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LIBRARY 
 
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 University of California. 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 KuU^Jcl «4 ftt, CP<dHieV 
 
 Class 
 
By ETHNA CARBERY, 
 
 THE FOUR WINDS OF EIRINN : 
 
 Poems: with Portrait of the Author. 
 
 THE PASSIONATE HEARTS : Love Stories. 
 
 Each Book costs 1 - in stiff paper covers ; 2 - in Irish Linen. 
 
 From M. H. GILL & SON, 50 Upr. O'Connell St., Dublin. 
 
 "Her Works will live after her for all time." — United Irithman. 
 
 " Seldom, if ever, has the most potent of passions been painted with more 
 beauty and power." — Daily Independent. 
 
 "One copy of such a book as "Thk Four Wiwds of Eibiwn," is enough to 
 light many unseen fires, Ethna Carbery possesses a simplicity of thought and 
 diction foreign to the most subtle of contemporary poets. — Fiona Mac Leod, 
 in the Fortnightly Review. 
 
 " Ethna Carbery's poems place her in the front rank of the Irish Poets of 
 to-day. — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 " Her Stories come with a sense of revelation."— Glasgow Herald. 
 
 " Pull of enthusiasm and exaltation." — Manchester Guardian. 
 
 " She wrote in prose scarcely less beautiful than her poems."— Irith 2few». 
 
Tn tbe . . 
 Celtic Past. 
 
 STORIES BY ANNA MacMANUS 
 (ETHNA CARBERY), . . . 
 AUTHOR OF •« THE FOUR 
 WINDS OF EIRINN," AND 
 « THE PASSIONATE HEARTS." 
 
 FUNK & WAGNALLS 
 COMPANY, Publishers, 
 NEW YORK. 
 
I ' 
 
 In her high, bright noontide 
 The shadows fell upon 
 ETHNA CARBERY . . . 
 At Easter, 1902 
 
 to you in;heaven— 
 
 When your head once lay on my breast, 
 And your hand was closed in my hand, 
 
 You drew back the veil from your soul 
 And asked could I understand. 
 
 The letters that flamed in gold flame 
 On its virgin whiteness I scanned — 
 
 " I love you, I love you, Love " — 
 And I whispered, I understand. 
 
 I thought I did. Foolish we be! 
 
 I, in Sorrow's intense solitude 
 Where the dread hours drag into ages, 
 
 Fared far ere I understood. 
 
 Yesternight I lifted wet eyes 
 To the stars, that were as the sands, 
 
 And cried, 0, my God ! it is now, 
 Only now, that my soul understands. 
 
 SEUMAS. 
 
 235563 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 The Sorrowing of Conal Cearnach 
 The Travelling Scholars 
 Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne 
 The Death of Diarmuid O'Dubhine 
 The Shearing of the Fairy Fleeces 
 The King of Ireland's Death-Place 
 
 page 
 9 
 
 23 
 
 3 1 
 61 
 
 77 
 
 87 
 
 How Oisin Convinced Patrick the Cleric 95 
 
 The Last Battle of Iliach of the Clanna 
 
 Rury 103 
 
 The Red Whistler ... 
 
 113 
 
Cbe SorroiDind of conal 
 CeansacJ). 
 
The Sorrowing of Conal Cearnach. 
 
 THE autumn night had set in with a dreary darkness 
 full of the howling of angry winds that swept up 
 from the sea, and flung clouds of salt foam even 
 to the crest of the gray cliffs that stood sentinel over 
 the Northern coast of Uladh. White screaming flocks 
 of seagulls darted inland, flying low, as is their wont 
 when the storm-fiend comes to take his pleasure; and in 
 scanty hedge or stunted fir-tree the little timid land- 
 birds cowered before the blast. The air held the chill 
 of coming winter; the moaning waters seemed to chant 
 a dirge for all the dead whose bones lay far beneath 
 among the weeds and wrecks and tossing shells; and 
 overhead the thick clouds went drifting by without the 
 glimmer of a single star to light the gloom, while, 
 through this maze of storm and darkness, with sorrow 
 in his heart and on his brow, after his many and 
 perilous wanderings over distant countries, Conal 
 Cearnach, the chieftain of Dunseverick, and Champion 
 of the Red Branch Knights of Uladh, came back to his 
 own. 
 
 But though the storm might sport and rave in ecstacy 
 as it circled the open coast-line, it seemed to shriek its 
 madness round the towers of the Caiseal, which stood 
 but a short way from the brink of a tall cliff that sheered 
 straight down into the foaming wild water. It hissed 
 and swirled through the broad open chimney of the 
 banqueting hall, scattering the flames in the heart of the 
 glowing logs piled high upon the hearth, and sending 
 
' ••• 
 
 12 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 showers of light peat ashes almost to the feet of Conal 
 Cearnach himself, who, sitting silent in his carven chair 
 of dark oak, with mournful eyes gazing steadily at the 
 leaping fire, heeded neither the rattle, as each fresh 
 gust hurled itself against the timbers of the walls, nor 
 the chanting of his harper, nor yet the sweet voice of 
 his lady as she strove to win him from the bitter 
 thoughts that held him in that sad and woeful quietude. 
 Many and melodious were the strains by which the 
 harper sought to rouse his master; now soft and silvery 
 as the thrush's warble in the glow of a mellow summer 
 eve; anon bursting into loud and triumphant pealing 
 like the return of a victor army from the field of conflict, 
 and again sinking into melting harmony as when a 
 mother croons at slumber-hour above the baby on her 
 bosom. Clear and tuneful the song rose with the harp- 
 music, telling of Conal Cearnach 's wonderful and 
 world-enduring feats; of his manly beauty and his 
 valour; of his loyalty to friend and vengefulness to foe, 
 of all the glorious attributes that had raised him to the 
 Champion's place in the Court of the Red Branch, and 
 won him renown at home and afar as the flower of 
 Uladh's matchless chivalry. Loudly and proudly did 
 the music-maker chant the death of Misgedhra, the 
 great soldier, slain single-handed in a trial of skill by 
 the Chieftain of Dunseverick. Solemnly he related the 
 making of the brain-ball of that valiant fighter, and 
 how the dead had been revenged upon Uladh after- 
 wards, when this ghastly trophy, that belonged to 
 Conal Cearnach by right of prowess, and was lodged 
 for safety in the royal palace of Crovdearg, passed into 
 the hands of the enemy through the hands of a fool, and 
 brought about the gravest sorrow under which Uladh 
 had ever bowed, in the death of her gifted and noble 
 
THE SORROWING OF CONAL CEARNACH. 13 
 
 ruler Conor Mac-Nessa. And as he sang the death- 
 lament for Conor, the warriors ranged all down the 
 long hall took up the strain, and mingled their praise 
 and regret for the kingly king with the twanging of the 
 harp until the sob of the wind seemed hushed outside 
 and the hissing of the waters died away. Then in the 
 distant chamber of the Lady of Dunseverick her wait- 
 ing women and maidens, hearing this weird and 
 mournful chanting, took up the caoine, and shrilled the 
 dead man's praises with clapping of palms and rending 
 of hair, until, in sooth, throughout the Caiseal from 
 end to end no sounds but those of grief and dismay 
 echoed on this the return-night of the Chieftain. Once, 
 and once only, was his brooding gaze lifted, and his 
 brows arched, not in anger, but in surprise, as he asked 
 curiously — 
 
 ." Wherefore this clamour in my halls to-night? 
 There seems but storm without and storm within, and 
 it vexeth me. Hush ye, hush ye, my people." 
 
 The harper rose, flushing red because of the reproof, 
 and vouchsafed a reply. 
 
 " It was the death-lament for Conor the King we 
 sang, my honoured lord, and inasmuch as he hath died 
 but a short time since, we feared you sorrowed for him 
 in silence. And because our battle-strains or strains 
 of love have been powerless to win you from your grief, 
 in our affection we have fallen in with this mood, and 
 have joined in your regrets. The death he died was a 
 strange one, and unknown in all the annals of the 
 land." 
 
 "I, too, have looked on death," said Conal Cearnach, 
 slowly and reverently, still gazing into the burning 
 brightness on the hearth, "but not such a death as a 
 King of Eirinn might die. Nay, 'twas such as only a 
 
14 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 God could endure and make no moan. A great end 
 and a terrible. Yet the divine pity in His eyes bore 
 naught but forgiveness for those who tortured Him, 
 and their dying glory hath made me His slave for 
 ever. ' ' 
 
 44 My lord, my lord," pleaded his wife, rising and 
 clasping her white arms round his neck, 4< put these 
 haunting thoughts away, I pray thee, and turn to the 
 feast where thy kin and clan await to give thee welcome 
 home. Tell us how thou didst bear thyself at Rome, 
 and of thy wrestling feats in those far distant cities. 
 Thou wert champion swordsman there as well as here, 
 my love and brave knight, were thou not? They in- 
 deed had courage who accepted the challenge of Conal 
 Cearnach and strove to match their strength with his. 
 Sad for Ceat was the day when he met thee; he that 
 was ever a champion of renown. Sing, harper, sing 
 the death of Ceat, son of Magach of Connacht, that 
 my lord may remember only his own great fame and 
 forget this grief that holds him enchained." 
 
 Once more the harper ran his fingers across the 
 strings, breaking into high, proud chanting. The oft- 
 told tale, ever new because of their joy in it, brought a 
 glint of battle-fury into the eyes of all those listening 
 warriors. Only the Chieftain heeded not, though well 
 he might have gloried in that marvellous recital. How 
 Ceat came out of Connacht to fight the stoutest cham- 
 pions of Uladh, and how he slew three of them, one by 
 one, in single combat. And setting forth with their 
 heads as trophies to show to his own people he was 
 pursued by the Chieftain of Dunseverick and overtaken 
 at Athceitt. Then the bloodiest and most furious 
 combat that had ever been known in Eirinn took place 
 between these two. Shields were pierced and swords 
 
THE SORROWING OF CONAL CEARNACH. 15 
 
 were hacked, and many men died that day, but it was 
 left to the two champions to decide the issue of war. 
 And the victory was with Uladh, for after many most 
 wonderful exploits Ceat of Connacht fell by the hand of 
 Conal Cearnach, who, pierced with wounds, lay well- 
 nigh dead himself upon the field. The song- told how 
 Conal was carried into Connacht by Bealchue Breifne 
 and tended until his strength was restored to him, when, 
 for fear of his strong arm and following, his host 
 sought to put the Ultonian to death, repenting that he 
 had saved him. How Conal baffled the treacherous 
 schemers, and made his way back into Uladh, all was 
 chanted, and chorused and cheered. But still the hero 
 sat silent, taking no pride, as of yore, in his own ex- 
 ploits, and slowly the voices sank, the harping ended 
 in a few faint silvery echoes, and all grew mournful 
 because of the brooding eyes of their lord. 
 
 This was the vision that Conal Cearnach saw in the 
 heart of the fire that night of his return to Dunseverick. 
 
 He saw himself at the beginning of this, the most 
 curious adventure that had yet befallen him, setting 
 forth with a strong, well-chosen band, on a foray into 
 Britain, a country lying beyond a narrow sea to the 
 east of the land of Eirinn. Many were the tales that 
 had reached his ears and the ears of other warriors of 
 Uladh concerning the descent of the mighty, world- 
 famed Romans upon this island; how they had ex- 
 hibited to the people their much-vaunted feats of 
 athletic skill until the report of their daring and courage 
 had penetrated the Court of Emania. 
 
 What wonder that the war-like, hot blood of Conal 
 Cearnach pulsed to hear the deeds of the Roman 
 
16 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 soldiers, that he longed to try his strength with theirs 
 on battle field or in the field of sport. And when he 
 had come amongst them, and they noted his great 
 height, his agile limbs, and the muscles that swelled 
 adown the length of his powerful arms, their admira- 
 tion and awe of him surpassed all bounds. Easily did 
 he overthrow the stalwart wrestlers sent from the 
 Roman ranks against him; easily did he bear away the 
 victor's palm at the hurling of weights and enormous 
 stones; and more easily still did he excel their highest 
 leaps by the swift-darting of his strong and beautiful 
 body. Then, ere their exclamations had time to die 
 away, he rose once more into the air in his last and 
 most marvellous feat — the salmonsault; shooting up 
 like that great fish from a river, turning over in his 
 flight once and twice, and coming down to earth again 
 as surely and as swiftly as the salmon might dive into 
 the broad river from which it had sprung so boldly. 
 
 But envy as well as admiration grew in the hearts of 
 the Romans, and they said, M Wert thou in our arena 
 at Rome thou had'st met thy master, all powerful as 
 thou art, O Conal. Come with us for thy fame's sake, 
 that thou may'st have tales to tell thy children when 
 the gray is on thy hair — if our gladiators let thee live so 
 long." And the Lord of Dunseverick took up the 
 challenge, sailing from Britain in the company of these 
 world-compelling foreigners, far from his northern 
 home and loving clansmen. 
 
 Then the vision changed, and he seemed to see again 
 the wide arena and the crowds of eager faces that 
 watched the mighty wrestlers as they strained and 
 struggled, tight locked in each other's embrace. He 
 felt the long arms of the huge gladiator go round him 
 like a ring of steel — a grand and gigantic figure of 
 
THE SORROWING OF CONAL CEARNACH. 1/ 
 
 equal height with himself, to whom victory would have 
 come readily had his opponent been other than the 
 flower of the Red Branch Chivalry. Across the arena 
 they wrestled, now on foot, now bent on knee, sending 
 showers of sand high into the air, while cries of praise 
 or blame broke from thousands of throats, aye, and 
 from Imperial Caesar too, as the Roman strove to end 
 the contest. But the battle-fury had fallen upon Conal, 
 as it fell on him what time he slew the King of Leinster 
 at Atha-Cliath, and he put forth suddenly his own re- 
 nowned strength for the final wrestle. He noted how 
 a tremor of strained agony then ran through the frame 
 of the other; how his blood-shot eye-balls rolled, and 
 the beads of sweat gathered on brow and cheek until 
 his bones creaked under the stress of the champion's 
 hold, and his lifeless head fell backwards over his 
 crushed and blackened shoulder. And Conal wore that 
 day upon his ruddy head the palm-crown of the victor. 
 Again the vision shifted and changed, and he saw 
 himself the comrade of a band of centurions, who had 
 journeyed over land and sea in peaceful wise to the 
 populous and glowing cities of the East. It was after- 
 noon of a certain day when they reached Jerusalem, the 
 city of the Jews, a strange day and a fearful, for the 
 sun hung like a ball of fire in the heavens, and the air 
 was filled with the noise of shouting men and the wail- 
 ing of women. Past the bare and brown synagogues 
 the strangers went, following in the track of hurrying 
 crowds that stayed not for question or reply, - o intent 
 were they on the purpose that drew them onward. 
 Here and there a group of women talked in whispers, 
 pausing at sight of the Romans and the splendidly-clad 
 chieftain of Uladh, whose like they had never gazed 
 upon before. For Conal Cearnach wore his wide- 
 
18 IN THE CELTIC t>ASf. 
 
 spreading scarlet cloak, fastened with a large brooch 
 of gold, across his breast, and his ruddy hair fell down 
 in many plaits to his broad shoulders, each plait being 
 tied at the end by a string and tiny ball of gold His 
 short trimmed beard was ruddy as his hair, his cheeks 
 were like an apple when the sun hath kissed it, and his 
 blue bright eyes, keen-glancing, drew the eyes of all to 
 look at him. 
 
 And the Jewish women hushed their talk as he came 
 up the way to marvel at his height and grandeur, and it 
 was then that the centurions, seeking speech • f them, 
 learned what had so disturbed the wonted customs of 
 the city. 
 
 M It is One whom they go to crucify on Golgotha," 
 said the women. M A Man who hath called Himself 
 the Son of God, and we know not if the deed they do be 
 just or wise." 
 
 " What crime hath He done?" 
 
 11 Nay, no crime, unless crime it be to raise the dead 
 to life, or restore sight to the blind, or hearing to the 
 deaf, or give strength to the lame and feeble, and com- 
 fort to the sad of heart. All this He hath done, for we 
 have seen it; and there are many who have followed 
 Him in the belief that He is the long-looked-for 
 Messiah, whom the prophets have foretold." 
 
 " And is it for this the Jews have given Him to 
 death?" 
 
 " Yea," answered the women, "and because that He 
 hath spoken of the Kingdom of His Father and of Him- 
 self as King of the Jews." 
 
 1 ' Then He deserves death for that saying, ' ' cried the 
 Centurions, " for Caesar, and Caesar alone, is your 
 king. We go to see Him die. What name hath He?" 
 
 "Jesus of Nazareth." 
 
THE SORROWING OF CONAL CEARNACH. 19 
 
 Up the steep stony road that led to Calvary Conal 
 Cearnach went with his Roman companions. Here 
 and there he noted drops of blood upon the pathway, 
 as they hastened onward with such speed that the 
 crowds gave way before them, and the little black-eyed 
 Jewish children drew aside from their course in terror. 
 Once they stopped before a weeping woman, shrouded 
 in a long dark cloak, across whose knees as she sat was 
 stretched a blood-stained towel, upon which her tears 
 fell thick as rain, and over which many people were 
 bending. Then they saw that the towel bore the im- 
 press in lines of blood of a most sad and weary Face — 
 11 the Face of Him Who is being crucified," said a by- 
 stander, in answer to their looks of wonder. " This 
 woman wiped the sweat from His Brow as He passed 
 by, and His Face is here as a memento of Him whom 
 Pilate hath called l that just Man.' " 
 
 Into the soul of Conal the hot anger came rushing 
 as he broke away from the centurions and sped like a 
 blast of wind towards the mount where the people had 
 assembled. One thought filled his mind, " Shall I be 
 nigh and witness the torture of this Man, whose only 
 crime hath been the good that He hath done? Nay, it 
 were not known in Emania that many should fall upon 
 one; it is the trial of single combat we give even to our 
 enemies. I shall be His champion to the death if He 
 will take me for such." 
 
