THE JOURNEY TO SCOTLAND

When Cú Chulainn set out to court Emer, her father, Forgall the Wily, was determined to keep them apart. Knowing Cú Chulainn’s restless nature, he devised a plan.

Disguising himself as a merchant from Gaul, Forgall visited King Conchobar’s court and spoke of Scáthach, the greatest trainer of warriors in the world. He questioned why the Red Branch warriors had never trained with her.

Hearing this, Cú Chulainn’s curiosity was sparked. Never satisfied with his skills, he immediately decided to seek out Scáthach.

Two of the greatest Red Branch warriors, Lóegaire Búadach and Conall Cernach, agreed to accompany him.

Scáthach’s home lay far across the sea on an island in Alba (Scotland). But before they even reached her lands, Forgall sent a vision of Emain Macha, overwhelming Lóegaire and Conall with homesickness. They turned back to Ireland, leaving Cú Chulainn alone in the wilderness.

THE LION-BEAST AND A STRANGER’S HELP

Determined, Cú Chulainn journeyed on, though he had no clear path to follow.

One day, a massive lion-like beast appeared, blocking his way. It did not attack but leapt in front of him each time he tried to move. Eventually, Cú Chulainn understood—it wanted to help him.

He climbed onto the creature’s back, and it raced across the plains of Alba for four days and nights.

On the fifth day, they passed a group of jeering youths, laughing at the sight of a man riding such a strange beast. Unable to bear their mockery, Cú Chulainn bid the creature farewell and continued on foot.

He came upon a house, where the woman of the house greeted him warmly, calling him by name. She had once stayed with his family in Ulster and was delighted to see him again.

After feeding and resting him, she told him the way to Scáthach’s island and warned of the traps Forgall had placedin his path—valleys filled with monsters and deadly obstacles.

Armed with her knowledge, Cú Chulainn evaded the dangers and finally reached Scáthach’s island.

THE BRIDGE OF TRIALS

His joy at finishing his journey was nothing compared to the joy of finding four Ulstermen nearby—including his best friend, Ferdia mac Daman, who had arrived earlier to train under Scáthach.

Among them were Naoise, Ainnle, and Ardan, the sons of Uisneach, in exile with Naoise’s wife, Deirdre. They welcomed Cú Chulainn with great joy, eager to hear news from home.

But before he could meet Scáthach, Cú Chulainn faced one final challenge—the Bridge of Trials.

This enchanted bridge was low at both ends and high in the middle. Whenever someone stepped onto it, it bucked like a wild horse, narrowed to the width of a hair, or shrank to an inch in length, throwing challengers off.

The people of Scáthach’s island gathered to watch, for many had fallen to their deaths attempting the crossing.

Determined, Cú Chulainn ran at the bridge, but it grew slippery, sending him sliding back down. Laughter erupted from the crowd.

Twice more he tried, and twice more he fell, as the spectators mocked him.

Furious, the hero-light shone around his head, and he unleashed his Salmon Leap—soaring onto the middle of the bridge, then leaping to the other side.

Watching from Scáthach’s house, her daughter was mesmerised.

She thought Cú Chulainn was the most beautiful man she had ever seen—dark-haired, with a melancholy look, seven hero-lights in each eye, and wearing a seven-pleated crimson cloak, fastened with a gold brooch.

She greeted him with food and drink and advised him on how to persuade Scáthach to train him.

THE TRAINING BEGINS

Following her advice, Cú Chulainn ambushed Scáthach, placing his sword between her breasts and demanding to be her student.

Impressed by his boldness, Scáthach agreed.

He trained tirelessly, learning all the skills and arts of war until he surpassed even her own sons.

But trouble loomed—Scáthach was at war with Aoife, a former student turned rival warrior-queen.

One day, Scáthach saw her three sons approaching Aoife’s three greatest warriors.

Fearing for her sons’ lives, she sent Cú Chulainn to help.

Rushing ahead, he struck down all three of Aoife’s champions, leaving their heads in a pile.

Enraged, Aoife challenged Scáthach to single combat.

Scáthach accepted—but Cú Chulainn insisted on fighting in her place.

DEFEATING AOIFE & WINNING HER LOVE

Before the duel, Cú Chulainn asked Scáthach:

“What does Aoife value most?”

Scáthach revealed that Aoife’s greatest pride was her chariot, horses, and charioteer.

The battle began, swords clashing fiercely.

Then, Cú Chulainn suddenly shouted:

“Aoife, your chariot is going over the edge of the cliff!”

