thatched with the royal fern of the mountains, the red clay of the
pools, and with soft feathers from the breasts of birds. There she
could sit and listen to the murmur and drip of the clear water over
the mossy boulders, the splash of the salmon in the dark pools, and
see the distant silver of the loch. When the summer sun was hot on the
bog myrtle and heather, the hum of the wild bees would lull her to
sleep, and in autumn, when the bracken grew red and golden and the
rowan berries grew red as Deirdre's lips, her keen eyes would see the
stags grazing high up among the grey boulders of the mist-crowned
mountains, and would warn the brothers of the sport awaiting them. The
crow of the grouse, the belling of stags, the bark of the hill-fox,
the swish of the great wings of the golden eagle, the song of birds,
the lilt of running water, the complaining of the wind through the
birches--all these things made music to Deirdre, to whom all things
were dear.
"_Is tu mein na Dearshul agha_"--"The tenderness of heartsweet
Deirdre"--so runs a line in an old, old Gaelic verse, and it is always
of her tenderness as well as her beauty that the old _Oea_ speak.
Sometimes she would hunt the red deer with Naoise and his brothers, up
the lonely glens, up through the clouds to the silent mountain tops,
and in the evening, when she was weary, her three loyal worshippers
would proudly bear her home upon their bucklers.
So the happy days passed away, and in Erin the angry heart of Conor
grew yet more angry when tidings came to him of the happiness of
Deirdre and the Sons of Usna. Rumour came to him that the king of
Alba had planned to come against Naoise, to slay him, and to take
Deirdre for his wife, but that ere he could come the Sons of Usna and
Deirdre had sailed yet further north in their galley, and that there,
in the land of his mother, Naoise ruled as a king. And not only on
Loch Etive, but on Loch Awe and Loch Fyne, Loch Striven, Loch Ard,
Loch Long, Loch Lomond and all along the sea-loch coast, the fame of
the Sons of Usna spread, and the wonder of the beauty of Deirdre,
fairest of women.
And ever the hatred of Conor grew, until one day there came into his
mind a plan of evil by which his burning thirst for revenge might be
handsomely assuaged.
He made, therefore, a great feast, at which all the heroes of the Red
Branch were present. When he had done them every honour, he asked them
if they were content. As one man: "Well content indeed!" answered
they.
"And that is what I am not," said the king. Then with the guile of
fair words he told them that to him it was great sorrow that the three
heroes, with whose deeds the Western Isles and the whole of the north
and west of Alba were ringing, should not be numbered amongst his
friends, sit at his board in peace and amity, and fight for the
Ultonians like all the other heroes of the Red Branch.
"They took from me the one who would have been my wife," he said, "yet
even that I can forgive, and if they would return to Erin, glad would
my welcome be."
At these words there was great rejoicing amongst the lords of the Red
Branch and all those who listened, and Conor, glad at heart, said,
"My three best champions shall go to bring them back from their
exile," and he named Conall the Victorious, Cuchulainn, and Fergus,
the son of Rossa the Red. Then secretly he called Conall to him and
asked him what he would do if he were sent to fetch the Sons of Usna,
and, in spite of his safe-conduct, they were slain when they reached
the land of the Ultonians. And Conall made answer that should such a
shameful thing come to pass he would slay with his own hand all the
traitor dogs. Then he sent for Cuchulainn, and to him put the same
question, and, in angry scorn, the young hero replied that even Conor
himself would not be safe from his vengeance were such a deed of black
treachery to be performed.
"Well did I know thou didst bear me no love," said Conor, and black
was his brow.
He called for Fergus then, and Fergus, sore troubled, made answer that
were there to be such a betrayal, the king alone would be held sacred
from his vengeance.
Then Conor gladly gave Fergus command to go to Alba as his emissary,
and to fetch back with him the three brothers and Deirdre the
Beautiful.
"Thy name of old was Honeymouth," he said, "so I know well that with
guile thou canst bring them to Erin. And when thou shalt have returned
with them, send them forward, but stay thyself at the house of
Borrach. Borrach shall have warning of thy coming."
