Chapter XIV: Book XII

That evening Maev unto her private tent
Summoned the chiefs and warriors and brave men;
And they stood round her, leaning on their spears,
Holding a council. And Maev said to them:
“Unless we find a man to overcome
This dread Cucullin, now my heart will break.”
Then they all said that there was but one man
Fitted to meet Cucullin at the ford—
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
The mighty warrior of the men of Domnann
From Irrus Domnann in the storm-beat west;
For like and equal were their modes of fight:
They by one teacher had been taught and trained,
Namely, by Scawtha; so that neither owned
Advantage o’er the other, save that only
Cucullin owned the art of the Gae Bulg.
But then, as was well known, Faerdeeah owned
A conganess, a tough protecting armour,
The gift of Scawtha ere he left her land;
And no edged weapons easily could pierce it.
Then there were sent envoys and messengers
To bring Faerdeeah straightway; but Faerdeeah
Denied, declined, refused those messengers,
And came not with them; for full well he knew
The thing that brought them there,—to make him fight
In fierce encounter with his own dear friend,
His loved companion and brother-in-arms, Cucullin.
And Maev dispatched her skilful slanderers,
And men of irony and calumny,
And bade them speak their dangerous lampoons
And hot, cheek-reddening satire and invective,
To raise three shameful blisters on his face—
Reproach, Disgrace, and Contumely—that so,
If he died not immediately, at least
He might be dead ere nine days should be past,
Unless he came with them.
Faerdeeah then
Came to confer with Maev; for he desired
To fall in battle-glory, not by shafts
Of coward ridicule. And he resolved
To offer every other battle-service,
But not to combat with his own dear friend.
The hour that Maev and Al-yill saw him come
They laughed a full loud laugh of triumph. Then
With honour and attendance they received him,
And brought him to the feast. And Findabair,
Obedient to her mother, brimmed his cup
With wine from Gaul, and gave him with each cup
Three kisses, tenderly and fervently;
And carried to him, folded in her layna,
Red, well-stored apples; and she laid them down,
And bade him eat, and said that he indeed
Of all the men in Erin was the one
Whom she could choose to love. And this was true;
For now, since Frae had fallen, she had not seen
So goodly a man to love as was Faerdeeah.
So he grew gently merry. Presently,
When he a while had quaffed the wine from Gaul,
Maev spake and said: “Good, now, my friend, Faerdeeah,
Knowest thou why I have sent for thee this night?”
And he made answer: “Here are goodly chiefs,
And men of valour and of warlike deeds;
And where such men are gathered, ’tis but fit
I should be found amongst them!” Maev replied:
“Not only so; but I have sent for thee
To offer thee great wealth and great rewards:—
A chariot costing four times seven bond-maids,
And raiment for twelve men, of each right hue,
With drinking-horns and bridles and fleet steeds,
And kingly srōl and rings of rich red gold,
And the full measure of thy barren land
Apportioned to thee from my smooth Moy Wee,
With a fair share of plain and forest land,
To be thine own, free of all tax and tribute,
Free from demands for hostings, free to thee
And to thy sons and to thy seed for ever,
Until the brink of Judgment and of Doom.
These shall be thine, and more; for Findabair
Shall go to thee to be thine own one wife;
And I will give to thee as highest honour
The golden brooch from out my queenly robe.
These shall be thine, if thou to-morrow morn
Wilt meet Cucullin at the danger-ford,
And if by thee he shall be slain and die.”
“Great the rewards and gifts!” exclaimed the chiefs.
Faerdeeah said: “Though very great the gifts,
Maev, as for me, may take them back again.
I will not slay my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.”
They brimmed his horn again, and when again
He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine,
Maev spake and said: “Hearken, my friend, Faerdeeah.
It is an ancient word that to each man
His native land is dear. Cucullin fights
For his own native land, the land of Ulster;
And thou shouldst fight for thine, the land of Connaught.”
Faerdeeah hearkened for a while, then said:
“I cannot fight my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.”
They brimmed his horn again; and when again
He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine,
Maev spake and said: “Know’st thou, my friend, Faerdeeah,
Throughout the camp to-night by every fire,
There is no theme for jest and mockery
Save this alone, namely, that thou, Faerdeeah,
Who hast been trained to arms far in the east
By Ooaha, by Scawtha, and by Weefa,
Lackest the valour for hard battle-combat.”
