"these are the cattle of some good lord. This is my judgment thereof: it
is Conaire, son of Eterscél, with multitudes of the men of Erin around
him, who has travelled the road."
Back then they go that they may tell it to the reavers. "This," they
say, "is what we have heard and seen."
Of this host, then, there was a multitude, both on this side and on
that, namely, thrice fifty boats, with five thousand in them, and ten
hundred in every thousand. Then they hoisted the sails on the boats, and
steer them thence to shore, till they landed on the Strand of Fuirbthe.
When the boats reached land, then was Mac cecht a-striking fire in Dá
Derga's Hostel. At the sound of the spark the thrice fifty boats were
hurled out, so that they were on the shoulders of the sea.
"Be silent a while!" said Ingcél. "Liken thou that, O Fer rogain."
"I know not," answers Fer rogain, "unless it is Luchdonn the satirist in
Emain Macha, who makes this hand-smiting when his food is taken from him
perforce: or the scream of Luchdonn in Temair Luachra: or Mac cecht's
striking a spark, when he kindles a fire before a king of Erin where he
sleeps. Every spark and every shower which his fire would let fall on
the floor would broil a hundred calves and two half-pigs."
"May God not bring that man (even Conaire) there to-night!" say Donn
Désa's sons. "Sad that he is under the hurt of foes!"
"Meseems," says Ingcél, "it should be no sadder for me than the
destruction I gave you. This were my feast that Conaire should chance to
come there."
Their fleet is steered to land. The noise that the thrice fifty vessels
made in running ashore shook Dá Derga's Hostel so that no spear nor
shield remained on rack therein, but the weapons uttered a cry and fell
all on the floor of the house.
"Liken thou that, O Conaire," says every one: "what is this noise?"
"I know nothing like it unless it be the earth that has broken, or the
Leviathan that surrounds the globe and strikes with its tail to overturn
the world, or the barque of the sons of Donn Désa that has reached the
shore. Alas that it should not be they who are there! Beloved
foster-brothers of our own were they! Dear were the champions. We
should not have feared them tonight."
Then came Conaire, so that he was on the green of the Hostel.
When Mac cecht heard the tumultuous noise, it seemed to him that
warriors had attacked his people. Thereat he leapt on to his armour to
help them. Vast as the thunder-feat of three hundred did they deem his
game in leaping to his weapons. Thereof there was no profit.
Now in the bow of the ship wherein were Donn Désa's sons was the
champion, greatly-accoutred, wrathful, the lion hard and awful, Ingcél
the One-eyed, great-grandson of Conmac. Wide as an oxhide was the single
eye protruding from his forehead, with seven pupils therein, which were
black as a chafer. Each of his knees as big as a stripper's caldron;
each of his two fists was the size of a reaping-basket: his buttocks as
big as a cheese on a withe: each of his shins as long as an outer yoke.
So after that, the thrice fifty boats, and those five thousands--with
ten hundred in every thousand,--landed on the Strand of Fuirbthe.
Then Conaire with his people entered the Hostel, and each took his seat
within, both tabu and non-tabu. And the three Reds took their seats, and
Fer caille with his swine took his seat.
Thereafter Dá Derga came to them, with thrice fifty warriors, each of
them having a long head of hair to the hollow of his polls, and a short
cloak to their buttocks. Speckled-green drawers they wore, and in their
hands were thrice fifty great clubs of thorn with bands of iron.
"Welcome, O master Conaire!" quoth he. "Though the bulk of the men of
Erin were to come with thee, they themselves would have a welcome."
When they were there they saw a lone woman coming to the door of the
Hostel, after sunset, and seeking to be let in. As long as a weaver's
beam was each of her two shins, and they were as dark as the back of a
stag-beetle. A greyish, wooly mantle she wore. Her lower hair used to
reach as far as her knee. Her lips were on one side of her head.
She came and put one of her shoulders against the doorpost of the house,
casting the evil eye on the king and the youths who surrounded him in
the Hostel. He himself addressed her from within.
"Well, O woman," says Conaire, "if thou art a wizard, what seest thou
for us?"
"Truly I see for thee," she answers, "that neither fell nor flesh of
thine shall escape from the place into which thou hast come, save what
birds will bear away in their claws."
"It was not an evil omen we foreboded, O woman," saith he: "it is not
thou that always augurs for us. What is thy name, O woman?"
"Cailb," she answers.
"That is not much of a name," says Conaire.
"Lo, many are my names besides."
"Which be they?" asks Conaire.
"Easy to say," quoth she. "Samon, Sinand, Seisclend, Sodb, Caill, Coll,
Díchóem, Dichiúil, Díthím, Díchuimne, Dichruidne, Dairne, Dáríne,
Déruaine, Egem, Agam, Ethamne, Gním, Cluiche, Cethardam, Níth, Némain,
Nóennen, Badb, Blosc, B[l]oár, Huae, óe Aife la Sruth, Mache,
Médé, Mod."
On one foot, and holding up one hand, and breathing one breath she sang
all that to them from the door of the house.
"I swear by the gods whom I adore," says Conaire, "that I will call thee
by none of these names whether I shall be here a long or a short time."
"What dost thou desire?" says Conaire.
"That which thou, too, desirest," she answered.
"'Tis a tabu of mine," says Conaire, "to receive the company of one
woman after sunset."
"Though it be a tabu," she replied, "I will not go until my guesting
come at once this very night."
"Tell her," says Conaire, "that an ox and a bacon-pig shall be taken out
to her, and my leavings: provided that she stays tonight in some
other place."
"If in sooth," she says, "it has befallen the king not to have room in
his house for the meal and bed of a solitary woman, they will be gotten
apart from him from some one possessing generosity--if the hospitality
of the Prince in the Hostel has departed."
"Savage is the answer!" says Conaire. "Let her in, though it is a tabu
of mine."
Great loathing they felt after that from the woman's converse, and
ill-foreboding; but they knew not the cause thereof.
The reavers afterwards landed, and fared forth till they were at Lecca
cinn slébe. Ever open was the Hostel. Why it was called a _Bruden_ was
because it resembles the lips of a man blowing a fire.
Great was the fire which was kindled by Conaire every night, to wit, a
"Boar of the Wood." Seven outlets it had. When a log was cut out of its
side every flame that used to come forth at each outlet was as big as
the blaze of a burning oratory. There were seventeen of Conaire's
chariots at every door of the house, and by those that were looking from
the vessels that great light was clearly seen through the wheels of
the chariots.
"Canst thou say, O Fer rogain, what that great light yonder resembles?"
"I cannot liken it to aught," answers Fer rogain, "unless it be the fire
of a king. May God not bring that man there tonight! 'Tis a pity to
destroy him!"
"What then deemest thou," says Ingcél, "of that man's reign in the land
of Erin?"
"Good is his reign," replied Fer rogain. "Since he assumed the kingship,
no cloud has veiled the sun for the space of a day from the middle of
spring to the middle of autumn. And not a dewdrop fell from grass till
midday, and wind would not touch a beast's tail until nones. And in his
reign, from year's end to year's end, no wolf has attacked aught save
one bullcalf of each byre; and to maintain this rule there are seven
wolves in hostageship at the sidewall in his house, and behind this a
further security, even Maclocc, and 'tis he that pleads for them in
Conaire's house. In Conaire's reign are the three crowns on Erin,
namely, crown of corn-ears, and crown of flowers, and crown of oak mast.
In his reign, too, each man deems the other's voice as melodious as the
strings of lutes, because of the excellence of the law and the peace
and the goodwill prevailing throughout Erin. May God not bring that man
there tonight! 'Tis sad to destroy him. 'Tis _'a branch through its
blossom,'_ 'Tis _a swine that falls before mast._ 'Tis _an infant in
age._ Sad is the shortness of his life!"
"This was my luck," says Ingcél, "that he should be there, and there
should be one Destruction for another. It were not more grievous to me
than my father and my mother and my seven brothers, and the king of my
country, whom I gave up to you before coming on the transfer of
the rapine."
"'Tis true, 'tis true!" say the evildoers who were along with the
reavers.
The reavers make a start from the Strand of Fuirbthe, and bring a stone
for each man to make a cairn; for this was the distinction which at
first the Fians made between a "Destruction" and a "Rout." A
pillar-stone they used to plant when there would be a Rout. A cairn,
however, they used to make when there would be a Destruction. At this
time, then, they made a cairn, for it was a Destruction. Far from the
house was this, that they might not be heard or seen therefrom.
