BOOK IV

That day those many hosts and bands and throngs, Ending their feasting on Moy Wee, had moved Forth on their travel and their arduous hosting. Their travel unto Ulster now we tell; And all the ways they went by; and events That chanced upon those ways. First, then, they went South-eastward from Rath Croohan; and they crossed Moy Cronn, and passed Toom Mona, and the lake Where three bounds march; and at that first day’s end They camped on Cool Shillinny. There his tent That night was pitched for Al-yill son of Mawta. Fit furniture of cloths and coverlets Was ranged in it; and in that plenished tent On Al-yill’s right at pleasant feasting sat Fergus the son of Roy, Cormac Conlinghish, And Feeaha, young son to Conall Carna; While on his left sat Maev daughter of Yóhee; And Findabair, daughter of Maev and Al-yill. Servants, attendants, and distributors Were also in that tent. At eve that day Maev’s band had come the last of all those hosts; For Maev had lingered and delayed that day, Searching for prophecy and knowledge. Then, When she at length had come, she had commanded Her charioteer to fit for her her nine War-chariots (for ’twas in this manner ever, On every hosting, Maev was wont to fare:— Namely,—with two war-chariots in her front, Two in her rear, and two upon each side, The chariot on the which she rode herself Being amidmost of them. For this cause She so was wont to fare—namely, that so The turves and ooze flung from the hooves of steeds, Or flakes of foam flung from their bridle-bits, Or clouds of dust caused by vast, moving hosts, Might not attain to tarnishing or spoiling The flashing mĭnd of gold worn by the queen). The charioteer had brought these chariots then; And Maev had taken a circuit through the camp, Riding—that she herself might ascertain Which of those many bands were loth and slow, And which were active, rapid, animated Upon that hosting. Now she had come (that done) Into the tent, and sat by Al-yill’s side. Maev’s mind within her vexed her grievously That night; and she was troubled and perturbed And chafed and anxious, thinking of those things Which she had heard in way of prophecy. Then Al-yill asked for tidings of the camp. “There is no need,” said Maev, “for any folk To fare upon this hosting, save one folk—The cantred of the Leinster-men.” “What good,” Asked Al-yill, “have they wrought, so to be praised Beyond all others?” “When the others first Halted to camp,” said Maev, “these had already Built up their bothies and their booths and shelters. And when the others had built up their shelters, Those men of Leinster had served round their meat And ale; and when the others had served their meat, The Leinster-men had made an end of eating, And harpers played to them. As thus their slaves And bond-folk are distinguished ’mid the slaves And bond-folk of all Erin: so their leaders Will be distinguished ’mid the battle-leaders Of Erin; and ’tis with that Leinster cantred Each victory will be.” “The better that For us,” said Al-yill; “for it is with us They travel, and for us they will contend.” “With us they shall not travel,” Maev affirmed, “And for us not contend.” “Then,” answered Al-yill, “Let them stay here.” “They shall not stay,” said Maev; “When we have gone from Connaught with our hosts, They will rise up and take our land from us, If they stay here.” Findabair, Bright-beam, Daughter of Maev and Al-yill, asked her then: “What shall the Leinster-men then do, if thus They neither bide nor go?” And Maev replied: “Their death and violent end and slaughter—that Is what I crave for them!” “Woe,” answered Al-yill, “That thou shouldst say that thing,—only for this, That with dexterity and speed and swiftness They made their camp to-night! We will not hide That that is woman-counsel!” Fergus, then, The son of Roy, said: “By our truth of conscience! It shall not fall out so. They are a people Bound to us Ulster-men by bonds. No man Shall give them death but him who first gives death To me myself.” “E’en that we could achieve, O Fergus,” Maev responded. “We have numbers Enough to slay thee and thy Ulster-men And all those Leinster-men around thee. Here We have of Connaught folk upon this hosting The seven Mahn-yas with their seven cantreds, The seven sons of Mahga with their cantreds, Al-yill the son of Mawta with his cantred, And I myself with my own household troops. We are enough to slay you Ulster-men And all the Leinster-men around you.” Fergus Replied: “O Maev, it would not happen so. Upon my side there are the seven chiefs From wide and mirthful Munster; and with each Is his own cantred. I have here with me Two cantreds of the best of fighting-men Of Erin