Chapter VII: Book V

That little lad (said Fergus) was reared up
On Moy Mweerhevna, in the noble house
Where dwelt his father, and his mother, namely,
In bright Doon Dalgan. There men told him tales
About the boys in Avvin. For ’twas thus
Conor was wont to spend his sovereignty
Since first he took the sovereignty: at morn,
On rising, he adjusted and arranged
All business of that Fifth; and then he dealt
The day in three. One third of it he passed
Watching the boys upon the green of Avvin
Perform their games of skill. One third he passed
Playing himself at feehill and at branduv.
And the last third he passed consuming food
And ale, till sleep unto all men drew down;
Whereat the skilful men of music came
To gladden and to soothe them to their sleep.
Aye, though we now be exiled (Fergus said),
Though Conor dealt me a most grievous wrong,
And a most grievous insult,—I aver,
That not in noble Erin, not in Alba,
Is there another hero-king, the like
Of wise, red-sworded Conor. Well, the child
Was told the tidings and adventurous tales
Of that incorporated band of youths
In Avvin Maha. So, the little lad
Besought his mother to permit him straightway
To go and play upon the playing-green
Of Avvin Maha. “Nay, it is too soon,”
The mother answered. “Thou must wait awhile,
Until some champion of the mighty champions
Of Ulster, or some house-friend of good Conor’s,
Come to convey thee safely, and to put
The firm protection of the boys upon thee.”
“It seems to me too long to wait till then,
O Mother,” said the child; “I may not wait.
But teach me now the quarter and direction
Where Avvin is.” His mother answered him:
“’Tis far from thee,—the place where Avvin is;
For all the lone hill-region of Slieve Foo-id
Lies between thee and Avvin.” But the child
Said: “I will try to find it.” And he went,
Leaving the sheltering doon, and took with him
All his play-weapons; for he took with him
His small bronze hurley and his silver ball,
His feathered dart for shooting, and his spear,
With butt flame-hardened; and he straightway fell
To shortening and enlivening of his way
With these child’s-weapons. With his hurley first
He struck the ball, compelling it to spring
To a far distance. Fleetly he let fly
The hurley in its track, with the like force;
And then he flung the dart, and then the spear.
And lastly, with a playful rush, he flew
After them all; and caught the hurley first;
And then the ball, and then the feathered dart;
Nor did the charred butt of his playing-spear
Ere reach the ground; but by the point he caught it
While it was whirling in mid-air. So, gaily,
Athwart the lonely hills, he came at length
To glorious Avvin Maha.
And he saw
The green, cleared plain of Avvin, where the boys
Were gathered at their sports. Thrice fifty boys
He saw, commanded nobly by Folloon
The son of Conor, at their game of hurling
Upon the green of Avvin. Then the child
Made for the green; and, all unbidden, he went
Amongst the boys to play with them. He grasped
Their ball betwixt his legs and held it there;
Nor let it travel higher than his knees
Upwards, nor lower than his ankle-bones
Downward; but he did so manœuvre it
That not one player of them all could reach it
With stroke or thrust or blow; and so he brought it
Over the goal’s brink; and he won the goal
From all those others; and they stared at him
Befooled and dazed by utter wonderment.
Thereat upspake Folloon the son of Conor:
“Good now, O youths! fall on that youngster there.
Through me his death shall come. ’Tis gass to you
To let an outside youth come to your green,
Unless he courteously hath placed himself
Beneath your firm protection. Fall on him;
We know he is the son of some Ultonian.
’Tis not the rule for your compatriots
To intrude into your game without first seeking
Your safeguard and protection.” Then it was
That all at once, and moving all together,
They fell upon the child. Aloft they raised
Their three times fifty hurleys, to strike blows
Upon his crown. He, standing all alone,
Lifted his one small playing-club, and parried
Their three times fifty hurleys. Then they took
Their three times fifty balls; and all at once
They cast them at the child. He with his fists,
And with his fore-arms, and his palms, put back
The three times fifty balls. They lastly aimed
Their three times fifty playing-spears, with butts
Flame-hardened; but he raised his little shield,
Which was designed for childish feats of skill,
And fended off the three times fifty spears.
And then it was that with swift energy
He turned on them, attacking; and he laid
Fifty kings’ sons upon the ground beneath him.
Five more of them (said Fergus, telling the tale)
Came up between myself and wide-eyed Conor,
Where we sat playing feehill on the board
Of Conor, namely, the bright Kenncaem. There
The little lad came, rushing after them.
And Conor, with his kingly hands, laid hold
Of the child’s fore-arms; and he said to him:
“Halt, little lad, I see thou art ungentle
Towards thy companions here!” “I have much cause,”
The child replied. “I came from a far land;
And when I came, they did not give to me
A guest’s good welcome.” “Why, who art thou then?”