For two causes they built their cairn, namely, first, since this was a
custom in marauding, and, secondly, that they might find out their
losses at the Hostel. Every one that would come safe from it would take
his stone from the cairn: thus the stones of those that were slain would
be left, and thence they would know their losses. And this is what men
skilled in story recount, that for every stone in Carn leca there was
one of the reavers killed at the Hostel. From that cairn Leca in Húi
Cellaig is so called.
A "boar of a fire" is kindled by the sons of Donn Désa to give warning
to Conaire. So _that_ is the first warning-beacon that has been made in
Erin, and from it to this day every warning-beacon is kindled.
This is what others recount: that it was on the eve of _samain_
(All-Saints-day) the destruction of the Hostel was wrought, and that
from yonder beacon the beacon of _samain_ is followed from that to this,
and stones (are placed) in the _samain_-fire.
Then the reavers framed a counsel at the place where they had put the
cairn.
"Well, then," says Ingcél to the guides, "what is nearest to us here?"
"Easy to say: the Hostel of Hua Derga, chief-hospitaller of Erin."
"Good men indeed," says Ingcél, "were likely to seek their fellows at
that Hostel to-night."
This, then, was the counsel of the reavers, to send one of them to see
how things were there.
"Who will go there to espy the house?" say everyone.
"Who should go," says Ingcél, "but I, for 'tis I that am entitled to
dues."
Ingcél went to reconnoitre the Hostel with one of the seven pupils of
the single eye which stood out of his forehead, to fit his eye into the
house in order to destroy the king and the youths who were around him
therein. And Ingcél saw them through the wheels of the chariots.
Then Ingcél was perceived from the house. He made a start from it after
being perceived.
He went till he reached the reavers in the stead wherein they were. Each
circle of them was set around another to hear the tidings--the chiefs of
the reavers being in the very centre of the circles. There were Fer gér
and Fer gel and Fer rogel and Fer rogain and Lomna the Buffoon, and
Ingcél the One-eyed--six in the centre of the circles. And Fer rogain
went to question Ingcél.
"How is that, O Ingcél?" asks Fer rogain.
"However it be," answers Ingcél, "royal is the custom, hostful is the
tumult: kingly is the noise thereof. Whether a king be there or not, I
will take the house for what I have a right to. Thence my turn of
rapine cometh."
"We have left it in thy hand, O Ingcél!" say Conaire's fosterbrothers.
"But we should not wreak the Destruction till we know who may
be therein."
"Question, hast thou seen the house well, O Ingcél?" asks Fer rogain.
"Mine eye cast a rapid glance around it, and I will accept it for my
dues as it stands."
"Thou mayest well accept it, O Ingcél," saith Fer rogain: "the foster
father of us all is there, Erin's overking, Conaire, son of Eterscél."
"Question, what sawest thou in the champion's high seat of the house,
facing the King, on the opposite side?"
THE ROOM OF CORMAC CONDLONGAS
"I saw there," says Ingcél, "a man of noble countenance, large, with a
clear and sparkling eye, an even set of teeth, a face narrow below,
broad above. Fair, flaxen, golden hair upon him, and a proper fillet
around it. A brooch of silver in his mantle, and in his hand a
gold-hilted sword. A shield with five golden circles upon it: a
five-barbed javelin in his hand. A visage just, fair, ruddy he hath: he
is also beardless. Modest-minded is that man!"
"And after that, whom sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF CORMAC'S NINE COMRADES
"There I saw three men to the west of Cormac, and three to the east of
him, and three in front of the same man. Thou wouldst deem that the nine
of them had one mother and one father. They are of the same age, equally
goodly, equally beautiful, all alike. Thin rods of gold in their
mantles. Bent shields of bronze they bear. Ribbed javelins above them.
An ivory-hilted sword in the hand of each. An unique feat they have, to
wit, each of them takes his sword's point between his two fingers, and
they twirl the swords round their fingers, and the swords afterwards
extend themselves by themselves. Liken thou _that_, O Fer rogain,"
says Ingcél.
"Easy," says Fer rogain, "for me to liken them. It is Conchobar's son,
Cormac Condlongas, the best hero behind a shield in the land of Erin. Of
modest mind is that boy! Evil is what he dreads tonight. He is a
champion of valour for feats of arms; he is an hospitaller for
householding. These are yon nine who surround him, the three Dúngusses,
and the three Doelgusses, and the three Dangusses, the nine comrades of
Cormac Condlongas, son of Conchobar. They have never slain men on
account of their misery, and they never spared them on account of their
prosperity. Good is the hero who is among them, even Cormac Condlongas.
I swear what my tribe swears, nine times ten will fall by Cormac in his
first onset, and nine times ten will fall by his people, besides a man
for each of their weapons, and a man for each of themselves. And Cormac
will share prowess with any man before the Hostel, and he will boast of
victory over a king or crown-prince or noble of the reavers; and he
himself will chance to escape, though all his people be wounded."
"Woe to him who shall wreak this Destruction!" says Lomna Drúth, "even
because of that one man, Cormac Condlongas, son of Conchobar." "I swear
what my tribe swears," says Lomna son of Donn Désa, "if I could fulfil
my counsel, the Destruction would not be attempted were it only because
of that one man, and because of the hero's beauty and goodness!"
"It is not feasible to prevent it," says Ingcél: "clouds of weakness
come to you. A keen ordeal which will endanger two cheeks of a goat will
be opposed by the oath of Fer rogain, who will run. Thy voice, O Lomna,"
says Ingcél, "hath taken breaking upon thee: thou art a worthless
warrior, and I know thee. Clouds of weakness come to you...."
Neither old men nor historians shall declare that I quitted the
Destruction, until I shall wreak it."
"Reproach not our honour, O Ingcél," say Gér and Gabur and Fer rogain.
"The Destruction shall be wrought unless the earth break under it, until
all of us are slain thereby."
"Truly, then, thou hast reason, O Ingcél," says Lomna Drúth son of Donn
Désa. "Not to thee is the loss caused by the Destruction. Thou wilt
carry off the head of the king of a foreign country, with thy slaughter
of another; and thou and thy brothers will escape from the Destruction,
even Ingcél and Ecell and the Yearling of the Rapine."
"Harder, however, it is for me," says Lomna Drúth: "woe is me before
every one! woe is me after every one! 'Tis my head that will be first
tossed about there to-night after an hour among the chariot-shafts,
where devilish foes will meet. It will be flung into the Hostel thrice,
and thrice will it be flung forth. Woe to him that comes! woe to him
with whom one goes! woe to him to whom one goes! wretches are they that
go! wretches are they to whom they go!"
"There is nothing that will come to me," says Ingcél, "in place of my
mother and my father and my seven brothers, and the king of my district,
whom ye destroyed with me. There is nothing that I shall not endure
henceforward."
"Though a ... should go through them," say Gér and Gabur and Fer rogain,
"the Destruction will be wrought by thee to-night."
"Woe to him who shall put them under the hands of foes!" says Lomna.
"And whom sawest thou afterwards?"
THE ROOM OF THE PICTS, THIS
"I saw another room there, with a huge trio in it: three brown, big men:
three round heads of hair on them, even, equally long at nape and
forehead. Three short black cowls about them reaching to their elbows:
long hoods were on the cowls. Three black, huge swords they had, and
three black shields they bore, with three dark broad-green javelins
above them. Thick as the spit of a caldron was the shaft of each. Liken
thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Hard it is for me to find their like. I know not in Erin that trio,
unless it be yon trio of Pictland, who went into exile from their
country, and are now in Conaire's household. These are their names:
Dublonges son of Trebúat, and Trebúat son of Húa-Lonsce, and Curnach son
of Húa Fáich. The three who are best in Pictland at taking arms are that
trio. Nine decads will fall at their hands in their first encounter, and
a man will fall for each of their weapons, besides one for each of
themselves. And they will share prowess with every trio in the Hostel.
They will boast a victory over a king or a chief of the reavers; and
they will afterwards escape though wounded. Woe to him who shall wreak
the Destruction, though it be only on account of those three!"
Says Lomna Drúth: "I swear to God what my tribe swears, if my counsel
were taken, the Destruction would never be wrought."
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél: "clouds of weakness are coming to you. A keen
ordeal which will endanger, etc. And whom sawest thou there afterwards?"
THE ROOM OF THE PIPERS
"There I beheld a room with nine men in it. Hair fair and yellow was on
them: they all are equally beautiful. Mantles speckled with colour they
wore, and above them were nine bagpipes, four-tuned, ornamented. Enough
light in the palace were the ornament on these four-tuned pipes. Liken
thou them, O Fer rogain."