This he said, because to Fergus and to all the other of the Red
Branch, a _geasa_, or pledge, was sacrosanct. And well he knew that
Fergus had as one of his _geasa_ that he would never refuse an
invitation to a feast.
Next day Fergus and his two sons, Illann the Fair and Buinne the Red,
set out in their galley for the dun of the Sons of Usna on Loch Etive.
The day before their hurried flight from Erin, Ainle and Ardan had
been playing chess in their dun with Conor, the king. The board was of
fair ivory, and the chessmen were of red-gold, wrought in strange
devices. It had come from the mysterious East in years far beyond the
memory of any living man, and was one of the dearest of Conor's
possessions. Thus, when Ainle and Ardan carried off the chess-board
with them in their flight, after the loss of Deirdre, that was the
loss that gave the king the greatest bitterness. Now it came to pass
that as Naoise and Deirdre were sitting in front of their dun, the
little waves of Loch Etive lapping up on the seaweed, yellow as the
hair of Deirdre, far below, and playing chess at this board, they
heard a shout from the woods down by the shore where the hazels and
birches grew thick.
"That is the voice of a man of Erin!" said Naoise, and stopped in his
game to listen.
But Deirdre said, very quickly: "Not so! It is the voice of a Gael of
Alba."
Yet so she spoke that she might try to deceive her own heart, that
even then was chilled by the black shadow of an approaching evil. Then
came another shout, and yet a third. And when they heard the third
shout, there was no doubt left in their minds, for they all knew the
voice for that of Fergus, the son of Rossa the Red. And when Ardan
hastened down to the harbour to greet him, Deirdre confessed to Naoise
why she had refused at first to own that it was a voice from Erin that
she heard.
"I saw in a dream last night," she said, "three birds that flew hither
from Emain Macha, carrying three sips of honey in their beaks. The
honey they left with us, but took away three sips of blood."
And Naoise said: "What then, best beloved, dost thou read from this
dream of thine?"
And Deirdre said: "I read that Fergus comes from Conor with honeyed
words of peace, but behind his treacherous words lies death."
As they spake, Ardan and Fergus and his following climbed up the
height where the bog-myrtle and the heather and sweet fern yielded
their sweetest incense as they were wounded under their firm tread.
And when Fergus stood before Deirdre and Naoise, the man of her heart,
he told them of Conor's message, and of the peace and the glory that
awaited them in Erin if they would but listen to the words of welcome
that he brought.
Then said Naoise: "I am ready." But his eyes dared not meet the
sea-blue eyes of Deirdre, his queen.
"Knowest thou that my pledge is one of honour?" asked Fergus.
"I know it well," said Naoise.
So in joyous feasting was that night spent, and only over the heart
of Deirdre hung that black cloud of sorrow to come, of woe
unspeakable.
When the golden dawn crept over the blue hills of Loch Etive, and the
white-winged birds of the sea swooped and dived and cried in the
silver waters, the galley of the Sons of Usna set out to sea.
And Deirdre, over whom hung a doom she had not the courage to name,
sang a song at parting:
THE LAY OF DEIRDRE
"Beloved land, that Eastern land,
Alba, with its wonders.
O that I might not depart from it,
But that I go with Naoise.
Beloved is Dunfidgha and Dun Fin;
Beloved the Dun above them;
Beloved is Innisdraighende;[18]
And beloved Dun Suibhne.[19]
Coillchuan! O Coillchuan!
Where Ainnle would, alas! resort;
Too short, I deem, was then my stay
With Ainnle in Oirir Alban.
Glenlaidhe![20] O Glenlaidhe!
I used to sleep by its soothing murmur;
Fish, and flesh of wild boar and badger,
Was my repast in Glenlaidhe.
Glenmasan! O Glenmasan![21]
High its herbs, fair its boughs.
Solitary was the place of our repose
On grassy Invermasan.
Gleneitche![22] O Gleneitche!
There was raised my earliest home.
Beautiful its woods on rising,
When the sun struck on Gleneitche.
Glen Urchain![23] O Glen Urchain!