 Yet, alas, and alas ! it was a bleeding and dying 
 Christ that hung upon the cross when the Chieftain of 
 Dunseverick drew near and stood beneath. And as he 
 gazed in horror at the dastard deed, a soldier coming 
 up in haste pierced the Victim's side with a spear so that 
 the Blood shot forth and trickled down the rough wood 
 upon which they had nailed Him. And a drop touched 
 
20 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 the brow of Conal Cearnach ere he knew, and the fury 
 left him for a marvellous and unwonted peace while he 
 watched the Saviour die. Then rocks were rent and 
 graves opened, so that the dead came forth in their 
 cerements in that most awful hour; and lightnings 
 flashed from the black thick clouds that had suddenly 
 covered the sky, and all was dread and unearthly, so 
 that the people shrieked and crouched upon the ground 
 repentant and sore afraid. 
 
 44 It was indeed a God who died," said the chieftain 
 sadly and slowly, 44 this cruel and untimely death. My 
 grief, oh ! my bitter grief, that the Red Branch Knights 
 are afar, else a sure and fierce revenge would overtake 
 these Jews, aye, their city should be levelled and their 
 name effaced had the chivalry of Uladh been here this 
 day with sword and skian and blue-black lance to hold 
 the battle straight with me." "• 
 
 This was the memory that Conal Cearnach dwelt 
 upon the night he returned through storm and dark- 
 ness, after many wanderings, to his Caiseal of Dun- 
 severick on the bleak sea-swept Northern coast of 
 Uladh, 
 
 Note. — The tradition that Conal Cearnach of Dunseverick 
 was present at Jerusalem on the day of the Crucifixion is still 
 preserved amongst the peasantry of the Glens of Antrim. 1 have 
 never been able to find a written record of this, save in a note 
 to the "Wars of the Gaedhil and the Gall," which merely men- 
 tions the legend. It is also said that Conal was at the burial 
 of Christ as well, and that he put his shoulder to raise the lid 
 of the sepulchre when Joseph of Arimathea made it ready for 
 the reception of the Body of our Lord. Taking it for granted 
 that this Champion of the Red Branch Knights did actually 
 exist so long ago, we can well believe in his journey to Rome 
 
THE SORROWING OF CONAL CEARNACH. 
 
 21 
 
 with the Romans who had landed in Britain, and his subse- 
 quent feats in the Arena, and his further travels throughout the 
 the Holy Land. It was decreed that a representative of every 
 race on the earth should be present at the Death upon Mount 
 Calvary, and the tradition that has been lovingly entwined 
 around the heroic name of the Chieftain of Dunseverick ought 
 to be known and treasured by the Irish people. Dunseverick 
 lies on the northern coast of County Antrim, not far from 
 Portrush. 
 
CDc €ra wiling scholars. 
 
The Travelling Scholars. 
 
 UPON the wind-swept bosom of Loch Lein, in the 
 Kingdom of Kerry, lie many beautiful and well- 
 wooded islands, where birds sing" at dawn and 
 twilight most enchanting strains. Very sweet and far- 
 reaching is their singing, silvery and heart-moving, 
 tender and jubilant, a paean of grateful praise to the 
 Lord of sky and earth and sea. And Echo, the Son of 
 the Rock, steals out of his fastnesses to listen, and en- 
 raptured joins his voice to the concert of rippling melody 
 until the tremulous warble of the birds is hurled strong 
 and loud across the blue waters, down misty glen and 
 deep ravine; over slow rivers winding through green 
 meadow-lands, to die away at last above the cloud- 
 capped crest of the distant purple mountains. 
 
 But loveliest of all these lovely islands, where song- 
 birds have their home among blossoms and fluttering 
 leaves, is Innisfallen, the fairy isle. Here it was that 
 Saint Finan built his great monastery in the ages long 
 ago, and here did Maelsoohan O' Carroll rule as eminent 
 scholar and chief Doctor of the western world during 
 the reign of Brian the Ard-righ of Erin. It was by 
 Maelsoohan that Brian in his boyhood was educated 
 and taught the duties of a king, and in after years 
 when the renowned Dalcassian was monarch over all 
 the land, mindful of the love and reverence his heart 
 held ever towards the teacher of his youth, he sent for 
 the sage, and raised him to the dignity of Anmchara or 
 Counsellor to the King. It was during this period 
 
20 IX THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 that the event which I am about to relate occurred; a 
 wonderful tale and a true one. 
 
 There came one day, at the same hour, three students 
 from Connor, in Ulster, to receive education from 
 Maelsoohan O'Carroll in his monastery on Innisfallen. 
 These three students resembled each other in figure, in 
 features, and in their name, which was Domnall. They 
 remained three years learning with him, and their talent 
 was so marvellous that his pride in them became very 
 great. At the end of the three years they said to their 
 preceptor — M It is our desire to go to Jerusalem, in the 
 land of Judea, that our feet may tread every path our 
 Saviour walked in when on earth. This is our wish, 
 oh master, and we pray thee hinder us not, but give us 
 thy blessing, and let us go." And while his heart was 
 sad at parting with them Maelsoohan made answer — 
 " You shall not go until you have left with me the re- 
 ward of my labour." 
 
 In grief and amazement the pupils said, " We have 
 not anything that we can give you, oh master, to com- 
 pensate for all the care and affection you have spent 
 upon us, but we will remain three years more to serve 
 you humbly if it be your will." " I do not wish that," 
 replied the sage, '* but I have a demand to make, which 
 you shall grant, or my curse will rest heavy upon you." 
 
 " Name it," said they, " and if it lies within our 
 power we shall do what you decree." 
 
 Then Maelsoohan bound them by an oath on the 
 Gospel of the Lord that their promise might be kept. 
 M You shall go and make your pilgrimage in the path 
 that your souls desire," said he, " and you shall die, 
 at the same time, all together. The demand I require 
 from you is that you wend not to heaven after your 
 deaths, until you have first visited me, to tell me the 
 
THE TRAVELLING SCHOLARS. 27 
 
 length of my life and whether I shall obtain the peace 
 of the Lord." 
 
 H We promise you all this," said the three, "for the 
 sake of the Lord," and leaving him their blessing they 
 departed. 
 
 In due time they reached the land of Judea, and 
 walked in the footsteps of the Saviour. They came at 
 last to Jerusalem, and there death overtook them, all 
 three together at the same hour, as their master had 
 foretold, and they were buried with much honour in 
 that holy place. Then Michael the Archangel came 
 from God for them, but they said — " We will not go 
 until we have fulfilled the promise which we made to 
 our preceptor, under our oaths on the Gospel of 
 Christ." 
 
 "Go," commanded the angel, " and tell him that he 
 has three years and a half to live, ' ' and that he goes to 
 hell for all eternity after the sentence of the Day of 
 Judgment." 
 
 " And wherefore? " 
 
 '■ For three causes," replied the angel — " namely, 
 because of how much he interpolates the canon, and 
 because of his love for women, and also for having 
 abandoned the Altus."* 
 
 The reason why Maelsoohan abandoned the Altus 
 was this. He had a very good son named Maelpatrick, 
 who became seized with a mortal sickness, and the 
 Altus was seven times sung round him that he should 
 not die. This was, however, of no avail, since the son 
 
 *The Altus. — This was the celebrated poem or hymn written 
 by Saint Columcille at Iona in honour of the Trinity, when the 
 messengers of Pope Gregory came to him with the great cross 
 and other presents. 
 
28 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 died forthwith, and the father then declared that he 
 would no longer sing the hymn, as he did not see that 
 God honoured it. Therefore Maelsoohan had been 
 seven years without singing the Altus when his three 
 pupils came to talk to him in the form of white doves. 
 
 14 Tell me," said he, "what shall be the length of my 
 life, and if I shall receive the heavenly reward?" 
 
 14 You have," replied they, " three more years to 
 live, and after that time you go to hell for ever." 
 
 44 Why should I go to hell?" queried Maelsoohan, in 
 great awe and wonderment. 
 
 14 For three causes," and they related to him the 
 three causes already known. 
 
 "It is not true that I shall go to the place of the 
 wicked," said their master, M for those three vices that 
 are mine this day shall not be mine even this day, nor 
 shall they be mine from this time forth, for I will 
 abandon these vices, and God will forgive me for them, 
 as He Himself has promised, when He said — M The 
 impiety of the impious, in whatever hour he shall be 
 turned from it, shall not injure him." I will put no 
 sense of my own into the canons, but such as I shall 
 find in the Divine Books. I will perform a hundred 
 genuflections every day. Seven years have I been 
 without singing the Altus; now I will sing it seven 
 times every night while I live; and I will keep a three 
 days' fast every week. Go you now to heaven, and 
 come back on the day of my death to tell me the 
 result." 
 
 14 We will come," they promised, so the three de- 
 parted as they came, first leaving a blessing with him, 
 and receiving his blessing in return. 
 
 When, at the end of three years, Maelsoohan lay on 
 his death-bed, the three pupils appeared to him in the 
 
THE TRAVELLING SCHOLARS. 
 
 29 
 
 same forms — that of white doves. They saluted him, 
 and he returned their salutations, saying — " Is my life 
 the same before God as it was on the former day when 
 you came to talk to me, oh my children?" and they 
 replied — 
 
 " It is not, indeed, the same, for we were shown your 
 place in heaven, and we are satisfied with its goodness. 
 We are now here, as we promised, to take you with us 
 to the place which is prepared for you that you may be 
 in the presence of God, in the unity of the Trinity, and 
 of the hosts of heaven, till the Day of Judgment." 
 
 There were assembled about Maelsoohan many 
 priests and ecclesiastics; he was annointed, and his 
 pupils parted not with him until they all went to heaven 
 together. And in the Monastery of Innisfallen, on 
 Loch Lein, there was exceeding sorrow and regret 
 because of the loss of so learned and holy a man. But 
 in the truly wonderful books he had compiled the priests 
 and scholars found much food for study and reflection 
 in after years; hence it is that the name and fame of 
 Maelsoohan O 'Carroll is handed down even to us of 
 this day as a sage Doctor of far-extending renown — 
 the preceptor and counsellor of Brian Boroimbhe, Ard- 
 righ of Erin, and victor of the bloody field of Cluain- 
 tairbh. 
 
Pursuit of Dlarmuld and 
 Grainne* 
 
Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne. 
 
 IT was told to me by a warrior of the Fiana Eirinn, 
 he who afterwards became thy father, O little 
 prattling ones, how Fionn in the mighty passion 
 of his anger, when the magic sleep had passed away 
 from the wedding-guests in the banqueting hall of 
 King Cormac MacArt, gathered his great host around 
 him, and gave chase to my Princess Grainne and 
 Diarmuid O'Duibhne. Of a surety it would have 
 proved an ill flight for the lovers had they been friend- 
 less in this hour of their need, but the hearts of Fionn 's 
 army, save a few, were v with them, and Angus Oge the 
 Immortal, the foster-father of Diarmuid, followed un- 
 seen in their wake from the palace of Tara. 
 
 Fast and furious did Fionn ride upon their track 
 until he came to the Ford of Athlone, over against the 
 Shannon river. Here the flowing water guarded the 
 secret of their passage; nor did the pursuers dream at 
 first that Diarmuid, lifting his dear lady high in his 
 strong arms, had borne her in safety across the perilous 
 shallows. But when Fionn found his tracking-men of 
 the Clan Navin at fault he threatened them with death 
 because of the interruption to his journey, so that in 
 fear they waded over the ford, and came upon the 
 brown steeds of Diarmuid and the Princess cropping the 
 short, sweet grass on the farther bank. 
 
 "It is even as I deemed," said Fionn exultingly, 
 11 that they have sought shelter within the Wood of the 
 Two Tents. Now of a certainty shall I discover and 
 destroy them." 
 
34 IN TH» CELTIC *ASt. 
 
 When Oscar and Oisin and Caoilte heard him speak 
 thus they were filled with trouble that his unreasoning 
 hate should move him to this deed; so Oscar called to 
 him by stealth Bran, the hound of Fionn, who loved 
 Diarmuid well-nigh better than his own master, telling 
 him to follow the trail to the Wood of the Two Tents, 
 and bear a warning to the lovers hidden therein. 
 
 Now in this wood Diarmuid had built a hut of woven 
 branches for Grainne, and they were resting there when 
 the dog came upon them and thrust his head into Diar- 
 muid 's bosom, awakening him. The knight knew that 
 Bran had brought a message of danger, and he said to 
 Grainne — 
 
 " Fionn is upon us for the purpose of encompassing 
 my death. It will one day come to me from his hands, 
 for his anger is relentless; therefore I shall not fly, but 
 will bide here to do combat with him. ' ' 
 
 An agony of fear fell upon Grainne, and, with tears, 
 she begged him to leave the wood; then, seeing the de- 
 termination of Diarmuid, she forebore to urge him 
 further. And as they waited a great shout, three times 
 repeated, echoed clearly over the land, startling the 
 birds in their flight and chasing the bloom from the 
 cheek of the listening girl. 
 
 Her blue eyes, wide with questioning, sought the 
 brown ones of Diarmuid. 
 
 ** That is the shout of Fergor, the errand-man of 
 Caoilte, love," he said, " and it is my friends who have 
 caused him to utter it, so that I may hear and be fore- 
 warned. Yet I will not fly from the approach of Fionn. " 
 
 So he set himself to build around his dwelling a fence 
 that no man could pierce, and in it he erected seven 
 narrow doors of strong poles interwoven with saplings 
 Vo face seven different parts of the wood. And when 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 55 
 
 the Clan Navin had reached the thicket in advance of 
 the others they climbed to a high tree, so that they 
 could see the interior of O'Duibhne's fortification, with 
 the fair princess within, a description of whose marvel- 
 lous beauty they brought back to their master. 
 
 44 That is in truth she," said Fionn, " and glad I am 
 that they are now surrounded." But Oisin, his son, 
 exclaimed bitterly, " Thou art surely blinded by 
 jealousy, my father, to think that Diarmuid would linger 
 in this unprotected place knowing that his life is 
 sought by thee." 
 
 44 Thou shall hear him give proof of my foreknow- 
 ledge in his own voice," Fionn made answer, und going 
 nearer to the fence he cried out — 
 
 44 Art thou within, O Diarmuid? If so, speak loudly 
 that all may hear thy words. ' ' 
 
 And Diarmuid spake clearly : u Thou wert never in 
 error yet, O chief. We are indeed here, but my arm 
 is still strong enough to keep thee outside my door." 
 
 Then Fionn ranged his men round the enclosure, 
 giving each company a door to guard, and exhorted 
 them to watch closely so that by none of them should 
 the prey escape. From a mound a little way off he 
 observed the hut and saw Diarmuid comfort his wife, 
 kissing her three times. 
 
 44 Now for that," shrieked the old man in great 
 wrath, " thou shalt not find even a loophole of deliver- 
 ance. Thy head shall be my trophy speedily," and the 
 burning jealousy that was in his heart lit his face with 
 a purple flame. 
 
 But Angus of the Boyne, seeing the plight of his 
 foster-son, came to him and passed into the hut un- 
 perceived by Fionn and his men. To the lovers he 
 *aid — 
 
36 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 11 Come, O dear ones, under my mantle, and I shall 
 bring you both away from this place unseen." 
 
 Yet Diarmuid would not accept of the proffered aid 
 for himself. " I shall not run before the pursuit of 
 Fionn, as thou well knowest, " he replied, H but for my 
 princess it is different. Take her away to safety, O 
 Angus, and if the Fianna should slay me leave her under 
 the protection of her father, King Cormac Mac Art. ' ' 
 
 With many sorrowful kissings Grainne bade him 
 farewell, and, wrapped in the magic mantle of Angus 
 Oge, she passed invisible over the watching companies 
 away to the Wood of the two Sallows, where they 
 halted to wait for Diarmuid. 
 
 Meanwhile, he, left behind, girded on his armour and 
 prepared for battle. He took his tall weapons in his 
 hands and stood meditating in silence for a space. 
 Then he approached one of the seven narrow doors and 
 called — 
 
 M Who stands without there?" 
 
 " The Clan Baisgne, with Oisin and Oscar," came 
 in the sweet, clear voice of his friend the Bard. "Open 
 to us, O brother, and none shall dare molest thee." 
 
 " I thank thee, faithful friends," said Diarmuid. 
 " Yet it is by Fionn 's door that I must depart, and not 
 by any other, ' ' and he came to the second door, calling : 
 
 11 Who keeps guard?" 
 
 11 Caoilte and the Clan Ronan, thy friends. Put thy- 
 self in our hands, O Diarmuid." 
 
 " Nay, nay," he answered, gratefully; "I should but 
 bring the anger of Fionn upon thee, ' ' and he called to 
 the sentinels of the third door : 
 
 4< Art thou friends or foes beyond?" 
 
 u Thy friends — Conan of the Gray Rushes and the 
 Clan Morna. We love thee, Diarmuid t come to us." 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 87 
 
 44 Direful would be the rage of Fionn upon thee, 
 Conan, should I avail myself of thy help," and he spake 
 at the fourth door : 
 
 "What warrior stands here?" 
 
 " Thy dear comrade, Cuan, with the Munster Fiana. 
 Thou art of our kindred, Diarmuid, and we will fight to 
 the death for thy sake." 
 
 " Not to thee, O Cuan, shall I go forth to bring thee 
 harm," and at the fifth door he repeated his question. 
 
 44 It is the men of Ulster, under the son of Glor of 
 the Loud Voice, who await thy coming, O flower of 
 chivalry ! Our ranks shall gird thee round, nor shall 
 a hair of thy head be harmed." 
 