"Easy for me to liken them," says Fer rogain. "Those are the nine pipers
that came to Conaire out of the Elfmound of Bregia, because of the noble
tales about him. These are their names: Bind, Robind, Riarbind, Sibè,
Dibè, Deichrind, Umall, Cumal, Ciallglind. They are the best pipers in
the world. Nine enneads will fall before them, and a man for each of
their weapons, and a man for each of themselves. And each of them will
boast a victory over a king or a chief of the reavers. And they will
escape from the Destruction; for a conflict with them will be a conflict
with a shadow. They will slay, but they will not be slain, for they are
out of an elfmound. Woe to him who shall wreak the Destruction, though
it be only because of those nine!"
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds of weakness come to you," etc. "And
after that, whom sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF CONAIRE'S MAJORDOMO
"There I saw a room with one man in it. Rough cropt hair upon him.
Though a sack of crab-apples should be flung on his head, not one of
them would fall on the floor, but every apple would stick on his hair.
His fleecy mantle was over him in the house. Every quarrel therein about
seat or bed comes to his decision. Should a needle drop in the house,
its fall would be heard when he speaks. Above him is a huge black tree,
like a millshaft, with its paddles and its cap and its spike. Liken thou
him, O Fer rogain!"
"Easy for me is this. Tuidle of Ulaid is he, the steward of Conaire's
household. 'Tis needful to hearken to the decision of that man, the man
that rules seat and bed and food for each. 'Tis his household staff that
is above him. That man will fight with you. I swear what my tribe
swears, the dead at the Destruction slain by him will be more numerous
than the living. Thrice his number will fall by him, and he himself will
fall there. Woe to him who shall wreak the Destruction!" etc.
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds of weakness come upon you. What sawest
thou there after that?"
THE ROOM OF MAC CECHT, CONAIRE'S BATTLE-SOLDIER
There I beheld another room with a trio in it, three half-furious
nobles: the biggest of them in the middle, very noisy ... rock-bodied,
angry, smiting, dealing strong blows, who beats nine hundred in
battle-conflict. A wooden shield, dark, covered with iron, he bears,
with a hard ... rim, a shield whereon would fit the proper litter of
four troops of ten weaklings on its ... of ... leather. A ... boss
thereon, the depth of a caldron, fit to cook four oxen, a hollow maw, a
great boiling, with four swine in its mid-maw great.... At his two
smooth sides are two five-thwarted boats fit for three parties of ten in
each of his two strong fleets.
A spear he hath, blue-red, hand-fitting, on its puissant shaft. It
stretches along the wall on the roof and rests on the ground. An iron
point upon it, dark-red, dripping. Four amply-measured feet between the
two points of its edge.
Thirty amply-measured feet in his deadly-striking sword from dark point
to iron hilt. It shews forth fiery sparks which illumine the Mid-court
House from roof to ground.
'Tis a strong countenance that I see. A swoon from horror almost befell
me while staring at those three. There is nothing stranger.
Two bare hills were there by the man with hair. Two loughs by a mountain
of the ... of a blue-fronted wave: two hides by a tree. Two boats near
them full of thorns of a white thorn tree on a circular board. And there
seems to me somewhat like a slender stream of water on which the sun is
shining, and its trickle down from it, and a hide arranged behind it,
and a palace house-post shaped like a great lance above it. A good
weight of a plough-yoke is the shaft that is therein. Liken thou that, O
Fer rogain!
"Easy, meseems, to liken him! That is Mac cecht son of Snaide Teichid;
the battle-soldier of Conaire son of Eterscél. Good is the hero Mac
cecht! Supine he was in his room, in his sleep, when thou beheldest him.
The two bare hills which thou sawest by the man with hair, these are his
two knees by his head. The two loughs by the mountain which thou sawest,
these are his two eyes by his nose. The two hides by a tree which thou
sawest, these are his two ears by his head. The two five-thwarted boats
on a circular board, which thou sawest, these are his two sandals on his
shield. The slender stream of water which thou sawest, whereon the sun
shines, and its trickle down from it, this is the flickering of his
sword. The hide which thou sawest arranged behind him, that is his
sword's scabbard. The palace-housepost which thou sawest, that is his
lance; and he brandishes this spear till its two ends meet, and he hurls
a wilful cast of it when he pleases. Good is the hero, Mac cecht!"
"Six hundred will fall by him in his first encounter, and a man for each
of his weapons, besides a man for himself. And he will share prowess
with every one in the Hostel, and he will boast of triumph over a king
or chief of the reavers in front of the Hostel. He will chance to escape
though wounded. And when he shall chance to come upon you out of the
house, as numerous as hailstones, and grass on a green, and stars of
heaven will be your cloven heads and skulls, and the clots of your
brains, your bones and the heaps of your bowels, crushed by him and
scattered throughout the ridges."
Then with trembling and terror of Mac cecht they flee over three ridges.
They took the pledges among them again, even Gér and Gabur and Fer
rogain.
"Woe to him that shall wreak the Destruction!" says Lomna Drúth; "your
heads will depart from you."
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél: "clouds of weakness are coming to you" etc.
"True indeed, O Ingcél," says Lomna Drúth son of Donn Désa. "Not unto
thee is the loss caused by the Destruction. Woe is me for the
Destruction, for the first head that will reach the Hostel will
be mine!"
"'Tis harder for _me_," says Ingcél: "'tis _my_ destruction that has
been ... there."
"Truly then," says Ingcél, "maybe I shall be the corpse that is frailest
there," etc.
"And afterwards whom sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF CONAIRE'S THREE SONS, OBALL AND OBLIN AND CORPRE
"There I beheld a room with a trio in it, to wit, three tender
striplings, wearing three silken mantles. In their mantles were three
golden brooches. Three golden-yellow manes were on them. When they
undergo head-cleansing their golden-yellow mane reaches the edge of
their haunches. When they raise their eye it raises the hair so that it
is not lower than the tips of their ears, and it is as curly as a ram's
head. A ... of gold and a palace-flambeau above each of them. Every one
who is in the house spares them, voice and deed and word. Liken thou
that, O Fer rogain," says Ingcél.
Fer rogain wept, so that his mantle in front of him became moist. And no
voice was gotten out of his head till a third of the night had passed.
"O little ones," says Fer rogain, "I have good reason for what I do!
Those are three sons of the king of Erin: Oball and Oblíne and
Corpre Findmor."
"It grieves us if the tale be true," say the sons of Donn Désa. "Good is
the trio in that room. Manners of ripe maidens have they, and hearts of
brothers, and valours of bears, and furies of lions. Whosoever is in
their company and in their couch, and parts from them, he sleeps not and
eats not at ease till the end of nine days, from lack of their
companionship. Good are the youths for their age! Thrice ten will fall
by each of them in their first encounter, and a man for each weapon, and
three men for themselves. And one of the three will fall there. Because
of that trio, woe to him that shall wreak the Destruction!"
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél: "clouds of weakness are coming to you, etc.
And whom sawest thou afterwards?"
THE ROOM OF THE FOMORIANS
I beheld there a room with a trio in it, to wit, a trio horrible,
unheard-of, a triad of champions, etc.
* * * * *
Liken thou that, O Fer rogain?
"'Tis hard for me to liken that trio. Neither of the men of Erin nor of
the men of the world do I know it, unless it be the trio that Mac cecht
brought out of the land of the Fomorians by dint of duels. Not one of
the Fomorians was found to fight him, so he brought away those three,
and they are in Conaire's house as sureties that, while Conaire is
reigning, the Fomorians destroy neither corn nor milk in Erin beyond
their fair tribute. Well may their aspect be loathy! Three rows of teeth
in their heads from one ear to another. An ox with a bacon-pig, this is
the ration of each of them, and that ration which they put into their
mouths is visible till it comes down past their navels. Bodies of bone
(i.e. without a joint in them) all those three have. I swear what my
tribe swears, more will be killed by them at the Destruction than those
they leave alive. Six hundred warriors will fall by them in their first
conflict, and a man for each of their weapons, and one for each of the
three themselves. And they will boast a triumph over a king or chief of
the reavers. It will not be more than with a bite or a blow or a kick
that each of those men will kill, for no arms are allowed them in the
house, since they are in 'hostageship at the wall' lest they do a
misdeed therein. I swear what my tribe swears, if they had armour on
them, they would slay us all but a third. Woe to him that shall wreak
the Destruction, because it is not a combat against sluggards."
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél, etc. "And whom sawest thou there after that?"
