Part 12 (1/2)

*Death of Conary*

The king, who is peris.h.i.+ng of thirst, asks mac Cecht to procure him a drink, and mac Cecht turns to Conall and asks him whether he will get the drink for the king or stay to protect him while mac Cecht does it. Leave the defence of the king to us, says Conall, and go thou to seek the drink, for of thee it is demanded. Mac Cecht then, taking Conarys golden cup, rushes forth, bursting through the surrounding host, and goes to seek for water. Then Conall, and Cormac of Ulster, and the other champions, issue forth in turn, slaying mult.i.tudes of the enemy; some return wounded and weary to the little band in the Hostel, while others cut their way through the ring of foes. Conall, Sencha, and Duftach stand by Conary till the end; but mac Cecht is long in returning, Conary perishes of thirst, and the three heroes then fight their way out and escape, wounded, broken, and maimed.

Meantime mac Cecht has rushed over Ireland in frantic search for the water. But the Fairy Folk, who are here manifestly elemental powers controlling the forces of nature, have sealed all the sources against him.

He tries the Well of Kesair in Wicklow in vain; he goes to the great rivers, Shannon and Slayney, Bann and Barrowthey all hide away at his approach; the lakes deny him also; at last he finds a lake, Loch Gara in Roscommon, which failed to hide itself in time, and thereat he fills his cup. In the morning he returned to the Hostel with the precious and hard-won draught, but found the defenders all dead or fled, and two of the reavers in the act of striking off the head of Conary. Mac Cecht struck off the head of one of them, and hurled a huge pillar stone after the other, who was escaping with Conarys head. The reaver fell dead on the spot, and mac Cecht, taking up his masters head, poured the water into its mouth. Thereupon the head spoke, and praised and thanked him for the deed.

*Mac Cechts Wound*

A woman then came by and saw mac Cecht lying exhausted and wounded on the field.

Come hither, O woman, says mac Cecht.

I dare not go there, says the woman, for horror and fear of thee.

But he persuades her to come, and says: I know not whether it is a fly or gnat or an ant that nips me in the wound.

The woman looked and saw a hairy wolf buried as far as the two shoulders in the wound. She seized it by the tail and dragged it forth, and it took the full of its jaws out of him.

Truly, says the woman, this is an ant of the Ancient Land.

And mac Cecht took it by the throat and smote it on the forehead, so that it died.

***Is thy Lord Alive?***

The tale ends in a truly heroic strain. Conall of the Victories, as we have seen, had cut his way out after the kings death, and made his way to Teltin, where he found his father, Amorgin, in the garth before his dun.

Conalls s.h.i.+eld-arm had been wounded by thrice fifty spears, and he reached Teltin now with half a s.h.i.+eld, and his sword, and the fragments of his two spears.

Swift are the wolves that have hunted thee, my son, said his father.

Tis this that has wounded us, old hero, an evil conflict with warriors, Conall replied.

Is thy lord alive? asked Amorgin.

He is _not_ alive, says Conall.

I swear to G.o.d what the great tribes of Ulster swear: he is a coward who goes out of a fight alive having left his lord with his foes in death.

My wounds are not white, old hero, says Conall. He showed him his s.h.i.+eld-arm, whereon were thrice fifty spear-wounds. The sword-arm, which the s.h.i.+eld had not guarded, was mangled and maimed and wounded and pierced, save that the sinews kept it to the body without separation.

That arm fought to-night, my son, says Amorgin.

True is that, old hero, says Conall of the Victories. Many are they to whom it gave drinks of death to-night in front of the Hostel.

So ends the story of Etain, and of the overthrow of Fairyland and the fairy vengeance wrought on the great-grandson of Eochy the High King.

CHAPTER V: TALES OF THE ULTONIAN CYCLE

*The Curse of Macha*

The centre of interest in Irish legend now s.h.i.+fts from Tara to Ulster, and a mult.i.tude of heroic tales gather round the Ulster king Conor mac Nessa, round Cuchulain,(132) his great va.s.sal, and the Red Branch Order of chivalry, which had its seat in Emain Macha.

The legend of the foundation of Emain Macha has already been told.(133) But Macha, who was no mere woman, but a supernatural being, appears again in connexion with the history of Ulster in a very curious tale which was supposed to account for the strange debility or helplessness that at critical moments sometimes fell, it was believed, upon the warriors of the province.