all, namely, our Ulster Exiles, And this same cantred of the Leinster-men. And to these last I have been pledge and surety, Since first they left their native territory, And came to Connaught; and ’tis on my part That they would fight in every place of battle. There is a thing, however, now,” said Fergus. “These men need not be made a cause of strife Between us. It is all one thing to me So that they be not injured. They by me Shall now be scattered and distributed Amongst the men of Erin, so that henceforth Not five of them shall be in the one place.” “It is one thing to me, indeed,” said Maev, “So that they stay not in that strong array Wherein they are this hour.” That, then, was done. The cantred of the Leinster-men was scattered Amidst the men of Erin, so that thenceforth, Not five of them were found in the one place. The hosts next day moved on from Cool Shillinny, Continuing their progress and their course. They passed by Doolough, and they crossed Slieve Bawne, And reached Mone Coltna. There, on that wide moor, They chanced on eight score deer in one thick herd, Which they surrounded; and in whate’er place There was a man of those same Leinster-men, ’Twas he who got the deer, except five deer, Which were obtained by others on that hosting. Across the wide, reed-bordered Shannon next The hosts passed eastward. On Moy Traega next They camped to east of it. Now, it was hard To wield and manage that vast host, composed Of many various folks and tribes and kindreds, And to make sure that everyone should be With his own friends and his own tribe and kindred. And then all said this was the fitting mode For their advance, namely, that each great throng Should be round its own king, and each division Round its own sub-king, and each lesser band Round its own captain; and that every king And everyone of kingly rank should make A camping-mound apart. Further, they said It must be thought of who was the fit man To go before the hosts, and show the way Between the two great Fifths. And then all said That Fergus was that man; because to him This hosting was a hosting for revenge And for retaliation on that king Who had insulted him, in causing death To those who had come to Erin ’neath his safeguard And sworn protection. So to Fergus then The leadership was given, and Fergus went Before the hosts to guide them on to Ulster. Then, e’en as he so led those warlike throngs Toward Ulster, toward the east, on Fergus fell His fervent love for his own land, that land Of proud-high Ulster. Each renowned old doon Therein was known to him. Famed men therein, Who now in resting-houses of old age Rested from wars, had been his fosterers. Famed battle-breakers, war-trained men therein, Had been his comrades in the use of arms, His dear, near foster-brothers. And young men Therein, and eager striplings, and fresh youths Had been his foster-children. And he thought Of one young lad, his foster-son, who dwelt Nigh Cooley—thinking of whom Fergus sent Swift warnings privily to Ulster. Then, By a long, devious route o’er bogs and streams He led the hosts, delaying their advance Toward Ulster, till they came at length to Granard In Northern Teffia. There a while they camped. Again the hosts moved onward, and again On Fergus came his pity for his land And kindred; and again sharp memory Of that young foster-son who dwelt beside The bounds of Cooley came; and then again He led the hosts by a long devious course. Through Northern Teffia and Southern Teffia Southward in loops he went, till he arrived Beside the streaming Inn-yone. Al-yill, then, And Maev perceived that thing which Fergus did. Maev challenged Fergus; and he answered her. “Fergus,” said Maev, “what kind of way is this? Wandering to north and south, in turn we stray Through every other folk.” “O Maev,” said Fergus, “Wherefore be troubled? ’Tis not for the harm Of these your hosts that I go wandering On every way in turn. ’Tis to avoid A certain Slaughter-hound of Moy Mweerhevna Who else would spring at you; and I forewarn you To fear that Hound.” Maev said, “It is unrighteous In thee to work the harm of this our hosting, O Fergus son of Roy! Thou, in thy exile, Hast found much kindness at our hands, O Fergus.” Then Fergus said, “I will no longer go Before these hosts. Let some one else,” said Fergus, “Go on before these battle-throngs to Ulster.” So Fergus yielded up the leadership. The hosts then took the nearest course to Ulster. Through Meath and by the great high road of Assal They went; and crossed the Finnglass, Delt, and Delind; And so drew near the Ultonian outer bounds. On high Ardcullin, at the pillar-stone Which marks the boundary of Ulster, soon Two scouts