The king inquired; and the child answered: “I
Am little Setanta son of Sooaltim,
And son of thine own sister, Dectora;
And not from thee did I expect to find
Reception like to this.” “Why, little lad,”
Said Conor, “Didst thou then not know the law
Which binds the corps of boys? ’Tis gass to them
To let a youth of our own country come
Into their games, till he hath placed himself
Beneath their firm protection.” “Nay, in truth,”
The child replied; “for had I known their law,
I should have had some fear and care before them.”
“Well, youths,” said Conor, “now receive the child
Beneath your firm protection.” And they said:
“We will receive him.” So the little lad
Went underneath the safeguard of the youths;
And the good king released him. But the child
Turned on them once again, attacking them
With energy and violence, and laid
Fifty kings’ sons upon the ground beneath him.
Their fathers thought that they were stilled in death.
It was not so; but they were stilled by terror
Of those great forehead-blows, and middle-blows,
And blows from underneath, which with swift skill
He dealt against them. “How now?” Conor said,
Checking the boy; “what art thou doing now?”
“I swear by all the gods of my own folk,”
Exclaimed the child, “unless they place themselves
Beneath my safeguard and my firm protection,
Even as I was forced to place myself
Beneath their safeguard and their firm protection,
I will not stay my hands from striking them
Till I have laid them all upon the ground!”
“Well, little lad,” said Conor, “take the youths
Beneath thy safeguard.” “I accept them gladly,”
The child said. And those three times fifty lads
Passed underneath the safeguard and protection
Of the young child, Setanta.
“Now (said Fergus,
Ending his tale), if as a mere young child,
At ending of the fifth year from his birth,
He overthrew those sons of kings and heroes,
Before the very gate of their own liss,
And doon, and city—namely, of Avvin Maha—
Is there a marvel or a wonder now,
E’en though he come unto a boundary,
And set a four-pronged pole into a stream,
And slay a man, or two, or three, or four,
Now that he hath fulfilled his seventeen years,
On this, your Táin, to take the bull of Cooley?”

Cormac Conlingish, now, the son of Conor,
Began to speak; he said: “That child we speak of,
At ending of the next succeeding year,
Performed his next great deed.” “What deed was that?”
Asked Al-yill. Cormac said:
Cullan the smith
Lived in the land of Ulster. He prepared
A feast for Conor; and he went to Avvin
To bid the king unto his feast. He said:
“O king, bring with thee but a few. Not land
Or territory have I; but alone
My hammer and my anvil and my tongs,
And my own two skilled hands.” The kindly king
Said he would go to him, and bring but few.
Cullan went back unto his doon, to arrange
And to set forth his food and ale. The king
Abode in Avvin till day’s closing. Then
He donned his light, free garb of travelling,
And went down to the green to say farewell
To the young band of boys. When Conor came
Out on the green, he witnessed a thing there
Which caused him wonder. Three times fifty boys
Defended one end of the green; one boy
Stood at the other end; and that one boy
From those thrice fifty others gained the goal.
After, they played that hole-game, which is played
By custom on the green of Avvin Maha;
And first it was their turn to drive the balls,
And his turn to defend. Thrice fifty balls
Arrived before the hole; but not one ball
Shot past him, reaching to the hole itself.
And next it was their turn to guard the hole,
And his to drive the balls; and, one by one,
He safely launched the three times fifty balls
Into that hole, without mistake or error.
Thirdly, they played at reaving of their clothes
From one another; and he quickly reft
Their three times fifty coverings. As for them—
Not so much as the pin which held his bratt
Could they deprive him of. They lastly played
At oversetting of each other. He
Laid those thrice fifty on the ground, while they
Could not so much as win firm hold of him.
And Conor wondered while he watched the child.
“O men-at-arms,” he said, “if but this child
Come to excel in manly deeds, as now
He doth excel in these, his deeds of childhood,
It will be well for this our land, and well
For all the lands of Ulster!” “’Tis not right
To doubt that he will so excel,” said Fergus.
“E’en as his limbs will grow, so will his deeds.”
“Let the young child be summoned,” said the king,
“And he shall go with us to drink this feast,
To which we go.” The child was summoned then.
“Well, little one,” said Conor, “wilt thou come
With us to drink this feast?” “Nay,” said the child.
“Why, how is that?” the king said. He replied:
“Those, my companions, the brave band of youths,
Have not yet had their fill of games and sports.
I will not leave till they have had their fill.”
“It is too long for us to wait till then,”
The king replied; “we cannot wait for thee.”
“Wait not,” the child said. “Go, and I will follow.”
“Thou dost not know that road at all, my son,”
The King replied, demurring; but the child
Said: “I will follow on thy chariot-trail,
And on the track left by the host and steeds.”
Thereafter Conor went unto the house
Of Cullan the artificer. With honour
The king was welcomed; and the guests were ranged
In keeping with each rank and art and law,
And noble breeding and fair habitude.
And green-topped rushes, paling towards the roots,
Were strown beneath them; and all straightway fell
To quaffing and to merriment. “O king!”
