Chapter 21
At these words there was great rejoicing amongst the lords of the Red Branch and all those who listened, and Conor, glad at heart, said, "My three best champions shall go to bring them back from their exile," and he named Conall the Victorious, Cuchulainn, and Fergus, the son of Rossa the Red. Then secretly he called Conall to him and asked him what he would do if he were sent to fetch the Sons of Usna, and, in spite of his safe-conduct, they were slain when they reached the land of the Ultonians. And Conall made answer that should such a shameful thing come to pass he would slay with his own hand all the traitor dogs. Then he sent for Cuchulainn, and to him put the same question, and, in angry scorn, the young hero replied that even Conor himself would not be safe from his vengeance were such a deed of black treachery to be performed.
"Well did I know thou didst bear me no love," said Conor, and black was his brow.
He called for Fergus then, and Fergus, sore troubled, made answer that were there to be such a betrayal, the king alone would be held sacred from his vengeance.
Then Conor gladly gave Fergus command to go to Alba as his emissary, and to fetch back with him the three brothers and Deirdrê the Beautiful.
"Thy name of old was Honeymouth," he said, "so I know well that with guile thou canst bring them to Erin. And when thou shalt have returned with them, send them forward, but stay thyself at the house of Borrach. Borrach shall have warning of thy coming."
This he said, because to Fergus and to all the other of the Red Branch, a _geasa_, or pledge, was sacrosanct. And well he knew that Fergus had as one of his _geasa_ that he would never refuse an invitation to a feast.
Next day Fergus and his two sons, Illann the Fair and Buinne the Red, set out in their galley for the dun of the Sons of Usna on Loch Etive.
The day before their hurried flight from Erin, Ainle and Ardan had been playing chess in their dun with Conor, the king. The board was of fair ivory, and the chessmen were of red-gold, wrought in strange devices. It had come from the mysterious East in years far beyond the memory of any living man, and was one of the dearest of Conor's possessions. Thus, when Ainle and Ardan carried off the chess-board with them in their flight, after the loss of Deirdrê, that was the loss that gave the king the greatest bitterness. Now it came to pass that as Naoise and Deirdrê were sitting in front of their dun, the little waves of Loch Etive lapping up on the seaweed, yellow as the hair of Deirdrê, far below, and playing chess at this board, they heard a shout from the woods down by the shore where the hazels and birches grew thick.
"That is the voice of a man of Erin!" said Naoise, and stopped in his game to listen.
But Deirdrê said, very quickly: "Not so! It is the voice of a Gael of Alba."
Yet so she spoke that she might try to deceive her own heart, that even then was chilled by the black shadow of an approaching evil. Then came another shout, and yet a third. And when they heard the third shout, there was no doubt left in their minds, for they all knew the voice for that of Fergus, the son of Rossa the Red. And when Ardan hastened down to the harbour to greet him, Deirdrê confessed to Naoise why she had refused at first to own that it was a voice from Erin that she heard.
"I saw in a dream last night," she said, "three birds that flew hither from Emain Macha, carrying three sips of honey in their beaks. The honey they left with us, but took away three sips of blood."
And Naoise said: "What then, best beloved, dost thou read from this dream of thine?"
And Deirdrê said: "I read that Fergus comes from Conor with honeyed words of peace, but behind his treacherous words lies death."
As they spake, Ardan and Fergus and his following climbed up the height where the bog-myrtle and the heather and sweet fern yielded their sweetest incense as they were wounded under their firm tread.
And when Fergus stood before Deirdrê and Naoise, the man of her heart, he told them of Conor's message, and of the peace and the glory that awaited them in Erin if they would but listen to the words of welcome that he brought.
Then said Naoise: "I am ready." But his eyes dared not meet the sea-blue eyes of Deirdrê, his queen.
"Knowest thou that my pledge is one of honour?" asked Fergus.
"I know it well," said Naoise.
So in joyous feasting was that night spent, and only over the heart of Deirdrê hung that black cloud of sorrow to come, of woe unspeakable.
When the golden dawn crept over the blue hills of Loch Etive, and the white-winged birds of the sea swooped and dived and cried in the silver waters, the galley of the Sons of Usna set out to sea.
And Deirdrê, over whom hung a doom she had not the courage to name, sang a song at parting:
THE LAY OF DEIRDRE
"Beloved land, that Eastern land, Alba, with its wonders. O that I might not depart from it, But that I go with Naoise.
Beloved is Dunfidgha and Dun Fin; Beloved the Dun above them; Beloved is Innisdraighende;[18] And beloved Dun Suibhne.[19]
Coillchuan! O Coillchuan! Where Ainnle would, alas! resort; Too short, I deem, was then my stay With Ainnle in Oirir Alban.
