THE WAR FOR THE BULL OF CUAILGNE
IT happened one time before Maeve and Ailell rose up from their royal bed in Cruachan, they began to talk with one another. "It is what I am thinking," said Ailell, "it is a true saying, 'Good is the wife of a good man." "A true saying, indeed," said Maeve, "but why do you bring it to mind at this time?" "I bring it to mind now because you are better to-day than the day I married you." "I was good before I ever had to do with you," said Maeve. "How well we never heard of that and never knew it until now," said Ailell, "but only that you stopped at home like any other woman, while the enemies at your boundaries were slaughtering and destroying and driving all before them, and you not able to hinder them." "That is not the way it was at all," said Maeve, "but of the six daughters of my father Eochaid, King of Ireland, I was the best and the one that was thought most of. As to dividing gifts and giving counsel, I was the best of them, and as to battle feats and arms and fighting, I was the best of them. It was I had fifteen hundred soldiers, sons of exiles, and fifteen hundred sons of chief men. And I had these," she said, "for my own household; and along with that my father gave me one of the provinces of Ireland, the province of Cruachan; so that Maeve of Cruachan is the name that was given to me. "And as to being asked in marriage," she said, "messengers came to me from your own brother, Finn, son of Ross Ruadh, king of Leinster, and I gave him a refusal; and after that there came messengers from Cairbre Niafer, son of Rossa, king of Teamhair; and from Conchubar, son of Ness, king of Ulster; and after that again from Eochu Beag, son of Luchta, and I refused them all. For it is not a common marriage portion would have satisfied me, the same as is asked by the other women of Ireland," she said; "but it is what I asked as a marriage portion, a man without stinginess, without jealousy, without fear. For it would not be fitting for me to be with a man that would be close-handed, for my own hand is open in wage-paying and in free-giving; and it would be a reproach on my husband, I to be a better wage-payer than himself. And it would not be fitting for me to be with a man that would be cowardly, for I myself go into struggles and fights and battles and gain the victory; and it would be a reproach to my husband, his wife to be braver than himself. And it would not be fitting for me to be with a husband that would be jealous, for I was never without one man being with me in the shadow of another. Now I have got such a husband as I looked for in yourself, Ailell, for you are not close-handed or jealous or cowardly. And I gave you good wedding gifts," she said, "suits of clothing enough for twelve men; a chariot that was worth three times seven serving-maids; the width of your face in red gold, the round of your arm in a bracelet of white bronze. And the fine or the tribute you can ask of your enemies is no more than the fine or the tribute I have a right to ask, for you are nothing of yourself, but it is in the pay of a woman you are," she said. "That is not so," said Ailell, "for I am a king's son, and I have two brothers that are kings, Finn, king of Leinster, and Cairbre, king of Tara, and I would have been king in their places but that they are older than myself. And as to giving of wages and dividing of gifts," he said, "you are no better than myself; and if this province is under the rule of a woman, it is the only province in Ireland that is so; and it is not through your right I took the kingship of it, but through the right of my mother, Mata of Murrisk, daughter of Magach. And if I took the daughter of the chief king of Ireland for my wife, it was because I thought she was a fitting wife for me." "You know well," said Maeve, "the riches that belong to me are greater than the riches that belong to you." "That is a wonder to me," said Ailell, "for there is no one in Ireland has a better store of jewels and riches and treasure than myself, and you know well there is not."
"Let our goods and our riches be put beside one another, and let a value be put on them," said Maeve, "and you will know which of us owns most." "I am content to do that," said Ailell.
With that, orders were given to their people to bring out their goods and to count them, and to put a value on them. They did so, and the first things they brought out were their drinking vessels, their vats, their iron vessels, and all the things belonging to their households, and they were found to be equal. Then their rings were brought out, and their bracelets and chains and brooches, their clothing of crimson and blue and black and green and yellow and saffron and speckled silks, and these were found to be equal. Then their great flocks of sheep were driven from the green plains of the open country and were counted, and they were found to be equal; and if there was a ram among Maeve's flocks that was the equal of a serving-maid in value, Ailell had one that was as good. And their horses were brought in from the meadows, and their herds of swine out of the woods and the valleys, and they were equal one to another. And the last thing that was done was to bring in the herds of cattle from the forest and the wild places of the province, and when they were put beside one another they were found to be equal, but for one thing only. It happened a bull had been calved in Maeve's herd, and his name was Fionnbanach, the "White-horned." But he would not stop in Maeve's herds, for he did not think it fitting to be under the rule of a woman, and he had gone into Ailell's herds and stopped there; and now he was the best bull in the whole province of Connaught. And when Maeve saw him, and knew he was better than any bull of her own, there was great vexation on her, and it was as bad to her as if she did not own one head of cattle at all. So she called Mac Roth, the herald, to her, and bade him to find out where there was a bull as good as the White-homed to be got in any province of the provinces of Ireland.
"I myself know that well," said Mac Roth, "for there is a bull hat is twice as good as himself at the house of Daire, son of Fachtna, in the district of Cuailgne, and that is Donn Cuailgne, the Brown Bull of Cuailgne." "Rise up, then," said Maeve, "and make no delay, but go to Daire from me, and ask the loan of that bull for a year, and I will return him at the end of the year, and fifty heifers along with him, as fee for the loan. And there is another thing for you to say, Mac Roth, if the people of Daire's district and country think bad of him for sending away that wonderful jewel the Donn of Cuailgne, let Daire himself come along with him, and I will give him the equal of his own lands on the smooth plain of Ai, and a chariot that is worth three times seven serving-maids, and my own close friendship along with that."
So Mac Roth set out on his journey, and nine men along with him, and when they came to Daire's house there was a good welcome before them, as there should be, for Mac Roth was the chief herald of all Ireland.
Daire asked him then what was the reason of his journey, and Mac Roth told him the whole story of the quarrel between Maeve and Ailell and of the counting of their herds, and of the great rewards Maeve offered him if he would give her the loan for one year of the Brown Bull of Cuailgne. Daire was so well pleased when he heard this, that he started up and said: "I will send him to Maeve into Connaught, whether the men of Ulster like it or do not like it." Mac Roth was well content with that; and he and his men were attended to, and fresh rushes were spread, and a feast was put before them, with every sort of food and of drink, so that after a while they were so clear in their wits as they were before.
Two of them began talking to one another then, and one said: "This is a good man in whose house we are." "He is good indeed," said the other. "Is there any man in Ulster better than himself?" said the first. "There is, surely," said the other, "for Conchubar the High King is a better man, and it is no shame for all the men of Ulster to gather to him." "It is a wonder," said the first, "Daire to have given up to us what it would have taken the strength of the four provinces of Ireland to bring away by force." "That I may see the mouth that spoke those words filled with blood," said another of the men; "for if Daire had refused to give it willingly, the strength of Ailell and of Maeve, and the knowledge of Fergus, son of Rogh, would have brought it from him against his will."