Cullan inquired of Conor, “tell me now,
Hast thou appointed e’er a one to come
To-night unto this doon?” “Nay,” said the king,
“I have not done so”; for he had forgotten
That the young lad was going to follow him.
“Why dost thou ask?” said Conor. Cullan answered:
“’Tis that I have a ban-dog, huge and fierce,
To guard the doon throughout the long, dark night.
When he is loosened from his hound-chain, none
Dare stay in the one cantred with him, he
Making his nightly circuit round the doon.
In him there dwells the vigour of an hundred;
And he knows no one save myself alone.”
Then Conor said, “Let the good hound be loosened
That he may guard the cantred.” So that hound
Was loosened from his hound-chain; and he made
His circuit of the cantred, and then came
Unto that bench whence he was wont to guard
The doon and dwellings; and he couched thereon,
With head on paws, and he was fierce and cruel,
And wild and savage, and filled with rage and ire
Toward everyone who would approach that stead.
Now, with regard to the fair band of youths,
They ’bode at Avvin till the hour for parting;
Then each of them went home unto the house
Of his own father and mother, or the house
Of his kind foster-parents. Then the child
Followed with speed upon the chariot-trail
To reach the house of Cullan. And he fell
To shortening and enlivening of his way
By sporting with his small toy-weapons. Soon
He reached the green which spread around the doon
Where Conor was with Cullan; and he cast
His weapons all in front of him, reserving
His ball alone. And the great dog perceived
The child approaching; and he uttered forth
His snarling growl, so that men heard that growl
Throughout the region round. It did not seem
That he would even rend his prey; it seemed
He would engulf it whole within the breadth
Of his huge throat and his wide breast. The child
Had not one weapon of defence before him.
But, on the instant, with his playing-ball,
He made a choice, swift cast into the jaws
Of the great hound, and into his huge throat,
And through his inward part and entrails; then,
While the great hound was staggering helpless, swift
He seized him by the feet; and with the body
Dealt such a blow against the pillar-stone
Which stood upon the green, that from his hands
It fell in dead and scattered pieces. Now,
Conor had heard the belling of the hound.
“Alas! O heroes,” he cried out, “alas!
That e’er we came to drink this feast!” “Why so?”
Asked everyone; and Conor spake with haste:
“There is a little gillie whom I bade
To follow us. He is my sister’s son,
Setanta son of Sooaltim; and now
He has fallen by the hound!” All in an instant
Rose the renowned Ultonians; though the gates
Were flung wide open, out o’er the ring-fence
Which topped the ramparts, each man stormed in haste.
And swiftly though each went, swiftlier than all
Went Fergus; and he seized the little lad
From the ground’s surface, and he hoisted him
On to his own broad shoulder; and he bore him
Into the presence of Conor. Cullan came
Out on the green, and saw his noble hound
In its dead, scattered pieces. Then his heart
Made mighty blows against his chest; he went
Inside into the house forthwith and said:
“Welcome, thy coming, child, now for the sake
Of thy most noble mother and thy father.
For thine own sake thou art unwelcome!” “Why,
What grudge hast thou against the lad?” asked Conor,
“It was a day of evil fate,” said Cullan,
“That day when I set forth my ale to make
A feast for thee, O King. To-day my substance
Is substance wasted; and my livelihood
Is a lost livelihood. Thou, little lad,
Of one of mine own kindly household folk
Hast robbed me now; for thou hast slain the guardian
Of all my goods and of my flocks and herds.”
Then the child spake: “Be thou not wroth with me,
My master Cullan. I will speak the doom
And the just judgment now upon myself.”
“What judgment wilt thou speak upon thyself?”
Conor inquired; and the boy replied:
“If in all Erin there exist a whelp
Of that hound’s seed, by me he shall be reared,
Till he be able like his sire. Meanwhile,
I will be Hound of Watching at this doon,
And will defend the flocks and goods and kine.”
“Good is the judgment thou hast given, my son,”
Said Conor. “And I think Cathbad himself
Could not have given a better. Wherefore, now,
Hence, from this hour, I thee will designate
_Cucullin, Hound of Cullan_.” “Nay, not so,”
Besought the child. “I like my own name more,
Namely, Setanta son of Soo-altim.”
But Cathbad spake. “O little lad,” he said,
“Reject not this. It is thy hero-name.
The men of Erin and the men of Alba,
Telling their famous tales, shall speak that name.
Long as the wave-great sea shall girdle Erin
Men’s lips shall speak it; yea, the mouths of men
In Erin and in Alba shall be full
Of that renownéd name.” “Then,” said the child,
“I take the name. I take it willingly.”
And so it came to pass that from that hour
Wherein he slew the hound, there clung to him
This most distinguished name, Cucullin.
So,
If as a little lad he did that deed
(Cormac Conlingish said, ending his tale),
If at the end of six years from his birth,
He slew that ban-dog, which the hosts and troops
Of all the cantred did not dare to approach,
Is there a marvel or a wonder, now,—
E’en though he come unto a boundary,
And set a four-pronged pole into a stream,
And slay a man, or two, or three, or four,—
He having now fulfilled his seventeen years,
On this, your Táin, to take the kine of Cooley?

