Celtic Myths

by Flame Tree Studio

  Several weeks after the great feast, Etar’s wife was overjoyed to discover that she was carrying a child. The gods had fulfilled their promise and had caused Étain to nestle in her womb until the time when she could be reborn as a mortal child. After nine months, the Chieftain and his wife were blessed with a daughter and they gave her the name of Étain. She grew to become one of the most beautiful maidens in Ulster and although she bore the same name as before, she could remember nothing of her former life with the Daoine Sidhe.

  It was at about this time that a distinguished warrior known as Eochaid Airem was crowned High King of Erin. One of the first tasks he set himself was to organize a splendid annual feast, gathering together all of the kingdom’s noblemen to the royal palace for a month of glorious festivity. But the king was soon disappointed to discover that a great number of his noblemen would not accept his generous invitation. Deeply puzzled by this turn of events, he ordered several of them to appear before him and demanded an explanation.

  “We cannot attend such a feast,” they told him, “since the absence of a queen by your side would make it unwholesome. The people of Erin have never before served a king who does not possess a queen. There are many among us with daughters young and fair who would be more than willing to help restore your honour.”

  The King was now made to realize that his integrity rested on securing a wife, and he immediately sent out horsemen to the four corners of Erin in search of a maiden who would make for him a suitable queen. Within a few days, a group of his messengers returned with the news that they had found the fairest creature in the land. Eochaid set forth at once to view with his own eyes the maiden his men had found for him. He rode for some distance until at last he happened upon four nymph-like figures laughing and dancing in the sunshine at the edge of a small, meandering brook. One of them was indeed far more beautiful than the others. She was clothed in a mantel of bright purple which was clasped over her bosom with a brooch of bright, glittering gold. Underneath, she wore a tunic of the finest emerald silk, intricately decorated with silver fringes and sparkling jewels. Her skin was as white and smooth as snow, her eyes were as blue as hyacinths and her lips as red as the finest rubies. Two tresses of chestnut hair rested on her head. Each one was plaited into four strands and fastened at the ends with tiny spheres of gold. Eochaid shyly approached the maiden and began to question her softly:

  “Who are you,” he inquired, “and who was it created so rare and beautiful a vision as you?”

  “I am Étain, daughter of Etar,” said the maiden. “Your messengers warned me of your visit Eochaid and I have heard noble tales of you since I was a little child.”

  “Will you allow me to woo you then, fair Étain,” asked the King, “for I cannot conceive of any greater pleasure left to me.”

  “It is you I have waited for,” replied Étain, “and I will only be truly fulfilled if you take me with you to Tara where I will serve you well as queen.”

  Overwhelmed with joy at these words, Eochaid grasped Étain’s hand and lifted her onto the saddle next to him. They rode speedily towards the palace at Tara where news of the king’s betrothal had already reached the ears of his subjects. A hearty welcome awaited the couple as they approached the great gates and they were married that same afternoon to the jubilant sounds of chiming bells and shouts of approval from the large crowd that had gathered to wish them well.

  The Royal Assembly of Tara was now the grand occasion everybody looked forward to and preparations began in earnest for the series of lavish banquets and pageants that were to take place in the grounds of the palace. On the morning of first day of the Assembly, Étain made ready to welcome Eochaid’s guests and she rode to the top of the hill beyond the gates to catch a glimpse of the first to arrive. After a time, a young warrior on horseback appeared in the distance making his way steadily towards her. He wore a robe of royal purple and his hair, which tumbled below his shoulders, was golden yellow in colour. His face was proud and radiant and his eyes lustrous and gentle. In his left hand, he held a five-pointed spear and in his right, a circular shield, laden with white gold and precious gems. The warrior came forward and Étain welcomed him zealously:

  “We are honoured by your presence, young warrior,” said Étain. “A warm reception awaits you at the palace where I shall be pleased to lead you.”

  But the warrior hesitated to accompany her and began to speak in a pained, anxious voice.

