Chapter XIII: Book XI

Now of the Bressla More, red, terrible,
Cucullin’s Bressla More on Moy Mweerhevna,
We next must tell. While Laeg was on that grave-hill
He perceived somewhat: he perceived a man,
Out of the north-east quarter, slanting-wise
Crossing the wide camp of the men of Erin
In a direct line towards him. “Cucucawn,”
Said Laeg, “there is a man approaching us.”
“What kind of man?” Cucullin asked. Laeg answered:
“He is a man noble and fair and tall,
Whose face shines glorious as the glorious sun
Shines ’mid high clouds on a dry summer’s day.
His wide-spread, crispéd, curling hair is yellow
Like bright bog-flags in flower. He wears a bratt
Of bright grass-green, caught by a clasp of silver
Above his breast; and next his bird-white skin
He has a layna made from kingly srōl,
Richly inwoven with red threads of gold,
And falling in rich folds down to his knees.
A black shield with a rim of hard findrinny
He bears. He bears a tall five-headed spear;
And a forked javelin is beside it. Wonderful,
Truly, the deeds are, and the feats of art,
Which he displays as he comes through that camp;
Yet in the camp no one salutes or greets him,
And he himself greets no one. ’Tis as though
Throughout that camp of the Four Fifths of Erin
No man could see him.” “That is true, O Laeg,”
Cucullin answered; “no man there can see him;
For that is one of my own helping friends
From a Shee-mound of Erin, who comes there
To pity me and comfort me. They know
The hardships and oppression I am in,
Over against the Four Great Fifths of Erin
Now on this Táin.”
That warrior reached the grave-hill
Where then Cucullin was; and he began
To comfort and to pity him. He said:
“Thou hast been very manly, O Cucullin.”
“It was not much,” Cucullin said. The warrior
Said: “I will help thee now, thou little son.”
“Who in all Erin art thou?” asked Cucullin.
Whereat that warrior from the Shee replied:
“I am long-handed Loo the son of Ethlenn,
Who in old days—hundreds of years of days
Before this day wherein I speak to thee—
Led the bright, greatly skilled Dae Danann hosts
To that dread battle of the North Moy Twirra,
Wherein the Fomorian hosts were whelmed and slain.
Yea, I am he who slew the one-eyed Bahlor,
And afterwards reigned many years in Tara
Above the Dae Danann host. And, little son,
’Tis I who was thy father from the Shee,
Sooaltim not being thy father.”
“Warrior,”
Cucullin said, “’twere well to heal these wounds.”
“Sleep, sleep a little now, thou brave Cucullin,”
The warrior said; “let thy deep swoon of sleep
Be o’er thee on this grave-hill in the Larguey,
Till the far end of three days and three nights;
And I myself will watch against yon hosts.”
The warrior then above Cucullin sang
His deep, low, rich faer-dord, whereat deep sleep
Came on Cucullin and he slept. And then
That warrior from the Shee threw healing herbs
And roots from out the Shee, and leaves of curing,
And powerful incantations of quick curing,
On the sore wounds and hurts which hurt that youth,—
So that he in his sleep grew whole again
Without perceiving it or knowing it.
In his deep, gentle swoon of sleep Cucullin
Slept so upon the grave-hill in the Larguey
Till the far end of three days and three nights.

That was the time when the young lads of Ulster,
Who played upon the playing-green of Avvin,
Sons of the kings and chiefs of noble Ulster,
Took counsel with each other. “It is grievous,
Indeed,” they said, “that thus our friend, Cucullin,
Should be alone and without any help.”
Whereon Folloon the son of Conor questioned
And said: “A question: Shall I have a band
To travel south and help your friend, Cucullin?”
And the young lads of Ulster answered him:
“We do not wish to live without going south
To aid Cucullin.” Then thrice fifty lads,
Being a third of all the lads of Ulster,
Made of themselves a band around Folloon
The son of Conor; and they travelled south
O’er the hill-region of Slieve Foo-id, and came
Down on the level plain, on Moy Mweerhevna.
