THE GAELIC ARGONAUTS
The preparations for this war are said to have lasted seven years. It
was during the interval that there befel an episode which might almost
be called the “Argonautica” of the Gaelic mythology.[115]
In spite of the dethronement of Bress, the Fomors still claimed their
annual tribute from the tribe of the goddess Danu, and sent their
tax-gatherers, nine times nine in number, to “Balor’s Hill” to collect
it. But, while they waited for the gods to come to tender their
submission and their subsidy, they saw a young man approaching them. He
was riding upon “Splendid Mane”, the horse of Manannán son of Lêr, and
was dressed in Manannán’s breastplate and helmet, through which no
weapon could wound their wearer, and he was armed with sword and shield
and poisoned darts. “Like to the setting sun”, says the story, “was the
splendour of his countenance and his forehead, and they were not able to
look in his face for the greatness of his splendour.” And no wonder! for
he was Lugh the Far-shooter, the new-come sun-god of the Gaels. He fell
upon the Fomorian tax-gatherers, killing all but nine of them, and these
he only spared that they might go back to their kinsmen and tell how the
gods had received them.
There was consternation in the under-sea country. “Who can this terrible
warrior be?” asked Balor. “I know,” said Balor’s wife; “he must be the
son of our daughter Ethniu; and I foretell that, since he has cast in
his lot with his father’s people, we shall never bear rule in Erin
again.”
The chiefs of the Fomors saw that this slaughter of their tax-gatherers
signified that the Tuatha Dé Danann meant fighting. They held a council
to debate on it. There came to it Elathan and Tethra and Indech, kings
of the Fomors; Bress himself, and Balor of the stout blows; Cethlenn the
crooked tooth, Balor’s wife; Balor’s twelve white-mouthed sons; and all
the chief Fomorian warriors and druids.
Meanwhile, upon earth, Lugh was sending messengers all over Erin to
assemble the Tuatha Dé Danann. Upon this errand went Lugh’s father Cian,
who seems to have been a kind of lesser solar deity,[116] son of
Diancecht, the god of medicine. As Cian was going over the plain of
Muirthemne,[117] he saw three armed warriors approaching him, and, when
they got nearer, he recognized them as the three sons of Tuirenn, son of
Ogma, whose names were Brian, Iuchar, and Iucharba. Between these three
and Cian, with his brothers Cethé and Cu, there was, for some reason, a
private enmity. Cian saw that he was now at a disadvantage. “If my
brothers were with me,” he said to himself, “what a fight we would make;
but, as I am alone, it will be best for me to conceal myself.” Looking
round, he saw a herd of pigs feeding on the plain. Like all the gods, he
had the faculty of shape-shifting; so, striking himself with a magic
wand, he changed himself into a pig, joined the herd, and began feeding
with them.
But he had been seen by the sons of Tuirenn. “What has become of the
warrior who was walking on the plain a moment ago?” said Brian to his
brothers. “We saw him then,” they replied, “but we do not know where he
is now.” “Then you have not used the proper vigilance which is needed in
time of war,” said the elder brother. “However, I know what has become
of him. He has struck himself with a druidical wand, and changed himself
into a pig, and there he is, in that herd, rooting up the ground, just
like all the other pigs. I can also tell you who he is. His name is
Cian, and you know that he is no friend of ours.”
“It is a pity that he has taken refuge among the pigs,” they replied,
“for they belong to some one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and, even if we
were to kill them all, Cian might still escape us.”
Again Brian reproached his brothers. “You are very ignorant,” he said,
“if you cannot distinguish a magical beast from a natural beast.
However, I will show you.” And thereupon he struck his two brothers with
his own wand of shape-changing, and turned them into two swift, slender
hounds, and set them upon the pigs.
The magic hounds soon found the magic pig, and drove it out of the herd
on to the open plain. Then Brian threw his spear, and hit it. The
wounded pig came to a stop. “It was an evil deed of yours, casting that
spear,” it cried, in a human voice, “for I am not a pig, but Cian, son
of Diancecht. So give me quarter.”