Distracted, Aoife turned to look—and Cú Chulainn seized her, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to Scáthach’s stronghold.

With his sword at her chest, he demanded she surrender.

Defeated, Aoife made peace with Scáthach, agreeing to end the war.

To celebrate, they feasted together, and Aoife fell in love with Cú Chulainn.

A SECRET SON

During his time with Scáthach, Cú Chulainn and Aoife became lovers.

When he was ready to return to Ireland, Aoife told him she was with child.

“It will be a boy,” she said, “and he will be as great a warrior as his father.”

Thrilled, Cú Chulainn gave her a red-gold ring and said:

“Name him Connla. Raise him as a warrior. When he is old enough to wear this ring without it slipping off, send him to Ireland to find me.”

And so, Cú Chulainn returned home, stronger than ever.

Despite all Forgall’s tricks, the first thing he did was find Emer and make her his wife.

THE WARRIOR EVERYONE WANTED TO WED

By the time Cú Chulainn had proven himself as a warrior, he had become the most admired young man in Ulster. He was strong, fearless, and strikingly handsome—so much so that the wives and daughters of the Red Branch warriors sighed as he walked past.

The warriors of Emain Macha wanted him to marry, both to stop their women from staring at him and to ensure that he had a son to inherit his greatness.

But Cú Chulainn refused every offer. No matter how beautiful a woman was, no matter how great her dowry, he would not take a wife.

“I will not marry unless she is my equal,” he declared.

Then, he heard of Emer, the daughter of Forgall the Wily—a woman said to possess the six gifts of an ideal bride: beauty, voice, sweet speech, needlework, wisdom, and chastity. Intrigued, Cú Chulainn and his charioteer, Láeg, set off to meet her.

THE RIDDLES OF COURTSHIP

When Cú Chulainn arrived at Emer’s home, she was teaching needlework and crafts to the women of the household.

Her sister, spotting a chariot approaching, described its gold, silver, and bronze decorations. She pointed out the two men inside—one with red hair and wiry strength, the other with dark hair and a brooding expression.

And then she realised who it was.

“It is Cú Chulainn—the most beautiful man in Ireland!”

When Cú Chulainn met Emer, he did not speak plainly. Instead, he spoke in riddles, puns, and cryptic phrases—words that made no sense to anyone listening.

Láeg stared in disbelief—this was not how one wooed a woman!

But Emer only smiled. She answered in riddles just as cleverly, matching his wit with her own.

After some time, Cú Chulainn made a bold remark.

Glancing down at the top of her dress, he said:
“I see a fine country there, with a sweet resting place.”

Without hesitation, Emer replied:
“No man shall rest there unless he can leap over three walls, slay three groups of nine men with one blow—leaving one alive in each—and kill one hundred men at every ford between here and Emain Macha.”

The challenge was set.

FORGALL’S DECEPTION

As Cú Chulainn and Láeg returned home, the charioteer tried to console his friend.

“Well,” he sighed, “that did not go well.”

But Cú Chulainn only smiled.

“She tested me,” he explained. “She understood my riddles, and she is clever enough to play the game with me. She knows her father will never approve—but she has given me her conditions for marriage.”

A servant overheard the conversation and reported everything to Forgall the Wily. Furious, Forgall swore that his daughter would never marry Cú Chulainn.

Determined to stop the match, he devised a plan.

Disguising himself as a traveller from Gaul, he journeyed to Emain Macha and sat among Ulster’s warriors.

During a night of storytelling, he turned to King Conchobar and remarked:
“It is a shame that such great warriors as yours do not train with Scáthach—the greatest warrior-woman in the world.”

His words struck a chord with Cú Chulainn, Conall Cernach, and other young warriors. They decided at once to seek out Scáthach on the Isle of Skye in Scotland.

This had been Forgall’s plan all along.

He hoped the journey would kill Cú Chulainn. If not, Scáthach’s brutal training or her war with the warrior-woman Aoife might do the job.

And if Cú Chulainn survived? Then at least he would be gone long enough for Forgall to marry Emer to another man.

EMER’S DEFIANCE

While Cú Chulainn trained in Scotland, Forgall arranged for Emer to marry King Lugaid of Munster.

On the day of the wedding, when Emer was brought before her bridegroom, she cupped his face in her hands and spoke:

“I love Cú Chulainn, and he loves me. He will return for me. If you take me against my will, you will have no honour, and he will take his revenge upon you.”

Lugaid left at once, unwilling to risk Cú Chulainn’s wrath.