Al-yill perceived that brightly varied band
Far out upon the plain. “That band,” said he,
“Is a fresh troop of the young Ulster children,
Who have come south from sword-red Avvin Maha,
To help Cucullin. Let a troop go out
Without Cucullin’s knowledge, and destroy them;
For if they meet him, ye will not resist them.”
A troop went out; but the young lads avoided
That troop which went; and they drew nigh the hosts.
With their thrice fifty childish playing-clubs
They thrice attacked the hosts; and by their hands
Thrice their own number fell, ere, in the end,
The little lads were overpowered and slain.
Folloon the son of Conor had declared
That he would ne’er return again to Avvin
Till he should take with him the head of Al-yill,
Together with the glorious mĭnd of gold
Which Al-yill wore in battle. Difficult
That was for him; for the two sons of Boi
The son of Bawn, who were defending Al-yill,
Attacked him; and by them he swiftly fell.

Cucullin on the grave-hill in the Larguey
Slept his deep swoon of slumber and of sleep
Till the far end of three days and three nights.
That warrior from the Shee looked at his wounds
Then, and perceived that they were clean; and then
He sang his aely of awakening o’er him.
“Awake,” he sang, “O little battle-hound;
Awake, and do thy feats of war and battle.
Thy friend from out the Shee hath healed thy wounds.
Awake, and mount once more thy battle-chariot.
Rise, little son! Rise, slaughtering Hound of Ulster!”
Cucullin rose then out of that deep sleep,
And passed his hand across his face, and flushed
Rosy from crown to ground; and there was strength
And freshness in his spirit, even as though
He were about to travel to a feast,
Or to a festival of Ulster women,
Or to an ale-stead, or to a festival
Amidst the great prime-festivals of Erin.
“How long have I remained in this deep sleep,
O warrior?” said Cucullin; and the warrior
Replied: “Three days and nights.” “Alas for that!”
Cucullin said. “Why so?” that warrior asked.
“Because,” Cucullin said, “those hosts have been
For all that space without attack or harm.”
“It is not so, indeed,” that warrior said.
“Who came to harm them, then?” Cucullin asked him.
Whereat that warrior from the Shee replied:
“The little lads came from the north, from Avvin—
Thrice fifty lads, sons of the kings of Ulster—
Commanded by Folloon the son of Conor.
With their thrice fifty childish playing-clubs
They thrice attacked the hosts, whilst thou wast here
In thy deep swoon of slumber and of sleep;
And by their hands thrice their own number fell,
Ere they themselves were overpowered and slain.
Folloon the son of Conor had declared
That he would ne’er return again to Avvin
Till he should take with him the head of Al-yill,
Together with the glorious mĭnd of gold
Which Al-yill wears in battle. Difficult
That was indeed for him; and he was slain.”
Cucullin heard those words; and, when he heard them
So from that warrior, there broke from him
A sharp, sad, woeful, heavy, passionate cry.
“Alas,” he said, “that then my battle-strength
Was not upon me! Had my battle-strength
Been then upon me, the young lads from Avvin
Had not thus fallen as now they have fallen: Folloon
The son of Conor had not fallen as now
He has fallen.” “Be thou comforted, O son,”
The warrior said to him; “it is no stain
And no reproach upon thy hero-valour:
It is no stain upon thy honour.” “Warrior,”
Cucullin said, “abide with us to-night,
That we together may avenge our lads
On yon great hosts.” The warrior, smiling, answered:
“I will not so; because, however great
The feats of valour and the deeds of arms
A man might do beside thee, not on him
Would be the fame and the renown for them,
But only on thee. Therefore, I will not tarry
Beside thee here. Howbeit, on this occasion,
Fear not, but fare alone, thou little son;
And alone do thy deeds on yonder hosts.
