A PROPHECY OF VENGEANCE

Throughout his life as Ulster’s champion, Cú Chulainn faced many warriors, defeating all who challenged him.

Among them was a powerful sorcerer named Calatín, whom Cú Chulainn struck down in battle. Unbeknownst to him, Calatín’s wife was pregnant. She later gave birth to six children—three boys and three girls—and raised them in the arts of druidry and sorcery, filling their hearts with a single purpose: to avenge their father’s death.

Years passed, and Cú Chulainn lived on, unaware of the danger growing in the shadows. When the children of Calatín came of age, they set out to take their revenge.

A KING’S DESPERATION

King Conchobar mac Nessa knew that if Ulster lost Cú Chulainn, their greatest warrior, Emain Macha would fall, and his reign would come to an end.

To protect him, Conchobar summoned Cú Chulainn to Emain Macha, keeping him distracted with feasts, games, and sports. He told him nothing of the looming threat, for he knew that Cú Chulainn would never cower from a fight.

Meanwhile, the three sons and three daughters of Calatín arrived at Emain Macha and began weaving their sorcery.

Using their magic, they conjured the sounds of war—the clash of steel on steel, the thunder of marching feet, the screams of the dying.

The terrible noise filled the city, but Conchobar was prepared.

He gathered his warriors and held a great feast, filling the halls with singing, storytelling, and laughter. For three days and three nights, the joyous revelry drowned out the phantom war outside, keeping Cú Chulainn unaware of the deception.

But the magic did not fade, and Conchobar knew he could not hold him back forever.

He sent Cú Chulainn away to Glenn na Marbh—the Valley of Death, a place where no sound could enter. There, he would hear nothing of the battle cries meant to lure him out.

A FINAL BETRAYAL

When their sorcery failed, the children of Calatín knew they needed another plan.

One of the daughters disguised herself as Niamh, a dear friend of Cú Chulainn, and entered Glenn na Marbh.

She told him he was needed in battle, urging him to take up his weapons and fight for Ulster.

Without hesitation, Cú Chulainn leapt into action, racing to hitch his horse, the Grey of Macha, to his chariot.

But for the first time since they had fought together, the Grey of Macha shied away, showing him the whites of her eyes.

He tried again—and again, she stepped back.

On his third attempt, he berated her, demanding she obey him.

At last, the horse stepped into the traces—but as she did, she wept great tears of blood.

Cú Chulainn called for his charioteer, Láeg, who stepped up beside him.

Then came his mother, Deichtire, offering him a farewell cup of wine, giving him her blessing for the coming battle.

But as he lifted the cup to his lips, the wine turned to blood.

Shocked, he threw it away, and Deichtire refilled it—but again, it turned to blood.

On the third attempt, the same dark omen appeared, and Cú Chulainn could not drink.

THE PROPHECY OF THE WASHER AT THE FORD

As he rode toward battle, Cú Chulainn crossed a river, where he saw an old woman washing bloodied clothes in the water.

When he greeted her, she looked up and said:

“I am washing the armour of Cú Chulainn, who is going to die today.”

Cú Chulainn drove on, but the weight of her words hung over him.

Further along the road, he came upon three hags roasting a hound on a spit.

They invited him to share their meal, but he hesitated—he was under a geis never to eat the flesh of a hound, his namesake.

He tried to refuse, but the hags mocked him, saying he had grown too proud to eat with common folk.

Bound by his honour as a warrior, he could not turn down their hospitality.

Taking the meat with his left hand, he ate.

The moment it touched his lips, all the strength drained from his left arm.

When a piece of meat dropped onto his thigh, his left leg weakened as well.

Cú Chulainn knew he had broken his geis—and in doing so, he had lost half his strength.

The hags vanished—they had been the Morrígan, the goddess of war, taking revenge for the time Cú Chulainn had rejected her love.

THE FINAL BATTLE

As Cú Chulainn rode on, he encountered the three sons of Calatín, alongside Lugaid mac Con Roí, son of his old enemy.

It had been foretold that Cú Chulainn’s first three spear throws in battle would kill three kings.

The sons of Calatín sought to claim those spears for themselves.

