upon the deerskins near the couch of Darthool, Ailne and Nathos played
at chess, for little did they care to heed the treacherous valour of
the Ultonians. They knew, too, that their hour was come; and being
kingly, gave no thought to that little thing.
But Illann called the troops together and fared forth, and made so
deadly an onslaught that he slew three hundred of Concobar’s men. Then
he quenched the fires, and went back to the fort and to where Ailne and
Ardan were playing together.
“Is that rain that is making a noise without?” said Ailne to Nathos.
“No; it is a humming of gnats,” answered Nathos. “Let us play on.”
“My fate is heavy upon me, Nathos and Ailne,” said Illann the Fair. “I
have done well by thee, but I feel the heavy hand of fate is against
me, and who can withstand fate?”
“No one,” Nathos answered later, when he had thought upon his play. At
that Illann the Fair drank a drink,[25] and went out again. The fires
had been quenched, and there was a deep darkness. So he bade each man
take a torch, and then all set furiously again upon the Ultonians.
It was then that Concobar bethought him of his son Fiacha the Fair, who
was born on the same night as Illann the Fair. There was life to the
life, or death to the death, in that.
So he called Fiacha, and bade him strive with Illann, and gave him the
three famous weapons of the royalty of Uladh--the moaning Orchaoin, and
the terrible Corrthach, and the Notched-Bow.
But for all his enchanted weapons Fiacha did not prevail, and after a
great and wonderful fight, which was girt about by a strange sighing,
the sighing being the breath of the pulses of the watching host, Illann
drove him to the ground where he crouched behind the shelter of his
shield. Easily then he might have slain him but for this:--
The moaning Orchaoin made so great and terrible a voice that it was
heard afar off. The Three Ceaseless Waves of Erin heard it, and roared
responsive, so that all the coasts shook with their thunder: the Wave
of Toth (_Tuaithe_), the Wave of Clidna (_Cliodhna_), and the Wave of
Rudhraya (_Rudhraighe_). There was a great dun on these coasts, named
Dun Tobairce, and there Conall Cernach the son of Amergin lived: and
when he heard the roaring of the Three Waves of Erin, he knew that
Concobar was in dire distress.
And that moaning of Orchaoin brought Conall Cernach on his magic steed
that could fly through the night. He had with him his great sword “Blue
Blade,” and when he came to the place of the strife he moved swiftly
up behind Illann the Fair, and plunged “Blue Blade” into the back, and
through the heart, and out at the breast of the hero.
But when Conall Cernach heard from Illann’s own lips what he had done,
he was filled with wrath and grief.
“Thy faithless summons shall avail nought,” he cried into the torchlit
darkness where Concobar was; and with that he took his sword, and
severed from its body the head of Fiacha the son of Concobar, and
tossed it towards the king. Then, turning his back upon the host, he
departed as he had come.
With the death of Illann the Fair, the Ultonians once more took heart.
They surrounded the Red Branch fort, and again set red flames leaping
against it.
Then Ardan came forth: laughing lightly, and with a proud joy.
The Ultonians saw then what it was to perish as mown grass. And when he
had slain five times fifty, his arms grew weary.
“How many did Illann the Fair slay in that onslaught of his?” he asked.
“Thrice five score,” he was told.
So Ardan slew two score and ten more, and then another score, for it
did not befit so great a hero to slay less than an Ultonian champion,
noble as Illann the Fair was.
When he was tired, he went into the fort, and told Ailne that there was
still fresh carrion enough for a wild-hawk to glut its thirst with.
So Ailne rose from the chessboard and drank a drink, and went out, and
did among the Ultonians even as Ardan had done, although he slew a
score more, for he was older than Ardan, and so it did not befit him to
put the stiffness and the silence upon fewer men.
Two-thirds of the night were now gone, yet Concobar did not withstay
his wrath. For now the whole host of the Ultonians was gathered
together, and he thought to have victory at the last.
But at their great shouting and the higher leaping of the flames Nathos
rose. He kissed Darthool, then he drank a drink, and went out against
the Ultonians.