There shall be power upon thee from the Shee
To-night. To-night thy foes and enemies
Shall have no power above thy life. Take now
This Covering of Concealment which was sent thee
By the dark king o’er the far Land of Sorca,
By Manannawn the son of Lear.” The warrior
Bestowed that Covering on Cucullin, and then
He went from him, and was not seen.
Cucullin
Called to his charioteer, even to Laeg:
“And the scythed chariot now, O Soul, O Laeg!
If thou hast now its gear, equip it swiftly,
That we may ride to-night to avenge our lads,
Our sons of kings from Avvin.” Laeg replied:
“I have the chariot, and I have its gear.
I can equip it swiftly.”
It was then,
Therefore, that that war-hero and that fighter,
And that constructor of a Bive’s Ring-fence,
Put on his battle-dress of war and battle.
Of that good battle-dress of war and battle
Which he put on, then, were his seven and twenty
Waxed, board-smooth laynas, which with cords and ropes
Next his white skin were wont to be tied fast,
So that his prudence might not go from him
When his war-fury should rise up. He put
These round him then; and over these he put
His tough war-hero’s belt of hard, tanned skin,
Made from the shoulders of the seven skins
Of seven young bulls. It from the slenderness
Of his mid-sides extended to the thickness
Beneath his arm-pits. It was wont to be
Around him so, to cast back spears and points
And spikes and darts and spits; they would be cast
Back from that belt as if they had struck on horn
Or rock or stone. Next, he put round himself,
About his soft and tender middle-parts,
His membranous filmy foo-a-vrōg of srōl
Bordered with gold. And over that he put
His brown and well-smoothed foo-a-vrōg of leather,
Made from the shoulders of the four hard skins
Of four young bulls to place on the outside
Of that soft filmy foo-a-vrōg of srōl.
And then it was, indeed, that that war-hero,
That battle-champion of the valorous Gael,
Took up his battle-arms of war and battle,
Of conflict and of combat. Of those arms
Were his eight little swords, with his great sword,
Which was bright-faced, bone-hilted. Of those arms
Were his eight little spears, with his great spear,
Which was five-headed, deedful. Of those arms
Were his eight little darts, with his great dart,
His great Dael Clish, fierce, dreadful. Of those arms
Were his eight shields for feats, with his curved shield
Black-red, wherein a boar meant for display
Could lie, so great it was; and whose sharp edge,
All round, would cut a hair against a stream,
So sharply was it sharpened. Of those arms
Was his high, noble, glorious, crested cathbarr
Of battle and of combat and of conflict,
Out of each angle of the which a cry
Would be cried forth, like to the battle-cry
Of one hundred warriors; for the Bannanahs
And Boccanahs and Demons of the Air
And the Glen-folk were wont to cry before it,
Above it, and around it, every time
That the blown blood of warriors and of heroes
Would shower swift past it on the airs and wind.
Lastly, that fighter and that valour-champion
Put on the wondrous Covering of Concealment,
Druidic, strange, which had been sent to him
By far-off Manannawn the son of Lear.
That was the hour and that the moment of time,
When, while he thought of the dead lads from Avvin,
There came upon Cucullin his contortion
And his war-writhing, till there was made from him
A man misshapen, many-shaped, strange, awful,
Dreadful, unheard-of. In that battle-writhing
All his flesh trembled and was troubled round him,
Till every limb and every joint of him
Quivered, e’en like a tree against a stream,
Or like a reed against a stream. Hard writhing
Engaged his limbs: his calves and hindward parts
Twisted to frontward: his two knees and feet
Writhed backward. Hideous writhing and contortion
Spread o’er his visage. He engulfed one eye
Within his head: its fellow-eye broke out
Bare, horrible, upon his cheek. His lips
Twisted themselves strangely and terribly.
Something was heard: it was the half-loud beating
Of his stirred heart against the ribs of his side,
Like the thick growling of a slaughter-hound
Above his food, or like a Scythian lion
Ranging ’mid bears. Then there were seen above him
Thick showers of fiery sparks in clouds and airs
Over his head, arising from the seething
Of truly rough, fierce rage which raged within him.