The first son demanded a spear, threatening to satirise Ulster if he refused.

“Never let it be said that I am not a generous man,” Cú Chulainn replied—and he hurled the spear through the first son’s skull.

Lugaid pulled the spear from the corpse and threw it back, missing Cú Chulainn but striking Láeg in the stomach, killing his loyal charioteer.

The second son demanded a spear.

“Ulster will not lose its honour because of its champion,” Cú Chulainn said—and he threw his spear through the second son’s head.

Lugaid hurled it back, killing the Grey of Macha.

Cú Chulainn fell to his knees, mourning his great horse.

The third son stepped forward and demanded a spear.

“Never let it be said I brought dishonour upon my family,” Cú Chulainn said—and he cast his final spear through the last son’s chest.

Lugaid pulled it free and hurled it one last time, striking Cú Chulainn through the stomach, spilling his intestines onto the ground.

A WARRIOR’S LAST STAND

Mortally wounded, Cú Chulainn crawled to a nearby lake for a final drink of water.

His enemies held back, fearing he had more strength left than he showed.

Revived by the water, Cú Chulainn refused to die on the ground like an animal.

He crawled to a standing stone and tied himself to it, gripping his sword tightly.

For three days, he stood there, his eyes unblinking.

None dared approach, fearing he might rise again.

At last, a raven landed on his shoulder.

Seeing this, Lugaid knew it was safe to strike.

He approached to take Cú Chulainn’s sword, but the hero had died with such a grip on his blade that Lugaid could not pry it from his fingers.

Frustrated, he cut the tendons of Cú Chulainn’s hand—but as the sword fell, it sliced off Lugaid’s own hand.

And so, Cú Chulainn, King among Warriors, fell at last.

A FRIENDSHIP TORN APART

When Queen Medb of Connacht led her invasion of Ulster to steal the Brown Bull of Cooley, the warriors of the Red Branch were unable to fight. They lay writhing in birth pangs, struck down by the Curse of Macha.

Only Cú Chulainn remained to defend Ulster, and for weeks, he fought tirelessly—ambushing Medb’s forces by night and attacking their supply lines. His resistance was devastating, and too many lives were being lost.

Seeking a way to end the bloodshed, Medb made a bargain with Cú Chulainn:

“Fight a single champion from my army each day, and we will halt our advance until the duel is done.”

Cú Chulainn agreed, knowing he only needed to hold them off long enough for the curse on the Red Branch to lift.

Day after day, Medb sent her greatest warriors against him, and day after day, he defeated them with ease.

Medb knew there was only one warrior in her army strong enough to face Cú Chulainn—his own closest friend, Ferdia mac Dámán, his sworn brother-in-arms, who had trained alongside him on Scáthach’s Isle.

MEDB’S DECEPTION

Medb knew that Ferdia would never agree to fight Cú Chulainn of his own free will.

So she invited Ferdia to a feast, seating him next to her daughter, Findabair of the Fair Eyebrows.

Findabair filled his cup with fine wine, speaking softly and sweetly, and when Ferdia was drunk and happy, Medb made her move.

“Do you know why you were invited tonight?” she asked.

Ferdia laughed.

“Because I am the greatest warrior in Ireland!”

Medb smiled.

“That is true,” she said. “But more than that, I have an offer for you. I will give you the best lands in Connacht, great herds of cattle, freedom from all taxes and tithes. I will place this golden ring on your finger, and my daughter’s hand in marriage, if you will fight for me.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Ferdia understood what was coming next.

She was asking him to take up arms against his best friend and blood-brother.

Even though they stood on opposite sides, he could not betray their bond. He refused her offer outright.

But Medb was prepared.

She merely turned away and muttered to herself,

“Ah, so he spoke the truth.”

Ferdia snapped to attention.

“Who spoke what truth?” he demanded.

Medb sighed and looked at him sadly.

“Cú Chulainn said you would never fight him,” she said. “He bragged that you were too much of a coward to ever challenge him, because deep down, you knew he was the better warrior.”

Ferdia went still.

He could not stand to have his courage insulted, especially in front of Findabair.

Burning with rage and wounded pride, he swore an oath.

“I will fight him,” he declared.

