Celtic Myths

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Celtic Myths Page 12

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  And turning to face Goll mac Morna, the King asked him:

  “Do you swear service to Finn mac Cumaill, or is it your decision to quit the Fianna?”

  “The young warrior has risen nobly to his position,” replied Goll, “and I now bow to his superiority and accept him as my captain.”

  Then Goll mac Morna swore allegiance to Finn and each warrior came forward after him and did the same in his turn. And from this day onwards it was deemed the highest honour to serve under Finn mac Cumaill, for only the best and bravest of Erin’s warriors were privileged to stand alongside the most glorious leader the Fianna had ever known.

  The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Gráinne

  Following the death of his wife Maignes, Finn mac Cumaill had spent an unhappy year alone as a widower. The loss of his wife had come as a severe blow to the hero of the Fianna and even though he was surrounded by loved ones, including his beloved son Oisín and his grandson Oscar, who watched over and comforted him, he could not rid himself of thoughts of Maignes and was increasingly overwhelmed by deep feelings of loneliness and despair.

  One morning, seeing his father in such a pitiful state of grief, Oisín called upon his most trusted friend, Diorruing O’Baoiscne, and together they agreed that something must be done to rescue Finn from his prolonged melancholy. It was Diorruing who suggested that perhaps the time had come for Finn to take a new wife and the two young men began to consider who best would fill this role. And as they pondered this question, Oisín suddenly remembered that the High King of Erin, Cormac mac Art, was said to possess one of the most beautiful daughters in the land. Her name was Gráinne, and although several suitors had sought her hand, it was known that she had not consented to marry any of them and was still in search of a husband.

  Oisín and Diorruing went before Finn and expressed their concern that he had not yet recovered his good spirits. Finn listened attentively, and he could not deny that every word they spoke was the truth. But he had tried, he told them, to put aside all memory of his wife, and his attempts so far had been utterly futile.

  “Will you let us help you then?” Oisín asked his father. “For we feel certain that you would be better off with a strong woman by your side. The maiden you seek is named Gráinne, daughter of Cormac mac Art, and if you will allow it, we will journey to Tara on your behalf and request her hand in marriage.”

  After they had persuaded Finn that he had little to lose by agreeing to such a venture, both Oisín and Doirruing set off for the royal residence at Tara. So impressive was their stature as warriors of the Fianna, that as soon as they arrived, they were respectfully escorted through the palace gates and permitted an immediate audience with the King. And when Cormac mac Art heard that Finn mac Cumaill desired to take his daughter for a wife, he was more than pleased at the prospect, yet at the same time, he felt it his duty to inform Oisín of the outcome of Gráinne’s previous courtships:

  “My daughter is a wilful and passionate woman,” the King told Oisín. “She has refused the hand of some of the finest princes and battle-champions Erin has ever known. Let her be brought before us so that she may give you her own decision on the matter, for I would rather not incur your displeasure by saying yes, only to have her go against me.”

  So Gráinne was brought before them and the question was put to her whether or not she would have Finn mac Cumaill for a husband. And it was without the slightest show of interest or enthusiasm that Gráinne made the following reply:

  “If you consider this man a fitting son-in-law for you, father, then why shouldn’t he be a suitable husband for me?”

  But Oisín and Doirruing were satisfied with this answer and taking their leave of the King after having promised to visit as soon as possible in the company of Finn mac Cumaill, they hastened back to the Hill of Allen to deliver the good news.

  Within a week, the royal household of Tara was busy preparing itself to welcome the leader of the Fianna and the captains of the seven battalions of his great army. An elaborate banquet was prepared in their honour and King Cormac mac Art received his visitors with great pride and excitement. Then he led the way to the vast dining hall and they all sat down to enjoy a merry evening of feasting and drinking. Seated at Cormac’s left hand was his wife, Eitche, and next to her sat Gráinne, resplendent in a robe of emerald silk which perfectly enhanced her breathtaking beauty. Finn mac Cumaill took pride of place at the King’s right hand and beside him were seated the most prominent warriors of the Fianna according to his rank and patrimony.

