Bard Mythologies

Discovering Deep Forgotten Wisdom

The Book of Invasions – Part 1: Ceasair

The first person to come to Ireland was called Ceasair. Her story begins back in Egypt, when Noah was building his Ark. Noah allowed three of his sons onto the Ark, but refused to give space to another son, Bith, because he thought Bith was a thief.

Bith didn’t know what he was going to do, but his daughter was Cesaire, and she had a plan. Ceasair had built a three arks for herself, and had taken an idol for a god. She said that she’d take Bith with her, if he agreed to forsake the god of Noah, and follow her as leader. She crewed each of her arks with fifty skilled women, but the only men she took, aside from her father, were her brother, Ladra the pilot, and her husband, Fintan Mac Bochra.

Ceasair had been told to go to Ireland. It was a new land, where no sin had been committed, so it was thought that Noah’s god might spare Ireland from the great flood when he sent it. They sailed for seven years, crossing all over the known world, from the Nile all the way to Asia Minor and the Caspian Sea, across the Mediterranean. They sailed up rivers as far as the Alps, and lost two of their three ships along the way. At last, from a tower in northern Spain, Ceasair saw the coast of Ireland in the distance and knew their journey was nearly at an end. They landed in Ireland, in the harbour of Corca Dhuibhne in Kerry. Ceasair jumped onto the land first, because she was the leader, and so she became the first person ever to set foot on Ireland. Fintan Mac Bochra was the first man. All the others landed safely, except Ladra the pilot who took a wound from an oar to his thigh.

Now that they’d arrived they realized that they were going to have to populate the island, but they only had three men among fifty women! So they decided to divide into three groups, with one man to each group. Noah’s son Bith got 16 women because he was getting on in years and wasn’t as virile as he used to be, and the other two men got 17 women each.

They lived happily together for a while, but unfortunately Bith son of Noah was unable to cope with the task he’d been given and he died – the first death in Ireland – so his 16 women were divided between the other two men. Now Ladra had never quite recovered from the wound he’d taken when they landed, and he quickly succumbed. Now all the women looked to Fintan to populate Ireland. Ceasair, deeply in love with him, died of a broken heart.

Poor Fintan, being just one man among fifty women, was completely overwhelmed by this task and ran away and hid in the mountains. Fintan hid himself away in a cave, and not long after that the flood came. All the women perished but for one, called Banba, a great warrior woman who ran into the hills to survive.

Now Fintan was deep in a cave where he’d hid, and with the floodwaters rising you might not expect things to go so well for him. But Fintan fell asleep, and had a dream that he was a salmon. And when he woke up, he had changed into a salmon. He lived for as a salmon 300 years, swimming all the waterways of Ireland, until the flood waters receded. Then he dreamed he was a hawk, and when he woke up he was a hawk. He travelled all over Ireland, looking down on it from above and seeing everything that was going on and learning all its secrets.

In this way, Fintan Mac Bochra became a great sage. He lived for over five thousand years and saw all the changes that came to Ireland through that time. He lived, by turns, as all the different animals of Ireland, and was a councillor to many of the men.

While Fintan was living as a hawk, he was able to fly very far and see what was coming, and what was coming next to Ireland was a great giant from Greece called Partholon.

The Book of Invasions – Part 2: Partholon

Partholon was a giant of a man, who lived in Greece. He got involved in a war of succession, and committed the very terrible sin of killing his family. Because of this, he was put under a curse: nothing he endeavoured would ever be successful.

Partholon thought that, perhaps, he might be able to outrun this curse if he went far enough, and for that reason, he decided to come to Ireland, with his wife, three sons, and all their families and retainers.

When Partholon’s people landed, they found only one plain in all of Ireland, and that is where Dublin is today. They created three more plains in different parts of Ireland, to make the land more habitable and to set up agriculture and industry. They explored the length and breadth of the land, and while they were in Donegal, they encountered a fearsome race of people from Tory Island. These people were called the Formorians, and they were sea pirates with powerful magic.

Partholon’s people quickly found that they could not live in peace with the Formorians, so they fought a battle with them, for dominion over the land. This was a magical battle, and in it, no one was killed. The warriors faced each other in the stance of power: standing on one leg, with one arm behind the back and one eye closed. This was the way to access the powers of the Otherworld.

Partholon’s people defeated the Formorians at magic, and in response, four great lakes burst up in different parts of Ireland, a sign that they were accepted and welcomed by the land.

As Partholon’s people began to establish themselves, Fintan Mac Bochra made himself known to them, and became their advisor. He was able to tell them all about Ireland and how best to survive there, because he knew it better than anyone else: from a man’s point of view, and a salmon’s, and a hawk’s.

For a time they prospered. One day, Partholon the king went hunting, leaving his wife and servant together. The wife and servant slept together and then shared a drink from Partholon’s cup. When he came home, Partholon took a drink and tasted them on the lip of the cup and so knew what had happened. He killed the servant, and that was the first instance of adultery, jealousy and murder on the island of Ireland. Partholon’s wife replied to his anger by saying “honey with a woman, milk with a cat, food with a host, meat with a boy, one with one, earns great risk” and nothing more was said. So they lived together happily for another thirty years after that, till at the end Partholon died from a plague.

His people flourished for 500 years, and numbered about 9,000 all over Ireland, but in one week a great and terrible plague came and wiped them all out, fulfilling the curse that had been placed on their leader so many years before.

Fintan Mac Bochra survived the curse thanks to his magic, and returned to the wild and secret ways of the animals, until the next time men came to the land.

The Voyage of Bran

Long ago in Ireland, there was a High King named Bran. He was not much interested in being High King, and one day, during a feast, Bran slipped away to get some peace and quiet.

As he was walking, all alone, he began to hear this beautiful music. It was haunting and like nothing he had ever heard before. Bran hunted high and low to see where it was coming from, but no matter what way he turned, the music always seemed to be coming from just behind him. At last, the sweet music lulled him, and he fell asleep. While he slept, he saw a vision: a beautiful woman of the Otherworld, who sang to him about the Land of Women, where everything was pleasant and joyful, and there was never any grief or treachery.

When he woke, Bran found in his had a silver branch with golden apples on it. Not really knowing what this meant, Bran brought it back to the fort with him. That evening, at the feast, the same woman from his dream appeared, but this time, all those present in the hall could see her. She spoke to Bran, and told him to come and find her in the Island of Women. Then the silver branch leaped out of Bran’s hand and into hers, and she was gone.

Bran wasted no time in building a ship. His three foster brothers came with him, and each of them brought nine men. They set sail out west into uncharted waters that no one had ever been to before. As they were sailing, Mananan Mac Lir, the god of the ocean, came riding towards them in his chariot. Bran and his men watched, dumbstruck, as the god reined up beside them and stopped to talk. He told Bran that their skiff was sailing, not through waves, but through an orchard, and that where they saw sea-horses and sea foam, he could see a grassy plain, covered in flowers, with warriors going to and fro across it. He sang to them about all the wonders of the Land Under Wave that he ruled over, and then he took his leave, telling them that he was on his way to meet the wife of a king, to father a child that would be called Mongan.