Iuchar and Iucharba would have granted it, and let him go; but their
fiercer brother swore that Cian should be put an end to, even if he came
back to life seven times. So Cian tried a fresh ruse. “Give me leave”,
he asked, “only to return to my own shape before you slay me.” “Gladly,”
replied Brian, “for I would much rather kill a man than a pig.”
So Cian spoke the befitting spell, cast off his pig’s disguise, and
stood before them in his own shape. “You will be obliged to spare my
life now,” he said. “We will not,” replied Brian. “Then it will be the
worst day’s work for all of you that you ever did in your lives,” he
answered; “for, if you had killed me in the shape of a pig, you would
only have had to pay the value of a pig, but if you kill me now, I tell
you that there never has been, and there never will be, anyone killed in
this world for whose death a greater blood-fine will be exacted than for
mine.”
But the sons of Tuirenn would not listen to him. They slew him, and
pounded his body with stones until it was a crushed mass. Six times they
tried to bury him, and the earth cast him back in horror; but, the
seventh time, the mould held him, and they put stones upon him to keep
him down. They left him buried there, and went to Tara.
Meanwhile Lugh had been expecting his father’s return. As he did not
come, he determined to go and look for him. He traced him to the Plain
of Muirthemne, and there he was at fault. But the indignant earth
itself, which had witnessed the murder, spoke to Lugh, and told him
everything. So Lugh dug up his father’s corpse, and made certain how he
had come to his death; then he mourned over him, and laid him back in
the earth, and heaped a barrow over him, and set up a pillar with his
name on it in “ogam”.[118]
He went back to Tara, and entered the great hall. It was filled with the
people of the goddess Danu, and among them Lugh saw the three sons of
Tuirenn. So he shook the “chiefs’ chain”, with which the Gaels used to
ask for a hearing in an assembly, and when all were silent, he said:
“People of the goddess Danu, I ask you a question. What would be the
vengeance that any of you would take upon one who had murdered his
father?”
A great astonishment fell upon them, and Nuada, their king, said:
“Surely it is not your father that has been murdered?”
“It is,” replied Lugh. “And I am looking at those who murdered him; and
they know how they did it better than I do.”
Then Nuada declared that nothing short of hewing the murderer of his
father limb from limb would satisfy him, and all the others said the
same, including the sons of Tuirenn.
“The very ones who did the deed say that,” cried Lugh. “Then let them
not leave the hall till they have settled with me about the blood-fine
to be paid for it.”
“If it was I who had killed your father,” said the king, “I should think
myself lucky if you were willing to accept a fine instead of vengeance.”
The sons of Tuirenn took counsel together in whispers. Iuchar and
Iucharba were in favour of admitting their guilt, but Brian was afraid
that, if they confessed, Lugh would withdraw his offer to accept a fine,
and would demand their deaths. So he stood out, and said that, though it
was not they who had killed Cian, yet, sooner than remain under Lugh’s
anger, as he suspected them, they would pay the same fine as if they
had.
“Certainly you shall pay the fine,” said Lugh, “and I will tell you what
it shall be. It is this: three apples; and a pig’s-skin; and a spear;
and two horses and a chariot; and seven pigs; and a hound-whelp; and a
cooking-spit; and three shouts on a hill: that is the fine, and, if you
think it is too much, I will remit some of it, but, if you do not think
it is too much, then pay it.”
“If it were a hundred times that,” replied Brian, “we should not think
it too much. Indeed, it seems so little that I fear there must be some
treachery concealed in it.”
“I do not think it too little,” replied Lugh. “Give me your pledge
before the people of the goddess Danu that you will pay it faithfully,
and I will give you mine that I will ask no more.”
So the sons of Tuirenn bound themselves before the Tuatha Dé Danann to
pay the fine to Lugh.
When they had sworn, and given sureties, Lugh turned to them again. “I
will now”, he said, “explain to you the nature of the fine you have
pledged yourselves to pay me, so that you may know whether it is too
little or not.” And, with foreboding hearts, the sons of Tuirenn set
themselves to listen.