 44 O noble son of thy father," said Diarmuid, " not 
 for worlds would I earn for thee the enmity of Fionn." 
 Then he went to the sixth door, and the men of the 
 Clan Navin answered him : 
 
 M We hate thee, and here we stand to greet thee with 
 our spears — Aedh the Lesser, and Aedh the Tall, and 
 Gonna the Wounder, with all our men." 
 
 But Diarmuid heeded little their bitter speech, save to 
 say, " No fear of thee have I, O shoeless vagabonds, 
 yet I do not desire to stain my bright steel with the 
 meanness of thy blood." 
 
 At the last door a mighty voice saluted him — 
 41 Greeting from Fionn, the son of Cumhaill, to thee, 
 O Diarmuid. The Leinster Fianna are here to cleave 
 thee to the marrow." 
 
 44 This is the door by which I shall pass out, O 
 Fionn," cried the knight, and rising on his two spears 
 he bounded like a bird over the fence, alighting on the 
 clear space beyond, unseen by any. 
 
 Then southward he turned to the Wood of the Two 
 Sallows, where Grainne and Angus bided his coming. 
 
38 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 To him said the latter when bidding farewell : " My 
 son, I leave this counsel to guide you when I am gone. 
 Go not into a tree having only one trunk; nor enter a 
 cave with but one opening; never land on an island that 
 has only one channel of approach; where you cook your 
 food do not stay to eat it; where you eat do not sleep; 
 and where you sleep to-night sleep not there to-morrow 
 night." And Diarmuid promised his foster-father that 
 he would keep this warning in his memory during the 
 days of his life. 
 
 From the Rough Stream of the Champions, where 
 Diarmuid killed a salmon with his spear, they journeyed 
 West, until they reached the Grey Moor of Finnlia. 
 There they met a gigantic man of noble features, to 
 whom Diarmuid spake, asking his name. The stranger 
 answered graciously that he was called Modan, and 
 was seeking a master whom he might serve by day and 
 watch by night. Thereupon Diarmuid entered into an 
 agreement with him for this purpose, and the three 
 continued their flight to the River of Carra, which flows 
 into Loch Lein. Over this river Modan bore Diarmuid 
 and Grainne with the greatest ease, and beyond it, in 
 a cave hidden in the hillside above the sea of Tonn 
 Toma, they made their resting place. It was their 
 stalwart servitor who caught and broiled for them their 
 food of the salmon, and after he had served them kept 
 watch while they slept. 
 
 In the gold and green of the morning Diarmuid went 
 forth to view the territory lest the pursuers should 
 come upon him unawares. As he gazed towards the 
 west he saw a fleet of black ships sailing shorewards, 
 from which a company of nine nines landed. The 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 19 
 
 knight gave greeting at the foot of the hill to them, in- 
 quiring from them their race and country. 
 
 " From the Iccian Sea, lying between Albion and 
 Gaul, we come," said the three leaders of the host, 
 "and we are the three sea-champions, namely, Ducoss, 
 Fincoss, and Trencoss. We have come thither to assist 
 Fionn Mac Cumhaill against Diarmuid O'Duibhne, 
 who has rebelled, and is now a wanderer over the land 
 of Eirinn. We have brought with us three venomous 
 hounds to loose on the track of Diarmuid; fire cannot 
 burn them; weapons cannot wound them; nor can water 
 drown. Now, since we have told thee our mission, 
 perchance thou canst give us tidings of the quarry we 
 seek." 
 
 11 I saw him, indeed, but yesterday," answered the 
 hero, *' and I counsel ye to be wary in the quest, for 
 this Diarmuid O'Duibhne is no common man." Then 
 he drank wine with them which they had brought from 
 their ships, and after drinking he offered to show them 
 a champion feat. 
 
 "It was Diarmuid himself that taught me," he assured 
 them, " and I challenge any man of ye to do it after 
 me." 
 
 He brought the empty wine-cask to the crest of the 
 hill, on the edge of a steep cliff, and leaping up on it, 
 he turned it cunningly aside from the cliff to the smooth 
 slope, down which it rolled to the bottom, while he re- 
 mained standing on it. Three times did he do this for 
 the wonder of the strangers. 
 
 But they mocked him, saying, " Even we shall try 
 your boasted champion feat until we show our skill and 
 prove its simplicity." So, one by one, fifty of them 
 tried it in succession, but, not knowing Diarmuid's feint 
 of turning the cask aside from the rocky cliff, they 
 
40 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 went over headlong, and were dashed to pieces on the 
 shore below. 
 
 And the next morning, on the same hill, our warrior 
 found the three sea-champions, with their men. To 
 him they again put the same question concerning Diar- 
 muid O'Duibhne, whereupon he said : 
 
 "I have seen a man who has met him this very dawn, 
 and now I shall show you another feat he taught me, 
 that you may tremble at a conflict with him." 
 
 He rid himself of his helmet, tunic, and armour, until 
 the shirt was the only covering over his brawny shoul- 
 ders, and taking the Ga-boi, the spear of Mannanan 
 Mac Lir, he fixed it firmly in the earth, the point stand- 
 ing upwards. Then from a distance he ran towards 
 the spear, rose like a bird into the air, alighted gently 
 on its very point, and leaped to the ground again with- 
 out hurt or harm of any kind. 
 
 Then one of the strangers said, " Even that feat we 
 shall try to thy downfall, O boaster;" so in succession 
 fifty of them strove to follow Diarmuid; but each man 
 bounded on the point of the spear, which pierced him 
 to the heart. After this great havoc amongst their 
 ranks they bade Diarmuid draw his spear out of the 
 ground, because no other of them should lose his life 
 in trying. 
 
 When day had again burst through the heart of the 
 dying night Diarmuid returned to the hill, carrying two 
 strong forked poles cut from the wood. And meeting 
 the three sea-champions yet another time, he offered to 
 show them a greater feat of Diarmuid O'Duibhne's. He 
 fixed the poles standing firmly in the earth, and placed 
 the Morallta — that is the long sword of Angus Oge, in 
 the forks, edge upward, with the point on one and the 
 hilt on the other, binding it securely in its place. Then 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 41 
 
 he rose into the air gracefully like a swift-winged bird, 
 alighted gently on the edge, walked over the sharp 
 weapon three times, and leaped to the ground again 
 without hurt or harm. And he challenged the strangers 
 to try the feat after him. 
 
 From their ranks one man stepped forth bravely, 
 saying — u No champion feat was ever yet done by a 
 man of Eirinn, but that one of us will do the same," 
 and he bounded up, but came down heavily on the 
 sharp sword, which cut his body into two halves. And 
 in succession the sea-warriors followed his example 
 until full another fifty of them fell by the keen, shining 
 magic blade of Angus. 
 
 When in dismay and anger they were about to re- 
 turn to their ships they asked Diarmuid to give them in- 
 formation of the man they sought, that is himself, and 
 he promised to bring them tidings shortly. So in the 
 morning he arose early, and this time arrayed himself 
 for battle in his heavy armour, which was so fashioned 
 that neither through, nor above, nor beneath it, could 
 the wearer be wounded. On his left hip he hung the 
 Morallta, which never left anything for a second blow, 
 and into his hands he took the two famous spears, the 
 Ga~derg and the Ga-boi, from the piercing of which no 
 one ever recovered. 
 
 On the shore, at the base of the hill, he again met 
 the strange company, who asked him had he brought 
 them the news they hungered for. 
 
 " Diarmuid is not far off," said the knight, 4< I have 
 spoken with him but lately." 
 
 M Lead us to him, O warrior," cried they all, " that 
 we may bring his head to Fionn, the son of Cumhaill." 
 
 <l I am knit in bonds of friendship to the man ye 
 seek," replied the other, " and since he is under the 
 protection of my valour I shall do him no treachery." 
 
42 IN THE CELTIC PA9T. 
 
 Then in blazing wrath they rushed upon Diarmuid, 
 saying — " Thou art the foe of Fionn, being the friend 
 of Diarmuid O'Duibhne, and we will bring thy head 
 also to the Chieftain of the Fianna. " 
 
 But Diarmuid 's battle-shout rang to the height of 
 the tall hill and along the winding shore, and far away 
 to where the white foamy waves rose and fell in the 
 deep sea, as he drew the Morallta from its sheath and 
 dashed upon them. Asunder he clove them, darting 
 through and under and over them like a wolf among 
 sheep, dealing heavy, vigorous blows with the death- 
 sword until the shore ran red with blood and the watch- 
 ing carrion-birds wheeled lower and lower above their 
 prey. And but a few of all that warlike host escaped 
 from his vengeance to the safety of their ships. 
 
 After this he returned to comfort Grainne, who had 
 remained in the cave with Modan, their servitor, weary- 
 ing for a sight of her lover and husband. Her heart 
 was weak within her at thought of his conflict single- 
 handed against the ferocious champions, but when she 
 saw him ascend towards the cave unhurt and joyous, 
 she ran forward full of gladness to give him greeting. 
 Then Diarmuid told his sweet princess how his good 
 sword and spears had befriended him, while she bent 
 and kissed the blue-black steel for very gratitude. 
 
 Yet the battle between Diarmuid and his enemies had 
 not ended, for Ducoss and Fincoss and Trencoss were 
 still alive in the ship on the bay, gazing with dire hate 
 in their souls at the hill that guarded their foe. And 
 when they heard in the early hours of the dawn the 
 challenge of his hollow-sounding shield thundering 
 across the billows, Ducoss straightway armed himself 
 for combat. 
 
 When they met these two great fighters, throwing 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 48 
 
 aside their weapons, rushed upon each other for the 
 wrestle. They twisted and tugged and strained in 
 deadly silence, their sinews crackled, and the veins on 
 their bodies stood out like purple cords; the earth 
 trembled beneath them; they seemed like. unto raging- 
 lions, or deadly writhing serpents, or like savage bulls 
 that struggle to heave each other with horns inter- 
 locked. Thus did they contend until Diarmuid, lifting 
 Ducoss on his shoulder, threw him heavily upon the 
 ground, where he lay groaning; and our hero chained 
 him with hard iron bonds. 
 
 Next came Fincoss against Diarmuid, and after him 
 Trencoss, but both of them he overcame easily, and 
 bound them likewise, leaving this speech to them for 
 their solace — 
 
 " Your heads should be my trophies, but these bonds 
 are crueller for ye than instant death, and your torment 
 shall be more enduring, since none can release ye from 
 them save myself." 
 
 Then in the security of his cave he gave Grainne 
 tidings of the fray. " I have left them fettered on the 
 hill so that their pain shall be prolonged, nor is there 
 any fear that they shall be freed from my binding, for 
 only four men in Eirinn can loosen the bonds I tie, 
 namely, Oisin, and Oscar, and Mac Luga, and Conan 
 Maol; nor will one of these four free them. When 
 Fionn hears of their state he will follow us more closely 
 with the three venomous dogs, so we must leave this 
 place to escape him without delay." 
 
 And again they set forth upon their journeying till 
 they reached the broad heathery slopes )f Slieve 
 Lougher, where they halted to rest on the banks of a 
 mountain stream that danced and rippled along from 
 the heart of the hillside. From this spot Diarmuid 
 
44 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 looked down into the valley, and saw approaching it 
 from westward the foreigners of the sea-champions in 
 battle array, with silken banners waving overhead their' 
 ranks. In front of all marched three green-clad 
 warriors, who held the three fierce hounds by three 
 chains, at sight of whose horrid bristling ugliness Diar- 
 muid was filled with loathing. Then Modan lifted 
 Grainne once more, and walked a mile with Diarmuid 
 up the stream into the solitude of the mountain. 
 
 Now the reason of the sudden coming of these three 
 green warriors upon Diarmuid's track was because of 
 the advice given them by Derdri of the Black Moun- 
 tain, an enchantress, and the errand-woman of Fionn, 
 who, travelling speedily over the land to bring the 
 Chieftain tidings of his hunted enemy, had found the 
 three sea-champions lying bound on the hillside above 
 the wave of Tonn Toma. To their lamenting armv 
 she spake, telling them to take the three fierce dogs 
 and follow O'Duibhne, who could not be far off. 
 Which advice they at once complied with. 
 
 When the green-clad warriors caught sight of 
 Diarmuid they loosed one of the three hounds on him. 
 The hoarse yelping of this hound awakened great 
 dread in the breast of Grainne, but Modan told her not 
 to fear, for that he would deal with it. Turning round 
 he drew from beneath his girdle a little hound-whelp, 
 which he placed in the palm of his hand. There it 
 stood until the great hound came up raging, with wide- 
 open jaws, when, with a swift spring, the small hound 
 leaped from Modan's hand into the yawning throat of 
 the other, breaking its heart, so that it fell dead upon 
 the spot. And after that the whelp leaped back again 
 on Modan's hand, and the brave servitor placed ; t 
 under his girdle again. 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 4fr 
 
 They walked another mile up the stream, Modan 
 carrying Grainne, whose spirit was in terror lest evil 
 should befall them from the pursuers. Then they heard 
 another time the fierce, hoarse baying of the second 
 hound, and Diarmuid turning said — 
 
 41 1 will try tne Ga-derg, the magic spear of Angus, 
 on this hound;" and putting his hnger into the silken 
 loop of the spear he tnrew it at the hound, driving its 
 point down the open throat, so that the brute was 
 pierced from mouth to tail and fell dead like its 
 comrade. 
 
 Then they climbed another mile into the fastnesses 
 of the mountain, and after them sped the third hound, 
 at sight of which Grainne cried : 
 
 44 Guard thyself, O love, ior this is the fiercest of the 
 three; his eyes are as torching flames, and his teeth are 
 sharp as a battle-brand," and even as she uttered 
 these words the hound overtook them at a place called 
 Duban's Pillar Stone. Diarmuid stepped in lront of his 
 wife to shield her, but the beast rose with one great 
 spring over Diarmuid 's head and had almost seized the 
 princess, when the knight grasped him by the two 
 rough hind legs, and, whirling him round, dashed out 
 his brains against a rock. 
 
 In an instant he had faced upon the green-clad 
 knights who followed close upon the passage of the 
 hound, and placing his finger into the silken string of 
 the Ga-derg he threw the spear at the foremost of the 
 three and slew him. Then he made another cast with 
 the Ga-boi and brought down the second warrior, and, 
 drawing the Morallta, he sprang nimbly on the third 
 and struck off his head. 
 
 Seeing their leaders slain, the foreigners ran hither 
 and thither seeking escape; but Diarmuid fell upon them 
 
46 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 with sword and spear, dealing death heavily amongst 
 them, scattering and slaughtering. And the news of 
 this terrific conflict was conveyed to Fionn by Derdri 
 of the Black Mountain, who had been watching near 
 by to the Hill of Allen. He journeyed forth by the 
 shortest ways to the spot where the three champions 
 lay bound, and when he saw the letters that had been 
 placed upon them by Diarmuid his grief was sore, of a 
 truth, knowing well that no man save the four who lay 
 under geasa to Diarmuid that they would not undo his 
 bonds, could untie these strong and flesh-wounding 
 iron knots. 
 
 Yet Fionn asked the four in turn to deliver the three 
 sea-kings— Oisin and Oscar, Mac Luga and Conan 
 They refused, saying, "None shall be released by us 
 that Diarmuid O'Duibhne hath bound. Fain, indeed, 
 would we place heavier bonds upon his enemies." 
 
 And drawing nearer the great chief, Derdri con- 
 tinued her story of Diarmuid's prowess, relating how 
 he had slain the three fierce hounds and made a 
 slaughter of the foreigners. Hearing which the three 
 kings, being tormented sorely with their fetters, and 
 anguished by the direful import of her tidings, fell 
 back upon the sward and died. 
 
 And Fionn caused them to be placed in three wide 
 graves, with Ogham stones laid above them. He gave 
 them funeral rites such as are given to dead kings, and 
 then, filled with an enduring hate and jealousy towards 
 Diarmuid, he marched northward with his host to his 
 home on the broad green slopes of the Hill of Allen. 
 
 Then Diarmuid and my Princess, still intent only 
 upon finding a resting-place secure from the vengeance 
 of Fionn, came in their journeying to the Forest of 
 Dooras, in the territory of Hy-Fiachra, and here the 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 47 
 
 knight determined to make an abode for his dear lady, 
 safe in the heart of the leafy shade, quiet and remote. 
 
 11 Shall we venture into this thick, dark wood, dear 
 love?" said Grainne when they had reached its verge, 
 tired out with the travel of many days. " I am very 
 weary, and would rest; yet what if Fionn should lurk 
 beyond there and his tracking men?" 
 
 " Nay, sweet one," laughed Diarmuid, " drive that 
 fear away from thy heart. Fionn would not dare to 
 follow us to the tree of Sharvan the Surly." 
 
 "Tell me of him," she besought. "Is he another 
 danger thou hast yet to face?" 
 
 "A danger truly if I meddle with the quicken-tree he 
 guards for the Dedanaans — his fairy kinsfolk. Other- 
 wise we may dwell in peace anear him. The tree grew 
 up in Dooras from a berry of their sacred food brought 
 from fairyland and dropped unheeded when the De- 
 dannans passed through on their way to Loch Lein for 
 a game of hurley with the Fianna. And hence it came 
 that, hearing afterwards of the growth of this magic 
 tree, the fairy people sent Sharvan the Surly to guard 
 it, so that none might eat the berries save such as were 
 of their own race. For those little red-clusters thou 
 may'st see glowing like a robin's breast among the 
 green leaves, O Grainne, possess the power to change 
 an old man of a hundred years, frail and toothless, into 
 one of thirty, straight and agile and beautiful in form 
 and feature, if he should but eat three of their number. 
 And to the tongue their flavour is sweet as of honey; 
 one who hath tasted them shall feel his spirit grow 
 cheerful as if his lips had dipped into the luscious rich- 
 ness of old mead, and pain and conflict had no longer 
 power to trouble him. Therefore, thou see'st, my fair 
 one, that many would dare danger for sake of plucking 
 
48 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 three berries of this wonderful tree, but Sharvan sleeps 
 not night nor day; fire cannot burn him nor water 
 drown, nor can any weapon known of man make the 
 least little wound in his body save his own great club, 
 which is tied to an iron girdle round his waist. Three 
 blows of it in a strong hand will leave him silent for 
 evermore — yet what man in Eirinn would willingly 
 seek battle with such as he?" 
 
