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diff --git a/old/52963-0.txt b/old/52963-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 32fc843..0000000 --- a/old/52963-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8432 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster, by Eleanor -Hull, Illustrated by Stephen Reid - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster - - -Author: Eleanor Hull - - - -Release Date: September 2, 2016 [eBook #52963] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CUCHULAIN, THE HOUND OF ULSTER*** - - -E-text prepared by Charlene Taylor, John Campbell, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 52963-h.htm or 52963-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/52963/52963-h/52963-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/52963/52963-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/cuchulainhoundo0hull - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - More detail can be found at the end of the book. - - - - - -CUCHULAIN -THE HOUND OF ULSTER - - -[Illustration: The Raven of Ill-omen] - - -CUCHULAIN -THE HOUND OF ULSTER - -by - -ELEANOR HULL - -Author of -“The Cuchullin Saga in Irish Literature” -“Pagan Ireland” “Early Christian Ireland” -etc. - -With Eight Illustrations by Stephen Reid - - - “Bec a brig liomsa sin,” ar Cuchulaind, “gen - go rabar acht aonla no aonoidchi ar bith acht go - mairit m’airdsgeula dom és.” - _Stowe MS._, _C._ 6, 3. - _R. Irish Academy_. - - “Though the span of my life were but for a - day,” Cuchulain said, “little should I reck of - that, if but my noble deeds might be remembered - among men.” - - - - - - - -New York -Thomas Y. Crowell Company -Publishers - -Printed in Great Britain -by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh - - - - -Contents - - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTION 9 - - CHAP. - - I. HOW CONOR BECAME KING OF ULSTER 15 - - II. QUEEN MEAVE AND THE WOMAN-SEER 18 - - III. THE BOY-CORPS OF KING CONOR 25 - - IV. HOW CUCHULAIN GOT HIS NAME 33 - - V. HOW CUCHULAIN TOOK ARMS 40 - - VI. OF CUCHULAIN’S FIRST FEATS OF CHAMPIONSHIP 47 - - VII. CUCHULAIN’S ADVENTURES IN SHADOW-LAND 57 - - VIII. HOW CUCHULAIN WOOED HIS WIFE 68 - - IX. MEAVE DEMANDS THE BROWN BULL OF COOLEY AND IS - REFUSED 78 - - X. THE PLUCKING OUT OF THE FOUR-PRONGED POLE 88 - - XI. THE DEER OF ILL-LUCK 94 - - XII. ETARCOMAL’S WELL-DESERVED FATE 104 - - XIII. THE FIGHT WITH SPITS OF HOLLY-WOOD 113 - - XIV. THE COMBAT WITH FERDIA 118 - - XV. THE FALL OF FERDIA 128 - - XVI. ULSTER, AWAKE! 143 - - XVII. THE END OF THE BOY-CORPS 151 - - XVIII. THE “RISING-OUT” OF ULSTER 160 - - XIX. THE HUMBLING OF QUEEN MEAVE 167 - - XX. THE FAIRY SWAN-MAIDENS 171 - - XXI. HOW CUCHULAIN WENT TO FAIRY-LAND 182 - - XXII. DEIRDRE OF CONTENTIONS 194 - - XXIII. THE UP-BRINGING OF DEIRDRE 201 - - XXIV. THE SLEEP-WANDERER 208 - - XXV. THE WILES OF KING CONOR 217 - - XXVI. THE SORROWFUL DEATH OF USNA’S SONS 224 - - XXVII. THE FIGHT OF CUCHULAIN WITH HIS SON CONLA 241 - - XXVIII. THE HOUND AT BAY 252 - - XXIX. FAME OUTLIVES LIFE 264 - - XXX. THE RED ROUT 270 - - NOTES ON THE SOURCES 275 - - - - -Illustrations - - - PAGE - - THE RAVEN OF ILL-OMEN _Frontispiece_ - - QUEEN MEAVE AND THE DRUID 18 - - CUCHULAIN SETS OUT FOR EMAIN MACHA 28 - - CUCHULAIN DESIRES ARMS OF THE KING 42 - - MACHA CURSES THE MEN OF ULSTER 80 - - FERDIA FALLS BY THE HAND OF CUCHULAIN 140 - - “THE MOMENT OF GOOD-LUCK IS COME” 160 - - CUCHULAIN COMES AT LAST TO HIS DEATH 268 - - - - -Introduction - - -The events that circle round King Conor mac Nessa and Cuchulain -as their principal figures are supposed to have occurred, as we -gather from the legends themselves, about the first century of our -era. According to one of the stories, King Conor is said to have -died in a paroxysm of wrath and horror, brought on by hearing the -news of the crucifixion of our Lord by the Jews. Though this story -is evidently one of the few interpolations having their origin -in Christian times (the main body of the legends being purely -pagan), the probability that they took shape about this period is -increased almost to certainty by the remarkable agreement we find -in them with the accounts derived from classical writers who lived -and wrote about this same period, and who comment on the habits -of the Gauls of France, the Danube valley and Asia Minor, and the -Belgic tribes who inhabited South-eastern Britain, with whom the -Roman armies came into contact in the course of their wars of -aggression and expansion. The descriptions given by Poseidonius, a -century before Christ, or Diodorus, Cæsar and Livy half a century -later, agree remarkably with the notices found in these Irish -stories of social conditions, weapons, dress, and appearance. The -large wicker shields, the huge double-bladed swords lifted above -the head to strike, the courage amounting to rashness of the -Celt in attack, the furious onset of the scythed war-chariots, -the disregard of death, the habit of rushing into battle without -waiting to don their clothes, the single combats, the great feasts, -the “Champion’s Bit” reserved as a mark of distinction for the -bravest warrior; these, and many other characteristics found in our -tales, are commented upon in the pages of the Roman historians. The -culture represented in them is that known to archæologists as “late -Celtic,” called on the Continent the La Tène period, _i.e._ the -period extending from about 400 B.C. to the first century of the -Christian era; and the actual remains of weapons, ornaments, and -dress found in Ireland confirm the supposition that we are dealing -with this stage of culture. - -We may, then, take it that these tales were formed about the -beginning of our era, although the earliest written documents -that we have of them are not earlier than the eleventh and -twelfth century. Between the time of their invention for the -entertainment of the chiefs and kings of Ireland to the time of -their incorporation in the great books which contain the bulk of -the tales, they were handed down by word of mouth, every bard and -professional story-teller (of whom there was at least one in every -great man’s house) being obliged to know by heart a great number of -these romances, and prepared at any moment to recite those which -he might be called upon to give. In the course of centuries of -recitation certain changes crept in, but in the main they come to -us much as they were originally recited. In some tales, of which -we have a number of copies of different ages, we can trace these -changes and notice the additions and modifications that have been -made. - -Over a hundred distinct tales belonging to this one cycle alone are -known to have existed, and of a great number of them one or more -copies have come down to us, differing more or less from each other. - -The old story-tellers who handed down the romantic tales of -Ireland handled their material in a very free manner, expanding -and altering as suited their own poetic feeling and the audience -they addressed. A reciter of poetic power fearlessly re-arranged, -enlarged or condensed. As a general rule, the older the form of -a story the shorter, terser, and more barbaric is its character. -In the long tale of the Táin bó Cuailgne, which forms the central -subject of the whole cycle, the arrangement of the episodes and the -number of incidents introduced is quite different in the oldest -copy we have of it, that found in the compilation called (from the -particular piece of parchment on which it was written) the “Book -of the Dun (or Brown) Cow,” compiled in 1100 in the monastery -of Clonmacnois on the Shannon, from the version in the Book of -Leinster, a great vellum book drawn up and written for Dermot -mac Morrough, the King of Leinster who invited Strongbow and the -Normans to come over from Wales half a century later. The oldest -form of the story is often the more manly and self-restrained; -there is a tendency, as time goes on, not only to soften down -the more barbarous and rougher portions, but to emphasise the -pathetic and moving scenes, and to add touches of symbolism and -imagination. Though they lack the brief dignity of the older -versions, the more recent copies are often more attractive and full -of poetry. For instance, we have in this book drawn largely on -some comparatively recent (seventeenth-eighteenth century) MSS. in -the British Museum, not hitherto translated, for the details (many -of them full of poetic imagination) of the history of Cuchulain’s -journey into Shadowland to learn feats of bravery,[1] and in the -account of his death and the incidents that immediately follow -it. In the different versions of the former story, the name of -the country to which Cuchulain went is variously given as Alba or -Scotland, Scythia, and the “Land of Scáthach,” _i.e._ the home of -the woman-warrior from whom he learned. It is evident that Scythia -is only a mistake for Scáthach, made by some scribe and copied by -others. Scáth means a “Shadow,” and probably the original idea -was purely symbolic, meaning that the hero had passed beyond the -bounds of human knowledge into an invisible world of mystery called -Shadowland. The writer of the copy that I have used returns to -this original idea, and the whole story, in his hands, becomes -symbolic and imaginative. So also, in the account of Cuchulain’s -death, the modern scribe introduces new details which add to the -beauty and striking effect of this most touching episode. To my -mind the scribes, in making these additions, acted in a perfectly -legitimate manner, and I have not hesitated in this book, which -does not aim at being a text-book, but a book written for the -pleasure of the young, to follow their example. I have freely, in -minor points, re-arranged or pruned the tales, adding details from -different sources as suited my purpose, and occasionally expanding -an imaginative suggestion indicated, but not worked out, by the -scribe. But I have seldom allowed myself deliberately to alter a -story, or to introduce anything not found somewhere in the tales as -they have come down to us. An exception is the story of Cuchulain’s -visit to fairy-land, commonly known as the “Sickbed of Cuchulain,” -which required a slight modification of the central situation in -order to make it suitable reading for any children into whose hands -the book might chance to fall; it was too poetic and touching an -episode to be altogether omitted without loss to the conception of -the cycle as a whole. - -It is, after all, the human interest of these old stories, and not -primarily their importance as folklore and the history of manners, -that appeals to most of us to-day. As the Arthurian legend all -through the Middle Ages set before men’s minds an ideal of high -purpose, purity of life, and chivalrous behaviour in an age that -was not over-inclined to practise these virtues, so these old Irish -romances, so late rescued from oblivion, come to recall the minds -of men in our own day to some noble ideals. - -For, rude as are the social conditions depicted in these tales, -and exaggerated and barbaric as is the flavour of some of them, -they nevertheless present to us a high and often romantic code of -natural chivalry. There is no more pathetic story in literature -than that of the fight between the two old and loving friends, -Cuchulain and Ferdia; there is no more touching act of chivalry to -a woman than Cuchulain’s offer of aid to his enemy Queen Meave, in -the moment of her exhaustion; there is no more delightful passage -of playful affection than that between the hero and his lady in -the wooing of Emer. These tales have a sprightliness and buoyancy -not possessed by the Arthurian tales, they are fresher, more -humorous, more diversified; and the characters, more especially -those of the women, are more firmly and variously drawn. For Wales -and for England Arthur has been for centuries the representative -“very gentle perfect knight”; for Ireland Cuchulain represented -the highest ideal of which the Irish Gael was capable. In these -stories, as in Malory’s “Morte D’Arthur,” we find “many joyous -and pleasant histories, and noble and renowned acts of humanity, -gentleness and chivalry”; and we may add, with Malory, “Do after -the good and leave the evil, and it shall bring you to good fame -and renommée.” - - ELEANOR HULL - - - - -Cuchulain - - - - -CHAPTER I - -How Conor became King of Ulster - - -There was a great war between Connaught and Ulster, that is, -between Conor, King of Ulster, and Meave, the proud and mighty -Queen of Connaught. This was the cause of the war between them. -When Conor was but a lad, his mother was a widow, and there was no -thought that Conor would be king. For the King of Ulster at that -time was Fergus mac Roy, a powerful and noble king, whom his people -loved; and though Conor was of high rank and dignity, he stood not -near the throne. But his mother, Ness, was ambitious for him, and -she used all her arts to bring it about that he should be called -to the throne of Ulster. Ness was a handsome woman, and a woman of -spirit, and in her youth she had been a warrior; and Fergus admired -her, and she wrought upon him so that in the end he asked her to be -his wife. She made it a condition that for one year Fergus would -leave the sovereignty, and that Conor should take his place; “for,” -said she, “I should like to have it said that my son had been a -king, and that his children should be called the descendants of a -king.” Fergus and the people of Ulster liked not her request, but -she was firm, and Fergus all the more desired to marry her, because -he found it not easy to get her; so, at the last, he gave way to -her, and he resigned the kingdom for one year into the hands of -Conor. - -But, as soon as Conor was king, Ness set about to win away the -hearts of the people of Ulster from Fergus, and to transfer them -in their allegiance to Conor. She supplied her son with wealth, -which he distributed secretly among the people, buying them over -to his side; and she taught him how to act, so that he won over -the nobles and the great men of the province. And when, the year -being out, Fergus demanded back the sovereignty, he found that the -league formed against him was so strong that he could do nothing. -The chiefs said that they liked Conor well, and that he was their -friend, and they were not disposed to part with him; they said, -too, that Fergus having abandoned the kingdom for a year, only to -gain a wife, cared little for it, and had, in fact, resigned it. -And they agreed that Fergus should keep his wife, if he wished, but -that the kingdom should pass to Conor. And Fergus was so wrath at -this, that he forsook his wife, and went with a great host of his -own followers into Connaught, to take refuge with Queen Meave and -with Ailill, her spouse. But he swore to be revenged upon Conor, -and he waited only an opportunity to incite Meave to gather her -army together that he might try to win back the sovereignty, or at -least to revenge the insult put upon him by Conor and by Ness. - -Now Fergus mac Roy was of great stature, a mighty man and a famous -warrior, and his strength was that of a hundred heroes. And all men -spoke of the sword of Fergus, which was so great and long that men -said that it stretched like a rainbow or like a weaver’s beam. And -at the head of his hosts was Cormac, the Champion of the White -Cairn of Watching, a son of Conor, who liked not the deed of his -father; for he was young, and he had been one of the bodyguard of -Fergus, and went with Fergus into exile to Connaught. And that was -called the Black Exile of Fergus mac Roy. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -Queen Meave and the Woman-Seer - - -Craftily Fergus wrought upon Queen Meave that she should espouse -his cause and lead an army into Ulster’s coasts, to win the kingdom -back for him again. And Meave was no way sorry to make war, for -Connaught and the North at all times were at strife, and frays and -battle-raids were common between them. So with light heart Queen -Meave sent heralds out and messengers through Connaught to collect -her armed bands, bidding them meet her within three months’ space -before her palace-fort of Cruachan. And in three months a goodly -host was gathered there, and tents were pitched, and for awhile -they tarried round the palace-courts, eating and drinking, so that -with good heart and strength they might set forth to march towards -Ulster’s borders. - -Now, in the dark and dead of night before the break of day when -all the host should start their forward march, Meave could not -sleep; and stealthily she rose and bid them make her chariot ready, -that she might seek a Druid whom she knew, and learn from him the -prospects of the expedition and what should be the fate before her -hosts. - -[Illustration: Queen Meave and the Druid] - -Far in the depths of a wide-spreading wood the Druid dwelt. An -old and reverend man was he, and far and wide men knew him for -a prophet and a seer. The “Knowledge that enlightens” he -possessed, which opened to his eyes the coming days and all the -secret things the future held. Gravely he came out to meet the -troubled Queen, and he from her chariot handed her, as proudly she -drew up before his door. - -“We have come to thee, O Druid and magician,” said the Queen, “to -ask of thee the fate and fortune of this expedition against Ulster -which we have now in hand, whether we shall return victorious or -not.” - -“Wait but awhile in patience,” said the aged man, “and I will read -the future, if the gods allow.” - -For two long hours Meave waited in the hut, while on the hearth the -fire of peat burned low, and a strange dimness spread about the -house as though a mist had risen between herself and the magician, -who, on his palms performed his curious rites, and in a slow and -solemn chant sang charms and incantations; by strange and magic -arts known to his craft seeking the “Knowledge that enlightens.” -And, at the last, when all was still, he rose to his full height, -stretched out his arms, and called upon the gods of fire, and air, -and wind, and light, to open up and lay before his gaze the future -things that were in store for Meave and for her hosts. - -Then he made total darkness in his hut, and ate a curious food, -concocted by magicians; and when he had eaten, he fell into a -sleep, his servant watching over him, his two palms laid upon his -cheeks. Then in a minute, or two minutes, he uttered sounds, but -like one talking in his sleep, and the servant bade Meave question -him, for his sleep of inspiration was upon him. So Meave said: “In -mine host this day are many who do part from their own people and -their friends, from their country and their lands, from father and -from mother. Now, if these all return not safe and sound, upon me -will be the anger of their friends, and me they will upbraid. Tell -me, then, will these return alive?” - -And the magician said: “These might return; but yet I see a little -boy who stands upon the way to hinder them. Fair he is and young -and but a boy; and yet on every path I see him, holding back -thy hosts, slaughtering and pursuing, as though the strength of -the gods were in his arms. On every path they fall, in every -battlefield the ground is strewn with dead, and in the homes of -Connaught men and women weep the sons and husbands who return no -more. Who this youth may be I know not, but I see that he will -bring trouble on thy hosts.” - -Then Meave trembled at the saying of the Druid; but she asked -again, “Among all those who will remain behind and those who go, -there is none dearer to us than we are to ourselves; inquire -therefore of thy gods if we ourselves shall come alive out of this -hosting?” - -The wizard answered: “Whoever comes or comes not, thou thyself -shalt come.” - -Then Meave mounted her chariot again, and turned her horses’ -heads towards Cruachan. But heaviness was at her heart, and deep -dejection lay upon her mind, and moodily she thought of what the -Druid prophesied to her. - -They had not driven far when suddenly the horses swerved aside and -reared and snorted with affright. Meave started up, and shaking off -her reverie, in the dim twilight of the breaking dawn, close up -beside her chariot-shaft, she saw a woman stand. Red as a foxglove -were her cheeks and blue as the spring hyacinth beneath the forest -trees her sparkling eyes. Like pearls her teeth shone white between -her lips, and all her skin was fair as the white foam that dances -on the wave. Around her fell, in waving folds of green, a cloak -such as the fairy women wear, which hides them from the eyes of -mortal men. - -But while she looked in wonder on the maid, astonished at her -lovely face and mien, Meave saw her garment change to dusky red. -And in the dimness, she perceived the maiden held a sword, point -upward, in her hand, a massive sword, such as a mighty man-of-war -might wield. And from the point blood dripped, and one by one the -drops fell on the Queen, till all her cloak, and garments, and the -chariot-floor ran red with streams of blood. - -And terror came on Meave, and all in vain she sought to force her -horses forward, but still they reared and curvetted, but would not -advance. “Girl,” cried the Queen at last, “what doest thou here, -and who and what art thou?” - -“I am a woman of the fairy race,” the maid replied; “I come -to-night to tell thee of thy fortunes, and the chance that shall -befall thee and thy hosts upon this raid that thou dost make on -Ulster.” - -“What is thy name, and wherefore thus, without my will, hast thou -presumed to come and speak with me?” replied the angry Queen. - -“Great cause have I to come; for from the fairy-rath of thine own -people, near to Cruachan, am I here; and Feidelm the prophetess my -name.” - -“Well, then, O prophetess Feidelm,” said Queen Meave, “how seest -thou our host?” but yet she trembled as she spoke. And Feidelm -said, “I see thy hosts all red, I see them all becrimsoned.” - -“Thou seest ill, O prophetess,” said Meave; “for in the courts of -Emain now the King lies sick and ill; my messengers have been to -him, and nought there is that we need fear from Ulster. Therefore, -O Feidelm, woman-prophet Feidelm, tell us now but the truth; how -seest thou our hosts?” - -“I see them all dyed red, I see them all becrimsoned,” said the -girl again. - -“It cannot be,” said Meave. “For many months my spies have been -in Ulster, and this well I know; that in Ulster they dream not of -the coming of a host. Now tell us this time true, O Feidelm, O -woman-prophet Feidelm, how seest thou our host?” - -But again the maiden answered as before: “I see all red on them, I -see them all becrimsoned.” - -Then Meave grew angry, and fury came upon her, and she called on -her charioteer to slay the fairy maid. But the man was afraid to -touch her, so strange and formidable did she stand there, holding -the dripping sword upright. - -Then once again Meave answered her: “Girl, I care not for thy -threats, for well I know, that when the men of Ulster come -together, frays and quarrels will arise among themselves, either -as regards the troop which shall precede the host, or that one -which shall follow; or about precedence among the leaders, or about -forays for cattle and for food. Therefore, I conclude that they -will fall upon each other, and that it will be but a little matter -for me to disperse them, and return again with spoils to Cruachan.” - -Then the maiden’s face grew grave, and she spoke as though she -saw a vision, and Meave trembled as she listened to her words. “I -see thy host,” she said, “crimson and red, fall back before the -men of Ulster. Yet the host of Ulster seems not a mighty host, -but faint and weak through sickness, and the King of Ulster lies -on his bed. Through all my dreams there comes a lad, not old in -years, but great in weapon-feats. Young though he is, the marks of -many wounds are on his skin, and round his head there shines the -‘hero’s light.’ A face he has the noblest and the best, and in his -eyes sparkle the champion’s gleams; a stripling, fair and modest in -his home, but in the battle fierce and tough and strong, as though -he wore a mighty dragon’s form. In either of his hands four darts -he holds, and with a skill before unknown, he plies them on your -host. A formidable sword hangs by his side, and close beside him -stands his charioteer, holding his pointed spear. A madness seems -to seize him in the fight; by him your hosts are all hewn down, and -on the battle-field the slain, foot laid to foot and hand to hand, -do thickly lie. Before the hosts of Ulster all unmoved he stands -as if to guard them from the fight; all on himself the burden of -the uneven contest falls. Strong heroes cannot stand before his -blows, and in the homes of Connaught women weep the slain who come -not back. This is the vision that I see, and this the prophecy of -Feidelm, Cruachan’s woman-seer.” - -Then all her pride and courage fled from Meave, and fearfully she -asked the woman-seer, “What is the name by which this youth is -known?” - -And Feidelm said: “To all the world the youth’s name will be known, -Cuchulain son of Sualtach, of the Feats; but in the North, because -he guards their homes as a good watch-dog guards the scattered -flocks upon the mountain-side, men call him lovingly, ‘The Hound of -Ulster.’” - -Then to her fairy-dwelling Feidelm returned, and Meave went to her -tent again. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -The Boy-Corps of King Conor - - -Now all that she had heard that night so troubled Meave that she -thought not well to proceed upon her hosting at that time. She -lay upon her bed and pondered long upon the fairy woman’s words, -and more and more she wondered who this youth might be, the lad -of mighty feats whom all men called “The Hound of Ulster.” When -daylight came, she sent a message to the captains of her host, -commanding them to tarry yet a day, till she should learn further -about the youth who stood upon her path and seemed a threatening -terror to her hosts. Then like a king and queen they robed -themselves and sat within their tents, Ailill and she, and sent a -herald forth commanding Fergus and the chief of Ulster’s exiles to -appear before them, to tell them of Cuchulain. - -When they were gathered, Fergus, Cormac son of Conor and the rest, -Ailill addressed them. “We hear strange tales of one of Ulster’s -chiefs, a youthful hero whom men call the “Hound.” From you, O -chiefs of Ulster, we would learn all you can tell about this famous -lad. What age hath he? and wherefore hath he gained this name? and -have his deeds become known to you?” - -“His deeds are known to us, indeed,” Fergus replied, “For all the -land of Ulster rings with this young hero’s renown.” - -“Shall we find him hard to deal with?” then said Meave. “Last night -I met a fairy-maid, who told me to beware, for among the warriors -of the North, this lad would trouble us the most.” - -“He will trouble you the most, indeed,” said Cormac and Fergus -with one voice. “You will not find a warrior in your path that is -so hard to deal with, not a hero that is fiercer, nor a raven more -greedy of prey, nor a lion that is more dangerous than he. You -will not find another man to equal him, whether of his age or of -a greater age, so strong and terrible and brave is he, nor is his -match in Erin either for his beauty or his prowess or in all deeds -and feats of skill.” - -“I care not for all this,” said haughty Meave; “not these the -things I fear; for, after all, whatever you may say, Cuchulain, -like another, is but one; he can be wounded like a common man, -he will die like any other, he can be captured like any warrior. -Besides, his age is but that of a grown-up girl; his deeds of -manhood come not yet.” - -“Not so indeed,” said Fergus and they all. “It would be strange -if he to-day were not the equal of any grown-up man or many men; -for even when he was in his fifth year, he surpassed all the -chieftain’s sons of Emain Macha at their play; when he was but -seven he took arms, and slew his man; when he was a stripling he -went to perfect himself in feats of championship with Scáth, the -woman-warrior of Alba; and now to-day when he is nearly seventeen -years old, his strength must be equal to the strength of many men.” - -“Tell us,” said Meave, “who is this warrior-lad; tell us also of -his boyish feats and how the name of ‘Ulster’s Hound’ came to be -his.” - -“I will tell you,” said Fergus; “for Cuchulain is my own foster-son -and Conor’s; though they say, and I myself believe it, that he -is of the offspring of the gods, and that Lugh of the Long Arms, -God of Light, is guardian to the boy. But Sualtach is his father, -a warrior of Ulster, and the child was reared by the seaside -northward on Murthemne’s plain, which is his own possession. At -my knees he was brought up, and Amergin the poet was his tutor; -the sister of King Conor nourished him with Conall the Victorious -in her home. For at his birth Morann the judge prophesied of his -future renown. ‘His praise,’ he said, ‘will be in all men’s mouths, -his deeds will be recounted by kings and great men, warriors and -charioteers, poets and sages. All men will love him; he will -give combat for Ulster against her enemies; he will decide your -quarrels; he will avenge your wrongs. Welcome the little stranger -who is here.’” - -And Meave and Ailill said, “That is a brave account to give of a -young child; no wonder is it that Ulster prides herself in him; but -tell us now, Fergus, for eager are we all to hear, the feats of -Cuchulain as a little boy.” - -[Illustration: Cuchulain sets out for Emain Macha] - -“I will tell you that,” said Fergus. “When he was yet a tiny boy, -not much past four years old, some one in passing by Murthemne told -him a long tale of the boy-corps of King Conor in Emain Macha; -that the King had established it for all the sons of nobles and -of chiefs, to train them up in strength and bravery. He told him -that the King had set apart a playing-ground for the boys, close to -his own fort, and there every day they practised games of skill, -and feats of arms, and wrestled and threw each other. He told him, -too, that the King took so much interest in the boy-corps, that -scarce a day passed by that he did not spend some time in watching -the pastimes of the lads, for he looked to them to be his future -men-of-war and leaders of his hosts. He told the little boy that -when they had proved themselves fit by skill and aptness for a -higher grade, the King bestowed on them a set of war-gear suited -to their age, small spears and javelins, a slender sword, and all -equipment like a champion. Now when the boy heard this, a great -longing arose within his little mind to see the boy-corps and join -in their sports and practising for war. ‘I would wrestle, too,’ he -said, ‘and I am sure that I could throw my fellow.’ But I and his -guardians,” said Fergus, “objected that he was yet too young, and -that when he was ten years old it would be soon enough to test his -strength against the older boys. For to send a boy of four years -old or five to take his part among lads of ten or twelve we thought -not well, for we feared that harm would come to him, knowing that -he must ever, since his babyhood, be in the midst of all that was -going on. Therefore, we said, ‘Wait, my child, until some grown -warrior can go with thee, to protect thee from the rough practice -of the elder boys and bid them have a care for thee, or else till -Conor the King, thy fosterer, himself calls thee hither under his -proper charge.’ But the lad said to his mother, that it was too -long to wait, and that even on this instant he would set off; ‘And -all you have to do, mother, is to set me on my way, for I know -not which way Emain lies.’ ‘A long and weary way for a young boy -it is to Emain,’ said his mother, ‘for the range of the Slieve -Fuad Mountains must be crossed.’ ‘Point me but out the general -direction,’ he replied. ‘Over there, to the north-west, lies the -palace of the king.’ ‘Let me but get my things, and I am off,’ he -said. - -“These were the things that the child took in his hand. His hurley -of brass and his ball of silver in one hand, his throwing javelin -and his toy spear in the other. Away he went then, and as he went, -this would he do to make the way seem short. He would place his -ball on the ground and strike it with his hurley, driving it before -him ever so far; then he flung the hurley after it, driving that as -far again; then, always running on, he threw his javelin, and last -of all his spear. Then he would make a playful rush after them, -pick up the hurley, ball, and javelin as he ran, while, before ever -the spear’s tip touched the earth, he had caught it by the other -end. Thus on he ran, scarce feeling tired, so engrossed was he in -the game. - -“At last Cuchulain reached Emain, and sought out the palace of the -King and the playing-field where the boys were practising, three -times fifty in number, under the charge of Follaman, one of Conor’s -younger sons; the King himself being present, watching the game. - -“The youths had been practising martial exercises, but when -Cuchulain came up they were hurling on the green. Without waiting -for anyone, the little fellow dived in amongst them and took a -hand in the game. He got the ball between his legs and held it -there; not suffering it to travel higher up than his knees or -lower than his ankle-joints, so making it impossible for any of -them to get a stroke at it, or in any way to touch it. In this way -he got it gradually nearer and nearer the end of the field; then -with one effort he lifted it up and sent it home over the goal. -In utter amazement the whole corps looked on. But Follaman their -captain cried--‘Good now, boys, all together meet this youngster -who has come in we know not whence, and kill him on the spot as -he deserves. The boy insults us that he comes amongst us without -placing himself under the protection of some chief’s son in order -that his life should be preserved; for it is not allowed to the -son of any private person or common warrior to intrude upon your -game, without first having asked permission and taken a pledge of -the chiefs’ sons that his life shall be respected; we admit not -common men to the boy-corps save under the protection of some youth -of higher rank.’ For they did not know Cuchulain, neither did he -know the rules of the boy-corps. ‘Have at him, all of you,’ cried -Follaman, ‘and give him what he deserves; no doubt he is the son -of some private man, who has no right to intrude into your play -without safe conduct. Defend your honour and the honour of the -corps.’ Then the whole of the lads gathered round Cuchulain and -began to threaten him, and together with one throw they hurled at -him their toy spears, on every side at once. But Cuchulain stood -firm, and one and all he parried them and caught them on his little -shield. Then all together they threw at him their hurley-sticks, -three fifties at a time; but all of them he parried, catching a -bundle of them on his back. Then they tried their balls, throwing -them all together, but he fended them off with arms and fists and -the palms of his hands, catching them into his bosom as they fell. -After a long while of this his ‘hero-fury’ seized Cuchulain. His -hair rose upright on his head, and in his wrath and fierceness -it seemed as though a light poured forth from each single hair, -crowning him with a crown of fire. A strong contortion shook him, -and he grew larger and taller as he stood before the lads, so that -they shrank terrified before him. He made for them like a young -lion springing on his prey, and before they could reach the door -of the fort fleeing from him for safety, he had stretched fifty of -them on the ground. - -“Now it happened that the King and I,” said Fergus, “were playing -chess together at a table in the open air, on the borders of the -playing field, amusing ourselves while the boys’ games were going -on. Five of the boys, not seeing in their haste where they were -running, rushed past the place where Conor and I were sitting, and -nearly overturned the table with the chess. Cuchulain was in full -pursuit, and he seemed about to leap the table to make after them, -when the King caught him by the arm. - -“‘Hold, my little fellow,’ said the King, restraining him, ‘I see -this is no gentle game thou playest with the boy-corps.’ - -“‘What could I do?’ replied the lad. ‘I came to-day, O King, from a -far land to join myself with them, and they have not been good to -me; I have not had the reception of a welcome guest.’ - -“‘What is your name, little one?’ said the King. ‘Setanta, son of -Sualtach, is my name; your own foster-son am I, and the foster-son -of Fergus,’ said the boy. ‘It was not fitting that I should have -had this rough reception.’ ‘But knewest thou not the rules of the -boy-corps, that a new-comer must go under their protection, so that -they will respect his life?’ said the King. ‘That I knew not,’ said -the boy, ‘otherwise I should have conformed to their rules; do thou -thyself undertake my protection, I pray thee, O King.’ The King -liked the fine spirit of the lad, and his open face and bravery -in his self-defence, and he said, ‘I will do that, my boy.’ Then -he called the boy-corps together, and said, ‘I, myself, have taken -upon me the protection of this little boy; promise me now that he -shall play amongst you safely.’ ‘We promise it,’ they said. Then -all made off to play again; but Setanta does just what he will -with them, wrestling and throwing them, and soon fifty of them are -stretched upon the ground. Their fathers think that they are dead, -and raise a cry against Setanta. But no such thing; merely had he -with his charges, pulls, and pushes so frightened them, that they -fell down at last through terror on the grass. - -“‘What on earth is the lad at with them now?’ asks Conor. - -“‘You bound them over to protect me,’ said the boy, ‘but you never -bound me over to protect them; and I avow that until they place -themselves under my protection, as I am placed under theirs, I will -not lighten my hand from them.’ ‘I place them under thy protection -then,’ said Conor. ‘And I grant it,’ said the lad. - -“And now,” said Fergus to Queen Meave and Ailill, “I submit that a -youngster who, at the age of four or five years did all this, need -not excite your wonder, because now being turned seventeen years, -he prove a formidable foe to Connaught in time of war.” - -“I think not indeed,” said Ailill; and sulkily Meave said, -“Perhaps, indeed, he may.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -How Cuchulain got his Name - - -That evening at supper, Meave sat silent, as though she were -revolving matters in her mind. When supper was ended and she -and her husband and Fergus, with one or two others of her chief -captains, sat in the tent-door around the fire, looking out on the -hosts who rested at close of day by the forest fires, singing and -telling tales, as was their wont after the evening meal, Meave said -to Fergus, “Just now you spoke of that little boy as Setanta, but I -have heard him called Cuchulain, or Culain’s Hound; how did he get -that name?” - -And Cormac, Conor’s son, answered eagerly, “I will tell you that -story myself, for I was present, and I know the way of it.” - -“Well, tell us now,” said Meave and Ailill both at once. And Cormac -said--“In Ulster, near Cuchulain’s country, was a mighty artificer -and smith, whose name was Culain. Now the custom is, that every -man of means and every owner of land in Ulster, should, once in a -year or so, invite the King and his chiefs to spend a few days, it -may be a week or a fortnight, at his house, that he may give them -entertainment. But Culain owned no lands, nor was he rich, for -only the fruit of his hammer, of his anvil and his tongs, had he. -Nevertheless he desired to entertain the King at a banquet, and he -went to Emain to invite his chief. But he said, ‘I have no lands or -store of wealth; I pray thee, therefore, to bring with thee but a -few of thy prime warriors, because my house cannot contain a great -company of guests.’ So the King said he would go, bringing but a -small retinue with him. - -“Culain returned home to prepare his banquet, and when the day -was come, towards evening the King set forth to reach the fort -of Culain. He assumed his light, convenient travelling garb, and -before starting he went down to the green to bid the boy-corps -farewell. - -“There he saw a sight so curious that he could not tear himself -away. At one end of the green stood a group of a hundred and fifty -youths, guarding one goal, all striving to prevent the ball of a -single little boy, who was playing against the whole of them, from -getting in; but for all that they could do, he won the game, and -drove his ball home to the goal. - -“Then they changed sides, and the little lad defended his one goal -against the hundred and fifty balls of the other youths, all sent -at once across the ground. But though the youths played well, -following up their balls, not one of them went into the hole, for -the little boy caught them one after another just outside, driving -them hither and thither, so that they could not make the goal. But -when his turn came round to make the counter-stroke, he was as -successful as before; nay, he would get the entire set of a hundred -and fifty balls into their hole, for all that they could do. - -“Then they played a game of getting each other’s cloaks off without -tearing them, and he would have their mantles off, one after the -other, before they could, on their part, even unfasten the brooch -that held his cloak. When they wrestled with each other, it was -the same thing: he would have them on the ground before all of them -together could upset him, or make him budge a foot. - -“As the King stood and watched all this, he said: ‘’Tis well for -the country into which this boy has come! A clever child indeed is -he; were but his acts as a grown man to come up to the promise of -his youth, he might be of some solid use to us; but this is not to -be counted upon.’” - -“Then,” Fergus said, breaking in upon the tale, “I was vexed -because the King seemed to doubt the child, whether his after deeds -would equal the promise of his youth; and I spoke up and said, -‘That, O King, I think not wisely said; have no fear for this boy, -for as his childish deeds outstrip the acts of childhood, so will -his manly feats outshine the deeds of heroes and great men.’ Then -the King said to me, ‘Have the child called, that we may take him -with us to the banquet.’ - -“So when Setanta came, the King invited him; but the boy said, -‘Excuse me now awhile; I cannot go just now.’ ‘How so?’ said the -King, surprised. ‘Because the boy-corps have not yet had enough -of play.’ ‘I cannot wait until they have,’ replied the King: ‘the -night is growing late.’ ‘Wait not at all,’ replied the child; ‘I -will even finish this one game, and will run after you.’ ‘But, -young one, knowest thou the way?’ asked the King. ‘I will follow -the trail made by your company, the wheels of their chariots and -hoofs of the horses on the road,’ he replied.” - -“Thereupon,”--continued Cormac,--“Conor starts; and in time for the -banquet he reaches Culain’s house, where, with due honour, he is -received. Fresh rushes had been strewn upon the floor, the tables -all decked out, the fires burning in the middle of the room. A -great vat full of ale stood in the hall, a lofty candlestick gave -light, and round the fires stood servants cooking savoury viands, -holding them on forks or spits of wood. Each man of the King’s -guests entered in order of his rank, and sat at the feast in his -own allotted place, hanging his weapons up above his head. The -King occupied the central seat, his poets, counsellors, and chiefs -sitting on either hand according to their state and dignity. As -they were sitting down, the smith Culain came to Conor and asked -him, ‘Good now, O King, before we sit at meat I would even know -whether anyone at all will follow thee this night to my dwelling, -or is thy whole company gathered now within?’ ‘All are now here,’ -said the King, quite forgetting the wee boy; ‘but wherefore askest -thou?’ - -“‘It is only that I have an excellent watch-dog, fierce and strong; -and when his chain is taken off, and he is set free to guard the -house, no one dare come anywhere within the same district with him; -he is furious with all but me, and he has the strength and savage -force of a hundred ordinary watch-dogs. This dog was brought to me -from Spain, and no dog in the country can equal him.’ ‘Let him be -set loose, for all are here,’ said Conor; ‘well will he guard this -place for us.’ - -“So Culain loosed the dog, and with one spring it bounded forth out -of the court of the house and over the wall of the rath, making a -circuit of the entire district; and when it came back panting, with -its tongue hanging from its jaws, it took up its usual position in -front of the house, and there crouched with its head upon its paws, -watching the high road to Emain. Surely an extraordinarily cruel -and fierce and savage dog was he. - -“When the boy-corps broke up that night, each of the lads returning -to the house of his parent or his fosterer or guardian, Setanta, -trusting to the trail of the company that went with Conor, struck -out for Culain’s house. With his club and ball he ran forward, and -the distance seemed short on account of his interest in the game. -As soon as he arrived on the green of Culain’s fort, the mastiff -noticed him, and set up such a howling as echoed loud through all -the country-side. Inside the house the King and his followers -heard, but were struck dumb with fear, nor dared to move, thinking -surely to find the little lad dead at the door of the fort. As for -the hound himself, he thought with but one gulp to swallow Setanta -whole. Now the little lad was without any means of defence beyond -his ball and hurley-stick. He never left his play till he came -near. Then, as the hound charged open-jawed, with all his strength -he threw the ball right into the creature’s mouth; and as for a -moment the hound stopped short, choking as the ball passed down its -throat, the lad seized hold of the mastiff’s open jaws, grasping -its throat with one hand and the back of its head with the other, -and so violently did he strike its head against the pillars of the -door, that it was no long time until the creature lay dead upon the -ground. - -“When Culain and the warriors within had heard the mastiff howl, -they asked each other, as soon as they got back their voices, ‘What -makes the watch-dog cry?’ ‘Alas!’ the King said, ‘’tis no good luck -that brought us on our present trip.’ ‘Why so?’ inquired all. ‘I -mean that the little boy, my foster-son and Fergus’s, Setanta, son -of Sualtach, it is who promised to come after me; now, even now, he -is doubtless fallen by the hound of Culain.’ Then, when they heard -that it was Conor’s foster-son who was without, on the instant to -one man they rose; and though the doors of the fort were thrown -wide they could not wait for that, but out they stormed over the -walls and ramparts of the fort to find the boy.” - -“Quick they were,” said Fergus, interrupting, “yet did I outstrip -them, and at the rampart’s outer door I found the child, and the -great hound dead beside him. Without a pause I picked up the boy -and hoisted him on my shoulder, and thus, with all the heroes -following, we came to Conor, and I placed him between the monarch’s -knees.” - -“Yes, so it was,” said Cormac, taking up the story again where he -had left it; “but let me tell of Culain. The smith went out to find -his dog, and when he saw him lying there, knocked almost to pieces -and quite dead, his heart was vexed within him. He went back to the -house, and said, ‘’Twas no good luck that urged me to make this -feast for thee, O King; would I had not prepared a banquet. My life -is a life lost, and my substance is but substance wasted without -my dog. He was a defence and protection to our property and our -cattle, to every beast we had and to our house. Little boy,’ said -he, ‘you are welcome for your people’s sake, you are not welcome -for your own; that was a good member of my family thou didst take -from me, a safeguard of raiment, of flocks and herds.’ ‘Be not -vexed thereat,’ replied the child, ‘for I myself will fix on my own -punishment. This shall it be. If in all Ireland a whelp of that -dog’s breed is to be found, ’tis I myself will rear him up for thee -till he be fit to take the watch-dog’s place. In the meantime, O -Culain, I myself will be your hound for defence of your cattle and -for your own defence, until the dog be grown and capable of action; -I will defend the territory, and no cattle or beast or store of -thine shall be taken from thee, without my knowing it.’ - -“‘Well hast thou made the award,’ said they all, ‘and henceforward -shall your name be changed; you shall no longer be called Setanta; -Cu-Chulain, or the “Hound of Culain,” shall your name be.’ - -“‘I like my own name best,’ the child objected. ‘Ah, say not so,’ -replied the magician, ‘for one day will the name of Cuchulain ring -in all men’s mouths; among the brave ones of the whole wide world -Cuchulain’s name shall find a place. Renowned and famous shall he -be, beloved and feared by all.’ ‘If that is so, then am I well -content,’ replied the boy. - -“So from that day forth the name Cuchulain clung to him, until the -time came when he was no longer remembered as the Hound of Culain’s -Fort, but as the guardian and watch-dog of defence to the Province -against her foes; and then men loved best to call him ‘The Hound of -Ulster.’ - -“Now,” continued Cormac, “it would be reasonable to expect that the -little boy, who, at the age of six or seven years slew a dog whom a -whole company would not dare to touch when he was at large, would, -at the age of a grown youth, be formidable to Ulster’s foes.” - -And Meave was forced to admit that it was likely that he would. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -How Cuchulain took Arms - - -When Meave had thought awhile, she said, “Are there yet other -stories of this wondrous boy?” “Indeed,” cried Fiacra, one of the -companions of Cormac, who came with him when he went from Ulster -into exile, “the story of his taking arms is not told yet, and I -think it more than all the other stories you have heard.” “How so?” -said Meave; “tell it to us now.” - -Then Fiacra said, “The very year after Cuchulain got his name, he -was playing outside the place where Caffa the magician sat with -eight of his pupils teaching them his lore. It chanced that he was -telling them, as the magicians and Druids are wont to believe, that -certain days were lucky for special acts and other days unlucky. -‘And for what,’ asked one of the boys, ‘would this day at which we -now are be counted lucky?’” - -“This is the day,” said Caffa, “on which any youth who should -assume arms, as became a champion of war, should attain eternal -fame; beside him, no warrior’s name in Ireland should ever more be -named, or spoken in the same breath with it, for his glory would -transcend them all. For such a youth, however, no happy thing were -this, for he should die at an early age, no long-lived warrior he; -his life shall be but fleeting, quickly o’er.” - -Outside the house Cuchulain overheard the conversation of the -teacher with his boys. Instantly and without a moment’s pause he -laid aside his hurley and his ball, and put off his playing-suit. -Then, donning his ordinary apparel, he entered the sleeping-house -of the King. “All good be thine, O King,” said he. “Boy, what hast -thou now come to ask of me?” replied the King. “I desire,” said he, -“to take arms as a warrior and champion to-day.” “Who told thee -to ask for this?” said the King, surprised. “My master Caffa, the -magician,” answered he. “If that is so, thou shalt not be denied,” -replied the King, and he called on those who were about him to give -the lad two spears and sword and shield: for in Emain the King had -always ready seventeen complete equipments of weapons and armature; -for he himself bestowed weapons on a youth of the boy-corps when he -was ready to bear arms, to bring him luck in using them. Cuchulain -began to try those weapons, brandishing and bending them to try -their strength and fitness to his hand; but one after another they -all gave way, and were broken into pieces and little fragments. -“These weapons are not good,” said he; “they are but the equipment -of a common warrior, they suffice me not.” Then when he had tried -them all, and put them from him, the King said: “Here, my lad, are -my own two spears, my own sword and shield.” Then Cuchulain took -these weapons, and in every way, by bending them from point to -hilt, by brandishing them, by thrusting with them, he proved their -strength and mettle. “These arms are good,” said he, “they break -not in my hand. Fair fall the land and country whose King can wield -armour and weapons such as these!” - -Just at the moment Caffa came into the tent. Wondering, he asked: -“Is the little boy so soon assuming arms?” “Ay, so it is,” said the -King. “Unhappy is the mother whose son assumes arms to-day,” said -the magician. “How now?” cried the King; “was it not yourself who -prompted him?” “Not so, indeed,” said Caffa. “Mad boy, what made -you then deceive me, telling me that Caffa it was who prompted -you to ask for arms?” “O King of Heroes, be not wrath,” replied -the lad. “No thought, indeed, had I to deceive. When Caffa was -instructing his pupils in the house to-day, I overheard, as I was -playing with my ball outside, one of the lads asking him what -special virtue lay in this day, and for what it was a lucky day. -And he told them that for him who should assume arms this day, his -luck should be so great that his fame would outstrip the fame of -all Ireland’s heroes, and he would be the first of Ireland’s men. -And for this great reward no compensating disadvantage would accrue -to him, save that his life should be but fleeting.” - -“True is that, indeed,” said Caffa, “noble and famous thou shalt -be, but short and brief thy life.” “Little care I for that,” -replied the lad, “nor though my life endured but for one day and -night, so only that the story of myself and of my deeds shall last.” - -“Then get thee into a chariot, as a warrior should, and let us test -thy title to a future fame.” - -[Illustration: Cuchulain desires Arms of the King] - -So a chariot of two horses was brought to Cuchulain, and every way -he tried its strength, driving it furiously round and round the -green, goading the horses and turning suddenly. But for this usage -the chariot was not fit, and it broke beneath him. Twelve chariots -were brought to him, and he tested them all in this manner, but all -of them he reduced to fragments. “These chariots of thine, O -Conor, are no good at all, they serve me not, nor are they worthy -of me, thy own foster-son.” - -Then the King cried: “Fetch me here Ivar, my own charioteer, and -let him harness my steeds into the kingly chariot, and bring it -here to serve Cuchulain.” Then the kingly chariot of war was -brought and Cuchulain mounted, testing it every way; and well it -served him at every test. “The chariot is good, and the steeds are -good, they are worthy of me,” said the boy; “it is my worthy match.” - -“Well, boy, it is time that thou wert satisfied at last; now I will -take the horses home and put them out to graze,” said Ivar. - -“Not yet awhile,” said Cuchulain. “Drive but the horses round the -kingly fort.” Ivar did so, and then he said again: “Be satisfied -now, my lad; I go to turn the horses out to grass.” For it was but -seldom that King Conor went forth in his war-chariot, because the -men of Ulster willed not that the King should expose his person in -battle; so Ivar was grown idle, and fat through his idleness, and -he liked not at all the unwonted exertion that the wee boy asked of -him. - -“Not yet awhile,” said Cuchulain again; “too early is it to turn -in; drive now towards the playing-fields that the boy-corps may -salute me on this the first day of my taking arms.” They did so, -and the boy-corps gathered round. “These are a warrior’s arms -that thou hast taken!” cried they all, surprised to see him thus -equipped in the King’s own warrior-gear, and driving in the chariot -of the King. “Just so, indeed,” replied the boy. Then they wished -him well in his warrior-career. “May success in winning of spoils, -and in blood-drawing, be thine,” they cried. “But all too soon it -is thou leavest us and our boyish sports for deeds of war.” “In no -way do I wish to part with the beloved boy-corps,” replied the lad; -“but it was a sign of luck and good fortune that I should take arms -to-day; therefore I thought not well to miss my luck.” - -Then Ivar urged the child again, for he was growing tired of the -thing, to let him take the horses out to graze. “’Tis early yet, -O Ivar,” said the boy; “whither then goes this great High-road I -see?” “That is the High-road to the borders of the Province, and to -the Ford of Watching or the Look-out Ford,” replied the charioteer. -“Why is it called the Look-out Ford?” asked then the boy. “Because -there, on the extreme limits of the Province, a watcher who is a -prime warrior of Ulster always stands, prepared to challenge any -stranger, before he pass the ford, of his business in the Province: -if he who comes be a bard or peaceful man, to grant him protection -and entertainment; but if he be a foe, to challenge him to combat -at the ford. And seldom,” said the charioteer, “does a day pass, -but at the ford some enemy is slain. As to the bards who pass in -peace, no doubt it is the kindness of that warrior they will praise -when once they come to Emain, and stand before the King.” “Who -guards the ford this day, if thou dost know?” inquired Cuchulain. -“Conall the Victorious, Ulster’s foremost man of war, it is who -holds the ford this day.” “Away then,” cried the lad, “goad on thy -steeds, for we will seek the ford and Conall.” - -“The horses are already tired, we have done enough for this one -day,” quoth Ivar. “The day is early yet, and our day’s labours -hardly yet begun,” replied the youth; “away with you along this -road.” - -They come at last to the ford’s brink, and there beside the Ford of -Watching stood young Conall, at that time Ulster’s foremost man of -war. - -When he saw the lad driving fully equipped for war in the chariot -of the King, he felt surprise. “Are you taking arms to-day, small -boy?” he said. “He is indeed,” said Ivar. “May triumph and victory -and drawing of first blood come with them,” answered Conall, -for he loved the little lad, and many a time he had said to his -fellows: “The day will come when this young boy will dispute the -championship of Ireland with me.” “Nevertheless,” said he to -Cuchulain, “it seems to me that oversoon thou hast assumed these -arms, seeing that thou art not yet fit for exploits or for war.” -The boy heeded not this, but eagerly asked, “What is it thou doest -at the Ford of Watching, Conall?” “On behalf of the Province I keep -watch and ward, lest enemies creep in.” - -“Give up thy place to me, for this one day let me take duty,” said -Cuchulain. “Say not so,” replied the champion, “for as yet thou art -not fit to cope with a right fighting-man.” - -“Then on my own account must I go down into the shallows of yon -lake, to see whether there I may draw blood on either friend or -foe.” “I will go with thee, then, to protect thee, to the end that -on the border-marshes thou run not into danger.” “Nay, come not -with me, let me go alone to-day,” urged the lad. “That I will not,” -said Conall, “for, were I to allow thee all alone to frequent these -dangerous fighting grounds, on me would Ulster avenge it, if harm -should come to thee.” - -Then Conall had his chariot made ready and his horses harnessed; -soon he overtook Cuchulain, who, to cut short the matter, had gone -on before. He came up abreast with him, and Cuchulain, seeing this, -felt sure that, Conall being there, no chance for deed of prowess -would come his way; for, if some deed of mortal daring were to be -done, Conall himself would undertake the same. Therefore he took up -from the road a smooth round stone that filled his fist, and with -it he made a very careful shot at Conall’s chariot-yoke. It broke -in two, and the chariot came down, Conall being thrown forward over -his horses’ heads. - -“What’s this, ill-mannered boy?” said he. - -“I did it in order to see whether my marksmanship were good, and -whether there were the makings of a man-at-arms in me.” “Poison -take both thy shot and thyself as well; and though thy head should -now fall a prize to some enemy of thine, yet never a foot farther -will I budge to keep thee.” - -“The very thing I asked of thee,” replied the boy, “and I do so in -this strange manner, because I know it is a custom among the men of -Ulster to turn back when any violence is done to them. Thus have -I made the matter sure.” On that, Conall turned back to his post -beside the Look-out Ford, and the little boy went forward southward -to the shallows of the marshy loch, and he rested there till -evening-tide. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -Of Cuchulain’s First Feats of Championship - - -Then Ivar said, “If one might venture to make a suggestion to such -a little one, I should rejoice if we might now turn back and find -our way home to Emain again. For at this moment in the hall supper -is being carved and the feast has just begun; and though for you -your appointed place is kept at Conor’s side until you come, I, -on the contrary, if I come late must fit in where I may among the -grooms and jesters of the house. For this reason I judge it now -high time that I were back to scramble for my place.” - -“Harness the horses and prepare the chariot,” Cuchulain said, and -thinking that they now were going home, the charioteer most gladly -hastened to obey. “What mountain is that over there?” inquired the -boy. “Slieve Mourn,” replied the driver. “Let us go thither,” said -the lad. They reach the mountain’s foot, and, “What is that cairn -I see upon the top?” said he again. “The White Cairn is its name,” -quoth Ivar sulkily. “I would like to visit the White Cairn,” said -the boy. “The hill is high, and it is getting late,” replied the -charioteer. “Thou art a lazy loon,” Cuchulain says, “and the more -so that this is my first day’s adventure-quest, and thy first day’s -trip abroad with me.” “And if it is,” cried Ivar, “and if ever we -get home again, for ever and for ever may it be my last!” - -They gained the topmost peak, and far away descried a stretch of -level country. “Come now, driver,” said the lad, “describe to -me from here the whole of Ulster’s wide domain; its forts and -dwellings, fords and meadow-lands, its hills and open spaces. Name -every place in order, that thus I may the better know my way about. - -“What is yon well-defined plain with hollow glens and -running streams before us to the south?” “Moy Bray,” replied -the charioteer. “The names, again, of all the forts and -palaces scattered over it?” Then Ivar pointed out the kingly -dwelling-places of Tara and Taillte, and the summer palace of -Cletty on the river Boyne; the Fairy Mound of Angus Og, the god of -Youth and Beauty, and the burial-tomb of the Great God or Dagda -Mór. And at the last he showed beneath the hill where lay the fort -of the three fierce and warlike sons of Nechtan the Mighty. - -“Are those the sons of Nechtan of whom I heard it said that the -Ulstermen who are yet alive are not so many as have fallen by -their hands?” “The same,” said Ivar. “Away then, with us straight -to Nechtan’s fort,” Cuchulain cried. “Woe waits on him who goes -to Nechtan’s fort,” replied the charioteer; “whoever goes or goes -not, I for one will never go.” “Alive or dead thou goest there, -however,” said the boy. “Alive I go then, but sure it is that dead -I shall be left there,” replied the charioteer. - -They make their way then down the hill and reach the green before -the fort at the meeting of the bogland and the stream; and in the -centre of the green they saw an upright pillar-stone, encircled -by an iron collar on its top. Words were engraven on the collar -forbidding any man-at-arms or warrior to depart off the green, -once he had entered it, without challenging to single combat -some one of those living within the fort. Cuchulain read the -writing, and he took the collar off the pillar-stone, and with all -his strength he hurled it down the stream, for it was thus the -challenge should be made. - -“In my poor opinion,” said the charioteer, “the collar was much -safer where it was, and well I know that this time, at all events, -thou wilt find the object of thy careful search, a quick and -violent death.” “Good, good, O driver, talk not over much, but -spread for me the chariot coverings on the ground, that I may sleep -a while.” - -Now the charioteer was frightened, for he knew the fierceness and -ill-fame of the sons of Nechtan, and he grumbled that Cuchulain -should be so rash and foolhardy in a land of foemen as to sleep -before their very door; but for all that he dared not disobey, and -he took the cushions out of the chariot and spread them on the -ground, and covered Cuchulain with the skins; and in a moment the -little fellow was asleep, his head resting peacefully on his hand. -Just then Foll, son of Nechtan, issued from the fort. Ivar would -well have liked to waken up Cuchulain, but he did not dare, for the -child had said before he fell asleep: “Waken me up if many come, -but waken me not for a few;” and Foll mac Nechtan came alone. At -sight of the chariot standing on his lands, the warrior thundered -forth, “Driver, be off at once with those horses; let them not -graze upon our ground; unyoke them not.” “I have not unyoked them,” -said the charioteer. “I hold the reins yet in my hands, ready -for the road.” “Whose steeds and chariot are they?” enquired the -man. “The steeds of Conor, King of Ulster,” said Ivar. “Just as I -thought,” said Foll; “and who has brought them to these borders?” -“A young bit of a little boy,” said Ivar, hoping to hinder Foll -from fighting him. “A high-headed wee fellow, who, for luck, has -taken arms to-day, and come into the marshes to show off his form -and skill as though he were a grown champion.” “Ill-luck to him, -whoever he is,” said Foll; “were he a man capable of fight, I would -send him back to the King dead instead of alive.” “Capable of fight -he is not, indeed, nor a man at all,” said Ivar, “but only a small -child of seven years, playing at being a man.” - -Cuchulain in his sleep heard the affront that the charioteer put -upon him, and from head to foot he blushed a rosy red. His face he -lifted from the ground and said: “I am not a child at all, but ripe -and fit for action, as you will see; this ‘small child’ here has -come to seek for battle with a man.” “I rather hold that fit for -action thou art not,” replied Foll, surprised to find the little -fellow rising from his sleep and speaking with such boldness. -“That we shall know presently,” replied the boy; “come down only -to the ford, where it is customary in Ireland that combats should -take place. But first go home and fetch your arms, for in cowardly -guise come you hither, and never will I fight with men unarmed, or -messengers, or drivers in their cloaks, but only with full-weaponed -men-of-war.” - -“That suits me well,” said Foll, and he rushed headlong for his -arms. “It will suit you even better when we come to the ford,” -said Cuchulain. Then Ivar warned Cuchulain that this Foll was no -ordinary foe; “he bears a charmed life,” said he, “and only he who -slays him with one stroke has any chance of killing him at all. No -sword-edge can bite or wound him, he can only be slain by the first -thrust of a spear, or blow of a weapon from a distance.” “Then I -will play a special feat on him,” returned the boy; “surely it is -to humble me you warn me thus.” With that he took in his hand his -hard-tempered iron ball, and with a strong and exact throw just as -Foll was coming forth, full-armoured from the fort, he launched -the ball, which pierced the warrior’s forehead, so that he fell -headlong on the ground, uttering his last cry of pain, and with -that he died. - -Within the fort his brothers heard that cry, and the second brother -rushes out. “No doubt you think this is a great feat you have done, -and one to boast of,” he cried. “I think not the slaying of any -single man a cause to boast at all,” replied the boy; “but hasten -now and fetch your weapons, for in the guise of an unweaponed -messenger or chariot-boy come you hither.” “Beware of this man,” -said Ivar; “Tuacall, or ‘Cunning’ is his name, for so swift and -dexterous is he, that no man has ever been able to pierce him with -any weapon at all.” - -“It is not fitting that you speak like this to me,” said Cuchulain. -“I will take the great spear of Conor, and with it I will pierce -his shield and heart, before ever he comes near me.” - -And so he did, for hardly was the Cunning One come forth out of the -fort, than Cuchulain threw the heavy spear; it entered his heart -and went out behind him. As he fell dead, Cuchulain leaped on him, -and cut off his head. - -Then the third son of Nechtan came out, and scoffed at the lad. -“Those were but simpletons and fools with whom thou hast fought -hitherto,” he said; “I challenge thee to come down to the ford, -and out upon the middle of the stream, and we will see thy bravery -there.” Cuchulain asks him what he means by this, and Ivar breaks -in: “Do you not know that this is Fandall, son of Nechtan, and -Fainle or Fandall, a ‘Swallow,’ is his name, because he travels -over the water with the swiftness of a swallow, nor can the -swimmers of the whole world attempt to cope with him. Beware of him -and go not to the ford.” - -“Not fitting are such words to be spoken to me,” replied the lad, -“for do you not remember the river we have in Emain, called the -Callan? When the boy-corps break off their sports and plunge into -the stream to swim, do you not know that I can take one of them -on either shoulder or even on my palms, and carry them across the -water without wetting so much as their ankles? For another man, -your words are good; they are not good for me.” - -Then came Fainle forth, and he and the lad entered the stream -together, and swam out and wrestled in deep water. But suddenly, -by a swift turn, the youngster clasped his arms about him, laid -him even with the top of the water, and with one stroke of Conor’s -sword cut off his head, carrying it shoreward in his hand, while -the body floated down the current. Behind him he heard the cry of -their mother, the wife of Nechtan, when she saw her three sons -slain. Then Cuchulain sent her out of the fort, and he and his -charioteer went up and harried it, and set it all in flames; for -an evil and a pirate fort had that fort been to Ulster, bringing -many of their warriors to death, and spoiling all their lands. -Then Cuchulain and Ivar turned to retrace their steps, carrying in -their hands the heads of Nechtan’s sons. They put their spoils and -the three heads into the chariot, sticking the dripping heads upon -the chariot-pole that passed out behind, and set out in triumph -towards Emain and the palace of the King. - -“You promised us a good run to-day,” said Cuchulain to the -charioteer, “and we need it now after the contest we have made; -away with us across Moy Bray, and round the mountain of Slieve -Fuad.” Then Ivar spurred the horses forward with his goad, and so -fast did they race onward that they outstripped the wind in speed, -and left the flying birds behind them. To while away the time, -Cuchulain sent stones speeding before him from his sling; before -the stone could reach the ground, the chariot had caught it up and -it fell again into the chariot floor. - -At the foot of Slieve Fuad a herd of antlered deer were feeding -beside a wood. Never before had Cuchulain seen a herd of deer; -he marvelled at their branching antlers, and at the speed and -lightness with which they moved from place to place. “What is that -great flock of active cattle yonder?” enquired the boy. “Those -are not cattle, but a herd of wild deer that wander in the dark -recesses of the hills,” replied the charioteer. “Which would the -men of Ulster think the greatest feat, to capture one dead or to -bring one home alive?” “Assuredly to capture one alive,” said Ivar. -“Dead everyone could bring one down, but seldom indeed can one -be captured alive.” “Goad on the horses,” said the lad; and this -the driver did, but the fat horses of the King, unused to such a -drive and rate of motion as they had had that day, turned restive -and plunged into the bog, where they stuck fast. Eagerly Cuchulain -sprang down, and leaving the charioteer to struggle with the -horses, he set off after the flying deer, and by sheer running came -up to them, caught two of the largest stags by the horns, and with -thongs and ropes bound them behind the chariot between the poles. - -Again, on their way to Emain, a flock of swans passed overhead, -flying before them. “What birds are those?” enquired the boy. “Are -they tame birds or wild?” “Those are wild swans,” said Ivar, “that -fly inland from the rocks and islands of the sea to feed.” “Would -the Ulstermen think better of me if I brought them in dead or if I -captured them alive?” again enquired the boy. “Assuredly to bring -them down alive.” - -Then Cuchulain took his sling and with a well-aimed shot he brought -down one or two of the swans. Again and again he aimed until -several of the birds were lying on the path before them. “Ivar, go -you and fetch the birds alive,” said the boy. - -“It is not easy for me to do that,” he said. “The horses are become -wild and I cannot leave them or leap out in front of them. If then -I try to get out at the side, I shall be cut to pieces with the -sharp rims of the chariot-wheels; if I get out behind, the stags -will gore me with their horns.” “That is not a warrior’s speech, -but the speech fit a coward,” said the lad. “But come now, step -out fearlessly upon the antler of the deer, for I will bend my eye -on him, so that he will not stir or harm you, nor will the horses -move when I have overlooked them.” This then was done. Cuchulain -held the reins, while Ivar got out and collected the fallen birds. -With long cords the birds were fastened to the chariot, and thus -they went on to Emain, with the wild stags running behind the -chariot, and the flock of birds flying over it, and on the poles -the bleeding heads of the three sons of Nechtan the Mighty. - -On the walls of Emain a watchman was at the look-out post. “A -solitary warrior draws near to thee, O Conor, and terribly he -comes! Upon the chariot pole are bleeding heads; white birds are -flying round the car, and wild unbroken stags are tethered fast -behind. Wildly and with fury he draws near, and unless some means -be taken to abate his rage, the young men of Emain’s fort will -perish by his hand.” - -“Warriors will not stay his hand. I know that little boy; it is -my foster-son, who on this day has taken arms and made his first -champion-raid. But before women he is ever courteous and modest; -let then the women-folk of Emain’s fort, and our noble wives, go -forth to meet him, for that will tame his rage.” So the champion’s -wives and the women of Emain went out in a troop to meet him, and -when he saw them come, the fury of war passed from Cuchulain, and -he leaned his head upon the chariot-rail, that they might not see -the battle rage that was upon his face. For in the presence of -women Cuchulain was ever calm and gentle-mannered. - -Yet so warm and ardent was he from his warrior-raid, that the -champions of Ulster bathed him in three baths of cold water before -his heat and travel-stains were passed away from him. And the water -of the baths was heated fiery-hot by his plunge into it. But when -he was washed, and arrayed in his hooded tunic and mantle of bright -blue, fastened with its silver brooch, the little man’s fury had -all gone from him; he blushed a beautiful ruddy hue all over, and -with eyes sparkling, and his golden hair combed back, he came to -take his place beside the King. And Conor was proud of the boy, and -drew him between his knees and stroked his hair; and his place was -ever beside the King after that. - -Now a little boy that at the age of seven years--continued Fiacra, -who told the tale--could kill a man, yea, two or three men, whom -all the champions of Ulster feared, and who could do such deeds, it -were not wonderful if, in your war with Ulster, O Queen Meave, he -should prove a formidable foe. - -And Meave said thoughtfully, “It were not wonderful indeed.” - -Then the company broke up, preparing for the march upon the morrow. -But that night Meave said to her spouse: “I think, O Ailill, that -this young champion of Ulster is not of the make of mortal men, -nor is he quite as other champions. And though our host is good -and sufficient for ordinary war, to meet a foe like this, it seems -to me that a great and mighty force is needed; for I am of opinion -that the war on which we are now come will not be a battle of a -night or a day, but that it will be a campaign of many days and -weeks and months against that lad. Therefore, at this time, let -us return home again, and when a year or two is out, I shall have -gathered such a host that the gods themselves could not withstand -it.” Thus Meave spoke boastfully, and Ailill was well content, for -he liked not the war. So for that time, they all turned home again. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -Cuchulain’s Adventures in Shadow-Land - - -While Cuchulain was still a little lad, but strong and brave and -full of spirit, it came into his mind that he would like to go out -into the world to perfect himself in every kind of soldierly art, -so that he might not be behind any warrior in feats of strength -and skill. He went first to the Glen of Solitude in Munster, but -he did not long remain there, but returned to Ulster, to invite -his companions to go with him to visit the woman-warrior Scáth who -dwelt in “Shadow-land.” Where the land was, Cuchulain knew not, but -he thought it was in Alba, or mayhap in the Eastern world. - -Three of the chiefs of Ulster consented to go with him, Conall, -whom men in after days called The Victorious, because of his many -combats, and Laery the Triumphant, and Conor, Ulster’s king. Conall -was close friend to Cuchulain, and they had vowed to each other -while yet they were but boys, that whichever of the two of them -should first fall in battle or single combat, the other would -avenge his death, whether he were at that time near at hand or far -across the world in distant climes. And though Cuchulain was the -younger, he it was who first fell, and Conall avenged his death in -the Red Rout, as we shall hear. He was a great wanderer, and he was -far away across the seas when Cuchulain fell, but for all that his -promise held him, and his love for his friend, and amply and fully -he avenged him on his foes. - -Then these three friends set out together in Conall’s boat the -“Bird-like,” which needed not to be guided or rowed, but which sped -at its own will across the deep-green, strong-waved ocean, like -the winging flight of a swift bird. It took its own way to strange -lands, where none of those who travelled in the boat had ever been -before, and they came at last to a dark gloomy shore where dwelt -a fierce woman-warrior, Donnell the Soldierly, and her daughter, -Big-fist. - -Huge and ugly and gruesome were they both, with big grey eyes, and -black faces and rough bright-red hair, and so cruel and vengeful -were they that it was dangerous to quarrel with either of them. Yet -they knew many feats of arms, so that the three warriors stayed -with them a year and a day, learning all they knew. But Cuchulain -was fain to go away from them, for the darkness and the gloom of -the place and the ugly deeds of Big-fist troubled him, and he liked -not at all to remain with her. - -The year and the day being past, Cuchulain was walking by the brink -of the sea revolving these things in his mind, when he saw close -beside him, sitting on the shore, a man of enormous size, every -inch of him from top to toe as black as coal. “What are you doing -here?” said the big black man to Cuchulain. “I have been here a -year and a day learning feats of prowess and heroism from Donnell,” -said the little lad. “How so?” said the big black man. “If you -want to learn true knightly skill and feats of valour, it is not -here that you will learn them.” “Is that true?” said Cuchulain. -“It is true, indeed,” said the big black man. “Is there any -woman-champion in the world who is better than the woman-champion -that is here?” said Cuchulain. “There is indeed,” said the big -black man; “far better than she is Scáth, daughter of Ages, King -of Shadow-land, who dwells in the Eastern world.” “We have heard -of her before,” said Cuchulain. “I am sure you have,” said the big -black man; “but great and distant is the region of Shadow-land, -little man.” “Will you tell me all about it, and where it is, and -how to find it?” said Cuchulain, eagerly. “Never will I tell you -a word about it to the end of time,” said the black man surlily. -“O hateful, withered spectre, now may knowledge and help fail you -yourself, when most you stand in need of them,” cried the boy, and -with that the phantom disappeared. - -Cuchulain did not sleep a wink that night thinking of the great -far-distant country of which the big black man had told him; and at -break of day on the morrow he sprang from his bed and sought his -companions, Conor and Conall and Laery. “Will you come with me to -seek for Shadow-land?” he asked, when he had told them the tale of -the big black man. “We will not come,” said they, “for last night -a vision appeared to each of us, and we could not put it away from -us. We saw before us our own homes, and the kingly courts of Emain -Macha standing right before us in the way, and we heard the voices -of our wives weeping for our absence, and the call of our clans and -warriors for their chiefs; therefore to-day we bid you farewell, -for we return together to our homes. But go you on to Shadow-land -and perfect yourself in feats with Scáth, daughter of Ages, and -then return to us.” It seemed to Cuchulain that it was the big -black man who had raised this vision before the chiefs, that they -might separate themselves from him, so that he might find his death -travelling to Shadow-land alone. So he bid the chiefs farewell with -a heavy heart, and they set off for Erin in Conall’s boat, the -“Bird-like;” and as soon as it was out of sight, speeding over the -waves of the blue, surging ocean, Cuchulain set out alone along the -unknown road. For he was determined to reach Shadow-land, or to die -in the attempt. He went on for many days over great mountains and -through deep impenetrable forests, and dark, lonely glens, until -he came to a wide-spreading desert and a lightless land. Black and -scorched and bare was that desert, and there was no path or road -across it, and no human habitation was in sight. Cuchulain stood -wondering and fearing to adventure forth alone across that terrible -stony trackless waste, for he knew not whither to turn, or how to -go. Just then he saw a great beast like a lion coming out of the -forest on the border of the desert, and advancing towards him, -watching him all the time. Now Cuchulain was but a little lad, and -he had no weapons with him, and he was afraid of the mighty beast -and tried to escape from him; but whichever way he turned, the -beast was there before him, and it seemed to Cuchulain that it was -a friendly beast, for it made no attempt to injure him, but kept -turning its side to Cuchulain, inviting him to mount. So Cuchulain -plucked up his courage and took a leap and was on its back. He did -not try to guide it, for of its own accord the lion made off across -the plain, and for four days and nights they travelled thus through -the dim, lightless land until Cuchulain thought they must have come -to the uttermost bounds of men. But they saw a small loch and a -boat on it, and boys rowing the boat backward and forward amongst -the reeds of the shore, and the boys laughed at the sight of the -hurtful beast doing service to a human being. Then Cuchulain jumped -off the back of the lion and he bade it farewell and it departed -from him. - -The boys rowed him across the loch to a house where he got meat and -drink, and a young man with a face bright like the sun conducted -him on his way until he came to the Plain of Ill-luck, and there he -left him. Difficult and toilsome was the journey across the Plain -of Ill-luck; on one half of the plain the feet of the wayfarer -would stick fast in the miry clay, so that he could not move on, -but thought he would sink into the earth at every step; and on the -other half of the plain the grass would rise up beneath his feet -and lift him up far above the ground upon its blades, so that he -seemed to be walking in the air. - -No road or comfortable way ran across that plain, and Cuchulain -could not have made his way across, but that the young man with -the face like the sun had given him a wheel to roll before him, -and told him to follow wherever the wheel led. So he rolled the -wheel, and bright shining rays darted out of the wheel and lighted -up all the land. The heat that came out of the wheel dried up the -clay, so that it became hard and firm to walk upon, and it burned -up the grass, so that it made a clear path before Cuchulain all the -way. And the noisome evil airs of the plain were sucked up by the -heat and sunshine of the wheel, so that Cuchulain went on gladly -and cheerfully until he came to the Perilous Glen. Then Cuchulain -was afraid again, for he saw before him a narrow glen between high -rocky mountain fastnesses, and only one road through it, and that -as narrow as a hair. And on either side of the road and among the -rocks were cruel savage monsters waiting to devour him. But the -youth with the shining face had given him an apple, and he rolled -the apple before him as he went along, and when the monsters saw -the apple, they ceased watching Cuchulain and sprang after the -apple. But the apple ran on and on, so that they could not come -up with it, and as it ran the narrow path grew wider, so that -Cuchulain could follow it with ease. By that means he passed the -Perilous Glen, and he took the road that led across the terrible -high mountains, until he came to the Bridge of the Leaps. And on -the other side of the bridge was the isle where Scáth or Shadow, -daughter of Ages, lived. - -Now this is how the Bridge of the Leaps was made. It was low at -the two ends, but high in the middle, and it passed over a deep -and precipitous gorge, up which came foaming the waters of the -wild tempestuous ocean. And fearful strange beasts and fishes were -moving about in the waters below, which made a man’s heart quail -with fear to look upon, for it was certain that if he should fall, -they would seize him in their jaws and devour him. - -On the near side of the bridge were many youths playing hurley on -the green, and Cuchulain saw amongst them champions from Ulster, -Ferdia, son of Daman, and the sons of Naisi, and many others. They -greeted him kindly and gladly, and they asked news of Ulster and -of their friends and companions in Erin; and Cuchulain was glad to -see the faces of his friends, for he was weary and fatigued after -his journey and after the terrors of the way across the Plain of -Ill-luck and the Perilous Glen. Then Cuchulain asked Ferdia, for he -was older than he, “How shall I get across the Bridge of the Leaps, -to reach the fort of Scáth?” “You cannot cross it,” said he; “for -this is the manner of that bridge; when anyone steps on one end -of the bridge the other end leaps up, and flings the passenger off -again upon his back. Not one of us has crossed the bridge as yet, -for there are two feats that Scáth teaches last of all, the leap -of the Bridge, and the thrust of the spear that is called the Body -Spear, which moves along the water. When we have achieved valour, -she will teach us the leap of the Bridge, but the thrust of the -Body Spear she will not teach to any man of us at all, for she -reserves that feat for the champion who excels in all other feats, -and who is, out of all her pupils, the one whom she likes best.” - -“Tell me, O Ferdia, how Shadow herself crosses the bridge when she -comes to teach you feats,” said Cuchulain. “Only by two leaps can -that bridge be crossed,” they all reply; “that is, one leap into -the very centre of the bridge, and one upon the firm ground beyond; -but if the leap is missed, it is likely that the passer-by will -fall into the gulf below, and woe to him if he should fall.” Then -Cuchulain looked at the bridge and he looked at the foaming gorge -below, and at the open-mouthed monsters in the tossing waves, and -he waited awhile until his strength was returned. But as evening -fell he rose, and gathering all his forces together, he leaped upon -the bridge. Three times he tried to cross it, and three times it -flung him again upon the bank, so that he fell upon his back; and -the young men jeered at him, because he tried to cross the bridge -without Scáth’s help. Then Cuchulain grew mad with anger, and he -leaped at one bound upon the very centre and ridge of the bridge. -Here he rested a moment, and then he leaped again, and he gained -the firm ground on the further side, and he strode straight up to -the fort of Shadow, and struck three thunderous knocks upon the -door. - -“Truly,” said Scáth, “this must be someone who has achieved valour -somewhere else,” and she sent Uthach the Fearful, her daughter, to -bring him in, and welcome him to the fort. - -For a year and a day he remained with Scáth, and learned all that -she could teach him, and he became the most renowned warrior of -his time, or of any other time; and because Shadow loved his skill -and his strength and comeliness, she taught him the feat of the -Body Spear, which she had never taught to any before. And she -gave the spear into his own keeping. When Ferdia saw the spear, -he said, “O Scáth, teach me also this feat, for the day will come -when I shall have need of it.” But she would not, for she wished -to make Cuchulain invincible, and that he should have one feat -that was not known to any but himself. And she gave him the Helmet -of Invisibility, which Manannan mac Lir, the ocean god, brought -out of Fairy-land; and the mantle of Invisibility made of the -precious fleeces from the land of the Immortals, even from the -Kingdom of Clear Shining; and she gave him his glorious shield, -with knobs of gold, and chased all round with carvings of animals, -and the combats of fighting men, and the sea-wars of the gods. -And he became companion and arms-bearer to Ferdia, because he was -the younger and because they loved each other, and all the time -he was with Scáth they went together into every danger, and every -peril, and they took journeys together, and saw strange sights. And -because the twain loved each other, they swore that never in life -would either hurt or wound the other, or do combat or quarrel with -the other, but that for ever and for ever they twain would aid and -support each other in war and in combat, and in all the pleasant -loving ways of peace. But Scáth knew that other days were coming, -for she was a seer, and when Cuchulain bade her farewell, to return -to Ireland, she spoke to him these words out of her prophet’s -shining ken: “Blessing and health go with thee! Victorious Hero, -Champion of the Kine of Bray! Chariot Chief of the two-horsed -chariot! Beloved Hero of the gods! Perils await thee; alone before -the foe I see thee stand, fighting against a multitude, fighting -thy own companion and friend. Red from many conflicts are thy -warrior weapons; by thee men and champions will fall; the warriors -of Connaught and of Meave, the hosts of Ailill and of Fergus -scatter before thy sword. The Hound of Ulster will be renowned. At -his death will the glory of Ulster fail, the glory of Erin will -depart from her.... Farewell, farewell, Cuchulain.” - -Then Cuchulain parted from her, and turned to go back to Erin, and -a magic mist overtook him so that he knew not how he went, or by -what road he came to the borders of the white-flecked, green-waved -ocean, but he found Manannan’s horses of the white sea-foam -awaiting him near the shore upon the surface of the mighty main, -and he caught their tossing white-tipped manes and they bore him -out across the waves, and so he came to Ireland again. It was on -the night of his return that he found and caught his two chariot -horses, the Grey of Macha, and the Black Steed of the Glen, and -this is how he caught them. He was passing along the borders of -the Grey Lake that is near the Mountain of Slieve Fuad, pondering -on the fate that was before him, and the work that he would do. -Slowly he walked along the reedy, marshy ground that lay along the -lake, till he saw a mist rise slowly from the mere and cover all -the plain. Then, as he stood to watch, he saw the form of a mighty -steed, grey and weird and phantom-like, rise slowly from the centre -of the lake, and draw near to the shore, until it stood with its -back to him among the rushes of the water’s edge. Softly Cuchulain -crept down behind the steed; but it seemed not to hear him come, -for it was looking out towards the centre of the lake. Then with a -sudden leap, Cuchulain was on its neck, his two arms clasped upon -its mane. When it felt the rider on its back, the noble animal -shuddered from head to foot, and started back and tried to throw -Cuchulain, but with all his might he clung and would not be thrown. -Then began a struggle of champions between those two heroes, the -King of the Heroes of Erin and the King of Erin’s Steeds. All night -they wrestled, and the prancing of the steed was heard at Emain -Macha, so that the warriors said it thundered, and that a great -storm of wind had arisen without. But when it could by no means -throw Cuchulain from its back, the horse began to career and course -round the island, and that night they fled with the swiftness of -the wind three times round all the provinces of Ireland. With a -bound the wild steed leaped the mountains, and the sound of its -coursing over the plains was as the break of the tempestuous surf -upon the shore. Once only did they halt in their career, and that -was in the wild and lonely glen in Donegal that is called the Black -Glen, where the ocean waves roll inward to the land. From out the -waters arose another steed, as black as night, and it whinneyed -to the Grey of Macha, so that the Grey of Macha stopped, and the -Black Steed of the Glen came up beside it, and trotted by its -side. Then the fury of the Grey of Macha ceased, and Cuchulain -could feel beneath his hand that the two horses were obedient to -his will. And he brought them home to Emain and harnessed them to -his chariot, and all the men of Ulster marvelled at the splendour -of those steeds, which were like night and day, the dark steed and -the light, and one of them they called the Grey of Macha, because -Macha was the goddess of war and combat, and the other they called -the Black Steed of the Glen. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -How Cuchulain Wooed his Wife - - -It was on a day of the days of summer that Emer, daughter of -Forgall the Wily, sat on a bench before her father’s door, at his -fort that is called Lusk to-day, but which in olden days men spoke -of as the Gardens of the Sun-god Lugh, so sunny and so fair and -fertile was that plain, with waving meadow-grass and buttercups, -and the sweet may-blossom girdling the fields. Close all about the -fort the gardens lay, with apple-trees shedding their pink and -white upon the playing fields of brilliant green; and all the air -was noisy with the buzz of bees, and with the happy piping of the -thrush and soft low cooing of the doves. And Emer sat, a fair and -noble maid, among her young companions, foster-sisters of her own, -who came from all the farms and forts around to grow up with the -daughters of the house, and learn from them high-bred and gentle -ways, to fashion rich embroideries such as Irish women used to -practise as an art, and weaving, and fine needlework, and all the -ways of managing a house. And as they sat round Emer, a bright -comely group of busy girls, they sang in undertones the crooning -tender melodies of ancient Erin; or one would tell a tale of early -wars, and warrior feasts or happenings of the gods, and one would -tell a tale of lover’s joys or of the sorrows of a blighted love, -and they would sigh and laugh and dream that they too loved, were -wooed, and lost their loves. - -And Emer moved about among the girls, directing them; and of all -maids in Erin, Emer was the best, for hers were the six gifts of -womanhood, the gift of loveliness, the gift of song, the gift of -sweet and pleasant speech, the gift of handiwork, the gifts of -wisdom and of modesty. And in his distant home in Ulster, Cuchulain -heard of her. For he was young and brave, and women loved him for -his nobleness, and all men wished that he should take a wife. But -for awhile he would not, for among the women whom he saw, not one -of them came up to his desires. And when they urged him, wilfully -he said: “Well, find for me a woman I could love, and I will marry -her.” Then sent the King his heralds out through every part of -Ulster and the south to seek a wife whom Cuchulain would care to -woo. But still he said the same, “This one, and this, has some bad -temper or some want of grace, or she is vain or she is weak, not -fitted as a mate to such as I. She must be brave, for she must -suffer much; she must be gentle, lest I anger her; she must be fair -and noble, not alone to give me pleasure as her spouse, but that -all men may think of her with pride, saying, ‘As Cuchulain is the -first of Ulster’s braves, the hero of her many fighting-fields, so -is his wife the noblest and the first of Erin’s women, a worthy -mate for him.’” - -So when the princely messengers returned, their search was vain; -among the daughters of the chiefs and noble lords not one was -found whom Cuchulain cared to woo. But one who loved him told him -of a night he spent in Forgall’s fort, and of the loveliness and -noble spirit of Forgall’s second girl Emer, the maiden of the -waving hair, but just grown up to womanhood. He told him of her -noble mien and stately step, the soft and liquid brightness of her -eyes, the colour of her hair, that like to ruddy gold fresh from -the burnishing, was rolled around her head. Her graceful form he -praised, her skilfulness in song and handiwork, her courage with -her father, a harsh and wily man, whom all within the house hated -and feared but she. He told him also that for any man to win the -maiden for his wife would be a troublesome and dangerous thing, for -out of all the world, her father Forgall loved and prized but her, -and he had made it known that none beneath a king or ruling prince -should marry her, and any man who dared to win her love, but such -as these, should meet a cruel death; and this he laid upon his sons -and made them swear to him upon their swords, that any who should -come to woo the girl should never leave the fort alive again. - -All that they said but made Cuchulain yet the more desire to see -the maid and talk with her. “This girl, so brave, so wise, so fair -of face and form,” he pondered with himself, “would be a fitting -mate for any chief. I think she is the fitting mate for me.” - -So on the very day when Emer sat upon her playing-fields, Cuchulain -in the early morn set forth in all his festal garb in his chariot -with his prancing steeds, with Laeg before him as his charioteer, -and took the shortest route towards the plain of Bray, where lie -the Gardens of the Sun-god Lugh. The way they went from Emain lay -between the Mountains of the Wood, and thence along the High-road -of the Plain, where once the sea had passed; across the marsh that -bore the name the Whisper of the Secret of the Gods. Then driving -on towards the River Boyne they passed the Ridge of the Great Sow, -where not far off is seen the fairy haunt of Angus, God of Beauty -and of Youth; and so they reached the ford of Washing of the Horses -of the Gods, and the fair, flowering plains of Lugh, called Lusk -to-day. - -Now all the girls were busied with their work, when on the -high-road leading to the fort they heard a sound like thunder from -the north, that made them pause and listen in surprise. - -Nearer and nearer yet it came as though at furious pace a band of -warriors bore down towards the house. “Let one of you see from the -ramparts of the fort,” said Emer, “what is the sound that we hear -coming towards us.” Fiall, her sister, Forgall’s eldest girl, ran -to the top of the rath or earthen mound that circled round the -playing-fields, and looked out towards the north, shading her eyes -against the brilliant sun. “What do you see there?” asked they all, -and eagerly she cried: “I see a splendid chariot-chief coming at -furious pace along the road. Two steeds, like day and night, of -equal size and beauty, come thundering beneath that chariot on the -plain. Curling their manes and long, and as they come, one would -think fire darted from their curbed jaws, so strain and bound they -forward; high in the air the turf beneath their feet is thrown -around them, as though a flock of birds were following as they go. -On the right side the horse is grey, broad in the haunches, active, -swift and wild; with head erect and breast expanded, madly he moves -along the plain, bounding and prancing as he goes. The other horse -jet-black, head firmly knit, feet broad-hoofed, firm, and slender; -in all this land never had chariot-chief such steeds as these.” - -“Heed not the steeds,” the girls replied, “tell us, for this -concerns us most, who is the chariot-chief who rides within?” - -“Worthy of the chariot in which he rides is he who sits within. -Youthful he seems, as standing on the very borders of a noble -manhood, and yet I think his face and form are older than his -years. Gravely he looks, as though his mind revolved some serious -thought, and yet a radiance as of the summer’s day enfolds him -round. About his shoulders a rich five-folded mantle hangs, caught -by a brooch across the chest sparkling with precious gems, above -his white and gold-embroidered shirt. His massive sword rests on -his thigh, and yet I think he comes not here to fight. Before him -stands his charioteer, the reins held firmly in his hand, urging -the horses onward with a goad.” - -“What like is he, the charioteer?” demand the girls again. - -“A ruddy man and freckled,” answered Fiall; “his hair is very curly -and bright-red, held by a bronze fillet across his brow, and caught -at either side his head in little cups of gold, to keep the locks -from falling on his face. A light cloak on his shoulders, made with -open sleeves, flies back in the wind, as rapidly they course along -the plain.” But Emer heard not what the maiden said, for to her -mind there came the memory of a wondrous youth whom Ulster loved -and yet of whom all Erin stood in awe. Great warriors spoke of him -in whispers and with shaking of the head. They told how when he was -a little child, he fought with full-grown warriors and mastered -them; of a huge hound that he had slain and many feats of courage -he had done. Into her mind there came a memory, that she had heard -of prophets who foretold for him a strange and perilous career; a -life of danger, and an early death. Full many a time she longed to -see this youth, foredoomed to peril, yet whose praise should ring -from age to age through Erin; and in her mind, when all alone she -pondered on these things, she still would end: “This were a worthy -mate! This were a man to win a woman’s love!” And half aloud she -uttered the old words: “This were a man to win a woman’s love!” - -Now hardly had the words sprung to her lips, when the chariot -stood before the door, close to the place where all the girls were -gathered. And when she saw him Emer knew it was the man of whom -she dreamed. He wished a blessing to them, and her lovely face she -lifted in reply. “May God make smooth the path before thy feet,” -she gently said. “And thou, mayest thou be safe from every harm,” -was his reply. “Whence comest thou?” she asked; for he had alighted -from his seat and stood beside her, gazing on her face. “From -Conor’s court we come,” he answered then; “from Emain, kingliest -of Ulster’s forts, and this the way we took. We drove between the -Mountains of the Wood, along the High-road of the Plain, where -once the sea had been; across the Marsh they call the Secret of -the Gods, and to the Boyne’s ford named of old the Washing of the -Horses of the Gods. And now at last, O maiden, we have come to the -bright flowery Garden-grounds of Lugh. This is the story of myself, -O maid; let me now hear of thee.” Then Emer said: “Daughter am I to -Forgall, whom men call the Wily Chief. Cunning his mind and strange -his powers; for he is stronger than any labouring man, more learned -than any Druid, more sharp and clever than any man of verse. Men -say that thou art skilled in feats of war, but it will be more -than all thy games to fight against Forgall himself; therefore be -cautious what thou doest, for men cannot number the multitude of -his warlike deeds nor the cunning and craft with which he works. He -has given me as a bodyguard twenty valiant men, their captain Con, -son of Forgall, and my brother; therefore I am well protected, and -no man can come near me, but that Forgall knows of it. To-day he is -gone from home on a warrior expedition, and those men are gone with -him; else, had he been within, I trow he would have asked thee of -thy business here.” - -“Why, O maiden, dost thou talk thus to me? Dost thou not reckon me -among the strong men, who know not fear?” “If thy deeds were known -to me,” she said, “I then might reckon them; but hitherto I have -not heard of all thy exploits.” “Truly, I swear, O maiden,” said -Cuchulain, “that I will make my deeds to be recounted among the -glories of the warrior-feats of heroes.” “How do men reckon thee?” -she said again. “What then is thy strength?” “This is my strength,” -he said. “When my might in fight is weakest, I can defend myself -alone against twenty. I fear not by my own might to fight with -forty. Under my protection a hundred are secure. From dread of -me, strong warriors avoid my path, and come not against me in the -battle-field. Hosts and multitudes and armed men fly before my -name.” - -“Thou seemest to boast,” said Emer, “and truly for a tender boy -those feats are very good; but they rank not with the deeds of -chariot-chiefs. Who then were they who brought thee up in these -deeds of which thou boastest?” - -“Truly, O maiden, King Conor is himself my foster-father, and -not as a churl or common man was I brought up by him. Among -chariot-chiefs and champions, among poets and learned men, among -the lords and nobles of Ulster, have I been reared, and they have -taught me courage and skill and manly gifts. In birth and bravery I -am a match for any chariot-chief; I direct the counsels of Ulster, -and at my own fort at Dun Dalgan they come to me for entertainment. -Not as one of the common herd do I stand before thee here to-day, -but as the favourite of the King and the darling of all the -warriors of Ulster. Moreover, the god Lugh the Long-handed is my -protector, for I am of the race of the great gods, and his especial -foster-child. And now, O maiden, tell me of thyself; how in the -sunny plains of Lugh hast thou been reared within thy father’s -fort?” “That I will tell thee,” said the girl. “I was brought up in -noble behaviour as every queen is reared; in stateliness of form, -in wise, calm speech, in comeliness of manner, so that to me is -imputed every noble grace among the hosts of the women of Erin.” - -“Good, indeed, are those virtues,” said the youth; “and yet I -see one excellence thou hast not noted in thy speech. Never -before, until this day, among all women with whom I have at times -conversed, have I found one but thee to speak the mystic ancient -language of the bards, which we are talking now for secrecy one -with the other. And all these things are good, but one is best of -all, and that is, that I love thee, and I think thou lovest me. -What hinders, then, that we should be betrothed?” But Emer would -not hasten, but teasing him, she said, “Perhaps thou hast already -found a wife?” “Not so,” said he, “and by my right-hand’s valour -here I vow, none but thyself shall ever be my wife.” “A pity it -were, indeed, thou shouldst not have a wife,” said Emer, playing -with him still; “see, here is Fiall, my elder sister, a clever girl -and excellent in needlework. Make her thy wife, for well is it -known to thee, a younger sister in Ireland may not marry before an -elder. Take her! I’ll call her hither.” Then Cuchulain was vexed -because she seemed to play with him. “Verily and indeed,” he said, -“not Fiall, but thee, it is with whom I am in love; and if thou -weddest me not, never will I, Cuchulain, wed at all.” - -Then Emer saw that Cuchulain loved her, but she was not satisfied, -because he had not yet done the deeds of prime heroes, and she -desired that he should prove himself by champion feats and deeds of -valour before he won her as his bride. - -So she bade him go away and prove himself for a year by deeds of -prowess to be indeed a worthy mate and spouse for her, and then, if -he would come again she would go with him as his one and only wife. -But she bade him beware of her father, for she knew that he would -try to kill him, in order that he might not come again. And this -was true, for every way he sought to kill Cuchulain, or to have him -killed by his enemies, but he did not prevail. - -When Cuchulain had taken farewell of Emer and gained her promise, -he returned to Emain Macha. And that night the maidens of the -fort told Forgall that Cuchulain had been there and that they -thought that he had come to woo Emer; but of this they were not -sure, because he and Emer had talked together in the poet’s mystic -tongue, that was not known to them. For Emer and Cuchulain talked -on this wise, that no one might repeat what they had said to -Forgall. - -And for a whole year Cuchulain was away, and Forgall guarded the -fort so well that he could not come near Emer to speak with her; -but at last, when the year was out, he would wait no longer, and -he wrote a message to Emer on a piece of stick, telling her to -be ready. And he came in his war-chariot, with scythes upon its -wheels, and he brought a band of hardy men with him, who entered -the outer rampart of the fort and carried off Emer, striking -down men on every side. And Forgall followed them to the earthen -out-works, but he fell over the rath, and was taken up lifeless. -And Cuchulain placed Emer and her foster-sister in his chariot, -carrying with them their garments and ornaments of gold and silver, -and they drove northward to Cuchulain’s fort at Dun Dalgan, which -is Dundalk to-day. - -And they were pursued to the Boyne, and there Cuchulain placed Emer -in a house of safety, and he turned and drove off his enemies who -followed him, pursuing them along the banks and destroying them, so -that the place, which had before been called the White Field, was -called the Turf of Blood from that day. Then he and Emer reached -their home in safety, nor were they henceforth parted until death. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -Meave demands the Brown Bull of Cooley and is refused - - -For many years Meave had been making preparations for her war with -Ulster. To the East and South and West she had sent her messengers, -stirring up the chiefs and calling them to aid her in her attack -on Conor’s land. From every quarter she asked for supplies of men -and food, and if these were refused, she sent her fighting-bands -into the district to waste and destroy it, and to carry off the -cattle and produce by force. All the princes of Ireland stood in -awe of Meave, so ruthless and proud was she, and so quick in her -descent upon the lands of those who would not do her will. For had -they not regarded her request, all Ireland would have been set in -flames; for she would plunder and destroy without pity or remorse. -So in their own defence, the princes of the provinces promised her -fighting-men and provender whenever she should call upon them, and -month by month she gathered round her fort at Cruachan herds of -cattle and swine and sheep, ready for the war. - -Now Meave was looking about for a cause of contest between herself -and Ulster; for she knew that Cuchulain was yet young, and she -desired to begin the war before he came to his full strength; -moreover, she had heard that upon Ulster at that time there lay a -heavy sickness, which had prostrated its fighting-men and warriors, -its princes and captains, and that even Conor, the King, himself -lay ill. - -No common sickness was that which lay upon the Province, but it -came of the wrath and vengeance of the gods. For in the days gone -by the goddess Macha, one of the three fierce goddesses of war and -battles, had visited Ulster as a mortal maid, to bring aid and -comfort to one of the nobles of Ulster who was in sore distress. -And the King and people had reviled her, and brought shame and -scoffing upon her, because they saw that she was not as one of -themselves; for they liked not that a woman greater than themselves -should take up her abode amongst them. They made game of her in the -public assembly, crowding round her, and scoffing at her courage -and her splendid form and at her swiftness of running beyond any -of the men. For they knew not that she was one of the great gods, -and they were jealous of her, because they felt that she was nobler -than they. Then Macha cursed the men of Ulster, and told them -that in a time of danger and sore need, when all the chiefs and -warriors of Ireland should gather round its borders, plundering -and destroying, she would cast upon their warriors weakness and -feebleness of body and of mind, so that they could not go forth in -defence of the Province, and the land should be a prey to their -enemies. Only upon Cuchulain she laid not her curse, for he was -young, and it fell not upon women and little children, but upon -full-grown warriors only, because it was the men of Ulster who had -insulted her. Then she went away from them, and in dread of her -they called the palace of the King Emain Macha, or the “Brooch-pin -of Macha,” to this day.[2] - -When then Macha saw Meave gathering her hosts together to war -against Ulster, she brought upon them this sickness, as she had -prophesied. And Meave, hearing of this, hastened her preparations -for the war, for she was determined that, come what might, she -would march into Ulster at that time and smite it in its weakness, -so that once and for ever Ulster would be subdued to Connaught by -her hand. And her pride waxed greater at the thought. - -[Illustration: Macha curses the Men of Ulster] - -There were in Ireland at that time two famous bulls, unlike to any -kine that ever have been in Ireland from that time until now. For -these bulls were cattle of the gods, and they had come to abide -among men for this purpose only, to incite and bring about a war -between Connaught and Ulster. For Macha watched o’er men, and she -awaited the day when her revenge upon Ulster should fall. Now -these cattle were born, one in the Province of Connaught among the -cattle of Meave, and the other in Ulster among the cattle of Daire -of Cooley, in Cuchulain’s country. Meave knew not that these were -immortal beasts, for that was in the secrets of the gods, but she -knew well that among her cattle was one bull of extraordinary size, -and fierceness, and strength, so that no other member of her herds -dared to come near it; moreover, fifty men were required to keep -it. And of all her stock, there was not one that Meave counted -worth a metal ring beside this bull. She named him the Finn-bennach -or “White-horned,” and she believed that not in Ireland nor in the -whole world beside, was the equal and the fellow of this bull. -One day, before the war began, while Meave was meditating in her -mind what challenge she should send to Ulster, she caused all her -cattle to be arrayed before her. - -From pastures and meadow-lands, from hills and vales, she called -in all her stock, her sheep and swine, her cattle and her steeds. -Ailill also, her husband, caused his flocks and herds to be brought -in, and reckoned alongside of hers. For Meave had boasted to her -spouse that in all possessions of kine and live stock, as also in -household goods and utensils, in jewels and ornaments, in garments -and in stuffs, her share was greater far than his, so that, in -fact, she was the better of the two, the real ruler and prince of -Connaught. - -Ailill liked not this boasting of his wife; so when their flocks -were driven in, their vessels and vats and mugs collected, their -clasped ornaments and rings, as well arm-rings as thumb-rings, -brooches and collars of carven metal-work, with their apparel and -stuffs, it pleased the King to find that the share of Meave and of -himself was exactly equal and alike. Among Meave’s horses was a -special mare, and she thought there was no mare in Ireland to equal -it, but Ailill had one just its match. Among the sheep Meave owned -one mighty ram, and among the swine one eminent boar, but Ailill -proved that amongst his flocks and herds he had the same. Then -Meave said: “Among the cattle, however, certain it is, that there -is no bull to be named in the same breath with the White-horned.” -“Ay, no, indeed,” said the herdsman, “the White-horned surpasseth -all beasts; but, a week ago, he left the company of thy cattle, O -Queen, and went over to the cattle of the King. ’Tis my opinion -that he heard the keepers say that it was strange that so powerful -a bull should be under the dominion of a woman; for no sooner were -the words out of their mouths, than he broke loose from his stall, -and, head in air and bellowing loudly, he passed over to the herds -of Ailill. Nought could stay him or bring him back; and all that -stood in his path were trampled and gored to death.” - -Now when Meave heard that the White-horned was no longer in her -keeping, not one of her possessions had any value in her eyes; for, -because she had not that especial bull, it was in her esteem as -though she owned not so much as a penny’s worth of stock. - -When Mac Roth, her herald, who stood at her right hand, saw the -Queen’s vexation, he said, “I know, O Queen, where a better bull -than the White-horned is to be found, even with Daire of Cooley, in -Cuchulain’s country, and the Dun or “Brown Bull” of Cooley is its -name; a match it is to the White-horned; nay, I think that it is -yet more powerful than he.” - -“Whence came these bulls?” said Meave; “and what is their strength -and their history? Tell me, Mac Roth, yet further of this bull.” - -Then Mac Roth said: “This is the description of the Dun. Brown -he is, and dark as night, terrific in strength and size. Upon -his back, at evening-tide, full fifty little boys can play their -games. He moves about with fifty heifers at his side, and if his -keepers trouble him, he tramples them into the earth in his rage. -Throughout the land his bellowings can be heard, and on his horns -are gold and silver tips. Before the cows he marches as a king, -with bull-like front, and with the resistless pace of the long -billow rolling on the shore. Like to the fury of a dragon, or -like a lion’s fierceness is his rage. Only the Finn-bennach, the -White-horned bull, is his mate and match; his pair in strength, in -splendour, and in pride.” - -And Meave said: “What and whence are these kine, and wherefore did -they come to Ireland?” - -Mac Roth replied: “These are the cattle of the gods; out of the -Fairy Palaces they came to Erin, and into the Fairy Palaces they -will return again. For the disturbance and downfall of Erin are -they come, to awaken wars and tumults among her people. Before -they became cattle, they have lived many lives in many forms, but -in whatever form they come to earth destruction and warfare haunt -their steps. At the first they were two swineherds of the gods, -dwelling in the underworld, and they kept the herds of the fairy -gods of Munster and of Connaught. But a mighty war was fought -between them, so that all Erin was disturbed and troubled by that -war; and each of them tore the other in pieces, so that they died. -But they were born again as two ravens, dwelling upon earth, and -for three hundred years they lived as birds, but in the end they -pecked each other till they died. - -“Then they became two monsters of the sea, and after that two -warriors and two demon-men. But in each of all these forms they -met together in terrific contest, so that the world of men and -even the dwellings of the gentle gods were stirred and agitated by -their wrath. For when men hear the sighing of the wind, or the wild -turmoil of the billows on the shore, then, indeed, it is the bulls -in fight wherever they may be, or in whatever form. And now that -they are come to earth again, no doubt some mighty contest is at -hand; for surely they are come to stir up strife and deadly warfare -between man and man, and Connaught and Ulster will be concerned in -this.” - -“That likes us well,” said Meave, “and for this contest we will -well prepare. So, since the fellow of the White-horned dwells in -Cooley, take thou with thee a company, Mac Roth, and go and beg -this excellent bull from Daire, that henceforth my cattle may -compare with Ailill’s kine, or that they may surpass them. Give all -conditions he demands and promise what thou wilt, so only Daire -give up the bull. And if he give it not up willingly, then will we -come and seize the bull by force.” - -For to herself she said: “The taking of this bull will be a thing -not easy to accomplish; if Daire, as is likely, refuse it to me, -war will arise between Connaught and Ulster, and this, seeing that -the warriors of Ulster are now lying in their pains, we much could -wish. For our hosts are gathered and our provisions ready, while on -Ulster’s side there are but women and little children and Cuchulain -ready and fit to meet us; quickly in that case we shall march into -Ulster’s borders and raid the country up to Emain’s palace gates, -carrying off the spoils; the Brown Bull also we will bring with us, -and henceforth not Ailill, nor the King of Ulster, nor all Ireland -besides, will hold up their heads against ourselves or boast -themselves our equal.” - -So Mac Roth with nine of his company travelled to the house of -Daire in Cooley, and welcome was made for them, and fresh rushes -strewn upon the floor and viands of the best were set before them, -as became the chief of Ireland’s heralds. But before they sat -down to meat, Daire inquired of them: “What is the cause of your -journey here to-day?” And Mac Roth replied: “A quarrel that has -arisen between Ailill and Meave, the King and Queen of Connaught, -about the possession of the White-horned, for Meave is sorrowful -and vexed because the King hath a better bull than she. She craves -therefore, that a loan of the Dun or Brown Bull of Cooley be made -to her, that she may say that she hath the finer kine. And if -thou thyself wilt bring the bull to Cruachan, good payment shall -be given thee: that is, due payment for the loan of the bull, and -fifty heifers into the bargain, besides a stretch of country of the -best in Connaught, and Meave’s close friendship along with this.” - -This pleased Daire so well, that he threw himself upon his couch, -and he laughed loud and long, so that the seams of the couch burst -asunder under him. “By our good faith,” he said, “the offer is a -good one, and whatever the men of Ulster may say to my lending away -their precious bull, lend it I will with all my heart.” - -Then supper was served, and the messengers of Meave ate and drank, -and Daire plied them with strong wines, so that they began to talk -at random to each other. “A good house is this to which we have -come, and a wealthy man is Daire,” said one to his fellow. “Wealthy -he is indeed,” said the other. “Would you say that he was the -best man in all Ulster, and the richest?” pursued the first who -had spoken. “Surely not,” replied the other, “for Conor the King, -at least, is better in every way than he.” “Well, lucky it is, I -say,” pursued the first, “that without bloodshed or any difficulty -raised, he yields the bull to us nine messengers; for had he -refused it, I trow that the warriors of all Ireland’s Provinces -could not have carried it off from Ulster.” “Say not so,” cried -another, “for in truth, little matter to us had it been if Daire -had refused it, for had we not got the bull by fair means, we -would have carried it off by foul.” - -Now just at that moment in came the steward, with fresh viands to -set before the guests, but when he overheard their conversation, -and the slighting way in which his master was spoken of by the -heralds of Connaught, he set down the meat without a word and -without inviting them to partake, and out he went at once and told -his master what the heralds had said. Then Daire was very angry, -and he exclaimed, “By the gods, I declare, that never will I lend -the bull; and that now, unless by foul means they carry him off -from me, he never shall be theirs.” - -The next morning, the messengers arose, having slept off their -carouse, and they went to Daire’s house, and courteously said: -“Show us now, noble Sir, the way to the place where the Brown Bull -is, that we may proceed with him on our journey back to Cruachan.” - -“Not so, indeed,” said Daire, “for were it my habit to deal -treacherously with those that come in embassage, not one of you -would have seen the light of the sun to-day.” “Why, how now, what -is this?” they asked, surprised, for they had forgotten what they -had said over their cups the night before. “’Tis plain enough, I -think,” said Daire; “your people said last night that if I gave the -bull not up of mine own will, yet Meave and Ailill would make me -give it up by force. Let Meave and Ailill come and take it if they -can. All Ulster will prepare to hold the bull.” - -“Come, come,” said Mac Roth, “heed not what foolish men said after -food and drink; Ailill and Meave had no ill intent in sending us to -ask the bull of you. It were not right to hold them responsible for -the loose words of their messengers.” “Nevertheless, Mac Roth, and -however this may be, at this time you do not get my bull.” - -So Mac Roth and the nine messengers returned to Rath Crogan,[3] -and Meave inquired for the bull. And when she heard their tale, -she said, “I thought as much, Mac Roth: it was not intended that -you should have the bull. The bull, which is not to be got by fair -means, must be got by foul; and by fair or foul, he shall be got by -us.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -The Plucking out of the Four-pronged Pole - - -Then Meave gathered her hosts together and set out from Cruachan, -each party under its own leader, marching in order of rank, with -Fergus mac Roy guiding the entire army, and Meave bringing up the -rear, in order that she might keep all her troops under her own -eye. Meave’s way of travelling when she went into battle was in a -chariot, with her bodyguard of chosen warriors around her, who, in -any time of danger, interlocked their shields to form a rampart and -protection on every side as she moved along. - -Gaily her troops marched in their many-coloured garb, their short -kilts falling to the knee, their long cloaks over that. And the -colour of the kilts of each troop was different, so that each man -knew his own comrades by the pattern of his kilt. In their hands -they carried shields and spears upon long shafts, while others had -five-pronged spears, or mighty swords, or javelins. - -It was in the beginning of winter that they set out, and already -snow lay heavy on the ground; on the very first night it fell so -thickly, that it reached to the chariot-wheels and almost to their -very shoulders, nor could they find any track or way. - -Meave called Fergus, and said to him: “Go on before the hosts, O -Fergus, and find us out the shortest road into Ulster, for in such -weather as this, it is not well that we lose time by wandering -out of the right way.” So with a few companions Fergus went on -ahead; but as he drove along, the memory of old friends and of his -home and country came upon him, and an overwhelming affection for -Ulster took hold on him, and in his mind there arose shame and -bitter self-reproach that he, the former King of Ulster, should -be leading Ulster’s foes against her. For he liked Meave and he -liked her not; her kindness to himself and the exiles of Ulster had -prevailed with him to aid her in her war upon the province; but her -wiles and cunning and manlike ways he cared not for, and in his -heart he had no wish to see the province subdued to her. So to the -North and the South he misled the host, making them walk all day by -difficult paths far out of their way, while in the meantime he sent -swift messengers to Conor and the Ulster chiefs, but especially to -his own foster-son Cuchulain, whom he loved, to call their men at -arms together, because Meave and a host of warriors from all the -provinces of Ireland were on their borders. At night, after a long -day’s march, the army found itself back in the very spot from which -it had set out, not far beyond the banks of the River Shannon. Then -Meave called Fergus, and angrily she spoke to him: “A good guide to -an army art thou, O Fergus, bringing it back at night to the very -place from which in the morning it set out. A good enemy of Ulster -this. A good friend to Connaught and its queen!” “Seek out some -other leader for your troops, O Meave,” said Fergus, “for never -will I lead them against the province of Ulster and against my own -people and my foster-son! But this I tell you, beware and look out -well for your troops to-night and every night from this; for it -may be that Cuchulain will stand between you and Ulster, and the -standing of Cuchulain will be as the crouching of the Hounds of War -upon your path; therefore beware and guard yourselves well before -him!” - -Now that very night Cuchulain got the message of Fergus, for he -was with his father, Sualtach, not far from this place. Together -in their chariot they drove to the borders of the country where -the army was encamped to seek for the trail of the hosts; but they -found it not easy to discover the trail, because of the snow and -because of the wandering path that Fergus had taken the troops. -They unyoked the chariots, and turned the horses out to graze -at a certain pillar-stone beside a ford; and on one side of the -pillar-stone the horses of Sualtach cropped the grass down to the -very ground, and on the other the horses of Cuchulain did the same. -Then Cuchulain said: “To-night, O father, I have a shrewd suspicion -that the host is near; depart thou therefore to warn Ulster, and to -bid them arise and come by secret ways to meet the men of Erin.” - -Now in his heart was Sualtach glad and pleased to be gone, because -he was not a man who loved to stand in the gap of danger, nor to -risk his life before an enemy stronger than himself; but yet he was -loth to leave his son alone. So he said, “And thou, beloved, what -wilt thou do?” - -“I will stand between the men of Ireland and the province of -Ulster,” said the boy, “so that no harm or hurt befall the province -until Ulster be ready for battle; here on the borders do I take my -stand, and I will so harry and trouble the hosts of Meave that they -will wish the expedition had never been undertaken.” - -So Cuchulain hastened his father, and Sualtach bade him farewell, -and slipped away to Emain Macha. But when he found the warriors -were asleep, his old lethargy came over Sualtach, and he forgot the -message of Cuchulain, and under Emain’s ramparts he took up his -abode. “Here will I wait in safety,” he thought; “and when the King -and chiefs awake, I, with the first of them, will march to war with -Meave. I will not be behind, but all alone I have not the heart to -fight.” - -No sooner had Sualtach gone his way than Cuchulain entered a forest -close at hand and out of an oak sapling cut a four-pronged pole, -which with one sweep of his swift sword he cleared of all its twigs -and leaves and small branches. With the finger-tips of his right -hand he hurled it out behind his chariot, going at full pace, so -that it sank into the ground in the middle of the stream, and stood -up just above the water. Upon the pole he flung a ring or twisted -collar of young birch, and on the ring he carved his name and a -message in secret runes. Just at that moment two young men of the -host of Meave, gone out before the troops to scout, came near and -watched him. No time had they to turn and flee, for with one leap -Cuchulain was upon them, and both their heads struck off. These and -the two heads of their charioteers were soon impaled on the four -points of the forked pole; but the chariots he turned back, driving -them towards the host of Meave. When the warriors saw the chariots -return with headless men, they thought the army of Ulster must be -close before them, waiting their coming at the ford. Therefore a -great company of them marched forward to the stream, ready and -armed for battle, but nothing did they see but a tall pole that -stood upright in the swirling waters of the stream, bearing a rude -carved collar on its top, and on the point of every branching prong -a bleeding new-slain head. - -“Go now,” said Ailill to his man, “fetch me the collar here.” But -all in vain he tried to read the words engraven on the ring. “What, -Fergus, are the words inscribed upon this ring?” said he. “Who -could have written them? A strange thing, verily, it seems to me, -that two brave scouts could have been slain like this, well-nigh -within the sight of all our men. A marvel, I confess, this thing to -me.” - -“Not that it is at which I marvel,” Fergus said; “I marvel rather -that with one sweep of the sword this tree was felled and cleaned -of all its twigs. See, it is written on the ring that with one hand -this pole was thrown, and fixed firmly in its bed; it is written -here, moreover, that the men of Erin are forbidden to pass this -ford, until in exactly the same manner it is plucked up again.” - -“One man only in the army can do that, namely, you yourself, O -Fergus!” answered Meave. “Now help us in this strait and pluck the -pole out of the river’s bed for us.” - -“Bring me a chariot, then, and I will see what I can do.” - -A chariot was brought and Fergus mounted into it. With all his -force he dashed down into the water, and with his finger-tips in -passing by he tried to draw the pole out of its place. But all in -vain; the pole stood fast, and though he tugged and strained, so -that the chariot flew into little bits and fragments, he could -not stir or move the pole an inch. One chariot after another he -essayed, and all of them went into splinters, but not one whit the -looser was the pole. At last Meave said: “Give over, Fergus; enough -of my people’s chariots are broken with this game. Get your own -chariot and pull out the pole. Right well I guess your purpose; -for you have in mind to hamper and delay the progress of our host -till Ulster be aroused and come to meet us; but that your guidance -led us all astray, we might be even now in Ulster’s border-lands.” - -Then Fergus’s own mighty chariot was brought, all made of iron, -studded o’er with nails, heavy and massive in its make. Upright he -stood in it, and with a powerful, superhuman pull he wrenched with -one hand’s finger-tips the pole from out its bed, and handed it to -Ailill. - -Attentively and long the King considered it, and then he asked, -“Whom thinkest thou, O Fergus, it might be who threw this pole -into the river-bed and slaughtered our two scouts? Was it Conall -the victorious, or Celtchar, or even Conor himself? Surely it was -some brave, well-seasoned man, some warrior of old renown, who did -a deed like this!” “I think,” said Fergus, “that not one of these -three heroes would have come alone from Ulster, unattended by -their bodyguard and troops.” “Whom, then, thinkest thou was here?” -persisted Ailill; “who could have done this deed?” “I think,” said -Fergus, “that it was Cuchulain, Ulster’s Hound.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -The Deer of Ill-Luck - - -When Meave heard that already the Hound of Ulster stood upon her -path, the words spoken by the fairy Feidelm and the Druid came back -into her mind, and she resolved that not a moment would she linger -by the way, but now at once, before the men of Ulster were risen -from their weakness, she would push on direct to Emain Macha. “If -one man alone and single-handed be formidable to us,” she said -to Ailill, “still more formidable will he be with the gathered -hosts of Ulster at his back, fighting for their country and their -fatherland.” - -So that very night she gave command that the army should move on, -taking the direct way into Ulster; and when the men complained -there was no road, she bid her soldiers take their swords and hew -for the chariots a path straight through the forests. Haughtily she -cried, “Though mountains and high hills stood in my way, yet should -they be hewn down before me and smoothed to level lands. So by new -paths mayhap we shall slip by Cuchulain unperceived, and fall on -Ulster sleeping; thus shall we take Cuchulain in the rear.” - -But whichever way the army turned, from that night forward -Cuchulain was on the path before it, and though the warriors could -not catch sight of him, at every point he cut off twos and threes, -whenever scouts were sent before the host. At length they could -not get the scouts to go, and whole bands went out together, but -even so but few returned alive. And strange things happened, which -alarmed the men, and Meave herself at last grew sore afraid. One -evening, thinking that all was safe, Meave and her women walked -to take the air, she carrying on her shoulders her pet bird and -squirrel. They talked together of the wonders that Cuchulain -wrought, and how that very day he had fallen alone upon a troop of -men who cut a path through woods some miles away beyond the camp to -eastward, and how but one of them escaped to tell the tale. Just -as they spoke, a short sharp sound was heard, as of a sling-stone -passing near their heads, and at Meave’s feet the squirrel dropped, -struck through the heart. Startled, she turned to see whose hand -had killed her pet, but as she turned, down from the other shoulder -dropped the bird, slain also by a stone. “Cuchulain must be near,” -the women cried; “no other hand but his so surely and so straight -can sling a stone,” and hastily they turned and sought the shelter -of the camp again. Meave sat down beside the King to tell him what -had happened. “It could not be Cuchulain,” said the King; “he was -far off on the other side of the host to-day.” Even as the words -passed from his lips, close to them whizzed a hand-sling stone, -carrying off the coronet or golden ‘mind’ that bound Meave’s hair, -but hurting not so much as a lock upon her head. “A bad stroke -that,” laughed out the fool that gambolled round the King, joking -to make him merry; “had I been he who shot that stone, the head I -would have taken off and left the ‘mind’ behind.” - -Hardly were the words out of his foolish mouth, than a second -stone, coming from the same direction as the first, in the full -middle of his forehead struck the fool, and carried off his head, -while at Meave’s feet dropped down his pointed cap. Then Ailill -started up and said, “That man will be the death of all our host, -before we ever step on Ulster’s soil. If any man henceforth makes -mock at Cuchulain, ’tis I myself will make two halves of him. Let -the whole host press on by day and night towards the coasts of -Ulster, or not one of us will live to see the gates of Emain Macha.” - -So day and night the camp moved on, but not thus could they -outstrip Cuchulain; march as they would, he still was there before -them. Yet, though they chased and sought him day and night, they -caught no sight of him; only he cut off their men. - -One day a charioteer of Orlam, Ailill’s son, was sent into a -wood to cut down poles to mend the chariots broken by the way. -It happened that Cuchulain was in this wood, and he took the -charioteer to be a man of Ulster come out before their host to -scout for them. - -“The youth is foolhardy who comes so near the army of Queen Meave,” -Cuchulain thought; “I will e’en go and warn him of his danger.” - -So he went forwards, and said, “And what, my lad, art thou doing -here?” Not knowing who it was who spoke to him, the lad replied, “I -am come out to polish chariot-poles, because our chariots have been -sorely damaged in our chase of that famous wild deer, Cuchulain; -and indeed, good warrior, I am making all the haste I can, for -fear this same Cuchulain may pounce down on me. Certainly he would -make short work of me; therefore, O Youth, if thou hast time, lend -me a hand and help me with my task.” “Willingly,” said Cuchulain, -“will I help thee. Take thou thy choice; shall I cut down the -holly-poles? or shall I smooth them for thee?” “To trim them is the -slowest work; therefore while I hew down the trees do thou smooth -off the branches and the twigs.” - -Cuchulain set to work to trim the holly-poles, and quickly were -they done. Simply by drawing them between his fingers and his toes, -he finished them to perfect smoothness, and threw them down without -a twig or bit of bark or any rough excrescence on the ground. -Closely and with surprise the young man watched this feat. At last -he said: “I am inclined to think that thou art accustomed to some -higher work than cutting chariot-poles. Who art thou then at all?” - -“I am that notable Cuchulain of whom just now thou spakest,” the -hero said. “Art thou indeed? then am I but a dead man,” the youth -cried, trembling as he spoke; “no one escapes Cuchulain’s hands -alive.” - -“Fear nothing,” replied Cuchulain, “for I never slay a man unarmed -or charioteer. Whose man art thou, and where is thy master to be -found?” “A servant I of Orlam, son of Meave, who awaits my coming -near at hand,” replied the charioteer. “Take him this message -then,” Cuchulain said. “Tell him the Hound of Ulster is at hand, -and bid him guard his head, for if we meet, his head will surely -fall.” - -Then the charioteer, right glad to get away, sought out his master -with all haste; but before he could reach him, Cuchulain had -outstripped him, and struck off the head of Orlam, holding it aloft -and shaking it before the men of Erin. - -From that time forward Cuchulain took up his position nearer to the -host, cutting off and destroying them, and at evening he would -brandish and shake his weapons before the army, so that men died of -pure fear of him. - -“Our army will be destroyed before ever we reach Emain Macha,” -said Meave at length. “If I could but see this hero who troubles -our armies, and speak to him myself, I would offer him terms; for -if we could persuade him to forsake Ulster, and come over to our -side, it would go hard with us, if all Ulster would not be subdued -before us, and ourselves return from this expedition the greatest -monarch in Ireland.” Calling Mac Roth, her herald, she said to him, -“Prepare your chariot, Mac Roth, and seek out for us this Deer of -Ill-luck who is pursuing our army and bringing misfortune upon us. -Offer him terms to forsake the service of Conor and to enter our -own service. Give him whatever terms he asks, and bid him come -himself to-morrow to confer with me, but not to cross the glen. -Well should I like to see this mighty man, but I would not have him -come too near.” - -“I care not to go on this embassy,” quoth Mac Roth; “besides, I -know not where to find Cuchulain.” “Fergus will know,” said Meave, -for she believed that Fergus was in league with his foster-son, and -she forgave him not that he loved Ulster still, in spite of all -that she had done for him; so she said, “Fergus will surely know.” - -“I know not,” said Fergus, “but this I know, that after any feat of -war or combat with an enemy it is not by sleep or lazy loitering -Cuchulain rests himself, but by exercising in the open air and sun, -letting the cool breezes blow upon his wearied body. Likely it is, -that somewhere ’twixt the mountains and the sea he will be found.” - -Mac Roth set off. Now all the land was covered with a mantle -of fresh snow, and, true enough, Cuchulain warmed himself by -practising javelin feats out on the mountain-side, in the full air -and sun. - -His charioteer looked forth and saw a man approach. “A warrior -comes, O little Cu,” he said. “What sort of warrior is he who -comes?” Cuchulain asked, but did not cease to fling his javelins -in the air. “A massive, goodly, dark-faced man, clad in an ample -mantle of dark brown, that fastens at his throat with a delicate, -richly ornamented pin of bronze. Beneath the mantle a strong coat -of skins, and sandals bound with leather thongs are on his feet. A -sharp-edged sword he carries in one hand, and in the other holds -a hazel-switch, to keep in order two great noble hounds that play -around his steps.” - -“These are the trappings of a herald,” said Cuchulain; “no doubt he -comes from Meave and Ailill to propose terms to us.” - -Mac Roth came to the place where Laeg was awaiting him. “Who is -your master, man?” said he. “My master is the young man over there; -I am his charioteer,” replied Laeg. Mac Roth turned half round and -saw Cuchulain. “And who may you serve, my young man?” quoth he. “I -serve King Conor,” said the hero. “Cannot you tell me something -more precise than that?” inquired Mac Roth again. “That much will -serve your turn,” replied the youth. “Can you then tell me where -I could find this renowned Cuchulain, who is so frightening the -men of Erin now?” pursued Mac Roth. “What do you want to say to -him that cannot be said as well to me?” “I come in embassage from -Ailill and from Meave, with power to propose terms of truce, and -with an invitation from the Queen that Cuchulain should meet and -confer with her.” “What terms do you propose?” he asked again. -“With bounteous offers I am come from Meave, promise of wealth in -cattle and in flocks, and welcome of an honoured guest to Cruachan -and a place near Meave’s own side; all this and more, if he will -quit the petty chieftain Conor, and will enter her service, and if, -moreover, he will hold his hand from smiting down our hosts; for, -in good sooth, the nightly thunder-feats he plays upon the warriors -please not the host at all.” - -Anger came upon Cuchulain to hear King Conor styled a petty chief -by this contemptuous messenger of Meave. “Go back to those who sent -you,” he replied, “for if in truth Cuchulain heard your terms, he -would reject and fling them back with scorn. To-morrow I engage -that the hero will confer with Meave herself, but only if she come -under the escort and the charge of Fergus.” - -Mac Roth returned with haste, and in the camp he sought out -Connaught’s Queen. Eagerly she asked, “Well, did you find the -champion, Mac Roth?” “All that I found was a terrible, angry, -surly fellow airing himself between the mountains and the sea; -but whether it were the formidable hero of whom men speak or no, -indeed, I know not.” - -“Did he accept our terms?” pursued the Queen. “The man I saw -rejected them outright, flinging them back at us with angry scorn. -Only he promised that to-morrow, in the glen, Cuchulain would be -found to talk of terms, but that you needs must go in company with -Fergus.” - -“To-morrow I myself will offer terms,” said Meave, “and he will not -refuse.” So on the morrow Meave and Fergus sought the glen, the -Queen keeping carefully to the far side of the valley, with the -wooded dell between themselves and the place where she believed -Cuchulain would be found. Eagerly she scanned the glen on every -side, expecting on the opposite ridge to see a mighty, ugly -warrior, fully armed, who waited for her coming. “Why comes he not, -Fergus?” she said at last. But Fergus answered not, for he was -standing all engrossed in watching a young stripling, lithe and -radiant, who on the other side the glen was practising sling-feats, -shooting at the passing birds that flew above his head, and -bringing them down alive. - -“Cuchulain is there before you,” Fergus said. “I see no one at all -save one young lad, who seems expert in feats,” replied the Queen; -“I cannot see a warrior near or far.” - -“That young lad it is who has done damage to your hosts, however,” -was the reply. “Is that boy, the young boy yonder, the famous -hero of whom all men speak?” Meave cried astonished. “Small need, -methinks, to be afraid of him, myself will speak to him and -offer him my terms.” Then in a high and haughty voice, as when a -Queen speaks to an underling, Meave called across the valley to -Cuchulain. She set before him honourable terms if he would leave -the service of King Conor and enter hers. Promptly, without an -instant’s thought, he set them all aside. Then as he seemed about -to turn away to practise feats again, in despair the Queen called -out, “Are there no terms whatever that you will accept? it is -not pleasant to our people, nor likes it them at all, to be cut -off and slaughtered night by night and harassed by your precious -thunder-feats.” - -“I tell you not my terms,” replied the youth; “it is for you to -find them out yourself.” - -As Meave and Fergus drove back to the camp, the Queen asked Fergus -if he knew the terms Cuchulain would accept. - -“I do not know,” said Fergus, “but just now there came into my -mind a conversation that I had when Cuchulain was yet a child and -in my house as foster-son. We spoke together of a champion who had -accepted conditions of his country’s foes, and I remember that -Cuchulain thought not well of him for doing so. He coloured up and -said, ‘If I were offered conditions by my country’s enemies, these -are the sort of terms I would accept. I would demand of them each -day one of their foremost warriors to meet me at the ford in single -combat; and for the space of time while I am hewing down that man, -I would permit them to march onwards with their host, and short -would be that space of time, I ween! But when the man was dead, -until the sunrise on the morrow’s morn, I would not have them move. -Thus I would keep them well in sight, and would pluck off their -warriors one by one. Also,’ he said, and laughed, ‘I would require -my enemies to keep me well supplied with food and raiment while I -fought with them; so would there be much trouble saved, and with -their food I would grow strong to fight against themselves. These -are the terms that I would ask, O foster-father Fergus, of my -foes.’ Those were his words, O Queen, when he was but a child; I -trow he will not be contented now with less.” - -Then Meave said thoughtfully: “It seems not worse that one man -should be slain each day than that a hundred men should fall at -night, even were that one man a champion of our host. I think it -better to accept his terms. Go back to him, O Fergus, and if he is -agreed, say we accept and will abide by those conditions. So we may -find at length a little peace.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -Etarcomal’s Well-deserved Fate - - -So Fergus turned his horses to go back where he had left Cuchulain. -He thought to go alone, attended only by his charioteer, but as -he drove along, the sound of wheels behind him made him turn, and -close to him he saw a youth who, sitting in his chariot, seemed to -follow hard behind, as though to catch him up. Fergus recognized -the rider as a rich young chief, brave but foolhardy, who was -known among the host as one who thought too highly of himself, -considering he had little experience of war. - -“Whither away, Etarcomal?” said Fergus, for that was the youth’s -name. “I wish to go with you,” replied the lad; “I hear that you -are on your way to seek this wonderful Cuchulain, of whom all men -talk. I feel inclined myself to have a look at him.” - -“I give you sound advice,” said Fergus, “and best it were for you -to heed my words. Turn round your chariot, and go home again.” - -“Why so?” Etarcomal asked. “Because I know full well that if you, -with your light-minded insolence, come into contact with this great -Hound of War, in all his fierceness and his terrible strength, -trouble will befall. You will provoke him with your childishness, -and ill will come, before I can prevent it. Go home again, I will -not have you come.” “If we fell out, could you not rescue me?” -Etarcomal said. “No doubt I should endeavour to succour you; but if -you seek a quarrel, or with your foolish words provoke Cuchulain, I -make no promises; you must defend yourself, and take your chance.” - -“Truly I seek no quarrel with this valiant mighty chief; I will but -look upon his powerful form and note his face, and then return with -you.” “So be it, then,” said Fergus, “let us on.” - -Afar off, Laeg espied them as they came. He and his master sat -beneath the trees close on the borders of a little wood, playing a -game of chess; but none the less he kept a sharp lookout, watching -where lay the distant camp of Meave. A single chariot approaches -from the camp, and furiously it drives across the plain: “I think -he comes to seek us, Cucuc,” said the man. “What sort is the rider -in that chariot?” questioned Cu. “I know him well, and short the -time since he was here before. Like to the side of a massive -mountain, standing sheer from out the plain, the chariot in which -that warrior rides. Mighty as the leafy branching crown of a kingly -tree which grows before a chieftain’s door, the bushy, loose, -dark-ruddy locks upon that warrior’s head. Around him is a mantle -of a noble purple hue, with fringes of bright gold, clasped with -a pin of gleaming gold and set with sparkling stones. In his left -hand he bears his bossy shield and in his right a polished spear, -with rings of metal bound from point to haft. Upon his thigh a -sword so long and great, I took it for the rudder of a boat, or -for a rainbow arched across the skies. Far-travelled and a man of -might, meseems, the guest who cometh here.” “Welcome to me the -coming of this hero and old friend,” Cuchulain cried, “my master -Fergus, who approaches us.” - -“I see behind a second smaller chariot, which seems to accompany -the massive chariot of Fergus. Spritely and full of life are the -two prancing chariot-steeds, and young and bright the man who sits -within.” - -“’Tis likely that some one of Erin’s youthful chiefs has ventured -out to have a look at me, under the guardianship of Fergus. I hear -they all are talking of me in the camp. Perhaps he wants to have a -bout with me, good Laeg, but better were it that he stayed at home.” - -Up dashed the steeds of Fergus’ chariot, and in an instant he had -sprung to earth and stood beside Cuchulain. “Welcome, O Fergus, -old familiar friend. Welcome, my foster-master and my guardian,” -Cuchulain cried, and warmly he embraced him. “Upon this lonely -watch that I am forced to keep all solitary and unaided day by -day against the men of Erin, most welcome the dear face of an old -friend.” - -“Then thou art glad indeed?” Fergus exclaimed, surprised. - -“Certainly and indeed, I am right glad! Not much have I to offer in -this wild desert place, but all I have is fully at your service. -When o’er the plain a flock of wild-duck wings its way, one of them -you shall have, with, in good times, the full half of another; if -fish come up the estuary, a whole one shall be yours, with all that -appertains to it; a handful of fresh cress straight from the brook, -a spray of marshwort or of green sorrel shall be yours; ’tis all I -have to give. When you are thirsty, from the running stream that -trickles through the sand, you’ll get a drink; and if, some fall of -day, a hero calls you to come down and wage a single combat at the -ford, you shall take rest and sleep, while I will fight your enemy -or keep watch.” - -“Truly I well believe it,” Fergus said. “Too well I know what -straits for food and drink have fallen on thee in this raid, and -well I know thy hospitable mind. But at this time we seek not food -and drink, nor can we stay for combats or for rest; I come at -Ailill’s and at Meave’s command, to tell thee what we think are thy -conditions, and that we will hold and keep to them.” - -“I too will keep the compact brought by Fergus’ hand, and to the -letter I will carry it out,” the hero said; “only abide awhile with -me, and let us waste a little time in talk of olden days.” - -“I dare not stay to talk at this time, O beloved foster-son,” -Fergus replied; “the men of Erin doubt me, and will think that I -am proving traitor to their cause, and betraying them to thee; -for well they know I love thee, though, alas! at this time I am -fighting with my country’s foes and thine. One thing I ask of thee -for old affection’s sake, because thou art my pupil and my friend, -that if at any moment in this war, thou and myself art found -opposing each the other face to face, thou then wilt turn and flee -before me, that upon my pupil and my foster-son I be not forced to -redden my sword in fight. Promise me this.” - -“Though I be indeed thy pupil and thy foster-son,” replied the -youth, “yet loth am I to promise this; never have I turned my back -on any friend or foe, and to flee even before thee, O Fergus, likes -me not. Ask me not this, but any other thing gladly and joyfully -I grant to thee.” “No need for thee to feel like this,” Fergus -replied; “no shame to thee is what I contemplate, but only that our -ancient love and friendship be not marred. Do in this thing but -what I ask, and I in my turn, in the final battle of the Raid, when -thou art wounded sore and drenched with blood, will turn and flee -from thee. And surely if the men of Erin see Fergus in flight, they -too will fly, and all the host of Meave will scatter and disperse, -like clouds before the sun.” - -“On these terms willingly I give my word; for so will Ulster profit -by my flight. Now fare thee well, good Fergus. Bid the host of -Meave to send their strongest and their best to combat with me, one -by one, and I will give a good account to Ulster of them, or will -die.” Then a right loving leave they took each of the other, and -Fergus set out to return to the camp. - -But the lad Etarcomal sat on still, looking at Cuchulain, and for -the first time the hero noticed him. - -“Who are you, and what are you staring at, fellow?” he asked. “I -look at you,” he said. “You can see me easily enough, I am not very -big. But if you knew it, little animals can be dangerous sometimes, -and so can I. But now that you have had a good look at me, tell me -what you think of me.” - -“I do not think much of you,” Etarcomal said. “You seem to me a -very nice, wonderfully pretty youth and clever at playing sports -and feats; but that anyone should think of you as a good warrior or -a brave man, or should call you the ‘Hero of Valour’ or the ‘Hammer -of Destruction,’ that I cannot understand. I do not know, indeed, -why anyone should be afraid of you. I am not afraid of you at all.” - -“I am aware,” said Cuchulain, “that you came hither under the -protection of my master Fergus, and that he is surety for your safe -return; but by the gods whom I adore, I swear that if it were not -for the honour of Fergus, only your broken bones and disjointed -members should have been sent back to Meave after those insolent -words.” - -“No need to threaten me,” said Etarcomal; “I was here when you -made an agreement with Fergus to fight every day one of the men of -Ireland. By that wonderful agreement that he made with you, none -other of the men of Erin shall come to-morrow to meet you but only -I myself. To-day I do not touch you, but let you live a little -longer.” - -“However early you may choose to come to the ford,” said Cuchulain, -“you will find me there before you. I promise you I will not run -away.” - -Etarcomal turned his chariot to drive back to the camp. But hardly -had he started when he exclaimed, “Do you know, fellow, I have -promised to fight the famous Cuchulain to-morrow at the dawn? Now, -do you think it best to wait till then, or to go back and fight him -now? I do not know that I can wait.” - -“I should say,” replied the charioteer, “that if you mean to fight -Cuchulain at all, ’twere better to get it over while he is close -at hand.” “Turn the chariot, and drive it left-handwise towards -Cuchulain, for by that sign we challenge him. I swear by all my -gods, I never will go back until I take the head of this wild -youth, and stick it up on high before the host.” - -Laeg saw the chariot returning over the plain. “The last -chariot-rider who went from us is coming back again, Cucuc!” said -he. “What does he want?” said Cu. “He is challenging us by driving -with the left side of the chariot towards us,” answered Laeg. - -“I do not want to fight the boy,” Cuchulain said. “Shamed should I -be were I to slay a lad who came hither under the guardianship of -Fergus. Get me my sword out of its sheath, however, Laeg; I’ll give -him a good fright and send him home.” - -Etarcomal came up. “What do you want now, fellow?” cried Cuchulain, -vexed. “I am come back to fight you,” said the lad. “I will not -fight you, now or any time,” Cuchulain said. “By all the rules of -war you are obliged to fight, for I have challenged you.” - -Then Cuchulain took his sword, and with one stroke he sliced away -the sod beneath Etarcomal’s feet, laying him flat upon the ground, -his face turned upwards. “Now go,” Cuchulain said, “I wash my hands -of you. Had you not come under the care of my good master Fergus, -I would have cut you into little bits a while ago. Beware, for I -have given you a warning.” Slowly Etarcomal rose from the ground. -“I will not budge a step until I have your head,” he said doggedly, -though in his heart he began to be afraid. Then Cuchulain played -on him another sword-feat; with one clean stroke he shore off all -his hair, from back to front, from ear to ear, till not a hair -remained; but not a single drop of blood he drew or even scratched -his skin. “Now off with you,” he said a second time, “you look -absurd enough, I promise you. The men of Erin and the chiefs will -laugh when you go back, and cool your pride a bit.” - -“I will not stir until I have your head; either you gain the -victory over me, and win renown, or I take off your head from you, -and get the glory and the praise of it,” he sullenly replied. - -“Well, let it be as you desire, then, and I am he who takes your -head from you, and I shall win the glory and renown of which you -make so much.” And at that word, with one stroke of his weapon -Cuchulain smote the boy, and cut him right in twain, so that he -fell divided to the ground. Terrified, the charioteer turned round -the horse’s head and fled back towards the camp. Close to the tents -he came on Fergus, who leisurely and thoughtfully drove home. He -saw the empty chariot passing him. “Where is your master, fellow?” -Fergus cried. “Has he not come with you?” “Even now he has been -cut in twain by that fierce, powerful hero, at the ford,” the man -cried, looking scared; and, waiting not for any answer, he tore on -to the camp. - -“O come, my wild young fosterling,” thought Fergus to himself, -“this is too bad indeed, to slay a lad who came under my -protection. Turn back the chariot,” said he aloud, “we go back to -Cuchulain at the ford.” - -No sooner had they come where Cuchulain stood brooding above the -body of Etarcomal, and wiping down his bloody sword, than Fergus -called aloud, “What came to you, you hasty sprite, you hot-headed -young fury; could you not keep your hands from slaying even a lad -who came merely to look at you and under my protection? This act of -yours I do not understand at all. It is not like the deed or custom -of my foster-son.” - -“Be not so angry, O my friend and master,” gently Cuchulain -replied; “all that I could I did to send him safely home. Ask -his own charioteer all that has taken place. He would not take a -warning, and in the end I must have stood and had my head chopped -off without defence, or, as I did, taken his head from him. Would -it have pleased you better had I let the lad take off my head from -me?” - -“Indeed, I should not have been pleased at all; the lad was -insolent and foolhardy, and right well deserved his ignominious -death. Tie his feet to the chariot-tail, my charioteer, and I will -take him home.” So to his own chariot Fergus tied the boy, and -dragged him back to camp. Meave saw them come, and heard the people -shouting as they passed, the bleeding body draggled in the dust. - -“Why, how is this?” she cried. “Is this, O Fergus of the mighty -deeds, the fashion in which you bring back the tender whelp who -went out from us but some hours ago, brilliant in life and gaiety -and youth? the whelp we sent out safely, as we thought, in Fergus’ -guardianship? Of wondrous value is the guardianship of Fergus; and -safe is he who trusts himself to it!” - -“It is not well, O Queen, that whelps so brazen and untried as this -should face the Hound of War; let them remain henceforth in safety -in their kennels, gnawing their bones. The lad Etarcomal was bold -and insolent; full well he reaped the fate he brought upon himself!” - -Sadly, but with all honour, they buried Etarcomal, heaping his -grave, and rearing a stone above it with his name engraven -thereupon in ogam lines. That night Cuchulain did not molest the -men of Erin because they were occupied with funeral rites; but -provisions and apparel were sent to him, according to the treaty -made between them. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -The Fight with Spits of Holly-Wood - - -Thenceforward day by day some warrior of the camp of Meave and -Ailill went forth to fight Cuchulain, and day by day they fell -before him. But at first, because he was young, the prime warriors -of Connaught despised him, and refused to fight with him, and Meave -offered them great gifts and made large promises to persuade them -to contend with him. Among the chiefs was a rough burly man and a -good fighter, whose name was Nacrantal, whom Meave used all her -arts to force to challenge Cuchulain. And in the end, when she had -promised him large gifts of land and even Finnabar, her daughter, -to be his wife, he was induced to go. But even so he went not out -as though to fight an equal. No arms or armour would he take, but -for his sole protection nine spits of holly-wood, sharp at the -points and hardened in the fire. - -With these small weapons in his hand, one morning early he set -forth to seek Cuchulain. He found the hero busied in pursuing -wild-fowl that were flying overhead; for from the birds of the air -and fish of the streams, and from the berries of the hedge and -cresses of the brook, long had he been obliged to get his daily -meal. And even now, although at times Meave kept her word and sent -provision over to her foe, yet often she forgot or failed to keep -her promise, so angry was she when from day to day her strong men -were cut down before his sword. - -He spied Nacrantal advancing thus unarmed, and, all as though he -had not seen him come, he went on with the stalking of the birds. - -Closer the warrior drew and with good aim he flung his spits of -wood to pierce Cuchulain. But still the youth, not stopping for a -moment in his task, leaped lightly over each spit as it fell, so -that they struck the ground quite harmlessly, not one of them so -much as touching him. The nine spits thrown, Nacrantal turned away -and sought the camp. “Not much I think of this renowned Cuchulain -of whom men talk so big; hardly had he perceived me coming up, than -off he ran as fast as he could go!” - -“We thought as much,” said Meave; “right well we knew that if a -warrior brave and fully trained were sent against him, soon would -this beardless braggart take to his heels.” - -When Fergus heard these boasts of Meave, he grew ashamed; for -strange, indeed, it seemed to him to hear it said that his young -foster-son would flee from any single man, however bold or stout -that man might be. Straightway he called for one of the princes of -Ulster who was in Meave’s camp, and sent him to Cuchulain. This was -the message that he bore. “Fergus would have Cuchulain understand, -that though when standing before warriors he once had done great -deeds, better it were that he should hide himself in some secret -place where none could find him or hear of him more, than that he -should run away from any single man, whoever that man might be. -Say to Cuchulain that not greater is the shame that falls upon -himself, than Ulster’s shame and ignominy and disgrace, because he -stands to watch the border-land in Ulster’s stead.” - -“Who said I ran away?” Cuchulain said, surprised, when the message -was delivered to him. “Who dared to brag and tell such tales of me?” - -“Nacrantal told this story in the camp, and all the warriors boast -among themselves that at the very sight of a trained warrior you -were afraid and quickly put to flight.” - -“Did you and Fergus heed a boast like that?” replied the youth. “Do -you and Fergus not yet understand that I, Cuchulain, fight no men -unarmed, or messengers, or charioteers, but only men-at-arms, fully -equipped? That man came out against me all unarmed; no weapons -in his hand but bits of wood, with which he played some childish -games, throwing them in the air. Let but Nacrantal come to-morrow -morn and fight me like a warrior at the ford, with all his weapons, -man-like, in his hand; he then shall take his answer back from me. -And tell him, that if he comes before the day dawn, or long after -it, he will find Cuchulain waiting there for him.” - -Long and tedious seemed that night to Nacrantal, for eagerly he -watched the coming of the hour when he should meet Cuchulain at -the ford, and make an end of him. Early he rose, and bade his -charioteer to bring his heavy weapons in a cart, while he went -forwards to the meeting-place. There at the ford he saw Cuchulain -stand, awaiting his coming, as he had promised. - -“Are you Cuchulain?” said Nacrantal, for now he stood much closer -to him and observed his youthfulness. - -“What if I were?” said he. “If you are Cuchulain, indeed, I am come -here to tell you that I will not fight with any beardless boy; -not in the least inclined am I to carry back to camp the head of a -little playful lamb!” - -“I am not the man you seek at all,” Cuchulain cried; “go round the -hill and you will find him there.” - -Now while Nacrantal made his way to the other side of the hill, -Cuchulain came to Laeg, his charioteer. “Smear me a false beard -with blackberry juice,” he said. “No warrior of fame will fight -with me, because I have no beard.” Laeg took the juice of -blackberries, and sheep’s wool, and with it made a long two-pointed -beard, such as prime warriors wore, and twined the ends and caught -them in his belt, dyeing it black with juice. Then on the hero came -anger and his battle-fury, such as came on him when a combat lay -before him with a good warrior, or when he alone should fight a -host. - -A subtle change came over all his face. The radiant youthfulness -passed away, and all the boyishness Nacrantal had seen a while ago, -and in its place a stern ferocious look, as of a prime warrior -waiting for his foe. His stature seemed to grow, his form to -enlarge, and terrible in its strength and fierceness was his aspect -as he donned his fighting-gear. He grasped his weapons in his hand, -and with great strides he hastened round the hill. - -So great his wrath and eagerness for combat, that as he passed a -standing pillar-stone no smaller than himself, in flinging his -mantle round him as he went he caught the stone up in his mantle’s -folds and carried it along with him, but never was he conscious of -its weight, or even knew he carried it. - -Now in this guise Nacrantal knew him not. “Where is Cuchulain?” -inquired he of the men who came with him. “The lad said that we -should find him round the hill.” - -“Cuchulain stands before you yonder,” said the Ulstermen who had -come out to watch the fight. - -“It was not thus that he appeared before me yesterday,” Nacrantal -said. “Cuchulain seemed a stripling, and his beard not grown, but -this prime warrior hath a mighty beard.” - -“Nevertheless, I counsel you, defend yourself from this prime -warrior,” Fergus replied; “that will be much the same to you as -though you did contend with Cuchulain himself.” - -Then Nacrantal made a furious onset at Cuchulain with his sword, -but it struck on the pillar-stone that he carried beneath his -cloak, and broke off short, close to his hand. Before he could -recover from the thrust, Cuchulain sprang upon him, and lifting -his sword on high with both hands, he brought it down on his -adversary’s head, and there on his own shield he fell dead, smitten -with one blow. “Alas!” said Nacrantal as he fell, “they said true -who said that you were the best warrior in all Ireland.” - -From that time forward, it was not easy for Meave to get her men of -war to enter into combat with Cuchulain; for each one of them said, -“Not I; I will not go, why should my clan furnish a man to go out -to certain death?” So Meave was forced to promise great rewards and -possessions to her warriors before she could induce them to take -arms against Cuchulain. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -The Combat with Ferdia - - -Now among the hosts of Meave was Ferdia, son of Daman, Cuchulain’s -companion and friend when together they learned warlike feats in -Shadow-land. - -All the while that Cuchulain fought with the chiefs of Connaught, -Ferdia remained aloof, keeping within his tent, far from the tent -of Ailill and of Meave, whose ways and cunning plans he liked -not. For though against the men of Ulster in general he would -have aided them, he would not take part in single combat against -his friend and fellow-pupil. For he thought on his love for his -old comrade, and the days of youth that they had spent together, -and the conflicts and dangers that side by side they twain had -faced; and day by day he sent his messengers to watch the fighting -and to bring him word, for he feared lest harm should come to -Cuchulain, fighting alone and single-handed against all the mighty -men of Meave. Each evening came his watchers back, bringing him -tidings, and greatly he rejoiced because he heard of the prowess of -Cuchulain and of destruction inflicted on the hosts of Meave. - -But one day, when the fighting had been going on for weeks, and -many of her best men and fighting warriors had been plucked off, -Meave thought of Ferdia; and at the council-meeting of that night, -when the chief men and counsellors met to settle who should go on -the morrow to fight Cuchulain, she said, “Who should go, if not -Ferdia, son of Daman, the warrior whose valour and feats are as -the valour and feats of Cuchulain himself? For in the one school -were they trained, and equal they are in every way, in courage and -the knowledge of weapons and in skill in feats of strength. Well -matched these two would be, if they were to fight together.” And -all the men of war said, “It is a good thought; Ferdia shall go.” - -So messengers were sent to Ferdia to bring him to Meave, for she -said she would see him herself, to persuade him with her own mouth -to go against his comrade. But when the heralds came to the tent of -Ferdia, he knew well enough for what purpose they had come, and he -refused to see them, neither would he go with them to Meave. - -When Meave heard that, she sent again, but her messengers this time -were not men of war and heralds, but satirists, to abuse him and -to warn him that he should die a shameful death, and that disgrace -should fall upon him before all the host, if he obeyed not the -Queen’s commands. And they gave their message to Ferdia, and told -him that his warrior fame would pass away from him, and that he -would be spoken of by his comrades with ignominy and disgrace if he -did not come. - -When Ferdia heard that they would spread evil tales about him, and -disgrace him before the host of his own fellow-warriors, he said, -“If I must die, it were better to die in fair and open fight, even -with a friend, than to die disgraced, skulking as a coward before -my fellow-men and comrades.” - -So he went with the messengers, and when he came to the Queen’s -tent, all who were in the tent, both great lords and nobles, -rose up to receive Ferdia, and he was conducted with honour and -reverence to the presence of the Queen. Then the Queen greeted him -and rose up and placed him at her right hand, and spoke kindly -to him. And a great feast was made, and that night Ferdia was -entertained with right great dignity, and food and pleasant liquors -were served out of the best, so that he became merry and disposed -to do all that Meave demanded. Then, when he was forgetful of all -but the company in which he was, Meave set before his mind the -princely gifts that she would bestow upon him if he would free her -from her enemy Cuchulain, the destroyer of her host. These were the -great rewards she offered him; a noble chariot with steeds such as -befitted a king, and a train of twelve men-at-arms, fully equipped, -to accompany him, as princes and great chiefs are accompanied, -wherever he moved. Moreover, she promised him lands broad and -fertile on the plains of Connaught, free of tribute or rent for -ever, and that he should be her own son-in-law and next the throne, -for she said that she would give him her daughter Finnabar to wife. -Now Finnabar sat next to Ferdia at his left hand, and she was fair -to look upon, with ruddy cheeks and hair of gold, and the garments -of a princess flowing round her; and Ferdia was dazzled with her -beauty, and with the lavish offers made by Meave, until he was -ready to promise anything in life she wished. And when, the banquet -over, young Finnabar arose and filled a cup brim full with mead, -and kissed the cup and handed it to him, he knew not what to say. -For still the memory of his youth in Shadow-land, Cuchulain’s love -to him and his love to Cuchulain came over him again, and more -than half he loathed what he had done. So looking now behind and -now before, and loitering in his mind, he said aloud, “Rather, O -Meave, than do the thing you ask, and ply my warrior-hand upon my -friend, I would pick out six champions of your host, the best and -bravest among all your men, and fight with them. With each alone or -all together willingly would I contend.” - -Then from her queenly robe Meave plucked her brooch, more precious -to her than any gift, for all the kings and queens of Connaught -had worn that splendid brooch, the sign and symbol of their -sovereignty; she stooped, and with her own royal hands, she placed -the glittering jewelled pin in Ferdia’s mantle. - -“See, warrior,” she said, “I have bestowed on you the princely -dignity, so that you now will rank beside the King; and as for -those six chosen champions you have named, I give them to you as -your sureties that these our promises will be fulfilled; go now -and fight Cuchulain.” At that Ferdia looked up, and caught the -glance of Finnabar most sweetly smiling down into his face, and -close beside her the queen bending over him, and Erin’s chiefs and -warriors standing round; and all his mind was lifted up within his -breast, and he forgot Cuchulain and their ancient love, and said: -“Though in this fight I fall, O Queen, I go to meet the Hound.” - -Fergus was standing at the king’s right hand, and when he overheard -those words that Ferdia spoke, fear for his foster-son rose in his -heart. For well he knew the might of Ferdia’s arms, and that he was -of all the chiefs of Meave the bravest and the best, and well he -knew that all the feats that Scáth had taught to Cuchulain, save -only the “Gae Bolga” or Body Spear, she taught to Ferdia likewise. -Ferdia besides was older than Cuchulain, and riper in experience -of war, well-built and powerful. So when he heard those words, -Fergus went out in haste, and though the night was late he sprang -into his chariot, and set forth to find Cuchulain. - -“I am rejoiced at thy coming, my good friend Fergus,” said -Cuchulain, as the chariot drew up beside him; “too seldom is it -that on this Raid of Cooley we twain meet face to face.” - -“Gladly I accept thy welcome, O foster-son and pupil,” Fergus said. -“I come to tell thee who it is that on the morrow has bound himself -to meet thee at the ford, and urge thee to beware of him.” - -“I am attentive,” Cuchulain answered. “Who is the man who comes?” - -“’Tis thine own friend, thy comrade and fellow-pupil, the great and -valiant champion of the west, Ferdia, son of Daman, called of all -men the ‘Horn-Skin,’ so tough and strong for fight is he, so hard -to pierce or wound with sword or spear. Beware of him, it may be -even the Gae Bolga will not avail to harm the flesh of Ferdia.” - -“Upon my word and truly,” cried Cuchulain, “this is ill news you -bring; never should I have thought my friend would challenge me.” - -“We thought as much,” Fergus replied; “we all avowed thou wouldst -not relish the coming of Ferdia; for of all warriors that have -hitherto come to the combat at the ford, he is most formidable and -best prepared. Be wary, therefore, rest well this night, and try -and prove thine arms; come to the combat fresh and amply armed.” - -“Utterly dost thou mistake my meaning, Fergus, my friend; not from -any fear of him, but from the greatness of my love for him, I hold -his challenge strange and unwelcome. For this cause only I regret -his coming.” - -“Yet and in truth,” Fergus replied, “no shame to thee or any man to -be afraid of Ferdia, for in his arms is strength as of a hundred -men; swords wound him not, spears pierce him not, and tried and -mettlesome his heart and arms.” - -“Now this, O Fergus, deem I strange indeed, that thou of all -men shouldst warn me to be careful before any single warrior in -Ireland; well it is that it was thee, O Fergus, and not another -man, who brought me such a warning. From the beginning of winter -till the coming of spring have I stood here alone, fighting each -day a hardy warrior, and never have I turned back before the best -fighting man whom Meave has sent against me, nor shall I turn back -before Ferdia, O Fergus. For as the rush bows down before the -torrent in the midst of the stream, so will Ferdia bow down under -my sword, if once he shows himself here in combat with the Hound of -Ulster.” - -That night there was no cheerfulness nor gaiety nor quiet pleasure -in the tent of Ferdia, as there was wont to be on other nights; for -he had made known what Meave had said to him and the command laid -upon him to go on the morrow to combat with Cuchulain; and though -Ferdia was merry and triumphant on his return, because of the gifts -of the queen and the affection of Finnabar, and all the flattery -that had been skilfully put upon him, it was not so with the men -that were of his own household, for they understood that wherever -those two champions of battle, those two slayers of a hundred -should meet together, one of the two must fall, or both must fall: -and well they knew that if one only should fall there, it would -not be Cuchulain who would give way, for it was not easy to combat -with Cuchulain on the Raid of the Kine of Cooley. - -As for Ferdia, through the first part of the night, he slept -heavily, being overcome with the liquor he had taken, and the -fatigues of the day; but towards the middle of the night, he awoke -from his slumber, and remembered the combat on the morrow, and -anxiety and heavy care began to weigh him down; fear of Cuchulain -on the one hand, and sorrow that he had promised to do combat with -his friend, and fear of losing Finnabar and Meave’s great promises -on the other; and he tossed about, and could sleep no longer. So he -arose and called his charioteer, and said, “Yoke me my horses, and -come with me; I shall sleep better at the ford.” But his charioteer -began to dissuade him, “It would be better for you not to go,” -said he, “trouble will come of this meeting. It is not a small -thing for any warrior in the world to do combat against the Bulwark -of Ulster, even against Cuchulain.” “Be silent, my servant,” he -said; “though the ravens of carnage croak over the ford, ready to -tear my flesh, it is not the part of a valiant man to turn back -from his challenge; away with us to the ford before the break of -dawn.” So the horses were harnessed and the chariot yoked, and -they dashed onwards to the ford. “Take the cushions and skins out -of the chariot, good my lad,” said Ferdia, “and spread them under -me upon the bank that I may take deep repose and refreshing sleep -upon them; little sleep I got this night, on account of the anxiety -of the combat that is before me on the morn.” So the servant -unharnessed the horses, and spread the skins and chariot-cushions -under Ferdia, and yet he could not sleep. - -“Look out, lad, and see that Cuchulain is not coming,” he said. “He -is not, I am sure,” said the lad. “But look again for certain,” -said the warrior. “Cuchulain is not such a little speck that we -should not see him if he were there,” replied the lad. “You are -right, O boy; Cuchulain has heard that a prime warrior is coming -to meet him to-day, and he has thought well to keep away on that -account.” - -“I should not say bad things about Cuchulain in his absence,” -said the lad. “Do you not remember how, when you were fighting in -Eastern lands, your sword was wrenched from you, and you would -have perished by the hands of your enemies, but that Cuchulain -rushed forward to recover it, and he slew a hundred warriors on -his path before he got your sword and brought it back to you? Do -you remember where we were that night?” “I have forgotten,” Ferdia -said. “We were in the house of Scáth’s steward,” said the boy; “and -do you not remember how the ugly churl of a cook hit you in the -back with a three-pronged meat-spit, and sent you out over the door -like a shot? And do you not recollect, how Cuchulain came into the -house and gave the rascal a blow with his sword, and chopped him in -two to avenge you? If it were only on that account, you should not -say that you are a better warrior than Cuchulain.” “Why did you not -remind me of all these things before we came here?” said Ferdia; “I -doubt whether I should have come if I had remembered all this at -first. Pull up the cushions under my head, or I shall never get to -sleep. Will you be sure to keep a sharp look-out?” “I will watch so -well, that unless men drop out of the clouds to fight with you, no -one shall escape me,” said the boy; “and I will sing you to sleep -with a lullaby.” Then as Ferdia sank into repose and refreshing -slumber, he began to croon this ancient song which Grainne sang -over Dermot, when he was hiding from Finn in the forests of the -west. - - “Sleep a little, a little little, thou need’st feel no fear or dread, - Youth to whom my love is given, I am watching near thy head. - - Sleep a little, with my blessing, Dermot of the lightsome eye, - I will guard thee as thou dreamest, none shall harm while I am by. - - Sleep, O little lamb, whose home-land was the country of the lakes, - In whose womb the torrents rumble, from whose sides the river breaks. - - Sleep as slept the ancient Poet, Dedach, minstrel of the South, - When he snatched from Conall Cernach, Eithne of the laughing mouth. - - Sleep as slept the comely Finncha ‘neath the falls of Assaroe, - Who, when stately Slaine sought him, laid the Hard-head Failbe low. - - Sleep in joy, as slept fair Aine, Gailan’s daughter of the West, - Where, amid the flaming torches, she and Duvac found their rest. - - Sleep as Dega, who in triumph, ‘ere the sun sank o’er the land, - Stole the maiden he had craved for, plucked her from fierce Decell’s - hand. - - Fold of Valour, sleep a little, Glory of the Western World, - I am wondering at thy beauty, marvelling how thy locks are curled. - - Like the parting of two children, bred together in one home, - Like the breaking of two spirits, if I did not see you come. - - Swirl the leaves before the tempest, moans the night-wind o’er the - lea, - Down its stoney bed the streamlet hurries onward to the sea. - - In the swaying boughs the linnet twitters in the darkling light, - On the upland wastes of heather wings the grouse its heavy flight. - - In the marshland by the river sulks the otter in its den, - And the piping of the peeweet sounds across the distant fen. - - On the stormy mere the wild-duck pushes outward from the brake, - With her downy brood around her seeks the centre of the lake. - - In the east the restless roe-deer bellows to its frightened hind, - On thy track the wolf-hounds gather, sniffing up against the wind. - - Yet, O Dermot, sleep a little, this one night our fear hath fled, - Lad to whom my love is given, see, I watch beside thy bed.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -The Fall of Ferdia - - -On that night before the conflict, Cuchulain also was preparing -himself for what lay before him on the morrow. No sooner had Fergus -left him, than Laeg his charioteer came to him, and said, “How, -my master, will you spend this night?” “I had not thought,” said -Cuchulain, “of spending it in any other way than other nights. What -would you have me do?” - -“I am thinking,” said the charioteer, “that Ferdia will not come -alone to the ford to-morrow, but that in such a fight as this, -the chief warriors and nobles of Ireland will be present to see -the combat. And sure am I that Ferdia will come to the combat -washed and bathed, with his hair fresh cut and plaited, in all the -magnificence of a battle-champion; but you are fatigued and worn -after these combats, unwashed and uncombed, for it has not been -possible to adorn yourself in these times of strife and lonely -living. Glad should I be, therefore, if you would return to your -wife, to Emer of the beautiful hair, where she is awaiting you at -Slieve Fuad, and there adorn yourself, so that you may not appear -dishevelled and distressed before the men of Erin.” So that night -Cuchulain went home to Emer, and gentle and loving was she to him -after their separation from each other; and very early in the -morning he returned refreshed and comforted to the place where he -had been encamped. “Harness our horses for us now, O Laeg, and yoke -our war-chariot, for an early-rising champion was Ferdia in the old -time. If he is waiting for us at the ford, maybe he is thinking the -morning long.” - -So the chariot was yoked and Cuchulain sprang into it, and with the -speed of a swallow, or of a wild deer flying before the hounds, -he set forth to the place of conflict. And round the head of the -High Rock and Bulwark of Ulster, even Cuchulain, there gathered -the Fairy People of the Glens and the Wild Wizard Folk of the -air and mists, and the demon sprites of war and battle, shouting -and screaming before the impending conflict; they hovered over -him and around him, as it was their wont to do when he went to -mortal combat, and the air was filled with their noises and hoarse -wailings, rejoicing in the slaughter. - -Soon, indeed, the charioteer of Ferdia heard the uproar, and he -arose and began to awaken his master, chanting a song in praise of -Cuchulain, and calling on Ferdia to arise and meet him. Then Ferdia -sprang up. - -“How looks Cuchulain this morning?” he cried. “Surely weak and -faint he comes to the ford, after a whole winter passed in -combating the men of Erin.” - -“Not with signs of weakness or of faintness advances the warrior -towards us,” the charioteer replied, “but with clangour of arms and -clatter of wheels and the trampling of horses equal to a king’s, -this warrior draweth nigh. The clanking of the missile-shields I -hear, and the hiss of spears, the roll of the chariot with the -beautiful silver yoke. Heroic the champion who urges on the steeds, -a noble hawk of battle, a martial hero, a Hound of Combat. A -year agone I knew that he would come, the stay of Emain, Ulster’s -watchful Hound. Over Bray Rossa I perceive him come, skirting the -hamlet of the Ancient Tree, along the broad highway; the Hound, the -Hound of Ulster in his might.” - -“O come, fellow, have done with this belauding of our enemy; -methinks a bribe has passed from him to you, to bid you sing his -praises. He has slept sound, no doubt, for he is late. I tire of -waiting here to kill him. Let us get ready now at once to meet him.” - -Then Cuchulain drew up on the borders of the ford. And on his way -he had appealed to his charioteer, instructing him that should he -grow weak in the fight, or seem to be giving way before Ferdia, -he was to taunt him with cowardice, and fling reproaches and bad -names at him, so that his anger would arise and he would fight more -valiantly than before; but if he were doing well, his charioteer -was to stand upon the brink and praise him, to keep his spirits up. -And Laeg laughed and said, “Is it on this wise that I must taunt -thee? ‘Arise, Cuchulain, a yearling babe would fight better than -thou; that man Ferdia overthrows thee as easily as a cat waves her -tail; like foam dancing on the water, he blows thee along; he pulls -thee about as a mother might play with her little boy!’ How will -that do?” - -“That will do very well,” said Cuchulain, laughing also; “surely -I shall fight better after that.” And with that they came to the -ford, and Cuchulain drew up upon the north side, and Ferdia on the -south side of the stream. - -“What has brought thee hither, O Cua?” said Ferdia. Now Cua means -“squint-eyed,” and Ferdia called him by this scoffing name, because -he wished to appear bold and unconcerned, though in his heart he -feared and was ashamed; yet he liked not to show his fear. “Welcome -thy coming, O squint-eyed one.” - -But Cuchulain answered seriously, “Up to to-day, O Ferdia, no -greeting would have been more welcome than greeting of thine, for I -should have esteemed it the welcome of a friend. To-day, however, -I do not count it such. And indeed, Ferdia, more fitting would -it have been that I should offer welcome to thee, than that thou -shouldst offer it to me, seeing that it is thou who hast intruded -into my province and not I into thine. It was for me to challenge -thee to fight, and not for thee to challenge me.” - -“What induced thee to come to this combat at all, O Cuchulain,” -replied Ferdia, “as though thou wert mine equal? Dost thou not -remember, that in the old days when we were with Scáth, thou wast -in attendance on me as my pupil, and thy place it was to tie up my -javelins for me, and to make my couch?” - -“That indeed is true,” Cuchulain answered gravely; “for I was in -those years thy junior in age and standing, in feats and in renown. -I did then but my duty. But to-day it is no longer so; there is -not now in the world any champion to whom I am not equal, or whom -I would refuse to fight. O Ferdia, my friend, it was not well for -thee that thou didst listen to the enticements of Ailill and of -Meave, urging thee to come out and fight with me. When we were -with Scáth it was side by side that we went to every battle and -every battle-field, to conflicts and to feats of war. Together we -wandered through strange unknown lands, together we encountered -dangers and difficulty; in all things we stood side by side, aiding -and supporting one another. - - “We were heart’s companions - Comrades in assemblies, - Brothers, who together - Slept the dreamless sleep. - In all paths of peril, - In all days of danger, - Each of us, as brothers, - Would his brother keep.” - -“O Cuchulain of the beautiful feats,” Ferdia replied, “though -together we have learned the secrets of knowledge, and though I -have listened now to thy recital of our bonds of fellowship, it is -from me that thy first wounds shall come; think not upon our old -comradeship, O Hound, for it shall not profit thee; O Hound, it -shall not profit thee. We lose our time in this wise; let us choose -our weapons and begin. What arms shall we use to-day, O Cuchulain?” - -“It is thine to choose our arms to-day, for it was thou who first -didst reach the ford.” - -“Dost thou remember,” said Ferdia, “the missile weapons we used to -practise with Scáth?” “Full well I remember them,” said Cuchulain. - -“If thou dost remember them, let us have recourse to them now,” -said Ferdia. - -So they took in their hands their two great protecting shields, -engraved with emblematic devices, to cover their bodies, and their -eight small sharp-edged shields to throw horizontally, and their -eight light javelins, and their eight dirks with ivory handles, and -their eight little darts for the fight. Backward and forward flew -the weapons between them like bees on the wing on a sunny day. From -the dim light of early dawn until midday they continued to throw -those weapons, yet although their aim was so good that not one of -them missed its mark, so skilful also was the defence, that not -a drop of blood was drawn on either side; all the missiles being -caught full on their protecting shields. - -“Let us drop these feats now, O Cuchulain,” said his adversary, -“for it is not by them that our contest will be decided.” - -“Let us drop them, indeed, if the time be come.” Then they ceased -from casting, and threw their weapons into the hands of their -charioteers. - -“What weapons shall we resort to next, O Cuchulain?” said Ferdia. - -“With thee is the choice of weapons to-day,” said Cuchulain again. - -“Let us then take our straight, polished, hardened spears,” said -Ferdia, “with their flaxen strings to cast them with.” So they -took their great protecting shields in their hands, and their -well-trimmed spears, and they continued to shoot and harass each -other from the full middle of the day till eventide. And although -the defence was not less careful than before, yet was the casting -so good, that each of them drew blood and inflicted wounds upon the -other that afternoon. - -“Let us now stop casting for the present, O Cuchulain,” said his -adversary. “Let us stop, indeed, for the evening has come.” - -They ceased, and threw their weapons into their charioteers’ hands, -and they ran towards each other, and each put his hands round his -comrade’s neck, and they gave three loving kisses of old-time -friendship to each other before they separated for the night. That -night their horses were stabled in the same paddock, and their -charioteers lay beside the same fire; and for the two combatants -their charioteers spread beds of green rushes, with pillows such -as are needed for wounded men. And the wise physicians and men of -healing came to heal and tend them, and they applied salves made -from plants, such as wise men know, to their hurts and gashes, and -soothing herbs to their wounds; and of every herb and soothing -salve that was applied to the wounds of Cuchulain, he sent an equal -portion over the ford to Ferdia, so that no man among the host of -Meave should be able to say, if Ferdia fell by him, that it was -because Cuchulain had better means of healing than he. Also of -every kind of food and of pleasant delicious drink that the men -of Erin sent to Ferdia, he would send a fair half over the ford -northward to Cuchulain, because Cuchulain had few to attend to his -wants, whereas all the people of Meave’s host were ready to help -Ferdia. - -So for that night they rested, but early the next morning they -arose and came forward to the ford of combat. “What weapons shall -we use to-day, O Ferdia?” said Cuchulain. “Thine is the choice -to-day,” said Ferdia, “because I chose yesterday.” - -“Let us then take our broad-bladed heavy spears to-day, for more -grave will be the fight between us from the thrusting of our -massive spears, than from the shooting of our light casting weapons -yesterday, and let our chariots be yoked and our horses harnessed, -that we may fight to-day from our chariots.” “Let us do so,” said -the other. - -Then the two warriors took their great protecting shields in their -hands, and their broad-bladed spears, and they continued to thrust -at, to wound and pierce each other from the dim light of early -morning till the close of day. - -Great and gaping cuts and wounds were upon both of them before the -evening-tide. Even their horses were exhausted, and the heroes -themselves were fatigued and worn out and dispirited. At length -Cuchulain said, “O Ferdia, let us now cease from this, for even our -very horses are fatigued, and our charioteers are exhausted. We are -not like the Fomors, the giants of the sea, who must be for ever -combating against each other; let the clamour of battle now cease -between us, and let us be friends once more.” - -And Ferdia said, “Let us be at peace, indeed, if the time has come.” - -Then they ceased fighting, and threw their arms into the hands of -their charioteers, and they ran to each other, and each of them put -his arms about the neck of the other, and gave him three loving -kisses of old friendship. - -Their horses were again in the same paddock that night, and their -charioteers slept by the same fire; and beds of green rushes were -made for the warriors, with pillows to ease their wounds; for their -injuries that night were so terrible, that the men of healing and -the physicians could do nothing for them except to try to stanch -the blood that flowed from them with charms and incantations. - -And of all the charms and healing salves that were applied to sooth -Cuchulain, he bade them take the same to Ferdia, and of every -sort of dainty food and of pleasant satisfying drink that Ferdia -received, he sent a good half to Cuchulain. - -That night they rested as well as they could for their wounds, but -early in the morning they arose and repaired to the ford of combat. -Cuchulain saw an evil look and a dark lowering brow upon the face -of Ferdia that day. “Ill dost thou look to-day, O Ferdia,” said -Cuchulain. “Thy hair seems to have become darkened, or is it clots -of blood I see? Thine eye is dimmed, and thy own bright face and -form have gone from thee. A deep disgrace it is in thee to have -come out to fight with thy fellow-pupil; not Finnabar’s beauty, -nor the praises of Meave or Ailill, nor all the wealth of the -world, would have brought me out to fight with thee, my comrade -and my friend. Turn now back from this fight to-day, for a fight -to death it must be between us, and I have not the heart to fight -against thee; my strength fails me when I think of the evil that -will befall thee; turn back, turn back, O friend, for false are the -promises of Finnabar and Meave.” - -“O Cuchulain, gentle Hound, O valiant man, O true champion, bid me -not return till the fight be done. Ill would it become me to return -to Ailill and to Meave until my task be done. It is not thou who -dost work me ill, O Cu of gentle ways; take the victory and fame -that are thine by right, for thou art not in fault. Meave it is -who is my undoing; but for all that I shrink not from the contest. -My honour, at least, will be avenged; no fear of death afflicts -me. There is a fate that brings each one of us to the place of our -final rest in death, a fate none may resist. Reproach me not, O -gentle friend and comrade, but let us fight the combat out to-day, -as becomes two valiant men and warriors.” - -“If it must be so, what weapons shall we use?” - -“Let us to-day take to our heavy smiting swords; for sooner shall -we attain the end of our conflict by hewing with our swords, than -by the thrusting of our spears yesterday.” “Let it be so,” said -Cuchulain. So all that day they hewed and hacked each other with -their long, two-edged, heavy swords, and at evening they were -wounded and torn from head to foot, so that it was hard to see a -whole place on either of them. - -“Let us cease now, O Cuchulain,” said Ferdia. “Let us cease, -indeed, if the time be come,” he said. - -They threw their arms into the hands of their charioteers, and, -though pleasant and cheerful had been the first meeting of those -two, it was in sadness and misery that they parted that night. - -That evening their horses were not placed in the same paddock, -nor did their charioteers sleep beside the same fire, but the -charioteer of Cuchulain slept with his master on the north of the -ford, and the charioteer of Ferdia slept on the south side of the -ford. - -Next morning Ferdia went forth alone to the ford of battle, for he -knew that on that day the combat would be decided; that then and in -that place one of them or both of them would fall. - -On that day both heroes put on their full fighting array, their -kilts of striped silk next their skin, and a thick apron of brown -leather above that to protect the lower part of the body. And they -put on their crested battle-helmets, with jewels of rubies and -carbuncles and crystals blazing in the front, gems that had been -brought from the East to Ireland. And they took their huge shields -which covered the whole body, with great bosses in the centre of -each shield, and their swords in their right hands, and thus they -came forward to the battle. And as they went they displayed the -many noble, quick-changing feats that Scáth had taught them, and -it was difficult to tell which of them exceeded the other in the -performance of those skilful weapon-feats. - -Thus they came to the ford. And Cuchulain said: “What weapons -shall we choose this day, O Ferdia?” “Thine is the choice to-day,” -said he. Then Cuchulain said, “Let us then practise the Feat of the -Ford.” - -“We will do so,” said Ferdia; but though he said that, sorrowful -was he in saying it, for he knew that no warrior ever escaped alive -from Cuchulain when they practised the Feat of the Ford. - -Terrible and mighty were the deeds that were done that day by those -two heroes, the Champions of the West, the pillars of valour of -the Gael. Quietly they used their weapons in the early morning, -parrying and casting with skill and warily, and neither did great -harm to the other; but about midday, their anger grew hot, and they -drew nearer to each other, and Cuchulain sprang upon his adversary, -and made as though he would cut off his head over the rim of his -shield. But Ferdia gave the shield a stroke upward with his left -knee, and cast Cuchulain from him like a little child, and he fell -down on the brink of the ford. Now Cuchulain’s charioteer, who -was watching the combat from the bank, saw this, and he began to -reproach Cuchulain as his master had bade him do, if he should give -way in the fight. - -“Ah, indeed,” said Laeg, “this warrior can cast the Hound of Ulster -from him as a woman tosses up her child; he flings thee up like -the foam on a stream; he smites thee as the woodman’s axe fells an -oak; he darts on thee as a hungry hawk pounces on little birds. -Henceforth thou hast no claim to be called brave or valorous as -long as thy life shall last, thou little fairy phantom!” - -When Cuchulain heard these scoffing words, up he sprang with the -swiftness of the wind, with the fierceness of a dragon, and with -the strength of a lion, and his countenance was changed, and he -became mighty and terrible in appearance, towering like a Giant -or like a Fomor of the sea above Ferdia. A fearsome fight they -made together, gripping and striking each other from middle day to -fall of eve; and their charioteers and the men of Erin who stood -by shivered as they watched the conflict. So close was the fight -they made that their heads met above and their feet below, and -their arms around the middle of their mighty shields. So close was -the fight they made, that their shields were loosened at their -centres, and the bosses that were on them started out. So close -was the fight they made, that their spears and swords were bent -and shivered in their hands. The fairy people of the glens and the -wild demon folk of the winds, and the sprites of the valleys of the -air, screamed from the rims of their shields and from the points of -their spears and from the hafts of their swords. So closely were -they locked together in that deadly strife, that the river was cast -out of its bed, and it was dried up beneath them, so that a king or -a queen might have made a couch in the middle of its course without -a drop of water falling on them, though drops of blood might have -fallen on them from the bodies of the two champions contending in -the hollow of the stream. Such was the terror of the fight they -made, that the horses of the Gaels broke away from their paddocks, -bursting their bonds and rushing madly in their fright into the -woods, and the women and young people and camp followers fled away -southwards out of the camp. - -Just at that time Ferdia caught Cuchulain in an unguarded moment, -and he smote him with a stroke of his straight-edged sword, and -buried it in his body, so that his blood streamed down to his -girdle, and all the bottom of the ford became crimsoned with -his blood. So rapid were the strokes of Ferdia, blow after blow, -and cut after cut, that Cuchulain could abide it no longer. And -he turned to Laeg, and asked him to give him the Gae Bolga. Now, -when the Gae Bolga was laid upon the water, it would move forward -of itself to seek its enemy, and no one could stand before its -deadly dart. So when Ferdia heard Cu ask for the Gae Bolga, he -made a downward stroke of his shield to protect his body. But when -Cuchulain saw that, he flung his spear above the shield and it -entered the hero’s chest; and as he fell, the Gae Bolga struck him -and entered his body from below. “It is all over now, I fall by -that,” said Ferdia. “But alas that I fall by thy hand. It is not -right that I should die by thee, O Hound.” - -[Illustration: Ferdia falls by the Hand of Cuchulain] - -But Cuchulain ran towards him, and clasped him in his two arms, and -carried him in his fighting array across the ford to the Northern -side of the stream and laid him down there. And over Cuchulain -himself there came a weakness and faintness when he saw Ferdia -lying dying at his feet, and he heeded not the warnings of his -charioteer telling him that the men of Erin were gathering across -the ford to do battle with him and to avenge the death of their -champion. For Cuchulain said, “What availeth me to arise, now that -my friend is fallen by my hand? For when we were with Scáth, Mother -of great gifts, we vowed to each other that for ever and for ever -we should do no ill to each other. And now alas! by my hand hast -thou fallen, my comrade, through the treachery of the men of Erin, -who sent thee to thy fate. And oh! Ferdia, ruddy, well-built son -of Daman, until the world’s end will thy like not be found among -the men of Erin; would that I had died instead of thee, for then -I should not now be alive to mourn thy death. Brief and sorrowful -will be my life after thee. - - “Dear was to me thy comely form, - Dear was thy youthful body warm, - Dear was thy clear-blue dancing eye, - Dear thy wise speech when I was by. - -“Let me see, now, O Laeg, the brooch that was given to Ferdia by -Meave; the brooch for which he lost his life, and did combat with -his friend.” Then Laeg loosened the brooch from the mantle of -Ferdia, and Cuchulain took it in his hand and looked upon it, and -tears such as strong warriors weep poured from his eyes, and he -lamented over Ferdia, and over the brooch for which he had given -his life. - -“And now,” said Cuchulain, “we will leave the ford, O Laeg; but -every other fight that I have made till now when I came to fight -and combat with Ferdia, has been but play and sport to me compared -with this combat that we have made together, Ferdia and I.” And as -he moved away he sang this lay:-- - - “Play was each, pleasure each, - Till Ferdia faced the beach; - One had been our student life, - One in strife of school our place, - One our gentle teacher’s grace, - Loved o’er all and each. - - “Play was each, pleasure each, - Till Ferdia faced the beach; - One had been our wonted ways, - One the praise for feat of fields, - Scáthach gave two victor shields - Equal prize to each. - - “Play was each, pleasure each, - Till Ferdia faced the beach; - Dear that pillar of pure gold - Who fell cold beside the ford - Hosts of heroes felt his sword - First in battle-breach. - - “Play was each, pleasure each, - Till Ferdia faced the beach; - Lion fiery, fierce, and bright, - Wave whose might no thing withstands, - Sweeping, with the shrinking sands, - Horror o’er the beach. - - “Play was each, pleasure each, - Till Ferdia faced the beach; - Loved Ferdia, dear to me; - I shall dree his death for aye - Yesterday a Mountain he,-- - But a shade to-day.”