Bran and his men rowed on, and before long they came to an island, called Moy Meall, or the Island of Joy. There were a great number of people on the shore, but when Bran and his men called out to them, to ask if they were near to the Island of Women, the people only laughed and gaped at them. So one of Bran’s men jumped out of the boat, and waded to shore to see if he could get any answers out of them. But as soon as he landed, he started to laugh like a fool and gape at them, as if he didn’t know them. Bran and his men circled the island, over and over, calling out to their companion to come back to them, but he ignored their calls, and only laughed witlessly.

Downhearted, Bran and his men continued on their way. They came to the Island of Women, and saw the woman from Bran’s vision. But Bran and his men were wary, because of what had happened to their friend, and they kept their distance. Then the woman threw a ball of yarn at Bran’s head, and he put up his hand to stop it. The ball of yarn stuck fast to his hand, and the woman on the shore started to reel the boat, with all of the men in it, in to shore.

When they landed, the men were taken to a beautiful house, and a plate was put before each one. No matter how much they ate and drank, their plates always remained full, and their cups never emptied. When they had eaten and drunk their fill, a woman led each man to his own room, richly appointed, and let them sleep there.

The men stayed on the Island of Women for what seemed to them to be a year. Every day was restful, and easy. All they had to do was to play sports and games, to eat and drink and enjoy themselves, and the women took care of all their wants. But one of Bran’s men, Nechtan, began to feel homesick. He started to pester Bran about going home. The other men shushed him, but he spoke to each of them in turn, reminding them of home, and the people they had left there, until at last Bran relented, and they prepared to go back to Ireland.

The Queen of the Island took Bran aside and warned him that if he returned, he would get only grief. But Bran could see no other option. So the Queen told him that if he must go, he should pick up his companion from the Island of Joy on his way, and when he got to Ireland, he must make sure not to set foot on the land. Bran agreed to this, and off they went.

When they came to the Island of Joy, they called their companion’s name, and he ran straight out to the boat, and recovered his wits as soon as they had him on board. Then they sailed over the sea to Ireland. But when they came near, they could see that the whole coastline had changed. The countryside looked completely different, all the forests were gone, and the people seemed small and grey and weak. They called out to the people on the shore, and no one had ever heard of them. Then one old man came forward, and said that when he was a young boy, he had heard the story of King Bran, an ancient tale that was almost lost.

Nechtan, the man who had been homesick, could not accept this. He flung himself from the deck of the boat, and landed on the shore. But as soon as his feet touched the ground, he turned to dust. Bran realized then that he and his men had been gone for hundreds and hundreds of years, and they could never return home.

Bran carved an account of his voyage on stone tablets, in Ogham writing, and threw the stones to the people on the shore. Then he and his men turned their ship around, and sailed off to the three times fifty Islands of the Otherworld. And as to what adventures befell them after that… nobody knows!

Cormac Mac Art

Cormac Mac Art was the greatest High King that Ireland has ever known, and was said to be the man who codified the Brehon Laws, a legal system that was extraordinarily advanced for its time.

Cormac’s father was called Art, son of Conn. Now, Art was fighting with another man, called Lugaid Mac Conn, over who should be the king, and they were preparing for a battle at Maigh Mucruimhe. On his way to the battle, Art stopped in to visit a smith, and a very wise man, named Olc Acha. Olc Acha berated him for going into battle against Mac Conn. “Both of you have a claim,” Olc Acha said, “and you should not settle this with a battle, it isn’t the right way to go about it.” But Art would not listen to his council: he was determined to fight and refused to back down.

Seeing that he could not be persuaded, Olc Acha asked him how many children he had to carry on his line, in case he should die in the battle. When Art said that he had none, Olc Acha consulted with his daughter, Achtan, and they came up with a plan. Olc Acha said “Since you’re so determined to go off and get yourself killed, Achtan will spend the night with you. She’ll bear you a son, and I will raise him to be your heir, and we’ll say no more about it.”

Achtan was very beautiful and very wise, and being a smith’s daughter she had access to wisdom of all kinds, and after she and Art had lain together, she had a prophetic dream. She dreamed that her head was cut off and a great tree grew out of her neck, spreading its branches all over Ireland. Then a wave came and knocked the tree over. She woke Art up and told him her dream, and he interpreted it for her. He said “A woman’s husband is the head of her, so your head being cut off in the dream means that tomorrow I will die in this battle, but the tree that spreads its branches all over Ireland stands for the son you’ll bear me: he will grow up to be a great King, and he will not die in battle. The wave that sweeps the tree down means that he’ll die choking on a fishbone.”

The next day, Art went into battle and as Achan’s dream predicted, he was slaughtered by Lugaid Mac Conn. Achtan was pregnant. Olc Acha drew four circles of protection around the child in her womb: he would be safe from wolves, swords, fire and drowning. Achtan was worried that Lughaid Mac Conn might find out she was carrying Art’s child, and so she decided that she was going to travel to the house of Lugna, a good friend of Art’s, who would be a fine foster-father for her boy. She set out with a handmaiden, but they left very late in her pregnancy, and while she was on her way, having passed into Lugna’s lands, her birth pains came over her. She had to get down from her chariot and squat down in a bed of ferns to give birth. As soon as the child was born, there was a great peal of thunder. Over in his house, Lugna heard it and said that it was the sign of a king’s birth. Achtan was exhausted after the birth, so she lay down and fell asleep, telling her handmaiden to keep watch over the child, but the handmaiden too was overcome with tiredness, and lay down and took a nap. While the two women were sleeping a she-wolf came and stole the baby away.

Achtan was devastated when she woke, thinking the child had been lost. When she reached Lugna’s house and told him what had happened, they set everybody to scour the countryside looking for the child, but he was nowhere to be found.

Some years later, a huntsman came across a she-wolf, and tracked her back to her lair, and there in the dirt playing with a pack of wolf-cubs, he saw a healthy, happy baby boy.

He brought the child back to Lugna, and Lugna named him Cormac and raised him with his own sons. Now Cormac grew up believing himself to be one of Lugna’s sons. But one day, he got into a fight with one of his foster-brothers, and knocked the boy to the ground. Lugna’s son cried out in anger “It’s a terrible shame to be knocked down by a man who doesn’t even have a father!” Cormac was shocked by this, and went to Lugna to ask him what the other boy meant, and that was when Lugna told him that he was the son of Art, and that he had the blood of High Kings in him, and a claim to the throne.

Hearing that, Cormac said: “All right, in that case, let us go to Tara and let them know who I am, so that people can recognize me.” So the two of them set out for Tara. On the day they arrived, Lugaid Mac Conn was sitting in judgement, which was one of the high king’s most important duties. Before him was a poor sheepherder, an old woman who had only one small flock of sheep in all the world. Her sheep had gotten loose and had eaten the Queen’s woad – a plant used for dying clothes. The Queen was very upset and wanted restitution. Mac Conn decreed that the sheep should be taken from the old woman and given to the Queen, but young Cormac spoke out from the crowd. He said; “That isn’t fair, the woad will grow again. It should be a shearing for a shearing. Give the Queen the sheep’s wool this year.”