It was the straight glen of smooth ridges,
Not more joyful was a man of his age
Than Naoise in Glen Urchain.
Glendaruadh![24] O Glendaruadh!
My love each man of its inheritance.
Sweet the voice of the cuckoo, on bending bough,
On the hill above Glendaruadh.
Beloved is Draighen and its sounding shore;
Beloved is the water o'er the pure sand.
O that I might not depart from the east,
But that I go with my beloved!"
_Translated by W. F. Skene, LL.D._
Thus they fared across the grey-green sea betwixt Alba and Erin, and
when Ardan and Ainle and Naoise heard the words of the song of
Deirdre, on their hearts also descended the strange sorrow of an evil
thing from which no courage could save them.
At Ballycastle, opposite Rathlin Island, where a rock on the shore
("Carraig Uisneach") still bears the name of the Sons of Usna, Fergus
and the returned exiles landed. And scarcely were they out of sight of
the shore when a messenger came to Fergus, bidding him to a feast of
ale at the dun of Borrach. Then Fergus, knowing well that in this was
the hand of Conor and that treachery was meant, reddened all over with
anger and with shame. But yet he dared not break his _geasa_, even
although by holding to it the honour he had pledged to the three
brothers for their safe-conduct and that of Deirdre was dragged
through the mire. He therefore gave them his sons for escort and went
to the feast at the dun of Borrach, full well knowing that Deirdre
spoke truth when she told him sadly that he had sold his honour. The
gloomy forebodings that had assailed the heart of Deirdre ere they had
left Loch Etive grew ever the stronger as they went southwards. She
begged Naoise to let them go to some place of safety and there wait
until Fergus had fulfilled his _geasa_ and could rejoin them and go
with them to Emain Macha. But the Sons of Usna, strong in the
knowledge of their own strength, and simply trustful of the pledged
word of Conor and of Fergus, laughed at her fears, and continued on
their way. Dreams of dread portent haunted her sleep, and by daytime
her eyes in her white face looked like violets in the snow. She saw a
cloud of blood always hanging over the beautiful Sons of Usna, and all
of them she saw, and Illann the Fair, with their heads shorn off, gory
and awful. Yet no pleading words could prevail upon Naoise. His fate
drove him on.
"To Emain Macha we must go, my beloved," he said. "To do other than
this would be to show that we have fear, and fear we have none."
Thus at last did they arrive at Emain Macha, and with courteous
welcome Conor sent them word that the house of the heroes of the Red
Branch was to be theirs that night. And although the place the king
had chosen for their lodgment confirmed all the intuitions and
forebodings of Deirdre, the evening was spent by in good cheer, and
Deirdre had the joy of a welcome there from her old friend Lavarcam.
For to Lavarcam Conor had said: "I would have thee go to the House of
the Red Branch and bring me back tidings if the beauty of Deirdre has
waned, or if she is still the most beautiful of all women."
And when Lavarcam saw her whom she had loved as a little child,
playing chess with her husband at the board of ivory and gold, she
knew that love had made the beauty of Deirdre blossom, and that she
was now more beautiful than the words of any man or woman could tell.
Nor was it possible for her to be a tool for Conor when she looked in
the starry eyes of Deirdre, and so she poured forth warning of the
treachery of Conor, and the Sons of Usna knew that there was truth in
the dreams of her who was the queen of their hearts. And even as
Lavarcam ceased there came to the eyes of Deirdre a vision such as
that of Cathbad the Druid on the night of her birth.
"I see three torches quenched this night," she said.
"And these three torches are the Three Torches of Valour
among the Gael, and their names are the names of the
Sons of Usna. And more bitter still is this sorrow,
because that the Red Branch shall ultimately perish
through it, and Uladh itself be overthrown, and blood
fall this way and that as the whirled rains of
winter."
Fiona Macleod.