Just as they were talking, the chief steward of Daire's house came in, and servants along with him bringing meat and drink; and he heard what the men of Connaught said and great anger came on him, and he bade the servants put down the food for them, but he never told them to use it or not to use it, but he went to where Daire was and said: "Was it you, Daire, promised the Brown Bull of Cuailgne to these messengers?" "It was myself indeed," said Daire. "Then what they have said is true?" "What is that?" said Daire. "They say that you knew if you did not give him willingly you would have had to give him against your will by the strength of Ailell and Maeve and by the guidance of Fergus, son of Rogh." "If they say that," said Daire, "I swear by the gods my people swear by, that they will not take him away till they take him by force."
On the morning of the morrow the messengers rose up and went into the house where Daire was. "Show us now," they said, "the place where the bull is." "I will not indeed," said Daire; "but if it was a habit with me," he said, "to do treachery to messengers or to travellers or to men on their road, not one of you would go back alive to Cruachan." "What reason have you for this change?" said Mac Roth. "I have a good reason for it, for you were saying last night that if I did not give the bull willingly, I would be forced to give it against my will by Ailell and by Maeve and by Fergus." "If that was said, it was the talk of common messengers, and they after eating and drinking," said Mac Roth, "and it is not fitting for you to take notice of a thing like that."
"It may be so," said Daire; "but for all that," he said, "I will not give the bull this time."
They went back then to Cruachan, and Maeve asked news of them, and Mac Roth told her the whole story, how Daire gave them the promise of the bull at first, and refused it afterwards. "What was the reason of that?" she asked. And when it was told her she said: "This riddle is not hard to guess; they did not intend to let us get the bull at all; but now we will take him from them by force," she said.
And this was the cause of the great war for the Brown Bull of Cuailgne.
Then Maeve sent messengers to the six Maines, her sons, to come to Cruachan, the brothers of Maine Morgor that got his death at Dun Gerg. And she sent messengers to the sons of Magach; and they came, with thirty hundred armed men, and to Cormac Conloingeas, son of King Conchubar, and to Fergus, son of Rogh; and they came, and thirty hundred armed men with them.
This is the appearance that was on the first troop. Black heads of hair they had, and green cloaks about them, held with silver brooches, and on their bodies shirts of gold thread, embroidered with red gold, and they had swords with white sheaths and hilts of silver.
As to the second troop, they had short-cut hair, and grey cloaks about them, and on their bodies pure white shirts; and they had swords with knobbed hilts of gold, and sheaths of silver. Every one asked: "Is that Cormac among them?" "It is not indeed," said Maeve.
As to the last troop, they had gold-yellow hair, falling loose like manes, and crimson cloaks, well ornamented, about them, and gold brooches with jewels at their breasts, and long silk shirts coming down to their ankles. And as they walked they lifted up their feet and put them down again all together. "Is that Cormac among them?" every one asked. "It is, surely," said Maeve.
So they made their camp there, and between the four fords of Ai, Athmaga, Athslisen, Athberena, and Athcoltna, there were red fires blazing through the night.
And they stopped a fortnight there at Cruachan, eating, drinking, and resting themselves, that they might be the better able for the journey and the marching.
Then Maeve bade her chariot-driver to yoke her horses, that she might go and consult with her Druid and ask a prophecy from him, to foretell for her if the army she was bringing out would get the victory, and would come back safely. And she said to the Druid: "There are many that will part here to-day from their companions and their friends, from their country and their lands, from their father and their mother. And if it happens that the whole of them do not come back again safe and sound, it is on me the complaints and the curses will fall. And besides that," she said, "there is no one that goes out or that stops behind, that is dearer to us than we are to ourselves. So find out for us now whether we shall return, or not return." And the Druid said: "Whoever returns or does not return, you yourself will return"
Her chariot was turned then, and she went back again homeward. But presently she saw a thing she wondered at, a woman sitting on the shaft of the chariot, facing her, and this is how she was: a sword of white bronze in her hand, with seven rings of red gold on it and she seemed to be weaving a web with it; a speckled green cloak about her, fastened at the breast with a brooch of red gold; a ruddy, pleasant face she had, her eyes grey, and her mouth like red berries, and when she spoke her voice was sweeter than the strings of a curved harp, and her skin showed through her clothes like the snow of a single night. Long feet she had, very whit; and the nails on them pink and even; her hair gold-yellow, three locks of it wound about her head, and another that fell down loose below her knee.
Maeve looked at her, and she said: "What are you doing here, young girl?" "It is looking into the future for you I am," she said, "to see what will be your chances and your fortunes, now you are gathering the provinces of Ireland to the war for the Brown Bull of Cuailgne." "And why would you be doing this for me?" said Maeve. "There is good reason for it," she said, "for I am a serving-maid of your own people." "Which of my people do you belong to?" said Maeve. "I am Fedelm of the Sidhe, of Rath Cruachan." "It is well, Fedelm of the Sidhe; tell me what way you see our hosts." "I see crimson on them, I see red." "Yet Conchubar is lying in his weakness at Emain; my messengers are come back from there, and we need not be in dread of anything from Ulster," said Maeve. "But look again, Fedelm of the Sidhe, and tell me the truth of the matter." "I see crimson on them, I see red," said the girl. "Yet Eoghan, son of Durthacht, is in his weakness at Rathairthir; my messengers are come back from him; we need not be afraid of anything from Ulster. Look again, Fedelm of the Sidhe; how do you see our hosts?" "I see them all crimson, I see them all red." "Celtchair, son of Uthecar, is lying in his weakness within his fort; my messengers are come back from him. Tell me again, Fedelm of the Sidhe, how do you see our hosts?" "I see crimson on them, I see red." "There may be no harm in what you see," said Maeve, "for when all the men of Ireland are gathered together in one place, there will surely be quarrels and fights among them, about going first or last over fords and rivers, or about the first wounding of some stag or boar, or such like. Tell me truly now, Fedelm of the Sidhe, what way do you see our hosts?" "I see crimson on them, I see red. And I see," she said, "a low-sized man doing many deeds of arms; there are many wounds on his smooth skin; there is a light about his head, there is victory on his forehead; he is young and beautiful, and modest towards women; but he is like a dragon in the battle. His appearance and his courage are like the appearance and the courage of Cuchulain of Muirthemne; and who that Hound from Muirthemne may be I do not know; but I know this much well, that all this host will be reddened by him. He is setting out for the battle; he will make your dead lie thickly, the memory of the blood shed by him will be lasting; women will be keening over the bodies brought low by the Hound of the Forge that I see before me."
