Myths and Legends of the Celts (Penguin Reference)

by James MacKillop

  Táin Bó Cuailnge is often referred to as ‘the Táin’ for short, although that is a bit misleading. The words Táin Βó [cattle raid] follow a storyteller’s device of categorizing in the first word of the title the kind of action that is about to be told. Several other early Irish stories have titles beginning Táin…, such as the Táin Βó Flidais [Cattle Raid of Flidias] or Táin Bó Fraích [Cattle Raid of Fraich]. David Greene suggested the title of the epic is inappropriate and may have been influenced by analogy with the others. The motive in the action is a quest for a single bull, not a herd of cattle. The English title, The Cattle Raid of Cooley, is not usually cited in learned commentary.

  The first of the remscéla is a ninth-century anecdote giving the purported origin of the story. Fergus mac Róich returns from the dead and recites the entire text to the chief poet Senchán Torpéist. Internal evidence indicates that the Táin is the work of many hands, but the creation of Senchán Torpéist, whose name appears rarely elsewhere, suggests that the compilers wished for a native equivalent of Homer.

  In other remscéla we learn of Macha’s curse on the Ulstermen, of Conchobar’s birth, his struggle to gain the kingship and his ill-fated love for Deirdre. Three stories of Cúchulainn, related earlier in this chapter, tell of his birth, his courtship of Emer and training by Scáthach, and the tragic combat with his son Connla. The final foretale is a story of magical transformation with comic undertones, explaining how the two great bulls, the Brown Bull and the White-horned Bull, came to be. Two swineherds, Friuch [boar’s bristle] and Rucht [boar’s grunt], are good friends, but their masters and everyone around them try to incite trouble between them. Friuch keeps pigs in the household of Bodb, king of the Munster sídh, while Rucht labours at the Connacht sídh of Ochall Ochne, bitter enemy of Bodb. Each plays a trick on the other as a test of power, which ends their friendship and sets them against one another. Dismissed for damage to the herds from their trickery, the pig-keepers spend two years transformed into birds of prey before returning to human form to tell of war-wailing and heaps of corpses. By now their enmity seethes through each change of form. Off again, they become, successively, two water creatures, warriors, stags, phantoms, dragons and finally maggots or water worms, each transformation bringing them different names. When a cow belonging to Dáire mac Fiachna in Ulster drinks water containing one of the worms, Medb’s cow in Connacht swallows the other. Both cows beget bulls. Rucht is then Finnbennach, the White-horned Bull of Connacht, and Friuch is Dub [dark] or Donn Cuailnge, the Brown Bull of Ulster.

  The body of the Táin Bó Cuailnge embraces fourteen episodes of varying length, of which the fourth is clearly interpolated. It tells of the boyhood deeds of Cúchulainn, as related earlier in this chapter. The other thirteen depict the collisions of Connacht and Ulster, Medb and Cúchulainn.

  Action begins in disarming quiet, with ‘pillow talk’, a dispute between Medb and her husband Ailill mac Máta in their bedroom at Cruachain [Rathcrogan, Co. Roscommon]. Romance is not the issue; power, as measured by possessions, is. Medb’s luxuries give her an initial edge, but Ailill seems to win the contest by laying claim to the great white-horned bull, Finnbennach. Possession of cattle was the standard of wealth in early Ireland, a herding society; in pre-Christian culture they had been worshipped. Sealing his superiority with a gibe, Ailill reminds his wife that the prized Finnbennach was born into her herds but left them because it did not wish to be ruled by a woman. All her possessions are thus diminished because she does not possess a bull to equal the great white-horned one of her husband. What should she do? Through her courtier (and lover) Fergus mac Róich, Medb learns how she can win advantage. The other of the two greatest bulls in all of Ireland is living now in the region of Cuailnge in Ulster, and she must have it. (Cuailnge is the Cooley Peninsula in northeastern County Louth in the Republic of Ireland, but then a part of Ulster.) She sends representatives to bargain with the owner, Dáire mac Fiachna, offering many treasures, including access to her ‘friendly thighs’ (a phrase that will reappear in the text). Dáire rebuffs her offer.

