At the end of three months, there was not a living person in the land who had not heard rumours of the daring feats of Finn, the golden-haired youth. And it was not long before Goll mac Morna had dispatched his horsemen throughout the countryside to track down the son of Cumall, ordering them to bring him back dead or alive. Finn’s two foster-mothers grew anxious that he would be found and they called Finn back home to them and advised him to leave his home in the mountains of Slieve Bloom:
“The champion warriors of the sons of Morna will arrive soon,” they told him, “and they have been instructed to kill you if they find you here. It was Goll, son of Morna, who murdered your father Cumall. Go from us now, Finn, and keep your identity secret until you are strong enough to protect yourself, for the sons of Morna know that you are the rightful leader of the Fianna and they will stop at nothing until you are dead.”
And so Finn gathered together his belongings and set off in the direction of Loch Lein in the west where he lived for a time in the outdoors, safe from the attention of everyone. At length, however, he began to yearn for the company of other warriors and could not suppress his desire to volunteer himself in military service to the King of Bantry. Even though he did not make himself known to any of his companions, it was not long before their suspicions were aroused, for there was not a soldier more intrepid, nor a hunter more accomplished in the whole of the kingdom. The King himself was curious to learn more about the young warrior and invited him to visit the palace. The two men sat down to a game of chess and the King was greatly surprised to witness the ease with which the youth managed to defeat him. They decided to play on, and Finn won seven games, one after another. Then the King gave up the contest and began to question his opponent warily:
“Who are you,” he asked, “and who are your people?”
“I am the son of a peasant of the Luagni of Tara,” replied Finn.
“I do not believe this to be the truth,” said the King, “I am convinced that you are the son that Muirne bore to Cumall. You need not fear me if this is so and I advise you, as proof, to depart here without delay, since I do not wish you to be slain by the sons of Morna while under my poor protection.”
Then Finn realized that he had little choice but to continue his wanderings over the lonely plains of Erin. And it was always the case that whenever he came into contact with other people, his beauty and noble bearing betrayed him, so that the eyes of all were fixed upon him, and the news of his presence promptly spread throughout the region.
He journeyed onwards into Connacht, restricting himself to those areas of the wilderness where he felt certain he would not encounter another living soul. But as he was on his way one morning, he heard the unmistakable sound of a woman wailing and soon came upon her in a clearing of the woods, kneeling over the body of a dead youth.
“I have good cause to mourn in such a fashion,” said the woman looking up at Finn, “for my only son has been struck down without mercy by the tall warrior who has just passed by here.”
“And what was your son’s name who suffered this cruel, unwarranted fate?” enquired Finn.
“Glonda was his name,” replied the woman, “and I ask you, under bond as a warrior, to avenge his death, since I know of no other who can help me.”
Without hesitating a moment longer, Finn set off in pursuit of the warrior, following the tracks through the woods until he came to the dwelling place of Lia Luachair on the outskirts of Connacht. Taking up the old woman’s challenge, he drew his sword and began attacking Lia, striking him down with little effort. It was then that Finn noticed a strange bag on the floor at the older man’s feet, and as he looked inside, the treasures of Cumall and the Fianna were revealed to him, and he was overcome with pride that he had unwittingly slain the man who had dealt his father the first wound at Cnucha.
It was at this time that Finn grew weary of his solitary life and began to gather around him all the young warriors of the country who had come to admire his courage and determination. And one of the first tasks he set himself was to go in search of his uncle Crimall and the rest of the Clan Brascna who were still in hiding from the sons of Morna. Accompanied by his followers, he crossed the River Shannon and marched into Connacht where he found his uncle and a number of the old Fianna lying low in the heart of the forest. Crimall stepped forwards and lovingly embraced his nephew, for it was apparent at once that the young stranger before him was the son of Cumall. Then Finn presented the old man with the Bag of Treasures and told him the story from beginning to end of how he had come upon it and slain its custodian. And as he spoke, Crimall laid out the treasures on the ground before them and all who gazed upon them grew fresh of face and strong in body and the burden of age and sorrow was instantly lifted from their brows.
“Our time of deliverance is close at hand,” shouted Crimall joyfully, “for it has been foretold that he who recovers the Treasure Bag of the Fianna from the hands of the enemy is the one who will lead the Clan of Brascna to victory once more. Go now Finn,” he added, “and seek out the ancient bard known as Finnegas, since he is the one destined to prepare you for the day when you will rise to your rightful position as head of the Fianna.”
Hearing these words, Finn bade the company farewell and set off alone towards the shores of the River Boyne in the east, eager to meet with the wise old druid who had schooled his father in the ways of poetry and story-telling, whose masterful instruction was deemed essential for any man aspiring to leadership of the Fianna.
