Irish Mythology : Celtic Mythology

By C.Ward

Long, long ago, beyond the misty space
Of twice a thousand years,
In Erin old there dwelt a mighty race,
Taller than Roman spears.

Background to Celtic Mythology

In the twilight years before the dawn of written history our Celtic ancestors immortalised their heroes in a series of epic tales which passed from generation to generation through the mouth of the local “seanchaí” or story-teller. These tales became part of a living folklore that has survived to this day. Over the centuries these tales grew with the telling, to the point where they became mythological rather than historical. This does not mean that these stories are mere fiction but it does mean that we must be sensible and take them with ‘a large grain of salt’.

The fact that hundreds of place-names throughout Ireland derive their meaning from references to particular incidents in these stories is proof enough that the outline at least of these epic events really did take place. Let us read and enjoy them therefore in that context bearing in mind that the literary style adopted contains a good deal of repetition as one would expect from stories that emanated from an oral tradition. The peculiar turn of phrase and the rich cadence of language reflect the fact that these stories were originally told and later written down in Gaelic rather than in English.

THE CATTLE RAID OF COOLEY OR THE “TAIN”

Introduction:

The Cattle Raid of Cooley, or The Táin, as it is usually called, is the greatest of the Irish epic tales, on a par with Homer’s Iliad. Indeed many consider it to be the finest example in European literature of an epic tale written in the vernacular, the spoken language of the people. It is set around the time of Christ and was first written down as early as the seventh century. The central hero is Cuchulann, who defends the province of Ulster against the invading forces of Queen Maeve of Connacht.

The Dispute:

In the days when Maeve was warrior Queen of Connacht, the same Maeve whose burial mound is set on top of Knocknarea mountain, overlooking Sligo Bay and the five surrounding counties ……in those same days a dispute arose between herself and her husband Ailill as to which one of them was the wealthier. Each was of royal descent, Maeve being the daughter of the High King of Erin, and Ailill son of the King of Leinster. And so it came about that the dispute became a matter of honour between them. In the end there was only one way to settle the matter: They must gather together all the various elements of their wealth and match them, one with the other, to determine which one of them was the wealthier.

And so were gathered all their finest jewellery and their golden treasures and they were found to be exactly equal in worth and merit. And then were gathered their numerous flocks of sheep and their best rams and they were found to be equal, in that Maeve had an uncommonly fine ram but Ailill had a ram which was his equal. Then were gathered their herds of horses and their noblest stallions, and they were found to be equal, in that Maeve had a particularly noble stallion but Ailill had a stallion which was his equal.

Then were gathered their numerous droves of swine and their finest boars, and they were found to be equal, in that Maeve had an extraordinarily fine boar but Ailill had a boar which was his equal. Lastly were gathered their vast herds of cattle and tharily fine boar but Ailill had a boar which was his equal. Lastly were gathered their vast herds of cattle and their finest bulls. They were counted and numbered and claimed, and were the same for both, equal in size, equal in number, equal in worth, except that Ailill had a most magnificent white-horned bull and Maeve had no bull which was his equal.

And to the proud Maeve it was as if all her vast wealth was now worthless when she could not match the white-horned bull of her husband Ailill.

The Solution:

Then it was that Maeve summoned her chief messenger, McRoth, and enquired from him where in Erin she could find a bull that would be the equal of The Whitehorned. McRoth answered that there was only one bull in all of Erin that was the equal of the Whitehorned, more even than the equal in size and strength, and that bull was the Brown Bull of Cooley. He was owned by Daire, local chieftain of the Cooley peninsula in the border region of the province of Ulster.

“Go thou to him, McRoth, and ask for me of Daire the loan for a year of the Brown Bull of Cooley, and at the years end he shall have yield on the loan, to wit, fifty heifers and the Brown Bull himself,” said Maeve.

Thereupon McRoth set forth and never stopped till he reached the house of Daire. Daire met them and made them welcome and enquired why they had come. On hearing the reason he readily agreed to the terms and all went well until later that night. Maeve’s couriers were treated to fine mead and sumptuous food in fitting style to celebrate the new agreement. But the mead loosened their tongues and one of them was overheard boasting that “Were the bull not given willingly, yet should he be taken by force”. This infuriated Daire and he thereupon refused to hand over the Brown Bull. Instead McRoth and his companions were sent home empty-handed to Maeve, who now swore she would take the Brown Bull by force. And so began the epic saga of The Cattle Raid of Cooley.

