Nessa had been a gentle woman in her youth, but when raiders attacked her home and killed her family, she became a vengeful warrior, and set out on a quest for revenge against them. In time, she came to the court of Ulster, where Fergus Mac Roich met her, and fell in love with her. He courted Nessa, and asked her to marry him, but Nessa named a great and unusual bride price: that she allow her son Connor, who was only a youth, to be King of Ulster for a year.

Fergus asked his people about this, and they told him it would be fine: they would all know that Connor wasn’t really their king, and he would step aside at the end of the year. For the whole year, Nessa advised Connor on what judgments to make, and at the end of the year, when Fergus came to take back his throne, the people of Ulster protested. This young man was a better king, they said. And besides, Fergus had valued the crown little to give it away to an untried youth for a year!

Connor grew into a wise young man, and great king of Ulster. Nessa’s daughter, Deichtre was no less remarkable than her brother; she was courageous, skilled and daring. She drove her brother’s chariot into battle when he fought, leading the charge against the enemies of Ulster.

But the sister of a king must make a good marriage, and so it was decided, with Deichtre’s agreement, that she would marry Sulatim Mac Roigh of Muirtheimhne. However, without telling anyone, Deichtre made plans to have one last great adventure before she settled down.

On the morning of her wedding to Sulatim, all the warriors and noble people of Ulster were gathered in Emain Macha for the festivities. Deichtre was in her own rooms, with fifty hand-maidens primping and beautifying her in preparation for the ceremony. But when Sulatim came to fetch his bride, Deichtre and the fifty hand-maidens had disappeared without a trace!

The people of Ulster searched high and low, but they could find no trace of where Deichtre had gone.

She had gone to the Otherworld, to live there for a time, and had taken her hand-maidens with her for company and to tend to her needs. She explored the wonders of the Otherworld with open eyes and without fear. One day, she was sitting on the balcony of her house, and drinking a cup of wine, when a mayfly flew into the cup. She swallowed it down without noticing. Then a beautiful, shining man appeared before her. He told her his name was Lugh of the Long Arm, and that because of the fly she had swallowed, she was going to bear him a son, and he asked her if she’d like to spend the rest of her sojourn in the Otherworld with him. Fair as he was, Deichtre agreed.

Back in Ulster, Connor Mac Nessa and all the warriors of the Red Branch searched for the missing women for a year, but to no avail. At the end of the year, there was another feast in Emain Macha, and a huge flock of birds descended outside, and began eating up everything, until not even a blade of grass was left. Fearing that these birds would eat up all the food in Ulster and cause a famine, King Connor and nine men of the Red Branch got into their chariots to pursue the strange birds. The birds were extremely beautiful, and flew in pairs, linked together by a silver chain.

No matter how fast the men of Ulster went, the birds always stayed just ahead of them, leading them on and on all over Ireland and then into a strange country that none of them recognized. Night began to fall, and they stopped. Fergus Mac Roigh went to see if he could find a place for them to shelter for the night, and though he searched high and low, all he found was a small, mean hut. The man of the house offered to shelter Fergus and his companions, so he went back to Connor with the good news. Not all of the Ulstermen were happy with this accommodation, though. Bricriu of the Bitter Tongue immediately started to complain, saying that a hut like the one Fergus described was no fit place for a king to stay the night. Fergus, offended, told Bricriu that he was welcome to find a better place for them, if he could.

So Bricriu set off through the strange country alone. High and low he searched, but he could find no house or dwelling of any kind, and at last, he gave up and went to the place that Fergus had described. There he saw, not a small mean hut, but a magnificent palace with seven pillars holding up the roof of golden thatch, and warm firelight spilling out the sides of the doorframe. The door was opened by a tall, radiantly handsome young man, and the woman beside him greeted Bricriu by name and made him welcome. He wanted to know how she knew him, and the woman of the house asked him was there anyone missing from Emain Macha.

“There might be,” said Bricriu, beginning to figure out what was going on.

“And would you know them if you saw them again?” the woman asked.

“I might do,” Bricriu replied, “though a year can change a person.”

Then Deichtre, for it was indeed she, told Bricriu her name, and sent him off with a purple cloak to bring her brother to her.

Bricriu lost no time in going back to Connor and the others, and describing all the sights he had seen, but he decided it would be much more amusing not to tell Connor that his sister was found. They made their way to the house, and on the way, Fergus reminded Connor that this wasn’t his land, and that the man of the house should offer him a sign of fealty, since he was a King. Connor should ask that the woman of the house sleep with him that night, this being an old custom. Bricriu, seeing an opportunity for some mischief, said that that was an excellent idea.