THE ROOM OF MUNREMAR SON OF GERRCHENN AND BIRDERG SON OF RUAN AND MÁL
SON OF TELBAND
"I beheld a room there, with a trio in it. Three brown, big men, with
three brown heads of short hair. Thick calf-bottoms (ankles?) they had.
As thick as a man's waist was each of their limbs. Three brown and
curled masses of hair upon them, with a thick head: three cloaks, red
and speckled, they wore: three black shields with clasps of gold, and
three five-barbed javelins; and each had in hand an ivory-hilted sword.
This is the feat they perform with their swords: they throw them high
up, and they throw the scabbards after them, and the swords, before
reaching the ground, place themselves in the scabbards. Then they throw
the scabbards first, and the swords after them, and the scabbards meet
the swords and place themselves round them before they reach the ground.
Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easy for me to liken them! Mál son of Telband, and Munremar son of
Gerrchenn, and Birderg son of Rúan. Three crown-princes, three champions
of valour, three heroes the best behind weapons in Erin! A hundred
heroes will fall by them in their first conflict, and they will share
prowess with every man in the Hostel, and they will boast of the victory
over a king or chief of the reavers, and afterwards they will chance to
escape. The Destruction should not be wrought even because of
those three."
"Woe to him that shall wreak the Destruction!" says Lomna. "Better were
the victory of saving them than the victory of slaying them! Happy he
who should save them! Woe to him that shall slay them!"
"It is not feasible," says Ingcél, etc. "And afterwards whom sawest
thou?"
THE ROOM OF CONALL CERNACH
"There I beheld in a decorated room the fairest man of Erin's heroes. He
wore a tufted purple cloak. White as snow was one of his cheeks, the
other was red and speckled like foxglove. Blue as hyacinth was one of
his eyes, dark as a stag-beetle's back was the other. The bushy head of
fair golden hair upon him was as large as a reaping-basket, and it
touches the edge of his haunches. It is as curly as a ram's head. If a
sackful of red-shelled nuts were spilt on the crown of his head, not one
of them would fall on the floor, but remain on the hooks and plaits and
swordlets of their hair. A gold hilted sword in his hand; a blood-red
shield which has been speckled with rivets of white bronze between
plates of gold. A long, heavy, three-ridged spear: as thick as an outer
yoke is the shaft that is in it. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easy for me to liken him, for the men of Erin know that scion. That is
Conall Cernach, son of Amorgen. He has chanced to be along with Conaire
at this time. 'Tis he whom Conaire loves beyond every one, because of
his resemblance to him in goodness of form and shape. Goodly is the hero
that is there, Conall Cernach! To that blood-red shield on his fist,
which has been speckled with rivets of white bronze, the Ulaid have
given a famous name, to wit, the _Bricriu_ of Conall Cernach.
"I swear what my tribe swears, plenteous will be the rain of red blood
over it to-night before the Hostel! That ridged spear above him, many
will there be unto whom to-night, before the Hostel, it will deal drinks
of death. Seven doorways there are out of the house, and Conall Cernach
will contrive to be at each of them, and from no doorway will he be
absent. Three hundred will fall by Conall in his first conflict, besides
a man for each (of his) weapons and one for himself. He will share
prowess with every one in the Hostel, and when he shall happen to sally
upon you from the house, as numerous as hailstones and grass on green
and stars of heaven will be your half-heads and cloven skulls, and your
bones under the point of his sword. He will succeed in escaping though
wounded. Woe to him that shall wreak the Destruction, were it but for
this man only!"
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds," etc.
"And after that whom sawest thou?"
THE ROOM OF CONAIRE HIMSELF
"There I beheld a room, more beautifully decorated than the other rooms
of the house. A silvery curtain around it, and there were ornaments in
the room. I beheld a trio in it. The outer two of them were, both of
them, fair, with their hair and eyelashes; and they are as bright as
snow. A very lovely blush on the cheek of each of the twain. A tender
lad in the midst between them. The ardour and energy of a king has he,
and the counsel of a sage. The mantle I saw around him is even as the
mist of Mayday. Diverse are the hue and semblance each moment shewn upon
it. Lovelier is each hue than the other. In front of him in the mantle I
beheld a wheel of gold which reached from his chin to his navel. The
colour of his hair was like the sheen of smelted gold. Of all the
world's forms that I beheld, this is the most beautiful. I saw his
golden-hilted glaive down beside him. A forearm's length of the sword
was outside the scabbard. That forearm, a man down in the front of the
house could see a fleshworm by the shadow of the sword! Sweeter is the
melodious sounding of the sword than the melodious sound of the golden
pipes that accompany music in the palace."
"Then," quoth Ingcél, "I said, gazing at him:
I see a high, stately prince, etc.
I see a famous king, etc.
I see his white prince's diadem, etc.
I see his two blue-bright cheeks, etc.
I see his high wheel ... round his head ... which is over his
yellow-curly hair.
I see his mantle red, many-coloured, etc.
I see therein a huge brooch of gold, etc.
I see his beautiful linen frock ... from ankle to kneecaps.
I see his sword golden-hilted, inlaid, its in scabbard of
white silver, etc.
I see his shield bright, chalky, etc.
A tower of inlaid gold," etc.
Now the tender warrior was asleep, with his feet in the lap of one of
the two men and his head in the lap of the other. Then he awoke out of
his sleep, and arose, and chanted this lay:
"The howl of Ossar (Conaire's dog) ... cry of warriors on the summit of
Tol Géisse; a cold wind over edges perilous: a night to destroy a king
is this night."
He slept again, and awoke thereout, and sang this rhetoric:
"The howl of Ossar ... a battle he announced: enslavement of a people:
sack of the Hostel: mournful are the champions: men wounded: wind of
terror: hurling of javelins: trouble of unfair fight: wreck of houses:
Tara waste: a foreign heritage: like is lamenting Conaire: destruction
of corn: feast of arms: cry of screams: destruction of Erin's king:
chariots a-tottering: oppression of the king of Tara: lamentations will
overcome laughter: Ossar's howl."
He said the third time:
"Trouble hath been shewn to me: a multitude of elves: a host supine;
foes' prostration: a conflict of men on the Dodder[8]: oppression of
Tara's king: in youth he was destroyed; lamentations will overcome
laughter: Ossar's howl."
[Footnote 8: A small river near Dublin, which is said to have passed
through the Bruden.--W.S.]
"Liken thou, O Fer rogain, him who has sung that lay."
"Easy for me to liken him," says Fer rogain. No "conflict without a
king" this. He is the most splendid and noble and beautiful and mighty
king that has come into the whole world. He is the mildest and gentlest
and most perfect king that has come to it, even Conaire son of Eterscél.
'Tis he that is overking of all Erin. There is no defect in that man,
whether in form or shape or vesture: whether in size or fitness or
proportion, whether in eye or hair or brightness, whether in wisdom or
skill or eloquence, whether in weapon or dress or appearance, whether in
splendour or abundance or dignity, whether in knowledge or valour
or kindred.
"Great is the tenderness of the sleepy simple man till he has chanced on
a deed of valour. But if his fury and his courage be awakened when the
champions of Erin and Alba are at him in the house, the Destruction will
not be wrought so long as he is therein. Six hundred will fall by
Conaire before he shall attain his arms, and seven hundred will fall by
him in his first conflict after attaining his arms. I swear to God what
my tribe swears, unless drink be taken from him, though there be no one
else in the house, but he alone, he would hold the Hostel until help
would reach it which the man would prepare for him from the Wave of
Clidna[9] and the Wave of Assaroe[10] while ye are at the Hostel."
[Footnote 9: In the bay of Glandore, co. Cork.--W.S.]
[Footnote 10: At Ballyshannon, co. Donegal.--W.S.]
"Nine doors there are to the house, and at each door a hundred warriors
will fall by his hand. And when every one in the house has ceased to ply
his weapon, 'tis then he will resort to a deed of arms. And if he chance
to come upon you out of the house, as numerous as hailstones and grass
on a green will be your halves of heads and your cloven skulls and your
bones under the edge of his sword.
"'Tis my opinion that he will not chance to get out of the house. Dear
to him are the two that are with him in the room, his two fosterers,
Dris and Snithe. Thrice fifty warriors will fall before each of them in
front of the Hostel and not farther than a foot from him, on this side
and that, will they too fall."
"Woe to him who shall wreak the Destruction, were it only because of
that pair and the prince that is between them, the over-king-of Erin,
Conaire son of Eterscél! Sad were the quenching of that reign!" says
Lomna Drúth, son of Donn Désa.
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds of weakness are coming to you," etc.
