“Tell me, O warrior lord,” he said, “what wouldst thou say or do if I
should send thee for the sons of Usna, and that at my secret command
they should be slain privily--a thing, nevertheless, Conall, which I do
not purpose to do.”
“That could not be done, O king and lord, without a bitter and wrongful
bloodshedding, for I could not do otherwise than put death upon each
and all of the Ultonians who might be with me on that day.”
“That may be so, Conall Cernach. So now, go.”
Thereafter the king sent for Cuchulain. The young champion came to him
fearlessly, for the whole heart of the warrior prince was noble and
courageous.
Concobar asked him the same question as he had asked Conall Cernach.
“What would I do, O lord and king?” answered Cuchulain with proud
disdain. “This thing I would do, and my troth to it: that if thou
through me brought about the death of the sons of Usna, thou mightst
flee eastward to Innia Iarrtharaigh[21] itself, and yet not be safe
from perishing by my hand because of thy deed.”
Concobar smiled grimly.
“I knew well, Cuchulain, that ye bore me no love,” he said; and bade
the hero begone.
Thereafter the king sent for Fergus, the son of Rossa, and to him he
put the same question as to Conall Cernach and to Cuchulain.
“This much I say,” said Fergus, “that never would I raise hand or
weapon against thee: nevertheless, there is not one Ultonian who might
fare forth on that errand who would not get the shortness of life and
sorrow of death from me.”
“It is thou, Fergus, son of Rossa, who dost truly love thy king. It is
to thee I entrust this thing, who shalt be greater in Erin than any son
of Usna. Go forth on the morrow, and remember thy name of old--Fergus
Honeymouth. Of a surety Nathos, with Darthool, and Ailne and Ardan,
shall come from Alba with thee. When thou art again in Erin, go at
once to the house of Borrach, the son of Cainte; and when thou art
there stay, because of one of thy _geasa_ never to refuse a feast, and
beforehand I shall warn Borrach of this thing. Then send forward at
once, and without covenant, and without protection, to Emain Macha, the
three sons of Usna.”
So on the morrow Fergus went forth, taking none with him save his two
sons, Illann the Fair, and Buine of the Red Locks, and a man Cullen to
steer the sea-barge wherewith he would set sail.
It was a fair voyage, and soon the black barge of Fergus sailed past
the isles and headlands of Alba, and came to Loch Etive and the Bay of
Selma, where the great fort of Dun Usneachain lay black against the
ivy-clad heights beyond.
This was in the first heats of summer, and Nathos and Darthool, with
Ailne and Ardan, had left the fort and were among the rocky declivities
of the woodland near the sea. There they had three hunting booths: one
for Nathos and Darthool, one for Ailne and Ardan, and one wherein to
have their eating and drinking. In front of one of these booths Nathos
and Darthool sat, on that day of the days, playing on the _Cemrcaem_
(the chessboard), the very chessboard which had belonged to Concobar,
but which the king had left in the dun of Ailne and Ardan when hunting
near by, on the day before that on which they fled with Nathos. It
was all of ivory, and the chessmen were of wrought gold and in the
likeness of strange kings and priests and fantastic animals wrought in
immemorial years in the Orient.
And while they were playing a great shout was heard, coming upon them
from a branch-hid hollow of the sea.
“That is the voice of a man of Erin,” said Nathos, holding in the air a
golden knight.
“Not so,” answered Darthool; “it is the voice of a Gael of Alba.” Yet
well she knew that Nathos had guessed aright, and that even now were
the footsteps of fate drawing close. For none can prevail against
destiny.
Once more a loud cry was heard, and a voice called upon Nathos and the
sons of Usna.
“Of a surety, that is the voice of a man of Erin,” said Nathos eagerly,
for his heart was fain to see an Ultonian again, and to hear of the Red
Branch and of the fate of Uladh, and as to whether Concobar reigned
still.
“Indeed, it is not so,” answered Darthool, and turning the great glory
and beauty of her eyes upon Nathos she bade him play on. Then a third
cry, nearer and clearer, was heard; and now all knew that it was the
voice of a man of Erin.
“And if there be no cloud upon me,” said Nathos, “that is the voice of
no other than Fergus, the son of Rossa the Red, whom I knew well of
old, and for whom my heart is fain. Ardan, do ye go down at once to the
haven, and bid Fergus welcome, and all who may be with him. It is a
good day this for us, when once more we may hear the voices of the Red
Branch.”
While Ardan went to the haven, Darthool told Nathos she had known from
the first that the newcomer was a man out of Erin, and moreover, that
he came from Concobar, and that his coming boded no good.
