Early Irish Myths and Sagas

by Jeffrey Gantz

  After that, Lendabair, the daughter of Éogan son of Durthacht and the wife of Conall Cernach, came out. Bricriu accosted her and said ‘Well met, Lendabair! No nickname yours, for you are the centre of attention and the sweetheart of the men of all the world, and that by reason of your beauty and your fame. As your husband outdoes the men of the world in weaponry and in appearance, so you outdo the women of Ulaid.’ As deceitful as he had been in talking to Fedelm, he was twice as deceitful in dealing with Lendabair.

  After that, Emer came out with her fifty women, and Bricriu greeted her, saying ‘Your health, Emer, daughter of Forgall Manach and wife of the best man in Ériu. Emer Foltchain is no nickname, either, for the kings and princes of Ériu glitter round you. As the sun outshines the stars of the sky, so you outshine the women of the entire world, and that by reason of your shape and form and lineage, your youth and beauty and fame and your intelligence and discernment and eloquence.’ Although he had been very deceitful in dealing with the other two women, Bricriu was thrice as deceitful in dealing with Emer.

  All three companies of women then went out to the same spot, the third ridge from the house, and no wife knew that the other two had been incited by Bricriu. And all three women set out for the house. At the first ridge, the procession was steady and stately and measured – one foot was scarcely lifted above the other. At the second ridge, however, the steps became shorter and quicker. By the third ridge, the women were striving to keep up with each other, and they all raised their skirts to their hips, for Bricriu had told each woman that she who entered the house first would be queen over the entire province. The tumult that arose from their striving was like the tumult from the arrival of fifty chariots; it so shook the house that the warriors inside sprang for their weapons and tried to kill each other. But Senchae said ‘Wait I This is not the arrival of enemies – rather, Bricriu has incited the women outside to strife. I swear by what my people swear by, if he is not expelled from the house, the dead will outnumber the living.’ At that, the doorkeepers closed the door. Emer daughter of Forgall Manach reached the door first, by reason of her speed, and she put her back against the door and entreated the doorkeepers to open it before the other women arrived. Thereupon the men inside rose, each meaning to open the door for his own wife so that she might be the first to enter. ‘An evil night,’ said Conchubur, and he struck the silver sceptre in his hand against the bronze pillar of his couch, and the host sat down. Senchae said ‘Wait! Not a war of weapons this, but a war of words.’

  With that, each woman drew back from the door, under the protection of her husband, and there began a war of words among the women of Ulaid. Upon hearing the praises of their wives, Lóegure and Conall sprang up into the warrior’s moon; each of them broke off a pole as tall as himself from the house, and that way Fedelm and Lendabair were able to enter. Cú Chulaind, however, lifted the side of the house opposite his apartment so high that the stars were visible beneath the wall; Emer was thus able to enter with her fifty women and the fifty women of each of the other two wives. He then set the house back down; seven feet of panelling sank into the ground, and the fort shook so much that Bricriu’s bower fell, and Bricriu and his wife were thrown on to the garbage heap in the courtyard, among the dogs.

  ‘Alas I Enemies are attacking the fort,’ said Bricriu, and he rose quickly and looked at his house, and it seemed to have been destroyed, for one side had fallen down. He beat on the door, then, and the Ulaid let him in, for he was so besmirched that they did not recognize him until he began to speak. He stood in the middle of the house and said ‘Unlucky this feast that I have prepared for you, men of Ulaid. My house is dearer to me than all my possessions, and there is a geiss against your eating or sleeping until you leave it just as you found it when you arrived.’

  Thereupon all the warriors of Ulaid rose and tried to restore the house, but they could not even raise it high enough for the wind to pass underneath. This was a problem for the Ulaid. Senchae said ‘I can only advise you to ask the man who made the house lopsided to set it straight.’ The Ulaid then asked Cú Chulaind to put the house to rights, and Bricriu said ‘King of the warriors of Ériu, if you cannot restore the house, no one in the world can.’ All the Ulaid entreated Cú Chulaind to help them, and he rose up so that the feasters would not have to go without food and drink. He attempted to straighten the house, and he failed. Then his ríastarthae came over him: a drop of blood appeared at the tip of each hair, and he drew his hair into his head, so that, from above, his jet black locks appeared to have been cropped with scissors; he turned like a mill wheel, and he stretched himself out until a warrior’s foot could fit between each pair of ribs. His power and energy returned to him, and he lifted the house and reset it so that it was as straight as it had been before.