 "Go not near him, O Diarmuid," said Grainne tear- 
 fully, "save in peace. Thou hast had knowledge of 
 war and unequal combat; now let us have a little quiet 
 home to ourselves under these shadowy boughs." And 
 Diarmuid consenting, kissed the bright, clear drops 
 from her lovely eyes ere he went to hold parley with 
 the giant-guardian of Dooras. 
 
 When Sharvan saw the warrior come stepping boldly 
 down the green pathways of the forest he rose up from 
 his seat at the foot of the quicken tree, showing his enor- 
 mous proportions and the direful ugliness of his dusky 
 face. He was of the wicked race of Cain; his features 
 were thick and sullen, and in the middle of his black 
 forehead gleamed one broad, red, fiery eye. To him 
 Diarmuid spoke bravely, seeking leave to dwell in the 
 forest and hunt its wild animals for food. Where- 
 upon the giant, in brief and surly speech, told him he 
 might hunt or dwell where he would so long as he 
 sought not to lay hands upon the sacred quicken 
 berries. 
 
 Without delay Diarmuid built for himself and Grainne 
 a hunting-booth near a spring in the heart of the 
 Forest of Dooras, and round about it, in a clear space, 
 he raised a fence of strong stakes interwoven with 
 tough withes, through which the only passage was one 
 well-barred door. Here they abode i*l love and peace- 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 49 
 
 fulness, drinking the water of the well and eating the 
 food that each day Diarmuid brought down in the chase. 
 
 But Fionn MacCumhaill had not forgotten his cause 
 of anger against Diarmuid, and night after night he 
 brooded during his sleepless hours over the injury that 
 had been done him by my Princess and her husband. 
 Many were the plans he wove in the dark silence as to 
 how the death of Diarmuid should be encompassed, yet 
 when morning dawned, with its flame of trailing glory 
 in the east, the memory of O'Duibhne's world-famed 
 prowess came back to him, and he knew that by no 
 ordinary means could this man's downfall be assured. 
 
 In this wise he kept his hatred active as the fire of 
 fever, and the passion of his bitter mood was at its 
 height when one day there arrived at the palace on the 
 Hill of Allen a strange company of fifty horsemen led 
 by two warriors taller and nobler and more radiantly 
 clad than the others. They bowed low in greeting to 
 Fionn, relating to him in courteous tones the reason 
 of their coming. 
 
 "We are thine enemies of the Clan MacMorna, 
 chieftain, Angus, the son of Art, and Aed, the son of 
 Andala MacMorna. Thou did'st outlaw us because 
 our fathers fought against and slew thy father, 
 Cumhaill, at the battle of Knocka, though they after- 
 wards atoned for that crime with their lives at thine 
 own hands. It is not meet that we should suffer longer 
 for sake of this ancient feud, seeing that we are blame- 
 less, for we had not opened our eyes upon the earth at 
 the time this harm did happen thee. Therefore, we 
 beg thee now to make peace with us and grant us our 
 father's places in the ranks of the Fianna." 
 
 "Even that shall I promise ye," said Fionn tardily, 
 "provided ye pav eric to me for the death of my 
 father." 
 
50 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 "What may that eric be?" they questioned humbly, 
 "for we have neither gold nor rich garments nor cattle 
 to offer." 
 
 "It is only one of two things, O sons of Morna — 
 namely, the full of my hand of quicken-tree berries or 
 else the head of a warrior whom I hate. ' ' 
 
 Then ere they could reply, Oisin the Bard raised his 
 silver voice for their hearkening, and said, "Take this 
 counsel from me, O sons of Morna, for well I know the 
 thoughts that darken the soul of Fionn, and would 
 warn ye against your own undoing. The head my 
 father seeks is that of Diarmuid O'Duibhne, than whom 
 no braver warrior abides in the land of Eirinn, and 
 little chance would ye have of overthrowing him in 
 combat. As for the berries, O youths, they are those 
 of the quicken-tree of Dooras, which is guarded by a 
 giant, whom even the Fianna hold in dread, and the 
 Danaan people shall cast their spells upon whosoever 
 seeks to touch its leaves or fruit against their wishes." 
 
 But the two chieftains, in answer to the counselling 
 of Oisin, replied that they had rather pay the eric de- 
 manded by Fionn than return to their own country 
 again; so they set forth on their quest for the Wood of 
 Dooras and the hunting-booth of Diarmuid and Grainne 
 When the knight, hearing the sound of their approach, 
 had gone forward to meet them, and had learned the 
 object of their mission, he laughed out loud, a clear, 
 deep laughter, at the foolhardiness of the errand they 
 had undertaken. 
 
 "I fear ye will find it no easy matter to deprive me of 
 my head, O sons of Morna, and as for the quicken- 
 berries, Sharvan the Surly keeps a watchful eye upon 
 them night and day. Hath Fionn told ye the tale of 
 this giant — how he cannot be burned with fire, or 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 51 
 
 drowned with water, or wounded with weapons? And 
 which will ye fight for first — my head or the quicken- 
 berries?" 
 
 "It is with thee we shall deal first," said they 
 eagerly. 
 
 Then Diarmuid proposed that they should throw aside 
 all their weapons and in this combat rely upon their 
 bodily strength alone. But the wrestle was, indeed, 
 a short one, for he overcame them easily and bound 
 them in close and bitter bonds even as he had bound 
 the three great sea-kings on the hillside above Tonn 
 Toma. 
 
 Now this contest between Diarmuid and the Mac- 
 Mornas was witnessed by Grainne, upon whom there 
 suddenly came a strong desire to taste the berries of 
 the quicken-tree, and after striving against the craving, 
 at last she told Diarmuid she would surely die unless he 
 brought to her a cluster of the ripe red fruit. The re- 
 quest troubled Diarmuid exceedingly, for he had no 
 wish to quarrel with Sharvan, yet he could not deny 
 his love, seeing the longing that was in her face. 
 
 Thereupon the sons of Morna, speaking from the 
 ground, where they lay, exclaimed, "Loosen our 
 bonds, O hero, and we will go with thee to fight the 
 giant." And Diarmid loosed them gladly, for their 
 aid was welcome to him. 
 
 At the foot of the fairy-tree they found Sharvan 
 asleep, and Diarmuid dealt him a heavy blow to waken 
 him. He lifted his huge head, glared at the three with 
 his great red eye, saying : 
 
 "Art thou come in enmity against me, with whom 
 thou hast been at peace, oh foolish warrior?" and 
 Diarmuid made answer in this wise : 
 
 "It is not in strife I come altogether, but my wife, 
 
52 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 Princess Grainne, the daughter of King Cormac Mac 
 Art, longs to taste of those quicken-berries, and if she 
 does not eat them she will die. Therefore, I pray thee, 
 give me a few that her desire may be satisfied." 
 
 "Nay," replied the other, "if she were dying in very 
 truth and that one of my berries would avert her death 
 it should not be plucked for her." 
 
 At this a rush of fury filled the heart of Diarmuid, and 
 seeing that he was intent upon fight, the giant struck 
 three great blows at him with his club, which the 
 knight had trouble to ward off and which hurt him 
 sorely. But watching narrowly his chance, he swiftly 
 threw down his sword and spear and sprang upon his 
 foe, taking him unguarded. He clasped his strong 
 arms round the ungainly body, and, heaving him with 
 his shoulder, hurled him with mighty shock to the 
 earth; then, seizing the ponderous club, he dealt him 
 three powerful blows, dashing out his brains upon the 
 forest leaves. 
 
 Weary and aching in every limb, Diarmuid sat down 
 to rest, bidding the sons of Morna drag the slain giant 
 into a secret place of the wood and bury him there, lest 
 Grainne should see and be afraid. Then when at their 
 calling she had come from her house of saplings Diar- 
 muid pointed to the tree : 
 
 "The way is clear to the quicken-berries, my dear 
 one. Take thou and eat." But she replied softly : 
 
 "It is only from thy hands I shall eat them, 
 beloved." So Diarmuid, standing up, drew down a 
 glowing branch and filled the little white hands ex- 
 tended towards him. He gave also to the MacMorna, 
 speaking thus in his generosity : 
 
 "Take these berries to Fionn, O youths, and pay 
 your eric, telling him, if ye choose, that Sharvan the 
 Surly fell by your prowess alone." 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 53 
 
 And they thanked Diarmuid, bidding him farewell, 
 and went their ways to the Hill of Allen, taking- with 
 them the one handful stipulated for by Fionn. 
 
 Afterwards Diarmuid took Grainne to live in Shar- 
 van's hut among the broad waving branches high 
 above the ground, and they discovered that the top- 
 most berries were the sweetest of all — so sweet and so 
 life-giving that they pined not for other food, but dwelt 
 in peace and bliss in their airy home wrapped in the 
 security of their passionate devotion for one another. 
 
 When the sons of Morna reached the Palace of 
 Fionn and he asked them had they brought him their 
 eric, they handed him the cluster of quicken-berries in 
 answer. 
 
 "How came ye to do this deed?" he questioned, 
 looking closely the while at them out of the corners of 
 his keen, shaggy-browed eyes. 
 
 " The surly giant of Dooras is slain, O Fionn, and 
 we have brought thee the eric demanded for the death 
 of Cumhaill, thy father. Surely that is all it beseemeth 
 thee to know. ' ' 
 
 But Fionn smelled the berries three times, and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 It was Diarmuid O'Duibhne who plucked these from 
 the quicken-tree and not ye, untruthful youths, for 1 
 know his touch. And well I know it was he, and he 
 alone, who slew the giant. Therefore, it shall avail 
 ye nothing to have brought me these, since ye have 
 made peace with mine enemy, and I shall still hold ye 
 to an eric before ye attain to a place in the ranks of the 
 Fianna. But for myself I shall go to the Wood of 
 Dooras to learn if Diarmuid abides in its solitudes. " 
 
54 IN THE CELTIC frAST. 
 
 So the chieftain took with him the choice men of the 
 seven battalions of the Fianna and marched away to the 
 territory of Hy-Fiachra. They found Diarmuid's tracks 
 to the fairy-tree and eat, until they were satisfied, of 
 the ruddy fruit. Then Fionn, being weary, said : 
 
 "We shall rest here until the heat is gone and even- 
 ing comes, for well I know that Diarmuid O'Duibhne is 
 on high among the branches." 
 
 Said Oisin, " Truly this jealousy hath tainted thy 
 mind with unworthy suspicions since thou dreamest 
 that Diarmuid would wait for thy approach on this tree, 
 knowing that his head is thy quarry." And Fionn, 
 smiling bitterly, made no reply, but called for a chess- 
 board and men to be brought to him. He and Oisin 
 played the game together until there remained but one 
 move left to the Bard, over which he sat puzzled and 
 silent. 
 
 From his seat on a swaying bough Diarmuid had 
 watched the father and son prove their skilful know- 
 ledge of chess, but now he felt grieved that Oisin 
 should be the loser, and flinging a berry down with 
 true aim he struck a chessman that Oisin might move 
 it. Thereupon his friend moved the man discreetly 
 and won the game against Fionn. 
 
 Immediately they started a new game, which went 
 on until the same pass was reached and the same diffi- 
 culty had befallen Oisin. And again Diarmuid threw 
 down a berry and struck the right man, and again 
 Oisin moved him and won the game. 
 
 A third time the game went on and the chessman 
 was struck by Diarmuid as before, so that Oisin won yet 
 again. Then Fionn gave vent to bitter taunting of 
 his son : 
 
 "It is no marvel that thou should 'st have beaten me 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 55 
 
 in this game, Oisin, seeing that thou hast acted by the 
 prompting of Diarmuid O'Duibhne. " 
 
 "Foolish, indeed, thou art, O Fionn," spake Oscar 
 the Valiant, "to dream that Diarmuid remains within 
 thy reach above on the tree-trunk." 
 
 "Now, say which of us tells truth, Oscar or I, O 
 Diarmuid?" cried Fionn, gazing up into the dark-green 
 shadows. 
 
 " Thou, Fionn," came Diarmuid's familiar voice, like 
 the echo of a clear-toned bell. "I am here with the 
 Princess Grainne, my wife, in the hut of Sharvan the 
 Surly." 
 
 Then the Fianna, darting eager looks overhead, saw 
 them there together; and when Grainne began to 
 tremble for fear of danger, O'Duibhne put his arm 
 round her and comforted her with three warm kisses 
 before them all. 
 
 "Those kisses but add another to the score thou 
 shalt yet pay me," muttered Fionn between his 
 clenched teeth, "so now defend thy head ' i i thou art 
 able." And he offered a suit of armour, arms, and a 
 high place among the Fianna to any man who would 
 climb into the tree and bring him Diarmuid alive or 
 dead. 
 
 Garva of Slieve Cua cried out eagerly, "Let mine be 
 the task, for it was Diarmuid's father, Donn, who slew 
 my father, and I would avenge the deed." 
 
 But Angus Oge learning that his foster-son was in 
 deadly peril travelled to him on the pure cold wind, and 
 without the knowledge of the Fianna came to his aid. 
 His approach brought great joy to the hearts of 
 Grainne and Diarmuid, for Garva was creeping nearer 
 them from branch to branch, and below the eight other 
 Garvas waited to assist their kinsman if he needed 
 help. 
 
56 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 When he had well-nigh reached the hut Diarmuid 
 struck him a blow with his foot which dashed him to 
 the ground among the Fianna. And they cut off his 
 head in a trice, because Angus had caused him to take 
 the shape of O'Duibhne, but after he was slain he 
 became like unto himself again, so that all knew it was 
 Garva of Slieve Cua that had been killed. 
 
 Then in anger at the death of their chieftain, in suc- 
 cession the eight Garvas tried to destroy Diarmuid, 
 until one by one they met with the same fate — namely, 
 Garva of Slieve Crot, of Slieve Gora, of Slieve Mucka, 
 of Slieve More, of Slieve Luga, of Ath-free, of Slieve 
 Mish, of Drom-more. And the soul of Fionn was har- 
 assed with agony beholding this appalling slaughter. 
 
 "Now I shall descend to do combat with mine 
 enemies, O Angus," said Diarmuid, "and if I live till 
 evening I shall follow to Brugh of the Boyne, whither 
 thou shalt take my dear one," and he bade a sorrowful 
 and most loving farewell to Grainne. Angus threw 
 around her his magic mantle, under cover of which 
 they flew away invisible to the watchful Fianna. 
 
 The clear voice of Diarmuid was heard speaking then 
 to Fionn : 
 
 "Since thou art resolved to encompass my death, 
 why should I fear to meet it now or at any other time ? 
 Yet before thou shalt lay me low on the sward, O chief- 
 tain, many of thy hirelings shall wend before me 
 through the dark gates. Often in the press of battle 
 did I shelter thee, and when leaving the field I was 
 ever behind, thy shield and thy friend, nor is it meet 
 to-day that thou should 'st be arrayed against me. Yet, 
 be it so, I shall not fall tamely nor in dishonour." 
 
 "Truly doth Diarmuid speak," said Oscar. "Let him 
 have mercy and forgiveness, for he hath suffered 
 much." 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 57 
 
 "Neither peace nor forgiveness shall I grant him," 
 answered Fionn; "his head must be eric for the injury 
 he hath done me. ' ' 
 
 "Shame on thee for that speech," did Oscar reply to 
 the grim and jealous old man. " And now I take the 
 body and life of Diarmuid into my keeping, under the 
 protection of my knighthood and valour, so that from 
 henceforth no man in Eirinn dare harm him. Come 
 down in safety, O Diarmuid, my friend and brother; 
 Oscar is here to give pledge for thy keeping." 
 
 Then Diarmuid, walking carefully along a thick 
 branch unseen until he was beyond the circle of the 
 waiting warriors, sprang forward and downward with 
 a graceful airy bound, and alighted outside the host 
 that stood with joined hands round the tree-trunk, and 
 in a moment he was distant from the reach of sword 
 and spear. After him came Oscar, before whose 
 threatening backward glances the pursuing Fianna fell 
 back afraid. 
 
 So the two heroes travelled together to Brugh of the 
 Boyne, where Angus and Grainne waited their coming, 
 and Diarmuid's sweet lady almost swooned with joy in 
 her gladness at beholding him again. 
 
 The passionate wrath grew yet more active in the 
 soul of Fionn when he saw Oscar and Diarmuid depart 
 together, and he vowed that the latter should not 
 escape his vengeance any longer. Leaving the Wood 
 of Dooras he marched to Allen and gave orders that his 
 best ship should be made ready and provisioned for a 
 voyage. Now this voyage to Tir Tairnngire on which 
 he set forth was to his old nurse, an old woman well 
 skilled in magic, to whom he related his cause of en- 
 mity against O'Duibhne, and his will that means 
 should be found to bring his enemy into safe custody. 
 
58 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 She promised to abet him in his evil designs, and re- 
 turned with the company to Brugh of the Boyne, en- 
 veloped in a thick mist, so that no man in Eirinn knew 
 of their arrival. 
 
 It so chanced that Diarmuid hunted alone in the forest 
 that day without Oscar, which being known to the 
 witch-hag, she caused herself to fly into the air by 
 magic on a water-lily leaf, having by her spells turned 
 it into a broad flat millstone with a hole in the middle. 
 She floated straight on, borne along by the clear, cold 
 wind, until she hovered straight above the hero, and 
 began to aim deadly darts at him through the hole. 
 This was the worst distress Diarmuid ever endured, for 
 the darts having had venomous spells breathed over 
 them, stung him through his shield and armour, so that 
 no part of him was likely to escape from their piercing. 
 Seeing that death was, indeed, his portion unless he 
 slew the wicked enchantress, he seized the Ga-derg, 
 and, leaning backward, flung it with sure aim at the 
 millstone. It flew right through the hole, piercing the 
 heart of the hag, who fell lifeless at his feet. He be- 
 headed her and brought the vile head to Angus Oge, 
 relating to him and Grainne the story of their wonder- 
 ful encounter and his escape. 
 