In that hour thrice three hundred men grew cold and stiff.
Then he slew five score more.
“Go to Concobar,” he said to a man, “and tell him that he has lost a
thousand men over and above the hundreds slain by Illann the Fair and
Ailne and Ardan. And now let him come to me himself.”
But when Concobar heard that, he sent a messenger to Lavarcam to ask if
Cathba the Druid were yet dead; and when he heard that he was not, he
bade that the old man should be brought to him on a litter.
When Cathba was brought, he asked if the king meant death to the sons.
“I swear I mean no death,” said Concobar; “but only honourably to
subdue them and to obtain Darthool. And so I pray of thee to put an
enchantment upon them, otherwise they will slay every Ultonian in the
land.”
So Cathba raised himself, and put an enchantment between the sons of
Usna and the host of the Ultonians. That enchantment was a hedge of
spears, taller than the tallest spear-reach, and more thickset than
thorns on a bramble-bush.
But Nathos and Ailne and Ardan put their shields about Darthool, and
came forth from the blazing house, and cleft a way through the hedge of
spears, and, laughing loud, garnered a red harvest among the swaying
corn of the Ultonian host.
Then there was a strange roaring heard, and a vast and terrible flood
came pouring from the hills. The Ultonians fled to the high ground, but
Darthool and the sons of Usna were cut off by the rushing waters.
Soon the flood rose to their waists, but then it ceased rising.
“The wind will soon blow,” whispered Darthool, “and then the flood will
rise, and we shall be drowned.”
Nathos answered nothing, but raised her in his arms, and kissed her
thrice upon the lips. Then he put her upon his left shoulder, where she
sat with her white arms round his neck.
There was a smile in the blue eyes of Nathos.
The flood now subsided, but the sons of Usna could not move, for their
feet were in a morass. On a dry spit of land close to them a man
walked. This man was Maine of the Red Hand, a man of Lochlin,[26] in
the train of Concobar.
Concobar had bidden some hero go forth and slay the sons of Usna. But
none would stir. A deep shame burned in all. But Maine’s father and two
brothers had been slain by Nathos, and he said he would do likewise
unto the sons of Usna.
When he drew near, Ardan spoke.
“Slay me first,” he said, “for I am the youngest of the sons of Usna:
and it may be that with my death the tides of fortune may flow again.”
“That cannot be,” said Nathos. “Here is the sword which Manannan,
the son of Lir, gave me, and that cannot leave any remains of blow
or stroke. Let this man Maine take it, and strike at us at one and
the same time, so that not one of us may have the shame and sorrow of
seeing the other beheaded.”
And so it was. But while the man reached for the sword, Darthool sprang
from the shoulder of Nathos, and strove to kill Maine of the Red Hand.
With a blow he reeled her aside, and then whirled the great sword of
Manannan on high.
There was a flash in the air, and then the heads of the three fairest
and noblest heroes of Alba fell. There was a long and terrible silence,
till suddenly the whole host of Uladh broke into lamentation. Only
Concobar stood leaning on his sword, and stared at the stillness that
was now fallen upon the House of Usna.
But already afar off Darthool had descried the champion Cuchulain, and
she fled towards him.
“Thou shalt be safe with me, beautiful one,” he said. “Tell me what
thou wantest me to do.”
“I do not wish to live, but I wish to live yet a brief hour, and not to
be taken in shameful life before the eyes of Concobar.” So the twain
returned to where the dead lay. Darthool fell upon her knees, and
spread out the glory of her hair, and put her lips to the blood-wet
lips of Nathos.
Then she rose, and looking upon the silent Ultonians, chanted this
chant:
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.
Ardan the Proud, where now lies his yellow hair?
Ailne the Comely, where now stare his sightless eyes?
Nathos, the king of men, where now is his might, his glory?
Where are the sons of Usna whom ye swore to honour?
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.
And with that Darthool stooped, and lifted the head of Nathos, and
cleaned it of blood and foam, and the sweats of death, and kissed the
eyes and the lips, and put her love upon the dear face, and her sorrow
upon it, and her grief upon it, and put it to her white breast, and to
her lips again, and gave it again her grief and her love.
