In the year when Ciaran the son of the Carpenter died, the same year
when Tuathal Maelgariv was killed and the year when Diarmait the son of
Cerrbel became king of all Ireland, the year 538 of our era in short, it
happened that there was a great gathering of the men of Ireland at the
Hill of Uisneach in Royal Meath.
In addition to the Council which was being held, there were games and
tournaments and brilliant deployments of troops, and universal feastings
and enjoyments. The gathering lasted for a week, and on the last day
of the week Mongan was moving through the crowd with seven guards, his
story-teller Cairide’, and his wife.
It had been a beautiful day, with brilliant sunshine and great sport,
but suddenly clouds began to gather in the sky to the west, and others
came rushing blackly from the east. When these clouds met the world went
dark for a space, and there fell from the sky a shower of hailstones, so
large that each man wondered at their size, and so swift and heavy that
the women and young people of the host screamed from the pain of the
blows they received.
Mongan’s men made a roof of their shields, and the hailstones battered
on the shields so terribly that even under them they were afraid. They
began to move away from the host looking for shelter, and when they had
gone apart a little way they turned the edge of a small hill and a knoll
of trees, and in the twinkling of an eye they were in fair weather.
One minute they heard the clashing and bashing of the hailstones, the
howling of the venomous wind, the screams of women and the uproar of the
crowd on the Hill of Uisneach, and the next minute they heard nothing
more of those sounds and saw nothing more of these sights, for they had
been permitted to go at one step out of the world of men and into the
world of Faery.