 Angus meanwhile, seeing that the quarrel between 
 Fionn and Diarmuid could not go on in this way for 
 ever, went to the Chieftain of the Fianna and invited 
 him to make peace. Fionn, knowing well that he had 
 been worsted in every attempt made against Diarmuid 's 
 life, consented, for he was weary of the quarrel and of 
 the loss of his brave men. Then Angus approached 
 King Cormac MacArt with the same intentions, and 
 he also agreed to be at peace with O'Duibhne, being 
 sorrowful at the woe and trouble arising from the en- 
 mity between these warriors. 
 
PURSUIT OF DIARMUID AND GRAINNE. 59 
 
 Afterwards the Druid returned to Brugh and told 
 Diarmuid the result of his embassy. The latter stipu- 
 lated that he should be reinstated in his father's pos- 
 sessions and land — namely, the cantred of O'Duibhne 
 without rent or tribute to the King of Eirinn, also the 
 cantred of Ben-Damis — that is, Ducarn of Leinster. 
 These two to be granted to him by Fionn, and a restric- 
 tion made that neither MacCumhaill nor any of the 
 Fianna were to hunt over them without leave. And 
 from the King of Eirinn he demanded the cantred of 
 Kesh-Corran as dowry with his daughter Grainne. 
 
 Again Angus went to Fionn and afterwards to King 
 Cormac MacArt with these conditions. And they were 
 granted, so that peace was made between all, and the 
 land became once more restful and law-abiding. 
 
 Then Diarmuid and Grainne went to live in Kesh- 
 Corran, far away from Fionn and Cormac, building 
 themselves there a house called Rath-Grainne, in which 
 they abode many years in quiet and joy. And in time 
 there came to them four sturdy sons and one little 
 daughter, plenty and prosperity flowed upon them, so 
 that people said there was no man of his time so rich 
 in gold and silver and jewels, in sheep and in herds of 
 cattle, as Diarmuid of the Bright Face. 
 
THE 
 
 Death of Diarmuid O'DuibDiR. 
 
The Death of Diarmuid Duibhne. 
 
 NOW, when many happy years had passed over 
 Diarmuid and his wife in their home of Rath* 
 Grainne, in the cantred of Kesh-Corran, a great 
 loneliness fell upon the Princess for a sight of her own 
 people, and she said to Diarmuid — 
 
 11 Since the wealth of the world hath flown upon us, 
 O beloved, and the splendour of our house hath been 
 sung of far and near, it is not meet that the two great- 
 est men in Eirinn — my father, King Cormac, and 
 Fionn MacCumhaill — should never have honoured it 
 with their presence, and extolled its beauty and rich- 
 ness. Mine eyes have never met the eyes of my father 
 since that night on which I went away with thee from 
 Tara, and my heart yearns for him and the sound of 
 the voices of mine own kindred." 
 
 11 Alas, dear one," spake Diarmuid, "this is a fateful 
 wish of thine; for though thy father and Fionn are not 
 at war with me, yet none the less do they harbour 
 enmity in their souls, and for this reason have I made 
 my dwelling- far distant from the paths on which they 
 tread." 
 
 "But surely that enmity hath vanished with all the 
 years that have gone over us. Nay, shake not thy 
 head, love, in reproof, for I would that thou shouldst 
 give them a feast in Rath-Grainne, and so, by our trust 
 in them, we shall win back their love and friendship to 
 ourselves once more." 
 
 The sweetness of her flower-face yet held the old 
 
64 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 glamour for Diarmuid, so, to give his lady pleasure, he 
 consented sorely against his better judgment, and he 
 bade his servitors prepare for the great feast, that it 
 might be given in due magnificence to the illustrious 
 guests and the vast array that should accompany them. 
 The preparations extended over a year, and when all 
 was ready Diarmuid sent messengers praying the King 
 to come with his house-folk, and Fionn with the chief 
 men of his Fenian army. So they came, with their 
 followers, their horses and dogs, and abode for a whole 
 year in Rath-Grainne, chasing the dappled deer 
 through the forest, or luring the silvery fishes from the 
 gray stream in daytime, and listening to sweet harp- 
 songs and bardic chanting while twilight trembled 
 upon the verge of night, and night gave way to the 
 first cold quiver of dawning. 
 
 It so befell, one night when the year was at its end, 
 that Diarmuid heard in his sleep the distant yelping of 
 a hound, and started up in wakeful alarm, listening. 
 Grainne also heard it, and paled as she threw her arms 
 around him, asking the meaning of the noise. 
 
 "It is strange and unwanted to hear at midnight the 
 baying of a hound," said her husband. "I must wend 
 forth to learn the cause thereof." 
 
 But Grainne held him closely to her, so that he could 
 not break away from her embrace. 
 
 "It is surely a trap laid for thee by the De-danaans, 
 Diarmuid of which Angus of Brugh knoweth not, so 
 may the gods keep thee safely. Turn thee on thy bed 
 ngain and sleep, and go not near the evil thing." 
 
 A second time the hollow-echoing voice broke upon 
 the stillness of the dark; again Diarmuid made to seek 
 it; and again did Grainne hold him so securely that he 
 dared not go. Then sweet sleep and forgetfulneas 
 
THE DEATH OF DIARMUID O'DUIBHNE. 65 
 
 came to him gently, until for the third time he was 
 wakened by the same sound. It was day-dawn then, 
 and he arose, saying, ' 'There is now no danger in my 
 going to find this hound, for it is the full light of day." 
 And Grainne replied, "Go then, my hero, but take with 
 thee the Morallta, the sword of Manannan MacLir, and 
 the Ga-derg — the spear of Angus, so that no mishap 
 may befall thee." 
 
 "But," said Diarmuid, wishing to make the matter 
 appear of small moment to her, "surely the Begallta 
 and the Ga-boi shall be sufficient protection to me. 
 Besides, I shall bring my good wise hound Mac-an- 
 Coill, by a chain, and what should I fear when he is 
 with me, and my weapons are in my hand." 
 
 He went forth into the cold air of the morning, never 
 stopping until he had reached the summit of Ben- 
 Gulban. Here to his surprise he found Fionn, to whom 
 he gave no greeting, but asked what chase was on, and 
 who had started it. The other replied — 
 
 "It was not I who started this chase, Diarmuid, but 
 some of our Fianna, who, rising out of Rath-Grainne 
 after midnight, chanced upon the track of a wild boar, 
 which they have followed, both men and dogs, though 
 I fain would have held them back. It is no ordinary 
 prey, but the Boar of Ben-Gulban, and they who go 
 after him are bound on a foolish and dangerous pur- 
 suit, and already he hath slain thirty of their number 
 this very morning. He is now coming up the moun- 
 tain towards us with the Fianna fleeing before him, so 
 do thou and I Diarmuid, avoid his path, and leave this 
 hillock to him." 
 
 "I shall not leave the hillock through fear of any 
 wild boar," said O'Duibhne, "rather should it give me 
 pleasure to deal with him in fight." 
 
 E 
 
66 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 "Yet thou art under geasa never to hunt him," Fionn 
 made answer gravely. "Dost thou not remember?" 
 
 "I do not remember. Wherefore was this bond of 
 geasa laid upon me, and when?" 
 
 "Then I must tell thee of it," said Fionn, "for 
 clearly do I recall the circumstance and the manner of 
 its happening - . It was when thou wert taken, a young 
 child, to Brugh of the Boyne to be fostered by Angus 
 Oge, and the son of Angus's steward was also fostered 
 with thee to be thy playmate. And as price for having 
 his son admitted into such noble company, the steward 
 agreed to send each day to Brugh food and drink for 
 nine men. Therefore, the house of Angus was always 
 open to thy father, Donn, whenever he might choose 
 to visit it, bringing with him eight others to partake of 
 this food and drink. In his absence it was given to 
 the attendants of Angus. 
 
 "It so chanced that on a certain day Bran Beag 
 O'Bucan reminded me how it was forbidden by geasa 
 that I should sleep more than nine nights at Allen of 
 the broad hill-slopes, and as it was already the tenth 
 morning, I must set out for some hospitable harbour- 
 age in which to pass the dark hours of the next night. 
 Thy father came with me to Brugh of Boyne, and 
 there we saw thee, O Diarmuid, surrounded with the 
 tender love of Angus, and happy in the company of thy 
 playmate, who was much beloved by the people of thy 
 foster-father. This aroused a demon of jealousy in the 
 heart of Donn, that the respect due to thee should be 
 shared by another. Not long after that a quarrel 
 arose between two of my staghounds over some broken 
 meat that was thrown them, and the confusion in the 
 hall drove the women and the lesser people in the place 
 to fly in terror. In his fear, thy playmate fled to thy 
 
THE DEATH OF DIARMUID O'DUIBHNE. 67 
 
 father, creeping between his knees, when Donn, giving 
 the child a mighty, powerful, strong squeeze, killed 
 him on the spot, and cast him under the feet of the 
 staghounds. Afterwards the steward came, and find- 
 ing his son dead, gave vent to a long and very pitiful 
 cry. Then he approached me and said — 
 
 " ' Of all the men in this house to-night, O Fionn, 
 I have indeed come worst out of this uproar, since I 
 find my child, and only son, dead before me. Thou 
 dost owe me eric for his death, because thy hounds 
 have slain him.' 
 
 "I bade him examine the body of his son, saying 
 that if he found trace of a hound's tooth thereon I 
 should pay him whatever eric he might demand. He 
 discovered no such trace, but, since the boy's life had 
 been taken, he laid me under fearful bonds of Druidical 
 geasa to find out the guilty one. I asked for a chess- 
 board and water to be brought me, and, having washed 
 my hands, put my thumb under my tooth of wisdom, 
 so that the truth was revealed to me of the death of 
 the boy and the cruel deed done by thy father. Not 
 wishing to make it known, I myself offered eric, but 
 the steward demanded I should tell him the revelation 
 that had come to me, and I did so. Whereupon he 
 said — 
 
 ' ' ' There is no man here who could easier pay me 
 eric for this murder than Donn himself. Hear my 
 demand, O Fionn, and Angus, and noble knights. Let 
 the son of Donn be placed between my knees to be 
 dealt with as my son was dealt with, and if the lad 
 gets off safe I shall follow the matter up no further. ' 
 
 " At this Angus waxed very wroth, and thy father 
 would have struck off the steward's head but that I 
 intervened. Then the latter, stepping aside, brought 
 
68 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 forth a magic wand of sorcery and struck his son with 
 it, changing him in the instant into a great bristling 
 wild boar, having neither ears nor tail. He cried out in 
 fierce accents, ' I conjure thee, O Boar, to have the 
 same length of life as Diarmuid O'Duibhne, and it is my 
 will that by thee he shall fall at last. ' As he finished, 
 the savage animal rushed out of the open doorway, nor 
 did one of us note the path he took. In dire trouble, 
 Angus gave thee commands never to hunt a boar, O 
 Diarmuid, and this one now rushing towards us is that 
 same ferocious Boar of Ben-Gulban, so I beg thee now 
 to leave the hill in time lest he meet us here." 
 
 "Not so," said Diarmuid, "not so, Fionn. If thou 
 wilt but lend me thy hound Bran to help my dog Mac- 
 an-Coill, I shall stay to welcome him." 
 
 "I will not leave my hound with thee," replied 
 Fionn, "for Bran hath often before chased the Boar, 
 and but barely escaped with his life. Now I shall de- 
 part, for here he comes rushing like a demon in fury." 
 
 On the summit of the hillock Diarmuid stood waiting, 
 and suddenly it struck upon his mind that Fionn had 
 planned this encounter for him, so that he might meet 
 his doom. Then the Boar came panting up. Diarmuid 
 slipped Mac-an-Coill from his leash swiftly, but the 
 dog turned tail, and fled far away at sight of the 
 enemy. 
 
 "Ah, woe unto him who doth not heed his wife's 
 counsel," murmured the knight, "for Grainne bade me 
 at early morn to-day take with me the Morallta and 
 the Ga-derg, and now I find myself alone and at the 
 mercy of this savage beast, with weapons that do not 
 suit the conflict." 
 
 He put his white, ruddy-nailed finger into the silken 
 string of the Ga-boi and threw it at the Boar, striking 
 
THE DEATH OF DIARMUID O'DUIBHNE. 63 
 
 him in the centre of his forehead. But no blood issued 
 forth, nor was any wound made in the toughness of 
 his hide. Then O'Duibhne drew the Begallta from its 
 sheath, hitting the Boar a strong heavy stroke across 
 its back. The sword broke into two pieces, yet not 
 one bristle was cut by the blow. The beast made a 
 spring upon Diarmuid, tripping him and lifting him up 
 into the air, so that he fell, as one might sit a horse, 
 astride it. Thus seated, he was carried in a quick wild 
 rush down the hill and far away until they reached the 
 Falls of Assaroe, across which the Boar gave three 
 nimble leaps; but, finding it could not shake off Diar- 
 muid, it bore him back to the crest of the mountain 
 again. Here it gave one mighty cast, and hurled the 
 warrior from its back, when, springing upon him like 
 a flash of lightning, it gored him sorely with its sharp 
 wicked tusks. Yet ere his strength left him, in his 
 woeful extremity, Diarmuid made one blow with the hilt 
 of his sword, which he still chanced to hold in his hand, 
 at the Boar, dashing its brains out. It fell dead beside 
 him on the sward, and here Fionn and the Fianna, 
 coming up shortly afterwards, found them. 
 
 Diarmuid lay in the death-agony as Fionn bent over 
 him with bitter speech, saying — the cruel old man — 
 
 "It delights me much to see thee in this stress, O 
 Diarmuid, and I would that all the women of Eirinn 
 were gazing upon thee also. Where is thy beauty that 
 won their hearts, and the light of thy brown eyes that 
 drew the blushes up into their soft cheeks? Gone, all 
 gone, and thou art now pale and deformed, with the 
 blemish of the Boar's tusks upon thy straight supple 
 body." 
 
 And Diarmuid, speaking in pain, answered, " Alas, O 
 Fionn, these words are from thy lips only, riot of a 
 
70 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 surety from thy heart. It is in thy power to heal me 
 if it be thy pleasure." 
 
 "And how should I heal thee?" 
 
 "Easily, in truth, for when thou didst receive the gift 
 of foreknowledge at the Boyne, thou didst also receive 
 another gift, namely — That if thou didst give a drink 
 of water from the closed palms of thy hands to anyone 
 wounded or in sickness, he should immediately be 
 healed." 
 
 "And v.'herefore should I heal thee, Diarmuid? Surely 
 thou of all men dost not deserve it from me." 
 
 "Nay, Fionn, thou well knowest that I do deserve 
 this boon of life from thee," said Diarmuid, wearily, 
 "for when thou didst go with the Fianna to the banquet 
 in the house of the Derca, and Carbri of the Liffey and 
 his host surrounded the palace, intent on slaying thee, 
 throwing firebrands over the roof to burn us within the 
 walls, I bade thee sit at the feast, and sallied forth my- 
 self to route them. Heavy was the slaughter I dealt 
 among thy foes that night, and had I asked thee then 
 for a drink thou wouldst have given it to me gladly. 
 Just as much do I deserve it now." 
 
 "Didst thou not allure Grainne away from Tara on 
 my bridal night, when I had set thee as guard over her, 
 having full trust in thy fidelity?" 
 
 "Not mine the blame, O son of Cumhaill, for 
 Grainne placed upon me heavy geasa which I dared not 
 disobey; nor would I have broken through her bonds 
 for all the gold in the world. And the judgments of 
 Oisin and Oscar were with me that night of omen, so 
 it is false what thou sayest of my betrayal of thee. 
 Nor dost thou forget — thy memory holds all things 
 in its caverns — how Midac, the son of Colga, made a 
 feast for thee in the Fairy Palace of the Quicken Trees, 
 
THE DEATH OF DIARMUID O'DUIBHNE. 71 
 
 and brought secretly to the Palace of the Island the 
 King of the World and the three Kings of the Island 
 of the Torrent, with an immense host, on purpose to 
 destroy thee and the Fianna. And he caused to be 
 placed under thee some clay from the Island of the 
 Torrent, so that thy feet and hands were fastened with 
 foul spells to the ground, and thou couldst not move 
 them, while the King of the World was preparing a 
 host on the Island to come and cut off thy head — help- 
 less as thou wert. It was then that I hurried to thee, 
 
 Fionn, and, learning of thy deadly strait in the 
 Palace of the Quicken Trees, went down to the ford to 
 defend it, and engaged in single combat with the three 
 dragon-like Kings of the Island of the Torrent, ven- 
 turing my life and bearing their attacks for love of 
 thee. Their blood, dripping from their severed heads, 
 broke the spell that sealed thee so miserably to the 
 ground, and had I asked thee for a drink that night 
 thou wouldst not have denied it to me. That is but 
 one of the many difficulties in which I stood thy friend 
 and protector — thy shield and spear. Now, now, when 
 the shadow of death is upon me, I see clearly what 
 before had been unseen. Thou hast made foes, O 
 Fionn, many and powerful, and the end is not yet. 
 Shortly there will come dire distress upon the Fianna, 
 yet not for thee do I grieve, but for Oisin and Oscar, 
 and the rest of my fond, faithful comrades. Thou 
 shalt sorely lack me yet, O chieftain, and Oisin shall be 
 lonely through many long years for loss of me." 
 