It was so clear to all who were listening that this was the fair and just thing to do. In fact, the whole side of Tara where Lugaid Mac Conn was sitting sank down a few feet into the ground. With this demonstration, the people decided that Cormac would be a better king than Lugaid Mac Conn. Mac Conn was peacefully deposed, Tara was rebuilt, and Cormac ushered in, beginning a new reign of prosperity and abundance.

A few years into Cormac’s reign, he met a beautiful young woman named Eithne, hard at work by the roadside. He was impressed by her diligence and taken with her beauty, and so he asked her foster-father Buacha if he could marry her. He learned that Buacha had once been a wealthy chieftain in Leinster, famous for his generosity. But Eithne’s brothers took advantage of him, and asked him for huge and costly gifts. Refusing to give a man a gift would break the code of hospitality, and ruin Buacha’s reputation, so he had no choice to give Eithne’s greedy brothers everything they asked for, until in the end, they had everything he owned. He took his foster-daughter and his wife and had to leave Leinster and go and live in poverty. Eithne worked hard and uncomplainingly for her foster-father, and Buacha said that, though he would like for her to marry the king, he was not able to give permission, as Eithne wasn’t his child. Cormac and Eithne decided to elope, without Buacha’s permission. When she was pregnant with their first child, Cormac came back to Buacha and told him it was too late to protest. But he gave Buacha such an enormous bride price, worthy of seven king’s daughters, that he was restored to his former prosperity.

Cormac and Eithne lived together in Tara for many years, and they had two children, a son and a daughter. One May morning, Cormac was outside on his own, taking the air on the hillside of Tara, and he saw a stranger approaching. This stranger had a golden circle in his hair, a cloak clasped with a gold brooch, and he was tall and very beautiful. But the most striking thing about this person was the silver branch he carried in his hand. It had on it little golden apples, perfectly shaped, and when he shook it, it played such beautiful music that everyone who heard it, whether warriors with battle wounds, or women in childbirth, would fall into a healing sleep at the sound of its music, and awake healed and whole. Now as soon as he saw this silver branch, Cormac thought to himself “I want that.”

So the stranger came to him and asked would they be friends. Cormac said they would, and the first thing he did was to ask for the silver branch. The stranger said “I’ll give it to you, in exchange for three promises.” Cormac wanted the branch so badly that he agreed at once. The stranger gave him the branch and said, “My first request is for your daughter Alba. I am taking her away with me.” Cormac was shocked, but he could not go back on his word. So he agreed, and the stranger took beautiful Alba and left Tara. There was great grief and wailing among all the people of Tara, so Cormac shook the silver branch and put everyone to sleep, so they would forget their grief.

A year later, the stranger returned to Tara, and told Cormac he was taking his son Cairbre, for his second promise. Cormac was devastated, but again, he could not go back on his word. There was grief and wailing in Tara and all the lands around, so again Cormac shook the branch and put everyone to sleep to forget their grief. A year after that, the stranger returned and what did he ask for, but Cormac’s wife Eithne.

Now when the stranger asked, Cormac let him take Eithne, but after they had gone, he said: “I cannot abide this.” So he gathered up all his men and pursued the stranger. As they followed him across the plain, a great mist descended, and when it lifted, Cormac was alone in a strange land. None of his men had kept up with him, and as he walked alone through this land, he saw many strange sights.

Cormac saw a house with bronze walls, and there were men on the roof, thatching it with white bird’s wings. But every time they turned around for more, the wind would blow the wings away. He saw a man cutting down a whole oak tree, and casting it into the fire. And as the fire consumed the tree, the man turned to cut down another oak tree. He saw a fountain with five streams, with hazelnuts hanging over the water and salmon swimming through it.

Eventually he came to a grand looking house, where a beautiful young warrior and a beautiful woman met him and made him welcome. They sat him down and asked him if he would eat with them. A swineherd came in with a pig, an axe and a log. The swineherd killed the pig with the axe and set fire to the log to cook it. Cormac was told that this was a magical pig, and every day if it was killed with the same axe and cooked over that same log, the pig and the log would be whole again on the following day. But the pig would not cook unless four truths were spoken over it. So while they were waiting for the meal, the warrior told Cormac the meaning of the sights he had seen in the Land of Promise. The men thatching the roof, he said, were men of art, who worked all their lives to accumulate wealth, which comes to nothing in the end. The man who burned the full oak tree was a man who squandered his inheritance and left nothing behind for his own heirs. And the fountain with five streams represented the five races of men, and the salmon was the salmon of knowledge.

Each of them told a true story after that, and after each truth was spoken, a quarter of the pig was cooked, so by the time they were finished, the meal was ready.

Then Cormac said that he was King and would not eat unless all his companions were with him and were fed as well. The warrior said “All right,” and Cormac’s men appeared all around him. Then the warrior revealed himself: he was the stranger who had come to Tara, and he was in fact Mananan Mac Lir. He had brought the silver branch to Cormac as a test, because he wanted to bring Cormac here to the Land of Promise to teach him wisdom.

He brought out a golden cup, and said that it would be broken into three pieces if a lie was spoken over it, and restored if three truths were spoken. He spoke a lie to demonstrate, and the cup broke into three.

Then out came Cormac’s wife and children, and Mananan Mac Lir said they had not been harmed. He said Eithne and Alba had not seen a man while they had been in the Land of Promise, and Cairbre had not seen a woman. And at these three truths, the cup leaped up and restored itself.

Mananan Mac Lir gave Cormac the cup as well as the silver branch and sent him back to Tara with all the wisdom he had learned. But he told Cormac that when he died the cup and branch were not to go to his successors: they were to be returned to the Land of Promise.

While Cormac Mac Art reigned in Tara, there were so many fish in the rivers that you didn’t have to go fishing, you only had to reach in your hand and pull one out. The forests were so full of oak trees you couldn’t pass through them. Deer and game were so plentiful, that a hunter only had to lose an arrow, and wherever it landed, it would have killed something good to eat.

Cormac lived to a great age, ruling with the wisdom that had been taught to him. When he died, it was at a feast: he choked on a salmon-bone, fulfilling the prophecy his mother had had of him on the night he was conceived so many years before.

Caoilte’s Rabble

Caoilte Mac Ronan was a thin, grey man, and he was the best runner in all of the Fianna. Once, a king in Ireland asked all the fastest men he could find which of them would be able to fetch him sands from all the beaches in Ireland the quickest. They each gave him an answer: days or weeks or months; but when he got to Caoilte, Caoilte only smiled and held out a bag of sand. “I got it,” said he, “while ye were talking.”