Then Lavarcam went her way, and returned to the palace at Emain Macha
and told Conor that the cruel winds and snows of Alba had robbed
Deirdre of all her loveliness, so that she was no more a thing to be
desired. But Naoise had said to Deirdre when she foretold his doom:
"Better to die for thee and for thy deathless beauty than to have
lived without knowledge of thee and thy love," and it may have been
that some memory of the face of Deirdre, when she heard these words,
dwelt in the eyes of Lavarcam and put quick suspicion into the evil
heart of the king. For when Lavarcam had gone forth, well pleased that
she had saved her darling, Conor sent a spy--a man whose father and
three brothers had fallen in battle under the sword of Naoise--that he
might see Deirdre and confirm or contradict the report of Lavarcam.
And when this man reached the house of the Red Branch, he found that
the Sons of Usna had been put on their guard, for all the doors and
windows were barred. Thus he climbed to a narrow upper window and
peered in. There, lying on the couches, the chess-board of ivory and
gold between them, were Naoise and Deirdre. So beautiful were they,
that they were as the deathless gods, and as they played that last
game of their lives, they spoke together in low voices of love that
sounded like the melody of a harp in the hands of a master player.
Deirdre was the first to see the peering face with the eyes that
gloated on her loveliness. No word said she, but silently made the
gaze of Naoise follow her own, even as he held a golden chessman in
his hand, pondering a move. Swift as a stone from a sling the chessman
was hurled, and the man fell back to the ground with his eyeball
smashed, and found his way to Emain Macha as best he could, shaking
with agony and snarling with lust for revenge. Vividly he painted for
the king the picture of the most beautiful woman on earth as she
played at the chess-board that he held so dear, and the rage of Conor
that had smouldered ever since that day when he learned that Naoise
had stolen Deirdre from him, flamed up into madness. With a bellow
like that of a wounded bull, he called upon the Ultonians to come with
him to the House of the Red Branch, to burn it down, and to slay all
those within it with the sword, save only Deirdre, who was to be saved
for a more cruel fate.
In the House of the Red Branch, Deirdre and the three brothers and the
two sons of Fergus heard the shouts of the Ultonians and knew that the
storm was about to break. But, calm as rocks against which the angry
waves beat themselves in vain, sat those whose portion at dawn was to
be cruel death. And Naoise and Ainle played chess, with hands that did
not tremble. At the first onslaught, Buinne the Red, son of Fergus,
sallied forth, quenched the flames, and drove back the Ultonians with
great slaughter. But Conor called to him to parley and offered him a
bribe of land, and Buinne, treacherous son of a treacherous father,
went over to the enemy. His brother, Illann the Fair, filled with
shame, did what he could to make amends. He went forth, and many
hundreds of the besieging army fell before him, ere death stayed his
loyal hand. At his death the Ultonians again fired the house, and
first Ardan and then Ainle left their chess for a fiercer game, and
glutted their sword blades with the blood of their enemies. Last came
the turn of Naoise. He kissed Deirdre, and drank a drink, and went out
against the men of Conor, and where his brothers had slain hundreds,
a thousand fell before his sword.
Then fear came into the heart of Conor, for he foresaw that against
the Sons of Usna no man could prevail, save by magic. Thus he sent for
Cathbad the Druid, who was even then very near death, and the old man
was carried on a litter to the House of the Red Branch, from which the
flames were leaping, and before which the dead lay in heaps.
And Conor besought him to help him to subdue the Sons of Usna ere they
should have slain every Ultonian in the land. So by his magic Cathbad
raised a hedge of spears round the house. But Naoise, Ardan, and
Ainle, with Deirdre in their centre, sheltered by their shields, burst
suddenly forth from the blazing house, and cut a way for themselves
through the hedge as though they sheared green wheat. And, laughing
aloud, they took a terrible toll of lives from the Ultonians who would
have withstood them. Then again the Druid put forth his power, and a
noise like the noise of many waters was in the ears of all who were
there. So suddenly the magic flood arose that there was no chance of
escape for the Sons of Usna. Higher it mounted, ever higher, and
Naoise held Deirdre on his shoulder, and smiled up in her eyes as the
water rose past his middle. Then suddenly as it had come, the flood
abated, and all was well with the Ultonians who had sheltered on a
rising ground. But the Sons of Usna found themselves entrapped in a
morass where the water had been. Conor, seeing them in his hands at
last, bade some of his warriors go and take them. But for shame no
Ultonian would go, and it was a man from Norway who walked along a dry
spit of land to where they stood, sunk deep in the green bog. "Slay me
first!" called Ardan as he drew near, sword in hand. "I am the
youngest, and, who knows, my death may change the tides of fate!"