For seven long years, Finnegas had lived on the banks of the Boyne, seeking to catch the Salmon of Fec. The salmon, which swam in a deep pool overhung by hazel boughs, was famous throughout the land, for it was prophesied that the first person to eat of its flesh would enjoy all the wisdom of the world. And it happened one day that while Finn was sitting by the river with Finnegas at his side, the salmon swam boldly towards them, almost daring them to cast their rods into the water. Finnegas lost no time in doing so and was astounded when the fish got caught on his hook, struggling only very weakly to release itself. He hauled the salmon onto the shore and watched its silver body wriggle in the sand until all life had gone out of it. When it finally lay still, he gave the salmon over to Finn and ordered him to build a fire on which to cook it.
“But do not eat even the smallest morsel,” Finnegas told him, “for it is my reward alone, having waited patiently for seven years.”
Finn placed a spit over the fire and began turning it as requested until the fish was cooked through. He then placed it on a plate and took it to Finnegas.
“And have you eaten any of the salmon?” asked the poet.
“No,” answered Finn, “but I burned my thumb while cooking it and put it in my mouth to relieve the pain.”
“Then you are indeed Finn mac Cumaill,” said Finnegas, “and I bear you no ill-will for having tasted the salmon, for in you the prophecy is come true.”
Then Finnegas gave Finn the rest of the salmon to eat and it brought him instant knowledge of all he desired to know. And that evening he composed the finest of verses, proving that he possessed a talent equal to the most gifted poets in Erin:
May-day! delightful day!
Bright colours play the vale along.
Now wakes at morning’s slender ray
Wild and gay the Blackbird’s song.
Now comes the bird of dusty hue,
The loud cuckoo, the summer-lover;
Branchy trees are thick with leaves;
The bitter, evil time is over.
Loaded bees with puny power
Goodly flower-harvest win;
Cattle roam with muddy flanks;
Busy ants go out and in.
Through the wild harp of the wood
Making music roars the gale–
Now it settles without motion,
On the ocean sleeps the sail.
Men grow
mighty in the May,
Proud and gay the maidens grow;
Fair is every wooded height;
Fair and bright the plain below.
A bright shaft has smit the streams,
With gold gleams the water-flag;
Leaps the fish and on the hills
Ardour thrills the leaping stag.
Loudly carols the lark on high,
Small and shy his tireless lay,
Singing in wildest, merriest mood,
Delicate-hued, delightful May.
T.W. Rolleston, May-Day
The Rise of Finn to Leadership of the Fianna
After Finn had eaten of the Salmon of Fec which gave him all the gifts of wisdom, he had only to put his thumb in his mouth and whatever he wished to discover was immediately revealed to him. He knew beyond all doubt that he had been brought into the world to take the place of Cumall as head of the Fianna, and was confident at last that he had learned from Finnegas all that he would ever need to know. Turning his back on the valley of the Boyne, he set off to join Crimall and his followers in the forests of Connacht once more in order to plan in earnest for his future. He had by now become the most courageous of warriors, yet this quality was tempered by a remarkable generosity and gentleness of spirit that no man throughout the length and breath of the country could ever hope to rival. Finn was loved and admired by every last one of his comrades and they devoted their lives to him, never once slackening in their efforts to prove themselves worthy of his noble patronage.
It was decided among this loyal group that the time had come for Finn to assert his claim to the leadership of the Fianna and they went and pledged him their support and friendship in this bravest of quests. For it was well known that the Clan of Morna, who continued to rule the Fenian warriors, would not surrender their position without a bitter struggle. Finn now believed himself ready for such a confrontation and the day was chosen when he and his army would march to the Hill of Tara and plead their case before Conn Céadchathach, the High King of Erin.
As it was now the month of November and the Great Assembly of Tara was once more in progress, a period of festivity and good-will, when every man was under oath to lay aside his weapon. Chieftains, noblemen, kings and warriors all journeyed to Tara for the splendid event and old feuds were forgotten as the wine and mead flowed freely and the merry-making and dancing lasted well into the small hours. It was not long before Finn and his band of followers had arrived at Tara and they proceeded at once to the main banqueting hall where they were welcomed by the King’s attendants and seated among the other Fenian warriors. As soon as he had walked into the hall, however, all eyes had been turned towards Finn, and a flurry of hushed enquiries circulated around the room as to the identity of the golden-haired youth. The King too, was quick to acknowledge that a stranger had entered his court, and he picked up a goblet of wine and instructed one of his servants to present it to the young warrior. At this gesture of friendship, Finn felt reassured in approaching the King, and he walked forward to the royal table and introduced himself to one and all.
“I am Finn, son of Cumall,” he declared, “and I have come to take service with you, High King of Erin, just as my father did before me as head of the Fianna.”
And when he heard these words, Goll mac Morna, who sat at the King’s right hand, grew pale in anger, and shuddered to hear the King respond favourably to the young warrior:
“I would be honoured to have you serve in my ranks,” replied Conn Céadchathach. “If you are the son of Cumall, son of Trenmor, then you are also a friend of mine.”
After this, Finn bound himself in loyalty to the King, and his own band of men followed his example, and each was presented with a sword of the Fianna which they accepted with great pride and humility.