Now, one time, the Fianna had stirred up a rebellion among the people of Ireland, and they were at odds with the High King himself, in Tara. He had no intention of starting a fight with the Fianna, so he asked Finn Mac Cumhaill to come peacefully as his hostage until the trouble had blown over, and Finn had agreed.

Caoilte was not there when this bargain was made. When he heard that his leader and friend was being held hostage, he was furious, and set out to avenge Finn. He went on a rampage of destruction, going in through every door that the red east wind blew on and destroying all before him, setting fire to the fields, and giving one man’s wife to another.

At last he came to Tara, and to get himself inside quietly, he took the clothes off the doorkeeper. He snuck into the king’s hall, and took the king’s sword right out of his sheath, replacing it with his own, which was thin as a blade of grass after all the fighting he’d done with it. Still disguised as a servant, he stood behind the king at the feast, holding a candle.

Now, the king was jumpy after hearing all these rumours of Caoilte’s rampage, and he thought he spotted Caoilte there in the shadows. But Finn dismissed this. “Caoilte has a high mind,” he said “And he wouldn’t go creeping about Tara with a candle, he only does high deeds!”

The king was at ease after that, till Caoilte handed him a glass of wine. “There’s a smell of Caoilte’s skin off that wine,” the king said. And at that, Caoilte knew he was discovered, and spoke out.

“Tell me what to do to get freedom for Finn Mac Cumhaill,” he said.

The high king thought about this. It wasn’t that he wanted Finn Mac Cumhaill as a hostage. If nothing else, this business of looking over his shoulder in case there was an enraged man of the Fianna coming for him was playing havoc with his nerves. It was time he wanted, for the rebellion to die down, and so he decided to set Caoilte a task that would surely take even him some time to achieve.

“I have a mind,” said the High King, “to see every creature in Ireland all together in the one place. A pair of each.”

“Right,” said Caoilte, and away he went.

He searched through all of Ireland, hunting down birds and beasts, wild and tame. The creatures were all startled, but Caoilte herded them and drove them on before them so fast that they hadn’t the time to fight amongst themselves. All the same, the deer did not like being so close to the wolves, nor the backbirds to the foxes, so it was a terrible time he had to bring them all together in one place and drive them. He almost had it, when a raven broke south, and a wild duck north, and he had to run them both down and bring them back by their necks before anything else could escape.

At last, he brought them all before the gates of Tara as evening was closing in, and shouted up at the walls for them to send out the king.

The king thought to himself, “This is far too soon,” so he had his men tell Caoilte to wait until morning: he wanted to see all the animals together in daylight. He had them direct Caoilte to a particular house to keep the creatures in all night.

It was a house with nine doors.

No sooner had Caoilte driven all the animals and birds inside, then they let out a dreadful screech, and every one of them did all they could to escape. There was no rest for Caoilte that night; he had to run from door to door all around the house, flinging back birds and beasts all desperately trying to get away from him and each other.

At last, when the sun rose, Caoilte brought all the creatures before the High King of Tara, and such a noise they were still making, that the people called them Caoilte’s Rabble!

As he looked out over the creatures, the High King thought to himself that this hadn’t been a bad plan at all. He had bought another bit of time with Finn Mac Cumhaill as his hostage, and after all, this was a fairly magnificent gift. What king in the world wouldn’t want a gathering of all the wild creatures in his land brought to him as tribute?

So he let Finn Mac Cumhaill go. And the second Caoilte stopped herding and circling the animals, they bolted off in all directions, fleeing from Tara, no two by the same road, so all the profit the High King had of them was that one glance.

The Hostel of the Quicken Trees

At one time, the Fianna were called to defend Ireland’s shores from the invading King of Lochlann. They won the battle when their leader, Finn Mac Cumhaill killed the King of Lochlann and his sons, breaking the will of the invading army. Finn spared the youngest son, Miadach, who was just a boy, and brought him back to his home as a hostage and fosterling.

Finn treated all his fosterlings well, and held no grudge against Miadach for his father’s enmity. The same could not be said for Miadach. He took all Finn’s generosity with a smile, but he nursed a secret hatred all through the years. When he came of age, Finn gave Miadach lands on the coast, and Miadach left without a backward glance.

Some time later, the Fianna were hunting. Finn and a few of his companions followed the tracks of a giant boar, and were separated from the main part of the Fianna, and there on the road, who did they meet but Miadach!

Finn greeted him warmly, and Miadach seemed delighted to see them. He invited Finn and his friends to come with him to the Hostel of the Quicken Trees for a drink. Conan Maol Mac Morna, who was known for his blunt speech as much as his bald head, protested that Miadach had never been so friendly to Finn Mac Cumhaill before, so perhaps they shouldn’t trust him! But Finn reprimanded him for his bad manners.

All the same, just to be on the safe side, Finn split up his company. Taking Conan Maol and his brother Goll with him to the Hostel, he told his own son Oisín to wait for the rest of the hunt, along with Diarmuid O’Duibhne, Caoilte Mac Ronán, and three young warriors; Fodla, Caoilte’s son Fiachna, and Fiachna’s foster-brother Innsa, to wait on the hunt, while he went with Goll Mac Morna and his brother Conan Maol to share this drink with Miadach.

Miadach led them to a lovely hostel, with Quicken-Trees all around. They could see the walls of every colour, the coverings on the floor, and the fires giving off sweet smoke through the many windows and doors. Miadach ushered them in ahead of him, and the warriors were so busy admiring their surroundings and settling in that it took them a moment to realize that he hadn’t followed them at all. He was nowhere to be seen.

Goll spoke up. “Finn. Wasn’t there a window there just a moment ago?”

Finn agreed that there was.

“Then why is it only bare planks that I see now?”

Said Conan Maol, “And weren’t there rich tapestries on those walls a moment ago? And they bare now? And wasn’t there a fire in that grate, that’s cold now? And furthermore, weren’t we sitting on grand fine couches a moment ago, when there’s bare dirt under us now!?”
In fact, all the loveliness on the hostel had vanished, and now it was a mean, bare hut, with no windows and only one door, and a dirt floor under them.

At this the warriors realized that something uncanny was afoot. They tried, each one, to leap to their feet, but found that they were stuck fast to the cold earth floor! The more that they struggled, the faster they were stuck, till soon only Finn had so much as a hand free.

Conan Maol started to curse Miadach, and curse Finn for accepting his invitation to this treacherous place!

“There’s little use in you carrying on like that,” said Finn, “Oisin and the others are only a little way off. We’ll sound the Dord Fiann, and they’ll come running and help us.”

“And get themselves just as stuck as we are!” snarled Conan Maol.

That was a fair point, so Finn put his thumb between his teeth, that he had burnt long ago on the Salmon of Knowledge, and he could straightaway see the treacherous plans of Miadach.

“It’s worse than we thought,” said Finn.

“Worse!?” cried Conan Maol, “How could it be worse?”

