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Lady Augusta Gregory

Page 5

by Irish Myths


  It was on the first day of Beltaine, that is called now May Day,

  the Tuatha de Danaan came, and it was to the north-west of Connacht they landed. But the Firbolgs, the Men of the Bag, that were in Ireland before them, and that had come from the South, saw

  nothing but a mist, and it lying on the hills.

  Eochaid, son of Ere, was king of the Firbolgs at that time, and

  messengers came to him at Teamhair, and told him there was a

  new race of people come into Ireland, but whether from the earth

  or the skies or on the wind was not known, and that they had settled themselves at Magh Rein.

  They thought there would be wonder on Eochaid when he

  heard that news; but there was no wonder on him, for a dream

  had come to him in the night, and when he asked his Druids the

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  meaning of the dream, it is what they said, that it would not be

  long till there would be a strong enemy coming against him.

  Then King Eochaid took counsel with his chief advisers, and it

  is what they agreed, to send a good champion of their own to see

  the strangers and to speak with them. So they chose out Sreng,

  that was a great fighting man, and he rose up and took his strong

  red-brown shield, and his two thick-handled spears, and his

  sword, and his head-covering, and his thick iron club, and he set

  out from Teamhair, and went on towards the place the strangers

  were, at Magh Rein.

  But before he reached it, the watchers of the Tuatha de Danaan

  got sight of him, and they sent out one of their own champions,

  Bres, with his shield and his sword and his two spears, to meet

  him and to talk with him.

  So the two champions went one towards the other slowly, and

  keeping a good watch on one another, and wondering at one

  another's arms, till they came near enough for talking; and then

  they stopped, and each put his shield before his body and struck

  it hard into the ground, and they looked at one another over the

  rim. Bres was the first to speak, and when Sreng heard it was Irish

  he was talking, his own tongue, he was less uneasy, and they drew

  nearer, and asked questions as to one another's family and race.

  And after a while they put their shields away, and it was what

  Sreng said, that he had raised his in dread of the thin, sharp

  spears Bres had in his hand. And Bres said he himself was in

  dread of the thick-handled spears he saw with Sreng, and he

  asked were all the arms of the Firbolgs of the same sort. And

  Sreng took off the tyings of his spears to show them better, and

  Bres wondered at them, being so strong and so heavy, and so

  sharp at the sides though they had no points. And Sreng told him

  the name of those spears was Craisech, and that they would break

  through shields and crush flesh and bones, so that their thrust

  was death or wounds that never healed. And then he looked at

  the sharp, thin, hard-pointed spears that were with Bres. And in

  the end they made an exchange of spears, the way the fighters on

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  each side would see the weapons the others were used to. And it

  is the message Bres sent to the Firbolgs, that if they would give up

  one half of Ireland, his people would be content to take it in

  peace; but if they would not give up that much, there should be a

  battle. And he and Sreng said to one another that whatever might

  happen in the future, they themselves would be friends.

  Sreng went back then to Teamhair and gave the message and

  showed the spear; and it is what he advised his people, to share

  the country and not to go into battle with a people that had weapons so much better than their own. But Eochaid and his chief men consulted together, and they said in the end: "We will not

  give up the half of the country to these strangers; for if we do,"

  they said, "they will soon take the whole."

  Now as to the Men of Dea, when Bres went back to them, and

  showed them the heavy spear, and told them of the strong, fierce

  man he had got it from, and how sturdy he was and well armed,

  they thought it likely there would soon be a battle. And they went

  back from where they were to a better place, farther west in Connacht, and there they settled themselves, and made walls and ditches on the plain of Magh Nia, where they had the great mountain, Belgata, in their rear. And while they were moving there and putting up their walls, three queens of them, Badb and Macha

  and the Morrigu, went to Teamhair where the Firbolgs were making their plans. And by the power of their enchantments they brought mists and clouds of darkness over the whole place, and

  they sent showers of fire and of blood over the people, the way

  they could not see or speak with one another through the length

  of three days. But at the end of that time, the three Druids of

  the Firbolgs, Cesam and Gnathach and Ingnathach, broke the

  enchantment.

  The Firbolgs gathered their men together then, and they came

  with their eleven battalions and took their stand at the eastern

  end of the plain of Magh Nia.

  And Nuada, king of the Men of Dea, sent his poets to make

  the same offer he made before, to be content with the half of the

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  country if it was given up to him. King Eochaid bade the poets to

  ask an answer of his chief men that were gathered there; and when

  they heard the offer they would not consent. So the messengers

  asked them when would they begin the battle. "We must have a

  delay," they said; "for we want time to put our spears and our

  armour in order, and to brighten our helmets and to sharpen our

  swords, and to have spears made like the ones you have. And as

  to yourselves," they said, "you will be wanting to have spears like

  our Craisechs made for you." So they agreed then to make a delay

  of a quarter of a year for preparation.

