The Sorrowful Death of Usna’s Sons
At the head of fair Loch Etive the sons of Usna had built for
themselves three spacious hunting-seats among the pine-trees at
the foot of the cliffs that ran landward to deep Glen Etive. The
wild deer could be shot from the window, and the salmon taken out
of the stream from the door of their dwelling. There they passed
the spring and summer months, Usna’s sons of the white steeds and
the brown deer-hounds, whose breasts were broader than the wooden
leaves of the door. Above the hunting-lodge, on the grassy slope
that is at the foot of the cascade, they built a sunny summer home
for Deirdre, and they called it the ‘Grianan,’ or sunny bower of
Deirdre. It was thatched on the outside with the long-stalked fern
of the dells and the red clay of the pools, and lined within with
the pine of the mountains and the downy feathers of the wild birds;
and round it was the apple-garden of Clan Usna, with the apple-tree
of Deirdre in its midst and the apple-trees of Naisi and Ainle and
Arden encircling it.
And Deirdre loved her life, for she was free as the brown partridge
flying over the mountains, or as the vessels with ruddy sails
swinging upon the loch.
But in the winter they moved down to the broad sheltered
pasture-lands that lay on the western side of the loch near the
island that was in olden days called _Eilean Chlann Uisne_ or the
Island of the Children of Usna, but is called _Eilean nan Ron_
or the Isle of the Seals to-day; and there they built a mighty
fortress for Deirdre and the sons of Usna which men still call the
_Caisteal Nighean Righ Eirinn_ or the Castle of the Daughter of the
King of Ireland, and thence they made wars and conquered a great
part of Western Alba and became powerful princes.
One sultry evening in the late autumn, Deirdre and Naisi were
resting before the door of her sunny bower after a day spent by the
brothers in the chase. Below, their followers were cutting up the
deer, and as they brought in the bags of heavy game, and faggots
for the hearth, the voice of Ainle singing an evening melody
resounded through the wood. Like the sound of the wave the voice of
Ainle, and the rich bass of Arden answered him, as together the two
brothers came out from the shadow of the trees, gathering to the
trysting-place of the evening meal.
Between Naisi and Deirdre a draught-board was set, but Deirdre was
winning, for a mood of oppression lay upon Naisi and his thoughts
were not in the game. For of late, at evening, his exile weighed
upon him, and little good to him seemed his prosperity and his
successes, since he did not see his own home in Ireland and his
friends at the time of his rising in the morning or at the time
of his lying down at night. For great as were his possessions in
Alba, stronger in him than the love of his kindred in Alba was the
love of his native land in Erin. He thought it strange, moreover,
that of those three who in the old time loved him most, Fergus and
Conall Cernach and Cuchulain, not one of them had all this time
come to bring him to his own land again under his safeguard and
protection.
So, as they played, Deirdre could see that the mind of Naisi was
wandering from the game, and her heart smote her, as often it had
smitten her before when she had seen him thus oppressed, that
for her sake so much had gone from him of friends and home, and
his allegiance to his king, and honourable days among his clan.
Wistfully she smiled across the board at Naisi, but mournful was
the answering smile he sent her back.
“Play, play,” she said, “I win the game from you.” “One game the
more or less can matter little when all else is lost,” he answered
bitterly. But hardly had the unkind words passed from him, the
first unkindness Deirdre ever heard from Naisi’s lips, when far
below, across the silent waters of the lake, he caught a distant
call, his own name uttered in a ringing voice that seemed familiar,
a voice that brought old days to memory.
“I hear the voice of a man from Erin call below,” he cried, and
started up. Now Deirdre too had heard the cry and well she knew
that it was Fergus’ voice they heard, but deep foreboding passed
across her mind that all their hours of happiness were past, and
grief and rending of the heart in store. So quickly she replied:
“How could that be? It is some man of Alba coming from the chase,
belated in returning. No voice was that from Erin; it was a
Scotchman’s cry. Let us play on.”
Three times the voice of Fergus came sounding up the glen, and
at the last, Naisi sprang up. “You are mistaken, damsel; of a
certainty I know this is the voice of Fergus.” “I knew it all the
time, whose voice it was,” said Deirdre, when she saw he would not
be put off. “Why then didst thou not tell us?” Naisi asked. “A
vision that I saw last night hath hindered me,” replied the girl.
