Meave demands the Brown Bull of Cooley and is refused
For many years Meave had been making preparations for her war with
Ulster. To the East and South and West she had sent her messengers,
stirring up the chiefs and calling them to aid her in her attack
on Conor’s land. From every quarter she asked for supplies of men
and food, and if these were refused, she sent her fighting-bands
into the district to waste and destroy it, and to carry off the
cattle and produce by force. All the princes of Ireland stood in
awe of Meave, so ruthless and proud was she, and so quick in her
descent upon the lands of those who would not do her will. For had
they not regarded her request, all Ireland would have been set in
flames; for she would plunder and destroy without pity or remorse.
So in their own defence, the princes of the provinces promised her
fighting-men and provender whenever she should call upon them, and
month by month she gathered round her fort at Cruachan herds of
cattle and swine and sheep, ready for the war.
Now Meave was looking about for a cause of contest between herself
and Ulster; for she knew that Cuchulain was yet young, and she
desired to begin the war before he came to his full strength;
moreover, she had heard that upon Ulster at that time there lay a
heavy sickness, which had prostrated its fighting-men and warriors,
its princes and captains, and that even Conor, the King, himself
lay ill.
No common sickness was that which lay upon the Province, but it
came of the wrath and vengeance of the gods. For in the days gone
by the goddess Macha, one of the three fierce goddesses of war and
battles, had visited Ulster as a mortal maid, to bring aid and
comfort to one of the nobles of Ulster who was in sore distress.
And the King and people had reviled her, and brought shame and
scoffing upon her, because they saw that she was not as one of
themselves; for they liked not that a woman greater than themselves
should take up her abode amongst them. They made game of her in the
public assembly, crowding round her, and scoffing at her courage
and her splendid form and at her swiftness of running beyond any
of the men. For they knew not that she was one of the great gods,
and they were jealous of her, because they felt that she was nobler
than they. Then Macha cursed the men of Ulster, and told them
that in a time of danger and sore need, when all the chiefs and
warriors of Ireland should gather round its borders, plundering
and destroying, she would cast upon their warriors weakness and
feebleness of body and of mind, so that they could not go forth in
defence of the Province, and the land should be a prey to their
enemies. Only upon Cuchulain she laid not her curse, for he was
young, and it fell not upon women and little children, but upon
full-grown warriors only, because it was the men of Ulster who had
insulted her. Then she went away from them, and in dread of her
they called the palace of the King Emain Macha, or the “Brooch-pin
of Macha,” to this day.[2]
When then Macha saw Meave gathering her hosts together to war
against Ulster, she brought upon them this sickness, as she had
prophesied. And Meave, hearing of this, hastened her preparations
for the war, for she was determined that, come what might, she
would march into Ulster at that time and smite it in its weakness,
so that once and for ever Ulster would be subdued to Connaught by
her hand. And her pride waxed greater at the thought.
[Illustration: Macha curses the Men of Ulster]
There were in Ireland at that time two famous bulls, unlike to any
kine that ever have been in Ireland from that time until now. For
these bulls were cattle of the gods, and they had come to abide
among men for this purpose only, to incite and bring about a war
between Connaught and Ulster. For Macha watched o’er men, and she
awaited the day when her revenge upon Ulster should fall. Now
these cattle were born, one in the Province of Connaught among the
cattle of Meave, and the other in Ulster among the cattle of Daire
of Cooley, in Cuchulain’s country. Meave knew not that these were
immortal beasts, for that was in the secrets of the gods, but she
knew well that among her cattle was one bull of extraordinary size,
and fierceness, and strength, so that no other member of her herds
dared to come near it; moreover, fifty men were required to keep
it. And of all her stock, there was not one that Meave counted
worth a metal ring beside this bull. She named him the Finn-bennach
or “White-horned,” and she believed that not in Ireland nor in the
whole world beside, was the equal and the fellow of this bull.
One day, before the war began, while Meave was meditating in her
mind what challenge she should send to Ulster, she caused all her
cattle to be arrayed before her.
From pastures and meadow-lands, from hills and vales, she called
in all her stock, her sheep and swine, her cattle and her steeds.
Ailill also, her husband, caused his flocks and herds to be brought
in, and reckoned alongside of hers. For Meave had boasted to her
spouse that in all possessions of kine and live stock, as also in
household goods and utensils, in jewels and ornaments, in garments
and in stuffs, her share was greater far than his, so that, in
fact, she was the better of the two, the real ruler and prince of
Connaught.