“Miadach has brought over the armies of the King of Torrents to destroy us. This enchantment that’s on us is wrought by that king, and only his blood can wash it away, but there are armies on the plains over the river, and they’ll be here before long to kill us, and there’s little we can do to stop them when we’re fixed to the floor like this!”

The three men then sounded the Dord Fiann, the great battle cry of the Fianna, but only Fiachna and Innsa heard, and they came running.

“Don’t come in, you eejits!” Conan Maol cried, and Finn and Goll told them all that had happened.

The two young warriors took it upon themselves to find the armies of the King of Torrents. At the bottom of the hill, they found a ford that anyone coming to the Hostel of the Quicken Trees would have to cross, and they decided to make their stand there.

That night, one chieftain under the command of the King of Torrents decided that he would take his part of the army on ahead, and kill the famous Finn Mac Cumhaill himself, and win all of the glory, but when he got to the ford, Fiachna and Innsa were waiting for him. They fought long and hard, and when dawn broke, the ford was choked with the bodies of the dead, but Innsa too had died of his terrible wounds. Fiachna had to tell Finn, and Finn wept, for Innsa had been another of his foster-sons.

The brother of the chieftain who had hoped to steal all that glory came next to the ford, and found Fiachna waiting, desperately tired, but grim with purpose. They were too frightened to attack the young man who had clearly laid waste to all the chieftain’s followers, but Miadach came then, and challenged Fiachna to combat.

Now Oisin and the others had heard nothing of all of this, so when they came to find Fiacha and Innsa, they had a terrible shock. Oisin and Caoilte, being the fastest runners, went straight away to find the rest of the Fianna, leaving Diarmuid and Folda to follow the sounds of battle till they came upon Fiachna, fighting with Miadach. Diarmuid waded in and killed Miadach, but Fiachna did not long survive his wounds.

Fodla held the ford while Dirmuid brought Miadach’s head back to the Hostel, to show Finn that the two young warriors had been avenged, and promised to hold the ford till the rest of the Fianna could come.

As soon as Diarmuid came back to the ford, Fodla fell into an exhausted sleep, even that brief amount of time was too much for any ordinary warrior of the Fianna. Bur Diarmuid was no ordinary hero. He held the ford against all the armies of the King of Torrent’s sons, and as soon as Fodla woke up, the two of them were able to work together to drive the armies back! They hunted down the three sons of the King of Torrent and cut off their heads.

Leaving Fodla to hold the line at the ford once more, Diarmuid rushed to the Hostel of the Quicken Trees, with the blood running out of the heads all the while. He went first to Finn, and had to bathe him in blood before he was able to pull himself up off the floor. Then he wen to Goll Mac Morna, and poured blood all over him, and at last to Conan Maol. But by that time, almost all the blood had run out. He was able to get Conan’s arms and legs unstuck, but his back stayed firmly tethered.
Now Conan was not known for his fine manners at the best of times, but this was too much altogether. He was never overly fond of Diarmuid in the first place, judging him far too good-looking to be a proper warrior, and he roared abuse at him, “You wouldn’t leave me till last if I was a pretty woman, you useless preener!”

Finn and Goll staggered to their feet: the enchantment had taken the strength out of them. But what was to be done with Conan Maol. He was stuck to the ground, waving his arms and legs in the air like a beetle. “If you can’t break the spell,” cried Conan, “get me up anyway.”

They grabbed hold of his arms and legs and pulled. Finn and Goll had been struck by the same enchantment, so they knew how fast it held. Conan should have been in agony, but he only roared at them to pull harder, and braced with his legs against the floor of the hostel. At last, with a terrible tearing sound, Conan Maol was pulled to his feet, but he had left all the skin of his back behind him!

Bleeding terribly, they realized they would have to do something to help him. Finn sent Diarmiud back to the ford, as there was still an army on the other side, and he could see that the King of the World had arrived with his armies to help the King of Torrents! They were still in terrible danger. Finn and Goll were too weak from the enchantment to fight, and Conan would bleed to death if they didn’t find a way to help him. Then, Finn saw a black sheep grazing nearby. He felt about a match for a sheep at that moment, so he killed the sheep and took the skin off its back and put it over the wounded Conan Maol.

There must have been some magic of adhesion still left on Conan’s back, because the skin of the sheep stuck fast to him, and before long it grew in place of his old skin, as good as new, and warmer in the winter!

By this time, Oisin had found the rest of the Fianna, and as dawn broke, Finn, Goll and Conan felt their strength coming back to them. They raced down the hill to the ford, and the whole of the Fianna together made such a slaughter of the armies of the King of the World that there were few survivors left to tell the tale.

But every year after that, in the springtime, someone in the Fianna had to sheer the wool off Conan Maol’s back.

Oisín in Tír na nÓg

There was nothing the great Finn Mac Cumhaill liked more than a feast with a story and song, except for a hunt with his hounds and his men. He was out one day hunting, enjoying the freedom of running through the land, with his hounds Bran and Sceolan by his side, and the rest of the Fianna and their dogs running behind. The dogs caught the trail of a doe, and they began to chase. Normally, the hounds of the Fianna would play with a doe a little, and take pleasure in the hunt, before bringing her down, but this time, the doe seemed to be the one in charge. She led them on a game, weaving through the forest, dancing hither and tither, and seeming to tease the hounds.

Finn was puzzled by this – he could see this was no ordinary doe – and he followed all the more eagerly, keen to catch such a prize. The doe ran so swiftly that soon the rest of Finn’s men began to fall behind, till at length there was only Finn and his two hounds keeping up with her. Then Bran and Sceolan ran out in front of him, and he saw that instead of chasing the deer, they were running by her side, gambolling playfully. He thought again that this was no ordinary deer. The deer stopped and waited for Finn to catch up to her, and when she turned to look at him with a very human look in her eyes, he thought for a third time that there was something special about her.

Then the deer turned into a beautiful young woman. She told him her name was Blaith Dearg, the daughter of Finn’s great enemy, Dearg. She had been enchanted to take on the form of a doe. She invited Finn to step onto the hill of Allen with her and join her for the night. So he did, and he gave her his love, but when Finn woke up the next day, Bran and Sceolan were whining in sadness, and Blaith Dearg was nowhere to be seen.

Finn spent a long time looking for her, but there was never any trace of her to be found, and he never found any tracks around the hill of Allen. His heart was empty, and he never forgot the great love he had for her. A year and a day later, he was on the hunt again, and once again Bran and Sceolan leapt out in front and ran ahead. Finn pursued, leaving the rest of the Fianna behind, and caught up to them at last. They were smiling the way dogs smile, and playing in front of a rowan tree, where he saw a baby sitting in the grass. He picked the baby up, and saw a doe’s tail flash as she ran into the forest. He realized that this was Blaith Dearg’s baby – his baby – so he took him in and raised him as his own son.