His hair rose up and twisted o’er his head,
Stiff, like red branches of a stiff-branched thorn,
Which close some gap in some high earthen rampart:
E’en had a kingly apple-tree beneath
Its kingly fruit been shaken around his head,
Scarcely an apple of them would have fallen
To groundward past those hairs; but on each hair
An apple would have lodged, so strong the writhing
And anger-stiffening of each hair of them.
Last there arose from out the crown of his head
A shaft of blood, dark, upright, straight, as tall
And high and thick and steady as the mast
Of some prime, kingly vessel; till above him
A dark druidic mist was made of it,
Like the smoke-pall above a royal hostel,
What time a king is coming for his guesting
At eve in winter.
When that hard contortion
Wherewith Cucullin so had been contorted
Had past, that Head-of-Valour of the Gael,
The Battle-champion of all Ulster, leapt
On his scythed battle-chariot. For Laeg
Meanwhile had dressed himself and dressed the chariot.
He had put on his own light hunting-dress,
Whereof was his soft innar made from deer-skin,
Airy and light, so that it hindered not
The movements of his hands: whereof was also
His noble, glorious, crested, four-ridged cathbarr,
Which was adorned with many hues and forms,
And reached to his mid-shoulder, much enhancing
The glory of his look: whereof was also
His gleaming guipny of red-yellow gold—
His curved thin band of anvil-beaten gold—
Which with his hand he placed around his brow
To be a token of his charioteering,
Whereby all men might know him from his lord.
When Laeg had dressed himself, he on the steeds,
Namely, the Leeha Maha and Doo Sanglenn,
Had thrown their covering-armour, which was studded
From end to end with little points and lances
And spikes and darts. And, lastly, he had thrown
Upon those steeds a Spell and Incantation
Of Covering, which that warrior from the Shee
Had taught to him that day, so that that night
Within that camp of the Four Fifths of Erin
No man might clearly see them on their course.
And so it was indeed that that war-champion,
That high, proud Head-of-Valour of the Gael,
The Battle-champion of all Ulster, leapt
On his scythed battle-chariot—with its ends
And boundaries of iron, with its edges
Cutting and thin, with its hard spikes and spikelets,
With its hard, lacerating hooks and hooklets,
With its sharp nails and spits and spikes and prongs,
Which were upon its frame-parts and its thongs,
And on each pole and hind-shaft. And he threw
Out from him then before his enemies
His noise-feats of one hundred and two hundred,
Three hundred and four hundred; and he stood
At the five hundred; and he went so far,
Because it did not seem too much to him
That all that number should be slain by him
In his first onset and first battle-leaping
Against the men of the Four Fifths of Erin,
In vengeance for the lads. In this array,
Then, he rode forth against his enemies;
And with his chariot next he made a circuit
Around the men of the Four Fifths of Erin,
Without, outside. He put a ponderous course
On to his chariot; and the iron wheels
Ploughed through the ground, so that it was enough
To form a doon—the way the iron wheels
Ploughed through the ground; for there arose alike
The sods and pillar-stones and rocks and flags
And the fine sand and gravel of the earth,
Till they were height for height with the iron wheels
Above, beside them. It was for this reason
That he thus put that ponderous Bive’s-circuit
Around the men of the Four Fifths of Erin
Without, outside:—so that they might not scatter
And might not flee from him, until by slaughter
He should avenge the lads on them. He came
So, ’midst the battle; and he felled great fences
Of bodies of his foemen in a circuit
And a wide circle round about the hosts
Without, outside. He made a foeman’s onset
Upon his foemen, so that sole to sole
And neck to neck they fell. Three times he so
Rode round the hosts, so that he left around them
A sixfold slaughter-fence, in a great circuit
All round that doon of the Four Fifths of Erin;
For they fell, soles of three to necks of three,
All round that doon of the Four Fifths of Erin.