Ailill liked not this boasting of his wife; so when their flocks
were driven in, their vessels and vats and mugs collected, their
clasped ornaments and rings, as well arm-rings as thumb-rings,
brooches and collars of carven metal-work, with their apparel and
stuffs, it pleased the King to find that the share of Meave and of
himself was exactly equal and alike. Among Meave’s horses was a
special mare, and she thought there was no mare in Ireland to equal
it, but Ailill had one just its match. Among the sheep Meave owned
one mighty ram, and among the swine one eminent boar, but Ailill
proved that amongst his flocks and herds he had the same. Then
Meave said: “Among the cattle, however, certain it is, that there
is no bull to be named in the same breath with the White-horned.”
“Ay, no, indeed,” said the herdsman, “the White-horned surpasseth
all beasts; but, a week ago, he left the company of thy cattle, O
Queen, and went over to the cattle of the King. ’Tis my opinion
that he heard the keepers say that it was strange that so powerful
a bull should be under the dominion of a woman; for no sooner were
the words out of their mouths, than he broke loose from his stall,
and, head in air and bellowing loudly, he passed over to the herds
of Ailill. Nought could stay him or bring him back; and all that
stood in his path were trampled and gored to death.”
Now when Meave heard that the White-horned was no longer in her
keeping, not one of her possessions had any value in her eyes; for,
because she had not that especial bull, it was in her esteem as
though she owned not so much as a penny’s worth of stock.
When Mac Roth, her herald, who stood at her right hand, saw the
Queen’s vexation, he said, “I know, O Queen, where a better bull
than the White-horned is to be found, even with Daire of Cooley, in
Cuchulain’s country, and the Dun or “Brown Bull” of Cooley is its
name; a match it is to the White-horned; nay, I think that it is
yet more powerful than he.”
“Whence came these bulls?” said Meave; “and what is their strength
and their history? Tell me, Mac Roth, yet further of this bull.”
Then Mac Roth said: “This is the description of the Dun. Brown
he is, and dark as night, terrific in strength and size. Upon
his back, at evening-tide, full fifty little boys can play their
games. He moves about with fifty heifers at his side, and if his
keepers trouble him, he tramples them into the earth in his rage.
Throughout the land his bellowings can be heard, and on his horns
are gold and silver tips. Before the cows he marches as a king,
with bull-like front, and with the resistless pace of the long
billow rolling on the shore. Like to the fury of a dragon, or
like a lion’s fierceness is his rage. Only the Finn-bennach, the
White-horned bull, is his mate and match; his pair in strength, in
splendour, and in pride.”
And Meave said: “What and whence are these kine, and wherefore did
they come to Ireland?”
Mac Roth replied: “These are the cattle of the gods; out of the
Fairy Palaces they came to Erin, and into the Fairy Palaces they
will return again. For the disturbance and downfall of Erin are
they come, to awaken wars and tumults among her people. Before
they became cattle, they have lived many lives in many forms, but
in whatever form they come to earth destruction and warfare haunt
their steps. At the first they were two swineherds of the gods,
dwelling in the underworld, and they kept the herds of the fairy
gods of Munster and of Connaught. But a mighty war was fought
between them, so that all Erin was disturbed and troubled by that
war; and each of them tore the other in pieces, so that they died.
But they were born again as two ravens, dwelling upon earth, and
for three hundred years they lived as birds, but in the end they
pecked each other till they died.
“Then they became two monsters of the sea, and after that two
warriors and two demon-men. But in each of all these forms they
met together in terrific contest, so that the world of men and
even the dwellings of the gentle gods were stirred and agitated by
their wrath. For when men hear the sighing of the wind, or the wild
turmoil of the billows on the shore, then, indeed, it is the bulls
in fight wherever they may be, or in whatever form. And now that
they are come to earth again, no doubt some mighty contest is at
hand; for surely they are come to stir up strife and deadly warfare
between man and man, and Connaught and Ulster will be concerned in
this.”
“That likes us well,” said Meave, “and for this contest we will
well prepare. So, since the fellow of the White-horned dwells in
Cooley, take thou with thee a company, Mac Roth, and go and beg
this excellent bull from Daire, that henceforth my cattle may
compare with Ailill’s kine, or that they may surpass them. Give all
conditions he demands and promise what thou wilt, so only Daire
give up the bull. And if he give it not up willingly, then will we
come and seize the bull by force.”