This is the foretelling that was made for Maeve by Fedelm of the Sidhe, before the setting out of the hosts at Cruachan for Ulster.
Now, when Maeve told Fedelm of the Sidhe that there need be no fear of the men of Ulster coming out to attack the army, for they were lying in their weakness, she meant that they were under the curse and the enchantment that was put on them one time by a woman they had ill-treated. And the story of it is this:--
There was a man of the name of Crunden, son of Agnoman, that lived in a lonely part of Ulster, among the mountains, and he had a good way of living; but his wife had died, and he had the care of all his children on him. One day he was sitting in the house, and he saw a woman come in at the door, tall and handsome, and with good clothes on her, and she did not say a word, but she sat down by the hearth and began to make up the fire. And then she went to where the meal was, and took it out and mixed it, and baked a cake. And when the evening was drawing on, she took a vessel and went out and milked the cows, but all the time she never spoke a word. Then she came back into the house, and took a turn to the right, and was the last to stop up and to cover over the fire.
She stayed on there, and Crunden, the man of the house, married her, and she tended him and his sons, and everything he had prospered.
It happened, one day, there was to be a great gathering of the men of Ulster, for games and races and all sorts of amusements, and all that could go, both of men and women, used to go to that gathering. "I will go there to-day," said Crunden, "the same as every other man is going." "Do not," said his wife, "for if you so much as say my name there at the fair," she said, "I will be lost to you for ever." "Then indeed I will not speak of you at all," said Crunden. So he set out with the others to the fair, and there was every sort of amusement there, and all the people of the country were at it.
At the ninth hour, the royal chariot was brought on the ground, and the king's horses won the day. Then the bards and poets, and the Druids, and the servants of the king, and the whole gathering, began to praise the king and the queen and their horses, and they cried out: "There were never seen such horses as these; there are no better runners in all Ireland." "My wife is a better runner than those two horses," said Crunden. When the king was told of that he said: "Take hold of the man, and keep him until his wife can be brought to try her chance and to run against the horses."
So they took hold of him, and kept him, and messengers were sent from the king to the woman. She bade the messengers welcome, and asked what brought them. "We are come, by the king's order," they said, "to bring you to the fair, to see if you will run faster than the king's horses; for your husband boasted that you would, and he is kept prisoner now until you will come and release him." "It is foolish my husband was to speak like that," she said; "and as for myself, I am not fit to go, for I am soon going to give birth to a child." "That is a pity," said the messengers, "for if you do not come, your husband will be put to death." "If that is so, I must go, whatever happens," she said.
So with that she set out for the gathering, and when she got there all the people were crowding about her to see her. "It is not fitting to be looking at me, and I the way I am," she cried; "and what have I been brought here for?" "To run against the two horses of the king," the people called out. "Ochone!" she said, "do not ask me, for I am close upon my hour." "Take out your swords and put the man to death," said the king. "Give me your help," she said to the people, "for every one of you has been born of a mother." And then she said to the king: "Give me even a delay until my child is born." "I will give no delay," said the king. "Then the shame that is on you will be greater than the shame that is on me," she said. "And because you have showed no pity and no respect to me," she said, "it is a heavier punishment will fall on you than has fallen upon me. And bring out the horses beside me now." Then they started, and the woman outran the horses and gained the race; and at the goal the pains of childbirth came on her, and she bore two children, a boy and a girl, and she gave a great cry in her pain.
And a weakness came suddenly on all that heard the cry, so that they had no more strength than the woman as she lay there. And it is what she said: "From this out, and till the ninth generation, the shame that you have put on me will fall on you; and at whatever time you most want your strength, at the time your enemies are closing on you, that is the time the weakness of a woman in childbirth will come upon all men of the province of Ulster."
And so it happened; and of all the men of Ulster that were born after that day, there was no one escaped that curse and that enchantment but only Cuchulain.
When the men of Connaught set out from Cruachan for the north they stopped towards evening at Cuilsilinne, and there they made their encampment for the night. Ailell took his place in the middle of the camp, and on his right was Fergus, son of Rogh, and Cormac Conloingeas next to him again, and their people on the same side; and on Ailell's left there was a place made for Maeve and Findabair her daughter. But Maeve stopped behind until the whole of the army had come up, and then she went in her chariot to see if all was in order, and after that she came and took her seat at Ailell's right hand. "Which of the troops do you think the best?" said Ailell. "None of them are any good at all," said Maeve, "compared with the men of Leinster, the Gailiana." "What have they done beyond all the others that you praise them so much?" said Ailell. "There is reason for praising them," said Maeve; "for while the others were choosing a place for themselves, the Gailiana had their huts and their shelters made, and while the others were making their shelters, they had their share of food and drink cooked and set out, and while the others were making ready their food they had theirs eaten, and while the others were eating, they were laid down and sleeping. And as their servants have been better than the servants of the men of Ireland," she said, "so will their young men and their fighting men be better than the young men of Ireland on this march." "I am well pleased to hear that," said Ailell, "for it was with me they came, and they are of my own province." "Then you need not be so well pleased," said Maeve, "for they shall march no further with you, for I will not have them boasted of, before me or to me." "Let them stop in this camp, then," said Ailell. "They shall not do that either," said Maeve. "What must they do, then?" said Findabair, "if they are neither to go on nor to stop in the camp?" "They will get death and destruction from myself," said Maeve "It is a pity you to say that," said Ailell, "and they only just after joining us" "If you think to harm them," said Fergus, you will have to fight with me as well as with them; for by the oath of my people," he said, "it is only over my body and the bodies of men of Ulster that are with me, you can come at their death." not speak that way, Fergus," said Maeve; "for if you were to with these strangers against me, I would have the six Maines and their men on my side, and the sons of Magach and their men, my own troops along with them. And I think we would be well for you," she said. "It is not right for you to say that," said Fergus, "for there are no men in Ireland better than the young men of Ulster that came to Connaught with me, and they have been a help to you up to this. But I will tell you another thing to do," he said: "let the men of Leinster be divided through all the other of the men of Ireland, the way there will not be more than of them together in any one place." "I will agree to that," said Maeve, "for I know there would be nothing but fighting and jealousy if they were left together the way they are now."
On the morning of the morrow, they made ready to set out again, but the chief men among them consulted together first, what way they could best keep the peace between so many troops and tribes and families; and it is what they settled, to put every troop under its own leader, and to let it, great or small, take a road of its own. And besides that, they consulted who would be the best man to put over the whole army, to lead them and to show them the way. And they all said Fergus would be the best, for he had been king of Ulster seventeen years, until Conchubar put him out of the kingship, and he had stopped on in Ulster after that until the time Conchubar killed the sons of Usnach in spite of the guarantee he had given them.