The next morning, he rode to the ford to meet his friend in battle.

A BATTLE OF BROTHERS

When Cú Chulainn saw Ferdia standing on the far bank of the ford, his heart shattered.

He was so overcome with grief, his feet froze to the ground.

“I cannot fight you,” he said.

Cú Chulainn spoke of their youth—of the days they spent training together, learning the same arts of war, moving in perfect synchrony.

“Do not make me fight you,” he begged.

For a moment, Ferdia hesitated.

But he was bound by his vow, and still stung by Medb’s words.

Though his heart was heavy, he threw Cú Chulainn’s words back in his face.

“We both knew this day would come,” he said.

His insult ignited Cú Chulainn’s anger, and at last, he was able to move.

They fought in the waters of the ford for four days, each knowing the other’s every move, every trick, every feint.

By day, they clashed swords and traded blows—by night, they tended each other’s wounds, shared food, and slept back to back.

But Cú Chulainn held back.

He refused to use his deadliest weapon—the Gáe Bulg, a spear made from the bones of a sea monster.

It was impossible to block. Once thrown, it would find the body’s weakest point, pierce it, and split into fifty deadly shards inside the flesh.

He could never use it on his friend.

THE FINAL DAY

On the fourth morning, everything changed.

Ferdia refused to eat with Cú Chulainn.

He did not bind his wounds, and he did not share a fire.

There was a grimness in his stance as they met at the ford, and Cú Chulainn felt the shift.

Ferdia knew that today, one of them would die.

Fearing the Gáe Bulg, he tied a stone between his legs to protect his weakest point.

When the battle began, Cú Chulainn could no longer hold back.

He leapt onto the edge of Ferdia’s shield, ready to launch his Salmon Leap and bring his sword crashing down onto his friend’s skull.

But Ferdia was ready.

He threw his shield aside, dropping Cú Chulainn into the water to cool his battle fury.

But each time, the rage returned stronger.

The third time Cú Chulainn rose from the river, his fury did not fade.

His skin turned black and mottled. His body swelled to twice its size.

His eyes burned red, and his vision clouded with blood.

He towered over Ferdia, the rage of the warp-spasm consuming him.

They grappled in the water, straining against each other, but Cú Chulainn’s monstrous strength was too much.

He reached for his sword, ready to strike the killing blow.

Then, for one brief moment, their eyes met.

Cú Chulainn hesitated.

But Ferdia did not.

He drove his blade into Cú Chulainn’s chest—again and again, until it was red with blood.

Cú Chulainn shrieked in pain, and his charioteer, Láeg, knew there was only one way to end it.

He threw the Gáe Bulg into the river, so it floated down to Cú Chulainn.

Ferdia saw the spear coming and instinctively dropped his shield to protect his lower body.

In that moment, Cú Chulainn hurled his javelin into Ferdia’s chest.

As Ferdia raised his shield again, Cú Chulainn caught the Gáe Bulg with his foot and kicked it upwards, driving it through Ferdia’s groin, shattering the stone shield he had placed there.

The spear splintered inside his body, and Ferdia collapsed.

A WARRIOR’S GRIEF

Cú Chulainn caught him as he fell.

Tears mingled with blood as they held each other one last time.

Ferdia cursed Medb’s treachery—and his own betrayal.

With his last breath, he whispered his farewell.

Cú Chulainn carried his body across the ford, so his friend would die on Ulster’s soil.

Then, overcome with grief and exhaustion, he collapsed beside him.

CÚ ROÍ’S TEST

The warriors of Ulster still had no clear winner for the champion’s portion, despite all previous trials. To settle the matter once and for all, they were sent to Cú Roí mac Dáire, a great magician and judge who travelled the world in search of wisdom and wonders.

No matter where he roamed, Cú Roí always knew what was happening in his homeland, for he had cast a powerful enchantment over his fort. Every night, his stronghold spun like a mill wheel, hiding all its entrances until dawn.

Since Cú Roí was away on his travels, the warriors were welcomed by his daughter, Bláthnat, who followed her father’s instructions on how to test them.

Each warrior—Lóegaire Búadach, Conall Cernach, and Cú Chulainn—was given the same challenge: stand guard over the fort for one night.