For to herself she said: “The taking of this bull will be a thing
not easy to accomplish; if Daire, as is likely, refuse it to me,
war will arise between Connaught and Ulster, and this, seeing that
the warriors of Ulster are now lying in their pains, we much could
wish. For our hosts are gathered and our provisions ready, while on
Ulster’s side there are but women and little children and Cuchulain
ready and fit to meet us; quickly in that case we shall march into
Ulster’s borders and raid the country up to Emain’s palace gates,
carrying off the spoils; the Brown Bull also we will bring with us,
and henceforth not Ailill, nor the King of Ulster, nor all Ireland
besides, will hold up their heads against ourselves or boast
themselves our equal.”
So Mac Roth with nine of his company travelled to the house of
Daire in Cooley, and welcome was made for them, and fresh rushes
strewn upon the floor and viands of the best were set before them,
as became the chief of Ireland’s heralds. But before they sat
down to meat, Daire inquired of them: “What is the cause of your
journey here to-day?” And Mac Roth replied: “A quarrel that has
arisen between Ailill and Meave, the King and Queen of Connaught,
about the possession of the White-horned, for Meave is sorrowful
and vexed because the King hath a better bull than she. She craves
therefore, that a loan of the Dun or Brown Bull of Cooley be made
to her, that she may say that she hath the finer kine. And if
thou thyself wilt bring the bull to Cruachan, good payment shall
be given thee: that is, due payment for the loan of the bull, and
fifty heifers into the bargain, besides a stretch of country of the
best in Connaught, and Meave’s close friendship along with this.”
This pleased Daire so well, that he threw himself upon his couch,
and he laughed loud and long, so that the seams of the couch burst
asunder under him. “By our good faith,” he said, “the offer is a
good one, and whatever the men of Ulster may say to my lending away
their precious bull, lend it I will with all my heart.”
Then supper was served, and the messengers of Meave ate and drank,
and Daire plied them with strong wines, so that they began to talk
at random to each other. “A good house is this to which we have
come, and a wealthy man is Daire,” said one to his fellow. “Wealthy
he is indeed,” said the other. “Would you say that he was the
best man in all Ulster, and the richest?” pursued the first who
had spoken. “Surely not,” replied the other, “for Conor the King,
at least, is better in every way than he.” “Well, lucky it is, I
say,” pursued the first, “that without bloodshed or any difficulty
raised, he yields the bull to us nine messengers; for had he
refused it, I trow that the warriors of all Ireland’s Provinces
could not have carried it off from Ulster.” “Say not so,” cried
another, “for in truth, little matter to us had it been if Daire
had refused it, for had we not got the bull by fair means, we
would have carried it off by foul.”
Now just at that moment in came the steward, with fresh viands to
set before the guests, but when he overheard their conversation,
and the slighting way in which his master was spoken of by the
heralds of Connaught, he set down the meat without a word and
without inviting them to partake, and out he went at once and told
his master what the heralds had said. Then Daire was very angry,
and he exclaimed, “By the gods, I declare, that never will I lend
the bull; and that now, unless by foul means they carry him off
from me, he never shall be theirs.”
The next morning, the messengers arose, having slept off their
carouse, and they went to Daire’s house, and courteously said:
“Show us now, noble Sir, the way to the place where the Brown Bull
is, that we may proceed with him on our journey back to Cruachan.”
“Not so, indeed,” said Daire, “for were it my habit to deal
treacherously with those that come in embassage, not one of you
would have seen the light of the sun to-day.” “Why, how now, what
is this?” they asked, surprised, for they had forgotten what they
had said over their cups the night before. “’Tis plain enough, I
think,” said Daire; “your people said last night that if I gave the
bull not up of mine own will, yet Meave and Ailill would make me
give it up by force. Let Meave and Ailill come and take it if they
can. All Ulster will prepare to hold the bull.”
“Come, come,” said Mac Roth, “heed not what foolish men said after
food and drink; Ailill and Meave had no ill intent in sending us to
ask the bull of you. It were not right to hold them responsible for
the loose words of their messengers.” “Nevertheless, Mac Roth, and
however this may be, at this time you do not get my bull.”
So Mac Roth and the nine messengers returned to Rath Crogan,[3]
and Meave inquired for the bull. And when she heard their tale,
she said, “I thought as much, Mac Roth: it was not intended that
you should have the bull. The bull, which is not to be got by fair
means, must be got by foul; and by fair or foul, he shall be got by
us.”