The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (7 page)

Finally,
Cellachain of Cashel
is based on several stories I heard in West Cork in my youth and which I have cross-referenced to a couple of surviving medieval texts:
Senchas
Fagnála Caisil andso sis agus Beandacht Ríg
, a fifteenth-century fragmentary story
The Finding of Cashel
, preserved in Trinity College, Dublin, and Caithreim Cheallachain
Chaisil (The battle-career of Ceallachan of Cashel), written in the twelfth century. It was commissioned by Cormac III MacCarthy of Cashel, some time between 1127–38, and written at
Cashel.

The oldest copy, dating to the twelfth century, is in the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin. These are some of the impressive texts that survive from the patronage of the Eóghanacht royal
dynasty, who were kings of Munster and later Desmond, reigning from Cashel. The last regnate Eóghanacht king was Donal IX MacCarthy Mór (d. 1596).

Sadly, during this time, Sir George Carew, representing Elizabeth of England, set out not only to destroy native government in Munster but all Irish manuscripts. Many of these old manuscripts
were cut up, on his orders, to make covers for English language primers. Many great works were probably destroyed, judging from that which has survived.

The
aisling
or vision tale,
The Vision of Tnugdal
, a Cashel
warrior, was written in 1149 at Ratisbon (Regensburg) by an Irish monk named Marcus, carrying on the
Munster literary traditions. The saga enjoyed great fame in Europe and, as well as an Irish text, some 154 manuscripts of the Latin text dating from the twelfth to the nineteenth centuries have
been found in Europe, plus translations into Anglo-Norman, Belorussian, Catalan, Dutch, English, French, German, Icelandic, Italian, Portuguese, Provençal, Serbo-Croat, Spanish and
Swedish.

My attempt to rescue one part of the epic of Cellachain, hopefully, puts the kingdom of Munster in its rightful place as having produced a literature equal with the Red Branch Cycle of Ulster.
It is my hope that much more of that literature will be recovered.

2 The Sons of Tuirenn

N
o one knew the reason of the feud between the sons of Cainte and the sons of Tuirenn. Perhaps it had its roots in a sharp word, some affront to
honour, but the result was that the three sons of Cainte and the three sons of Tuirenn had sworn to shed each other’s blood, should they ever meet with one another.

So it came about that the eldest son of Cainte, Cian, whose name means “the enduring one”, was crossing the great plain of Muirthemne, on his way to join the Children of Danu at Magh
Tuireadh, for the news was that a great battle was being fought against the Fomorii. Cian was alone, for his two brothers, Cú and Céthen, had gone on before him.

It was as he was on the open plain, some way from any shelter, that he saw three warriors heading towards him. Standing tall in his chariot, Cian narrowed his eyes to examine them. There was no
mistaking the grim visage of Brían, whose name means “exalted one”, and his brothers Iuchar and Iucharba.

Now Cian realized, because he was outnumbered, that discretion was the better part of valour. But there was no cover on the plain, except for a herd of pigs feeding. Being one of the children of
Danu, Cian took a Druid wand and changed his shape into that of a pig, also causing his chariot and horses to be likewise transformed.

Brían, son of Tuirenn, chieftain of Ben Eadair, paused and stared across the plain. “Brothers,” he said, turning to Iuchar
and Iucharba,
“wasn’t there a proud warrior crossing the plain, a moment ago?”

They affirmed that their brother was right.

Brían saw the herd of pigs and he realized that the warrior must have shape-changed. If this were so, then the warrior was no friend to the sons of Tuirenn. Now Brían realised that
the herd of pigs belonged to Nuada himself and, if he and his brothers harmed them, Nuada would punish them. So he took his own Druid wand and touched his brothers lightly. Iuchar and Iucharba were
changed into two great hounds and straightaway, baying eagerly, they made for the herd, keen noses to the ground.

Cian realized that the hounds would sniff him out and so, still in the shape of a pig, he made a break from the herd. But Brían was standing ready and cast his spear through the pig
shape. Cian screamed in agony.

“I am Cian, son of Cainte, and I plead for quarter,” cried the pig.