And just as Emer had predicted, as soon as Cú Chulainn completed his training, he returned home to claim her.

THE RESCUE OF EMER

But Forgall had been preparing for war.

His fortress was reinforced with three great walls, and his strongest warriors waited in the courtyard—three groups of nine men, each led by one of his sons.

But Cú Chulainn was undeterred.

He leapt over the walls, struck down each of the three groups of warriors in a single blow, leaving only Emer’s brothers alive.

Seeing this, Forgall panicked.

Believing Cú Chulainn would kill him, he tried to escape—but as he climbed over the wall, he slipped and fell to his death.

Cú Chulainn lifted Emer into his arms, took her weight in gold, and leapt back over the walls with ease.

But their escape was not yet complete.

Forgall’s men pursued them, and at every ford between her home and Emain Macha, Cú Chulainn had to stop and fight.

At each one, he killed one hundred men—fulfilling the final condition Emer had set for him.

MARRIAGE AND LEGACY

Though Emer grieved for her father, she did not blame Cú Chulainn.

“You did not kill him,” she told him. “His death was an accident, and his own doing.”

And so, they were married.

Their match proved to be one of equals—in wit, wisdom, and strength.

Though Cú Chulainn spent much of his time in battle, and though he was known to take other lovers, Emer was never jealous.

She knew that, no matter where he went, he would always return to her.

A year after Cú Chulainn earned his name by defeating Culann’s hound, he continued to train with the Boy’s Troop at Emain Macha. These were the sons of Ulster’s greatest warriors, learning the arts of combat, strategy, poetry, and druidry, preparing to become the next generation of heroes.

One day, Cathbad, the chief druid of King Conchobar mac Nessa, was teaching his students about prophecy. To demonstrate, he watched the flight of birds and cast a bundle of sticks into the air, reading the way they landed.

“This is a fateful day,” he declared. “Any young man who takes up arms for the first time today will have a short life—but a glorious one. He will die young, but his name will live forever, and his glory will never be surpassed.”

The boys listened in silence. Some were nearly old enough to become warriors, but none were eager to trade their lives for fame.

None except Cú Chulainn.

Without hesitation, he ran straight to his uncle, King Conchobar, and demanded a set of weapons.

The King tried to dissuade him.

“You are far too young,” he said. “Who put this idea in your head?”

“Cathbad did,” Cú Chulainn replied, though it wasn’t quite the truth.

Conchobar, thinking the druid had given his blessing, relented. He sent for the weapons he himself had used at seventeen, when he first took up arms.

But as soon as Cú Chulainn gripped the weapons, he shattered them to splinters.

Stronger and stronger weapons were brought, but none could withstand his strength—until at last, the King gave him his own weapons, crafted by the finest smiths in Ulster.

This time, they held firm.

Just then, Cathbad entered the hall and gasped in horror.

“What is this child doing, taking up arms?”

The King turned to him. “He said you told him to.”

The druid’s face darkened. He had meant his prophecy as a warning, not an encouragement. But Cú Chulainn was unshaken.

“I do not care if I die tomorrow,” he said. “As long as my name will never be forgotten.”

Now that there was no turning back, Conchobar prepared to equip his nephew properly. He sent for a chariot and charioteer, but Cú Chulainn was as reckless with chariots as he was with weapons, destroying several in his excitement.

To keep him under control, Conchobar assigned his best charioteer, Ibar, to accompany him. Ibar was skilled and cautious, chosen specifically to keep the young warrior out of trouble.

And so, as was the custom when a warrior first took up arms, Cú Chulainn and Ibar set out from Emain Macha.

But they had hardly left the stables when Ibar suggested they turn back.

“Just one thing first,” Cú Chulainn said.

He wanted to pass by the Boy’s Troop so they could salute him as a warrior. He drove up and down in his new chariot, showing off his weapons and armour. The boys wished him well, cheering him on.

“Now we go back,” said Ibar.

“Just a little further,” said Cú Chulainn.

He insisted on visiting his foster-brother, Conall Cernach, who guarded the borders of Ulster. It was Conall’s duty to fight any enemy warrior who crossed into their lands, escort poets safely to Emain Macha, and ensure that any guest who left Ulster was satisfied with the King’s hospitality.

Conall was surprised to see Cú Chulainn in a royal chariot, carrying a warrior’s weapons.

“I have taken up arms today,” Cú Chulainn declared, “and I am going on an adventure to draw first blood and prove myself a warrior!”