  Enraged when the news is delivered, Medb resolves to take the bull by force and calls up the armies of Connacht and Leinster as well as Ulster exiles Cormac Connloinges, son of Conchobar mac Nessa, and Fergus mac Róich. Convincing Ailill that any insult to her is shared by the household, she gains him as an ally in the quest to assert her claim to superior wealth. Before the army decamps Medb consults two seers about what it is to face. One is the mysterious prophetess known only as Fedelm, who weaves a fringe with a gold staff as she rides on the shaft of a chariot. Asked what she sees Fedelm answers with the word ‘Crimson’. When she is challenged by Medb and others, she repeats ‘Crimson’ and adds a description of the formidable deeds of Cúchulainn. The second seer, a druid, is more consoling; he tells Medb that she will return alive.

  As the driving force of a huge army, Medb is attentive to the discipline and deportment of individual troops. Her judgement, however, sometimes appears impetuous. Noticing that the Leinster soldiers are more adept than the Connachtmen, she fears that they will outshine her own people, demoralizing them. Such allies could betray her. She thinks of sending them home or even of killing them. Dissuaded from such rashness, Medb agrees to distribute the crack Leinster fighters among her own soldiers, shoring up weaker regiments and reducing the threat that the allies will win more glory.

  Fergus mac Róich, though an Ulsterman, takes command in the field. Why he has joined the enemies of his country is not always clear. He may be jealous of Conchobar mac Nessa, who is king in his place, or he may have exiled himself after the king’s role in the murder of the sons of Uisnech, as told in the Deirdre story. He is uneasy about opposing his countrymen. Ulster is virtually defenceless as the warriors there still suffer under Macha’s curse, binding them in the pain of a woman in labour. All, of course, except Sualtam and his son Cúchulainn.

  In his first encounter with Medb’s army, Cúchulainn merely leaves a posted, written warning. This happens at Iraird Cuillen [Crossakeel, Co. Meath], when the party is two-thirds of the way to Cuailnge. The hero cuts an oak sapling into the ring shape of a spancel, which could be used as a fetter for a cow or goat, a common item on the Irish landscape at that time. On this Cúchulainn writes a threatening message in ogham, ‘Come no further, unless you have a man who can make a hoop like this one, with one hand, out of one piece.’ At this time Cúchulainn sends his mortal father Sualtam to warn the rest of the Ulstermen.

  Cúchulainn himself is far removed when the army reads his warning, as he is enjoying a tryst with a young woman – possibly Fedelm Noíchrothach, daughter of Conchobar, or possibly her bondswoman. This Fedelm is married to Ailill’s elder brother Cairbre Nia Fer, whom Cúchulainn kills in a story outside the Táin. Cairbre’s son Erc is destined to make Cúchulainn suffer vengeance for this particular killing, even though it is only one of thousands.

  On the next night his message is more compelling. After cutting the fork of a tree with a single stroke, Cúchulainn thrusts two thirds of the trunk into the earth. Then he decorates the branches with the severed heads of four Connachtmen who strayed from the rest of the forces. In horror Fergus reminds his men that it would violate a geis to pass the tree without pulling it out. Medb asks him to do this, and it takes him seven tries to succeed. When asked who could have slaughtered the four and have the strength to drive the tree so far into the ground, Fergus replies that it could only be his foster-son Cúchulainn. He then gives a long account of Cúchulainn’s boyhood deeds, as retold on pp. 194–7 above.

  As the Connacht army advances further toward Cuailnge, it faces only one enemy fighter. Cúchulainn taunts and terrorizes, usually only one soldier at a time. Yet he can show disarming mercy. He assures one trembling Connacht charioteer that he has no quarrel with him and seeks his master instead. That master turns out to be Orlám, a son of Medb and Ailill. Cúchulainn instantly decapitates him, knowing that the head will be returned to the army command post. As
the grieving parents examine it, Cúchulainn uses his long slingshot to crush the head of Fertedil, Orlám’s charioteer, because he disobeys the exacting order to carry Orlám’s head further, all the way to Medb’s and Ailill’s private camp. When the occasion presents itself, Cúchulainn also employs his sling to kill a bird perched on Medb’s shoulder, and later casts a fatal stone at the pet marten on her warm neck. Three arrogant brothers try to avenge Orlám’s death, but Cúchulainn makes short work of them.

  Meanwhile in Cuailnge, Donn the Brown Bull begins to sniff the distant bloodletting. Hovering near him, croaking encouragement, is the many-shaped goddess of war Mórrígan, who is sometimes a woman, sometimes a beast, a bird or the wind. Now she is a raven on the bull’s shoulder, capriciously reversing mood in decrying death and slaughter. Rampaging, Donn Cuailnge puts his head down and mows everything in front of him, ploughing a deep furrow in the earth, frightening everyone within earshot.