Brían, now joined by his brothers in their true shapes, stood before the bleeding pig.

“No quarter!” snapped Brían. “We have all sworn an oath that none would survive our encounters, should the sons of Cainte and the sons of Tuirenn meet.”

“Then grant me a last request,” cried Cian in resignation. “Let me resume my human form before you kill me.”

This Brían granted.

Cian smiled triumphantly at him. “You may kill me now but remember this, sons of Tuirenn; had you killed me as a pig, your punishment would have only been the
eric
fine paid on the
unlawful slaughter of a pig. Since you now kill me as a man, then you will have to pay the
eric
fine of a man. Moreover, as I am Cian the enduring, the son of Cainte, and the father of Lugh
of the Long Hand, the punishment that shall be exacted will be great. Even the weapons with which you kill me shall cry out in horror at this deed.”

Brían thought for a while, for it was true that Cian was one of the Children of Danu. Then he smiled sneeringly at Cian. “Then it shall not be with weapons you will be killed, but
with stones of the earth.”

So saying, he threw aside his weapons and picked up some stones and hurled them in hate at Cian. He was joined by his brothers and stone after stone flew until Cian was a
disfigured and unrecognisable mess of a man. Then the brothers dug a grave and buried the battered body. But six times the earth refused to cover the corpse before, at the seventh time of burying,
the earth accepted the body.

Yet as Brían and his brothers rode away, they heard a voice calling from beneath the earth: “The blood is on your hands, sons of Tuirenn, and there it will remain until we meet
again.”

The sons of Tuirenn distinguished themselves in the great Battle of the Plain of Towers, in which Bres and the Fomorii were defeated. But everyone remarked that Cian was absent
from the battle, which was strange, as it was Cian’s own son who had taken over the leadership of the Children of Danu when Nuada had been killed by the Fomorii, Balor of the Evil Eye. So,
after a fruitless search, Lugh Lámhfada finally came to the Plain of Muirthemne and, as he was travelling across it, the stones of the earth started to speak.

“Here lies the body of your father Cian! Killed by the sons of Tuirenn. Blood on their hands, until they meet with Cian again!”

Lugh had his father’s body disinterred and he called his companions together, that they might see how the deed was done. And Lugh swore vengeance. Lugh sang a lament over the body:

And Lugh buried his father’s body with all pomp and ceremony and went back to the great hall of Tara, where
he summoned all the people. Even the sons
of Tuirenn were among them but Lugh kept his counsel. Instead, he asked those among the gods what they would do to take vengeance on those who had, with malice, slaughtered their fathers.

Each of the gods suggested ways, increasingly more horrible and more bloody, as a means of punishment. And when the last of them had spoken, the assembly roared its approval. Lugh saw that the
sons of Tuirenn, not wishing to be conspicuous in the throng, were also applauding.

Then Lugh, with a scowl on his usually sunny countenance, spoke up. “The murderers of Cian have condemned themselves, for they have joined in the agreement of you all as to their
punishment. But I am merciful. I will not spill blood in Tara. I claim the right to put an
eric
fine on the murderers. If they refuse to accept it, then they must meet me, one after the
other, in bloody single combat at the door of Tara’s Hall.”

All the while he spoke he was looking at the sons of Tuirenn.

Then Brían moved forward. “It is known there was enmity between us and your father and his brothers Cú and Céthen. Your words seem addressed to us, but Cian was not
killed by any weapons of the sons of Tuirenn. Nevertheless, to show that we are honourable, each one of us will accept your
eric
fine.”

Lugh smiled grimly. “You will not find it difficult. I wish for three apples, the skin of a pig, a spear, two horses and a chariot, seven swine, a hound-pup, a cooking spit and three
shouts to be delivered on a hill.”

Not only the sons of Tuirenn stood amazed but the entire assembly could not believe their ears at the little Lugh demanded in compensation for his father’s death. The sons of Tuirenn were
visibly relieved and clamoured to accept the fine.

“If you think it is too heavy,” Lugh added, “I will not press the fine.”

“We do not consider it heavy,” replied Brían. “In fact, it seems so light that I suspect some trickery. Are you intending to increase the sum?”