"Good cause hast thou, O Ingcél," says Lomna son of Donn Désa. "Not unto
_thee_ is the loss caused by the Destruction: for thou wilt carry off
the head of the king of another country, and thyself will escape.
Howbeit 'tis hard for me, for I shall be the first to be slain at
the Hostel."
"Alas for me!" says Ingcél, "peradventure I shall be the frailest
corpse," etc.
"And whom sawest thou afterwards?"
THE ROOM OF THE REARGUARDS
"There I saw twelve men on silvery hurdles all around that room of the
king. Light yellow hair was on them. Blue kilts they wore. Equally
beautiful were they, equally hardy, equally shapely. An ivory-hilted
sword in each man's hand, and they cast them not down; but it is the
horse-rods in their hands that are all round the room. Liken thou that,
O Fer rogain."
"Easy for me to say. The king of Tara's guardsmen are there. These are
their names: three Londs of Liffey-plain: three Arts of Ath cliath
(_Dublin_): three Buders of Buagnech: and three Trénfers of Cuilne. I
swear what my tribe swears, that many will be the dead by them around
the Hostel.
And they will escape from it although they are wounded. Woe to him who
shall wreak the Destruction were it only because of that band! And
afterwards whom sawest thou there?"
LE FRI FLAITH SON OF CONAIRE, WHOSE LIKENESS THIS IS
"There I beheld a red-freckled boy in a purple cloak. He is always
a-wailing in the house. A stead wherein is the king of a cantred, whom
each man takes from bosom to bosom.
"So he is with a blue silvery chair under his seat in the midst of the
house, and he always a-wailing. Truly then, sad are his household
listening to him! Three heads of hair on that boy, and these are the
three: green hair and purple hair and all-golden hair. I know not
whether they are many appearances which the hair receives, or whether
they are three kinds of hair which are naturally upon him. But I know
that evil is the thing he dreads to-night. I beheld thrice fifty boys on
silvern chairs around him, and there were fifteen bulrushes in the hand
of that red-freckled boy, with a thorn at the end of each of the rushes.
And we were fifteen men, and our fifteen right eyes were blinded by him,
and he blinded one of the seven pupils which was in my head" saith
Ingcél. "Hast thou his like, O Fer rogain?"
"Easy for me to liken him!" Fer rogain wept till he shed his tears of
blood over his cheeks. "Alas for him!" quoth he. This child is a 'scion
of contention' for the men of Erin with the men of Alba for hospitality,
and shape, and form and horsemanship. Sad is his slaughter! 'Tis a
'swine that goes before mast,' 'tis a babe in age! the best crown-prince
that has ever come into Erin! The child of Conaire son of Eterscél, Lé
fri flaith is his name. Seven years there are in his age. It seems to me
very likely that he is miserable because of the many appearances on his
hair and the various hues that the hair assumes upon him. This is his
special household, the thrice fifty lads that are around him."
"Woe," says Lomna, "to him that shall wreak the Destruction, were it
only because of that boy!"
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds of weakness are coming on you, etc."
"And after that whom sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF THE CUPBEARERS
"There I saw six men in front of the same room. Fair yellow manes upon
them: green mantles about them: tin brooches at the opening of their
mantles. Half-horses (centaurs) are they, like Conall Cernach. Each of
them throws his mantle round another and is as swift as a millwheel.
Thine eye can hardly follow them. Liken thou those, O Fer rogain!"
"This is easy for me. Those are the King of Tara's six cupbearers,
namely Uan and Broen and Banna, Delt and Drucht and Dathen. That feat
does not hinder them from their skinking, and it blunts not their
intelligence thereat. Good are the warriors that are there! Thrice their
number will fall by them. They will share prowess with any six in the
Hostel, and they will escape from their foes, for they are out of the
elfmounds. They are the best cupbearers in Erin. Woe to him that shall
wreak the Destruction were it only because of them!"
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds, etc." "And after that, whom sawest
thou there?"
THE ROOM OF TULCHINNE THE JUGGLER
"There I beheld a great champion, in front of the same room, on the
floor of the house. The shame of baldness is on him. White as mountain
cotton-grass is each hair that grows through his head. Earrings of gold
around his ears. A mantle speckled, coloured, he wore. Nine swords in
his hand, and nine silvern shields, and nine apples of gold. He throws
each of them upwards, and none of them falls on the ground, and there is
only one of them on his palm; each of them rising and falling past
another is just like the movement to and fro of bees on a day of beauty.
When he was swiftest, I beheld him at the feat, and as I looked, they
uttered a cry about him and they were all on the house-floor. Then the
Prince who is in the house said to the juggler: 'We have come together
since thou wast a little boy, and till to-night thy juggling never
failed thee.'
"'Alas, alas, fair master Conaire, good cause have I. A keen, angry eye
looked at me: a man with the third of a pupil which sees the going of
the nine bands. Not much to him is that keen, wrathful sight! Battles
are fought with it,' saith he. 'It should be known till doomsday that
there is evil in front of the Hostel.'
"Then he took the swords in his hand, and the silvern shields and the
apples of gold; and again they uttered a cry and were all on the floor
of the house. That amazed him, and he gave over his play and said:
'O Fer caille, arise! Do not ... its slaughter. Sacrifice thy pig! Find
out who is in front of the house to injure the men of the Hostel.'
'There,' said he, 'are Fer Cualngi, Fer lé, Fer gar, Fer rogel, Fer
rogain. They have announced a deed which is not feeble, the annihilation
of Conaire by Donn Désa's five sons, by Conaire's five loving
fosterbrothers.'
"Liken thou that, O Fer rogain! Who has chanted that lay?"
"Easy for me to liken him," says Fer rogain. "Taulchinne the chief
juggler of the King of Tara; he is Conaire's conjurer. A man of great
might is that man. Thrice nine will fall by him in his first encounter,
and he will share prowess with every one in the Hostel, and he will
chance to escape therefrom though wounded. What then? Even on account of
this man only the Destruction should not be wrought."
"Long live he who should spare him!" says Lomna Drúth.
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél, etc.
THE ROOM OF THE SWINEHERDS
"I beheld a trio in the front of the house: three dark crowntufts on
them: three green frocks around them: three dark mantles over them:
three forked ...(?) above them on the side of the wall. Six black
greaves they had on the mast. Who are yon, O Fer rogain?"
"Easy to say," answers Fer rogain: "the three swineherds of the king,
Dub and Donn and Dorcha: three brothers are they, three sons of Mapher
of Tara. Long live he who should protect them! woe to him who shall slay
them! for greater would be the triumph of protecting them than the
triumph of slaying them!"
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél, etc.
THE ROOM OF THE PRINCIPAL CHARIOTEERS
"I beheld another trio in front of them: three plates of gold on their
foreheads: three short aprons they wore, of grey linen embroidered with
gold: three crimson capes about them: three goads of bronze in their
hands. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"I know them," he answered. "Cul and Frecul and Forcul, the three
charioteers of the King: three of the same age: three sons of Pole and
Yoke. A man will perish by each of their weapons, and they will share
the triumph of slaughter."
THE ROOM OF CUSCRAD SON OF CONCHOBAR
"I beheld another room. Therein were eight swordsmen, and among them a
stripling. Black hair is on him, and very stammering speech has he. All
the folk of the Hostel listen to his counsel. Handsomest of men he is:
he wears a shirt and a bright-red mantle, with a brooch of
silver therein."
"I know him," says Fer rogain: "'tis Cuscraid Menn of Armagh,
Conchobar's son, who is in hostageship with the king. And his guards are
those eight swordsmen around him, namely, two Flanns, two Cummains, two
Aeds, two Crimthans. They will share prowess with every one in the
Hostel, and they will chance to escape from it with their fosterling."
THE ROOM OF THE UNDER-CHARIOTEERS
"I beheld nine men: on the mast were they. Nine capes they wore, with a
purple loop. A plate of gold on the head of each of them. Nine goads in
their hands. Liken thou."
"I know those," quoth Fer rogain: "Riado, Riamcobur, Ríade, Buadon,
Búadchar, Buadgnad, Eirr, Ineirr, Argatlam--nine charioteers in
apprenticeship with the three chief charioteers of the king. A man will
perish at the hands of each of them," etc.
THE ROOM OF THE ENGLISHMEN
"On the northern side of the house I beheld nine men. Nine very yellow
manes were on them. Nine linen frocks somewhat short were round them:
nine purple plaids over them without brooches therein. Nine broad
spears, nine red curved shields above them."