So Fergus was made leader of the whole army; but as they went on, a great love for his own province and his home came on him, and instead of going on northwards he turned to the south. And while he was delaying the army like that, he sent messengers into Ulster to give warning and news of their coming. But Maeve was keeping a watch on him, and when she saw what had happened, she went to him and said: "Why is it, Fergus, that we have turned again to the south?" Then Fergus knew it was no use to try and deceive her, and they turned again, but they did not go far, but only to the place they had left in the morning, Cuilsilinne.
Then Fergus called to mind that they were coming near the borders of Ulster, and that it was likely it would not be long before they would meet with Cuchulain; and he gave a warning to the army to mind themselves well, lest the Hound of Muirthemne should fall on them, angry and beautiful, and destroy them.
And then the men of Connaught set out again eastward, and when they came to Monecolthan, they saw before them eight-score deer, in the one herd, and the whole army surrounded them, and all the deer were killed; but if they were, it was the Gailiana, scattered as they were, that killed all the deer but five, and those five were all that were killed by the rest of the men of Ireland.
It was on that same day Cuchulain and his father, Sualtim, came to the pillar-stone at Ardcullin, for they had got the warning Fergus had sent, and there they let their horses graze, and Sualtim's horses cropped the grass to the north of the pillar-stone to the earth, but Cuchulain's horses, at the south side, cropped it to the bare flags.
"It is in my mind, Sualtim," said Cuchulain, "that the army of Connaught is not far away from us now. Go now, then," he said, "and bring a warning to the men of Ulster, and tell them not to stop in the open plains, but to go into the woods and the valleys of the province, that the men of Ireland may not come upon them." "And you yourself, little son, what will you do?" said Sualtim. "I must go," said Cuchulain, "southward to Teamhair, for I promised to go there to-day, to see a young girl of the household of Fedelm of the Fair Shape, Laegaire's wife." "It is a pity for you to go for a thing like that," said Sualtim, "and you leaving Ulster under the feet of enemies and strangers." "I must go, indeed," said Cuchulain, "for if I break my word to a woman, it will be said from this out that a woman's word is better than a man's."
So Sualtim set out then, to give a warning to the men of Ulster, and Cuchulain went into the oak woods and cut down an oak sapling, and twisted it into a ring, and cut a message on it in Ogham. And then he forced the ring over the top of the pillar-stone, and down to the thick part of it. And then he went on to keep his appointment at Teamhair.
As to the men of Ireland, they went on till they came to Ardcullin, and the whole country of Ulster lay there before them. And then they saw the pillar-stone and the oak ring that was on it; and Ailell took it off, and gave it to Fergus, and bade him read the Ogham. And what he read on it was Cuchulain's name, and the warning on it that the men of Ulster should not pass the pillar-stone that night, for if they did, he would go a great revenge on them at the sunrise of the morrow.
"It would be a pity," said Maeve, "that the first blood to be shed after going into the province should be the blood of our own people: it would be best for us to draw blood first on the people of Ulster." "I agree to that," said Ailell, "for I am loth to go against this ring or the man that twisted it; but let us go into the wood and our camp there for the night." So they went into the wood, cut a way for the chariots with their swords as they went, and it is from that the place is called Sleact na Gearbat, the Cut Way of the Chariots, until this time. And a great snow fell that night, so it made one plain of the five provinces of Ireland, and they could make no shelter or prepare food, and none of the men in the camp knew through the whole night was it friend or enemy was near him, until the clear light of the sun fell on the snow in the morning. And then they left that place, and went on into Ulster.
As to Cuchulain, he did not rise very early that morning, and he did, there was food made ready for him, and a bath of pure water. Then he bade Laeg to make his chariot ready, and they set out; and after a while they came to the track of the army of Ireland where it had gone over the border into Ulster. "Well, Laeg," said Cuchulain, "I have not much luck out of my appointment that I kept last night; for it is expected of one that is watching the borders that the least he should do is to raise a cry or give a warning of the enemy that is coming, and I have missed doing this, so that the men of Ireland have slipped by without news or notice into Ulster." "I told you, Cuchulain," said Laeg, "that if you kept to your meeting last night, some vexation like this would fall on you." "Well, Laeg," said Cuchulain, "let you follow their track now, and count them, and see what number of the men of Ireland are come over the border." Laeg did this, and he came back and told their number, as he had counted them. "There is a mistake in your counting," said Cuchulain. "I will count them myself this time." Then he told their number. "It is with yourself the mistake is, Cuchulain," said Laeg. "It is not," he said, "but there are eighteen divisions have passed the border, but the eighteenth is broken up and distributed among the others, so that no sure reckoning can be made of it."
This, now, was one of the three best estimates ever made in Ireland, and the other two were made by Lugh of the Long Hand, and by Angus at Brugh na Boinne.
"But now, Laeg," he said; "turn the chariot towards the army, and hurry on the horses; for unless I can make an end of some of them to-day," he said, "I will not live through the night myself."
So they went on to the place that is called now Athgowla, northward from Knowth.
There they met with the two young men, the sons of Neara, that were sent out in front of Maeve's army, to see was there any hindrance before it, and Cuchulain struck off their heads and the heads of their chariot-drivers.
And he cut down a tree with his sword, and it having four branches, and he lopped them short, and cleared the tree; and he stood up in his chariot, and with one cast he drove the tree into the ground that it stood deep and firm, and he set the four heads he had struck off on the four lopped branches of it. And then he turned back their horses in their chariots towards the army.
Now it is the way Maeve used to be going, she in a chariot by herself, and two chariots on each side of her, and behind her and before her, the way no sod from the feet of the horses of the army, or foam from their mouths, would touch her clothing. And when she saw the two chariots coming back, and the bodies in them without heads, she stopped to see what had happened. "What are these?" she said. "They are the chariots and the bodies of the two sons of Neara that went on before us," said her chariot-driver.
Then she held a council with her chief men, and it is what they agreed, that it must be some part of the army of Ulster was there before them at the ford they were drawing near, and that it was best to send out Cormac Conloingeas and his men to see who was in it, for the men of Ulster would not be willing to harm the son of their High King.