“And how will you be knowing the one and the other, Darthool?”
“From a dream that I had: to wit, that three birds flew hither from
Emain Macha, and brought with them three sips of rare honey, and then
that they left us with that honey but took away instead three sips of
our blood.”
“Tell me, my queen, what is the reading you put upon that dream?”
“That Fergus comes to us with the honey-words of peace, but that behind
them lies the shedding of blood, and that blood ours.”
Meanwhile Ardan welcomed Fergus, and brought him and his companions
to where Nathos sat playing with Darthool upon the ivory and gold
chessboard of Concobar the king. As the fair-smiling Ultonian drew
near, he smiled a grimmer smile behind his beard, to see Nathos there
with the two chiefest treasures of the king’s heart--the woman he
wished to make his queen, and the chessboard that had come to him from
some great king’s palace in the dim remote Indies of which the poets
sang.
Great was the rejoicing, and Nathos and his brothers and Darthool
embraced Fergus and his sons, and eagerly questioned them for tidings.
“The best tidings I have,” Fergus answered, “is that I have come to ye
with messages of loving peace from Concobar, whose heart is smitten
by your long absence, and who would fain see in Erin again the three
noblest lords in his or any other realm. Moreover, he has sent me to
you with covenants and guarantees of loving good faith. He has pledged
his kingly word, and I, too, have pledged mine, and ye know well, ye
sons of Usna, that Fergus MacRossa Rua is not a man of light word.
So come back to Erin with me, Nathos and Ailne and Ardan, and I pray
of thee, come thou too, Darthool, wife of Nathos. Great shall be the
welcome given to ye all, and sure it is a good thing to end a feud, and
to put an unwaking sleep upon the sword and the spear.”
“That is a good word,” said Nathos, who was well pleased; but a sob was
in the heart of Darthool, and her lips quivered as she spoke.
“Surely,” she said, “Concobar MacNessa forgets. The sons of Usna are no
tributaries. Nathos is overlord now of a country greater in extent than
all the province of Uladh over which Concobar is king. It ill befits a
king of an isle to go as a forgiven guest to the lord of a rock.”
“That is true,” said Fergus quickly, “Darthool has justice for what
she says. But there is truth in what I say also, and it is a truth
which the sons of Usna know, and will act by, that a man longs to see
the land which is his own land or the land of his adoption. And were
not Nathos and Ailne and Ardan among us as children and as boys and as
youths, and are they not heroes of the Red Branch? Surely, it is a good
thing for a man to see his own land each day, and to rejoice therein?”
“We have two lands,” interrupted Ardan, “we who are of both Alba and
Erin. Nevertheless, it would ill befit us not to look upon ourselves
of the Red Branch first and foremost. So if Nathos is ready to go with
thee, so also are Ailne and I myself.”
“I am ready,” said Nathos, though he kept his eyes away from those of
Darthool.
“And ye know that my guaranty is sure?” added Fergus.
“It is sure,” said Nathos.
That night all were full of joyous pleasure, save only Darthool, who
in her heart knew that the shadowy feet of Fate were all about them,
and that she at least and perhaps none other there would ever again see
Alba.
On the morrow all set sail. As they left the beautiful shores, than
which for sure there are none more beautiful in all the realms of the
Gael, Darthool took her harp and sat back among the deerskins in the
stern of the galley and sang:
“_Ionmhuin tir, an tir ud shoir--
Alba go na h’-iongantaibh;
Nocha ttiocfainn aiste ale,
Muna ttagainn le Naoise_,”
and for eight other verses in the old ancient Gaelic that has lived in
her lament till this day:[22]
Dear is this land to me, dear is this land:
O Alba of the lochs!
Sure I would not be sailing sad from thy foam-white sand
Were I not sailing with Nathos for the Irish strand.
Dear is the Forest Fort and high Dunfin,
And Dun Sween, and Innis Drayno--
Often with Nathos have I striven to win
To the wooded heights of these--and now we go
Far hence, and to me it is a parting of woe.
O woods of Coona, I can hear the singing
Of the west wind among the branches green
And the leaping and laughing of cool waters springing,
And my heart aches for all that has been,
For all that has been, my Home, all that has been!
Fain would I be once more in the woods of Glen Cain,
Fain would I sleep on the fern in that place:
Of the fish, venison, and white badger’s flesh I am fain
That plentifully we had there, or wherever our trail
Carried us, yea, I am fain of that place.
Glenmassan! O Glenmassan!