Next, Feeaha the son of Conall Carna
Took up the tale. “That little child,” said he,
“At ending of the next succeeding year,
Performed his third and most renownéd deed.”
“What deed was that?” asked Al-yill. Feeaha
Made answer, saying:
Cathbad, the good Druid,
One day, north-eastward of resplendent Avvin,
Was giving knowledge, wisdom, and instruction
To his own pupils. Eight there were around him
Of those who learnt druidic art and lore.
And one of these asked of great Cathbad then
Whether it chanced that any special charm
Or mystic virtue rested on that day
Wherein they were. And Cathbad straight replied:
“The little lad who shall take arms to-day
Will win great fame and glory, though his life
Will be but brief and transitory.” Now
Our little lad, playing his childish games
To the south-west of Avvin, heard this thing;
And straightway he flung down his childish arms
And his toy-weapons; and with speed he sought
The sleeping-house of Conor. “Every good
Be thine, O King of Warriors!” cried the child.
“That is an asker’s greeting,” the king said;
“What dost thou ask, child?” “To take arms to-day,”
The boy cried breathlessly. “Who taught thee that?”
Questioned the king. “Great Cathbad,” said the child
“If it was Cathbad, I must not refuse thee,”
Conor replied, and straight bestowed on him
An outfit of two spears with sword and shield.
The boy, to test their virtue, brandished these,
Bent them, and bowed them; and he made of them
Small bits and broken pieces. Then the king
Gave him two other spears with sword and shield;
And these he likewise brandished, bent, and bowed:
Making them bits and pieces. So the king
Led him unto that house wherein were stored
The fourteen suits of arms which he reserved
For service of the corporate band of youths.
—To this end he reserved them: that each youth
On first assuming arms might be invested
By the High-king himself, and so win luck
And happy fortune for his arms thereafter.
Howbeit, of these fourteen suits of arms,
The little lad, testing them one by one,
Made broken bits and pieces. Last, the king
Gave him his own two spears, and his own shield,
And his own sword; and the boy brandished them,
And curved and bent them; and he doubled them,—
Yea, even till head met butt and point met hilt, and yet
They brake not, but endured him. “These are good!”
Exclaimed the child; “these are a match for me!
Long live the king, whose arms and gear these are!
Long last the land he reigns o’er!” It was then
That Cathbad, the good Druid, came. He asked,
Dismayed: “Is yonder child taking on arms?”
“He is,” replied the king; and Cathbad said:
“Not for his mother’s son would I have chosen
This day, of all the days, to be the day
Of his first taking arms!” “How?” said the king,
“Was it not thou thyself who taught him this?”
“Not I,” said Cathbad. Then the king, in wrath,
Turned to the child, saying: “What ailed thee, then,
Thou changeling imp, that thou shouldst lie to me
About this thing?” “Nay, be not wroth with me,
My guardian, Conor,” said the child. “In truth
It was great Cathbad who incited me.
For one of his own pupils asked him, saying:
‘What charm or luck pertains unto this day
Wherein we are?’—And Cathbad answered him:
‘The little lad who shall take arms to-day
Will win great fame and glory, but his life
Shall quickly pass; and early he will die.’”
“He tells the truth of me,” said Cathbad. “So
Thou, little child, shalt win great fame and glory,
But early thou shalt perish!” “What reck I,”
Exclaimed the lad, “though I remain in being
But one day and one night; so that my deeds
Live after me, and my exploits be told?”
“Well, little lad,” said Cathbad, “since ’tis so,
Arise and mount a chariot! ’Tis thy first.”
He leapt on to a chariot; and he shook
And bent it round about him, testing it;
And brake it into fragments. Then a second
He likewise brake; and then the seventeen
New chariots that by Conor were held reserved
For service of the corporate band of youths,
The little lad, testing them one by one,
Brake likewise into bits. “These are not good,
These chariots! My kind guardian, Conor, not
From these may I obtain my fitting match!”
So spake the child. Then Conor called out, loudly:
“Where now is Ivor son of Reeangowra?”
“Here am I,” Ivor answered. Conor said:
“Harness my own two steeds there, and prepare
My own war-chariot.” Then the charioteer
Prepared the chariot; and the little lad
Mounted it; and he shook and bent it round him;
And it endured him; and it brake not. “Good!”
The child cried gaily. “This is my fit match!”
“Well, little lad,” said Ivor, “let the steeds
Be now turned out to graze.” “It is too soon,”
Replied the little lad. “Drive now ahead,
Three times round Avvin Maha; for to-day
Is my first day of taking arms; and I
Must now win fortune for my deeds.” They drove
Three times round Avvin Maha. “Let the steeds
Be now turned out to graze,” said Ivor. “Nay!
