for this\nconcerns us most, who is the chariot-chief who rides within?\u201d\n\n\u201cWorthy of the chariot in which he rides is he who sits within.\nYouthful he seems, as standing on the very borders of a noble\nmanhood, and yet I think his face and form are older than his\nyears. Gravely he looks, as though his mind revolved some serious\nthought, and yet a radiance as of the summer\u2019s day enfolds him\nround. About his shoulders a rich five-folded mantle hangs, caught\nby a brooch across the chest sparkling with precious gems, above\nhis white and gold-embroidered shirt. His massive sword rests on\nhis thigh, and yet I think he comes not here to fight. Before him\nstands his charioteer, the reins held firmly in his hand, urging\nthe horses onward with a goad.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat like is he, the charioteer?\u201d demand the girls again.\n\n\u201cA ruddy man and freckled,\u201d answered Fiall; \u201chis hair is very curly\nand bright-red, held by a bronze fillet across his brow, and caught\nat either side his head in little cups of gold, to keep the locks\nfrom falling on his face. A light cloak on his shoulders, made with\nopen sleeves, flies back in the wind, as rapidly they course along\nthe plain.\u201d But Emer heard not what the maiden said, for to her\nmind there came the memory of a wondrous youth whom Ulster loved\nand yet of whom all Erin stood in awe. Great warriors spoke of him\nin whispers and with shaking of the head. They told how when he was\na little child, he fought with full-grown warriors and mastered\nthem; of a huge hound that he had slain and many feats of courage\nhe had done. Into her mind there came a memory, that she had heard\nof prophets who foretold for him a strange and perilous career; a\nlife of danger, and an early death. Full many a time she longed to\nsee this youth, foredoomed to peril, yet whose praise should ring\nfrom age to age through Erin; and in her mind, when all alone she\npondered on these things, she still would end: \u201cThis were a worthy\nmate! This were a man to win a woman\u2019s love!\u201d And half aloud she\nuttered the old words: \u201cThis were a man to win a woman\u2019s love!\u201d\n\nNow hardly had the words sprung to her lips, when the chariot\nstood before the door, close to the place where all the girls were\ngathered. And when she saw him Emer knew it was the man of whom\nshe dreamed. He wished a blessing to them, and her lovely face she\nlifted in reply. \u201cMay God make smooth the path before thy feet,\u201d\nshe gently said. \u201cAnd thou, mayest thou be safe from every harm,\u201d\nwas his reply. \u201cWhence comest thou?\u201d she asked; for he had alighted\nfrom his seat and stood beside her, gazing on her face. \u201cFrom\nConor\u2019s court we come,\u201d he answered then; \u201cfrom Emain, kingliest\nof Ulster\u2019s forts, and this the way we took. We drove between the\nMountains of the Wood, along the High-road of the Plain, where\nonce the sea had been; across the Marsh they call the Secret of\nthe Gods, and to the Boyne\u2019s ford named of old the Washing of the\nHorses of the Gods. And now at last, O maiden, we have come to the\nbright flowery Garden-grounds of Lugh. This is the story of myself,\nO maid; let me now hear of thee.\u201d Then Emer said: \u201cDaughter am I to\nForgall, whom men call the Wily Chief. Cunning his mind and strange\nhis powers; for he is stronger than any labouring man, more learned\nthan any Druid, more sharp and clever than any man of verse. Men\nsay that thou art skilled in feats of war, but it will be more\nthan all thy games to fight against Forgall himself; therefore be\ncautious what thou doest, for men cannot number the multitude of\nhis warlike deeds nor the cunning and craft with which he works. He\nhas given me as a bodyguard twenty valiant men, their captain Con,\nson of Forgall, and my brother; therefore I am well protected, and\nno man can come near me, but that Forgall knows of it. To-day he is\ngone from home on a warrior expedition, and those men are gone with\nhim; else, had he been within, I trow he would have asked thee of\nthy business here.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, O maiden, dost thou talk thus to me? Dost thou not reckon me\namong the strong men, who know not fear?\u201d \u201cIf thy deeds were known\nto me,\u201d she said, \u201cI then might reckon them; but hitherto I have\nnot heard of all thy exploits.\u201d \u201cTruly, I swear, O maiden,\u201d said\nCuchulain, \u201cthat I will make my deeds to be recounted among the\nglories of the warrior-feats of heroes.\u201d \u201cHow do men reckon thee?\u201d\nshe said again. \u201cWhat then is thy strength?\u201d \u201cThis is my strength,\u201d\nhe said. \u201cWhen my might in fight is weakest, I can defend myself\nalone against twenty. I fear not by my own might to fight with\nforty. Under my protection a hundred are secure. From dread of\nme, strong warriors avoid my path, and come not against me in the\nbattle-field. Hosts and multitudes and armed men fly before my\nname.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou seemest to boast,\u201d said Emer, \u201cand truly for a tender boy\nthose feats are very good; but they rank not with the deeds of\nchariot-chiefs. Who then were they who brought thee up in these\ndeeds of which thou boastest?\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, O maiden, King Conor is himself my foster-father, and\nnot as a churl or common man was I brought up by him. Among\nchariot-chiefs and champions, among poets and learned men, among\nthe lords and nobles of Ulster, have I been reared, and they have\ntaught me courage and skill and manly gifts. In birth and bravery I\nam a match for any chariot-chief; I direct the counsels of Ulster,\nand at my own fort at Dun Dalgan they come to me for entertainment.\nNot as one of the common herd do I stand before thee here to-day,\nbut as the favourite of the King and the darling of all the\nwarriors of Ulster. Moreover, the god Lugh the Long-handed is my\nprotector, for I am of the race of the great gods, and his especial\nfoster-child. And now, O maiden, tell me of thyself; how in the\nsunny plains of Lugh hast thou been reared within thy father\u2019s\nfort?\u201d \u201cThat I will tell thee,\u201d said the girl. \u201cI was brought up in\nnoble behaviour as every queen is reared; in stateliness of form,\nin wise, calm speech, in comeliness of manner, so that to me is\nimputed every noble grace among the hosts of the women of Erin.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood, indeed, are those virtues,\u201d said the youth; \u201cand yet I\nsee one excellence thou hast not noted in thy speech. Never\nbefore, until this day, among all women with whom I have at times\nconversed, have I found one but thee to speak the mystic ancient\nlanguage of the bards, which we are talking now for secrecy one\nwith the other. And all these things are good, but one is best of\nall, and that is, that I love thee, and I think thou lovest me.\nWhat hinders, then, that we should be betrothed?\u201d But Emer would\nnot hasten, but teasing him, she said, \u201cPerhaps thou hast already\nfound a wife?\u201d \u201cNot so,\u201d said he, \u201cand by my right-hand\u2019s valour\nhere I vow, none but thyself shall ever be my wife.\u201d \u201cA pity it\nwere, indeed, thou shouldst not have a wife,\u201d said Emer, playing\nwith him still; \u201csee, here is Fiall, my elder sister, a clever girl\nand excellent in needlework. Make her thy wife, for well is it\nknown to thee, a younger sister in Ireland may not marry before an\nelder. Take her! I\u2019ll call her hither.\u201d Then Cuchulain was vexed\nbecause she seemed to play with him. \u201cVerily and indeed,\u201d he said,\n\u201cnot Fiall, but thee, it is with whom I am in love; and if thou\nweddest me not, never will I, Cuchulain, wed at all.\u201d\n\nThen Emer saw that Cuchulain loved her, but she was not satisfied,\nbecause he had not yet done the deeds of prime heroes, and she\ndesired that he should prove himself by champion feats and deeds of\nvalour before he won her as his bride.\n\nSo she bade him go away and prove himself for a year by deeds of\nprowess to be indeed a worthy mate and spouse for her, and then, if\nhe would come again she would go with him as his one and only wife.\nBut she bade him beware of her father, for she knew that he would\ntry to kill him, in order that he might not come again. And this\nwas true, for every way he sought to kill Cuchulain, or to have him\nkilled by his enemies, but he did not prevail.\n\nWhen Cuchulain had taken farewell of Emer and gained her promise,\nhe returned to Emain Macha. And that night the maidens of the\nfort told Forgall that Cuchulain had been there and that they\nthought that he had come to woo Emer; but of this they were not\nsure, because he and Emer had talked together in the poet\u2019s mystic\ntongue, that was not known to them. For Emer and Cuchulain talked\non this wise, that no one might repeat what they had said to\nForgall.\n\nAnd for a whole year Cuchulain was away, and Forgall guarded the\nfort so well that he could not come near Emer to speak with her;\nbut at last, when the year was out, he would wait no longer, and\nhe wrote a message to Emer on a piece of stick, telling her to\nbe ready. And he came in his war-chariot, with scythes upon its\nwheels, and he brought a band of hardy men with him, who entered\nthe outer rampart of the fort and carried off Emer, striking\ndown men on every side. And Forgall followed them to the earthen\nout-works, but he fell over the rath, and was taken up lifeless.\nAnd Cuchulain placed Emer and her foster-sister in his chariot,\ncarrying with them their garments and ornaments of gold and silver,\nand they drove northward to Cuchulain\u2019s fort at Dun Dalgan, which\nis Dundalk to-day.\n\nAnd they were pursued to the Boyne, and there Cuchulain placed Emer\nin a house of safety, and he turned and drove off his enemies who\nfollowed him, pursuing them along the banks and destroying them, so\nthat the place, which had before been called the White Field, was\ncalled the Turf of Blood from that day. Then he and Emer reached\ntheir home in safety, nor were they henceforth parted until death.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nMeave demands the Brown Bull of Cooley and is refused\n\n\nFor many years Meave had been making preparations for her war with\nUlster. To the East and South and West she had sent her messengers,\nstirring up the chiefs and calling them to aid her in her attack\non Conor\u2019s land. From every quarter she asked for supplies of men\nand food, and if these were refused, she sent her fighting-bands\ninto the district to waste and destroy it, and to carry off the\ncattle and produce by force. All the princes of Ireland stood in\nawe of Meave, so ruthless and proud was she, and so quick in her\ndescent upon the lands of those who would not do her will. For had\nthey not regarded her request, all Ireland would have been set in\nflames; for she would plunder and destroy without pity or remorse.\nSo in their own defence, the princes of the provinces promised her\nfighting-men and provender whenever she should call upon them, and\nmonth by month she gathered round her fort at Cruachan herds of\ncattle and swine and sheep, ready for the war.\n\nNow Meave was looking about for a cause of contest between herself\nand Ulster; for she knew that Cuchulain was yet young, and she\ndesired to begin the war before he came to his full strength;\nmoreover, she had heard that upon Ulster at that time there lay a\nheavy sickness, which had prostrated its fighting-men and warriors,\nits princes and captains, and that even Conor, the King, himself\nlay ill.\n\nNo common sickness was that which lay upon the Province, but it\ncame of the wrath and vengeance of the gods. For in the days gone\nby the goddess Macha, one of the three fierce goddesses of war and\nbattles, had visited Ulster as a mortal maid, to bring aid and\ncomfort to one of the nobles of Ulster who was in sore distress.\nAnd the King and people had reviled her, and brought shame and\nscoffing upon her, because they saw that she was not as one of\nthemselves; for they liked not that a woman greater than themselves\nshould take up her abode amongst them. They made game of her in the\npublic assembly, crowding round her, and scoffing at her courage\nand her splendid form and at her swiftness of running beyond any\nof the men. For they knew not that she was one of the great gods,\nand they were jealous of her, because they felt that she was nobler\nthan they. Then Macha cursed the men of Ulster, and told them\nthat in a time of danger and sore need, when all the chiefs and\nwarriors of Ireland should gather round its borders, plundering\nand destroying, she would cast upon their warriors weakness and\nfeebleness of body and of mind, so that they could not go forth in\ndefence of the Province, and the land should be a prey to their\nenemies. Only upon Cuchulain she laid not her curse, for he was\nyoung, and it fell not upon women and little children, but upon\nfull-grown warriors only, because it was the men of Ulster who had\ninsulted her. Then she went away from them, and in dread of her\nthey called the palace of the King Emain Macha, or the \u201cBrooch-pin\nof Macha,\u201d to this day.[2]\n\nWhen then Macha saw Meave gathering her hosts together to war\nagainst Ulster, she brought upon them this sickness, as she had\nprophesied. And Meave, hearing of this, hastened her preparations\nfor the war, for she was determined that, come what might, she\nwould march into Ulster at that time and smite it in its weakness,\nso that once and for ever Ulster would be subdued to Connaught by\nher hand. And her pride waxed greater at the thought.\n\n[Illustration: Macha curses the Men of Ulster]\n\nThere were in Ireland at that time two famous bulls, unlike to any\nkine that ever have been in Ireland from that time until now. For\nthese bulls were cattle of the gods, and they had come to abide\namong men for this purpose only, to incite and bring about a war\nbetween Connaught and Ulster. For Macha watched o\u2019er men, and she\nawaited the day when her revenge upon Ulster should fall. Now\nthese cattle were born, one in the Province of Connaught among the\ncattle of Meave, and the other in Ulster among the cattle of Daire\nof Cooley, in Cuchulain\u2019s country. Meave knew not that these were\nimmortal beasts, for that was in the secrets of the gods, but she\nknew well that among her cattle was one bull of extraordinary size,\nand fierceness, and strength, so that no other member of her herds\ndared to come near it; moreover, fifty men were required to keep\nit. And of all her stock, there was not one that Meave counted\nworth a metal ring beside this bull. She named him the Finn-bennach\nor \u201cWhite-horned,\u201d and she believed that not in Ireland nor in the\nwhole world beside, was the equal and the fellow of this bull.\nOne day, before the war began, while Meave was meditating in her\nmind what challenge she should send to Ulster, she caused all her\ncattle to be arrayed before her.\n\nFrom pastures and meadow-lands, from hills and vales, she called\nin all her stock, her sheep and swine, her cattle and her steeds.\nAilill also, her husband, caused his flocks and herds to be brought\nin, and reckoned alongside of hers. For Meave had boasted to her\nspouse that in all possessions of kine and live stock, as also in\nhousehold goods and utensils, in jewels and ornaments, in garments\nand in stuffs, her share was greater far than his, so that, in\nfact, she was the better of the two, the real ruler and prince of\nConnaught.\n\nAilill liked not this boasting of his wife; so when their flocks\nwere driven in, their vessels and vats and mugs collected, their\nclasped ornaments and rings, as well arm-rings as thumb-rings,\nbrooches and collars of carven metal-work, with their apparel and\nstuffs, it pleased the King to find that the share of Meave and of\nhimself was exactly equal and alike. Among Meave\u2019s horses was a\nspecial mare, and she thought there was no mare in Ireland to equal\nit, but Ailill had one just its match. Among the sheep Meave owned\none mighty ram, and among the swine one eminent boar, but Ailill\nproved that amongst his flocks and herds he had the same. Then\nMeave said: \u201cAmong the cattle, however, certain it is, that there\nis no bull to be named in the same breath with the White-horned.\u201d\n\u201cAy, no, indeed,\u201d said the herdsman, \u201cthe White-horned surpasseth\nall beasts; but, a week ago, he left the company of thy cattle, O\nQueen, and went over to the cattle of the King. \u2019Tis my opinion\nthat he heard the keepers say that it was strange that so powerful\na bull should be under the dominion of a woman; for no sooner were\nthe words out of their mouths, than he broke loose from his stall,\nand, head in air and bellowing loudly, he passed over to the herds\nof Ailill. Nought could stay him or bring him back; and all that\nstood in his path were trampled and gored to death.\u201d\n\nNow when Meave heard that the White-horned was no longer in her\nkeeping, not one of her possessions had any value in her eyes; for,\nbecause she had not that especial bull, it was in her esteem as\nthough she owned not so much as a penny\u2019s worth of stock.\n\nWhen Mac Roth, her herald, who stood at her right hand, saw the\nQueen\u2019s vexation, he said, \u201cI know, O Queen, where a better bull\nthan the White-horned is to be found, even with Daire of Cooley, in\nCuchulain\u2019s country, and the Dun or \u201cBrown Bull\u201d of Cooley is its\nname; a match it is to the White-horned; nay, I think that it is\nyet more powerful than he.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhence came these bulls?\u201d said Meave; \u201cand what is their strength\nand their history? Tell me, Mac Roth, yet further of this bull.\u201d\n\nThen Mac Roth said: \u201cThis is the description of the Dun. Brown\nhe is, and dark as night, terrific in strength and size. Upon\nhis back, at evening-tide, full fifty little boys can play their\ngames. He moves about with fifty heifers at his side, and if his\nkeepers trouble him, he tramples them into the earth in his rage.\nThroughout the land his bellowings can be heard, and on his horns\nare gold and silver tips. Before the cows he marches as a king,\nwith bull-like front, and with the resistless pace of the long\nbillow rolling on the shore. Like to the fury of a dragon, or\nlike a lion\u2019s fierceness is his rage. Only the Finn-bennach, the\nWhite-horned bull, is his mate and match; his pair in strength, in\nsplendour, and in pride.\u201d\n\nAnd Meave said: \u201cWhat and whence are these kine, and wherefore did\nthey come to Ireland?\u201d\n\nMac Roth replied: \u201cThese are the cattle of the gods; out of the\nFairy Palaces they came to Erin, and into the Fairy Palaces they\nwill return again. For the disturbance and downfall of Erin are\nthey come, to awaken wars and tumults among her people. Before\nthey became cattle, they have lived many lives in many forms, but\nin whatever form they come to earth destruction and warfare haunt\ntheir steps. At the first they were two swineherds of the gods,\ndwelling in the underworld, and they kept the herds of the fairy\ngods of Munster and of Connaught. But a mighty war was fought\nbetween them, so that all Erin was disturbed and troubled by that\nwar; and each of them tore the other in pieces, so that they died.\nBut they were born again as two ravens, dwelling upon earth, and\nfor three hundred years they lived as birds, but in the end they\npecked each other till they died.\n\n\u201cThen they became two monsters of the sea, and after that two\nwarriors and two demon-men. But in each of all these forms they\nmet together in terrific contest, so that the world of men and\neven the dwellings of the gentle gods were stirred and agitated by\ntheir wrath. For when men hear the sighing of the wind, or the wild\nturmoil of the billows on the shore, then, indeed, it is the bulls\nin fight wherever they may be, or in whatever form. And now that\nthey are come to earth again, no doubt some mighty contest is at\nhand; for surely they are come to stir up strife and deadly warfare\nbetween man and man, and Connaught and Ulster will be concerned in\nthis.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat likes us well,\u201d said Meave, \u201cand for this contest we will\nwell prepare. So, since the fellow of the White-horned dwells in\nCooley, take thou with thee a company, Mac Roth, and go and beg\nthis excellent bull from Daire, that henceforth my cattle may\ncompare with Ailill\u2019s kine, or that they may surpass them. Give all\nconditions he demands and promise what thou wilt, so only Daire\ngive up the bull. And if he give it not up willingly, then will we\ncome and seize the bull by force.\u201d\n\nFor to herself she said: \u201cThe taking of this bull will be a thing\nnot easy to accomplish; if Daire, as is likely, refuse it to me,\nwar will arise between Connaught and Ulster, and this, seeing that\nthe warriors of Ulster are now lying in their pains, we much could\nwish. For our hosts are gathered and our provisions ready, while on\nUlster\u2019s side there are but women and little children and Cuchulain\nready and fit to meet us; quickly in that case we shall march into\nUlster\u2019s borders and raid the country up to Emain\u2019s palace gates,\ncarrying off the spoils; the Brown Bull also we will bring with us,\nand henceforth not Ailill, nor the King of Ulster, nor all Ireland\nbesides, will hold up their heads against ourselves or boast\nthemselves our equal.\u201d\n\nSo Mac Roth with nine of his company travelled to the house of\nDaire in Cooley, and welcome was made for them, and fresh rushes\nstrewn upon the floor and viands of the best were set before them,\nas became the chief of Ireland\u2019s heralds. But before they sat\ndown to meat, Daire inquired of them: \u201cWhat is the cause of your\njourney here to-day?\u201d And Mac Roth replied: \u201cA quarrel that has\narisen between Ailill and Meave, the King and Queen of Connaught,\nabout the possession of the White-horned, for Meave is sorrowful\nand vexed because the King hath a better bull than she. She craves\ntherefore, that a loan of the Dun or Brown Bull of Cooley be made\nto her, that she may say that she hath the finer kine. And if\nthou thyself wilt bring the bull to Cruachan, good payment shall\nbe given thee: that is, due payment for the loan of the bull, and\nfifty heifers into the bargain, besides a stretch of country of the\nbest in Connaught, and Meave\u2019s close friendship along with this.\u201d\n\nThis pleased Daire so well, that he threw himself upon his couch,\nand he laughed loud and long, so that the seams of the couch burst\nasunder under him. \u201cBy our good faith,\u201d he said, \u201cthe offer is a\ngood one, and whatever the men of Ulster may say to my lending away\ntheir precious bull, lend it I will with all my heart.\u201d\n\nThen supper was served, and the messengers of Meave ate and drank,\nand Daire plied them with strong wines, so that they began to talk\nat random to each other. \u201cA good house is this to which we have\ncome, and a wealthy man is Daire,\u201d said one to his fellow. \u201cWealthy\nhe is indeed,\u201d said the other. \u201cWould you say that he was the\nbest man in all Ulster, and the richest?\u201d pursued the first who\nhad spoken. \u201cSurely not,\u201d replied the other, \u201cfor Conor the King,\nat least, is better in every way than he.\u201d \u201cWell, lucky it is, I\nsay,\u201d pursued the first, \u201cthat without bloodshed or any difficulty\nraised, he yields the bull to us nine messengers; for had he\nrefused it, I trow that the warriors of all Ireland\u2019s Provinces\ncould not have carried it off from Ulster.\u201d \u201cSay not so,\u201d cried\nanother, \u201cfor in truth, little matter to us had it been if Daire\nhad refused it, for had we not got the bull by fair means, we\nwould have carried it off by foul.\u201d\n\nNow just at that moment in came the steward, with fresh viands to\nset before the guests, but when he overheard their conversation,\nand the slighting way in which his master was spoken of by the\nheralds of Connaught, he set down the meat without a word and\nwithout inviting them to partake, and out he went at once and told\nhis master what the heralds had said. Then Daire was very angry,\nand he exclaimed, \u201cBy the gods, I declare, that never will I lend\nthe bull; and that now, unless by foul means they carry him off\nfrom me, he never shall be theirs.\u201d\n\nThe next morning, the messengers arose, having slept off their\ncarouse, and they went to Daire\u2019s house, and courteously said:\n\u201cShow us now, noble Sir, the way to the place where the Brown Bull\nis, that we may proceed with him on our journey back to Cruachan.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so, indeed,\u201d said Daire, \u201cfor were it my habit to deal\ntreacherously with those that come in embassage, not one of you\nwould have seen the light of the sun to-day.\u201d \u201cWhy, how now, what\nis this?\u201d they asked, surprised, for they had forgotten what they\nhad said over their cups the night before. \u201c\u2019Tis plain enough, I\nthink,\u201d said Daire; \u201cyour people said last night that if I gave the\nbull not up of mine own will, yet Meave and Ailill would make me\ngive it up by force. Let Meave and Ailill come and take it if they\ncan. All Ulster will prepare to hold the bull.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, come,\u201d said Mac Roth, \u201cheed not what foolish men said after\nfood and drink; Ailill and Meave had no ill intent in sending us to\nask the bull of you. It were not right to hold them responsible for\nthe loose words of their messengers.\u201d \u201cNevertheless, Mac Roth, and\nhowever this may be, at this time you do not get my bull.\u201d\n\nSo Mac Roth and the nine messengers returned to Rath Crogan,[3]\nand Meave inquired for the bull. And when she heard their tale,\nshe said, \u201cI thought as much, Mac Roth: it was not intended that\nyou should have the bull. The bull, which is not to be got by fair\nmeans, must be got by foul; and by fair or foul, he shall be got by\nus.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nThe Plucking out of the Four-pronged Pole\n\n\nThen Meave gathered her hosts together and set out from Cruachan,\neach party under its own leader, marching in order of rank, with\nFergus mac Roy guiding the entire army, and Meave bringing up the\nrear, in order that she might keep all her troops under her own\neye. Meave\u2019s way of travelling when she went into battle was in a\nchariot, with her bodyguard of chosen warriors around her, who, in\nany time of danger, interlocked their shields to form a rampart and\nprotection on every side as she moved along.\n\nGaily her troops marched in their many-coloured garb, their short\nkilts falling to the knee, their long cloaks over that. And the\ncolour of the kilts of each troop was different, so that each man\nknew his own comrades by the pattern of his kilt. In their hands\nthey carried shields and spears upon long shafts, while others had\nfive-pronged spears, or mighty swords, or javelins.\n\nIt was in the beginning of winter that they set out, and already\nsnow lay heavy on the ground; on the very first night it fell so\nthickly, that it reached to the chariot-wheels and almost to their\nvery shoulders, nor could they find any track or way.\n\nMeave called Fergus, and said to him: \u201cGo on before the hosts, O\nFergus, and find us out the shortest road into Ulster, for in such\nweather as this, it is not well that we lose time by wandering\nout of the right way.\u201d So with a few companions Fergus went on\nahead; but as he drove along, the memory of old friends and of his\nhome and country came upon him, and an overwhelming affection for\nUlster took hold on him, and in his mind there arose shame and\nbitter self-reproach that he, the former King of Ulster, should\nbe leading Ulster\u2019s foes against her. For he liked Meave and he\nliked her not; her kindness to himself and the exiles of Ulster had\nprevailed with him to aid her in her war upon the province; but her\nwiles and cunning and manlike ways he cared not for, and in his\nheart he had no wish to see the province subdued to her. So to the\nNorth and the South he misled the host, making them walk all day by\ndifficult paths far out of their way, while in the meantime he sent\nswift messengers to Conor and the Ulster chiefs, but especially to\nhis own foster-son Cuchulain, whom he loved, to call their men at\narms together, because Meave and a host of warriors from all the\nprovinces of Ireland were on their borders. At night, after a long\nday\u2019s march, the army found itself back in the very spot from which\nit had set out, not far beyond the banks of the River Shannon. Then\nMeave called Fergus, and angrily she spoke to him: \u201cA good guide to\nan army art thou, O Fergus, bringing it back at night to the very\nplace from which in the morning it set out. A good enemy of Ulster\nthis. A good friend to Connaught and its queen!\u201d \u201cSeek out some\nother leader for your troops, O Meave,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cfor never\nwill I lead them against the province of Ulster and against my own\npeople and my foster-son! But this I tell you, beware and look out\nwell for your troops to-night and every night from this; for it\nmay be that Cuchulain will stand between you and Ulster, and the\nstanding of Cuchulain will be as the crouching of the Hounds of War\nupon your path; therefore beware and guard yourselves well before\nhim!\u201d\n\nNow that very night Cuchulain got the message of Fergus, for he\nwas with his father, Sualtach, not far from this place. Together\nin their chariot they drove to the borders of the country where\nthe army was encamped to seek for the trail of the hosts; but they\nfound it not easy to discover the trail, because of the snow and\nbecause of the wandering path that Fergus had taken the troops.\nThey unyoked the chariots, and turned the horses out to graze\nat a certain pillar-stone beside a ford; and on one side of the\npillar-stone the horses of Sualtach cropped the grass down to the\nvery ground, and on the other the horses of Cuchulain did the same.\nThen Cuchulain said: \u201cTo-night, O father, I have a shrewd suspicion\nthat the host is near; depart thou therefore to warn Ulster, and to\nbid them arise and come by secret ways to meet the men of Erin.\u201d\n\nNow in his heart was Sualtach glad and pleased to be gone, because\nhe was not a man who loved to stand in the gap of danger, nor to\nrisk his life before an enemy stronger than himself; but yet he was\nloth to leave his son alone. So he said, \u201cAnd thou, beloved, what\nwilt thou do?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will stand between the men of Ireland and the province of\nUlster,\u201d said the boy, \u201cso that no harm or hurt befall the province\nuntil Ulster be ready for battle; here on the borders do I take my\nstand, and I will so harry and trouble the hosts of Meave that they\nwill wish the expedition had never been undertaken.\u201d\n\nSo Cuchulain hastened his father, and Sualtach bade him farewell,\nand slipped away to Emain Macha. But when he found the warriors\nwere asleep, his old lethargy came over Sualtach, and he forgot the\nmessage of Cuchulain, and under Emain\u2019s ramparts he took up his\nabode. \u201cHere will I wait in safety,\u201d he thought; \u201cand when the King\nand chiefs awake, I, with the first of them, will march to war with\nMeave. I will not be behind, but all alone I have not the heart to\nfight.\u201d\n\nNo sooner had Sualtach gone his way than Cuchulain entered a forest\nclose at hand and out of an oak sapling cut a four-pronged pole,\nwhich with one sweep of his swift sword he cleared of all its twigs\nand leaves and small branches. With the finger-tips of his right\nhand he hurled it out behind his chariot, going at full pace, so\nthat it sank into the ground in the middle of the stream, and stood\nup just above the water. Upon the pole he flung a ring or twisted\ncollar of young birch, and on the ring he carved his name and a\nmessage in secret runes. Just at that moment two young men of the\nhost of Meave, gone out before the troops to scout, came near and\nwatched him. No time had they to turn and flee, for with one leap\nCuchulain was upon them, and both their heads struck off. These and\nthe two heads of their charioteers were soon impaled on the four\npoints of the forked pole; but the chariots he turned back, driving\nthem towards the host of Meave. When the warriors saw the chariots\nreturn with headless men, they thought the army of Ulster must be\nclose before them, waiting their coming at the ford. Therefore a\ngreat company of them marched forward to the stream, ready and\narmed for battle, but nothing did they see but a tall pole that\nstood upright in the swirling waters of the stream, bearing a rude\ncarved collar on its top, and on the point of every branching prong\na bleeding new-slain head.\n\n\u201cGo now,\u201d said Ailill to his man, \u201cfetch me the collar here.\u201d But\nall in vain he tried to read the words engraven on the ring. \u201cWhat,\nFergus, are the words inscribed upon this ring?\u201d said he. \u201cWho\ncould have written them? A strange thing, verily, it seems to me,\nthat two brave scouts could have been slain like this, well-nigh\nwithin the sight of all our men. A marvel, I confess, this thing to\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot that it is at which I marvel,\u201d Fergus said; \u201cI marvel rather\nthat with one sweep of the sword this tree was felled and cleaned\nof all its twigs. See, it is written on the ring that with one hand\nthis pole was thrown, and fixed firmly in its bed; it is written\nhere, moreover, that the men of Erin are forbidden to pass this\nford, until in exactly the same manner it is plucked up again.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne man only in the army can do that, namely, you yourself, O\nFergus!\u201d answered Meave. \u201cNow help us in this strait and pluck the\npole out of the river\u2019s bed for us.\u201d\n\n\u201cBring me a chariot, then, and I will see what I can do.\u201d\n\nA chariot was brought and Fergus mounted into it. With all his\nforce he dashed down into the water, and with his finger-tips in\npassing by he tried to draw the pole out of its place. But all in\nvain; the pole stood fast, and though he tugged and strained, so\nthat the chariot flew into little bits and fragments, he could\nnot stir or move the pole an inch. One chariot after another he\nessayed, and all of them went into splinters, but not one whit the\nlooser was the pole. At last Meave said: \u201cGive over, Fergus; enough\nof my people\u2019s chariots are broken with this game. Get your own\nchariot and pull out the pole. Right well I guess your purpose;\nfor you have in mind to hamper and delay the progress of our host\ntill Ulster be aroused and come to meet us; but that your guidance\nled us all astray, we might be even now in Ulster\u2019s border-lands.\u201d\n\nThen Fergus\u2019s own mighty chariot was brought, all made of iron,\nstudded o\u2019er with nails, heavy and massive in its make. Upright he\nstood in it, and with a powerful, superhuman pull he wrenched with\none hand\u2019s finger-tips the pole from out its bed, and handed it to\nAilill.\n\nAttentively and long the King considered it, and then he asked,\n\u201cWhom thinkest thou, O Fergus, it might be who threw this pole\ninto the river-bed and slaughtered our two scouts? Was it Conall\nthe victorious, or Celtchar, or even Conor himself? Surely it was\nsome brave, well-seasoned man, some warrior of old renown, who did\na deed like this!\u201d \u201cI think,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cthat not one of these\nthree heroes would have come alone from Ulster, unattended by\ntheir bodyguard and troops.\u201d \u201cWhom, then, thinkest thou was here?\u201d\npersisted Ailill; \u201cwho could have done this deed?\u201d \u201cI think,\u201d said\nFergus, \u201cthat it was Cuchulain, Ulster\u2019s Hound.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nThe Deer of Ill-Luck\n\n\nWhen Meave heard that already the Hound of Ulster stood upon her\npath, the words spoken by the fairy Feidelm and the Druid came back\ninto her mind, and she resolved that not a moment would she linger\nby the way, but now at once, before the men of Ulster were risen\nfrom their weakness, she would push on direct to Emain Macha. \u201cIf\none man alone and single-handed be formidable to us,\u201d she said\nto Ailill, \u201cstill more formidable will he be with the gathered\nhosts of Ulster at his back, fighting for their country and their\nfatherland.\u201d\n\nSo that very night she gave command that the army should move on,\ntaking the direct way into Ulster; and when the men complained\nthere was no road, she bid her soldiers take their swords and hew\nfor the chariots a path straight through the forests. Haughtily she\ncried, \u201cThough mountains and high hills stood in my way, yet should\nthey be hewn down before me and smoothed to level lands. So by new\npaths mayhap we shall slip by Cuchulain unperceived, and fall on\nUlster sleeping; thus shall we take Cuchulain in the rear.\u201d\n\nBut whichever way the army turned, from that night forward\nCuchulain was on the path before it, and though the warriors could\nnot catch sight of him, at every point he cut off twos and threes,\nwhenever scouts were sent before the host. At length they could\nnot get the scouts to go, and whole bands went out together, but\neven so but few returned alive. And strange things happened, which\nalarmed the men, and Meave herself at last grew sore afraid. One\nevening, thinking that all was safe, Meave and her women walked\nto take the air, she carrying on her shoulders her pet bird and\nsquirrel. They talked together of the wonders that Cuchulain\nwrought, and how that very day he had fallen alone upon a troop of\nmen who cut a path through woods some miles away beyond the camp to\neastward, and how but one of them escaped to tell the tale. Just\nas they spoke, a short sharp sound was heard, as of a sling-stone\npassing near their heads, and at Meave\u2019s feet the squirrel dropped,\nstruck through the heart. Startled, she turned to see whose hand\nhad killed her pet, but as she turned, down from the other shoulder\ndropped the bird, slain also by a stone. \u201cCuchulain must be near,\u201d\nthe women cried; \u201cno other hand but his so surely and so straight\ncan sling a stone,\u201d and hastily they turned and sought the shelter\nof the camp again. Meave sat down beside the King to tell him what\nhad happened. \u201cIt could not be Cuchulain,\u201d said the King; \u201che was\nfar off on the other side of the host to-day.\u201d Even as the words\npassed from his lips, close to them whizzed a hand-sling stone,\ncarrying off the coronet or golden \u2018mind\u2019 that bound Meave\u2019s hair,\nbut hurting not so much as a lock upon her head. \u201cA bad stroke\nthat,\u201d laughed out the fool that gambolled round the King, joking\nto make him merry; \u201chad I been he who shot that stone, the head I\nwould have taken off and left the \u2018mind\u2019 behind.\u201d\n\nHardly were the words out of his foolish mouth, than a second\nstone, coming from the same direction as the first, in the full\nmiddle of his forehead struck the fool, and carried off his head,\nwhile at Meave\u2019s feet dropped down his pointed cap. Then Ailill\nstarted up and said, \u201cThat man will be the death of all our host,\nbefore we ever step on Ulster\u2019s soil. If any man henceforth makes\nmock at Cuchulain, \u2019tis I myself will make two halves of him. Let\nthe whole host press on by day and night towards the coasts of\nUlster, or not one of us will live to see the gates of Emain Macha.\u201d\n\nSo day and night the camp moved on, but not thus could they\noutstrip Cuchulain; march as they would, he still was there before\nthem. Yet, though they chased and sought him day and night, they\ncaught no sight of him; only he cut off their men.\n\nOne day a charioteer of Orlam, Ailill\u2019s son, was sent into a\nwood to cut down poles to mend the chariots broken by the way.\nIt happened that Cuchulain was in this wood, and he took the\ncharioteer to be a man of Ulster come out before their host to\nscout for them.\n\n\u201cThe youth is foolhardy who comes so near the army of Queen Meave,\u201d\nCuchulain thought; \u201cI will e\u2019en go and warn him of his danger.\u201d\n\nSo he went forwards, and said, \u201cAnd what, my lad, art thou doing\nhere?\u201d Not knowing who it was who spoke to him, the lad replied, \u201cI\nam come out to polish chariot-poles, because our chariots have been\nsorely damaged in our chase of that famous wild deer, Cuchulain;\nand indeed, good warrior, I am making all the haste I can, for\nfear this same Cuchulain may pounce down on me. Certainly he would\nmake short work of me; therefore, O Youth, if thou hast time, lend\nme a hand and help me with my task.\u201d \u201cWillingly,\u201d said Cuchulain,\n\u201cwill I help thee. Take thou thy choice; shall I cut down the\nholly-poles? or shall I smooth them for thee?\u201d \u201cTo trim them is the\nslowest work; therefore while I hew down the trees do thou smooth\noff the branches and the twigs.\u201d\n\nCuchulain set to work to trim the holly-poles, and quickly were\nthey done. Simply by drawing them between his fingers and his toes,\nhe finished them to perfect smoothness, and threw them down without\na twig or bit of bark or any rough excrescence on the ground.\nClosely and with surprise the young man watched this feat. At last\nhe said: \u201cI am inclined to think that thou art accustomed to some\nhigher work than cutting chariot-poles. Who art thou then at all?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am that notable Cuchulain of whom just now thou spakest,\u201d the\nhero said. \u201cArt thou indeed? then am I but a dead man,\u201d the youth\ncried, trembling as he spoke; \u201cno one escapes Cuchulain\u2019s hands\nalive.\u201d\n\n\u201cFear nothing,\u201d replied Cuchulain, \u201cfor I never slay a man unarmed\nor charioteer. Whose man art thou, and where is thy master to be\nfound?\u201d \u201cA servant I of Orlam, son of Meave, who awaits my coming\nnear at hand,\u201d replied the charioteer. \u201cTake him this message\nthen,\u201d Cuchulain said. \u201cTell him the Hound of Ulster is at hand,\nand bid him guard his head, for if we meet, his head will surely\nfall.\u201d\n\nThen the charioteer, right glad to get away, sought out his master\nwith all haste; but before he could reach him, Cuchulain had\noutstripped him, and struck off the head of Orlam, holding it aloft\nand shaking it before the men of Erin.