The Tain Read online

  concerning Dechtire’s son,10

  but the business of the fork

  shall be heard by everyone.

  ‘What’s the name of this ford, Fergus?’ said Ailill.

  ‘Áth Grena,’ said Fergus, ‘the Sunny Ford. But from now on it will be called Áth Gabla, the Ford of the Fork.’

  IV

  THE

  BOYHOOD

  DEEDS OF

  CÚ

  CHULAINN

  ‘LET US TURN our minds,’ said Ailill, ‘to the kind of people we will soon have to deal with. Let you all make ready your food. It wasn’t easy for you last night with the snow. And let us hear some of the adventures and stories of those people.’

  It was then that they were told of the exploits of Cú Chulainn.

  Ailill asked:

  ‘Was it Conchobar who did this?’

  ‘Not likely,’ said Fergus. ‘He’d never venture to the border country without a full battalion round him.’

  ‘So, was it Celtchar Mac Uthidir?’1

  ‘Not likely,’ said Fergus. ‘He’d never venture to the border country without a full battalion, either.’

  ‘So, was it Eogan Mac Durthacht?’2

  ‘Not likely. He’d never venture to the border country without thirty scythed chariots along with him. The candidate for this deed,’ said Fergus, ‘is Cú Chulainn. Only he would have cut the tree from its base with a single stroke, and killed the four as quickly as they were killed, and only he would have come to the border accompanied only by his charioteer.’

  ‘What kind of man,’ said Ailill, ‘is this Hound of Ulster we hear tell of? How old is this notorious youth?’

  ‘Not hard to tell,’ said Fergus. ‘In his fifth year he joined the games of the young fellows in Emain.3 In his sixth year he went to study warcraft and tactics under Scáthach, the Shadow, and to court Emer.4 In his seventh year he took up arms. He is now in his seventeenth year.’

  ‘Is he the hardest man in Ulster?’ said Medb.

  ‘The hardest, surely,’ said Fergus. ‘You’ll not meet a tougher opponent – no spear-point sharper, quicker or more piercing; no fighter fiercer, no raven more ravenous, no one of his age a third as brave, no lion more ferocious; no bulwark in battle, no mighty sledgehammer, no shield of soldiers, no nemesis of armies, as able as him. There’s no one of his generation to match him for build, for gear, for fearsome looks or sweetness of expression; none to match his splendid form and voice, his stern strength, his striking-power and battle-bravery, his doom-dealing fire and fury and his violence in victory, his skill in stalking and slaughtering game, his swiftness, sureness and unconquerable rage, not to mention the feat of nine men on every spear-point – no, there’s none to match Cú Chulainn.’

  ‘Let’s not pay too much heed to that,’ said Medb. ‘He has only one body. He is mortal. He is not beyond capture. Besides, he’s only the age of a big girl, and his manly deeds are yet to come.’

  ‘Not so,’ said Fergus. ‘It would be little wonder for him to perform great deeds right now, for even when he was a mere boy, his deeds were those of a grown man.’

  ‘He was reared,’ said Fergus, ‘by his father and mother at Dairgdig, the Oaken House, in Muirthemne Plain. There he heard great stories about the young fellows in Emain. At any one time,’ said Fergus, ‘three fifties of young fellows there are engaged in sport. This is how Conchobar spends his time ever since he became king: one third of the day watching the young fellows, one third playing chess,5 and one third drinking ale till he falls asleep while his musicians play for him. And though he drove me into exile,’ said Fergus, ‘I’d still maintain that he’s the greatest warrior in Ireland.

  ‘Cú Chulainn asked his mother to let him go and join the young fellows.

  ‘“You’ll not go,” said his mother, “without a bodyguard of Ulstermen.”

  “‘I can’t wait for them,” said Cú Chulainn. “Point me towards Emain.”

  ‘“It’s north from here,” said his mother, “but it’s hard travelling, for the heights of Sliab Fúait6 lie between.”

  ‘“I'll try it, all the same,” said Cú Chulainn.

  ‘He set off with his toy shield and his toy javelin and his hurley-stick7 and ball, and to shorten the journey he’d strike the ball a long way with his stick, then throw the stick after the ball, and the javelin after ball and stick. Then he would run after them and catch stick, ball and javelin before they hit the ground.