“The three apples that I have demanded,” he began, “are three apples
from the Garden of the Hesperides, in the east of the world. You will
know them by three signs. They are the size of the head of a month-old
child, they are of the colour of burnished gold, and they taste of
honey. Wounds are healed and diseases cured by eating them, and they do
not diminish in any way by being eaten. Whoever casts one of them hits
anything he wishes, and then it comes back into his hand. I will accept
no other apples instead of these. Their owners keep them perpetually
guarded because of a prophecy that three young warriors from the west of
the world will come to take them by force, and, brave as you may be, I
do not think that you will ever get them.
“The pig’s-skin that I have demanded is the pig’s-skin of Tuis, King of
Greece. It has two virtues: its touch perfectly cures all wounded or
sick persons if only there is any life still left in them; and every
stream of water through which it passes is turned into wine for nine
days. I do not think that you will get it from the King of Greece,
either with his consent or without it.
“And can you guess what spear it is that I have demanded?” asked Lugh.
“We cannot,” they said. “It is the poisoned spear of Pisear[119], King
of Persia; it is irresistible in battle; it is so fiery that its blade
must always be held under water, lest it destroy the city in which it is
kept. You will find it very difficult to obtain.
“And the two horses and the chariot are the two wonderful horses of
Dobhar[120], King of Sicily, which run equally well over land and sea;
there are no other horses in the world like them, and no other vehicle
equal to the chariot.
“And the seven pigs are the pigs of Easal[121], King of the Golden
Pillars; though they may be killed every night, they are found alive
again the next day, and every person that eats part of them can never be
afflicted with any disease.
“And the hound-whelp I claim is the hound-whelp of the King of
Ioruaidhe[122]; her name is Failinis; every wild beast she sees she
catches at once. It will not be easy for you to secure her.
“The cooking-spit which you must get for me is one of the cooking-spits
of the women of the Island of Fianchuivé[123], which is at the bottom of
the sea, between Erin and Alba.
“You have also pledged yourselves to give three shouts upon a hill. The
hill upon which they must be given is the hill called Cnoc
Miodhchaoin[124], in the north of Lochlann[125]. Miodhchaoin and his
sons do not allow shouts to be given on that hill; besides this, it was
they who gave my father his military education, and, even if I were to
forgive you, they would not; so that, though you achieve all the other
adventures, I think that you will fail in this one.
“Now you know what sort of a fine it is that you have bargained to pay
me,” said Lugh.
And fear and astonishment fell upon the sons of Tuirenn.
This tale is evidently the work of some ancient Irish story-teller who
wished to compile from various sources a more or less complete account
of how the Gaelic gods obtained their legendary possessions. The spear
of Pisear, King of Persia, is obviously the same weapon as the lance of
Lugh, which another tradition describes as having been brought by the
Tuatha Dé Danann from their original home in the city of Gorias;[126]
Failinis, the whelp of the King of Ioruaidhe, is Lugh’s “hound of
mightiest deeds”, which was irresistible in battle, and which turned any
running water it bathed in into wine,[127] a property here transferred
to the magic pig’s-skin of King Tuis: the seven swine of the King of the
Golden Pillars must be the same undying porkers from whose flesh
Manannán mac Lir made the “Feast of Age” which preserved the eternal
youth of the gods;[128] it was with horses and chariot that ran along
the surface of the sea that Manannán used to journey to and fro between
Erin and the Celtic Elysium in the West;[129] the apples that grew in
the Garden of the Hesperides were surely of the same celestial growth as
those that fed the inhabitants of that immortal country;[130] while the
cooking-spit reminds us of three such implements at Tara, made by
Goibniu and associated with the names of the Dagda and the Morrígú.[131]
The burden of collecting all these treasures was placed upon the
shoulders of the three sons of Tuirenn.