“I saw three birds come to us out of Emain from the King, carrying
three sips of honey in their bills; the sips of honey they left
here with us, but took three sips of our red blood away with them.”
“What is thy rede of this vision, O Damsel?” Naisi asked. “Thus
do I understand it,” Deirdre said; “Fergus hath come from our own
native land with peace, and sweet as honey will his message be:
but the three sips of blood that he will take away with him, those
three are ye, for ye will go with him, and be betrayed to death.”
“Speak not such words, O Deirdre,” cried they all; “never would
Fergus thus betray his friends. Alas! that words like this should
pass thy lips. We stay too long; Fergus awaits us at the port. Go,
Ainle, and go, Arden, down to meet him, and to give him loving
welcome here.” So Arden went, and Ainle, and three loving kisses
fervently they gave to Fergus and his sons. Gladly they welcomed
the wayfarers to Naisi’s home, and led them up; and Naisi and
Deirdre arose and stretched their hands in welcome; and they gave
them blessing and three kisses lovingly, for old times’ sake, and
eagerly they asked for tidings of Erin, and of Ulster especially.
“I have no other tidings half so good as these,” said Fergus, “that
King Conor waits for you to give you welcome back to Emain, and to
the Red Branch House. I am your surety and your safeguard, and full
well ye know that under Fergus’ safeguard ye are sure of peace.”
“Heed not that message, Naisi,” Deirdre said; “greater and wider is
your lordship here, than Conor’s rule in Erin.”
“Better than any lordship is one’s native land,” said Naisi;
“dearer to me than great possessions here, is one more sight of
Erin’s well-loved soil.”
“My word and pledge are firm on your behalf,” said Fergus; “with me
no harm or hurt can come to you.” “Verily and indeed, thy word is
firm, and we will go with thee.”
But to their going Deirdre consented not, and every way she sought
to hinder them, and wept and prayed them not to go to death. “Now
all my joy is past,” she said; “I saw last night the three black
ravens bearing three sad leaves of the yew-tree of death; and O
Beloved, those three withered leaves I saw were the three sons of
Usna, blown off their stem by the rough wind of Conor’s wrath and
the damp dew of Fergus’ treachery.” And they were sorry that she
had said that. “These are but foolish women’s fears,” said they;
“the dropping of leaves in thy dream, and the howling of dogs,
the sight of birds with blood-drops in their bills, are but the
restlessness of sleep, O Deirdre; and verily we put our trust in
Fergus’ word. To-night we go with him to Erin.”
Gladsome and gay were the three brothers then; they put all fears
away from them, and set to prepare them for their journey back
to Erin’s shores. And early the next morning, about the parting
of night from day, at the delay of the morning dawn, they passed
down to their galley that rocked upon the loch, and hoisted sail,
and calmly and peacefully they sailed out into the ocean. But
Deirdre sat in the stern of the boat, and her face was not set
forward looking towards Erin, but it was set backward looking
on the coasts of Scotland. And she cried aloud, “O Land of the
East, My love to thee, with thy wondrous beauty! Woe is me that I
leave thy lochs and thy bays, thy flowering delightful plains,
and thy bright green-smooth hills! Dear to me the fort that Naisi
built, dear the sunny bower up the glen; very dear to my heart the
wooded slope holding the sunbeams where I have sat with Naisi.”
And as they sailed out of Glen Etive she sang this song, sadly and
sorrowfully:--
“Farewell, dear Alba of the free,
Beloved land beside the sea,
No power could drag me from my home,
Did I not come, Naisi, with thee.
Farewell, dear bowers within the Glen,
Farewell, strong fort hung over them,
Dear to the heart each shining isle,
That seems to smile beneath our ken.
Glen da Roe!
Where the white cherry and garlic blow,
On thy blue wave we rocked to sleep,
As on the deep, by Glen da Roe.
Glen Etive!
Whose sunny slopes these waters lave,
The rising sun we seemed to hold.
As in a fold, in Glen Etive.
Glen Masaun!
Love to all those who here were born!