  The Connachtmen’s first encounter with Donn Cuailnge goes badly when the bull gores the herdsman who tries to capture him. With a retinue of fifty heifers, Donn tramples through Medb and Ailill’s camp, killing fifty warriors before bounding into the countryside. Such mishaps do not keep Medb from pulling away from camp for amorous meetings with Fergus. A charioteer reports these indiscretions to Ailill, who accepts them but with rancour.

  With the Ulstermen still debilitated by Macha’s curse, Cúchulainn alone faces the western army. Each night he makes devastating raids, smashing heads with efficient use of his slingshot, leaving hundreds dead. Even with these losses, however, the army advances. Events put Fergus in a tight corner, as Medb and the Connachtmen expect him to strike a blow for their side. In a parley with Cúchulainn, Fergus negotiates an agreement committing both sides to single combat each day; the duration of the combat will be the only time the army advances. With Fergus at this meeting is Etarcomol, the headstrong foster-son of Medb and Ailill, who stares insolently at Cúchulainn. This is followed by insults and the boast that he will be the first westerner to face the Ulster champion the next day. Etarcomol persists in baiting Cúchulainn until the Ulster hero in exasperation slices the young man in two, from crown to navel. After rebuffing Fergus’s claim that Cúchulainn has already violated the agreement, the Ulster hero has nothing left to do but drag Etarcomol’s body back to Medb’s camp.

  In an unexpected turn of events Medb and her entourage head north, away from the path east to Cuailnge, setting their sights on Dún Sobairche [Dunseverick, Co. Antrim]. This temporarily presents Cúchulainn with a dilemma as he wishes to track the queen but also wants to protect his own territory on the eastern coast. As he is doubling back he encounters Buide mac Báin and twenty-four followers who most unexpectedly are driving none other than Donn Cuailnge and twenty-four cows. Cúchulainn kills Buide easily, but in the fracas the great Brown Bull is driven off, causing the hero to suffer deep disappointment and dismay. Recovering, he resumes the slaughter of the enemy. One victim is Medb and Ailill’s satirist Redg, who first asks for the Ulsterman’s javelin. Cúchulainn responds by putting it through the satirist’s head. Redg answers gamely in his death throes, ‘Now, that is a stunning gift.’ The remark inspires the early Irish name for the place of this combat, Áth Tolam Sét [Ford of the Overwhelming Gift]. Dozens of Cúchulainn’s other combats are described as explaining names of places, some real and others probably imaginary, on the medieval map of Ireland. In the meantime Medb plunders Dún Sobairche to the north, a diversion from her principal mission.

  Again and again, Cúchulainn is the superior in all encounters, even when Medb’s side reneges on the agreement, sending as many as a hundred fighters, hoping to extend the length of the combat so that her army would have more time to advance. As this is happening Cúchulainn must also face another resourceful female opponent, the supernatural Mórrígan, goddess of war, who is adept at shape-shifting. Usually taking the form of a huge raven, she may also appear as an eel that coils around the hero’s legs, a she-wolf and a red-eared (i.e. otherworldly) heifer. Once when he fights her off, wounding her in the process, she comes before him as a crone milking a cow with three teats, one for each of the wounds he has inflicted on her. So tired that he does not perceive her ruse, Cúchulainn asks for a drink. When he blesses the teats for nourishing him, he inadvertently heals the wounds he had inflicted on Mórrígan.

  Another supernatural figure serves Cúchulainn’s efforts to defend Ulster. It is the hero’s divine father, Lug Lámfhota, who appears gloriously clad in brilliantly coloured clothes, carrying lethal weapons and invisible to everyone except his son. To give the young man respite, he stands guard for three days and nights, allowing time for restorative sleep. Lug also attends to his son’s wounds, washing them and applying healing oils. On the fourth day Cúchulainn awakes to the fitness and strength of his first day in combat.

  Cúchulainn receives mortal assistance from an unexpected source, the boy troop of Emain Macha, younger counterparts of the youthful corps that the hero had joined when he went to the capital. One hundred and fifty of them fight because they have been spared Macha’s debilitating curse delivered only to grown men. Their initial foray yields costly success, as each boy takes down a single Connachtman before falling himself. But the greater numbers in Medb’s army mean that the boy troop is eventually depleted, with only one boy escaping. When he makes a final dash at killing Ailill, he too is brought down, this time by the king’s bodyguards.