  ‘He arrived at the great playing-field in Emain where the young fellows were playing a match, refereed by Follomain,8 Conchobar’s son. He ran on to the field and when the ball was struck towards him he caught it between his knees and not one of the boys managed to tackle him before he had carried the ball over the goal-line.

  ‘ “Well, boys,” said Follomain, “have a go at yon fellow, for it’s against the rules for another fellow to join the game without asking for permission or protection.”

  ‘Cú Chulainn didn’t know that this was the form, that no one took the field without asking for permission or protection.

  ‘ “The fellow insults us,” said Follomain, “though he does seem to be an Ulster fellow. Go for him!”

  ‘They threw three fifties of javelins at him and they all stuck in his toy shield. They drove three fifties of hurling-balls at him and he stopped them all with his chest. They flung three fifties of hurleys at him, and he warded them off with his one hurley.

  ‘The Torque seized him. His hair stood on end: you’d think each hair had been hammered into his head. Each hair seemed tipped with a spark, so sharply did they shoot upright. He closed one eye as narrow as the eye of a needle; he opened the other as wide as the mouth of a goblet. He bared his teeth from ear to ear. He opened his gob so wide you could see the inside of his gullet. The hero’s light sprang from the crown of his head.

  ‘Then he went for the young fellows. He knocked down fifty of them before they reached the gates of Emain. Nine of them,’ said Fergus, ‘clattered past Conchobar and myself as we were playing chess, and he came buck-lepping after them over the chess-board. Conchobar caught him by the wrist.

  ‘ “You’re not treating these lads very well,” said Conchobar.

  ‘ “I’m right not to, comrade Conchobar,” he said. “I left my home, my mother and my father, to join their games, and they didn’t treat me very well.”

  ‘ “What’s your name?” said Conchobar.

  ‘ “I am Sétanta9 the son of Sualdam and your sister Dechtire. It didn’t seem likely that I’d be attacked here.”

  ‘ “Why didn’t you get someone to protect you against the young fellows?”

  ‘ “I didn’t know I had to. So give me your protection.”

  ‘ “Agreed,” said Conchobar.

  ‘He turned round and began chasing through the house after the squad of young fellows.

  ‘ “What have you got in for them now?” said Conchobar.

  ‘ “I’m going to give them my protection,” said Cú Chulainn.

  ‘ “Give it here and now,” said Conchobar.

  ‘ “Agreed,” said Cú Chulainn.

  ‘Everyone went out to the playing field. And the boys who’d been knocked down got up again, helped by their foster-mothers and their foster-fathers.’

  ‘For a while,’ said Fergus, ‘when he was just a lad in Emain, he couldn’t get to sleep until morning.

  ‘ “Tell me,” said Conchobar, “why you can’t sleep.”

  “‘I can’t sleep unless my head and my feet are on the one level.”

  ‘So Conchobar had a stone plinth made for his head, and another for his feet, with a special bed propped between them.

  ‘One time, some man or other went to wake him. Cú Chulainn hit him so hard on the forehead with his fist that he drove the bone into his brain, and knocked over the stone plinth with his arm.’

  ‘Now that,’ said Ailill, ‘was a fighter’s fist, and a champion’s arm.’

  ‘From then on,’ said Fergus, ‘no o
ne dared wake him, but left him to wake in his own time.’

  ‘Another time he was playing ball in the East Field, just himself against three fifties of young fellows. He kept beating them. They tried to grab hold of him but he laid into them with his fist and knocked out fifty of them. Then he showed them a clean pair of heels and hid under the mattress of Conchobar’s bed. The whole of Ulster went for him. Conchobar went for him. I went for him myself. He got to his feet under the bed and he tossed the bed, and the thirty brave fellows that were hanging on to it, into the middle of the house. At length the Ulstermen cornered him. We got to talking then,’ said Fergus, ‘and made a peace between the young fellows and himself.’

  ‘A war broke out between Ulster and Eogan Mac Durthacht. The Ulstermen went off to battle. Cú Chulainn was left to his sleep. Ulster got beat. Conchobar and Cúscraid Menn Macha and a pile of others were left for dead. Their groans awoke Cú Chulainn. He stretched himself and split the stone plinths at his head and feet. Bricriu10 there saw it being done,’ said Fergus. ‘Then he got up. I saw him at the gate of the fort as I came in badly wounded.