High the sorrel there, and the sweet fragrant grasses:
It would be well if I were listening now to where
In Glenmassan the sun shines and the cool west wind passes,
Glenmassan of the grasses!
Loch Etive, O fair Loch Etive, that was my first home,
I think of thee now when on the grey-green sea--
And beneath the mist in my eyes and the flying foam
I look back wearily,
I look back wearily to thee!
Glen Orchy, O Glen Orchy, fair sweet glen,
Was ever I more happy than in thy shade?
Was not Nathos there the happiest of men?
O may thy beauty never fade,
Most fair and sweet and beautiful glade.
Glen of the Roes, Glen of the Roes,
In thee I have dreamed to the full my happy dream:
O that where the shallow bickering Ruel flows,
I might hear again, o’er its flashing gleam,
The cuckoos calling by the murmuring stream.
Ah, well I remember the Isle of the Thorn
In dark and beautiful Loch Awe afar:
Ah, from these I am now like a flower uptorn,
Who shall soon be more lost than a falling star,
And am now as a blown flame in the front of war!
Nathos was sad when he heard this lament from the mouth of Darthool,
and Ailne and Ardan looked at each other and whispered that it was
the beginning of the end. Nevertheless, they did not fear to confront
the days to come, for whatsoever the decrees of Fate may be a brave
man does not draw back, but goes forward upon the way set before him.
But Nathos was in a dream, and so heeded little, content too to chide
Darthool because that she laid so much stress on vain imaginings.
The voyage was a swift and good one, and even Darthool’s heart beat the
quicker when once more she stood on the soil of Erin, her own land. In
three days thereafter they came within sight of the Dun of Borrach, and
Fergus MacRossa was glad, for soon he would be able to see Concobar the
king, and tell him how great was his success.
It is a strange thing that a man such as Fergus Honeymouth could be so
blind. Yet had he ever believed in the kinglihood of Concobar, and it
was not till he reached the house of the son of Cainte that he knew in
truth how the high king meant to play him false, and mayhap to deal
treacherously with the sons of Usna. For after Borrach had greeted them
all with affection and heartsome pleasure, he told them that word had
come from Concobar that they were to press forward without delay, so
great was the king’s longing to see them again, and so deep was his
love for three of the noblest of the knights of the Red Branch. “But
upon thee, Fergus MacRossa, I have a feast made ready, a festival of
weeks, and thou knowest it is _geas_ upon thee not to refuse any feast
made for thee: and so as thou wouldst avoid putting shame upon me and
deep disgrace upon thyself, thou must abide here with me.”
At that, Fergus flushed a deep red,[23] and was filled with anger. Yet
could he not refuse, for his _geas_ was sacred: and no man of that age
dared break that bond.
So he turned to those with him, and asked what was now to be done.
“Let this be done,” said Darthool: “either forsake the sons of Usna, or
keep to thy feast-bond.”
“My feast-bond I must keep, Darthool, yet will I not forsake the sons
of Usna. My guaranty is known for sure: but over and above that I will
send with them, and with thee, my two sons, Illann the Fair and Buine
the Fiery, as further warranty.”
But at these words Nathos turned away with a scornful smile.
“It is not at thee or thy feast-bond I smile, O Fergus,” he said, “but
at thy protection, good though thy sons be. For, by the Sun and Wind,
I have never yet had need of any man to protect me, and go now, as
ever before, confident in my own valour and might: and this I say not
boastingly, but openly, so that Concobar and all Uladh may know it.”
Thereafter Darthool and the sons of Usna left the house of Borrach,
and fared southward, with Illann the Fair and Buine in their company.
As for Fergus, he cursed his bond, but nevertheless assured himself,
for, as he said over and over, if the whole five provinces of Erin
were assembled on one spot, they would not be able to break the solemn
pledge of his guaranty.
But on the way Darthool urged advice upon Nathos and his brothers.
“Let us go,” she said, “to the isle of Cullen, between Erin and Alba,
and there await the day when Fergus will fulfil his bond. In that way
he shall still keep the obligation of his _geas_, and yet we shall
escape the evil that I know well awaiteth us.”
“That we cannot do,” answered the sons of Usna, “for we are in honour
bound now to the king. Moreover, we have the guaranty of Fergus
MacRossa.”
“It was an ill day when we came here trusting to that word,” Darthool
replied: but said no more then.
At dusk they reached the White Cairn on Sliav-Fuad, and it was not till
after they had left the watch-tower behind them that Nathos saw that
Darthool was no longer of their company. So he retraced his way, and
came upon her sleeping a deep sleep, though she awoke suddenly as he
drew near.