 Here the sorrowful, angry voice of Oscar inter- 
 rupted the dying hero, and his eyes flamed through 
 tears at his grandsire's relentless frown. " Though I 
 am more nearly akin to thee than to Diarmuid, O Fionn, 
 
 1 will not suffer thee to refuse him a drink in his ex- 
 
72 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 tremity, nor should any other man who treated him so 
 leave this place alive from the strong hand of my 
 wrath." 
 
 "I know not where there is a well upon this moun- 
 tain," said Fionn. 
 
 "Untrue is thy speech," replied Diarmuid, "for but 
 nine paces from thee is the best well of pure water in 
 the world." 
 
 Straightway, Fionn went to the well, and, stooping, 
 raised his two hands filled with the water; but he had 
 not reached more than half the distance to Diarmuid 
 when he let the water fall. 
 
 "It was of thine own will thou didst let it fall, and not 
 by accident, O Fionn," cried Diarmuid; "that I testify." 
 
 A second time the chieftain of the Fianna went for the 
 life-giving drink, and a second time, when he had 
 reached the same spot, he let it fall, having thought 
 upon Grainne. At sight thereof Diarmuid hove a 
 piteous sigh of anguish, but Oscar thundered, "If thou 
 dost not bring water speedily, I swear before my arms 
 that thou shalt not leave this hillock alive," and Fionn 
 returned to the well the third time, bringing the 
 draught steadily, but ere he reached the spot Diarmuid 
 lay back with a sigh upon the green grass, and life de- 
 parted from him. Then a wild wailing and three great 
 shouts rose up from the Fianna of Eirinn for Diarmuid 
 O'Duibhne. Oscar gazed fiercely upon Fionn, ex- 
 claiming, "Now indeed, hast thou taken from us the 
 noblest heart in all the land — my friend and brother. 
 And would that thbu thyself lay dead here instead of 
 him. My grief, my grief — our mainstay in battle is 
 gone for ever. Oh, had I but known that the Boar of 
 Ben Gulban was his enemy, never should this chase 
 have been started to-day." 
 
THE DEATH OF DIARMUID o'DUIBHNEw 73 
 
 And Oscar wept bitterly, also Oisin and Dering and 
 MacLuga, for Diarmuid was faithfully loved by all. 
 
 "Let us depart," said Fionn, in the midst of the 
 clamour, "lest Angus Of the Boyne should come and 
 deal us harm for this;" and he went down the slopes of 
 the hill, leading Diarmuid 's dog, Mac-an-Coill, in leash 
 beside him. But Oisin and Oscar and Caoilte and Mac- 
 Luga returned to throw their four mantles about the 
 dead warrior, with many touching words of farewell. 
 
 Grainne, watching from the ramparts, saw their 
 home-coming, and Fionn holding Diarmuid 's dog in 
 leash. Then a great fear burst forth in her heart, for 
 she knew that were Diarmuid in life this could not 
 happen, and she fell forward in a swoon; but in a little 
 time she awakened out of it, and begged Fionn to give 
 her back the hound, Mac-an-Coill, because it loved her 
 husband, and was his daily companion. 
 
 "Indeed, I shall not," replied the chieftain, "for it 
 is little enough that I should get even a dog from 
 Diarmuid O'Duibhne in compensation for all the evil he 
 hath brought upon me." 
 
 "Give her the dog, O father," Oisin commanded 
 him, "or those bitter loud cries of lamentation of her's 
 shall ring in thine ears for ever. ' ' 
 
 And, stepping forward, he drew the leash from the 
 hand of Fionn, placing it in that of Grainne. 
 
 She bade her people go forth up the mountain and 
 bring down the body of her slain knight and lover, so 
 that due rites might be shown him in his burial. And 
 when the company had gone to do her bidding, they 
 found Angus Oge bending in woeful grief above his 
 dead foster-son, for it was revealed to him that Diar- 
 muid had met with the Boar of Ben Gulban, and that 
 the curse had fallen at last. So he came upon the clear 
 
74 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 cold wind very swiftly to the mountain summit, and 
 when Grainne's people saw him caoining there they 
 held out towards him the rough sides of their shields in 
 token of peace. Then together they all raised three 
 loud piercing cries, which were heard in the wastes of 
 the firmament and from end to end of the five provinces 
 of Eirinn. 
 
 "Alas, why did I abandon thee even for once, oh son 
 of my soul," moaned Angus. "Ever since thou wert 
 brought to me, a little clinging child, have I cared for 
 and guarded thee until this black day. And why did 
 I leave thee to the guileful craft of Fionn, O Diarmuid 
 of the Bright Face? Alas, alas, it has been through 
 my neglect thou hast suffered. Pity me, oh, pity me, 
 that left my son undefended and in the snare. Yet, 
 never again shall he be apart from me, for now I bid 
 ye, O mourners, to take him up and place him upon 
 this golden bier, so that I may carry him with me to 
 Brugh of Boyne, where, though I cannot restore him 
 to life, I shall bring back his soul into his body each 
 day, and hear once more the silver music of his voice." 
 
 And Grainne's people dared not disobey Angus, so 
 they watched while he caused their master's body to be 
 taken away swiftly, and far from their sight. Then 
 they returned with the message to Grainne, who, 
 grieving sorely at first, grew content in the end that it 
 should be so, knowing the love that was in the heart 
 of Angus for Diarmuid. 
 
 i 
 
 And happy were it for me if I could tell of Grainne's 
 faithfulness to her dead lord and lover, and how the 
 long years of her widowhood passed in tender, regret- 
 ful memories of him, his valour, and his devotion, who 
 
THE DEATH OF DIARMUID O'DUIBHNE. 75 
 
 gave up all for love; but, alas, it was not so, nor shall 
 her name be surrounded with a halo of praise, . as 
 Deirdre's will be until the ages shall end in Eirinn. For 
 though she drew her children about her after their dead 
 father had been borne to the Palace of Angus, and ex- 
 horted them in her sweet, clear voice, "O, dear chil- 
 dren, thy father hath been slain by Fionn MacCumhaill 
 against his covenants of peace with him, and now I 
 pray that ye will avenge him well, and I will myself 
 portion out your inheritance among ye, that is, his 
 arms and his armour and his various sharp weapons, 
 that ye may be led to feats of bravery and valour like- 
 wise. Go now and learn carefully all practice of war- 
 like skill until ye have reached your full strength, and 
 then return to combat with your father's enemy and 
 mine," she was the first in after days to revoke the 
 vengeful tenor of her speech. 
 
 Fionn, hearing that the youths were pledged to en- 
 mity towards him, grew more bitter still in his hatred 
 of the sons of Diarmuid than he had ever been towards 
 their father, but in his plots against them no aid came 
 to him from the Fianna. Rather did Oisin, the silver- 
 tongued, condemn him in reproving eloquence, refus- 
 ing to lift his sword in this cause, which grieved Fionn 
 exceedingly, since Oisin was his pride and best be- 
 loved. Yet the cunning old warrior, well versed in 
 knowledge of the human heart, and more particularly, 
 through long experience, of the heart of a vain woman, 
 saw that only by help of Grainne herself could he hope 
 for peace, and the further support and allegiance of the 
 Fianna, who were almost to a man wroth beyond 
 measure with him for his cruel misdeeds. So he came 
 to her at Rath Grainne, without the cognisance of his 
 army, and greeted her cunningly, craftily, and with 
 
76 
 
 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 sweet words, to which she replied in bitter, sharp- 
 tongued reproach, saying that the sight of him was 
 hateful to her. But Fionn ceased not striving to pla- 
 cate her anger, and continued his gentle loving dis- 
 course until he persuaded her to come back with him 
 to his Palace at Allen, where the Fianna were. Oh, 
 fickleness of one woman that shall cast a slur upon all 
 women to the end of time. When the Fianna saw her 
 coming with Fionn through the gates, a willing cap- 
 tive, they raised a great and most insulting shout of 
 derision, so that Grainne bowed her head in shame at 
 the scorn in those warrior eyes. 
 
 One only spoke, and it was Oisin. He said, "Well, 
 we trow, O Fionn, that thou wilt keep Grainne safe 
 this time from henceforth. Nor shall any man in 
 Eirinn desire her from thee." 
 
Cbe Sbcarina of tbe Fairp 
 fleeces. 
 
The Shearing of the Fairy Fleeces. 
 
 THE King had listened day after day to the 
 rambling tales that were brought him by the 
 mountain people and the people of the valley, 
 and while he watched the fear that lurked behind their 
 wide-open eyes his own narrowed in thought as to how 
 this panic that had seized upon his subjects could be 
 assuaged. That there was in truth some serious cause 
 for their misery of mind he could not doubt. He had 
 hearkened with them to the bleating of the phantom 
 sheep echoing clear from the high-peaked summits far 
 above; and gazing from the doorway of his royal dun 
 he had seen the snow-white flocks moving hither and 
 thither over the heather where the mountain folk had 
 their homes in the mist-wreathed caves. His Druids 
 had sought knowledge from the stars in their night 
 vigils, and returned with awed faces to tell the futility 
 of their research. 
 
 "It is not for us to probe, O King, the designs of the 
 Immortals. The hand of Manannan-Mac-Lir is visible 
 in the heavens, and these are his fairy flocks that ap- 
 pear before the eyes of men but rarely in the passing of 
 the ages. Whether it be for good or evil that he hath 
 shown them to us now we know not, save that it were 
 unwise to meddle with the manifestations of the 
 Gods." 
 
 "Alas! my people are withering away before mine 
 eyes," said the King, "and the sick are groaning on 
 their couches while the white fear clutches at their 
 
80 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 heart-strings. Can nought be done to appease the 
 anger of the Sea-god, or can ye discover therefore his 
 wrath is turned against us?" 
 
 "We shall go back to our vigils, O Monarch, and in 
 the dawning bring thee whatever tidings may be vouch- 
 safed to us," they answered humbly, wending forth 
 from the royal presence; weary because of their long 
 night watches, yet eager to fathom the mystery of the 
 dread apparition that had caused such woe to the 
 people of Sorcha. 
 
 Then the King bent his thoughtful gaze on the kneel- 
 ing throng, looking longest at the shaggy mountain- 
 eers clad in their barbaric garments of fur and hard- 
 tanned leather. Their hair and beards grew in wild 
 profusion, and on their hunting-spear handles were 
 traces of newly dried blood. They began to talk 
 hurriedly, and in uncouth speech, lifting up hands of 
 supplication. 
 
 "What is it that ye have seen, and what do ye 
 dread?" spake the King to them in soothing wise, and 
 like the roar of a tumbling torrent came the clamour of 
 their words. 
 
 "We have heard round our homes at twilight in the 
 high secret places of the hills, O King, the bleating 
 from a great sheep-fold, and when we followed whither 
 it led, we became enveloped in clouds of mist so that 
 many of our number, slipping from the narrow path- 
 ways, were dashed to pieces on the rocks below. The 
 bleating and trampling of feet still came to us out of 
 the mist as if a multitude were behind, and when we 
 stretched our arms into it, it broke apart and floated 
 upward like huge flakes of snow. Now the sound is 
 heard all over the mountains, so that our people are 
 frozen in the horror of a great fear, and dare not ven- 
 
THE SHEARING OF THE FAIRY FLEECES. 81 
 
 ture forth to kill the wild animals that give them food. 
 Our flocks have fled down into the valley, even as we 
 have done, in terror. The hunger is on us, and the 
 sickness hath caught our women and little ones. And 
 the demnaeoir (the demons of the air) are shrieking 
 round us in the winds, and the geinte glindi (the wild 
 people of the glens), are treading in our footsteps 
 everywhere, until we know not where to go, and for 
 very horror pray the Gods to give us death." 
 
 "And we," said the dwellers of the valley, "also live 
 in the shadow of this great fear, O King, for our eyes 
 are ever turned upward towards the mountains, while 
 our fields are left untilled and our work undone because 
 of this cruel fascination that is on us. The bean-sidhe's 
 wail is heard from end to end of the valley, chasing 
 sleep from us in the night hours, and the dogs shrink 
 shuddering with bristling hair, when our women would 
 drive them from the hearth-stones into the open day." 
 
 The King moaned wearily, rocking from side to side 
 on his gilded throne. His heart was warm for even 
 the least of his subjects, and his wise ruling had kept 
 peace in the land for many years. This disaster was 
 none of his bringing, nor did one of those fear-drawn 
 faces look at him with eyes of blame. 
 
 "When the next dawn breaks," he said to them in 
 tender tones, "I shall climb to the summit of those 
 high hills with ye, my children, and if the Gods be kind 
 mayhap Manannan-Mac-Lir will grant speech to me. 
 Moreover, my Druids shall offer gifts in propitiation — 
 gold and silver and precious stones — aye holocausts of 
 cattle from my pastures that this curse may be taken 
 off me and mine." 
 
 And kissing the hem of his royal robe they left the 
 hall of audience, hushed into silence by the sorrow in 
 the voice of the King. 
 
 F 
 
82 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 The territory of Sorcha lay within a long high chain 
 of mountains which guarded it on east and north and 
 west, but sloped to the south, where the sea broke on 
 a white sandy beach in the shelter of great protecting 
 cliffs. There the King's royal house stood like a 
 sentinel, and from his watch-tower the vast horizon 
 was visible so that no encroachment of hostile ships 
 could come unseen within reach of the land; nor could 
 one single stranger cross the outer boundary unknown 
 to the captains of the army, so closely and minutely 
 was the territory kept secure from foreign invasion. 
 It was through his exceeding care for his people and 
 their lands, that King Feredach had gained his title of 
 the Generous, and wide-spread renown had haloed his 
 name as with a glory. 
 
 Now his soul had grown sick within him at the 
 trouble overshadowing his kingdom. He still sat, 
 after the last suppliant had left the hall, brooding over 
 the inexplicable panic that bade fair to turn his beau- 
 tiful fertile country into waste of loneliness and want. 
 As he leaned forward, his grey beard sweeping his 
 breast, and his eyes glaring glassily downwards, a 
 stranger, entering the wide doorway, came up the 
 rush-strewn floor and bent in salutation before him. 
 
 "Hail! O King Feredach," he said, "I would have 
 speech with thee." 
 
 The King lifted his eyes and saw a man clad in 
 wonderful garments of colour like the changing skin 
 of the sea-snake, and round his waist a golden snake 
 was coiled for girdle, while over all a mantle of green, 
 with the shifting shining hues of the sea in moonlight, 
 was thrown, which trailed behind him on the floor. 
 His hair was a bright ruddy golden, and on it lay a 
 crown of wondrous sea-weeds still sparkling with the 
 
THE SHEARING OF THE FAIRY FLEECES. 83 
 
 salt-moisture of the deep. His face was young- and 
 fair, and open, with clear quick-flashing - eyes; and his 
 height was beyond that of any man in Sorcha. In his 
 hand he held a pair of immense glittering sharp shears. 
 
 "Who art thou?" said Feredach, "and how comest 
 thou to pass my guards below, for no man enters my 
 presence unannounced?" 
 
 "Not one of thy guards saw me, O King, for they 
 are hiding their faces from the sun, and their ears were 
 deaf to my footfalls. I have travelled far to take from 
 thy people the panic that hath fallen on them." 
 
 "Thy name?" 
 
 "My name is but the name of a wanderer, O King, a 
 rover of the sea; a vendor of marvellous silks and 
 curios from many lands. Wherever such are to be 
 found I follow in pursuit; and having heard how thy 
 kingdom is distressed with signs and tokens of the en- 
 mity of the Gods, I, who know no fear, have come to 
 find the fairy flock and shear their fleeces so that thy 
 misery may be ended." 
 
 " 'Twill be death to thee," said the King, "since no 
 man can discover them." 
 
 "Yet shall J find their hiding-places," spoke the sea- 
 stranger, "and do thou bide here on thy throne until I 
 return." 
 
 At the command in his voice the King sat moveless, 
 nor did the guards ranged down the audience-hall seem 
 to see or hear. 
 
 And while the King waited, sitting erect as a statue 
 of stone, morn gave place to noon, and noon glided 
 gently towards the arms of sunset. Then when the 
 vast portals of the West were opened for the passing 
 
84 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 of the Day God, the stranger re-entered the palace-hall 
 in the radiance of the fading splendour. In his arms 
 he held, piled high, white masses of finest silky wool, 
 such as had never been seen before in Sorcha, so soft 
 it was, so great in length, so snowy in colour. 
 
 He held the fleeces out before the King. "The 
 blight hath gone from thy people, O Feredach, nor 
 shall the bleating of the flocks molest them more. Thy 
 valleys shall grow green again, and the wild boar re- 
 turn to thy mountains. For me, I go to the Land of 
 Eirinn — to the looms of the De-Danaans in the heart 
 of a lonely hill, that an invisible cloak may be woven 
 out of these fleeces for my foster-son, the young 
 Champion of Uladh, Cuchulainn. It shall protect him 
 in battle from wounds, and in peace from sickness; nor 
 shall aught have power over it save the people of the 
 Sea. It has been shorn from the Sheep of Manannan, 
 that roam invisible over many mountains of the world, 
 and whose appearance before the eyes of men is 
 attended with great disaster — through no ill-will of the 
 God's. Fare thee well, O King, my task is finished." 
 
 "Stay, thou wise stranger," cried Feredach, grasp- 
 ing at the sea-green cloak, but his hand closed upon 
 empty air, and instead of a footfall there was but 
 faintly heard a placid murmur as of waves breaking 
 upon a pebbly strand. 
 
 "It was Manannan-Mac-Lir, himself," said the 
 Druids, blanched with awe. "It was the Deity of the 
 Waters, for as we looked from the watch-tower we 
 saw a long white narrow wave creep up the shore even 
 to the door of thy dun, O King, and on the crest of it 
 rose and fell a silver sea-chariot, with four white swift- 
 
THE SHEARING OF THE FAIRY FLEECES. 
 