Across thy peak, at twilight’s fall,
The cuckoos call, in Glen Masaun.
Farewell, dear Land,
From Alba’s strand I ne’er had roved
Save at the call of my beloved,
Farewell, dear Land!”
The next day they reached the shores of Ireland not far from the
fort of Borrach. And as they landed there, messengers from Borrach
met Fergus, saying, “Borrach hath prepared a feast for the King,
and it is the King’s command that the honour of this feast be given
to thee. Come therefore and spend this night with me; but the King
desires to hasten the sons of Usna that he may welcome them, and he
bids them press onward to Emain this very night.”
When Fergus heard that, sudden fear and gloom over-shadowed him,
lest in very truth Conor had evil designs towards the sons of Usna.
“It was not well done, O Borrach, to offer me a feast in Conor’s
stead this night, for I was pledged to bring the sons of Usna
straight to Emain without delay.” “It is the King’s command,” said
Borrach; “needs must a true vassal obey the King.” Still was Fergus
loth to stay and he asked Naisi what he ought to do about this. “Do
what they desire of thee, O Fergus,” said Deirdre, “if to partake
of a banquet seems better to thee than to protect the sons of Usna.
However to me it seems that the lives of thy three friends is a
good price to pay for a feast.”
“I will not forsake them,” said Fergus; “for my two sons, Illan the
Fair and Buinne the Ruthless Red will be with them to protect them,
and my word of honour, moreover, with them; if all the warriors of
Erin were assembled in one place, and all of one mind, they would
not be able to break the pledge of Fergus.”
“Much thanks we give thee for that,” said Naisi, for he saw that
Fergus feared to fall foul of Conor more than he cared for their
safety; “never have we depended on any protection but that of our
own right hands alone; we will then go forward to Emain Macha, and
see there if the word of Fergus will be sufficient to protect us.”
But Deirdre said: “Go not forward to-night; but let us turn aside,
and for this one night take shelter with Cuchulain at Dundalk; then
will Fergus have partaken of his feast, and he will be ready to go
with you. So will his word be fulfilled and yet your lives will be
prolonged.” “We think not well of that advice,” said Buinne the
Ruthless Red; “you have with you the might of your own good hands,
and our might, and the plighted word of Fergus to protect you;
impossible is it that ye should be betrayed.” “Ah! that plighted
word of Fergus’; the man who forsook us for a feast!” said Deirdre.
“Well may we rely on Fergus’ plighted word.” And she fell into
grief and dejection. “Alas! Alas!” she cried. “Why left we Alba
of the red deer to come again to Erin? Why put we trust in the
light word of Fergus? Woe is come upon us since we listened to the
promises of that man! The valiant sons of Usna are destroyed by
him, the Lights of Valour of the Gael. Great is my heaviness of
heart to-night! Great is the loss that is fallen upon us.”
In spite of that the sons of Usna and their two friends went onward
towards the White Cairn of Watching on Sliab Fuad; but Deirdre was
very weary and she lingered behind in the glen, and sat down to
rest and fell asleep. They did not notice at first that she was
not with them, but Naisi found it out and he turned back to seek
Deirdre. He found her sitting in the wood on the trunk of a fallen
tree, just waking from her sleep. When she saw Naisi she arose and
clung to him. “What happened to thee, O fair one?” said Naisi, “and
wherefore is thy face so wild and fearful, and tears within thine
eyes?”
“I fell into a sleep, for I was weary,” she replied; “and O Naisi,
I fear because of the vision and the dream I saw.” “Thou art too
apt to dream, beloved,” said Naisi tenderly, “what was thy dream?”
“Terrible was my dream,” said Deirdre; “I saw thee, Naisi, and
Ainle and Arden, each of ye three beloved ones, without a head, thy
headless bodies lying side by side near Emain’s fort; and Illan
lay there too drenched all with blood, and headless like ye three.
But on the other side among our enemies, fighting against us, was
the treacherous Buinne the Ruthless Red, who now is our protector
and our guide; for he had saved his head by treachery to thee.”