Faerdeeah heard; and he grew red and pale.
For thus Faerdeeah was:—there was to him
No ill so hard to endure as mockery
And raillery and scorn and mocking words.
He paused a while in silence, but then said:
“I may not fight my brother-in-arms, Cucullin.”
They brimmed his horn again; and when again
He for a while had quaffed the Gaulish wine,
Maev spake aloof, apart, in a low voice,
According to the ways for great deceivings,
And said: “O warriors, it was a true word
Cucullin spoke.” Faerdeeah heard her words,
Even as she had meant that he should hear them.
He said to her: “What word was that, O Maev?”
“Cucullin said,” said Maev, “that unto him
It would not have appeared too much that thou,
Faerdeeah, shouldst have been the first to fall
In battle-fight with him upon this hosting.
And this is what Cucullin says: he says
That he, indeed, would think it little honour
To slay thee now, after the true war-heroes
Whom he has slain in combat on this Táin.”
Faerdeeah heard those well-deviséd words
Which Maev devised; and he grew red and pale
With wrath; yet had it not been for the wine
Which he had quaffed, he would not have believed
Those words, as now with anger he believed them.
“It was not right,” he said, “that even Cucullin
Should speak of me in that wise. Never yet
Hath he known cowardice or weariness
In me by day or night. But now I swear
I will be he who shall be found the first
In readiness upon the ford to-morrow.”
“May victory and blessing be on thee,”
Said Maev, “and all success and battle-triumph.”
“But thou, great Queen,” Faerdeeah said, “must give me
Sureties and pledges that thou wilt fulfil
The promises that thou hast made.” Then Maev
Bound herself by the firm security
Of six great chiefs and princes. Yet Faerdeeah
Paused, and he said: “Nay, thou must give me, too,
The sun and moon and wind.” And Maev complied.
She gave to him in surety sun and moon
And stars and colours and the falling dew
And the four winds—that those great powers all,
If she should break her word, might punish her.
And after that she bound Faerdeeah fast
By the same pledges and securities
To fight Cucullin on the following morn.
So they were bound on either side; and Maev
Took from her crimson bratt her heavy brooch
Of beaten gold; and kindly, royally,
Yielded it to Faerdeeah as a sign
Of mutual faith and truth and honour pledged.
Faerdeeah then, the feast being ended, went
Back to his tent and to his folk and people.
Fergus had witnessed all that speech and contract.
He went to see Cucullin; and he came
Unto that place wherein Cucullin was.
“He who will come against thee in the morn,”
He said, “is thine own friend and bosom-comrade,
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
Who with thyself was trained far in the east.”
Cucullin said: “It is not he, indeed,
Whom I had wished to come against me—yet
Not on account of any fear of him,
But on account of my great love for him.”
Fergus replied: “Yet it is right to fear him;
For not like others who have come is this
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
Who will confront thee at the ford to-morrow.”
Cucullin said: “Here I have been alone
Against the hosts of the Four Fifths of Erin,
Since Sowin Eve till now when spring begins.
I have not yielded one foot in retreat
In all this time before one man of them,
Save before thee, O Fergus; and I hope
I shall not yield before Faerdeeah now.”
Fergus went back to his own tent and people.
As for Faerdeeah, he had now returned
Unto his tent and folk, to whom he told
How he was bound by Maev to single combat
With dread Cucullin on the ensuing morn.
The people of Faerdeeah’s tent that night
Were not content and merry and full of joy;
But they were sorrowful, dispirited;
Because they knew in whatsoever place
Those two great heroes, those two battle-breakers,
Might meet in combat, either both would fall,
Or one would fall; and if but one should fall,
They thought that it would be their own dear lord;
For now it seemed a thing impossible
To overthrow Cucullin on this Táin.
During the earlier hours of that sad night
Faerdeeah slept a deep and heavy sleep.
Then his sleep went from him; and he awoke.
All the inebriation of Maev’s wine
Had gone; and now in the cold, misty morn
The question and the trouble and the sorrow
Of that vowed combat scourged and weighed on him.
Then he arose, and bade his charioteer
Harness his steeds and yoke his chariot quickly.
The servant sought to hinder him, and said:
“Better by far remain and take thy rest
Until the sun arise. Go not yet forth
Unto this grievous meeting and encounter.”
“Be silent now, my man,” Faerdeeah said.
“Thou speakest like a servant. We will go
With strength and valour to the ford of wounding,
O’er which the Bive shall scream.”