“Is sleep so heavy upon thee, fair queen?” he asked, when he saw her
startled eyes and pale face.
“I was weary, Nathos. Yet it is not weariness that has done this, but a
dream. I dreamed a terrifying and dreadful thing. I saw thee and Ailne
and Ardan and Illann the Fair, but on not one of these was the head
remaining, but only on Buine the Fiery.”
“And what will be the meaning of that, Darthool?”
“That Buine will leave ye ere death comes, and that a bloody death will
be upon each. Nathos, I pray of thee that thou wilt go straightway to
Dun Delgan, where the great and noble lord Cuchulain is, and abide with
him for a while. There we shall be safe. Listen, I pray thee: I see
thine own shadow creeping up thee, and a dark cloud overhead, and a
cloud of clotted blood it is by the same token.”
“Fair woman, there is some guile upon thy delicate thin lips. Why
shouldst thou see evil everywhere? Be assured that neither I nor Ailne
nor Ardan will turn aside from our quest of Concobar the king.”
Darthool sighed, and remembered some old wisdom she had heard from
Lavarcam: that if misfortune will not come to a man swiftly, he will
seek it and take it by the great boar-fangs and compel it to come
against him.
But on the morrow, as they came within sight of Emain Macha, once more
she gave counsel.
“Ye know well, Nathos and Ailne and Ardan, that in Emain Macha are
three fair great houses of the king: that in one he himself is, with
the nobles of Uladh who are his own following, and that in another are
the wayfarers of the Red Branch, and that in a third are the women. Now
I warn ye of this thing: that if Concobar welcome us into his own house
and among the nobles of Uladh, all will be well: but that if he send
us to the house of the Red Branch, that will mean a disastrous end to
thee and to me.”
They said nothing to that, and when they came late into Emain Macha
they knocked at the gates of Concobar’s house.
The messengers told the king that the sons of Usna, and Darthool, and
the two sons of Fergus MacRossa, were without: whereupon he asked of
those about him in what state of provision and comfort was the house
of the Red Branch, and on hearing that there was abundance of food
and drink and comfort, he bade the messengers return and conduct the
newcomers to that place.
When that message was given, Darthool again gave counsel: but Illann
the Fair was wroth thereat, and the others yielded. As for Nathos, he
said only:
“Great is thy love, Darthool, queen of women: but great also is thy
fearfulness.”
At that Darthool smiled gravely, but said no more. Only in her heart
she remembered what Lavarcam, in bitter irony, had told her once, that
when a man foresaw evil and fore-fended it he was wise and strong in
his courage, but that if a woman did the same she was timorous and
whim-borne.
In the house of the Red Branch the strangers were rendered all honour.
Generous and pleasant foods and bitter cheering drinks were supplied to
them, so that the whole company was joyful and merry, save the sons of
Usna, and Darthool, who were weary with their journeying.[24]
Thus after they had eaten and drunken, Nathos and Darthool lay down
upon high couches of white and dappled fawn-skins, and played upon the
gold and ivory chessboard.
It was at this time that a secret messenger came from Concobar to tell
him if Darthool were as beautiful as when she fled from Erin. This
messenger was no other than Lavarcam. The woman embraced Darthool
tenderly, and kissed the hands and brow of Nathos. Then, looking upon
them through her tears, she said:
“Of a surety it is not well for ye twain to be playing thus upon the
second dearest thing in all the world to Concobar, Darthool being the
dearest, and ye having taken both from him, Nathos, and now ye twain
being in his house and in his power. And this I tell you now, that I am
sent hither by Concobar to see if Darthool has her form and beauty as
it was of old. Thy beauty then was a flame before his eyes, Darthool,
and now it will be as a torch at his heart.”
Suddenly Darthool thrust the chessboard from her.
“I have the sight upon me,” she said in a strange voice with a sob in
it.
“And what is that sight, my queen?” asked Nathos.
“I see three torches quenched this night. 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.”
Then taking the small harp by her side, she struck the strings and sang:
A bitter, bitter deed shall be done in Emain to-night,
And for ages men will speak of the fratricidal fight;
And because of the evil done, and the troth unsaid,
Emain of dust and ashes shall cover Emain the White.
Of a surety a bitter thing it is thus to be led
Into the Red Branch house, there to be rested and fed,
And then to be feasted with blood and drunken with flame,
And left on the threshold of peace silent and cold and dead.
The three best, fairest, and noblest of any name,
Are they all to be slain because of a woman’s fame?