And hence the Shessra of the Bressla More
(The Sixfold Slaughter of the Great Destruction)
Was the name given to that dreadful slaughter
Wrought by Cucullin then. And it is one
Of three uncounted slaughters on the Táin,
Which were, this Shessra of the Bressla More,
The Imlee of Glendomna, and the battle
Upon the fields of Gawrig and Ilgawrig,
The battle of the Táin. For in this slaughter
The slaughter was uncounted: no man knew
How many had fallen. Of the common, poor
People of little reckoning who fell
There was no counting possible. Only
The chiefs were counted. Of the chiefs who fell
There were two each of Croo-ees, Kahlas, Keers,
Keears, and Eckells; there were three each of Crommas,
Cauriths, and Combeergas; four each of Fohairs,
Furacars, Casses, Fotas; and five each
Of Kermans, Caurs, and Coffys; and six each
Of Saxons, Dooahs, and Dawras; and seven each
Of Rohas, Ronawns, and Ruras; and eight each
Of Rohties, Rindahs, Mullahs; and nine each
Of Daigiths, Dawras, Dahmahs; and ten each
Of Fee-acs, Fee-ahas, and Faylimies.
Those were the chiefs who were mown down that night.
Cucullin went from them after inflicting
That slaughter on the chiefs and folk of Erin.
There was not any reddening on himself
Or on his gillie, or on a steed of his steeds.
This was the Shessra of the Bressla More
(The Sixfold Slaughter of the Great Destruction).
This was the Bressla More on Moy Mweerhevna,
Cucullin’s Bressla More, red, terrible,
Cucullin’s Bressla More on Moy Mweerhevna,
Which Scawtha had foretold far in the East.

Upon the morrow morn Cucullin went
To gaze abroad above the hosts of Erin,
And to display his lovable, fair form
To all their women and their wives and maidens,
And to the poets and wise men of knowledge,
Which were amongst those mighty hosts of Erin;
Because that arrogant, druidic form,
Wherein he had appeared to them at night
That night, was not by him deemed fair or worthy.
Beautiful, truly, was that youthful son,
Namely, Cucullin son of Sooaltim,
Who there displayed his beauty and his form
Unto the hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin.
Three hues of hair were on him—a brown hue
Next to the skin of his head, a blood-red hue
Adjoining that, and a fair golden hue
Adjoining that; and each thin, separate hair
Had these three hues on it. A fair arrangement
Was on those hairs: they made three well-formed wheels
About the nape of his neck; and like a thread
Of fine-drawn gold was each free, scattered, glorious,
Long, separate hair of them which streamed and fell
Backwards beyond his shoulders. And one hundred
Crimsoned, fair links of rich, red, flaming gold
Went round his throat and neck; and full one hundred
Rich ornaments of mingled carbuncle
Made a choice covering for his head. Four dimples
Smiled in each cheek. Seven gems of light flamed bright
In each of his two kingly eyes. That day
He put his feast-array of feast-days round him.
Of that array was his fit, crimson, fair,
Five-folding fooan, in which, o’er his white breast,
Was a white silvern spike inworked with gold,
And shining like some lamp filled up with light,
So that the eyes of men could not endure it,
Because of its great cleanness and its glory.
Of that array was his rich silken innar,
With hems and belts and fringes of rich gold
And silver and findrinny, which reached down
To the upper edge of his brown foo-avrōg,
Which was red-brown and soldier-like, and made
From kingly srōl, filmy and beautiful.
Of that array was his brown-crimson shield,
Which was upon him, with its pure white rim
Of silver round it. And of that array
Were his gold-hilted sword at his left side,
And his long, grey-edged spear which was beside him
Inside his chariot. In his hand that day
Was Oak-fruit of the Red More-reega, namely,
Dead heads of men. Nine heads were in his right hand,
And ten were in his left hand; and he shook them
And brandished them towards those great hosts of Erin.