THE FIRST TWO NIGHTS

On the first night, Lóegaire took his place as guard.

When the fort sealed itself with magic, everything was calm—until a giant emerged from the sea, carrying a bundle of stripped oak trunks. He hurled them at Lóegaire, who dodged and fought back with his spear. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not land a single blow on the giant.

Then, with one massive sweep of his hand, the giant grabbed Lóegaire as if he were an infant and hurled him over the fort, sending him crashing to the ground beyond.

Those inside heard the sound of his fall and assumed he had leapt over the walls to prove his prowess. Lóegaire, too ashamed to admit the truth, let them believe it.

The second night, Conall Cernach took the watch—and met the same fate. He, too, was thrown over the walls, and he, too, said nothing when morning came.

CÚ CHULAINN’S TURN

On the third night, it was Cú Chulainn’s turn to guard the fort.

He did not stand alone for long. Soon, nine torches appeared on the hill, carried by nine warriors.

“If you are friends, stay back,” he called. “If you are foes, come forward and be killed.”

The warriors attacked, and he slew them all, stacking their heads in a pile.

Twice more, nine warriors came against him—and twice more, he cut them down, adding to his grim pile of trophies.

Only then did the giant appear, hurling his great oaken logs at Cú Chulainn.

But when the giant reached out to seize him, Cú Chulainn did something neither Lóegaire nor Conall had dared—he ran up the giant’s arm, leapt onto his shoulder, and hacked off his head.

But that was not enough.

To prove himself equal to the other warriors, Cú Chulainn decided he must also leap over the fort.

He ran at the walls, jumping halfway up, but fell back to the ground. He tried again and again, failing each time.

Frustrated, he entered his battle frenzy—his hero-light blazed around him, and he unleashed his salmon leap, soaring over the fort at last.

At dawn, Bláthnat declared Cú Chulainn the victor, but Lóegaire and Conall protested, claiming Cú Chulainn had received supernatural aid.

The matter was still not settled.

THE STRANGE CHALLENGER

Not long after, at a great feast in Emain Macha, a tall, fearsome stranger strode into the hall.

He wore a cowhide around his waist and carried a massive axe.

“I am Uath of the Stranger,” he announced. “I have travelled all of Ireland seeking a man of honour, and I have found none.”

He turned to the warriors and declared:

“All I ask is this: One man must strike off my head with my axe. But tomorrow, I shall return the favour.”

Lóegaire was the first to step forward.

Uath knelt, placing his neck on the block.

Lóegaire swung the axe with all his strength, slicing through Uath’s neck and into the wood beneath.

Blood gushed from the wound—but to everyone’s horror, the stranger stood up, picked up his severed head, reattached it, and walked out of the hall.

The next morning, Lóegaire was nowhere to be found.

THE TEST CONTINUES

When Uath returned, he mocked the Ulstermen.

“Are all the men of Ulster cowards? Does no one keep their word?”

Unable to bear the insult, Conall Cernach stepped forward to take the challenge.

As before, he cut off Uath’s head, but the stranger simply stood up, picked up the pieces of his head, and left.

The next morning, Conall had disappeared.

Now furious, Uath taunted the warriors:

“Is there no man in Ulster with honour?!”

At this, Cú Chulainn leapt up.

“I will take your test!”

Once more, Uath knelt, and Cú Chulainn struck off his head, hurling it into the rafters.

But just as before, Uath stood up, retrieved his head, and walked away.

CÚ CHULAINN’S FINAL TRIAL

The next morning, Cú Chulainn sat in silence.

He did not want to die, but he had given his word—and his word was his honour.

The people of Ulster wept for him, trying to convince him to flee, but he refused.

“I do not wish to die,” he said. “But I will not break my word.”

Uath arrived and asked:

“Will you uphold your end of the bargain?”

Cú Chulainn knelt before the block, placing his neck on the wood.

“Stretch out your neck,” Uath ordered.

“Stop tormenting me and do what you must!” Cú Chulainn snapped.

Uath raised his great axe—and brought it down.

But instead of cutting off Cú Chulainn’s head, he turned the axe and struck the ground beside him.

