BOOK XII

That evening Maev unto her private tent Summoned the chiefs and warriors and brave men; And they stood round her, leaning on their spears, Holding a council. And Maev said to them: “Unless we find a man to overcome This dread Cucullin, now my heart will break.” Then they all said that there was but one man Fitted to meet Cucullin at the ford— Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, The mighty warrior of the men of Domnann From Irrus Domnann in the storm-beat west; For like and equal were their modes of fight: They by one teacher had been taught and trained, Namely, by Scawtha; so that neither owned Advantage o’er the other, save that only Cucullin owned the art of the Gae Bulg. But then, as was well known, Faerdeeah owned A conganess, a tough protecting armour, The gift of Scawtha ere he left her land; And no edged weapons easily could pierce it. Then there were sent envoys and messengers To bring Faerdeeah straightway; but Faerdeeah Denied, declined, refused those messengers, And came not with them; for full well he knew The thing that brought them there,—to make him fight In fierce encounter with his own dear friend, His loved companion and brother-in-arms, Cucullin. And Maev dispatched her skilful slanderers, And men of irony and calumny, And bade them speak their dangerous lampoons And hot, cheek-reddening satire and invective, To raise three shameful blisters on his face— Reproach, Disgrace, and Contumely—that so, If he died not immediately, at least He might be dead ere nine days should be past, Unless he came with them. Faerdeeah then Came to confer with Maev; for he desired To fall in battle-glory, not by shafts Of coward ridicule. And he resolved To offer every other battle-service, But not to combat with his own dear friend. The hour that Maev and Al-yill saw him come They laughed a full loud laugh of triumph. Then With honour and attendance they received him, And brought him to the feast. And Findabair, Obedient to her mother, brimmed his cup With wine from Gaul, and gave him with each cup Three kisses, tenderly and fervently; And carried to him, folded in her layna, Red, well-stored apples; and she laid them down, And bade him eat, and said that he indeed Of all the men in Erin was the one Whom she could choose to love. And this was true; For now, since Frae had fallen, she had not seen So goodly a man to love as was Faerdeeah. So he grew gently merry. Presently, When he a while had quaffed the wine from Gaul, Maev spake and said: “Good, now, my friend, Faerdeeah, Knowest thou why I have sent for thee this night?” And he made answer: “Here are goodly chiefs, And men of valour and of warlike deeds; And where such men are gathered, ’tis but fit I should be found amongst them!” Maev replied: “Not only so; but I have sent for thee To offer thee great wealth and great rewards:— A chariot costing four times seven bond-maids, And raiment for twelve men, of each right hue, With drinking-horns and bridles and fleet steeds, And kingly srōl and rings of rich red gold, And the full measure of thy barren land Apportioned to thee from my smooth Moy Wee, With a fair share of plain and forest land, To be thine own, free of all tax and tribute, Free from demands for hostings, free to thee And to thy sons and to thy seed for ever, Until the brink of Judgment and of Doom. These shall be thine, and more; for Findabair Shall go to thee to be thine own one wife; And I will give to thee as highest honour The golden brooch from out my queenly robe. These shall be thine, if thou to-morrow morn Wilt meet Cucullin at the danger-ford, And if by thee he shall be slain and die.” “Great the rewards and gifts!” exclaimed the chiefs. Faerdeeah said: “Though very great the gifts, Maev, as for me, may take them back again. I will not slay my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.” They brimmed his horn again, and when again He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine, Maev spake and said: “Hearken, my friend, Faerdeeah. It is an ancient word that to each man His native land is dear. Cucullin fights For his own native land, the land of Ulster; And thou shouldst fight for thine, the land of Connaught.” Faerdeeah hearkened for a while, then said: “I cannot fight my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.” They brimmed his horn again; and when again He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine, Maev spake and said: “Know’st thou, my friend, Faerdeeah, Throughout the camp to-night by every fire, There is no theme for jest and mockery Save this alone, namely, that thou, Faerdeeah, Who hast been trained to arms far in the east By Ooaha, by Scawtha, and by Weefa, Lackest the valour for hard battle-combat.” Faerdeeah heard; and he grew red and pale. For thus Faerdeeah was:—there was to him No ill so hard to endure as