Everybody in the kingdom had either heard of Aillen the goblin or seen the creature with their own eyes. Every year during the Great Assembly, Conn Céadchathach increased the number of men guarding the royal city, but still the goblin managed to pass undetected through the outer gates, moving swiftly towards the palace and setting it alight with its flaming breath. Not even the bravest of warriors could prevent Aillen from reeking havoc on Tara, for he carried with him a magic harp and all who heard its fairy music were gently lulled to sleep. The King lived in hope however, that one day the goblin would be defeated and he adamantly refused to be held to ransom by the creature, insisting that the annual festivities take place as normal. A handsome reward awaited that warrior who could capture or destroy Aillen, but none had yet succeeded in doing so. It was at this time that Goll mac Morna conceived of his wicked plan to belittle his young rival before the King, for he could see that Conn Céadchathach secretly entertained the hope that Finn would rescue Tara from further destruction. He called the young warrior to him and told him of the one true way to win the King’s favour, being careful not to mention the enchanting harp or the difficulty of the task that lay ahead:
“Go and bind yourself before the King to rid this city of the terrible goblin who every year burns it to the ground,” said Goll. “You alone possess the courage to do this Finn, and you may name your price if you are successful.”
So Finn went before the King and swore that he would not rest in peace until he had slain Aillen the goblin.
“And what would you have as your reward?” asked the King.
“If I manage to rid you of the goblin,” Finn replied, “I should like to take up my rightful position as captain of the Fianna. Will you agree, under oath, to such a reward?”
“If this is what you desire,” answered the King, “then I bind myself to deliver such a prize.”
Satisfied with these words, Finn took up his weapon and ventured out into the darkness to begin his lonely vigil over the palace.
As night fell and the November mists began to thicken round the hill of Tara, Finn waited anxiously for the goblin to appear. After some time, he saw an older warrior enter the courtyard and make his way towards him. He noticed that the warrior held in his hand a long, pointed spear, protected by a case of the soft, shining leather.
“I am Fiacha,” said the warrior gently, “and I was proud to serve under your father, Cumall, when he was leader of the Fianna. The spear I carry is the spear of enchantment which Cumall placed in my charge upon his death.
“Take this weapon,” he added, “and as soon as you hear the fairy music, lay its blade against your forehead and you will not fall under the melody’s spell.”
Finn thanked the warrior for his gift and turned it over to inspect it, admiring its shining handle of Arabian gold and the sharp steel body of the blade that glinted challengingly in the moonlight. Then he began to roam the ramparts once more, straining his ear to catch the first notes of the magic harp. He gazed out over the wide, frosty plains of Meath but still there was no sign of the evil goblin. He had almost given up hope that Aillen would appear and had sat down wearily on the hard, frozen earth, when he caught sight of a shadowy, phantom-like figure in the distance, floating eerily over the plain towards the royal palace. At first the strange music that wafted through the air was scarcely audible, but as the goblin drew nearer, the sweet sound of the harp strings filled the air like a potent fragrance, intoxicating the senses and inducing a warm, drowsy feeling. Finn was immediately enraptured by the sound and his eyelids slowly began to droop as the music weaved its magic spell over him. But something within him struggled against the opiate of the melody and his fingers searched for the spear of enchantment. Releasing the weapon from its leather shroud, he lay the cold steel blade against his forehead and drew a long, deep breath as he allowed its rejuvenating strength to flow through his tired limbs.
As soon as Aillen had reached the crest of the Hill of Tara he began to spit blazing fire-balls through the palace gates, unaware that Finn had escaped the enchantment of the harp. Now Aillen had never before come face to face with an alert a
nd animate mortal, and the sudden appearance of the young warrior quenching the flames with the cloak off his back prompted a shriek of terror and alarm. Turning swiftly around in the direction he had come from, Aillen fled for his safety, hoping to reach the fairy mound at Sliabh Fuaid before Finn could overtake him. But the young warrior was far too fleet of foot and before the goblin had managed to glide through the entrance of the mound, Finn had cast his spear, striking down the goblin with a single fatal blow through the chest. Then Finn bent over the corpse and removed Aillen’s head and carried it back to the palace so that all were made aware that he had put an end to the reign of destruction.
When the sun had risen on the following morning, the King was overjoyed to discover that his kingdom remained untouched by the goblin’s flame. He knew at once that Finn must have fulfilled his promise and was eager to express his gratitude. He called together all the men of the Fianna and sent his messenger to Finn’s chamber requesting him to appear before him. Then the King stood Finn at his right hand and addressed his audience slowly and solemnly with the following words:
“Men of Erin,” said the King, “I have pledged my word to this young warrior that if he should ever destroy the goblin Aillen, he would be granted leadership of the Fianna. I urge you to embrace him as your new leader and to honour him with your loyalty and service. If any among you cannot agree to do this, let him now resign his membership of the Fianna.”
Celtic Myths Page 11