Early Irish Myths and Sagas (13 page)

Fer Rogain fell silent. ‘Difficult that,’ he said. ‘I know no trio in Ériu like that, unless they are the three churls whom Cú Chulaind spared at Forbas Fer Fálgai; they slew fifty warriors while under his protection, and he protected them because of their strangeness. These are their names: Srúb Dare son of Dorn Bude, Conchend Cind Mage and Fíad Sceme son of Scippe. Three hundred will fall by them at the first onslaught, and they will match the performance of any trio in the hostel; if they encounter you, your fragments will pass through a corn sieve after they have destroyed you with their iron flails.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this
destruction, if only because of those three,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.

‘I saw another apartment, with one man in it,’ said Ingcél, ‘and two lads before him, both with long hair, the one as dark as the other was fair. The warrior had blood-red hair and a blood-red mantle, and his cheeks were ruddy. Very beautiful blue eyes he had, and a green cloak about him, and a hooded white tunic with red embroidery, and an ivory-hilted sword in his hand. He supplied food and drink to every apartment in the hostel and waited upon the host. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’

‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘I know that man – Da Derga. It is he who built the hostel. Since he became a hospitaller, the entrances to the hostel have never been closed, save in the direction from which the wind blows; since he became a hospitaller, his cauldron has never gone from the fire, and it boils food for the men of Ériu. The two lads before him are his foster-sons, the children of the king of the Lagin, Muredach and Coirpre. Three tens will fall by this trio at the entrance to the house, and they will boast of victories over kings and royal heirs and plundering chieftains, and they will escape afterwards.’ ‘Happy he who spares those children,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘Better a victory of sparing them than a victory of wounding them. They should be spared, if only because of that man, for he would be capable of protecting them.’ ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.

‘I saw an apartment with three men in it,’ said Ingcél. ‘Three blood-red cloaks about them, and blood-red tunics, and blood-red hair on their heads – they were blood red to the teeth. Three blood-red shields hung overhead, along
with three blood-red spears; three blood-red horses were bridled at the entrance to the house. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’

‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘They are the three nephews that lied in the síd. The punishment inflicted upon them by the king of the Síde is that they be destroyed three times by the king of Temuir. Conare son of Eterscélae is the last king by whom they are to be destroyed. These men will escape you. To fulfil their destruction they have come, but they will wound no one, and they will not be wounded.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.

‘I saw three men in the centre of the house, near the door,’ said Ingcél. ‘Three barbed staffs were in their hands. As fast as a rabbit each of them round the others and towards the door. Short, speckled trousers on them, and grey cloaks. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’

‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘The three doorkeepers of the king of Temuir they: Echuir and Tochur and Tegmong, the sons of Ersa and Comla. Three champions, equally matched, will fall by them, and their performance will equal that of any trio in the hostel, and, though wounded, they will escape afterwards.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this destruction, if only because of those three,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.

‘I saw at the front fire,’ said Ingcél, ‘a black-haired man with one eye and one arm and one leg; he was carrying a singed, black-bristled pig towards the fire, and it was squealing. With him he had a large, large-lipped woman. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’

‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘Fer Calliu was the man with the pig, and the woman is his wife, Cichuil. They are the instruments by which you may lawfully destroy
Conare tonight. Woe to the face that blushes between them. Indeed, Fer Calliu and his pig are geiss to Conare.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this destruction, if only because of those two,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.

‘I saw an apartment with three nines in it,’ Ingcél said. ‘Fair yellow hair they had, and all were equally handsome. Each had a black cape with a white hood and a blood-red crest and an iron brooch; each bore a very large, black sword that could split a hair floating on the water, and each had a shield with serrated edges. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’

‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘The three sons of Baithse of the Bretain they, three plunderers. Three nines will fall by them at the first onslaught, and they will match the performance of any trio in the hostel, and they will escape afterwards.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this destruction, if only because of those three,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.

‘I saw three fools at one end of the fire,’ said Ingcél, ‘all wearing dun mantles. If the men of Ériu were assembled in one place, and if the bodies of his father and his mother were before each man, no one could help but laugh. If there were thirty hundred in the house, none would manage to sit or lie down because of those three. When the king’s eye lights upon them, it laughs with each glance. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’

‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘Mlithe and Máel and Admlithe they, the three fools of the king of Ériu. A man will fall by each of them, and they will match the performance of any trio in the hostel, and they will escape
afterwards.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this destruction, if only because of those three,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.

‘I saw an apartment with three men in it,’ said Ingcél. ‘Three swirling grey cloaks about them. A cup of water before each man, and a bunch of watercress in each cup. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’

‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘Dub and Dond and Dobar they, the three cupbearers of the king of Temuir. They are the sons of La and Aidche.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this destruction, if only because of those three,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.

‘I saw a man who was blind in his left eye and destructive in his right,’ said Ingcél. ‘He was carrying a pig’s head towards the fire, and it was squealing. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’

‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘Nár Thúathcáech that one, the swineherd of Bodb, from Sid ar Femuin. He has never attended a feast where he did not shed blood.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this destruction, if only because of that one man,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you. Rise, now, fiana, and let us make for the house.’

At that, the plunderers rose and made for the house, and they raised a loud shout. ‘Hush!’ said Conare. ‘What is that?’ ‘Fíana encircling the house,’ said Conall Cernach. ‘There are youths here to meet them,’ said Conare. ‘They will be needed tonight,’ said Conall Cernach. Lomnae Drúth preceded the plunderers into the hostel, and the doorkeepers cut off his head. The head was thrown into the hostel three
times, and it was thrown back out three times, just as Lomnae Drúth had prophesied.