  After a time, Gráinne struck up a conversation with her father’s druid Daire who sat close by, demanding to know of him the cause of the great celebrations taking place.

  “If you are not aware of the reason,” said the druid, “then it will indeed be hard for me to explain it to you.”

  But Gráinne continued to pester Daire with the same question until eventually he was forced to give her a more direct answer:

  “That warrior next to your father is none other than Finn mac Cumaill,” said the druid, “and he has come here tonight to ask you to be his wife.”

  And so, for the first time, Gráinne scrutinized the figure she had so flippantly agreed to marry, and having studied his face at some length she fell silent for a time. Then she addressed the druid once more:

  “It comes as a great surprise to me,” said Gráinne, “that it is not for his own son Oisín, or even his grandson Oscar, that Finn seeks me as a wife, since it would be far more appropriate if I married one of these two than marry this man who must be three times my own age.”

  “Do not say such things,” answered Daire worriedly, “for if Finn were to hear you, he would certainly now refuse you and none among the Fianna would ever dare to look at you afterwards.”

  But Gráinne merely laughed to hear these words and her eye began to wander in the direction of the young Fenian warriors at the banqueting table. As she surveyed each of them in turn, she questioned the druid as to their identity, desiring to know what exceptional qualities they each had to recommend them. And when her eyes came to rest upon one particularly handsome warrior with dusky-black hair, her interest was very keenly aroused.

  “That is Diarmuid, son of Dubne,” the druid informed her, “who is reputed to be the best lover of women and of maidens in all the world.”

  As she continued to sip her wine, Gráinne stared even more closely at the black-haired youth until eventually she called her attendant to her and whispered in her ear:

  “Bring me the jewelled goblet from my chamber closet that holds enough wine for nine times nine men.” she told her. “Have it filled to the brim with wine, then set it down before me.”

  When her servant returned with the heavy goblet Gráinne added to it the contents of a small phial she had secretly hidden in a fold of her gown.

  “Take the goblet to Finn first of all,” she urged her handmaiden, “and bid him swallow a draught of wine in honour of our courtship. After he has done so, pass the goblet to all of the company at the high table, but be careful not to allow any of the youthful warriors of the Fianna to drink from it.”

  The servant did as she was requested and it was not long before all who swallowed the wine from Gráinne’s cup had fallen into a deep and peaceful slumber. Then Gráinne rose quietly from her place at the table and made her way towards where Diarmuid was seated.

  “Will you receive my love, Diarmuid,” Gráinne asked him, “and escape with me tonight to a place far away from here?”

  “It is Finn mac Cumaill you are set to wed,” answered the young warrior, stunned at her suggestion. “I would not do such a thing for any woman who is betrothed to the leader of the Fianna.”

  “Then I place you under bonds as a warrior of the King,” said Gráinne, “to take me out of Tara tonight and to save me from an unhappy union with an old man.”

  “These are evil bonds indeed,” said Diarmuid,
“and I beg you to withdraw them, for I cannot understand what it is I have done to deserve such unwarranted punishment.”

  “You have done nothing except allow me to fall in love with you,” replied Gráinne, “ever since the day, many years ago, when you visited the palace and joined in a game of hurling on the green of Tara. I turned the light of my eyes on you that day, and I never gave my love to any other man from that time until now, nor will I ever, Diarmuid.”

  Torn between his loyalty to Finn, and an allegiance to the sacred bonds Gráinne had placed him under, Diarmuid turned to his Fenian friends for counsel and advice. But all of them, including Oisín, Oscar, Diorruing and Cailte, advised that he had little choice but to go with Gráinne:

  “You have not invited Gráinne’s love,” Oisín told him, “and you are not responsible for the bonds she has laid upon you. But he is a miserable wretch who does not honour his warrior’s oath. You must follow Gráinne therefore, and accept this destiny, though your own death may come of it.”