  ‘“Phew! Comrade Fergus! Good to see you!” he said. “Where’s Conchobar?”

  “‘I don’t know,” I said.

  ‘He went on his way. It was one dark night. He made for the battlefield. He met a man with half his head gone, and the half of another man on his back.

  ‘ “Help me, Cú Chulainn,” he said. “I’m wounded and I’m carrying half my brother on my back. Carry him a while for me.”

  “‘I will not,” said Cú Chulainn.

  ‘The other threw his burden at him. Cú Chulainn threw it off. They grappled. Cú Chulainn was thrown down. Then I heard a thing – the Badb11 calling out from among the corpses:

  ‘ “Poor material for a soldier, sprawled at the feet of a ghost!”

  ‘Cú Chulainn got up, struck off his opponent’s head with his hurley, and began driving it like a ball across the plain.

  ‘ “Is comrade Conchobar on the battlefield?”

  ‘Conchobar made answer. Cú Chulainn went to him and found him in a ditch half-buried under a pile of muck.

  ‘ “What brings you to the battlefield,” said Conchobar, “where you might catch your death of fright?”

  ‘Cú Chulainn pulled him out of the ditch. No six of the strongest Ulstermen among us could have pulled him out so bravely.

  ‘ “Go on ahead to yonder house,” said Conchobar, “and light me a fire.”

  ‘He lit a big fire for him.

  ‘ “Good,” said Conchobar. “Now, if only I had a roast pig, I might just live.”

  “I'll go and get one,” said Cú Chulainn.

  ‘He went out. He saw a man at a cooking-pit in the middle of the wood. One hand was on his weapons and the other was roasting a wild pig. He was one ferocious-looking man. But Cú Chulainn attacked him and took his head as well as the pig.

  ‘Conchobar ate the pig.

  ‘ “Let’s go home,” said Conchobar.

  ‘They found Cúscraid, Conchobar’s son, on the way. He was badly wounded. Cú Chulainn took him on his back. Then the three of them made for Emain Macha.’

  ‘Another time, the Ulstermen were laid low by the Curse. The Curse,’ said Fergus, ‘does not affect our women or children, or anyone from outside Ulster; nor does it affect Cú Chulainn and his father. And no one dares shed the blood of an Ulsterman when he’s in this condition, for if they did they would get the Curse too, or they’d waste away, or die young.

  ‘A raiding-party of twenty-seven came from the Isles of Faiche and broke into the rear courtyard while we lay smitten by the Curse. The women of the fort began screaming. The young fellows out on the playing-field came running in when they heard their cries. But when they saw these dark-looking men they took to their heels, all except Cú Chulainn. He attacked them with sling-stone and hurley-stick. He killed nine of them and received fifty wounds in the process. Then they made off. Is it any wonder,’ said Fergus, ‘that someone who could do such deeds when he was not yet five should come to the border and cut off the heads of those four?’

  ‘This boy is well known to us,’ said Conall Cernach, ‘not least because he was given to us to foster. Not long after what Fergus told you, he did another great deed.

  ‘Culann the smith was planning a great feast for Conchobar, and he asked him not to bring too many guests, for he hadn’t much in the way of land or property to provide a big spread, only what he had earned by the work of his hands and his tongs. So Conchobar set out with fifty chariot-loads of the highest and mightiest of his warriors. Before he went he visited the playing-field: it was his custom, whether leaving or returning, to go there for the young fellows to wish him well. He saw Cú Chulainn playing ball against three fifties of young fellows, and beating them. When they played the Hole Game, Cú Chulainn filled the hole with all his shots, every one of them unstoppable. When it came their turn to shoot, he saved all their shots single-handed; not a single ball went past him. When they played Wrestling, he threw all three fifties of them by himself, and no matter how many came at him, they couldn’t throw him. When they played Strip Tag, he stripped them all stark naked, while they couldn’t so much as take the pin out of his cloak.

  ‘Conchobar thought it was a wonderful performance. He asked if Cú Chulainn would still so outdo them in ability when they came to be big men. They all agreed that he would. Conchobar said to Cú Chulainn:

  ‘ “Come with me,” he said, “to this great feast we’re going to. I’d like you to be my guest.”