’Tis still too soon,” the boy said. “Drive ahead!
That my companions, the brave band of youths,
May speak their blessing to me, on this day,
The first day of my taking arms.” They drove,
And reached the plain where the boys played; and all
Shouted, “Arms hast thou really?” “Yea!” he said;
And then they gave to him their blessing, saying:
“Victory, first-wounding, every triumph,
Be thine henceforward! But to us it seems
Too soon for thee to leave us. We shall miss thee
In all our sports and games.” “Nay!” said the child;
“I am not yet to part from you at all.
’Twas but to win a happy sign of fortune
That I took arms for the first time to-day.”
“Now, little lad,” said Ivor, “let the steeds
Be turned to graze.” “It is, indeed, too soon,
O Ivor,” said the child. “And tell me now,
What is the name of yonder great high-road,
Which passes there; and whither does it go?”
“Why, how can that concern thee?” Ivor said.
“Howbeit, I see thou art a talking youth,
A dallier and a trifler.” “It seems well
To me,” the child replied with dignity,
“To ask, concerning one of the chief roads
Of Ulster, where it leads to.” Ivor so
Replied to him: “The road, then, leads straight on
To Ath na Foraire, the Ford of Watching,
On wild Slieve Foo-id.” “Wherefore is it named
The Ford of Watching, knowest thou, perchance?”
The boy made question. “To be sure, I know!”
Said Ivor. “Daily there some man-at-arms
Of the Ultonians keeps good watch and ward,
Guarding the way, lest outside warriors come
To challenge the Ultonians. If such come,
It is his duty to do combat with them
For the whole Fifth. Howbeit, if men of verse
And science pass there, passing out of Ulster
Indignant at their treatment, ’tis his duty
To soothe them with rich gifts, and so to save
The honour of all Ulster. And, again,
If men of verse arrive there, entering
Rich Ulster, ’tis his duty to provide
Safe-conduct for them to the pillared couch
Of Conor; so that their own songs and lays
May be the first that shall be sung in Avvin
When they arrive there.” “Knowest thou, perchance,
O Ivor,” said the child, “what man to-day
Keeps watch upon that ford?” “I know,” said Ivor,
“’Tis combat-great, courageous Conall Carna,
The son of Avver-guin, a king of heroes
Amongst the battle-heroes of all Erin.”
“Drive thou ahead, O gillie,” said the child,
“That we may reach that ford.” They drove ahead,
And reached the ford whereon great Conall was.
“Has yonder one been armed?” asked Conall. “Truly,
That is just it,” said Ivor. “Well,” said Conall,
“Victory and trophies and first-wounding
Be thine, O little lad; but to my mind
’Twas far too soon to arm thee; for indeed
Thou art not fit for deeds. However, though,
If it be merely to provide protection
To any who may come unto these bounds,
It is enough for any who may come
Unto these bounds; for the Ultonians all
Will rise on thy behalf.” “What dost thou here,
My good friend, Conall?” asked the child. “I keep,”
Conall replied, “incessant watch and ward
Over all Ulster here.” “Rise to thy house,
O Conall,” said the child, “leave me here now
To keep that watch and ward for Ulster here.”
“Not so, O little lad,” Conall replied;
“Thou art not yet of force or skill to combat
With a trained man-at-arms.” “Then,” cried the child,
“I will ride past thee straightway toward the south,
E’en to the Fertas of Loch Ahtra. There
I will seek out some chance of reddening
My hands on friends or foemen on this day.”
“I will go with thee, little lad,” said Conall,
“To guard thee, that thou mayst not go alone
Over a boundary.” “Not so,” the child said.
“Yea, I will go,” said Conall. “The Ultonians
Would blame me greatly all, did I permit
Thee all alone to cross a boundary.”
For Conall then his chariot was prepared:
His steeds were caught for him; and he rode forth
To guard the little lad. When Conall’s chariot
Came thus abreast of his, it to the child
Became a certainty that even if
He should obtain a chance for some great deed,
Great Conall would not let him do the deed.
He from the ground picked up a handstone, then,
Which filled his grasp. He made a choice, good cast
With this against the yoke of Conall’s chariot,
So that he broke the yoke of Conall’s chariot
In two; and Conall through the broken yoke
Fell to the ground, and with the fall his shoulder
Was cut and wounded. “What caused that, my son?”
Asked Conall. “It was I,” the child replied.
“I made the cast to try whether my cast
Was straight and true, and whether I could aim
At all, and whether there were yet in me
The makings of a warrior.” “Venom, then,
Be on thy cast!” cried Conall. “Venom be
Upon thyself as well. Leave or leave not
Thy head amongst thy foes. I now will go
No further to protect thee.” “That exactly
Is what I asked of thee,” the child said then;
“Because ’tis gass to all of you in Ulster
To ride on in the company of one
Who in such way has done you injury.”
Conall went north again to keep his watch
Upon the Ford of Watching in Slieve Foo-id.