  Filled with despair and sorrow at these words, Diarmuid gathered up his weapons and then moving towards his comrades, he embraced each of them sadly, knowing that his days with the Fianna had now come to an end, to be replaced by days of tortured exile, when Finn mac Cumaill would ruthlessly pursue the couple from one end of Erin to the next.

  As soon as the flight of Diarmuid and Gráinne had been brought to his attention, the leader of the Fianna was consumed with violent jealousy and rage and swore the bitterest revenge on the pair. At once, Finn mac Cumaill called for his horses to be saddled and a great host of his men set off on the trail of the couple, journeying for days along the most secluded tracks through the densest forests of Erin until they had crossed the river Shannon and arrived near to the place known as Doire Da Both. On the outskirts of this forest, the Fenian trackers discovered a makeshift camp dusted with the ashes of a small fire, which although now cold, left them in little doubt that they were moving very closely behind their prey.

  On the following evening, after they had travelled a lengthy distance deeper into the forest, Finn and his men came upon a form of wooden enclosure built of saplings, stones and mud, containing seven narrow doors. Climbing to one of the tallest trees, Finn’s chief scout peered inside the structure and saw there Diarmuid and a woman lying next to him on a blanket of deer-skin. The men of the Fianna were ordered to stand guard at each of the seven exits and then Finn himself approached the hut and shouted loudly for Diarmuid to come forward and surrender himself to them. Diarmuid awoke abruptly from his sleep and taking Gráinne by the hand thrust his head through the smallest of the doors. But his eyes betrayed not the slightest glimmer of fear to see Finn and his great warriors surrounding the hut. Instead, he clasped Gráinne closer to him and planted three kisses on her lips for all the men of the Fianna to observe. Finn mac Cumaill was seized by a fury on seeing this, and proclaimed at once that the removal of Diarmuid’s head by whatever method his men were forced to employ would alone prove fitting reprisal for so brazen a show of disrespect.

  Now Aengus Óg, the god of love, was the foster-father of Diarmuid, son of Dubne, the deity who had protected and watched over the couple since the night they had fled the palace of Tara. And witnessing their plight at the hands of the Fianna, Aengus now took it upon himself to come to their aid, drifting invisibly towards them on the breeze.

  “Come and take shelter under my cloak,” he appealed to them, “and we will pass unseen by Finn and his people to a place of refuge and safety.”

  But Diarmuid insisted that he would remain behind to face his former comrades as a true warrior, and requested that Aengus take only Gráinne with him. So Aengus drew Gráinne under his mantel for protection and they both rose up into the air, gliding towards the woodlands of the south where they felt certain Diarmuid would survive to meet up with them later.

  After he had bid Aengus and Gráinne farewell, Diarmuid stood upright, tall and proud, and prepared himself for the task of fighting his way through the formidable band of Fenian warriors. Taking up his weapon, he approached the first of the seven doors and demanded to know which of his former comrades stood behind it waiting to do combat with him:

  “I wish you no harm, Diarmuid,” replied the gentle voice of Oisín. “Let me guide you out through this door, and I promise I will not raise a finger to hurt you.”

  And on each of the other doors upon which he knocked, apart from the very last, Diarmuid met with the same response, for it appeared that not one among his old friends of the Fianna was prepared to meet him with hostility. Finally, however, Diarmuid arrived at the seventh door and this time when he knocked, the response was anything but warm and friendly:

  “It is I, Finn mac Cumaill,” came the thundering reply, “a man who bears you no love, as you well know. And if you should come out through this gate I would take great pleasure in striking you down and cleaving asunder every last bone in your body.”

  “I will not go out by any other door in that case,” answered Diarmuid, “for I would not wish such raw anger to be unleashed on any of my friends gathered here whose desire it is to let me go free.”

  And then, having driven the shafts of his mighty spears firmly into the earth, Diarmuid used them to spring high into the air, leaping over the walls of the wooden hut, clean over the heads of Finn and his men. So swift was this manoeuvre, so light his descent on the grass beyond the warrior group, that none could trace the path of his escape and they stood looking on in amazement, deliberating a long time whether or not it was some goblin of the air who had helped carry Diarmuid so effortlessly to freedom.