So Cormac and his troop went on to the ford, but when he got there all he saw was a lopped tree and four heads on it, and the blood dripping down from them, and the track of one chariot only, going eastward out of the ford. Then the rest of the army came with the other chief men. "There is wonder on me," said Ailell; "our four men to have been made an end of so easily as this." "You may wonder as well," said Fergus, "at the way this pole was driven into the ground by one man, and it will be hard for you to find a man of your army will drag it out again." "Do it yourself, Fergus," said Maeve, "for you are of my army." So Fergus called for a chariot, and stood up in it, and gave such a strong pull at the pole, that the chariot broke under him. "Give me another chariot," he said. And when he had broken seventeen of the war-chariots of Connaught one after another, and had not so much as loosened the pole, Maeve said: "Leave off now, Fergus, from breaking my people's chariots; and if you yourself had not been with us on this march," she said, "we would have been up with the men of Ulster before now, and we would have taken men and cattle. And I know well why you did this, it was to give the men of Ulster time to get over their weakness and their pains, and to come out against us to defend their bull and their cattle." "Give me my own chariot, then," said Fergus. So they gave him his own chariot, and he got up in it and gave a great pull at the pole; and neither the frame nor the wheels of his chariot started or strained like the others, and he pulled up the pole and gave it into Ailell's hand, and Ailell looked at it and said: "There is dread on me, of the man that set that pole there; do you think, Fergus," he said, "was it Conchubar the High King that did it?" "It was not," said Fergus, "for if Conchubar had come here, his army would have come along with him, and all the men of Ulster, and he would not have been so near to you without offering you battle, and by this time whichever got the better would be boasting of it." "Do you think was it Cuscraid, Conchubar's son?" said Ailell; "or Eoghan, son of Durthacht, king of Fernmaighe; or Celthair, son of Uthecar?" "I do not," said Fergus, 'but it is what I think, that it was my own foster-son and Conchubar's that was here, Cuchulain, son of Sualtim." "We heard you often talking at Cruachan about that young man, and what is his age at this time?" "His age is of no great matter," said Fergus, "for he did great deeds, when he was but a soft child." "He is young enough yet," said Maeve, "and I think it will not be hard to find some one of our own men that will get the better of this wild Hound, fir he has but the one body to wound or to put to flight." "You will get no one," said Fergus, "among your fighting men and your young men and your champions that will be able to put down Cuchulain."
They stopped there then and made their camp, and rested that night, with food and with music.
And it was in that night Fergus gave Maeve and Ailell the whole story of the boy deeds of Cuchulain, and how he used to have a stone for a pillow, and no one dared wake him, lest he might chance to give them a blow of the stone in his anger; and he told of one night when he was asleep, and Conchubar was attacked and was beaten by Eoghan, son of Durthact. And Cuchulain was awakened by the cries of the beaten men that were running away, and he went out in the darkness of the night to look for Conchubar; and where the battle had been, he saw a man with the half of a man's body on his back, and he called to Cuchulain to help him, and threw the half-body to him, and Cuchulain threw it back again, and they fought, and he struck off the man's head. And then he found Conchubar lying in a grave, and he dug him out of that, and as they went home, they met Cuscraid that was wounded, and Cuchulain brought him home to Emain on his back. And another time he went into a wood and saw a terrible-looking man having a wild boar in one hand, and his weapon in the other hand, and he killed him, and brought home the boar. And another time when the men of Ulster were in their weakness, three times nine sea-robbers came to Emain, and the women ran shrieking to the palace when they saw them, and when the boys that were at play on the lawn knew what they were running from, they ran along with them. But Cuchulain went out and killed nine of the sea-robbers and wounded the rest of them, so that he drove them all back. And he told them many other stories of his doings beside these.
The next day, the army marched on eastward beyond the mountain. But there was a narrow place they had to pass through, and Cuchulain cut down a great oak tree, and laid it across the gap, and wrote an Ogham on it; and when the men of Ireland came up to it, it hindered them, and they could not move it, and they made their camp there that night. And early in the morning they sent the young man Fraech, son of Idath, to get the hindrance cleared away. But Fraech went on beyond it, till he came to a river, and there he found Cuchulain bathing. And they attacked one another in the water, and Fraech was beaten, and Cuchulain went away and left his body on the bank.
And when the men of Ireland found his body they began to keen him. And then they saw a great band of women of the Sidhe, with green dresses on them, coming for his body, and they gave out a great cry over him and brought him away to a hill of the Sidhe. And Findabair cried after him, and went to see the green bank where he was lying.
And they knew that Cuchulain was not far from them, for presently Maeve's little dog, Baiscne, got his death by a stone from a sling. There was anger on Maeve then, and she urged her men to follow after Cuchulain, so that they broke the poles of their chariots in their hurry.
The next day Cuchulain was going through the wood, and he heard the sound of blows on the trees. "It is too bold the men of Ulster are, Laeg," he said, "to be cutting down trees like this, with the men of Ireland coming on them; and stop here," he said, "till I find out who is it that is in the wood."
He went on till he met with a young man of Connaught, that was chariot-driver to Orlam, son of Maeve and Ailell. "What is it you are doing there, young man?" he asked. "I am cutting holly poles," said the young man, "for we have broken our chariots hunting that notable deer, Cuchulain. And now, good friend," he said, "lend me a hand with these poles, lest that same notable Cuchulain should come upon me here." "Your choice, boy; shall I cut the holly poles, or shall I trim them for you?" "Let you do the trimming," said he. So Cuchulain took them and trimmed them straight and smooth, that a fly could not have kept his footing on them. The chariot-driver looked at the poles, and he said: "I am thinking this is not the work you have a right to be put to. And who are you at all?" he said. "I am that notable Cuchulain you were speaking of just now." "That is bad news for me," said the driver, "for surely I am a dead man." "There need be no fear on you," said Cuchulain, "for I do not fight against drivers or messengers or unarmed men. But where is your master?" he said. "He is out before you on the plain." "Go to him, then, and give him this warning, that I am here, and that if we meet, he will surely get his death from me." With that the young man went to look for his master, but quick as he went, Cuchulain was quicker, and as soon as he came up with Orlam he struck off his head, and held it up and shook it before the men of Ireland.
After that, the three sons of Garach came out and made an attack on him, but he overcame them, and struck off their heads, and he killed their chariot-drivers as well, that they had armed against him. And Lethan and his chariot-driver came against him, and he killed them in the same way.
At that time the harpers of Cainbile came to Maeve's camp, and played on their magic harps; but the men of Ireland thought it might be as spies they came, and they drove them out of the camp, and followed after them till they came to the great stone of Lecmore. But when they thought to overtake them there, the harpers took on themselves the shape of wild deer, and went away. And it was on the same day that Cuchulain, with two casts of a sling stone, killed the marten and the pet bird that were sitting on Maeve's two shoulders.
Then the men of Ireland came into Magh Breagh and Muirthemne, and carried off and destroyed all before them. And Fergus warned them that Cuchulain was not far off, and that he would do a great vengeance on them, since they had spoiled Muirthemne. And it was at that time Lugaid, son of Nois, that had gone into Connaught with Fergus, went secretly to Cuchulain and told him of all that was going on in the camp, and of the dread of him that was on all the men of Ireland, so that they did not dare to stir out alone, and that he himself was true to him yet.