When they arrived at the beautiful hall, the strange man welcomed them in, but he informed Connor that his wife had been taken by the pains of childbirth, and would not be available tonight. But there were fifty handmaidens to serve the warriors of Ulster. They feasted late into the night, and each of them had the best of food and drink, and the most comfortable of beds to sleep on. But in the morning, when they woke, the great hall had vanished, and they were all sleeping on the cold hillside.

Then Connor saw that there was a woman sleeping beside him, wrapped in his cloak. His sister, Deichtre. And in her arms was a newborn baby. She told him about her time in the Otherworld. “But,” she said, “I wanted my son to be raised an Ulsterman, and so I sent the plague of birds to lure you and the other men here to find us and bring us back home.”

There followed a great debate over who was going to have the honour of fostering and raising this child, whose father was of the Otherworld. Fergus made a case for himself; he was the former King of Ulster, he was a great warrior, he would teach the child all he knew.

The steward, Sencha, argued that he should raise the child, because he was the wisest man in Ulster, first in debates, measured in his responses. He would be able to teach the boy so much.

Blai the distributer, and a young warrior called Amergin also made their case for why they should be allowed to foster this remarkable child: Blai because of his great generosity, and Amergin because of his impeccable reputation.

A fight threatened to break out among the great men of Ulster, and so the matter was brought before a judge named Morann, who declared that Deichtre would raise her own son in Muirtheimhne with her husband, Sulatim Mac Roigh, until he was of a sensible age. And thereafter, he would be brought to Emain Macha where all of the wisest, strongest and most generous and honourable men would have a hand in raising him.

Once in Ireland, there was a young boy named Setanta. He grew up in Dun Dealgan with his mother, Deichtre, and her husband Suladim, a warrior of the Red Branch. He was an energetic young lad, and he was brought up and educated as fitted his station as a warrior’s son, and the nephew of a king, but as the years went by he grew more and more restless. One day he heard his mother talking about her brother, the King of Ulster, Conchubar Mac Neasa. Conchubar, Setanta heard, spent his days in three parts. The first part would be in watching the Boy’s Troop playing hurling and other sports; the second part would be playing chess with the former King of Ulster, Fergus Mac Roigh, and the third part would be in the eating and drinking of pleasant things until he became sleepy. Now, when Setanta heard of this, all he wanted to know about this Boy’s Troop. His mother told him that Conchubar had done a new thing in Ireland: he had gathered together all the sons of his Red Branch warriors, brought them to Emain Macha, and was having them all trained up and educated in the warrior’s arts. They spent all their days at sports and contests and feats of arms, training and learning all they would need to know.

Now, nothing would do Setanta but he become a member of the Boy’s Troop. Wasn’t his father, Suladim, one of the Red Branch? But Deichtre told him he was far too young. There was a protocol in place; he had to wait until a warrior, other than his father, came and sponsored him, and that man would put him under his protection and introduce him to the other boys. He had only to be patient, and wait. But Setanta refused to wait, and at the first opportunity, he snuck away from home and set off down the road to Emain Macha. He carried with him his hurley, his ball, and his javelin. And he came up with a little game to make the time pass. He would throw the ball up in the air, and hit it down the road with his hurley, and then he would throw the hurley after it, and the javelin after that, and then he’d run down the road as fast as he could, and catch the ball, catch the hurley, and catch the javelin before any of them hit the ground.

And so in this way, he came to Emain Macha.

There he saw the three times fifty young lads of the Boy’s Troop playing a game of hurling. Without hesitating, Setanta flung himself right into the middle of it, caught up the ball, and kept it in between his ankle and his knee. Nobody could take the ball off him, and he scored a goal. Now, the Boy’s Troop were not best pleased with this stranger who had come unannounced and spoiled their game, so all at once they attacked him! The fight went raging up and down the pitch, and the shouts were heard from one end of Emain Macha to the other. Conchubar Mac Neasa was playing chess with Fergus Mac Roigh, and they heard this terrible noise, and they said to one another “They Boy’s Troop have caught hold of some misfortunate, and they are killing him!” So the two of them rushed down to the playing field to find Setanta, holding his own against the whole of the Boy’s Troop.

Conchubar called a halt to the proceedings, and managed to calm everyone down. He recognized Setanta, his sister’s son, and he reprimanded him. “Do you not know the proper protocol you must follow with the Boy’s Troop?” he said, “You must introduce yourself, and ask them to take you under their protection, that way they’ll be honour-bound not to attack you. For they’re well within their rights to attack any stranger that comes to Emain Macha, who does not follow this protocol.”