This was the time when the young maids and daughters
Amongst the men of Erin in that camp,
Besought the men to raise them on their shields,
And raise the shields aloft on to the shoulders
Of sturdy warriors, that they thence might gaze
Upon Cucullin’s form; for wonderful
That lovable, fair form, which they perceived
Upon him there that day, appeared to them,
When they remembered the druidic form,
Arrogant, dark, which they had seen on him
At night that night.
But upon Maev that morn,
After the red, dread slaughter of the night,
For the first time there was dismay and fear
And trembling and sick dread and shuddering
Before Cucullin. She concealed her face
Beneath her impending shield: she dared not gaze
Then on that Hound.
Howbeit in Maev that morn
There was resolve and hard heart-resolution
To find some warrior and some battle-champion
Who would be fit to overcome that Hound;
And, having found such, then, by gifts or blame,
To induce him to go forth to slay Cucullin.
She, scrutinizing in her mind, was sure
That there were four men living still in Erin
Who would be fit to meet him. One was Fergus
The son of Roy; and one was Calateen
Of dangerous arts, a dangerous, fierce opponent,
With poison on his spears; and one indeed was
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
The mighty warrior of the men of Domnann,
Cucullin’s brother-in-arms; and one was Cooroi
The son of Dawra, in the far south-west.
At eve that day Maev dispatched generous Lewy
The son of Nōs the son of Alamac,
To address Cucullin, and to ask renewal
Of his war-terms—the terms of single combat.
Then Lewy to that grave-hill in the Larguey
Went forth to address Cucullin. “I have come,”
He said, “to ask renewal of the terms.”
“I will renew them,” said Cucullin, “seeing
That now my wounds are healed, and I am whole,
And able for hard strife and battle-combat.”
Lewy went back again, and gave that answer
To Al-yill and to Maev. Then Maev besought
The men of Erin that some man of them
Should go for battle-combat with Cucullin
Upon the ensuing morn. But each one said
(Even as she had known that each would say,
After the red, dread slaughter of that night):
“It is not I who will go forth, or leave
This place wherein I am. My race and kindred
Are not beneath a bond to give a man
To certain death and to foredoomed destruction.”

This, therefore, was the evening when Maev spake
To Fergus son of Roy, of great renown;
And she implored him very earnestly,
And she besought him and entreated him
To go to combat at the ford of battle,
And to bring back the head of the Ree-astartha.
Fergus refused. “O Fergus,” Maev said then,
“Once thou wast greatest of all Ulster warriors,
And naught was lacking to thee save to be
The king in Ulster. Then, because thou wast
Too great to be in the one Fifth with him,
Conor the son of Fahtna Fahee drove thee
Forth from thy place, landless and with dishonour.
He slew the three Bright Candles of the Gael
While they were underneath thy guard and honour.
He drove thee from thy country and thy land
And thine inheritance; and immense kindness
Thou hast received from us. I gave, O Fergus,
Support for thy three times ten hundred men,
Together with their women and their poets
And their young lads and their unnumbered gillies.
I gave unto thyself perpetual feasting
In royal Croohan. I myself maintained
Thy honour, by myself paying thy debts
Of honour, and fulfilling all thy vows.
For seven long years has Connaught borne these burdens;
And now it is a shameful thing in thee
That thou dost shirk thy share of battle-danger,
And that thou dar’st not meet the Ree-astartha
Who is destroying us.” These words Maev said,
Speaking to Fergus; and many more she said;
And she reproached him very heavily.
Fergus was silent. He returned no words
Unto those heavy words; but Maev was sure
That he would go unto the battle-ford
At earliest dawn of rising on the morrow.
Fergus went back to his own tent and people.
He slept no sleep that night. His debt and bond
To Maev were heavy on him and oppressed him;
For it was difficult indeed to shun them;
And it seemed bitter to him so to be
Dependent on that queen. There in his tent,
While thinking of the little lad of Ulster,
Upon his breast he wept his showers of tears,
So that his beard and breast were wet with them;
And his own servants dared not speak to him
Their words of consolation or of counsel.