  ‘ “I haven’t finished playing yet, comrade Conchobar,” said the lad. “I’ll come on later.”

  ‘When everyone had arrived at the feast, Culann said to Conchobar:

  ‘ “Is there anyone else still to come?”

  ‘ “No one,’ said Conchobar. He’d forgotten he’d invited his foster-son to join him.

  ‘ “I have a mastiff hound,’ said Culann, “with three chains on him, and three men at the end of every chain. He’s a Spanish breed. Let him loose to guard the livestock, and lock up the fort.”

  ‘Meanwhile the lad was approaching Culann’s house. To shorten the way he’d throw his ball a long way, then, judging the distance exactly, he’d throw his hurley after the ball so that the hurley struck the ball. Then he’d run after them and catch ball and stick before they hit the ground. The hound got his scent and began to bay. Then it went for him. The lad struck his ball with his hurley so that the ball shot down the throat of the hound and carried its insides out through its backside. Then he grabbed two of its legs and smashed it to pieces against a nearby pillar-stone.

  ‘Conchobar had heard the baying of the hound.

  ‘ “Ah, comrades,” he said, “how I wish that this feast had never been!”

  ‘ “Why makes you say that?” they all asked.

  ‘ “The lad I invited to come later, my sister’s son Sétanta, son of Sualdam, has been killed by the hound.”

  ‘All the Ulstermen jumped up and rushed out to fetch him, some of them leaping over the rampart, others through the gate. Fergus reached him first and carried him to Conchobar’s arms. A great cheer went up, that the son of the king’s sister had escaped death.

  ‘Culann came out and saw his hound lying scattered in pieces.

  ‘He went back into the house.

  ‘ “You are welcome, boy, for the sake of your mother’s heart. But for my own part, how I wish that this feast had never been! My livelihood is no life, my household is an empty house, now that I have lost my hound. He guarded my life and my honour,” he said, “this loyal servant that has been taken from me, my hound. He was shield and shelter for my goods and cattle, guardian of my beasts about the house or in the fields.”

  ‘ “Not to worry,” said the lad. “I’ll rear you a pup of the same breed, and until such times as he’s big and strong enough for work, I will be your hound to guard your cattle and yourself. And I will guard Muirthemne Plain; no herd or flock will
be led away from me without my knowing it.”

  ‘ “Then your name shall be Cú Chulainn, the Hound of Culann,”12 said Cathbad.

  ‘ “It’s a good name for me,” said Cú Chulainn.

  ‘It’s no surprise that someone who did this when he was not yet seven should do great deeds now that he is seventeen,’ said Conall Cernach.

  ‘Here’s another thing he did,’ said Fiacha Mac Fir Febe. ‘Cathbad the druid was staying with his son Conchobar Mac Nessa. Along with him were a hundred dedicated young men being trained in druid lore – those were the sort of numbers Cathbad would take on. One of his pupils asked him what that day might be favourable for. Cathbad said that if a warrior took up arms that day, his name would endure in Ireland as a byword for heroic deeds, and that stories about him would be told forever.

  ‘Cú Chulainn heard this. He went to Conchobar to ask for arms, and Conchobor said:

  ‘ “On whose recommendation?”

  ‘ “Comrade Cathbad’s,” said Cú Chulainn.

  ‘ “We know Cathbad well,”13 said Conchobar.

  ‘He gave him sword, shield and spear. Cú Chulainn brandished them about the great hall and smashed them to bits. Conchobar gave him another sword, another shield, another spear. Cú Chulainn brandished them about the great hall and smashed them to bits. The lad went through the fifteen sets of weapons that Conchobar kept for novice warriors or in case of breakage, and he made bits and pieces of them all. Finally he was given Conchobar’s own weapons. These did him rightly. He held them aloft and saluted the king whose arms they were, and said:

  ‘ “Long life to their kith and kin, whose king is the man whose arms these are!”

  ‘Cathbad came in and said:

  ‘ “The boy is taking up arms?”

  ‘ “So,” said Conchobar.

  ‘ “Then this is one unlucky mother’s son,” said Cathbad.

  ‘ “How’s that? Did you not recommend him yourself?” said Conchobar.

  ‘ “Certainly not,” said Cathbad.

  ‘ “Why did you lie to me, you twisted little imp?” said Conchobar to Cú Chulainn.