Glenlaidhe![20] O Glenlaidhe! I used to sleep by its soothing murmur; Fish, and flesh of wild boar and badger, Was my repast in Glenlaidhe.
Glenmasan! O Glenmasan![21] High its herbs, fair its boughs. Solitary was the place of our repose On grassy Invermasan.
Gleneitche![22] O Gleneitche! There was raised my earliest home. Beautiful its woods on rising, When the sun struck on Gleneitche.
Glen Urchain![23] O Glen Urchain! It was the straight glen of smooth ridges, Not more joyful was a man of his age Than Naoise in Glen Urchain.
Glendaruadh![24] O Glendaruadh! My love each man of its inheritance. Sweet the voice of the cuckoo, on bending bough, On the hill above Glendaruadh.
Beloved is Draighen and its sounding shore; Beloved is the water o'er the pure sand. O that I might not depart from the east, But that I go with my beloved!"
_Translated by W. F. Skene, LL.D._
Thus they fared across the grey-green sea betwixt Alba and Erin, and when Ardan and Ainle and Naoise heard the words of the song of Deirdrê, on their hearts also descended the strange sorrow of an evil thing from which no courage could save them.
At Ballycastle, opposite Rathlin Island, where a rock on the shore ("Carraig Uisneach") still bears the name of the Sons of Usna, Fergus and the returned exiles landed. And scarcely were they out of sight of the shore when a messenger came to Fergus, bidding him to a feast of ale at the dun of Borrach. Then Fergus, knowing well that in this was the hand of Conor and that treachery was meant, reddened all over with anger and with shame. But yet he dared not break his _geasa_, even although by holding to it the honour he had pledged to the three brothers for their safe-conduct and that of Deirdrê was dragged through the mire. He therefore gave them his sons for escort and went to the feast at the dun of Borrach, full well knowing that Deirdrê spoke truth when she told him sadly that he had sold his honour. The gloomy forebodings that had assailed the heart of Deirdrê ere they had left Loch Etive grew ever the stronger as they went southwards. She begged Naoise to let them go to some place of safety and there wait until Fergus had fulfilled his _geasa_ and could rejoin them and go with them to Emain Macha. But the Sons of Usna, strong in the knowledge of their own strength, and simply trustful of the pledged word of Conor and of Fergus, laughed at her fears, and continued on their way. Dreams of dread portent haunted her sleep, and by daytime her eyes in her white face looked like violets in the snow. She saw a cloud of blood always hanging over the beautiful Sons of Usna, and all of them she saw, and Illann the Fair, with their heads shorn off, gory and awful. Yet no pleading words could prevail upon Naoise. His fate drove him on.
"To Emain Macha we must go, my beloved," he said. "To do other than this would be to show that we have fear, and fear we have none."
Thus at last did they arrive at Emain Macha, and with courteous welcome Conor sent them word that the house of the heroes of the Red Branch was to be theirs that night. And although the place the king had chosen for their lodgment confirmed all the intuitions and forebodings of Deirdrê, the evening was spent by in good cheer, and Deirdrê had the joy of a welcome there from her old friend Lavarcam. For to Lavarcam Conor had said: "I would have thee go to the House of the Red Branch and bring me back tidings if the beauty of Deirdrê has waned, or if she is still the most beautiful of all women."
And when Lavarcam saw her whom she had loved as a little child, playing chess with her husband at the board of ivory and gold, she knew that love had made the beauty of Deirdrê blossom, and that she was now more beautiful than the words of any man or woman could tell. Nor was it possible for her to be a tool for Conor when she looked in the starry eyes of Deirdrê, and so she poured forth warning of the treachery of Conor, and the Sons of Usna knew that there was truth in the dreams of her who was the queen of their hearts. And even as Lavarcam ceased there came to the eyes of Deirdrê a vision such as that of Cathbad the Druid on the night of her birth.
"I see three torches quenched this night," she said. "And these three torches are the Three Torches of Valour among the Gael, and their names are the names of the Sons of Usna. And more bitter still is this sorrow, because that the Red Branch shall ultimately perish through it, and Uladh itself be overthrown, and blood fall this way and that as the whirled rains of winter."
Fiona Macleod.