  After that, they had a pleasant time enjoying the feast. On one side of the illustrious Conchubur, the glorious high king of maid, gathered the kings and chiefs, and on the other side were the queens: Mugain Attencháithrech daughter of Echu Feidlech and wife of Conchubur son of Ness, Fedelm Noíchride daughter of Conchubur (nine forms she displayed, and each was lovelier than the last), Fedelm Foltchaín (Conchubur’s other daughter and the wife of Lóegure Búadach), Findbec daughter of Echu and wife of Cethernd son of Findtan, Brig Brethach wife of Celtchair son of Uthechar, Findige daughter of Echu and wife of Éogan son of Durthacht, Findchóem daughter of Cathub and wife of Amorgen Íarngiunnach, Derborcaill wife of Lugaid Réoderg son of the three Finds of Emuin, Emer Foltchaín daughter of Forgall Manach and wife of Cú Chulaind son of Súaltaim, Lendabair daughter of Éogan son of Durthacht and wife of Conall Cernach, and Níam daughter of Celtchair son of Uthechar and wife of Cormac Cond Longes son of Conchubur. There was no counting the number of beautiful women at that feast.

  And yet the women began once again to squabble over their men and themselves, with the result that the three heroes all but resumed their combat. Senchae son of Ailill rose and shook his staff, and the men of Ulaid fell silent. He spoke words to chasten the women, but Emer continued to praise her husband. Thereupon Conall Cernach said ‘Woman, if your words are true, let that lad of feats come here, that I might oppose him.’ ‘Not at all,’ said Cú Chulaind, ‘for I am tired and broken to pieces. Today, I will eat and sleep, but I will not undertake combat.’ All this was in fact true, by reason of Cú Chulaind’s encounter that day with the Líath Machae by the shore of Lind Léith near Slíab Fúait. The horse had come towards him from the lake, Cú Chulaind had put his arms round its neck, and the two of them had circled all Ériu until at last night fell and the horse was broken. (Cú Chulaind found the Dub Sainglend in the same way, at Loch Duib Sainglend.) Cú Chulaind went on: ‘Today the Líath Machae and I have sought out the great hostels of Ériu: Brega, Mide, Múrese, Muirthemne, Macha, Mag Medba, Currech, Cletech, Cernae, Lía, Líne, Locharna, Fea, Fernen, Fergna, Urros, Domnand, Ros Roigne, Anni Éo. Better every feat of sleeping, dearer food than anything else. I swear by the god my people swear by, if I had my fill of food and sleep, there would be no trick or feat that any man could meet me at.’

  It happened, thus, that the dispute over the champion’s portion arose again. Conchubur and the chieftains of Ulaid intervened to pronounce judgement, and Conchubur said ‘Go now to the man who will undertake to decide this matter, Cú Rui son of Dáre.’ ‘I will agree to that,’ said Cú Chulaind. ‘So will I,’ said Lóegure. ‘Let us go, then,’ said Conall Cernach. ‘Let horses be brought and yoked to Conall’s chariot,’ said Cú Chulaind. ‘Alas!’ said Conall. ‘Indeed,’ replied Cú Chulaind, ‘for everyone knows well the clumsiness of your horses and the slowness of your gait and bearing and the great ponderousness with which your chariot moves; each wheel digs a ditch, so that everywhere you leave a track that is visible to the Ulaid for a year.’ ‘Do you hear that, Lóegure?’ Conall asked. ‘Indeed – but it is not I who have been disgraced and embarrassed. I am quick to cross fords – many fords – and I breast storms of many spears in front of the you
ths of Ulaid. I will not grant the superiority of kings until I have practised my chariot feats before kings and heroes in single chariots, over difficult and treacherous terrain, in wooded places and along enemy borders, in order that no single-charioted hero might dare to meet me.’