The horses then
Were harnessed, and the chariot yoked, and forth
They rode, and reached the battle-ford; and not
E’en yet had the full light of daylight come.

Through the dim, misty light of early morn
Maev from her tent had seen Faerdeeah pass.
She said: “Does Al-yill sleep?” “Not so,” said Al-yill.
Maev said: “Provided that Cucullin falls
By yonder warrior, ’twill be well for us
If he himself falls too; for this we know:—
That if he slays his friend, ’tis we ourselves
Whom in his woe he next will seek to slay.”

Faerdeeah and his servant then had reached
The battle-stream. “O gillie,” said Faerdeeah,
“Look, is Cucullin yet upon the ford?”
“He is not,” said the servant. “Look with heed,”
Faerdeeah said. “Cucullin,” said the servant,
“Is not some little switch or goad concealed
Amid long grass.” “’Tis true,” Faerdeeah said,
“He is not there. He has not till this hour
Heard of the coming of a true war-hero
Against him on this Táin. Now, having heard,
He has abandoned the dread ford.” “Alas!”
The gillie said, “it is unkind, disloyal,
So in his absence to insult Cucullin.
And dost thou not remember how, yon time
When ye attacked rough, battle-skilled Germanus
O’er the edge-borders of the Tyrrhene Sea,
Thou with the host hadst left thy battle-sword;
And ’twas Cucullin who regained it for thee,
Slaying one hundred men to reach to it?
And dost thou not remember where we were
On that same night?” “I do not,” said Faerdeeah.
“We all were at the house of Scawtha’s steward,”
The gillie said; “that night, with glowing pride,
Thou wentst into that house before us all;
Whereat the steward, the giant-hideous churl,
With his long, three-pronged flesh-fork struck at thee
Against the mid-part of thy back, and flung thee
Out o’er the threshold of the door. Cucullin
It was who slew that churl; and it was I
Who served as steward so long as ye remained
Within that stead. And that one day alone
Makes it not right that thou shouldst boast thyself
A better battle-hero than Cucullin.”
“Be silent, O my man,” Faerdeeah said.
“What thou now dost is wrong, thus, when too late,
Putting those days into my memory;
But hadst thou spoken of these things last night,
Then, notwithstanding Maev’s strong wine from Croohan,
Yea, notwithstanding that o’erweening boasting
Cucullin made, I had not come to-day
Unto this fight and combat. And now, gillie,”
Faerdeeah said, “desist from this, and spread
The blankets and the skins of the firm chariot
Beneath me here, that I may take my sleep,
My deep repose and rest. In the last hours
Of the dark night I slept not; for the thought
And trouble of this combat weighed on me.”
The charioteer loosened the steeds, and then
Spread for his lord the blankets and the skins;
And soon the heavy deadness of deep sleep
Fell on Faerdeeah, and he rested there.
And now about Cucullin. He arose not
Until the day with its full light had come,
That so the men of Erin might not say
That fear and terror drove away his sleep.
But when the day with all its light had come,
He rose and said unto his charioteer:
“Good now, my servant Laeg, harness the steeds
And yoke the chariot. We will now ride forth.
He is an early-rising man, this friend,
Faerdeeah son of Daman son of Dawra,
Who comes against us at the ford to-day.”
“The steeds are caught: the chariot is prepared,”
Said Laeg, “so mount it: it will not disgrace
Thy valour or thy prowess and feats of arms.”
Then sprang into his chariot the adroit
And battle-victorious, red-sworded hero,
Cucullin son of Sooaltim; and round him
Shouted the Boccanahs and Bannanahs
And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air;
And Thooaha Dae Danann raised around him
Shoutings and cries, that so they might enhance
The terror and fear and hate his foes should feel.
In no long time Faerdeeah’s charioteer
Heard the dim roll of wheels, the tramp of hooves,
The musical clang of swords and spears and shields
Beating against each other, and the cries
Made by the airy spirits. Then he went
And laid his hand upon his master, saying:
“Arise, Faerdeeah! for he cometh now—
The Hound of Valour. Over wide Bray Ross
Fleetly he cometh. Like a noble hawk
He swoopeth southward, and is like the wind
For swiftness. Not with waned dexterity
Will he attack thee at the ford to-day.”
Faerdeeah, waking, spake with vehemence,
And said: “Hast thou been bribed to praise this man?