  “Do you not know me, Étain?” he asked. “For years I have been searching every corner of the land for you. I am your husband, Midhir the Proud, from the fairy kingdom of the Ever Young.”

  “My husband is Eochaid Airem, High King of Erin,” replied Étain. “Are you not deceived by your own eyes? You are a stranger to me and I have never before heard of your kingdom.”

  “Fuamnach is dead and it is now safe for you to return to your home,” Midhir told her. “It was the sorcery of Fuamnach and Bressal that drove us apart, Étain. Will you come with me now to a land full of music, where men and women remain eternally fair and without blemish. There, in the land of your birth, we may again live happily as man and wife.”

  “I will not readily abandon the King of Erin for a man unknown to me,” answered Étain. “I would never seek to depart with you without the King’s consent and I know he will not give it, since his love for me deepens with every passing day.”

  Hearing these words, Midhir bowed his head in defeat. It was not in his nature to take Étain by force and he sadly bade her farewell, galloping furiously across the plains of Erin, his purple cloak billowing around him in the breeze.

  Throughout the winter months that followed, Étain remained haunted by the image of the stranger who had visited her on the hill. She began to dream of a land filled with sunshine and laughter where she frequently appeared seated on a throne, smiling happily. She could not explain these dreams and did not dare to confide in her husband. Often, however, she would ride to the place where she had met with Midhir the Proud and gaze outwards towards the flat, green carpet of land, secretly entertaining the hope that a rider on a white horse might suddenly appear on the horizon.

  One fair summer’s morning as Eochaid Airem peered out of the palace window, he noticed a young warrior in a purple cloak riding towards the Hill of Tara. The King was intrigued by the sight and ordered his horse to be saddled so that he might personally greet the stranger and establish the purpose of his visit to the palace.

  “I am known to all as Midhir,” said the warrior. “I have journeyed here to meet with Eochaid Airem, for I am told he is the finest chess-player in the land. I have with me a chessboard with which to test his skill if he is willing to meet my challenge.”

  The warrior then produced from beneath his mantel a solid gold chessboard with thirty-two silver pieces, each one encrusted with the finest sapphires and diamonds.

  “I would be more than delighted to play a game of chess with you,” replied the King, and he led the way to a brightly-lit chamber where they placed the board on a sturdy round table and sat down to play the first game. The King was not long in proving his reputation as a champion player and, as the young warrior seemed disappointed with his own performance, it was decided that they should play a second game. Again, the King was victorious and the warrior appeared to become more and more agitated. But it was Midhir’s intention all along to win Eochaid’s sympathy and to lure him into a false sense of security.

  “Perhaps it would be best,” suggested the King, “if we decided on a wager for our third and final game. Name your stake, choose any treasure you desire, and it will be forfeited to you if you are triumphant over me.”

  “That is very generous of you,” replied Midhir, “but I have more than enough wealth and possessions to satisfy me. Perhaps you have a wife, however, who would not protest too loudly if I stole from her a single kiss as my prize?”

  “I am sure she would not object,�
� answered Eochaid cheerfully, for he felt certain that Étain would never have to deliver such a trophy.

  The two played on, but this time the King struggled to keep control of the game and at length he was beaten by the younger man. Eochaid now fell silent and began to regret that he had so carelessly offered his wife as prize. In desperation and despair, he begged his opponent to surrender his claim to the pledged kiss. But Midhir insisted firmly on the forfeit and the King was forced to honour his part of the bargain.

  “Perhaps you will find it in your heart to show me a little kindness,” Eochaid pleaded, “and allow me time to reconcile myself to the dispatch of such a precious reward. Return to this palace one month from today and what you have asked for will not be denied you.”

  “Your request is not unreasonable,” replied Midhir, “and it leads me to believe that a kiss from your wife must be worth the long wait.”

  Then Eochaid Airem appointed a day at the end of the month when Midhir would return to collect his prize and the young warrior departed the palace, his heart lighter than it had been for a very long time.