\n\nFrom that time forward Cuchulain took up his position nearer to the\nhost, cutting off and destroying them, and at evening he would\nbrandish and shake his weapons before the army, so that men died of\npure fear of him.\n\n\u201cOur army will be destroyed before ever we reach Emain Macha,\u201d\nsaid Meave at length. \u201cIf I could but see this hero who troubles\nour armies, and speak to him myself, I would offer him terms; for\nif we could persuade him to forsake Ulster, and come over to our\nside, it would go hard with us, if all Ulster would not be subdued\nbefore us, and ourselves return from this expedition the greatest\nmonarch in Ireland.\u201d Calling Mac Roth, her herald, she said to him,\n\u201cPrepare your chariot, Mac Roth, and seek out for us this Deer of\nIll-luck who is pursuing our army and bringing misfortune upon us.\nOffer him terms to forsake the service of Conor and to enter our\nown service. Give him whatever terms he asks, and bid him come\nhimself to-morrow to confer with me, but not to cross the glen.\nWell should I like to see this mighty man, but I would not have him\ncome too near.\u201d\n\n\u201cI care not to go on this embassy,\u201d quoth Mac Roth; \u201cbesides, I\nknow not where to find Cuchulain.\u201d \u201cFergus will know,\u201d said Meave,\nfor she believed that Fergus was in league with his foster-son, and\nshe forgave him not that he loved Ulster still, in spite of all\nthat she had done for him; so she said, \u201cFergus will surely know.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cbut this I know, that after any feat of\nwar or combat with an enemy it is not by sleep or lazy loitering\nCuchulain rests himself, but by exercising in the open air and sun,\nletting the cool breezes blow upon his wearied body. Likely it is,\nthat somewhere \u2019twixt the mountains and the sea he will be found.\u201d\n\nMac Roth set off. Now all the land was covered with a mantle\nof fresh snow, and, true enough, Cuchulain warmed himself by\npractising javelin feats out on the mountain-side, in the full air\nand sun.\n\nHis charioteer looked forth and saw a man approach. \u201cA warrior\ncomes, O little Cu,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat sort of warrior is he who\ncomes?\u201d Cuchulain asked, but did not cease to fling his javelins\nin the air. \u201cA massive, goodly, dark-faced man, clad in an ample\nmantle of dark brown, that fastens at his throat with a delicate,\nrichly ornamented pin of bronze. Beneath the mantle a strong coat\nof skins, and sandals bound with leather thongs are on his feet. A\nsharp-edged sword he carries in one hand, and in the other holds\na hazel-switch, to keep in order two great noble hounds that play\naround his steps.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese are the trappings of a herald,\u201d said Cuchulain; \u201cno doubt he\ncomes from Meave and Ailill to propose terms to us.\u201d\n\nMac Roth came to the place where Laeg was awaiting him. \u201cWho is\nyour master, man?\u201d said he. \u201cMy master is the young man over there;\nI am his charioteer,\u201d replied Laeg. Mac Roth turned half round and\nsaw Cuchulain. \u201cAnd who may you serve, my young man?\u201d quoth he. \u201cI\nserve King Conor,\u201d said the hero. \u201cCannot you tell me something\nmore precise than that?\u201d inquired Mac Roth again. \u201cThat much will\nserve your turn,\u201d replied the youth. \u201cCan you then tell me where\nI could find this renowned Cuchulain, who is so frightening the\nmen of Erin now?\u201d pursued Mac Roth. \u201cWhat do you want to say to\nhim that cannot be said as well to me?\u201d \u201cI come in embassage from\nAilill and from Meave, with power to propose terms of truce, and\nwith an invitation from the Queen that Cuchulain should meet and\nconfer with her.\u201d \u201cWhat terms do you propose?\u201d he asked again.\n\u201cWith bounteous offers I am come from Meave, promise of wealth in\ncattle and in flocks, and welcome of an honoured guest to Cruachan\nand a place near Meave\u2019s own side; all this and more, if he will\nquit the petty chieftain Conor, and will enter her service, and if,\nmoreover, he will hold his hand from smiting down our hosts; for,\nin good sooth, the nightly thunder-feats he plays upon the warriors\nplease not the host at all.\u201d\n\nAnger came upon Cuchulain to hear King Conor styled a petty chief\nby this contemptuous messenger of Meave. \u201cGo back to those who sent\nyou,\u201d he replied, \u201cfor if in truth Cuchulain heard your terms, he\nwould reject and fling them back with scorn. To-morrow I engage\nthat the hero will confer with Meave herself, but only if she come\nunder the escort and the charge of Fergus.\u201d\n\nMac Roth returned with haste, and in the camp he sought out\nConnaught\u2019s Queen. Eagerly she asked, \u201cWell, did you find the\nchampion, Mac Roth?\u201d \u201cAll that I found was a terrible, angry,\nsurly fellow airing himself between the mountains and the sea;\nbut whether it were the formidable hero of whom men speak or no,\nindeed, I know not.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid he accept our terms?\u201d pursued the Queen. \u201cThe man I saw\nrejected them outright, flinging them back at us with angry scorn.\nOnly he promised that to-morrow, in the glen, Cuchulain would be\nfound to talk of terms, but that you needs must go in company with\nFergus.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow I myself will offer terms,\u201d said Meave, \u201cand he will not\nrefuse.\u201d So on the morrow Meave and Fergus sought the glen, the\nQueen keeping carefully to the far side of the valley, with the\nwooded dell between themselves and the place where she believed\nCuchulain would be found. Eagerly she scanned the glen on every\nside, expecting on the opposite ridge to see a mighty, ugly\nwarrior, fully armed, who waited for her coming. \u201cWhy comes he not,\nFergus?\u201d she said at last. But Fergus answered not, for he was\nstanding all engrossed in watching a young stripling, lithe and\nradiant, who on the other side the glen was practising sling-feats,\nshooting at the passing birds that flew above his head, and\nbringing them down alive.\n\n\u201cCuchulain is there before you,\u201d Fergus said. \u201cI see no one at all\nsave one young lad, who seems expert in feats,\u201d replied the Queen;\n\u201cI cannot see a warrior near or far.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat young lad it is who has done damage to your hosts, however,\u201d\nwas the reply. \u201cIs that boy, the young boy yonder, the famous\nhero of whom all men speak?\u201d Meave cried astonished. \u201cSmall need,\nmethinks, to be afraid of him, myself will speak to him and\noffer him my terms.\u201d Then in a high and haughty voice, as when a\nQueen speaks to an underling, Meave called across the valley to\nCuchulain. She set before him honourable terms if he would leave\nthe service of King Conor and enter hers. Promptly, without an\ninstant\u2019s thought, he set them all aside. Then as he seemed about\nto turn away to practise feats again, in despair the Queen called\nout, \u201cAre there no terms whatever that you will accept? it is\nnot pleasant to our people, nor likes it them at all, to be cut\noff and slaughtered night by night and harassed by your precious\nthunder-feats.\u201d\n\n\u201cI tell you not my terms,\u201d replied the youth; \u201cit is for you to\nfind them out yourself.\u201d\n\nAs Meave and Fergus drove back to the camp, the Queen asked Fergus\nif he knew the terms Cuchulain would accept.\n\n\u201cI do not know,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cbut just now there came into my\nmind a conversation that I had when Cuchulain was yet a child and\nin my house as foster-son. We spoke together of a champion who had\naccepted conditions of his country\u2019s foes, and I remember that\nCuchulain thought not well of him for doing so. He coloured up and\nsaid, \u2018If I were offered conditions by my country\u2019s enemies, these\nare the sort of terms I would accept. I would demand of them each\nday one of their foremost warriors to meet me at the ford in single\ncombat; and for the space of time while I am hewing down that man,\nI would permit them to march onwards with their host, and short\nwould be that space of time, I ween! But when the man was dead,\nuntil the sunrise on the morrow\u2019s morn, I would not have them move.\nThus I would keep them well in sight, and would pluck off their\nwarriors one by one. Also,\u2019 he said, and laughed, \u2018I would require\nmy enemies to keep me well supplied with food and raiment while I\nfought with them; so would there be much trouble saved, and with\ntheir food I would grow strong to fight against themselves. These\nare the terms that I would ask, O foster-father Fergus, of my\nfoes.\u2019 Those were his words, O Queen, when he was but a child; I\ntrow he will not be contented now with less.\u201d\n\nThen Meave said thoughtfully: \u201cIt seems not worse that one man\nshould be slain each day than that a hundred men should fall at\nnight, even were that one man a champion of our host. I think it\nbetter to accept his terms. Go back to him, O Fergus, and if he is\nagreed, say we accept and will abide by those conditions. So we may\nfind at length a little peace.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nEtarcomal\u2019s Well-deserved Fate\n\n\nSo Fergus turned his horses to go back where he had left Cuchulain.\nHe thought to go alone, attended only by his charioteer, but as\nhe drove along, the sound of wheels behind him made him turn, and\nclose to him he saw a youth who, sitting in his chariot, seemed to\nfollow hard behind, as though to catch him up. Fergus recognized\nthe rider as a rich young chief, brave but foolhardy, who was\nknown among the host as one who thought too highly of himself,\nconsidering he had little experience of war.\n\n\u201cWhither away, Etarcomal?\u201d said Fergus, for that was the youth\u2019s\nname. \u201cI wish to go with you,\u201d replied the lad; \u201cI hear that you\nare on your way to seek this wonderful Cuchulain, of whom all men\ntalk. I feel inclined myself to have a look at him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI give you sound advice,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cand best it were for you\nto heed my words. Turn round your chariot, and go home again.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy so?\u201d Etarcomal asked. \u201cBecause I know full well that if you,\nwith your light-minded insolence, come into contact with this great\nHound of War, in all his fierceness and his terrible strength,\ntrouble will befall. You will provoke him with your childishness,\nand ill will come, before I can prevent it. Go home again, I will\nnot have you come.\u201d \u201cIf we fell out, could you not rescue me?\u201d\nEtarcomal said. \u201cNo doubt I should endeavour to succour you; but if\nyou seek a quarrel, or with your foolish words provoke Cuchulain, I\nmake no promises; you must defend yourself, and take your chance.\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly I seek no quarrel with this valiant mighty chief; I will but\nlook upon his powerful form and note his face, and then return with\nyou.\u201d \u201cSo be it, then,\u201d said Fergus, \u201clet us on.\u201d\n\nAfar off, Laeg espied them as they came. He and his master sat\nbeneath the trees close on the borders of a little wood, playing a\ngame of chess; but none the less he kept a sharp lookout, watching\nwhere lay the distant camp of Meave. A single chariot approaches\nfrom the camp, and furiously it drives across the plain: \u201cI think\nhe comes to seek us, Cucuc,\u201d said the man. \u201cWhat sort is the rider\nin that chariot?\u201d questioned Cu. \u201cI know him well, and short the\ntime since he was here before. Like to the side of a massive\nmountain, standing sheer from out the plain, the chariot in which\nthat warrior rides. Mighty as the leafy branching crown of a kingly\ntree which grows before a chieftain\u2019s door, the bushy, loose,\ndark-ruddy locks upon that warrior\u2019s head. Around him is a mantle\nof a noble purple hue, with fringes of bright gold, clasped with\na pin of gleaming gold and set with sparkling stones. In his left\nhand he bears his bossy shield and in his right a polished spear,\nwith rings of metal bound from point to haft. Upon his thigh a\nsword so long and great, I took it for the rudder of a boat, or\nfor a rainbow arched across the skies. Far-travelled and a man of\nmight, meseems, the guest who cometh here.\u201d \u201cWelcome to me the\ncoming of this hero and old friend,\u201d Cuchulain cried, \u201cmy master\nFergus, who approaches us.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see behind a second smaller chariot, which seems to accompany\nthe massive chariot of Fergus. Spritely and full of life are the\ntwo prancing chariot-steeds, and young and bright the man who sits\nwithin.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis likely that some one of Erin\u2019s youthful chiefs has ventured\nout to have a look at me, under the guardianship of Fergus. I hear\nthey all are talking of me in the camp. Perhaps he wants to have a\nbout with me, good Laeg, but better were it that he stayed at home.\u201d\n\nUp dashed the steeds of Fergus\u2019 chariot, and in an instant he had\nsprung to earth and stood beside Cuchulain. \u201cWelcome, O Fergus,\nold familiar friend. Welcome, my foster-master and my guardian,\u201d\nCuchulain cried, and warmly he embraced him. \u201cUpon this lonely\nwatch that I am forced to keep all solitary and unaided day by\nday against the men of Erin, most welcome the dear face of an old\nfriend.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen thou art glad indeed?\u201d Fergus exclaimed, surprised.\n\n\u201cCertainly and indeed, I am right glad! Not much have I to offer in\nthis wild desert place, but all I have is fully at your service.\nWhen o\u2019er the plain a flock of wild-duck wings its way, one of them\nyou shall have, with, in good times, the full half of another; if\nfish come up the estuary, a whole one shall be yours, with all that\nappertains to it; a handful of fresh cress straight from the brook,\na spray of marshwort or of green sorrel shall be yours; \u2019tis all I\nhave to give. When you are thirsty, from the running stream that\ntrickles through the sand, you\u2019ll get a drink; and if, some fall of\nday, a hero calls you to come down and wage a single combat at the\nford, you shall take rest and sleep, while I will fight your enemy\nor keep watch.\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly I well believe it,\u201d Fergus said. \u201cToo well I know what\nstraits for food and drink have fallen on thee in this raid, and\nwell I know thy hospitable mind. But at this time we seek not food\nand drink, nor can we stay for combats or for rest; I come at\nAilill\u2019s and at Meave\u2019s command, to tell thee what we think are thy\nconditions, and that we will hold and keep to them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI too will keep the compact brought by Fergus\u2019 hand, and to the\nletter I will carry it out,\u201d the hero said; \u201conly abide awhile with\nme, and let us waste a little time in talk of olden days.\u201d\n\n\u201cI dare not stay to talk at this time, O beloved foster-son,\u201d\nFergus replied; \u201cthe men of Erin doubt me, and will think that I\nam proving traitor to their cause, and betraying them to thee;\nfor well they know I love thee, though, alas! at this time I am\nfighting with my country\u2019s foes and thine. One thing I ask of thee\nfor old affection\u2019s sake, because thou art my pupil and my friend,\nthat if at any moment in this war, thou and myself art found\nopposing each the other face to face, thou then wilt turn and flee\nbefore me, that upon my pupil and my foster-son I be not forced to\nredden my sword in fight. Promise me this.\u201d\n\n\u201cThough I be indeed thy pupil and thy foster-son,\u201d replied the\nyouth, \u201cyet loth am I to promise this; never have I turned my back\non any friend or foe, and to flee even before thee, O Fergus, likes\nme not. Ask me not this, but any other thing gladly and joyfully\nI grant to thee.\u201d \u201cNo need for thee to feel like this,\u201d Fergus\nreplied; \u201cno shame to thee is what I contemplate, but only that our\nancient love and friendship be not marred. Do in this thing but\nwhat I ask, and I in my turn, in the final battle of the Raid, when\nthou art wounded sore and drenched with blood, will turn and flee\nfrom thee. And surely if the men of Erin see Fergus in flight, they\ntoo will fly, and all the host of Meave will scatter and disperse,\nlike clouds before the sun.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn these terms willingly I give my word; for so will Ulster profit\nby my flight. Now fare thee well, good Fergus. Bid the host of\nMeave to send their strongest and their best to combat with me, one\nby one, and I will give a good account to Ulster of them, or will\ndie.\u201d Then a right loving leave they took each of the other, and\nFergus set out to return to the camp.\n\nBut the lad Etarcomal sat on still, looking at Cuchulain, and for\nthe first time the hero noticed him.\n\n\u201cWho are you, and what are you staring at, fellow?\u201d he asked. \u201cI\nlook at you,\u201d he said. \u201cYou can see me easily enough, I am not very\nbig. But if you knew it, little animals can be dangerous sometimes,\nand so can I. But now that you have had a good look at me, tell me\nwhat you think of me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not think much of you,\u201d Etarcomal said. \u201cYou seem to me a\nvery nice, wonderfully pretty youth and clever at playing sports\nand feats; but that anyone should think of you as a good warrior or\na brave man, or should call you the \u2018Hero of Valour\u2019 or the \u2018Hammer\nof Destruction,\u2019 that I cannot understand. I do not know, indeed,\nwhy anyone should be afraid of you. I am not afraid of you at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am aware,\u201d said Cuchulain, \u201cthat you came hither under the\nprotection of my master Fergus, and that he is surety for your safe\nreturn; but by the gods whom I adore, I swear that if it were not\nfor the honour of Fergus, only your broken bones and disjointed\nmembers should have been sent back to Meave after those insolent\nwords.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo need to threaten me,\u201d said Etarcomal; \u201cI was here when you\nmade an agreement with Fergus to fight every day one of the men of\nIreland. By that wonderful agreement that he made with you, none\nother of the men of Erin shall come to-morrow to meet you but only\nI myself. To-day I do not touch you, but let you live a little\nlonger.\u201d\n\n\u201cHowever early you may choose to come to the ford,\u201d said Cuchulain,\n\u201cyou will find me there before you. I promise you I will not run\naway.\u201d\n\nEtarcomal turned his chariot to drive back to the camp. But hardly\nhad he started when he exclaimed, \u201cDo you know, fellow, I have\npromised to fight the famous Cuchulain to-morrow at the dawn? Now,\ndo you think it best to wait till then, or to go back and fight him\nnow? I do not know that I can wait.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should say,\u201d replied the charioteer, \u201cthat if you mean to fight\nCuchulain at all, \u2019twere better to get it over while he is close\nat hand.\u201d \u201cTurn the chariot, and drive it left-handwise towards\nCuchulain, for by that sign we challenge him. I swear by all my\ngods, I never will go back until I take the head of this wild\nyouth, and stick it up on high before the host.\u201d\n\nLaeg saw the chariot returning over the plain. \u201cThe last\nchariot-rider who went from us is coming back again, Cucuc!\u201d said\nhe. \u201cWhat does he want?\u201d said Cu. \u201cHe is challenging us by driving\nwith the left side of the chariot towards us,\u201d answered Laeg.\n\n\u201cI do not want to fight the boy,\u201d Cuchulain said. \u201cShamed should I\nbe were I to slay a lad who came hither under the guardianship of\nFergus. Get me my sword out of its sheath, however, Laeg; I\u2019ll give\nhim a good fright and send him home.\u201d\n\nEtarcomal came up. \u201cWhat do you want now, fellow?\u201d cried Cuchulain,\nvexed. \u201cI am come back to fight you,\u201d said the lad. \u201cI will not\nfight you, now or any time,\u201d Cuchulain said. \u201cBy all the rules of\nwar you are obliged to fight, for I have challenged you.\u201d\n\nThen Cuchulain took his sword, and with one stroke he sliced away\nthe sod beneath Etarcomal\u2019s feet, laying him flat upon the ground,\nhis face turned upwards. \u201cNow go,\u201d Cuchulain said, \u201cI wash my hands\nof you. Had you not come under the care of my good master Fergus,\nI would have cut you into little bits a while ago. Beware, for I\nhave given you a warning.\u201d Slowly Etarcomal rose from the ground.\n\u201cI will not budge a step until I have your head,\u201d he said doggedly,\nthough in his heart he began to be afraid. Then Cuchulain played\non him another sword-feat; with one clean stroke he shore off all\nhis hair, from back to front, from ear to ear, till not a hair\nremained; but not a single drop of blood he drew or even scratched\nhis skin. \u201cNow off with you,\u201d he said a second time, \u201cyou look\nabsurd enough, I promise you. The men of Erin and the chiefs will\nlaugh when you go back, and cool your pride a bit.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not stir until I have your head; either you gain the\nvictory over me, and win renown, or I take off your head from you,\nand get the glory and the praise of it,\u201d he sullenly replied.\n\n\u201cWell, let it be as you desire, then, and I am he who takes your\nhead from you, and I shall win the glory and renown of which you\nmake so much.\u201d And at that word, with one stroke of his weapon\nCuchulain smote the boy, and cut him right in twain, so that he\nfell divided to the ground. Terrified, the charioteer turned round\nthe horse\u2019s head and fled back towards the camp. Close to the tents\nhe came on Fergus, who leisurely and thoughtfully drove home. He\nsaw the empty chariot passing him. \u201cWhere is your master, fellow?\u201d\nFergus cried. \u201cHas he not come with you?\u201d \u201cEven now he has been\ncut in twain by that fierce, powerful hero, at the ford,\u201d the man\ncried, looking scared; and, waiting not for any answer, he tore on\nto the camp.\n\n\u201cO come, my wild young fosterling,\u201d thought Fergus to himself,\n\u201cthis is too bad indeed, to slay a lad who came under my\nprotection. Turn back the chariot,\u201d said he aloud, \u201cwe go back to\nCuchulain at the ford.\u201d\n\nNo sooner had they come where Cuchulain stood brooding above the\nbody of Etarcomal, and wiping down his bloody sword, than Fergus\ncalled aloud, \u201cWhat came to you, you hasty sprite, you hot-headed\nyoung fury; could you not keep your hands from slaying even a lad\nwho came merely to look at you and under my protection? This act of\nyours I do not understand at all. It is not like the deed or custom\nof my foster-son.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe not so angry, O my friend and master,\u201d gently Cuchulain\nreplied; \u201call that I could I did to send him safely home. Ask\nhis own charioteer all that has taken place. He would not take a\nwarning, and in the end I must have stood and had my head chopped\noff without defence, or, as I did, taken his head from him. Would\nit have pleased you better had I let the lad take off my head from\nme?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, I should not have been pleased at all; the lad was\ninsolent and foolhardy, and right well deserved his ignominious\ndeath. Tie his feet to the chariot-tail, my charioteer, and I will\ntake him home.\u201d So to his own chariot Fergus tied the boy, and\ndragged him back to camp. Meave saw them come, and heard the people\nshouting as they passed, the bleeding body draggled in the dust.\n\n\u201cWhy, how is this?\u201d she cried. \u201cIs this, O Fergus of the mighty\ndeeds, the fashion in which you bring back the tender whelp who\nwent out from us but some hours ago, brilliant in life and gaiety\nand youth? the whelp we sent out safely, as we thought, in Fergus\u2019\nguardianship? Of wondrous value is the guardianship of Fergus; and\nsafe is he who trusts himself to it!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not well, O Queen, that whelps so brazen and untried as this\nshould face the Hound of War; let them remain henceforth in safety\nin their kennels, gnawing their bones. The lad Etarcomal was bold\nand insolent; full well he reaped the fate he brought upon himself!\u201d\n\nSadly, but with all honour, they buried Etarcomal, heaping his\ngrave, and rearing a stone above it with his name engraven\nthereupon in ogam lines. That night Cuchulain did not molest the\nmen of Erin because they were occupied with funeral rites; but\nprovisions and apparel were sent to him, according to the treaty\nmade between them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nThe Fight with Spits of Holly-Wood\n\n\nThenceforward day by day some warrior of the camp of Meave and\nAilill went forth to fight Cuchulain, and day by day they fell\nbefore him. But at first, because he was young, the prime warriors\nof Connaught despised him, and refused to fight with him, and Meave\noffered them great gifts and made large promises to persuade them\nto contend with him. Among the chiefs was a rough burly man and a\ngood fighter, whose name was Nacrantal, whom Meave used all her\narts to force to challenge Cuchulain. And in the end, when she had\npromised him large gifts of land and even Finnabar, her daughter,\nto be his wife, he was induced to go. But even so he went not out\nas though to fight an equal. No arms or armour would he take, but\nfor his sole protection nine spits of holly-wood, sharp at the\npoints and hardened in the fire.\n\nWith these small weapons in his hand, one morning early he set\nforth to seek Cuchulain. He found the hero busied in pursuing\nwild-fowl that were flying overhead; for from the birds of the air\nand fish of the streams, and from the berries of the hedge and\ncresses of the brook, long had he been obliged to get his daily\nmeal. And even now, although at times Meave kept her word and sent\nprovision over to her foe, yet often she forgot or failed to keep\nher promise, so angry was she when from day to day her strong men\nwere cut down before his sword.\n\nHe spied Nacrantal advancing thus unarmed, and, all as though he\nhad not seen him come, he went on with the stalking of the birds.\n\nCloser the warrior drew and with good aim he flung his spits of\nwood to pierce Cuchulain. But still the youth, not stopping for a\nmoment in his task, leaped lightly over each spit as it fell, so\nthat they struck the ground quite harmlessly, not one of them so\nmuch as touching him. The nine spits thrown, Nacrantal turned away\nand sought the camp. \u201cNot much I think of this renowned Cuchulain\nof whom men talk so big; hardly had he perceived me coming up, than\noff he ran as fast as he could go!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe thought as much,\u201d said Meave; \u201cright well we knew that if a\nwarrior brave and fully trained were sent against him, soon would\nthis beardless braggart take to his heels.\u201d\n\nWhen Fergus heard these boasts of Meave, he grew ashamed; for\nstrange, indeed, it seemed to him to hear it said that his young\nfoster-son would flee from any single man, however bold or stout\nthat man might be. Straightway he called for one of the princes of\nUlster who was in Meave\u2019s camp, and sent him to Cuchulain. This was\nthe message that he bore. \u201cFergus would have Cuchulain understand,\nthat though when standing before warriors he once had done great\ndeeds, better it were that he should hide himself in some secret\nplace where none could find him or hear of him more, than that he\nshould run away from any single man, whoever that man might be.\nSay to Cuchulain that not greater is the shame that falls upon\nhimself, than Ulster\u2019s shame and ignominy and disgrace, because he\nstands to watch the border-land in Ulster\u2019s stead.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho said I ran away?\u201d Cuchulain said, surprised, when the message\nwas delivered to him. \u201cWho dared to brag and tell such tales of me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNacrantal told this story in the camp, and all the warriors boast\namong themselves that at the very sight of a trained warrior you\nwere afraid and quickly put to flight.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you and Fergus heed a boast like that?\u201d replied the youth. \u201cDo\nyou and Fergus not yet understand that I, Cuchulain, fight no men\nunarmed, or messengers, or charioteers, but only men-at-arms, fully\nequipped? That man came out against me all unarmed; no weapons\nin his hand but bits of wood, with which he played some childish\ngames, throwing them in the air. Let but Nacrantal come to-morrow\nmorn and fight me like a warrior at the ford, with all his weapons,\nman-like, in his hand; he then shall take his answer back from me.\nAnd tell him, that if he comes before the day dawn, or long after\nit, he will find Cuchulain waiting there for him.\u201d\n\nLong and tedious seemed that night to Nacrantal, for eagerly he\nwatched the coming of the hour when he should meet Cuchulain at\nthe ford, and make an end of him. Early he rose, and bade his\ncharioteer to bring his heavy weapons in a cart, while he went\nforwards to the meeting-place. There at the ford he saw Cuchulain\nstand, awaiting his coming, as he had promised.\n\n\u201cAre you Cuchulain?\u201d said Nacrantal, for now he stood much closer\nto him and observed his youthfulness.\n\n\u201cWhat if I were?\u201d said he. \u201cIf you are Cuchulain, indeed, I am come\nhere to tell you that I will not fight with any beardless boy;\nnot in the least inclined am I to carry back to camp the head of a\nlittle playful lamb!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not the man you seek at all,\u201d Cuchulain cried; \u201cgo round the\nhill and you will find him there.\u201d\n\nNow while Nacrantal made his way to the other side of the hill,\nCuchulain came to Laeg, his charioteer. \u201cSmear me a false beard\nwith blackberry juice,\u201d he said. \u201cNo warrior of fame will fight\nwith me, because I have no beard.\u201d Laeg took the juice of\nblackberries, and sheep\u2019s wool, and with it made a long two-pointed\nbeard, such as prime warriors wore, and twined the ends and caught\nthem in his belt, dyeing it black with juice. Then on the hero came\nanger and his battle-fury, such as came on him when a combat lay\nbefore him with a good warrior, or when he alone should fight a\nhost.\n\nA subtle change came over all his face. The radiant youthfulness\npassed away, and all the boyishness Nacrantal had seen a while ago,\nand in its place a stern ferocious look, as of a prime warrior\nwaiting for his foe. His stature seemed to grow, his form to\nenlarge, and terrible in its strength and fierceness was his aspect\nas he donned his fighting-gear. He grasped his weapons in his hand,\nand with great strides he hastened round the hill.\n\nSo great his wrath and eagerness for combat, that as he passed a\nstanding pillar-stone no smaller than himself, in flinging his\nmantle round him as he went he caught the stone up in his mantle\u2019s\nfolds and carried it along with him, but never was he conscious of\nits weight, or even knew he carried it.\n\nNow in this guise Nacrantal knew him not. \u201cWhere is Cuchulain?\u201d\ninquired he of the men who came with him. \u201cThe lad said that we\nshould find him round the hill.\u201d\n\n\u201cCuchulain stands before you yonder,\u201d said the Ulstermen who had\ncome out to watch the fight.\n\n\u201cIt was not thus that he appeared before me yesterday,\u201d Nacrantal\nsaid. \u201cCuchulain seemed a stripling, and his beard not grown, but\nthis prime warrior hath a mighty beard.\u201d\n\n\u201cNevertheless, I counsel you, defend yourself from this prime\nwarrior,\u201d Fergus replied; \u201cthat will be much the same to you as\nthough you did contend with Cuchulain himself.\u201d\n\nThen Nacrantal made a furious onset at Cuchulain with his sword,\nbut it struck on the pillar-stone that he carried beneath his\ncloak, and broke off short, close to his hand. Before he could\nrecover from the thrust, Cuchulain sprang upon him, and lifting\nhis sword on high with both hands, he brought it down on his\nadversary\u2019s head, and there on his own shield he fell dead, smitten\nwith one blow. \u201cAlas!\u201d said Nacrantal as he fell, \u201cthey said true\nwho said that you were the best warrior in all Ireland.\u201d\n\nFrom that time forward, it was not easy for Meave to get her men of\nwar to enter into combat with Cuchulain; for each one of them said,\n\u201cNot I; I will not go, why should my clan furnish a man to go out\nto certain death?\u201d So Meave was forced to promise great rewards and\npossessions to her warriors before she could induce them to take\narms against Cuchulain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nThe Combat with Ferdia\n\n\nNow among the hosts of Meave was Ferdia, son of Daman, Cuchulain\u2019s\ncompanion and friend when together they learned warlike feats in\nShadow-land.\n\nAll the while that Cuchulain fought with the chiefs of Connaught,\nFerdia remained aloof, keeping within his tent, far from the tent\nof Ailill and of Meave, whose ways and cunning plans he liked\nnot. For though against the men of Ulster in general he would\nhave aided them, he would not take part in single combat against\nhis friend and fellow-pupil. For he thought on his love for his\nold comrade, and the days of youth that they had spent together,\nand the conflicts and dangers that side by side they twain had\nfaced; and day by day he sent his messengers to watch the fighting\nand to bring him word, for he feared lest harm should come to\nCuchulain, fighting alone and single-handed against all the mighty\nmen of Meave. Each evening came his watchers back, bringing him\ntidings, and greatly he rejoiced because he heard of the prowess of\nCuchulain and of destruction inflicted on the hosts of Meave.\n\nBut one day, when the fighting had been going on for weeks, and\nmany of her best men and fighting warriors had been plucked off,\nMeave thought of Ferdia; and at the council-meeting of that night,\nwhen the chief men and counsellors met to settle who should go on\nthe morrow to fight Cuchulain, she said, \u201cWho should go, if not\nFerdia, son of Daman, the warrior whose valour and feats are as\nthe valour and feats of Cuchulain himself? For in the one school\nwere they trained, and equal they are in every way, in courage and\nthe knowledge of weapons and in skill in feats of strength. Well\nmatched these two would be, if they were to fight together.\u201d And\nall the men of war said, \u201cIt is a good thought; Ferdia shall go.\u201d\n\nSo messengers were sent to Ferdia to bring him to Meave, for she\nsaid she would see him herself, to persuade him with her own mouth\nto go against his comrade. But when the heralds came to the tent of\nFerdia, he knew well enough for what purpose they had come, and he\nrefused to see them, neither would he go with them to Meave.\n\nWhen Meave heard that, she sent again, but her messengers this time\nwere not men of war and heralds, but satirists, to abuse him and\nto warn him that he should die a shameful death, and that disgrace\nshould fall upon him before all the host, if he obeyed not the\nQueen\u2019s commands. And they gave their message to Ferdia, and told\nhim that his warrior fame would pass away from him, and that he\nwould be spoken of by his comrades with ignominy and disgrace if he\ndid not come.\n\nWhen Ferdia heard that they would spread evil tales about him, and\ndisgrace him before the host of his own fellow-warriors, he said,\n\u201cIf I must die, it were better to die in fair and open fight, even\nwith a friend, than to die disgraced, skulking as a coward before\nmy fellow-men and comrades.\u201d\n\nSo he went with the messengers, and when he came to the Queen\u2019s\ntent, all who were in the tent, both great lords and nobles,\nrose up to receive Ferdia, and he was conducted with honour and\nreverence to the presence of the Queen. Then the Queen greeted him\nand rose up and placed him at her right hand, and spoke kindly\nto him. And a great feast was made, and that night Ferdia was\nentertained with right great dignity, and food and pleasant liquors\nwere served out of the best, so that he became merry and disposed\nto do all that Meave demanded. Then, when he was forgetful of all\nbut the company in which he was, Meave set before his mind the\nprincely gifts that she would bestow upon him if he would free her\nfrom her enemy Cuchulain, the destroyer of her host. These were the\ngreat rewards she offered him; a noble chariot with steeds such as\nbefitted a king, and a train of twelve men-at-arms, fully equipped,\nto accompany him, as princes and great chiefs are accompanied,\nwherever he moved. Moreover, she promised him lands broad and\nfertile on the plains of Connaught, free of tribute or rent for\never, and that he should be her own son-in-law and next the throne,\nfor she said that she would give him her daughter Finnabar to wife.\nNow Finnabar sat next to Ferdia at his left hand, and she was fair\nto look upon, with ruddy cheeks and hair of gold, and the garments\nof a princess flowing round her; and Ferdia was dazzled with her\nbeauty, and with the lavish offers made by Meave, until he was\nready to promise anything in life she wished. And when, the banquet\nover, young Finnabar arose and filled a cup brim full with mead,\nand kissed the cup and handed it to him, he knew not what to say.\nFor still the memory of his youth in Shadow-land, Cuchulain\u2019s love\nto him and his love to Cuchulain came over him again, and more\nthan half he loathed what he had done. So looking now behind and\nnow before, and loitering in his mind, he said aloud, \u201cRather, O\nMeave, than do the thing you ask, and ply my warrior-hand upon my\nfriend, I would pick out six champions of your host, the best and\nbravest among all your men, and fight with them. With each alone or\nall together willingly would I contend.\u201d\n\nThen from her queenly robe Meave plucked her brooch, more precious\nto her than any gift, for all the kings and queens of Connaught\nhad worn that splendid brooch, the sign and symbol of their\nsovereignty; she stooped, and with her own royal hands, she placed\nthe glittering jewelled pin in Ferdia\u2019s mantle.\n\n\u201cSee, warrior,\u201d she said, \u201cI have bestowed on you the princely\ndignity, so that you now will rank beside the King; and as for\nthose six chosen champions you have named, I give them to you as\nyour sureties that these our promises will be fulfilled; go now\nand fight Cuchulain.\u201d At that Ferdia looked up, and caught the\nglance of Finnabar most sweetly smiling down into his face, and\nclose beside her the queen bending over him, and Erin\u2019s chiefs and\nwarriors standing round; and all his mind was lifted up within his\nbreast, and he forgot Cuchulain and their ancient love, and said:\n\u201cThough in this fight I fall, O Queen, I go to meet the Hound.\u201d\n\nFergus was standing at the king\u2019s right hand, and when he overheard\nthose words that Ferdia spoke, fear for his foster-son rose in his\nheart. For well he knew the might of Ferdia\u2019s arms, and that he was\nof all the chiefs of Meave the bravest and the best, and well he\nknew that all the feats that Sc\u00e1th had taught to Cuchulain, save\nonly the \u201cGae Bolga\u201d or Body Spear, she taught to Ferdia likewise.\nFerdia besides was older than Cuchulain, and riper in experience\nof war, well-built and powerful. So when he heard those words,\nFergus went out in haste, and though the night was late he sprang\ninto his chariot, and set forth to find Cuchulain.\n\n\u201cI am rejoiced at thy coming, my good friend Fergus,\u201d said\nCuchulain, as the chariot drew up beside him; \u201ctoo seldom is it\nthat on this Raid of Cooley we twain meet face to face.\u201d\n\n\u201cGladly I accept thy welcome, O foster-son and pupil,\u201d Fergus said.\n\u201cI come to tell thee who it is that on the morrow has bound himself\nto meet thee at the ford, and urge thee to beware of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am attentive,\u201d Cuchulain answered. \u201cWho is the man who comes?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis thine own friend, thy comrade and fellow-pupil, the great and\nvaliant champion of the west, Ferdia, son of Daman, called of all\nmen the \u2018Horn-Skin,\u2019 so tough and strong for fight is he, so hard\nto pierce or wound with sword or spear. Beware of him, it may be\neven the Gae Bolga will not avail to harm the flesh of Ferdia.\u201d\n\n\u201cUpon my word and truly,\u201d cried Cuchulain, \u201cthis is ill news you\nbring; never should I have thought my friend would challenge me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe thought as much,\u201d Fergus replied; \u201cwe all avowed thou wouldst\nnot relish the coming of Ferdia; for of all warriors that have\nhitherto come to the combat at the ford, he is most formidable and\nbest prepared. Be wary, therefore, rest well this night, and try\nand prove thine arms; come to the combat fresh and amply armed.\u201d\n\n\u201cUtterly dost thou mistake my meaning, Fergus, my friend; not from\nany fear of him, but from the greatness of my love for him, I hold\nhis challenge strange and unwelcome. For this cause only I regret\nhis coming.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet and in truth,\u201d Fergus replied, \u201cno shame to thee or any man to\nbe afraid of Ferdia, for in his arms is strength as of a hundred\nmen; swords wound him not, spears pierce him not, and tried and\nmettlesome his heart and arms.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow this, O Fergus, deem I strange indeed, that thou of all\nmen shouldst warn me to be careful before any single warrior in\nIreland; well it is that it was thee, O Fergus, and not another\nman, who brought me such a warning. From the beginning of winter\ntill the coming of spring have I stood here alone, fighting each\nday a hardy warrior, and never have I turned back before the best\nfighting man whom Meave has sent against me, nor shall I turn back\nbefore Ferdia, O Fergus. For as the rush bows down before the\ntorrent in the midst of the stream, so will Ferdia bow down under\nmy sword, if once he shows himself here in combat with the Hound of\nUlster.