arrived, the sons of Renc of Croohan. Their names were Err and Inn-yel: and the names Of those who drove their chariots, Frae and Fohnam. The function these men had was, to precede The hosts in every hosting and encampment, Protecting all the clasps, blankets, and bratts, Brought by the royal sons, from getting soilure Through dust or mire raised by the moving hosts. These now, arriving on Ardcullin, gazed Abroad upon the trackless, unknown land— To them all strange and trackless and unknown— The land of Ulster. They began to see, Then, that around that boundary pillar-stone Steeds had been grazing. On the northern side The grass was cropped away e’en with its roots From out the earth. Upon the southern side The earth was licked away down to the stones And flags beneath the grass. And then they saw, Hooping the thick part of the pillar-stone, A new-made spancel-withe, made from an oakling New-felled and twisted: and a graven inscription In ogam was upon the withe. At that, They sat and rested; and their men of music Played to them till the host should come. First Fergus Arrived upon that height. They gave the withe Into his hand: and Fergus read the ogam Engraven upon the withe. When Maev arrived, She asked, “Why wait you here?” “We wait,” said Fergus, “Owing to yonder withe. There is an ogam Engraven on it.” Fergus gave the withe Into the hands of Maev’s own Druids. Then He said, “Good Druids, here is a spancel-withe. Whom names it to us? What now is its secret? What number threw it there, few or a host? Will it work injury to these great hosts If they shall journey past it? Find, O Druids, The secret of the withe.” Whereon the Druids Answered:—“This withe is a delay of chieftains, Misfortune unto fighters, fierce in import. By one man it was flung, who, using only One hand, one eye, one foot, felled from the forest The sapling tree, and firmly twisted it Into this withe and wrote the ogam. And now ’Tis gass to all your hosts to pass yon stone Without their spending here one night encamped, Unless some man amongst your hosts can make A spancel-withe like this one, using only One hand, one eye, one foot, and shaping it From the one stick. And thus the ogam closes:— ‘And I prohibit my dear Master, Fergus, From making it.’” “I give my word,” said Fergus, “If ye shall set that spancel-withe at nought, Insulting him who made it, if—that is— Ye neither camp one night upon these bounds, Nor see that some one from among yourselves Construct an equal withe, using one foot, One eye, one hand, as this one was constructed, Then, wheresoever ye may lie to-night, In house or doon or lodgment underground, That hero will for certain find you out; And some of you will pale in red death-pools Ere comes the hour of rising in the morn.” “Not that,” said Maev, “is it, which pleases us—One to take blood from us and redden us On our first entering yon foreign Fifth, The Ulster Fifth. Rather it pleases us To draw first-blood ourselves.” Al-yill then spake. “We will not violate this withe,” said he. “We will not violate the kingly hero, Who made the withe: we will not cross this height. Into the neck of yonder wide, great forest To southward, we will go till morning. There Our camp and our encampment shall be made.” The hosts turned southward then. With their strong swords They hewed the wood before them, hewing so A road-path for their chariots. Slahta, therefore, “Hewn road,” that place is named. In Cool Shibrilly, Just where the Little Partry is, it is, South-west of Cennannus of Kings. That night A heavy snow fell round the men of Erin. So much it was, it mounted to men’s shoulders; It reached the thick parts and the thighs of steeds, And reached their chariot shafts. One even floor Were the Five Fifths of Erin with that snow That night. And no pavilions and no booths And huts were made that night. There was no service Of food and ale; no eating or regalement Was there; and no one of the men of Erin That night knew whether ’twas his friend or foe, Who was next man to him, till the light came At rising-hour upon the morrow. Surely The men of Erin ne’er before had found A night in camp wherein they had more hardness And hardship to endure than they endured That night in Cool Shibrilly. On the morrow, As the sun rose and flashed along the snow, The four Great Fifths of Erin started onward; And from that territory to another They passed; they crossed the boundary, and passed Into the land of Ulster. Then those two, Who e’er were wont to go before the hosts— On every hosting and on every foray, In every pass and gap and river-ford— Inn-yel and Err, to wit, two of Maev’s people, Rode onward now as always. And each hoped