Then Lavarcam went her way, and returned to the palace at Emain Macha and told Conor that the cruel winds and snows of Alba had robbed Deirdrê of all her loveliness, so that she was no more a thing to be desired. But Naoise had said to Deirdrê when she foretold his doom: "Better to die for thee and for thy deathless beauty than to have lived without knowledge of thee and thy love," and it may have been that some memory of the face of Deirdrê, when she heard these words, dwelt in the eyes of Lavarcam and put quick suspicion into the evil heart of the king. For when Lavarcam had gone forth, well pleased that she had saved her darling, Conor sent a spy--a man whose father and three brothers had fallen in battle under the sword of Naoise--that he might see Deirdrê and confirm or contradict the report of Lavarcam. And when this man reached the house of the Red Branch, he found that the Sons of Usna had been put on their guard, for all the doors and windows were barred. Thus he climbed to a narrow upper window and peered in. There, lying on the couches, the chess-board of ivory and gold between them, were Naoise and Deirdrê. So beautiful were they, that they were as the deathless gods, and as they played that last game of their lives, they spoke together in low voices of love that sounded like the melody of a harp in the hands of a master player. Deirdrê was the first to see the peering face with the eyes that gloated on her loveliness. No word said she, but silently made the gaze of Naoise follow her own, even as he held a golden chessman in his hand, pondering a move. Swift as a stone from a sling the chessman was hurled, and the man fell back to the ground with his eyeball smashed, and found his way to Emain Macha as best he could, shaking with agony and snarling with lust for revenge. Vividly he painted for the king the picture of the most beautiful woman on earth as she played at the chess-board that he held so dear, and the rage of Conor that had smouldered ever since that day when he learned that Naoise had stolen Deirdrê from him, flamed up into madness. With a bellow like that of a wounded bull, he called upon the Ultonians to come with him to the House of the Red Branch, to burn it down, and to slay all those within it with the sword, save only Deirdrê, who was to be saved for a more cruel fate.
In the House of the Red Branch, Deirdrê and the three brothers and the two sons of Fergus heard the shouts of the Ultonians and knew that the storm was about to break. But, calm as rocks against which the angry waves beat themselves in vain, sat those whose portion at dawn was to be cruel death. And Naoise and Ainle played chess, with hands that did not tremble. At the first onslaught, Buinne the Red, son of Fergus, sallied forth, quenched the flames, and drove back the Ultonians with great slaughter. But Conor called to him to parley and offered him a bribe of land, and Buinne, treacherous son of a treacherous father, went over to the enemy. His brother, Illann the Fair, filled with shame, did what he could to make amends. He went forth, and many hundreds of the besieging army fell before him, ere death stayed his loyal hand. At his death the Ultonians again fired the house, and first Ardan and then Ainle left their chess for a fiercer game, and glutted their sword blades with the blood of their enemies. Last came the turn of Naoise. He kissed Deirdrê, and drank a drink, and went out against the men of Conor, and where his brothers had slain hundreds, a thousand fell before his sword.
Then fear came into the heart of Conor, for he foresaw that against the Sons of Usna no man could prevail, save by magic. Thus he sent for Cathbad the Druid, who was even then very near death, and the old man was carried on a litter to the House of the Red Branch, from which the flames were leaping, and before which the dead lay in heaps.
And Conor besought him to help him to subdue the Sons of Usna ere they should have slain every Ultonian in the land. So by his magic Cathbad raised a hedge of spears round the house. But Naoise, Ardan, and Ainle, with Deirdrê in their centre, sheltered by their shields, burst suddenly forth from the blazing house, and cut a way for themselves through the hedge as though they sheared green wheat. And, laughing aloud, they took a terrible toll of lives from the Ultonians who would have withstood them. Then again the Druid put forth his power, and a noise like the noise of many waters was in the ears of all who were there. So suddenly the magic flood arose that there was no chance of escape for the Sons of Usna. Higher it mounted, ever higher, and Naoise held Deirdrê on his shoulder, and smiled up in her eyes as the water rose past his middle. Then suddenly as it had come, the flood abated, and all was well with the Ultonians who had sheltered on a rising ground. But the Sons of Usna found themselves entrapped in a morass where the water had been. Conor, seeing them in his hands at last, bade some of his warriors go and take them. But for shame no Ultonian would go, and it was a man from Norway who walked along a dry spit of land to where they stood, sunk deep in the green bog. "Slay me first!" called Ardan as he drew near, sword in hand. "I am the youngest, and, who knows, my death may change the tides of fate!"
And Ainle also craved that death might be dealt to him the first. But Naoise held out his own sword, "The Retaliator," to the executioner.
"Mannanan, the son of Lîr, gave me my good sword," he said. "With it strike my dear brothers and me one blow only as we stand here like three trees planted in the soil. Then shall none of us know the grief and shame of seeing the other beheaded." And because it was hard for any man to disobey the command of Naoise, a king of men, the Norseman reached out his hand for the sword. But Deirdrê sprang from the shoulder of Naoise and would have killed the man ere he struck. Roughly he threw her aside, and with one blow he shore off the heads of the three greatest heroes of Alba.