Then at the bidding of Cuchulain three graves were digged. In each
grave a son of Usna was placed, and as each stood there his head was
placed upon his shoulders.
But the grave of Nathos was made wider. Darthool stood therein and
held his hands in hers, and put her lips often to his lips, and often
whispered to him.
One other death there was in that hour, and in that place.
Cathba the Druid died there: and again he cried: “The Red Branch
perisheth! Uladh passeth! Uladh passeth!”
And so it was. On the morrow Emain Macha fell before a great host, and
was thenceforth a place of ruin and wind-eddied dust. The Red Branch
became as scattered leaves, and were no more. And Uladh was given over
to blood and rapine, and Concobar died in a madness of grief, and
throughout Erin for many years the tides of death rose and fell.
But the sons of Usna slept, and the world dreams still of the beauty of
Darthool.
Notes
I
IN my renderings of the three famous ancient Gaelic tales, collectively
known as “The Three Sorrows of Story-Telling” (_Tri Thruaighe na
Scéalaigheachta_), I have followed Professor Eugene O’Curry (_In
Atlantis_, _Manners and Customs_, and _MS. Materials_); Dr. Douglas
Hyde (_The Three Sorrows of Story-Telling_, translated into English
verse); Dr. Joyce (_Old Celtic Romances_); Dr. Cameron (_Reliquiæ
Celticæ_); Alexander Carmichael (_Trs. Gael. Socy. of Inverness_); Dr.
Angus Smith (_Loch Etive and the Sons of Uisnach_).
These tales have often been retold in prose and verse; and particular
intention should be made of the metrical versions of Dr. Douglas Hyde,
Dr. Robert Joyce (_Deirdre_), and, I believe, of Dr. John Todhunter.
In “The Children of Lir” I have closely followed the version of the
original, as translated by Dr. P. W. Joyce (_Old Celtic Romances_),
and in “The Sons of Usna” the literal prose rendering by Dr. Cameron
and the metrical translation of Dr. Douglas Hyde. These two stories
are told more completely than that of “The Sons of Turenn,” which in
the original extends to great length, as there the narrative of the
world-wide quest of the Sons of Turenn is given with great detail.
Naturally in these retold ancient tales I have often followed the
Scoto-Gaelic variants, both because of familiarity and by preference,
and this particularly in the tale of “Darthool and the Sons of Usna.”
Much the most ancient of the “Three Sorrows” is the tale of the Sons
of Turenn. Professor O’Curry’s version in _Atlantis_ is the basis
of all other modern renderings. The period of this tale belongs to
mythological times. “The Children of Lir” may be taken as a connecting
link between the mythological and prehistoric and Christian periods.
The tale of “Deirdre,” or “Darthool,” is by far the best known in
Gaelic Scotland, and is still the favourite ancient tale throughout all
Gaeldom.
The reader who wishes further information should consult in particular
Professor Eugene O’Curry; Dr. Cameron, in _Reliquiæ Celticæ_; Dr.
Joyce, in _Old Celtic Romances_; and Dr. Douglas Hyde, in his
delightful and deservedly popular little volume.
II
The quatrains and other metrical pieces interpolated here, and those
in the text of the first and third of these tales, are generally free
renderings of the originals. Occasionally they are almost literal.
But, both in the matter of selection and rejection, I have taken
certain slight advisable liberties with the original versions. It
may be as well to add, although already explained in the footnote at
page 122, that the “Song to Macha” is here adapted from another poem
known as “Crede’s Lament” (_vide Silva Godelica_, Professor Sullivan’s
translation, etc.).
III
“Darthool and the Sons of Usna.” Readers familiar only with the Irish
versions of this beautiful old tale should also consult the important
variants given by Dr. Cameron and Mr. Alexander Carmichael. Dr. Angus
Smith also gives a good digest, and readers interested in the Scottish
wayfarings of Darthool and Nathos will find the details given there
more or less specifically.