  With that, they yoked Lóegure’s chariot, and he sprang into it; he drove across Mag Dá Gabul and Berrnaid na Forare and Áth Carpait Fergussa and Áth na Mórrígna to Cáerthend Clúana Dá Dam and into Clithar Fidbude, into Commur Cetharsliged, past Dún Delga, across Mag Slicech and west towards Slíab Breg. There, a great mist fell, thick and dark and impenetrable, so that he could not see his way. ‘Let us stay here until the fog lifts,’ he said to his charioteer, and he leapt down from the chariot. His charioteer was putting the horses out in a nearby meadow when he saw a giant man coming towards him, not a handsome fellow, either, but broad-shouldered, fat-mouthed, puffy-eyed, short-toothed, horribly wrinkled, beetle-browed, horrible and angry, strong, violent, ruthless, arrogant, destructive, snorting, big-sinewed, strong-forearmed, brave, rough and rustic. Cropped black hair he had, and a dun garment on him, and his rump swelled out under his tunic; there were filthy old shoes on his feet, and on his back he carried a great, heavy club, the size of a mill shaft. ‘Whose horses are these, boy?’ he asked, looking fierce. ‘The horses of Lóegure Búadach these,’ answered the lad. ‘True,’ said the giant, ‘and it is a good man whose horses these are.’ As he said this, he took his club and gave the lad a blow from head to toe. At that, Lóegure came and said ‘Why did you strike my charioteer?’ ‘As punishment for trespassing in my meadow,’ replied the giant. ‘I will meet you myself,’ said Lóegure, and they fought until Lóegure fled back to Emuin, leaving his horses and his charioteer and his weapons behind.

  Not long afterwards, Conall Cernach took the same route and arrived at the same plain where the druidic mist had fallen upon Lóegure. The same thick, dark, heavy clouds confronted Conall, so that he could see neither the sky nor the ground. He leapt down, then, and his charioteer turned the horses out into the same meadow, and soon they saw the giant coming towards them. The giant asked the lad who his master was, and the lad answered ‘Conall Cernach.’ ‘A good man he,’ said the giant, and he raised his club and gave the lad a blow from head to toe. The lad cried out, and Conall came running; Conall and the giant wrestled, but the latter had the stronger holds, so Conall fled, just as Lóegure had done, leaving behind his horses and his charioteer and his weapons.

  After that, Cú Chulaind took the same route and arrived at the plain where the dark mist fell, just as before; he leapt down, Lóeg turned the horses out into the meadow. Soon Lóeg saw the giant coming towards him and asking him who his master was, and he answered ‘Cú Chulaind.’ ‘A good man he,’ said the giant, and he struck Lóeg with his club. Lóeg cried out, and Cú Chulaind came and wrestled with the giant; they pounded away at each other until the giant was worsted and forfeited his horses and chariot. Cú Chulaind took these, and his opponent’s weapons, and bore them back to Emuin Machae in great triumph, presenting them as evidence of his victory.

  ‘Yours is the champion’s portion,’ Bricriu then said to Cú Chulaind, ‘for it is clear that no one else’s deeds deserve comparison with yours.’ But Lóegure and Conall said ‘Not true, Bricriu. We know that it was one of his friends from the Síde who came to play tricks on us and do us out of the champion’s portion. We will not acknowledge his superiority on that account.’ Conchubur and Fergus and the Ulaid failed to resolve the dispute, so they decided to seek out either Cú Ruí son of Dáre or Ailill and Medb at Crúachu. The Ulaid assembled in council to discuss the pride and haughtiness of the three champions, and their decision was that the three should go to the house of Ailill son of Mágu and Medb in Crúachu for a judgement as to the champion’s portion and the dispute of the women.

  Handsome and graceful and effortless the procession of the Ulaid to Crúachu; Cú Chulaind, however, lagged behind the hosts, for he was entertaining the women of Ulaid with his feats of nine apples and nine javelins and nine knives, no one feat interfering with either of the others. His charioteer, Lóeg son of Ríangabur, went to where he was performing these feats and said ‘Pitiful wretch, your valour and your weaponry have disappeared, and the champion’s portion has gone with it, for the Ulaid have long since reached Crúachu. ‘I had not noticed that, Lóeg. Yoke up the chariot, then,’ said Cú Chulaind. By that time, the rest of the Ulaid had already reached Mag mBreg, but, after being scolded by his charioteer, Cú Chulaind travelled with such speed that the Líath Machae and the Dub Sainglend drew his chariot from Dún Rudrige across the length of Conchubur’s province, across Slíab Fúait and Mag mBreg, and reached Crúachu before either Lóegure or Conall.