For a little while there was a great stillness there, like the silence before the coming of a storm. And then all who had beheld the end of the fair and noble Sons of Usna broke into great lamentation. Only Conor stood silent, gazing at the havoc he had wrought. To Cuchulainn, the mighty champion, a good man and a true, Deirdrê fled, and begged him to protect her for the little span of life that she knew yet remained to her. And with him she went to where the head of Naoise lay, and tenderly she cleansed it from blood and from the stains of strife and stress, and smoothed the hair that was black as a raven's wing, and kissed the cold lips again and again. And as she held it against her white breast, as a mother holds a little child, she chanted for Naoise, her heart, and for his brothers, a lament that still lives in the language of the Gael.
"Is it honour that ye love, brave and chivalrous Ultonians? Or is the word of a base king better than noble truth? Of a surety ye must be glad, who have basely slain honour In slaying the three noblest and best of your brotherhood.
* * * * *
Let now my beauty that set all this warring aflame, Let now my beauty be quenched as a torch that is spent-- For here shall I quench it, here, where my loved one lies, A torch shall it be for him still through the darkness of death."
Fiona Macleod's Translation.
Then, at the bidding of Cuchulainn, the Ultonian, three graves were dug for the brothers, but the grave of Naoise was made wider than the others, and when he was placed in it, standing upright, with his head placed on his shoulders, Deirdrê stood by him and held him in her white arms, and murmured to him of the love that was theirs and of which not Death itself could rob them. And even as she spoke to him, merciful Death took her, and together they were buried. At that same hour a terrible cry was heard: "_The Red Branch perisheth! Uladh passeth! Uladh passeth!_" and when he had so spoken, the soul of Cathbad the Druid passed away.
To the land of the Ultonians there came on the morrow a mighty host, and the Red Branch was wiped out for ever. Emain Macha was cast into ruins, and Conor died in a madness of sorrow.
And still, in that land of Erin where she died, still in the lonely cleuchs and glens, and up the mist-hung mountain sides of Loch Etive, where she knew her truest happiness, we can sometimes almost hear the wind sighing the lament: "Deirdrê the beautiful is dead ... is dead!"
"I hear a voice crying, crying, crying: is it the wind I hear, crying its old weary cry time out of mind?
_The grey wind weeps, the grey wind weeps, the grey wind weeps:_ _Dust on her breast, dust on her eyes, the grey wind weeps._"
Fiona Macleod.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Now Dunskaith.
[15] Fairies.
[16] The Hill of Howth, at Dublin Bay.
[17] Dale of the Waterfall: now Dalness.
[18] Inistrynich.
[19] Dun Sween.
[20] Glen Lug.
[21] At the head of Holy Loch, Argyllshire.
[22] Glen Etive.
[23] Glenorchy.
[24] Glendaruel.
INDEX
Acheron, 37
Achilles, 71
Acrisius, 105, 121, 122, 123
Adam, 220
Adonis, 178, 192, 202, 203, 205, 206, 207, 208
Advocates' Library, 306
Aed, 290, 299, 300, 304, 305
Ægean Sea, 36, 90, 106, 121, 145, 146, 186
Ægean Islands, 172
Æolus, 144
Æsculapius, 88
Æsop, 169
Ainle, 313, 315, 316, 317, 322, 325, 329, 330, 331
Ainnle, 324
Aix, 287
Aix-la-Chapelle, 287
Ajax, 71
Alba, 295, 299, 307, 311, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 325, 327, 331
Alban, Oirir, 324
Alexander the Great, 135
Alpheus, 102, 103, 104
Althæa, 69, 71, 75
Amphion, 124, 128
Anapus, 101
Andromeda, 119, 120, 123
Angelo, Michael, 203
Anglo-Saxon, 245
Angrbotha, 236
Aphrodite, 5, 13, 14, 15, 42, 46, 47, 49, 56, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 79, 81, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206
Apollo, 5, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 24, 27, 28, 29, 32, 42, 43, 44, 45, 49, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 101, 125, 126, 127, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 139, 140, 141, 142, 145, 164, 165, 173, 185, 186, 187, 188, 190, 191, 192, 267