\u201d\n\nThat night there was no cheerfulness nor gaiety nor quiet pleasure\nin the tent of Ferdia, as there was wont to be on other nights; for\nhe had made known what Meave had said to him and the command laid\nupon him to go on the morrow to combat with Cuchulain; and though\nFerdia was merry and triumphant on his return, because of the gifts\nof the queen and the affection of Finnabar, and all the flattery\nthat had been skilfully put upon him, it was not so with the men\nthat were of his own household, for they understood that wherever\nthose two champions of battle, those two slayers of a hundred\nshould meet together, one of the two must fall, or both must fall:\nand well they knew that if one only should fall there, it would\nnot be Cuchulain who would give way, for it was not easy to combat\nwith Cuchulain on the Raid of the Kine of Cooley.\n\nAs for Ferdia, through the first part of the night, he slept\nheavily, being overcome with the liquor he had taken, and the\nfatigues of the day; but towards the middle of the night, he awoke\nfrom his slumber, and remembered the combat on the morrow, and\nanxiety and heavy care began to weigh him down; fear of Cuchulain\non the one hand, and sorrow that he had promised to do combat with\nhis friend, and fear of losing Finnabar and Meave\u2019s great promises\non the other; and he tossed about, and could sleep no longer. So he\narose and called his charioteer, and said, \u201cYoke me my horses, and\ncome with me; I shall sleep better at the ford.\u201d But his charioteer\nbegan to dissuade him, \u201cIt would be better for you not to go,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201ctrouble will come of this meeting. It is not a small\nthing for any warrior in the world to do combat against the Bulwark\nof Ulster, even against Cuchulain.\u201d \u201cBe silent, my servant,\u201d he\nsaid; \u201cthough the ravens of carnage croak over the ford, ready to\ntear my flesh, it is not the part of a valiant man to turn back\nfrom his challenge; away with us to the ford before the break of\ndawn.\u201d So the horses were harnessed and the chariot yoked, and\nthey dashed onwards to the ford. \u201cTake the cushions and skins out\nof the chariot, good my lad,\u201d said Ferdia, \u201cand spread them under\nme upon the bank that I may take deep repose and refreshing sleep\nupon them; little sleep I got this night, on account of the anxiety\nof the combat that is before me on the morn.\u201d So the servant\nunharnessed the horses, and spread the skins and chariot-cushions\nunder Ferdia, and yet he could not sleep.\n\n\u201cLook out, lad, and see that Cuchulain is not coming,\u201d he said. \u201cHe\nis not, I am sure,\u201d said the lad. \u201cBut look again for certain,\u201d\nsaid the warrior. \u201cCuchulain is not such a little speck that we\nshould not see him if he were there,\u201d replied the lad. \u201cYou are\nright, O boy; Cuchulain has heard that a prime warrior is coming\nto meet him to-day, and he has thought well to keep away on that\naccount.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should not say bad things about Cuchulain in his absence,\u201d\nsaid the lad. \u201cDo you not remember how, when you were fighting in\nEastern lands, your sword was wrenched from you, and you would\nhave perished by the hands of your enemies, but that Cuchulain\nrushed forward to recover it, and he slew a hundred warriors on\nhis path before he got your sword and brought it back to you? Do\nyou remember where we were that night?\u201d \u201cI have forgotten,\u201d Ferdia\nsaid. \u201cWe were in the house of Sc\u00e1th\u2019s steward,\u201d said the boy; \u201cand\ndo you not remember how the ugly churl of a cook hit you in the\nback with a three-pronged meat-spit, and sent you out over the door\nlike a shot? And do you not recollect, how Cuchulain came into the\nhouse and gave the rascal a blow with his sword, and chopped him in\ntwo to avenge you? If it were only on that account, you should not\nsay that you are a better warrior than Cuchulain.\u201d \u201cWhy did you not\nremind me of all these things before we came here?\u201d said Ferdia; \u201cI\ndoubt whether I should have come if I had remembered all this at\nfirst. Pull up the cushions under my head, or I shall never get to\nsleep. Will you be sure to keep a sharp look-out?\u201d \u201cI will watch so\nwell, that unless men drop out of the clouds to fight with you, no\none shall escape me,\u201d said the boy; \u201cand I will sing you to sleep\nwith a lullaby.\u201d Then as Ferdia sank into repose and refreshing\nslumber, he began to croon this ancient song which Grainne sang\nover Dermot, when he was hiding from Finn in the forests of the\nwest.\n\n \u201cSleep a little, a little little, thou need\u2019st feel no fear or dread,\n Youth to whom my love is given, I am watching near thy head.\n\n Sleep a little, with my blessing, Dermot of the lightsome eye,\n I will guard thee as thou dreamest, none shall harm while I am by.\n\n Sleep, O little lamb, whose home-land was the country of the lakes,\n In whose womb the torrents rumble, from whose sides the river breaks.\n\n Sleep as slept the ancient Poet, Dedach, minstrel of the South,\n When he snatched from Conall Cernach, Eithne of the laughing mouth.\n\n Sleep as slept the comely Finncha \u2018neath the falls of Assaroe,\n Who, when stately Slaine sought him, laid the Hard-head Failbe low.\n\n Sleep in joy, as slept fair Aine, Gailan\u2019s daughter of the West,\n Where, amid the flaming torches, she and Duvac found their rest.\n\n Sleep as Dega, who in triumph, \u2018ere the sun sank o\u2019er the land,\n Stole the maiden he had craved for, plucked her from fierce Decell\u2019s\n hand.\n\n Fold of Valour, sleep a little, Glory of the Western World,\n I am wondering at thy beauty, marvelling how thy locks are curled.\n\n Like the parting of two children, bred together in one home,\n Like the breaking of two spirits, if I did not see you come.\n\n Swirl the leaves before the tempest, moans the night-wind o\u2019er the\n lea,\n Down its stoney bed the streamlet hurries onward to the sea.\n\n In the swaying boughs the linnet twitters in the darkling light,\n On the upland wastes of heather wings the grouse its heavy flight.\n\n In the marshland by the river sulks the otter in its den,\n And the piping of the peeweet sounds across the distant fen.\n\n On the stormy mere the wild-duck pushes outward from the brake,\n With her downy brood around her seeks the centre of the lake.\n\n In the east the restless roe-deer bellows to its frightened hind,\n On thy track the wolf-hounds gather, sniffing up against the wind.\n\n Yet, O Dermot, sleep a little, this one night our fear hath fled,\n Lad to whom my love is given, see, I watch beside thy bed.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nThe Fall of Ferdia\n\n\nOn that night before the conflict, Cuchulain also was preparing\nhimself for what lay before him on the morrow. No sooner had Fergus\nleft him, than Laeg his charioteer came to him, and said, \u201cHow,\nmy master, will you spend this night?\u201d \u201cI had not thought,\u201d said\nCuchulain, \u201cof spending it in any other way than other nights. What\nwould you have me do?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am thinking,\u201d said the charioteer, \u201cthat Ferdia will not come\nalone to the ford to-morrow, but that in such a fight as this,\nthe chief warriors and nobles of Ireland will be present to see\nthe combat. And sure am I that Ferdia will come to the combat\nwashed and bathed, with his hair fresh cut and plaited, in all the\nmagnificence of a battle-champion; but you are fatigued and worn\nafter these combats, unwashed and uncombed, for it has not been\npossible to adorn yourself in these times of strife and lonely\nliving. Glad should I be, therefore, if you would return to your\nwife, to Emer of the beautiful hair, where she is awaiting you at\nSlieve Fuad, and there adorn yourself, so that you may not appear\ndishevelled and distressed before the men of Erin.\u201d So that night\nCuchulain went home to Emer, and gentle and loving was she to him\nafter their separation from each other; and very early in the\nmorning he returned refreshed and comforted to the place where he\nhad been encamped. \u201cHarness our horses for us now, O Laeg, and yoke\nour war-chariot, for an early-rising champion was Ferdia in the old\ntime. If he is waiting for us at the ford, maybe he is thinking the\nmorning long.\u201d\n\nSo the chariot was yoked and Cuchulain sprang into it, and with the\nspeed of a swallow, or of a wild deer flying before the hounds,\nhe set forth to the place of conflict. And round the head of the\nHigh Rock and Bulwark of Ulster, even Cuchulain, there gathered\nthe Fairy People of the Glens and the Wild Wizard Folk of the\nair and mists, and the demon sprites of war and battle, shouting\nand screaming before the impending conflict; they hovered over\nhim and around him, as it was their wont to do when he went to\nmortal combat, and the air was filled with their noises and hoarse\nwailings, rejoicing in the slaughter.\n\nSoon, indeed, the charioteer of Ferdia heard the uproar, and he\narose and began to awaken his master, chanting a song in praise of\nCuchulain, and calling on Ferdia to arise and meet him. Then Ferdia\nsprang up.\n\n\u201cHow looks Cuchulain this morning?\u201d he cried. \u201cSurely weak and\nfaint he comes to the ford, after a whole winter passed in\ncombating the men of Erin.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot with signs of weakness or of faintness advances the warrior\ntowards us,\u201d the charioteer replied, \u201cbut with clangour of arms and\nclatter of wheels and the trampling of horses equal to a king\u2019s,\nthis warrior draweth nigh. The clanking of the missile-shields I\nhear, and the hiss of spears, the roll of the chariot with the\nbeautiful silver yoke. Heroic the champion who urges on the steeds,\na noble hawk of battle, a martial hero, a Hound of Combat. A\nyear agone I knew that he would come, the stay of Emain, Ulster\u2019s\nwatchful Hound. Over Bray Rossa I perceive him come, skirting the\nhamlet of the Ancient Tree, along the broad highway; the Hound, the\nHound of Ulster in his might.\u201d\n\n\u201cO come, fellow, have done with this belauding of our enemy;\nmethinks a bribe has passed from him to you, to bid you sing his\npraises. He has slept sound, no doubt, for he is late. I tire of\nwaiting here to kill him. Let us get ready now at once to meet him.\u201d\n\nThen Cuchulain drew up on the borders of the ford. And on his way\nhe had appealed to his charioteer, instructing him that should he\ngrow weak in the fight, or seem to be giving way before Ferdia,\nhe was to taunt him with cowardice, and fling reproaches and bad\nnames at him, so that his anger would arise and he would fight more\nvaliantly than before; but if he were doing well, his charioteer\nwas to stand upon the brink and praise him, to keep his spirits up.\nAnd Laeg laughed and said, \u201cIs it on this wise that I must taunt\nthee? \u2018Arise, Cuchulain, a yearling babe would fight better than\nthou; that man Ferdia overthrows thee as easily as a cat waves her\ntail; like foam dancing on the water, he blows thee along; he pulls\nthee about as a mother might play with her little boy!\u2019 How will\nthat do?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will do very well,\u201d said Cuchulain, laughing also; \u201csurely\nI shall fight better after that.\u201d And with that they came to the\nford, and Cuchulain drew up upon the north side, and Ferdia on the\nsouth side of the stream.\n\n\u201cWhat has brought thee hither, O Cua?\u201d said Ferdia. Now Cua means\n\u201csquint-eyed,\u201d and Ferdia called him by this scoffing name, because\nhe wished to appear bold and unconcerned, though in his heart he\nfeared and was ashamed; yet he liked not to show his fear. \u201cWelcome\nthy coming, O squint-eyed one.\u201d\n\nBut Cuchulain answered seriously, \u201cUp to to-day, O Ferdia, no\ngreeting would have been more welcome than greeting of thine, for I\nshould have esteemed it the welcome of a friend. To-day, however,\nI do not count it such. And indeed, Ferdia, more fitting would\nit have been that I should offer welcome to thee, than that thou\nshouldst offer it to me, seeing that it is thou who hast intruded\ninto my province and not I into thine. It was for me to challenge\nthee to fight, and not for thee to challenge me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat induced thee to come to this combat at all, O Cuchulain,\u201d\nreplied Ferdia, \u201cas though thou wert mine equal? Dost thou not\nremember, that in the old days when we were with Sc\u00e1th, thou wast\nin attendance on me as my pupil, and thy place it was to tie up my\njavelins for me, and to make my couch?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat indeed is true,\u201d Cuchulain answered gravely; \u201cfor I was in\nthose years thy junior in age and standing, in feats and in renown.\nI did then but my duty. But to-day it is no longer so; there is\nnot now in the world any champion to whom I am not equal, or whom\nI would refuse to fight. O Ferdia, my friend, it was not well for\nthee that thou didst listen to the enticements of Ailill and of\nMeave, urging thee to come out and fight with me. When we were\nwith Sc\u00e1th it was side by side that we went to every battle and\nevery battle-field, to conflicts and to feats of war. Together we\nwandered through strange unknown lands, together we encountered\ndangers and difficulty; in all things we stood side by side, aiding\nand supporting one another.\n\n \u201cWe were heart\u2019s companions\n Comrades in assemblies,\n Brothers, who together\n Slept the dreamless sleep.\n In all paths of peril,\n In all days of danger,\n Each of us, as brothers,\n Would his brother keep.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Cuchulain of the beautiful feats,\u201d Ferdia replied, \u201cthough\ntogether we have learned the secrets of knowledge, and though I\nhave listened now to thy recital of our bonds of fellowship, it is\nfrom me that thy first wounds shall come; think not upon our old\ncomradeship, O Hound, for it shall not profit thee; O Hound, it\nshall not profit thee. We lose our time in this wise; let us choose\nour weapons and begin. What arms shall we use to-day, O Cuchulain?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is thine to choose our arms to-day, for it was thou who first\ndidst reach the ford.\u201d\n\n\u201cDost thou remember,\u201d said Ferdia, \u201cthe missile weapons we used to\npractise with Sc\u00e1th?\u201d \u201cFull well I remember them,\u201d said Cuchulain.\n\n\u201cIf thou dost remember them, let us have recourse to them now,\u201d\nsaid Ferdia.\n\nSo they took in their hands their two great protecting shields,\nengraved with emblematic devices, to cover their bodies, and their\neight small sharp-edged shields to throw horizontally, and their\neight light javelins, and their eight dirks with ivory handles, and\ntheir eight little darts for the fight. Backward and forward flew\nthe weapons between them like bees on the wing on a sunny day. From\nthe dim light of early dawn until midday they continued to throw\nthose weapons, yet although their aim was so good that not one of\nthem missed its mark, so skilful also was the defence, that not\na drop of blood was drawn on either side; all the missiles being\ncaught full on their protecting shields.\n\n\u201cLet us drop these feats now, O Cuchulain,\u201d said his adversary,\n\u201cfor it is not by them that our contest will be decided.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us drop them, indeed, if the time be come.\u201d Then they ceased\nfrom casting, and threw their weapons into the hands of their\ncharioteers.\n\n\u201cWhat weapons shall we resort to next, O Cuchulain?\u201d said Ferdia.\n\n\u201cWith thee is the choice of weapons to-day,\u201d said Cuchulain again.\n\n\u201cLet us then take our straight, polished, hardened spears,\u201d said\nFerdia, \u201cwith their flaxen strings to cast them with.\u201d So they\ntook their great protecting shields in their hands, and their\nwell-trimmed spears, and they continued to shoot and harass each\nother from the full middle of the day till eventide. And although\nthe defence was not less careful than before, yet was the casting\nso good, that each of them drew blood and inflicted wounds upon the\nother that afternoon.\n\n\u201cLet us now stop casting for the present, O Cuchulain,\u201d said his\nadversary. \u201cLet us stop, indeed, for the evening has come.\u201d\n\nThey ceased, and threw their weapons into their charioteers\u2019 hands,\nand they ran towards each other, and each put his hands round his\ncomrade\u2019s neck, and they gave three loving kisses of old-time\nfriendship to each other before they separated for the night. That\nnight their horses were stabled in the same paddock, and their\ncharioteers lay beside the same fire; and for the two combatants\ntheir charioteers spread beds of green rushes, with pillows such\nas are needed for wounded men. And the wise physicians and men of\nhealing came to heal and tend them, and they applied salves made\nfrom plants, such as wise men know, to their hurts and gashes, and\nsoothing herbs to their wounds; and of every herb and soothing\nsalve that was applied to the wounds of Cuchulain, he sent an equal\nportion over the ford to Ferdia, so that no man among the host of\nMeave should be able to say, if Ferdia fell by him, that it was\nbecause Cuchulain had better means of healing than he. Also of\nevery kind of food and of pleasant delicious drink that the men\nof Erin sent to Ferdia, he would send a fair half over the ford\nnorthward to Cuchulain, because Cuchulain had few to attend to his\nwants, whereas all the people of Meave\u2019s host were ready to help\nFerdia.\n\nSo for that night they rested, but early the next morning they\narose and came forward to the ford of combat. \u201cWhat weapons shall\nwe use to-day, O Ferdia?\u201d said Cuchulain. \u201cThine is the choice\nto-day,\u201d said Ferdia, \u201cbecause I chose yesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us then take our broad-bladed heavy spears to-day, for more\ngrave will be the fight between us from the thrusting of our\nmassive spears, than from the shooting of our light casting weapons\nyesterday, and let our chariots be yoked and our horses harnessed,\nthat we may fight to-day from our chariots.\u201d \u201cLet us do so,\u201d said\nthe other.\n\nThen the two warriors took their great protecting shields in their\nhands, and their broad-bladed spears, and they continued to thrust\nat, to wound and pierce each other from the dim light of early\nmorning till the close of day.\n\nGreat and gaping cuts and wounds were upon both of them before the\nevening-tide. Even their horses were exhausted, and the heroes\nthemselves were fatigued and worn out and dispirited. At length\nCuchulain said, \u201cO Ferdia, let us now cease from this, for even our\nvery horses are fatigued, and our charioteers are exhausted. We are\nnot like the Fomors, the giants of the sea, who must be for ever\ncombating against each other; let the clamour of battle now cease\nbetween us, and let us be friends once more.\u201d\n\nAnd Ferdia said, \u201cLet us be at peace, indeed, if the time has come.\u201d\n\nThen they ceased fighting, and threw their arms into the hands of\ntheir charioteers, and they ran to each other, and each of them put\nhis arms about the neck of the other, and gave him three loving\nkisses of old friendship.\n\nTheir horses were again in the same paddock that night, and their\ncharioteers slept by the same fire; and beds of green rushes were\nmade for the warriors, with pillows to ease their wounds; for their\ninjuries that night were so terrible, that the men of healing and\nthe physicians could do nothing for them except to try to stanch\nthe blood that flowed from them with charms and incantations.\n\nAnd of all the charms and healing salves that were applied to sooth\nCuchulain, he bade them take the same to Ferdia, and of every\nsort of dainty food and of pleasant satisfying drink that Ferdia\nreceived, he sent a good half to Cuchulain.\n\nThat night they rested as well as they could for their wounds, but\nearly in the morning they arose and repaired to the ford of combat.\nCuchulain saw an evil look and a dark lowering brow upon the face\nof Ferdia that day. \u201cIll dost thou look to-day, O Ferdia,\u201d said\nCuchulain. \u201cThy hair seems to have become darkened, or is it clots\nof blood I see? Thine eye is dimmed, and thy own bright face and\nform have gone from thee. A deep disgrace it is in thee to have\ncome out to fight with thy fellow-pupil; not Finnabar\u2019s beauty,\nnor the praises of Meave or Ailill, nor all the wealth of the\nworld, would have brought me out to fight with thee, my comrade\nand my friend. Turn now back from this fight to-day, for a fight\nto death it must be between us, and I have not the heart to fight\nagainst thee; my strength fails me when I think of the evil that\nwill befall thee; turn back, turn back, O friend, for false are the\npromises of Finnabar and Meave.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Cuchulain, gentle Hound, O valiant man, O true champion, bid me\nnot return till the fight be done. Ill would it become me to return\nto Ailill and to Meave until my task be done. It is not thou who\ndost work me ill, O Cu of gentle ways; take the victory and fame\nthat are thine by right, for thou art not in fault. Meave it is\nwho is my undoing; but for all that I shrink not from the contest.\nMy honour, at least, will be avenged; no fear of death afflicts\nme. There is a fate that brings each one of us to the place of our\nfinal rest in death, a fate none may resist. Reproach me not, O\ngentle friend and comrade, but let us fight the combat out to-day,\nas becomes two valiant men and warriors.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it must be so, what weapons shall we use?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us to-day take to our heavy smiting swords; for sooner shall\nwe attain the end of our conflict by hewing with our swords, than\nby the thrusting of our spears yesterday.\u201d \u201cLet it be so,\u201d said\nCuchulain. So all that day they hewed and hacked each other with\ntheir long, two-edged, heavy swords, and at evening they were\nwounded and torn from head to foot, so that it was hard to see a\nwhole place on either of them.\n\n\u201cLet us cease now, O Cuchulain,\u201d said Ferdia. \u201cLet us cease,\nindeed, if the time be come,\u201d he said.\n\nThey threw their arms into the hands of their charioteers, and,\nthough pleasant and cheerful had been the first meeting of those\ntwo, it was in sadness and misery that they parted that night.\n\nThat evening their horses were not placed in the same paddock,\nnor did their charioteers sleep beside the same fire, but the\ncharioteer of Cuchulain slept with his master on the north of the\nford, and the charioteer of Ferdia slept on the south side of the\nford.\n\nNext morning Ferdia went forth alone to the ford of battle, for he\nknew that on that day the combat would be decided; that then and in\nthat place one of them or both of them would fall.\n\nOn that day both heroes put on their full fighting array, their\nkilts of striped silk next their skin, and a thick apron of brown\nleather above that to protect the lower part of the body. And they\nput on their crested battle-helmets, with jewels of rubies and\ncarbuncles and crystals blazing in the front, gems that had been\nbrought from the East to Ireland. And they took their huge shields\nwhich covered the whole body, with great bosses in the centre of\neach shield, and their swords in their right hands, and thus they\ncame forward to the battle. And as they went they displayed the\nmany noble, quick-changing feats that Sc\u00e1th had taught them, and\nit was difficult to tell which of them exceeded the other in the\nperformance of those skilful weapon-feats.\n\nThus they came to the ford. And Cuchulain said: \u201cWhat weapons\nshall we choose this day, O Ferdia?\u201d \u201cThine is the choice to-day,\u201d\nsaid he. Then Cuchulain said, \u201cLet us then practise the Feat of the\nFord.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will do so,\u201d said Ferdia; but though he said that, sorrowful\nwas he in saying it, for he knew that no warrior ever escaped alive\nfrom Cuchulain when they practised the Feat of the Ford.\n\nTerrible and mighty were the deeds that were done that day by those\ntwo heroes, the Champions of the West, the pillars of valour of\nthe Gael. Quietly they used their weapons in the early morning,\nparrying and casting with skill and warily, and neither did great\nharm to the other; but about midday, their anger grew hot, and they\ndrew nearer to each other, and Cuchulain sprang upon his adversary,\nand made as though he would cut off his head over the rim of his\nshield. But Ferdia gave the shield a stroke upward with his left\nknee, and cast Cuchulain from him like a little child, and he fell\ndown on the brink of the ford. Now Cuchulain\u2019s charioteer, who\nwas watching the combat from the bank, saw this, and he began to\nreproach Cuchulain as his master had bade him do, if he should give\nway in the fight.\n\n\u201cAh, indeed,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cthis warrior can cast the Hound of Ulster\nfrom him as a woman tosses up her child; he flings thee up like\nthe foam on a stream; he smites thee as the woodman\u2019s axe fells an\noak; he darts on thee as a hungry hawk pounces on little birds.\nHenceforth thou hast no claim to be called brave or valorous as\nlong as thy life shall last, thou little fairy phantom!\u201d\n\nWhen Cuchulain heard these scoffing words, up he sprang with the\nswiftness of the wind, with the fierceness of a dragon, and with\nthe strength of a lion, and his countenance was changed, and he\nbecame mighty and terrible in appearance, towering like a Giant\nor like a Fomor of the sea above Ferdia. A fearsome fight they\nmade together, gripping and striking each other from middle day to\nfall of eve; and their charioteers and the men of Erin who stood\nby shivered as they watched the conflict. So close was the fight\nthey made that their heads met above and their feet below, and\ntheir arms around the middle of their mighty shields. So close was\nthe fight they made, that their shields were loosened at their\ncentres, and the bosses that were on them started out. So close\nwas the fight they made, that their spears and swords were bent\nand shivered in their hands. The fairy people of the glens and the\nwild demon folk of the winds, and the sprites of the valleys of the\nair, screamed from the rims of their shields and from the points of\ntheir spears and from the hafts of their swords. So closely were\nthey locked together in that deadly strife, that the river was cast\nout of its bed, and it was dried up beneath them, so that a king or\na queen might have made a couch in the middle of its course without\na drop of water falling on them, though drops of blood might have\nfallen on them from the bodies of the two champions contending in\nthe hollow of the stream. Such was the terror of the fight they\nmade, that the horses of the Gaels broke away from their paddocks,\nbursting their bonds and rushing madly in their fright into the\nwoods, and the women and young people and camp followers fled away\nsouthwards out of the camp.\n\nJust at that time Ferdia caught Cuchulain in an unguarded moment,\nand he smote him with a stroke of his straight-edged sword, and\nburied it in his body, so that his blood streamed down to his\ngirdle, and all the bottom of the ford became crimsoned with\nhis blood. So rapid were the strokes of Ferdia, blow after blow,\nand cut after cut, that Cuchulain could abide it no longer. And\nhe turned to Laeg, and asked him to give him the Gae Bolga. Now,\nwhen the Gae Bolga was laid upon the water, it would move forward\nof itself to seek its enemy, and no one could stand before its\ndeadly dart. So when Ferdia heard Cu ask for the Gae Bolga, he\nmade a downward stroke of his shield to protect his body. But when\nCuchulain saw that, he flung his spear above the shield and it\nentered the hero\u2019s chest; and as he fell, the Gae Bolga struck him\nand entered his body from below. \u201cIt is all over now, I fall by\nthat,\u201d said Ferdia. \u201cBut alas that I fall by thy hand. It is not\nright that I should die by thee, O Hound.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: Ferdia falls by the Hand of Cuchulain]\n\nBut Cuchulain ran towards him, and clasped him in his two arms, and\ncarried him in his fighting array across the ford to the Northern\nside of the stream and laid him down there. And over Cuchulain\nhimself there came a weakness and faintness when he saw Ferdia\nlying dying at his feet, and he heeded not the warnings of his\ncharioteer telling him that the men of Erin were gathering across\nthe ford to do battle with him and to avenge the death of their\nchampion. For Cuchulain said, \u201cWhat availeth me to arise, now that\nmy friend is fallen by my hand? For when we were with Sc\u00e1th, Mother\nof great gifts, we vowed to each other that for ever and for ever\nwe should do no ill to each other. And now alas! by my hand hast\nthou fallen, my comrade, through the treachery of the men of Erin,\nwho sent thee to thy fate. And oh! Ferdia, ruddy, well-built son\nof Daman, until the world\u2019s end will thy like not be found among\nthe men of Erin; would that I had died instead of thee, for then\nI should not now be alive to mourn thy death. Brief and sorrowful\nwill be my life after thee.\n\n \u201cDear was to me thy comely form,\n Dear was thy youthful body warm,\n Dear was thy clear-blue dancing eye,\n Dear thy wise speech when I was by.\n\n\u201cLet me see, now, O Laeg, the brooch that was given to Ferdia by\nMeave; the brooch for which he lost his life, and did combat with\nhis friend.\u201d Then Laeg loosened the brooch from the mantle of\nFerdia, and Cuchulain took it in his hand and looked upon it, and\ntears such as strong warriors weep poured from his eyes, and he\nlamented over Ferdia, and over the brooch for which he had given\nhis life.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said Cuchulain, \u201cwe will leave the ford, O Laeg; but\nevery other fight that I have made till now when I came to fight\nand combat with Ferdia, has been but play and sport to me compared\nwith this combat that we have made together, Ferdia and I.\u201d And as\nhe moved away he sang this lay:--\n\n \u201cPlay was each, pleasure each,\n Till Ferdia faced the beach;\n One had been our student life,\n One in strife of school our place,\n One our gentle teacher\u2019s grace,\n Loved o\u2019er all and each.\n\n \u201cPlay was each, pleasure each,\n Till Ferdia faced the beach;\n One had been our wonted ways,\n One the praise for feat of fields,\n Sc\u00e1thach gave two victor shields\n Equal prize to each.\n\n \u201cPlay was each, pleasure each,\n Till Ferdia faced the beach;\n Dear that pillar of pure gold\n Who fell cold beside the ford\n Hosts of heroes felt his sword\n First in battle-breach.\n\n \u201cPlay was each, pleasure each,\n Till Ferdia faced the beach;\n Lion fiery, fierce, and bright,\n Wave whose might no thing withstands,\n Sweeping, with the shrinking sands,\n Horror o\u2019er the beach.\n\n \u201cPlay was each, pleasure each,\n Till Ferdia faced the beach;\n Loved Ferdia, dear to me;\n I shall dree his death for aye\n Yesterday a Mountain he,--\n But a shade to-day.\u201d[4]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nUlster, Awake!\n\n\nAfter the combat with Ferdia weariness and great weakness fell\nupon Cuchulain. From the beginning of winter to early spring he\nhad watched and safe-guarded the frontier of Ulster, alone and\nsingle-handed, and all that time he had never slept a whole night\nthrough. Saving only a brief snatch at midday, he often did not\nsleep at all, and even what he had was taken sitting, with his\nspear ready in his hand, and his head resting upon the shaft, as it\nstood between his knees.\n\nThe host of Meave was encamped on the plain of Murthemne, in\nCuchulain\u2019s district, but the Brown Bull and the cattle they had\nsent away northward for safety into the hill passes of eastern\nUlster.\n\nBeside the grave of Lerga, overlooking the camp of the men of\nErin, Cuchulain lay beside a fire that Laeg had kindled. Now, as\nthe shades of evening fell, the hero looked abroad, slowly and\nwith pain raising himself upon his elbow, and on every hand he saw\nthe glint and gleam of the weapons of the men of Erin, caught by\nthe light of the setting sun. Before him lay the great expanse of\ntents, and the multitude of the host, and he would have rushed upon\nthem then and there, but all his body was riddled with wounds, and\nhis strength was utterly gone from him. In his anger and despair\nhe brandished his sword and waved his shield and uttered forth\nhis hero\u2019s shout. So horrible was that shout that the goblins and\nsprites and daft people of the air and of the glens answered it,\nand many of the men of Erin died of pure terror at the sound.\nThen across the camp of the enemy Laeg descried a figure, as of a\ntall and stately champion advancing calmly towards them. Straight\nthrough the tents of Erin he passed on, but no man seemed to see;\nno head was turned as he went by, nor did the sentries bar his way,\nyet in his hand he carried a drawn sword.\n\nAstonishment and awe fell upon Laeg as, from his seat beside his\nmaster, he beheld the warrior draw near.\n\n\u201cIt seems to me, O little Hound,\u201d he said, \u201cas though a visitant\nfrom fairy-land drew near. Like one in high authority is this\nyoung man, and like the sun at junction of the day and night the\ngentle radiance of his lofty brow; methinks that in its midday glow\nno mortal eyes could bear the shining of its wondrous light. The\narmour of Manannan clothes him round, and none can pierce or wound\nhim through its joints; the sword of Manannan is in his hand, from\nwhich no enemy returns alive, while on his head the jewelled helmet\nof Manannan gleams.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis true, indeed,\u201d replied the wounded man, \u201cLugh the\nLong-handed, mightiest of the gods, is come to succour me. Bright\nas the sun rising at early dawn out of the glowing east the hero\u2019s\nface, giver of light and warmth to human-kind; with his long arms\nstretching across the sky he floods the world with light. In his\nright hand he bears the sword of day, though now in shades of night\nhis face is veiled. No human eye, save his whose inward mind has\npierced the realms of fairy mysteries, can see the god, when in\nManannan\u2019s helmet of invisibility he comes to earth. To comfort\nand to solace me he comes, for well he knows my plight. My comrades\nof the fairy-folk have pity on my pain and my despair.\u201d\n\nThe warrior stood close beside Cuchulain\u2019s bed and gazed upon his\nwounds, and noble pity stood within his eyes. \u201cA manly fight, I\nsee, you made, my son, and worthy are those wounds.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think not much about the wounds, O Lugh, but this is troubling\nme; behold, below, yon host of mighty men who threaten Ulster\u2019s\nland, and here I lie, as weary as a child, and cannot rise to wreak\nmy wrath on them. Were but my strength returned and my wounds\nhealed, I would not long be lying here in grief, idle and cast\naway. But if, O Father Lugh, for this one night you would keep\nwatch and ward for me the while I sleep, then could I for a space\ntake peaceful rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cI come for that,\u201d said Lugh, \u201cfrom fairy land. Sleep then, O\nUlster\u2019s Hound, and by the grave of Lerga deeply rest; no harm\nshall come to Ulster while you sleep, for I will watch and battle\nwith the host.\u201d Then in deep peace and slumber Cuchulain took his\nrest, and for three days and nights he stirred not once, but slept\na dreamless, torpid sleep. And fairy-folk brought magic herbs to\nput into his wounds, to soothe and heal him while he slept, and all\nthe while Lugh sat at his right hand, guarding his rest, save when\nsome feat of slaughter was to do upon the men of Erin.\n\nBut Sualtach, father of Cuchulain, heard of the distressed\ncondition of his son, and well he knew that unless the warriors\nof Ulster woke from their magic sleep, and gathered to his help,\nthe hero must give way before his foes. Now Sualtach was no\nbattle-champion or warrior of renown, but just a passable good\nfighting-man; he had no thought or wish to stand by his son when\nhe fought single-handed with the choicest of Meave\u2019s host; nor had\nhe gone to help him even when he heard that between life and death\nhe lay, covered with gaping wounds. Yet still the news stirred\nsome increase of courage in him, and though he would not fight in\nan uneven war, he now resolved to arm himself and ride to Emain\u2019s\ngates and call the sleeping Ulstermen to rise and hurry down to aid\nCuchulain, before it was too late. He caught the Grey of Macha,\nCuchulain\u2019s horse, and mounted him, and, spear and shield in hand,\nhe rode straight up within the gates of Emain Macha. Silent and\nstill as death was all the kingly fort. No sentinel looked forth to\nguard the door, no warrior strode round the deserted walls, and all\nwithin was silent as the grave, save for the weeping women and the\nlittle children\u2019s play, and lowing of the untended cows wandering\nbetween the outer and the inner raths. Within, in Emain\u2019s halls,\neach warrior sat apart sunk deep in sleep, his head upon his hands,\nhis arms clasping his knees, or stretched in slumber full-length\nupon the floor; and round them lay their weapons, idle and rusting\nfrom long want of use, dropped from their nerveless hands. Mighty\nthey looked, well-built and good men all, but no more strength had\nthey than little babes but newly come to birth. Even when the women\nshook them, thy looked up but for one moment with lack-lustre eyes,\nand straightway sank to sleep again. Young children played about\nand over them, as though they had been statues made of stone, and\nyet they heeded not. Beside them, at their feet, lay crouched their\nnoble hounds, loose from the leash, stretched out asleep, each one\nhis muzzle lying on his paws. From time to time, the war-dogs\nturned and growled, as though they dreamed bad dreams; the warriors\nmoaned as if they were in pain, but no one moved or rose.\n\nWithin the inner fort King Conor lay, surrounded by his chiefs,\nsunk deep in coward slumber each upon his couch; for Macha\u2019s hand\nlay heavy on them all, and her revenge was come.\n\nBut in the playing-fields outside, the Boy-corps still kept up\ntheir sports, and played at mimic warfare as of yore, though all\ntheir chiefs and teachers were asleep; and still their laughter,\nshrill and bright, rang through the silent halls, as one boy caught\nthe hurley ball a good swing with his club, or threw his fellow in\ntheir feats of strength. The little son of Conor, Follaman, had\nmade himself their leader, and willingly they mustered under him.\n\nThen up rode Sualtach upon the Grey, and three times over he gave\nforth his cry. The first shout went up from the playing-fields, the\nsecond from the rampart wall, the third he gave standing aloft upon\nthe summit of the mound where lay imprisoned the hostages of Ulster\nchained in their hut beside the kingly fort.\n\n\u201cYour men are being slain,\u201d he cried, \u201cyour cattle driven away,\nyour women fall as captives to the men of Erin. In wild Murthemne\u2019s\nplain Cuchulain all alone still held the foemen back until the\nfight with Ferdia robbed him of his strength. Wounded in every\njoint Cuchulain lies, his gaping sores stuffed in with sops and\nbits of grass, his clothes held on with spikes of hazel twigs. On\nEmain Macha press the enemy, all eastern Ulster is in their hands;\nAilill and Meave have harried all your coasts. Ulster, Arise,\narise!\u201d\n\nThree times he gave the shout, ringing and clear upon the silent\nair, but still no watchman\u2019s voice gave forth reply.\n\nNow in the kingly fort a rule of courtesy forbad that any man\nshould speak before the King, save only his three Druids, who were\nhis counsellors. After a while, as for the third time the voice of\nSualtach came floating through the hall, one of the Druids stirred\nand said, \u201cWho is the fellow brawling in the court? Fitting it were\nto take his head from him.\u201d \u201cFitting it were, indeed,\u201d replied the\nKing, \u201cand yet I think the thing he says is true.\u201d And all the\nwarriors muttered in their sleep, \u201cFitting it were, indeed.\u201d\n\nWhen Sualtach found that no man answered him, in violent anger he\nturned back again. In his fierce wrath he dragged the bridle-rein,\nso that the Grey of Macha reared, and stumbled on a sleeping man,\nand swerved aside, flinging Sualtach forward on its neck. His head\nstruck on the sharp edge of his missile-shield, so that it sheared\nit off, and the shield fell from his hand, his head within it, at\nthe horse\u2019s feet, the body hanging yet upon its back. At that the\nGrey turned round, and made its way into the inner court and onward\nto the hall, the lifeless body still upon its neck, dragging the\nhead along upon the shield, whose strap had caught into its feet.\nAnd all the way they went, passing the outer and the inner courts\ninto the very presence of the King, the voice of Sualtach from the\ndissevered head still called aloud, as though he were alive, \u201cYour\nmen are being slain, your cattle driven away; your women fall as\ncaptives to the men of Erin. In wild Murthemne\u2019s plain Cuchulain\nall alone still holds the foemen back. Ulster, Arise, arise!\u201d\n\n\u201cToo noisy is that head,\u201d King Conor said, moving again and\nstirring in his sleep; \u201cput it upon the pillar of the house that\nit may go to rest.\u201d Then one of the warriors, hearing his King\u2019s\nvoice, bestirred himself, and lifted up the head and set it on a\npillar; but again, and even louder than before, the head cried out:\n\u201cYour men are being slain, your cattle driven away, your women fall\nas captives. Ulster, Arise, arise!