Finn named the boy Oisín, which meant little deer. He fostered Oisín out, and Oisín grew up to be a most beautiful man, with the purest heart and the bravest deeds, and a great love of poetry. In time he passed the tests to join the Fianna, which were:

To tie the hair into seven braids, and run through the forest with all the Fianna in pursuit, and to come out the other side without breaking a single twig, or disturbing a single bird, or loosing a single hair from the braids. To be buried up to the waist and fend off all the Fianna. To learn off eight books of poetry and be able to sing them with such beauty that all would be moved to tears. To run under a branch set at the height of your knees and jump over a branch set at the height of your heart, without slowing pace. And no man since Finn Mac Cumhaill performed these tests so well as did Oisín.

Oisín became the leader of one of the clans of the Fianna, and everyone thought him a match for his father, who promised to become even better. They loved him, and his fame was sung throughout the land.

Now, one morning at sunrise, Oisín was sitting on the beach, staring out to sea and watching the sun rise, and he saw the sunlight as it travelled across the water towards him, and marvelled at the illusion it made, seeming like a road on the water. And suddenly the sunlight turned into a vision of a woman riding on a white horse down that golden path on the sea. She came closer and closer, and he saw that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with hair like burnished gold.

The woman approached him on her white horse, and sang to him in the sweetest voice. Oisín was enchanted. The woman told him her name was Niamh Cinn Óir from Tír na nÓg. She had heard tales of his prowess and his beauty, of his pure heart and poetry, and she desired him. She told him she came from a land where there was no sorrow or death, and where time had no dominion and a hero could remain strong forever. She asked him to come with her there and live with her as her husband.

With a heart full of love for Niamh and love for adventure, Oisín leapt up onto the back of the white horse and off they went across the waves to Tír na nÓg. There he lived as her husband, in perfect happiness. They had three children together, and every time Oisín began to miss his home or his family, Niamh would come up with some hunt or feast or entertainment to distract him from his homesickness till he was content again.

But after what seemed like three years, the pangs in his heart could not be ignored. He missed his comrades in the Fianna, and he missed his father. He asked Niamh if he could go back to Ireland for a visit. Sadly, Niamh told him that time passed slowly in Tír na nÓg, and the land that he wanted to return to no longer existed. Oisín was devastated to hear this, but insisted that he had to see it with his own two eyes before he would accept it. So Niamh put him up on her white horse, and told him that it was very important that he not set foot on the land of Ireland, or he would never be able to return to her and their children.

So off he went, and the horse carried him across the sea. He came to a land that had been changed beyond recognition. All the forests where he and the Fianna had loved to hunt had been chopped down, and turned into pasture. As he travelled around Ireland, he saw people no bigger than children, small and grey and weak. All the forts were tumbled stone overgrown by weeds and grass. He saw nothing he recognized anywhere. He travelled across Ireland and back again, his heart breaking, realizing that the time of the heroes had passed. He asked people about Finn and the Fianna, and they laughed at him for believing such silly stories had ever been true.

His heart broke again, and he turned the horse around to take him back to Niamh and his children where he could forget his heartbreak. As he was leaving, he saw four men in a field trying to move a boulder with a lever, but it was too big for them, and though they were sweating and straining they were making no headway. Kind-hearted as ever, Oisín told them to stand back, and he leaned over in his saddle and lifted the stone with one hand. As he threw the stone, the girth of the saddle snapped, and he fell from the horse’s back and touched the ground.

The minute he landed, all the hundreds of years that had passed caught up with him and he grew into an old man. The horse sprang away, and galloped across the sea. Oisín’s teeth fell out, his hair whitened, his muscles shrivelled and his skin wrinkled. The people around marvelled at the sight of this strong, beautiful young man turning into a withered ancient in front of their eyes.

Oisín told them his story, telling them of Finn and the Fianna, and they couldn’t decide if he was mad or a liar. They decided that they had better bring him to the holy man, Saint Patrick. So Oisín was brought to the saint, and told him all his stories of the olden days, which St. Patrick wrote down carefully. In return, St. Patrick told Oisín of Christianity, and the promise of eternal life. But Oisín couldn’t see the use of the rules of the Christian god, when he and his friends had lived by honour codes. St. Patrick couldn’t find an argument to convince him. He offered to baptize Oisín into Christianity, and Oisín asked if Finn mac Cumhaill had been baptized? St. Patrick said he was not, and was no doubt in hell for all eternity, because he was a pagan. He told Oisin that this would happen to him, too, if he did not convert. But Oisín said there was no army of demons that could keep Finn Mac Cumhaill anywhere he didn’t want to stay, and he would rather stay a pagan and join the his father and the Fianna, wherever they were, than to go to a heaven that would not let his father in. So Oisín died unbaptized, and was buried by St. Patrick.

The Curse of Macha

There was once a man of Ulster named Crunden. He was a farmer, and a good man, but he had had a terrible misfortune. His wife had died, leaving him with three young children and no way to take care of them. His house was in disarray, and every day he had to get up and leave his young children to go and work in the fields, knowing that this was no way for them to be raised, but having no other option.

One day, when he came home from a long day at work, Crunden opened the door, expecting to see the usual shambles. To his astonishment, the house was neat as a pin, the children all clean and quiet, and a beautiful woman sat by the fire, cooking the dinner. The woman told him her name was Macha, and she had decided to be his wife. Not one to argue with this great fortune, Crunden settled in to married life.

Macha was a perfect wife to him, keeping the house clean and the children happy, and taking perfect care of Crunden. He knew she was a woman of the otherworld by the way she moved: she could run so swiftly that her feet barely touched the ground, but she never made any fuss over this, only going about her business as a wife and mother.

One day, the king of Ulster summoned all his people together for a feast, to celebrate his purchase of a fine new team of chariot-horses. Crunden was excited to go, but Macha took him aside and warned him not to speak of her, not to boast about her, or he would bring disaster down upon them. Crunden promised he would not, and away to the king’s feast he went.

The new horses were beautiful, grey and swift and perfectly matched, and the feast was a great one, showing King Connor’s great generosity. Crunden ate and drank, along with all the other people at the feast, but he remembered Macha’s warning, and when the other men began boasting about the beauty of their wives, he kept his mouth shut. When the other men started boasting about the cooking of their wives, Crunden bit his tongue. But when the king boasted that no creature in Ireland was faster than his new horses, Crunden could not keep quiet any longer and bragged aloud that his wife was so swift, she would beat the king’s horses in a race.

Stung by this, King Connor ordered his men to seize the boastful farmer. He demanded that Crunden send for his wife, and if she did not come to prove the truth of his statement, Crunden would pay for his lie with his life.

Men were sent to Crunden’s house, but when Macha opened the door, they could see that she was heavily pregnant. Nonetheless, they told her what her husband had said, and that if she did not make good his boast, he would pay for it with his life. Macha agreed to go with them, with a bad grace.

When she came before the king, Macha begged him to consider her condition, and postpone the race until after she had given birth and had time to recover. But the king had been brooding on the insult Crunden had given him, and he refused her plea. Then Macha turned to all the warriors of Ulster, the Craobh Rua, or Red Branch, assembled there, and asked them to intercede, to protect her. She reminded them that each one of them was born of a woman, and that it was not right for them to put her in this position. But none of them stepped forward for her, none would plead with the king. They had been drinking at the feast, they were eager to see this race, and see their king put the boastful farmer in his place.