Conall agreed to escort him beyond the border—after all, if anything happened to Cú Chulainn, it would be on his head.

But Cú Chulainn had other ideas.

He waited until they were on their way, then launched a stone from his slingshot, breaking the shaft of Conall’s chariot.

Thrown to the ground, Conall roared after him, “Why did you do that?”

“Just testing my aim,” said Cú Chulainn with a grin. Then he convinced Ibar to keep going just a little further.

As they travelled, Cú Chulainn asked about every hill, valley, and landmark.

Ibar, hoping to frighten him into returning home, told him about the fearsome warriors known as the Sons of Nechtan—three brothers who had killed as many Ulstermen as were alive today.

• Foill mac Nechtan could not be pierced by any blade.
• Tuachell mac Nechtan was so fast that he dodged any attack.
• Fandall mac Nechtan was the greatest swimmer in Ireland, always fighting his battles in the river.

Ibar hoped Cú Chulainn would turn back.

Instead, the boy grinned.

“Perfect. They’ll make fine opponents.”

Ignoring Ibar’s protests, Cú Chulainn lay down on the grass to sleep, leaving Ibar to keep watch.

Before long, Foill arrived.

“There is a geis on this land,” he told Ibar. “Anyone who enters must face us in single combat before they can leave.”

Ibar begged for mercy, saying Cú Chulainn was just a boy.

But Cú Chulainn sprang to his feet.

“I accept the challenge!“

He crushed Foill’s skull with a stone from his slingshot.

Next came Tuachell, who charged at him with terrifying speed. But Cú Chulainn hurled his spear so forcefully it went straight through his ribs.

Finally, Fandall challenged him to fight in the river. But Cú Chulainn dragged him under the water, held him down, and severed his head with his sword.

He tied the heads of all three brothers to his chariot, then, still full of battle fury, hunted two wild stags, tying them to the back of the chariot. He also knocked a flock of swans from the sky and tied them overhead, so they flew above him like a great white cloud.

As he returned to Emain Macha, the people saw him coming and panicked.

His eyes blazed with battle-rage, and in this state, he could not tell friend from foe.

If they fought him, they risked losing their most promising warrior.

If they let him in, he could destroy the entire city.

So the women of Emain Macha stepped forward.

They lifted their skirts, exposing themselves.

The moment he saw them, Cú Chulainn squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

They seized him and threw him into a vat of cold water—which instantly boiled to steam from his fury.

The second vat boiled.

The third warmed but did not boil.

And so, Cú Chulainn calmed himself.

That was how he took up arms on a day no one else dared to, choosing death and glory over a long and peaceful life.

A year after Setanta joined the Boy’s Troop, a renowned smith named Culann came to Emain Macha and invited King Conchobar mac Nessa to a feast at his home.

Culann was a master craftsman but not a wealthy man, so he asked the King to bring only a small group of guests. Conchobar agreed and set off with a small retinue. On the way, he passed a field where the Boy’s Troop were playing games.

Setanta was at the heart of the competition. In one game, the boys tried to snatch each other’s cloaks, and by the end, Setanta stood victorious with a great heap of cloaks at his feet, while his own remained untouched. In another game, where each boy tried to knock the others off their feet, Setanta was the last one standing.

Then, the boys played hurling—but it was clear that the game had turned into Setanta versus everyone else.

Watching from a distance, Conchobar called out and invited Setanta to join them at Culann’s feast. But the boy refused—he wasn’t finished playing yet.

The King understood and asked if Setanta knew the road to Culann’s house so he could follow later. The boy admitted he didn’t, but he was confident he could track the King’s chariots.

And so, Conchobar rode on with his men, arriving at Culann’s house, where they were welcomed with a grand feast.

As the guests settled in, Culann asked if the King was expecting anyone else.

He explained that, living so far from Emain Macha, he had no warriors to protect him. His only defence was his great guard dog—a beast the size of a pony, trained from birth to attack anyone but its master.

Forgetting all about Setanta, Conchobar assured Culann that everyone was present.

With that, Culann unleashed the hound. The great beast patrolled the land, checking for intruders, then lay down at the door, its massive head on its paws, red eyes glowing in the night.

Meanwhile, Setanta finished his game and set off to follow the King’s trail. To pass the time, he played his usual game of skill—throwing his ball into the air, striking it with his hurley, and then chasing after it to catch it before it hit the ground.

As Culann’s hound spotted the boy approaching, it let out a ferocious roar that echoed for miles.