“Sad were thy dream indeed,” said Naisi, “were it true; but fear it
not, it was an empty vision grown out of weariness and pain.” But
Deirdre clung yet to him, and she cried, “O Naisi, see, above thy
head, and o’er the heads of Ainle and of Arden, that sombre cloud
of blood! dost thou not mark it hanging in the air? All over Emain
lies the heavy pall; but on thy head and theirs red blood-drops
fall, big, dusky, drenching drops. Let us not go to Emain.” But
Naisi thought that from her weariness the mind of Deirdre had
become distraught, and all the more he pressed them onward, that
she might have rest and shelter for the night. As they drew near to
Emain, Deirdre said, “One test I give you whether Conor means you
good or harm. If into his own house he welcomes you, all will be
well, for in his own home would no monarch dare to harm a guest;
but if he send you to some other house, while he himself stays on
in Emain’s court, then treachery and guile is meant towards you.”
Now as they reached the Court of Emain, messengers came out to
meet them from the King. “King Conor bids you welcome,” said the
men; “right glad is he that you are come again to Erin, to your
fatherland. But for this one night only is he not prepared to
call you as his guests to his own court. To-morrow he will give
you audience and bid you to his house. For this one night, then,
he bids you turn aside into the Red Branch House, where all is
ready for your entertainment.” “It is as I thought,” said Deirdre,
“King Conor means no good to you, I ween.” But Naisi replied,
“Where could the Red Branch champions so fitly rest as in the Red
Branch House? Most gladly do we seek our hall, to rest and find
refreshment for the morrow. We all are travel-stained, but we will
bathe and take repose, and on the morrow we will meet the King.”
But when they came to the House of the Red Branch, so weary were
they all, that though all kinds of viands were supplied, they
ate but little, but lay down to rest. And Naisi said, “Dost thou
remember, Deirdre, how in that last game of draughts we played
together, thou didst win, because we were in Alba, and my heart was
here at home? Now are we back at last, and let us play again; this
time I promise I will win from thee.”
So with the lightsome spirit of a boy, Naisi sat down to play; for
now that once again he was at home among his people and in his
native land, all thought or dread of evil passed from him. But with
Deirdre it was not so, for heavy dread and terror of the morrow lay
on her heart, and in her mind she felt that this was their last day
of peace and love together.
But in his royal court, King Conor grew impatient as he thought
that Deirdre was so near at hand, and he not seeing her. “Go now,
O foster-mother, to the Red Branch Hall and see if on the child
that thou didst rear remains her early bloom and beauty, and if
she still is lovely as when she went from me. If she is still the
same, then, in spite of Naisi, I’ll have her for my own; but if her
bloom is past, then let her be, Naisi may keep her for himself.”
Right glad was Levarcam to get leave to go to Deirdre and to Usna’s
sons. Down to the Red Branch House straightway she went, and there
were Naisi and her foster-child playing together with the board
between them. Now, save Deirdre herself, Naisi was dearer to
Levarcam than any other in the world, and well she knew that her
own face and form were upon Deirdre still, only grown riper and
more womanly. For, without Conor’s knowledge, she oft had gone to
seek them when they stayed in Alba.
Lovingly she kissed them and strong showers of tears sprang from
her eyes. “No good will come to you, ye children of my love,” she
said with weeping, “that ye are come again with Deirdre here.
To-night they practise treachery and ill intent against you all
in Emain. The King would know if Deirdre is lovely still, and
though I tell a lie to shelter her, he will find out, and wreak his
vengeance on you for the loss of her. Great evils wait for Emain
and for you, O darling friends. Shut close the doors and guard them
well; let no one pass within. Defend yourselves and this sweet
damsel here, my foster-child. Trust no man; but repel the attack
that surely comes, and victory and blessing be with you.”
Then she returned to Emain; but all along the way she wept
quick-gushing showers of tears, and heaved great sighs, for well
she knew that from this night the sons of Usna would be alive no
more.
“What are the tidings that you have for me?” King Conor asked.