They consulted together, and agreed that they could never hope to
succeed unless they had Manannán’s magic horse, “Splendid Mane”, and
Manannán’s magic coracle, “Wave-sweeper”. But both these had been lent
by Manannán to Lugh himself. So the sons of Tuirenn were obliged to
humble themselves to beg them from Lugh. The sun-god would not lend them
the horse, for fear of making their task too easy, but he let them have
the boat, because he knew how much the spear of Pisear and the horses of
Dobhar would be needed in the coming war with the Fomors. They bade
farewell to their father, and went down to the shore and put out to sea,
taking their sister with them.
“Which portion of the fine shall we seek first?” said the others to
Brian. “We will seek them in the order in which they were demanded,” he
replied. So they directed the magic boat to sail to the Garden of the
Hesperides, and presently they arrived there.
They landed at a harbour, and held a council of war. It was decided that
their best chance of obtaining three of the apples would be by taking
the shapes of hawks. Thus they would have strength enough in their claws
to carry the apples away, together with sufficient quickness upon the
wing to hope to escape the arrows, darts, and sling-stones which would
be shot and hurled at them by the warders of the garden.
They swooped down upon the orchard from above. It was done so swiftly
that they carried off the three apples, unhit either by shaft or stone.
But their difficulties were not yet over. The king of the country had
three daughters who were well skilled in witchcraft. By sorcery they
changed themselves into three ospreys, and pursued the three hawks. But
the sons of Tuirenn reached the shore first, and, changing themselves
into swans, dived into the sea. They came up close to their coracle, and
got into it, and sailed swiftly away with the spoil.
Thus their first quest was finished, and they voyaged on to Greece, to
seek the pig’s-skin of King Tuis. No one could go without some excuse
into a king’s court, so they decided to disguise themselves as poets,
and to tell the door-keeper that they were professional bards from Erin,
seeking largess at the hands of kings. The porter let them into the
great hall, where the poets of Greece were singing before the king.
When those had all finished, Brian rose, and asked permission to show
his art. This was accorded; and he sang:
“O Tuis, we conceal not thy fame.
We praise thee as the oak above the kings;
The skin of a pig, bounty without hardness!
This is the reward which I ask for it.
“A stormy host and raging sea
Are a dangerous power, should one oppose it.
The skin of a pig, bounty without hardness!
This is the reward I ask, O Tuis.”
“That is a good poem,” said the king, “only I do not understand it.”
“I will explain it,” said Brian. “‘_We praise thee as the oak above the
kings_’; this means that, as the oak excels all other trees, so do you
excel all other kings in nobility and generosity. ‘_The skin of a pig,
bounty without hardness_’; that is a pig’s-skin which you have, O Tuis,
and which I should like to receive as the reward of my poem. ‘_A stormy
host and raging sea are a dangerous power, should one oppose it_’; this
means to say, that we are not used to going without anything on which we
have set our hearts, O Tuis.”
“I should have liked your poem better,” replied the king, “if my
pig’s-skin had not been mentioned in it. It was not a wise thing for you
to have done, O poet. But I will measure three fills of red gold out of
the skin, and you shall have those.”
“May all good be thine, O King!” answered Brian. “I knew that I should
get a noble reward.”
So the king sent for the pig’s-skin to measure out the gold with. But,
as soon as Brian saw it, he seized it with his left hand, and slew the
man who was holding it, and Iuchar and Iucharba also hacked about them;
and they cut their way down to the boat, leaving the King of Greece
among the dead behind them.
“And now we will go and get King Pisear’s spear,” said Brian. So,
leaving Greece, they sailed in their coracle to Persia.
Their plan of disguising themselves as poets had served them so well
that they decided to make use of it again. So they went into the King of
Persia’s hall in the same way as they had entered that of the King of
Greece. Brian first listened to the poets of Persia singing; then he
sang his own song:
“Small the esteem of any spear with Pisear;
The battles of foes are broken;
No oppression to Pisear;
Everyone whom he wounds.
“A yew-tree, the finest of the wood,
It is called King without opposition.
May that splendid shaft drive on
Yon crowd into their wounds of death.”
“That is a good poem, O man of Erin,” said the king, “but why is my
spear mentioned in it?”