Alas! it were better far there were dust upon my head,
And that I, and I only, bore the heavy crown of shame.
At that Nathos was silent awhile. He knew now that Darthool was right.
He looked at his brothers: Ailne frowned against the floor, Ardan
stared at the door, with a proud and perilous smile. He looked at
Illann the Fair and at Buine the Fiery: Buine drank heavily from a horn
of ale, with sidelong eyes, Illann muttered between his set teeth.
“This only I will say, Darthool,” Nathos uttered at last, “that it were
better to die for thee, because of thy deathless beauty, than to live
for aught else. As for what else may betide, what has to be will be.”
“I will go now,” said Lavarcam, “for Concobar awaits me. But, sons of
Usna and sons of Fergus, see ye that the doors and windows be closed,
and if Concobar come against ye treacherously may ye win victory, and
that with life to ye all.”
With that Lavarcam left. Swiftly she sought Concobar, and told the
king that it was for joy she knew now that the three heroes, the sons
of Usna, had come back to Erin to dwell in fellowship with the Ardree
and the Red Branch, but that it was for sorrow she had to tell that
Darthool the Beautiful was no longer fair and comely in form and face,
but had lost her exceeding loveliness, and was now no more than any
other woman.
At first Concobar laughed at that; then as his jealousy waned he
thought with sorrow of the loss of so great beauty; and then again his
spirit was perturbed. So he sent yet another messenger on the same
errand.
This was a man named Treandhorn. Before Concobar sent him to the house
of the Red Branch he said:
“Treandhorn, who was it that slew thy father and thy brother?”
“Thou knowest, O King, that it was Nathos, son of Usna, who slew them.”
Concobar smiled. “Now,” he said, “go and do my behest.”
When Treandhorn reached the house, he found all the doors and windows
closed and barred. Then fear seized him, for he knew that the sons of
Usna were on guard, and would have wrath upon them.
Nevertheless, still more did he fear to go back to Concobar with nought
to tell him.
So the man, descrying a narrow window at one side, climbed to it
from an unyoked chariot that was near, and looked in. He saw Nathos
and Darthool talking each to each in low voices, where they lay upon
the white and dappled fawn-skins, with the gold and ivory chessboard
between them. He smiled grimly, when he saw how great and noble and
kingly Nathos seemed, and how more wonderful and beautiful than ever
were the wonder and beauty of the eyes and face and form of Darthool.
It was the last time he smiled. At that moment Nathos glanced upward.
Swift as thought he lifted a spiked and barbed chessman and hurled it
at the man’s eye. Treandhorn fell backward, but rose at once and fled,
with his right eye torn and blind for evermore.
When he came to the king and told his tale, and how Nathos was like
a king indeed, and Darthool more beautiful by far than she had been
of old, Concobar sprang to his feet. A red light came into his eyes,
and he threw back his head and laughed; and at that laughing every
man there knew that his madness was come upon him, and that the
blood-thirst was already sweating upon many swords.
“Ultonians,” he cried, “will ye do the will of your king?”
“That will we!” they answered with a great shout.
“Then come ye, and all your followers and vassals, and surround the
house of the Red Branch, and set it in a forest of red flames, and if
any run from out thereof put them to the sword.” As all ran swiftly
from the king’s fort, a high terrible voice was heard. It was that of
the dying Cathba the ancient Druid, and what he cried thrice was: “The
Red Branch perisheth! Uladh passeth! Uladh passeth!”
But none heard him or paid heed, save only Lavarcam, who in that bitter
crying knew well that the end was come.
In a brief while thrice three hundred men surrounded the fort of the
Red Branch, and set red flames about it; and thrice three hundred more
made haste to join them.
There was a mighty onset at the first led by Buine the Fiery, who slew
many, and quenched the fires, and threw the Ultonians into confusion.
“Who is the hero who has done this?” cried Concobar.
“It is I, Buine Borbruay, the son of Fergus MacRossa.”
“I will give thee great bribes, Buine, if thou wilt forsake these
robbers of my wife that was to be.”
“What are thy bribes?”
“I will give thee a cantred of land at thine own choice, and I will
make thee my chosen comrade, and thou shalt be as next to the king.”
Then Buine the Faithless laughed and said: “Better the honours of a
king than the thanks of dead men,” and with that, for all the pledged
guaranty of Fergus and the troth of his own word, he went over unto
Concobar.
But when Illann the Fair heard of this he was wroth. He saw the bitter
smile on the lips of Darthool, and he swore that he would not desert
those upon whom lay the protection of his father’s guaranty.