“Good tidings have I, and tidings that are not good.” “Tell me
them,” said the King. “The good tidings that I have are these; that
the sons of Usna, the three whose form and figure are best, the
three bravest in fight and all deeds of prowess, are come again to
Erin; and, with the Lights of Valour at thy side, thine enemies
will flee before thee, as a flock of frightened birds is driven
before the gale. The ill-tidings that I have, are that through
suffering and sorrow the love of my heart and treasure of my soul
is changed since she went away, and little of her own bloom and
beauty remains upon Deirdre.” “That will do for awhile,” said the
King; and he felt his anger abating. But when they had drunk a
round or two, he began to doubt the word of Levarcam. “O Trendorn,”
said he to one who sat beside him, “dost thou recollect who it was
who slew thy father?”
“I know well; it was Naisi, son of Usna,” he replied. “Go thou
therefore where Naisi is, and see if her own face and form remain
upon Deirdre.”
So Trendorn went down to the House of the Red Branch, but they
had made fast the doors and he could find no way of entrance,
for all the gates and windows were stoutly barred. He began to
be afraid lest the sons of Usna might be ready to leap out upon
him from within, but at last he found a small window which they
had forgotten to close, and he put his eye to the window, and saw
Naisi and Deirdre still playing at their game peacefully together.
Deirdre saw the man looking in at the window, and Naisi, following
her eye, caught sight of him also. And he picked up one of the
pieces that was lying beside the board, and threw it at Trendorn,
so that it struck his eye and tore it out, and in pain and misery
the man returned to Emain.
“You seem not so gay as when you set out, O Trendorn,” said the
King; “what has happened to thee, and hast thou seen Deirdre?” “I
have seen her, indeed; I have seen Deirdre, and but that Naisi
drove out mine eye I should have been looking at her still, for of
all the women of the world, Deirdre is the fairest and the best.”
When Conor heard that, he rose up and called his followers together
and without a moment’s delay they set forward for the house of
the Red Branch. For he was filled with jealousy and envy, and he
thought the time long until he should get back Deirdre for himself.
“The pursuit is coming,” said Deirdre; “I hear sounds without.”
“I will go out and meet them,” said Naisi. “Nay,” said Buinne the
Ruthless Red, “it was in my hands that my father Fergus placed the
sons of Usna to guard them, and it is I who will go forth and fight
for them.” “It seems to me,” said Deirdre, “that thy father hath
betrayed the sons of Usna, and it is likely that thou wilt do as
thy father hath done, O Buinne.” “If my father has been treacherous
to you,” said Buinne, “it is not I who will do as he has done.”
Then he went out and met the warriors of Conor, and put a host of
them to the sword. “Who is this man who is destroying my hosts?”
said Conor. “Buinne the Ruthless Red, the son of Fergus,” say
they. “We bought his father to our side and we must buy the son,”
said Conor. He called Buinne and said to him, “I gave a free gift
of land to thy father Fergus, and I will give a free gift of land
to thee; come over to my side to-night.” “I will do that,” said
Buinne, and he went over to the side of the King. “Buinne hath
deserted you, O sons of Usna, and the son is like the father,”
Deirdre said. “He has gone,” said Naisi, “but he performed
warrior-like deeds before he went.”
Then Conor sent fresh warriors down to attack the house. “The
pursuit is coming,” said Deirdre. “I will go out and meet them,”
said Naisi. “It is not thou who must go, it is I,” said Illan the
Fair, son of Fergus, “for to me my father left the charge of you.”
“I think the son will be like the father,” said Deirdre. “I am not
like to forsake the sons of Usna so long as this hard sword is in
my hand,” said Illan the Fair. And the fresh, noble, young hero
went out in his battle-array, and valiantly he attacked the host
of Conor and made a red rout of them round the house. “Who is that
young warrior who is smiting down my hosts?” said Conor. “Illan the
Fair, son of Fergus,” they reply. “We will buy him to our side, as
his brother was bought,” said wily Conor. So he called Illan and
said, “We gave a possession of land to thy father, and another to
thy brother, and we will give an equal share to thee; come over
to our side.” But the princely young hero answered: “Thy offer, O
Conor, will I not accept; for better to me is it to return to my
father and tell him that I have kept the charge he laid upon me,
than to accept any offer from thee, O King.” Then Conor was wroth,
and he commanded his own son to attack Illan, and furiously the two
fought together, until Illan was sore wounded, and he flung his
arms into the house, and called on Naisi to do valiantly, for he
himself was slain by a son of Conor. “Illan has fallen, and you are
left alone,” said Deirdre, “O sons of Usna.” “He is fallen indeed,”
said Naisi, “but gallant were the deeds that he performed before he
died.”