 85 
 
 footed horses yoked thereto, into which he stepped 
 bearing the fleeces, and while we strained our eyes 
 the white wave subsided into the ocean with a high- 
 splashing of reddened foam as the Sun went through 
 the Golden Gates." 
 
 " Praise to the Gods," said Feredach. 
 
 "Praise. And to thee, O King," chanted the Druids. 
 
CDe King of Ireland's Deatb= 
 Place. 
 
The King of Ireland's Death-Place. 
 
 THE hearth fires were blazing high in the hall of 
 King Mongan, of Rathmore. The flickering 
 torches cast a fitful glare over the listening 
 faces of many warriors who leaned breathlessly for- 
 ward to catch even the least word that fell from the 
 lips of Dalian Forgiall, the far-famed poet and satirist, 
 and writer of the wonderful elegy on Saint Columcille. 
 He sat on the left hand of the King; the Queen's chair 
 stood to the right, and against its tall carven back 
 Breothigern rested her golden head. Her beautiful 
 eyes were fixed upon the face of the blind poet in never- 
 ceasing wonder at the marvellous tales he unfolded 
 night after night — from Bealtaine to Samhain — for the 
 pleasure of the King. 
 
 "There were three kings reigning together in Eirinn 
 for the space of one year — the three Fothad 
 brothers," Mongan said, breaking a sudden silence, 
 "and the bards are doubtful as to the death and burial- 
 place of the most famous of the three, Fothad Airg- 
 dech. Dos't thou know aught of this, O poet?" 
 
 "He was slain at Duffry, in Leinster, O King, and 
 buried near the spot where he fell." 
 
 "Not so," cried the King, interrupting him. "Not 
 so. It is false enlightenment thou art giving me. He 
 fought his last fight in our own Uladh, and sleeps on a 
 green hillside therein — a fitting place for the King of 
 Ireland's bones to rest." 
 
 Dalian Forgiall rose in fury from his seat. His 
 
90 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 brow reddened, and his voice was tipped with venom, 
 so that the tumbling, thunderous words could scarce 
 make way. 
 
 "And dost thou deny me my knowledge, O King, me 
 who am versed in all that pertains to the history of the 
 dead and the living in Eirinn. Then will I satirize 
 thee, and thy father, thy mother, and thy grandfather, 
 since it is not becoming nor just that thy word should 
 be taken before mine. And I will satirize the waters 
 of thy country so that no fish shall live or be caught in 
 them, and the trees that no fruit may be borne by 
 them, and the plains that they may remain barren of 
 any produce. This will I do, Mongan of Uladh, be- 
 cause of the insult thou hast shown me." 
 
 Here the sweet voice of the Queen broke in upon the 
 ravings of the old man, and her words were like drop- 
 pings of honey, or the tender piping of a linnet in a 
 hidden woodland bower. "Nay, nay," she said sooth- 
 ingly, "my King hath no desire to wound thee nor vex 
 thy heart with anger or jealousy, O poet. Satirize 
 him not, I pray thee, and thy bronze gift-pot shall be 
 filled with gold and silver and precious jewels — even 
 should I strip my neck and arms of these glittering 
 bands." 
 
 "And I," said Mongan, "promise thee the value of 
 seven bondmaids, so that thou cast none of thy spells 
 upon me and mine." 
 
 Dalian Forgiall's face was set in stony anger, and 
 from his lips came forth no sound. 
 
 "Twice seven bondmaids; three times seven," 
 pleaded the King. "Or if thou wilt, take half my terri- 
 tory — all of it — only let me be free from thy blighting 
 tongue." 
 
 Still the poet sat as a carven image, unmoved by the 
 alluring bribe, 
 
THE KING OF IRELAND'S DEATH-PLACE. 91 
 
 "All I posses," reiterated Mong-an, "save my own 
 liberty and that of Breothig-ern, my Queen." 
 
 Then Dalian Forgiall spoke at last. "One thing- 
 hath saved thee, O King- — thy wife. She shall be my 
 hostag-e until the end of three days, and if within that 
 time thou hast discovered the death-place of Fothad 
 Airgdech my hold upon her shall be resigned; if not, 
 then I shall come to claim her at the appointed hour." 
 
 For the sake of his honour Mong-an consented, but 
 sorrow settled down over Breothig-ern, and her eyes 
 grew wet. 
 
 "Do not grieve, fair one," said the King, "help will 
 surely come." 
 
 On the third day they sat waiting - , after having in 
 vain sought testimony as to the point at dispute 
 throughout the territory of Uladh. The poet came to 
 enforce his bond. 
 
 "Wait until the sun has g-one from the heavens," 
 said Mongan. "Even yet all is not lost to me." 
 
 Breothigern and he sat together in her bower, and as 
 the hours crept on her tears fell faster. The King- bent 
 his head in listening-, of a sudden. 
 
 "Be not sorrowful, O wife. I hear the iread of one 
 who is coming- to our aid. His feet are plashing- now 
 through the waters of the Labrinne." After a little 
 while he spake ag-ain. 
 
 "Weep not, weep not. Even now his feet are in the 
 Maine." 
 
 And in another space. "Take comfort to thee, 
 gentle heart; I hear thy deliverer near at hand. He is 
 crossing Lough Lene — now he is over the Morningf- 
 Star River between Ui Fidgente and the Arada; he has 
 
92 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 passed the Suir on Moy-Fevin, in Munster; his mighty 
 stride hath traversed the Nore, the Barrow, the Liffey, 
 the Boyne, the Dee, the Tuarthesc, Carlingford Lough, 
 the Nid, the Newry River, and behold ! he is scattering 
 right and left from him the waves of the Larne Water 
 in front of Rathmore. " 
 
 The gray dusk of coming night was gathering round 
 the royal Dun now, and Dalian Forgiall had renewed 
 his importunities to the King, while the Queen sat, 
 palid and sad in her beauty, by the couch. 
 
 "Be not in such haste, thou vengeful bard," cried 
 Mongan, "for it is given me to know that thy bond 
 shall be released from thy covetous hand ere long. I 
 see a man approaching the Rath from the South. 
 Even now, by aid of a headless spear-shaft he carries, 
 he hath leapt across the three ramparts as a bird might 
 wing its flight, and now is in the middle of the garth, 
 and now " 
 
 The stranger stood before them. He was taller than 
 the tallest man in the kingdom, and the face of him 
 was young and very fair. His dark cloak was in a 
 fold about him, of strange material and quaintly fash- 
 ioned, and his hair fell curling to his shoulders. 
 
 "What trouble is there on this house?" said he. 
 
 "A wager I have made, O stranger, with yonder 
 poet concerning the death-place of Fothad Airgdech, 
 the Ardrigh. He hath said the King sleeps in Duffry, 
 of Leinster — I say it is not so," answered Mongan. 
 
 "It is false history this poet hath been telling," said 
 the warrior, "for the monarch lies in a grave not near 
 Leinster nor yet on its borders, but within the borders 
 of Uladh instead." 
 
 "May sorrow overtake thee," cried the angry poet, 
 "for that thou hast put contradiction upon me. What 
 proof hast thou?" 
 
THE KING OF IRELAND'S DEATH-PLACE. 93 
 
 "Proof in plenty," replied the warrior, "which I 
 shall now unfold for the comfort of the King. I was 
 of the army of Fionn Mac Cumhaill, and we were on 
 our return from Alba when we met Fothad Airgdech 
 in battle in the Valley of Ollarva. When the fight was 
 at its fiercest I saw the King standing at the base of a 
 sloping hill watching how the conflict went. Behind 
 a stone, some little distance off, I knelt, and taking 
 careful aim, hurled my spear at him. It passed through 
 him and. entered the ground at the other side, leaving 
 its bronze blade firmly in the soil. This," and he held 
 forth the handle, "is the handle which was in that 
 spear. The bald rock from which I threw that cast 
 will be found there, and the blade of the spear is still 
 embedded under the grass. The cairn of Fothad Airg- 
 dech will be found near it a little towards the east. 
 There is a stone coffin holding what remains of his 
 manhood — on it are his two Fails (bracelets) of silver, 
 his Buinne do At (twisted hoops), and his Muintorc 
 (neck-torque) of silver, and a rock stands as a me- 
 morial to him, with an Ogham inscription on the end 
 which is in the ground. What is written on it is this 
 — ' Fothad Airgdech is here, who was killed in battle 
 by Caoilte, on the side of Fionn. ' Our warriors buried 
 him as I have described, and it was by us that his 
 funeral obsequies were performed." 
 
 "Caoilte, didst thou say?" cried the King. "Art 
 thou, then, that great warrior of the Fianna and kins- 
 man of Fionn Mac Cumhaill himself? By what marvel 
 hast thou returned from the dark halls to clear our 
 doubts away?" 
 
 "Because the Fianna ever loved the truth, O King, 
 and beyond the grave we watch the hills and vales of 
 Einnn as through a mist; growing glad in its joys and 
 
94 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 sorrowing in its griefs; so when doubt arises as to the 
 past, our hearts ache until it is granted one of us to 
 resume a mortal body and return with wise words of 
 counsel and knowledge to those whom we have left be- 
 hind. Seek ye the cairn of Fothad Airgdech — all shall 
 be found as I have said — the mouth of Caoilte Mac- 
 Ronan knoweth naught of falsehood." 
 
 Mongan found the grave on the green slope,* in the 
 Valley of Ollarva, and near by he recognised the stone 
 from which Caoilte had thrown his cast. On the stone 
 coffin he also found the ornaments of the King — as the 
 warrior of the Fianna had foretold. 
 
 He returned to Moylinny — that is Rathmore — with 
 tidings to the Queen, and from henceforth there was 
 no place at his royal board for Dalian Forgiall, nor 
 ever again did Breothigern despoil her white neck and 
 radiant head of gold and jewels at the poet's pleasure. 
 
 » Now known as Ballyboley Hill, in the Valley of the Sixraile 
 water, where the cairn is to be seen to this day, as well as the stone — 
 a field off — from which the cast was thrown. The country people 
 guard the " King of Ireland's grave" with due reverence, being 
 careful not to uproot a boulder nor disturb the sloe tree which rises 
 sturdy and wide-spreading over all. 
 
 J&XK&, 
 
ficw Oisin conoinced Patrick 
 m Cleric 
 
How Oisin Convinced Patrick the 
 Cleric. 
 
 DAY after day Oisin kept grumbling at the fare 
 set forth upon the monastery table until the 
 holy men well-nigh lost the patience that was a 
 habit with them. Patrick alone had wisdom to deal 
 gently with the old Pagan whom he had baptised and 
 housed, for with the clearer insight of his pity he saw 
 the woe of loneliness that racked the heart of Fionn's 
 son, and the dread of a future life in which the Chris- 
 tian's God might turn his converted soul aside from the 
 happy land through which the Fianna hunted and re- 
 velled beyond the grave. Therefore Patrick spake 
 softly to him as Oisin held out a shaky massive hand, 
 and pointed scornfully at the large meskin of butter 
 and bannock of bread and quarter of beef that were his 
 daily rations. 
 
 "And is it this little portion you offer me, O Cleric; 
 me that am son of Fionn Mac Cumhaill and Bard and 
 Warrior of the Fianna? Why, in my father's house he 
 would have given a larger share to the beggar at his 
 door." 
 
 "I have given more than we can spare, old man," 
 said Patrick, "Eat and be thankful that it is not less." 
 
 "My grief," said Oisin, "that the days of my father 
 are over, for then an ivy leaf was larger than your 
 bannock of bread, O Patrick, and a rowan berry, than 
 
98 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 your meskin of butter, and a quarter of a blackbird 
 than your quarter of beef. A man could eat his fill nor 
 fear that more should not be forthcoming." 
 
 "Now it is not truth you would be saying, Oisin, my 
 soul," exclaimed Patrick, "to tell me these things. 
 Never have I heard of such ivy leaves, or such rowan 
 berries, or such great monstrous blackbirds, even in 
 the wonder times of the Fianna." 
 
 "Yet it was so, and I know where they can be found 
 to this day. Let me go, O Patrick, with my dog, 
 Bran's pup, and a boy to guide me since my sight is 
 dim, and I shall return to your cell with all three of 
 these marvels you deny." 
 
 "Then go," said Patrick, "go, Oisin; and oh! 
 grumbling old man, it is empty-handed you will be 
 coming back to me." 
 
 Patrick gave him the boy-guide and brought to him 
 his dog, of which Bran, the hound of Fionn, had been 
 the mother. Now these dogs possessed a sagacity 
 truly marvellous and an affectionateness that almost 
 rivalled human feeling. The Fianna believed that Bran 
 had not always been a four-footed animal, but in 
 earlier times was a man, handsome, supple, and strong, 
 the son of Fair Fergus, the King of Ulster. He had 
 fallen under enchantment, and became the swift, keen- 
 sighted hound, body-guard and faithful companion of 
 Fionn. 
 
 So it was accompanied by the pup of this noble 
 hound and a little boy, that Oisin, half-blind and slow 
 of step, with the weight of ages bowing him down, set 
 forth upon his journey. They wandered southwards 
 until they reached the hill called Cnocan-an-Ein-fionn> 
 and climbed its slope to the place where is the cave 
 It was barred by an enormous boulder. 
 
HOW OIS1N CONVINCED PATRICK THE CLERIC. 99 
 
 "Roll away the stone that is there, little boy," said 
 Oisin, "so that I may enter." 
 
 The boy laughed. "Ten men could not do it, old 
 man, for it is a great heavy stone and firm in the 
 ground." 
 
 "Lead me close to it." The boy took the groping 
 hand of Oisin and led him to the stone. Then the old 
 warrior made an easy thrust at it, and the huge block 
 rolled aside, leaving the entrance to the cave open. 
 
 "Go into the cave, little boy, and tell me what you 
 see there," Oisin commanded. 
 
 The boy passed through timorously, holding his 
 breath for fear of the shadows. He gazed round in 
 awe. 
 
 "I see a great silver horn hanging on the wall, old 
 man," he cried. 
 
 "Bring it to me, little boy." 
 
 "Three men could not lift it, old man, and it will not 
 even move at my touch." 
 
 "Come out and lead me to it." 
 
 Then Oisin took the huge horn down from the wall 
 and held it lovingly. It was the Dord Fianna — the 
 hunting horn of the Fianna. 
 
 "Alas," he moaned, "many a time have I sounded 
 the hunting-call on thee, O horn of many memories. 
 Oft did my father Fionn waken the echoes with thy 
 music from Loch Lein of the beauty places to Tory of 
 the Kings. My grief that Oisin should live to sound 
 thee and not one of the Fianna left in Eirinn to hear." 
 
 Standing on the hill-top, from whence the sound 
 travelled far and wide, he blew upon it a strong clear 
 note. 
 
 From the west a flock of birds came sweeping like a 
 cloud. The boy cried out — 
 
100 
 
 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 "It is a great flock of blackbirds that are flying to- 
 wards us, old man. They will be on the hill-top ere 
 long." 
 
 "Do you see a fine bird among them, little boy?" 
 "No, old man, not to say a fine bird." 
 Oisin raised the Dord Fianna to his lips and blew a 
 second time. 
 
 A larger crowd of birds came winging in response. 
 "Is there a fine bird among these, little boy?" Oisin 
 demanded. 
 
 "No," said the boy, "not to say a fine bird." 
 A third time the music of the Dord Fianna pealed 
 from the hill crest over the woods and beyond the 
 shining rivers that threaded the glens and meadows far 
 below. 
 
 "What do you see now, little boy?" The boy 
 shrieked in terror. "I see a huge bird larger than a 
 cow making for us. Let us hide, old man, he is coming 
 swiftly." 
 
 "Loose the pup," said Oisin. 
 
 The lad did so with trembling hands, and the dog 
 leaped forward at the monstrous bird. For hours they 
 fought there on the summit, clawing, biting, rending 
 each other. At last the bird lay dead with claws up- 
 turned to the sky. 
 
 "Lead me to the bird, little boy," said Oisin. 
 But suddenly the dog gave a deep howl of rage, and, 
 mad from the fearful fight he had undergone, rushed 
 towards Oisin with his mouth wide open. From his 
 head a thick cloud of steam arose, and his eyes were 
 like moving balls of red fire in their sockets 
 
 "The pup is coming towards us, old man," shouted 
 the boy in a panic of fear. "The madness is on him 
 and the foam falling from his lips. Oh, let us hide. 
 Run, old man, run." 
 
HOW OIS1N CONVINCED PATRICK THE CLERIC. 
 
 101 
 
 "Nay, little boy," said Oisin, "I will not run. But 
 the dog will kill us unless we kill him first. Take this 
 ball of lead and hurl it into his mouth." 
 
 "O, I cannot," cried the boy. "I am afraid." 
 
 "Then place me in his path, little boy." 
 
 So, placed in the dog's path, Oisin met his rush, and 
 hurling the leaden ball with accurate aim it flew into 
 his open mouth and throat. The dog gave a gasp and 
 fell dead. 
 
 Then going up to the huge blackbird, Oisin and the 
 boy disjointed him, taking a quarter of him as a proof 
 to Patrick the Cleric. They found the rowan berry 
 and the ivy leaf in the woods of Ballyvalley down by 
 the Shannon River. 
 
 Patrick looked long at the three proofs of Oisin 's 
 bringing. 
 
 "Now I shall ever believe, Oisin my soul, in the 
 truth of the Fianna, though their God was not my God 
 nor their ways my ways. Come, old weary man, t) 
 the table. Henceforth your share shall be three times 
 greater than before." 
 
 "Three-quarters of beef, three bannocks of bread, 
 and three meskins of butter?" queried Oisin. 
 
 "Even so, old man," said Patrick. 
 
 ccs>frW\vvs>xsx>«xv:\x>coa 
 
Che Cast Battle of liiacD or 
 the Clanna Rurp. 
 
The Last Battle of Iliach of the 
 Clanna Rury. 
 