mockery And raillery and scorn and mocking words. He paused a while in silence, but then said: “I may not fight my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.” They brimmed his horn again; and when again He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine, Maev spake aloof, apart, in a low voice, According to the ways for great deceivings, And said: “O warriors, it was a true word Cucullin spoke.” Faerdeeah heard her words, Even as she had meant that he should hear them. He said to her: “What word was that, O Maev?” “Cucullin said,” said Maev, “that unto him It would not have appeared too much that thou, Faerdeeah, shouldst have been the first to fall In battle-fight with him upon this hosting. And this is what Cucullin says: he says That he, indeed, would think it little honour To slay thee now, after the true war-heroes Whom he has slain in combat on this Táin.” Faerdeeah heard those well-deviséd words Which Maev devised; and he grew red and pale With wrath; yet had it not been for the wine Which he had quaffed, he would not have believed Those words, as now with anger he believed them. “It was not right,” he said, “that even Cucullin Should speak of me in that wise. Never yet Hath he known cowardice or weariness In me by day or night. But now I swear I will be he who shall be found the first In readiness upon the ford to-morrow.” “May victory and blessing be on thee,” Said Maev, “and all success and battle-triumph.” “But thou, great Queen,” Faerdeeah said, “must give me Sureties and pledges that thou wilt fulfil The promises that thou hast made.” Then Maev Bound herself by the firm security Of six great chiefs and princes. Yet Faerdeeah Paused, and he said: “Nay, thou must give me, too, The sun and moon and wind.” And Maev complied. She gave to him in surety sun and moon And stars and colours and the falling dew And the four winds—that those great powers all, If she should break her word, might punish her. And after that she bound Faerdeeah fast By the same pledges and securities To fight Cucullin on the following morn. So they were bound on either side; and Maev Took from her crimson bratt her heavy brooch Of beaten gold; and kindly, royally, Yielded it to Faerdeeah as a sign Of mutual faith and truth and honour pledged. Faerdeeah then, the feast being ended, went Back to his tent and to his folk and people. Fergus had witnessed all that speech and contract. He went to see Cucullin; and he came Unto that place wherein Cucullin was. “He who will come against thee in the morn,” He said, “is thine own friend and bosom-comrade, Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, Who with thyself was trained far in the east.” Cucullin said: “It is not he, indeed, Whom I had wished to come against me—yet Not on account of any fear of him, But on account of my great love for him.” Fergus replied: “Yet it is right to fear him; For not like others who have come is this Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, Who will confront thee at the ford to-morrow.” Cucullin said: “Here I have been alone Against the hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin, Since Sowin Eve till now when spring begins. I have not yielded one foot in retreat In all this time before one man of them, Save before thee, O Fergus; and I hope I shall not yield before Faerdeeah now.” Fergus went back to his own tent and people. As for Faerdeeah, he had now returned Unto his tent and folk, to whom he told How he was bound by Maev to single combat With dread Cucullin on the ensuing morn. The people of Faerdeeah’s tent that night Were not content and merry and full of joy; But they were sorrowful, dispirited; Because they knew in whatsoever place Those two great heroes, those two battle-breakers, Might meet in combat, either both would fall, Or one would fall; and if but one should fall, They thought that it would be their own dear lord; For now it seemed a thing impossible To overthrow Cucullin on this Táin. During the earlier hours of that sad night Faerdeeah slept a deep and heavy sleep. Then his sleep went from him; and he awoke. All the inebriation of Maev’s wine Had gone; and now in the cold, misty morn The question and the trouble and the sorrow Of that vowed combat scourged and weighed on him. Then he arose, and bade his charioteer Harness his steeds and yoke his chariot quickly. The servant sought to hinder him, and said: “Better by far remain and take thy rest Until the sun arise. Go not yet forth Unto this grievous meeting and encounter.” “Be silent now, my man,” Faerdeeah said. “Thou speakest like a servant. We will go With strength and valour to the ford of wounding, O’er which the Bive shall scream.” The horses then Were harnessed, and the chariot yoked, and forth They rode, and reached the battle-ford; and not E’en yet had the full light of daylight come.