The Gathering of the Host:

A mighty host was now assembled by the men of Connacht, that is by Maeve and her husband Ailill. They dispatched messengers to the four corners of Erin, except only to Ulster where Conor MacNessa was King. The message was that the men of Erin should gather at Cruachan in the county of Roscommon and march from there on the old enemy, Ulster. The seven Mané came with their seven divisions. The sons of Maga came with thirty hundred fighting men. Cormac, exiled son of Conor MacNessa, came with a further thirty hundred fighting men, as did Fergus MacRoigh, former King of Ulster, now deposed by Conor. They pitched their tents and tarried for a full two weeks at Cruachan Ai, during which time they ate and drank and sang songs in preparation for the great march. Their poets and their druids would not let them depart from there till the end of the two weeks, while they awaited good omen. Then it was that Maeve bade her charioteer harness her horses, that she might go and address herself to her druid and seek prophecy from him regarding the forthcoming march.

The Prophecy:

When Maeve came to the place where the druid was she sought prophecy from him as to what would be the outcome of the march and who might return. The druid answered her:
‘ Whoever comes not back alive, thou thyself shall come’.
And then it was that Maeve saw a beautiful young maiden approaching her. Maeve gazed intently at her noting her fine attire and noble countenance. The maiden explained that she was the prophetess Fedhelm of the Fairy Mound of Cruachan and that she would foretell for Maeve the outcome of the march. Six separate times Maeve addressed her thus:
‘ Tell, O Fedhelm, prophet-maid, how beholdest thou our host?’
Each time the same answer came back:
‘ Crimson-red from blood they are; I behold them bathed in red’.
Each time Maeve refused to believe the prophecy and was certain that it must be wrong. Afterall, were not the men of Ulster under the Curse of Macha? The curse that said:
‘ May the men of Ulster be as weak and sick as a woman in childbirth at the moment of their greatest danger’.

Even now Maeve’s messengers were telling her that the curse had come to pass and Ulster’s finest and Ulster’s boldest warriors were as weak as a woman in the pangs of childbirth. How could the prophecy be right! Finally Fedhelm foretold the meeting of Cuchulann with the men of Erin and the havoc he would wreck on them. This was Cuchulann, The Hound of Culann, mighty warrior, son of the god Lugh, possessor of the fiercesome weapon, the gae-bolg. This was he of whom it would be written in later years:
‘ No man alive, no man among the dead,
Has won the gold his cars of battle bring’.
And still Maeve refused to believe, and so the hosts of the men of Erin set forth for the land of Ulster on the Monday after Summer’s end.

The March of the Host:

After leaving Cruachan they spent the first night at Cul Silinne, where today is Cargin’s Lough. To the right of Maeve’s camp was her husband Ailill and his fighting men. To his right was Fergus MacRoigh and thirty hundred of the men of Ulster, each with his own grudge against Conor MacNessa, King of Ulster. Maeve now called her charioteer and made a circuit of the camp that she might learn who was loath and who was eager for the frey. It wasn’t long before her keen eye picked out the division of the Galian of Leinster. These men were first to pitch their tents, first to build their bothies and their huts, first to eat their food and drink, first to play the harp, and first to seek their rest in sleep. It were best to split them up thought Maeve lest the prove a potent force or seek the battle’s glory for their own. Making use of all her wiles she persuaded Fergus to distribute the cantred of the Galian among the men of Erin in such a way that there were not five men of them in any one place.

Next she took counsel as to who was most fitting to act as vanguard to the host and lead them on their way. And they all agreed that it was a task for Fergus MacRoigh, in that the expedition was a matter of honour for him, since he had been seven years in the kingship of Ulster before Conor MacNessa had usurped it from him. Furthermore he had given surety to the Sons of Uisneach and seen his pledge betrayed by Conor’s hand. For these reasons it was fitting that he should act as vanguard to the host and lead them on their way. But an overwhelming feeling of love and affection for his kindred men of Ulster came over Fergus and he led the troops astray in a great circuit to the north and to the south. Furthermore he dispatched messengers with warnings to the men of Ulster and he began to delay and detain the host. Maeve upbraided him for his folly and the next day they marched eastwards to Ard Cuileann, on the borders of the province of Ulster.

There they beheld an oak sapling, as thick as a man’s arm, plucked up by the roots from the earth, and planted by a mighty hand in the middle of their pathway. The top of the sapling was bent down in a hoop and tied to the middle of the trunk. On the trunk, within the hoop, was written a message in ogham, the language of the druids. The men of Erin halted their march and waited while Fergus deciphered the ogham message. It read:
‘ Let no man pass this roadway till a man be found to bend a hoop like this made from a single branch and using only one hand’.