As for the little lad, southwards he went,
E’en to the Fertas of Loch Ahtra; and there
He waited till day’s ending. Then spake Ivor:
“If I may dare to say so much to thee,
My little lad, ’tis time for us to turn
And journey back to Avvin. There already
The carving, and the dealing-out and sharing
Have well begun; and now, whereas for thee
There is a place reserved, where thou wilt sit
Between the feet of Conor, there for me
Is nothing but to be among the jesters
And messengers and horsemen that belong
To the great house of Conor. It is time
That I were back to scramble with them.” “Well,”
The boy replied, “harness the steeds again.”
The steeds were harnessed; and the little lad
Mounted the chariot-seat. “Why, tell me, Ivor,”
He said, “What hill is yonder hill up there?”
“That is Slieve Mourne,” said Ivor. “And what cairn
Is that white cairn I see upon its summit?”
The child asked. “That is Finncarn of Slieve Mourne,”
Said Ivor. “It is pleasant at that cairn,”
The child said. “It is pleasant,” answered Ivor.
“Then drive ahead, that we may reach that cairn!”
The boy commanded. “Well, in sooth,” said Ivor,
“Thou art a dawdling and a lingering youth!
But this is my first journey with thee. Be it
My last until the ending of the world,
If ever we reach Avvin once again!”
Howbeit, soon they came to the white cairn
Upon the summit of Slieve Mourne. “Now, Ivor,”
The child said, “teach me Ulster on all sides;
As yet I do not know my way at all
About this country of my guardian Conor.”
The gillie from that vantage pointed out
The hills and hillocks and green steep-down fields
Of Ulster all around. He pointed out
Its plains and doons and strongholds. “That will do,
Good Ivor,” said the boy. “And tell me now
What is the name of yonder square, cleared plain,
All dappled, and all seamed with vales, that reaches
Beneath us towards the south?” “That is Moy Bray,”
Said Ivor. And the boy said: “Point me out
The doons and buildings and great fortresses
Of yonder plain.” Then Ivor pointed out
Taltin and lordly Tara, Knowth and Cletty,
The Broo of Angus Ōg, and the dark doon
Where dwelt the sons of Nahta Scaena. “Tell me,”
The child cried eagerly, “are those the sons
Of Nahta who are wont to vaunt and boast
That the whole number of Ultonians living
Doth not exceed the number they have slain?”
“They are the same,” said Ivor. “Drive ahead!”
The child cried joyously. “Away with us,
That we may reach the doon of Nahta’s sons!”
“Woe waits thy speech!” said Ivor. “But we know
’Tis childish folly to give such commands.
And this is sure,” said Ivor, “whosoever
May now go thither, it shall not be I.”
“Living or dead, thou shalt go thither now,”
The little lad said sternly. “Well, then, living
I will go southward,” Ivor said, “but dead
I shall be left beside that doon we know of,
The doon of Nahta’s sons.” They drove ahead,
And reached the doon. The little lad leapt down
From off his chariot, lighting on the green.
And thus that green was.—In the midst of it
There stood a pillar-stone; a ring of iron
Encircled this; and round the ring of iron
Was cut an ogam script. This was the ogam:
“Whoso arrives upon this green—he holding
The rank of an armed man—’tis gass to him
To leave the green, without first challenging
To combat some one dweller in this doon.”
The child perused the ogam. Then with strength
He flung his arms around that pillar-stone,
As though it had been a faggot of small wood,
And cast it in the pool; and the bright wave
Laughed over it. “It seems to me,” said Ivor,
“It is no better there than where it was
Before; and this is clear to me: that here
Thou wilt obtain that thing which thou art seeking,
Namely, thy death and sudden, violent end.”
“Good Ivor,” said the child, “prepare for me
The blankets of the chariot. I will sleep
Now for a little while.” “Alas!” said Ivor,
“This is thy foeman’s country, not some green
Of gatherings.” Yet obediently he spread
The blankets of the chariot; and the child
There, on the foeman’s green, slept his deep sleep.
And then it was that a dread son of Nahta,
Namely, great Foill, the first-born son of Nahta,
Came forth upon the green. “Unharness not
Those steeds,” he shouted. Ivor quickly said:
“I did not try to do so. See, their bridles
Are still within my hand.” “Whose are the steeds?”
Asked Foill. “They are two piebald steeds of Conor’s,
The two Cannbracks,” said Ivor. “That is true,”
Said Foill, “I recognize them. And what man
Has brought them thus hither across the frontier?”
“It was a tender youth,” Ivor replied,
“Who in our country first took arms to-day.
Merely to show his beauty and his form,
He came unto these marches.” Foill cried out:
“May it not bring him victory or triumph!
And if I knew that he were fit for deeds,
Dead he should journey back, northward, to Avvin,
And not in life.” “He is not fit for deeds,”
Urged Ivor; “and whoever calls him fit
Speaks wrongly; for this year, in which we are,
Is only the seventh year since he was born.”