I think thou hast taken wages to extol
The vaunting youth from Cooley. Know thou, then,
That he shall find his downfall here to-day.”
And soon the charioteer, watching there, saw
Cucullin’s comely, four-peaked chariot: green
Its pleasant awning, thin and firm its frame.
Beneath the one yoke was a fleet, gray horse,
With long smooth hair: beneath the second yoke
A black horse, tufty-maned and fierce like fire,
And like a hawk down-swooping from a cloud,
Like a cold gust of spring wind o’er a plain,
Or like a deer when started by the hounds
On his first chase, were those two noble steeds.
As though they trod on fiery flags they came;
And the earth shook and trembled. So Cucullin
Came to the ford. Faerdeeah on the south
Awaited him. He on the northern side
Drew up his chariot; and they faced each other.
“Welcome, Cucullin, is thy coming,” then
Faerdeeah said. Cucullin answered him:
“Trusty and dear to me until this hour
Those words had been. Now I accept them not.
And, O Faerdeeah, it were fitter far
For me to speak the welcome in this land.
It is my land, not thine; and I am here
Defending my own people and their wives
And youths and little ones and flocks and herds,
All that are left uncaptured and unslain;
And thou hast come to combat with me here.”
Faerdeeah said: “Thereby I honour thee.
What claim or right hast thou to fight with me?
For, when we were with Scawtha far away,
Thou wast my servant and subordinate,
To fit my spears and to prepare my bed.”
“Yea, for I was the younger,” said Cucullin;
“But, well thou knowest, it is not as thy man,
Or as thy servant and subordinate,
That men hereafter will remember me.
Therefore withdraw in time, or thou shalt find
That thou hast fallen in a gap of danger;
And edgéd weapons here will hew thee down,
And thou shalt never be a battle-chief
From this time forth; but here thy life shall end.”
“Away with all thy boasting and thy warning!”
Replied Faerdeeah; “like a tame house-bird
Thou art to me. Ere sun-down, ere the night,
Crimson shall flow thy blood athwart thy bridle.
Thy head shall be upon a pointed spit,
Thou upstart vaunter! I am here at length;
And thou shalt fight and die.” So spake Faerdeeah,
Indignant rage having laid hold of him.
Then, quick, Cucullin said: “O my Faerdeeah,
Why didst thou listen to the fair-haired queen?
She hath beguiled thee with deceiving words.
We, when we were with Scawtha in the east,
Went out together into every battle.
In lands and forests many and far away
We went with Scawtha, learning, practising.
And we were heart-companions: side by side,
After long toil, we slept our good, deep sleep.
A dearer, trustier friend I have not known.
We thought that never, indeed, between us two
Could there be angry words or enmity.
Come not against me now, O noble hero,
Faerdeeah son of Daman. Break not so
Our bond of friendship. Hold in memory
The vow we made. There is not in the world
One at whose hest I would do ill to thee.”
Faerdeeah paused in silence. Then he said:
“It is too late. Too long have we been thus,
Contending with words only. And what weapons
Shall we select to-day?” Cucullin said:
“Thine is the choice of arms until the night;
For thou art he who first did reach the ford.”
“Dost thou remember, then,” Faerdeeah asked,
“The game with missive weapons that we played
With Ooaha, with Scawtha, and with Weefa?
If thou rememberest, let us try them now.”
Then they put on their two bright-bordered shields.
Adapted for quick play of skill; and took
Eight little lances made for feats of skill,
With eight well-shapen feather-wingéd darts,
Eight ivory-hilted poniards thin and straight,
And eight diminutive bone-hafted spears.
And these flew forth from them and back again
Like flying bees on a bright summer’s day.
No cast was badly aimed. From early morn
To full mid-day they cast and shot and hurled,
Until their various missiles were all spoiled
And blunted on the well-directed shields.
Though excellent the hurling, yet so true
Was the defence that neither, in all that time,
Wounded or injured or made red the other.
“Let us abandon these,” Faerdeeah said;
“For not through these our fight will be resolved.”
“Yea, let us leave them, if the time be come,”
Replied Cucullin. And they ceased, and flung
Into the hands of their good charioteers
Their darts and lances and bright-bordered shields.
“What arms or weapons shall we fight with now?”
Faerdeeah questioned; but Cucullin said:
“Thine is the choice of arms until the night;
For thou art he who first did reach the ford.”