Then the warriors and mercenaries of Conor drew closer round the
house, and they took lighted torches and flung them into the house,
and set it on fire. And Naisi lifted Deirdre on his shoulders and
raised her on high, and with his brothers on either side, their
swords drawn in their hands, they issued forth to fight their way
through the press of their enemies. And so terrible were the deeds
wrought by those heroes, that Conor feared they would destroy his
host. He called his Druids, and said to them, “Work enchantment
upon the sons of Usna and turn them back, for no longer do I intend
evil against them, but I would bring them home in peace. Noble
are the deeds that they have wrought, and I would have them as my
servants for ever.” The Druids believed the wily King and they set
to work to weave spells to turn the sons of Usna back to Emain
Macha.
They made a great thick wood before them, through which they
thought no man could pass. But without ever stopping to consider
their way, the sons of Usna went straight through the wood turning
neither to the right hand or the left. “Good is your enchantment,
but it will not avail,” said Conor; “the sons of Usna are passing
through without the turning of a step, or the bending of a foot.
Try some other spell.” Then the Druids made a grey stormy sea
before the sons of Usna on the green plain. The three heroes tied
their clothing behind their heads, and Naisi set Deirdre again
upon his shoulder and went straight on without flinching, without
turning back, through the grey shaggy sea, lifting Deirdre on high
lest she should wet her feet.
“Thy spell is good,” said Conor, “yet it sufficeth not. The sons of
Usna escape my hands. Try another spell.”
Then the Druids froze the grey uneven sea into jagged hard lumps
of rugged ice, like the sharpness of swords on one side of them
and like the stinging of serpents on the other side. Then Arden
cried out that he was becoming exhausted and must fain give up.
“Come thou, Arden, and rest against my shoulder,” said Naisi, “and
I will support you.” Arden did so, but it was not long before he
died; but though he was dead, Naisi held him up still. Then Ainle
cried out that he could go no longer, for his strength had left
him. When Naisi heard that, he heaved a heavy sigh as of one dying
of fatigue, but he told Ainle to hold on to him, and he would bring
him soon to land. But not long after, the weakness of death came
upon Ainle, and his hold relaxed. Naisi looked on either hand and
when he saw that his two brothers were dead, he cared not whether
he himself should live or die. He heaved a sigh, sore as the sigh
of the dying, and his heart broke and he fell dead.
“The sons of Usna are dead now,” said the Druids; “but they turned
not back.”
“Lift up thy enchantment,” said Conor, “that I now may see the sons
of Usna.” Then the Druids lifted the enchantment, and there were
the three sons of Usna lying dead, and Deirdre fluttering hither
and thither from one to another, weeping bitter heartrending tears.
And Conor would have taken her away, but she would not be parted
from the sons of Usna, and when their tomb was being dug, Deirdre
sat on the edge of the grave, calling on the diggers to dig the pit
very broad and smooth. They had dug the pit for three only, and
they lowered the bodies of the three heroes into the grave, side
by side. But when Deirdre saw that, she called aloud to the sons
of Usna, to make space for her between them, for she was following
them. Then the body of Ainle, that was at Naisi’s right hand,
moved a little apart, and a space was made for Deirdre close at
Naisi’s side, where she was wont to be, and Deirdre leapt into the
tomb, and placed her arm round the neck of Naisi, her own love, and
she kissed him, and her heart broke within her and she died; and
together in the one tomb the three sons of Usna and Deirdre were
buried. And all the men of Ulster who stood by wept aloud.
But Conor was angry, and he ordered the bodies to be uncovered
again and the body of Deirdre to be removed, so that even in death
she might not be with Naisi. And he caused Deirdre to be buried on
one side of the loch, and Naisi on the other side of the loch, and
the graves were closed. Then a young pine-tree grew from the grave
of Deirdre, and a young pine from the grave of Naisi, and their
branches grew towards each other, until they entwined one with the
other across the loch. And Conor would have cut them down, but
the men of Ulster would not allow this, and they set a watch and
protected the trees until King Conor died.