He might himself be first to find and slay That warrior who had flung the withe; and thus Might gain much praise and fame. The hosts moved eastward; They crossed the Duv, the Ohawn, and the Caha, The Cromma and the Thromma and Fo-dromma Which flow into the Boyne. They came to Slane; And passed the field of Slane, and reached Drum Leek; And entered on the Pass through the great forest, Northward of Knowth of Kings. There something chanced. Those folks who were to vanward of the hosts Perceived the chariots of swift Err and Inn-yel Returning toward them, and the bloody forms Of Err and Inn-yel headless, and the forms Of their two charioteers, Fohnam and Frae, Headless, upon the chariots; and the blood From the four headless necks flowed o’er the wicker And frame-parts of the chariots. At that sight The vanguard halted; all the hosts were put To fear and dread and weapon-shuddering. Maev, then, with Fergus and the seven Mahn-yas And seven sons of Mahga, reached the front Which halted; and Maev asked, “What is this here?” “Not hard to tell,” said all; “these are the steeds Of that small band which ever went before us On every hosting and on every foray, In every pass and gap, river and ford. Here are the bodies of the heroes, headless.” Advice was shaped thereafter; and it seemed Certain to them that this was evidence Of numbers; and that some great host was there; And that it was the Ultonians who had come Into that place; and this was the advice There shaped by them:—namely, to send from them Cormac Conlingish son of Conor son Of Fahtna Fahee, that he might find out Who held the ford in front of them. They said, That e’en should the Ultonian hosts be there Upon that ford, they would not slay the son Of their own Ulster king. Cormac Conlingish The son of Conor son of Fahtna Fahee Then went from them to see who held the ford; And twenty hundred and ten hundred men Armed, made the force who went with him. He reached The turlough ’mid the forest, and the ford Whereby to pass that water; and he saw Nothing, save, lonely ’mid the water there, A four-pronged shaft, from every point whereof A head of one of those four slain dropped blood Down to the joining of the prongs and down Thence to the water’s current. And he saw Out of the ford, eastward, beyond, the ruts Of a chariot, and the hoof-prints of two steeds, The track-marks of one man. The chiefs of Erin Came to the ford; and all began to gaze On that pronged shaft; and on them all was wonder As to who could have placed the trophy there. “What name with you was on this ford, O Fergus, Until this hour?” said Al-yill. Fergus said: “Ath Greena; but henceforth, till Doom, Ath Greena Shall be Ath Gowla. From yon bold, rough deed; From yon pronged shaft upon two points of which Ye see the heads of In-yel and of Err, And on the other two the heads of Frae And Fohnam, this famed ford shall now be called Ath Gowla, ‘Ford of the forked tree.’” Then Fergus Said to Maev’s Druid, “O Druid, Pleasing One, What is yon ogam on the shaft? And were they Few or a host who dug this turlough-bed, Planting it there?” The Druid answered him, “That four-pronged tree which I see there, O Fergus, By one man it was cut: with one swift sword-sweep He cut it, root and branches. And he cast it With a choice cast from off the hinder-part Of his war-chariot, using one hand alone; And its two-thirds went firm into the earth; So that one-third of it alone is there Outside the earth. And he dug not its road Before it with his sword; but through the stones And flags and gravel of the turlough-bed It pierced its road. And to the men of Erin ’Tis gass to reach the mid-part of yon ford Before one man amongst themselves has drawn it Out of its bed, using one hand alone, Even as with one hand alone ’twas cast Into yon ford but now.” Al-yill then said: “There is much wonder and perplexity With me, O Fergus, owing to the speed Wherewith those four were slain.” Fergus replied: “Fitter it were to marvel at the skill Wherewith yon shaft was hurled; and this I tell you— If ye shall set that four-pronged tree at nought, Insulting him who hurled it—if ye pass This ford without that one among yourselves Have drawn this shaft, using one hand alone, Even as with one hand alone ’twas hurled Into the ford but now—then verily Wherever ye may make your camp to-night, He whom ye so insult will visit you, And many will be slain, as these were slain, Ere comes the hour of rising in the morn.” “Thou art thyself of these our hosts, O Fergus,” Said Maev. “Avert this hindrance. Pluck us up This pole from out the ford.” “Bring me a chariot,” Said Fergus, “Ye shall see whether ’tis true That with one curvéd sword-sweep