Something about Macha must have given King Connor pause, because before the race, he had his charioteer strip back all the decorations on his chariot, all the cushions and cloths that made the ride easier, till the king’s chariot was barely a plank of wood with wheels, as light as it could possibly be. He then stripped off his armour and heavy cloak till he stood in his lightest linen tunic, and dismissed his sister Deichtre, who was his charioteer, and took the reins of the chariot himself. Macha waited.

The race was held on the grass outside of the king’s fort, where there were no stones or uneven ground to trip the horses or foul the wheels. All the men of Ulster gathered there to watch, as the king and Macha raced.

The king raced his matched horses, and they ran as swift as the wind, moving in perfect unison, pulling him so fast he felt he was flying. But if the king raced as fast as the wind, Macha ran faster. She outpaced the wind itself. Her feet seemed barely to touch the ground. But as she ran, the birth pains came on Macha, and she began to scream.

All the people watching felt suddenly that this was not the great sport and entertainment they had thought it was.

Screaming in agony, Macha ran the course, and crossed the finish line with her belly protruding in front of the noses of Connor’s horses. Then, having won the race, she collapsed onto the grass, and in a rush of blood, her twins were born, still and dead. She gathered them into her arms, and put a curse on all the warriors of Ulster.

For failing to use their strength to defend her in her time of need, Macha declared that their strength would become useless to them. Whenever they needed it most, their strength would desert them, and for nine days and nine nights, they would endure the pains of a woman in childbirth. This curse would last for nine generations: each fighting-man of Ulster, as soon as he was old enough to grow a beard, would come under the curse.

With that, Macha gathered her dead twins, leaped over the heads of those watching, and ran off, never to be seen again. And from that day forth, the fort of the King of Ulster was known as Emain Macha; the Twins of Macha.

Cuchulainn: The Wooing of Emer

After the deeds of his boyhood, and his taking up of arms, Cuchulainn became a warrior of great renown. But the men of Emain Macha had one problem with him. He had grown into a beautiful young man, and all their wives and daughters sighed when he walked past. It was said that he was perfect in every way, but for three faults: that he was too young, too daring, and too beautiful.

The warriors of the Red Branch in Emain Macha wanted Cuchulainn to marry, so that their wives would stop looking at him, but also so that he would have a son who would inherit his great talents. But Cuchulainn wasn’t interested in any of the women they introduced him to. He refused to take a wife, no matter how lovely she was or how big a dowry her family offered, because he said he would not marry a woman who was not his equal.

At last, Cuchulainn heard of a woman named Emer, who he thought might meet his standards. She was the daughter of Forgall the Wily, and he was very protective of her. Emer possessed the six gifts that made her ideal for her time. They were beauty, voice, sweet speech, needlework, wisdom and chastity. Cuchulainn took his friend and charioteer, Laeg, with him, and they set out to pay Emer a visit.

Emer was instructing the women of the area in needlework and craft, when her sister saw a chariot approaching. She described to Emer the beautiful chariot on its way towards them, richly decorated with gold and silver and bronze. She described the two men in the chariot: one red-haired a wiry, and the other dark-haired and melancholy: the most beautiful man in Ireland.

Cuchulainn, when he arrived, spoke to Emer in code words and phrases; complicated riddles and puns that made no sense to the other listeners. While Laeg looked at him aghast (that was not how he thought one should talk to a beautiful woman), Emer smiled at him, and replied in the same vein of seeming nonsense, incomprehensible to all the others. They went on in that way for some time, and then Cuchulainn peeked down the top of her shirt and said “I see a fine country there with a sweet resting place.”

Emer replied, “No man shall rest there unless he can leap over three walls, kill three groups of nine men with one blow, leaving one man in each group alive, and slay one hundred men at each of the fords between here and Emain Macha.”

Cuchulainn and Laeg then went back to Emain Macha, and Laeg started to console his friend: from what he could gather, Cuchulainn had been nervous and had made a mess of it. But Cuchulainn explained to him that they had spoken in riddles, and that Emer had not only been quick enough to figure out what he was saying, she was clever enough to play the game with him. They both knew her over-protective father would not approve of him seeking her out, but he had wooed her, and she had accepted. She had set him certain tasks that he had to complete before they could be married.

Now, a servant who was present for the meeting brought an account of it to Forgall the Wily. Forgall managed to figure out what had happened, and he was furious that his precious daughter had fallen for that madman from Ulster! He thought Cuchulainn a dangerous lunatic, and he was determined to put a stop to this before it could go any further. He disguised himself as a trader from Gaul and visited Emain Macha in disguise.

When the time came for the guest to hear the stories of the heroes of Ulster, Forgall expressed great surprise to King Conor Mac Neasa. “It’s such a shame,” he said, “that with such great warriors, you don’t think enough of them to send them to train with the warrior-woman, Scathach, the greatest trainer of heroes in the world.” Cuchulainn, Conal Cearnach, and a few of the other warriors heard this and decided that nothing would do but they go at once to seek out this Scathach, who lived on the remote Island of Skye in Scotland.

Now, of course, this had been Forgall’s plan all along. The journey to Scathach’s home was long and dangerous, and with luck, Cuchulainn would be killed along the way. Even if he did get there, Scathach’s training was harsh and many did not survive it, and she was fighting a war against a neighbouring warrior-woman named Aoife, and that war claimed the lives of many students.

At best, then, Forgall thought Cuchulainn would die, but at worst, he would be away for several years, and Forgall could ensure that his Emer was safely married to a more suitable man before he returned. So he made the most of Cuchulainn’s absence, and quickly arranged for Emer to marry the King of Munster, a man named Lugaid. The wedding feast was arranged, and all was ready, but when Emer came out to meet her bridegroom, she took his face between her two hands and said to him “I love Cuchulainn, and Cuchulainn loves me. He will come back for me, and if you take me against my will, it will mean you have no honour, and he will take his revenge on you for it.”

Over Forgall’s protests, Lugaid left.

As Emer predicted, as soon as Cuchulain finished his training with Scathach and came home to Ulster, his first act was to come back for Emer.

But while he was away, Forgall the Wily had made preparations. He had fortified his stronghold with three walls, and gathered his best warriors in the courtyard. The strongest were in three groups of nine, each one commanded by one of his own sons. Cuchulainn was not daunted by these preparations: he simply leaped over the wall, and struck down each of the three groups of men with one blow of his sword, leaving Emer’s brothers unharmed. When Forgall saw this, he was sure Cuchulainn would kill him for trying to keep his daughter away from him. He climbed over the walls to try and escape, but he slipped and fell to his death. Cuchulainn picked up Emer, and her weight in gold, and leaped back over the three walls as easily as he had arrived.