And now that the army was coming so near to Cuailgne, the War-goddess, the Battle Crow, the Morrigu, came and sat on a pillar-stone at Teamhair, and gave a warning to the Brown Bull of Cuailgne, and it is what she said. "Have a care, and keep a good watch, my poor bull, or the men of Ireland will come on you and will drive you away to their camp." And when the bull heard the warning, he brought fifty of his heifers with him, and went away to a valley of Slieve Cuilinn.
And the men of Ireland came on, bringing the herds of cattle they took on the way, where there was no one to defend them. And they stopped for the night at Conaille Muirthemne, and there Maeve bade one of her women go down to the stream for water. And the woman was wearing Maeve's golden covering on her head, and Cuchulain saw her, and he thought it was Maeve herself that was in it, and he made a cast of a stone that killed her, and the gold covering was broken in pieces.
And they were delayed there for a while, for the river was in flood, and when they tried to cross it, the chariots that went in were swept away to the sea; and one of Maeve's best men, Uala, that she sent to try the depth of it, was swept away along with them. And while they were stopping there, Cuchulain killed Raen and Rae, that were come to tell the story of the war, and a hundred men along with them.
Then Maeve said: "Some man of you must go out and stand against Cuchulain to save the army." "It is not I that will go," said one of them. "It is not I," said all the others, "for Cuchulain is no easy man to stand against." And they were for going round by the head of the river, but Maeve made them cut a way through the mountain before them, that it might be left as a lasting disgrace to Ulster. So they did this, and it is called Berna Ulaid, the Gap of Ulster, to this day.
Now, when they were setting out to cross the mountain, Maeve gave orders that the army was to be divided in two parts, each with its own share of cattle, and of all other things, and she said that she herself and Fergus would go with the one part, by the Gap of Ulster, and that Ailell should go with the other part, by the road of Midluachair.
So Ailell set out, and his chariot-driver, Ferloga, with him, and that was the same Ferloga that made a bargain with Conchubar, the High King, one time; and this is the way it happened. It was at the time Mac Datho of Leinster had stirred up a fight between the men of Ulster and the men of Connaught, about the dividing of a pig at a feast he made, the same way Bricriu had stirred up a fight about the Championship, and Conchubar was following after the men of Connaught over the plain of Fearbile; and all of a sudden Ferloga, that had been left behind by Ailell, and that was hiding himself, made a leap to the back of Conchubar's chariot, and took hold of his neck between his two hands. "What will you give me to let you loose, king?" he said. "What is it you are asking?" said Conchubar. "Indeed it is no great gift I am asking," said Ferloga, "but only you to bring me along with you to Emain Macha, and the young women and the young girls of Ulster to sing a song around me every evening, and every one of them to say, 'Ferloga is my favourite.'" Conchubar agreed to that, and Ferloga went with him to Emain; but at the end of a year they sent him back, and presents with him, to Ailell and to Maeve.
At that time, a suspicion came on Ailell, that there was some understanding between Maeve and Fergus, and he bade Ferloga to keep a watch on them. After a while, Ferloga saw that Maeve and Fergus had stopped in a wood behind the rest of the army, and he followed after them quietly, the way they would not hear him, and there he found Fergus's sword lying on the ground.
So he took the sword out of the sheath, and he cut a wooden sword and shaped it, and put it into the sheath in its place, and he brought Fergus's sword back to Ailell, and told him how he had found it, and Aillel bade him hide it in his chariot When Fergus saw that his sword was gone and a wooden sword was put in its place, there was great confusion on him, but Ailell said nothing of it when they met, but asked him to come and play a game of chess with him. And at the game they quarrelled, and Ailell said sharp words of blame to Fergus and to Maeve, and they answered him back, and Fergus bade him give him up his sword. But Ailell said he would never give it to him until the day of the great battle would come, between the men of Ireland and the men of Ulster.
Then Cuchulain came there and stood on a height and shook his spears and his sword before them, so that great dread came on them.
After that, Maeve sent Fiacha, son of Firaba, to talk with Cuchulain, and to try could he win him over. "What will you offer him?" said Fiacha. "I will give him full payment for all that has been spoiled of his goods, and a good place for himself in Cruachan Ai, and my own protection and Ailell's, if he will give up Conchubar's service and come into ours. And indeed that would be better for him," she said, "than to stop under a little king like Conchubar."
So Fiacha went to speak with Cuchulain, and he gave him a good welcome. And Fiacha told him the message he had brought from Maeve, and the offer she had made if he would quit Conchubar's service. "I will not do that," said Cuchulain; "I will not betray my mother's brother for the sake of any strange king. But I will consent to go myself to-morrow," he said, "to speak with Maeve and Ailell and with Fergus." So Fiacha bade him farewell, and went back to the army.
On the morning of the morrow Cuchulain went to Glen Ochain, and Maeve and Fergus came to meet him; and Maeve looked at him and she said: "Is this the same Cuchulain you put such a great name on, Fergus? I see that he has not yet grown out of his boyhood." Then she spoke with Cuchulain and made her offer again, and he refused it, and they left the place with great anger on them one against the other. And that night, and the two nights after it, the men of Ireland were afraid either to eat or to sleep or to make music; for Cuchulain killed so many of their men before the clear light of every morning, that it was as if the whole army was melting away. "Some one must go and make him another offer," said Maeve, and this time she sent Mac Roth, the herald. "Where will I find him?" said Mac Roth. "Ask Fergus for news of him," said Maeve. "It is likely," said Fergus, "he will be between Ochain and the sea, letting the sun shine and the wind blow upon him after so many nights spent without sleep."
It was there he found him sure enough, and Laeg keeping a watch a good way off. "There is an armed man coming towards us, Cuchulain," said Laeg. "What sort of man is he?" said Cuchulain. "A brown-haired, broad-faced, handsome young man; a fine brown cloak on him; a bright bronze spear-like brooch fastening his cloak; a well-fitting shirt next his skin; two strong shoes between his feet and the ground. There is a white hazel rod in one hand, and a sword with a sea-horse tooth for a hilt in the other." "Well, Laeg," said Cuchulain, "let him come, for these are the tokens of a herald."