  By reason of the speed and noise with which Conchubur and the warriors and chieftains of Ulaid reached Crúachu, the latter was badly shaken; weapons fell from their racks on the walls, and the host in the stronghold trembled like rushes in a river. Thereupon Medb said ‘Since the day I took possession of Crúachu, I have never heard thunder from a clear sky.’ Findabair, the daughter of Ailill and Medb, went up to the balcony over the outer door of the fort, and she said ‘I see a chariot on the plain, dear mother.’ ‘Describe it,’ said Medb, ‘its form and appearance and equipment, the shape of its men, the colour of its horses and the manner of its arrival.’ ‘I see a chariot with two horses,’ said Findabair, ‘and they are furious, dapple grey, identical in form and colour and excellence and triumph and speed and leaping, sharp-eared, high-headed, high-spirited, wild, sinuous, narrow-nostrilled, flowing-maned, broad-chested, spotted all over, narrow-girthed, broad-backed, aggressive and with curly manes and tails. The chariot is of spruce and wicker, with black, smooth-turning wheels and beautifully woven reins; it has hard, blade-straight poles, a glistening new body, a curved yoke of pure silver, and pure yellow braided reins. The man has long, braided, yellow hair with three colours on it: dark brown at the base, blood red in the middle and golden yellow at the tip. Three circlets on his head, each in its proper place next to the others. A fair scarlet tunic round him and embroidered with gold and silver; a speckled shield with a border of white gold in his hand; a barbed, five-pointed spike in his red-flaming fist. A flock of wild birds above the frame of his chariot.’

  ‘We recognize that man by his description,’ said Medb. ‘I swear by what my people swear by, if it is in anger and rage that Lóegure Búadach comes to us, his sharp blade will cut us to the ground like leeks; a nice slaughter he will bring upon the host here at Crúachu unless his strength and ardour and fury are heeded and his anger is diminished.’

  ‘I see another chariot on the plain, dear mother,’ said Findabair, ‘and it looks no worse.’ ‘Describe it,’ said Medb. ‘I see one of a pair of horses,’ Findabair said, ‘white-faced, copper-coloured, hardy, swift, fiery, bounding, broad-hooved, broad-chested, taking strong victorious strides across fords and estuaries and difficulties and winding roads and plains and glens, frenzied after a drunken victory like a bird in flight; my noble eye cannot describe the step by which it careers on its jealous course. The other horse is red, with a firmly braided mane, a broad back and forehead and a narrow girth; it is fierce, intense, strong and vicious, coursing over wide plains and rough and heavy terrain; it finds no difficulty in wooded land. The chariot is of spruce and wicker with wheels of white bronze, poles of pure silver, a noble, creaking frame, a haughty, curved yoke and reins with pure yellow fringes. The man has long, braided, beautiful hair; his face is half red and half white and bright and glistening all over. His cloak is blue and dark crimson. In one hand, a dark shield with a yellow boss and an edge of serrated bronze; in the other, which burns red, a red-burning spear. A flock of wild birds above the frame of his dusky chariot.’

  ‘We recognize that man by his description,’ said Medb. ‘I swear by what my people swear by, we will be sliced up the way speckled fish are sliced by iron flails against bright red stones – those are the small pieces Conall Ce
rnach will cut us into if he is raging.’

  ‘I see yet another chariot on the plain,’ said Findabair. ‘Describe it,’ said Medb. ‘One horse,’ said Findabair, ‘is grey, broad-thighed, fierce, swift, flying, ferocious, war-leaping, long-maned, noisy and thundering, curly-maned, high-headed, broad-chested; there shine the huge clods of earth that it cuts up with its very hard hooves. Its victorious stride overtakes flocks of birds; a dreadful flash its breath, a ball of flaming red fire, and the jaws of its bridle-bitted head shine. The other horse is jet black, hard-headed, compact, narrow-hooved, narrow-chested, strong, swift, arrogant, braided-maned, broad-backed, strong-thighed, high-spirited, fleet, fierce, long-striding, stout-blow-dealing, long-maned, long-tailed, swift at running after fighting, driving round paths and runs, scattering wastes, traversing glens and plains. The chariot is of spruce and wicker with iron wheels of rust yellow, poles of white gold, a bright, arching body of copper, and a curved yoke of pure gold and two braided reins of pure yellow. The sad, dark man in the chariot is the most beautiful man in Ériu. He wears a beautiful scarlet tunic, and over his white breast the opening is fastened by a brooch ornamented with gold, and his chest heaves violently. Eight dragon-red gems in his two eyes. His bright-shining, blood-red cheeks emit vapours and missiles of flame. Above his chariot he performs the hero’s salmon leap, a feat for nine men.’

  A drop before the storm that,’ said Medb. ‘We recognize that man by his description. I swear by what my people swear by, if it is in anger that Cú Chulaind comes to us, we will be ground into the earth and gravel the way a mill stone grinds very hard malt – even with the men of the entire province gathered round us in our defence – unless his anger and fury are diminished.’