"We know them," quoth he. "Oswald and his two fosterbrothers, Osbrit
Longhand and his two fosterbrothers, Lindas and his two fosterbrothers.
Three crown-princes of England who are with the king. That set will
share victorious prowess," etc.
THE ROOM OF THE EQUERRIES
"I beheld another trio. Three cropt heads of hair on them, three frocks
they wore, and three mantles wrapt around them. A whip in the hand
of each."
"I know those," quoth Fer rogain. "Echdruim, Echriud, Echrúathar, the
three horsemen of the king, that is, his three equerries. Three brothers
are they, three sons of Argatron. Woe to him who shall wreak the
Destruction, were it only because of that trio."
THE ROOM OF THE JUDGES
"I beheld another trio in the room by them. A handsome man who had got
his baldness newly. By him were two young men with manes upon them.
Three mixed plaids they wore. A pin of silver in the mantle of each of
them. Three suits of armour above them on the wall. Liken thou that, O
Fer rogain!"
"I know those," quoth he. "Fergus Ferde, Fergus Fordae and Domáine
Mossud, those are the king's three judges. Woe to him who shall wreak
the Destruction were it only because of that trio! A man will perish by
each of them."
THE ROOM OF THE HARPERS
"To the east of them I beheld another ennead. Nine branchy, curly manes
upon them. Nine grey, floating mantles about them: nine pins of gold in
their mantles. Nine rings of crystal round their arms. A thumb-ring of
gold round each man's thumb: an ear-tie of gold round each man's ear: a
torque of silver round each man's throat. Nine bags with golden faces
above them on the wall. Nine rods of white silver in their hands. Liken
thou them."
"I know those," quoth Fer rogain. "They are the king's nine harpers,
with their nine harps above them: Side and Dide, Dulothe and Deichrinne,
Caumul and Cellgen, Ol and Olene and Olchói. A man will perish by
each of them."
THE ROOM OF THE CONJURORS
"I saw another trio on the dais. Three bedgowns girt about them.
Four-cornered shields in their hands, with bosses of gold upon them.
Apples of silver they had, and small inlaid spears."
"I know them," says Fer rogain. "Cless and Clissíne and Clessamun, the
king's three conjurers. Three of the same age are they: three brothers,
three sons of Naffer Rochless. A man will perish by each of them."
THE ROOM OF THE THREE LAMPOONEERS
"I beheld another trio hard by the room of the King himself. Three blue
mantles around them, and three bedgowns with red insertion over them.
Their arms had been hung above them on the wall."
"I know those," quoth he. "Dris and Draigen and Aittít ('Thorn and
Bramble and Furze'), the king's three lampooners, three sons of Sciath
foilt. A man will perish by each of their weapons."
THE ROOM OF THE BADBS
"I beheld a trio, naked, on the roof-tree of the house: their jets of
blood coming through them, and the ropes of their slaughter on
their necks."
"Those I know," saith he, "three ... of awful boding. Those are the
three that are slaughtered at every time."
THE ROOM OF THE KITCHENERS
"I beheld a trio cooking, in short inlaid aprons: a fair grey man, and
two youths in his company."
"I know those," quoth Fer rogain: "they are the King's three chief
kitcheners, namely, the Dagdae and his two fosterlings, Séig and Segdae,
the two sons of Rofer Singlespit. A man will perish by each of
them," etc.
"I beheld another trio there. Three plates of gold over their heads.
Three speckled mantles about them: three linen shirts with red
insertion: three golden brooches in their mantles: three wooden darts
above them on the wall."
"Those I know," says Fer rogain: "the three poets of that king: Sui and
Rodui and Fordui: three of the same age, three brothers: three sons of
Maphar of the Mighty Song. A man will perish for each of them, and every
pair will keep between them one man's victory. Woe to him who shall
wreak the Destruction!" etc.
THE ROOM OF THE SERVANT-GUARDS
"There I beheld two warriors standing over the king. Two curved shields
they had, and two great pointed swords. Red kilts they wore, and in the
mantles pins of white silver."
"Bole and Root are those," quoth he, "the king's two guards, two sons of
Maffer Toll."
THE ROOM OF THE KING'S GUARDSMEN
"I beheld nine men in a room there in front of the same room. Fair
yellow manes upon them: short aprons they wore and spotted capes: they
carried smiting shields. An ivory-hilted sword in the hand of each of
them, and whoever enters the house they essay to smite him with the
swords. No one dares to go to the room of the King without their
consent. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easy for me is that. Three Mochmatnechs of Meath, three Buageltachs of
Bregia, three Sostachs of Sliab Fuait, the nine guardsmen of that King.
Nine decads will fall by them in their first conflict, etc. Woe to him
that shall wreak the Destruction because of them only!"
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds of weakness," etc. "And whom sawest
thou then?"
THE ROOM OF NIA AND BRUTHNE, CONAIRE'S TWO WAITERS
"There I beheld another room, and a pair was in it, and they are
'oxtubs,' stout and thick. Aprons they wore, and the men were dark and
brown. They had short back-hair on them, but high upon their foreheads.
They are as swift as a waterwheel, each of them past another, one of
them to the King's room, the other to the fire. Liken thou those, O
Fer rogain!"
"Easy to me. They are Nia and Bruthne, Conaire's two table-servants.
They are the pair that is best in Erin for their lord's advantage. What
causes brownness to them and height to their hair is their frequent
haunting of the fire. In the world is no pair better in their art than
they. Thrice nine men will fall by them in their first encounter, and
they will share prowess with every one, and they will chance to escape.
And after that whom sawest thou?"
THE ROOM OF SENCHA AND DUBTHACH AND GOBNIU SON OF LURGNECH
"I beheld the room that is next to Conaire. Three chief champions, in
their first greyness, are therein. As thick as a man's waist is each of
their limbs. They have three black swords, each as long as a weaver's
beam. These swords would split a hair on water. A great lance in the
hand of the midmost man, with fifty rivets through it. The shaft therein
is a good load for the yoke of a plough-team. The midmost man brandishes
that lance so that its edge-studs hardly stay therein, and he strikes
the haft thrice against his palm. There is a great boiler in front of
them, as big as a calf's caldron, wherein is a black and horrible
liquid. Moreover he plunges the lance into that black fluid. If its
quenching be delayed it flames on its shaft and then thou wouldst
suppose that there is a fiery dragon in the top of the house. Liken thou
that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easy to say. Three heroes who are best at grasping weapons in Erin,
namely, Sencha the beautiful son of Ailill, and Dubthach Chafer of
Ulaid, and Goibnenn son of Lurgnech. And the _Luin_ of Celtchar son of
Uthider which was found in the battle of Mag Tured, this is in the hand
of Dubthach Chafer of Ulaid. That feat is usual for it when it is ripe
to pour forth a foeman's blood. A caldron full of poison is needed to
quench it when a deed of man-slaying is expected. Unless this come to
the lance, it flames on its haft and will go through its bearer or the
master of the palace wherein it is. If it be a blow that is to be given
thereby it will kill a man at every blow, when it is at that feat, from
one hour to another, though it may not reach him. And if it be a cast,
it will kill nine men at every cast, and one of the nine will be a king
or crown-prince or chieftain of the reavers.
"I swear what my tribe swears, there will be a multitude unto whom
tonight the _Luin_ of Celtchar will deal drinks of death in front of the
Hostel. I swear to God what my tribe swears that, in their first
encounter, three hundred will fall by that trio, and they will share
prowess with every three in the Hostel tonight. And they will boast of
victory over a king or chief of the reavers, and the three will chance
to escape."
"Woe," says Lomna Drúth, "to him who shall wreak the Destruction, were
it only because of that trio!"
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél, etc. "And after that, whom sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF THE THREE MANX GIANTS
"There I beheld a room with a trio in it. Three men mighty, manly,
overbearing, which see no one abiding at their three hideous crooked
aspects. A fearful view because of the terror of them. A ... dress of
rough hair covers them ... of cow's hair, without garments enwrapping
down to the right heels. With three manes, equine, awful, majestic, down
to their sides. Fierce heroes who wield against foeman hard-smiting
swords. A blow, they give with three iron flails having seven chains
triple-twisted, three-edged, with seven iron knobs at the end of every
chain: each of them as heavy as an ingot of ten smeltings. Three big
brown men. Dark equine back-manes on them, which reach their two heels.