Inside the feast hall, silence fell.

Everyone knew what that roar meant—the beast had found an intruder and was about to tear them apart.

In that moment, Conchobar’s heart sank—he had completely forgotten about Setanta.

The boy turned to face the charging hound, but he was armed with nothing but his hurley stick and his ball.

Thinking fast, Setanta struck the ball with all his might, sending it flying straight into the beast’s open mouth. It lodged in the hound’s throat, choking it. As the animal struggled, Setanta grabbed its hind legs, swung it with all his strength, and dashed its brains against a rock.

At that moment, the feast hall emptied as Conchobar and his men rushed outside.

They expected to find the great hound standing over Setanta’s lifeless body.

Instead, they found Setanta alive and victorious. The people of Emain Macha rejoiced.

But Culann wept.

His faithful hound—his only protector—was dead. Though the King and his family were welcome in his home, Culann refused to let Setanta enter.

Conchobar bristled at the insult, but Culann was devastated. His livelihood was ruined—without the hound, he had no defence against thieves or enemies.

Setanta felt terrible for what he had done.

“I will make it right,” he said. “Is there a pup of that hound anywhere in Ireland?”

Culann admitted there was a young pup, but it would take years to train. What was he supposed to do in the meantime?

Setanta did not hesitate.

“Train the pup as you did before. Until it is ready, I will guard your home myself.”

That night, the druid Cathbad was listening. He spoke a prophecy:

“From this day forward, Setanta shall be known as Cú Chulainn—Culann’s Hound. One day, his name will be spoken by every man in the world.”

Setanta accepted the new name.

And for the next year, when night fell, he left Emain Macha, walked to Culann’s house, patrolled the land, and lay down at the door to sleep like a hound—one eye open, watching for threats.

Thus, Setanta became Cú Chulainn—the Hound of Ulster.

In ancient Ireland, a spirited young boy named Setanta grew up in Dún Dealgan with his mother, Deichtine, and her husband, Sualtam, a warrior of the Red Branch. From an early age, he was trained in the ways of a warrior, but as he grew older, restlessness took hold of him.

One day, he overheard his mother speaking about her brother, King Conchobar mac Nessa of Ulster. The king spent his days watching the Boy’s Troop—a group of young warriors-in-training—play hurling, mastering combat skills, and preparing for battle. They were the sons of Ulster’s mightiest warriors, learning to fight at Emain Macha, the heart of the kingdom.

Setanta’s heart burned with excitement. If the sons of the Red Branch warriors were there, why shouldn’t he be? But his mother warned him—he was too young. To join the Boy’s Troop, a warrior other than his father had to sponsor him, take him under his protection, and introduce him properly. Until then, he had to wait.

But waiting was never Setanta’s way.

The moment he saw his chance, he sneaked away from home, heading straight for Emain Macha. To pass the time on the journey, he invented a game of skill—throwing his ball into the air, striking it with his hurley, then hurling both the hurley and his javelin down the road. He would then sprint at full speed, catching all three before they hit the ground.

By the time he arrived at Emain Macha, the Boy’s Troop—three times fifty young lads—were in the middle of a heated game of hurling. Without hesitation, Setanta threw himself into the match, snatched the ball, and scored a goal.

The other boys were furious.

Who was this stranger, barging in uninvited? Enraged, they charged at him all at once. The fight that followed was fierce—Setanta, alone, against the entire Boy’s Troop.

The sounds of the brawl echoed across Emain Macha, reaching the ears of King Conchobar and Fergus mac Róich, who had been playing chess.

“They’ve caught some unfortunate boy,” Fergus muttered, “and they’re tearing him apart.”

Rushing to the field, they found something entirely unexpected—Setanta standing his ground against all of them.

Conchobar called for order, recognising his nephew at once. But he was not pleased.

“Do you not know the proper way to join the Boy’s Troop?” he asked sternly. “You must ask for their protection first. That is the rule.”

Setanta, realising his mistake, humbly asked the boys to take him under their protection.

The Boy’s Troop agreed, and all seemed well—until, without warning, Setanta picked up his hurley and started knocking the other boys to the ground.

King Conchobar was horrified.

“Stop at once!” he commanded.

But Setanta simply smirked and said, “Well, I had to ask for their protection—but I think they are the ones who need protection from me!”

And so, in a strange twist of fate, the entire Boy’s Troop—one by one—had to ask Setanta to take them under his protection instead.

And thus, Setanta became the youngest member of the Boy’s Troop of Emain Macha.