IV
In the story of “The Sons of Turenn” it is possible that some injustice
has been done to the character of Lugh, the foremost personage in it,
best known in all the Gaelic chronicles as Lu-Lamfada--Lugh of the Long
Hand. In this version he is represented uniformly as sternly cruel; but
it must be borne in mind that his inveterate hostility to the Sons of
Turenn was not due to insatiable revenge alone, but to his belief (as
prophesied by his father) that any clemency in the fulfilment of the
great eric demanded would result in terrible disaster to Erin itself.
Throughout this ancient tale, indeed, we recognise Lu-Lamfada as an
impersonation of Destiny or Nemesis. It may at the same time be added
that in the story of “Darthool” Fergus is shown more obviously culpable
than the old chronicles indicate, where he appears rather as a too
innocent and trustful tool of King Concobar.
V
A few notes as to the less familiar of the Gaelic names introduced in
the foregoing pages may aptly be given here, and the more conveniently
in alphabetical order.
AÉ. Pronounced as rhyming to day: equivalent to Hugh.
AILNE. The older forms are _Ailna_ and _Ainlé_. The latter (pronounced
Anlă) is probably the right name. It is said to signify beauty.
ALBA. The Gaelic for Scotland. The genitive of this word is Alban,
whence the familiar English word for Scotland, Albyn.
BANBA. This was one of the three ancient names of Ireland--Banba, Fola,
and Eiré--the names of three famous queens of antiquity. It is from the
last that Ireland derives its best known Gaelic name.
BOVE DERG (_Bodbh Dearg_). This semi-mythical king was one of the old
Dedannan race, and stands, as it were, midway between the elder gods
and the historic heroes. His name in Ireland is commonly pronounced
Bove-d’Yarrag; and in Scotland as Bove Derg.
CONOR (_Connachar_). The oldest form of this famous Gaelic name, so
common in Ireland, is Concubair, or Concobar. Dr. Hyde says that
Concubair is properly pronounced Cunnhoor, but doubtless Concobar is
closer to the ancient usage.
CUCHULAIN. The oldest form of the name of this great Gaelic hero
is Cuchulaind. The name is pronounced Coo-hoolin, whether spelled
according to any of the Irish-Gaelic variants or as to the Scottish
Cuthullin--but sometimes, as in Skye, Coolin. It is not the real name
of the hero in question. The word signifies the hound of Culainn, and
innumerable references to Cuchulain are found throughout early Irish
literature simply as The Hound. He was a native prince of Ulster,
and lord of the district of Muirthemne, lying between and including
the present towns of Dundalk and Drogheda, now called the County of
Louth, where his chief residence was named Dun Delga (Dundalk). This
celebrated hero, the champion of the knights of the great order of
Gaelic chivalry, known as the Red Branch, was the son of Soalte, or
Sualtam, and of Decteré, sister of the celebrated Irish king, Concobar
mac Nessa (a contemporary of Christ). His name was Setanta, but he
was commonly known as Cu-Culainn, the Hound of Culaan, who was his
instructor and war-smith to King Concobar. The most famous of the
Knights of the Red Branch at this time were the heroes known as Fergus
mac Róigh, Conall Cearnach, Fergus mac Leité, Curoi mac Dairé, and
Cuchulain mac Soalte.
DAGDA, or THE DAGDA. This is a purely mythical personage, and is one of
the ancient Gaelic divinities, among whom he occupies a place somewhat
akin to that of Jupiter in the Latin Pantheon.
DEDANNAN. Pronounced Day-Donnan. This is the colloquial form of the
Tuatha-De-Danann; that is, the elder semi-divine inhabitants of
Ireland, mostly mythical, and in some cases euhemerised. They became
the Hidden People, or People of the Hills, of ancient Gaelic legend,
and later the Fairies of popular tradition, though now the drift
of poetic thought is towards a restoration of the Tuatha-De-Danann
to their old spiritual significance and empery. The term signifies
the Divine Progeny of Ana, a mysterious and perhaps supreme ancient
goddess. The Dedannans were also called The Deena-Shee (Daoine-Sidhe),
or Fairy Folk; the Aes-She, or People of the Hills; the Marcra-Shee, or
Fairy Cavalcade; and the Sloo-She (Sluagh-Sidhe), or Fairy Host.