Six hundred fell by Conare before he could reach his weapons. The hostel was fired three times and extinguished three times, and it was conceded that the destruction would not be carried out until Conare had performed some feat of arms. After that, Conare obtained his weapons, and six hundred fell at the first onslaught, and the plunderers were routed. ‘I told you,’ said Fer Rogain, ‘that if the fíana of Ériu and Albu were about the house, the destruction would nonetheless not be carried out until Conare’s heat and ardour were quenched.’ ‘He has only a short time,’ said the druids who had accompanied the plunderers, and they caused a weakness for drink to overcome him. Conare entered the house and said ‘Drink, popa Macc Cécht!’ ‘Indeed, I have never taken an order to bring you drink before,’ said Mace Cécht. ‘You have servers and cupbearers to bring you drink. The order I have taken up to now has been to guard you from the fíana of Ériu and Albu who have encircled the hostel – I will protect you from them, and not a single spear will pierce your body. Seek drink from your servers and your cupbearers.’

After that, Conare sought drink from his servers and cupbearers. ‘There is none,’ they said. ‘All the liquid in the house was spent extinguishing the fire.’ The river Dothra flowed through the house, but they found no drink for him there. Conare sought drink once more, saying ‘Drink for me, Mace Cécht, my foster-son. I do not care if death follows, for I will die anyway.’ Conare sought drink a third time, and at that, Mace Cécht went to the chieftains of Ériu, and he offered the warriors in the house the choice of protecting the king or fetching drink for him. Conall Cernach answered from within the house: ‘We will protect the king. You go to fetch drink, since it is you he asked.’

Macc Cécht went to fetch drink, then; he put Lé Fer Flaith son of Conare under one arm, and under the other he put Conare’s gilt cup, which was large enough for an ox to boil over the fire, and he took his sword and his shield and his two spears and a bar of iron that was under the king’s cauldron. At the entrance to the hostel he dealt nine blows with the iron bar, and each blow felled nine men. He did the edge feat with his sword about his head and so cut a path out of the house. Mace Cécht went on to Tipra Cuirp, which was nearby, in Crích Chúaland; he had Conare’s cup in his hand, but he could not fill it there. Before morning he had gone round the major rivers of Ériu: Búas, Bóand, Bandai, Berbai, Nem, Laí, Laígdai, Sinand, Síuir, Slicech, Samuir, Findi and Ruirthech. But he could not fill the cup. He went on until he reached Úarán Garaid in Mag Ai, having first gone round the waters and the chief lakes of Ériu – Dergderc, Luimnech, Loch Ríb, Loch Febail, Loch Mesca, Loch nOrbsen, Loch Laíg, Loch Cúan, Loch nEchach, Márloch – and still failing to fill the cup. Úarán Garaid did not hide from him, so he filled the cup and put the lad under his arm. He returned, then, and reached the hostel before morning.

When Macc Cécht reached the third ridge from the house, he saw two men striking Conare’s head off. He struck the head from one of the two men, but the second made to escape with Conare’s head. On the floor of the hostel, near the entrance, there happened to be a pillar stone at Mace Cécht’s feet. He cast this stone at the second man; it struck the man in the small of the back, and his back broke. Macc Cécht struck off the man’s head. Then he poured the cup of water into Conare’s throat, and Conare’s head recited this poem:

A good man Mace Cécht!
Welcome, Macc Cécht!
He brings drink to a king.
He does well.

After that, Mace Cécht went after the rout. Only a very few – nine – had fallen round Conare, and scarcely a single messenger had escaped to bear the news to the plunderers who were about the house. Where there had been five thousand, and ten hundred in every thousand, there escaped no more than one fifth, apart from Ingcél and his brothers, Éccell and Dartaid.

At the end of the third day, Mace Cécht was among the wounded on the field of slaughter, and he saw a woman going by. ‘Stay awhile, woman,’ he said. ‘I dare not go to you,’ she answered, ‘for fear and horror of you.’ ‘That time has passed, woman,’ said Mace Cécht. ‘I give you the truth of my honour and my protection.’ The woman went to him, then. ‘I do not know if it is a fly or an ant or a midge that nips at my wound,’ Mace Cécht said. ‘Indeed, it is an ant of the ancient earth,’ said the woman.
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‘I swear by the god my people swear by,’ said Mace Cécht, ‘I thought it no more than a fly or a midge.’ Then he died on the field of slaughter.

Conall Cernach escaped, though three fifties of spears had gone through his shield hand; he went to his father’s house, bearing fragments of his sword and his shield and his two spears in his hand. He met his father at the entrance to the courtyard at Tailtiu. ‘Swift the dogs that have chased you, my son,’ said his father. ‘It was a combat with young heroes, old warrior,’ said Conall. ‘Have you news of Da Derga’s hostel? Does your lord live?’ asked his father. ‘He does not,’ Conall replied. I swear by the god my people swear by, it is a coward who would come away alive and leave his lord with the enemy,’ said the father. ‘My wounds are not white, old warrior,’ said Conall. He showed his father his
shield arm and the three fifties of wounds that had been inflicted upon it. His shield had protected that hand, but it had not protected his right hand. That had been attacked over two thirds of its length; it had been hacked and cut and wounded and riddled, but the sinews had not permitted it to fall off. ‘That hand injured many tonight, and it was much injured,’ said Amorgen. ‘True, old warrior,’ said Conall Cernach. ‘There are many to whom it served drinks of death at the entrance to the hostel tonight.’