Cú Chulainn looked up—and saw that Uath had transformed.

Before him stood Cú Roí mac Dáire.

“This was my final test,” Cú Roí said. “And you have passed.”

“From this day forward, you are the Champion of Ulster, with the rights to the Champion’s Portion. And your wife is the first woman in Ulster, above all others.”

He turned to the warriors and declared:

“Anyone who dares deny this will answer to me. And I vow to kill anyone who keeps Cú Chulainn from what is rightfully his.”

And so, at last, the Champion’s Portion of Ulster was decided.

A CHALLENGE TO DECIDE THE CHAMPION

After the chaos at Bricriu’s feast, the question remained—who was the true champion of Ulster, worthy of the champion’s portion?

The warriors Lóegaire Búadach, Conall Cernach, and Cú Chulainn all claimed the honour, but the matter was far from settled. Conchobar mac Nessa, along with his steward Sencha mac Ailella, decided that a fair judgment must be made.

They resolved to take the question to the King of Connacht, Ailill mac Máta, and his wife, Queen Medb, in their stronghold at Cruachán. It would be up to them to decide which warrior was most deserving.

With this, the warriors prepared their chariots and set off for Connacht.

THE RACE TO CRUACHÁN

As they set out, Cú Chulainn told Conall that he should go first because his chariot was so lopsided that its tracks would last for a year!

Annoyed but undeterred, Conall and Lóegaire set off at full speed.

Cú Chulainn, however, stayed behind to amuse the women of Emain Macha. He took their sewing needles and threw them into the air, so that the tip of each needle passed through the eye of the next, joining them together in a row. Then, he gave each woman back her own needle, perfectly threaded as before.

His charioteer, Láeg, grew impatient.

“You squinting fool! They will already be at Cruachán, and the contest will be decided if you don’t move!”

With that, Cú Chulainn leapt onto his chariot and sped off.

THE ARRIVAL IN CRUACHÁN

Cú Chulainn’s horses were the swiftest in Ireland—the Grey of Macha and the Black of Sainglain. Though Conall and Lóegaire were already halfway to Connacht, it was not long before Cú Chulainn caught up with them.

Meanwhile, Queen Medb sat sewing with her ladies when a thunderous sound approached.

She turned to her daughter, Findabair of the Fair Eyebrows, and told her to look out the window.

Findabair described a red-haired warrior with a forked beard, whom Medb recognised as Lóegaire Búadach.

Then she saw another warrior with long, wavy hair—Conall Cernach.

But when she described a dark, sad-eyed man, wrapped in a seven-folded crimson cloak, with seven hero-lights in his eyes, Medb’s face grew pale.

“That is Cú Chulainn,” she said. “If he comes to make war on us, we will be like grain crushed against a millstone.”

Fearing his wrath, she ordered the gates to be opened and instructed her people to greet the Ulstermen with hospitality—some women fully dressed, others in less modest attire, all bearing food and drink.

If the warriors came seeking battle, then meeting them with kindness would be the wisest course.

A ROYAL WELCOME

When the Ulstermen arrived, they were bathed, fed, and given fine quarters.

Queen Medb asked whether they preferred to stay together in one house or separately.

They chose to stay apart, and soon after, King Ailill and the rest of the Red Branch warriors arrived.

For three days and three nights, the Ulstermen were entertained with lavish feasts.

Finally, on the third night, Ailill turned to Conchobar and asked:

“What is the purpose of your visit?”

Conchobar explained that only Ailill could fairly judge which of his three warriors deserved the champion’s portion.

Ailill grumbled at being given such a difficult task but agreed.

“It will take me three days and three nights to decide,” he declared.

The Ulstermen returned home, leaving Cú Chulainn, Lóegaire, and Conall behind to await the judgment.

THE TEST OF THE THREE CATS

As soon as they had left, Medb set her own plan in motion.

She opened the side of a nearby fairy mound, releasing three monstrous cat-like creatures, and sent them straight to the warriors’ houses.

When Lóegaire and Conall saw the monstrous cats stalking towards them, they leapt into the rafters and stayed there all night, watching as the creatures devoured their food and tore apart their rooms.