it was cut, Both root and head.” A chariot then was brought To Fergus; and he stood on it, and gave A strong pull at the pole: and of the chariot He made small bits and pieces. “Bring me a chariot,” Said Fergus; and they brought a second chariot To Fergus; and he gave a stronger pull At the fixed pole, but made small bits and pieces And splinters of the chariot. “Bring me a chariot,” Cried Fergus. A third chariot then was brought; And Fergus put forth powerful strength and effort To draw the pole; but made crushed bits and pieces And fragments of that chariot. Seven and ten Chariots of Connaught, each after each, men brought; And of them all, each after each, great Fergus Made broken, bruiséd bits, splinters, and fragments, But had not yet been able to drag up The pole from midmost of the ford. Then Maev Cried to him, interposing: “Good, now, leave it, O Fergus. Be no longer breaking down The chariots of our people. Well we know That hadst thou not been with us on this hosting, On this occasion, we long since had reached The Ultonians, and had driven forth great prey Of captives and of kine. And well we know Why thou art acting thus. It is to stay And to delay the advance of our great hosts, Until the Ultonians rise from out their Kesh, And haste to give us battle, the great battle, The battle of the Táin.” Then Fergus cried, “Bring me my own good chariot.” And men brought To Fergus his own chariot. He put forth The utmost measure of his strength and effort; And not a pole or shaft or wheel or frame-bit Of that good chariot cried, grated, or groaned. Though great the prowess and the hero-strength Wherewith the pole was cast into the ford By him who cast it, yet with equal strength And equal prowess it was now plucked up Out of the ford again by that renowned, Famed battle-warrior and that hurdle-fence Against a hundred, that strong-smiting hammer, That foeman of vast hosts, that cutter-off Of multitudes, that flaming link, that chief Of huge battalions. Fergus drew it up With his one hand, steadily, till it reached His shoulder’s level; and he took and gave it Into the hands of Al-yill. Al-yill gazed Upon the pole, and scrutinized it. “True,” Said he, “I see that with one cut, one stroke, This has been finished, foot and head. This tells us The nature and the training of that people Toward whom we go. Go we to-day no further; But let our tents and booths be placed for us: Let pleasant food and ale be served to us: Let music and old lays be sung to us: Let us have banqueting and mirth. For never On any hosting did the men of Erin Meet with a night of camping in a camp, Wherein they had more dolour to endure Than they endured last night in Cool Shibrilly In the thick-driving snow.” A camp was made Beside Ath Gowla then. Bondmen and serfs From out the forest carried kindling-wood For fires, and young trees and bending boughs For bothies and for shelters: all began To broil their food and to make hot their ale. Maev made the circuit of the camp: whereon, She, seeing that thronged camp within the bounds Of Ulster, much exulted. “For when Conor Hears of this thing,” said she, “’twill be to him A fire within his heart, a gnawing cancer Beside his girdle.” So Maev thought, exulting. And Al-yill spake to Frae the son of Eedath. “O Frae,” said Al-yill, “bring thy three musicians— Thy three melodious and far-famed musicians— And let them play for us.” “Yea, let them play,” Frae said; and then those harpers were led forth. And the first harper touched his strings and played The mournful Goltree, the deep weeping-song, Until twelve men amongst Maev’s household troops, Hearing it, died with wailing and with grief. The second harper touched his strings and played The merry Gantree, the fresh laughing-song, So that the men around forgot their woe In laughter, and enjoyment, and delight. Last, the third harper touched his strings and played The Sooantree, the low, sweet sleeping-song,— Until on all the weary men around A sleep of soothingness descended. So, Slept those o’er-weary hosts. Howbeit, not yet Slept the great chieftains; but in Al-yill’s tent Of ample wideness, round the glowing brands Assembled, they conversed. Then Al-yill spake, The while they sat thus in the kingly tent,— “There is with me,” said he, “marvel and wonder As to who came to-day unto these bounds, Slaying those four who ever went before us On every hosting. Tell us, is it likely That it was Conor son of Fahtna Fahee, High-king of Ulster?” “Verily,” said Fergus, “It is not likely. Had it been great Conor Who came there, there had come along with him Those culled, choice bands and troops, which are the best Amongst the men of Erin, and