And Ainle also craved that death might be dealt to him the first. But
Naoise held out his own sword, "The Retaliator," to the executioner.
"Mannanan, the son of Lir, gave me my good sword," he said. "With it
strike my dear brothers and me one blow only as we stand here like
three trees planted in the soil. Then shall none of us know the grief
and shame of seeing the other beheaded." And because it was hard for
any man to disobey the command of Naoise, a king of men, the Norseman
reached out his hand for the sword. But Deirdre sprang from the
shoulder of Naoise and would have killed the man ere he struck.
Roughly he threw her aside, and with one blow he shore off the heads
of the three greatest heroes of Alba.
For a little while there was a great stillness there, like the silence
before the coming of a storm. And then all who had beheld the end of
the fair and noble Sons of Usna broke into great lamentation. Only
Conor stood silent, gazing at the havoc he had wrought. To Cuchulainn,
the mighty champion, a good man and a true, Deirdre fled, and begged
him to protect her for the little span of life that she knew yet
remained to her. And with him she went to where the head of Naoise
lay, and tenderly she cleansed it from blood and from the stains of
strife and stress, and smoothed the hair that was black as a raven's
wing, and kissed the cold lips again and again. And as she held it
against her white breast, as a mother holds a little child, she
chanted for Naoise, her heart, and for his brothers, a lament that
still lives in the language of the Gael.
"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.
* * * * *
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."
Fiona Macleod's Translation.
Then, at the bidding of Cuchulainn, the Ultonian, three graves were
dug for the brothers, but the grave of Naoise was made wider than the
others, and when he was placed in it, standing upright, with his head
placed on his shoulders, Deirdre stood by him and held him in her
white arms, and murmured to him of the love that was theirs and of
which not Death itself could rob them. And even as she spoke to him,
merciful Death took her, and together they were buried. At that same
hour a terrible cry was heard: "_The Red Branch perisheth! Uladh
passeth! Uladh passeth!_" and when he had so spoken, the soul of
Cathbad the Druid passed away.
To the land of the Ultonians there came on the morrow a mighty host,
and the Red Branch was wiped out for ever. Emain Macha was cast into
ruins, and Conor died in a madness of sorrow.
And still, in that land of Erin where she died, still in the lonely
cleuchs and glens, and up the mist-hung mountain sides of Loch Etive,
where she knew her truest happiness, we can sometimes almost hear the
wind sighing the lament: "Deirdre the beautiful is dead ... is dead!"
"I hear a voice crying, crying, crying: is it the wind
I hear, crying its old weary cry time out of mind?
_The grey wind weeps, the grey wind weeps, the grey wind weeps:_
_Dust on her breast, dust on her eyes, the grey wind weeps._"
Fiona Macleod.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Now Dunskaith.
[15] Fairies.
[16] The Hill of Howth, at Dublin Bay.
[17] Dale of the Waterfall: now Dalness.
[18] Inistrynich.
[19] Dun Sween.
[20] Glen Lug.
[21] At the head of Holy Loch, Argyllshire.
[22] Glen Etive.
[23] Glenorchy.
[24] Glendaruel.