“The meaning is this,” replied Brian: “I should like to receive that
spear as a reward for my poem.”
“You make a rash request,” said the king. “If I spare your life after
having heard it, it will be a sufficient reward for your poem.”
Brian had one of the magic apples in his hand, and he remembered its
boomerang-like quality. He hurled it full in the King of Persia’s face,
dashing out his brains. The Persians flew to arms, but the three sons of
Tuirenn conquered them, and made them yield up the spear.
They had now to travel to Sicily, to obtain the horses and chariot of
King Dobhar. But they were afraid to go as poets this time, for fear the
fame of their deeds might have got abroad. They therefore decided to
pretend to be mercenary soldiers from Erin, and offer the King of Sicily
their service. This, they thought, would be the easiest way of finding
out where the horses and the chariot were kept. So they went and stood
on the green before the royal court.
When the King of Sicily heard that there had come mercenaries from Erin,
seeking wages from the kings of the world, he invited them to take
service with him. They agreed; but, though they stayed with him a
fortnight and a month, they never saw the horses, or even found out
where they were kept. So they went to the king, and announced that they
wished to leave him.
“Why?” he asked, for he did not want them to go.
“We will tell you, O King!” replied Brian. “It is because we have not
been honoured with your confidence, as we have been accustomed with
other kings. You have two horses and a chariot, the best in the world,
and we have not even been allowed to see them.”
“I would have shown them to you on the first day if you had asked me,”
said the king; “and you shall see them at once, for I have seldom had
warriors with me so good as you are, and I do not wish you to leave me.”
So he sent for the steeds, and had them yoked to the chariot, and the
sons of Tuirenn were witnesses of their marvellous speed, and how they
could run equally well over land or water.
Brian made a sign to his brothers, and they watched their opportunity
carefully, and, as the chariot passed close beside them, Brian leaped
into it, hurling its driver over the side. Then, turning the horses, he
struck King Dobhar with Pisear’s spear, and killed him. He took his two
brothers up into the chariot and they drove away.
By the time the sons of Tuirenn reached the country of Easal, King of
the Pillars of Gold, rumour had gone before them. The king came down to
the harbour to meet them, and asked them if it were really true that so
many kings had fallen at their hands. They replied that it was true, but
that they had no quarrel with any of them; only they must obtain at all
costs the fine demanded by Lugh. Then Easal asked them why they had come
to his land, and they told him that they needed his seven pigs to add to
the tribute. So Easal thought it better to give them up, and to make
friends with the three sons of Tuirenn, than to fight with such
warriors. The sons of Tuirenn were very glad at this, for they were
growing weary of battles.
It happened that the King of Ioruaidhe, who had the hound-whelp that
Lugh had demanded, was the husband of King Easal’s daughter. Therefore
King Easal did not wish that there should be fighting between him and
the three sons of Tuirenn. He proposed to Brian and his brothers that he
should sail with them to Ioruaidhe, and try to persuade the king of the
country to give up the hound-whelp peacefully. They consented, and all
set foot safely on the “delightful, wonderful shores of Ioruaidhe”,[132]
as the manuscript calls them. But King Easal’s son-in-law would not
listen to reason. He assembled his warriors, and fought; but the sons of
Tuirenn defeated them, and compelled their king to yield up the
hound-whelp as the ransom for his life.
All these quests had been upon the earth, but the next was harder. No
coracle, not even Manannán’s “Wave-sweeper”, could penetrate to the
Island of Fianchuivé, in the depths of the sea that severs Erin from
Alba. So Brian left his brothers, and put on his “water-dress, with his
transparency of glass upon his head”—evidently an ancient Irish
anticipation of the modern diver’s dress. Thus equipped, he explored the
bottom of the sea for fourteen days before he found the island. But when
at last he reached it, and entered the hall of its queen, she and her
sea-maidens were so amazed at Brian’s hardihood in having penetrated to
their kingdom that they presented him with the cooking-spit, and sent
him back safe.