But when Cú Chulainn saw his monster, he struck it on the head with his sword—only for the blade to bounce off as if striking stone.

Realising brute force would not work, he locked eyes with the creature.

Neither warrior nor beast blinked until morning, when the cats returned to their mound.

THE CHAMPION’S SECRET GIFTS

The next day, Lóegaire and Conall protested.

“This is not the kind of contest we expected! We fight men, not monsters!”

Medb turned to Ailill and said:

“The difference between Lóegaire and Conall is the difference between bronze and silver. But the difference between Conall and Cú Chulainn is the difference between silver and red gold. There is no contest at all.”

Still, Ailill was reluctant to declare a winner.

“If I name one of them the champion, the others will surely turn against me.”

Medb had a solution.

She called Lóegaire first, praised his great feats, and handed him a bronze cup with a small silver bird at the bottom.

“When the champion’s portion is given in Ulster, produce this cup as proof of your victory,” she said.

Lóegaire left, pleased with himself.

Next, she called Conall and gave him a silver cup with a red-gold bird at the bottom, telling him the same thing.

Finally, she summoned Cú Chulainn and gave him a cup of red gold, with a jewelled bird at the bottom.

THE FINAL CONTEST

As the warriors prepared to leave, they saw the youths of Cruachán performing the wheel-feat.

They took a chariot wheel and threw it into the air, competing to see who could throw it the highest.

Lóegaire went first, throwing the wheel only halfway up the wall. He thought the jeers of the crowd were cheers.

Conall threw it as high as the roof beam, and again, the crowd mocked him, though he mistook it for applause.

Then, Cú Chulainn stepped forward.

He flung the wheel high into the sky and caught it again as it fell, to thunderous cheers.

But to Cú Chulainn, it sounded as though they were mocking him.

THE RETURN TO ULSTER

When the warriors returned to Ulster, they gathered for a feast.

Lóegaire proudly presented his bronze cup, claiming that Queen Medb had declared him the champion.

But then Conall produced his silver cup, and the two began to argue.

Finally, Cú Chulainn placed his red-gold cup before them, the jeweled bird gleaming at its base.

Lóegaire, furious, accused him of buying his prize, and the warriors nearly came to blows again.

Once more, Sencha had to separate them, this time sending them to the house of Cú Roí mac Dáire—a wise man whose judgment no one could question.

The contest was still not over.

But that is a tale for another time.

BRICRIU’S BITTER TONGUE

Among the warriors of the Red Branch in Ulster, there was one whose words were sharper than any sword—Bricriu of the Bitter Tongue. He had a terribly sour disposition, which many believed stemmed from a wound he had suffered in his youth. A javelin had pierced his kidneys, leaving him unable to enjoy rich food or strong drink. While others feasted, he could eat only porridge and eggs, drinking nothing stronger than buttermilk.

Unable to find pleasure in food, Bricriu took his greatest delight in stirring up strife among others. His sharp tongueand love for discord eventually became so troublesome that King Conchobar mac Nessa banished him from Emain Macha, commanding him to stay in his own lands.

But Bricriu was not one to accept defeat.

THE GREAT FEASTING HALL

Determined to regain his influence, Bricriu set to work on a grand scheme. He built for Conchobar and the Red Branch warriors the finest feasting hall ever seen in Ireland.

It had twelve different houses for the twelve houses of the Red Branch, a high seat in the centre for Conchobar, and a private balcony for Bricriu and his wife to sit and watch the chaos he planned to unleash.

The hall was built of the finest materials, gilded in bronze and gold, and adorned with carvings so beautiful that no one in Ulster could resist coming to see it. When it was finally ready, Bricriu set out for Emain Macha to invite Conchobar, the warriors, and their families to his great feast.

A WARNING IGNORED

Conchobar was willing to accept the invitation, but Fergus mac Róich warned him,

“If we go, there will be more of us left dead than alive. He will stir up such a fight among us.”

Hearing of their hesitation, Bricriu sent a dire warning:

“If you refuse my invitation, I will stir up strife between every father and son in Ulster until they come to death-blows. If that is not enough, I will set every woman against her daughter, and I will cause such division among the women that they will beat their breasts in rage and turn their milk sour.”