“Then,” said Faerdeeah, “let us now take up
Our straight and shapely, smooth, well-hardened spears,
Wherein well-tightened is the flaxen cord.”
“So let us, if thou wilt,” Cucullin said.
Then they put on two strong, protecting shields;
And took their shapely, smooth, well-hardened spears,
Wherein well-tightened was the flaxen cord;
And with these arms they shot, each at the other,
From middle day until the evening fell.
Though excellent the quick defence they made,
So skilful was their hurling, and so true,
That each was hurt and wounded in that time.
“Let us leave off now for the present while,”
Faerdeeah said. “Let us, if it be time,”
Replied Cucullin. And they ceased, and threw
Into the hands of their good charioteers
Their shields and fighting-weapons; and forthwith
Each one drew nigh the other; and each laid
His arms around the other’s neck, and gave him
Three kisses ardently and fervently.
Their horses all that night remained together
In the one paddock; and their charioteers
Stayed by one fire. Howbeit, ere darkness fell
Each servant made for his own lord a bed
Of newly-gathered rushes; and both made
Pillows for wounded men; and then there came
The folk of cure and healing, and applied
Succulent herbs of healing and of cure
To all their hurts and gashes and sore wounds.
Of every herb and every healing salve
That they provided for Cucullin’s wounds
He sent one half south-westward o’er the ford
Unto Faerdeeah. And of all nourishment,
And all inspiriting, well-flavoured ale
Brought by the men of Erin to Faerdeeah,
He sent one half north-eastward o’er the ford
To freshen and delight and help Cucullin.
They, in this manner, rested there that night.

And early in the morning they arose;
And they came forward to the ford of battle.
“What arms of valour shall we take to-day?”
Cucullin asked; but briefly, courteously,
Faerdeeah answered: “Thine the choice of arms
Until the night; for in the day now past
The choice was mine.” “Let us,” Cucullin said,
“Take up our huge, wide-headed thrusting spears;
And let our steeds be caught and chariots yoked,
That from our chariots and from o’er our steeds
We may deliver battle here to-day.”
Then they put on two durable, strong shields,
Wide and protecting; and they took the spears
That were wide-headed, huge; and these they thrust
And drove against each other, from the gleam
Of early morning till the evening fell.
Their steeds were weary, and their charioteers
Dispirited; and they themselves—the heroes,
The men of valour—they were weary too.
“Now let us cease, Faerdeeah,” said Cucullin;
“Our steeds are weary; and our charioteers
Discouraged and fatigued. Why should not we
Be weary likewise?” And they ceased, and threw
Their spears and shields unto their charioteers;
And each drew nigh the other; and each laid
His arms around the other’s neck, and gave him
Three kisses; and Cucullin said: “Faerdeeah,
My loving heart is as one clot of blood;
Almost my spirit has departed from me.
What need hadst thou to come to combat here
At bidding of the evil-minded queen?
Let us withdraw from this, and strive no more.
I have not heart or strength for feats of valour,
Fighting with thee, Faerdeeah, my dear friend.”
Faerdeeah mused in silence. He recalled
The strong securities and powerful bonds
Wherein he was fast bound by Maev; then said:
“O Hound of Valour, Hound of Battle-triumph,
It is too late. We may not now draw back;
But one of us must fall, or both must fall,
In contest at this ford. And well we know
What must be, must be. Man may not avoid
His hour of birth, nor yet his hour of death;
But he is driven and constrained to come
Unto that sod where his last grave shall be.”
They rested there that night. Their charioteers
Lay at one fire; and their horses stayed
In one enclosure. And the men of healing
Came to watch o’er the wounded heroes there,
Putting unto each grievous hurt and wound
Their powerful phrases, able words and charms
And spells and incantations. Only so
Might they alleviate the sore pain, and staunch
The flowing blood—so bitter and so deep
Their hurts and injuries and gory wounds.
Of every spell and every powerful charm
Brought by the men of healing for Cucullin,
He sent one half south-westward o’er the ford
Unto Faerdeeah. And of all pleasant food,
And all exhilarating, mirthful ale,
Brought by the men of Erin to Faerdeeah,
He sent one half north-eastward o’er the ford
To help Cucullin.
In the early morn
They rose and came unto the ford of battle.
Cucullin saw a darkly-lowering cloud
Upon Faerdeeah’s face that morn, and said:
“Thou art not well to-day, my friend, Faerdeeah.