\u201d So noisy was the head, that one\nwarrior and then another rose upon his elbow and looked up at it,\nand bade it hold its peace, but when they spoke the head but called\nout louder than before. Then, looking round, they saw the mighty\nhorse standing, gaunt and stock-still, within the very centre of\nthe hall, the headless rider sitting on its back. And when they saw\nthe horse bearing the headless rider in their midst, and heard the\nhead still calling from the pillar top, as though it were alive,\na shout of laughter, as of olden days, went up from one and all,\nand the King bestirred himself at the unwonted sound. Then all the\nchiefs, seeing the King arise, shook themselves lightly and began\nto stand or sit up where they slept. They stooped to pick their\nweapons from the ground, to try the edges of their swords, to rub\nthe rust that dulled their scabbards and the fine points of their\nspears. For memory and the love of life and war began to stir in\nthem, and wonder at their own long idleness. And at the last the\nKing stood up and cried, \u201cTrue is the message that the head has\nbrought. Ulster lies bound before her enemies, while we rust here\nin sleep. By all the gods my nation loves, I swear, unless the\nstars of heaven shall fall upon our heads, or the strong solid\nearth give way beneath our feet, I and my chiefs will restore each\ncaptive woman to her child and home, each cow to her own meadow,\nand each stolen piece of land to its own lords, so that in shame\nwith heavy loss the foes of Ulster shall return to their own\ncountry.\u201d\n\nThen a great shout went up from the men of Ulster, and their\nwarrior spirit began to revive in them. And to each in turn\nthe King applied, bidding him go forth and summon his clan and\nfollowers to meet him that day week upon the Hill of Slane in\nMeath, for he himself would call a muster there.\n\nGladly and eagerly the chiefs issued forth, for they heard the\nsounds of stirring men and the welcome bark of the hounds without.\n\nAs for the King himself, his mind was so confused with the magic\nsleep in which he had lain, that he remembered not the dead from\nthe living, but stood, calling on the dead to come to his aid, as\nthough they had been yet alive.\n\nThroughout all the land he sent heralds to call together his\nmen-at-arms; and with one heart and mind the men of Ulster\nresponded to his call. Troop on troop they flocked to Emain, from\nNorth and West and East, each mighty leader surrounded by his host\nclad in the kilt and colours of his clan. As for the clans that\nwere south of Emain, they tarried not to assemble at the kingly\nfort, but made their way, each by his own route, straight forward\nto the Hill of Slane.\n\nFor after their long rest and weakness their hands itched to be\nupon their swords again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nThe End of the Boy-Corps\n\n\nHardly had the King arisen from his sleep, than he remembered the\nBoy-corps. \u201cGo,\u201d said he to one of his heralds, \u201cand see how the\nBoy-corps fares. Tell the youths that we depart hence within a\nwhile to battle on the Hill of Slane in Meath, but that before we\nset forth on our march, we fain would see them once again at play.\nBid Follaman and bid them all prepare.\u201d So the herald went out to\nwarn the Boy-corps, but the playing-field was silent and deserted,\nnor was there any sign of Follaman or of the boys. \u201cWhat is become\nof the corps?\u201d he asked, alarmed, for among the boys were the sons\nof the bravest chiefs of Ulster and the King\u2019s own son besides. But\nnone could give him a reply. In one corner of the playing-field\nhe espied a little lad, the youngest of the corps, who sat alone,\ncrying by himself. The herald asked him what it was that ailed\nhim, and where were all the others, his companions. \u201cThe boys are\ngone to help Cuchulain, their comrade, who is sorely wounded,\u201d\nsaid the child; \u201cthey heard the words of Sualtach, calling on the\nUlstermen to rise and come to Cuchulain\u2019s help against the men of\nErin. But all the champions were asleep and heard not; only they,\nthe Boy-corps, heard. And Follaman their leader said, \u2018Cuchulain,\nour comrade, is in sore distress, and none are ready to go to his\naid; therefore we ourselves will go.\u2019 And all the Boy-corps said\nthat they would follow him, and protect the coasts of Ulster while\nCuchulain was asleep, and do combat for him with the enemy. But me\nthey left behind,\u201d the child continued, weeping, \u201cbecause they said\nI was too young to go; but I would have handled my little sword\nas well as any of them. I heard Follaman say that he would never\nreturn to Emain unless he brought with him Ailill\u2019s head, with its\ncoronet of gold, to lay at Conor\u2019s feet.\u201d\n\nWhen the herald heard this tale, he went hurriedly to the palace\nand told the King what the child had said. A great cry arose in\nthe palace when it was known that the boys had gone to do battle\nwith grown warriors of Erin; for each chief and each champion had\na son, or two or three sons, among the corps, and the King himself\nhad Follaman, his youngest and his darling. Then the King sent\nout word that before one hour should be past, he and his troops\nwould take the road to Slane; if so perchance they might arrive in\ntime to save the Boy-corps from its fate. For all his strength and\nvigour returned to Conor when he heard of the peril which beset the\nBoy-corps, and bitterly did he rue the inaction in which he and his\nwarriors had lain, when the children had gone forth to fight.\n\nNow at the end of his three days\u2019 sleep, Cuchulain had awakened\nfrom his trance; he passed his hand across his face, and opened his\neyes and saw Lugh sitting beside him. From head to foot he blushed\na rosy red, for he felt shame that a champion like himself should\nbe found sleeping before his foes. \u201cWarrior, how long have I been\nsleeping here?\u201d said he. \u201cThree days and three nights,\u201d said Lugh,\n\u201cand no shame to thee that thou shouldst sleep, for even yet thou\nart not fit to rise.\u201d \u201cThat indeed is true,\u201d replied Cuchulain, for\nhe tried to sit up on his couch, and fell back again. \u201cThough my\nwounds are closed and healing, my strength has not returned; and\nall this time the hosts of Erin have been unmolested.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay, indeed,\u201d cried Lugh, \u201cno step forward have they made;\nmy hand hath held them back. Moreover,\u201d but here his voice grew\ngrave and stern, \u201cthe Boy-corps from Emain were here last night.\u201d\n\u201cThe Boy-corps from Emain,\u201d Cuchulain cried; \u201cwhat did they here?\nNo games or child\u2019s play have we here suited to their age, but grim\nand deadly deeds of war. I trust no hurt or damage came to them.\u201d\n\u201cAlas, alas,\u201d said Lugh, \u201cthey came at night; I knew not they were\nhere. Straight to the tent of Ailill and of Meave marched on the\nboys, clad in their mimic armour, with all their pennons flying in\nthe wind. Follaman, Conor\u2019s son, was at their head, a brave and\ndauntless lad; and on them all, although they were but growing\nboys, men say was seen the dignity of heroes, and the fearlessness\nof seasoned warriors. Follaman demanded combat with Ailill himself,\nhe being a King\u2019s son, and thus, he said, unfit to fight with\ncommon men.\n\n\u201cWith jeers and taunts they drove the brave lads back out of the\ncamp and downward to the ford; but there at last the Boy-corps\ntook its stand. \u2018Here wait we,\u2019 cried the lads, \u2018here stand we to\nthe death; the honour of Cuchulain and of Ulster is in our hands.\nCome out and fight!\u2019 Alas, alas,\u201d said Lugh again, \u201cthis morning\nwhen I walked beside the ford, to guard the banks from any man of\nMeave\u2019s, all up and down the strand fair bodies lay, mangled and\ncut and hewn by cruel hands, and on the stream bright hair was\ntossing from fair severed heads. Follaman lay prone on the farther\nside, his cold hand grasping still a warrior\u2019s hair, his arms\nlocked tightly in that warrior\u2019s arms, dragged down together and\no\u2019erwhelmed beneath the wave. And all around a bloody fight had\nbeen. Many a good warrior had gone down before those hero boys;\nmany a strong arm by them was stilled in death. Brave lads! the\npride of Ulster and of Ulster\u2019s chiefs!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Boy-corps dead!\u201d Cuchulain cried, \u201cdead to retrieve my honour\nand the darkened fame of Ulster\u2019s chiefs! Ill is the deed that thou\nhast done me, O my Father Lugh; had I been roused from sleep the\nBoy-corps had not perished thus. Follaman, Conor\u2019s son, would not\nhave fallen, and this shame would not have been added to Ulster\u2019s\nother shames. Alas, and thrice alas! And now, my Father Lugh,\nhark to my prayer; stay but one night beside me, and together we\nwill avenge the fall of the Boy-corps. Before the arm of Lugh the\nLong-handed and the might of Ulster\u2019s Hound, no foe could stand;\nlet us then do a glorious deed, that Ulster\u2019s honour be by us\navenged.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, not so,\u201d said Lugh, \u201cfor thine own strength is not come back\nto thee, and I must back to fairy-land again. My work is done, the\ngods await me there. The wrong will be avenged, as is most meet, by\nUlster\u2019s champions, the fathers of the boys. See, even now over the\nHill of Slane their pennons wave.\u201d\n\nMost true it was; Cuchulain looked and saw, right in the north\nand passing out beyond him to the west, the gathering of a mighty\nhost. Far as the eye could reach they came with swinging gait,\nbattalion on battalion, up the hill; their tents on every side they\npitched, and martial strains and trampling of men\u2019s feet resounded\nthrough the plain. Beneath their heavy tread the very earth seemed\nquivering as they moved; the trees of the forest crashed their\nbranches, and their tops swung together in the violence of the\nwind they made in passing up the glen. In the dim mist of early\nmorn their spearpoints glittered like sparks of fire, caught by\nthe first beams of the rising sun; the thunder of their chariots,\nthe clatter of their arms and horses\u2019 hoofs, so terrified the wild\nthings of the woodlands, that they fled panting before them to the\nopen plain.\n\n\u201cCarry me where I can mark the clans as they come up, O Laeg,\u201d\nCuchulain said. Laeg lifted up the wounded hero in his arms, and\nlaid him on the north side of a rising mound whence he could see\nthe path by which the armies came. He marked the Druids marching\non in front, scanning the sky for portents and muttering their\nspells. Then came the bards, pouring forth rhapsodies, and singing\nbattle-chants, and near them were the bright-faced men of healing,\ncarrying salves and medicines in their bags, to succour wounded men.\n\nRight well Cuchulain recognized them all, the corps of Laery, named\nTriumphant, marching in impetuous style; the clan of Conall the\nVictorious, his early friend, all young and hardy men; the clan\nof Conor\u2019s son, he whom men called \u201cThe Stutterer,\u201d because he\nstammered in his speech. These latter were so eager for the fray,\nthat, fearing to spring forth before the time, they knelt upon the\nground, their chins resting on the rims of their enormous shields.\nAll day they came, from morn to fall of night, till the whole hill\nand wide surrounding plain were covered with their tents. But\nin the midst Cuchulain saw his own corps swinging up the hill,\nbrilliant in their flying plaids, all mighty men and strong. They\nonly, among all the host, marched mournfully and sadly to their\ncamp; no sound of music, no martial warrior-chant, rose from\ntheir lips, for they as orphans marched without a father, or as a\nbody left without a head. Now when Cuchulain marked his own corps\ncoming up, no words of Laeg could stay him, nor could his bands\nand shackles tie him down. Violently and with tremendous force he\nsought to rise, to greet his own battalion. So vigorous were the\nefforts that he made, that even Meave and Fergus heard. \u201cSurely it\nis Cuchulain trying to arise and join his own battalion!\u201d Fergus\nsaid; \u201cwell is it for us that he is lying ill! Happy the men who\nhave the aid of Cuchulain\u2019s corps, and woe to those whom they\noppose! Were but their chief amongst them at this time, no other\nclan had need to be called out against the men of Erin.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear them not,\u201d said Meave; \u201cwe have good men and brave to\nanswer them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI swear by Ulster\u2019s gods,\u201d Fergus replied, \u201cthat when once Ulster\nis aroused, no host on earth can answer them.\u201d\n\n\u201cSend satirists and men of evil nature from us to Cuchulain,\u201d said\nMeave to her attendants, \u201cand let them jeer him in his weakness,\nsaying to him that Conor will be routed, Ulster put to shame, and\nFergus slain while he is lying on his couch in idleness. Let him\nnot think that it is we who send, but his own people jeering at his\nwounds. Tell him his own corps call on Ulster\u2019s Hound, but, like a\npet-dog in a lady\u2019s lap, he lies down to be fondled and caressed.\nSend women mourners to weep over him false noisy tears, and tear\ntheir hair, and keen, as though he even now were dead. Thus will he\nfall into despair and do himself some harm, and so our victory will\nbe assured. Away, and spare him not.\u201d\n\nSo keening women and hired mourning men went to the mound whereon\nCuchulain lay, exhausted with his effort to arise; for Laeg had\nbound the hero fast with cords, so that he might not struggle to\nget up. For much he feared that he might inflict some injury on\nhimself in trying to rejoin his corps. But Cuchulain thought not on\nhis wounds at all, for all his mind was bent in following Laeg\u2019s\naccount of what was passing in the camp; and when the messengers\nof Meave came close, and began to weep and wail, and hurl at him\nabuse and scornful words, he neither saw nor heard them, so that at\nlength they ceased, disheartened and ashamed.\n\nEagerly Cuchulain addressed himself to Laeg. \u201cTell me, O Laeg, how\nstands our host together, and what do they now?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo close stand now the serried ranks, that though Conall\u2019s\ncharioteer and mine tried side by side to force our way across the\nclustered spearpoints of the host, no smallest object from our\nchariots dropped among the men could find its way between them to\nthe ground. I see King Conor\u2019s chosen men-at-arms coming toward the\nhill, where Conor\u2019s tent is pitched, higher and far more spacious\nthan the rest. I see Meave\u2019s warriors withstanding them; they make\na hollow circle, hoping, I think, to take the King alive. But, as\nthough they hardly saw the opposing band, the King and his brave\nfollowers stride on. I see them now entering the hollow mass of\nfighting men; alas, they will be caught and fall. But no! I see, I\nsee them soon emerge again, unharmed and safe. Right through the\nenemy they have forced their way, to join the main contingent of\nthe troops. The clans of Ulster rise on every side as Conor gains\nhis tent upon the utmost summit of the hill, and in a mighty shout,\nrending the clouds of heaven, the men of Ulster now acclaim their\nKing.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is the stuff for a great battle among those hosts,\u201d\nCuchulain cried; \u201cbloody the deeds that will be wrought at sunrise\non the morrow\u2019s morn. Let nothing pass you; tell me all you see.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo far as I can mark, you shall know all,\u201d replied the charioteer;\n\u201cbut shades of evening fall apace on us, and hard it is to\ndistinguish friend from foe. The warriors all betake them to their\nrest. Watchfires are lighted, and around their blaze they sit in\npeace and eat their evening meal. Far in the west, I see a little\nherd emerge upon the plain, a great Bull at its head, and all\naround a troop of cows and heifers, fifty or more, their heads held\nwell in air. A band of youths are trying to restrain them and turn\nthem back into the camp of Meave; but still they advance, careering\no\u2019er the plain, as though to join the hosts of Ulster\u2019s King. The\nyouths of Ulster are battling with those other youths, trying to\ngain possession of the Bull.\u201d \u201cAnd so indeed they may,\u201d Cuchulain\nsaid, \u201cthe Dun of Cooley is that Bull you see, for whom this war\nis fought. How are the youths of Ulster bearing themselves in this\nfray?\u201d \u201cThey fight like men,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cbut now I see the Bull\nhas broken from them all. Away he goes, toward the west, making as\nthough for Connaught.\u201d \u201cHe feels in him the call of war,\u201d replied\nthe wounded man; \u201che seeks the Whitehorned, left in Cruachan. No\nman, nor any band of men can stay the Dun, when once the time is\ncome for his great onset on the Connaught Bull. Fearful will be\nthe war between those twain. All Ireland will hear their furious\ncharge, and tremble at their fall.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nThe \u201cRising-Out\u201d of Ulster\n\n\nBefore the dawn of the ensuing day, Sencha the Druid seated himself\nupon the summit of the Hill of Slane, beside the tent of Conor, to\nwatch for the first ray of light arising in the east. The Druids\nhad foretold that if the men of Ulster went into battle before the\nbreak of day, they must fall before their enemies, but if they\nwaited till the early dawn flooded the hills and vales of Ireland,\nthen it was they who would come off victorious.\n\nSo eager were the warriors for the fight, that it was hard to hold\nthem till the night was past. On every side, long ere the dawn had\nbroken, they pushed aside their tent-doors and came forth. Nay,\nmany of the host there were, who would not wait their turn to issue\nfrom the doors; but all unclothed, their weapons in their hands,\nthey rushed out from their tents, forcing their way through every\nside at once.\n\nKing Conor gave command, \u201cBid them to halt until the word be\ngiven.\u201d And all the host stood silent where they were, gazing\ntoward the summit of the hill whereon the bearded Druid stood erect.\n\nAt length in the dim east the sun arose, its first rays shooting up\nalong the sky. Then to his full height Sencha arose and raised his\narms on high, his snowy garments waving in the wind.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cThe moment of good-luck is come\u201d]\n\n\u201cThe moment of good-luck is come,\u201d he cried. \u201cLet Ulster\u2019s heroes\nmeet their enemies! Let Macha\u2019s king arise!\u201d\n\nThen with their weapons brandished in their hands, and with a\nhorrid whoop of war, the men of Ulster rushed into the fight.\nThe men of Erin arose on every side, and furiously and fiercely\nwas the battle joined. From dawn to noon the conflict raged, now\nhere, now there, across the plain of Meath. At length Meave said,\n\u201cCall Fergus to me. I would send him to the fight\u201d; for Fergus had\nremained behind, among Meave\u2019s bodyguard, for loth he was to lift\nhis hand against the men of his own province. \u201cIt is the part of a\ntrue hero, O Fergus,\u201d said Meave, deriding him, \u201cto remain behind\nwithin the tents when a conflict to the death is going forward.\nMany good things, our hospitality and love, you took from our hand\nwhen Ulster exiled you. We fed and clothed your troops, we offered\nyou a home. For many years you lingered in our land, wanting\nneither for wealth or honour while you were with us; now when the\nmoment of our peril comes, when in your cause we come to fight with\nUlster, to restore yourself and all the exiles to their homes, \u2019tis\nFergus lags behind. The common men and chiefs may die, you say,\nso I remain in peace among the tents. Now I myself, Queen Meave,\ndescend into the fray; in my own person I will lead my troops,\nlike any valiant captain of my host. I go to seek out Conor, who\nsupplanted Fergus on the throne; will Fergus stay behind?\u201d\n\nWhen Fergus heard of Conor he exclaimed, \u201cMy hand I will not lift\nagainst the chiefs of Ulster, who are all my friends; but against\nConor will I lift my hand, the wily, bad, supplanting king who\nstands where I should stand. By all my gods I swear, had I but my\nown sword, the mighty \u2018Hard One\u2019 whose blade is like a beam, or\nlike a rainbow stretched across the sky, I now would ply it upon\nConor\u2019s shield. Fetch me my sword!\u201d Then Ailill commanded that\nthe sword of Fergus, called the Calad-cholg, or the \u2018Hard-sword,\u2019\nbrought by Mac Leda out of fairy-land, should be given to him, for\nhe had hidden it, until the time should come. So Fergus\u2019 sword was\nbrought, and Ailill put it into Fergus\u2019 hand; and with a shout of\nwelcome, Fergus grasped his sword, huge-handled, double-bladed,\nterrible; so that no hand but Fergus\u2019 hand could hold it in its\ngrasp. \u201cWelcome, Calad-cholg; welcome, O Leda\u2019s sword! Woe to the\nfosterling of war who feels thy edge to-day! On whom now shall we\ntry thy might?\u201d\n\n\u201cUpon the host that rings us round, O Fergus,\u201d said the Queen;\n\u201cnone shall turn back in peace before thy sword, none may it spare,\nsave only some dear friend of other days.\u201d\n\nThen into the battle-field, standing erect within her chariot,\nwith all her champions round her as she rode, went queenly Meave,\nher golden circlet on her head, her weapons in her hand. On either\nside, holding aloft their swords, rode Ailill and Fergus, each with\nhis own bodyguard. Terrific was their onset and before their chosen\nmen, rushing like winds of March into the fray, Ulster gave way and\nfled. Three times they led their men into the very centre of the\nhost, scattering it right and left, till Conor cried: \u201cWho is this\nfoe, who, three times to the North has scattered all mine host?\u201d\n\u201cFergus it is and Meave,\u201d they all reply; \u201cfuriously they cut their\nway across the clans, who fly before them as they come.\u201d Now by the\nrules of Ulster\u2019s warfare, the king might never expose his person\nin battle, but only, from some post of vantage, watch the onset\nof his men. But now King Conor said, \u201cHold you this hill, I will\nmyself go down and rally to their duty the flying hosts of Ulster.\u201d\nAnd when they found the king determined to go down, with one mouth\nhis bodyguard replied, \u201cUnless the earth should burst beneath our\nfeet, or the blue sky fall on us from above, we steadfastly will\nhold this post for you, O King.\u201d\n\nThen round the king a body of his bravest warriors locked their\nshields, and made a rampart; thus the king went down into the\nbattle with his followers around him, he himself holding his mighty\nhorned shield, the Ochain, in the midst. For they knew that if the\nking should fall, the men of Ulster would, as one man, take to\nflight.\n\nFergus was seeking everywhere throughout the host for the king of\nUlster, and when he saw the linked shields of Ulster\u2019s greatest\nchampions he knew that the king was in their midst. He made a\nmighty onslaught on the rampart of shields, and broke through it,\nscattering the chiefs to right and left. Then he approached the\nking, and with his \u2018Hard-Sword\u2019 smote three mighty blows on Conor\u2019s\nshield. And the shield screamed aloud and roared, as was its wont\nwhen Conor was in peril or distress; and when the warriors of his\nhost heard the screaming of the shield, all their weapons echoed\nin reply, and the shields that hung on the walls of Emain Macha\nfell down flat upon the ground. Far off, where he lay, Cuchulain\nheard the sound. \u201cSurely,\u201d he cried, \u201cI hear the shield of Conor\nroar; some deadly peril must beset the king, and I lie here alive\nand help him not! Set free my bonds, or, on my word, I will break\nloose from them!\u201d Then with a mighty effort, putting forth all his\nstrength, Cuchulain wrenched his bonds, breaking and scattering\nthem; and when he saw that nothing would avail to hinder him, Laeg\ncut the cords, and with one cry, the hero sprang upon his feet. \u201cMy\nweapons and my war-chariot,\u201d he cried, and Laeg brought out his\nchariot, sorely broken as it was after the fight with Ferdia at\nthe ford. In it he fixed the iron spikes and points and nails that\nstrengthened it in time of war, and made men fear to approach too\nnear; into its wheels, on either side, the sweeping scythes were\nfastened that mowed the enemy like grass as it swept through the\nhost. The Grey of Macha and the Black Steed of the Glen neighed\nloudly, and came whinnying to Laeg\u2019s call, and slowly Cuchulain\u2019s\nold strength returned to him again. He sprang into the seat, and\nwith a noise like thunder dashed onward to the place whence came\nthe tumult of King Conor\u2019s shield. Standing erect, it was as though\na light streamed from his hair, rising up toward the heavens; while\non either hand the sods flew from the chariot-wheels, making the\nair dark about him as he came. His own corps perceived him coming\nthrough the host, and loud their shout of welcome rose, and all the\nmen of Ulster sent forth a cry of exultation and of joy. Even the\nenemy held his hand awhile, and Fergus himself fell back before the\nking.\n\n\u201cAway with you, my Master Fergus,\u201d Cuchulain cried, \u201cturn about,\nand begone; dare not to strike King Conor\u2019s shield.\u201d But Fergus\nanswered not, until a third time Cuchulain cried. And then he said,\n\u201cWho is this, of Ulster\u2019s host, who dares to address me in strong\nwarrior words?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis even I, thy foster-son, Cuchulain, son of Sualtach, loved\nof the great god Lugh! Dost thou not remember, Fergus, how thou\ndidst promise that what time I should be wounded in the fight thou\nwouldst turn and make as though to flee before me, so that the host\nof Erin should follow after thee? The time is come, turn now and\nflee, or else stand fast and try thy strength with mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cI promised that, indeed,\u201d said he, \u201cand truly I will now fulfil my\nwords. Not fit or strong enough art thou at this time to contend\nwith me. Stand back awhile, and I will make as though I fled before\nthy onset.\u201d\n\nThen Fergus turned, and fell back three full warrior-paces before\nCuchulain, as if he fled before him, trailing his mighty sword\nbehind him on the ground. And when the host of Meave saw Fergus\nturn, they thought that all was lost, and with one consent they\nturned about and fled.\n\nBreaking their ranks, in wild disorder they streamed westward o\u2019er\nthe plain, each man making for his home. On every side they cast\naway their arms, so that the ground was strewn with shields and\nspears, and vainly Meave and Ailill called on them to turn. Seeing\nthe rout, the men of Ulster followed hard, pressing upon their\nrear, and cutting off a multitude of men. From noon till twilight\u2019s\nfall they fled, nor halted till they reached the Shannon\u2019s ford,\nto pass across it and regain their homes. And, haughtily and\nundauntedly, Cuchulain pursued the host, making a red rout of the\nflying men, so that the way was strewn with dying and with dead.\n\nClose at his side, urging on his withered steeds, rode aged Iliach,\nUlster\u2019s valiant chief. Old and beyond the fighting-age was he,\nyet, when the muster of the corps was made, he would not stay\nbehind. \u201cBring me my chariot and my steeds,\u201d said he. Now many\nyears had passed since last the old man went into the field.\nRusted and broken was his chariot, his weapons bent and worn; as to\nhis ancient chariot-steeds, they were but lean and wasted beasts,\nlong since turned out to grass. No cushions had the chariot, nor\nany seat at all; just as it was the steeds were harnessed to the\nmetal frame, and in his hand he took his blunt and rusty spears.\nAll round him on the chariot-floor were piled up flags and rocks\nand stones; with these, when his old worn-out weapons broke in\ntwain, he plied and mightily discomfited the enemy.\n\nYet, as he stood erect, his white hair streaming on the wind, so\nstrange and formidable was his look, so flashing was his eye, that\nall the men of Erin shrank before him as he passed. At length\nhis vigour ebbed, his strength gave out, the handle of his sword\ndropped useless from his hand. He called upon his charioteer.\n\u201cMy work is done,\u201d he said, \u201ctake thou my head from me upon my\nchariot\u2019s rim; I would not fall into the enemy\u2019s hand. My honour\nand the honour of my country is avenged. I die content.\u201d Then with\nhis own old sword, upon the side-edge of the chariot his charioteer\nhewed off his head. Cuchulain turned and saw what had been done.\n\u201cBear thou the head to Emain,\u201d said he, \u201cand let his body be buried\nwith all honour near his home. Iliach died as a hero should. So die\nall Ulster\u2019s heroes, avenging Ulster\u2019s honour on her foes.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nThe Humbling of Queen Meave\n\n\nTowards the fall of day, Cuchulain reached the ford of the Shannon\nat the place that is now called Athlone. He saw the army of Meave\nflying, broken and disbanded, across the river, and weariness and\ndislike of the rout overtook him, so that he turned aside into a\nwood close by to rest awhile, for of his chariot there remained\nbut a few bent ribs, and the wheels were loosened from the pole.\n\u201cI will watch the flying host,\u201d he thought, \u201cuntil the Ulstermen\ncome up, and together we will smite them and cut off their rear.\u201d\nAs he pushed his way into the wood, he saw before him, in the\ndimness of the fading light, Queen Meave herself, fallen, forsaken\nand exhausted, on the ground. So close was she that he could have\nsmitten her from behind, and taken off her head, had he so willed.\nBut it was not the wont of Cuchulain to smite from behind, or ever\nto hurt a woman. But he stood over her, and sternly spoke.\n\n\u201cWhat dost thou here, O Meave, O captain of the host of Erin?\nBehold thy army flies, broken and discomfited, across the stream,\nseeking its native province, and the army of the men of Ulster\npresses hard upon their rear. No leader have they to guide their\nflying bands; why liest thou here alone?\u201d\n\nThen the haughty queen replied sadly, and with all her spirit\ngone: \u201cQueen as I am, and captain of mine host, yet have I but a\nwoman\u2019s strength; my forces are exhausted, and my power is gone;\nfain must I lie and rest. Help me, O generous foe, I claim a boon\nfrom thee!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat boon is this that thou dost crave of me, O Meave, mine enemy?\u201d\n\n\u201cI ask of thee to take myself and all my host under the strong\nprotection of thy arm; keep thou the ford for them; ward off the\nmen of Ulster who press on us from behind; let Connaught\u2019s bands\nreturn in peace and safety to their homes. Guard me besides till to\nmy help Ailill and Fergus come, and safe to Cruachan escort me back\nagain. Full many and many a time have I, in folly, bragged about my\nstrength and all the power of my enormous host; now all is come to\nnought, and I am spent and ill. To thee, my foe, I turn; protect me\nnow.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever shall it be said,\u201d Cuchulain replied, \u201cthat I was heedless\nof a woman\u2019s appeal. Lie there in peace. I will protect the host.\u201d\n\nSo while the twilight deepened into night, Cuchulain stood up,\ndauntless and alone, between the men of Erin and their foes. Safely\nthey crossed the stream, while his own followers Cuchulain held at\nbay, hindering and staying them from cutting off the rear. Chafing\nand vexed they stood, yet at Cuchulain\u2019s command they restrained\nthemselves, nor was one man of Erin\u2019s host cut off till all in\nsafety reached the further side.\n\nLate in the evening came Fergus up, looking for Meave to conduct\nher back to Cruachan. Strange was the sight he saw. In peace and\nquiet, Meave was taking rest beneath the forest trees; her troops\nall passed across the ford, save for late stragglers who came\nsafely through the Ulster troops, no one destroying them. There\non the brink Cuchulain stood, leaning upon his sword the \u2018Little\nHard,\u2019 his face lined deep with toil and thought. He seemed to\nguard the enemy\u2019s troops from his own men. Amazed, and uttering not\na sound, Fergus stood still awhile to watch. Then in a mighty laugh\nthat reached the firmament he burst forth: \u201cVerily and indeed,\u201d\nhe cried, \u201cstrange is the ending of this day. A woman\u2019s lead we\nfollowed in this war, fighting against the bands of our own kith\nand kin, to gratify a woman\u2019s jealousy. To-day our host is cleared\nand swept away; it flies without a path, without a lead, caring for\nnought but safely to reach home. Our queen lies at her ease, and\nour worst enemy is he who guards and shields our troops. Surely and\nin truth, \u2019tis wise and champion-like to follow where a woman leads\nthe way.\u201d\n\nCuchulain heard that scornful laugh, and looking up, saw Fergus\nstanding contemplating him and them.\n\n\u201cHigh time thou camest, my foster-father Fergus, to guard and help\nthy queen. I leave her now to thee; my task is done. Yet that it\nnever may be said that cowardice or weakness made Cuchulain spare\nthe flying troops of Ulster\u2019s foes, one blow I strike in Ulster\u2019s\nhonour here.\u201d Then turning quickly, his \u2018Little Hard\u2019 he swung\naloft, and on the summit of a hillock near at hand he brought it\ndown, shearing its top clean off. \u201cBetween Connaught and Ulster\nlet that hill stand evermore, a witness to our strength and to our\ngentleness!\u201d\n\nThen once again into his ruined chariot he sprang, and fast as\nhis two steeds would bear him on, he hurried back to Ulster and\nthe king, returning glad and full of victory among his troops to\nEmain and to Emer once again. And from that time Connaught withheld\nits hand, nor did Meave venture ever again to dispute or war with\nUlster.\n\nNow the Brown Bull had passed over the Shannon westward,\naccompanied by his fifty heifers. With head in air and bellowing\nloudly he surveyed the great trackless land that lay before him.\nThe Whitehorned heard his bellowing and came to meet him, and when\nthey saw each other, straightway with terrific force they rushed\ntogether.\n\nA paroxysm of exceeding fury came upon them, and up and down they\nmoved, their nostrils distended and with lowered horns, pushing\nand driving and goring, until the ground was red with blood and\nthe sods torn up and flung on high. Had any ventured near them, he\nwould without doubt have been crushed to death beneath their hoofs;\nand when night came, no one in all the country dared to sleep, for\nterror at the bellowing and noise they made. But at length the\nWhitehorned gave way before the Brown Bull, and by him was chased\nand gored until no spark of life was left in him, and portions of\nhis flesh were caught upon the Brown Bull\u2019s horns. Then, as he was,\nall red with blood and fearful to behold, the Brown Bull took his\npath back to his native home, scattering the people right and left\nbefore him, or trampling them into the earth beneath his hoofs.\nAnd, at the last, exhausted with his flight, the spirit fled from\nhim, and with a mighty roar and fearful bellowings, the great Brown\nBull of Cooley\u2019s raid fell dead.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nThe Fairy Swan-Maidens\n\n\nOnce a year, in the autumn days, a great gathering was made of\nthe men of Ulster, and from all parts men and women would come\nto share in the sports and marketing, and to meet their friends,\nand make merry. The place was joyous and full of gaiety with\nmusicians making music on harps and fiddles, and singers singing,\nand jugglers plying their feats, and horse-racing in open spaces.\nThe warriors, too, were to be seen exhibiting their trophies of\nwar, and telling tales of their combats and victories, and all were\ndressed in their best, and feasting and eating was to be found in\nevery part of the assembly.\n\nOne day during an autumn feast, in the calm and quiet evening,\nCuchulain and Emer his wife and a band of the brave men of Ulster\nwho accompanied Cuchulain, and of the gently bred women who were\nEmer\u2019s companions, were amusing themselves strolling and sitting\nbeside a lake, apart from the people who were making merry, when\nthey saw coming from a distance a flock of white, very beautiful\nswans, which settled down upon the lake, and began to swim out two\nand two. \u201cHow I wish,\u201d Emer said, \u201cthat I could have two of those\nbirds, one on each of my shoulders.\u201d \u201cAll of us are longing for\nthose birds,\u201d cried her companions, and one woman said, \u201cIf only my\nhusband were here\u201d; and another woman said, \u201cIf only my husband\nwere here, he would fetch me the birds.\u201d\n\nAnd Emer looked at Cuchulain, and said, \u201cI think if anyone should\nhave the birds, it is I who ought to have them first.\u201d\n\nBut Cuchulain seemed to take no notice of what they were saying.\nAnd Emer was afraid to ask him, so she went to Laeg, his\ncharioteer, and said, \u201cCome thou and tell Cuchulain that the women\nare asking for the birds.\u201d So Laeg spoke to Cuchulain: \u201cThe women\nwish that you should go and hunt the swans for them to-day.\u201d\n\nBut Cuchulain looked angry. \u201cCan the women of Ulster find no better\noccupation for me,\u201d he said, \u201cthan to set me catching birds for\ntheir amusement? Let them set their own husbands to this business,\nfor it is not a fitting sport for me.\u201d \u201cThis is their f\u00eate-day,\u201d\nsaid the charioteer, \u201cand they would like a gift from you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBring me my chariot, then,\u201d Cuchulain said; \u201ca fine heroic deed it\nis to be taking birds for women, and worthy of a champion\u2019s valour.\u201d\n\nAngrily he went to the water\u2019s edge, and pursued the swans in his\nchariot, bringing down a number of them with his sword and with\nstones, so that they fell, flapping their wings against the water.\nAnd he picked them up, and threw them down before the women, and\nreturned to Emer, but to her he gave not any birds at all.\n\n\u201cAre you angry?\u201d he said to her. \u201cCertainly I am not,\u201d said she;\n\u201cyou gave the birds to the women, and this was the same as though I\nmyself had given them; right glad I am that you did this to please\nthe women.\u201d Then Cuchulain\u2019s brow cleared, and he said, \u201cWhenever\nbirds come again on our plain, the two most beautiful of all I will\nbring down for you.\u201d\n\nHardly were the words out of his mouth, than slowly sailing out of\nthe far distance and bearing down towards them, they saw two noble\nswans, larger and more splendid than any of those that had been on\nthe lake before. The birds were chanting a gentle, mystic song,\nthat soothed all who listened to it to sleep; and they were linked\ntogether with a golden chain. White and soft was their plumage, and\nthey seemed to have human reason, for they moved together, with one\nmind, towards Cuchulain and his wife.\n\n\u201cThere are your birds, O Emer,\u201d said Cuchulain, and he rose up to\npursue them and fetch them down for her. But Emer was afraid. \u201cGo\nnot against those birds,\u201d she said, \u201cyou shall get birds for me\nanother day; there is some magic power in those birds, and you may\ncome to harm.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not afraid of birds,\u201d Cuchulain said, and laughed; \u201cplace a\nstone in my sling, O Laeg.\u201d\n\nSo he took the sling and made a very careful aim, but for the first\ntime in his life he missed his aim, and the stone went past the\nbirds. \u201cOn my word,\u201d said Cuchulain, \u201cthis is a strange thing; from\nthe day on which I first assumed arms till now, never have I missed\na mark. Give me another stone.\u201d\n\nThen he aimed again, more carefully than before, but again the\nstone went past them, and they sailed along unheeding. Then\nCuchulain was angry, and he seized his spear, and flung it at the\nbirds. And the aim was so good that it seemed as though the spear\nwent through the swans, but for all that they flew away unhurt,\nsave that the wing of one of them was broken. But when Cuchulain\nsaw that the swans were taking flight, he flung off his mantle and\nran after them, Laeg following hard behind. The swans flew slowly\nround the bend of the lake, and disappeared beneath the water; and\nwhen Cuchulain came after them round the point of land, he saw them\nno more, and though he gazed far out upon the water, and up to the\npassing clouds of heaven, he could not tell whither the birds were\ngone.\n\nHe looked about him, but he did not recognise the place in which he\nwas, although he was on the Plain of Murthemne, in his own country.\n\n\u201cWhere are the birds gone, and where are we, O Laeg?\u201d said\nCuchulain, for he was sore perplexed. And a strange weariness\novertook him, and he leaned his back against a pillar stone that\nwas hard by, and drowsiness fell upon him. But Laeg seemed to be\nasleep, for he gave no answer.\n\nThen in a vision Cuchulain saw two graceful women approach him,\nclad in fairy mantles of green and purple, and they had little\nswitches of osier in their hands, and they began to strike him\ngently with the rods, first one and then the other, as though they\nplayed a game with him, and it seemed to Cuchulain that all his\nstrength departed from him while they touched him with their rods.\n\nThen he said, but his voice sounded to himself but far away and\nstrange, \u201cWho are ye, fair ladies, and what do ye want with me?\u201d\n\u201cWe are come,\u201d said the first, \u201cout of Moy Mell, the Land of all\nDelight, the radiant Honey-Plain beyond the waves, to seek thy\nfriendship. Liban am I, wife of Labra the Swift, the Wielder of the\nSword, the monarch of that land. I come to bid thee welcome, if\nthou wilt succour him against his foes; for Senach the Spectral has\nchallenged him to battle, and alone he is not strong enough to meet\nhim and his gruesome phantom host. Come therefore to his help.\nNever until this day has monarch out of Fairy-land called for the\nhelp of any mortal man, but on the Plain of all Delights thy fame\nand thy renown are known; Cuchulain of the hundred feats is known.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe come,\u201d said the second lady, \u201cupon another quest. With Labra,\ncalled the Swift, the Wielder of the Sword, dwells beauteous Fand,\nbetrothed to old Manannan of the Waves. Above the splendour of all\nwomen of this earthly world shines out the noble loveliness of\nFand, Manannan\u2019s chosen wife. Like the pure crystal clearness of a\ntear is the fairness of her face, and for that reason is she named\nFand, that is, \u2018a tear.\u2019 Now tales of thy renown have come to Fand,\nthe praise of young Cuchulain, Champion of Murthemne\u2019s plain, and\nsore she longeth with her own eyes to look on thee, and see thy\nwarlike, comely form. Therefore we come, that if thou wilt, we may\nconduct thee to the Honey-plain, the Land of all Delights. We are\nthe swans that swam upon the lake, and see, with thy rough spear,\nhow thou hast torn and hurt my hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am in no fit state to-day to contend with men or demon hosts,\u201d\nCuchulain said; \u201clet Laeg go with you, and let him come again and\ntell me of your land. I am not strong or well to-day, and over and\nabove all this, never would I, with any man or host do battle on\nthe asking of a woman.