Just then the little lad lifted his face
From off the ground, and quickly passed his hand
Across his face; and, hearing Ivor’s words,
He flushed from crown to ground. “I am, in truth,
Fit for great actions and for hero-deeds,”
He cried. Great Foill replied: “I rather think
Thou art unfit.” “Thou shalt know what to think
When once I meet thee at the battle-ford,”
The child made answer. “Rise now. Fetch thine arms.
I see that like a coward thou hast come,
Knowing ’tis not my wont to wound or slay
Heralds or charioteers, or folk unarmed.”
Then Foill went headlong for his weapons. Ivor
Said breathlessly: “’Tis fit that thou beware
Of yonder man, my little lad.” “Why so?”
The child demanded. Ivor said: “That man
Is Foill the son of Nahta Scaena. Him
Nor point nor edge may wound.” “I think, good Ivor,
It is not fit that thou shouldst so address me,”
The boy said. “See now. I will set my hand
To my own dael-feat, namely, to my apple
Of tempered iron, which shall make its way
Through his shield’s tract and through his forehead’s tract,
Hewing a blood-red roadway through his head
And through his nape, and making a free way
For the clear air beyond.” Foill son of Nahta
Came to that combat. The child set his hand
To his own dael-feat; and he made a cast
That pierced the shield’s tract, and the forehead’s tract,
And made a blood-red roadway through the head
Of Foill the son of Nahta; and Foill fell;
And then the little lad severed the head
Clean from the neck, to be his sign and trophy.
The second son of Nahta now came forth,
Namely, great Toohal son of Nahta. “Well,”
Cried Toohal, “so thou wouldst exult and triumph
About this deed!” “Nay,” said the child, “not yet
Have I e’er deemed the slaying of one man
A cause for triumph or for exultation.”
“This time, at least, thou shalt not boast,” said Toohal.
“By me thou shalt be slain.” “Go, fetch thine arms,”
The boy said. “Like a coward thou hast come,
Knowing ’tis not my wont to wound or slay
Heralds or charioteers or folk unarmed.”
And Toohal went for his war-weapons. Ivor
Said anxiously: “’Tis fit that thou beware
Of yonder man, my little lad.” “Why so?”
The boy demanded. Ivor said: “That man
Is Toohal son of Nahta Scaena. Him,
Unless thou slay him at thy first attempt,
By thy first blow, first cast, or first strong thrust,
Thou mayst not slay at all, so great his skill
In warding off, and parrying, and defence,
In front of pointed weapons.” “My good Ivor,
It is not fit that thou shouldst so address me,”
The boy replied. “See, I will set my hand
To Conor’s own great spear, the Venomed Spear,
And it shall pierce the shield above his breast,
And pierce the heart within his breast, and break
Three ribs upon his further side; ’twill be
A stern, determined cast. It will not be
A deed of tenderness. For mighty Toohal
There will be no delightful house of healing,
Or sick man’s bed, until the end of time,
After that cast.” Then Toohal son of Nahta
Came on the green; and the child set his hand
To Conor’s own great spear, the Venomed Spear,
Which pierced the shield o’er Toohal’s breast, and clove
The heart within his breast, and broke three ribs.
And the boy swept his head clear from his neck,
Even or ere his body touched the ground.
And now the last of the three sons of Nahta,
Namely, swift Fannla, youngest son of Nahta,
Came forth upon the green. “They were but fools,”
He cried, “these two, who have encountered thee!”
“How so?” the boy inquired. “Come!” said Fannla,
“Down unto yonder water, where thy feet
Will not touch ground.” And Fannla darted thence,
And out upon the water. “It is fit,”
Urged Ivor, “that thou be upon thy guard
Before yon man.” “Why so?” the child demanded
Impatiently. And Ivor said: “That man
Is Fannla son of Nahta. For this cause
He bears that name: that with a weasel’s swiftness,
And with the swiftness of a swallow flying,
He travels o’er the water. In this world
There is no swimmer who can cope with him.”
“It is not right that thou shouldst warn me so,”
The boy replied; “for it is known to thee,
That river which we have at Avvin Maha,
The green-banked Callan. Once upon a time,
The band of youths, leaving their games of skill,
Plunged in the stream; and I held up a lad
On each one of my shoulders, and a lad
On each one of my wrists, nor did I wet
More than my under part.” The boy went down
To wrestle on the stream with Fannla. Quickly
He flung his fore-arms above Fannla, forcing
His body downwards, level with the wave;
And then he struck a powerful downward stroke
With Conor’s sword, severing Fannla’s head
Clear from his neck. He let the body float
Down the wide stream; but brought the head to shore,
To be the trophy of his victory.
So were those dreadful foes of Ulster slain;
And the child gathered up his heads and trophies,
And gave them to his charioteer; and then,
Hearing the cries of Nahta, their fierce mother,
And tumult of men issuing from the doon,
To avenge those deaths, he said to Ivor: “Rise,
And drive ahead, northward, across Moy Bray.