Setanta said he hadn’t known, and he asked them properly would they take him under their protection, and the Boy’s Troop said yes, and all seemed to be fine, but then Setanta took up his hurley and started lashing the other boys with it, as hard as he could, and laying them out on the grass. Conchubar was shocked, and cried out to him to stop at once! Setanta said, “Well, I had to ask for their protection, but I think they are the ones who need protection from me.” So the Boy’s Troop, all three times fifty of them, had to line up and one by one they told Setanta their names and asked him to take them under his protection.  And he said yes, and yes and yes, and that was how Setanta became the youngest member of the Boy’s Troop of Emain Macha.

Now, when Setanta had been in the Boy’s Troop for about a year, a smith called Cullan came to Emain Macha and invited Conchubar to a feast at his house.  Cullan was a great smith and a skilled craftsman who lived some way outside of Emain Macha. When he gave his invitation, Cullen begged Conchubar not to bring along a great number of guests, because he was not wealthy enough to entertain all of Conchubar’s men properly, but he was eager to give a wonderful feast to his king and a few of his companions. Conchubar agreed not to abuse Cullan’s hospitality, and set off with a small retinue. On the way to Cullan’s house, he passed by a field where the Boy’s Troop were at play. They played the game of snatching cloaks: each boy would try and tear the cloak off another boy’s back, and the winner would be the one who had the most cloaks by the end. Setanta was able to grab the cloaks off all the other boys, and had a great heap of them at his feet, but they weren’t even able to take his brooch. Then they played the knock-down game, where each would try and knock the others off their feet, and Setanta left all the other boys on the ground, till he was the only one standing. Then they set up a game of hurling, and it was clear from where Conchubar was watching that the game was to be played with Setanta on one side and all of the other boys playing against him. Conchubar called out to Setanta and asked him if he would come to the feast at Cullan’s house with him. The boy replied that he wasn’t finished playing yet, which Conchubar could understand. He asked him did he know the road so that he could follow when he’d finished. Setanta said he did not, but Conchubar’s chariots would make such a track that he would be able to follow it easily. Conchubar and his company went on to Cullan’s house, where they were well received and started to enjoy the lavish feast and entertainment that Cullan had arranged. When they were settled in, Cullan asked if Conchubar was expecting anyone else to join them. He explained that as he had a small household, with very little land, all of his income came from his craft, and so he didn’t have any warriors to protect him. He was too far outside of Emain Macha for Conchubar’s men to come to his aid in an emergency, so what he had, and all he had, to protect his household, was his guard dog: the greatest guard dog anyone had ever seen. The hound was the size of a pony, and it had the strength of a hundred men, and Cullan had trained it so carefully from the time it was a pup that it knew no man but he, and would tear anyone else it saw to pieces. Conchubar, forgetting all about the little boy he had invited, said that they were all here and told Cullan to go ahead and release his hound. Cullan left the hound off its leash, and it made a circuit all around his household, and when it was satisfied that all was safe, it lay down in front of the door with its great head resting on its great paws, with its red eyes looking out unblinking into the night. Now, Setanta finished his playing, and he set to follow the tracks of the king’s chariot to Cullan’s house, playing his own game to make the way pass quicker. He threw his ball up in the air, and hit it with his hurley, and ran after it and caught it before it could hit the ground. When Cullan’s hound saw the boy approaching, it let out a ferocious roar that was heard for miles around. All the guests at the feast fell silent when they heard the hound, for they knew it meant that the beast must be about to kill someone, and Conchubar suddenly remembered his little nephew, following his trail. Setanta saw the hound coming at him, and all he was armed with was his hurley stick, which seemed flimsy as a toothpick in front of that great beast, and his ball. Thinking quickly, he threw the ball as hard as he could, down the hound’s open mouth. He threw it hard enough that it stuck in the great hound’s throat and the dog started to choke. Setanta picked the hound up by its hind legs, and swung it around, dashing its brains out against a rock. The king and all his company came rushing out, expecting to see the hound standing over the boy’s body, and their joy was great when they found Setanta alive and well, and there was great celebration among the people of Emain Macha. But poor Cullan wept to see his faithful hound killed, and he turned to Setanta and said that though all his family were welcome in Cullan’s house, Setanta was not. Conchubar was ready to take offence at this, but Cullan lamented the death of his hound, his faithful servant that had protected him for so long, and said that without this dog his livelihood was worth nothing, because anyone could come and take it all away, and he had no way to defend himself now that his hound was gone. Setanta felt terrible when he heard what he had done, and so he spoke up and said that he would make it right. “Is there a pup of that hound anywhere in Ireland?” he asked. Cullan said there was, but it would take time to train the pup to take the old hound’s place, and what was he to do in the meantime? So Setanta told Cullan to get the pup, and train it as he had the other dog, and while the pup was growing, he himself would do the duty of the dog every night. Now the druid, Cathbad was listening, and he said that from now on, that was to be Setanta’s name: Cú Chulainn, meaning Cullan’s hound. Setanta said “I’d rather be Setanta,” but Cathbad prophesysed that one day, every man in the world would have the name Cuchulainn in his mouth. So Setanta accepted the change, and became Cuchulainn. And for the next year, every evening when night began to fall, he left Emain Macha and walked out to Cullan’s house, made a circle around the edge of Cullan’s land, and lay down in front of the door to sleep like a dog, with one eye open, guarding Cullan’s property from whatever threats might come.