‘Truly’, Fergus said, ‘it was Cuchulann bent this hoop and it was his steeds that grazed this plain’. He then warned the men of Erin that it would be dishonourable to ignore the challenge of Cuchulann. Bad omen would follow them. Slaughter and bloodshed would befall them if pressed forward on their present pathway. And so it was that they drew their swords and cut a pathway sideways through the woods, so that Slechta, ‘The Hewn Road’ is still the name today of that place, situated as it is close to the town of Kells.

A heavy snow fell on them that night, and so great was it that it reached to the shoulders of the men, and to the flanks of the horses and to the poles of the chariots. Certain it is that the men of Erin never experienced a night of encampment tks of the horses and to the poles of the chariots. Certain it is that the men of Erin never experienced a night of encampment that held more discomfort or hardship for them than that night of the snow at Cul Sibrille.
As for Cuchulann, when he awoke on the morrow and discovered that the hosts had passed by during the night and were now in the province of his beloved Ulster a battle-rage arose within him and he summoned his charioteer with these words:
‘ Good, my friend Laeg. Brace the horses for us to the chariot; lay on the goad for us on the horses; drive on the chariot for us and give thy board to the hosts, to see can we overtake the van or the rear or the midst of the hosts, for I will cease to live unless there fall by my hand this day a friend or foe of the men of Erin’.

Thereupon Laeg gave head to the horses and they never stopped till they reached what is now called Ath Gabhla or the Ford of The Fork, just north of Knoth of The Kings. Here Cuchulann sprang from his chariot and lopped off a four-pronged fork from an oak tree, with a single stroke of his sword. He pointed and charred it and put a warning in ogham on its side. Next he gave it a long throw with the tip of a single hand in such a way that two-thirds of it sank into the ground and only one-third was above water in the middle part of the ford, so that no chariot could pass to left or right.

Then it was that two messengers from Maeve’s camp with their charioteers came upon Cuchulann. And they vied with each other over which one of them should first do battle with him, but Cuchulann turned on them and struck off their four heads and he fixed the head of each man of them on the four prongs of the fork in the middle of the stream. Next he scattered the horses back in the direction of the men of Erin, their reins loose around their ears, their bellies red and the headless bodies of the warriors dripping their blood down the ribs of the chariots. And when the hosts saw the horses of the messengers that had gone out in advance before them and the headless bodies of the warriors oozing their blood down the ribs of the chariots they were thrown into confusion.

They held council and decided that an army of the men of Ulster was at the ford before them and that a battle had taken place. They dispatched Cormac Conlongas, Conor MacNessa’s sons, to learn who was at the ford, in the knowledge that the men of Ulster would not kill the son of their own king. Cormac set forth with thirty hundred fighting men but when he came to the ford all he saw was a four-pronged fork in the middle of the ford with four heads upon it dripping their blood down along the stem of the fork and into the stream. By this time the full host had drawn nigh and one of them deciphered the ogham writing on the side of the fork. It read:
‘ A single man cast this fork with but a single hand; go ye not past it till one man of you throw it with one hand, except for Fergus’. And they gave a new name to that place, a name by which it is known to this day, namely Ath Gabhla or The Ford of the Fork.

The men of Erin marvelled at the mighty man that could throw the fork into the middle part of the ford and drive it two-thirds way into the hard-packed ground. They called on Fergus, as an Ulsterman, to draw the fork from the bed of the ford so that they could pass by. A chariot was brought for Fergus and he laid hold with a truly mighty grip on the fork and pulled with all his might and yet he failed to draw the fork from the bed of the ford but instead his chariot collapsed under him and broke into splinters and scraps. Seventeen times he called for a new chariot and each time he failed to draw the fork from the bed of the ford and the chariot collapsed under him into splinters and scraps with the efforts of his pulling. Maeve now upbraided him for his tactics of delaying and detaining the hosts of the men of Erin till the Ulstermen should rise from their curse and do battle for the Bull.

‘Bring me my own chariot’ cried Fergus. And his own chariot was brought to Fergus and Fergus gave a tug at the fork, and neither wheel nor floor nor one of the chariot-poles creaked or cracked, but the fork came out with a clean sweep, the full length of a man, for Fergus was indeed a mighty warrior and an erstwhile king.