At earliest dawn of rising on the morrow
Fergus went down unto the battle-ford
Of conflict and of combat; and Cucullin
Saw his great guardian, Fergus, there before him.
There was no joy made upon either side.
There was great silence. In a little while,
Cucullin said: “O my great guardian, Fergus,
I see there is no sword in yon long scabbard,
Which thou hast with thee there.” Fergus replied:
“It is indifferent to me, O my pupil;
For even if my sword were here with me,
It should not reach thee; and ’tis not on thee
That it should now be plied. If I would ply it
On thee, my pupil, he who has that sword
Would yield it to me gladly. O my pupil!
O my knee-fosterchild! will a wild doe
Make war on her own fawn? Or will a brother
Make war on his young brother? Or shall I
Make war on my own pupil? But, my pupil,
By all the nurture and by all the rearing
Which I once gave thee, and which all the men
Of Ulster since have given, and which Conor
Himself hath given, I now beseech and pray thee
To flee before me in this place to-day
In presence of the watching hosts of Erin.”
Silence was on that youth, and then he said:
“O my great guardian Fergus, it behoves me
To be reluctant to take flight or flee
Before one man from ’midst the men of Erin,
Now when I am alone before yon hosts,
Guarding the folk and flocks and lands of Ulster.”
Fergus made answer to him: “O my pupil,
Now it behoves thee to be not reluctant;
For in the last great battle of this Táin,
If thou shalt still be living, and shalt come
To meet me, thou being wounded, filled with wounds,
And thou shalt bid me flee before thee, truly
I then will flee before thee in that battle;
And if I flee, the men of Erin all
Will flee before thee likewise in that battle.”
After those earnest words and that strong promise,
Which Fergus so had made, Cucullin went
In road of rout, of flight and of defeat
In presence of the watching hosts of Erin.
Fergus turned back once more, he having so
Done treachery to Maev. “He flees, he flees,
He flees before thee, Fergus!” each one cried:
“He flees in road of rout and flight before thee.”
“Follow him, Fergus!” Maev said; “let him not
Thus go from out thine hands.” There broke from Fergus
His savage laughter-voice. “Nay, verily,”
Said he, “beyond this spot wherein I am
I will not follow him. However little
Ye deem that share of flight, that I have caused him,
There is no man amongst the men of Erin,
Who hath known how to put him to such flight
Upon this Táin; and it is for that reason
That, till each man of Erin in his turn
Hath gone to fight with him in single combat,
I will not go to threaten him again.”

Now of Cucullin’s combat on the Táin
With Calateen of deadly, dangerous darts,
Together with his twenty-seven sons
And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga,
We must tell briefly.
In Maev’s tent that night
The chiefs and kings considered who was fittest
To send for battle-combat with Cucullin
At earliest hour of rising in the morn.
Then all agreed with Maev that it was best
To send for Calateen of deadly arts,
Together with his twenty-seven sons,
And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga.
For thus those men of dangerous, deadly arts
Were:—there was poison on each man of them,
And poison on each weapon of their weapons;
And he whom they but reddened, if he died not
Forthwith, died surely ere nine days were past;
And not a man of them e’er aimed an aim
Unfit or false, or cast an erring cast.
The men were sent for then; and huge rewards
Were promised them for doing that famed combat;
And for rewards they took in hand to do it.
And it was needful that in presence of Fergus
This thing should be confirmed; and he, when called,
Was powerless to cross or traverse it;
For this is what men said:—that Calateen
Together with his twenty-seven sons
And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga,
Was as one man; for this is what they said:—
His sons were merely limbs of his own limbs,
And parts of his own parts, and it was right
That Calateen should have the host and fullness
Of his own body; and their contract therefore
Was not a breaking of the faith of men.
Fergus went back to his own tent and folk.
He breathed on high his groan of weariness.