I will not part with these my heads and trophies
Till we reach Avvin Maha.” So they placed
The three heads on the chariot; and they rode,
With speed like to the speed of flying birds,
Or to the speed of the cold, pure, spring wind,
Northward across Moy Bray; and they outstripped
Those who pursued them, and arrived in safety
At the lone region of Slieve Foo-id.—There,
Crossing the red-haired mountains, they descried
A far-off herd of deer; and the young lad
Said: “Tell me, Ivor, what is that great herd
Of moving cattle? Are they tame or wild?”
“Why, wild,” said Ivor; “those are the wild deer
Who on these lonely spaces of Slieve Foo-id
Do keep and roam.” “Now prick the steeds, good Ivor,
And we will try to reach them.” Ivor pricked
The steeds; howbeit, the o’er-weary steeds
Could not come up with the swift mountain-deer.
Then the young lad leaped from his chariot-seat,
And darted o’er the heather and the rocks;
And captured one swift, stalwart buck of them,
And bound him to the chariot. On they drove,
Northward, and reached the brink of the cleared land
Which lies round Avvin. There they chanced to see
A flock of beautiful wild geese, which flew
Straight past them. “What are those white birds, O Ivor?”
The boy inquired. “Are they pets or wild?”
“Wild,” replied Ivor. “They are flocks of geese
Who from the rocks and cliffs of the Great Sea
Fly inland, seeking goodly food and pasture
On the green plains of Erin.” “Which were rarer
And more distinguished,” asked the eager child,
“To bring them living, or to bring them dead,
Home unto Avvin Maha?” “It were rarer
To bring them living,” Ivor said; “for not
By everyone is owned the art and skill
To capture them alive.” Thereon the boy
Made with his sling a little, gentle cast,
Arresting eight of them. A second time
He made a cast, but with a heavier stone,
And stopped sixteen of them. “Alight, O Ivor!
Collect the birds,” he said, “for if I go
To gather them myself, this untamed stag
Will spring at thee.” “It is, indeed, not easy
For me to go,” the charioteer said. “See,
The two steeds have grown mad; I dare not pass them.
I dare not pass either of these two wheels
Of iron, for the sharpness of their rims.
I dare not pass behind, for the stag’s antlers
Have filled the space ’twixt the two chariot poles.”
“I see, indeed, O Ivor,” said the child,
“Thou art not yet a true, accomplished hero.
Step from the antlers of the stag. I swear
Now by the gods by whom the Ultonians swear,
The bending wherewith I will bend my head
Upon him, and the eye that I will make
While eyeing him, will hold him; so that truly
He will not dare to turn his head at thee,
And will not dare to move.” This, then, was done.
The charioteer gathered the birds. The child
Tethered them then with ropes, braces, and thongs
Belonging to the chariot. Then, “Good Ivor,”
He shouted gleefully, “convey the birds
Along with me to Avvin.” And ’twas thus
He rode toward Avvin: the three severed heads
Of foes upon his chariot, white-bright birds
Fluttering above it, a wild mountain-stag
Running behind it. And in a short time
They came to Avvin Maha.
Lowercam
Daughter of Oy and I-ark saw them coming.
She said to Conor: “Yon a chariot-rider
Approaches terribly. Red, bleeding heads
Of foes are on his chariot; bright, white birds
Are round about him; a wild, untamed stag
Is bound and tethered at the chariot’s rear.
We must make ready to receive that rider.”
Then Conor said: “Indeed, I know that rider!
It is the little lad, my sister’s son,
Who went to-day unto a boundary
To seek first-reddening of his hands. Make ready
Now to receive him fitly!” Then three vats
Of pure, cold water were prepared; and raiment
Was laid out fairly. And the warriors met
The child; and quick, obedient servitors
Took him, and plunged him, first in the one vat,
Then in the second vat, and last of all
In the third vat; and so his battle-rage
Was cooled; and all his skin was cleansed, and shone,
And flushed a crimson-pink from crown to ground.
And then they combed his tresses of fair hair,
Which gleamed pale-golden, like the wax of bees,
Or like a clasp of fair, pale gold, when shining
Towards the bright sun. This done, they took a layna,
That was inwoven with bright threads of gold,
And put it round him; and they took a bratt
Of bright grass-green, and pinned it with a pin
Of white, wrought silver o’er his breast. And then
They led the child to sit between the feet
Of Conor, the great king, who, with his hand,
Stroked the child’s brow.
So, now (said Feeaha),
If, as a little lad, he did that deed—
If, at the end of his first seven years
He slew those champions and those battle-fighters
By whom two-thirds of all the men of Ulster
Had fallen, and had fallen unavenged—
There is indeed no wonder and no marvel,
E’en though he come unto a boundary,
And plant a four-pronged pole into a mere,
And slay a man, or two, or three, or four,
Now that he hath fulfilled his seventeen years,
On this, your Táin, to waste the land of Cooley.

BOOK VI