Night now was falling and Ailill suggested that they pitch their tents and set up camp, since they were still feeling the effects of the previous night’s discomfort in the heavy snow. So they raised their booths and pitched their tents. They prepared food and drink and sang songs and played the harp and told tales of epic deeds.

Ailill now enquired of Fergus who could have come among them and slain so quickly the two messenger scouts and their charioteers. One after another he named the famous fighting men of Ulster, starting with Conor MacNessa himself, the King of Ulster, and enquired of Fergus whether he thought it might be that person. But each time Fergus answered that it was not that person and offered a good reason why it was not. At last Fergus said that it could only be one man, the boy-man Cuchulann, Hound of Culann, son of the god Lugh.

‘He it is who could have lopped the tree with one blow from its roots, could have killed the four with the swiftness wherewith they were killed and could have come to the border with his charioteer’. ‘Tell us so about this boy wonder’, quoth Ailill, ‘that we may learn the nature of the man we meet in battle’.

And so began Fergus:

The Birth of Cuchulann

Dechtire, daughter of Nessa, was half-sister to Conor MacNessa, King of Ulster and leader of the Red Branch. On the night of her marriage to Suailtim, a warrior of the Red Branch, she was visited mysteriously in her fort at Dún Dealgan by the god Lugh of the Long Hand, one time war lord of the Tuatha de Danann. Lugh told her that he would be a god-father to the son she would bear and that he would invest great powers in him. Nine months later, Dechtire gave birth to a baby boy and she called him Setanta. He would later, by his own hand, take on the name Cuchulann.

Setanta goes to Eamhain Macha

Five years the boy Setanta spent at Dún Dealgan with his mother Dechtire and his father Sultaim. During those years he listened to tales of Eamhain Macha where Conor MacNessa held court and the youth of Ulster tested their skill in sport and mock battle. Always he yearned to join them and test his own mettle. And so at the tender age of five years the boy-wonder set out for Eamhain Macha carrying a shield and javelin, a bronze hurley and a silver sliotar. As he journeyed he would strike the silver sliotar with his hurley and then running like the wind he would catch the silver sliothar before it fell to the ground. In this way he shortened his journey till he beheld the playing fields of Eamhain Macha where thrice fifty of the noblest youth of Ulster were engaged in a game of hurling.

Setanta boldly joined their ranks and taking the sliotar on the tip of his hurley he ran among them, never stopping till he had scored a goal. Affronted by the audacity of the boy the entire boy-troop turned upon him reining blows at every chance. But the battle rage rose in the boy Setanta. He parried all their blows, raised many of them low and chased their strongest and their bravest into the court of Conor where he proudly presented himself:
‘ I am Setanta, son of Sultaim and son also of your own sister Dechtire’.
After that the boy-troop was put under the protection and shielding of Setanta, and his fame spread throughout the province. No need than to wonder that at seventeen years of age he should slay the two messengers with their charioteers and place their four heads upon the four-pronged fork as a warning to the men of Erin.

How Cuchulann got his name:

While Setanta was yet only six years old Culann, the Smith, prepared a great feast and invited Conor MacNessa to the feast, together with the elite warriors of Ulster. As Conor was preparing to travel to the dún of Culann, he beheld a sight which amazed him and filled him with pride in his sister’s son. On the fair-green of Eamain Macha he beheld thrice fifty boys on one side of the green and a single boy on the other. And the single boy won the victory in every sport they played.

Thereupon he invited the boy-wonder to join them at the feast of Culann. Setanta said that he would first finish the sport and the games on the fair-green and would then follow the trail of the horses and the chariots to the dún of Culann.

Before sitting down to the feast Culann loosed his fierce bloodhound that he had brought from Spain to guard his fort. After circling the dún the savage beast took up his guard, ears pointed, nose to the wind, long white fangs gleaming in the evening sun. At the sight of Setanta approaching the dun the hound let forth a fierce growl that shook the foundations of the walls and caused Conor to tremble in fear, remembering the boy Setanta. But he need not have feared, for Setanta took his hurley and drove the silver sliotar into the open mouth of the hound, killing it dead.

Culann was relieved that the boy was safe but anxious that he was now left without a hound to guard his dún. ‘Until such time as a new hound is found, equal to the dead hound, I will be your hound’, said Setanta. ‘I will guard your flocks, your herds, your lands and your home’. All agreed that this was fair and proper and from that moment onwards Setanta became known as Cuchulann, which means the Hound of Culann.