 THE war-trumpet of Queen Meave has sent forth 
 its challenge from the borders of Uladh, where 
 she lies encamped with her vast army on its 
 march of invasion into the Northern province. She 
 has come to reave the Brown Bull of Coolney from its 
 pasturage and carry it — the pride of the foray — back 
 with her to the valleys of Connacht as a rival to the 
 famous White Bull which her husband, Ailill, numbers 
 amongst his kingly herds. Her challenge had pene- 
 trated to the Court of the Red Branch at Emania, 
 where Conor, the King, reigned nobly and well, but 
 alas ! it found the son of Nessa and his brave warriors 
 lying in a state of torpidity under the spells of a woman 
 whom they had, once upon a time, wronged. Macha 
 was her name, and sadly did the Ultonians rue the day 
 on which they condemned her to a trial of speed with 
 the swiftest chariot of the King. Her husband's life 
 was the price of the wife's fleet-footedness, and when 
 the woman, having won, sank down, dying in giving 
 birth to her twin children, before Conor, she laid a 
 bitter curse upon him and his knights because of this 
 evil eric they had devised for her undoing. And the 
 curse had wrought itself out in the strange debility 
 which had overtaken them year after year since that 
 day at the same fateful time; so that now, when the red 
 
106 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 spectre of war came knocking upon their gates and 
 shouting the battle-cry of Connacht in their unheeding 
 ears, they reclined upon their skin-covered couches, 
 half asleep, nor made a move towards the spear and 
 shield that dangled overhead against the wall; nor did 
 even one listless hand stretch gropingly for the short 
 sharp sword that held its place in the leather belt above 
 the thigh of each fallen warrior. 
 
 Evil, in truth, was the deed that had brought about 
 this spell on the flower of the Red Branch chivalry; and 
 evil was the curse that had left the borders of Uladh 
 unguarded to the encroachment of a hostile clan. 
 Only the youths who were in training in the great 
 military school of Emania — children of those spell- 
 bound chieftains — bright-faced lads with flowing hair 
 and white unwounded limbs, and the very old fighting 
 men whose day of prowess was over long since, were 
 left to meet the onslaught of the fierce fair Queen and 
 her wild tribes from the Western kingdom. 
 
 Yet, of those who were untouched in Uladh by the 
 curse of Macha but two came swiftly towards the Ford 
 of Watching at the challenge of the Connacht maraud- 
 ers. One was in the flower of his youth, smooth- 
 skinned and blue-eyed. His golden curls fell down 
 upon his young shoulders and blew backwards on the 
 wind with the speed of his approach. He wore a shirt 
 and tunic of saffron colour closely fastened around his 
 body with a strong supple belt of leather, and over this 
 was his battle-girdle, also of hard-tanned leather, 
 which encircled him from his hips to his arm-pits, so 
 that neither javelins, nor sharp-pointed irons, nor 
 spears, nor darts could pierce through it, but bounded 
 away from it as if from a rock. 
 
 In his right hand he held a tall bronze spear, and on 
 
LAST BATTLE OF ILIACH OF THE CLANNA RURY. 107 
 
 his left arm a great curved black-red shield with a 
 scalloped keen-edged rim, so sharp that whenever he 
 used it as a weapon he cut equally with it as with his 
 spear or his sword. As he stood up straight in his 
 chariot behind the flying horses, which guided by the 
 unerring hand of Laegh, his charioteer, bore him like 
 a lightning shaft towards the Ford. Queen Maeve 
 leaning forward in her chariot-seat on the opposite 
 brink of the river, turned her proud eyes, full of ques- 
 tioning, on a tall dark youth who stood near. 
 
 "Is it but a boy they send to stay my progress," she 
 exclaimed in scornful wonder. "Dost thou know his 
 name, Ferdia? Thou hadst knowledge of the Ultonian 
 lads in thy younger days." 
 
 "I know him, O Queen, and thou wilt find him a foe- 
 man worthy of thy steel. Setanta, the son of Sual- 
 tainn, was his name ere he was my comrade at the 
 Military School of the Lady Scathach over the seas in 
 Alba. But afterwards, because of a wondrous feat, in 
 which he tore the watch-dog of Culann, the Armourer 
 of King Conor, asunder when it strove to prevent his 
 entrance into the Smith's house in the wake of the 
 King, he hath been called Cuchulainn, that is the Hound 
 of Culann. His strength shall yet be felt in this battle 
 as I and others have felt it in the wrestle, and his feats 
 of championship are many and marvellous." 
 
 "Yet he is but a boy," repeated the Queen softly, 
 "a boy, and oh ! the pity that against him our javelins 
 shall fly, and our blue sharp-pointed spears be set. 
 Can he be won to us, O Ferdia?" 
 
 "Nay, nay, my Queen, he is pledged to Conor, who 
 is his mother's brother; and Cuchulainn was never 
 known to forsake his friend, or break his plighted 
 word." 
 
108 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 While all eyes were fixed upon the young hero, the 
 rumbling noise of another chariot, hastily driven, 
 reached their ears across the Ford. Then a great 
 mocking shout of laughter rose from Maeve and her 
 attendant warriors, and in a moment it had spread 
 throughout the army. A second champion had come 
 to guard the borders of Uladh, and it was at his ap- 
 pearance their mirth had broken forth. 
 
 He drove forward to the margin of the Ford beside 
 Cuchulainn, and stayed his horses in full view of the in- 
 vaders. Their laughter rang louder and longer at 
 nearer sight of him. 
 
 Iliach, the Son of Cas, of the Clanna Rury, was his 
 name, and in his youth he had been one of the chief 
 fighters of that royal race. But now, alas, he had 
 grown very old, and being exempted by age from ac- 
 tive warfare he had settled down into ways of peace. 
 As he sat by the fireside in his caiseal, he fought once 
 more, in memory, the battles of his youth and man- 
 hood. The sword that he never hoped to wield again 
 rusted in its scabbard, his spears swung idly to and fro 
 upon the wall, the two old steeds that had borne him 
 into the core of conflict many a time and oft, were 
 turned out loose for life into the green, wide-spreading 
 meadows round his home, where the river rippled be- 
 tween high banks of sheltering trees, and the battle- 
 car which had withstood the dint of many a shock in 
 his fierce fighting days was lying, almost decaying, 
 hard by in a corner of his bawn. 
 
 Yet, when Iliach heard of the hostile descent upon 
 Uladh, the old war-anger wakened in his heart again, 
 until he felt that the s trength had come back to his arm 
 and the keen, far-seeing visions to his dimmed and 
 weary eye. He called his clansmen around him from 
 
LAST BATTLE OF ILIACH OF THE CLANNA RURY. 109 
 
 the hig-h hills and deep g-lens of that Northern tribe- 
 land, exhorting- them to follow whither he led, that the 
 Clanna Rury mig-ht stand, as it had often stood before, 
 for the defence of Uladh in the face of the enemy. 
 
 And while the clansmen were gathering and making- 
 ready, the old chieftain, impatient for the fray, set out 
 alone. He had caused the venerable speckled steeds 
 to be yoked once more to the shattered chariot, which 
 had neither cushions nor skins to it, for in his earlier 
 days a warrior looked upon these as luxuries un- 
 befitting- his manly hardihood. He slung- over his 
 shoulder his rough dark shield of iron with its thick 
 rim of silver, and round his waist, by its leathern 
 girdle, he fastened his gray-tilted heavy-striking sword 
 to his left side. In his hand he took his shaky-headed, 
 many-g-apped spears, and because that his armament 
 was ancient and scanty, his people filled the chariot 
 around him with stones and rocks and great flags that 
 he mig-ht, with these, defend himself to the last. 
 
 It was the sight of this shaggy, strangely-equipped 
 champion beside the young Cuchulainn that awakened 
 the mirth of the Olne-Machta. Great, indeed, was 
 their merriment as he waved his rusty spear threaten- 
 ingly across the water, and Maeve's shrill womanly 
 laughter rang- clearest of all. 
 
 " A boy and a dotard — Uladh is, in truth, well 
 g-uarded." She stood up in her seat and looked round 
 upon her immense army which darkened the plain as 
 far as eye could reach. 
 
 "The Bull of Coolney is mine, O Ailill," she cried to 
 her husband, "won without blood or loss, only by this 
 pleasant journey from our own territories to those of 
 King Conor. Let us cross the Ford." 
 
 But, straight as a young poplar, on the other side 
 
112 
 
 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 bounded forward till it reached the feet of Cuchulainn, 
 who saw it without ceasing one moment in his terrible 
 slaughter of his enemies. 
 
 "For thee, and for thee," he cried loudly, "for thee, 
 and for thee, O brave chieftain, who hath been my 
 mainstay, I shall deal havoc on those who have slain 
 thee." And the clansmen of Connacht fell as grass 
 falls beneath the scythe of the mower around him, be- 
 cause of his pity for the old warrior whose last battle 
 was done. 
 
 In the Northern Glen on the sea-swept eastern coast 
 of I T lsadh the Clanna Rury raised the caoine for their 
 chieftain, and over his body, which had been tenderly 
 conveyed from the Ford of Watching, they raised the 
 monumental mound. 
 
Cbe Red WDistler, 
 
The Red Whistler. 
 
 IN the land of Eirinn there was no palace so wonder- 
 ful and so beautiful as the Great House of the 
 Thousands of Soldiers which stood within the 
 Rath of the Kings on the gentle green slope of Tara. 
 Cormac Mac Art had rebuilt it, since the last burning, 
 with added magnificence, until it had become as a vast 
 gem with the glitter of silver and bronze and precious 
 polished woods. Red yew carved and emblazoned with 
 gold made the door-posts and the interior of the hall; 
 bronze shutters were to every window; vessels of gold 
 and silver stood tall upon the hospitable board, and 
 over the sitting-place of each warrior hung his well- 
 kept shining arms of valour. 
 
 Cormac the King was there in his royal seat, and 
 beside him Fionn Mac Cumhaill. Oisin swept his 
 harp-strings into rousing battle-strains, yet the King 
 heard not; his ear was bent for the fall of fairy feet that 
 came southward from Slieve Cullain, and his heart was 
 sad for the coming destruction of his noble house. 
 
 Now, the manner of the burning of Tara was this : 
 Once a year, on the eve of Samhain, the Tuatha De 
 Danaan, who had been vanquished and driven from the 
 land over which they once ruled into rath and hollow 
 hillside, where they had become expert in enchantment 
 and subtle magic arts, came forth into the world again 
 with power over their conquerors. Naught could with- 
 stand their fairy craft, nor could all the searching of 
 the stars inspire the Druids as to how this superb 
 
116 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 palace might be saved from the pitiless tongues of 
 flame blown against it by the Dedanaan people. 
 
 It was Midna, the chief enchanter, who sent his son 
 Ailinn every year against Tara. He came out from 
 Slieve Cullain in Ulster, whistling the music of sleep 
 on his fedan, and none who listened could keep his eye- 
 lids open. Kings, warriors, and serving-men sank at 
 the table or in the council-hall, and in the dawn of day 
 they wakened unhurt amid the ashes of the ruined 
 splendour. 
 
 Cormac had sought advice from Fionn Mac Cumhaill 
 as to how this disaster could be averted, and Fionn, 
 putting his Thumb of Knowledge to his mouth said 
 straightway, 
 
 "I shall seek Fiach Mac Conga, who was a brother- 
 in-arms of my father. A magic spear he hath, and 
 wisdom to guide us aright." 
 
 Said Fiach Mac Conga to Fionn, giving him the 
 magic spear, "When you hear the fairy music and the 
 sweet-stringed tympan and the melodious-sounding 
 fedan, uncover the blade of this spear and apply its 
 sharp edge to your forehead. Sleep will then keep far 
 from you, until Ailinn comes within reach. Follow 
 him, and he will die like mortal man through the 
 piercing of its flying point." 
 
 This was the comfort Fionn brought to Cormac as 
 they waited on the fateful night for the coming of the 
 Red Whistler. Ears were strained in listening, and 
 the keen, swift-glancing eyes of war-worn nobles grew 
 shadowy with anticipation. 
 
 Slowly and sweetly, through the starlight, the music 
 came down the bare arches of the wood. 
 
 "I hear my mother's voice," said an old man, speak- 
 ing before the King could speak. 
 
THE RED WHISTLER. 117 
 
 "And I the last sob of my son who fell in battle," 
 said another. 
 
 "Ah!" cried Cormac, hiding his paling face in his 
 robe, "It is a woman's singing voice I hear, and I see 
 the shine of a woman's hair : my first love, and my 
 Heart's Delight, who is dead." 
 
 In the eyes of the Queen horror struggled with 
 drowsiness as an old memory rose and taunted her. 
 
 Nearer and nearer the silvern haunting strains ap- 
 proached. Heavier the sleep fell upon shrinking eye- 
 lids. 
 
 Said Coilte slumberously : 
 
 "It is a child I am, and my head is laid against my 
 father's knee." He stretched his huge frame upon the 
 yielding rushes. 
 
 And Oisin, with groping fingers across his harp- 
 strings — 
 
 "I have a vision .... her eyes speak .... she 
 calls my name .... I come .... I come .... It 
 is the Land of Youth .... I come." 
 
 His voice trailed off into forgetfulness. 
 
 " Hark, hark, it is the Dord Fianna and the hunting- 
 song," whispered Goll Mac Morna in his beard, and 
 he, too, passed away into dreaming. 
 
 So, one by one, the warriors listened and sank help- 
 lessly to the ground. To each the fedan-player bore a 
 message, and where one saw sorrow, another saw joy. 
 
 Some there were who saw fear only; fear of a moving 
 battle-place and spouting blood. Those shuddered as 
 the fairy sleep overtook them. 
 
 "Pierce me, O Spear," cried Fionn, "that the en- 
 chantment may be withstood." 
 
 Plaintive and wondrously sweet, like an echo over 
 moonlit waves, he heard tender tones calling. 
 
118 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 "It is Berach the Freckled, whom I once wooed," he 
 groaned. "Her voice was ever sweeter than the linnet 
 in the springtime." 
 
 Around him it played. His grey hair was stirred by 
 it; he felt the ripples of music on his face. 
 
 "Deeper, deeper, O Spear. Bring blood between 
 my eyelids lest I fail." And he drove the point into 
 his high wrinkled forehead. 
 
 The music was below and above him now, floating 
 into his heart, filling his brain, bearing his soul away 
 on wings. 
 
 "O Spear, leap out of my hand that is afraid to pierce 
 deep enough. Pierce thou, O Spear!" and he loosed 
 his hold. 
 
 It sank between his brows in a swift bound. The 
 red tide came flowing. 
 
 Fionn thrust the stream aside with one hand, and 
 saw, nearing the Royal House, the fairy Whistler. 
 
 He was clad in scarlet from head to heel. His hair, 
 coal-black, came curling from beneath a scarlet cap, 
 and his berry -tinted, beardless lips were curved around 
 his fedan. 
 
 As he played flames came and went with his breath 
 on the air. So near were they at times that the door- 
 posts were licked with fire. Fionn waited. 
 
 The Whistler crossed the threshold, and as he moved 
 on the wavering flames touched Goll Mac Morna's 
 bratta. 
 
 Then Fionn sprang up with a loud cry, which echoed 
 like peals of thunder in that hall of sleep. The red 
 figure before him seemed made of fire as he chased Tt 
 through the night. Down the leafless wood, over 
 brown sodden bogs in which its passing shadow danced 
 and glimmered, he tracked it. By its magic potency it 
 
THE RED WHISTLER. 119 
 
 crossed, unwet, the wide shining- river of Boyne, where 
 Angus dwelt. 
 
 It bounded like a blood-soaked arrow from end to 
 end of the grey -green valleys, and glowed as a beacon 
 on the high-crested hills. Close did Fionn follow un- 
 afraid. He held the spear in his right hand ready for 
 the cast; he shook the beads of sweat from his hair, 
 which strayed backward on the wind, and on his lips 
 was a prayer to the gods of his fathers. 
 
 Faster, faster, O son of Cumhaill, and noble chief- 
 tain of the Fianna. Faster, oh faster, for the sombre 
 crown of Slieve Cullain lowers through the dark, and 
 the Tuatha de Danaan are ready to bring thee captive 
 to their underworld. 
 
 Faster, oh, faster. The spear leaps, bounds, pants 
 between thy fingers; its slender length quivers with life; 
 its point is as a star showing thee the way. 
 
 Then Fionn put forth his hunting speed. Swifter 
 than a deer he dashed over the rocky ground, wary as 
 a hawk might swoop upon its prey he tracked the Red 
 Whistler to his lair, and when the rock-door slowly 
 opened in the rugged side of Slieve Cullain he lifted 
 high the hand that held the spear, and let it go. It 
 hissed and glittered in its passage through the air, and 
 still hissing and glittering it struck the Red Whistler, 
 piercing him to the marrow. He fell, face downwards, 
 half in and half out of the fairy doorway. 
 
 Then Fionn drew nigh cautiously, lest the Tuatha de 
 Danaan might weave their spells about him; and he 
 pulled the spear from the body of Ailinn. When he 
 
120 
 
 IN THE CELTIC PAST. 
 
 looked at it there was no blood upon the point, only a 
 moisture that shone with changing hues as dew might 
 under the silver glow of a summer moon. 
 
 Thereafter Cormac Mac Art had peace and joy in 
 Tara. The bards sang the praises of Fionn, and from 
 the meshes of her long fair hair Princess Grainne gazed 
 upon him. The wonder in her eyes was very sweet, 
 so sweet that he felt the quickening of his pulses as in 
 the remote passionate days of his youth." 
 
 "Let her be mine, O King," he said, and Cormac 
 replied, 
 
 "Even so." 
 
 Thereat Grainne smiled radiantly in consent, not 
 dreaming yet of a young brown face which was to make 
 her destiny and give to Eirinn the tenderest love-tale 
 that was ever told. 
 
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