Two good thirds of an oxhide in the girdle round each one's waist, and
each quadrangular clasp that closes it as thick as a man's thigh. The
raiment that is round them is the dress that grows through them. Tresses
of their back-manes were spread, and a long staff of iron, as long and
thick as an outer yoke was in each man's hand, and an iron chain out of
the end of every club, and at the end of every chain an iron pestle as
long and thick as a middle yoke. They stand in their sadness in the
house, and enough is the horror of their aspect. There is no one in the
house that would not be avoiding them. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
Fer rogain was silent. "Hard for me to liken them. I know none such of
the world's men unless they be yon trio of giants to whom Cúchulainn
gave quarter at the beleaguerment of the Men of Falga, and when they
were getting quarter they killed fifty warriors. But Cúchulainn would
not let them be slain, because of their wondrousness. These are the
names of the three: Srubdaire son of Dordbruige, and Conchenn of Cenn
maige, and Fiad sceme son of Scípe. Conaire bought them from Cúchulainn
for ... so they are along with him. Three hundred will fall by them in
their first encounter, and they will surpass in prowess every three in
the Hostel; and if they come forth upon you, the fragments of you will
be fit to go through the sieve of a corn-kiln, from the way in which
they will destroy you with the flails of iron. Woe to him that shall
wreak the Destruction, though it were only on account of those three!
For to combat against them is not a 'paean round a sluggard.'" "Ye
cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds of weakness are coming to you," etc. "And
after that, whom sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF DÁ DERGA
"There I beheld another room, with one man therein and in front of him
two servants with two manes upon them, one of the two dark, the other
fair. Red hair on the warrior, and red eyebrows. Two ruddy cheeks he
had, and an eye very blue and beautiful. He wore a green cloak and a
shirt with a white hood and a red insertion. In his hand was a sword
with a hilt of ivory, and he supplies attendance of every room in the
house with ale and food, and he is quick-footed in serving the whole
host. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"I know those men. That one is Dá Derga. 'Tis by him that the Hostel was
built, and since it was built its doors have never been shut save on the
side to which the wind comes--the valve is closed against it--and since
he began housekeeping his caldron was never taken from the fire, but it
has been boiling food for the men of Erin. The pair before him, those
two youths, are his fosterlings, two sons of the king of Leinster,
namely Muredach and Corpre. Three decads will fall by that trio in front
of their house and they will boast of victory over a king or a chief of
the reavers. After this they will chance to escape from it."
"Long live he who should protect them!" says Lomna.
"Better were triumph of saving them than triumph of slaying them! They
should be spared were it only on account of that man. 'Twere meet to
give that man quarter," says Lomna Drúth.
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél. "Clouds," etc. "And after that whom sawest
thou there?"
THE ROOM OF THE THREE CHAMPIONS FROM THE ELFMOUNDS
"There I beheld a room with a trio in it. Three red mantles they wore,
and three red shirts, and three red heads of hair were on them. Red were
they all together with their teeth. Three red shields above them. Three
red spears in their hands. Three red horses in their bridles in front of
the Hostel. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easily done. Three champions who wrought falsehood in the elfmounds.
This is the punishment inflicted upon them by the king of the elfmounds,
to be destroyed thrice by the King of Tara. Conaire son of Eterscél is
the last king by whom they are destroyed. Those men will escape from
you. To fulfil their own destruction, they have come. But they will not
be slain, nor will they slay anyone. And after that whom sawest thou?"
THE ROOM OF THE DOORWARDS
"There I beheld a trio in the midst of the house at the door. Three
holed maces in their hands. Swift as a hare was each of them round the
other towards the door. Aprons were on them, and they had gray and
speckled mantles. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easily done: Three doorwardens of Tara's King are those, namely Echur
('Key') and Tochur and Tecmang, three sons of Ersa ('Doorpost') and
Comla ('Valve'). Thrice their number will fall by them, and they will
share a man's triumph among them. They will chance to escape
though wounded."
"Woe to him that shall wreak!" etc., says Lomna Drúth.
"Ye cannot," says Ingcél, etc. "And after that whom sawest thou?"
THE ROOM OF FER CAILLE
"There I beheld at the fire in front a man with black cropt hair, having
only one eye and one foot and one hand, having on the fire a pig bald,
black, singed, squealing continually, and in his company a great
big-mouthed woman. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easily done: Fer caille with his pig and his wife Cichuil. They (the
wife and the pig) are his proper instruments on the night that ye
destroy Conaire King of Erin. Alas for the guest who will run between
them! Fer caille with his pig is one of Conaire's tabus."
"Woe to him who shall wreak the Destruction!" says Lomna.
"Ye cannot," quoth Ingcél. "And after that, whom sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF THE THREE SONS OF BÁITHIS OF BRITAIN
"There I beheld a room with three enneads in it. Fair yellow manes upon
them, and they are equally beautiful. Each of them wore a black cape,
and there was a white hood on each mantle, a red tuft on each hood, and
an iron brooch at the opening of every mantle, and under each man's
cloak a huge black sword, and the swords would split a hair on water.
They bore shields with scalloped edges. Liken thou them, O Fer rogain!"
"Easily done. That is the robber-band of the three sons of Báithis of
Britain. Three enneads will fall by them in their first conflict, and
among them they will share a man's triumph. And after that whom
sawest thou?"
THE ROOM OF THE MIMES
"There I beheld a trio of jesters hard by the fire. Three dun mantles
they wore. If the men of Erin were in one place, even though the corpse
of his mother or his father were in front of each, not one could refrain
from laughing at them. Wheresoever the king of a cantred is in the
house, not one of them attains his seat on his bed because of that trio
of jesters. Whenever the king's eye visits them it smiles at every
glance. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easily done. Mael and Mlithe and Admlithe--those are the king of Erin's
three jesters. By each of them a man will perish, and among them they
will share a man's triumph."
"Woe to him that will wreak the Destruction!" says Lomna, etc. "And
after that whom sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF THE CUPBEARERS
"There I beheld a room with a trio in it. Three grey-floating mantles
they wore. There was a cup of water in front of each man, and on each
cup a bunch of watercress. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easily done. Black and Dun and Dark: they are the King of Tara's three
cupbearers, to wit, the sons of Day and Night. And after that, whom
sawest thou there?"
THE ROOM OF NÁR THE SQUINTER-WITH-THE-LEFT-EYE
"There I beheld a one-eyed man asquint with a ruinous eye. A swine's
head he had on the fire, continually squealing. Liken thou that, O
Fer rogain!"
"Easy for me to name the like. He is Nár the Squinter with the left eye,
the swineherd of Bodb of the Elfmound on Femen, 'tis he that is over the
cooking. Blood hath been spilt at every feast at which he has ever
been present."
* * * * *
"Rise up, then, ye champions!" says Ingcél, "and get you on to the
house!"
With that the reavers march to the Hostel, and made a murmur about it.
"Silence a while!" says Conaire, "what is this?"
"Champions at the house," says Conall Cernach.
"There are warriors for them here," answers Conaire.
"They will be needed tonight," Conall Cernach rejoins.
Then went Lomna Drúth before the host of reavers into the Hostel. The
doorkeepers struck off his head. Then the head was thrice flung into the
Hostel, and thrice cast out of it, as he himself had foretold.
Then Conaire himself sallies out of the Hostel together with some of his
people, and they fight a combat with the host of reavers, and six
hundred fell by Conaire before he could get to his arms. Then the Hostel
is thrice set on fire, and thrice put out from thence: and it was
granted that the Destruction would never have been wrought had not work
of weapons been taken from Conaire.
Thereafter Conaire went to seek his arms, and he dons his battle-dress,
and falls to plying his weapons on the reavers, together with the band
that he had. Then, after getting his arms, six hundred fell by him in
his first encounter.
After this the reavers were routed. "I have told you," says Fer rogain
son of Donn Désa, "that if the champions of the men of Erin and Alba
attack Conaire at the house, the Destruction will not be wrought unless
Conaire's fury and valour be quelled."
"Short will his time be," say the wizards along with the reavers. This
was the quelling they brought, a scantness of drink that seized him.
Thereafter Conaire entered the house, and asked for a drink.
"A drink to me, O master Mac cecht!" says Conaire.
Says Mac cecht: "This is not the order that I have hitherto had from
thee, to give thee a drink. There are spencers and cupbearers who bring
drink to thee. The order I have hitherto had from thee is to protect
thee when the champions of the men of Erin and Alba may be attacking
thee around the Hostel. Thou wilt go safe from them, and no spear shall
enter thy body. Ask a drink of thy spencers and thy cupbearers."
Then Conaire asked a drink of his spencers and his cupbearers who were
in the house.
"In the first place there is none," they say; "all the liquids that had
been in the house have been spilt on the fires."