Through the dim, misty light of early morn Maev from her tent had seen Faerdeeah pass. She said: “Does Al-yill sleep?” “Not so,” said Al-yill. Maev said: “Provided that Cucullin falls By yonder warrior, ’twill be well for us If he himself falls too; for this we know:— That if he slays his friend, ’tis we ourselves Whom in his woe he next will seek to slay.”

Faerdeeah and his servant then had reached The battle-stream. “O gillie,” said Faerdeeah, “Look, is Cucullin yet upon the ford?” “He is not,” said the servant. “Look with heed,” Faerdeeah said. “Cucullin,” said the servant, “Is not some little switch or goad concealed Amid long grass.” “’Tis true,” Faerdeeah said, “He is not there. He has not till this hour Heard of the coming of a true war-hero Against him on this Táin. Now, having heard, He has abandoned the dread ford.” “Alas!” The gillie said, “it is unkind, disloyal, So in his absence to insult Cucullin. And dost thou not remember how, yon time When ye attacked rough, battle-skilled Germanus O’er the edge-borders of the Tyrrhene Sea, Thou with the host hadst left thy battle-sword; And ’twas Cucullin who regained it for thee, Slaying one hundred men to reach to it? And dost thou not remember where we were On that same night?” “I do not,” said Faerdeeah. “We all were at the house of Scawtha’s steward,” The gillie said; “that night, with glowing pride, Thou wentst into that house before us all; Whereat the steward, the giant-hideous churl, With his long, three-pronged flesh-fork struck at thee Against the mid-part of thy back, and flung thee Out o’er the threshold of the door. Cucullin It was who slew that churl; and it was I Who served as steward so long as ye remained Within that stead. And that one day alone Makes it not right that thou shouldst boast thyself A better battle-hero than Cucullin.” “Be silent, O my man,” Faerdeeah said. “What thou now dost is wrong, thus, when too late, Putting those days into my memory; But hadst thou spoken of these things last night, Then, notwithstanding Maev’s strong wine from Croohan, Yea, notwithstanding that o’erweening boasting Cucullin made, I had not come to-day Unto this fight and combat. And now, gillie,” Faerdeeah said, “desist from this, and spread The blankets and the skins of the firm chariot Beneath me here, that I may take my sleep, My deep repose and rest. In the last hours Of the dark night I slept not; for the thought And trouble of this combat weighed on me.” The charioteer loosened the steeds, and then Spread for his lord the blankets and the skins; And soon the heavy deadness of deep sleep Fell on Faerdeeah, and he rested there. And now about Cucullin. He arose not Until the day with its full light had come, That so the men of Erin might not say That fear and terror drove away his sleep. But when the day with all its light had come, He rose and said unto his charioteer: “Good now, my servant Laeg, harness the steeds And yoke the chariot. We will now ride forth. He is an early-rising man, this friend, Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra, Who comes against us at the ford to-day.” “The steeds are caught: the chariot is prepared,” Said Laeg, “so mount it: it will not disgrace Thy valour or thy prowess and feats of arms.” Then sprang into his chariot the adroit And battle-victorious, red-sworded hero, Cucullin son of Sooaltim; and round him Shouted the Boccanahs and Bannanahs And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air; And Thooaha Dae Danann raised around him Shoutings and cries, that so they might enhance The terror and fear and hate his foes should feel. In no long time Faerdeeah’s charioteer Heard the dim roll of wheels, the tramp of hooves, The musical clang of swords and spears and shields Beating against each other, and the cries Made by the airy spirits. Then he went And laid his hand upon his master, saying: “Arise, Faerdeeah! for he cometh now— The Hound of Valour. Over wide Bray Ross Fleetly he cometh. Like a noble hawk He swoopeth southward, and is like the wind For swiftness. Not with waned dexterity Will he attack thee at the ford to-day.” Faerdeeah, waking, spake with vehemence, And said: “Hast thou been bribed to praise this man? I think thou hast taken wages to extol The vaunting youth from Cooley. Know thou, then, That he shall find his downfall here to-day.” And soon the charioteer, watching there, saw Cucullin’s comely, four-peaked chariot: green Its pleasant awning, thin and firm its frame. Beneath the one yoke was a fleet, gray horse, With long smooth hair: beneath the second yoke A black horse, tufty-maned and fierce like fire, And like a hawk down-swooping from a cloud, Like a cold gust of spring wind o’er a plain, Or like a deer when started by the hounds On his first chase, were those