About a year after Cuchulainn won his name, by killing Cullen’s hound and guarding Cullen’s lands, he was with the boy’s troop in Emain Macha. These were the sons of the warriors of King Conor Mac Nessa’s Red Branch, and they trained together to become the next generation of warriors and heroes. They received instruction on arms and fighting feats, and learned chess-playing and other strategic arts, and they also had to have some education in poetry and the druidic arts. King Conor’s chief druid was called Cathbad, and he used to instruct his own class of druidic students. Now, one day, Cathbad was instructing his students, and the Boy’s Troop, on the arts of prophecy: how to read the signs and omens to be able to see what the future would hold, and how different days could be propitious for different things. To demonstrate, he read the signs for them in the flights of birds, and threw a bundle of sticks into the air to read which way they landed, and he said that this day was an important day. That any young man who took up arms for the first time on this day would have a brief life, but a glorious one. And though he would die while still in his youth, his name would live on forever and his glory would never be surpassed!

Now, Cuchulainn and all of the other young men in the Boy’s Troop heard this, and though a few of them were almost at the age to take up arms, they mostly decided that it didn’t sound worth it. But Cuchulainn made his choice immediately. He ran inside to his uncle Conor Mac Nessa and demanded to be given a set of arms immediately. Conor tried to talk him out of it; “You’re far too young,” he said, “Who put this idea into your head?” And Cuchulainn answered him truthfully, if not honestly, that Cathbad had. So Conor thought that was alright, if the Druid had given his blessing. He sent his servant to get the set of weapons he had had when he was seventeen and took up arms for the first time. Cuchulainn shook the weapons to test their strength, but he splintered them into pieces. Conor sent for stronger and stronger swords and spears and shields, but Cuchulainn destroyed them all, until in the end Conor lent Cuchulainn his own weapons. These were of such fine quality and craftsmanship that they withstood the battering Cuchulainn put them through.

At this point, Cathbad came in and exclaimed, “What on earth is this little boy doing, taking up arms?” And Conor turned around and said, “He told me you told him to!” Cathbad was aghast; he had thought his prophecy would be interpreted as a warning, not taken as encouragement. Conor was furious when he heard the full wording of the prophecy, but Cuchulainn was unrepentant, he said he didn’t care if he died tomorrow, as long as his name would never be forgotten; and besides, it was too late now.

Knowing that there was no turning back now, Conor tried to equip Cuchulainn with a chariot and a charioteer, but he used the chariots as hard as he’d used the weapons, and the king lent him his own chariot before he could destroy too many of them. Cuchulainn asked for his friend Laeg from the Boy’s Troop to be his charioteer. Laeg was gifted with horses, and he and Cuchulainn were fast friends. But Conor said that he wasn’t going to send out two hot-headed youths to make trouble together, and Ibar the charioteer with Cuchulainn, to keep an eye on him. Now, Ibar was skilful, but he was also cautious and careful, and Conor thought he might be able to keep Cuchulainn from getting into any trouble.

So Ibar and Cuchulainn set out from Emain Macha, as was the custom when a warrior took up arms, but they were hardly out of the stables before Ibar said “Time to turn back!”

Cuchulainn asked him to go past the Boy’s Troop first, so they could salute him. He had a great time driving up and down in front of them in his new chariot, showing off his fine weapons. The boys said they were sorry they wouldn’t get to play hurling with him nay more, but they all wished him well and cheered him on.