DUN. This word is properly pronounced Doon, though in Gaelic Scotland
generally Dun. It signifies a fortress or great fortified dwelling or
encampment, and should not be confused with Rath, which is more what
we would call the homestead, hamlet, village, or township, according
to circumstances; or, with Lis, or Lios, a smaller fort probably
corresponding to what we call a keep.
EILIDH. The name Eilidh is pronounced Eily (_Isle-ih_), and is said to
be the Gaelic equivalent of Helen.
EMANIA. This is simply the Latinized form of _Emhain_, or _Emain_, the
capital of North Ireland in the ancient days. The name is variously
pronounced as Emain, Avvin, and Yew-an or Yow-an.
ERIC. Originally eiric, pronounced ay-ric. Signifies literally a fine
or blood-money, and is perhaps best rendered in English by the word
ransom.
FELIM. This name is more familiar as Phelim. The modern Gaelic is
Phelimy, and the older, Pedlimid.
GEASA. Pronounced Gassa. It is the plural of _geis_ (often written
_geas_), and signifies oath-bound injunctions or undertakings. In the
old days for a man to be under _geasa_ meant that he was solemnly bound
to do such and such a thing, or, as it might be, to refrain; and the
bond once taken could not be broken without loss of honour.
ILDANNA. The old Irish word is best represented by Il-danach, that is,
the Master of Craft, or Master of the Many Arts, and is a name which is
specifically given to Lugh Lamfada, Lugh the Long-Handed.
ILLANN. This frequent name of Illann, or Illan, is identical with
Ullin, so familiar in Scotland through the famous poem of “Lord Ullin’s
Daughter.”
LIR. Pronounced sometimes Lirr, but generally Lear.
LOCHLANN. A general name for the whole of Scandinavia, including, of
course, Denmark, and not, as sometimes stated, of Norway only.
LUGH. This name is pronounced Lu, or Loo, and I have so given it in the
text.
MANANNAN. Pronounced Mon-on-awn. He is the Neptune of Gaelic mythology,
but holds a more mysterious and more potent position in the Gaelic
Pantheon than his classical congener.
MAEV. The name of this most famous queen of antiquity is variously
spelt. The original is Meadb, or Medbh, and is properly pronounced Mave
(rhyming with wave).
MURHEMNE. The original of this is Magh Muirteimne, pronounced
Moy-mwir-hev-na. It is the plain from the Boyne to near Carlingford.
MOYLE. This is the commonest pronunciation of the old Gaelic Maol,
though the word is best known in Scotland as Mull (from the Mull of
Cantyre). It is applied to the sea between Cantyre and Ulster.
MEKWEEN. The original of this difficult name is Miodcaoin. I do not
know what it means.
NATHOS. Originally Naisi; later Naoise; and commonly pronounced Neeshă.
NUADH. Pronounced Noo-ă.
OGAM, or OGHAM. The ancient Cryptic method of writing, like the
Northern Runes, chiefly graven on funeral stones or monuments. The word
is sometimes pronounced _Oo-am_, or _oom_, but Ogam is probably right
according to ancient usage.
SHEE FINNAHA. The old Gaelic is Fhionncaid, and is properly pronounced
Sheeh-Innăchee.
TAILKENN, or TAILCINN. This name for St. Patrick signifies Adze-Head
(probably from his monkish tonsure).
TURENN. The old form is Tuireann, and is pronounced Tirran or Toorenn.
ULAD, or ULADH. The old name of Ulster, of which Ultonia is the
Latinized form. Ulad is properly pronounced Ulla.
UR. This name is pronounced _oo-ar_ (Gaelic, Uar). The name in its old
form is Iuchar, as that of his brother is Iucharba, which I have given
as Urba. It is probable, however, that Ur is the modern equivalent of
Iucharba, and Yukar, or Yooch-ar (which I have given as Urba), of the
third of the Sons of Turenn. There is great confusion and diversity in
these old names.
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