INDEX
Acheron, 37
Achilles, 71
Acrisius, 105, 121, 122, 123
Adam, 220
Adonis, 178, 192, 202, 203, 205, 206, 207, 208
Advocates' Library, 306
Aed, 290, 299, 300, 304, 305
AEgean Sea, 36, 90, 106, 121, 145, 146, 186
AEgean Islands, 172
AEolus, 144
AEsculapius, 88
AEsop, 169
Ainle, 313, 315, 316, 317, 322, 325, 329, 330, 331
Ainnle, 324
Aix, 287
Aix-la-Chapelle, 287
Ajax, 71
Alba, 295, 299, 307, 311, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 325, 327, 331
Alban, Oirir, 324
Alexander the Great, 135
Alpheus, 102, 103, 104
Althaea, 69, 71, 75
Amphion, 124, 128
Anapus, 101
Andromeda, 119, 120, 123
Angelo, Michael, 203
Anglo-Saxon, 245
Angrbotha, 236
Aphrodite, 5, 13, 14, 15, 42, 46, 47, 49, 56, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65,
66, 67, 79, 81, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206
Apollo, 5, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 24, 27, 28, 29, 32, 42, 43, 44, 45,
49, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 101, 125, 126, 127, 129, 130,
131, 132, 133, 139, 140, 141, 142, 145, 164, 165, 173, 185, 186,
187, 188, 190, 191, 192, 267
Apollo Belvidere, 11
Apollo, Phoebus, 19
Appin, 317
Arachne, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89
Arcadia, 71, 77, 78, 197, 211
Arcadian, 75
Archilochus, 223
Ard, Loch, 320
Ardan, 312, 315, 316, 317, 322, 323, 325, 329, 330, 331
Arethusa, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104
Argo, 39
Argonauts, 39
Argos, 105, 122, 128
Aristaeus, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160
Aristophanes, 169
Argyllshire, 324
Arnold, Matthew, 228, 239, 240
Aros, 317
Artemis, 26, 27
Arthur, King, 268
Aschere, 256
Asgard, 230, 231, 235, 239, 240, 242
Asia, 135
Atalanta, 71, 72, 73, 74, 76, 78, 79, 80, 81
Athene, Pallas, 3, 4, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111,
112, 115, 120, 182
Athens, 181, 182
Atlas, 114, 115, 117
Aude the Fair, 282, 287
Aurora, 20, 21
Australia, 220
Awe, Loch, 320
Bacchantes, 40
Bacchus, 40, 136, 138
Baldrsbra, 234
Baldur, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243
Ballycastle, 325
Bann, 301
Bartholomew, 88
Baviere, Naismes de, 272
Belvidere, Apollo, 11
Ben Cruachan, 318
Ben Etair, 317
Benmullet, 295
Beowulf, 229, 244, 245, 246, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256,
257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265
Beowulf's Barrow, 264
Beowulfesby, 245
Bertha, 269, 271, 272
Bion, 206
Blancandrin, 268, 274
Blaye, 287
Bodb the Red, 289, 290, 291, 296, 301
Boreas, 212
Borrach, 321, 325, 326
Bowlby Cliff, 244, 245
Branch, Red, 307, 308, 320, 321, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333
Breton, 267
Brisingamen, 229, 255, 260
Britain, 244, 268
Brittany, 267
Brocken, 233
Browning, E. B., 209, 218
Buinne the Red, 322, 329
Byron, 10
Calliope, 32
Calvary, 216
Calvinism, 215
Calydon, 69, 70, 71, 78
Calydonian Hunt, 69, 72, 76
Campbell, Thos., 266
Carlyle, Thos., 215, 216, 266
Carmichael, Alexander, 307
Carraig Uisneach, 325
Carricknarone, 299, 300
Cassiopeia, 123
Castor, 71
Cathbad, 307, 309, 310, 311, 327, 330, 332
Caucasus, Mt., 8
Celts, 289, 306
Cepheus, 123
Cerberus, 34
Ceyx, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 150, 151, 152, 153
Champions of the Red Branch, 307, 308
Chanson de Roland, 266
Chaos, 2
Charlemagne, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276,
277, 280, 281, 282, 286, 287
Charles, King, 282
Charon, 37, 38
Chemmis, 117
Chinese, 208
Christian, 272, 275, 295, 303
Christianity, 215, 227, 232
Cimmerian Mountains, 148
Circe, 226
Claros, 145
Clio, 129
Clymene, 16, 17, 18, 24
Clytie, 189
Cocytus, 59, 63, 64, 104, 115, 167, 207
Coillchuan, 324