The Taking Up of Arms:

One day when Cuchulann was seven years old he overheard Cathba, the druid, talking to his pupils and this is what Cathba was saying:
‘ The youth that takes up arms this day shall be splendid and renowned for deeds of arms above the youth of Erin and the tales of his high deeds shall be told forever even though his own life shall be short-lived and fleeting’.

Cuchulann immediately made his way to King Conor and asked for the right to take up arms that day. Fourteen times Conor gave him spear and sword and shield and each time the boy Cuchulann shook them and brandished them and flourished them till they broke into smithereens, or small pieces. At last Conor gave him his own two spears, his sword and his shield. The boy shook them and brandished them and flourished them and still they did not break. ‘These are worthy weapons, O King,’ said Cuchulann. ‘Keep them then’, said Conor, ‘and perform deeds of valour with them’.

Next the boy Cuchulann mounted a chariot. He put his two hands between the two poles of the chariot and shook and tossed it till it was reduced to smithereens or little pieces. Seventeen chariots were offered to the boy and each one was reduced to smithereens or little pieces. At last Conor called to him his own charioteer, Ibar son of Riangabair, and bade him yoke his own royal chariot. The boy mounted the royal chariot and though he shook it and tossed it, still it held firm. ‘This indeed is a worthy chariot’, said Cuchulann. ‘Take it then’, said Conor, ‘ and perform deeds of valour from it’.

The Slaying of the Sons of Necht Scene:

Cuchalainn now bade Ibar drive him to the borders of Ulster that he might perform his first deeds of valour. Here, at the Ford of Watching, Conal Cernach guarded the entrance to the province. Fearing for the boy’s safety Conal Cernach made to go with him to protect him from harm. But Cuchulann, eager to claim the battles glory for his own, took out his sling and cast a stone so that it broke the wheel of Conal’s chariot. Next Ibar brought him to the top of Finncharn, The White Mound, where he beheld all the plains and strongholds of Ulster. Ibar taught him the names of all the great places of Erin visible to the south as far as Royal Tara and Knowth of the Kings. Lastly he pointed out to him the dún of the three sons of Necht the Fierce, who had wrecked havoc on the sons of Ulster for a full generation. Foill, Fandall and Tuachall were their names. Cuchulann now set his face for the dún of the Sons of Necht and the battle rage was growing within him. When he got there he saw a pillar of stone set in the middle of the fair green and written in ogham on the pillar were the words:

‘Whoever shall come to this green, if he be a champion, it is taboo for him to depart from here without giving challenge to single combat’.

Cuchulann put his two arms around the pillar and cast it into the moat. He then roared out his challenge so that the very foundations of the dún shook with the vibrations of his battle-cry. Each of the three sons of Necht came out onto the fair green in turn to meet his challenge and each of the three of them was slain in turn by Cuchulann, who cut their heads off and raised their dún to ashes.

On the way back to Eamhain Mach they encountered a herd of wild deer. Cuchulann sprang from his chariot and running like the wind he caught two of the wild deer and tied them to the back poles of the chariot. Next he spied a flock of wild swans flying overhead. Taking out his sling he brought down twenty four of them so that they were dazed only. Next he tied them loosely to the poles of the chariot she chariot. Next he spied a flock of wild swans flying overhead. Taking out his sling he brought down twenty four of them so that they were dazed only. Next he tied them loosely to the poles of the chariot so that they flew like a white canopy overhead. As they approached the plains of Eamhain Macha, Lebarcham, the watch-woman spoke out:

‘A single chariot-fighter is here, coming towards Eamhain Macha. The heads of his foes are all red in his chariot with him. Beautiful all white birds hover over his chariot and coming behind him are wild untamed deer, bound and fettered, shackled and pinioned. And I give my word that if he be not attended to this night blood will flow in Conor’s province by his hand’.

They took counsel then as to how they might cool down the battle-rage in the boy Cuchulann. It was agreed that they would send out to meet him thrice fifty of the women of Eamhain Macha, all stark naked, with their chieftainess, Scannlach the Wanton, at their head also naked. When Cuchulann saw them coming towards him he hid his face from them and turned his gaze away that he might not look upon their nakedness. The boy was now lifted out of the chariot and placed in three vats of cold water to extinguish fully his battle-rage. The first vat burst asunder. The second vat boiled with bubbles as big as fists, but the third vat cooled his wrath.

Cuchulann was now dressed in festive robes and all of Eamhain Macha rejoiced at his first victory in battle. A mere boy accomplished all these deeds at the end of his seventh year. Is it any wonder that an awful dread descended on the men of Erin as they listened to these tales and realised that Cuchulann was now in his seventeenth year and waiting to do battle with them.