The cupbears found no drink for him in the Dodder (a river), and the
Dodder had flowed through the house.
Then Conaire again asked for a drink. "A drink to me, O fosterer, O Mac
cecht! 'Tis equal to me what death I shall go to, for anyhow I
shall perish."
Then Mac cecht gave a choice to the champions of valour of the men of
Erin who were in the house, whether they cared to protect the King or to
seek a drink for him.
Conall Cernach answered this in the house--and cruel he deemed the
contention, and afterwards he had always a feud with Mac cecht.--"Leave
the defence of the King to _us_," says Conall, "and go thou to seek the
drink, for of thee it is demanded."
So then Mac cecht fared forth to seek the drink, and he took Conaire's
son, Lé fri flaith, under his armpit, and Conaire's golden cup, in which
an ox with a bacon-pig would be boiled; and he bore his shield and his
two spears and his sword, and he carried the caldron-spit, a spit
of iron.
He burst forth upon them, and in front of the Hostel he dealt nine blows
of the iron spit, and at every blow nine reavers fell. Then he makes a
sloping feat of the shield and an edge-feat of the sword about his head,
and he delivered a hostile attack upon them. Six hundred fell in his
first encounter, and after cutting down hundreds he goes through the
band outside.
The doings of the folk of the Hostel, this is what is here examined,
presently.
Conall Cernach arises, and takes his weapons, and wends over the door of
the Hostel, and goes round the house. Three hundred fell by him, and he
hurls back the reavers over three ridges out from the Hostel, and boasts
of triumph over a king, and returns, wounded, into the Hostel.
Cormac Condlongas sallies out, and his nine comrades with him, and they
deliver their onsets on the reavers. Nine enneads fall by Cormac and
nine enneads by his people, and a man for each weapon and a man for each
man. And Cormac boasts of the death of a chief of the reavers. They
succeed in escaping though they be wounded.
The trio of Picts sally forth from the Hostel, and take to plying their
weapons on the reavers. And nine enneads fall by them, and they chance
to escape though they be wounded.
The nine pipers sally forth and dash their warlike work on the reavers;
and then they succeed in escaping.
Howbeit then, but it is long to relate, 'tis weariness of mind, 'tis
confusion of the senses, 'tis tediousness to hearers, 'tis superfluity
of narration to go over the same things twice. But the folk of the
Hostel came forth in order, and fought their combats with the reavers,
and fell by them, as Fer rogain and Lomna Drúth had said to Ingcêl, to
wit, that the folk of every room would sally forth still and deliver
their combat, and after that escape. So that none were left in the
Hostel in Conaire's company save Conall and Sencha and Dubthach.
Now from the vehement ardour and the greatness of the contest which
Conaire had fought, his great drouth of thirst attacked him, and he
perished of a consuming fever, for he got not his drink. So when the
king died those three sally out of the Hostel, and deliver a wily stroke
of reaving on the reavers, and fare forth from the Hostel, wounded,
to-broken and maimed.
Touching Mac cecht, however, he went his way till he reached the Well of
Casair, which was near him in Crích Cualann; but of water he found not
therein the full of his cup, that is, Conaire's golden cup which he had
brought in his hand. Before morning he had gone round the chief rivers
of Erin, to wit, Bush, Boyne, Bann, Barrow, Neim, Luae, Láigdae,
Shannon, Suir, Sligo, Sámair, Find, Ruirthech, Slaney, and in them he
found not the full of his cup of water.
Then before morning he had travelled to the chief lakes of Erin, to wit,
Lough Derg, Loch Luimnig, Lough Foyle, Lough Mask, Long Corrib, Loch
Láig, Loch Cúan, Lough Neagh, Môrloch, and of water he found not therein
the full of his cup.
He went his way till he reached Uaran Garad on Magh Ai. It could not
hide itself from him: so he brought thereout the full of his cup, and
the boy fell under his covering.
After this he went on and reached Dá Derga's Hostel before morning.
When Mac cecht went across the third ridge towards the house, 'tis there
were twain striking off Conaire's head. Then Mac cecht strikes off the
head of one of the two men who were beheading Conaire. The other man
then was fleeing forth with the king's head. A pillar-stone chanced to
be under Mac cecht's feet on the floor of the Hostel. He hurls it at the
man who had Conaire's head and drove it through his spine, so that his
back broke. After this Mac cecht beheads him. Mac cecht then spilt the
cup of water into Conaire's gullet and neck. Then said Conaire's head,
after the water had been put into its neck and gullet:
"A good man Mac cecht! an excellent man Mac cecht!
A good warrior without, good within,
He gives a drink, he saves a king, he doth a deed.
Well he ended the champions I found.
He sent a flagstone on the warriors.
Well he hewed by the door of the Hostel ... Fer lé,
So that a spear is against one hip.
Good should I be to far-renowned Mac cecht
If I were alive. A good man!"
After this Mac cecht followed the routed foe.
'Tis this that some books relate, that but a very few fell around
Conaire, namely, nine only. And hardly a fugitive escaped to tell the
tidings to the champions who had been at the house.
Where there had been five thousand--and in every thousand ten
hundred--only one set of five escaped, namely Ingcél, and his two
brothers Echell and Tulchinne, the "Yearling of the Reavers"--three
great-grandsons of Conmac, and the two Reds of Róiriu who had been the
first to wound Conaire.
Thereafter Ingcél went into Alba, and received the kingship after his
father, since he had taken home triumph over a king of another country.
This, however, is the recension in other books, and it is more probably
truer. Of the folk of the Hostel forty or fifty fell, and of the reavers
three fourths and one fourth of them only escaped from the Destruction.
Now when Mac cecht was lying wounded on the battle-field, at the end of
the third day, he saw a woman passing by.
"Come hither, O woman!" says Mac cecht.
"I dare not go thus," says the woman, "for horror and fear of thee."
"There _was_ a time when I had this, O woman, even horror and fear of me
on some one. But now thou shouldst fear nothing. I accept thee on the
truth of my honour and my safeguard."
Then the woman goes to him.
"I know not," says he, "whether it is a fly or a gnat, or an ant that
nips me in the wound."
It happened that it was a hairy wolf that was there, as far as its two
shoulders in the wound!
The woman seized it by the tail, and dragged it out of the wound, and it
takes the full of its jaws out of him.
"Truly," says the woman, "this is 'an ant of ancient land.'"
Says Mac cecht "I swear to God what my people swears, I deemed it no
bigger than a fly, or a gnat, or an ant."
And Mac cecht took the wolf by the throat, and struck it a blow on the
forehead, and killed it with a single blow.
Then Lé fri flaith, son of Conaire, died under Mac cecht's armpit, for
the warrior's heat and sweat had dissolved him.
Thereafter Mac cecht, having cleansed the slaughter, at the end of the
third day, set forth, and he dragged Conaire with him on his back, and
buried him at Tara, as some say. Then Mac cecht departed into Connaught,
to his own country, that he might work his cure in Mag Bréngair.
Wherefore the name clave to the plain from Mac cecht's misery, that is,
Mag Brén-guir.
Now Conall Cernach escaped from the Hostel, and thrice fifty spears had
gone through the arm which upheld his shield. He fared forth till he
reached his father's house, with half his shield in his hand, and his
sword, and the fragments of his two spears. Then he found his father
before his garth in Taltiu.
"Swift are the wolves that have hunted thee, my son," saith his father.
"'Tis this that has wounded us, thou old hero, an evil conflict with
warriors," Conall Cernach replied.
"Hast thou then news of Dá Derga's Hostel?" asked Amorgin. "Is thy lord
alive?"
"He is _not_ alive," says Conall.
"I swear to God what the great tribes of Ulaid swear, it is cowardly for
the man who went thereout alive, having left his lord with his foes
in death."
"My wounds are not white, thou old hero," says Conall.
He shews him his shield-arm, whereon were thrice fifty wounds: this is
what was inflicted upon it. The shield that guarded it is what saved it.
But the right arm had been played upon, as far as two thirds thereof,
since the shield had not been guarding it. That arm was mangled and
maimed and wounded and pierced, save that the sinews kept it to the body
without separation.
"That arm fought tonight, my son," says Amorgein.
"True is that, thou old hero," says Conall Cernach. "Many there are unto
whom it gave drinks of death tonight in front of the Hostel."
Now as to the reavers, every one of them that escaped from the Hostel
went to the cairn which they had built on the night before last, and
they brought thereout a stone for each man not mortally wounded. So this
is what they lost by death at the Hostel, a man for every stone that is
(now) in Carn Lecca.
It endeth: Amen: it endeth.