Mac Roth came up to him then and asked: "Who are you serving under, young man?" "We are serving under Conchubar, High King of Ulster." "Can you tell me where can I find Cuchulain, that has killed so many of the men of Ireland?" "Whatever you would say to him, you may say it to me," said Cuchulain. Then Mac Roth told him all the new offers he had brought from Maeve, and Cuchulain said: "I am Cuchulain that you are looking for, and I refuse all your offers." So Mac Roth went back to the camp. "Did you find Cuchulain?" said Maeve. "I found," he said, "an angry boy between Ochain and the sea, and I do not know if it was Cuchulain." "Did he take your offer?" said Maeve. "He did not," said Mac Roth. "It is Cuchulain he was talking to," said Fergus. "You must go to him again," said Maeve, "and make new offers." So Mac Roth went out again to make some terms with Cuchulain, but he refused all his offers. "And another thing," he said, "I would never consent to give in to a woman, or to be under a woman's rule." "Is there any bargain you would make?" said Mac Roth. "If there is," said Cuchulain, "you must find it out for yourselves, and there is one in the camp can tell you of it," he said; "and if he himself comes to me, I will speak with him, but if any other man comes to me again with offers, that will be the last day of his life."
So Mac Roth went back again and told all this to Maeve. "And I will not go near him again, myself," he said, "for all that any king in Ireland could give me." Then Maeve said to Fergus: "Have you any knowledge of the terms Cuchulain would take?" "I have not," said Fergus. But after she had questioned him a while, he said: "It is what he wants, that one man of the men of Ireland should meet him and fight alone with him every day. And while that fight is going on, he will put no hindrance on the rest of the army but it may march on. But so soon as he has killed the man set I against him, the army must stop, and make its camp until the morning of the morrow." "I will agree to that," said Maeve, "for it is better to lose one man every day than a hundred every night. And Who will go and make this agreement with him?" "Fergus must go," they all said. "I will not go," said Fergus. "Why so?" said Ailell. "I will not go," he said, "unless you bind yourselves on your oath to keep to your agreement with him." "We will do that," they said; and so Fergus bound them on their oath, and his horses were yoked to his chariot.
Then a young lad, Etarcomal by name, of the people of Maeve and of Ailell, made ready his own chariot. "What side are you going, Etarcomal?" said Fergus. "I am going with you," he said, "the way I will get a sight of Cuchulain." "If you take my advice, you will not make that journey," said Fergus. "Why so?" "Because if your pride and his pride meet together, some misfortune will surely happen." "I give my word not to anger him in any way," said Etarcomal.
They went on then to where Cuchulain was, between Ochain and the sea, and himself and Laeg were playing a game with their casting spears. "There is an armed man coming to us," said Laeg. "What sort of man is he?" said Cuchulain. "He is large and proud, and he standing in a high chariot, and the waving yellow hair about his head gives him the appearance of the top of a tall tree that stands on a green lawn," said Laeg. "He has a crimson cloak about him with a deep border of gold thread, and an inlaid gold brooch in the cloak; a broad green spear in his hand; a shield with a boss of red gold over him; a long sword in a toothed sheath across his knees." "It is Fergus that is in it," said Cuchulain. Then Fergus came where he was and got out of his chariot, and Cuchulain gave him a great welcome. "Do you welcome me indeed?" said Fergus. "I do surely," said Cuchulain; "but if it is to look for a feast from me you are come,
when a flock of birds passes over the plain a wild goose will fall to your share, and when fish rise in the rivers a salmon will fall to your share; a handful of seaweed and a handful of watercress." "We know well your hospitality is straitened in this war," said Fergus. "
the white birds are on the side of the cliffs and the fish are in the stream, and the wild deer on the hills." It is not to look for a feast I am come," said Fergus, "for I know well it is not easy for you to get your own share of food.
But I am come for the men of Ireland, to agree to your conditions. And from this out they will send one of their best men to fight with you alone every day." "I agree to keep to my part of the bargain," said Cuchulain, "and let us not stop talking here any more," he said, "or the men of Ireland will be thinking you are doing some treachery on them."
So Fergus went back to the camp, but Etarcomal stopped for a while looking at Cuchulain. "What are you looking at?" said Cuchulain. "I am looking at yourself," he said. "Then take your eyes off me, and go after Fergus; and maybe you think yourself a better fighting man than the one you are looking at," said Cuchulain. "You look to me as good a fighter as I ever saw for one of your age," said Etarcomal, "but you would not be thought much of among trained fighters and grown men." "It is well for you," said Cuchulain, "it is under Fergus's protection you came, or I swear, by the gods my people swear by, you would not go back safe and sound to the camp." "You have no right to say that," said Etarcomal; "and what you want of the men of Ireland, I will give it to you," he said, "for you ask for one champion at a time to fight with, and I myself will be the first to come to you to-morrow." "Come, then," said Cuchulain, "and however early you may come in the morning, you will find me here before you."
So Etarcomal set out, and he began to tell his chariot-driver all he had said, and how he had promised to go out and fight with Cuchulain on the morrow. "Did you make that promise?" said the driver. "I did," said Etarcomal, "and I have given my word I will go--and I do not know," he said, "would it be better for me to wait till to-morrow, or to go back and fight with him to-day." "You will not get the better of him to-morrow," said his driver, "and it would be just as well for you to be beaten to-night." "Turn the chariot and let us go back," said Etarcomal, "for I swear by the oath of my people, I will not go back to the camp without bringing Cuchulain's head in my hand." So they turned back again towards the sea.
Then Laeg said: "That chariot that was here a while ago has turned back again to us, Cuchulain." "It is Etarcomal coming back to challenge me, and it is not I that will fall in this fight," said Cuchulain. "But bring me my arms," he said, "for it would not be right for me not to be ready to meet him." So he went to meet him, and took his sword out of the sheath, and said: "What are you come back for?" "I am come to fight with you." "I am loth to fight with you," said Cuchulain, "for it was under the protection of Fergus you came here."
And with that he gave a blow of his sword that cut the sod clean away from under the soles of Etarcomal's feet, so that he fell on his back. "Go back now," he said, "for you have had a warning." "I will not go back until I have fought with you." Then Cuchulain gave another stroke with the edge of his sword that cut the hair close off his head, but drew no blood. "You may go back now, at least," he said. "I will not go," said Etarcomal, "until I have made an end of you, or you have made an end of me." "Well," said Cuchulain, "if you are set upon that, it is I must make an end of you." With that he made a cross blow at him that cut him through and through, so that he fell dead.