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome thou, then, Laeg,\u201d she said; \u201cI will take care of thee, and\nbring thee safely back. But it is woe and alas that thy master will\nnot come.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d said Laeg, \u201cnever in all my life until to-day have I\nbeen put under a woman\u2019s guard. This kind of woman\u2019s rule, I vow,\npleaseth me not at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cNevertheless, O master Laeg,\u201d she said, \u201cit is only under my\nguidance that thou canst reach Moy Mell. Haste then, and come,\nfor Labra waits for us.\u201d Still Laeg protested, and would not have\ngone, but that Cuchulain urged him; and at the last forward they\nwent, Laeg and the women, walking together a long while, till they\nperceived an island in the lake, and on the near side lay a skiff\nof bronze, burnished and very light, waiting, it seemed, to carry\nthem across. It had no oar or sail or men to guide or ferry it\nalong, but as they touched it with their feet, swiftly it moved\noutward from the bank, and with straight aim across the lake it\nbore them to the door of the palace that was in the island.\n\nAbout the palace-gate they beheld a troop of warriors, coming out\nto meet them. \u201cWhere is Labra the Swift-handed?\u201d demanded Liban.\n\u201cHe returns from gathering his troops and armies for the conflict\non the morrow,\u201d they replied; and even as they spoke, the rattle\nof a chariot was heard approaching. \u201cHe comes, make way,\u201d they\ncried; \u201cLabra Swift-handed, Wielder of the Sword, returns from the\nbattle-field.\u201d\n\nThen drew near a dark, stern warrior, whose horses out-stripped\nthe March wind in their swiftness. In his right hand he held\nhis upright long-shafted spear, and at his side hung a terrible\ntwo-handled sword, double-bladed, strong. Rugged and full of care\nwas that warrior\u2019s face, and gloom sat on his brow. And Liban said,\n\u201cThe spirit of Labra is depressed to-day; I will go out and greet\nhim.\u201d She went forward to bid him welcome, and when he saw her, his\nface cleared, and he exclaimed, \u201cHas the Hound of Ulster come?\u201d\n\u201cThe Hound of Ulster cometh not to-day,\u201d she said, \u201cbut Laeg is\nhere, and surely he himself will come to-morrow. Fear nothing,\nLabra, Wielder of the massive sword, King of the Honey-plain, the\nhosts shall be hewn down before thee, and women shall weep their\ndead, when once Cuchulain comes.\u201d\n\nThen Labra called Laeg and said, \u201cWelcome, O Laeg; for the sake\nof him from whom thou comest, for the sake of the lady with whom\nthou comest, thrice welcome to this land. But now return to thine\nown home, O Laeg, and set my message before thy master, before the\nVictorious Hound, and bid him come and help me, for the Plain of\nHoney is changed to a plain of slaughter and red war, and hosts are\ngathering to destroy us; seest thou yonder how they come?\u201d\n\nThen Laeg looked, and far off on the plain he saw armies coming up\nlike hosts of demon men, obscure and silently; in bands and troops\nthey ranged themselves across the plain. Afar and farther yet he\nsaw them crowding on, while over them their dusky pennons flew, and\ntheir great spears pointed aloft. Yet though so great a host was\nassembling, never a sound was heard; but like an army of the dead\nthey moved, noiseless and swift; only upon the air there came a\nsound, low and soft and still, like wailing of the wind in forest\ntrees, and then Laeg knew that they were playing the Dord Fiansa\nupon the points of their great spears.\n\n\u201cTo-morrow will the battle be joined,\u201d said Labra, \u201cand though our\nwarriors are good, we cannot stand before this host. Pray therefore\nthy most valiant lord without loss of time to come and succour us.\u201d\n\nAnd Laeg said, \u201cSurely he will come,\u201d and with that he set out to\nreturn again.\n\nNow when Laeg left his master at the pillar-stone, Cuchulain\nlay for a long while in a trance; and there Fergus and the men\nof Ulster found him, and they were perplexed to guess what had\nhappened to him or whither Laeg had gone. At length Cuchulain sat\npartly up, but all his strength was gone from him. And he said,\n\u201cCarry me to the Speckled House of the Red Branch Champions of\nUlster, and lay me there among the weapons.\u201d For the Champions of\nUlster were called \u2018Champions of the Red Branch,\u2019 and they had\nthree halls set apart for them in the palace of the King at Emain\nMacha. In the speckled house they hung their weapons and stored\ntheir trophies; it was called the Speckled House because of the\nbright spots of light made by the flickering of the sun as it\ndanced on the weapons round the wall.\n\nSo they carried Cuchulain to the Speckled House and laid him there\nupon a bed with his own weapons hung above his head; and Fergus and\nConall the Victorious, and the other warriors who were his friends\ntook turns to watch him as he lay. For a whole year he lay thus\nin trance and no word did he speak all that time. For a year with\nmortal men is but a day in fairy-land.\n\nAt the end of the year Laeg returned, and he found his master thus\nasleep and speechless, but he knew not that he had been away more\nthan a single day. Greatly was Laeg disturbed at the condition\nof his master, for he knew that Labra awaited his coming on the\nmorrow. Then, as he pondered how he should awaken him, there\ncame amongst them, silently and unannounced, a noble youth of\nprincely mien, who stood at the foot of the bed and looked down\non Cuchulain as he lay. They knew not how he had come in, for the\ndoors were shut, and no man had seen him enter. Fergus and Conall\nthe Victorious sprang to their feet and laid their hands on their\nswords to protect Cuchulain. But the stranger said, \u201cI am Angus,\ngod of youth, come out of fairy-land to heal Cuchulain; if the man\nwho lies there sick were but in health, he would be a protection\nto me against all Ulster. Although he now lies ill, he still is my\nprotector, and so much the more than if he were in health, for sure\nam I that none would hurt me, while he is unfit to take my part.\u201d\n\n\u201cNone here will hurt or injure you,\u201d said all; \u201cwelcome art thou\nfor the sake of him for whom thou hast come.\u201d\n\nThen the stranger stood up and sang to Cuchulain a mystic strain,\nwhich none of those who stood by could understand; but in truth,\nhe was calling Cuchulain to Fairy-land, the Plain of all Delight,\nfor Fand it was who sent him to invite Cuchulain thither. And as\nhe sang, lo! Cuchulain sat upright in his bed, and his vision went\nfrom him, and he felt his natural strength returning to him again.\nBut when they looked, Angus was gone, and they knew not whither or\nhow he went.\n\nBut Fergus and Conall greeted Cuchulain lovingly and said, \u201cTell us\nnow what happened unto thee.\u201d And Cuchulain told them all that had\ncome to him, and of the fairy women with their wands of osier who\nhad met him, and how his strength departed when they touched him\nwith the wands.\n\nThen Cuchulain called Laeg, and said, \u201cGo to Emer of the beautiful\nhair, who is sorrowing for me in my own home, in Dun Dalgan, and\nsay to her that the fairy women have taken my strength from me,\nand that I am not able to come to her; but tell her that it goeth\nbetter with me from hour to hour, and that I would have her come to\nme to comfort me.\u201d\n\nAnd Laeg took that message to Emer, and he found her weeping in Dun\nDalgan. And she said, \u201cIt is strange to me, O Laeg, that though for\na whole year your master has been lying ill, not one of you has\nsought to heal or succour him. Well known is it that you possess\nthe power to go away to fairy-land, where all herbs of healing are\nto be found, yet never have you sought a fairy herb to cure your\nmaster. Surely some warrior or wise man of Ulster might have done\nsome heroic deed to bring him back from the sore sickness in which\nhe lies! Had Fergus or Conall been sick or wounded, or had they\nlost their sleep, or had King Conor been bound down in enchanted\nslumber as now Cuchulain is, short would have been the time till\nCuchulain would have done some mighty deed or have sought some\nmagic means of healing them. Certain it is he would have gone into\nthe fairy mounds, or through the solid earth itself; the great\nwide world he would have searched from end to end, until he found\nsome plant of healing that would have saved and wakened them. But\nas for me, for a whole year have I not found one night of sweet\nrepose, since he, the Hound of Ulster, lay bound down with magic\nchains. Sore is my heart and sick; bright music nor the voice of\npleasant friendship strikes my ear; blood presses on my heart since\nCuchulain lay in fairy toils.\u201d\n\nThen to the Speckled House she went in haste, and stayed not until\nshe entered the hall where Cuchulain lay, weak and prostrate upon\nhis bed.\n\nShe seated herself at the side of the bed and touched Cuchulain\u2019s\nhand, and kissed him, and she called on him to come back from\nfairy-land. \u201cAwake, awake, O champion of Ulster, shake off this\nfairy sickness; not fit is it that a chariot-warrior should lie\nupon his bed. Lo! Ulster calls upon her Hound of Battle. Lo!\nfriends and comrades call. Lo! I, thy wife, am at thy side. Awake!\nawake! O Hound!\u201d\n\nAt that, Cuchulain stood up and opened wide his eyes, and he saw\nEmer of the beautiful hair seated at his side. Then he passed his\nhand across his face, and his heaviness and weariness passed away\nfrom him, and he arose and embraced his friends and his own and\nonly wife; and he felt his strength returning to him, and his old\nvigour coming to him again.\n\nAnd he said to Emer, \u201cFor one day, O wife, spare me yet; for there\nis a deed of battle-valour that I must perform to-day, and after\nthat I will come home to you. Go before me to Dun Dalgan, and\nprepare a feast and call my comrades and my friends together. I\nwill but go and come again.\u201d Then Emer set out for Dun Dalgan to\nprepare the feast, but for a whole year she waited for Cuchulain,\nwatching day by day, and yet he came not.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nHow Cuchulain went to Fairy-Land\n\n\nWhen Cuchulain left Emer, he went forward to the fairy-rath where\nhe had seen Liban, and he found her waiting for him to take him to\nLabra\u2019s Isle.\n\nIt seemed to him that the way they took was long, for they passed\nover the Plain of Speech, and beyond the Tree of Triumphs, and over\nthe festal plain of Emain, and the festal plain of Fidga, until\nthey came to the place where the bronze skiff awaited them, to take\nthem to the Isle of all Delights. A noble and right hospitable\nwelcome was prepared for Cuchulain in that Isle, but he would not\nrest for that, but bade Labra conduct him without delay to the\nPlain of Combat. So Labra bade him mount his chariot and together\nthey passed on to the Plain of Combat, where the armies of the\nphantom hosts were assembled for the fight upon the morrow. On one\nside were the hosts of Labra, very few, but picked and chosen men\nin splendid garb, with arms of the best in their hands; but on the\nside of Senach the Spectral, as far as eye could reach on every\nside, rose lines of black and gloomy tents, with black pennons\nflying from their poles. Gaunt heroes clothed in black moved about\namongst the tents, and all the horses that they rode were red as\nblood with fiery manes. And over the whole there hung a mist, heavy\nand lowering, so that Cuchulain could not see how far the host\nextended for the gloom of that heavy mist.\n\nAnd sounds rose on the air, like the muttering of a demon host,\nquarrelling and wrangling, so that a man might well shiver before\nsuch a sound. But when he saw the demon host, the spirit of\nCuchulain revived within him, and he felt his old force and courage\nand his strength returning to him, and all his weakness passed away.\n\nAnd he said to Labra, \u201cI would fain drive round the host and\nnumber them.\u201d In ever-widening circles he began to drive round the\ntents. But, as he drove, on every side they sprang up before him\ninnumerable as the blades of grass on a meadow-field, or as the\nstars on a brilliant summer\u2019s night, or like the grains of sand\nupon the ocean\u2019s shore. Black and gloomy they stood on every hand,\nand grim and gaunt the warriors who moved about amongst them, and\nterrible their blood-red steeds. It seemed to Cuchulain that the\nsmell of blood was already in the air, and all the plain was dark\nand dim with mist, so that he could not count or number them, or\nsee the end of them at all.\n\nBut the spirit of Cuchulain faltered not, and he returned to Labra,\nand said to him, \u201cLeave me now alone with this great army and take\naway with you the champions you have brought. This battle I will\nfight alone.\u201d\n\nSo Labra and his men departed and Cuchulain remained alone facing\nthe phantom host. Then two ravens, the birds of knowledge and\ndestiny, with whom are the secrets of the druids, came between\nCuchulain and the host, and all that night they made a dismal\ncroaking, so that the demon men grew sore afraid.\n\n\u201cOne would think,\u201d they said, \u201cthat the Madman of Emain Macha were\nclose at hand, from the croaking of those ravens;\u201d for it was thus\nthey spoke among themselves of Cuchulain, because he changed his\naspect in time of combat, and a wild and strange appearance came\nupon him. And they chased away the ravens, and left no place of\nrest for them in all that land.\n\nAll that night Cuchulain stood with his hand upon his spear,\nwatching the demon host. Very early in the morning, he saw one of\ntheir chief leaders going forth out of his tent, to bathe his hands\nat the spring; and his tunic fell back and left his shoulder bare.\nAt once, with a cast of his spear, Cuchulain transfixed him through\nhis shoulder to the earth.\n\nWhen the demon host saw their captain fall, they arose, and in\nswarms and close battalions they came down upon Cuchulain. Then\nhis war-fury came upon him, and wildly and terribly he attacked\nthem, scattering them to right and left; and so furious was he and\nso deadly were his blows, that they feared to come nigh him. It\nfilled them with awe to see one single man fighting with a host;\nbut as the shining of the sun drives the mist before it on a dewy\nmorn of early spring, so did the radiance of the face of Cuchulain\ndisperse and drive away the army of the demons, for they could not\nstand before the splendour and the shining of his countenance.\nThen Senach the Spectral attacked him, and furious was the contest\nfought between them, but in the end Cuchulain prevailed and slew\nhim; and all the host, when they saw that, turned and fled.\n\nAt length Cuchulain returned, his sword dripping with blood; and\nthe heat of his body after the fight was such that water had to\nbe thrown over him, before he could be touched; and the men of\nLabra feared that his wrath would turn against themselves. They\nbrought him into the house and bathed him and changed his raiment,\nand slowly his own appearance came back upon him; and after that,\nthey led him to Fand, who awaited his return with her fifty maidens\nround her. Very beautiful was the house in which Fand and Labra\nawaited Cuchulain. Couches of copper with pillars of fine gold were\nranged around the hall, and soft pillows and cushions of coloured\nsilk were piled on each of them; the flashing of the jewels from\nthe golden pillars giving light to all who were in the house.\nNoble youths in glossy garments of smooth silk offered drink in\ngolden goblets, and as they drank, the harpers and musicians gave\nforth sweet music, and the story-tellers recited their tales.\nLaughter and merriment were heard throughout the house, while from\nthe eaves the fairy-birds warbled in harmony with the music of\nthe harps. Fifty youths of stately mien, and fifty maidens with\ntwisted hair bedecked with golden coronals waited on Fand, on Labra\nand his spouse. Near the house to westward, where the sun went\ndown, stood dappled steeds, pawing the ground and ready for their\nriders. On the east of the house stood three bright apple-trees,\ndropping ruddy fruit, and in front of the door a tree that gave\nforth sweetest harmony, such as would sooth wounded men to sleep,\nor bring health to women in their sickness. Above the well another\ntree, with silver leaves that reddened in the sunlight, dropped\nfragrant food, pleasant to all who tasted it. Ever on the gentle\nbreeze the tops of the tree swayed together, and ever they swung\nwide; and as they met food fell down sufficient for thrice three\nhundred men. A vat stood in the hall, full to the top of mead\nand sparkling ale, and all the porch, above its silver posts, was\nthatched with wings of birds, in stripes of brown and red.\n\nNow Fand sat on a da\u00efs, waiting for Cuchulain. And when he came\nbefore her, clothed as a king, his noble manly form bathed and\nrefreshed, his golden hair gathered above his brow round an\napple of bright gold, and all his face aflame with the vigour of\nthe fight, she thought that she had never looked upon a man so\nbrilliant as he.\n\nAnd he, when he looked on her, knew that never in his life had\nhe seen woman half so fair as Fand. \u201cArt thou he, Cuchulain of\nMurthemne, the Hound of Ulster?\u201d she asked, and even as she spoke\nthe whole band of youths and maidens rose to their feet, and sang a\nchant of welcome to Cuchulain.\n\nThen Fand placed Cuchulain at her right hand, and happy and\ngladsome were they together, and for a while Cuchulain forgot\nUlster, and his place at Conor\u2019s hand, and all the cares and\ntroubles of the other life; nay, he forgot Emer his own wife and\nthe feast she was preparing for him, and the days passed quickly\nand joyously in the company of Liban and Labra and Fand. And it\nseemed to him as though Erin were but a dark unquiet land beside\nthe clearness of Moy Mell, the Fairy-land of all Delights.\n\nAt length one night he could not sleep; not all the warbling of the\nfairy-birds from the branches of the tree and from the eaves, nor\nyet the sound of minstrel\u2019s strains could soothe him into slumber.\nFor he remembered Ulster and his duty to his king, and Emer and the\nfeast she was to make for him, and all his warrior deeds which were\ndeparting from him, and he felt he must needs forsake the Land of\nall Delights and go back to his work in Erin once again.\n\nIn the morning he called Fand, and told her he must go that day,\nfor he knew not what troubles might be happening to Ulster while\nhe was away, or what was become of Emer, his wife. But Labra and\nFand besought him to stay yet awhile, and they called the musicians\nand bid them chase away the sudden gloom of Cuchulain, and they\nbrought out the playing-games, hurley and chess, and raced the\nhorses to please him, and they harnessed the steeds of the chariots\nfor his delight. But even for all this Cuchulain would not stay.\nFor he said, \u201cMy warrior-strength is passing from me as I rest in\nidleness, my vigour is decaying. Let me then go, for I am not as\nthe little dogs that play about their mistresses\u2019 feet; I am a\nHound of war and conflicts to stand before the foe, and do battle\nfor my country and my king.\u201d\n\nAnd Cuchulain sang this lay:\n\n \u201cNo pup am I to play about the feet of ladies fair,\n But where the hounds of war are loosed you\u2019ll find me ever there;\n No mongrel whelp to watch the fire or crouch beside the hearth,\n I stand beside the fords, I scare the champion from his path.\n\n \u201cMy bark is not the yelp of curs cowed to the heels by fear,\n But the deep bay of winded hounds chasing the leaping deer;\n No swathes of wool shall bind my wounds, no cushioned couch have I,\n Amidst the carnage of the slain I and my kind shall lie.\n\n \u201cNo silky coat of well-combed hair, smooth \u2018neath the children\u2019s\n hand,\n But a fierce mastiff, gaunt and grim, when strife invades the land;\n Where fords are weak, where forts blaze red, where trumpets sound\n for war,\n The \u2018Hound of Ulster\u2019 stands at guard, or drives the foe afar.\u201d\n\nThen when Fand saw that nothing would content him, she bade him a\ngentle kind farewell; and all the youths and maidens came about\nhim, sorrowing that he was so soon weary of their land. But Labra\nthanked him kindly and heartily for his help against the demon host\nand he bade Liban take Cuchulain safely back across the lake to\nErin once again.\n\nBut, before he went, Fand lifted up her lovely witching face, and\nsaid, \u201cTell me some place where, at the end of a year from now, I\nmay see your face once more. Never till now have I ventured forth\nfrom fairy-land; but, for your sake, for one brief hour I will come\nto the land of troubled mortal men. Give me a tryst.\u201d\n\nCuchulain was fain to deny her this, for he thought on Emer, and\nhe dreaded her anger against Fand, if she should be aware of it.\nBut when he saw the crystal-fair, witching face of Fand, and her\nruby lips and eyes bright as stars on a summer\u2019s night, he could\nnot say her nay; and he made a tryst with her on the Strand of the\nYew-tree\u2019s Head, for a year and a day from then. And after that,\nthey bade one another farewell.\n\nSo Cuchulain came home again, and Emer and Laeg and his friends\ngreeted him right lovingly, and he told them that he had been in\nfairy-land, and of all its splendours and beauty he told them\nfreely, but to Emer he said not anything of Fand.\n\nNow when a year and a day were past, Cuchulain came to the place\nof tryst at the Strand of the Yew-tree\u2019s Head, and he and Laeg\nsat beneath the ancient yew-tree playing chess, while waiting for\nthe coming of Fand. It chanced that, as Emer walked that way with\nher fifty maidens to take the air beside the shore, she beheld\napproaching a dignified lady, radiant as the clearness of a day\nin June, who came with a troop of maidens towards Cuchulain. Very\nswiftly and softly they moved across the plain, as though they\nhardly touched the sod, and all the land was filled with their\nbrightness.\n\nIt appeared to Emer that they had come across the lake, yet no\nsign of skiff or boat was to be seen, and the unknown queen came\nwhere Cuchulain sat, and he rose up and made a glad gentle greeting\nbefore her, and she sat down by him, and they talked pleasantly and\nlovingly together.\n\nWhen Emer saw this, she was filled with jealousy and anger against\nthe fairy-woman, and to herself she said, \u201cThis, then, O Cuchulain,\nwas the cause that kept thee so long in fairy-land, when I made\nthat feast to which thou earnest not.\u201d\n\nAnd anger and dark revenge filled Emer\u2019s heart, and she turned to\nher maidens and said, \u201cBring me here sharp-bladed knives, for I\nmyself will go softly behind them and I will kill the woman who\ntalks with Cuchulain.\u201d\n\nThen they went and fetched thin gleaming knives, and they hid them\nbeneath their mantles, and went stealthily behind the place where\nCuchulain sat. Now Cuchulain saw not what was going forward, but\nFand knew, for she sat over against Cuchulain, facing the way that\nEmer came. She said to Cuchulain, \u201cEmer thy wife comes here, with\nfifty maidens, and there are sharp knives hidden beneath their\ncloaks.\u201d\n\nBut he said, \u201cFear nothing, lady, I myself will speak to Emer, my\nown wife, and do thou wait here till my return.\u201d\n\nBut Emer came close to Cuchulain and cried, \u201cWhy dost thou do\nme this dishonour, O Cuchulain, to leave me for a fairy maid?\nThe women of Ulster will contemn me if they think that Cuchulain\nloves another woman better than his wife; and what have I done to\ndisplease thee, that thou shouldst need to talk with her? Never\nhave I left thee for any other, and well and truly have I loved\nthee from the day thou earnest in thy chariot to the fort of\nForgall the Wily, my father, till to-day; and for ever shall I love\nthee, and none other but thee alone.\u201d\n\nThen Cuchulain said, \u201cYou wrong me, Emer, and you wrong this\nfairy-maid. No thought at all of harm have we, nor can any other\nbe to me what thou hast been. Fair and pure is this maiden, and a\nworthy mate for any monarch in the world. Her race is noble, her\nmind is firm and gentle and full of lofty thoughts, no harm or evil\nwill be found in her or me. Moreover, she is betrothed to a noble\nspouse, Manannan of the Ocean Waves.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn very truth,\u201d said Emer, bitterly, for her heart was sore within\nher on account of the greatness of the love she bore Cuchulain,\n\u201cit is ever so with men! All that is new is fair, and all that is\nold is of little worth; white is the last they see, and the others\nare but grey or black. Sweet is the thing they have not, but sour\nthe fruit they hold within their hands! Once in peace and love\nwe dwelled together and no one came between us, and in peace and\nhonour we might dwell together again, O Youth, if but I were as\ndear to thee as once I was!\u201d And great tears rolled down Emer\u2019s\ncheeks, and her grief weighed heavily upon her.\n\n\u201cBy my word and truly,\u201d cried Cuchulain, \u201cnever wast thou more dear\nto me than thou art to-day, and dear shalt thou be to me for all my\nlife.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said Fand, \u201cthat I had better go away, and return to my\nown country, for I am troubling you all here.\u201d \u201cNay, nay,\u201d cried\nEmer, smitten with reproach when she saw the nobleness that was in\nthe fairy woman, \u201cgo not away, \u2019twere better I should go.\u201d\n\nBut Fand said, \u201cNot so, indeed, from my own land they call me to\nreturn. Take to thee thy man, O noble Emer, no harm or hurt hath\nhappened him with me. Though in the Land of all Delights warriors\nand great men sought my friendship, better to me than the affection\nof them all was the friendship of thy glorious spouse. Need is\nthere, now, that I should go my way, and leave my friend to thee;\nbut though bright and dazzling is the country of Moy Mell, some\nshadow hath fallen on it since Cuchulain went away.\u201d\n\nThen she lifted up her lovely face, and Emer saw that tears like\ndrops of crystal stood within her eyes.\n\nLong years ago had Fand been betrothed to Manannan, Lord of the\nOcean and the Waves, a great and hoary god. Ancient was he, for\nno man knew his age, and wild and grey his hair, and all his brow\nrugged and lined with storms. Very kingly and majestic was his\ntread, but men feared him, because of his strange, tempestuous\nmoods, and his shape-shifting, and his little care for human life.\nFor Manannan was ever restless, wandering in distant lands, moving\nnow this way, now that, and visiting in turn all countries; and\nyears ago, as mortal men count time, he had gone away and returned\nnot, nor did Fand even know where he was to be found. So she\nthought he had forsaken her, and, when Cuchulain came to fairy-land\nand she saw his youth and beauty, her mind went out to him, for\nnever had she seen before a noble human man.\n\nBut Manannan knew within himself that Fand was in sore grief,\nand he arose in haste to go and help her. For, although he had\ntarried long in distant lands, daily he had news of Fand, and he\nlearned all she was doing and when she needed him. So now he saw\nher trouble, for he it was who sent Cuchulain to fairy-land that\nhe might test her love for himself; and swiftly over the waves he\nsped to go and save her. Invisible was he to mortal men, and he\nrode the white sea-foam as though it were a horse, for no need had\nhe of any vessel, or of sail or oar; and as he passed by Fand, she\nfelt his presence and looked up at him as he passed by. But for a\nmoment she knew not that this was Manannan of the Waves, for his\nlook of hoary age had gone from him, and the man she saw was young\nand strong, with a noble gentleness upon his face, like the sea on\na calm summer\u2019s day.\n\nFor Manannan was a shape-shifter, and at one time he was terrible\nand cruel to behold, but at another he showed a kindly face, for\nhe looked into the minds of men, and as he saw them, even so his\nown face reflected the thing he saw. Then Manannan said to Fand, \u201cO\nLady, what wilt thou now do? Wilt thou depart with me or abide here\nwith Cuchulain, if he comes for thee?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my troth,\u201d said Fand, \u201ceither of you two were a fitting spouse\nfor me, and a worthy friend to stay with; and in neither of you do\nI see any one thing greater or better than is in the other; yet, O\nthou princely One, it is with thee that I will go, for I have been\npromised to thee for thy wife; thou hast no consort of worth equal\nto thine own, while Cuchulain has a noble spouse; therefore take me\nwith thee, for Cuchulain needs me not.\u201d\n\nThen Manannan stretched his arms to Fand, and drew her with him,\nand she followed him. And Cuchulain perceived her drawing away\nfrom him, but he knew not whither she went, nor could he see who\nwas talking to her. And he cried out to Laeg, his charioteer, who\nhad knowledge of fairy-land, \u201cWhat meaneth this, Laeg, that I see?\nWhither goeth Fand?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe goeth with Manannan of the Sea,\u201d replied Laeg. \u201cHe is drawing\nher back to the Land of all Delights, but she is weeping as she\ngoes.\u201d\n\nThen Cuchulain uttered three sharp cries of sorrow and of grief,\nand he fled away from men into desert places, and would take no\nmeat or drink, and he slept in the open rush-land beside the\nhigh-road to Tara.\n\nEmer went then to Emain, and sought King Conor, and told him\nall that had happened, and that Cuchulain was out of his senses\nbecause Fand had gone away; and she prayed him of his love for\nCuchulain, and because of her love for him, to send to him men\nof skill and Druids who might bring him back to health. The king\ndid so willingly, but when they came, Cuchulain fled from them,\nor sought to slay them, until at length he felt within himself a\nterrible thirst, and he craved of them a drink. In the drink they\nmingled herbs of forgetfulness, so that the memory of Fand slowly\nfaded from him, and the remembrance of the time he had spent in\nfairy-land, and he came to his own mind again.\n\nThey gave soothing drinks to Emer also, for she was troubled,\ntoo, and stricken, and her natural joyousness had gone from her.\nBut when Manannan heard in fairy-land of the trouble of Emer and\nCuchulain, he came unseen of any man, and shook his cloak of\nforgetfulness between Fand and Cuchulain, so that from both of them\nthe memory passed away, as though it had been a dream, and they\nthought of it no more.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nDeirdre of Contentions\n\n\nYears passed away, and the memory of their old feuds died down\nbetween Fergus mac Roy and King Conor mac Nessa. Fergus in his\nold age wearied for his home and country, and for the comrades of\nhis youth. The private wars of Meave had little interest for him,\nand the tidings that came from time to time from his own province\nstirred in him a longing to be back. So at length he bade farewell\nto Meave, and with the most part of his followers he returned to\nUlster, and settled in his own fort again. In order to keep his\nallegiance, King Conor gave him a position next himself, and in all\noutward things showed him honour, but all the while he watched him\njealously, and Fergus knew well that the King would be glad to find\na good excuse to shut him up in bonds or to put him to death. Conor\nfeared his power with the people, and their pride and affection\nfor him who once had been their king, and in his mind Conor knew\nwell that he sat in Fergus\u2019 seat, and that many of the older chiefs\nwould willingly have seen their rightful prince once more upon the\nthrone. As old age came on him, Conor grew more wily and suspicious\nyear by year, so that some men dreaded and some hated him, and few\nfelt for him affection or true reverence. Yet among the youthful\ngeneration growing up, the reign of Fergus and his mighty deeds\nwere but a tale told by their fathers of their own youthful\ndays; and though they looked with awe upon his mighty stature and\nhis massive form, Fergus seemed to them more like a giant of the\nancient time, or like a hoary god, than like a being of human kind\nas they were, feeling the needs and passions of a man.\n\nUlster was now at peace, and quietly the days rolled by. Once\nmore the sound of laughter rang out from the playing-fields. New\nboys, grown out of babyhood, played the old sports, lads brave\nand manly as those of other days; but older men, passing, would\nshake their heads and wipe away a tear, for still the shadow of\nthe tragedy that met the boy-corps at the ford hung over them. And\nmany a mother wept at night remembering a bright boy, her pride and\ndarling, swept away contending for Cuchulain and for Ulster against\nthe warriors of Meave.\n\nFrom time to time, in days of peace, the chiefs of Ulster, each in\nhis turn, made a feast for Conor and the nobles in his company,\nthe famous Champions of the Red Branch. In his turn, Felim, son of\nDoll, the chief of the King\u2019s story-tellers and his close friend,\nmade such a feast for Conor.\n\nFor a whole year had Felim been preparing for the coming of the\nKing. He built a noble banqueting hall close to his house, and\nsleeping rooms for the King\u2019s followers, and stables for their\nsteeds. From all the country round the farmers brought butter and\ncream, fresh curds and cheeses, cakes and wheaten bread. Cattle and\nsheep and swine worthy of the royal banquet were brought in, and\nfruits and onions, honey and strong ale were stored in plenty in\nFelim\u2019s vats and store-houses.\n\nHe gathered together singing men and singing women, musicians\nwho played upon the fiddle and the harp, and the best tellers of\nstories that were to be found in all the country-side.\n\nOn the day appointed, the King set out in state from Emain, with\nthe Champions of the Red Branch in his train.\n\nFair was the day and bright when Conor and his followers set out,\neach in his chariot drawn by two spirited steeds, each decked in\nhis festal array, in mantles of rich crimson, blue or purple,\nfastened with massive brooches of pure gold, wondrously chased and\nset with stones of price brought out of distant lands. Upon their\nheads their helmets of bright bronze shone in the sun, and on their\nspear-points the sunlight danced so that they seemed to move along\nbeneath a flashing line of gold.\n\nBut as they neared the hall the sky grew overcast and black with\nclouds, and at the fall of night a wind arose and blew up clouds of\nheavy dust that dimmed their brilliancy, so that they reached the\nmansion of Felim besmirched and blown about and very weary.\n\nHardly had the chariot of the King drawn up within the court, than\na roll of thunder, loud and terrible, resounded overhead, while\nfloods of rain poured down, and a fierce tempest seemed to shake\nthe building to its foundations. \u201cAn awful night is this,\u201d said\nFelim; \u201cclose to the doors and bid the singing men and women make\nbright cheerful music in the hall.\u201d But all in vain they tried\nto cheer the guests. Louder the tempest roared, and peal on peal\nof thunder, such as none of them had ever heard before, made all\nhearts quail. \u201cNo common storm is this,\u201d the monarch said, \u201cI have\nforebodings that some ill will fall upon the province from this\nnight.\u201d But Felim busied himself to push on the feast, and when all\nwere seated at the board, with servers carving the great joints\nand wine poured out, a lull came in the storm, and Felim thought\nthat all was well at last. But scarcely had the King begun to eat,\nwhen a swift messenger came running in. \u201cO King,\u201d he proclaimed, \u201ca\nchild is born to Felim, a fine fair-fashioned girl; let Felim come\nand see his wife and child.\u201d But Felim said, \u201cBe silent now, let\nnot the feast be broken by your news. When once the feast is done\nand the King served, I\u2019ll come and see the child.\u201d\n\nBeside the King sat Caffa, the first Druid of the province, an aged\nman. He heard the message, and up-rose. \u201cA child is born to our\nhost, O King, while we are present here. I will go forth and by the\nstars find out her destiny, whether to Felim and his wife comes joy\nor woe with this girl\u2019s birth.\u201d \u201cGo forth,\u201d the King replied, \u201cnot\nless than this is due to our good host. Fair be the fate that will\nbefall to him and all his house because this child is born.\u201d\n\nThen Caffa went far out beyond the house, and at the outer rath\nhe stood awhile, trying behind the drifting clouds to read the\nstars. The quarter of the moon he calculated carefully, and in what\nconstellations the wandering stars, the planets, lay. In his old\nbooks and tablets, carried within the folds of his wide flowing\nrobes, was gathered all the ancient wizard\u2019s lore, the wisdom of\nhis craft. Closely he scanned the lines, and with unusual care he\ndrew the horoscope. And now and then he started, as though things\nsurprising to himself were found therein.\n\nSo long he lingered, that, when at length he closed his tablets\nmade of soft wood and written o\u2019er with runes, and turned him to\nthe house, the King and all his company had quite forgot the child,\nand loud uproarious laughter rang throughout the hall, and sallies\nof keen wit and merry song as the full horns of mead and ale passed\nround from hand to hand. So at the door a moment Caffa stood; and\nin his face was dreadful warning, and a look so strange, that all\nthe laughter died away, and silence, sudden and complete, fell on\nthe company.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the King, and laughed, though fear smote on his mind,\n\u201cwe hope the omens prophesy good luck; we drink a horn of mead to\nthe maid\u2019s good health; may she thrive, grow fair and marry well,\nand to her parents bring no harm or ill.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot to her parents will this child bring ill, but to the province,\nand to Ulster\u2019s king and chiefs. Fair she will be, so fair that\nqueens will soon grow jealous of her beauty, and kings will wage\nred war to gain her hand. I see her, tall and stately as a swan or\nas the sapling of the mountain-side; her cheek the ruddy foxglove\nputs to shame, her skin is white as winter\u2019s driven snow. Like\nthe soft hyacinth is the deep, liquid blue of her sweet eyes, and\nteeth, like pearls, gleam between crimson lips. Like to a crown\nof gold her clustering hair, gathered in rolls about her shapely\nhead. She walks apart, alone, like a fair flower hidden within a\ndell, yet all around her and where\u2019er she comes are tumults and the\nsounds of rolling war, and broken friendships and black treachery.\nI see that she is destined to a king, but something comes between\nher and her fate. Beware, O King; this maid is born for ill to\nUlster, and the downfall of the Red Branch and its noble Champions.\u201d\n\nUp-sprang the Heroes of the Red Branch then, and one and all cried\nout that if upon the province ill must fall because of this one\nbabe, \u2019twere better far to put the child to death while she was\nyoung, and rid the land of her. But the King held them back. \u201cBring\nthe babe hither,\u201d he said, \u201cand let us see this harbinger of ill.\u201d\n\nThen came the babe all swathed in white and lying, soft and fair,\nwithin her nurse\u2019s arms. And when the infant saw the lights and\nheard the sounds of singing, she was pleased, and puckered up her\nbaby face and looked up at the King and crowed and smiled. At this\nthe King was moved to gentleness; he rose up from his seat and took\nthe babe out of her nurse\u2019s arms and loudly he proclaimed before\nthem all: \u201cThe prophecies and omens of the seers I do most strictly\nhonour and believe. No man can fly from fate, nor can man set\naside his destiny. The mandates of the gods of earth and air and\nfire, the Unchanging Elements, must be fulfilled. Yet will I not\nbelieve that any good can come of an ignoble act. No man or hero of\na noble mind for his own good would slay a helpless babe, neither\nthen for the good of Ulster shall this foul, cowardly deed be done.\nThe child shall live, and if she prove as fair as Caffa says, one\npart at least of his grim prophecy shall be fulfilled, for I will\ntake the girl as my own wife when she is come to marriageable age,\nand so she shall be wedded to a king. And here I do declare to one\nand all, I take this child under my special charge and make myself\nresponsible for her. I bring her up in my own way, and he who lifts\nhis hand against the child must after reckon with the king himself.\u201d\n\nThen Fergus, Conall Cernach, and the rest arose and said: \u201cThe\nKing\u2019s protection is a circling wall through which no man may\nbreak. We, the Champions of the Red Branch and thy own chiefs, do\nwell observe and will fulfil your will. Even though trouble happen\nthrough her life, the child shall live.\u201d So said they all. Then\nCaffa said: \u201cAlas! Alas! O King, you and your chiefs will live to\nrue this day. Great woes are bound up with the destiny before this\nlittle maid, and all the world will hear of them and weep. A child\nof sorrow is this child, and \u2018Deirdre of Contentions\u2019 is her name.\u201d\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d said the King, \u201cI like the name; when Deirdre is of age\nto foster with a nurse, bring her to me.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nThe Up-bringing of Deirdre\n\n\nAs soon as she was weaned, King Conor took the child away from her\nown parents, as was the custom in those olden days, and put her out\nto foster with a nurse, Levarcam, a wise and skilful dame, who told\nthe King from day to day how Deirdre fared. And for the first seven\nyears Deirdre grew up within the royal household, petted and loved\nby all, and she was richly fed and robed in silk, and nourished\nlike a princess, for all in the palace knew that this young lovely\nchild was destined to be mated with their king. Often she spent her\ndays upon the playing fields, and watched the boy-corps practising\ntheir sports, and joined their games and laughed with glee like\nany other child. Thus happily and gaily passed the years for\nDeirdre, till one day when she was playing ball among the little\nlads, the King came down to watch their play. He saw how like a\nflower Deirdre grew, half like the opening daisy, pink and white,\nhalf like the slender hairbell on its stem, graceful and delicate;\nand though he was an old man, and had been a widower for now many\nyears, and the child but a babe of seven years, a sudden jealousy\nsmote at his aged heart. He saw the girl surrounded by the lads,\nwho tossed the ball into her little lap or into her small apron\nheld out to catch it as it fell. And every time she caught it, her\nringing childish laugh broke out, and all the boys cried, \u201cWell,\ncaught, O Deirdre; bravely caught, our little Queen!