Apollo Belvidere, 11
Apollo, Phoebus, 19
Appin, 317
Arachne, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89
Arcadia, 71, 77, 78, 197, 211
Arcadian, 75
Archilochus, 223
Ard, Loch, 320
Ardan, 312, 315, 316, 317, 322, 323, 325, 329, 330, 331
Arethusa, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104
Argo, 39
Argonauts, 39
Argos, 105, 122, 128
Aristæus, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160
Aristophanes, 169
Argyllshire, 324
Arnold, Matthew, 228, 239, 240
Aros, 317
Artemis, 26, 27
Arthur, King, 268
Aschere, 256
Asgard, 230, 231, 235, 239, 240, 242
Asia, 135
Atalanta, 71, 72, 73, 74, 76, 78, 79, 80, 81
Athené, Pallas, 3, 4, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 115, 120, 182
Athens, 181, 182
Atlas, 114, 115, 117
Aude the Fair, 282, 287
Aurora, 20, 21
Australia, 220
Awe, Loch, 320
Bacchantes, 40
Bacchus, 40, 136, 138
Baldrsbrá, 234
Baldur, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243
Ballycastle, 325
Bann, 301
Bartholomew, 88
Bavière, Naismes de, 272
Belvidere, Apollo, 11
Ben Cruachan, 318
Ben Etair, 317
Benmullet, 295
Beowulf, 229, 244, 245, 246, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265
Beowulf's Barrow, 264
Beowulfesby, 245
Bertha, 269, 271, 272
Bion, 206
Blancandrin, 268, 274
Blaye, 287
Bodb the Red, 289, 290, 291, 296, 301
Boreas, 212
Borrach, 321, 325, 326
Bowlby Cliff, 244, 245
Branch, Red, 307, 308, 320, 321, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333
Breton, 267
Brisingamen, 229, 255, 260
Britain, 244, 268
Brittany, 267
Brocken, 233
Browning, E. B., 209, 218
Buinne the Red, 322, 329
Byron, 10
Calliope, 32
Calvary, 216
Calvinism, 215
Calydon, 69, 70, 71, 78
Calydonian Hunt, 69, 72, 76
Campbell, Thos., 266
Carlyle, Thos., 215, 216, 266
Carmichael, Alexander, 307
Carraig Uisneach, 325
Carricknarone, 299, 300
Cassiopeia, 123
Castor, 71
Cathbad, 307, 309, 310, 311, 327, 330, 332
Caucasus, Mt., 8
Celts, 289, 306
Cepheus, 123
Cerberus, 34
Ceyx, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 150, 151, 152, 153
Champions of the Red Branch, 307, 308
Chanson de Roland, 266
Chaos, 2
Charlemagne, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 280, 281, 282, 286, 287
Charles, King, 282
Charon, 37, 38
Chemmis, 117
Chinese, 208
Christian, 272, 275, 295, 303
Christianity, 215, 227, 232
Cimmerian Mountains, 148
Circe, 226
Claros, 145
Clio, 129
Clymene, 16, 17, 18, 24
Clytie, 189
Cocytus, 59, 63, 64, 104, 115, 167, 207
Coillchuan, 324
Colophon, 83, 86, 87
Conall, 321
Conchubar, 307
Conn, 290, 295, 299, 304, 305
Connaught, 304
Conor, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 313, 316, 317, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 333
Copenhagen, 244
Cordova, 268, 274
Corinth, 192, 193
Crete, 182, 183
Cruachan, Ben, 318
Cuchulainn, 321, 331, 332
Cyane, 163
Cyclades, 107
Cycnus, 24
Cynthian, 126
Cyprus, 11, 13, 60, 194, 202, 204
Cyrene, 155, 156, 157
Cytherea, 206
Cytherian shores, 203
Dædalus, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 187, 188
Dail-an-eas, 318
Dalness, 318
Danaë, 105, 106, 107, 121
Danaïdes, 35
Dane, 233, 248, 250, 257, 259
Danish, 250, 251, 256
Dante, 16
Daphne, 42, 43, 44
Darthool, 306
Darvra, Lake, 293, 295, 296, 297
Dasent, 236
David, 272
Day, 2
Dearshul, 319
Decca, 304
Dedannans, 289, 291, 297, 301
Deirdrê, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315, 316, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333
Delos, 172, 186
Demeter, 84, 162, 165, 166, 167, 168
Denmark, 245, 251
Derg, Lough, 290, 291
Derravaragh, Lough, 293
Destiny, The Winged, 223
Diana, II., 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 43, 70, 72, 73, 75, 76, 90, 97, 99, 101, 103, 116, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 164, 173, 175, 190, 198, 200, 203, 204, 210
Diana Vernon, 26
Douzeperes, 268, 269, 272, 274, 275, 277, 282, 283, 286, 287
Draighen, 325
Druid, 307, 309, 310, 327, 330, 332
Druid's runes, 295
Druids, 294
Dryden, 45
Dryope, 210, 211