Dulled is thy hair, and drowsy is thine eye:
Thy freshness and thy form have gone from thee.”
“’Tis not through fear of thee that I am so,”
Replied Faerdeeah; “there is not in Erin
A champion I could not subdue this day.
What arms or weapons shall we fight with now?”
Cucullin answered: “Thine the choice of arms
Until the night; for in the day just past
The choice was mine.” “Let us,” Faerdeeah said,
“Take up our heavy and hard-smiting swords.
Thereby we shall be nearer to our end
Than by the thrusting we were yesterday.”
Then they put on two long and ample shields,
And took their heavy and hard-smiting swords;
And they began to hit and hew and strike
And smite each other; and continued so
From early morning till the evening fell.
“Let us forsake this now,” Faerdeeah said.
“Let us, if it be time,” Cucullin answered.
It was a parting of two mournful men,
Two sorrowful, disheartened ones, that night.
Their steeds were not in the one fold that night,
Nor lay their charioteers by the one fire.
In woe and grief they rested that night there.

And early on the morrow morn arose
Faerdeeah, and went forward all alone
Unto the ford of battle; for he knew
That was the day which finally should end
Their striving and their combat; and he knew
That one of them would fall, or both would fall,
Upon that day. And then it was indeed
That he put on his battle-suit of battle
Before the coming of Cucullin towards him.
He put against his whitely-gleaming skin
His filmy foo-a-vrōg of kingly srōl
Hemmed up with spangled gold; and over that
His foo-a-vrōg of leather, brown, well-smoothed.
And over that he placed a disc of stone,
Huge like a mill-stone; and placed o’er these all
His iron foo-a-vrōg, steadfast and deep,
Of tempered iron; and all this he did
Through fear and dread of the Gae Bulg that day.
Then he put round his head his crested cathbarr,
Whereon, in the divisions, forty gems
Of carbuncle were set, which flamed and glowed;
And it was outlined well with crooan-stones
And crystal and jewels of light that men had brought
From the far eastern world. In his right hand
He took his stalwart, death-producing spear.
He placed on his left hip his curvéd sword
With golden hilt and hand-guard of red gold.
He hung upon the broad slope of his back
His shield with hornéd rivets, that was formed
Of fifty strong concentric rings encircling
A central boss of glorious, flaming gold.
That morn Faerdeeah practised many a feat,
And many an art adroit and wonderful,
And many a movement that he ne’er had learned
From Ooaha, from Scawtha or from Weefa,
But had contrived himself, to be attempted
That day against Cucullin.
And Cucullin
Came to the ford, and saw each noble feat
And all the arts adroit and wonderful
Faerdeeah practised there; and then he said:
“My good friend Laeg, thou seest the noble feats
Faerdeeah practises; and well we know
That all these arts in turn will here to-day
Be tried against me. Therefore thou, good Laeg,
If they prevail against me in the least,
If I begin to yield or waver here,
Thou shalt incite me and find fault with me,
And rail at me with sour, disdainful words,
That so thou mayst arouse my rage and ire.
But if it be that I prevail, then praise me,
Commend me, and speak kind, applauding words,
That so my hope and spirit may grow the more.”
And Laeg replied: “Thus, surely, will I do.”
Cucullin then put on his noble garb
Of battle and of combat; and he too
Performed adroit and accurate turns of skill,
And feats and arts that he had never learned
With Ooaha, with Scawtha, or with Weefa.
Faerdeeah witnessed all those feats, and knew
Each would be tried against him in its turn.
“What arms of valour shall we take to-day?”
Inquired Cucullin; and Faerdeeah said:
“Thine is the choice of arms until the night.”
“Let us, then, try the ford-feat,” said Cucullin.
“Let us,” replied Faerdeeah, “if so thou wilt.”
Howbeit, though thus Faerdeeah gave consent,
The choice was unto him a cause of grief;
For, until then, Cucullin had o’erthrown
All champions and all heroes whomsoever
Who in the ford-feat had encountered him.

Illustrious and awful was the fight
That they fought out upon the ford that day—
Those two exalted warriors, those two heroes,
Those high-born ones with gift-bestowing hands,
Those well-belovéd pillars of all valour,
Those keys of valour of the valiant Gael,
Those two dear friends, brought to such dreadful fight
Through the skilled instigation and inciting
And the skilled wiles and slanderous words of Maev.