  News of the boy troop calamity sends Cúchulainn into an extreme ríastrad, with a red mist like a fog of vapourized blood rising from him. To avenge the boy soldiers who had honoured him, Cúchulainn lays into the Connacht army with greater vehemence than he had shown before. Mounting his chariot he drives around the perimeter of the massed armies, slaughtering the hapless westerners six deep in a standing. Soon 500 are gone, then dozens of petty kings, scores of animals, even women and children. The huge pile of corpses means that no one can keep count of the massacre. But Cúchulainn and his chariot sustain not a scratch.

  Fergus, Medb and Ailill rethink the principle of single combat. After some false starts, one of which is Medb’s deceitful attempt to send twenty-nine selected warriors on a fruitless attempt against Cúchulainn, the Connacht leadership is ready to comply. The question is to select the right champion for their side. Though his name has not been mentioned earlier in the Táin, only Ferdiad, best friend of Cúchulainn and former pupil of Scáthach, is judged worthy of the challenge.

  Getting the combatants to square off takes some doing. Ferdiad is initially reluctant to face his boon companion. To push him, the Connacht forces threaten him with disgrace if he refuses but offer rich rewards if he consents, including the pledged troth of Medb’s beautiful, fair-haired daughter Finnabair and access to Medb’s lovemaking as well. Ferdiad responds that this will be a fight to the death, and if he must kill his old friend, he will return to camp and finish off Medb. Yet Ferdiad has to be Connacht’s man because he is the only one who could possibly match the Ulster hero. In his camp Cúchulainn admits he dreads the looming duel, not because he fears Ferdiad but rather because he loves him.

  Ferdiad’s duel with Cúchulainn, the climax of the Táin for many readers, is often cited as ‘the combat at the ford’, as if it were the only one. In a herding society like early Ireland’s, a society without modern bridges, all paths must eventually cross shallow passages of rivers and streams. Armed men and the cattle they drive are at their most vulnerable at such crossings. Not surprisingly, then, many battles take place at the fords of rivers, not only in the Táin but also in other early Irish literature. So while there is no foreshadowing for the person of Ferdiad, his battle with Cúchulainn at Áth Fhirdiad [Ardee, Co. Louth] on the Dee River, 14 miles north of Drogheda, is the culmination of a long series.

  The battle rages for four days and includes boasts and taunts as well as constant hand-to-hand combat. Pieces of flesh the size of a baby’s head are hacked away, leaving wounds that gape so wide birds
can fly through them. Each night Cúchulainn sends Ferdiad leeches and herbs to heal his wounds; the Ulsterman does not wish to have the advantage of better medical treatment. Ferdiad responds by sharing his food. For the first three days neither can gain an advantage while they fight with darts, slender spears, heavy spears and heavy swords. On the fourth day Cúchulainn calls for his Gáe Bulga, the mysterious and powerful weapon whose use he had learned from the amazonian Scáthach. It is a spear that enters the body at one point but opens to make thirty wounds within. Before he can act, Ferdiad plunges his sword into Cúchulainn’s chest, and Cúchulainn casts his spear through Ferdiad’s heart and halfway out of his back. But the coup de grâce is just now coming. With Láeg the charioteer helping him, Cúchulainn thrusts the Gáe Bulga against Ferdiad, killing him. Immediately Cúchulainn begins to lament the passing of his quasi-brother and friend, but he is prostrate from his own wounds.

  The Ulstermen have little to celebrate in Ferdiad’s death because their own hero lies so weakened. Into the breach steps another champion who achieves some Cúchulainn-like deeds. White-haired Cethern mac Fintain, known for his generosity and his bloody blade, flies into the camp of the western army, inflicting great damage. He, too, is severely wounded. Returned to the Ulster camp he makes a poor patient. Cethern kills the healers (fifteen or as many as fifty) who attempt to treat him because he does not like their unfavourable diagnoses. At the same time he tells stories of how he acquired his wounds, one of which has come from Medb herself. Cúchulainn gathers bone marrow and animal ribs to help restore him. Cethern returns to battle, felling many of the enemy before he himself is struck down.