Fergus, now, had seen nothing of all this, for it was his custom, when he was travelling, never to look back, but always to be looking before him; and presently, Etarcomal's chariot-driver came up with him, and he said: "Where have you left your master?" "Cuchulain is after attacking and making an end of him on the plain," said the man. "It was not right of him to do that," said Fergus, "to any one that came under my protection. Turn my chariot about now," he said, "until I go back and talk with him." And when he came to where Cuchulain was, he said: "It was not right of you, my own foster-son; to kill one that came under my protection." "Ask his chariot-driver," said Cuchulain, "on which of us the blame should be laid." Then the chariot-driver told the whole story, and when Fergus heard it, he said: "There is no blame on you, Cuchulain." Then he bound the body of Etarcomal to his chariot, so that it was dragged after it along the road and through the camp to the door of Ailell and Maeve. "There is the young man you sent out," he said, "and this is the treatment Cuchulain will give to every other man that goes out against him." And Maeve came out of the door and spoke high, angry, loud words: "I had put great hopes in that young man," she said, "and I did not think it was under bad protection he was going, when he went under the protection of Fergus." And. Fergus said: "What business had he going out at all, to meddle with Cuchulain? And if I went there myself," he said, "it is well pleased I was to get back again safely."
The next day, the men of Ireland consulted together as to who should go against Cuchulain, and they agreed that it was best to send Natchrantal, that was a great fighting man.
So he set out, but he would bring no arms with him but three times nine holly rods, and they having hardened points.
Cuchulain was at that time following after a flock of wild birds, to bring some of them down for the evening's food, and he took no notice of Natchrantal, but went on following after the birds. But Natchrantal thought it was afraid of him he was, and he went back to the door of Maeve's tent and gave a loud shout, and he said: "That great Cuchulain there is so much talk about, is running away now after the challenge I gave him." "I would hardly believe that," said Maeve, "for he has stood against many good fighting men before now, and why would he not stand against you?" Fergus heard what was said, and it vexed him, any man to say Cuchulain had run before him; and he sent Fiacha, son of Firaba, to reproach him, for letting such a thing be said, and Cuchulain bade him welcome. "I am come from Fergus," said Fiacha, "and it is what he says, that it would have been more fitting for you to spill the blood of the man that was sent against you, than to run from him." "Who did I run from?" said Cuchulain. "Tell me who makes that boast." "It is Natchrantal," said Fiacha. "What would Fergus have me do?" said Cuchulain; "would he have me kill an unarmed man? For he brought nothing with him but wooden rods, and it is not my custom to wound chariot-drivers or messengers or unarmed men. But let him come out armed to meet me," he said, "on the morning of tomorrow."
So Fiacha went back to the camp, and the day seemed long to Natchrantal till he could meet Cuchulain. But when he went out in the morning and came to the plain he said to Cormac Conloingeas: "Where is Cuchulain?" "He is there before you," said he. "That is not the appearance that was on him yesterday," said Natchrantal; for Cuchulain's anger had come on him so that the appearance he bad was changed, and he was leaning against a pillar-stone, and in the strength of his anger, as he was throwing his cloak about him, he broke off the pillar-stone, and he never noticed that it was wrapped between the cloak and himself; and Natchrantal threw his sword at him, and it broke to pieces against the pillar-stone, and then Cuchulain gave him a blow over the top of his shield that struck off his head.
While this fight was going on, Maeve, having a third part of the army with her, set out Northward to Dun-Sobairce, to look for the Brown Bull. And Cuchulain followed after her for a while; but then he turned back to defend his own country. And he saw before him Buac, son of Bainblai, that was the man Maeve trusted better than any other, and twenty-four men along with him, and they driving the Brown Bull before them and fifteen of his heifers, that they had brought out of Glen-na-masc in Slieve Cuilinn. "Where are you bringing these cattle from?" said Cuchulain. "Out of that mountain beyond." "What is your name?" he said. "If I tell it, it is not either through love of you or through fear of you," he said. "I am Buac, son of Bainblai, from Ailell's country and Maeve's." "Take this from me, then," said Cuchulain, and with that he threw his spear at him so that it went through his body, and he fell dead. But while he was doing this, the rest of the men drove away the Bull with great haste to the camp of the men of Ireland; and this was the greatest affront that was put on Cuchulain through the whole of the war for the Brown Bull of Cuailgne.
Then the men of Ireland began saying to one another that Cuchulain would not have the mastery over them but for the bronze spear he had, and that there must be enchantment on it, for none of them could stand against it. And they said to Maeve that she should send Rae, the satirist, to ask it of him, for he could not refuse a satirist; so Rae went and asked it of him. "Give me your spear," be said. "I will not give you that indeed," said Cuchulain, "but I will give you other things." "I will not take any other thing," said Rae, "and I will put a bad name on you, if you refuse me the spear." Take it, then," said Cuchulain, and with that he threw it with all his force at his head. "That is a weighty present," said the satirist, and he dropped dead.
Then Cur, son of Daltach, was sent out, for the men of Ireland thought he would be able to rid them of Cuchulain. But it was hard to persuade Cur, because he thought it was not worth his while to go and fight with a young beardless boy. And when he went out in the morning, Cuchulain was practising all his feats that he had learned, and Cur was for a while trying to get near enough to come at him with his weapons, but he could not; and Cuchulain was so taken up with doing his feats that he never noticed him at all. Then Laeg saw him and said: "Have a care, Cuchulain; there is an armed man making ready to attack you." Cuchulain was doing his apple feat at that time, keeping nine apples, and his shield, and his sword in the air, that none of them fell to the ground. And when he saw Cur, he threw the apple that was in his hand straight at his forehead, and it went through, and brought out a share of his brains the size of itself, at the other side.
And after that, other fighting men were sent out every day through a week, and he killed them all. And one day he said: "Go, Laeg, to the camp, to my friends, Lugaid and Ferbaeth and Ferdiad, and say you are come from me, and ask them which of the men of Ireland is to be sent against me tomorrow." So Laeg went, and when he came back he said: "It is your own comrade and fellow-pupil with Scathach, Ferbaeth, your blood-friend, is coming against you; for he has only lately joined the army, and he has brought four-fifths of his men with him, and Maeve has promised him her daughter Findabair, and he has drunk from her cup, and been fed by her hand. And it is not to every one Maeve gives the ale that she gave out for Ferbaeth." "I am sorry to hear that," said Cuchulain, "for I think worse of a comrade of my own coming against me, than of any other man." And when Ferbaeth came out to fight against him in the morning, Cuchulain did his best to make him give up the fight, for the sake of their old friendship, but Ferbaeth would not listen. Cuchulain turned from him then in anger, and to loosen the blood-bond between them, he struck the sole of his own foot with a spear, that it drew blood, and then he threw his spear at Ferbaeth, but he did not look to see did it hit him or not. But the spear went through his head and out of his mouth, and this is the way Ferbaeth came to his death.
Then Ailell made up a plan by which he thought to make Cuchulain give up the stand he was making against the army, and his plan was to offer Findabair to him if he would give his word to leave off attacking the men of Ireland, and he sent Lugaid to make the offer to him. Cuchulain was not very well pleased with the message, and he thought there might be some treachery in it, but he agreed that he would meet Ailell and Findabair, and speak with them. But when the time