From early morning till the midday hour
They cast and hurled; but when the midday came,
Their battle-anger rose and boiled with fury.
And from that hour their rage and battle-fury
Seethed in their hearts, so that each knew no more
That he was fighting with his friend and comrade;
But each thought only of the strife and combat.
And each drew nigh the other. Then it was
That from the very brink of the wide ford
Cucullin leapt, and lighted on the boss,
The golden central boss, of the great shield
Faerdeeah son of Daman held before him.
For thus he hoped to strike Faerdeeah’s head
Over the border of the mighty shield.
But, straight, Faerdeeah with his left elbow dealt
The shield a blow, and cast Cucullin back,
Light as a bird, on the ford’s brink again.
Again Cucullin leapt, and deftly lighted
On the great boss, to reach Faerdeeah’s head.
Faerdeeah dealt the shield a mighty blow
With his left knee, and cast Cucullin back,
Light as a child, on the ford’s brink again.
And Laeg perceived that thing. “Alas!” said Laeg,
“The man who is against thee casts thee now
As a lewd woman casts away her child:
He flings thee as the river flings the foam:
He grinds thee as the mill grinds the fresh malt:
He cuts thee as the wood-axe cuts the oak:
He binds thee as the woodbine binds the tree:
He pounces on thee as the hawk doth pounce
On tiny birds: and thou hast now no kin
And no relationship to men of valour
From this time forth, thou small distorted sprite.”
Then, with the swiftness of the cold spring wind,
With the adroitness of a swallow flying,
Cucullin once again sprang through the air,
And lighted once again upon the boss
Of the great shield, to strike Faerdeeah’s head.
Faerdeeah gave the shield a sudden shake,
And cast Cucullin back on the ford’s brink,
As though he had ne’er leapt from it at all.

Then, for the first time in their awful combat,
Cucullin was distorted with his rage
And filled with swelling, as a bladder is filled
With a man’s breath; and he appeared to be—
To those who watched—some giant, terrible,
Strange, and discoloured. Like a Man of the Sea,
Or huge Fomorian from the north, he stood
In perfect height against Faerdeeah there.
So close the combat was, which there they made,
That now their heads encountered o’er their shields,
And now their feet below them; and their hands
Met in the middle part, beyond the plates
And borders of the shields. So close their fight,
Their shields were burst and rifted from the rim
Unto the central part. So close their fight,
Their spears were bent and doubled from the point
Unto the haft. So close the fight they made,
The unseen Bannanahs and Boccanahs
And the Glen-folk and Spirits of the Air
Screamed from the edges of their shields, and cried
From each sword-hilt and spear-shaft; and the herds
Of horses of the men of Erin brake
In fright and fury from their rings and tethers,
And fled in madness. And the little folk
And women and youths and cowardly folk and fools
Broke from the camp south-westwards in their fright
And wild alarm and terror in that hour.

They now were at the edge-feat with their swords.
Faerdeeah found a chance upon Cucullin
For one brief instant; and he dealt a blow
With his bone-hafted dagger, till its blade
Was hidden in Cucullin’s chest. The blood
Fell on Cucullin’s girdle; and the ford
Was reddened with his blood. Cucullin then
Held out no longer; for Faerdeeah still
Was striking his annihilating blows,
And his long blows, and his great middle blows,
Upon him there; and he called out to Laeg
To send him the Gae Bulg. Faerdeeah heard
Cucullin calling for that spear of Scawtha.
He made a downward stroke with his great shield
To shield his under-part. Cucullin hurled
Out of his palm a short, straight dart athwart
The upper margin of Faerdeeah’s shield,
And through the throat-vent of his horn-skin armour,
So that the point thereof was visible,
After its piercing of Faerdeeah’s heart,
Within his breast and side. Faerdeeah then
Made a swift, upward stroke with his great shield
To shield his over-part; though this was help
Arriving when too late. And Laeg meanwhile
Directed the Gae Bulg along the stream.
Cucullin with the toes of his feet received it.
He gave a choice cast of the Scythian weapon
Upward against Faerdeeah; and it pierced
The iron foo-a-vrōg of tempered iron,
And clove the disc of stone into three parts,
And pierced through all the coverings of his frame,
So that each inward part of him was filled
With spear-heads of the opening Gae Bulg.