two noble steeds. As though they trod on fiery flags they came; And the earth shook and trembled. So Cucullin Came to the ford. Faerdeeah on the south Awaited him. He on the northern side Drew up his chariot; and they faced each other. “Welcome, Cucullin, is thy coming,” then Faerdeeah said. Cucullin answered him: “Trusty and dear to me until this hour Those words had been. Now I accept them not. And, O Faerdeeah, it were fitter far For me to speak the welcome in this land. It is my land, not thine; and I am here Defending my own people and their wives And youths and little ones and flocks and herds, All that are left uncaptured and unslain; And thou hast come to combat with me here.” Faerdeeah said: “Thereby I honour thee. What claim or right hast thou to fight with me? For, when we were with Scawtha far away, Thou wast my servant and subordinate, To fit my spears and to prepare my bed.” “Yea, for I was the younger,” said Cucullin; “But, well thou knowest, it is not as thy man, Or as thy servant and subordinate, That men hereafter will remember me. Therefore withdraw in time, or thou shalt find That thou hast fallen in a gap of danger; And edgéd weapons here will hew thee down, And thou shalt never be a battle-chief From this time forth; but here thy life shall end.” “Away with all thy boasting and thy warning!” Replied Faerdeeah; “like a tame house-bird Thou art to me. Ere sun-down, ere the night, Crimson shall flow thy blood athwart thy bridle. Thy head shall be upon a pointed spit, Thou upstart vaunter! I am here at length; And thou shalt fight and die.” So spake Faerdeeah, Indignant rage having laid hold of him. Then, quick, Cucullin said: “O my Faerdeeah, Why didst thou listen to the fair-haired queen? She hath beguiled thee with deceiving words. We, when we were with Scawtha in the east, Went out together into every battle. In lands and forests many and far away We went with Scawtha, learning, practising. And we were heart-companions: side by side, After long toil, we slept our good, deep sleep. A dearer, trustier friend I have not known. We thought that never, indeed, between us two Could there be angry words or enmity. Come not against me now, O noble hero, Faerdeeah son of Daman. Break not so Our bond of friendship. Hold in memory The vow we made. There is not in the world One at whose hest I would do ill to thee.” Faerdeeah paused in silence. Then he said: “It is too late. Too long have we been thus, Contending with words only. And what weapons Shall we select to-day?” Cucullin said: “Thine is the choice of arms until the night; For thou art he who first did reach the ford.” “Dost thou remember, then,” Faerdeeah asked, “The game with missive weapons that we played With Ooaha, with Scawtha, and with Weefa? If thou rememberest, let us try them now.” Then they put on their two bright-bordered shields. Adapted for quick play of skill; and took Eight little lances made for feats of skill, With eight well-shapen feather-wingéd darts, Eight ivory-hilted poniards thin and straight, And eight diminutive bone-hafted spears. And these flew forth from them and back again Like flying bees on a bright summer’s day. No cast was badly aimed. From early morn To full mid-day they cast and shot and hurled, Until their various missiles were all spoiled And blunted on the well-directed shields. Though excellent the hurling, yet so true Was the defence that neither, in all that time, Wounded or injured or made red the other. “Let us abandon these,” Faerdeeah said; “For not through these our fight will be resolved.” “Yea, let us leave them, if the time be come,” Replied Cucullin. And they ceased, and flung Into the hands of their good charioteers Their darts and lances and bright-bordered shields. “What arms or weapons shall we fight with now?” Faerdeeah questioned; but Cucullin said: “Thine is the choice of arms until the night; For thou art he who first did reach the ford.” “Then,” said Faerdeeah, “let us now take up Our straight and shapely, smooth, well-hardened spears, Wherein well-tightened is the flaxen cord.” “So let us, if thou wilt,” Cucullin said. Then they put on two strong, protecting shields; And took their shapely, smooth, well-hardened spears, Wherein well-tightened was the flaxen cord; And with these arms they shot, each at the other, From middle day until the evening fell. Though excellent the quick defence they made, So skilful was their hurling, and so true, That each was hurt and wounded in that time. “Let us leave off now for the present while,” Faerdeeah said. “Let us, if it be time,” Replied Cucullin. And they ceased, and threw Into the hands of their good charioteers Their shields and fighting-weapons; and forthwith Each one drew nigh the other; and each laid His arms around the other’s