By this time, Lugh had found out by his magic arts that the sons of
Tuirenn had obtained all the treasures he had demanded as the
blood-fine. He desired to get them safely into his own custody before
his victims went to give their three shouts upon Miodhchaoin’s Hill. He
therefore wove a druidical spell round them, so that they forgot the
rest of their task altogether, and sailed back to Erin. They searched
for Lugh, to give him the things, but he had gone away, leaving word
that they were to be handed over to Nuada, the Tuatha Dé Danann king. As
soon as they were in safe-keeping, Lugh came back to Tara and found the
sons of Tuirenn there. And he said to them:
“Do you not know that it is unlawful to keep back any part of a
blood-fine? So have you given those three shouts upon Miodhchaoin’s
Hill?”
Then the magic mist of forgetfulness fell from them, and they
remembered. Sorrowfully they went back to complete their task.
Miodhchaoin[133] himself was watching for them, and, when he saw them
land, he came down to the beach. Brian attacked him, and they fought
with the swiftness of two bears and the ferocity of two lions until
Miodhchaoin fell.
Then Miodhchaoin’s three sons—Corc, Conn, and Aedh—came out to avenge
their father, and they drove their spears through the bodies of the
three sons of Tuirenn. But the three sons of Tuirenn also drove their
spears through the bodies of the three sons of Miodhchaoin.
The three sons of Miodhchaoin were killed, and the three sons of Tuirenn
were so sorely wounded that birds might have flown through their bodies
from one side to the other. Nevertheless Brian was still able to stand
upright, and he held his two brothers, one in each hand, and kept them
on their feet, and, all together, they gave three faint, feeble shouts.
Their coracle bore them, still living, to Erin. They sent their father
Tuirenn as a suppliant to Lugh, begging him to lend them the magic
pig’s-skin to heal their wounds.
But Lugh would not, for he had counted upon their fight with the sons of
Miodhchaoin to avenge his father Cian’s death. So the children of
Tuirenn resigned themselves to die, and their father made a farewell
song over them and over himself, and died with them.
Thus ends that famous tale—“The Fate of the Sons of Tuirenn”, known as
one of the “Three Sorrowful Stories of Erin”.[134]
-----
Footnote 115:
This story of the _Fate of the Children of Tuirenn_ is mentioned in
the ninth-century “Cormac’s Glossary”. It is found in various Irish
and Scottish MSS., including the Book of Lecan. The present re-telling
is from Eugene O’Curry’s translation, published in _Atlantis_, Vol.
IV.
Footnote 116:
Rhys: _Hibbert Lectures_, pp. 390-396.
Footnote 117:
A part of County Louth, between the Boyne and Dundalk. The heroic
cycle connects it especially with Cuchulainn. Pronounced _Mŭrthemna_
or _Mŭrhevna_.
Footnote 118:
There is known to have been a hill called Ard Chein (Cian’s Mound) in
the district of Muirthemne, and O’Curry identifies it tentatively with
one now called Dromslian.
Footnote 119:
Pronounced _Pēzar_.
Footnote 120:
Pronounced _Dobar_.
Footnote 121:
Pronounced _Asal_.
Footnote 122:
Pronounced _Irōda_.
Footnote 123:
Pronounced _Fincāra_.
Footnote 124:
The _Hill_ (cnoc) _of Midkēna_.
Footnote 125:
A mythical country inhabited by Fomors.
Footnote 126:
See chap. VI—“The Gods Arrive”.
Footnote 127:
_Ibid._
Footnote 128:
See chap. VI—“The Gods Arrive”.
Footnote 129:
See chap. XI—“The Gods in Exile”.
Footnote 130:
_Ibid._
Footnote 131:
Petrie: _Hist. and Antiq. of Tara Hill_.
Footnote 132:
The country seems to have been identified with Norway or Iceland.
Footnote 133:
Pronounced _Midkēna_.
Footnote 134:
The other two are “The Fate of the Children of Lêr”, told in chap. XI,
and “The Fate of the Sons of Usnach”, an episode of the Heroic Cycle,
related in chap. XIII.
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