[4] - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -Ulster, Awake! - - -After the combat with Ferdia weariness and great weakness fell -upon Cuchulain. From the beginning of winter to early spring he -had watched and safe-guarded the frontier of Ulster, alone and -single-handed, and all that time he had never slept a whole night -through. Saving only a brief snatch at midday, he often did not -sleep at all, and even what he had was taken sitting, with his -spear ready in his hand, and his head resting upon the shaft, as it -stood between his knees. - -The host of Meave was encamped on the plain of Murthemne, in -Cuchulain’s district, but the Brown Bull and the cattle they had -sent away northward for safety into the hill passes of eastern -Ulster. - -Beside the grave of Lerga, overlooking the camp of the men of -Erin, Cuchulain lay beside a fire that Laeg had kindled. Now, as -the shades of evening fell, the hero looked abroad, slowly and -with pain raising himself upon his elbow, and on every hand he saw -the glint and gleam of the weapons of the men of Erin, caught by -the light of the setting sun. Before him lay the great expanse of -tents, and the multitude of the host, and he would have rushed upon -them then and there, but all his body was riddled with wounds, and -his strength was utterly gone from him. In his anger and despair -he brandished his sword and waved his shield and uttered forth -his hero’s shout. So horrible was that shout that the goblins and -sprites and daft people of the air and of the glens answered it, -and many of the men of Erin died of pure terror at the sound. -Then across the camp of the enemy Laeg descried a figure, as of a -tall and stately champion advancing calmly towards them. Straight -through the tents of Erin he passed on, but no man seemed to see; -no head was turned as he went by, nor did the sentries bar his way, -yet in his hand he carried a drawn sword. - -Astonishment and awe fell upon Laeg as, from his seat beside his -master, he beheld the warrior draw near. - -“It seems to me, O little Hound,” he said, “as though a visitant -from fairy-land drew near. Like one in high authority is this -young man, and like the sun at junction of the day and night the -gentle radiance of his lofty brow; methinks that in its midday glow -no mortal eyes could bear the shining of its wondrous light. The -armour of Manannan clothes him round, and none can pierce or wound -him through its joints; the sword of Manannan is in his hand, from -which no enemy returns alive, while on his head the jewelled helmet -of Manannan gleams.” - -“’Tis true, indeed,” replied the wounded man, “Lugh the -Long-handed, mightiest of the gods, is come to succour me. Bright -as the sun rising at early dawn out of the glowing east the hero’s -face, giver of light and warmth to human-kind; with his long arms -stretching across the sky he floods the world with light. In his -right hand he bears the sword of day, though now in shades of night -his face is veiled. No human eye, save his whose inward mind has -pierced the realms of fairy mysteries, can see the god, when in -Manannan’s helmet of invisibility he comes to earth. To comfort -and to solace me he comes, for well he knows my plight. My comrades -of the fairy-folk have pity on my pain and my despair.” - -The warrior stood close beside Cuchulain’s bed and gazed upon his -wounds, and noble pity stood within his eyes. “A manly fight, I -see, you made, my son, and worthy are those wounds.” - -“I think not much about the wounds, O Lugh, but this is troubling -me; behold, below, yon host of mighty men who threaten Ulster’s -land, and here I lie, as weary as a child, and cannot rise to wreak -my wrath on them. Were but my strength returned and my wounds -healed, I would not long be lying here in grief, idle and cast -away. But if, O Father Lugh, for this one night you would keep -watch and ward for me the while I sleep, then could I for a space -take peaceful rest.” - -“I come for that,” said Lugh, “from fairy land. Sleep then, O -Ulster’s Hound, and by the grave of Lerga deeply rest; no harm -shall come to Ulster while you sleep, for I will watch and battle -with the host.” Then in deep peace and slumber Cuchulain took his -rest, and for three days and nights he stirred not once, but slept -a dreamless, torpid sleep. And fairy-folk brought magic herbs to -put into his wounds, to soothe and heal him while he slept, and all -the while Lugh sat at his right hand, guarding his rest, save when -some feat of slaughter was to do upon the men of Erin. - -But Sualtach, father of Cuchulain, heard of the distressed -condition of his son, and well he knew that unless the warriors -of Ulster woke from their magic sleep, and gathered to his help, -the hero must give way before his foes. Now Sualtach was no -battle-champion or warrior of renown, but just a passable good -fighting-man; he had no thought or wish to stand by his son when -he fought single-handed with the choicest of Meave’s host; nor had -he gone to help him even when he heard that between life and death -he lay, covered with gaping wounds. Yet still the news stirred -some increase of courage in him, and though he would not fight in -an uneven war, he now resolved to arm himself and ride to Emain’s -gates and call the sleeping Ulstermen to rise and hurry down to aid -Cuchulain, before it was too late. He caught the Grey of Macha, -Cuchulain’s horse, and mounted him, and, spear and shield in hand, -he rode straight up within the gates of Emain Macha. Silent and -still as death was all the kingly fort. No sentinel looked forth to -guard the door, no warrior strode round the deserted walls, and all -within was silent as the grave, save for the weeping women and the -little children’s play, and lowing of the untended cows wandering -between the outer and the inner raths. Within, in Emain’s halls, -each warrior sat apart sunk deep in sleep, his head upon his hands, -his arms clasping his knees, or stretched in slumber full-length -upon the floor; and round them lay their weapons, idle and rusting -from long want of use, dropped from their nerveless hands. Mighty -they looked, well-built and good men all, but no more strength had -they than little babes but newly come to birth. Even when the women -shook them, thy looked up but for one moment with lack-lustre eyes, -and straightway sank to sleep again. Young children played about -and over them, as though they had been statues made of stone, and -yet they heeded not. Beside them, at their feet, lay crouched their -noble hounds, loose from the leash, stretched out asleep, each one -his muzzle lying on his paws. From time to time, the war-dogs -turned and growled, as though they dreamed bad dreams; the warriors -moaned as if they were in pain, but no one moved or rose. - -Within the inner fort King Conor lay, surrounded by his chiefs, -sunk deep in coward slumber each upon his couch; for Macha’s hand -lay heavy on them all, and her revenge was come. - -But in the playing-fields outside, the Boy-corps still kept up -their sports, and played at mimic warfare as of yore, though all -their chiefs and teachers were asleep; and still their laughter, -shrill and bright, rang through the silent halls, as one boy caught -the hurley ball a good swing with his club, or threw his fellow in -their feats of strength. The little son of Conor, Follaman, had -made himself their leader, and willingly they mustered under him. - -Then up rode Sualtach upon the Grey, and three times over he gave -forth his cry. The first shout went up from the playing-fields, the -second from the rampart wall, the third he gave standing aloft upon -the summit of the mound where lay imprisoned the hostages of Ulster -chained in their hut beside the kingly fort. - -“Your men are being slain,” he cried, “your cattle driven away, -your women fall as captives to the men of Erin. In wild Murthemne’s -plain Cuchulain all alone still held the foemen back until the -fight with Ferdia robbed him of his strength. Wounded in every -joint Cuchulain lies, his gaping sores stuffed in with sops and -bits of grass, his clothes held on with spikes of hazel twigs. On -Emain Macha press the enemy, all eastern Ulster is in their hands; -Ailill and Meave have harried all your coasts. Ulster, Arise, -arise!” - -Three times he gave the shout, ringing and clear upon the silent -air, but still no watchman’s voice gave forth reply. - -Now in the kingly fort a rule of courtesy forbad that any man -should speak before the King, save only his three Druids, who were -his counsellors. After a while, as for the third time the voice of -Sualtach came floating through the hall, one of the Druids stirred -and said, “Who is the fellow brawling in the court? Fitting it were -to take his head from him.” “Fitting it were, indeed,” replied the -King, “and yet I think the thing he says is true.” And all the -warriors muttered in their sleep, “Fitting it were, indeed.” - -When Sualtach found that no man answered him, in violent anger he -turned back again. In his fierce wrath he dragged the bridle-rein, -so that the Grey of Macha reared, and stumbled on a sleeping man, -and swerved aside, flinging Sualtach forward on its neck. His head -struck on the sharp edge of his missile-shield, so that it sheared -it off, and the shield fell from his hand, his head within it, at -the horse’s feet, the body hanging yet upon its back. At that the -Grey turned round, and made its way into the inner court and onward -to the hall, the lifeless body still upon its neck, dragging the -head along upon the shield, whose strap had caught into its feet. -And all the way they went, passing the outer and the inner courts -into the very presence of the King, the voice of Sualtach from the -dissevered head still called aloud, as though he were alive, “Your -men are being slain, your cattle driven away; your women fall as -captives to the men of Erin. In wild Murthemne’s plain Cuchulain -all alone still holds the foemen back. Ulster, Arise, arise!” - -“Too noisy is that head,” King Conor said, moving again and -stirring in his sleep; “put it upon the pillar of the house that -it may go to rest.” Then one of the warriors, hearing his King’s -voice, bestirred himself, and lifted up the head and set it on a -pillar; but again, and even louder than before, the head cried out: -“Your men are being slain, your cattle driven away, your women fall -as captives. Ulster, Arise, arise!” So noisy was the head, that one -warrior and then another rose upon his elbow and looked up at it, -and bade it hold its peace, but when they spoke the head but called -out louder than before. Then, looking round, they saw the mighty -horse standing, gaunt and stock-still, within the very centre of -the hall, the headless rider sitting on its back. And when they saw -the horse bearing the headless rider in their midst, and heard the -head still calling from the pillar top, as though it were alive, -a shout of laughter, as of olden days, went up from one and all, -and the King bestirred himself at the unwonted sound. Then all the -chiefs, seeing the King arise, shook themselves lightly and began -to stand or sit up where they slept. They stooped to pick their -weapons from the ground, to try the edges of their swords, to rub -the rust that dulled their scabbards and the fine points of their -spears. For memory and the love of life and war began to stir in -them, and wonder at their own long idleness. And at the last the -King stood up and cried, “True is the message that the head has -brought. Ulster lies bound before her enemies, while we rust here -in sleep. By all the gods my nation loves, I swear, unless the -stars of heaven shall fall upon our heads, or the strong solid -earth give way beneath our feet, I and my chiefs will restore each -captive woman to her child and home, each cow to her own meadow, -and each stolen piece of land to its own lords, so that in shame -with heavy loss the foes of Ulster shall return to their own -country.” - -Then a great shout went up from the men of Ulster, and their -warrior spirit began to revive in them. And to each in turn -the King applied, bidding him go forth and summon his clan and -followers to meet him that day week upon the Hill of Slane in -Meath, for he himself would call a muster there. - -Gladly and eagerly the chiefs issued forth, for they heard the -sounds of stirring men and the welcome bark of the hounds without. - -As for the King himself, his mind was so confused with the magic -sleep in which he had lain, that he remembered not the dead from -the living, but stood, calling on the dead to come to his aid, as -though they had been yet alive. - -Throughout all the land he sent heralds to call together his -men-at-arms; and with one heart and mind the men of Ulster -responded to his call. Troop on troop they flocked to Emain, from -North and West and East, each mighty leader surrounded by his host -clad in the kilt and colours of his clan. As for the clans that -were south of Emain, they tarried not to assemble at the kingly -fort, but made their way, each by his own route, straight forward -to the Hill of Slane. - -For after their long rest and weakness their hands itched to be -upon their swords again. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -The End of the Boy-Corps - - -Hardly had the King arisen from his sleep, than he remembered the -Boy-corps. “Go,” said he to one of his heralds, “and see how the -Boy-corps fares. Tell the youths that we depart hence within a -while to battle on the Hill of Slane in Meath, but that before we -set forth on our march, we fain would see them once again at play. -Bid Follaman and bid them all prepare.” So the herald went out to -warn the Boy-corps, but the playing-field was silent and deserted, -nor was there any sign of Follaman or of the boys. “What is become -of the corps?” he asked, alarmed, for among the boys were the sons -of the bravest chiefs of Ulster and the King’s own son besides. But -none could give him a reply. In one corner of the playing-field -he espied a little lad, the youngest of the corps, who sat alone, -crying by himself. The herald asked him what it was that ailed -him, and where were all the others, his companions. “The boys are -gone to help Cuchulain, their comrade, who is sorely wounded,” -said the child; “they heard the words of Sualtach, calling on the -Ulstermen to rise and come to Cuchulain’s help against the men of -Erin. But all the champions were asleep and heard not; only they, -the Boy-corps, heard. And Follaman their leader said, ‘Cuchulain, -our comrade, is in sore distress, and none are ready to go to his -aid; therefore we ourselves will go.’ And all the Boy-corps said -that they would follow him, and protect the coasts of Ulster while -Cuchulain was asleep, and do combat for him with the enemy. But me -they left behind,” the child continued, weeping, “because they said -I was too young to go; but I would have handled my little sword -as well as any of them. I heard Follaman say that he would never -return to Emain unless he brought with him Ailill’s head, with its -coronet of gold, to lay at Conor’s feet.” - -When the herald heard this tale, he went hurriedly to the palace -and told the King what the child had said. A great cry arose in -the palace when it was known that the boys had gone to do battle -with grown warriors of Erin; for each chief and each champion had -a son, or two or three sons, among the corps, and the King himself -had Follaman, his youngest and his darling. Then the King sent -out word that before one hour should be past, he and his troops -would take the road to Slane; if so perchance they might arrive in -time to save the Boy-corps from its fate. For all his strength and -vigour returned to Conor when he heard of the peril which beset the -Boy-corps, and bitterly did he rue the inaction in which he and his -warriors had lain, when the children had gone forth to fight. - -Now at the end of his three days’ sleep, Cuchulain had awakened -from his trance; he passed his hand across his face, and opened his -eyes and saw Lugh sitting beside him. From head to foot he blushed -a rosy red, for he felt shame that a champion like himself should -be found sleeping before his foes. “Warrior, how long have I been -sleeping here?” said he. “Three days and three nights,” said Lugh, -“and no shame to thee that thou shouldst sleep, for even yet thou -art not fit to rise.” “That indeed is true,” replied Cuchulain, for -he tried to sit up on his couch, and fell back again. “Though my -wounds are closed and healing, my strength has not returned; and -all this time the hosts of Erin have been unmolested.” - -“Nay, nay, indeed,” cried Lugh, “no step forward have they made; -my hand hath held them back. Moreover,” but here his voice grew -grave and stern, “the Boy-corps from Emain were here last night.” -“The Boy-corps from Emain,” Cuchulain cried; “what did they here? -No games or child’s play have we here suited to their age, but grim -and deadly deeds of war. I trust no hurt or damage came to them.” -“Alas, alas,” said Lugh, “they came at night; I knew not they were -here. Straight to the tent of Ailill and of Meave marched on the -boys, clad in their mimic armour, with all their pennons flying in -the wind. Follaman, Conor’s son, was at their head, a brave and -dauntless lad; and on them all, although they were but growing -boys, men say was seen the dignity of heroes, and the fearlessness -of seasoned warriors. Follaman demanded combat with Ailill himself, -he being a King’s son, and thus, he said, unfit to fight with -common men. - -“With jeers and taunts they drove the brave lads back out of the -camp and downward to the ford; but there at last the Boy-corps -took its stand. ‘Here wait we,’ cried the lads, ‘here stand we to -the death; the honour of Cuchulain and of Ulster is in our hands. -Come out and fight!’ Alas, alas,” said Lugh again, “this morning -when I walked beside the ford, to guard the banks from any man of -Meave’s, all up and down the strand fair bodies lay, mangled and -cut and hewn by cruel hands, and on the stream bright hair was -tossing from fair severed heads. Follaman lay prone on the farther -side, his cold hand grasping still a warrior’s hair, his arms -locked tightly in that warrior’s arms, dragged down together and -o’erwhelmed beneath the wave. And all around a bloody fight had -been. Many a good warrior had gone down before those hero boys; -many a strong arm by them was stilled in death. Brave lads! the -pride of Ulster and of Ulster’s chiefs!” - -“The Boy-corps dead!” Cuchulain cried, “dead to retrieve my honour -and the darkened fame of Ulster’s chiefs! Ill is the deed that thou -hast done me, O my Father Lugh; had I been roused from sleep the -Boy-corps had not perished thus. Follaman, Conor’s son, would not -have fallen, and this shame would not have been added to Ulster’s -other shames. Alas, and thrice alas! And now, my Father Lugh, -hark to my prayer; stay but one night beside me, and together we -will avenge the fall of the Boy-corps. Before the arm of Lugh the -Long-handed and the might of Ulster’s Hound, no foe could stand; -let us then do a glorious deed, that Ulster’s honour be by us -avenged.” - -“Nay, not so,” said Lugh, “for thine own strength is not come back -to thee, and I must back to fairy-land again. My work is done, the -gods await me there. The wrong will be avenged, as is most meet, by -Ulster’s champions, the fathers of the boys. See, even now over the -Hill of Slane their pennons wave.” - -Most true it was; Cuchulain looked and saw, right in the north -and passing out beyond him to the west, the gathering of a mighty -host. Far as the eye could reach they came with swinging gait, -battalion on battalion, up the hill; their tents on every side they -pitched, and martial strains and trampling of men’s feet resounded -through the plain. Beneath their heavy tread the very earth seemed -quivering as they moved; the trees of the forest crashed their -branches, and their tops swung together in the violence of the -wind they made in passing up the glen. In the dim mist of early -morn their spearpoints glittered like sparks of fire, caught by -the first beams of the rising sun; the thunder of their chariots, -the clatter of their arms and horses’ hoofs, so terrified the wild -things of the woodlands, that they fled panting before them to the -open plain. - -“Carry me where I can mark the clans as they come up, O Laeg,” -Cuchulain said. Laeg lifted up the wounded hero in his arms, and -laid him on the north side of a rising mound whence he could see -the path by which the armies came. He marked the Druids marching -on in front, scanning the sky for portents and muttering their -spells. Then came the bards, pouring forth rhapsodies, and singing -battle-chants, and near them were the bright-faced men of healing, -carrying salves and medicines in their bags, to succour wounded men. - -Right well Cuchulain recognized them all, the corps of Laery, named -Triumphant, marching in impetuous style; the clan of Conall the -Victorious, his early friend, all young and hardy men; the clan -of Conor’s son, he whom men called “The Stutterer,” because he -stammered in his speech. These latter were so eager for the fray, -that, fearing to spring forth before the time, they knelt upon the -ground, their chins resting on the rims of their enormous shields. -All day they came, from morn to fall of night, till the whole hill -and wide surrounding plain were covered with their tents. But -in the midst Cuchulain saw his own corps swinging up the hill, -brilliant in their flying plaids, all mighty men and strong. They -only, among all the host, marched mournfully and sadly to their -camp; no sound of music, no martial warrior-chant, rose from -their lips, for they as orphans marched without a father, or as a -body left without a head. Now when Cuchulain marked his own corps -coming up, no words of Laeg could stay him, nor could his bands -and shackles tie him down. Violently and with tremendous force he -sought to rise, to greet his own battalion. So vigorous were the -efforts that he made, that even Meave and Fergus heard. “Surely it -is Cuchulain trying to arise and join his own battalion!” Fergus -said; “well is it for us that he is lying ill! Happy the men who -have the aid of Cuchulain’s corps, and woe to those whom they -oppose! Were but their chief amongst them at this time, no other -clan had need to be called out against the men of Erin.” - -“I fear them not,” said Meave; “we have good men and brave to -answer them.” - -“I swear by Ulster’s gods,” Fergus replied, “that when once Ulster -is aroused, no host on earth can answer them.” - -“Send satirists and men of evil nature from us to Cuchulain,” said -Meave to her attendants, “and let them jeer him in his weakness, -saying to him that Conor will be routed, Ulster put to shame, and -Fergus slain while he is lying on his couch in idleness. Let him -not think that it is we who send, but his own people jeering at his -wounds. Tell him his own corps call on Ulster’s Hound, but, like a -pet-dog in a lady’s lap, he lies down to be fondled and caressed. -Send women mourners to weep over him false noisy tears, and tear -their hair, and keen, as though he even now were dead. Thus will he -fall into despair and do himself some harm, and so our victory will -be assured. Away, and spare him not.” - -So keening women and hired mourning men went to the mound whereon -Cuchulain lay, exhausted with his effort to arise; for Laeg had -bound the hero fast with cords, so that he might not struggle to -get up. For much he feared that he might inflict some injury on -himself in trying to rejoin his corps. But Cuchulain thought not on -his wounds at all, for all his mind was bent in following Laeg’s -account of what was passing in the camp; and when the messengers -of Meave came close, and began to weep and wail, and hurl at him -abuse and scornful words, he neither saw nor heard them, so that at -length they ceased, disheartened and ashamed. - -Eagerly Cuchulain addressed himself to Laeg. “Tell me, O Laeg, how -stands our host together, and what do they now?” - -“So close stand now the serried ranks, that though Conall’s -charioteer and mine tried side by side to force our way across the -clustered spearpoints of the host, no smallest object from our -chariots dropped among the men could find its way between them to -the ground. I see King Conor’s chosen men-at-arms coming toward the -hill, where Conor’s tent is pitched, higher and far more spacious -than the rest. I see Meave’s warriors withstanding them; they make -a hollow circle, hoping, I think, to take the King alive. But, as -though they hardly saw the opposing band, the King and his brave -followers stride on. I see them now entering the hollow mass of -fighting men; alas, they will be caught and fall. But no! I see, I -see them soon emerge again, unharmed and safe. Right through the -enemy they have forced their way, to join the main contingent of -the troops. The clans of Ulster rise on every side as Conor gains -his tent upon the utmost summit of the hill, and in a mighty shout, -rending the clouds of heaven, the men of Ulster now acclaim their -King.” - -“There is the stuff for a great battle among those hosts,” -Cuchulain cried; “bloody the deeds that will be wrought at sunrise -on the morrow’s morn. Let nothing pass you; tell me all you see.” - -“So far as I can mark, you shall know all,” replied the charioteer; -“but shades of evening fall apace on us, and hard it is to -distinguish friend from foe. The warriors all betake them to their -rest. Watchfires are lighted, and around their blaze they sit in -peace and eat their evening meal. Far in the west, I see a little -herd emerge upon the plain, a great Bull at its head, and all -around a troop of cows and heifers, fifty or more, their heads held -well in air. A band of youths are trying to restrain them and turn -them back into the camp of Meave; but still they advance, careering -o’er the plain, as though to join the hosts of Ulster’s King. The -youths of Ulster are battling with those other youths, trying to -gain possession of the Bull.” “And so indeed they may,” Cuchulain -said, “the Dun of Cooley is that Bull you see, for whom this war -is fought. How are the youths of Ulster bearing themselves in this -fray?” “They fight like men,” said Laeg, “but now I see the Bull -has broken from them all. Away he goes, toward the west, making as -though for Connaught.” “He feels in him the call of war,” replied -the wounded man; “he seeks the Whitehorned, left in Cruachan. No -man, nor any band of men can stay the Dun, when once the time is -come for his great onset on the Connaught Bull. Fearful will be -the war between those twain. All Ireland will hear their furious -charge, and tremble at their fall.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -The “Rising-Out” of Ulster - - -Before the dawn of the ensuing day, Sencha the Druid seated himself -upon the summit of the Hill of Slane, beside the tent of Conor, to -watch for the first ray of light arising in the east. The Druids -had foretold that if the men of Ulster went into battle before the -break of day, they must fall before their enemies, but if they -waited till the early dawn flooded the hills and vales of Ireland, -then it was they who would come off victorious. - -So eager were the warriors for the fight, that it was hard to hold -them till the night was past. On every side, long ere the dawn had -broken, they pushed aside their tent-doors and came forth. Nay, -many of the host there were, who would not wait their turn to issue -from the doors; but all unclothed, their weapons in their hands, -they rushed out from their tents, forcing their way through every -side at once. - -King Conor gave command, “Bid them to halt until the word be -given.” And all the host stood silent where they were, gazing -toward the summit of the hill whereon the bearded Druid stood erect. - -At length in the dim east the sun arose, its first rays shooting up -along the sky. Then to his full height Sencha arose and raised his -arms on high, his snowy garments waving in the wind. - -[Illustration: “The moment of good-luck is come”] - -“The moment of good-luck is come,” he cried. “Let Ulster’s heroes -meet their enemies! Let Macha’s king arise!” - -Then with their weapons brandished in their hands, and with a -horrid whoop of war, the men of Ulster rushed into the fight. -The men of Erin arose on every side, and furiously and fiercely -was the battle joined. From dawn to noon the conflict raged, now -here, now there, across the plain of Meath. At length Meave said, -“Call Fergus to me. I would send him to the fight”; for Fergus had -remained behind, among Meave’s bodyguard, for loth he was to lift -his hand against the men of his own province. “It is the part of a -true hero, O Fergus,” said Meave, deriding him, “to remain behind -within the tents when a conflict to the death is going forward. -Many good things, our hospitality and love, you took from our hand -when Ulster exiled you. We fed and clothed your troops, we offered -you a home. For many years you lingered in our land, wanting -neither for wealth or honour while you were with us; now when the -moment of our peril comes, when in your cause we come to fight with -Ulster, to restore yourself and all the exiles to their homes, ’tis -Fergus lags behind. The common men and chiefs may die, you say, -so I remain in peace among the tents. Now I myself, Queen Meave, -descend into the fray; in my own person I will lead my troops, -like any valiant captain of my host. I go to seek out Conor, who -supplanted Fergus on the throne; will Fergus stay behind?” - -When Fergus heard of Conor he exclaimed, “My hand I will not lift -against the chiefs of Ulster, who are all my friends; but against -Conor will I lift my hand, the wily, bad, supplanting king who -stands where I should stand. By all my gods I swear, had I but my -own sword, the mighty ‘Hard One’ whose blade is like a beam, or -like a rainbow stretched across the sky, I now would ply it upon -Conor’s shield. Fetch me my sword!” Then Ailill commanded that -the sword of Fergus, called the Calad-cholg, or the ‘Hard-sword,’ -brought by Mac Leda out of fairy-land, should be given to him, for -he had hidden it, until the time should come. So Fergus’ sword was -brought, and Ailill put it into Fergus’ hand; and with a shout of -welcome, Fergus grasped his sword, huge-handled, double-bladed, -terrible; so that no hand but Fergus’ hand could hold it in its -grasp. “Welcome, Calad-cholg; welcome, O Leda’s sword! Woe to the -fosterling of war who feels thy edge to-day! On whom now shall we -try thy might?” - -“Upon the host that rings us round, O Fergus,” said the Queen; -“none shall turn back in peace before thy sword, none may it spare, -save only some dear friend of other days.” - -Then into the battle-field, standing erect within her chariot, -with all her champions round her as she rode, went queenly Meave, -her golden circlet on her head, her weapons in her hand. On either -side, holding aloft their swords, rode Ailill and Fergus, each with -his own bodyguard. Terrific was their onset and before their chosen -men, rushing like winds of March into the fray, Ulster gave way and -fled. Three times they led their men into the very centre of the -host, scattering it right and left, till Conor cried: “Who is this -foe, who, three times to the North has scattered all mine host?” -“Fergus it is and Meave,” they all reply; “furiously they cut their -way across the clans, who fly before them as they come.” Now by the -rules of Ulster’s warfare, the king might never expose his person -in battle, but only, from some post of vantage, watch the onset -of his men. But now King Conor said, “Hold you this hill, I will -myself go down and rally to their duty the flying hosts of Ulster.” -And when they found the king determined to go down, with one mouth -his bodyguard replied, “Unless the earth should burst beneath our -feet, or the blue sky fall on us from above, we steadfastly will -hold this post for you, O King.” - -Then round the king a body of his bravest warriors locked their -shields, and made a rampart; thus the king went down into the -battle with his followers around him, he himself holding his mighty -horned shield, the Ochain, in the midst. For they knew that if the -king should fall, the men of Ulster would, as one man, take to -flight. - -Fergus was seeking everywhere throughout the host for the king of -Ulster, and when he saw the linked shields of Ulster’s greatest -champions he knew that the king was in their midst. He made a -mighty onslaught on the rampart of shields, and broke through it, -scattering the chiefs to right and left. Then he approached the -king, and with his ‘Hard-Sword’ smote three mighty blows on Conor’s -shield. And the shield screamed aloud and roared, as was its wont -when Conor was in peril or distress; and when the warriors of his -host heard the screaming of the shield, all their weapons echoed -in reply, and the shields that hung on the walls of Emain Macha -fell down flat upon the ground. Far off, where he lay, Cuchulain -heard the sound. “Surely,” he cried, “I hear the shield of Conor -roar; some deadly peril must beset the king, and I lie here alive -and help him not! Set free my bonds, or, on my word, I will break -loose from them!” Then with a mighty effort, putting forth all his -strength, Cuchulain wrenched his bonds, breaking and scattering -them; and when he saw that nothing would avail to hinder him, Laeg -cut the cords, and with one cry, the hero sprang upon his feet. “My -weapons and my war-chariot,” he cried, and Laeg brought out his -chariot, sorely broken as it was after the fight with Ferdia at -the ford. In it he fixed the iron spikes and points and nails that -strengthened it in time of war, and made men fear to approach too -near; into its wheels, on either side, the sweeping scythes were -fastened that mowed the enemy like grass as it swept through the -host. The Grey of Macha and the Black Steed of the Glen neighed -loudly, and came whinnying to Laeg’s call, and slowly Cuchulain’s -old strength returned to him again. He sprang into the seat, and -with a noise like thunder dashed onward to the place whence came -the tumult of King Conor’s shield. Standing erect, it was as though -a light streamed from his hair, rising up toward the heavens; while -on either hand the sods flew from the chariot-wheels, making the -air dark about him as he came. His own corps perceived him coming -through the host, and loud their shout of welcome rose, and all the -men of Ulster sent forth a cry of exultation and of joy. Even the -enemy held his hand awhile, and Fergus himself fell back before the -king. - -“Away with you, my Master Fergus,” Cuchulain cried, “turn about, -and begone; dare not to strike King Conor’s shield.” But Fergus -answered not, until a third time Cuchulain cried. And then he said, -“Who is this, of Ulster’s host, who dares to address me in strong -warrior words?” - -“’Tis even I, thy foster-son, Cuchulain, son of Sualtach, loved -of the great god Lugh! Dost thou not remember, Fergus, how thou -didst promise that what time I should be wounded in the fight thou -wouldst turn and make as though to flee before me, so that the host -of Erin should follow after thee? The time is come, turn now and -flee, or else stand fast and try thy strength with mine.” - -“I promised that, indeed,” said he, “and truly I will now fulfil my -words. Not fit or strong enough art thou at this time to contend -with me. Stand back awhile, and I will make as though I fled before -thy onset.” - -Then Fergus turned, and fell back three full warrior-paces before -Cuchulain, as if he fled before him, trailing his mighty sword -behind him on the ground. And when the host of Meave saw Fergus -turn, they thought that all was lost, and with one consent they -turned about and fled. - -Breaking their ranks, in wild disorder they streamed westward o’er -the plain, each man making for his home. On every side they cast -away their arms, so that the ground was strewn with shields and -spears, and vainly Meave and Ailill called on them to turn. Seeing -the rout, the men of Ulster followed hard, pressing upon their -rear, and cutting off a multitude of men. From noon till twilight’s -fall they fled, nor halted till they reached the Shannon’s ford, -to pass across it and regain their homes. And, haughtily and -undauntedly, Cuchulain pursued the host, making a red rout of the -flying men, so that the way was strewn with dying and with dead. - -Close at his side, urging on his withered steeds, rode aged Iliach, -Ulster’s valiant chief. Old and beyond the fighting-age was he, -yet, when the muster of the corps was made, he would not stay -behind. “Bring me my chariot and my steeds,” said he. Now many -years had passed since last the old man went into the field. -Rusted and broken was his chariot, his weapons bent and worn; as to -his ancient chariot-steeds, they were but lean and wasted beasts, -long since turned out to grass. No cushions had the chariot, nor -any seat at all; just as it was the steeds were harnessed to the -metal frame, and in his hand he took his blunt and rusty spears. -All round him on the chariot-floor were piled up flags and rocks -and stones; with these, when his old worn-out weapons broke in -twain, he plied and mightily discomfited the enemy. - -Yet, as he stood erect, his white hair streaming on the wind, so -strange and formidable was his look, so flashing was his eye, that -all the men of Erin shrank before him as he passed. At length -his vigour ebbed, his strength gave out, the handle of his sword -dropped useless from his hand. He called upon his charioteer. -“My work is done,” he said, “take thou my head from me upon my -chariot’s rim; I would not fall into the enemy’s hand. My honour -and the honour of my country is avenged. I die content.” Then with -his own old sword, upon the side-edge of the chariot his charioteer -hewed off his head. Cuchulain turned and saw what had been done. -“Bear thou the head to Emain,” said he, “and let his body be buried -with all honour near his home. Iliach died as a hero should. So die -all Ulster’s heroes, avenging Ulster’s honour on her foes.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -The Humbling of Queen Meave - - -Towards the fall of day, Cuchulain reached the ford of the Shannon -at the place that is now called Athlone. He saw the army of Meave -flying, broken and disbanded, across the river, and weariness and -dislike of the rout overtook him, so that he turned aside into a -wood close by to rest awhile, for of his chariot there remained -but a few bent ribs, and the wheels were loosened from the pole. -“I will watch the flying host,” he thought, “until the Ulstermen -come up, and together we will smite them and cut off their rear.” -As he pushed his way into the wood, he saw before him, in the -dimness of the fading light, Queen Meave herself, fallen, forsaken -and exhausted, on the ground. So close was she that he could have -smitten her from behind, and taken off her head, had he so willed. -But it was not the wont of Cuchulain to smite from behind, or ever -to hurt a woman. But he stood over her, and sternly spoke. - -“What dost thou here, O Meave, O captain of the host of Erin? -Behold thy army flies, broken and discomfited, across the stream, -seeking its native province, and the army of the men of Ulster -presses hard upon their rear. No leader have they to guide their -flying bands; why liest thou here alone?” - -Then the haughty queen replied sadly, and with all her spirit -gone: “Queen as I am, and captain of mine host, yet have I but a -woman’s strength; my forces are exhausted, and my power is gone; -fain must I lie and rest. Help me, O generous foe, I claim a boon -from thee!” - -“What boon is this that thou dost crave of me, O Meave, mine enemy?” - -“I ask of thee to take myself and all my host under the strong -protection of thy arm; keep thou the ford for them; ward off the -men of Ulster who press on us from behind; let Connaught’s bands -return in peace and safety to their homes. Guard me besides till to -my help Ailill and Fergus come, and safe to Cruachan escort me back -again. Full many and many a time have I, in folly, bragged about my -strength and all the power of my enormous host; now all is come to -nought, and I am spent and ill. To thee, my foe, I turn; protect me -now.” - -“Never shall it be said,” Cuchulain replied, “that I was heedless -of a woman’s appeal. Lie there in peace. I will protect the host.” - -So while the twilight deepened into night, Cuchulain stood up, -dauntless and alone, between the men of Erin and their foes. Safely -they crossed the stream, while his own followers Cuchulain held at -bay, hindering and staying them from cutting off the rear. Chafing -and vexed they stood, yet at Cuchulain’s command they restrained -themselves, nor was one man of Erin’s host cut off till all in -safety reached the further side. - -Late in the evening came Fergus up, looking for Meave to conduct -her back to Cruachan. Strange was the sight he saw. In peace and -quiet, Meave was taking rest beneath the forest trees; her troops -all passed across the ford, save for late stragglers who came -safely through the Ulster troops, no one destroying them. There -on the brink Cuchulain stood, leaning upon his sword the ‘Little -Hard,’ his face lined deep with toil and thought. He seemed to -guard the enemy’s troops from his own men. Amazed, and uttering not -a sound, Fergus stood still awhile to watch. Then in a mighty laugh -that reached the firmament he burst forth: “Verily and indeed,” -he cried, “strange is the ending of this day. A woman’s lead we -followed in this war, fighting against the bands of our own kith -and kin, to gratify a woman’s jealousy. To-day our host is cleared -and swept away; it flies without a path, without a lead, caring for -nought but safely to reach home. Our queen lies at her ease, and -our worst enemy is he who guards and shields our troops. Surely and -in truth, ’tis wise and champion-like to follow where a woman leads -the way.” - -Cuchulain heard that scornful laugh, and looking up, saw Fergus -standing contemplating him and them. - -“High time thou camest, my foster-father Fergus, to guard and help -thy queen. I leave her now to thee; my task is done. Yet that it -never may be said that cowardice or weakness made Cuchulain spare -the flying troops of Ulster’s foes, one blow I strike in Ulster’s -honour here.” Then turning quickly, his ‘Little Hard’ he swung -aloft, and on the summit of a hillock near at hand he brought it -down, shearing its top clean off. “Between Connaught and Ulster -let that hill stand evermore, a witness to our strength and to our -gentleness!” - -Then once again into his ruined chariot he sprang, and fast as -his two steeds would bear him on, he hurried back to Ulster and -the king, returning glad and full of victory among his troops to -Emain and to Emer once again. And from that time Connaught withheld -its hand, nor did Meave venture ever again to dispute or war with -Ulster. - -Now the Brown Bull had passed over the Shannon westward, -accompanied by his fifty heifers. With head in air and bellowing -loudly he surveyed the great trackless land that lay before him. -The Whitehorned heard his bellowing and came to meet him, and when -they saw each other, straightway with terrific force they rushed -together. - -A paroxysm of exceeding fury came upon them, and up and down they -moved, their nostrils distended and with lowered horns, pushing -and driving and goring, until the ground was red with blood and -the sods torn up and flung on high. Had any ventured near them, he -would without doubt have been crushed to death beneath their hoofs; -and when night came, no one in all the country dared to sleep, for -terror at the bellowing and noise they made. But at length the -Whitehorned gave way before the Brown Bull, and by him was chased -and gored until no spark of life was left in him, and portions of -his flesh were caught upon the Brown Bull’s horns. Then, as he was, -all red with blood and fearful to behold, the Brown Bull took his -path back to his native home, scattering the people right and left -before him, or trampling them into the earth beneath his hoofs. -And, at the last, exhausted with his flight, the spirit fled from -him, and with a mighty roar and fearful bellowings, the great Brown -Bull of Cooley’s raid fell dead. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -The Fairy Swan-Maidens - - -Once a year, in the autumn days, a great gathering was made of -the men of Ulster, and from all parts men and women would come -to share in the sports and marketing, and to meet their friends, -and make merry. The place was joyous and full of gaiety with -musicians making music on harps and fiddles, and singers singing, -and jugglers plying their feats, and horse-racing in open spaces. -The warriors, too, were to be seen exhibiting their trophies of -war, and telling tales of their combats and victories, and all were -dressed in their best, and feasting and eating was to be found in -every part of the assembly. - -One day during an autumn feast, in the calm and quiet evening, -Cuchulain and Emer his wife and a band of the brave men of Ulster -who accompanied Cuchulain, and of the gently bred women who were -Emer’s companions, were amusing themselves strolling and sitting -beside a lake, apart from the people who were making merry, when -they saw coming from a distance a flock of white, very beautiful -swans, which settled down upon the lake, and began to swim out two -and two. “How I wish,” Emer said, “that I could have two of those -birds, one on each of my shoulders.” “All of us are longing for -those birds,” cried her companions, and one woman said, “If only my -husband were here”; and another woman said, “If only my husband -were here, he would fetch me the birds.” - -And Emer looked at Cuchulain, and said, “I think if anyone should -have the birds, it is I who ought to have them first.” - -But Cuchulain seemed to take no notice of what they were saying. -And Emer was afraid to ask him, so she went to Laeg, his -charioteer, and said, “Come thou and tell Cuchulain that the women -are asking for the birds.” So Laeg spoke to Cuchulain: “The women -wish that you should go and hunt the swans for them to-day.” - -But Cuchulain looked angry. “Can the women of Ulster find no better -occupation for me,” he said, “than to set me catching birds for -their amusement? Let them set their own husbands to this business, -for it is not a fitting sport for me.” “This is their fête-day,” -said the charioteer, “and they would like a gift from you.” - -“Bring me my chariot, then,” Cuchulain said; “a fine heroic deed it -is to be taking birds for women, and worthy of a champion’s valour.” - -Angrily he went to the water’s edge, and pursued the swans in his -chariot, bringing down a number of them with his sword and with -stones, so that they fell, flapping their wings against the water. -And he picked them up, and threw them down before the women, and -returned to Emer, but to her he gave not any birds at all. - -“Are you angry?” he said to her. “Certainly I am not,” said she; -“you gave the birds to the women, and this was the same as though I -myself had given them; right glad I am that you did this to please -the women.” Then Cuchulain’s brow cleared, and he said, “Whenever -birds come again on our plain, the two most beautiful of all I will -bring down for you.” - -Hardly were the words out of his mouth, than slowly sailing out of -the far distance and bearing down towards them, they saw two noble -swans, larger and more splendid than any of those that had been on -the lake before. The birds were chanting a gentle, mystic song, -that soothed all who listened to it to sleep; and they were linked -together with a golden chain. White and soft was their plumage, and -they seemed to have human reason, for they moved together, with one -mind, towards Cuchulain and his wife. - -“There are your birds, O Emer,” said Cuchulain, and he rose up to -pursue them and fetch them down for her. But Emer was afraid. “Go -not against those birds,” she said, “you shall get birds for me -another day; there is some magic power in those birds, and you may -come to harm.” - -“I am not afraid of birds,” Cuchulain said, and laughed; “place a -stone in my sling, O Laeg.” - -So he took the sling and made a very careful aim, but for the first -time in his life he missed his aim, and the stone went past the -birds. “On my word,” said Cuchulain, “this is a strange thing; from -the day on which I first assumed arms till now, never have I missed -a mark. Give me another stone.” - -Then he aimed again, more carefully than before, but again the -stone went past them, and they sailed along unheeding. Then -Cuchulain was angry, and he seized his spear, and flung it at the -birds. And the aim was so good that it seemed as though the spear -went through the swans, but for all that they flew away unhurt, -save that the wing of one of them was broken. But when Cuchulain -saw that the swans were taking flight, he flung off his mantle and -ran after them, Laeg following hard behind. The swans flew slowly -round the bend of the lake, and disappeared beneath the water; and -when Cuchulain came after them round the point of land, he saw them -no more, and though he gazed far out upon the water, and up to the -passing clouds of heaven, he could not tell whither the birds were -gone. - -He looked about him, but he did not recognise the place in which he -was, although he was on the Plain of Murthemne, in his own country. - -“Where are the birds gone, and where are we, O Laeg?” said -Cuchulain, for he was sore perplexed. And a strange weariness -overtook him, and he leaned his back against a pillar stone that -was hard by, and drowsiness fell upon him. But Laeg seemed to be -asleep, for he gave no answer. - -Then in a vision Cuchulain saw two graceful women approach him, -clad in fairy mantles of green and purple, and they had little -switches of osier in their hands, and they began to strike him -gently with the rods, first one and then the other, as though they -played a game with him, and it seemed to Cuchulain that all his -strength departed from him while they touched him with their rods. - -Then he said, but his voice sounded to himself but far away and -strange, “Who are ye, fair ladies, and what do ye want with me?” -“We are come,” said the first, “out of Moy Mell, the Land of all -Delight, the radiant Honey-Plain beyond the waves, to seek thy -friendship. Liban am I, wife of Labra the Swift, the Wielder of the -Sword, the monarch of that land. I come to bid thee welcome, if -thou wilt succour him against his foes; for Senach the Spectral has -challenged him to battle, and alone he is not strong enough to meet -him and his gruesome phantom host. Come therefore to his help. -Never until this day has monarch out of Fairy-land called for the -help of any mortal man, but on the Plain of all Delights thy fame -and thy renown are known; Cuchulain of the hundred feats is known.” - -“We come,” said the second lady, “upon another quest. With Labra, -called the Swift, the Wielder of the Sword, dwells beauteous Fand, -betrothed to old Manannan of the Waves. Above the splendour of all -women of this earthly world shines out the noble loveliness of -Fand, Manannan’s chosen wife. Like the pure crystal clearness of a -tear is the fairness of her face, and for that reason is she named -Fand, that is, ‘a tear.’ Now tales of thy renown have come to Fand, -the praise of young Cuchulain, Champion of Murthemne’s plain, and -sore she longeth with her own eyes to look on thee, and see thy -warlike, comely form. Therefore we come, that if thou wilt, we may -conduct thee to the Honey-plain, the Land of all Delights. We are -the swans that swam upon the lake, and see, with thy rough spear, -how thou hast torn and hurt my hand.” - -“I am in no fit state to-day to contend with men or demon hosts,” -Cuchulain said; “let Laeg go with you, and let him come again and -tell me of your land. I am not strong or well to-day, and over and -above all this, never would I, with any man or host do battle on -the asking of a woman.” - -“Come thou, then, Laeg,” she said; “I will take care of thee, and -bring thee safely back. But it is woe and alas that thy master will -not come.” - -“Indeed,” said Laeg, “never in all my life until to-day have I -been put under a woman’s guard. This kind of woman’s rule, I vow, -pleaseth me not at all.” - -“Nevertheless, O master Laeg,” she said, “it is only under my -guidance that thou canst reach Moy Mell. Haste then, and come, -for Labra waits for us.” Still Laeg protested, and would not have -gone, but that Cuchulain urged him; and at the last forward they -went, Laeg and the women, walking together a long while, till they -perceived an island in the lake, and on the near side lay a skiff -of bronze, burnished and very light, waiting, it seemed, to carry -them across. It had no oar or sail or men to guide or ferry it -along, but as they touched it with their feet, swiftly it moved -outward from the bank, and with straight aim across the lake it -bore them to the door of the palace that was in the island. - -About the palace-gate they beheld a troop of warriors, coming out -to meet them. “Where is Labra the Swift-handed?” demanded Liban. -“He returns from gathering his troops and armies for the conflict -on the morrow,” they replied; and even as they spoke, the rattle -of a chariot was heard approaching. “He comes, make way,” they -cried; “Labra Swift-handed, Wielder of the Sword, returns from the -battle-field.” - -Then drew near a dark, stern warrior, whose horses out-stripped -the March wind in their swiftness. In his right hand he held -his upright long-shafted spear, and at his side hung a terrible -two-handled sword, double-bladed, strong. Rugged and full of care -was that warrior’s face, and gloom sat on his brow. And Liban said, -“The spirit of Labra is depressed to-day; I will go out and greet -him.” She went forward to bid him welcome, and when he saw her, his -face cleared, and he exclaimed, “Has the Hound of Ulster come?” -“The Hound of Ulster cometh not to-day,” she said, “but Laeg is -here, and surely he himself will come to-morrow. Fear nothing, -Labra, Wielder of the massive sword, King of the Honey-plain, the -hosts shall be hewn down before thee, and women shall weep their -dead, when once Cuchulain comes.” - -Then Labra called Laeg and said, “Welcome, O Laeg; for the sake -of him from whom thou comest, for the sake of the lady with whom -thou comest, thrice welcome to this land. But now return to thine -own home, O Laeg, and set my message before thy master, before the -Victorious Hound, and bid him come and help me, for the Plain of -Honey is changed to a plain of slaughter and red war, and hosts are -gathering to destroy us; seest thou yonder how they come?” - -Then Laeg looked, and far off on the plain he saw armies coming up -like hosts of demon men, obscure and silently; in bands and troops -they ranged themselves across the plain. Afar and farther yet he -saw them crowding on, while over them their dusky pennons flew, and -their great spears pointed aloft. Yet though so great a host was -assembling, never a sound was heard; but like an army of the dead -they moved, noiseless and swift; only upon the air there came a -sound, low and soft and still, like wailing of the wind in forest -trees, and then Laeg knew that they were playing the Dord Fiansa -upon the points of their great spears. - -“To-morrow will the battle be joined,” said Labra, “and though our -warriors are good, we cannot stand before this host. Pray therefore -thy most valiant lord without loss of time to come and succour us.” - -And Laeg said, “Surely he will come,” and with that he set out to -return again. - -Now when Laeg left his master at the pillar-stone, Cuchulain -lay for a long while in a trance; and there Fergus and the men -of Ulster found him, and they were perplexed to guess what had -happened to him or whither Laeg had gone. At length Cuchulain sat -partly up, but all his strength was gone from him. And he said, -“Carry me to the Speckled House of the Red Branch Champions of -Ulster, and lay me there among the weapons.” For the Champions of -Ulster were called ‘Champions of the Red Branch,’ and they had -three halls set apart for them in the palace of the King at Emain -Macha. In the speckled house they hung their weapons and stored -their trophies; it was called the Speckled House because of the -bright spots of light made by the flickering of the sun as it -danced on the weapons round the wall. - -So they carried Cuchulain to the Speckled House and laid him there -upon a bed with his own weapons hung above his head; and Fergus and -Conall the Victorious, and the other warriors who were his friends -took turns to watch him as he lay. For a whole year he lay thus -in trance and no word did he speak all that time. For a year with -mortal men is but a day in fairy-land. - -At the end of the year Laeg returned, and he found his master thus -asleep and speechless, but he knew not that he had been away more -than a single day. Greatly was Laeg disturbed at the condition -of his master, for he knew that Labra awaited his coming on the -morrow. Then, as he pondered how he should awaken him, there -came amongst them, silently and unannounced, a noble youth of -princely mien, who stood at the foot of the bed and looked down -on Cuchulain as he lay. They knew not how he had come in, for the -doors were shut, and no man had seen him enter. Fergus and Conall -the Victorious sprang to their feet and laid their hands on their -swords to protect Cuchulain. But the stranger said, “I am Angus, -god of youth, come out of fairy-land to heal Cuchulain; if the man -who lies there sick were but in health, he would be a protection -to me against all Ulster. Although he now lies ill, he still is my -protector, and so much the more than if he were in health, for sure -am I that none would hurt me, while he is unfit to take my part.” - -“None here will hurt or injure you,” said all; “welcome art thou -for the sake of him for whom thou hast come.” - -Then the stranger stood up and sang to Cuchulain a mystic strain, -which none of those who stood by could understand; but in truth, -he was calling Cuchulain to Fairy-land, the Plain of all Delight, -for Fand it was who sent him to invite Cuchulain thither. And as -he sang, lo! Cuchulain sat upright in his bed, and his vision went -from him, and he felt his natural strength returning to him again. -But when they looked, Angus was gone, and they knew not whither or -how he went. - -But Fergus and Conall greeted Cuchulain lovingly and said, “Tell us -now what happened unto thee.” And Cuchulain told them all that had -come to him, and of the fairy women with their wands of osier who -had met him, and how his strength departed when they touched him -with the wands. - -Then Cuchulain called Laeg, and said, “Go to Emer of the beautiful -hair, who is sorrowing for me in my own home, in Dun Dalgan, and -say to her that the fairy women have taken my strength from me, -and that I am not able to come to her; but tell her that it goeth -better with me from hour to hour, and that I would have her come to -me to comfort me.” - -And Laeg took that message to Emer, and he found her weeping in Dun -Dalgan. And she said, “It is strange to me, O Laeg, that though for -a whole year your master has been lying ill, not one of you has -sought to heal or succour him. Well known is it that you possess -the power to go away to fairy-land, where all herbs of healing are -to be found, yet never have you sought a fairy herb to cure your -master. Surely some warrior or wise man of Ulster might have done -some heroic deed to bring him back from the sore sickness in which -he lies! Had Fergus or Conall been sick or wounded, or had they -lost their sleep, or had King Conor been bound down in enchanted -slumber as now Cuchulain is, short would have been the time till -Cuchulain would have done some mighty deed or have sought some -magic means of healing them. Certain it is he would have gone into -the fairy mounds, or through the solid earth itself; the great -wide world he would have searched from end to end, until he found -some plant of healing that would have saved and wakened them. But -as for me, for a whole year have I not found one night of sweet -repose, since he, the Hound of Ulster, lay bound down with magic -chains. Sore is my heart and sick; bright music nor the voice of -pleasant friendship strikes my ear; blood presses on my heart since -Cuchulain lay in fairy toils.” - -Then to the Speckled House she went in haste, and stayed not until -she entered the hall where Cuchulain lay, weak and prostrate upon -his bed. - -She seated herself at the side of the bed and touched Cuchulain’s -hand, and kissed him, and she called on him to come back from -fairy-land. “Awake, awake, O champion of Ulster, shake off this -fairy sickness; not fit is it that a chariot-warrior should lie -upon his bed. Lo! Ulster calls upon her Hound of Battle. Lo! -friends and comrades call. Lo! I, thy wife, am at thy side. Awake! -awake! O Hound!” - -At that, Cuchulain stood up and opened wide his eyes, and he saw -Emer of the beautiful hair seated at his side. Then he passed his -hand across his face, and his heaviness and weariness passed away -from him, and he arose and embraced his friends and his own and -only wife; and he felt his strength returning to him, and his old -vigour coming to him again. - -And he said to Emer, “For one day, O wife, spare me yet; for there -is a deed of battle-valour that I must perform to-day, and after -that I will come home to you. Go before me to Dun Dalgan, and -prepare a feast and call my comrades and my friends together. I -will but go and come again.” Then Emer set out for Dun Dalgan to -prepare the feast, but for a whole year she waited for Cuchulain, -watching day by day, and yet he came not. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -How Cuchulain went to Fairy-Land - - -When Cuchulain left Emer, he went forward to the fairy-rath where -he had seen Liban, and he found her waiting for him to take him to -Labra’s Isle. - -It seemed to him that the way they took was long, for they passed -over the Plain of Speech, and beyond the Tree of Triumphs, and over -the festal plain of Emain, and the festal plain of Fidga, until -they came to the place where the bronze skiff awaited them, to take -them to the Isle of all Delights. A noble and right hospitable -welcome was prepared for Cuchulain in that Isle, but he would not -rest for that, but bade Labra conduct him without delay to the -Plain of Combat. So Labra bade him mount his chariot and together -they passed on to the Plain of Combat, where the armies of the -phantom hosts were assembled for the fight upon the morrow. On one -side were the hosts of Labra, very few, but picked and chosen men -in splendid garb, with arms of the best in their hands; but on the -side of Senach the Spectral, as far as eye could reach on every -side, rose lines of black and gloomy tents, with black pennons -flying from their poles. Gaunt heroes clothed in black moved about -amongst the tents, and all the horses that they rode were red as -blood with fiery manes. And over the whole there hung a mist, heavy -and lowering, so that Cuchulain could not see how far the host -extended for the gloom of that heavy mist. - -And sounds rose on the air, like the muttering of a demon host, -quarrelling and wrangling, so that a man might well shiver before -such a sound. But when he saw the demon host, the spirit of -Cuchulain revived within him, and he felt his old force and courage -and his strength returning to him, and all his weakness passed away. - -And he said to Labra, “I would fain drive round the host and -number them.” In ever-widening circles he began to drive round the -tents. But, as he drove, on every side they sprang up before him -innumerable as the blades of grass on a meadow-field, or as the -stars on a brilliant summer’s night, or like the grains of sand -upon the ocean’s shore. Black and gloomy they stood on every hand, -and grim and gaunt the warriors who moved about amongst them, and -terrible their blood-red steeds. It seemed to Cuchulain that the -smell of blood was already in the air, and all the plain was dark -and dim with mist, so that he could not count or number them, or -see the end of them at all. - -But the spirit of Cuchulain faltered not, and he returned to Labra, -and said to him, “Leave me now alone with this great army and take -away with you the champions you have brought. This battle I will -fight alone.” - -So Labra and his men departed and Cuchulain remained alone facing -the phantom host. Then two ravens, the birds of knowledge and -destiny, with whom are the secrets of the druids, came between -Cuchulain and the host, and all that night they made a dismal -croaking, so that the demon men grew sore afraid. - -“One would think,” they said, “that the Madman of Emain Macha were -close at hand, from the croaking of those ravens;” for it was thus -they spoke among themselves of Cuchulain, because he changed his -aspect in time of combat, and a wild and strange appearance came -upon him. And they chased away the ravens, and left no place of -rest for them in all that land. - -All that night Cuchulain stood with his hand upon his spear, -watching the demon host. Very early in the morning, he saw one of -their chief leaders going forth out of his tent, to bathe his hands -at the spring; and his tunic fell back and left his shoulder bare. -At once, with a cast of his spear, Cuchulain transfixed him through -his shoulder to the earth. - -When the demon host saw their captain fall, they arose, and in -swarms and close battalions they came down upon Cuchulain. Then -his war-fury came upon him, and wildly and terribly he attacked -them, scattering them to right and left; and so furious was he and -so deadly were his blows, that they feared to come nigh him. It -filled them with awe to see one single man fighting with a host; -but as the shining of the sun drives the mist before it on a dewy -morn of early spring, so did the radiance of the face of Cuchulain -disperse and drive away the army of the demons, for they could not -stand before the splendour and the shining of his countenance. -Then Senach the Spectral attacked him, and furious was the contest -fought between them, but in the end Cuchulain prevailed and slew -him; and all the host, when they saw that, turned and fled. - -At length Cuchulain returned, his sword dripping with blood; and -the heat of his body after the fight was such that water had to -be thrown over him, before he could be touched; and the men of -Labra feared that his wrath would turn against themselves. They -brought him into the house and bathed him and changed his raiment, -and slowly his own appearance came back upon him; and after that, -they led him to Fand, who awaited his return with her fifty maidens -round her. Very beautiful was the house in which Fand and Labra -awaited Cuchulain. Couches of copper with pillars of fine gold were -ranged around the hall, and soft pillows and cushions of coloured -silk were piled on each of them; the flashing of the jewels from -the golden pillars giving light to all who were in the house. -Noble youths in glossy garments of smooth silk offered drink in -golden goblets, and as they drank, the harpers and musicians gave -forth sweet music, and the story-tellers recited their tales. -Laughter and merriment were heard throughout the house, while from -the eaves the fairy-birds warbled in harmony with the music of -the harps. Fifty youths of stately mien, and fifty maidens with -twisted hair bedecked with golden coronals waited on Fand, on Labra -and his spouse. Near the house to westward, where the sun went -down, stood dappled steeds, pawing the ground and ready for their -riders. On the east of the house stood three bright apple-trees, -dropping ruddy fruit, and in front of the door a tree that gave -forth sweetest harmony, such as would sooth wounded men to sleep, -or bring health to women in their sickness. Above the well another -tree, with silver leaves that reddened in the sunlight, dropped -fragrant food, pleasant to all who tasted it. Ever on the gentle -breeze the tops of the tree swayed together, and ever they swung -wide; and as they met food fell down sufficient for thrice three -hundred men. A vat stood in the hall, full to the top of mead -and sparkling ale, and all the porch, above its silver posts, was -thatched with wings of birds, in stripes of brown and red. - -Now Fand sat on a daïs, waiting for Cuchulain. And when he came -before her, clothed as a king, his noble manly form bathed and -refreshed, his golden hair gathered above his brow round an -apple of bright gold, and all his face aflame with the vigour of -the fight, she thought that she had never looked upon a man so -brilliant as he. - -And he, when he looked on her, knew that never in his life had -he seen woman half so fair as Fand. “Art thou he, Cuchulain of -Murthemne, the Hound of Ulster?” she asked, and even as she spoke -the whole band of youths and maidens rose to their feet, and sang a -chant of welcome to Cuchulain. - -Then Fand placed Cuchulain at her right hand, and happy and -gladsome were they together, and for a while Cuchulain forgot -Ulster, and his place at Conor’s hand, and all the cares and -troubles of the other life; nay, he forgot Emer his own wife and -the feast she was preparing for him, and the days passed quickly -and joyously in the company of Liban and Labra and Fand. And it -seemed to him as though Erin were but a dark unquiet land beside -the clearness of Moy Mell, the Fairy-land of all Delights. - -At length one night he could not sleep; not all the warbling of the -fairy-birds from the branches of the tree and from the eaves, nor -yet the sound of minstrel’s strains could soothe him into slumber. -For he remembered Ulster and his duty to his king, and Emer and the -feast she was to make for him, and all his warrior deeds which were -departing from him, and he felt he must needs forsake the Land of -all Delights and go back to his work in Erin once again. - -In the morning he called Fand, and told her he must go that day, -for he knew not what troubles might be happening to Ulster while -he was away, or what was become of Emer, his wife. But Labra and -Fand besought him to stay yet awhile, and they called the musicians -and bid them chase away the sudden gloom of Cuchulain, and they -brought out the playing-games, hurley and chess, and raced the -horses to please him, and they harnessed the steeds of the chariots -for his delight. But even for all this Cuchulain would not stay. -For he said, “My warrior-strength is passing from me as I rest in -idleness, my vigour is decaying. Let me then go, for I am not as -the little dogs that play about their mistresses’ feet; I am a -Hound of war and conflicts to stand before the foe, and do battle -for my country and my king.” - -And Cuchulain sang this lay: - - “No pup am I to play about the feet of ladies fair, - But where the hounds of war are loosed you’ll find me ever there; - No mongrel whelp to watch the fire or crouch beside the hearth, - I stand beside the fords, I scare the champion from his path. - - “My bark is not the yelp of curs cowed to the heels by fear, - But the deep bay of winded hounds chasing the leaping deer; - No swathes of wool shall bind my wounds, no cushioned couch have I, - Amidst the carnage of the slain I and my kind shall lie. - - “No silky coat of well-combed hair, smooth ‘neath the children’s - hand, - But a fierce mastiff, gaunt and grim, when strife invades the land; - Where fords are weak, where forts blaze red, where trumpets sound - for war, - The ‘Hound of Ulster’ stands at guard, or drives the foe afar.” - -Then when Fand saw that nothing would content him, she bade him a -gentle kind farewell; and all the youths and maidens came about -him, sorrowing that he was so soon weary of their land. But Labra -thanked him kindly and heartily for his help against the demon host -and he bade Liban take Cuchulain safely back across the lake to -Erin once again. - -But, before he went, Fand lifted up her lovely witching face, and -said, “Tell me some place where, at the end of a year from now, I -may see your face once more. Never till now have I ventured forth -from fairy-land; but, for your sake, for one brief hour I will come -to the land of troubled mortal men. Give me a tryst.” - -Cuchulain was fain to deny her this, for he thought on Emer, and -he dreaded her anger against Fand, if she should be aware of it. -But when he saw the crystal-fair, witching face of Fand, and her -ruby lips and eyes bright as stars on a summer’s night, he could -not say her nay; and he made a tryst with her on the Strand of the -Yew-tree’s Head, for a year and a day from then. And after that, -they bade one another farewell. - -So Cuchulain came home again, and Emer and Laeg and his friends -greeted him right lovingly, and he told them that he had been in -fairy-land, and of all its splendours and beauty he told them -freely, but to Emer he said not anything of Fand. - -Now when a year and a day were past, Cuchulain came to the place -of tryst at the Strand of the Yew-tree’s Head, and he and Laeg -sat beneath the ancient yew-tree playing chess, while waiting for -the coming of Fand. It chanced that, as Emer walked that way with -her fifty maidens to take the air beside the shore, she beheld -approaching a dignified lady, radiant as the clearness of a day -in June, who came with a troop of maidens towards Cuchulain. Very -swiftly and softly they moved across the plain, as though they -hardly touched the sod, and all the land was filled with their -brightness. - -It appeared to Emer that they had come across the lake, yet no -sign of skiff or boat was to be seen, and the unknown queen came -where Cuchulain sat, and he rose up and made a glad gentle greeting -before her, and she sat down by him, and they talked pleasantly and -lovingly together. - -When Emer saw this, she was filled with jealousy and anger against -the fairy-woman, and to herself she said, “This, then, O Cuchulain, -was the cause that kept thee so long in fairy-land, when I made -that feast to which thou earnest not.” - -And anger and dark revenge filled Emer’s heart, and she turned to -her maidens and said, “Bring me here sharp-bladed knives, for I -myself will go softly behind them and I will kill the woman who -talks with Cuchulain.” - -Then they went and fetched thin gleaming knives, and they hid them -beneath their mantles, and went stealthily behind the place where -Cuchulain sat. Now Cuchulain saw not what was going forward, but -Fand knew, for she sat over against Cuchulain, facing the way that -Emer came. She said to Cuchulain, “Emer thy wife comes here, with -fifty maidens, and there are sharp knives hidden beneath their -cloaks.” - -But he said, “Fear nothing, lady, I myself will speak to Emer, my -own wife, and do thou wait here till my return.” - -But Emer came close to Cuchulain and cried, “Why dost thou do -me this dishonour, O Cuchulain, to leave me for a fairy maid? -The women of Ulster will contemn me if they think that Cuchulain -loves another woman better than his wife; and what have I done to -displease thee, that thou shouldst need to talk with her? Never -have I left thee for any other, and well and truly have I loved -thee from the day thou earnest in thy chariot to the fort of -Forgall the Wily, my father, till to-day; and for ever shall I love -thee, and none other but thee alone.” - -Then Cuchulain said, “You wrong me, Emer, and you wrong this -fairy-maid. No thought at all of harm have we, nor can any other -be to me what thou hast been. Fair and pure is this maiden, and a -worthy mate for any monarch in the world. Her race is noble, her -mind is firm and gentle and full of lofty thoughts, no harm or evil -will be found in her or me. Moreover, she is betrothed to a noble -spouse, Manannan of the Ocean Waves.” - -“In very truth,” said Emer, bitterly, for her heart was sore within -her on account of the greatness of the love she bore Cuchulain, -“it is ever so with men! All that is new is fair, and all that is -old is of little worth; white is the last they see, and the others -are but grey or black. Sweet is the thing they have not, but sour -the fruit they hold within their hands! Once in peace and love -we dwelled together and no one came between us, and in peace and -honour we might dwell together again, O Youth, if but I were as -dear to thee as once I was!” And great tears rolled down Emer’s -cheeks, and her grief weighed heavily upon her. - -“By my word and truly,” cried Cuchulain, “never wast thou more dear -to me than thou art to-day, and dear shalt thou be to me for all my -life.” - -“I think,” said Fand, “that I had better go away, and return to my -own country, for I am troubling you all here.” “Nay, nay,” cried -Emer, smitten with reproach when she saw the nobleness that was in -the fairy woman, “go not away, ’twere better I should go.” - -But Fand said, “Not so, indeed, from my own land they call me to -return. Take to thee thy man, O noble Emer, no harm or hurt hath -happened him with me. Though in the Land of all Delights warriors -and great men sought my friendship, better to me than the affection -of them all was the friendship of thy glorious spouse. Need is -there, now, that I should go my way, and leave my friend to thee; -but though bright and dazzling is the country of Moy Mell, some -shadow hath fallen on it since Cuchulain went away.” - -Then she lifted up her lovely face, and Emer saw that tears like -drops of crystal stood within her eyes. - -Long years ago had Fand been betrothed to Manannan, Lord of the -Ocean and the Waves, a great and hoary god. Ancient was he, for -no man knew his age, and wild and grey his hair, and all his brow -rugged and lined with storms. Very kingly and majestic was his -tread, but men feared him, because of his strange, tempestuous -moods, and his shape-shifting, and his little care for human life. -For Manannan was ever restless, wandering in distant lands, moving -now this way, now that, and visiting in turn all countries; and -years ago, as mortal men count time, he had gone away and returned -not, nor did Fand even know where he was to be found. So she -thought he had forsaken her, and, when Cuchulain came to fairy-land -and she saw his youth and beauty, her mind went out to him, for -never had she seen before a noble human man. - -But Manannan knew within himself that Fand was in sore grief, -and he arose in haste to go and help her. For, although he had -tarried long in distant lands, daily he had news of Fand, and he -learned all she was doing and when she needed him. So now he saw -her trouble, for he it was who sent Cuchulain to fairy-land that -he might test her love for himself; and swiftly over the waves he -sped to go and save her. Invisible was he to mortal men, and he -rode the white sea-foam as though it were a horse, for no need had -he of any vessel, or of sail or oar; and as he passed by Fand, she -felt his presence and looked up at him as he passed by. But for a -moment she knew not that this was Manannan of the Waves, for his -look of hoary age had gone from him, and the man she saw was young -and strong, with a noble gentleness upon his face, like the sea on -a calm summer’s day. - -For Manannan was a shape-shifter, and at one time he was terrible -and cruel to behold, but at another he showed a kindly face, for -he looked into the minds of men, and as he saw them, even so his -own face reflected the thing he saw. Then Manannan said to Fand, “O -Lady, what wilt thou now do? Wilt thou depart with me or abide here -with Cuchulain, if he comes for thee?” - -“By my troth,” said Fand, “either of you two were a fitting spouse -for me, and a worthy friend to stay with; and in neither of you do -I see any one thing greater or better than is in the other; yet, O -thou princely One, it is with thee that I will go, for I have been -promised to thee for thy wife; thou hast no consort of worth equal -to thine own, while Cuchulain has a noble spouse; therefore take me -with thee, for Cuchulain needs me not.” - -Then Manannan stretched his arms to Fand, and drew her with him, -and she followed him. And Cuchulain perceived her drawing away -from him, but he knew not whither she went, nor could he see who -was talking to her. And he cried out to Laeg, his charioteer, who -had knowledge of fairy-land, “What meaneth this, Laeg, that I see? -Whither goeth Fand?” - -“She goeth with Manannan of the Sea,” replied Laeg. “He is drawing -her back to the Land of all Delights, but she is weeping as she -goes.” - -Then Cuchulain uttered three sharp cries of sorrow and of grief, -and he fled away from men into desert places, and would take no -meat or drink, and he slept in the open rush-land beside the -high-road to Tara. - -Emer went then to Emain, and sought King Conor, and told him -all that had happened, and that Cuchulain was out of his senses -because Fand had gone away; and she prayed him of his love for -Cuchulain, and because of her love for him, to send to him men -of skill and Druids who might bring him back to health. The king -did so willingly, but when they came, Cuchulain fled from them, -or sought to slay them, until at length he felt within himself a -terrible thirst, and he craved of them a drink. In the drink they -mingled herbs of forgetfulness, so that the memory of Fand slowly -faded from him, and the remembrance of the time he had spent in -fairy-land, and he came to his own mind again. - -They gave soothing drinks to Emer also, for she was troubled, -too, and stricken, and her natural joyousness had gone from her. -But when Manannan heard in fairy-land of the trouble of Emer and -Cuchulain, he came unseen of any man, and shook his cloak of -forgetfulness between Fand and Cuchulain, so that from both of them -the memory passed away, as though it had been a dream, and they -thought of it no more. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -Deirdre of Contentions - - -Years passed away, and the memory of their old feuds died down -between Fergus mac Roy and King Conor mac Nessa. Fergus in his -old age wearied for his home and country, and for the comrades of -his youth. The private wars of Meave had little interest for him, -and the tidings that came from time to time from his own province -stirred in him a longing to be back. So at length he bade farewell -to Meave, and with the most part of his followers he returned to -Ulster, and settled in his own fort again. In order to keep his -allegiance, King Conor gave him a position next himself, and in all -outward things showed him honour, but all the while he watched him -jealously, and Fergus knew well that the King would be glad to find -a good excuse to shut him up in bonds or to put him to death. Conor -feared his power with the people, and their pride and affection -for him who once had been their king, and in his mind Conor knew -well that he sat in Fergus’ seat, and that many of the older chiefs -would willingly have seen their rightful prince once more upon the -throne. As old age came on him, Conor grew more wily and suspicious -year by year, so that some men dreaded and some hated him, and few -felt for him affection or true reverence. Yet among the youthful -generation growing up, the reign of Fergus and his mighty deeds -were but a tale told by their fathers of their own youthful -days; and though they looked with awe upon his mighty stature and -his massive form, Fergus seemed to them more like a giant of the -ancient time, or like a hoary god, than like a being of human kind -as they were, feeling the needs and passions of a man. - -Ulster was now at peace, and quietly the days rolled by. Once -more the sound of laughter rang out from the playing-fields. New -boys, grown out of babyhood, played the old sports, lads brave -and manly as those of other days; but older men, passing, would -shake their heads and wipe away a tear, for still the shadow of -the tragedy that met the boy-corps at the ford hung over them. And -many a mother wept at night remembering a bright boy, her pride and -darling, swept away contending for Cuchulain and for Ulster against -the warriors of Meave. - -From time to time, in days of peace, the chiefs of Ulster, each in -his turn, made a feast for Conor and the nobles in his company, -the famous Champions of the Red Branch. In his turn, Felim, son of -Doll, the chief of the King’s story-tellers and his close friend, -made such a feast for Conor. - -For a whole year had Felim been preparing for the coming of the -King. He built a noble banqueting hall close to his house, and -sleeping rooms for the King’s followers, and stables for their -steeds. From all the country round the farmers brought butter and -cream, fresh curds and cheeses, cakes and wheaten bread. Cattle and -sheep and swine worthy of the royal banquet were brought in, and -fruits and onions, honey and strong ale were stored in plenty in -Felim’s vats and store-houses. - -He gathered together singing men and singing women, musicians -who played upon the fiddle and the harp, and the best tellers of -stories that were to be found in all the country-side. - -On the day appointed, the King set out in state from Emain, with -the Champions of the Red Branch in his train. - -Fair was the day and bright when Conor and his followers set out, -each in his chariot drawn by two spirited steeds, each decked in -his festal array, in mantles of rich crimson, blue or purple, -fastened with massive brooches of pure gold, wondrously chased and -set with stones of price brought out of distant lands. Upon their -heads their helmets of bright bronze shone in the sun, and on their -spear-points the sunlight danced so that they seemed to move along -beneath a flashing line of gold. - -But as they neared the hall the sky grew overcast and black with -clouds, and at the fall of night a wind arose and blew up clouds of -heavy dust that dimmed their brilliancy, so that they reached the -mansion of Felim besmirched and blown about and very weary. - -Hardly had the chariot of the King drawn up within the court, than -a roll of thunder, loud and terrible, resounded overhead, while -floods of rain poured down, and a fierce tempest seemed to shake -the building to its foundations. “An awful night is this,” said -Felim; “close to the doors and bid the singing men and women make -bright cheerful music in the hall.” But all in vain they tried -to cheer the guests. Louder the tempest roared, and peal on peal -of thunder, such as none of them had ever heard before, made all -hearts quail. “No common storm is this,” the monarch said, “I have -forebodings that some ill will fall upon the province from this -night.” But Felim busied himself to push on the feast, and when all -were seated at the board, with servers carving the great joints -and wine poured out, a lull came in the storm, and Felim thought -that all was well at last. But scarcely had the King begun to eat, -when a swift messenger came running in. “O King,” he proclaimed, “a -child is born to Felim, a fine fair-fashioned girl; let Felim come -and see his wife and child.” But Felim said, “Be silent now, let -not the feast be broken by your news. When once the feast is done -and the King served, I’ll come and see the child.” - -Beside the King sat Caffa, the first Druid of the province, an aged -man. He heard the message, and up-rose. “A child is born to our -host, O King, while we are present here. I will go forth and by the -stars find out her destiny, whether to Felim and his wife comes joy -or woe with this girl’s birth.” “Go forth,” the King replied, “not -less than this is due to our good host. Fair be the fate that will -befall to him and all his house because this child is born.” - -Then Caffa went far out beyond the house, and at the outer rath -he stood awhile, trying behind the drifting clouds to read the -stars. The quarter of the moon he calculated carefully, and in what -constellations the wandering stars, the planets, lay. In his old -books and tablets, carried within the folds of his wide flowing -robes, was gathered all the ancient wizard’s lore, the wisdom of -his craft. Closely he scanned the lines, and with unusual care he -drew the horoscope. And now and then he started, as though things -surprising to himself were found therein. - -So long he lingered, that, when at length he closed his tablets -made of soft wood and written o’er with runes, and turned him to -the house, the King and all his company had quite forgot the child, -and loud uproarious laughter rang throughout the hall, and sallies -of keen wit and merry song as the full horns of mead and ale passed -round from hand to hand. So at the door a moment Caffa stood; and -in his face was dreadful warning, and a look so strange, that all -the laughter died away, and silence, sudden and complete, fell on -the company. - -“Well,” said the King, and laughed, though fear smote on his mind, -“we hope the omens prophesy good luck; we drink a horn of mead to -the maid’s good health; may she thrive, grow fair and marry well, -and to her parents bring no harm or ill.” - -“Not to her parents will this child bring ill, but to the province, -and to Ulster’s king and chiefs. Fair she will be, so fair that -queens will soon grow jealous of her beauty, and kings will wage -red war to gain her hand. I see her, tall and stately as a swan or -as the sapling of the mountain-side; her cheek the ruddy foxglove -puts to shame, her skin is white as winter’s driven snow. Like -the soft hyacinth is the deep, liquid blue of her sweet eyes, and -teeth, like pearls, gleam between crimson lips. Like to a crown -of gold her clustering hair, gathered in rolls about her shapely -head. She walks apart, alone, like a fair flower hidden within a -dell, yet all around her and where’er she comes are tumults and the -sounds of rolling war, and broken friendships and black treachery. -I see that she is destined to a king, but something comes between -her and her fate. Beware, O King; this maid is born for ill to -Ulster, and the downfall of the Red Branch and its noble Champions.” - -Up-sprang the Heroes of the Red Branch then, and one and all cried -out that if upon the province ill must fall because of this one -babe, ’twere better far to put the child to death while she was -young, and rid the land of her. But the King held them back. “Bring -the babe hither,” he said, “and let us see this harbinger of ill.” - -Then came the babe all swathed in white and lying, soft and fair, -within her nurse’s arms. And when the infant saw the lights and -heard the sounds of singing, she was pleased, and puckered up her -baby face and looked up at the King and crowed and smiled. At this -the King was moved to gentleness; he rose up from his seat and took -the babe out of her nurse’s arms and loudly he proclaimed before -them all: “The prophecies and omens of the seers I do most strictly -honour and believe. No man can fly from fate, nor can man set -aside his destiny. The mandates of the gods of earth and air and -fire, the Unchanging Elements, must be fulfilled. Yet will I not -believe that any good can come of an ignoble act. No man or hero of -a noble mind for his own good would slay a helpless babe, neither -then for the good of Ulster shall this foul, cowardly deed be done. -The child shall live, and if she prove as fair as Caffa says, one -part at least of his grim prophecy shall be fulfilled, for I will -take the girl as my own wife when she is come to marriageable age, -and so she shall be wedded to a king. And here I do declare to one -and all, I take this child under my special charge and make myself -responsible for her. I bring her up in my own way, and he who lifts -his hand against the child must after reckon with the king himself.” - -Then Fergus, Conall Cernach, and the rest arose and said: “The -King’s protection is a circling wall through which no man may -break. We, the Champions of the Red Branch and thy own chiefs, do -well observe and will fulfil your will. Even though trouble happen -through her life, the child shall live.” So said they all. Then -Caffa said: “Alas! Alas! O King, you and your chiefs will live to -rue this day. Great woes are bound up with the destiny before this -little maid, and all the world will hear of them and weep. A child -of sorrow is this child, and ‘Deirdre of Contentions’ is her name.” -“So be it,” said the King, “I like the name; when Deirdre is of age -to foster with a nurse, bring her to me.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -The Up-bringing of Deirdre - - -As soon as she was weaned, King Conor took the child away from her -own parents, as was the custom in those olden days, and put her out -to foster with a nurse, Levarcam, a wise and skilful dame, who told -the King from day to day how Deirdre fared. And for the first seven -years Deirdre grew up within the royal household, petted and loved -by all, and she was richly fed and robed in silk, and nourished -like a princess, for all in the palace knew that this young lovely -child was destined to be mated with their king. Often she spent her -days upon the playing fields, and watched the boy-corps practising -their sports, and joined their games and laughed with glee like -any other child. Thus happily and gaily passed the years for -Deirdre, till one day when she was playing ball among the little -lads, the King came down to watch their play. He saw how like a -flower Deirdre grew, half like the opening daisy, pink and white, -half like the slender hairbell on its stem, graceful and delicate; -and though he was an old man, and had been a widower for now many -years, and the child but a babe of seven years, a sudden jealousy -smote at his aged heart. He saw the girl surrounded by the lads, -who tossed the ball into her little lap or into her small apron -held out to catch it as it fell. And every time she caught it, her -ringing childish laugh broke out, and all the boys cried, “Well, -caught, O Deirdre; bravely caught, our little Queen!” For to them -all, it was well-known that this small child was kept by Conor for -himself, to share his throne and home; so oft in play they called -her “Little Queen.” - -Then Conor called his Druid Caffa to him, and he said, “Too long -we leave this child at liberty among the chieftain’s sons. She -must henceforth be kept apart and quite forget that there are -younger men than you or me. If she grows up among these lads, most -certainly the day will come when she will wish to wed some chief of -her own age. See, even now, the lads bend to her will; she rules -them like a queen indeed, and gladly they obey her. When she is -grown to maidenhood, small chance for me, an aged man, when comes -the time to woo.” - -“The King woos not,” said Caffa, “he commands, and none dare -disobey.” “Still I would rather have a willing bride,” the King -replied; “I want no girl to be my royal mate who craves and hankers -for some other man among my subjects. She shall come to me of her -own free will, because she knows no other man but me. She shall not -even know what kind of thing a man may be, for I will shut her up -apart from men, and, save yourself and me, she shall not ever see a -manly face.” “The King commands,” said Caffa, slowly, “and it must -be done as he desires. But yet I fear the maid will pine in her -captivity. The bride you wed will be a lily pale as death, and not -a maiden in her blooming loveliness.” - -“She shall have space and air and garden-ground,” the King replied, -“only she shall not ever see a human face, save yours and mine, and -nurse Levarcam’s.” - -So for the girl he built a place apart, far off from Emain in -a lonely dell, surrounded by a wood. A simple stately house -was reared, surrounded by an orchard of rare fruits. Behind the -house a garden and a piece of barren moor, and through the wood -a gently-flowing stream that wandered amid carpets of bright -flowers. And all seemed fair enough, but round the place he built -a mighty wall, so high that none could climb it, and a moat ran -round within. Four savage man-hounds sent by Conor were on constant -guard, watching on every side by night and day, so that no living -thing could enter or pass out, save with the knowledge of Levarcam. - -And for a time the child was happy, for Levarcam, the wise woman, -taught her all she knew. She taught her how each bird sings to its -mate, each different note of thrush or cuckoo or the soaring lark; -she taught her of the plants that spring towards heaven, their -roots deep hidden in the yielding soil, and of their names and -uses, and the way they fructified and sent out shoots, and of the -fruits they bore. And in the solemn night, they went abroad and -watched the motion of the stars, and marked the wandering planets -how they carved out their own path among the rest, and all the -changes of the moon the maiden knew, and how to calculate the time -of day by shadows on the grass. There was no bird upon the spray, -nor herb among the plants, nor star in heaven, but Deirdre had a -name for each and all. - -And ever and anon, King Conor came and sat with her and talked, and -brought her gifts to while away the time; and because the days were -long and passed one like the other without any change, she liked -his coming, and would call him “Father,” and make tales for him, -and sing her songs and show the little garden she had made herself -alone. - -And Deirdre grew up tall and stately as the sapling of the forest, -and lithe as the green moorland rush that bows before the wind. -Of all the women of the world was Deirdre the gentlest and best, -lovely of form and lovely in her mind; light as the hind that leaps -upon the hill, and white and shapely as the snowy swan. But though -they tended her, and fed her with the best, the maiden drooped and -pined. And on a day Levarcam said, “What ails thee, girl? Why is -thy face so pale, thy step so slow? Why dost thou sigh and mope?” -And Deirdre said, “I know not, nurse, what ails me; but I think -I should be well if once again I saw the boys upon the playing -fields, and heard their shouts, and tossed the ball with them.” - -“Fie, fie,” replied the nurse, “’tis seven full years since on the -green you played at ball. A child of but seven years were you at -that time, and now full fourteen years have come and gone, and you -are growing into maidenhood.” “Seven bitter years,” said Deirdre, -“since I beheld the joyous playing field, and saw the sports, and -marked the manly face of Naisi, noblest and bravest of the corps of -boys.” - -“Naisi, the son of Usna?” asked Levarcam, much surprised. “Naisi -was his name, he told me so,” said Deirdre; “but I did not ask -whose son he was.” “He told you so?” Levarcam asked again. “He -told me so,” said Deirdre, “when he threw the ball, by a mis-cast, -backward, across the heads of the group of maidens who were -standing on the edge of the green, and I rose up among them all, -picked up the ball, and gave it back to him. He pressed my hand and -smiled, and promised he would see me oft again; but never since -that day, that fatal day, when Conor brought me to this lonely -place, have he or I beheld each other more. Bring Naisi here, O -nurse, that I may once again behold his face, so bright and boyish, -with its winning smile; then shall I live and laugh and love my -life again.” - -“Speak not like this, O Maiden,” exclaimed the nurse. “To-day the -King comes for his visit. We are in winter now, but in the budding -of the spring, he takes you hence to Emain, there to claim you as -his wife.” - -“The king no doubt is kind,” the girl replied, “and means me well, -but he is old and grey, and in his face is something that I do not -like. I think he could be cruel, and that if any man stood in his -way, he would not hesitate to lay a trap to catch him, as Caffa -snared the little mouse that ran about my room and kept me company. -Yet will I go with him to Emain, for I think that somewhere among -the people of the court, I shall find Naisi out.” - -“Hush, hush,” the nurse replied, “Naisi is now a little boy no -longer, but the foremost of all Ulster’s younger chiefs, the hero -of the Red Branch, and the favourite of the King. Speak not of -Naisi to King Conor, or mayhap some harm will come to him.” “Then -will I never speak his name, or tell of him,” the girl replied, -“though in my dreams I see him every night playing at ball with me; -but when he flings the ball for me to catch, ’tis ever the same -thing. King Conor comes between and seizes it, and throws it back -at Naisi. So can I never catch and hold it in my hands, and I am -vexed and weep. But last night, O good nurse, King Conor flung the -ball craftily at his head, and Naisi fell all red and stained with -blood, like that poor calf that Caffa slew, thinking that I could -eat it for my food. The little tender calf that played with me! -Upon the winter’s frosty floor I saw its blood, all crimson-red -upon the driven snow, and as I looked I saw a raven that stooped -down to sip the blood; and, O dear nurse, I thought of Naisi then, -for all his hair, as I remember it, was dark and glossy like the -raven’s wing, and in his cheeks the ruddy glow of health and -beauty, like the blood, and white his skin like snow. Dear nurse, -dear nurse, let me see Naisi once again, and send the King away.” -“Alas! alas!” Levarcam said; “most difficult indeed is thy desire, -for far away is Naisi, and he dare not come within this fort. -High is the wall and deep the moat, and fierce the blood-hounds -watching at the gates.” “At least,” said Deirdre, “procure for me -from Caffa that I may once in a while wander without the fort and -breathe the open air upon the moor; this wall frowns on me like an -enemy holding me in his grasp and stifling me, surely I die e’er -long within these heavy walls. But on the moor, where no man comes -(if you must have it so), I’d see at least the grouse winging its -flight, and hear the plover and the peeweet call, and pluck the -heather and the yellow gorse in summer time. O nurse, dear nurse, -have pity on your child.” When Levarcam saw the misery of the -maid, she feared that Conor would upbraid her with neglect because -her cheek grew pale, and her young joy seemed gone; and so that -night she spoke to Caffa, and he said, “I think no harm could come -if we should let the maiden walk out upon the wild hillside. No -human creature, save a stray hunter following the deer, or a poor -shepherd garnering his sheep, or some strange homeless wanderer, -e’er sets his foot upon this lonesome moor. Far off are we from -any human habitation; and the maid droops, indeed. Let her go out, -but keep her well in sight; to climb the hill-top and to roam the -heather moor as spring comes on, will bring fresh colour into her -pale cheeks, and fit her for the wooing of the king.” - -So from that time, Deirdre went out upon the upland moor, and -soon she knew each nook and stream and bit of forest-land for -miles around. She learned the zig-zag flight of the long-billed -snipe, she knew the otter’s marshy lair, and where the grouse and -wild-duck made their nests. She fed the timid fawn, wild, trustful -as herself, and made a dear companion of a fox that followed her as -though it were a dog; and once, while Levarcam stayed below, she -climbed the dizzy height where golden eagles had built their nest -upon the mountain’s crest, and smoothed the eaglets with her own -soft hand. And so she grew in health, and all her spirit came to -her again, and when King Conor came to visit her, he thought that -in his dreams and in the long life he had passed among the best of -Erin’s women, he had never seen or dreamed of a girl so lovely as -this blood-drop of the moor. Eagerly he began to reckon up the days -until, her fifteenth birthday being passed, he should bring her -down to Emain, and take her as his wife. But of her walks he knew -not, only Caffa and Levarcam knew. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -The Sleep-Wanderer - - -On a wild wintry night while things were so, there came into the -neighbourhood a hunter of wandering game, who had lost his course -and his companions. The man was tired with travelling among the -hills all day, and in the dark cloudy night, with the mist rising -round him from the hills, he laid him down outside the garden -within which Deirdre dwelt, and fell asleep. Weak he was with -hunger and fatigue, and numb with cold, and deep sleep fell upon -the man. Sleep-wandering came upon him then, and he thought that he -was close beside a warm hollowed-out fairy mound, and in his dreams -he heard fairy music, soft and sweet. In his sleep he called aloud -that if there were any one at all in the fairy mound, they would -open the mound and let him in, for the sake of the Good Being. - -Now Deirdre had not slept that night, and she had arisen and -with her nurse had moved about the grounds to seek for warmth of -exercise. Just as they turned to go back within the house out of -the chill and heavy mist, Deirdre heard the faint feeble voice of -the weary man outside the gate. “Nurse-mother, what is that?” she -asked and stopped. Levarcam knew it was a human voice, but she -replied, “Only a thing of little worth, the birds of the air have -gone astray, and are seeking one another; let them hie away to -the forest of branches”; and she tried to draw Deirdre towards the -house. Again sleep-wandering came on the man, and he called out -again and louder than before, that if there were any in the fairy -mound, for the sake of the Being of the Elements they would arise -and let him in. - -“What is that, nurse-mother?” said the girl again. “Only a thing -of little sense, the birds of the woods are gone astray from each -other, and are seeking to come together again. Let them hie them -away to the forest of branches.” - -The third time came sleep-wandering upon the hunter, and he called -aloud that if there were any within the mound, they would let him -in for the sake of the God of the Elements, for he was benumbed -with cold and parched with hunger. - -“Oh! what is that, nurse-mother?” said Deirdre. “Nought there is -in that to bring gladness to thee, maiden; it is but the birds of -the air who have lost one another in the woods; let them hie away -into the forest of branches. Neither shelter or home will they get -from us this night.” “Oh! nurse-mother, it was in the name of the -God of the Elements that the bird asked shelter of us; and oft hast -thou told me that anything asked of us in His name should willingly -be done. If thou wilt not allow me to bring in the bird that is -benumbed with cold and sore with hunger, I myself will doubt thy -teaching and thy faith. But as I believe in thy teaching and thy -faith, as thou thyself didst explain it to me, I myself will let in -the bird.” So Deirdre turned back to the gate and drew the bar from -the door, and let in the hunter. She brought him into the house, -and placed a seat in the place of sitting, food in the place of -eating, and drink in the place of drinking, for the man who had -come home. - -“Go on and eat thy food, for indeed thou art in need of it,” said -Deirdre. - -“Well, I was in truth needful of food and of drink and of warmth -when I came to the door of this home,” said the hunter, “but these -are all gone from me now that I behold thee, maiden.” Then Levarcam -was angry with the man, and spoke sharply to him: “It is too ready -on thy tongue the talk is, O man, with thy food and with thy -drink. It would be better for thee to keep thy mouth shut and thy -tongue dumb in return for the shelter we are giving thee on a cold -winter’s night.” - -“Well,” said the hunter, “I may keep my mouth shut and my tongue -dumb if it suits thee, but by thy father’s two hands and thine own, -there are some others of the world’s men who, if they but saw this -blood-drop thou art hiding here, it is not long that they would -leave her here with thee.” - -“What people are those and where are they?” said Deirdre, eagerly. -“I will tell thee that, maiden,” said the hunter. “There are three -heroes of the Red Branch, Naisi, Ainle, and Arden, sons of Usna, -brothers, who, if they saw thee, would bear thee hence to some -other place than this.” - -“What like are these three brothers of whom you speak?” cried -Deirdre, and all her face blushed to a rosy red. “Like the colour -of a raven their dusky hair, tossed back from each high, shining -brow; their skin white as the plumage of a swan, their cheeks -like to a red-deer’s coat, or like your own cheeks, maiden. They -swim and leap and run as strong and stately as the salmon of the -stream, or as the stag upon the dappled hill, ’twixt sun and shade; -but Naisi, when he stands upright, towers a head and shoulders -above all the men around him. Such are the sons of Usna, noble -maid.” - -But Levarcam interfered: “However be those men of whom you speak, -off with you now and take another road that comes not past this -way. Small is my gratitude for all thy talk, and well for her who -let thee in hadst thou died of thy cold and hunger at the door, and -never come within for food and drink.” - -The hunter went his way; but he bethought himself that if he told -the sons of Usna of the lovely blood-drop he had seen, they might -free the maiden out of Levarcam’s hands, and do a good deed to him -also for telling them that there was such a damsel as Deirdre on -the surface of the living dewy world. So he told his tale to Naisi -and said to him that there dwelt, far away on the distant moor, -shut in between high walls, the loveliest maiden that ever was born -in Erin, and that none lived beside her but an aged nurse and an -old Druid, so that Deirdre was like a tender flower over-shadowed -by two ancient branchy trees, that hid her from the air and sun. - -When Naisi heard that, he said, “Who is the maid and where is she, -whom no man hath seen but thee, if, indeed, seen her thou hast?” -“Truly I have seen her,” said the hunter, “but no one else could -find her save I myself should guide him.” - -Then Naisi said that he would go; but Arden and Ainle tried to -dissuade him, for they said, “What if the girl should be the maid -the King hath destined to himself?” But from far-off to the mind -of Naisi there came a memory of a young child, scarce seven years -old, whom on the playing-fields he once had seen and promised -to see again, but who had disappeared that very day, and never -from that day to this had he set eyes upon the girl. So all his -brothers could devise served not to turn him from his purpose; and -at dawn of the next day, amid the early carolling of birds, in the -mild morning dawn of fragrant May, when all the bush was white -with hawthorn-bloom, and dew-drops glistened from every point of -sapling, bush, and plant, they four set out, going in search of the -retired place where Deirdre dwelt. - -“Yonder it is, down on the floor of the glen,” the hunter said, -when at the fall of eve they stood upon the mountain-brow above the -house, so well concealed in trees that many times they might have -passed it by and never known that any house was near. “I care not -for myself to see again the woman who lives therein; sharp is her -tongue, unwelcoming her words. I leave you then, good luck go with -you, but if you will be advised, go not near the house. At every -gate are blood-hounds, and Levarcam’s bite is nigh as fierce as -theirs.” - -From day to day the sons of Usna stayed among the hills that -circled Deirdre’s home. But for awhile Levarcam feared to let her -charge go out, for soon would Conor come to claim her, and Levarcam -thought, “If aught should happen or the girl should slip between -my hands, small pity would King Conor have for me.” But as time -passed, and Deirdre pined again for open air and sunshine, and the -walks she loved, and fretted for the fox that looked for her, and -for her woodland company of beasts and birds, Levarcam once again -took the girl abroad, and oft they sat upon the open hill and -watched the sun go down, or brought their work and passed the long -spring mornings on the heather, happy because the sunshine was so -warm, the air so sweet, and all the world so fresh with herbs and -flowers. - -One day they long had sat thus drinking in the sun, and while -Levarcam dozed and nodded with the heat and the fatigue of climbing -up the hill, Deirdre from time to time would leave her side to -seek some plant or follow a butterfly that passed across her path. -Reaching the summit of the hill she saw three men whose like she -never in her life before had set her eyes upon. They were not bent, -like Caffa, or wrinkled, like King Conor when he came; nor were -they dark and roughly clad, with shaggy beards, like the one hunter -who had made his way to her abode. These men were young and lithe, -straight as the pine and shapely as the stag. But one above the -rest towered head and shoulders high, his raven locks thrown back, -his blue eye scanning all the mountain for trace of fawn or deer. -Beside them, in the leash, three noble hounds; and as they paced -along the upland track, Deirdre sat mute in wonder, for in all her -life never had she seen such goodly men as these. But suddenly, -as they drew near, a flash of inspiration came upon her mind; she -knew that these were Usna’s sons, that he who overtopped the rest -was Naisi, the boy who long ago had thrown the ball with her. The -brothers passed her by, not seeing her seated above them on the -hill. But all at once, without a moment’s thought, Deirdre sprang -up, and gathering up her dress, she sped as swiftly as a roe along -the mountain side, calling out, “Naisi, Naisi, wilt thou leave me -here?” Now Naisi had rounded the bend of the hill, and he could not -see the maiden, but Ainle and Arden saw her bounding after them, -and no thought had they but to get Naisi away, for they knew well -that this was Deirdre, and that if Naisi once set eyes on her, -nothing in life would prevent him from carrying her off, the more -especially, since Conor was not yet married to the girl. So when -Naisi asked, “What is that cry that came to mine ear that it is -not easy for me to answer and yet not easy for me to refuse?” the -brothers replied, “What but the quacking of the wild ducks upon the -mere? Let us hasten our steps and hurry our feet, for long is the -distance we have to traverse, and the dark hour of night is coming -on.” They went forward quickly, but when Deirdre saw that they were -lengthening the space between themselves and her, she called again -piteously, “Naisi, thou son of Usna, is it leaving me alone thou -art?” “What cry is that which strikes into my very heart?” said -Naisi. “Not easy is it for me to answer, but harder yet is it to -refuse.” “It is but the cry of the grey geese in the air, winging -their flight to the nearest tarn,” said the brothers again; “let -us hasten now and walk well, for long is our path to-night and -the darkness of night is coming on.” They set out to walk faster -than before, and farther yet was the distance between themselves -and Deirdre. Then Deirdre flew with the swiftness of the winds of -March across the bend of the mountain, and reached a place above -them on the cliff, and called again the third time, “Naisi, Naisi, -Naisi, thou son of Usna, wilt thou leave me here alone?” “The cry -I hear strikes sweetly on mine ear, but of all cries I ever heard, -this cry makes deepest wound within mine heart,” said Naisi, and he -stopped short. - -“Heed not the cry,” his brothers said, “it is the wail of the -lake-swans, disturbed in their nesting-place; let us push on now, -and win our way to-night to Emain Macha.” “Three times came that -cry of distress to me,” said Naisi, “and the vow of a champion is -upon me, that no cry of distress shall be passed by unheeded. I -will go back now and see whence comes that cry.” - -Then Naisi turned to go back, and on the hill above him he saw -Deirdre, standing on a rock with her arms outstretched, and all -her hair blown backward by the wind, and her fair face flushed all -with red, part with her running, part with a lovely shame, and -changing as the aspen shimmering in the summer’s breeze. And Naisi -knew that never in his life had he seen anything one-half so fair, -or any blood-drop like the living blood-drop here, and he gave -love to Deirdre such as he never gave to any other, or to a dream -or vision, or to a person on the whole world’s face, but only to -Deirdre alone. - -And Deirdre came close, and to him she gave three loving kisses, -and to his brothers each a kiss; and Naisi lifted her and placed -her on his shoulder, and he said, “Hitherto it is you, my brothers, -who have bidden me to walk well, but now it is I who bid the same -to you.” - -That night they carried Deirdre to their own home, and sheltered -her there for many days. But the news reached Conor that Deirdre -was flown, and that it was the sons of Usna with whom she went, -and in his fury he sent out armies, and hunted them from place to -place, so that they traversed all Ireland, fleeing before the King. -And when they found there was no rest for them in Ireland, Naisi -determined to forsake his native land and to flee to Alba, for -there he had made wars and had carved out for himself a kingdom as -great as the kingdom of Conor in Ulster. So he and Deirdre, with -his brothers and a great band of followers fled to Alba, which is -to-day called Scotland, and they made their home on Glen Etive -in Alba, and thence Naisi ruled over the territories he had taken -from the King of Alba, and he made wars, and became a powerful -prince. And joyous and gladsome were he and Deirdre in each other’s -company, and great was the love and affection they gave one to the -other. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -The Wiles of King Conor - - -But all this while the cunning, cruel heart of Conor was planning -his revenge. For though he was an old man with grown-up sons of -middle age, he had begun to feel affection for the child who had -been sheltered by his care, and who looked to him as her protector -and her friend. And after all the years that he had waited for the -girl, to have her plucked away beneath his eyes just when she was -of age to be his wife, aroused his bitter wrath and jealousy. Deep -in his heart he plotted dark revenge, but it was hard to carry out -his plan, for well he knew that of his chiefs not one would lift -his hand against the sons of Usna. Of all the Red Branch Champions -those three were loved the best; and difficult it was to know which -of the three was bravest, or most noble to behold. When in the -autumn games they raced or leaped or drove the chariots round the -racing-course, some said that Arden had the more majestic step and -stately air; others, that Ainle was more graceful and more lithe in -swing, but most agreed that Naisi was the princeliest of the three, -so dignified his gait, so swift his step in running, and so strong -and firm his hand. But when they wrestled, ran or fought in combats -side by side, men praised them all, and called them the “Three -Lights of Valour of the Gael.” - -When his plans were ripe, King Conor made a festival in Emain -Macha, and all his chiefs were gathered to the feast. The aged -Fergus sat at his right hand, and Caffa next to him; close by sat -Conall Cernach, a mighty warrior, still in his full prime, and by -his side, as in old times, Cuchulain sat. He seemed still young, -but of an awesome aspect, as one who had a tragedy before him, and -great deeds behind; and, for all that he was the pride of Ulster’s -hosts, men stood in dread before him, as though he were a god. - -Around the board sat many a mighty man and good prime warrior -seasoned by long wars. But in the hall three seats were empty, and -it was known to be the king’s command that in his presence none -should dare to speak the names of Usna’s banished sons. - -This night the King was merry and in pleasant humour, as it seemed. -He plied his guests with mead and ale out of his golden horns, and -led the tale and passed the jest, and laughed, and all his chiefs -laughed with him, till the hall was filled with cheerful sounds of -song and merriment. And when the cheer was bravest and the feast -was at its height, he rose and said: “Right welcome all assembled -here this night, High Chiefs of Ulster, Champions of the Branch. Of -all the kingly households in the world, tell me, O you who travel -much and see strange distant lands and courts of kings, have ye in -Alba or in Erin’s realms, or in the countries of the great wide -world, e’er seen a court more princely than our own, or an assembly -comely as the Red Branch Knights?” - -“We know not,” cried they all, “of any such. Thy court, O High -King, is of all courts on earth the bravest and the best.” - -“If this be so,” said wily Conor, “I suppose no sense of want lies -on you; no lack of anything is in your minds?” - -“We know not any want at all,” they said aloud; but in their minds -they thought, “save the Three Lights of Valour of the Gael.” - -“But I, O warriors, know one want that lies on us,” the King -replied, “the want of the three sons of Usna fills my mind. Naisi -and Ainle and Arden, good warriors were they all; but Naisi is a -match for any mighty monarch in the world. By his own strength -alone he carved for him and his a princely realm in Alba, and there -he rules as king. Alas! that for the sake of any woman in the -world, we lose his presence here.” - -“Had we but dared to utter that, O Warrior King, long since we -should have called them home again. These three alone would safely -guard the province against any host. Three sons of a border-king -and used to fight are they; three heroes of warfare, three lions of -fearless might.” - -“I knew not,” said King Conor craftily, “you wished them back. -Methought you all were jealous of their might, or long ere this -we should have sent for them. Let messengers now go, and heralds -of the king to bring them home, for welcome to us all will be the -sight of Usna’s sons.” - -“Who is the herald who shall bear that peaceful message?” cried -they all. “I have been told,” said Conor, “that out of Ulster’s -chiefs there were but three whose word of honour and protection -they would trust, and at whose invitation Naisi would come again in -peace. With Conall Cernach he will come, or with Cuchulain, or with -great Fergus of the mighty arms. These are the friends in whom he -will confide; under the safe-guard of each one of these he knows -all will be well.” - -“Bid Fergus go, or Conall or Cuchulain,” the warriors cried; “let -not a single night pass by until the message goes to bring the sons -of Usna to our board again. Most sorely do we need them, deeply do -we mourn their loss. Bring back the Lights of Valour of the Gael.” - -“Now will I test,” thought Conor to himself, “which of these three -prime warriors loves me best.” So supper being ended, the King -took Conall to his ante-room apart and set himself to question -cunningly: “Suppose, O royal soldier of the world, thou wert to -go and fetch the sons of Usna back from Alba to their own land -under thy safeguard and thy word of honour that they should not be -harmed; but if, in spite of this, some ill should fall on them--not -by my hand, of course--and they were slain, what then would happen? -what wouldst thou do?” - -“I swear, O King,” said Conall, “by my hand, that if the sons of -Usna were brought here under my protection to their death, not he -alone whose hand was stained by that foul deed, but every man of -Ulster who had wrought them harm should feel my righteous vengeance -and my wrath.” - -“I thought as much,” said Conor, “not great the love and service -thou dost give thy lord. Dearer to thee than I are Usna’s sons.” - -Then sent he for Cuchulain and to him he made the same demand. But -bolder yet Cuchulain made reply: “I pledge my word, O King, if -evil were to fall upon the sons of Usna, brought back to Erin and -their homes in confidence in my protection and my plighted word, -not all the riches of the eastern world would bribe or hinder me -from severing thine own head from thee in lieu of the dear heads -of Usna’s sons, most foully slain when tempted home by their sure -trust in me.” - -“I see it now, Cuchulain,” said the king, “thou dost profess a love -for me thou feelest not.” - -Then Fergus came, and to him also he proposed the same request. -Now Fergus was perplexed what answer he should give. Sore did it -trouble him to think that evil might befall brave Usna’s sons when -under his protection. Yet it was but a little while since he and -Conor had made friends, and he come back to Ulster, and set high in -place and power by the King, and well he knew that Conor doubted -him; and such a deed as this, to bring the sons of Usna home again, -would prove fidelity and win the King’s affection. Moreover, Conor -spoke so guardedly that Fergus was not sure whether the King had -ill intent or no towards the sons of Usna. For all he said was: -“Supposing any harm or ill befall the sons of Usna by the hand of -any here, what wouldst thou do?” - -So after long debate within himself, Fergus replied: “If any -Ulsterman should harm the noble youths, undoubtedly I should avenge -the deed; but thee, O King, and thine own flesh and blood, I would -not harm; for well I know, that if they came under protection -of thy sovereign word, they would be safe with thee. Therefore, -against thee and thy house, I would not raise my hand, whatever the -conditions, but faithfully and with my life will serve thee.” - -“’Tis well,” the wily king replied, “I see, O royal warrior, that -thou lovest me well, and I will prove thy faithfulness and truth. -The sons of Usna without doubt will come with thee. To-morrow set -thou forward; bear the King’s message to brave Usna’s sons, say -that he eagerly awaits their coming, that Ulster longs to welcome -them. Urge them to hasten; bid them not to linger on the way, but -with the utmost speed to press straight forward here to Emain -Macha.” - -Then Fergus went out from the King and told the nobles he had -pledged his word to Conor to bring back the sons of Usna to their -native land. And on the morrow’s morn Fergus set forth in his own -boat, and with him his two sons, Illan the Fair and Buinne the -Ruthless Red, and together they sailed to Loch Etive in Alba. - -But hardly had they started than King Conor set to work with -cunning craft to lure the sons of Usna to their doom. He sent -for Borrach, son of Annte, who had built a mighty fortress by -the sea, and said to him, “Did I not hear, O Borrach, that thou -hadst prepared a feast for me?” “It is even so, O King, and I -await thy coming to partake of the banquet I have prepared.” And -Conor said, “I may not come at this time to thy feast; the duties -of the kingdom keep me here at Emain. But I would not decline -thy hospitality. Fergus, the son of Roy, stands close to me in -place and power; a feast bestowed on him I hold as though it were -bestowed on me. In less than a week’s time comes Fergus back from -Alba, bringing the sons of Usna to their home. Bid Fergus to thy -feast, and I will hold the honour paid to him as paid to me.” - -For wily Conor knew that if his royal command was laid on Fergus -to accept the banquet in his stead, Fergus dare not refuse; and -by this means he sought to separate the sons of Usna from their -friend, and get them fast into his own power at Emain, while -Fergus waited yet at Borrach’s house, partaking of his hospitality. -“Thus,” thought the King, “I have the sons of Usna in my grasp, -and dire the vengeance I will wreak on them, the men who stole my -wife.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -The Sorrowful Death of Usna’s Sons - - -At the head of fair Loch Etive the sons of Usna had built for -themselves three spacious hunting-seats among the pine-trees at -the foot of the cliffs that ran landward to deep Glen Etive. The -wild deer could be shot from the window, and the salmon taken out -of the stream from the door of their dwelling. There they passed -the spring and summer months, Usna’s sons of the white steeds and -the brown deer-hounds, whose breasts were broader than the wooden -leaves of the door. Above the hunting-lodge, on the grassy slope -that is at the foot of the cascade, they built a sunny summer home -for Deirdre, and they called it the ‘Grianan,’ or sunny bower of -Deirdre. It was thatched on the outside with the long-stalked fern -of the dells and the red clay of the pools, and lined within with -the pine of the mountains and the downy feathers of the wild birds; -and round it was the apple-garden of Clan Usna, with the apple-tree -of Deirdre in its midst and the apple-trees of Naisi and Ainle and -Arden encircling it. - -And Deirdre loved her life, for she was free as the brown partridge -flying over the mountains, or as the vessels with ruddy sails -swinging upon the loch. - -But in the winter they moved down to the broad sheltered -pasture-lands that lay on the western side of the loch near the -island that was in olden days called _Eilean Chlann Uisne_ or the -Island of the Children of Usna, but is called _Eilean nan Ron_ -or the Isle of the Seals to-day; and there they built a mighty -fortress for Deirdre and the sons of Usna which men still call the -_Caisteal Nighean Righ Eirinn_ or the Castle of the Daughter of the -King of Ireland, and thence they made wars and conquered a great -part of Western Alba and became powerful princes. - -One sultry evening in the late autumn, Deirdre and Naisi were -resting before the door of her sunny bower after a day spent by the -brothers in the chase. Below, their followers were cutting up the -deer, and as they brought in the bags of heavy game, and faggots -for the hearth, the voice of Ainle singing an evening melody -resounded through the wood. Like the sound of the wave the voice of -Ainle, and the rich bass of Arden answered him, as together the two -brothers came out from the shadow of the trees, gathering to the -trysting-place of the evening meal. - -Between Naisi and Deirdre a draught-board was set, but Deirdre was -winning, for a mood of oppression lay upon Naisi and his thoughts -were not in the game. For of late, at evening, his exile weighed -upon him, and little good to him seemed his prosperity and his -successes, since he did not see his own home in Ireland and his -friends at the time of his rising in the morning or at the time -of his lying down at night. For great as were his possessions in -Alba, stronger in him than the love of his kindred in Alba was the -love of his native land in Erin. He thought it strange, moreover, -that of those three who in the old time loved him most, Fergus and -Conall Cernach and Cuchulain, not one of them had all this time -come to bring him to his own land again under his safeguard and -protection. - -So, as they played, Deirdre could see that the mind of Naisi was -wandering from the game, and her heart smote her, as often it had -smitten her before when she had seen him thus oppressed, that -for her sake so much had gone from him of friends and home, and -his allegiance to his king, and honourable days among his clan. -Wistfully she smiled across the board at Naisi, but mournful was -the answering smile he sent her back. - -“Play, play,” she said, “I win the game from you.” “One game the -more or less can matter little when all else is lost,” he answered -bitterly. But hardly had the unkind words passed from him, the -first unkindness Deirdre ever heard from Naisi’s lips, when far -below, across the silent waters of the lake, he caught a distant -call, his own name uttered in a ringing voice that seemed familiar, -a voice that brought old days to memory. - -“I hear the voice of a man from Erin call below,” he cried, and -started up. Now Deirdre too had heard the cry and well she knew -that it was Fergus’ voice they heard, but deep foreboding passed -across her mind that all their hours of happiness were past, and -grief and rending of the heart in store. So quickly she replied: -“How could that be? It is some man of Alba coming from the chase, -belated in returning. No voice was that from Erin; it was a -Scotchman’s cry. Let us play on.” - -Three times the voice of Fergus came sounding up the glen, and -at the last, Naisi sprang up. “You are mistaken, damsel; of a -certainty I know this is the voice of Fergus.” “I knew it all the -time, whose voice it was,” said Deirdre, when she saw he would not -be put off. “Why then didst thou not tell us?” Naisi asked. “A -vision that I saw last night hath hindered me,” replied the girl. -“I saw three birds come to us out of Emain from the King, carrying -three sips of honey in their bills; the sips of honey they left -here with us, but took three sips of our red blood away with them.” - -“What is thy rede of this vision, O Damsel?” Naisi asked. “Thus -do I understand it,” Deirdre said; “Fergus hath come from our own -native land with peace, and sweet as honey will his message be: -but the three sips of blood that he will take away with him, those -three are ye, for ye will go with him, and be betrayed to death.” -“Speak not such words, O Deirdre,” cried they all; “never would -Fergus thus betray his friends. Alas! that words like this should -pass thy lips. We stay too long; Fergus awaits us at the port. Go, -Ainle, and go, Arden, down to meet him, and to give him loving -welcome here.” So Arden went, and Ainle, and three loving kisses -fervently they gave to Fergus and his sons. Gladly they welcomed -the wayfarers to Naisi’s home, and led them up; and Naisi and -Deirdre arose and stretched their hands in welcome; and they gave -them blessing and three kisses lovingly, for old times’ sake, and -eagerly they asked for tidings of Erin, and of Ulster especially. -“I have no other tidings half so good as these,” said Fergus, “that -King Conor waits for you to give you welcome back to Emain, and to -the Red Branch House. I am your surety and your safeguard, and full -well ye know that under Fergus’ safeguard ye are sure of peace.” -“Heed not that message, Naisi,” Deirdre said; “greater and wider is -your lordship here, than Conor’s rule in Erin.” - -“Better than any lordship is one’s native land,” said Naisi; -“dearer to me than great possessions here, is one more sight of -Erin’s well-loved soil.” - -“My word and pledge are firm on your behalf,” said Fergus; “with me -no harm or hurt can come to you.” “Verily and indeed, thy word is -firm, and we will go with thee.” - -But to their going Deirdre consented not, and every way she sought -to hinder them, and wept and prayed them not to go to death. “Now -all my joy is past,” she said; “I saw last night the three black -ravens bearing three sad leaves of the yew-tree of death; and O -Beloved, those three withered leaves I saw were the three sons of -Usna, blown off their stem by the rough wind of Conor’s wrath and -the damp dew of Fergus’ treachery.” And they were sorry that she -had said that. “These are but foolish women’s fears,” said they; -“the dropping of leaves in thy dream, and the howling of dogs, -the sight of birds with blood-drops in their bills, are but the -restlessness of sleep, O Deirdre; and verily we put our trust in -Fergus’ word. To-night we go with him to Erin.” - -Gladsome and gay were the three brothers then; they put all fears -away from them, and set to prepare them for their journey back -to Erin’s shores. And early the next morning, about the parting -of night from day, at the delay of the morning dawn, they passed -down to their galley that rocked upon the loch, and hoisted sail, -and calmly and peacefully they sailed out into the ocean. But -Deirdre sat in the stern of the boat, and her face was not set -forward looking towards Erin, but it was set backward looking -on the coasts of Scotland. And she cried aloud, “O Land of the -East, My love to thee, with thy wondrous beauty! Woe is me that I -leave thy lochs and thy bays, thy flowering delightful plains, -and thy bright green-smooth hills! Dear to me the fort that Naisi -built, dear the sunny bower up the glen; very dear to my heart the -wooded slope holding the sunbeams where I have sat with Naisi.” -And as they sailed out of Glen Etive she sang this song, sadly and -sorrowfully:-- - - “Farewell, dear Alba of the free, - Beloved land beside the sea, - No power could drag me from my home, - Did I not come, Naisi, with thee. - - Farewell, dear bowers within the Glen, - Farewell, strong fort hung over them, - Dear to the heart each shining isle, - That seems to smile beneath our ken. - - Glen da Roe! - Where the white cherry and garlic blow, - On thy blue wave we rocked to sleep, - As on the deep, by Glen da Roe. - - Glen Etive! - Whose sunny slopes these waters lave, - The rising sun we seemed to hold. - As in a fold, in Glen Etive. - - Glen Masaun! - Love to all those who here were born! - Across thy peak, at twilight’s fall, - The cuckoos call, in Glen Masaun. - - Farewell, dear Land, - From Alba’s strand I ne’er had roved - Save at the call of my beloved, - Farewell, dear Land!” - -The next day they reached the shores of Ireland not far from the -fort of Borrach. And as they landed there, messengers from Borrach -met Fergus, saying, “Borrach hath prepared a feast for the King, -and it is the King’s command that the honour of this feast be given -to thee. Come therefore and spend this night with me; but the King -desires to hasten the sons of Usna that he may welcome them, and he -bids them press onward to Emain this very night.” - -When Fergus heard that, sudden fear and gloom over-shadowed him, -lest in very truth Conor had evil designs towards the sons of Usna. -“It was not well done, O Borrach, to offer me a feast in Conor’s -stead this night, for I was pledged to bring the sons of Usna -straight to Emain without delay.” “It is the King’s command,” said -Borrach; “needs must a true vassal obey the King.” Still was Fergus -loth to stay and he asked Naisi what he ought to do about this. “Do -what they desire of thee, O Fergus,” said Deirdre, “if to partake -of a banquet seems better to thee than to protect the sons of Usna. -However to me it seems that the lives of thy three friends is a -good price to pay for a feast.” - -“I will not forsake them,” said Fergus; “for my two sons, Illan the -Fair and Buinne the Ruthless Red will be with them to protect them, -and my word of honour, moreover, with them; if all the warriors of -Erin were assembled in one place, and all of one mind, they would -not be able to break the pledge of Fergus.” - -“Much thanks we give thee for that,” said Naisi, for he saw that -Fergus feared to fall foul of Conor more than he cared for their -safety; “never have we depended on any protection but that of our -own right hands alone; we will then go forward to Emain Macha, and -see there if the word of Fergus will be sufficient to protect us.” - -But Deirdre said: “Go not forward to-night; but let us turn aside, -and for this one night take shelter with Cuchulain at Dundalk; then -will Fergus have partaken of his feast, and he will be ready to go -with you. So will his word be fulfilled and yet your lives will be -prolonged.” “We think not well of that advice,” said Buinne the -Ruthless Red; “you have with you the might of your own good hands, -and our might, and the plighted word of Fergus to protect you; -impossible is it that ye should be betrayed.” “Ah! that plighted -word of Fergus’; the man who forsook us for a feast!” said Deirdre. -“Well may we rely on Fergus’ plighted word.” And she fell into -grief and dejection. “Alas! Alas!” she cried. “Why left we Alba -of the red deer to come again to Erin? Why put we trust in the -light word of Fergus? Woe is come upon us since we listened to the -promises of that man! The valiant sons of Usna are destroyed by -him, the Lights of Valour of the Gael. Great is my heaviness of -heart to-night! Great is the loss that is fallen upon us.” - -In spite of that the sons of Usna and their two friends went onward -towards the White Cairn of Watching on Sliab Fuad; but Deirdre was -very weary and she lingered behind in the glen, and sat down to -rest and fell asleep. They did not notice at first that she was -not with them, but Naisi found it out and he turned back to seek -Deirdre. He found her sitting in the wood on the trunk of a fallen -tree, just waking from her sleep. When she saw Naisi she arose and -clung to him. “What happened to thee, O fair one?” said Naisi, “and -wherefore is thy face so wild and fearful, and tears within thine -eyes?” - -“I fell into a sleep, for I was weary,” she replied; “and O Naisi, -I fear because of the vision and the dream I saw.” “Thou art too -apt to dream, beloved,” said Naisi tenderly, “what was thy dream?” -“Terrible was my dream,” said Deirdre; “I saw thee, Naisi, and -Ainle and Arden, each of ye three beloved ones, without a head, thy -headless bodies lying side by side near Emain’s fort; and Illan -lay there too drenched all with blood, and headless like ye three. -But on the other side among our enemies, fighting against us, was -the treacherous Buinne the Ruthless Red, who now is our protector -and our guide; for he had saved his head by treachery to thee.” -“Sad were thy dream indeed,” said Naisi, “were it true; but fear it -not, it was an empty vision grown out of weariness and pain.” But -Deirdre clung yet to him, and she cried, “O Naisi, see, above thy -head, and o’er the heads of Ainle and of Arden, that sombre cloud -of blood! dost thou not mark it hanging in the air? All over Emain -lies the heavy pall; but on thy head and theirs red blood-drops -fall, big, dusky, drenching drops. Let us not go to Emain.” But -Naisi thought that from her weariness the mind of Deirdre had -become distraught, and all the more he pressed them onward, that -she might have rest and shelter for the night. As they drew near to -Emain, Deirdre said, “One test I give you whether Conor means you -good or harm. If into his own house he welcomes you, all will be -well, for in his own home would no monarch dare to harm a guest; -but if he send you to some other house, while he himself stays on -in Emain’s court, then treachery and guile is meant towards you.” - -Now as they reached the Court of Emain, messengers came out to -meet them from the King. “King Conor bids you welcome,” said the -men; “right glad is he that you are come again to Erin, to your -fatherland. But for this one night only is he not prepared to -call you as his guests to his own court. To-morrow he will give -you audience and bid you to his house. For this one night, then, -he bids you turn aside into the Red Branch House, where all is -ready for your entertainment.” “It is as I thought,” said Deirdre, -“King Conor means no good to you, I ween.” But Naisi replied, -“Where could the Red Branch champions so fitly rest as in the Red -Branch House? Most gladly do we seek our hall, to rest and find -refreshment for the morrow. We all are travel-stained, but we will -bathe and take repose, and on the morrow we will meet the King.” - -But when they came to the House of the Red Branch, so weary were -they all, that though all kinds of viands were supplied, they -ate but little, but lay down to rest. And Naisi said, “Dost thou -remember, Deirdre, how in that last game of draughts we played -together, thou didst win, because we were in Alba, and my heart was -here at home? Now are we back at last, and let us play again; this -time I promise I will win from thee.” - -So with the lightsome spirit of a boy, Naisi sat down to play; for -now that once again he was at home among his people and in his -native land, all thought or dread of evil passed from him. But with -Deirdre it was not so, for heavy dread and terror of the morrow lay -on her heart, and in her mind she felt that this was their last day -of peace and love together. - -But in his royal court, King Conor grew impatient as he thought -that Deirdre was so near at hand, and he not seeing her. “Go now, -O foster-mother, to the Red Branch Hall and see if on the child -that thou didst rear remains her early bloom and beauty, and if -she still is lovely as when she went from me. If she is still the -same, then, in spite of Naisi, I’ll have her for my own; but if her -bloom is past, then let her be, Naisi may keep her for himself.” - -Right glad was Levarcam to get leave to go to Deirdre and to Usna’s -sons. Down to the Red Branch House straightway she went, and there -were Naisi and her foster-child playing together with the board -between them. Now, save Deirdre herself, Naisi was dearer to -Levarcam than any other in the world, and well she knew that her -own face and form were upon Deirdre still, only grown riper and -more womanly. For, without Conor’s knowledge, she oft had gone to -seek them when they stayed in Alba. - -Lovingly she kissed them and strong showers of tears sprang from -her eyes. “No good will come to you, ye children of my love,” she -said with weeping, “that ye are come again with Deirdre here. -To-night they practise treachery and ill intent against you all -in Emain. The King would know if Deirdre is lovely still, and -though I tell a lie to shelter her, he will find out, and wreak his -vengeance on you for the loss of her. Great evils wait for Emain -and for you, O darling friends. Shut close the doors and guard them -well; let no one pass within. Defend yourselves and this sweet -damsel here, my foster-child. Trust no man; but repel the attack -that surely comes, and victory and blessing be with you.” - -Then she returned to Emain; but all along the way she wept -quick-gushing showers of tears, and heaved great sighs, for well -she knew that from this night the sons of Usna would be alive no -more. - -“What are the tidings that you have for me?” King Conor asked. -“Good tidings have I, and tidings that are not good.” “Tell me -them,” said the King. “The good tidings that I have are these; that -the sons of Usna, the three whose form and figure are best, the -three bravest in fight and all deeds of prowess, are come again to -Erin; and, with the Lights of Valour at thy side, thine enemies -will flee before thee, as a flock of frightened birds is driven -before the gale. The ill-tidings that I have, are that through -suffering and sorrow the love of my heart and treasure of my soul -is changed since she went away, and little of her own bloom and -beauty remains upon Deirdre.” “That will do for awhile,” said the -King; and he felt his anger abating. But when they had drunk a -round or two, he began to doubt the word of Levarcam. “O Trendorn,” -said he to one who sat beside him, “dost thou recollect who it was -who slew thy father?” - -“I know well; it was Naisi, son of Usna,” he replied. “Go thou -therefore where Naisi is, and see if her own face and form remain -upon Deirdre.” - -So Trendorn went down to the House of the Red Branch, but they -had made fast the doors and he could find no way of entrance, -for all the gates and windows were stoutly barred. He began to -be afraid lest the sons of Usna might be ready to leap out upon -him from within, but at last he found a small window which they -had forgotten to close, and he put his eye to the window, and saw -Naisi and Deirdre still playing at their game peacefully together. -Deirdre saw the man looking in at the window, and Naisi, following -her eye, caught sight of him also. And he picked up one of the -pieces that was lying beside the board, and threw it at Trendorn, -so that it struck his eye and tore it out, and in pain and misery -the man returned to Emain. - -“You seem not so gay as when you set out, O Trendorn,” said the -King; “what has happened to thee, and hast thou seen Deirdre?” “I -have seen her, indeed; I have seen Deirdre, and but that Naisi -drove out mine eye I should have been looking at her still, for of -all the women of the world, Deirdre is the fairest and the best.” -When Conor heard that, he rose up and called his followers together -and without a moment’s delay they set forward for the house of -the Red Branch. For he was filled with jealousy and envy, and he -thought the time long until he should get back Deirdre for himself. - -“The pursuit is coming,” said Deirdre; “I hear sounds without.” -“I will go out and meet them,” said Naisi. “Nay,” said Buinne the -Ruthless Red, “it was in my hands that my father Fergus placed the -sons of Usna to guard them, and it is I who will go forth and fight -for them.” “It seems to me,” said Deirdre, “that thy father hath -betrayed the sons of Usna, and it is likely that thou wilt do as -thy father hath done, O Buinne.” “If my father has been treacherous -to you,” said Buinne, “it is not I who will do as he has done.” -Then he went out and met the warriors of Conor, and put a host of -them to the sword. “Who is this man who is destroying my hosts?” -said Conor. “Buinne the Ruthless Red, the son of Fergus,” say -they. “We bought his father to our side and we must buy the son,” -said Conor. He called Buinne and said to him, “I gave a free gift -of land to thy father Fergus, and I will give a free gift of land -to thee; come over to my side to-night.” “I will do that,” said -Buinne, and he went over to the side of the King. “Buinne hath -deserted you, O sons of Usna, and the son is like the father,” -Deirdre said. “He has gone,” said Naisi, “but he performed -warrior-like deeds before he went.” - -Then Conor sent fresh warriors down to attack the house. “The -pursuit is coming,” said Deirdre. “I will go out and meet them,” -said Naisi. “It is not thou who must go, it is I,” said Illan the -Fair, son of Fergus, “for to me my father left the charge of you.” -“I think the son will be like the father,” said Deirdre. “I am not -like to forsake the sons of Usna so long as this hard sword is in -my hand,” said Illan the Fair. And the fresh, noble, young hero -went out in his battle-array, and valiantly he attacked the host -of Conor and made a red rout of them round the house. “Who is that -young warrior who is smiting down my hosts?” said Conor. “Illan the -Fair, son of Fergus,” they reply. “We will buy him to our side, as -his brother was bought,” said wily Conor. So he called Illan and -said, “We gave a possession of land to thy father, and another to -thy brother, and we will give an equal share to thee; come over -to our side.” But the princely young hero answered: “Thy offer, O -Conor, will I not accept; for better to me is it to return to my -father and tell him that I have kept the charge he laid upon me, -than to accept any offer from thee, O King.” Then Conor was wroth, -and he commanded his own son to attack Illan, and furiously the two -fought together, until Illan was sore wounded, and he flung his -arms into the house, and called on Naisi to do valiantly, for he -himself was slain by a son of Conor. “Illan has fallen, and you are -left alone,” said Deirdre, “O sons of Usna.” “He is fallen indeed,” -said Naisi, “but gallant were the deeds that he performed before he -died.” - -Then the warriors and mercenaries of Conor drew closer round the -house, and they took lighted torches and flung them into the house, -and set it on fire. And Naisi lifted Deirdre on his shoulders and -raised her on high, and with his brothers on either side, their -swords drawn in their hands, they issued forth to fight their way -through the press of their enemies. And so terrible were the deeds -wrought by those heroes, that Conor feared they would destroy his -host. He called his Druids, and said to them, “Work enchantment -upon the sons of Usna and turn them back, for no longer do I intend -evil against them, but I would bring them home in peace. Noble -are the deeds that they have wrought, and I would have them as my -servants for ever.” The Druids believed the wily King and they set -to work to weave spells to turn the sons of Usna back to Emain -Macha. - -They made a great thick wood before them, through which they -thought no man could pass. But without ever stopping to consider -their way, the sons of Usna went straight through the wood turning -neither to the right hand or the left. “Good is your enchantment, -but it will not avail,” said Conor; “the sons of Usna are passing -through without the turning of a step, or the bending of a foot. -Try some other spell.” Then the Druids made a grey stormy sea -before the sons of Usna on the green plain. The three heroes tied -their clothing behind their heads, and Naisi set Deirdre again -upon his shoulder and went straight on without flinching, without -turning back, through the grey shaggy sea, lifting Deirdre on high -lest she should wet her feet. - -“Thy spell is good,” said Conor, “yet it sufficeth not. The sons of -Usna escape my hands. Try another spell.” - -Then the Druids froze the grey uneven sea into jagged hard lumps -of rugged ice, like the sharpness of swords on one side of them -and like the stinging of serpents on the other side. Then Arden -cried out that he was becoming exhausted and must fain give up. -“Come thou, Arden, and rest against my shoulder,” said Naisi, “and -I will support you.” Arden did so, but it was not long before he -died; but though he was dead, Naisi held him up still. Then Ainle -cried out that he could go no longer, for his strength had left -him. When Naisi heard that, he heaved a heavy sigh as of one dying -of fatigue, but he told Ainle to hold on to him, and he would bring -him soon to land. But not long after, the weakness of death came -upon Ainle, and his hold relaxed. Naisi looked on either hand and -when he saw that his two brothers were dead, he cared not whether -he himself should live or die. He heaved a sigh, sore as the sigh -of the dying, and his heart broke and he fell dead. - -“The sons of Usna are dead now,” said the Druids; “but they turned -not back.” - -“Lift up thy enchantment,” said Conor, “that I now may see the sons -of Usna.” Then the Druids lifted the enchantment, and there were -the three sons of Usna lying dead, and Deirdre fluttering hither -and thither from one to another, weeping bitter heartrending tears. -And Conor would have taken her away, but she would not be parted -from the sons of Usna, and when their tomb was being dug, Deirdre -sat on the edge of the grave, calling on the diggers to dig the pit -very broad and smooth. They had dug the pit for three only, and -they lowered the bodies of the three heroes into the grave, side -by side. But when Deirdre saw that, she called aloud to the sons -of Usna, to make space for her between them, for she was following -them. Then the body of Ainle, that was at Naisi’s right hand, -moved a little apart, and a space was made for Deirdre close at -Naisi’s side, where she was wont to be, and Deirdre leapt into the -tomb, and placed her arm round the neck of Naisi, her own love, and -she kissed him, and her heart broke within her and she died; and -together in the one tomb the three sons of Usna and Deirdre were -buried. And all the men of Ulster who stood by wept aloud. - -But Conor was angry, and he ordered the bodies to be uncovered -again and the body of Deirdre to be removed, so that even in death -she might not be with Naisi. And he caused Deirdre to be buried on -one side of the loch, and Naisi on the other side of the loch, and -the graves were closed. Then a young pine-tree grew from the grave -of Deirdre, and a young pine from the grave of Naisi, and their -branches grew towards each other, until they entwined one with the -other across the loch. And Conor would have cut them down, but -the men of Ulster would not allow this, and they set a watch and -protected the trees until King Conor died. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -The Fight of Cuchulain with his son Conla - - -When Cuchulain was yet a youth in Shadowland, living with Scáth, -and learning feats of her, there had come from afar another -woman-warrior to make war upon Scáth, a terrible, fierce princess -named Aiffe, who had under her many mighty men. Sore was the war -between them, and of Scáth’s warriors a great multitude were slain -and her two sons also fell in battle. Then Scáth called Cuchulain -and persuaded him to go in embassage to Aiffe to induce her to make -terms of peace and to withdraw her troops into her own country. -Cuchulain went on that embassage, and he pleased Aiffe, and she -said that she would return into her own country if he would go with -her and tarry awhile, and aid her in her wars. So Cuchulain went -with her and Aiffe delighted in him and they were wedded, and for -a short time they were happy in each other’s company, and waged -wars together; but soon Cuchulain wearied of her, when he saw her -cruelty and fierceness, and that nothing of a woman’s gentleness -was known to her. And though she besought him not to leave her, he -bade her farewell, and returned to Scáth to finish his training, -for the time drew near when he must go back to Ireland. When he -bade Aiffe farewell, he told her that if a son should be born to -him, she was to send him to Ireland at the end of seven years -to seek his father. He gave her a golden arm-ring to keep for -the child, and he said that as soon as the arm-ring should fit -his wrist, the lad was to come. He laid upon her, too, three -stipulations for the child. First, that he should be called Conla, -but that he never was to make known his name to any; secondly, that -if any man offered him single combat, he must on no account refuse; -and thirdly, that he must never turn back from any journey that he -had undertaken, no matter what perils stood in his way. Cuchulain -prayed Aiffe also to send his son to learn feats of arms with -Scáth, as he himself had done. And Aiffe promised him all these -things. - -Seven years passed away, when, one day in summer, the men of Ulster -were holding an assembly beside the seashore, at the place that is -called “The Strand of the Track.” Their business over, they were -amusing themselves along the beach, until they saw coming towards -them over the waves a skiff of bronze, light and swift-moving, -rowed by two golden oars. Within the skiff, as firmly as though -he were on dry land, there stood a little lad playing at games of -skill. At his feet was a heap of stones and in his hand a sling, -and as the boat moved on, he would take a stone in his hand and fit -it to the sling, launching it at the wild sea-birds that soared -above his head in the deep, unclouded sky. So cleverly did he hit -them that the birds fell at his feet unhurt, and he would throw -them up again, and shoot another stone and so bring them down a -second time alive. When he tired of this strange feat, he played -the apple-feat upon his breath, sending little golden apples into -the air, by the blowing of his mouth, so high that the eye could -not discern them, first one and then the other until they danced -and sparkled in the sun. Each golden ball was of a different size, -and he would tune his voice to different notes, the balls dancing -up and down, in answer to his singing, each to its own note. And -the men of the Gathering watched him with surprise as he drew near. - -“Alas!” said the King, who was passing by, “there is woe to the -land to which that little boy comes. For, if a child like that can -do such feats, of what sort must be the men of the land from which -he comes? They would grind us all to powder if they came to fight -with us. Let one of you go and speak with the boy, but let him not -land on our shores at all.” “Who shall go to meet him?” said they; -for not one of them wished to approach the little boy, so greatly -had his skill put them in dread. “Let Condere go,” said the King, -“he is ready in speech and wise in argument, and he will find -excuses for us, why the stranger should not land.” And Condere was -content to go. - -As the boy drew near the shore, he was about to leap upon the -beach when Condere accosted him. “Stay,” said he, “thou hast come -near enough, good lad, for us to hear who thou art, and from what -people and country thou dost come.” “I make not myself known to -any,” replied the boy; “but, if there is a man here who would fight -me, ready am I to meet him, for never have I turned back from any -combat.” - -“Thou canst not land here,” persisted Condere, “until thou hast -made thyself known to us.” - -“Then needs must I return whence I have come, though it is not my -wont to turn back from a journey,” said the boy, and he made as -though he would move away again. When Condere saw that, he was -sorry, for the child was fair and brave and had an open face, -and the high look of a prince upon him; so he changed his words -quickly, and called after him, “Come back, come back, brave boy; -no doubt the King himself will take you under his protection, -Conor the valiant son of Ness shall be your guard. Or Amergin the -poet will take you to his care, or Conall Cernach will be your -protector; and he whom Conall shall protect is ever welcome to the -men of Ulster. No one dare go against an unripe beardless boy when -under Conall’s safeguard; for he himself would avenge the deed. Pay -therefore the tribute of the Bridge, which all who come from far -must pay to Ulster; then will the men of Ulster make welcome to you -here.” - -“Kindly hast thou spoken,” said the lad, “nor do I doubt that -thou dost mean me well; yet, not to seek protection of Conall the -Victorious, nor of Amergin your poet, nor even of the king himself, -did I seek out this land; nor yet to hear myself dubbed, ‘an unripe -beardless boy,’ did I come hither. If therefore thou wilt don thy -arms, and come to meet me in single combat at the Bridge, thou -there wilt get thy answer; though the might of a hundred were in -thy arms, no tribute will I pay, unless in fair fight I first be -overthrown.” - -But when Condere saw the spirit of the lad, he grew afraid, for -though he was an orator and spoke brave words, he had no mind to -face the boy in fight. “Well, well, my boy,” thought he, “I will -let some better warrior than myself go and speak with thee in words -of war, since words of peace do not suffice thee.” - -Then the King commanded that warriors of good renown should go down -and speak to the boy in the battle-speech of arms and combat. And -a goodly company of men went down to withstand the stranger. When -the little lad saw that, the power of a full-grown fighting-man -came upon him, and he donned his arms, and one after another as -they came to the waterside, he fell upon them, and stretched them, -dead or dying, on the beach. - -“This must not be,” exclaimed the King, “fetch Conall Cernach here -and let him make an end of this presumptuous youth.” - -While they went for Conall Cernach, the little lad, instead of -sitting down to rest, betook himself straight to his games again. -One would have thought he had no other end in life but to perfect -himself in games of skill, and that to bring a hundred foes into -the agonies of death was but an interruption to his game. When -Conall came above the cliff that over-looked the water’s edge, and -saw the boy practising his feats, he stopped awhile and watched -him; but when he saw his cleverness, and how the balls rose in the -air upon his singing voice: “One only other than this boy,” he -said, “can do a trick like that, even Cuchulain, Ulster’s Hound; -and indeed, I know not whether he can do it quite so well.” And -Conall was astonished, but he would not let the lad perceive his -admiration or his fears. - -“Thy play is pretty, my good boy,” said Conall, as he came down -to meet him on the beach. “Dost thou find it so?” said the child; -“then I play now against thee.” With that he put a stone, larger -than all the others, in his sling, and shot it up into the air with -the force of a great thunder-bolt and with the noise of thunder; -and Conall was taken unawares and fell upon his back with the -suddenness of the