\u201d For to them\nall, it was well-known that this small child was kept by Conor for\nhimself, to share his throne and home; so oft in play they called\nher \u201cLittle Queen.\u201d\n\nThen Conor called his Druid Caffa to him, and he said, \u201cToo long\nwe leave this child at liberty among the chieftain\u2019s sons. She\nmust henceforth be kept apart and quite forget that there are\nyounger men than you or me. If she grows up among these lads, most\ncertainly the day will come when she will wish to wed some chief of\nher own age. See, even now, the lads bend to her will; she rules\nthem like a queen indeed, and gladly they obey her. When she is\ngrown to maidenhood, small chance for me, an aged man, when comes\nthe time to woo.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe King woos not,\u201d said Caffa, \u201che commands, and none dare\ndisobey.\u201d \u201cStill I would rather have a willing bride,\u201d the King\nreplied; \u201cI want no girl to be my royal mate who craves and hankers\nfor some other man among my subjects. She shall come to me of her\nown free will, because she knows no other man but me. She shall not\neven know what kind of thing a man may be, for I will shut her up\napart from men, and, save yourself and me, she shall not ever see a\nmanly face.\u201d \u201cThe King commands,\u201d said Caffa, slowly, \u201cand it must\nbe done as he desires. But yet I fear the maid will pine in her\ncaptivity. The bride you wed will be a lily pale as death, and not\na maiden in her blooming loveliness.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe shall have space and air and garden-ground,\u201d the King replied,\n\u201conly she shall not ever see a human face, save yours and mine, and\nnurse Levarcam\u2019s.\u201d\n\nSo for the girl he built a place apart, far off from Emain in\na lonely dell, surrounded by a wood. A simple stately house\nwas reared, surrounded by an orchard of rare fruits. Behind the\nhouse a garden and a piece of barren moor, and through the wood\na gently-flowing stream that wandered amid carpets of bright\nflowers. And all seemed fair enough, but round the place he built\na mighty wall, so high that none could climb it, and a moat ran\nround within. Four savage man-hounds sent by Conor were on constant\nguard, watching on every side by night and day, so that no living\nthing could enter or pass out, save with the knowledge of Levarcam.\n\nAnd for a time the child was happy, for Levarcam, the wise woman,\ntaught her all she knew. She taught her how each bird sings to its\nmate, each different note of thrush or cuckoo or the soaring lark;\nshe taught her of the plants that spring towards heaven, their\nroots deep hidden in the yielding soil, and of their names and\nuses, and the way they fructified and sent out shoots, and of the\nfruits they bore. And in the solemn night, they went abroad and\nwatched the motion of the stars, and marked the wandering planets\nhow they carved out their own path among the rest, and all the\nchanges of the moon the maiden knew, and how to calculate the time\nof day by shadows on the grass. There was no bird upon the spray,\nnor herb among the plants, nor star in heaven, but Deirdre had a\nname for each and all.\n\nAnd ever and anon, King Conor came and sat with her and talked, and\nbrought her gifts to while away the time; and because the days were\nlong and passed one like the other without any change, she liked\nhis coming, and would call him \u201cFather,\u201d and make tales for him,\nand sing her songs and show the little garden she had made herself\nalone.\n\nAnd Deirdre grew up tall and stately as the sapling of the forest,\nand lithe as the green moorland rush that bows before the wind.\nOf all the women of the world was Deirdre the gentlest and best,\nlovely of form and lovely in her mind; light as the hind that leaps\nupon the hill, and white and shapely as the snowy swan. But though\nthey tended her, and fed her with the best, the maiden drooped and\npined. And on a day Levarcam said, \u201cWhat ails thee, girl? Why is\nthy face so pale, thy step so slow? Why dost thou sigh and mope?\u201d\nAnd Deirdre said, \u201cI know not, nurse, what ails me; but I think\nI should be well if once again I saw the boys upon the playing\nfields, and heard their shouts, and tossed the ball with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cFie, fie,\u201d replied the nurse, \u201c\u2019tis seven full years since on the\ngreen you played at ball. A child of but seven years were you at\nthat time, and now full fourteen years have come and gone, and you\nare growing into maidenhood.\u201d \u201cSeven bitter years,\u201d said Deirdre,\n\u201csince I beheld the joyous playing field, and saw the sports, and\nmarked the manly face of Naisi, noblest and bravest of the corps of\nboys.\u201d\n\n\u201cNaisi, the son of Usna?\u201d asked Levarcam, much surprised. \u201cNaisi\nwas his name, he told me so,\u201d said Deirdre; \u201cbut I did not ask\nwhose son he was.\u201d \u201cHe told you so?\u201d Levarcam asked again. \u201cHe\ntold me so,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cwhen he threw the ball, by a mis-cast,\nbackward, across the heads of the group of maidens who were\nstanding on the edge of the green, and I rose up among them all,\npicked up the ball, and gave it back to him. He pressed my hand and\nsmiled, and promised he would see me oft again; but never since\nthat day, that fatal day, when Conor brought me to this lonely\nplace, have he or I beheld each other more. Bring Naisi here, O\nnurse, that I may once again behold his face, so bright and boyish,\nwith its winning smile; then shall I live and laugh and love my\nlife again.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak not like this, O Maiden,\u201d exclaimed the nurse. \u201cTo-day the\nKing comes for his visit. We are in winter now, but in the budding\nof the spring, he takes you hence to Emain, there to claim you as\nhis wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king no doubt is kind,\u201d the girl replied, \u201cand means me well,\nbut he is old and grey, and in his face is something that I do not\nlike. I think he could be cruel, and that if any man stood in his\nway, he would not hesitate to lay a trap to catch him, as Caffa\nsnared the little mouse that ran about my room and kept me company.\nYet will I go with him to Emain, for I think that somewhere among\nthe people of the court, I shall find Naisi out.\u201d\n\n\u201cHush, hush,\u201d the nurse replied, \u201cNaisi is now a little boy no\nlonger, but the foremost of all Ulster\u2019s younger chiefs, the hero\nof the Red Branch, and the favourite of the King. Speak not of\nNaisi to King Conor, or mayhap some harm will come to him.\u201d \u201cThen\nwill I never speak his name, or tell of him,\u201d the girl replied,\n\u201cthough in my dreams I see him every night playing at ball with me;\nbut when he flings the ball for me to catch, \u2019tis ever the same\nthing. King Conor comes between and seizes it, and throws it back\nat Naisi. So can I never catch and hold it in my hands, and I am\nvexed and weep. But last night, O good nurse, King Conor flung the\nball craftily at his head, and Naisi fell all red and stained with\nblood, like that poor calf that Caffa slew, thinking that I could\neat it for my food. The little tender calf that played with me!\nUpon the winter\u2019s frosty floor I saw its blood, all crimson-red\nupon the driven snow, and as I looked I saw a raven that stooped\ndown to sip the blood; and, O dear nurse, I thought of Naisi then,\nfor all his hair, as I remember it, was dark and glossy like the\nraven\u2019s wing, and in his cheeks the ruddy glow of health and\nbeauty, like the blood, and white his skin like snow. Dear nurse,\ndear nurse, let me see Naisi once again, and send the King away.\u201d\n\u201cAlas! alas!\u201d Levarcam said; \u201cmost difficult indeed is thy desire,\nfor far away is Naisi, and he dare not come within this fort.\nHigh is the wall and deep the moat, and fierce the blood-hounds\nwatching at the gates.\u201d \u201cAt least,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cprocure for me\nfrom Caffa that I may once in a while wander without the fort and\nbreathe the open air upon the moor; this wall frowns on me like an\nenemy holding me in his grasp and stifling me, surely I die e\u2019er\nlong within these heavy walls. But on the moor, where no man comes\n(if you must have it so), I\u2019d see at least the grouse winging its\nflight, and hear the plover and the peeweet call, and pluck the\nheather and the yellow gorse in summer time. O nurse, dear nurse,\nhave pity on your child.\u201d When Levarcam saw the misery of the\nmaid, she feared that Conor would upbraid her with neglect because\nher cheek grew pale, and her young joy seemed gone; and so that\nnight she spoke to Caffa, and he said, \u201cI think no harm could come\nif we should let the maiden walk out upon the wild hillside. No\nhuman creature, save a stray hunter following the deer, or a poor\nshepherd garnering his sheep, or some strange homeless wanderer,\ne\u2019er sets his foot upon this lonesome moor. Far off are we from\nany human habitation; and the maid droops, indeed. Let her go out,\nbut keep her well in sight; to climb the hill-top and to roam the\nheather moor as spring comes on, will bring fresh colour into her\npale cheeks, and fit her for the wooing of the king.\u201d\n\nSo from that time, Deirdre went out upon the upland moor, and\nsoon she knew each nook and stream and bit of forest-land for\nmiles around. She learned the zig-zag flight of the long-billed\nsnipe, she knew the otter\u2019s marshy lair, and where the grouse and\nwild-duck made their nests. She fed the timid fawn, wild, trustful\nas herself, and made a dear companion of a fox that followed her as\nthough it were a dog; and once, while Levarcam stayed below, she\nclimbed the dizzy height where golden eagles had built their nest\nupon the mountain\u2019s crest, and smoothed the eaglets with her own\nsoft hand. And so she grew in health, and all her spirit came to\nher again, and when King Conor came to visit her, he thought that\nin his dreams and in the long life he had passed among the best of\nErin\u2019s women, he had never seen or dreamed of a girl so lovely as\nthis blood-drop of the moor. Eagerly he began to reckon up the days\nuntil, her fifteenth birthday being passed, he should bring her\ndown to Emain, and take her as his wife. But of her walks he knew\nnot, only Caffa and Levarcam knew.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nThe Sleep-Wanderer\n\n\nOn a wild wintry night while things were so, there came into the\nneighbourhood a hunter of wandering game, who had lost his course\nand his companions. The man was tired with travelling among the\nhills all day, and in the dark cloudy night, with the mist rising\nround him from the hills, he laid him down outside the garden\nwithin which Deirdre dwelt, and fell asleep. Weak he was with\nhunger and fatigue, and numb with cold, and deep sleep fell upon\nthe man. Sleep-wandering came upon him then, and he thought that he\nwas close beside a warm hollowed-out fairy mound, and in his dreams\nhe heard fairy music, soft and sweet. In his sleep he called aloud\nthat if there were any one at all in the fairy mound, they would\nopen the mound and let him in, for the sake of the Good Being.\n\nNow Deirdre had not slept that night, and she had arisen and\nwith her nurse had moved about the grounds to seek for warmth of\nexercise. Just as they turned to go back within the house out of\nthe chill and heavy mist, Deirdre heard the faint feeble voice of\nthe weary man outside the gate. \u201cNurse-mother, what is that?\u201d she\nasked and stopped. Levarcam knew it was a human voice, but she\nreplied, \u201cOnly a thing of little worth, the birds of the air have\ngone astray, and are seeking one another; let them hie away to\nthe forest of branches\u201d; and she tried to draw Deirdre towards the\nhouse. Again sleep-wandering came on the man, and he called out\nagain and louder than before, that if there were any in the fairy\nmound, for the sake of the Being of the Elements they would arise\nand let him in.\n\n\u201cWhat is that, nurse-mother?\u201d said the girl again. \u201cOnly a thing\nof little sense, the birds of the woods are gone astray from each\nother, and are seeking to come together again. Let them hie them\naway to the forest of branches.\u201d\n\nThe third time came sleep-wandering upon the hunter, and he called\naloud that if there were any within the mound, they would let him\nin for the sake of the God of the Elements, for he was benumbed\nwith cold and parched with hunger.\n\n\u201cOh! what is that, nurse-mother?\u201d said Deirdre. \u201cNought there is\nin that to bring gladness to thee, maiden; it is but the birds of\nthe air who have lost one another in the woods; let them hie away\ninto the forest of branches. Neither shelter or home will they get\nfrom us this night.\u201d \u201cOh! nurse-mother, it was in the name of the\nGod of the Elements that the bird asked shelter of us; and oft hast\nthou told me that anything asked of us in His name should willingly\nbe done. If thou wilt not allow me to bring in the bird that is\nbenumbed with cold and sore with hunger, I myself will doubt thy\nteaching and thy faith. But as I believe in thy teaching and thy\nfaith, as thou thyself didst explain it to me, I myself will let in\nthe bird.\u201d So Deirdre turned back to the gate and drew the bar from\nthe door, and let in the hunter. She brought him into the house,\nand placed a seat in the place of sitting, food in the place of\neating, and drink in the place of drinking, for the man who had\ncome home.\n\n\u201cGo on and eat thy food, for indeed thou art in need of it,\u201d said\nDeirdre.\n\n\u201cWell, I was in truth needful of food and of drink and of warmth\nwhen I came to the door of this home,\u201d said the hunter, \u201cbut these\nare all gone from me now that I behold thee, maiden.\u201d Then Levarcam\nwas angry with the man, and spoke sharply to him: \u201cIt is too ready\non thy tongue the talk is, O man, with thy food and with thy\ndrink. It would be better for thee to keep thy mouth shut and thy\ntongue dumb in return for the shelter we are giving thee on a cold\nwinter\u2019s night.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the hunter, \u201cI may keep my mouth shut and my tongue\ndumb if it suits thee, but by thy father\u2019s two hands and thine own,\nthere are some others of the world\u2019s men who, if they but saw this\nblood-drop thou art hiding here, it is not long that they would\nleave her here with thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat people are those and where are they?\u201d said Deirdre, eagerly.\n\u201cI will tell thee that, maiden,\u201d said the hunter. \u201cThere are three\nheroes of the Red Branch, Naisi, Ainle, and Arden, sons of Usna,\nbrothers, who, if they saw thee, would bear thee hence to some\nother place than this.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat like are these three brothers of whom you speak?\u201d cried\nDeirdre, and all her face blushed to a rosy red. \u201cLike the colour\nof a raven their dusky hair, tossed back from each high, shining\nbrow; their skin white as the plumage of a swan, their cheeks\nlike to a red-deer\u2019s coat, or like your own cheeks, maiden. They\nswim and leap and run as strong and stately as the salmon of the\nstream, or as the stag upon the dappled hill, \u2019twixt sun and shade;\nbut Naisi, when he stands upright, towers a head and shoulders\nabove all the men around him. Such are the sons of Usna, noble\nmaid.\u201d\n\nBut Levarcam interfered: \u201cHowever be those men of whom you speak,\noff with you now and take another road that comes not past this\nway. Small is my gratitude for all thy talk, and well for her who\nlet thee in hadst thou died of thy cold and hunger at the door, and\nnever come within for food and drink.\u201d\n\nThe hunter went his way; but he bethought himself that if he told\nthe sons of Usna of the lovely blood-drop he had seen, they might\nfree the maiden out of Levarcam\u2019s hands, and do a good deed to him\nalso for telling them that there was such a damsel as Deirdre on\nthe surface of the living dewy world. So he told his tale to Naisi\nand said to him that there dwelt, far away on the distant moor,\nshut in between high walls, the loveliest maiden that ever was born\nin Erin, and that none lived beside her but an aged nurse and an\nold Druid, so that Deirdre was like a tender flower over-shadowed\nby two ancient branchy trees, that hid her from the air and sun.\n\nWhen Naisi heard that, he said, \u201cWho is the maid and where is she,\nwhom no man hath seen but thee, if, indeed, seen her thou hast?\u201d\n\u201cTruly I have seen her,\u201d said the hunter, \u201cbut no one else could\nfind her save I myself should guide him.\u201d\n\nThen Naisi said that he would go; but Arden and Ainle tried to\ndissuade him, for they said, \u201cWhat if the girl should be the maid\nthe King hath destined to himself?\u201d But from far-off to the mind\nof Naisi there came a memory of a young child, scarce seven years\nold, whom on the playing-fields he once had seen and promised\nto see again, but who had disappeared that very day, and never\nfrom that day to this had he set eyes upon the girl. So all his\nbrothers could devise served not to turn him from his purpose; and\nat dawn of the next day, amid the early carolling of birds, in the\nmild morning dawn of fragrant May, when all the bush was white\nwith hawthorn-bloom, and dew-drops glistened from every point of\nsapling, bush, and plant, they four set out, going in search of the\nretired place where Deirdre dwelt.\n\n\u201cYonder it is, down on the floor of the glen,\u201d the hunter said,\nwhen at the fall of eve they stood upon the mountain-brow above the\nhouse, so well concealed in trees that many times they might have\npassed it by and never known that any house was near. \u201cI care not\nfor myself to see again the woman who lives therein; sharp is her\ntongue, unwelcoming her words. I leave you then, good luck go with\nyou, but if you will be advised, go not near the house. At every\ngate are blood-hounds, and Levarcam\u2019s bite is nigh as fierce as\ntheirs.\u201d\n\nFrom day to day the sons of Usna stayed among the hills that\ncircled Deirdre\u2019s home. But for awhile Levarcam feared to let her\ncharge go out, for soon would Conor come to claim her, and Levarcam\nthought, \u201cIf aught should happen or the girl should slip between\nmy hands, small pity would King Conor have for me.\u201d But as time\npassed, and Deirdre pined again for open air and sunshine, and the\nwalks she loved, and fretted for the fox that looked for her, and\nfor her woodland company of beasts and birds, Levarcam once again\ntook the girl abroad, and oft they sat upon the open hill and\nwatched the sun go down, or brought their work and passed the long\nspring mornings on the heather, happy because the sunshine was so\nwarm, the air so sweet, and all the world so fresh with herbs and\nflowers.\n\nOne day they long had sat thus drinking in the sun, and while\nLevarcam dozed and nodded with the heat and the fatigue of climbing\nup the hill, Deirdre from time to time would leave her side to\nseek some plant or follow a butterfly that passed across her path.\nReaching the summit of the hill she saw three men whose like she\nnever in her life before had set her eyes upon. They were not bent,\nlike Caffa, or wrinkled, like King Conor when he came; nor were\nthey dark and roughly clad, with shaggy beards, like the one hunter\nwho had made his way to her abode. These men were young and lithe,\nstraight as the pine and shapely as the stag. But one above the\nrest towered head and shoulders high, his raven locks thrown back,\nhis blue eye scanning all the mountain for trace of fawn or deer.\nBeside them, in the leash, three noble hounds; and as they paced\nalong the upland track, Deirdre sat mute in wonder, for in all her\nlife never had she seen such goodly men as these. But suddenly,\nas they drew near, a flash of inspiration came upon her mind; she\nknew that these were Usna\u2019s sons, that he who overtopped the rest\nwas Naisi, the boy who long ago had thrown the ball with her. The\nbrothers passed her by, not seeing her seated above them on the\nhill. But all at once, without a moment\u2019s thought, Deirdre sprang\nup, and gathering up her dress, she sped as swiftly as a roe along\nthe mountain side, calling out, \u201cNaisi, Naisi, wilt thou leave me\nhere?\u201d Now Naisi had rounded the bend of the hill, and he could not\nsee the maiden, but Ainle and Arden saw her bounding after them,\nand no thought had they but to get Naisi away, for they knew well\nthat this was Deirdre, and that if Naisi once set eyes on her,\nnothing in life would prevent him from carrying her off, the more\nespecially, since Conor was not yet married to the girl. So when\nNaisi asked, \u201cWhat is that cry that came to mine ear that it is\nnot easy for me to answer and yet not easy for me to refuse?\u201d the\nbrothers replied, \u201cWhat but the quacking of the wild ducks upon the\nmere? Let us hasten our steps and hurry our feet, for long is the\ndistance we have to traverse, and the dark hour of night is coming\non.\u201d They went forward quickly, but when Deirdre saw that they were\nlengthening the space between themselves and her, she called again\npiteously, \u201cNaisi, thou son of Usna, is it leaving me alone thou\nart?\u201d \u201cWhat cry is that which strikes into my very heart?\u201d said\nNaisi. \u201cNot easy is it for me to answer, but harder yet is it to\nrefuse.\u201d \u201cIt is but the cry of the grey geese in the air, winging\ntheir flight to the nearest tarn,\u201d said the brothers again; \u201clet\nus hasten now and walk well, for long is our path to-night and\nthe darkness of night is coming on.\u201d They set out to walk faster\nthan before, and farther yet was the distance between themselves\nand Deirdre. Then Deirdre flew with the swiftness of the winds of\nMarch across the bend of the mountain, and reached a place above\nthem on the cliff, and called again the third time, \u201cNaisi, Naisi,\nNaisi, thou son of Usna, wilt thou leave me here alone?\u201d \u201cThe cry\nI hear strikes sweetly on mine ear, but of all cries I ever heard,\nthis cry makes deepest wound within mine heart,\u201d said Naisi, and he\nstopped short.\n\n\u201cHeed not the cry,\u201d his brothers said, \u201cit is the wail of the\nlake-swans, disturbed in their nesting-place; let us push on now,\nand win our way to-night to Emain Macha.\u201d \u201cThree times came that\ncry of distress to me,\u201d said Naisi, \u201cand the vow of a champion is\nupon me, that no cry of distress shall be passed by unheeded. I\nwill go back now and see whence comes that cry.\u201d\n\nThen Naisi turned to go back, and on the hill above him he saw\nDeirdre, standing on a rock with her arms outstretched, and all\nher hair blown backward by the wind, and her fair face flushed all\nwith red, part with her running, part with a lovely shame, and\nchanging as the aspen shimmering in the summer\u2019s breeze. And Naisi\nknew that never in his life had he seen anything one-half so fair,\nor any blood-drop like the living blood-drop here, and he gave\nlove to Deirdre such as he never gave to any other, or to a dream\nor vision, or to a person on the whole world\u2019s face, but only to\nDeirdre alone.\n\nAnd Deirdre came close, and to him she gave three loving kisses,\nand to his brothers each a kiss; and Naisi lifted her and placed\nher on his shoulder, and he said, \u201cHitherto it is you, my brothers,\nwho have bidden me to walk well, but now it is I who bid the same\nto you.\u201d\n\nThat night they carried Deirdre to their own home, and sheltered\nher there for many days. But the news reached Conor that Deirdre\nwas flown, and that it was the sons of Usna with whom she went,\nand in his fury he sent out armies, and hunted them from place to\nplace, so that they traversed all Ireland, fleeing before the King.\nAnd when they found there was no rest for them in Ireland, Naisi\ndetermined to forsake his native land and to flee to Alba, for\nthere he had made wars and had carved out for himself a kingdom as\ngreat as the kingdom of Conor in Ulster. So he and Deirdre, with\nhis brothers and a great band of followers fled to Alba, which is\nto-day called Scotland, and they made their home on Glen Etive\nin Alba, and thence Naisi ruled over the territories he had taken\nfrom the King of Alba, and he made wars, and became a powerful\nprince. And joyous and gladsome were he and Deirdre in each other\u2019s\ncompany, and great was the love and affection they gave one to the\nother.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nThe Wiles of King Conor\n\n\nBut all this while the cunning, cruel heart of Conor was planning\nhis revenge. For though he was an old man with grown-up sons of\nmiddle age, he had begun to feel affection for the child who had\nbeen sheltered by his care, and who looked to him as her protector\nand her friend. And after all the years that he had waited for the\ngirl, to have her plucked away beneath his eyes just when she was\nof age to be his wife, aroused his bitter wrath and jealousy. Deep\nin his heart he plotted dark revenge, but it was hard to carry out\nhis plan, for well he knew that of his chiefs not one would lift\nhis hand against the sons of Usna. Of all the Red Branch Champions\nthose three were loved the best; and difficult it was to know which\nof the three was bravest, or most noble to behold. When in the\nautumn games they raced or leaped or drove the chariots round the\nracing-course, some said that Arden had the more majestic step and\nstately air; others, that Ainle was more graceful and more lithe in\nswing, but most agreed that Naisi was the princeliest of the three,\nso dignified his gait, so swift his step in running, and so strong\nand firm his hand. But when they wrestled, ran or fought in combats\nside by side, men praised them all, and called them the \u201cThree\nLights of Valour of the Gael.\u201d\n\nWhen his plans were ripe, King Conor made a festival in Emain\nMacha, and all his chiefs were gathered to the feast. The aged\nFergus sat at his right hand, and Caffa next to him; close by sat\nConall Cernach, a mighty warrior, still in his full prime, and by\nhis side, as in old times, Cuchulain sat. He seemed still young,\nbut of an awesome aspect, as one who had a tragedy before him, and\ngreat deeds behind; and, for all that he was the pride of Ulster\u2019s\nhosts, men stood in dread before him, as though he were a god.\n\nAround the board sat many a mighty man and good prime warrior\nseasoned by long wars. But in the hall three seats were empty, and\nit was known to be the king\u2019s command that in his presence none\nshould dare to speak the names of Usna\u2019s banished sons.\n\nThis night the King was merry and in pleasant humour, as it seemed.\nHe plied his guests with mead and ale out of his golden horns, and\nled the tale and passed the jest, and laughed, and all his chiefs\nlaughed with him, till the hall was filled with cheerful sounds of\nsong and merriment. And when the cheer was bravest and the feast\nwas at its height, he rose and said: \u201cRight welcome all assembled\nhere this night, High Chiefs of Ulster, Champions of the Branch. Of\nall the kingly households in the world, tell me, O you who travel\nmuch and see strange distant lands and courts of kings, have ye in\nAlba or in Erin\u2019s realms, or in the countries of the great wide\nworld, e\u2019er seen a court more princely than our own, or an assembly\ncomely as the Red Branch Knights?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe know not,\u201d cried they all, \u201cof any such. Thy court, O High\nKing, is of all courts on earth the bravest and the best.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf this be so,\u201d said wily Conor, \u201cI suppose no sense of want lies\non you; no lack of anything is in your minds?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe know not any want at all,\u201d they said aloud; but in their minds\nthey thought, \u201csave the Three Lights of Valour of the Gael.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I, O warriors, know one want that lies on us,\u201d the King\nreplied, \u201cthe want of the three sons of Usna fills my mind. Naisi\nand Ainle and Arden, good warriors were they all; but Naisi is a\nmatch for any mighty monarch in the world. By his own strength\nalone he carved for him and his a princely realm in Alba, and there\nhe rules as king. Alas! that for the sake of any woman in the\nworld, we lose his presence here.\u201d\n\n\u201cHad we but dared to utter that, O Warrior King, long since we\nshould have called them home again. These three alone would safely\nguard the province against any host. Three sons of a border-king\nand used to fight are they; three heroes of warfare, three lions of\nfearless might.\u201d\n\n\u201cI knew not,\u201d said King Conor craftily, \u201cyou wished them back.\nMethought you all were jealous of their might, or long ere this\nwe should have sent for them. Let messengers now go, and heralds\nof the king to bring them home, for welcome to us all will be the\nsight of Usna\u2019s sons.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is the herald who shall bear that peaceful message?\u201d cried\nthey all. \u201cI have been told,\u201d said Conor, \u201cthat out of Ulster\u2019s\nchiefs there were but three whose word of honour and protection\nthey would trust, and at whose invitation Naisi would come again in\npeace. With Conall Cernach he will come, or with Cuchulain, or with\ngreat Fergus of the mighty arms. These are the friends in whom he\nwill confide; under the safe-guard of each one of these he knows\nall will be well.\u201d\n\n\u201cBid Fergus go, or Conall or Cuchulain,\u201d the warriors cried; \u201clet\nnot a single night pass by until the message goes to bring the sons\nof Usna to our board again. Most sorely do we need them, deeply do\nwe mourn their loss. Bring back the Lights of Valour of the Gael.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow will I test,\u201d thought Conor to himself, \u201cwhich of these three\nprime warriors loves me best.\u201d So supper being ended, the King\ntook Conall to his ante-room apart and set himself to question\ncunningly: \u201cSuppose, O royal soldier of the world, thou wert to\ngo and fetch the sons of Usna back from Alba to their own land\nunder thy safeguard and thy word of honour that they should not be\nharmed; but if, in spite of this, some ill should fall on them--not\nby my hand, of course--and they were slain, what then would happen?\nwhat wouldst thou do?\u201d\n\n\u201cI swear, O King,\u201d said Conall, \u201cby my hand, that if the sons of\nUsna were brought here under my protection to their death, not he\nalone whose hand was stained by that foul deed, but every man of\nUlster who had wrought them harm should feel my righteous vengeance\nand my wrath.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought as much,\u201d said Conor, \u201cnot great the love and service\nthou dost give thy lord. Dearer to thee than I are Usna\u2019s sons.\u201d\n\nThen sent he for Cuchulain and to him he made the same demand. But\nbolder yet Cuchulain made reply: \u201cI pledge my word, O King, if\nevil were to fall upon the sons of Usna, brought back to Erin and\ntheir homes in confidence in my protection and my plighted word,\nnot all the riches of the eastern world would bribe or hinder me\nfrom severing thine own head from thee in lieu of the dear heads\nof Usna\u2019s sons, most foully slain when tempted home by their sure\ntrust in me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see it now, Cuchulain,\u201d said the king, \u201cthou dost profess a love\nfor me thou feelest not.\u201d\n\nThen Fergus came, and to him also he proposed the same request.\nNow Fergus was perplexed what answer he should give. Sore did it\ntrouble him to think that evil might befall brave Usna\u2019s sons when\nunder his protection. Yet it was but a little while since he and\nConor had made friends, and he come back to Ulster, and set high in\nplace and power by the King, and well he knew that Conor doubted\nhim; and such a deed as this, to bring the sons of Usna home again,\nwould prove fidelity and win the King\u2019s affection. Moreover, Conor\nspoke so guardedly that Fergus was not sure whether the King had\nill intent or no towards the sons of Usna. For all he said was:\n\u201cSupposing any harm or ill befall the sons of Usna by the hand of\nany here, what wouldst thou do?\u201d\n\nSo after long debate within himself, Fergus replied: \u201cIf any\nUlsterman should harm the noble youths, undoubtedly I should avenge\nthe deed; but thee, O King, and thine own flesh and blood, I would\nnot harm; for well I know, that if they came under protection\nof thy sovereign word, they would be safe with thee. Therefore,\nagainst thee and thy house, I would not raise my hand, whatever the\nconditions, but faithfully and with my life will serve thee.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis well,\u201d the wily king replied, \u201cI see, O royal warrior, that\nthou lovest me well, and I will prove thy faithfulness and truth.\nThe sons of Usna without doubt will come with thee. To-morrow set\nthou forward; bear the King\u2019s message to brave Usna\u2019s sons, say\nthat he eagerly awaits their coming, that Ulster longs to welcome\nthem. Urge them to hasten; bid them not to linger on the way, but\nwith the utmost speed to press straight forward here to Emain\nMacha.\u201d\n\nThen Fergus went out from the King and told the nobles he had\npledged his word to Conor to bring back the sons of Usna to their\nnative land. And on the morrow\u2019s morn Fergus set forth in his own\nboat, and with him his two sons, Illan the Fair and Buinne the\nRuthless Red, and together they sailed to Loch Etive in Alba.\n\nBut hardly had they started than King Conor set to work with\ncunning craft to lure the sons of Usna to their doom. He sent\nfor Borrach, son of Annte, who had built a mighty fortress by\nthe sea, and said to him, \u201cDid I not hear, O Borrach, that thou\nhadst prepared a feast for me?\u201d \u201cIt is even so, O King, and I\nawait thy coming to partake of the banquet I have prepared.\u201d And\nConor said, \u201cI may not come at this time to thy feast; the duties\nof the kingdom keep me here at Emain. But I would not decline\nthy hospitality. Fergus, the son of Roy, stands close to me in\nplace and power; a feast bestowed on him I hold as though it were\nbestowed on me. In less than a week\u2019s time comes Fergus back from\nAlba, bringing the sons of Usna to their home. Bid Fergus to thy\nfeast, and I will hold the honour paid to him as paid to me.\u201d\n\nFor wily Conor knew that if his royal command was laid on Fergus\nto accept the banquet in his stead, Fergus dare not refuse; and\nby this means he sought to separate the sons of Usna from their\nfriend, and get them fast into his own power at Emain, while\nFergus waited yet at Borrach\u2019s house, partaking of his hospitality.\n\u201cThus,\u201d thought the King, \u201cI have the sons of Usna in my grasp,\nand dire the vengeance I will wreak on them, the men who stole my\nwife.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nThe Sorrowful Death of Usna\u2019s Sons\n\n\nAt the head of fair Loch Etive the sons of Usna had built for\nthemselves three spacious hunting-seats among the pine-trees at\nthe foot of the cliffs that ran landward to deep Glen Etive. The\nwild deer could be shot from the window, and the salmon taken out\nof the stream from the door of their dwelling. There they passed\nthe spring and summer months, Usna\u2019s sons of the white steeds and\nthe brown deer-hounds, whose breasts were broader than the wooden\nleaves of the door. Above the hunting-lodge, on the grassy slope\nthat is at the foot of the cascade, they built a sunny summer home\nfor Deirdre, and they called it the \u2018Grianan,\u2019 or sunny bower of\nDeirdre. It was thatched on the outside with the long-stalked fern\nof the dells and the red clay of the pools, and lined within with\nthe pine of the mountains and the downy feathers of the wild birds;\nand round it was the apple-garden of Clan Usna, with the apple-tree\nof Deirdre in its midst and the apple-trees of Naisi and Ainle and\nArden encircling it.\n\nAnd Deirdre loved her life, for she was free as the brown partridge\nflying over the mountains, or as the vessels with ruddy sails\nswinging upon the loch.\n\nBut in the winter they moved down to the broad sheltered\npasture-lands that lay on the western side of the loch near the\nisland that was in olden days called _Eilean Chlann Uisne_ or the\nIsland of the Children of Usna, but is called _Eilean nan Ron_\nor the Isle of the Seals to-day; and there they built a mighty\nfortress for Deirdre and the sons of Usna which men still call the\n_Caisteal Nighean Righ Eirinn_ or the Castle of the Daughter of the\nKing of Ireland, and thence they made wars and conquered a great\npart of Western Alba and became powerful princes.\n\nOne sultry evening in the late autumn, Deirdre and Naisi were\nresting before the door of her sunny bower after a day spent by the\nbrothers in the chase. Below, their followers were cutting up the\ndeer, and as they brought in the bags of heavy game, and faggots\nfor the hearth, the voice of Ainle singing an evening melody\nresounded through the wood. Like the sound of the wave the voice of\nAinle, and the rich bass of Arden answered him, as together the two\nbrothers came out from the shadow of the trees, gathering to the\ntrysting-place of the evening meal.\n\nBetween Naisi and Deirdre a draught-board was set, but Deirdre was\nwinning, for a mood of oppression lay upon Naisi and his thoughts\nwere not in the game. For of late, at evening, his exile weighed\nupon him, and little good to him seemed his prosperity and his\nsuccesses, since he did not see his own home in Ireland and his\nfriends at the time of his rising in the morning or at the time\nof his lying down at night. For great as were his possessions in\nAlba, stronger in him than the love of his kindred in Alba was the\nlove of his native land in Erin. He thought it strange, moreover,\nthat of those three who in the old time loved him most, Fergus and\nConall Cernach and Cuchulain, not one of them had all this time\ncome to bring him to his own land again under his safeguard and\nprotection.\n\nSo, as they played, Deirdre could see that the mind of Naisi was\nwandering from the game, and her heart smote her, as often it had\nsmitten her before when she had seen him thus oppressed, that\nfor her sake so much had gone from him of friends and home, and\nhis allegiance to his king, and honourable days among his clan.\nWistfully she smiled across the board at Naisi, but mournful was\nthe answering smile he sent her back.\n\n\u201cPlay, play,\u201d she said, \u201cI win the game from you.\u201d \u201cOne game the\nmore or less can matter little when all else is lost,\u201d he answered\nbitterly. But hardly had the unkind words passed from him, the\nfirst unkindness Deirdre ever heard from Naisi\u2019s lips, when far\nbelow, across the silent waters of the lake, he caught a distant\ncall, his own name uttered in a ringing voice that seemed familiar,\na voice that brought old days to memory.\n\n\u201cI hear the voice of a man from Erin call below,\u201d he cried, and\nstarted up. Now Deirdre too had heard the cry and well she knew\nthat it was Fergus\u2019 voice they heard, but deep foreboding passed\nacross her mind that all their hours of happiness were past, and\ngrief and rending of the heart in store. So quickly she replied:\n\u201cHow could that be? It is some man of Alba coming from the chase,\nbelated in returning. No voice was that from Erin; it was a\nScotchman\u2019s cry. Let us play on.\u201d\n\nThree times the voice of Fergus came sounding up the glen, and\nat the last, Naisi sprang up. \u201cYou are mistaken, damsel; of a\ncertainty I know this is the voice of Fergus.\u201d \u201cI knew it all the\ntime, whose voice it was,\u201d said Deirdre, when she saw he would not\nbe put off. \u201cWhy then didst thou not tell us?\u201d Naisi asked. \u201cA\nvision that I saw last night hath hindered me,\u201d replied the girl.\n\u201cI saw three birds come to us out of Emain from the King, carrying\nthree sips of honey in their bills; the sips of honey they left\nhere with us, but took three sips of our red blood away with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is thy rede of this vision, O Damsel?\u201d Naisi asked. \u201cThus\ndo I understand it,\u201d Deirdre said; \u201cFergus hath come from our own\nnative land with peace, and sweet as honey will his message be:\nbut the three sips of blood that he will take away with him, those\nthree are ye, for ye will go with him, and be betrayed to death.\u201d\n\u201cSpeak not such words, O Deirdre,\u201d cried they all; \u201cnever would\nFergus thus betray his friends. Alas! that words like this should\npass thy lips. We stay too long; Fergus awaits us at the port. Go,\nAinle, and go, Arden, down to meet him, and to give him loving\nwelcome here.\u201d So Arden went, and Ainle, and three loving kisses\nfervently they gave to Fergus and his sons. Gladly they welcomed\nthe wayfarers to Naisi\u2019s home, and led them up; and Naisi and\nDeirdre arose and stretched their hands in welcome; and they gave\nthem blessing and three kisses lovingly, for old times\u2019 sake, and\neagerly they asked for tidings of Erin, and of Ulster especially.\n\u201cI have no other tidings half so good as these,\u201d said Fergus, \u201cthat\nKing Conor waits for you to give you welcome back to Emain, and to\nthe Red Branch House. I am your surety and your safeguard, and full\nwell ye know that under Fergus\u2019 safeguard ye are sure of peace.\u201d\n\u201cHeed not that message, Naisi,\u201d Deirdre said; \u201cgreater and wider is\nyour lordship here, than Conor\u2019s rule in Erin.\u201d\n\n\u201cBetter than any lordship is one\u2019s native land,\u201d said Naisi;\n\u201cdearer to me than great possessions here, is one more sight of\nErin\u2019s well-loved soil.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy word and pledge are firm on your behalf,\u201d said Fergus; \u201cwith me\nno harm or hurt can come to you.\u201d \u201cVerily and indeed, thy word is\nfirm, and we will go with thee.