After that, Ibar said “Time to turn back.” But Cuchulainn said, “Let’s just go on a little bit to the border, and visit my foster-brother, Conal Cearnach.” Conal Cearnach was guarding a particular pass out of Ulster territory. It was his duty to meet any foreign warrior in single combat, to escort any poet to Emain Macha safely, and to make sure that any guests leaving Ulster were pleased with the hospitality they’d received there, and to make reparations if they weren’t.

Conal Cearnach was very surprised to see Cuchulainn with his kingly weapons in his borrowed chariot. Cuchulainn announced that he had taken up arms that day, and was going on an adventure to draw first blood, and prove himself as a warrior. Conal Cearnach bade Ibar wait while he got his own chariot ready: he would come with them, past Ulster’s borders, because if anything happened to Cuchulainn, it would be on his head. Cuchulainn knew that Conal would get in the way of him fighting anyone they met, and he wouldn’t be able to prove himself a warrior, so his taking up of arms would only be a symbol, that wouldn’t make him a true warrior in anyone’s eyes, so he waited till they were underway, and then cast a stone from his slingshot that broke the shaft of Conal Cearnach’s chariot. Conal Cearnach was thrown out, and broke his arm, and roared after Cuchulainn “What did you do that for!?” Cuchulainn claimed he was only testing his aim, and persuaded Ibar to take him on a little further.

He asked Ibar about every landmark they passed, and Ibar told him the names of the hills and valleys. Then he pointed out that they were coming into the country of the Sons of Nechtain. Hoping to persuade Cuchulainn to return to Emain Macha, Ibar told him all about these fearsome warriors; three brothers, who had killed as many Ulstermen as were alive today. The eldest, Foill Mac Nechtain, could not be pierced by any blade; the second, Tuachell Mac Nechtain was so swift that he would overcome any attack that failed to kill him instantly; the youngest, Fannall Mac Nechtain, was the greatest swimmer in Ireland, and always fought his battles in the ford, and always used his skill to win.

To Ibar’s dismay, Cuchulainn decided that these were the perfect foes to challenge to single combat, to make a name for himself. He announced to Ibar that this was a fine place for a rest, and lay down on the grass to sleep, leaving Ibar to stand watch over him.

As he was sleeping, Foill Mac Nechtain came to investigate. He told Ibar that there was a geasa, that anyone who came into that field could not leave it without facing the brothers in single combat. Thinking Cuchulainn too deeply asleep to hear him, Ibar said that he was just a boy, playing at being a warrior, and the sons of Nechtain should take pity on him and let him go. Hearing these words, Cuchulainn sprang to his feet and challenged Foill Mac Nechtain to single combat.

Ibar tried to stop him, but Cuchulainn, remembering that Foill could not be pierced by a blade, threw a stone from his slingshot and dashed out Foill’s brains. Tuachell Mac Nechtain, the swift one, came running out of the house to see what had happened, and he attacked with a bellow. Cuchulainn took Conor’s spear and threw it with such force that it went through Tuachell’s ribcage and out the other side. The third brother, Fannall, challenged Cuchulainn to fight him in the river, where he was strongest, and Cuchulainn wrestled him under the water, held him down, and chopped off his head with Conor’s sword. He took the heads off all three brothers, tied them to the rim of his chariot, and finally let Ibar take him back to Emain Macha.

On the way, still full of energy and battle-fury, Cuchulainn ran down two stags and tied them to the back of the chariot, where they galloped behind. They passed a flock of swans in flight, and he threw his sword, knocked them out of the sky, and then tied them by their necks to the chariot, so they were flying overhead in a great white cloud.

The people of Emain Macha saw this chariot approaching, with wild birds flying over it, wild stags galloping behind, and heads tied to the rim, with Cuchulainn, still blazing from the battle, standing at the front, and they were terrified. They knew that, with the battle fury on him, Cuchulainn would not know friend from foe. The men were caught in a bind: if they fought him and won, they’d lose their most promising warrior, but if they let him in unchallenged, he might do untold damage. So the women of Emain Macha stepped outside the walls. They lifted their skirts and put them over their heads, and walked half-naked towards Cuchulainn in his chariot. As soon as he saw them, Cuchulainn squeezed his eyes shut, and hid his face. They seized him and threw him into a vat of cold water, which turned into steam from the heat of his fury. They threw him in a second vat, which boiled, and then a third, which warmed but did not boil, and after that he was able to calm himself again.

And that is how Cuchulainn took up arms on a day no one else would, choosing death and glory over long life and happiness.