“That is henceforth enough,” Faerdeeah said:
“O Hound of beautiful and wondrous feats,
I fall by that.” The heavy mist of death
Came o’er Faerdeeah. And Cucullin ran
And closed his hands around him; and he bore him
With all his arms and his accoutrements
North-eastward o’er the ford, and up the bank,
That so the trophies of the victory
Might be with him north-eastward of the ford,
Not with the men of Erin on the south.

Then on the ground he laid Faerdeeah down.
His battle-fury now had gone from him;
And a thick cloud of faintness and of pain
Descended densely on him while he bent
O’er the dead body of Faerdeeah there.
This was perceived by Laeg. “Master,” said Laeg,
“Hasten away. The men of Erin come;
And ’tis not single combat they will give us,
Faerdeeah son of Daman being slain.”
“Why should I haste, my servant?” moaned Cucullin;
“And what have I to do with rising now?
The utmost folly and rage of grief is mine,
After my swording of this noble one.
Would rather he had lopped from me each limb
Ere this thing had befallen!”
“Nay,” said Laeg,
“Triumph, elation, spirit, and delight
Befit thee now. At thee he dealt his blows
Unfriendly, envious, lamentable. Now
Faerdeeah of the Hosts has fallen. Now
Maev has received her deadliest grief of all.
Hasten away, O Slaughter-hound of Avvin,
And heal thy wounds; and when they are whole again,
Great joy and exultation shall be thine.”
Cucullin heeded not; but he began
To moan and to complain and to lament
Above Faerdeeah there, and spake these words:
“Alas, Faerdeeah! great the treachery
The men of Erin did thee! Wherefore now
Didst thou lend ear to the deceiving words
Of the fair western women? Didst thou think
That Findabair would be for thee? As well
Tie with a thong the shifting river-sand
As think to win her! Unto many more
Had she been promised, ere Maev promised thee.
But never shall they find another hero
Like thee to fight for Croohan—nevermore
One of like deeds in battle, summoning
The red-mouthed Bive to scream above the slain.
And never shall they see the like of thee,
Cloud-coloured son of Daman, whose bright face
Was like the clouds of dawn. Oh, dear to me
Thy ruddy freshness, dear thy shapely form,
Thy pure blue eye and yellow-streaming hair,
Thy gifts of wisdom and of eloquence!
Oh, woe that thou shouldst die while I remain!
I have not known one like thee, my Faerdeeah!”
So spake Cucullin and was silent. Yet
He moved not; but he gazed upon Faerdeeah.
And then he spake, and said: “My good friend Laeg,
Remove Faerdeeah’s armour. Let me see
The golden brooch that pledged him to this fight.”
And Laeg removed the armour; and they saw
The golden brooch. Cucullin wept and said:
“It was not right, Faerdeeah, so to come
To fight with me. When we were far away
With Scawtha in the east, we thought unkindness
Could never be between us. Now, good Laeg,
Open the body, and take out the spear.
I cannot be without the Gae Bulg.” Laeg
Opened the body and took out the spear.
Cucullin saw his weapon, red with blood,
Lying beside Faerdeeah; and he said:
“O my Faerdeeah, sorrowful the fate!
I, with my merciless weapon still unwashed:
Thou, pale in death upon a couch of gore.
Sad—what has come of our meeting here—
I, wounded, sinking, covered with rough gore:
Thou, altogether dead! Oh, dear to me
The friend to whom I have served a draught of blood!”

“Good, now, Cucullin, let us leave the ford,”
Said Laeg; “too long have we been here.” “Aye, Laeg,”
Cucullin answered, “we will leave.” But still
He gazed back at Faerdeeah; and he said:
“Now every other combat I have fought
Seems but a game of play. Alas! I loved
This pillar of gold whom now I have overthrown.
Huge, like a mountain, he seemed yesterday:
To-day his shadow only doth remain.
There hath not come unto a gory battle,
Nor hath old Banba nursed upon her breast,
Nor hath there e’er been known on sea or land,
Of sons of warriors, one of better fame.”
Laeg on the chariot placed his suffering lord,
And drove a goad into the waiting steeds;
And so Cucullin, while the evening fell,
Into the blue-black forest rode away,
Wounded well-nigh to death. The men of Erin
Interred Faerdeeah in a noble grave,
With his rich dress and war-accoutrements,
And shield and spear and all his various arms.
There the green-surfaced hill was closed above him,
Beside the ford to which they gave his name.

BOOK XIII