\u201d\n\nBut to their going Deirdre consented not, and every way she sought\nto hinder them, and wept and prayed them not to go to death. \u201cNow\nall my joy is past,\u201d she said; \u201cI saw last night the three black\nravens bearing three sad leaves of the yew-tree of death; and O\nBeloved, those three withered leaves I saw were the three sons of\nUsna, blown off their stem by the rough wind of Conor\u2019s wrath and\nthe damp dew of Fergus\u2019 treachery.\u201d And they were sorry that she\nhad said that. \u201cThese are but foolish women\u2019s fears,\u201d said they;\n\u201cthe dropping of leaves in thy dream, and the howling of dogs,\nthe sight of birds with blood-drops in their bills, are but the\nrestlessness of sleep, O Deirdre; and verily we put our trust in\nFergus\u2019 word. To-night we go with him to Erin.\u201d\n\nGladsome and gay were the three brothers then; they put all fears\naway from them, and set to prepare them for their journey back\nto Erin\u2019s shores. And early the next morning, about the parting\nof night from day, at the delay of the morning dawn, they passed\ndown to their galley that rocked upon the loch, and hoisted sail,\nand calmly and peacefully they sailed out into the ocean. But\nDeirdre sat in the stern of the boat, and her face was not set\nforward looking towards Erin, but it was set backward looking\non the coasts of Scotland. And she cried aloud, \u201cO Land of the\nEast, My love to thee, with thy wondrous beauty! Woe is me that I\nleave thy lochs and thy bays, thy flowering delightful plains,\nand thy bright green-smooth hills! Dear to me the fort that Naisi\nbuilt, dear the sunny bower up the glen; very dear to my heart the\nwooded slope holding the sunbeams where I have sat with Naisi.\u201d\nAnd as they sailed out of Glen Etive she sang this song, sadly and\nsorrowfully:--\n\n \u201cFarewell, dear Alba of the free,\n Beloved land beside the sea,\n No power could drag me from my home,\n Did I not come, Naisi, with thee.\n\n Farewell, dear bowers within the Glen,\n Farewell, strong fort hung over them,\n Dear to the heart each shining isle,\n That seems to smile beneath our ken.\n\n Glen da Roe!\n Where the white cherry and garlic blow,\n On thy blue wave we rocked to sleep,\n As on the deep, by Glen da Roe.\n\n Glen Etive!\n Whose sunny slopes these waters lave,\n The rising sun we seemed to hold.\n As in a fold, in Glen Etive.\n\n Glen Masaun!\n Love to all those who here were born!\n Across thy peak, at twilight\u2019s fall,\n The cuckoos call, in Glen Masaun.\n\n Farewell, dear Land,\n From Alba\u2019s strand I ne\u2019er had roved\n Save at the call of my beloved,\n Farewell, dear Land!\u201d\n\nThe next day they reached the shores of Ireland not far from the\nfort of Borrach. And as they landed there, messengers from Borrach\nmet Fergus, saying, \u201cBorrach hath prepared a feast for the King,\nand it is the King\u2019s command that the honour of this feast be given\nto thee. Come therefore and spend this night with me; but the King\ndesires to hasten the sons of Usna that he may welcome them, and he\nbids them press onward to Emain this very night.\u201d\n\nWhen Fergus heard that, sudden fear and gloom over-shadowed him,\nlest in very truth Conor had evil designs towards the sons of Usna.\n\u201cIt was not well done, O Borrach, to offer me a feast in Conor\u2019s\nstead this night, for I was pledged to bring the sons of Usna\nstraight to Emain without delay.\u201d \u201cIt is the King\u2019s command,\u201d said\nBorrach; \u201cneeds must a true vassal obey the King.\u201d Still was Fergus\nloth to stay and he asked Naisi what he ought to do about this. \u201cDo\nwhat they desire of thee, O Fergus,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cif to partake\nof a banquet seems better to thee than to protect the sons of Usna.\nHowever to me it seems that the lives of thy three friends is a\ngood price to pay for a feast.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not forsake them,\u201d said Fergus; \u201cfor my two sons, Illan the\nFair and Buinne the Ruthless Red will be with them to protect them,\nand my word of honour, moreover, with them; if all the warriors of\nErin were assembled in one place, and all of one mind, they would\nnot be able to break the pledge of Fergus.\u201d\n\n\u201cMuch thanks we give thee for that,\u201d said Naisi, for he saw that\nFergus feared to fall foul of Conor more than he cared for their\nsafety; \u201cnever have we depended on any protection but that of our\nown right hands alone; we will then go forward to Emain Macha, and\nsee there if the word of Fergus will be sufficient to protect us.\u201d\n\nBut Deirdre said: \u201cGo not forward to-night; but let us turn aside,\nand for this one night take shelter with Cuchulain at Dundalk; then\nwill Fergus have partaken of his feast, and he will be ready to go\nwith you. So will his word be fulfilled and yet your lives will be\nprolonged.\u201d \u201cWe think not well of that advice,\u201d said Buinne the\nRuthless Red; \u201cyou have with you the might of your own good hands,\nand our might, and the plighted word of Fergus to protect you;\nimpossible is it that ye should be betrayed.\u201d \u201cAh! that plighted\nword of Fergus\u2019; the man who forsook us for a feast!\u201d said Deirdre.\n\u201cWell may we rely on Fergus\u2019 plighted word.\u201d And she fell into\ngrief and dejection. \u201cAlas! Alas!\u201d she cried. \u201cWhy left we Alba\nof the red deer to come again to Erin? Why put we trust in the\nlight word of Fergus? Woe is come upon us since we listened to the\npromises of that man! The valiant sons of Usna are destroyed by\nhim, the Lights of Valour of the Gael. Great is my heaviness of\nheart to-night! Great is the loss that is fallen upon us.\u201d\n\nIn spite of that the sons of Usna and their two friends went onward\ntowards the White Cairn of Watching on Sliab Fuad; but Deirdre was\nvery weary and she lingered behind in the glen, and sat down to\nrest and fell asleep. They did not notice at first that she was\nnot with them, but Naisi found it out and he turned back to seek\nDeirdre. He found her sitting in the wood on the trunk of a fallen\ntree, just waking from her sleep. When she saw Naisi she arose and\nclung to him. \u201cWhat happened to thee, O fair one?\u201d said Naisi, \u201cand\nwherefore is thy face so wild and fearful, and tears within thine\neyes?\u201d\n\n\u201cI fell into a sleep, for I was weary,\u201d she replied; \u201cand O Naisi,\nI fear because of the vision and the dream I saw.\u201d \u201cThou art too\napt to dream, beloved,\u201d said Naisi tenderly, \u201cwhat was thy dream?\u201d\n\u201cTerrible was my dream,\u201d said Deirdre; \u201cI saw thee, Naisi, and\nAinle and Arden, each of ye three beloved ones, without a head, thy\nheadless bodies lying side by side near Emain\u2019s fort; and Illan\nlay there too drenched all with blood, and headless like ye three.\nBut on the other side among our enemies, fighting against us, was\nthe treacherous Buinne the Ruthless Red, who now is our protector\nand our guide; for he had saved his head by treachery to thee.\u201d\n\u201cSad were thy dream indeed,\u201d said Naisi, \u201cwere it true; but fear it\nnot, it was an empty vision grown out of weariness and pain.\u201d But\nDeirdre clung yet to him, and she cried, \u201cO Naisi, see, above thy\nhead, and o\u2019er the heads of Ainle and of Arden, that sombre cloud\nof blood! dost thou not mark it hanging in the air? All over Emain\nlies the heavy pall; but on thy head and theirs red blood-drops\nfall, big, dusky, drenching drops. Let us not go to Emain.\u201d But\nNaisi thought that from her weariness the mind of Deirdre had\nbecome distraught, and all the more he pressed them onward, that\nshe might have rest and shelter for the night. As they drew near to\nEmain, Deirdre said, \u201cOne test I give you whether Conor means you\ngood or harm. If into his own house he welcomes you, all will be\nwell, for in his own home would no monarch dare to harm a guest;\nbut if he send you to some other house, while he himself stays on\nin Emain\u2019s court, then treachery and guile is meant towards you.\u201d\n\nNow as they reached the Court of Emain, messengers came out to\nmeet them from the King. \u201cKing Conor bids you welcome,\u201d said the\nmen; \u201cright glad is he that you are come again to Erin, to your\nfatherland. But for this one night only is he not prepared to\ncall you as his guests to his own court. To-morrow he will give\nyou audience and bid you to his house. For this one night, then,\nhe bids you turn aside into the Red Branch House, where all is\nready for your entertainment.\u201d \u201cIt is as I thought,\u201d said Deirdre,\n\u201cKing Conor means no good to you, I ween.\u201d But Naisi replied,\n\u201cWhere could the Red Branch champions so fitly rest as in the Red\nBranch House? Most gladly do we seek our hall, to rest and find\nrefreshment for the morrow. We all are travel-stained, but we will\nbathe and take repose, and on the morrow we will meet the King.\u201d\n\nBut when they came to the House of the Red Branch, so weary were\nthey all, that though all kinds of viands were supplied, they\nate but little, but lay down to rest. And Naisi said, \u201cDost thou\nremember, Deirdre, how in that last game of draughts we played\ntogether, thou didst win, because we were in Alba, and my heart was\nhere at home? Now are we back at last, and let us play again; this\ntime I promise I will win from thee.\u201d\n\nSo with the lightsome spirit of a boy, Naisi sat down to play; for\nnow that once again he was at home among his people and in his\nnative land, all thought or dread of evil passed from him. But with\nDeirdre it was not so, for heavy dread and terror of the morrow lay\non her heart, and in her mind she felt that this was their last day\nof peace and love together.\n\nBut in his royal court, King Conor grew impatient as he thought\nthat Deirdre was so near at hand, and he not seeing her. \u201cGo now,\nO foster-mother, to the Red Branch Hall and see if on the child\nthat thou didst rear remains her early bloom and beauty, and if\nshe still is lovely as when she went from me. If she is still the\nsame, then, in spite of Naisi, I\u2019ll have her for my own; but if her\nbloom is past, then let her be, Naisi may keep her for himself.\u201d\n\nRight glad was Levarcam to get leave to go to Deirdre and to Usna\u2019s\nsons. Down to the Red Branch House straightway she went, and there\nwere Naisi and her foster-child playing together with the board\nbetween them. Now, save Deirdre herself, Naisi was dearer to\nLevarcam than any other in the world, and well she knew that her\nown face and form were upon Deirdre still, only grown riper and\nmore womanly. For, without Conor\u2019s knowledge, she oft had gone to\nseek them when they stayed in Alba.\n\nLovingly she kissed them and strong showers of tears sprang from\nher eyes. \u201cNo good will come to you, ye children of my love,\u201d she\nsaid with weeping, \u201cthat ye are come again with Deirdre here.\nTo-night they practise treachery and ill intent against you all\nin Emain. The King would know if Deirdre is lovely still, and\nthough I tell a lie to shelter her, he will find out, and wreak his\nvengeance on you for the loss of her. Great evils wait for Emain\nand for you, O darling friends. Shut close the doors and guard them\nwell; let no one pass within. Defend yourselves and this sweet\ndamsel here, my foster-child. Trust no man; but repel the attack\nthat surely comes, and victory and blessing be with you.\u201d\n\nThen she returned to Emain; but all along the way she wept\nquick-gushing showers of tears, and heaved great sighs, for well\nshe knew that from this night the sons of Usna would be alive no\nmore.\n\n\u201cWhat are the tidings that you have for me?\u201d King Conor asked.\n\u201cGood tidings have I, and tidings that are not good.\u201d \u201cTell me\nthem,\u201d said the King. \u201cThe good tidings that I have are these; that\nthe sons of Usna, the three whose form and figure are best, the\nthree bravest in fight and all deeds of prowess, are come again to\nErin; and, with the Lights of Valour at thy side, thine enemies\nwill flee before thee, as a flock of frightened birds is driven\nbefore the gale. The ill-tidings that I have, are that through\nsuffering and sorrow the love of my heart and treasure of my soul\nis changed since she went away, and little of her own bloom and\nbeauty remains upon Deirdre.\u201d \u201cThat will do for awhile,\u201d said the\nKing; and he felt his anger abating. But when they had drunk a\nround or two, he began to doubt the word of Levarcam. \u201cO Trendorn,\u201d\nsaid he to one who sat beside him, \u201cdost thou recollect who it was\nwho slew thy father?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know well; it was Naisi, son of Usna,\u201d he replied. \u201cGo thou\ntherefore where Naisi is, and see if her own face and form remain\nupon Deirdre.\u201d\n\nSo Trendorn went down to the House of the Red Branch, but they\nhad made fast the doors and he could find no way of entrance,\nfor all the gates and windows were stoutly barred. He began to\nbe afraid lest the sons of Usna might be ready to leap out upon\nhim from within, but at last he found a small window which they\nhad forgotten to close, and he put his eye to the window, and saw\nNaisi and Deirdre still playing at their game peacefully together.\nDeirdre saw the man looking in at the window, and Naisi, following\nher eye, caught sight of him also. And he picked up one of the\npieces that was lying beside the board, and threw it at Trendorn,\nso that it struck his eye and tore it out, and in pain and misery\nthe man returned to Emain.\n\n\u201cYou seem not so gay as when you set out, O Trendorn,\u201d said the\nKing; \u201cwhat has happened to thee, and hast thou seen Deirdre?\u201d \u201cI\nhave seen her, indeed; I have seen Deirdre, and but that Naisi\ndrove out mine eye I should have been looking at her still, for of\nall the women of the world, Deirdre is the fairest and the best.\u201d\nWhen Conor heard that, he rose up and called his followers together\nand without a moment\u2019s delay they set forward for the house of\nthe Red Branch. For he was filled with jealousy and envy, and he\nthought the time long until he should get back Deirdre for himself.\n\n\u201cThe pursuit is coming,\u201d said Deirdre; \u201cI hear sounds without.\u201d\n\u201cI will go out and meet them,\u201d said Naisi. \u201cNay,\u201d said Buinne the\nRuthless Red, \u201cit was in my hands that my father Fergus placed the\nsons of Usna to guard them, and it is I who will go forth and fight\nfor them.\u201d \u201cIt seems to me,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cthat thy father hath\nbetrayed the sons of Usna, and it is likely that thou wilt do as\nthy father hath done, O Buinne.\u201d \u201cIf my father has been treacherous\nto you,\u201d said Buinne, \u201cit is not I who will do as he has done.\u201d\nThen he went out and met the warriors of Conor, and put a host of\nthem to the sword. \u201cWho is this man who is destroying my hosts?\u201d\nsaid Conor. \u201cBuinne the Ruthless Red, the son of Fergus,\u201d say\nthey. \u201cWe bought his father to our side and we must buy the son,\u201d\nsaid Conor. He called Buinne and said to him, \u201cI gave a free gift\nof land to thy father Fergus, and I will give a free gift of land\nto thee; come over to my side to-night.\u201d \u201cI will do that,\u201d said\nBuinne, and he went over to the side of the King. \u201cBuinne hath\ndeserted you, O sons of Usna, and the son is like the father,\u201d\nDeirdre said. \u201cHe has gone,\u201d said Naisi, \u201cbut he performed\nwarrior-like deeds before he went.\u201d\n\nThen Conor sent fresh warriors down to attack the house. \u201cThe\npursuit is coming,\u201d said Deirdre. \u201cI will go out and meet them,\u201d\nsaid Naisi. \u201cIt is not thou who must go, it is I,\u201d said Illan the\nFair, son of Fergus, \u201cfor to me my father left the charge of you.\u201d\n\u201cI think the son will be like the father,\u201d said Deirdre. \u201cI am not\nlike to forsake the sons of Usna so long as this hard sword is in\nmy hand,\u201d said Illan the Fair. And the fresh, noble, young hero\nwent out in his battle-array, and valiantly he attacked the host\nof Conor and made a red rout of them round the house. \u201cWho is that\nyoung warrior who is smiting down my hosts?\u201d said Conor. \u201cIllan the\nFair, son of Fergus,\u201d they reply. \u201cWe will buy him to our side, as\nhis brother was bought,\u201d said wily Conor. So he called Illan and\nsaid, \u201cWe gave a possession of land to thy father, and another to\nthy brother, and we will give an equal share to thee; come over\nto our side.\u201d But the princely young hero answered: \u201cThy offer, O\nConor, will I not accept; for better to me is it to return to my\nfather and tell him that I have kept the charge he laid upon me,\nthan to accept any offer from thee, O King.\u201d Then Conor was wroth,\nand he commanded his own son to attack Illan, and furiously the two\nfought together, until Illan was sore wounded, and he flung his\narms into the house, and called on Naisi to do valiantly, for he\nhimself was slain by a son of Conor. \u201cIllan has fallen, and you are\nleft alone,\u201d said Deirdre, \u201cO sons of Usna.\u201d \u201cHe is fallen indeed,\u201d\nsaid Naisi, \u201cbut gallant were the deeds that he performed before he\ndied.\u201d\n\nThen the warriors and mercenaries of Conor drew closer round the\nhouse, and they took lighted torches and flung them into the house,\nand set it on fire. And Naisi lifted Deirdre on his shoulders and\nraised her on high, and with his brothers on either side, their\nswords drawn in their hands, they issued forth to fight their way\nthrough the press of their enemies. And so terrible were the deeds\nwrought by those heroes, that Conor feared they would destroy his\nhost. He called his Druids, and said to them, \u201cWork enchantment\nupon the sons of Usna and turn them back, for no longer do I intend\nevil against them, but I would bring them home in peace. Noble\nare the deeds that they have wrought, and I would have them as my\nservants for ever.\u201d The Druids believed the wily King and they set\nto work to weave spells to turn the sons of Usna back to Emain\nMacha.\n\nThey made a great thick wood before them, through which they\nthought no man could pass. But without ever stopping to consider\ntheir way, the sons of Usna went straight through the wood turning\nneither to the right hand or the left. \u201cGood is your enchantment,\nbut it will not avail,\u201d said Conor; \u201cthe sons of Usna are passing\nthrough without the turning of a step, or the bending of a foot.\nTry some other spell.\u201d Then the Druids made a grey stormy sea\nbefore the sons of Usna on the green plain. The three heroes tied\ntheir clothing behind their heads, and Naisi set Deirdre again\nupon his shoulder and went straight on without flinching, without\nturning back, through the grey shaggy sea, lifting Deirdre on high\nlest she should wet her feet.\n\n\u201cThy spell is good,\u201d said Conor, \u201cyet it sufficeth not. The sons of\nUsna escape my hands. Try another spell.\u201d\n\nThen the Druids froze the grey uneven sea into jagged hard lumps\nof rugged ice, like the sharpness of swords on one side of them\nand like the stinging of serpents on the other side. Then Arden\ncried out that he was becoming exhausted and must fain give up.\n\u201cCome thou, Arden, and rest against my shoulder,\u201d said Naisi, \u201cand\nI will support you.\u201d Arden did so, but it was not long before he\ndied; but though he was dead, Naisi held him up still. Then Ainle\ncried out that he could go no longer, for his strength had left\nhim. When Naisi heard that, he heaved a heavy sigh as of one dying\nof fatigue, but he told Ainle to hold on to him, and he would bring\nhim soon to land. But not long after, the weakness of death came\nupon Ainle, and his hold relaxed. Naisi looked on either hand and\nwhen he saw that his two brothers were dead, he cared not whether\nhe himself should live or die. He heaved a sigh, sore as the sigh\nof the dying, and his heart broke and he fell dead.\n\n\u201cThe sons of Usna are dead now,\u201d said the Druids; \u201cbut they turned\nnot back.\u201d\n\n\u201cLift up thy enchantment,\u201d said Conor, \u201cthat I now may see the sons\nof Usna.\u201d Then the Druids lifted the enchantment, and there were\nthe three sons of Usna lying dead, and Deirdre fluttering hither\nand thither from one to another, weeping bitter heartrending tears.\nAnd Conor would have taken her away, but she would not be parted\nfrom the sons of Usna, and when their tomb was being dug, Deirdre\nsat on the edge of the grave, calling on the diggers to dig the pit\nvery broad and smooth. They had dug the pit for three only, and\nthey lowered the bodies of the three heroes into the grave, side\nby side. But when Deirdre saw that, she called aloud to the sons\nof Usna, to make space for her between them, for she was following\nthem. Then the body of Ainle, that was at Naisi\u2019s right hand,\nmoved a little apart, and a space was made for Deirdre close at\nNaisi\u2019s side, where she was wont to be, and Deirdre leapt into the\ntomb, and placed her arm round the neck of Naisi, her own love, and\nshe kissed him, and her heart broke within her and she died; and\ntogether in the one tomb the three sons of Usna and Deirdre were\nburied. And all the men of Ulster who stood by wept aloud.\n\nBut Conor was angry, and he ordered the bodies to be uncovered\nagain and the body of Deirdre to be removed, so that even in death\nshe might not be with Naisi. And he caused Deirdre to be buried on\none side of the loch, and Naisi on the other side of the loch, and\nthe graves were closed. Then a young pine-tree grew from the grave\nof Deirdre, and a young pine from the grave of Naisi, and their\nbranches grew towards each other, until they entwined one with the\nother across the loch. And Conor would have cut them down, but\nthe men of Ulster would not allow this, and they set a watch and\nprotected the trees until King Conor died.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nThe Fight of Cuchulain with his son Conla\n\n\nWhen Cuchulain was yet a youth in Shadowland, living with Sc\u00e1th,\nand learning feats of her, there had come from afar another\nwoman-warrior to make war upon Sc\u00e1th, a terrible, fierce princess\nnamed Aiffe, who had under her many mighty men. Sore was the war\nbetween them, and of Sc\u00e1th\u2019s warriors a great multitude were slain\nand her two sons also fell in battle. Then Sc\u00e1th called Cuchulain\nand persuaded him to go in embassage to Aiffe to induce her to make\nterms of peace and to withdraw her troops into her own country.\nCuchulain went on that embassage, and he pleased Aiffe, and she\nsaid that she would return into her own country if he would go with\nher and tarry awhile, and aid her in her wars. So Cuchulain went\nwith her and Aiffe delighted in him and they were wedded, and for\na short time they were happy in each other\u2019s company, and waged\nwars together; but soon Cuchulain wearied of her, when he saw her\ncruelty and fierceness, and that nothing of a woman\u2019s gentleness\nwas known to her. And though she besought him not to leave her, he\nbade her farewell, and returned to Sc\u00e1th to finish his training,\nfor the time drew near when he must go back to Ireland. When he\nbade Aiffe farewell, he told her that if a son should be born to\nhim, she was to send him to Ireland at the end of seven years\nto seek his father. He gave her a golden arm-ring to keep for\nthe child, and he said that as soon as the arm-ring should fit\nhis wrist, the lad was to come. He laid upon her, too, three\nstipulations for the child. First, that he should be called Conla,\nbut that he never was to make known his name to any; secondly, that\nif any man offered him single combat, he must on no account refuse;\nand thirdly, that he must never turn back from any journey that he\nhad undertaken, no matter what perils stood in his way. Cuchulain\nprayed Aiffe also to send his son to learn feats of arms with\nSc\u00e1th, as he himself had done. And Aiffe promised him all these\nthings.\n\nSeven years passed away, when, one day in summer, the men of Ulster\nwere holding an assembly beside the seashore, at the place that is\ncalled \u201cThe Strand of the Track.\u201d Their business over, they were\namusing themselves along the beach, until they saw coming towards\nthem over the waves a skiff of bronze, light and swift-moving,\nrowed by two golden oars. Within the skiff, as firmly as though\nhe were on dry land, there stood a little lad playing at games of\nskill. At his feet was a heap of stones and in his hand a sling,\nand as the boat moved on, he would take a stone in his hand and fit\nit to the sling, launching it at the wild sea-birds that soared\nabove his head in the deep, unclouded sky. So cleverly did he hit\nthem that the birds fell at his feet unhurt, and he would throw\nthem up again, and shoot another stone and so bring them down a\nsecond time alive. When he tired of this strange feat, he played\nthe apple-feat upon his breath, sending little golden apples into\nthe air, by the blowing of his mouth, so high that the eye could\nnot discern them, first one and then the other until they danced\nand sparkled in the sun. Each golden ball was of a different size,\nand he would tune his voice to different notes, the balls dancing\nup and down, in answer to his singing, each to its own note. And\nthe men of the Gathering watched him with surprise as he drew near.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said the King, who was passing by, \u201cthere is woe to the\nland to which that little boy comes. For, if a child like that can\ndo such feats, of what sort must be the men of the land from which\nhe comes? They would grind us all to powder if they came to fight\nwith us. Let one of you go and speak with the boy, but let him not\nland on our shores at all.\u201d \u201cWho shall go to meet him?\u201d said they;\nfor not one of them wished to approach the little boy, so greatly\nhad his skill put them in dread. \u201cLet Condere go,\u201d said the King,\n\u201che is ready in speech and wise in argument, and he will find\nexcuses for us, why the stranger should not land.\u201d And Condere was\ncontent to go.\n\nAs the boy drew near the shore, he was about to leap upon the\nbeach when Condere accosted him. \u201cStay,\u201d said he, \u201cthou hast come\nnear enough, good lad, for us to hear who thou art, and from what\npeople and country thou dost come.\u201d \u201cI make not myself known to\nany,\u201d replied the boy; \u201cbut, if there is a man here who would fight\nme, ready am I to meet him, for never have I turned back from any\ncombat.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou canst not land here,\u201d persisted Condere, \u201cuntil thou hast\nmade thyself known to us.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen needs must I return whence I have come, though it is not my\nwont to turn back from a journey,\u201d said the boy, and he made as\nthough he would move away again. When Condere saw that, he was\nsorry, for the child was fair and brave and had an open face,\nand the high look of a prince upon him; so he changed his words\nquickly, and called after him, \u201cCome back, come back, brave boy;\nno doubt the King himself will take you under his protection,\nConor the valiant son of Ness shall be your guard. Or Amergin the\npoet will take you to his care, or Conall Cernach will be your\nprotector; and he whom Conall shall protect is ever welcome to the\nmen of Ulster. No one dare go against an unripe beardless boy when\nunder Conall\u2019s safeguard; for he himself would avenge the deed. Pay\ntherefore the tribute of the Bridge, which all who come from far\nmust pay to Ulster; then will the men of Ulster make welcome to you\nhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cKindly hast thou spoken,\u201d said the lad, \u201cnor do I doubt that\nthou dost mean me well; yet, not to seek protection of Conall the\nVictorious, nor of Amergin your poet, nor even of the king himself,\ndid I seek out this land; nor yet to hear myself dubbed, \u2018an unripe\nbeardless boy,\u2019 did I come hither. If therefore thou wilt don thy\narms, and come to meet me in single combat at the Bridge, thou\nthere wilt get thy answer; though the might of a hundred were in\nthy arms, no tribute will I pay, unless in fair fight I first be\noverthrown.\u201d\n\nBut when Condere saw the spirit of the lad, he grew afraid, for\nthough he was an orator and spoke brave words, he had no mind to\nface the boy in fight. \u201cWell, well, my boy,\u201d thought he, \u201cI will\nlet some better warrior than myself go and speak with thee in words\nof war, since words of peace do not suffice thee.\u201d\n\nThen the King commanded that warriors of good renown should go down\nand speak to the boy in the battle-speech of arms and combat. And\na goodly company of men went down to withstand the stranger. When\nthe little lad saw that, the power of a full-grown fighting-man\ncame upon him, and he donned his arms, and one after another as\nthey came to the waterside, he fell upon them, and stretched them,\ndead or dying, on the beach.\n\n\u201cThis must not be,\u201d exclaimed the King, \u201cfetch Conall Cernach here\nand let him make an end of this presumptuous youth.\u201d\n\nWhile they went for Conall Cernach, the little lad, instead of\nsitting down to rest, betook himself straight to his games again.\nOne would have thought he had no other end in life but to perfect\nhimself in games of skill, and that to bring a hundred foes into\nthe agonies of death was but an interruption to his game. When\nConall came above the cliff that over-looked the water\u2019s edge, and\nsaw the boy practising his feats, he stopped awhile and watched\nhim; but when he saw his cleverness, and how the balls rose in the\nair upon his singing voice: \u201cOne only other than this boy,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201ccan do a trick like that, even Cuchulain, Ulster\u2019s Hound;\nand indeed, I know not whether he can do it quite so well.\u201d And\nConall was astonished, but he would not let the lad perceive his\nadmiration or his fears.\n\n\u201cThy play is pretty, my good boy,\u201d said Conall, as he came down\nto meet him on the beach. \u201cDost thou find it so?\u201d said the child;\n\u201cthen I play now against thee.\u201d With that he put a stone, larger\nthan all the others, in his sling, and shot it up into the air with\nthe force of a great thunder-bolt and with the noise of thunder;\nand Conall was taken unawares and fell upon his back with the\nsuddenness of the commotion, as though he had been dead. Before he\ncould rise again, the boy had leapt ashore and with the strap of\nhis shield he bound him where he lay, so that he could not move.\n\nWhen the host of the Ulstermen saw Conall bound, a wail went up\nfrom them, for never since the day that Conall the Victorious first\ntook arms had any man been able to overthrow him, though he had\nfought with the most famous warriors of the world. With one voice\nthey cried, \u201cSend for Cuchulain here, for the honour of Ulster is\nat stake before this child. Now that Conall lies bound in fetters,\nCuchulain alone can retrieve our honour.\u201d And the King said: \u201cIt is\nwell; send now for Cuchulain.\u201d\n\nCuchulain was in his own fort at Dundalgan when the messengers\narrived. But he refused to go with them, saying, \u201cWhere Conall\nCernach falls there is no hope for me; bravest and best of all the\nwarriors of Ulster is Conall the Victorious, and skilled in every\nfeat of championship. Who then is this stranger who has come, and\nwhat is his name and lineage? where has he learned arts to fright\nthe men of Ulster?\u201d For in his own mind Cuchulain thought, \u201cThere\nis but one who can have learned those feats which Sc\u00e1th teaches\nonly to her most valiant pupils; what if it be my son who comes?\u201d\nSo, on that account, he was unwilling to go with the men.\n\nBut the messengers urged him, saying, \u201cThe honour of Ulster is at\nstake; the king also commands thee and thy people wait for thee.\nWilt thou that Ulster be put to shame before her foes?\u201d\n\nWhen Cuchulain heard that the honour of Ulster was at stake, he\nsaid, \u201cGo on before me, I will but don my fighting-gear, and I will\ncome.\u201d For he thought on Conall Cernach lying bound upon the beach,\nand he remembered their old love and pledge of ancient friendship;\nfor they had sworn in youth that if either of the twain were in any\ntrouble or peril, the other should go forth to his aid, wherever he\nmight be, and thinking on this, he put on his fighting array, and\ntook his massive broad-sword in his hand, and the terrible spear,\nthe Gae Bolga, which no man could withstand, and that moved like a\nliving thing upon the water to find its enemy.\n\nBut for all that, Cuchulain\u2019s heart was sad, for he thought on\nAiffe, and on Sc\u00e1th, and on the child that was to be born to him.\n\nThen when the men of Ulster saw Cuchulain coming towards them, clad\nin all the panoply of war, and his shield and massive two-edged\nsword held in his hand, their grief was turned to gladness, and\ntheir weakness to power, and their fear to courage. And they\ncried, \u201cWelcome Cuchulain, Welcome, Hound of Ulster! With thee the\nhonour of Ulster is secure! Lo! thy comrade and thy lasting friend\nis bound before thy eyes; lo! the glory of Ulster is laid low.\nWelcome, Cuchulain!\u201d\n\nBut Cuchulain came on slowly, and his head was bowed, for his mind\nwas troubled within him, and he liked not the combat of that day.\nAnd he thought to put it off a while, so he stood and watched the\nboy, who was gone back to his games again. He took no heed of\nCuchulain nor of the hosts; nor did any sign of weariness appear\non him, though he had bound a hundred of the foe, and Conall the\nVictorious with them.\n\nThen Cuchulain said: \u201cYou make delightful play, my boy. Who are\nyou yourself? what is your name? what your nation and people, that\nwe may know?\u201d But the boy said: \u201cI came not over-seas to tell my\nname or to give tidings of my people; never shall any man get such\nnews from me. It is not to tell my name that I am come, but to get\npeaceful landing here; and if I get not peaceful landing in this\nplace, I will give combat to any that resists me, for this is the\ncondition that is laid upon me, that I should never turn back from\nany journey, and that I refuse not combat with any man that offers\ncombat to me. Willingly would I now do battle and combat with thee,\nO noble warrior, save that I like thy face and mien, and thy person\nis as the person of a prince of men, and not with good-will would\nI do hurt to thee. Moreover, thou hast brought with thee no strong\ncomrade and warrior to protect thee from my blows.\u201d\n\nNow when Cuchulain heard the little fellow talk like that, he\nlaughed, and all the men of Ulster sent up one shout of mirth and\nof derision. \u201cIt would have been necessary for me to bring with me\na tiny boy, or a wee baby in my arms,\u201d said the Hound, \u201cif I were\nto fight without odds with thee. However, lad, no warrior or little\nboy can pass this bridge unless the toll be paid and unless the\nstranger tell his name and whence he comes. Therefore stand upon\nthy guard. And as I wish no harm to thee, come thou on shore and we\nwill wrestle with each other.\u201d Then the lad left his currach, his\nlittle boat of bronze, and stood upon the shore. But when he came\nbeside Cuchulain he reached not up to his knees. \u201cThis will never\ndo,\u201d said the little fellow, \u201cI cannot reach thy belt to wrestle\nwith thee; set me up upon two stones that I may come on a level to\nfight with thee.\u201d Then Cuchulain helped him up on two large stones,\nand he thought to play with him gently, but the lad planted his\nfeet so firmly on the rock that Cuchulain could not move him the\nsmallest hair-breadth from his place; while before ever he was\naware of what was happening, the child had caught him, and thrust\nhim backward between two standing pillar-stones, so that he was\nwedged between them, and could not free himself. And the men of\nUlster groaned aloud when they saw their champion used like that.\n\n\u201cCome down to the water, now,\u201d said the boy, \u201cand we will see\nwhich can pull the other under.\u201d And they went into the sea, and\nswam out a good space from the land, and they caught each other\nand each tried to hold the other down beneath the waves to drown\nhim. And twice the stranger-boy got the head of Cuchulain down and\nheld him there, so that he was like to loose his breath, and to be\nsuffocated in the sea.\n\nThen all his fury and his red battle-anger came upon Cuchulain,\nbecause he was being made game of, and because his comrade and his\nancient friend Conall was lying bound and helpless on the beach.\nHe knew, too, that the honour of Ulster was at stake, and he could\ndo nothing with this youth to hold it from dishonour. Therefore\nhe loosed his belt that had in it the deadly weapon, from which\nno mortal could escape, and he set it on the water towards the\nstranger-boy, and the weapon moved of its own will across the waves\nof the sea, and it struck the lad and entered him, and the water of\nthe ocean was stained with his blood.\n\n\u201cNow this was what Sc\u00e1th never taught me,\u201d cried the lad, for he\nknew it was the Gae Bolga, from which he could not escape alive.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said Cuchulain, \u201cit is true\u201d; and he took the lad tenderly\nin his arms and carried him out of the water, and laid him down\nupon the beach. And as he carried him, he saw upon his wrist the\ngolden ring that he had left with Aiffe to give the lad, and he\nknew it was his son. \u201cHere is my son for you, O men of Ulster,\u201d\nsaid Cuchulain, for they gathered round to see. And when they heard\nthat it was his own son that he had slain for the honour of Ulster,\na wave of grief and of mourning went through the host, and they\nwere silent with shame and said no word, grieving for Cuchulain and\nhis son. Then Cuchulain said, \u201cAlas! Alas! my son,\u201d and he drew\nthe Gae Bolga gently from his wounds, and he sat down beside him\nand staunched the blood, and he began to call upon Aiffe, that she\nmight comfort and support his son. But Conla said, \u201cGrieve not,\nCuchulain, Hound of Ulster, by whom the honour of Ulster is avenged\nto-day. Call not on Aiffe, O my father, for through her wiles it\nwas that I came hither to do combat with thee; evil and cruel is\nthat woman, and her ways are evil; for it was to avenge herself on\nthee because thou hadst left her that she sent me hither, that I\nmight bring thee to death or die myself in the attempt. I am Conla\nthy son, indeed; yet, until to-day, has no man known my name; as\nthou didst lay command upon me, never have I refused combat to any\nman, nor have I turned back from any journey, or revealed my name\nto any. And now, O Father, first of Heroes, it is well for me that\nI have fallen by thy hand. No shame it is to fall by the hand of\nthe Guardian of Ulster, but to have fallen by a lesser hand, that,\nO Father, would have been unworthy thee and me. And yet it is woe\nthat I must die so young, for had I been but five years beside\nthee, I would have vanquished the champions of the world for the\nhonour of Ulster and for thy honour, and I would have made thee\nking of the world as far as the walls of Rome. Since I must needs\ndie, and my strength is passing fast away, lose not this little\nspace in grief, but point me out the heroes of Ulster of whom Sc\u00e1th\nused to tell, that I may take leave of each before I die.\u201d\n\nThen the heroes of Ulster drew near, and Cuchulain named them all,\nand Conall Cernach amongst them, and the boy put his arms round the\nneck of one hero after the other, and kissed them, and then once\nmore he put his arms round the neck of his own father, and with\nthat he died.\n\nWhen Cuchulain saw that his son was dead, he laid him on the earth,\nand he stood up, and a burst of anguish like the breaking of a\nheart came from him. And he cried aloud: \u201cThe end is come indeed\nfor me:\n\n \u201c\u2018I am a man without son, without wife,\n I am the Father who slew his own child,\n I am a broken, rudderless bark,\n Tossed from wave to wave in the tempest wild;\n An apple blown loose from the garden wall,\n I am over-ripe, and about to fall.\u2019\u201d\n\nThen the men of Ulster came about Cuchulain and tried to comfort\nhim, and they raised the body of Conla on a shield, as it is wont\nto do with heroes, and they made for him a noble grave, and buried\nhim there, with a pillar-stone to mark the spot, and his name and\nhis deeds written thereon. And all Ulster wept for him, and the\nKing commanded that for three days no merriment or feasting should\ntake place within the borders of Ulster, as is wont to be done on\nthe death of a king.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nThe Hound at Bay\n\n\nYet all this while Cuchulain\u2019s foes drew closer round him, watching\ntheir opportunity, and the land was filled with smoke and flame,\nand omens foretold that the Hound was at bay at last, and that\nthe King of the Heroes of Erin was doomed to die. For though\nMeave entered not again into open war with Ulster, never had she\nforgotten the disgrace put upon her armies by Cuchulain, in that he\nalone had beaten and held back her troops during the whole winter\u2019s\nlength, slaying and destroying her chosen men. His kindness to her\nin her weakness she soon forgot, or if she remembered it, it was\nmade bitter by the laugh of Fergus; she felt humiliated that she,\nthe mighty warrior queen, and leader of her forces, had stooped to\nask help from the hands of her enemy. So she awaited the moment of\nrevenge.\n\nThroughout all Ireland she sent messengers to stir up strife\nagainst Cuchulain, so that he was harassed and pursued on every\nhand; nor did he ever sleep a night in peace. To all those men\nwhose fathers or brothers or sons Cuchulain had slain she whispered\nof revenge, and glad and pleased she was when one and another fell\nupon him unawares or led a raid into the country of Murthemne, to\nburn and spoil the land. Above all, she stirred up Luga, son of\nCuroi, prince of Munster, and Erc, the son of Tara\u2019s royal king;\nand these awaited but a chance to fall upon Cuchulain unawares.\n\nBut worst of all, she sent a brood of monstrous, ill-shaped\nsprites, half-women, half-goblins, in their forms and minds, to\nlearn throughout the whole wide distant world some secret way to\nbring Cuchulain to his death. Monstrous they were, for but one\nsingle eye was in their foreheads, and their right legs and left\narms were lopped off at the stump. They did not move along the\nearth like men, but on the broad back of the whistling winds and\nwrapped in magic clouds of their own making, they sped o\u2019er land\nand sea.