  As the days passed by and the time approached for Étain to deliver her kiss, the King became more and more protective of his beautiful wife. Fearing that his handsome rival would appear at any moment, he gave the order for the palace to be surrounded by a great host of armed men and instructed them not to allow any stranger to enter the grounds. Once he had made certain that the outer courtyards were protected and that the doors to the inner chambers were properly guarded, Eochaid began to feel more at ease and decided to invite his closest friends to dine with him later that evening in the banqueting hall. Étain appeared next to him in a gown of shimmering silver and a row of servants carried trays of the most exotic food and flagons of the finest wine through to the long table. While the queen poured the wine for her hosts, the hall began to fill with laughter and conversation and it was not long before Eochaid called for his musicians to begin playing.

  In the midst of this happy atmosphere, nobody noticed the tall, elegant figure enter the room and make his way towards the King, his face noble and determined, his spear held proudly in his left hand. Étain suddenly raised her eyes and saw before her the young rider whose image had filled her sleeping hours since their meeting on the Hill of Tara. He appeared more beautiful and resplendent than ever, more eloquent and powerful than her memory had allowed for. A wonderful feeling of warmth and affection stirred within Étain’s breast as Midhir gazed tenderly upon her and she felt that somehow she had always known and loved the man who stood before her. Then Midhir addressed the King and his words were purposeful and resolute:

  “Let me collect what has been promised me,” he said to Eochaid, “It is a debt that is due and the time is ripe for payment.”

  The King and his party looked on helplessly as Midhir encircled the fair Étain in his arms. As their lips met, a thick veil of mist appeared around them, and they were lifted gracefully into the air and out into the night. Eochaid and his noblemen rushed from the banqueting hall in pursuit of the couple, but all they could see were two white swans circling the star-filled sky above the royal palace. Eochaid wept bitterly for his loss and swore solemnly that he would not rest a single moment until every fairy mound in the land had been dug up and destroyed in his search for Midhir the Proud.

  The Ulster Cycle

  Introduction

  Stories of Cúchulainn of the Red Guard

  The Ulster Cycle, also known as the Red Branch Cycle, is compiled of tales of Ulster’s traditional heroes, chief among whom is Cúchulainn (pronounced ‘Koo khul-in’), arguably the most important war-champion in ancient Irish literature. An account of his birth dating from the ninth century is retold here, although a great many variations exist.

  From the age of six, Cúchulainn displays his supernatural ancestry and astounding strength. While still a child, he slays the terrifying hound of Culann. As a mere youth he is sent to train with the Knights of the Red Guard under Scathach and he alone is entrusted with the diabolical weapon known as the Gae Bolg. Later, he single-handedly defends Ulster against Queen Medb (pronounced ‘Maev’) while the rest of the province sleeps under the charm of Macha. His most notable exploits spanning his hectic warrior’s life up until his early death are recounted here.

  Cúchulainn is said to have fallen at the battle of Muirthemne, c. 12 bc. He was finally overcome by his old enemy Lugaid, aided by the monstrous daughters of Calatin. As death approaches, Cúchulainn insists that he be allowed to bind himself upright to a pillar-stone. With his dying breath, he gives a loud, victorious laugh and when Lugaid attempts to behead his corpse, the enemy’s right hand is severed as the sword of Cúchulainn falls heavily upon it. The hero’s death is avenged by Conall the Victorious, but with the defeat of Cúchulainn, the end is sealed to the valiant reign of the Red Guard Knights in ancient Irish legend.

  The Birth of Cúchulainn

  King Conchobar mac Nessa was ruler of Ulster at the time when Cúchulainn, the mightiest hero of the Red Guard, came to be born. It happened that one day, the King’s sister Dechtire, whom he cherished above all others, disappeared from the palace without warning, taking fifty of her maidens and her most valuable possessions with her. Although Conchobar summoned every known person in the court before him for questioning, no explanation could be discovered for his sister’s departure. For three long years, the King’s messengers scoured the country in search of Dechtire, but not one among them ever brought him news of her whereabouts.