neck, and gave him Three kisses ardently and fervently. Their horses all that night remained together In the one paddock; and their charioteers Stayed by one fire. Howbeit, ere darkness fell Each servant made for his own lord a bed Of newly-gathered rushes; and both made Pillows for wounded men; and then there came The folk of cure and healing, and applied Succulent herbs of healing and of cure To all their hurts and gashes and sore wounds. Of every herb and every healing salve That they provided for Cucullin’s wounds He sent one half south-westward o’er the ford Unto Faerdeeah. And of all nourishment, And all inspiriting, well-flavoured ale Brought by the men of Erin to Faerdeeah, He sent one half north-eastward o’er the ford To freshen and delight and help Cucullin. They, in this manner, rested there that night.

And early in the morning they arose; And they came forward to the ford of battle. “What arms of valour shall we take to-day?” Cucullin asked; but briefly, courteously, Faerdeeah answered: “Thine the choice of arms Until the night; for in the day now past The choice was mine.” “Let us,” Cucullin said, “Take up our huge, wide-headed thrusting spears; And let our steeds be caught and chariots yoked, That from our chariots and from o’er our steeds We may deliver battle here to-day.” Then they put on two durable, strong shields, Wide and protecting; and they took the spears That were wide-headed, huge; and these they thrust And drove against each other, from the gleam Of early morning till the evening fell. Their steeds were weary, and their charioteers Dispirited; and they themselves—the heroes, The men of valour—they were weary too. “Now let us cease, Faerdeeah,” said Cucullin; “Our steeds are weary; and our charioteers Discouraged and fatigued. Why should not we Be weary likewise?” And they ceased, and threw Their spears and shields unto their charioteers; And each drew nigh the other; and each laid His arms around the other’s neck, and gave him Three kisses; and Cucullin said: “Faerdeeah, My loving heart is as one clot of blood; Almost my spirit has departed from me. What need hadst thou to come to combat here At bidding of the evil-minded queen? Let us withdraw from this, and strive no more. I have not heart or strength for feats of valour, Fighting with thee, Faerdeeah, my dear friend.” Faerdeeah mused in silence. He recalled The strong securities and powerful bonds Wherein he was fast bound by Maev; then said: “O Hound of Valour, Hound of Battle-triumph, It is too late. We may not now draw back; But one of us must fall, or both must fall, In contest at this ford. And well we know What must be, must be. Man may not avoid His hour of birth, nor yet his hour of death; But he is driven and constrained to come Unto that sod where his last grave shall be.” They rested there that night. Their charioteers Lay at one fire; and their horses stayed In one enclosure. And the men of healing Came to watch o’er the wounded heroes there, Putting unto each grievous hurt and wound Their powerful phrases, able words and charms And spells and incantations. Only so Might they alleviate the sore pain, and staunch The flowing blood—so bitter and so deep Their hurts and injuries and gory wounds. Of every spell and every powerful charm Brought by the men of healing for Cucullin, He sent one half south-westward o’er the ford Unto Faerdeeah. And of all pleasant food, And all exhilarating, mirthful ale, Brought by the men of Erin to Faerdeeah, He sent one half north-eastward o’er the ford To help Cucullin. In the early morn They rose and came unto the ford of battle. Cucullin saw a darkly-lowering cloud Upon Faerdeeah’s face that morn, and said: “Thou art not well to-day, my friend, Faerdeeah. Dulled is thy hair, and drowsy is thine eye: Thy freshness and thy form have gone from thee.” “’Tis not through fear of thee that I am so,” Replied Faerdeeah; “there is not in Erin A champion I could not subdue this day. What arms or weapons shall we fight with now?” Cucullin answered: “Thine the choice of arms Until the night; for in the day just past The choice was mine.” “Let us,” Faerdeeah said, “Take up our heavy and hard-smiting swords. Thereby we shall be nearer to our end Than by the thrusting we were yesterday.” Then they put on two long and ample shields, And took their heavy and hard-smiting swords; And they began to hit and hew and strike And smite each other; and continued so From early morning till the evening fell. “Let us forsake this now,” Faerdeeah said. “Let us, if it be time,” Cucullin answered. It was a parting of two mournful men, Two sorrowful, disheartened ones, that night. Their steeds were not in the one fold that night, Nor lay their charioteers by the one fire. In woe and grief they rested that night there.