He and Emer were pursued by Forgall the Wily’s followers, and at each ford between her house and Emain Macha, Cuchulainn had to stop his chariot and hold them off. At each ford, he killed a hundred men, fulfilling the last of the conditions she had set for him.

Emer grieved for her father, but she told Cuchulainn she did not hold him responsible, as he had not actually killed her father: his death had been an accident, and his own fault. So the two of them were married, and proved to be well-suited. They were each other’s equal it wit and wisdom, and though Cuchulainn was often away with battles and feats of arms, and often spent time with other women, Emer was without jealousy, because she knew he would always return to her.

Cuchulainn’s Training With Scathach

When Cuculainn set out to court his wife, Emer, her father, Forgall the Wily, was dead set against it. He knew Cuchulainn by reputation, and believed his wonderful daughter would have a terrible life with him, so he set out to do everything he could to keep the pair. He disguised himself as a merchant from France, and went to King Conchubar’s court at Emain Macha with wares to trade. At the feast that evening, he praised Conchubar’s brave Red Branch warriors, and then wondered aloud why the king did not think highly enough of them to send them to train with Scathach? Did they not know that she was the greatest trainer of warriors in all the world?

Now Cuchulainn was never satisfied with his skills, and when he heard mention of this incredible trainer, nothing would do but he set off at once, which of course, was Forgall’s plan. Two of the greatest warriors of the Red Branch, Laoighre Budhach and Conall Cearnach, said that they would go with him and keep him company. Now, Scathach lived across the sea and on the other side of Alba, far to the north, on an island that bore her own name. The three set out on their long journey, but no sooner had their boat landed on the shores of Alba, than Forgall the Wily sent a vision of Emain Macha. Laoighre and Conall were so overcome by homesickness that they couldn’t bear to go on, and they turned back to Ireland there and then, leaving Cuchulainn alone in the wilderness.

He journeyed onwards, determined to find Scathach’s island, even though he didn’t know the way. On the road, he met a great beast that looked like a lion. It came bounding across the plains towards him, but it didn’t attack. Every direction that Cuchulainn tried to go in, the beast would jump in front of him, barring his way. At last, he understood that it wanted to help him, and he leaped up onto its back, and away the lion beast raced across the plains of Alba. Four days and four nights it carried him, and then they passed by some youths, who laughed to see a man riding on the back of such a strange creature. Unable to bear their ridicule, Cuchulainn bade farewell to the beast, and went on his way on foot.

He came to a house, and the woman of the house called him by name, and gave him a warm welcome welcome. She was a king’s daughter, who had stayed with Cuchulainn’s family when she was younger, and she was delighted to see him. When he was well fed and well rested, she told him the road that he needed to take to get to Scathach’s island, and she warned him that Forgall the Wily had left traps in his way, filling valleys with monsters and putting obstacles in Cuchulainn’s path. She told him how to avoid all these dangers, and arrive safely at Scathach’s island.

So Cuchulainn was able to avoid Forgall’s traps, and in this way he arrived at last at Scathach’s island. His joy at seeing the end of his journey was nothing to the joy he felt when he saw four men of Ulster; friends from Emain Macha, who were staying nearby. One was his best friend, Ferdia Mac Daman, who had arrived some time before to train with Scathach. The others were the sons of Uisneach, Naoise, Ainnle and Ardan, the sons of Uisneach who were in exile with Naoise’s wife Deirdre. They were delighted to see another Ulsterman, they welcomed him with hugs and kisses, and asked him for all the news of home.

After their reunion, Ferdia told Cuchulainn that in order to get to Scathach’s house, he would have to cross over a chasm on an enchanted bridge. The bridge was low at each end, and high in the middle, and whenever someone stepped on it, it would buck like a wild horse, trying to shake them off. It could narrow itself to the width of a hair or shorten itself to the length of an inch, and it would do all it could to shake a newcomer off.

Now, it was great entertainment among the people of Scathach’s island to gather and watch strangers try to get across the bridge – for they often fell to their deaths – and a crowd had gathered while Cuchulainn and his friends had talked. In front of them all, Cuchulainn was determined to get across in one go. So he ran at the bridge, but the bridge narrowed itself and became slippery, so that he skidded back down to the bottom, and all the gathered people laughed and jeered. Twice more he ran, and each time the bridge bucked him off, and each time the crowd laughed at him. Then Cuchulainn became enraged, and the hero-light shone around his head, and he gave his salmon leap onto the middle of the bridge, and another great leap off the other end of the bridge.

Now, Scathach’s daughter was watching from the house, and when she saw this man coming, she thought he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen: dark haired and melancholy, with seven hero-lights in each eye, and a seven-pleated crimson cloak held in place with a brooch of gold. She welcomed him with food and drink, and she told him exactly what he should do to make sure Scathach took him on as a pupil. She sent him to where Scathach was training her own sons. Cuchulainn ambushed her, and put his sword between her breasts and demanded that she be his teacher. Impressed, Scathach readily agreed to take him on as her pupil.

Cuchulainn was an apt pupil. All the skills and arts of the warrior Scathach taught him, till he had learned all that she had to teach him.

Now, at this time, Scathach was at war with another warrior woman, a former pupil of hers named Aoife. One day, Scathach’s three sons met Aoife’s three greatest champions on the road, and from afar, Scathach could see that a fight was going to break out. She was terribly afraid for her sons, and so she sent Cuchulainn to help them. He ran to their aid, and rushed out ahead of Scathach’s sons, striking the heads off of each one of Aoife’s three champions, and making a pile of their heads on the ground.

When Aoife heard what this foreign warrior had done to her champions, she was furious, and she challenged Scathach to single combat, to settle things between them once and for all. Aoife decided that she would be her own champion, and Cuchulainn asked Scathach for the honour of fighting as her champion. Scathach agreed to this, but before he went into battle, Cuchulainn asked her what in all the world did Aoife value the most? Scathach told that Aoife’s pride and joy was her chariot, her horses and her charioteer.

Aoife and Cuchulainn met with their swords drawn, ready to do battle, when Cuchulainn cried out “Aoife’s chariot is going over the edge of the cliff!” Aoife turned to look, and Cuchulainn grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her back to Scathach’s fort. He threw her to the floor and put his sword between her breasts, demanding that she surrender. Then Scathach and Aoife made peace between them, and agreed that they would no longer make war on each other, and there was feasting and merry-making to celebrate.

Aoife gave her love to Cuchulainn, and they became lovers for the rest of the time that he studied with Scathach. When he was ready to go back home to Ireland, Aoife told him that she was with child. She was sure it would be a boy, and that he would grow up to be as great a warrior as his father.

Cuchulainn was thrilled with this news, and he gave Aoife a red-gold ring. He told her to name his son Connla and raise him as a warrior, and when he was old enough to wear that ring on his thumb without it slipping off, she should send him to Ireland to find his father. And so Cuchulainn returned to Ireland, a better warrior than he had ever been, and in spite of all Forgall the Wily’s tricks, the very first thing he did was to go and find Emer, and make her his wife.

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