\n\nHideous and frightful were they to behold, and hideous were their\nthoughts and their designs. When they drew near, a poisonous\nill-wind preceded them, and all the sky was dark with venomous\nclouds about them and above, so that although they saw them not,\nmen shrank with fear and felt but ill at ease. These creatures\nthen she sent through the wide spaces of the universe to learn all\ncruel magic arts that hurt and trouble men. And for five years they\nwandered through the earth, until they reached the fearful realm\nwhere Vulcan forged his weapons in the fire.\n\nThe secret of all poisonous herbs they learned, the use of every\ncharm that spoils men\u2019s lives and drives them to despair; they\nlearned to raise a magic stormy sea upon dry land, in which men\nmight be drowned; and out of forest twigs and fluttering leaves\nthey learned to form a host of fighting-men and armed them with the\nspiked thorn of the thistle leaves or with the blackthorn\u2019s barb.\n\nFrom Vulcan\u2019s hand three cruel spears they took, their names,\n\u2018Wind,\u2019 \u2018Good-luck,\u2019 and \u2018Cast\u2019; three swords of magic power,\ntoo, they got, the \u2018Wounder,\u2019 and the \u2018Hacker,\u2019 and the \u2018Hewer.\u2019\n\u201cBy these three spears or these three swords the splendid Hound\nshall die,\u201d was Vulcan\u2019s word; \u201ceach one of them shall kill a king\nof Erin, and among those kings will be the mighty king of Erin\u2019s\nhero-chiefs, the triumphant, heavy-smiting, noble youth, whom men\ncall \u2018Ulster\u2019s Hound.\u2019\u201d\n\nThen with a fierce and cruel glee those hideous children of the\nstorm bade Vulcan and his crew farewell, and on the rough and\nwhistling blast that blows keen from the east, they rose on high\nand made their way to Erin\u2019s coasts, alighting on the plain before\nthe fort of Meave. She, rising early on the morrow, looked forth\nout of her bower, and saw them resting, each upon one leg perched\non the rampart\u2019s top. Her five-fold crimson mantle flung about her,\nstraightway she stepped forth and made them welcome, and with a\ncruel joy she heard their news. The venomed spears and hard-wrought\nswords she took into her hands, and waved and brandished them to\ntry their power, but though from point to hilt she bent them back,\nno sign of crack or failure could she find. \u201cWell-tempered swords\nare these, indeed,\u201d she cried, \u201cby these my deadly foe shall fall\nat last.\u201d\n\nThen straight to Ulster she sent forth the brood of ill-formed\ngoblin women. \u201cSeek out Cuchulain where he lies,\u201d she said, \u201cand\non him try your spells. Set right before his face your magic tide\nof ocean-waves that he may rush into the flood and come thus to\nhis death; or, if that fail, tempt him with magic troops and armed\nbattalions made out of puff-balls or of fluttering leaves and armed\nwith sharp and prickly thistle-spikes. Thus lure him forth, for I\nhave heard it said that Emer and her women hold him with their\ngentle wiles within his own strong fort, till he be healed of all\nhis pain and wounds. Tempt you him out into the open plain, and\nthere his foes will find and speak with him and utterly and for\never strike him down. My hosts are there, and Luga\u2019s hosts and\nErc\u2019s. Give to each one of them your magic spears, that he may not\nescape. Thus shall the strength of Ulster fall at last! Thus shall\nour vengeance come! Within the space of three short days bring in\nhis head to me.\u201d\n\nSo with deep wiles Meave laid her cruel plans, plotting Cuchulain\u2019s\ndeath; Murthemne and Cuchulain\u2019s country she filled with war-bands,\nmarching through the land wasting and marauding, and they burned\nthe villages and the forests of the plain, so that the whole region\nwas a cloud of fire about them. Now the friends of Cuchulain, and\nEmer, his dear wife, had taken the hero away with them from his own\nhome at Dun Dalgan to a secret glen in Ulster, that is called the\nGlen of the Deaf, because no sound of war or tumult reached it,\nwhere was a pleasant summer palace retired from mankind. There they\nentertained him with sweet music and pleasant tales and games of\nchess, to hold him back from rushing to meet the foe; and they took\nfrom him his chariot and his weapons, and turned his chariot-steeds\nout into the fenced green, for they knew that if he should go forth\nat this time, he must surely fall. But the hero was restless and\nunhappy, and save that he had plighted his word to Emer and to all\nhis friends he would not have entered the Glen. For Emer\u2019s sake and\ntheirs he went with them to the lightsome summer palace, and sat\ndown with the poets and artists and the women-folk to listen to\nsweet beguiling music and tales of ancient deeds to while away the\ntime.\n\nEverywhere throughout the Province the horrid brood of mis-shaped\nchildren sought him, but they found him not, neither in Dun Dalgan\nnor in Emain, nor in his own country of Murthemne\u2019s Plain; but\nat last one of them soared up to the very clouds of heaven and\nsurveyed the whole wide land of Ulster, and from a hidden forest\nglen she heard the sound of joyous revelry and the high, shrill\nvoice of women\u2019s laughter, and the cheerful noise of a great\ncompany keeping festival together.\n\nThen she transformed herself into the shape of a black raven, and\nswooped down and perched above the seat on which Cuchulain sat.\nAnd it seemed to Cuchulain that he heard words, inciting him to go\nforth.\n\n\u201cDun Dalgan is burned,\u201d they said to him, \u201cand all the province is\nlaid waste; the war-bands and the hosts of Meave have ravaged all\nthe land, and everywhere but smoke and flames are seen. Arise, O\nHound, arise!\u201d\n\nBut to the rest it seemed as though the raven croaked, and they\nlaughed loud to hear the bird of ill-omen croaking in the house.\nCuchulain sprang to his feet to rush forth; but, as he rose, his\nmantle caught beneath his feet, and he was thrown backwards on his\nseat. Once more he rose in haste and red with shame, but the great\nkingly brooch that fastened his mantle, being loosened by his fall,\ndropped on his foot, and dropping pierced his skin. \u201cAlas! alas!\u201d\nhe cried, \u201ceven my mantle warns me of ill-luck!\u201d And Emer said,\n\u201c\u2019Tis even so; heed now the warning of a friend. Let this pass,\nCu; for three days stay with us, and then in peace thou mayest go\nforth to fight. For three days only have the Children of the Blast\ntheir fatal power. Not for thyself or thine own safety do we thus\nentreat, but for the sake of Ulster and her king. For Ulster is\ndestroyed if Cuchulain falls. For three days then abide.\u201d And for\nthe sake of Ulster Cuchulain stayed, though heaviness and shame sat\ndeep upon him, and in his heart he longed to go. And wearily he sat\ndown again to play his game of chess.\n\nFor that night the Wild Women of the Blast went back, and they\nwaited until another day was past, but towards the fall of night\nthe horrid brood of mis-shaped children betook them to the Glen.\nOn the swift magic wind of their own making they soared aloft,\nand at the very entrance to the Glen they lighted on the ground.\nThere they began to work their noisome spells. Out of the light\nwee puff-balls and the rustling forest leaves they formed great\nlines of fighting-men, all armed with battle-weapons of the hooded\nsharp-spiked thistle-stalks. All round the lightsome, pleasant\nhouse the army stood, in marshalled band on band, and all the\ncountry rang with battle-shouts and cries of war and trumpetings,\nand loud pealing laughter, and the taunts of strong men when they\nmock at cowards.\n\nIn the palace Cuchulain caught the uproar and the mocking laughter\nof the phantom fairy hosts. He started up and would have rushed\nmadly from the hall, but those around him stayed and hindered.\n\u201cClose fast the doors,\u201d they said, \u201cif for this one day and\nto-morrow we can keep him fast, the magic evil spell is past.\u201d And\nEmer came to him and said, \u201cThis one day yet abide, O dear one,\nnoblest of the whole world\u2019s race, my one and only love. These are\nbut shows and phantoms that thou hearest wrought by the sprites to\nlure thee to thy doom. To-morrow, or the next day, or the next,\ncomes Conall Cernach back from travelling. Alone, thou fallest;\nwith him thou art a match for any host. For Ulster\u2019s sake and ours,\nand for thine own, abide.\u201d\n\nThen at this thing Cu felt a mighty shame; his soul was filled with\nstorms of anger and reproach. \u201cAlas! alas!\u201d he cried, \u201chenceforth\nthere is no cause to guard my life. My span is ended, my honour is\ndestroyed. Better for me than all the gold and riches of the world,\nif I had died before there fell on me this shame. In every tongue\nthis noble saying is recorded, \u201cFame outlives life\u201d; but by your\nurgency I keep my life, when all my fame and honour is destroyed.\nCome death, come life, to-morrow I go forth.\u201d\n\nAnd gloomily and sadly he sat down, nor would he play or listen to\nthe music of the bards, or hold sweet converse with the women, but\nall that night, till break of day, he tried and proved his weapons,\nand his spears and sword he polished lovingly, and he sent Laeg out\nto catch his chariot-steeds and bring them to the green beside the\nhouse. And his heart revived within him when he heard without the\nneigh of the Grey of Macha and the Black Steed of the Glen.\n\nBut the foul Children of the Blast were disappointed and dismayed\nbecause they could not tempt Cuchulain out. And all that night they\nsat in council, devising plans to snare him. \u201cWe have but one day\nmore,\u201d they said, \u201cbefore our power is lost. To-morrow then and\nverily, we lure him forth.\u201d\n\nBefore the morning\u2019s sun was well arisen, on the blast of the\nswift moaning wind of their own making, and all unseen, they came\naround the glen. Then they put forth their magic spells and round\nthe house they made the likeness of a mighty sea that wave on wave\nrolled ever nearer to the pleasure-house, threatening to overwhelm\nit as it stood. Amid the women\u2019s talk and loving laughter, and\nthe sweet music of the harps and singing men, Cuchulain heard\nthe lapping of the waves, and the low distant ocean\u2019s roar, and\nwhistling of the wind upon the sea. Then he rose up and seized\nhis weapons in his hand, and for all Emer and the rest could do,\nhe rushed forth from the house. And madness came upon him when he\nsaw the rolling billows rising ever towards the house, and all the\nland covered with mist and spray; and he called Emer, and would\nhave lifted her up above the waves to carry her in safety through\nthe billows. But Emer and the rest could see no waves, only the\ngreen waving grasses of the pleasure-field, and nought they heard\nsave the soft rustling breath of spring that whispered through the\nleaves. And Emer said: \u201cLittle Cu, O my first love and darling\nof all earth\u2019s men, never until this hour have I or any of thy\nwomen-folk put hindrance in thy way in any exploit or battle-raid\nthat thou didst desire. Though oft we wept, and many a time we\nthought thou never wouldst return, we never held thee back. But\nnow for my sake, my own chosen sweetheart, go not forth. No sea is\nthat thou seest upon the green, but only waving grasses and the\nfluttering leaves. Heed not the magic noisome spells of those thy\nenemies, but one day more abide. Then never till the end of life or\ntime will we restrain or hold thee back again.\u201d But Cuchulain said,\n\u201cEmer, restrain me not; I see the horses of Manannan riding on the\nwaves; I hear Manannan\u2019s fairy harp play gently o\u2019er the billows;\nManannan\u2019s ancient face I see beckoning me o\u2019er the main.\u201d\n\nThen Emer knew that the hour of Cuchulain\u2019s fate was come, and\nthat nought of all that ever they could do would avail to turn him\nback. For the seer had prophesied that when Cuchulain should see\nthe horses of the ancient Ocean god upon the waves, and when he\nshould hear Manannan\u2019s harp play sweetly, the hour of his fate was\ncome, and he must e\u2019en go back to Shadowland.\n\nThen she herself called Laeg to prepare his chariot and harness\nhis horses, and to set his fighting-gear in order, that not by\nphantasies or magic wild imaginings, but as a chariot-chief and\nchampion facing his foes he might go forth to die; and she brought\nout his helmet and set it upon his head, and placed his mighty\nshield within his hand, that he might die as a hero should.\n\nAnd when Cuchulain saw his chariot standing ready for him, and\nLaeg therein awaiting him, and the noble steeds pawing the ground,\nthe phantoms of his brain passed away from him, and his warrior\nstrength and joyousness of mind came back, and he donned his armour\nwith good-will and gladness, and made to spring into the chariot.\nBut for the first time since the day when they rose out of the\nmagic lake, the steeds obeyed not his hand, but started from him\nand turned the chariot round, evading him. And when Laeg drew them\nback, and Cuchulain prepared to spring again into the chariot, they\nfled away before him. \u201cHow now, how now is this, good steeds?\u201d\nsaid Laeg; \u201cfull oft before ye two came bounding at your master\u2019s\ncall, nor ever turned away. Ill deed is this of thine, for never\nupon any former day did he and I need help from you as now we need\nit. Presage of evil is this freak of thine!\u201d This when the Grey of\nMacha heard he stood quite still, the Black Steed by his side, and\nthey let Cuchulain mount into the chariot; but even as he sprang\nto take his seat, his weapons all fell down about his feet; to\nhim a grim foreshadowing of ill. He saw, moreover, that from the\nhorses\u2019 eyes and down their cheeks coursed tears of dusky blood.\n\nYet for all that he stayed not, but without farewells or partings\nof any kind at all, joyously he set forth towards Murthemne\u2019s\nPlain, to meet the hosts of Meave. But when the cruel Children of\nthe Blast saw the imprisoned champion go forth and take the level\nroad across the plain, up to the highest heavens they rose aloft\nwith wild shrill cries and shriekings of delight, and through\nthe air upon the whistling wind they sped before him, hastening\nto arouse the hosts of Meave to meet him in their strength.\nBefore Cuchulain\u2019s eyes they raised a vision of battle-troops and\nmarshalled lines standing round Emain, with chariots, steeds and\nweapons in great plenty. He saw the city red and dark with flames,\nand heard the shouting of the foe as Emain sank in ashes. That\nvision passed away, and then another came before his mind. He saw\nDun Dalgan, his own home, aglow, like Emain, in the ruddy flame.\nHe saw the women flying from the flames, with hair dishevelled,\nand with streaming eyes. He heard the crashing of the blazing\nwalls, as inward one and then another fell. He saw the foe behind\nwith swords upraised, slaying and cutting down the women as they\nran. Then he saw Emer, his own loving wife, standing alone upon\nthe outer wall, scanning the distant plain. She raised her hands\nand called on him for help, and down her face ran torrents of salt\ntears. Then he could see behind her, creeping slowly on, a fierce\nrelentless warrior of Meave\u2019s host. And with one spring he saw him\nseize her hair, the soft long locks Cuchulain loved to touch, and\nbackward with his cruel pitiless hand he drew her head, and with a\nsingle blow he sheared it off, flinging it in disdain out o\u2019er the\nrampart\u2019s wall, and trampling her fair body under foot. When he had\nseen that deed, Cuchulain groaned, and sped along the plain with\ngreater haste.\n\nThen passing o\u2019er a stream they saw a maiden stooping on the brink,\nas though she washed and rinsed the garments of the slain. Slender\nand white her body and her hands, but all the waters ran with\ncrimson blood, and still she washed, and wept, and wrung her hands,\nand all her yellow hair hung down in tresses slowly dropping blood.\nSharply and quick, without a word or pause, Laeg turned the chariot\nwhen he saw the girl, and made as though to flee. \u201cHow now?\u201d said\nCu; \u201cwhat dost thou, Master Laeg? What spoils are these the maiden\nwrings and washes in the stream? and who and what is she?\u201d \u201cShe is\nthe Watcher of the Ford,\u201d Laeg cried, \u201cthe daughter of the goddess\nof grim war. She wrings the garments of the slain, or those about\nto die. Dost thou not see that they are thine own garments that she\nwashes out to-day; that it is thine own sword that runs with blood,\ndying the river red? Alas! alas! while there is time, let us now\nturn and flee.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear comrade, it is well,\u201d the hero said, \u201cI may not turn me back\nfrom this my hour of vengeance on the men of Erin, revenge for all\nthe ill that they have wrought on us. What though the fairy woman\nwash my spoils? great spoil of arms, of armour and of gear, is that\nwhich by my spear shall shortly fall and lie there drenched in\nblood. None knows it better than I know myself that in this coming\nonslaught I must fall; whether I stay I am devoted to death, or\nwhether I go, the span of my life is run out. No more then hinder\nor delay my course, for sad as you may be to see me go to Death,\neven so glad and cheerful I myself go forth to meet my fate. Let me\nbut once more thus avenge my country\u2019s wrongs, and gladly and with\njoy I give my life.\u201d\n\nSo he turned again and faced the enemy, and all his gloom and\nheaviness passed from Cuchulain, and the delusions of the gruesome\nfairy folk troubled him no more. Cheerfully and free from care he\nrode on towards the host, and from his forehead, brighter than the\nsun, shone out the Hero\u2019s Light. Right terrible and beautiful he\nstood, his mighty sword uplifted in his hand, his eyes beneath his\nhelmet flashing fire. And when they saw him coming thus alone, a\nshout of triumph rose from all the host, and mounted to the very\nclouds of heaven.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nFame outlives Life\n\n\nThroughout that day the battle rolled and raged. No time to eat or\ndrink Cuchulain gave, but from the dewy morn to fall of night he\nwrought upon his foes death-dealing blows, cutting them down as\nhailstones crush small flowers. And though he was alone against a\nhost, they fled in terror from his path, so like a god of battles\nand of war the hero seemed. In his first onset men and horses,\nhounds and charioteers gave way before him, as the corn gives way,\nbowing before the scythe; and all around his path the bodies of\nthe slain were piled. Throughout the day, they rallied once and\nthen again, but still they could not take him whole or strike him\ndead. From off his helmet and the armour Sc\u00e1th had given, their\nweapons broke and shattered in their hands; no sword would wound,\nno spear would pierce his skin. His chariot-steeds, like horses\ngod-possessed, trampled their men to death; the fire breathing\nfrom their nostrils consumed all who ventured near. Thus through\nthe hosts from side to side Cuchulain urged his steeds, and all\nhis way was heaped and piled with dead. Twice seemed it that the\nvictory was his, but at the last, the warriors rallied and held him\nback. Then, at the third time, the Wild Women-Goblins of the Blast,\nwho watched the fight, screaming above the slain, swooped down.\nInto the hands of Luga and young Erc, but late ascended Tara\u2019s\nroyal seat, and into the dread hand of dark Curoi, they placed the\nvenomous spears of magic might brought out of fairy-land. \u201cThe time\nis come,\u201d said they; \u201ctake these and strike; with each of these\nthree spears a king shall fall.\u201d\n\nTogether those three foes drew near, and first Curoi threw his\nweapon, aiming it at Cu. But from his mantle once again it swerved,\nmissing its mark. But glancing off from him, it pierced the Grey of\nMacha, pinning the gallant creature to the ground.\n\nCuchulain, when he saw his steed transfixed, without a thought for\nhis own safety, bounded from his chariot, and stooped to draw the\nweapon from the wound; but for all he tugged and pulled, he could\nnot get it out. While he was bending down to help his steed, Erc,\nthe young king of Erin, flung the second spear, hoping to kill\nCuchulain. It touched his hip and wounded him, but fell upon his\ncharioteer, inflicting a mortal wound. \u201cAlas, my little Cu,\u201d cried\nLaeg, \u201cby this wound now I die; never before in any fight or foray\nthat we have faced together have I been wounded past thy guard!\u201d\n\n\u201cNot past, but through me went that spear,\u201d Cuchulain said, \u201csee, I\nam hurt by it. My blessing with thee, Laeg, and leave me now, ere\nfaintness falls on thee; seek shelter far beyond the host, thither\nwill I in safety lead the way. If haply thou shouldst escape and\nlive so long, back to Dun Dalgan make thy way, where Emer of the\nwaving hair still looks for my return. My blessing take to her and\nmy dear love; tell her I love her yet, and had I lived, not all the\nwomen of the whole globe\u2019s space would e\u2019er have lured or drawn my\nlove from her. Tell her again, tell Conor and tell Conall, how for\ntheir sakes I wage this awful fight, tight closed in grips with all\nthe hosts of Meave. \u2019Tis Ulster\u2019s honour and mine own I avenge. Let\nEmer weep awhile that I am dead, and mourn my loss; surely she will\nnot live when I am gone. Yet for their bitter weeping and their\ntears, the dead return not to their friends who mourn. My blessing\ntake, O Laeg; no chariot-chief had ever man so faithful and so\ntrue. My word I swear upon my weapons here, all Erin\u2019s hosts shall\nhear how I avenged thy loss. In grief and gloom we part! Thou goest\nand Emer goes! No more as in old days from foreign lands in gallant\nglee shall I return to her.\u201d\n\nThus to each other, in heaviness and grief, the hero and his\nservant bade farewell. Yet for awhile, so long as he could stand,\nfrom a low hillock Laeg looked on and watched the fight. Then\n(for the Black Steed followed him, and would not turn away) upon\nthe back of his own chariot-horse he took his way straight to\nCuchulain\u2019s home.\n\nBut after his farewell, the hero turned him back into the fray,\nand on his foes he took a fierce revenge. No sword or armour could\nwithstand his blows. On every side he seemed to be at once, now\nhere, now there, dealing death-bearing wounds. Before him, and on\nevery side, the men of Erin fled, while, like the avenging god of\nwar, Cuchulain pressed behind.\n\nThen when the cruel Children of the Blast beheld the rout, one of\nthe three limped to where Luga stood, and ugly was her face, and\nblack her scowl. \u201cWhy fling you not the spear we brought to you? A\nking will fall by it if it is thrown.\u201d\n\n\u201cI heard you say a king would fall before, when Erc and Curoi\nflung their venomed spears. Yet Cuchulain lives,\u201d Luga replied.\n\n\u201cAnd so it was,\u201d she said; \u201cthe King of Erin\u2019s steeds, the King of\nErin\u2019s charioteers have fallen by those spears. One King lives yet,\nand by your spear the King of Erin\u2019s heroes is to fall.\u201d\n\nThen Luga flung the spear. Straight, vehement, and true the aim\nhe took, and over all the heads of all the host it rose and fell,\npiercing Cuchulain to the very earth.\n\nThen out of sudden fear the host stood back, seeing Cuchulain fall.\nNo shout went up, but silence deep and awful seized the host. They\nceased to fly and turned, but none of all of them advanced to aid\nor slay the wounded man.\n\nIn a wide circle as they turned they stood each leaning on his\nspear, and in the empty space, near where Cuchulain fell, in\nsilence Luga stood to watch the hero die. Thus all alone, without\na single friend, the king of Erin\u2019s mighty heroes lay, dying upon\nthe plain. Slowly Cuchulain rose in mortal pain, and stooped to\ndrag the weapon from the wound; but he could not, for it broke\noff at the head, leaving the metal fastened in the flesh. And as\nhe tugged, the red blood trickled slowly to his feet and made a\nstream that ran away along a furrow of the plain. Cuchulain saw\nan otter that crept up from the rushes on the margin of the lake.\nStealthily the creature drew towards him, attracted by the blood,\nand in a timid way began to drink. It vexed Cuchulain when he saw\nthe cringing beast drinking his blood while he was yet alive, and\nhe ceased tugging at the buried spear-head, and made shift to\nstoop and pick up the fallen shaft and fling it at the beast. At\nthat a raven came fluttering down and hesitatingly drew near, and\ndipped its beak into the hero\u2019s blood; but in the slippery stream\nits claws were caught and so the bird upset. When he saw that,\nCuchulain laughed aloud, and well he knew that laugh would be his\nlast.\n\nFor, even as he laughed, Death\u2019s mists and swoonings fell on him.\nHe closed his eyes, and when at length he opened them again, the\nwarrior-host had moved, drawn nearer to the place where he was\nlying still; but such an awe was on them that in that mighty ring\nof warrior-hosts, armed all with clanking weapons and with arms, no\nsound was heard; they stood as silent as a nurse might stand within\nthe dark sick-room, to watch the champion die.\n\nThen came a mighty thirst upon the wounded man. \u201cFain would I go,\u201d\nhe said to them, \u201cand quench my thirst beside the loch.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe give thee leave to go,\u201d they said, \u201cbut only if thou come again\nto us.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I come not to you again myself, I bid you come for me,\u201d the\nhero said.\n\nSo he gathered himself together and went slowly to the loch. And he\ndrank his drink and washed himself, and came forth to die, calling\nupon his foes to come and meet him.\n\n[Illustration: Cuchulain comes at last to his Death]\n\nNow his eye lighted upon a tall pillar-stone that was beside the\nloch in the midst of the plain. And he drew himself to the stone,\nand leaned his back against it, and with the girdle that was about\nhis breast, he bound himself to the stone, standing up facing the\nmen of Erin. And in his hand he grasped his naked sword and held it\nup aloft, and in his other hand he took his shield, and placed it\nclose beside him on the ground. For he said, \u201cI will not die before\nthe men of Erin lying down nor sitting on the ground, but I will\ndie before them standing up.\u201d And the Grey of Macha found him where\nhe stood, and came up, dragging the spear that still held in his\nwound; and it laid its head upon Cuchulain\u2019s breast, weeping great\ndropping tears of dusky blood. And all about his shoulders hovered\ncarrion birds, yet still the host dared not venture nigh, for the\nhero\u2019s light shone from his forehead, and they knew not whether he\nwere alive or dead.\n\nThen went Luga near to see if he were yet alive, and as he came\nbeside him, the great sword fell from the dying Champion\u2019s hand,\nand struck the hand of Luga, and smote it off, so that the sword\nand hand fell to the ground together. Cuchulain heaved a deep and\ntroubled sigh, and with that sigh his soul parted from his body.\nYea, with the greatness of that sigh the pillar-stone was split, as\nmay be seen to this day. Men call it still the Pillar of the Hero\u2019s\ndying Sigh.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nThe Red Rout\n\n\nDaily upon the ramparts of Dun Dalgan Emer of the beauteous hair\nlooked out and waited for Cuchulain, for nought of Laeg\u2019s grim\ntale, that he was dead or dying on the Plain, would take hold on\nher mind. But still and evermore he came not home.\n\nUpon a certain day, far off she saw a single horseman coming\ntowards the fort, upon a horse that wearily and weakly moved along,\ndropping red blood at every step. Weary the horseman seemed, and\nin his hand he bore a rod made out of osiers of the stream, and on\nit hung the gory heads of lately slaughtered men. Then trembling\nand affright fell on the queen. Full well she knew the horse that\ndripped with blood, the Grey of Macha, Cuchulain\u2019s chariot-steed,\nbut on his back another rider sat. \u201c\u2019Tis Conall the Victorious,\u201d\nshe exclaimed, \u201che rides Cuchulain\u2019s horse. With evil news he comes\nto me this day. The tale is true that Laeg told, Cuchulain in his\nblood lies on Murthemne\u2019s Plain, dying or dead. Woe that another\nrides Cuchulain\u2019s steed! Woe that the Hound of Ulster draws not\nnear. Full many a day in triumphant pride by this same path he hath\ncome home to me! Full many a day along this beaten way in gallant\nglee he hath gone forth to war!\u201d Sadly and sorrowfully drew Conall\nnear and greeted Emer. And Emer said, \u201cWhat gory heads are those\nthou bearest on the withe? How and in what fight didst thou come\nby them?\u201d \u201cThese are the heads of those who slew thy hero and my\nfriend! Alas! that I in distant lands was wandering when Cuchulain\ndied. Too late I came to save him, if perchance he still might shun\nthe hour of his death; but not too late my promise to redeem and\nto avenge his fall. See here upon the withe is Luga\u2019s head, and\nhere the head of dark Curoi mac Daire, and here is Erc\u2019s, the fair\nyoung lad who stained his youth with blood, the blood of Ulster\u2019s\nGuardian and its Hound. These and the others I bear here with me\nin token of my duty well performed, my promise kept. Where\u2019er men\nspeak the praise of Ulster\u2019s Hound and tell his deeds, there also\nshall they speak of the Red Rout of Conall Cernach, in vengeance of\nhis death!\u201d\n\nThen trembling Emer said, \u201cOne head I see not here upon the withe;\nyet in thy bosom surely thou hast yet one head for me. I see fair\nhair, O Conall, bring it forth; give back to me my lover and my\nfriend.\u201d\n\nThen Conall said: \u201cListen, O Emer, to the tale I tell. When round\nthe men of Erin in my wrath and battle-fury I had passed, cutting\nand hewing down their chiefs and leaders and their mighty men,\nclose up to Tara\u2019s wall I made my way, seeking for Erc, who fled\nbefore my steps surrounded by his chosen counsellors. Passing the\nplaying-fields without the fort, I saw men playing hurley with a\nhead, a human head in place of hurley-balls, a human head yet fresh\nand wet with blood. My own blood froze within my veins! It was the\nhead of Ulster\u2019s Hound they struck and flung from hand to hand!\nAnd at the shame of it methought its cheeks blushed hot and rosy\nred. Even as I came the head was struck; it bounded up, and nobly\ntook the goal. A shout went up from all those reckless men. \u2018So,\nso, the Hound of Ulster wins again; good man, good man, we hit him\nunder once and took his head from him, but he would take revenge\nupon us now.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Revenge,\u2019 I cried, \u2018revenge he\u2019ll find indeed,\u2019 and at that word\ninto their midst I sprang, dealing on every hand death-bringing\nblows. Like corn before the mower\u2019s scythe, or like grown grass\nbeneath the feet of many hosts, I hewed them down. Harsh cries\nwent up, for all unarmed they fell, helpless and with no power to\nwithstand, and Erc came out upon the green, and stood there in\ndismay. I held Cuchulain\u2019s head on high in my left hand. \u2018Thy head\nto match with his,\u2019 I cried, and ere he raised a sound his head was\nrolling at my feet. I picked it up and hither came to seek thee,\ngentle queen.\u201d\n\nThen Emer, white as death, and trembling as a rush that bows before\nthe onward-flowing stream, put forth her hands, and said, \u201cGive me\nCuchulain\u2019s head.\u201d But when with reverence Conall placed within her\nhands Cuchulain\u2019s head, a cry of sorrow and of grief rang out from\nEmer\u2019s lips, and pierced the souls of all who heard it in the fort.\nShe bent to kiss the head, and at that moment her sad heart broke\nwithin her breast, and o\u2019er Dun Dalgan\u2019s rampart Emer fell, her\nfair hair mingled with the hair of Cuchulain, her mantle rent and\ntorn, and all her lovely face splashed o\u2019er with blood. Gently and\nreverently they raised her up, and bore her, with the head still\nclasped within her arms, to where the body of Cuchulain lay. There\non Murthemne\u2019s plain they buried them, two lovers and two friends\nwithin one tomb, husband and wife. And when the grave was digged\nand filled again, the Grey of Macha roamed away; through all the\nfields and furrows of the plain, through all the glens and hills\nin Erin\u2019s bounds he seemed to search and closely scrutinise, as\nthough to find some being he had lost. But when he found him not,\nback to the lonely loch among the reeds, where first Cuchulain\nfound and mastered him, he came again; and with one bound he leaped\ninto the very centre of the loch, and so appeared no more. This\nwitnessing, the Black Steed neighed in mournful wise, and went back\nto the glen in Donegal, and no man dared to seek or follow him, nor\never found they trace of him again.\n\nBut to the three times fifty queens who wept for him, the soul of\nCuchulain, radiant and noble as in life, appeared once more; and\non the ramparts of Emain by night, old warriors tell how, when\nmen are asleep, the spirit-chariot of a spirit-chief, clad in his\nbattle armour as of yore, moves round the walls, guarding the outer\nramparts from the foe; and all men sleep in safety, for the Hound\nof Ulster wakes.\n\nAnd as, with slow and stately pace the chariot moves, drawn by two\nnoble horses, white and black, a chant goes up upon the midnight\nair, not like the pagan chants of other days, but sweet and gentle\nas a summer-song, and with a note of triumph in its sound, telling\nthe coming of a hero-chief, who shall be called the Christ, and\nwho will bring great peace and rest to men. And when that song is\nheard, rising with its sweet strain o\u2019er all the fort, the fires\nof war and hate are softened in the chieftains\u2019 hearts, and women\nsmile upon their little babes and hug them to their breasts. And\nall, the young and old, set forward minds to welcome the new time\nwhen wars shall cease, and peace shall come to men.\n\n\n\n\nNotes on the Sources\n\n\n\u201cT\u00e1in b\u00f3 Cuailnge.\u201d The two oldest versions of the long tale of\nthe \u201cT\u00e1in b\u00f3 Cuailnge,\u201d or \u201cCattle-Raid of Cooley,\u201d from which the\nmain part of Chapters ii.-vi. and ix.-xix. of this book are taken,\nare those found in the old vellum manuscripts known as the \u201cLeabhar\nna h-Uidhre\u201d (L.U.), compiled about the year 1100 in the monastery\nof Clonmacnois on the Shannon, and preserved in the Library of\nthe Royal Irish Academy, Dublin, and that occurring in the Book\nof Leinster (L.L.), preserved in Trinity College, Dublin, the\nlarger portion of which appears to belong to the twelfth century.\nA version found in the Yellow Book of Lecan corresponds closely\nto that in L.U., and seems to contain an even earlier text. The\ntext of this older version is in course of publication in \u00c9riu,\nthe journal of the School of Irish Learning in Dublin, and a\ntranslation has been made of it by Miss W. Faraday (Grimm Library\nSeries, vol. xvi.). The lengthy L.L. version has been published\nwith a German translation, and copious notes and glossary, by Dr\nErnst Windisch, 1905.\n\nAmong the later versions of parts of this long tale, is a copy\nfound in the British Museum (marked Add. 18748) 1800 A.D., which\ncoincides in the main with that of the Book of Leinster. A\ntranslation of large portions of this manuscript was contributed by\nDr Standish H. O\u2019Grady to the present author\u2019s \u201cCuchullin Saga in\nIrish Literature\u201d (Grimm Library, vol. viii.).\n\n\nThe story of \u201cThe Education of Cuchulain\u201d in Alba or Scotland, with\nthe amazon Sc\u00e1th, originally formed part of the tale of \u201cThe Wooing\nof Emer,\u201d but separate accounts exist of these adventures. For the\ndetails of Chapter vii., I have drawn partly upon the incidents\ncontained in the longer version of \u201cThe Wooing of Emer,\u201d and partly\nupon two late manuscripts found in the British Museum (Egerton, 106\nand 145). These have since been edited by Dr Whitley Stokes in the\nRevue Celtique, vol. xxix.\n\n\n\u201cThe Wooing of Emer.\u201d This story is taken from Dr Kuno Meyer\u2019s\nedition of the tale found in Stowe MS. 992, and first published by\nhim in the Arch\u00e6ological Review, vol. i.\n\n\nThe story of \u201cCuchulain\u2019s Visit to Fairy-land,\u201d usually known as\n\u201cThe Sick-bed of Cuchulain\u201d (our Chapters xx., xxi.), is adapted\nfrom the accounts as given in the only two copies known to exist\nof it, one found in L.U. and the other in a fifteenth-century\nmanuscript in Trinity College, Dublin. It was first published by\nO\u2019Curry in Atlantis, vols. i. and ii., and later Dr Windisch edited\nthe tale in Irische Texte, vol. i. An English translation will be\nfound in Leahy\u2019s \u201cHeroic Romances of Ireland,\u201d vol. i.\n\n\nThe story of \u201cDeirdre,\u201d usually called \u201cThe Tragical Fate of the\nSons of Usnach,\u201d is one of three favourite titles that for the last\ntwo hundred years at least have been known as \u201cThe Three Sorrowful\nTales of Erin,\u201d the other two being \u201cThe Fate of the Children of\nLir\u201d and \u201cThe Fate of the Children of Tuireann.\u201d There is, however,\nno connection or similarity between these tales. The story is found\nin numerous versions dating from the twelfth century down to the\npresent day, and it has undergone much modification in the course\nof repetition. It is still a popular story in the Highlands of\nScotland, and all round Loch Etive and its neighbourhood are the\nremains of forts and sites bearing the names of the unfortunate\nlovers.\n\nNo single version contains the entire story, and I have therefore\nbeen obliged to combine the accounts given in various versions\nbelonging to different ages, slightly altering the arrangement\nin order to fit them together. In the chapter called \u201cThe\nSleep-Wanderer,\u201d and in the account of \u201cThe Death of the Sons of\nUsnach,\u201d I have drawn largely on a very beautiful and poetic Gaelic\nfolk-version taken down by Dr Alexander Carmichael from the lips\nof an old man of eighty-three years of age, John Macneill or \u201cIain\nDonn\u201d of Barra, and first published by him in the Trans. of the\nGaelic Society of Inverness, vols. xiii., xiv. It has since been\nrepublished under the title of \u201cDeirdre.\u201d\n\nSome suggestions I have also taken from a modern manuscript found\nby Dr Douglas Hyde in the Belfast Museum, part of which was printed\nby him in Zeit. f\u00fcr Celt. Phil., vol. ii.\n\nBut the main body of the story follows the medi\u00e6val version, which\nhas been printed repeatedly, one of the best recent editions being\nthat of Dr Whitley Stokes in Irische Texte, 2nd series, pt. 2.\n\nIn the oldest version, that found in the Book of Leinster, Deirdre\nis made to survive the sons of Usnach, and is forced to come into\nConor\u2019s house; but she will neither eat nor smile, and finally\nshe puts an end to her intolerable existence by springing from a\nchariot and dashing her head against a rock. This version is much\nruder and more barbaric than any of those belonging to a later\nperiod.\n\n\n\u201cThe Tragical Death of Conla (or Conlaech), Son of Aiffe.\u201d\nApparently the oldest form of this story, which is the Irish\nparallel to the Persian story of \u201cSohrab and Rustem,\u201d is that found\nin the Yellow Book of Lecan, recently edited by Dr Kuno Meyer\nin \u00c9riu, vol. i. pt. I; Mr J. G. O\u2019Keeffe gives another ancient\nversion in the same journal. The story is usually told in verse,\nand is still alive in Gaelic-speaking parts of Ireland and in the\nHighlands of Scotland. Miss Brooke has published one of these\npoetical forms in her \u201cReliques of Irish Poetry,\u201d 1789.\n\n\n\u201cThe Tragical Death of Cuchulain.\u201d The incidents connected with the\ndeath of Cuchulain, and immediately preceding and following it, are\nchiefly taken from, or suggested by, two good but comparatively\nrecent manuscripts in the British Museum (Egerton, 132, and\nAdd. 18947) dating from the early eighteenth and the nineteenth\ncenturies respectively. They contain the cycle of events known\nas \u201cThe Great Defeat on the Plain of Murthemne,\u201d \u201cThe Death of\nCuchulain,\u201d \u201cThe Red Rout of Conall Cernach,\u201d \u201cThe Lay of the\nHeads,\u201d and \u201cEmer\u2019s Death.\u201d Portions of the material from the first\nof these two manuscripts were translated for my \u201cCuchullin Saga\u201d by\nDr S. H. O\u2019Grady, but these five stories as a consecutive whole\nhave not yet been published. An older (L.L.) version of Cuchulain\u2019s\ndeath was published by Dr Whitley Stokes in Revue Celtique, vol.\niii.\n\nMurthemne, or Cuchulain\u2019s country, formed part of the present Co.\nLouth, and a great pillar stone is still pointed out by the people\nas the place of Cuchulain\u2019s death, a split in the side having been\ncaused, according to living tradition, by the dying sigh of the\nhero.\n\n\nThe poem on p. 141 is reprinted by kind permission of Mr T. Fisher\nUnwin.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] This story has been published by Dr Wh. Stokes in _Rev. Celt._\nxxix. (1908), since the above was written.\n\n[2] The raths or earthworks of Emain Macha are still to be\ndiscerned two miles west of Armagh, at a place now called Navan\nFort.\n\n[3] Cruachan (now Rath Crogan) is in Co. Roscommon; tumuli mark the\nsite of the ancient kingly fort.\n\n[4] From Dr George Sigerson\u2019s _Bards of the Gael and Gall_. The\ntranslation is in the metre and style of the original.\n\n\n\n\n * * * * * *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been\n corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within\n the text and consultation of external sources.\n\n Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text\n and inconsistent or archaic usage have been retained. For example,\n lookout, look-out; fairy-maid, fairy maid; Shadowland, Shadow-land;\n curvetted; engraven; unweaponed; whinneyed; loth; draggled; forbad;\n phantasies; digged.\n\n Pg 10, 'orginally recited' replaced by 'originally recited'.\n Pg 27, 'future renoun' replaced by 'future renown'.\n Pg 56, 'Fiacha, who told' replaced by 'Fiacra, who told'.\n Pg 144, 'fairyland drew' replaced by 'fairy-land drew'.\n Pg 153, 'seasoned wariors' replaced by 'seasoned warriors'.\n Pg 181, 'and is own' replaced by 'and his own'.\n Pg 190, 'today; and for ever' replaced by 'to-day; and for ever'.\n Pg 197, 'what constallations' replaced by 'what constellations'.\n Pg 249, 'stranger boy got the' replaced by 'stranger-boy got the'.\n Pg 272, 'trembing as a rush' replaced by 'trembling as a rush'.","title":"Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":79900}