“I swear by our mother, Danu, the divine waters, that the
fine will not be increased. And in return for this oath, do you swear you will faithfully complete the
eric
fine?”

They did so, with mighty acclaim.

“Very well,” Lugh chuckled grimly, after they had sworn. “The three apples must come from the Garden of Hesperides in the East. They are of gold in colour and have immense
power and virtue. They are as big as the head of a month-old child and never grow less, no matter how much is eaten from them. They have the taste of honey and a bite will cure a sick or wounded
man. A warrior can perform any feat with one for, once cast from his hand, it will return to him.”

The sons of Tuirenn looked thunderstruck.

“The skin of the pig is that owned by Tuis, king of Greece. In whatever stream that pig walked, the water turned to wine, and the wounded and sick became well when they drank of it. These
magical properties are enshrouded in that skin.”

The sons of Tuirenn began to look grim.

“The spear is that which belongs to Pisear of Persia, and it is called ‘slaughterer’. It has to be kept in a cauldron of blood to prevent it killing, for only blood cools its
angry blade.”

Lugh paused, but the sons of Tuirenn now stood expressionless as they realised the trap that he had set for them.

“The steeds and chariot which I require are those belonging to Dobhar of Siogair. If one of the horses are killed, it will come to life again, if its bones are brought together in the same
place.

“The seven swine are those of Easal, King of the Golden Pillars, which, though killed each day for the feast, are found alive the following morning. The hound pup is Failinis, owned by the
king of Ioruiadh. The wild beasts are helpless before her. The cooking spit I want is that from the island of Fianchuibhe, which is protected by mighty women warriors. And the hill on which you
must give three shouts is that of Miodchaoin in Lochlainn, which is constantly guarded by Miodchaoin and his three fierce sons, Aedh, Corca and Conn. Their task is solely to prevent any person from
raising their voices on the hill.

“This, sons of Tuirenn, is the
eric
fine I ask of you.”

When Tuirenn heard what had befallen his sons, he was upset, but he went to them and gave them advice.

“No one can set out on this voyage without the magical ship of the god of the oceans, Manánnan Mac Lir. But Lugh owns this ship, the Wave-sweeper, which can navigate itself across
the seas. But listen to me, Lugh is under a
geis
, a sacred proscription never to refuse a second request. So go to him and ask for a loan of Manánnan’s fabulous horse, Aonbharr,
which can gallop over land and water. He will refuse. Then ask for the Wave-sweeper, and that he cannot refuse.”

And this they did and it happened as Tuirenn had said. Lugh was forced to give them the loan of Manánnan’s boat. And Tuirenn and his daughter Eithne went to see them off from the
harbour at Ben Eadair. Their sister Eithne sang a lament of farewell for, as much as she loved them, she knew that they had done an evil thing and therefore only evil would come of it.

The three warriors climbed into the Wave-sweeper and Brían commanded it to cross to the Garden of Hesperides. The boat leapt forward at his command and ploughed through the white-crested
waves more swiftly than if the winds of spring were blowing into its sail. So fast did it travel that, within the wink of an eye, it came safely to the harbour of Hesperides on the extreme western
edge of the ocean.

The three brothers climbed out. They learnt that the apple-orchards of Hesperides were so well guarded that they had no chance of entering without discovery. Then Brían drew up his
Druid’s wand and changed his brothers and himself into hawks. On his instructions, they rose into the air and circled high above the orchard and then they swooped down, travelling so fast
that the arrows and spears of the guards could not hit them. Each in turn, they seized one of the golden apples, rose again into the air and raced back to the harbour where they had left their
boat.

Now the king of Hesperides had three daughters who were sorceresses and when they heard the news, they transformed themselves into three griffins and pursued the hawks, breathing great tongues
of fire after them. So fierce were the flames that the hawks were burnt and blinded and could bear the
heat no longer. Then Brían used his Druid’s lore and changed
them into swans who were able to glide down to the sea. The griffins, confused, flew off, still looking for the hawks and the sons of Tuirenn made their way back to the Wave-sweeper.

Next, they commanded the boat to take them to Greece and entered the harbour close to the palace of Tuis.