And early on the morrow morn arose Faerdeeah, and went forward all alone Unto the ford of battle; for he knew That was the day which finally should end Their striving and their combat; and he knew That one of them would fall, or both would fall, Upon that day. And then it was indeed That he put on his battle-suit of battle Before the coming of Cucullin towards him. He put against his whitely-gleaming skin His filmy foo-a-vrōg of kingly srōl Hemmed up with spangled gold; and over that His foo-a-vrōg of leather, brown, well-smoothed. And over that he placed a disc of stone, Huge like a mill-stone; and placed o’er these all His iron foo-a-vrōg, steadfast and deep, Of tempered iron; and all this he did Through fear and dread of the Gae Bulg that day. Then he put round his head his crested cathbarr, Whereon, in the divisions, forty gems Of carbuncle were set, which flamed and glowed; And it was outlined well with crooan-stones And crystal and jewels of light that men had brought From the far eastern world. In his right hand He took his stalwart, death-producing spear. He placed on his left hip his curvéd sword With golden hilt and hand-guard of red gold. He hung upon the broad slope of his back His shield with hornéd rivets, that was formed Of fifty strong concentric rings encircling A central boss of glorious, flaming gold. That morn Faerdeeah practised many a feat, And many an art adroit and wonderful, And many a movement that he ne’er had learned From Ooaha, from Scawtha or from Weefa, But had contrived himself, to be attempted That day against Cucullin. And Cucullin Came to the ford, and saw each noble feat And all the arts adroit and wonderful Faerdeeah practised there; and then he said: “My good friend Laeg, thou seest the noble feats Faerdeeah practises; and well we know That all these arts in turn will here to-day Be tried against me. Therefore thou, good Laeg, If they prevail against me in the least, If I begin to yield or waver here, Thou shalt incite me and find fault with me, And rail at me with sour, disdainful words, That so thou mayst arouse my rage and ire. But if it be that I prevail, then praise me, Commend me, and speak kind, applauding words, That so my hope and spirit may grow the more.” And Laeg replied: “Thus, surely, will I do.” Cucullin then put on his noble garb Of battle and of combat; and he too Performed adroit and accurate turns of skill, And feats and arts that he had never learned With Ooaha, with Scawtha, or with Weefa. Faerdeeah witnessed all those feats, and knew Each would be tried against him in its turn. “What arms of valour shall we take to-day?” Inquired Cucullin; and Faerdeeah said: “Thine is the choice of arms until the night.” “Let us, then, try the ford-feat,” said Cucullin. “Let us,” replied Faerdeeah, “if so thou wilt.” Howbeit, though thus Faerdeeah gave consent, The choice was unto him a cause of grief; For, until then, Cucullin had o’erthrown All champions and all heroes whomsoever Who in the ford-feat had encountered him.

Illustrious and awful was the fight That they fought out upon the ford that day— Those two exalted warriors, those two heroes, Those high-born ones with gift-bestowing hands, Those well-belovéd pillars of all valour, Those keys of valour of the valiant Gael, Those two dear friends, brought to such dreadful fight Through the skilled instigation and inciting And the skilled wiles and slanderous words of Maev.