  It was not long before Diarmuid had arrived at the clearing in the woods where Aengus and Gráinne waited anxiously to see him. Great was their relief to know that he had escaped the Fianna unharmed and they both listened in admiration as he related to them the tale of his daring escape. When the excitement of the reunion had abated however, Aengus Óg grew more serious and spoke earnestly to his foster-son and Gráinne:

  “I must now depart from you,” he said to them, “but I leave you with these words of advice. Do not slacken in caution while Finn mac Cumaill remains in pursuit of you. Never enter a cave with only one opening; and never take refuge on an island with only one harbour. Always eat your meals in a place different to where you have cooked them; never rest your head where you eat your meal, and wherever you sleep tonight, make sure you choose a fresh bed on the following night.”

  For many months afterwards, Diarmuid and Gráinne followed the advice of Aengus Óg and lived precisely as he had counselled them. But the time came when they grew weary once more of shifting from place to place and they longed for even two nights together when they might sleep under the same familiar oak tree or heather bush. They had by now reached the forests of the west and had entered a bower guarded by the fierce giant Searbhán.

  “Surely we may rest awhile here, Diarmuid,” said Gráinne. “Is it not the most unlikely thing in the world that Finn and his men would find us out in such a lonely and shaded part of the woods?”

  And seeing the look of exhaustion on Gráinne’s face, Diarmuid agreed to go in search of Searbhán to beg permission to shelter in the forest. The giant also took pity on Gráinne and it was soon settled that the couple were free to roam the forests and hunt for their food for up to three days provided neither of them touched the quicken tree of Dubros growing in its centre or ate any of its sweet-smelling berries. For this particular tree belonged to the people of the Fairy mounds who did not wish that any mortal should eat of its fruit and share the gift of immortality. And so Diarmuid accepted responsibility for both himself and Gráinne and swore upon his sword that during their short stay the berries would remain the sacred property of the fairies.

  As for Finn mac Cumaill and his loyal followers of the Fianna, they had not tired in their quest for revenge and were little more than half a day’s journey away from the outskirts of Sear
bhán’s forest. And it was while Finn awaited news from his scouts, sent forth to search for evidence of Diarmuid and Gráinne, that he observed a group of horsemen approaching the Fenian camp. He recognized these riders at once as the offspring of the sons of Morna who had murdered his father at the battle of Cnucha and with whom he still had a long-standing feud. But it soon became apparent that these young warriors had travelled a great distance to beg forgiveness for the sins of their fathers and to be reconciled to the Fianna.

  Now when Finn’s scouts returned to inform him that Diarmuid and Gráinne rested under the protection of Searbhán beneath the tree of Dubros, Finn made up his mind to test the commitment of the warriors of the Clan of Morna:

  “If you truly seek forgiveness,” he told them, “go forth into the woods and bring me one of two things, either the head of Diarmuid, son of Dubne, or a fistful of berries from the tree of Dubros.”

  And when the offspring of Morna heard this request, they answered the leader of the Fianna innocently:

  “We would be honoured to perform such a task. Point us in the direction of the woods and we shall soon return with one of these two prizes.”

  When they were still quite a long way off however, Diarmuid spotted the warriors of Clan Morna approaching and he made ready his weapon for attack. And as they came closer he jumped to the earth from a tree above, blocking the path of their progress.

  “Who are you,” Diarmuid asked them, “and why have you come to the forest of Searbhán?”

  “We are of the Clan of Morna,” they replied, “and we have been sent here by Finn mac Cumaill to perform one of two tasks, either to recover the head of Diarmuid, son of Dubne, or to escape here with a fistful of berries from the tree of Dubros.”

  “I am the man whose head you seek,” replied Diarmuid, “and over there is the tree bearing the fruit you are required to remove. But it will be no easy task for you to accomplish either of these things. Choose now which of the two feats you would attempt to perform.”

 

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