commotion, as though he had been dead. Before he -could rise again, the boy had leapt ashore and with the strap of -his shield he bound him where he lay, so that he could not move. - -When the host of the Ulstermen saw Conall bound, a wail went up -from them, for never since the day that Conall the Victorious first -took arms had any man been able to overthrow him, though he had -fought with the most famous warriors of the world. With one voice -they cried, “Send for Cuchulain here, for the honour of Ulster is -at stake before this child. Now that Conall lies bound in fetters, -Cuchulain alone can retrieve our honour.” And the King said: “It is -well; send now for Cuchulain.” - -Cuchulain was in his own fort at Dundalgan when the messengers -arrived. But he refused to go with them, saying, “Where Conall -Cernach falls there is no hope for me; bravest and best of all the -warriors of Ulster is Conall the Victorious, and skilled in every -feat of championship. Who then is this stranger who has come, and -what is his name and lineage? where has he learned arts to fright -the men of Ulster?” For in his own mind Cuchulain thought, “There -is but one who can have learned those feats which Scáth teaches -only to her most valiant pupils; what if it be my son who comes?” -So, on that account, he was unwilling to go with the men. - -But the messengers urged him, saying, “The honour of Ulster is at -stake; the king also commands thee and thy people wait for thee. -Wilt thou that Ulster be put to shame before her foes?” - -When Cuchulain heard that the honour of Ulster was at stake, he -said, “Go on before me, I will but don my fighting-gear, and I will -come.” For he thought on Conall Cernach lying bound upon the beach, -and he remembered their old love and pledge of ancient friendship; -for they had sworn in youth that if either of the twain were in any -trouble or peril, the other should go forth to his aid, wherever he -might be, and thinking on this, he put on his fighting array, and -took his massive broad-sword in his hand, and the terrible spear, -the Gae Bolga, which no man could withstand, and that moved like a -living thing upon the water to find its enemy. - -But for all that, Cuchulain’s heart was sad, for he thought on -Aiffe, and on Scáth, and on the child that was to be born to him. - -Then when the men of Ulster saw Cuchulain coming towards them, clad -in all the panoply of war, and his shield and massive two-edged -sword held in his hand, their grief was turned to gladness, and -their weakness to power, and their fear to courage. And they -cried, “Welcome Cuchulain, Welcome, Hound of Ulster! With thee the -honour of Ulster is secure! Lo! thy comrade and thy lasting friend -is bound before thy eyes; lo! the glory of Ulster is laid low. -Welcome, Cuchulain!” - -But Cuchulain came on slowly, and his head was bowed, for his mind -was troubled within him, and he liked not the combat of that day. -And he thought to put it off a while, so he stood and watched the -boy, who was gone back to his games again. He took no heed of -Cuchulain nor of the hosts; nor did any sign of weariness appear -on him, though he had bound a hundred of the foe, and Conall the -Victorious with them. - -Then Cuchulain said: “You make delightful play, my boy. Who are -you yourself? what is your name? what your nation and people, that -we may know?” But the boy said: “I came not over-seas to tell my -name or to give tidings of my people; never shall any man get such -news from me. It is not to tell my name that I am come, but to get -peaceful landing here; and if I get not peaceful landing in this -place, I will give combat to any that resists me, for this is the -condition that is laid upon me, that I should never turn back from -any journey, and that I refuse not combat with any man that offers -combat to me. Willingly would I now do battle and combat with thee, -O noble warrior, save that I like thy face and mien, and thy person -is as the person of a prince of men, and not with good-will would -I do hurt to thee. Moreover, thou hast brought with thee no strong -comrade and warrior to protect thee from my blows.” - -Now when Cuchulain heard the little fellow talk like that, he -laughed, and all the men of Ulster sent up one shout of mirth and -of derision. “It would have been necessary for me to bring with me -a tiny boy, or a wee baby in my arms,” said the Hound, “if I were -to fight without odds with thee. However, lad, no warrior or little -boy can pass this bridge unless the toll be paid and unless the -stranger tell his name and whence he comes. Therefore stand upon -thy guard. And as I wish no harm to thee, come thou on shore and we -will wrestle with each other.” Then the lad left his currach, his -little boat of bronze, and stood upon the shore. But when he came -beside Cuchulain he reached not up to his knees. “This will never -do,” said the little fellow, “I cannot reach thy belt to wrestle -with thee; set me up upon two stones that I may come on a level to -fight with thee.” Then Cuchulain helped him up on two large stones, -and he thought to play with him gently, but the lad planted his -feet so firmly on the rock that Cuchulain could not move him the -smallest hair-breadth from his place; while before ever he was -aware of what was happening, the child had caught him, and thrust -him backward between two standing pillar-stones, so that he was -wedged between them, and could not free himself. And the men of -Ulster groaned aloud when they saw their champion used like that. - -“Come down to the water, now,” said the boy, “and we will see -which can pull the other under.” And they went into the sea, and -swam out a good space from the land, and they caught each other -and each tried to hold the other down beneath the waves to drown -him. And twice the stranger-boy got the head of Cuchulain down and -held him there, so that he was like to loose his breath, and to be -suffocated in the sea. - -Then all his fury and his red battle-anger came upon Cuchulain, -because he was being made game of, and because his comrade and his -ancient friend Conall was lying bound and helpless on the beach. -He knew, too, that the honour of Ulster was at stake, and he could -do nothing with this youth to hold it from dishonour. Therefore -he loosed his belt that had in it the deadly weapon, from which -no mortal could escape, and he set it on the water towards the -stranger-boy, and the weapon moved of its own will across the waves -of the sea, and it struck the lad and entered him, and the water of -the ocean was stained with his blood. - -“Now this was what Scáth never taught me,” cried the lad, for he -knew it was the Gae Bolga, from which he could not escape alive. - -“Alas!” said Cuchulain, “it is true”; and he took the lad tenderly -in his arms and carried him out of the water, and laid him down -upon the beach. And as he carried him, he saw upon his wrist the -golden ring that he had left with Aiffe to give the lad, and he -knew it was his son. “Here is my son for you, O men of Ulster,” -said Cuchulain, for they gathered round to see. And when they heard -that it was his own son that he had slain for the honour of Ulster, -a wave of grief and of mourning went through the host, and they -were silent with shame and said no word, grieving for Cuchulain and -his son. Then Cuchulain said, “Alas! Alas! my son,” and he drew -the Gae Bolga gently from his wounds, and he sat down beside him -and staunched the blood, and he began to call upon Aiffe, that she -might comfort and support his son. But Conla said, “Grieve not, -Cuchulain, Hound of Ulster, by whom the honour of Ulster is avenged -to-day. Call not on Aiffe, O my father, for through her wiles it -was that I came hither to do combat with thee; evil and cruel is -that woman, and her ways are evil; for it was to avenge herself on -thee because thou hadst left her that she sent me hither, that I -might bring thee to death or die myself in the attempt. I am Conla -thy son, indeed; yet, until to-day, has no man known my name; as -thou didst lay command upon me, never have I refused combat to any -man, nor have I turned back from any journey, or revealed my name -to any. And now, O Father, first of Heroes, it is well for me that -I have fallen by thy hand. No shame it is to fall by the hand of -the Guardian of Ulster, but to have fallen by a lesser hand, that, -O Father, would have been unworthy thee and me. And yet it is woe -that I must die so young, for had I been but five years beside -thee, I would have vanquished the champions of the world for the -honour of Ulster and for thy honour, and I would have made thee -king of the world as far as the walls of Rome. Since I must needs -die, and my strength is passing fast away, lose not this little -space in grief, but point me out the heroes of Ulster of whom Scáth -used to tell, that I may take leave of each before I die.” - -Then the heroes of Ulster drew near, and Cuchulain named them all, -and Conall Cernach amongst them, and the boy put his arms round the -neck of one hero after the other, and kissed them, and then once -more he put his arms round the neck of his own father, and with -that he died. - -When Cuchulain saw that his son was dead, he laid him on the earth, -and he stood up, and a burst of anguish like the breaking of a -heart came from him. And he cried aloud: “The end is come indeed -for me: - - “‘I am a man without son, without wife, - I am the Father who slew his own child, - I am a broken, rudderless bark, - Tossed from wave to wave in the tempest wild; - An apple blown loose from the garden wall, - I am over-ripe, and about to fall.’” - -Then the men of Ulster came about Cuchulain and tried to comfort -him, and they raised the body of Conla on a shield, as it is wont -to do with heroes, and they made for him a noble grave, and buried -him there, with a pillar-stone to mark the spot, and his name and -his deeds written thereon. And all Ulster wept for him, and the -King commanded that for three days no merriment or feasting should -take place within the borders of Ulster, as is wont to be done on -the death of a king. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -The Hound at Bay - - -Yet all this while Cuchulain’s foes drew closer round him, watching -their opportunity, and the land was filled with smoke and flame, -and omens foretold that the Hound was at bay at last, and that -the King of the Heroes of Erin was doomed to die. For though -Meave entered not again into open war with Ulster, never had she -forgotten the disgrace put upon her armies by Cuchulain, in that he -alone had beaten and held back her troops during the whole winter’s -length, slaying and destroying her chosen men. His kindness to her -in her weakness she soon forgot, or if she remembered it, it was -made bitter by the laugh of Fergus; she felt humiliated that she, -the mighty warrior queen, and leader of her forces, had stooped to -ask help from the hands of her enemy. So she awaited the moment of -revenge. - -Throughout all Ireland she sent messengers to stir up strife -against Cuchulain, so that he was harassed and pursued on every -hand; nor did he ever sleep a night in peace. To all those men -whose fathers or brothers or sons Cuchulain had slain she whispered -of revenge, and glad and pleased she was when one and another fell -upon him unawares or led a raid into the country of Murthemne, to -burn and spoil the land. Above all, she stirred up Luga, son of -Curoi, prince of Munster, and Erc, the son of Tara’s royal king; -and these awaited but a chance to fall upon Cuchulain unawares. - -But worst of all, she sent a brood of monstrous, ill-shaped -sprites, half-women, half-goblins, in their forms and minds, to -learn throughout the whole wide distant world some secret way to -bring Cuchulain to his death. Monstrous they were, for but one -single eye was in their foreheads, and their right legs and left -arms were lopped off at the stump. They did not move along the -earth like men, but on the broad back of the whistling winds and -wrapped in magic clouds of their own making, they sped o’er land -and sea. - -Hideous and frightful were they to behold, and hideous were their -thoughts and their designs. When they drew near, a poisonous -ill-wind preceded them, and all the sky was dark with venomous -clouds about them and above, so that although they saw them not, -men shrank with fear and felt but ill at ease. These creatures -then she sent through the wide spaces of the universe to learn all -cruel magic arts that hurt and trouble men. And for five years they -wandered through the earth, until they reached the fearful realm -where Vulcan forged his weapons in the fire. - -The secret of all poisonous herbs they learned, the use of every -charm that spoils men’s lives and drives them to despair; they -learned to raise a magic stormy sea upon dry land, in which men -might be drowned; and out of forest twigs and fluttering leaves -they learned to form a host of fighting-men and armed them with the -spiked thorn of the thistle leaves or with the blackthorn’s barb. - -From Vulcan’s hand three cruel spears they took, their names, -‘Wind,’ ‘Good-luck,’ and ‘Cast’; three swords of magic power, -too, they got, the ‘Wounder,’ and the ‘Hacker,’ and the ‘Hewer.’ -“By these three spears or these three swords the splendid Hound -shall die,” was Vulcan’s word; “each one of them shall kill a king -of Erin, and among those kings will be the mighty king of Erin’s -hero-chiefs, the triumphant, heavy-smiting, noble youth, whom men -call ‘Ulster’s Hound.’” - -Then with a fierce and cruel glee those hideous children of the -storm bade Vulcan and his crew farewell, and on the rough and -whistling blast that blows keen from the east, they rose on high -and made their way to Erin’s coasts, alighting on the plain before -the fort of Meave. She, rising early on the morrow, looked forth -out of her bower, and saw them resting, each upon one leg perched -on the rampart’s top. Her five-fold crimson mantle flung about her, -straightway she stepped forth and made them welcome, and with a -cruel joy she heard their news. The venomed spears and hard-wrought -swords she took into her hands, and waved and brandished them to -try their power, but though from point to hilt she bent them back, -no sign of crack or failure could she find. “Well-tempered swords -are these, indeed,” she cried, “by these my deadly foe shall fall -at last.” - -Then straight to Ulster she sent forth the brood of ill-formed -goblin women. “Seek out Cuchulain where he lies,” she said, “and -on him try your spells. Set right before his face your magic tide -of ocean-waves that he may rush into the flood and come thus to -his death; or, if that fail, tempt him with magic troops and armed -battalions made out of puff-balls or of fluttering leaves and armed -with sharp and prickly thistle-spikes. Thus lure him forth, for I -have heard it said that Emer and her women hold him with their -gentle wiles within his own strong fort, till he be healed of all -his pain and wounds. Tempt you him out into the open plain, and -there his foes will find and speak with him and utterly and for -ever strike him down. My hosts are there, and Luga’s hosts and -Erc’s. Give to each one of them your magic spears, that he may not -escape. Thus shall the strength of Ulster fall at last! Thus shall -our vengeance come! Within the space of three short days bring in -his head to me.” - -So with deep wiles Meave laid her cruel plans, plotting Cuchulain’s -death; Murthemne and Cuchulain’s country she filled with war-bands, -marching through the land wasting and marauding, and they burned -the villages and the forests of the plain, so that the whole region -was a cloud of fire about them. Now the friends of Cuchulain, and -Emer, his dear wife, had taken the hero away with them from his own -home at Dun Dalgan to a secret glen in Ulster, that is called the -Glen of the Deaf, because no sound of war or tumult reached it, -where was a pleasant summer palace retired from mankind. There they -entertained him with sweet music and pleasant tales and games of -chess, to hold him back from rushing to meet the foe; and they took -from him his chariot and his weapons, and turned his chariot-steeds -out into the fenced green, for they knew that if he should go forth -at this time, he must surely fall. But the hero was restless and -unhappy, and save that he had plighted his word to Emer and to all -his friends he would not have entered the Glen. For Emer’s sake and -theirs he went with them to the lightsome summer palace, and sat -down with the poets and artists and the women-folk to listen to -sweet beguiling music and tales of ancient deeds to while away the -time. - -Everywhere throughout the Province the horrid brood of mis-shaped -children sought him, but they found him not, neither in Dun Dalgan -nor in Emain, nor in his own country of Murthemne’s Plain; but -at last one of them soared up to the very clouds of heaven and -surveyed the whole wide land of Ulster, and from a hidden forest -glen she heard the sound of joyous revelry and the high, shrill -voice of women’s laughter, and the cheerful noise of a great -company keeping festival together. - -Then she transformed herself into the shape of a black raven, and -swooped down and perched above the seat on which Cuchulain sat. -And it seemed to Cuchulain that he heard words, inciting him to go -forth. - -“Dun Dalgan is burned,” they said to him, “and all the province is -laid waste; the war-bands and the hosts of Meave have ravaged all -the land, and everywhere but smoke and flames are seen. Arise, O -Hound, arise!” - -But to the rest it seemed as though the raven croaked, and they -laughed loud to hear the bird of ill-omen croaking in the house. -Cuchulain sprang to his feet to rush forth; but, as he rose, his -mantle caught beneath his feet, and he was thrown backwards on his -seat. Once more he rose in haste and red with shame, but the great -kingly brooch that fastened his mantle, being loosened by his fall, -dropped on his foot, and dropping pierced his skin. “Alas! alas!” -he cried, “even my mantle warns me of ill-luck!” And Emer said, -“’Tis even so; heed now the warning of a friend. Let this pass, -Cu; for three days stay with us, and then in peace thou mayest go -forth to fight. For three days only have the Children of the Blast -their fatal power. Not for thyself or thine own safety do we thus -entreat, but for the sake of Ulster and her king. For Ulster is -destroyed if Cuchulain falls. For three days then abide.” And for -the sake of Ulster Cuchulain stayed, though heaviness and shame sat -deep upon him, and in his heart he longed to go. And wearily he sat -down again to play his game of chess. - -For that night the Wild Women of the Blast went back, and they -waited until another day was past, but towards the fall of night -the horrid brood of mis-shaped children betook them to the Glen. -On the swift magic wind of their own making they soared aloft, -and at the very entrance to the Glen they lighted on the ground. -There they began to work their noisome spells. Out of the light -wee puff-balls and the rustling forest leaves they formed great -lines of fighting-men, all armed with battle-weapons of the hooded -sharp-spiked thistle-stalks. All round the lightsome, pleasant -house the army stood, in marshalled band on band, and all the -country rang with battle-shouts and cries of war and trumpetings, -and loud pealing laughter, and the taunts of strong men when they -mock at cowards. - -In the palace Cuchulain caught the uproar and the mocking laughter -of the phantom fairy hosts. He started up and would have rushed -madly from the hall, but those around him stayed and hindered. -“Close fast the doors,” they said, “if for this one day and -to-morrow we can keep him fast, the magic evil spell is past.” And -Emer came to him and said, “This one day yet abide, O dear one, -noblest of the whole world’s race, my one and only love. These are -but shows and phantoms that thou hearest wrought by the sprites to -lure thee to thy doom. To-morrow, or the next day, or the next, -comes Conall Cernach back from travelling. Alone, thou fallest; -with him thou art a match for any host. For Ulster’s sake and ours, -and for thine own, abide.” - -Then at this thing Cu felt a mighty shame; his soul was filled with -storms of anger and reproach. “Alas! alas!” he cried, “henceforth -there is no cause to guard my life. My span is ended, my honour is -destroyed. Better for me than all the gold and riches of the world, -if I had died before there fell on me this shame. In every tongue -this noble saying is recorded, “Fame outlives life”; but by your -urgency I keep my life, when all my fame and honour is destroyed. -Come death, come life, to-morrow I go forth.” - -And gloomily and sadly he sat down, nor would he play or listen to -the music of the bards, or hold sweet converse with the women, but -all that night, till break of day, he tried and proved his weapons, -and his spears and sword he polished lovingly, and he sent Laeg out -to catch his chariot-steeds and bring them to the green beside the -house. And his heart revived within him when he heard without the -neigh of the Grey of Macha and the Black Steed of the Glen. - -But the foul Children of the Blast were disappointed and dismayed -because they could not tempt Cuchulain out. And all that night they -sat in council, devising plans to snare him. “We have but one day -more,” they said, “before our power is lost. To-morrow then and -verily, we lure him forth.” - -Before the morning’s sun was well arisen, on the blast of the -swift moaning wind of their own making, and all unseen, they came -around the glen. Then they put forth their magic spells and round -the house they made the likeness of a mighty sea that wave on wave -rolled ever nearer to the pleasure-house, threatening to overwhelm -it as it stood. Amid the women’s talk and loving laughter, and -the sweet music of the harps and singing men, Cuchulain heard -the lapping of the waves, and the low distant ocean’s roar, and -whistling of the wind upon the sea. Then he rose up and seized -his weapons in his hand, and for all Emer and the rest could do, -he rushed forth from the house. And madness came upon him when he -saw the rolling billows rising ever towards the house, and all the -land covered with mist and spray; and he called Emer, and would -have lifted her up above the waves to carry her in safety through -the billows. But Emer and the rest could see no waves, only the -green waving grasses of the pleasure-field, and nought they heard -save the soft rustling breath of spring that whispered through the -leaves. And Emer said: “Little Cu, O my first love and darling -of all earth’s men, never until this hour have I or any of thy -women-folk put hindrance in thy way in any exploit or battle-raid -that thou didst desire. Though oft we wept, and many a time we -thought thou never wouldst return, we never held thee back. But -now for my sake, my own chosen sweetheart, go not forth. No sea is -that thou seest upon the green, but only waving grasses and the -fluttering leaves. Heed not the magic noisome spells of those thy -enemies, but one day more abide. Then never till the end of life or -time will we restrain or hold thee back again.” But Cuchulain said, -“Emer, restrain me not; I see the horses of Manannan riding on the -waves; I hear Manannan’s fairy harp play gently o’er the billows; -Manannan’s ancient face I see beckoning me o’er the main.” - -Then Emer knew that the hour of Cuchulain’s fate was come, and -that nought of all that ever they could do would avail to turn him -back. For the seer had prophesied that when Cuchulain should see -the horses of the ancient Ocean god upon the waves, and when he -should hear Manannan’s harp play sweetly, the hour of his fate was -come, and he must e’en go back to Shadowland. - -Then she herself called Laeg to prepare his chariot and harness -his horses, and to set his fighting-gear in order, that not by -phantasies or magic wild imaginings, but as a chariot-chief and -champion facing his foes he might go forth to die; and she brought -out his helmet and set it upon his head, and placed his mighty -shield within his hand, that he might die as a hero should. - -And when Cuchulain saw his chariot standing ready for him, and -Laeg therein awaiting him, and the noble steeds pawing the ground, -the phantoms of his brain passed away from him, and his warrior -strength and joyousness of mind came back, and he donned his armour -with good-will and gladness, and made to spring into the chariot. -But for the first time since the day when they rose out of the -magic lake, the steeds obeyed not his hand, but started from him -and turned the chariot round, evading him. And when Laeg drew them -back, and Cuchulain prepared to spring again into the chariot, they -fled away before him. “How now, how now is this, good steeds?” -said Laeg; “full oft before ye two came bounding at your master’s -call, nor ever turned away. Ill deed is this of thine, for never -upon any former day did he and I need help from you as now we need -it. Presage of evil is this freak of thine!” This when the Grey of -Macha heard he stood quite still, the Black Steed by his side, and -they let Cuchulain mount into the chariot; but even as he sprang -to take his seat, his weapons all fell down about his feet; to -him a grim foreshadowing of ill. He saw, moreover, that from the -horses’ eyes and down their cheeks coursed tears of dusky blood. - -Yet for all that he stayed not, but without farewells or partings -of any kind at all, joyously he set forth towards Murthemne’s -Plain, to meet the hosts of Meave. But when the cruel Children of -the Blast saw the imprisoned champion go forth and take the level -road across the plain, up to the highest heavens they rose aloft -with wild shrill cries and shriekings of delight, and through -the air upon the whistling wind they sped before him, hastening -to arouse the hosts of Meave to meet him in their strength. -Before Cuchulain’s eyes they raised a vision of battle-troops and -marshalled lines standing round Emain, with chariots, steeds and -weapons in great plenty. He saw the city red and dark with flames, -and heard the shouting of the foe as Emain sank in ashes. That -vision passed away, and then another came before his mind. He saw -Dun Dalgan, his own home, aglow, like Emain, in the ruddy flame. -He saw the women flying from the flames, with hair dishevelled, -and with streaming eyes. He heard the crashing of the blazing -walls, as inward one and then another fell. He saw the foe behind -with swords upraised, slaying and cutting down the women as they -ran. Then he saw Emer, his own loving wife, standing alone upon -the outer wall, scanning the distant plain. She raised her hands -and called on him for help, and down her face ran torrents of salt -tears. Then he could see behind her, creeping slowly on, a fierce -relentless warrior of Meave’s host. And with one spring he saw him -seize her hair, the soft long locks Cuchulain loved to touch, and -backward with his cruel pitiless hand he drew her head, and with a -single blow he sheared it off, flinging it in disdain out o’er the -rampart’s wall, and trampling her fair body under foot. When he had -seen that deed, Cuchulain groaned, and sped along the plain with -greater haste. - -Then passing o’er a stream they saw a maiden stooping on the brink, -as though she washed and rinsed the garments of the slain. Slender -and white her body and her hands, but all the waters ran with -crimson blood, and still she washed, and wept, and wrung her hands, -and all her yellow hair hung down in tresses slowly dropping blood. -Sharply and quick, without a word or pause, Laeg turned the chariot -when he saw the girl, and made as though to flee. “How now?” said -Cu; “what dost thou, Master Laeg? What spoils are these the maiden -wrings and washes in the stream? and who and what is she?” “She is -the Watcher of the Ford,” Laeg cried, “the daughter of the goddess -of grim war. She wrings the garments of the slain, or those about -to die. Dost thou not see that they are thine own garments that she -washes out to-day; that it is thine own sword that runs with blood, -dying the river red? Alas! alas! while there is time, let us now -turn and flee.” - -“Dear comrade, it is well,” the hero said, “I may not turn me back -from this my hour of vengeance on the men of Erin, revenge for all -the ill that they have wrought on us. What though the fairy woman -wash my spoils? great spoil of arms, of armour and of gear, is that -which by my spear shall shortly fall and lie there drenched in -blood. None knows it better than I know myself that in this coming -onslaught I must fall; whether I stay I am devoted to death, or -whether I go, the span of my life is run out. No more then hinder -or delay my course, for sad as you may be to see me go to Death, -even so glad and cheerful I myself go forth to meet my fate. Let me -but once more thus avenge my country’s wrongs, and gladly and with -joy I give my life.” - -So he turned again and faced the enemy, and all his gloom and -heaviness passed from Cuchulain, and the delusions of the gruesome -fairy folk troubled him no more. Cheerfully and free from care he -rode on towards the host, and from his forehead, brighter than the -sun, shone out the Hero’s Light. Right terrible and beautiful he -stood, his mighty sword uplifted in his hand, his eyes beneath his -helmet flashing fire. And when they saw him coming thus alone, a -shout of triumph rose from all the host, and mounted to the very -clouds of heaven. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -Fame outlives Life - - -Throughout that day the battle rolled and raged. No time to eat or -drink Cuchulain gave, but from the dewy morn to fall of night he -wrought upon his foes death-dealing blows, cutting them down as -hailstones crush small flowers. And though he was alone against a -host, they fled in terror from his path, so like a god of battles -and of war the hero seemed. In his first onset men and horses, -hounds and charioteers gave way before him, as the corn gives way, -bowing before the scythe; and all around his path the bodies of -the slain were piled. Throughout the day, they rallied once and -then again, but still they could not take him whole or strike him -dead. From off his helmet and the armour Scáth had given, their -weapons broke and shattered in their hands; no sword would wound, -no spear would pierce his skin. His chariot-steeds, like horses -god-possessed, trampled their men to death; the fire breathing -from their nostrils consumed all who ventured near. Thus through -the hosts from side to side Cuchulain urged his steeds, and all -his way was heaped and piled with dead. Twice seemed it that the -victory was his, but at the last, the warriors rallied and held him -back. Then, at the third time, the Wild Women-Goblins of the Blast, -who watched the fight, screaming above the slain, swooped down. -Into the hands of Luga and young Erc, but late ascended Tara’s -royal seat, and into the dread hand of dark Curoi, they placed the -venomous spears of magic might brought out of fairy-land. “The time -is come,” said they; “take these and strike; with each of these -three spears a king shall fall.” - -Together those three foes drew near, and first Curoi threw his -weapon, aiming it at Cu. But from his mantle once again it swerved, -missing its mark. But glancing off from him, it pierced the Grey of -Macha, pinning the gallant creature to the ground. - -Cuchulain, when he saw his steed transfixed, without a thought for -his own safety, bounded from his chariot, and stooped to draw the -weapon from the wound; but for all he tugged and pulled, he could -not get it out. While he was bending down to help his steed, Erc, -the young king of Erin, flung the second spear, hoping to kill -Cuchulain. It touched his hip and wounded him, but fell upon his -charioteer, inflicting a mortal wound. “Alas, my little Cu,” cried -Laeg, “by this wound now I die; never before in any fight or foray -that we have faced together have I been wounded past thy guard!” - -“Not past, but through me went that spear,” Cuchulain said, “see, I -am hurt by it. My blessing with thee, Laeg, and leave me now, ere -faintness falls on thee; seek shelter far beyond the host, thither -will I in safety lead the way. If haply thou shouldst escape and -live so long, back to Dun Dalgan make thy way, where Emer of the -waving hair still looks for my return. My blessing take to her and -my dear love; tell her I love her yet, and had I lived, not all the -women of the whole globe’s space would e’er have lured or drawn my -love from her. Tell her again, tell Conor and tell Conall, how for -their sakes I wage this awful fight, tight closed in grips with all -the hosts of Meave. ’Tis Ulster’s honour and mine own I avenge. Let -Emer weep awhile that I am dead, and mourn my loss; surely she will -not live when I am gone. Yet for their bitter weeping and their -tears, the dead return not to their friends who mourn. My blessing -take, O Laeg; no chariot-chief had ever man so faithful and so -true. My word I swear upon my weapons here, all Erin’s hosts shall -hear how I avenged thy loss. In grief and gloom we part! Thou goest -and Emer goes! No more as in old days from foreign lands in gallant -glee shall I return to her.” - -Thus to each other, in heaviness and grief, the hero and his -servant bade farewell. Yet for awhile, so long as he could stand, -from a low hillock Laeg looked on and watched the fight. Then -(for the Black Steed followed him, and would not turn away) upon -the back of his own chariot-horse he took his way straight to -Cuchulain’s home. - -But after his farewell, the hero turned him back into the fray, -and on his foes he took a fierce revenge. No sword or armour could -withstand his blows. On every side he seemed to be at once, now -here, now there, dealing death-bearing wounds. Before him, and on -every side, the men of Erin fled, while, like the avenging god of -war, Cuchulain pressed behind. - -Then when the cruel Children of the Blast beheld the rout, one of -the three limped to where Luga stood, and ugly was her face, and -black her scowl. “Why fling you not the spear we brought to you? A -king will fall by it if it is thrown.” - -“I heard you say a king would fall before, when Erc and Curoi -flung their venomed spears. Yet Cuchulain lives,” Luga replied. - -“And so it was,” she said; “the King of Erin’s steeds, the King of -Erin’s charioteers have fallen by those spears. One King lives yet, -and by your spear the King of Erin’s heroes is to fall.” - -Then Luga flung the spear. Straight, vehement, and true the aim -he took, and over all the heads of all the host it rose and fell, -piercing Cuchulain to the very earth. - -Then out of sudden fear the host stood back, seeing Cuchulain fall. -No shout went up, but silence deep and awful seized the host. They -ceased to fly and turned, but none of all of them advanced to aid -or slay the wounded man. - -In a wide circle as they turned they stood each leaning on his -spear, and in the empty space, near where Cuchulain fell, in -silence Luga stood to watch the hero die. Thus all alone, without -a single friend, the king of Erin’s mighty heroes lay, dying upon -the plain. Slowly Cuchulain rose in mortal pain, and stooped to -drag the weapon from the wound; but he could not, for it broke -off at the head, leaving the metal fastened in the flesh. And as -he tugged, the red blood trickled slowly to his feet and made a -stream that ran away along a furrow of the plain. Cuchulain saw -an otter that crept up from the rushes on the margin of the lake. -Stealthily the creature drew towards him, attracted by the blood, -and in a timid way began to drink. It vexed Cuchulain when he saw -the cringing beast drinking his blood while he was yet alive, and -he ceased tugging at the buried spear-head, and made shift to -stoop and pick up the fallen shaft and fling it at the beast. At -that a raven came fluttering down and hesitatingly drew near, and -dipped its beak into the hero’s blood; but in the slippery stream -its claws were caught and so the bird upset. When he saw that, -Cuchulain laughed aloud, and well he knew that laugh would be his -last. - -For, even as he laughed, Death’s mists and swoonings fell on him. -He closed his eyes, and when at length he opened them again, the -warrior-host had moved, drawn nearer to the place where he was -lying still; but such an awe was on them that in that mighty ring -of warrior-hosts, armed all with clanking weapons and with arms, no -sound was heard; they stood as silent as a nurse might stand within -the dark sick-room, to watch the champion die. - -Then came a mighty thirst upon the wounded man. “Fain would I go,” -he said to them, “and quench my thirst beside the loch.” - -“We give thee leave to go,” they said, “but only if thou come again -to us.” - -“If I come not to you again myself, I bid you come for me,” the -hero said. - -So he gathered himself together and went slowly to the loch. And he -drank his drink and washed himself, and came forth to die, calling -upon his foes to come and meet him. - -[Illustration: Cuchulain comes at last to his Death] - -Now his eye lighted upon a tall pillar-stone that was beside the -loch in the midst of the plain. And he drew himself to the stone, -and leaned his back against it, and with the girdle that was about -his breast, he bound himself to the stone, standing up facing the -men of Erin. And in his hand he grasped his naked sword and held it -up aloft, and in his other hand he took his shield, and placed it -close beside him on the ground. For he said, “I will not die before -the men of Erin lying down nor sitting on the ground, but I will -die before them standing up.” And the Grey of Macha found him where -he stood, and came up, dragging the spear that still held in his -wound; and it laid its head upon Cuchulain’s breast, weeping great -dropping tears of dusky blood. And all about his shoulders hovered -carrion birds, yet still the host dared not venture nigh, for the -hero’s light shone from his forehead, and they knew not whether he -were alive or dead. - -Then went Luga near to see if he were yet alive, and as he came -beside him, the great sword fell from the dying Champion’s hand, -and struck the hand of Luga, and smote it off, so that the sword -and hand fell to the ground together. Cuchulain heaved a deep and -troubled sigh, and with that sigh his soul parted from his body. -Yea, with the greatness of that sigh the pillar-stone was split, as -may be seen to this day. Men call it still the Pillar of the Hero’s -dying Sigh. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -The Red Rout - - -Daily upon the ramparts of Dun Dalgan Emer of the beauteous hair -looked out and waited for Cuchulain, for nought of Laeg’s grim -tale, that he was dead or dying on the Plain, would take hold on -her mind. But still and evermore he came not home. - -Upon a certain day, far off she saw a single horseman coming -towards the fort, upon a horse that wearily and weakly moved along, -dropping red blood at every step. Weary the horseman seemed, and -in his hand he bore a rod made out of osiers of the stream, and on -it hung the gory heads of lately slaughtered men. Then trembling -and affright fell on the queen. Full well she knew the horse that -dripped with blood, the Grey of Macha, Cuchulain’s chariot-steed, -but on his back another rider sat. “’Tis Conall the Victorious,” -she exclaimed, “he rides Cuchulain’s horse. With evil news he comes -to me this day. The tale is true that Laeg told, Cuchulain in his -blood lies on Murthemne’s Plain, dying or dead. Woe that another -rides Cuchulain’s steed! Woe that the Hound of Ulster draws not -near. Full many a day in triumphant pride by this same path he hath -come home to me! Full many a day along this beaten way in gallant -glee he hath gone forth to war!” Sadly and sorrowfully drew Conall -near and greeted Emer. And Emer said, “What gory heads are those -thou bearest on the withe? How and in what fight didst thou come -by them?” “These are the heads of those who slew thy hero and my -friend! Alas! that I in distant lands was wandering when Cuchulain -died. Too late I came to save him, if perchance he still might shun -the hour of his death; but not too late my promise to redeem and -to avenge his fall. See here upon the withe is Luga’s head, and -here the head of dark Curoi mac Daire, and here is Erc’s, the fair -young lad who stained his youth with blood, the blood of Ulster’s -Guardian and its Hound. These and the others I bear here with me -in token of my duty well performed, my promise kept. Where’er men -speak the praise of Ulster’s Hound and tell his deeds, there also -shall they speak of the Red Rout of Conall Cernach, in vengeance of -his death!” - -Then trembling Emer said, “One head I see not here upon the withe; -yet in thy bosom surely thou hast yet one head for me. I see fair -hair, O Conall, bring it forth; give back to me my lover and my -friend.” - -Then Conall said: “Listen, O Emer, to the tale I tell. When round -the men of Erin in my wrath and battle-fury I had passed, cutting -and hewing down their chiefs and leaders and their mighty men, -close up to Tara’s wall I made my way, seeking for Erc, who fled -before my steps surrounded by his chosen counsellors. Passing the -playing-fields without the fort, I saw men playing hurley with a -head, a human head in place of hurley-balls, a human head yet fresh -and wet with blood. My own blood froze within my veins! It was the -head of Ulster’s Hound they struck and flung from hand to hand! -And at the shame of it methought its cheeks blushed hot and rosy -red. Even as I came the head was struck; it bounded up, and nobly -took the goal. A shout went up from all those reckless men. ‘So, -so, the Hound of Ulster wins again; good man, good man, we hit him -under once and took his head from him, but he would take revenge -upon us now.’ - -“‘Revenge,’ I cried, ‘revenge he’ll find indeed,’ and at that word -into their midst I sprang, dealing on every hand death-bringing -blows. Like corn before the mower’s scythe, or like grown grass -beneath the feet of many hosts, I hewed them down. Harsh cries -went up, for all unarmed they fell, helpless and with no power to -withstand, and Erc came out upon the green, and stood there in -dismay. I held Cuchulain’s head on high in my left hand. ‘Thy head -to match with his,’ I cried, and ere he raised a sound his head was -rolling at my feet. I picked it up and hither came to seek thee, -gentle queen.” - -Then Emer, white as death, and trembling as a rush that bows before -the onward-flowing stream, put forth her hands, and said, “Give me -Cuchulain’s head.” But when with reverence Conall placed within her -hands Cuchulain’s head, a cry of sorrow and of grief rang out from -Emer’s lips, and pierced the souls of all who heard it in the fort. -She bent to kiss the head, and at that moment her sad heart broke -within her breast, and o’er Dun Dalgan’s rampart Emer fell, her -fair hair mingled with the hair of Cuchulain, her mantle rent and -torn, and all her lovely face splashed o’er with blood. Gently and -reverently they raised her up, and bore her, with the head still -clasped within her arms, to where the body of Cuchulain lay. There -on Murthemne’s plain they buried them, two lovers and two friends -within one tomb, husband and wife. And when the grave was digged -and filled again, the Grey of Macha roamed away; through all the -fields and furrows of the plain, through all the glens and hills -in Erin’s bounds he seemed to search and closely scrutinise, as -though to find some being he had lost. But when he found him not, -back to the lonely loch among the reeds, where first Cuchulain -found and mastered him, he came again; and with one bound he leaped -into the very centre of the loch, and so appeared no more. This -witnessing, the Black Steed neighed in mournful wise, and went back -to the glen in Donegal, and no man dared to seek or follow him, nor -ever found they trace of him again. - -But to the three times fifty queens who wept for him, the soul of -Cuchulain, radiant and noble as in life, appeared once more; and -on the ramparts of Emain by night, old warriors tell how, when -men are asleep, the spirit-chariot of a spirit-chief, clad in his -battle armour as of yore, moves round the walls, guarding the outer -ramparts from the foe; and all men sleep in safety, for the Hound -of Ulster wakes. - -And as, with slow and stately pace the chariot moves, drawn by two -noble horses, white and black, a chant goes up upon the midnight -air, not like the pagan chants of other days, but sweet and gentle -as a summer-song, and with a note of triumph in its sound, telling -the coming of a hero-chief, who shall be called the Christ, and -who will bring great peace and rest to men. And when that song is -heard, rising with its sweet strain o’er all the fort, the fires -of war and hate are softened in the chieftains’ hearts, and women -smile upon their little babes and hug them to their breasts. And -all, the young and old, set forward minds to welcome the new time -when wars shall cease, and peace shall come to men. - - - - -Notes on the Sources - - -“Táin bó Cuailnge.” The two oldest versions of the long tale of -the “Táin bó Cuailnge,” or “Cattle-Raid of Cooley,” from which the -main part of Chapters ii.-vi. and ix.-xix. of this book are taken, -are those found in the old vellum manuscripts known as the “Leabhar -na h-Uidhre” (L.U.), compiled about the year 1100 in the monastery -of Clonmacnois on the Shannon, and preserved in the Library of -the Royal Irish Academy, Dublin, and that occurring in the Book -of Leinster (L.L.), preserved in Trinity College, Dublin, the -larger portion of which appears to belong to the twelfth century. -A version found in the Yellow Book of Lecan corresponds closely -to that in L.U., and seems to contain an even earlier text. The -text of this older version is in course of publication in Ériu, -the journal of the School of Irish Learning in Dublin, and a -translation has been made of it by Miss W. Faraday (Grimm Library -Series, vol. xvi.). The lengthy L.L. version has been published -with a German translation, and copious notes and glossary, by Dr -Ernst Windisch, 1905. - -Among the later versions of parts of this long tale, is a copy -found in the British Museum (marked Add. 18748) 1800 A.D., which -coincides in the main with that of the Book of Leinster. A -translation of large portions of this manuscript was contributed by -Dr Standish H. O’Grady to the present author’s “Cuchullin Saga in -Irish Literature” (Grimm Library, vol. viii.). - - -The story of “The Education of Cuchulain” in Alba or Scotland, with -the amazon Scáth, originally formed part of the tale of “The Wooing -of Emer,” but separate accounts exist of these adventures. For the -details of Chapter vii., I have drawn partly upon the incidents -contained in the longer version of “The Wooing of Emer,” and partly -upon two late manuscripts found in the British Museum (Egerton, 106 -and 145). These have since been edited by Dr Whitley Stokes in the -Revue Celtique, vol. xxix. - - -“The Wooing of Emer.” This story is taken from Dr Kuno Meyer’s -edition of the tale found in Stowe MS. 992, and first published by -him in the Archæological Review, vol. i. - - -The story of “Cuchulain’s Visit to Fairy-land,” usually known as -“The Sick-bed of Cuchulain” (our Chapters xx., xxi.), is adapted -from the accounts as given in the only two copies known to exist -of it, one found in L.U. and the other in a fifteenth-century -manuscript in Trinity College, Dublin. It was first published by -O’Curry in Atlantis, vols. i. and ii., and later Dr Windisch edited -the tale in Irische Texte, vol. i. An English translation will be -found in Leahy’s “Heroic Romances of Ireland,” vol. i. - - -The story of “Deirdre,” usually called “The Tragical Fate of the -Sons of Usnach,” is one of three favourite titles that for the last -two hundred years at least have been known as “The Three Sorrowful -Tales of Erin,” the other two being “The Fate of the Children of -Lir” and “The Fate of the Children of Tuireann.” There is, however, -no connection or similarity between these tales. The story is found -in numerous versions dating from the twelfth century down to the -present day, and it has undergone much modification in the course -of repetition. It is still a popular story in the Highlands of -Scotland, and all round Loch Etive and its neighbourhood are the -remains of forts and sites bearing the names of the unfortunate -lovers. - -No single version contains the entire story, and I have therefore -been obliged to combine the accounts given in various versions -belonging to different ages, slightly altering the arrangement -in order to fit them together. In the chapter called “The -Sleep-Wanderer,” and in the account of “The Death of the Sons of -Usnach,” I have drawn largely on a very beautiful and poetic Gaelic -folk-version taken down by Dr Alexander Carmichael from the lips -of an old man of eighty-three years of age, John Macneill or “Iain -Donn” of Barra, and first published by him in the Trans. of the -Gaelic Society of Inverness, vols. xiii., xiv. It has since been -republished under the title of “Deirdre.” - -Some suggestions I have also taken from a modern manuscript found -by Dr Douglas Hyde in the Belfast Museum, part of which was printed -by him in Zeit. für Celt. Phil., vol. ii. - -But the main body of the story follows the mediæval version, which -has been printed repeatedly, one of the best recent editions being -that of Dr Whitley Stokes in Irische Texte, 2nd series, pt. 2. - -In the oldest version, that found in the Book of Leinster, Deirdre -is made to survive the sons of Usnach, and is forced to come into -Conor’s house; but she will neither eat nor smile, and finally -she puts an end to her intolerable existence by springing from a -chariot and dashing her head against a rock. This version is much -ruder and more barbaric than any of those belonging to a later -period. - - -“The Tragical Death of Conla (or Conlaech), Son of Aiffe.” -Apparently the oldest form of this story, which is the Irish -parallel to the Persian story of “Sohrab and Rustem,” is that found -in the Yellow Book of Lecan, recently edited by Dr Kuno Meyer -in Ériu, vol. i. pt. I; Mr J. G. O’Keeffe gives another ancient -version in the same journal. The story is usually told in verse, -and is still alive in Gaelic-speaking parts of Ireland and in the -Highlands of Scotland. Miss Brooke has published one of these -poetical forms in her “Reliques of Irish Poetry,” 1789. - - -“The Tragical Death of Cuchulain.” The incidents connected with the -death of Cuchulain, and immediately preceding and following it, are -chiefly taken from, or suggested by, two good but comparatively -recent manuscripts in the British Museum (Egerton, 132, and -Add. 18947) dating from the early eighteenth and the nineteenth -centuries respectively. They contain the cycle of events known -as “The Great Defeat on the Plain of Murthemne,” “The Death of -Cuchulain,” “The Red Rout of Conall Cernach,” “The Lay of the -Heads,” and “Emer’s Death.” Portions of the material from the first -of these two manuscripts were translated for my “Cuchullin Saga” by -Dr S. H. O’Grady, but these five stories as a consecutive whole -have not yet been published. An older (L.L.) version of Cuchulain’s -death was published by Dr Whitley Stokes in Revue Celtique, vol. -iii. - -Murthemne, or Cuchulain’s country, formed part of the present Co. -Louth, and a great pillar stone is still pointed out by the people -as the place of Cuchulain’s death, a split in the side having been -caused, according to living tradition, by the dying sigh of the -hero. - - -The poem on p. 141 is reprinted by kind permission of Mr T. Fisher -Unwin. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] This story has been published by Dr Wh. Stokes in _Rev. Celt._ -xxix. (1908), since the above was written. - -[2] The raths or earthworks of Emain Macha are still to be -discerned two miles west of Armagh, at a place now called Navan -Fort. - -[3] Cruachan (now Rath Crogan) is in Co. Roscommon; tumuli mark the -site of the ancient kingly fort. - -[4] From Dr George Sigerson’s _Bards of the Gael and Gall_. The -translation is in the metre and style of the original. - - - - - * * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - - Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been - corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within - the text and consultation of external sources. - - Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text - and inconsistent or archaic usage have been retained. For example, - lookout, look-out; fairy-maid, fairy maid; Shadowland, Shadow-land; - curvetted; engraven; unweaponed; whinneyed; loth; draggled; forbad; - phantasies; digged. - - Pg 10, 'orginally recited' replaced by 'originally recited'. - Pg 27, 'future renoun' replaced by 'future renown'. - Pg 56, 'Fiacha, who told' replaced by 'Fiacra, who told'. - Pg 144, 'fairyland drew' replaced by 'fairy-land drew'. - Pg 153, 'seasoned wariors' replaced by 'seasoned warriors'. - Pg 181, 'and is own' replaced by 'and his own'. - Pg 190, 'today; and for ever' replaced by 'to-day; and for ever'. - Pg 197, 'what constallations' replaced by 'what constellations'. - Pg 249, 'stranger boy got the' replaced by 'stranger-boy got the'. - Pg 272, 'trembing as a rush' replaced by 'trembling as a rush'. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CUCHULAIN, THE HOUND OF ULSTER*** - - -******* This file should be named 52963-0.txt or 52963-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/2/9/6/52963 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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