From early morning till the midday hour They cast and hurled; but when the midday came, Their battle-anger rose and boiled with fury. And from that hour their rage and battle-fury Seethed in their hearts, so that each knew no more That he was fighting with his friend and comrade; But each thought only of the strife and combat. And each drew nigh the other. Then it was That from the very brink of the wide ford Cucullin leapt, and lighted on the boss, The golden central boss, of the great shield Faerdeeah son of Daman held before him. For thus he hoped to strike Faerdeeah’s head Over the border of the mighty shield. But, straight, Faerdeeah with his left elbow dealt The shield a blow, and cast Cucullin back, Light as a bird, on the ford’s brink again. Again Cucullin leapt, and deftly lighted On the great boss, to reach Faerdeeah’s head. Faerdeeah dealt the shield a mighty blow With his left knee, and cast Cucullin back, Light as a child, on the ford’s brink again. And Laeg perceived that thing. “Alas!” said Laeg, “The man who is against thee casts thee now As a lewd woman casts away her child: He flings thee as the river flings the foam: He grinds thee as the mill grinds the fresh malt: He cuts thee as the wood-axe cuts the oak: He binds thee as the woodbine binds the tree: He pounces on thee as the hawk doth pounce On tiny birds: and thou hast now no kin And no relationship to men of valour From this time forth, thou small distorted sprite.” Then, with the swiftness of the cold spring wind, With the adroitness of a swallow flying, Cucullin once again sprang through the air, And lighted once again upon the boss Of the great shield, to strike Faerdeeah’s head. Faerdeeah gave the shield a sudden shake, And cast Cucullin back on the ford’s brink, As though he had ne’er leapt from it at all.

Then, for the first time in their awful combat, Cucullin was distorted with his rage And filled with swelling, as a bladder is filled With a man’s breath; and he appeared to be— To those who watched—some giant, terrible, Strange, and discoloured. Like a Man of the Sea, Or huge Fomorian from the north, he stood In perfect height against Faerdeeah there. So close the combat was, which there they made, That now their heads encountered o’er their shields, And now their feet below them; and their hands Met in the middle part, beyond the plates And borders of the shields. So close their fight, Their shields were burst and rifted from the rim Unto the central part. So close their fight, Their spears were bent and doubled from the point Unto the haft. So close the fight they made, The unseen Bannanahs and Boccanahs And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air Screamed from the edges of their shields, and cried From each sword-hilt and spear-shaft; and the herds Of horses of the men of Erin brake In fright and fury from their rings and tethers, And fled in madness. And the little folk And women and youths and cowardly folk and fools Broke from the camp south-westwards in their fright And wild alarm and terror in that hour.

They now were at the edge-feat with their swords. Faerdeeah found a chance upon Cucullin For one brief instant; and he dealt a blow With his bone-hafted dagger, till its blade Was hidden in Cucullin’s chest. The blood Fell on Cucullin’s girdle; and the ford Was reddened with his blood. Cucullin then Held out no longer; for Faerdeeah still Was striking his annihilating blows, And his long blows, and his great middle blows, Upon him there; and he called out to Laeg To send him the Gae Bulg. Faerdeeah heard Cucullin calling for that spear of Scawtha. He made a downward stroke with his great shield To shield his under-part. Cucullin hurled Out of his palm a short, straight dart athwart The upper margin of Faerdeeah’s shield, And through the throat-vent of his horn-skin armour, So that the point thereof was visible, After its piercing of Faerdeeah’s heart, Within his breast and side. Faerdeeah then Made a swift, upward stroke with his great shield To shield his over-part; though this was help Arriving when too late. And Laeg meanwhile Directed the Gae Bulg along the stream. Cucullin with the toes of his feet received it. He gave a choice cast of the Scythian weapon Upward against Faerdeeah; and it pierced The iron foo-a-vrōg of tempered iron, And clove the disc of stone into three parts, And pierced through all the coverings of his frame, So that each inward part of him was filled With spear-heads of the opening Gae Bulg. “That is henceforth enough,” Faerdeeah said: “O Hound of beautiful and wondrous feats, I fall by that.” The heavy mist of death Came o’er Faerdeeah. And Cucullin ran And closed his hands around him; and he bore him With all his arms and his accoutrements North-eastward o’er the ford, and up the bank, That so the trophies of the victory Might be with him north-eastward of the ford, Not with the men of Erin on the south.