The Slaughter:

Still on the morrow the hosts marched eastwards to the borders of Ulster. But anyone who strayed from the host was in mortal danger. First it was Orlam, son of Maeve and Ailill. Cuchulann struck off his head and raising it aloft displayed it to the men of Erin. Next came the three Macarach followed by Zethan, then Zoehe, then Mala.

Even Maeve herself almost fell by Cuchulann’s hand. With a stone from his sling he killed a tame squirrel that she carried on her shoulder, so that Maeve heard the whistle of the stone as it passed by her ear.

Even at night the Hound of Ulster did not cease to prey upon the assembled host, but killed a hundred every night while they slept in their beds. Next it was the turn of Maré, son of Maeve and Ailill. Cuchulann met him at the ford and slew him with thirty of his horsemen. And still the slaughtering continued until at last Maeve sent messengers to Cuchulann suing for a truce. Great and valuable were the treasurers she offered him if he should forsake Ulster and join the men of Erin. Even half her kingdom was on offer and still Cuchulann refused.

The Challenge:

My Challenge is this he said “If there be a man among you that can set terms in keeping with my honour then let him speak and if his terms are to my liking I will abide by them. If not, I will resume my slaughter on the morrow”. All eyes now turned to Fergus Mc Roigh knowing well that Cuchulann was his former pupil. “The terms he will accept are these” said Fergus:

“ That a single champion of the men of Erin be sent to fight and contend with him every day. That while he fights that man in single combat the army of the men of Erin will not be permitted to continue its march. Then when he shall have slain that man that another be sent to take his place on the marrow, and furthermore that he be provided with food and clothing until such time as he himself is slain”.

Maeve accepted the terms saying: “We deem it easier to bear that he should have one of our warriors each day than that he should have a hundred every night”. Fergus was now to take the terms to Cuchulann but first he bound Maeve by all her high honours that she would keep the terms of the proposal. When Fergus came to the camp of Cuchulann he was made heartily welcome for a close bond still bound master and disciple. Fergus put the terms and he bound Cuchulann to their keeping. After that he departed quickly lest the men of Erin deem he had betrayed them for his former pupil.

The First Single Combat:

Now Etarcumal, one of the champions of Connacht, had come with Fergus under his protection that he might gaze upon Cuchulann and assess his worth at close hand. What he saw deceived him, for he saw only a comely shapely pouth with fine noble features. Emboldened by his own discovery he addressed Cuchulann thus “Although your face is comely and your deeds are great I would not rate you where goodly warriors are or forward youths or heroes of bravery or sledges of destruction. I would not count you or consider you at all”. The battle-rage was rising in Cuchulann but he remembered his pledge to Fergus and instead he said: “If we should meet again, o foolish man it will only be bits of your bones and shreds of your limbs that will be brought back to your camp”.

Thereupon Etarcumal announced that he would be the first champion to meet Cuchulann in single combat on the following day. But on the way back to Maeve’s camp feel for glory filled his head and he addressed his charioteer thus: “Turn the horses and chariot back that we may go to the ford of combat this very day, for I swear by the gods whom I worship, that I will not return to the camp till the end of life and time unless I being with me the head of that young wildling, even the head of Cuchulann for a trophy”. The charioteer wheeled the chariot and brought the left board to face the ford. Cuchulann saw them coming and with a heavy heart fetched his arms and headed for the ford, for he knew that Etarcumal had come to him under the protection of Fergus, and he was loth to dishonour that protection.

“I seek battle with thee in single combat”, said Etarcumal, “and nothing will satisfy me till I bring your head as a trophy into the camp of Maeve.” Thereupon Cuchulann gave swipe of his sword whereby he cut away the sod that was under the soles of his feet, that he was stretched out like a sack on his back, his limits in the air and the sod on his belly. “Off with thee, fellow, for I have given you fair warning” he said. Still Etarcumul challenged him. With the edge of his sword Cuchulann sheared the hair from him, from poll to forehead, from one ear to the other, as if it were with a keen razor he had been shown, so that not a scratch of his skin gave blood. Still Etarcumul challenged Cuchulann boasting that he would carry his head in triumph into Maeve’s camp. At last Cuchulann dealt him a cleaving blow on the crown of his head so that it drove to his navel. Next he dealt him a crosswise stroke so that the three portions of his body fell to the ground at the one time. Thus fell Etarcumul, son of Fid and of Zethrinn, the first of the champions of Erin to fall in single combat to the Hound of Culainn.

To be continued

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