  At last, one summer’s morning, a strange flock of birds descended on the palace gardens of Emain Macha and began to gorge themselves on every fruit tree and vegetable patch in sight. Greatly disturbed by the greed and destruction he witnessed, the King immediately gathered together a party of his hunters, and they set off in pursuit of the birds, armed with powerful slings and the sharpest of arrows. Fergus mac Roig, Conchobar’s chief huntsman and guide, was among the group, as were his trusted warriors Amergin and Bricriu. As the day wore on, they found themselves being lured a great distance southward by the birds, across Sliab Fuait, towards the Plain of Gossa, and with every step taken they grew more angry and frustrated that not one arrow had yet managed to ruffle a single feather.

  Nightfall had overtaken them before they had even noticed the light begin to fade, and the King, realizing that they would never make it safely back to the palace, gave the order for Fergus and some of the others to go out in search of a place of lodging for the party. Before long, Fergus came upon a small hut whose firelight was extremely inviting, and he approached and knocked politely on the door. He received a warm and hearty welcome from the old married couple within, and they at once offered him food and a comfortable bed for the evening. But Fergus would not accept their kind hospitality, knowing that his companions were still abroad without shelter.

  “Then they are all invited to join us,” said the old woman, and as she bustled about, preparing food and wine for her visitors, Fergus went off to deliver his good news to Conchobar and the rest of the group.

  Bricriu had also set off in search of accommodation, and as he had walked to the opposite side of the woodlands, he was certain that he heard the gentle sound of harp music. Instinctively drawn towards the sweet melody, he followed the winding path through the trees until he came upon a regal mansion standing proudly on the banks of the river Boyne. He timidly approached the noble structure, but there was no need for him to knock, since the door was already ajar and a young maiden, dressed in a flowing gown of shimmering gold, stood in the entrance hall ready to greet him. She was accompanied by a young man of great stature and splendid appearance who smiled warmly at Bricriu and extended his hand in friendship:

  “You are indeed welcome,” said the handsome warrior, “we have been waiting patiently for your visit to our home this day.”

  “Come inside, Bricriu,” said the beautiful maiden, “why is it that you linger out
of doors?”

  “Can it be that you do not recognize the woman who appears before you?” asked the warrior.

  “Her great beauty stirs a memory from the past,” replied Bricriu, “but I cannot recall anything more at present.”

  “You see before you Dechtire, sister of Conchobar mac Nessa,” said the warrior, “and the fifty maidens you have been seeking these three years are also in this house. They have today visited Emain Macha in the form of birds in order to lure you here.”

  “Then I must go at once to the King and inform him of what I have discovered,” answered Bricriu, “for he will be overjoyed to know that Dechtire has been found and will be eager for her to accompany him back to the palace where there will be great feasting and celebration.”

  He hurried back through the woods to rejoin the King and his companions. And when Conchobar heard the news of Bricriu’s discovery, he could scarcely contain his delight and was immediately anxious to be reunited with his sister. A messenger was sent forth to invite Dechtire and the warrior to share in their evening meal, and a place was hurriedly prepared for the couple at the table inside the welcoming little hut. But Dechtire was already suffering the first pangs of childbirth by the time Conchobar’s messenger arrived with his invitation. She excused herself by saying that she was tired and agreed instead to meet up with her brother at dawn on the following morning.

  When the first rays of sunshine had brightened the heavens, Conchobar arose from his bed and began to prepare himself for Dechtire’s arrival. He had passed a very peaceful night and went in search of Fergus and the others in the happiest of moods. Approaching the place where his men were sleeping, he became convinced that he had heard the stifled cries of an infant. Again, as he drew nearer, the sound was repeated. He stooped down and began to examine a small, strange bundle lying on the ground next to Bricriu. As he unwrapped it, the bundle began to wriggle in his arms and a tiny pink hand revealed itself from beneath the cloth covering.