Then on the ground he laid Faerdeeah down. His battle-fury now had gone from him; And a thick cloud of faintness and of pain Descended densely on him while he bent O’er the dead body of Faerdeeah there. This was perceived by Laeg. “Master,” said Laeg, “Hasten away. The men of Erin come; And ’tis not single combat they will give us, Faerdeeah son of Daman being slain.” “Why should I haste, my servant?” moaned Cucullin; “And what have I to do with rising now? The utmost folly and rage of grief is mine, After my swording of this noble one. Would rather he had lopped from me each limb Ere this thing had befallen!” “Nay,” said Laeg, “Triumph, elation, spirit, and delight Befit thee now. At thee he dealt his blows Unfriendly, envious, lamentable. Now Faerdeeah of the Hosts has fallen. Now Maev has received her deadliest grief of all. Hasten away, O Slaughter-hound of Avvin, And heal thy wounds; and when they are whole again, Great joy and exultation shall be thine.” Cucullin heeded not; but he began To moan and to complain and to lament Above Faerdeeah there, and spake these words: “Alas, Faerdeeah! great the treachery The men of Erin did thee! Wherefore now Didst thou lend ear to the deceiving words Of the fair western women? Didst thou think That Findabair would be for thee? As well Tie with a thong the shifting river-sand As think to win her! Unto many more Had she been promised, ere Maev promised thee. But never shall they find another hero Like thee to fight for Croohan—nevermore One of like deeds in battle, summoning The red-mouthed Bive to scream above the slain. And never shall they see the like of thee, Cloud-coloured son of Daman, whose bright face Was like the clouds of dawn. Oh, dear to me Thy ruddy freshness, dear thy shapely form, Thy pure blue eye and yellow-streaming hair, Thy gifts of wisdom and of eloquence! Oh, woe that thou shouldst die while I remain! I have not known one like thee, my Faerdeeah!” So spake Cucullin and was silent. Yet He moved not; but he gazed upon Faerdeeah. And then he spake, and said: “My good friend Laeg, Remove Faerdeeah’s armour. Let me see The golden brooch that pledged him to this fight.” And Laeg removed the armour; and they saw The golden brooch. Cucullin wept and said: “It was not right, Faerdeeah, so to come To fight with me. When we were far away With Scawtha in the east, we thought unkindness Could never be between us. Now, good Laeg, Open the body, and take out the spear. I cannot be without the Gae Bulg.” Laeg Opened the body and took out the spear. Cucullin saw his weapon, red with blood, Lying beside Faerdeeah; and he said: “O my Faerdeeah, sorrowful the fate! I, with my merciless weapon still unwashed: Thou, pale in death upon a couch of gore. Sad—what has come of our meeting here— I, wounded, sinking, covered with rough gore: Thou, altogether dead! Oh, dear to me The friend to whom I have served a draught of blood!”

“Good, now, Cucullin, let us leave the ford,” Said Laeg; “too long have we been here.” “Aye, Laeg,” Cucullin answered, “we will leave.” But still He gazed back at Faerdeeah; and he said: “Now every other combat I have fought Seems but a game of play. Alas! I loved This pillar of gold whom now I have overthrown. Huge, like a mountain, he seemed yesterday: To-day his shadow only doth remain. There hath not come unto a gory battle, Nor hath old Banba nursed upon her breast, Nor hath there e’er been known on sea or land, Of sons of warriors, one of better fame.” Laeg on the chariot placed his suffering lord, And drove a goad into the waiting steeds; And so Cucullin, while the evening fell, Into the blue-black forest rode away, Wounded well-nigh to death. The men of Erin Interred Faerdeeah in a noble grave, With his rich dress and war-accoutrements, And shield and spear and all his various arms. There the green-surfaced hill was closed above him, Beside the ford to which they gave his name.