“’Tis grievous unto us the battle-deed
That will be done to-morrow,” Fergus said;
And he told all that tale. “And now,” said Fergus,
“There is no man to whom I will not give
My blessing and my battle-dress of battle,
If he will go from me to watch that combat,
And bring me word when in that unjust combat
Cucullin shall have fallen.” Feeaha
The son of Conall Carna said to him:
“I will myself go forth to watch that combat.”
And they stayed there that night.
Upon the morrow
Cucullin went unto the battle-ford
Early; and Calateen of dangerous arts
Went jointly with his twenty-seven sons
And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga.
Upon Cucullin who was there alone,
They launched at once their twenty-nine sharp darts
Whereon was poison; and no dart of them
Went on an erring or a swerving course.
Cucullin wrought his edge-feat with his shield,
So that the twenty-nine unswerving darts
Plunged to their mid-parts in his battle-shield;
And not one dart of them had reddened him.
This was the time when he drew forth his sword
From its Bive’s-scabbard, so that he might hew
And lop the darts, and thus unload his shield.
While he was so unloading it, the men
Drew nigh him swiftly, warily. They placed
Upon his head their twenty-nine right hands,
That they might bend him and might bow him down
Until his face and brow should be forced down
Into the sand and gravel of the ford.
While they were so bending and bowing him,
Cucullin raised on high his warrior-moan
And hero-sigh of hard, unequal combat,
So that there was no man of Ulster living,
And not in sleep, who did not hear him sigh.
And the men bent and pressed and bowed him down,
Until his face and brow and countenance
Were ’midst the sand and gravel of the ford.
It was just then and at that point of time
That Feeaha the son of Conall Carna
Arrived and saw that thing. There came on him
His thong and tie of Ulster love and kinship.
He drew his sword out of his strong Bive’s-scabbard,
And gave one sweeping blow, till with that blow
He had struck their twenty-nine right hands from them;
And the men, owing to the urgency
Of the deed and act wherein they had been, fell back
Suddenly into the sand and ooze of the ford.
Cucullin raised his head and drew his breath;
And he exhaled his sigh of weariness;
And he perceived the man who thus had helped him.
“Well nigh too late thy help arrived for me,
O fellow-pupil!” said Cucullin. “Truly,”
Said Feeaha, “however late and little
The help appears to thee, it is not little
To us there in that camp. We in that camp
Are the best cantred of the Clan of Rury;
And ’tis beneath the mouth of spear and sword
That we should all be placed, if this one blow
That I have struck for thee, were known of us.”
“I give my word,” Cucullin said, “that now,
Since I have raised my head and drawn my breath,
Unless thou tell that tale about thyself,
Not one of these shall henceforth live to tell it.”
Then turned Cucullin rapidly against them,
And fell to hewing them and slaying them,
Until he put them from him in their parted
Quarters, and in their finely parted joints,
Eastwards and westwards, lengthways of the ford.
One man alone escaped him—namely, Glass
The son of Delga; then Cucullin saw him,
And, in his rushing of swift running, rushed
Like the swift, rushing wind; and even as Glass
The son of Delga came unto the tent
Of Al-yill and of Maev, Cucullin reached him;
And while he panted, “Feea—, Feea—,” meaning
To tell the deed of Feeaha, Cucullin
Struck a swift blow, and struck his head from him;
And then again, like the swift, rushing wind,
He went from them; and no one caught him there.
“That was a sudden thing with that man there,”
Said Maev; “what debt was that whereof he spoke?”
(For “Feea” means “a debt.”) “Truly,” said Fergus,
“I know not; but perchance within the camp
There is some man who owed a debt to him;
And it was in his mind whilst he ran hither.
Howbeit one thing I aver,” said Fergus—
And he spake loudly, roughly, joyously—
“Now, in one time, his debts have all been paid.”

This was Cucullin’s combat on the Táin
With Calateen of many dangerous arts,
Together with his twenty-seven sons
And with his grandson, Glass the son of Delga.
And upon Maev that day there was great grief,
And great perplexity, because not yet
Had she found one amongst the men of Erin
Able to conquer and o’erthrow Cucullin.

BOOK XII