which serve him Continually. Though the men of Erin, Together with the men of Alba, Britain, And Saxon-land should gather in one stead, One meeting-place, one course, one camp, one hill, Over against him, he would give them battle; Before him they would be defeated, scattered, And not o’er him would they gain victory.” “Who, then,” asked Al-yill, “was it? Is it likely That it was Cooscree Mend, the son of Conor, From Innish Cooscree?” “Nay, it is not likely,” Fergus replied, “for had it been the son Of the High-king who came there, there had come Together with him all those sons of kings And sons of chieftains who are ever with him In tutelage and training. Though the men Of Erin, with the men of Alba, Britain, And Saxon-land were gathered in one stead Over against him, he would give them battle With courage, and he would not flee before them.” “Who was it, then?” said Al-yill. “Is it likely That it was Owen son of Doorha king O’er wooded Farney?” “Nay, not so,” said Fergus. “Had it been he, he would have brought with him His goodly forces of the men of Farney: He would have stayed to fight a hard-fought battle.” “Who was it, then?” said Al-yill. “Thinkest thou That it was Keltar son of Oohider Who came there?” “Nay, in sooth, not he,” said Fergus. “He is a bruising quern-stone to the foes Of all the Fifth: he is a head of battle: He is an oaken door against the foes Of all his country! Though the men of Alba, With men of Britain and of Saxon-land, Together with the men of Erin all, From west to east, from south to north, should meet In the one stead, one doon, one camp, one hill, Over against him, he would give them battle: Before him they would be dispersed and scattered, And not o’er him would they gain victory.” “Who was it, then, that came unto these bounds?” Al-yill exclaimed. “I know not,” Fergus said; “Unless, indeed, there came that little lad, My fosterling and Conor’s fosterling, Whom we all called Cucullin of the Forge.” “Ah!” Al-yill said, “full many a time in Croohan I heard thee speak of that young child. Well, then, What may his age be now?” “’Tis not his age At all that matters to you,” Fergus said, “He was more celebrated for his actions When he was but a babe, than even now At his full seventeen years.” “How, then,” said Maev, “Have you among the Ultonians now some youth Of a like age with him, who is yet harder In combats and encounters?” “No,” said Fergus, And spake with vehemence. And as they sat At pleasant feasting in the kingly tent, And drank the sweet, enlivening wine which Maev Had brought with her from Croohan, he began Passionately to praise and glorify His foster-child Cucullin. “No,” said Fergus, “Ye will not find among the Ulster youths Another like him. ’Midst all other youths, He is a ram amid the flocks, a bull ’Mid timorous herds, a high and flaming torch Of a king’s house amidst the little lights Of shepherd-booths. Yea, and I say this, too:— Ye will not find over to northward there, Amongst the mighty warriors of this land,— Hard, dire sledge-hammers, barricades of battle, Huge gates against flood-waters, though these be,— Ye will not find among them all, I say, One of more firm resistance in a fight, Of greater vehemence in rapid onrush, Of faculty more airy, swift, and fresh In varied weapon-play, feats, and exploits Than is Cucullin. No, ye will not find Over against you, in this land ye enter, Another of like power, or a youth Who, in illustrious noble qualities,— In trophy-taking, in the feat of nine O’er pointed weapons, in address, in valour, In voice, in sweet and skilful utterance, In charm, in courtesy, in all distinction,— Attains unto the third part or the fourth Of that which is attained by that distinguished And noble Hound, Cucullin.” “Of this all,” Said Maev, “we will not make too much. One body Is all he has; and it, like any other, Receiving sore death-wounds will die. Moreover, It is the age of a but just-grown girl That ye attribute to him. Not for long Will this young beardless stripling ye describe Hold out against our armies!” “Think not so,” Said Fergus, “for the deeds of that young lad Were even more great and manly at the time When he was but a babe than even now At his full seventeen years.” Then Al-yill said: “On entering a strange and foreign land, To hear the adventures and the histories Of the famed, warlike tribes toward whom one goes, Is pleasant and a pastime. Tell us, then, The adventures of this child ye speak of.” Fergus Began to tell the adventures and exploits Wrought by his foster-child in those glad days Ere the Black Exile; and with joy the tale Of those old, happy days was taken up In turn by Cormac and by Feeaha.