At this terrible threat, the men of Ulster gathered for a meeting.

Their wisest man, Sencha mac Ailella, suggested a compromise—they would attend Bricriu’s feast, but only under strict conditions. Bricriu would be placed under guard of eight men and would not be allowed to return to the hall until the feast was over.

Bricriu agreed to the terms, but he had no intention of keeping his promise.

THREE WARRIORS, ONE PRIZE

While the warriors of Ulster debated, Bricriu had already set his plan in motion.

First, he approached Lóegaire Búadach, a warrior of the Red Branch, and began praising him excessively.

“Lóegaire,” he said, “it is a mystery to me why, after all your great deeds, the champion’s portion of Ulster is not given to you at every feast.”

Lóegaire agreed that he deserved it. Bricriu described the champion’s portion at his feast—a boar raised on milk and sweet herbs, a bullock fattened on the finest grass, a vat of wine so large three men could fit inside, and the sweetest honey cakes in Ireland.

“Make sure your charioteer claims the champion’s portion for you,” Bricriu whispered.

Lóegaire promised he would.

Next, Bricriu sought out Conall Cernach.

“Conall, I do not understand why such a great warrior as yourself does not claim the champion’s portion,” he said.

By the time he was done with his flattery, Conall was determined to claim the prize for himself.

Finally, Bricriu found Cú Chulainn.

He described the riches of the champion’s portion, and Cú Chulainn laughed.

“If any man tries to keep me from it,” he said, “I will leave his head on the floor.”

Satisfied, Bricriu returned home, delighted with the chaos he had created.

THE FEAST TURNS TO WAR

On the day of the feast, Conchobar and his warriors arrived, accompanied by their families and retainers.

When they were all seated, Bricriu, under guard, stood up and declared:

“Let the champion’s portion be claimed!”

Then, laughing, he withdrew to his balcony to watch the mayhem unfold.

Sure enough, Lóegaire’s charioteer stood up and claimed the champion’s portion for Lóegaire. At the same moment, Conall’s charioteer did the same for Conall.

Then Láeg, Cú Chulainn’s charioteer, shouted them both down:

“It is clear to all that Cú Chulainn is the greatest warrior in Ulster!”

At once, the three champions leapt to their feet and threw themselves at each other.

Lóegaire and Conall attacked Cú Chulainn together, and the fighting was so fierce that the sparks from their blades made the feasting hall look like it was on fire.

Sencha turned to Conchobar and warned,

“You must put a stop to this fight. It is two against one, and soon the other warriors will take sides.”

Conchobar stood up, unarmed, and walked into the midst of the battle, placing himself between the blades.

The three warriors dropped their swords rather than strike their king, and Sencha declared that the matter must be settled another day.

The champion’s portion was divided among all, and the warriors swore to await a final judgment.

But Bricriu was not done yet.

THE WOMEN’S CONTEST

Seeing the women of Ulster leaving the hall for a walk, Bricriu rushed to catch them.

To Lóegaire’s wife, he whispered:

“The first woman to return will be counted the first lady of Ulster, queen among all.”

Then he said the same thing to Conall’s wife and to Emer, the wife of Cú Chulainn.

As the women walked, each tried to stay slightly ahead of the others.

The pace quickened—and soon they were racing at full speed.

Inside the hall, the men heard a thunderous noise and thought an enemy army was approaching.

But Sencha knew better.

“Close the doors!” he cried. “Bricriu has turned the women against each other!”

Just as Emer reached the door, it slammed shut.

The women, furious, demanded entry.

To settle the dispute, they agreed to a battle of words.

Lóegaire’s wife boasted of her beauty, Conall’s wife of her virtue, but Emer ended the debate:

“Shaped like cows and led by cows are the women of Ulster when set beside Cú Chulainn’s wife.”

This nearly set the warriors fighting again, but Cú Chulainn simply lifted the entire side of the hall, allowing Emer and her fifty waiting women to enter.

A FEAST OF DISCORD

Though Bricriu had achieved his goal of chaos, his beautiful feasting hall lay in ruins.

Still, he had one last trick to play—but that is a tale for another day.