  It was on a Midsummer day they began the battle. Three times

  nine hurlers of the Tuatha de Danaan went out against three times

  nine hurlers of the Firbolgs, and they were beaten, and every one

  of them was killed. And the king, Eochaid, sent a messenger to

  ask would they have the battle every day or every second day.

  And it is what Nuada answered that they would have it every day,

  but there should be just the same number of men fighting on

  each side. Eochaid agreed to that, but he was not well pleased, for

  there were more men of the Firbolgs than of the Men of Dea.

  So the battle went on for four days, and there were great feats

  done on each side, and a great many champions came to their

  death. But for those that were alive at evening, the physicians on

  each side used to make a bath of healing, with every sort of healing plant or herb in it, the way they would be strong and sound for the next day's fight.

  And on the fourth day the Men of Dea got the upper hand, and

  the Firbolgs were driven back. And a great thirst came on

  Eochaid, their king, in the battle, and he went off the field looking

  for a drink, and three fifties of his men protecting him; but three

  fifties of the Tuatha de Danaan followed after them till they came

  to the
strand that is called Traigh Eothaile, and they had a fierce

  fight there, and at last the King Eochaid fell, and they buried him

  there, and they raised a great heap of stones over his grave.

  And when there were but three hundred men left of the eleven

  battalions of the Firbolgs, and Sreng at the head of them, Nuada

  THE COMING OF THE TUATHA DE DANAAN

  3 1

  offered them peace, and their choice among the five provinces of

  Ireland. And Sreng said they would take Connacht; and he and

  his people lived there and their children after them. It is of them

  Ferdiad came afterwards that made such a good fight against

  Cuchulain, and Ere, son of Cairbre, that gave him his death. And

  that battle, that was the first fought in Ireland by the Men of Dea,

  was called by some the first battle of Magh Tuireadh.

  And the Tuatha de Danaan took possession of Teamhair, that

  was sometimes called Druim Cain, the Beautiful Ridge, and Liathdruim, the Grey Ridge, and Druim na Descan, the Ridge of the Outlook, all those names were given to Teamhair. And from that

  time it was above all other places, for its king was the High King

  over all Ireland. The king's rath lay to the north, and the Hill of

  the Hostages to the north-east of the High Seat, and the Green of

  Teamhair to the west of the Hill of the Hostages. And to the

  north-east, in the Hill of the Sidhe, was a well called Nemnach,

  and out of it there flowed a stream called Nith, and on that stream

  the first mill was built in Ireland.

  And to the north of the Hill of the Hostages was the stone, the

  Lia Fail, and it used to roar under the feet of every king that

  would take possession of Ireland. And the Wall of the Three

  Whispers was near the House of the Women that had seven doors

  to the east, and seven doors to the west; and it is in that house the

  feasts of Teamhair used to be held. And there was the Great

  House of a Thousand Soldiers, and near it, to the south, the little

  Hill of the Woman Soldiers.

  CHAPTER II.

  THE REIGN OF BRES

  But if Nuada won the battle, he lost his own arm in it, that was

  struck off by Sreng; and by that loss there came troubles and vexation on his people.

  For it was a law with the Tuatha de Danaan that no man that

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  IRISH MYTHS AND LEGENDS

  was not perfect in shape should be king. And after Nuada had lost

  the battle he was put out of the kingship on that account.

  And the king they chose in his place was Bres, that was the most

  beautiful of all their young men, so that if a person wanted to praise

  any beautiful thing, whether it was a plain, or a dun, or ale, or a

  flame, or a woman, or a man, or a horse, it is what he would say, "It

  is as beautiful as Bres. " And he was the son of a woman of the

  Tuatha de Danaan, but who his father was no one knew but herself.

  But in spite of Bres being so beautiful, his reign brought no

  great good luck to his people; for the Fomor, whose dwellingplace was beyond the sea, or as some say below the sea westward, began putting tribute on them, the way they would get them

  under their own rule.

  It was a long time before that the Fomor came first to Ireland;

  dreadful they were to look at, and maimed, having but one foot or

  one hand, and they under the leadership of a giant and his

  mother. There never came to Ireland an army more horrible or

  more dreadful than that army of the Fomor. And they were

  friendly with the Firbolgs and content to leave Ireland to them,

  but there was jealously between them and the Men of Dea.

  And it was a hard tax they put on them, a third part of their

  com they asked, and a third part of their milk, and a third part of

  their children, so that there was not smoke rising from a roof in

  Ireland but was under tribute to them. And Bres made no stand

  against them, but let them get their way.

  And as to Bres himself, he put a tax on every house in Ireland of

  the milk of hornless dun cows, or of the milk of cows of some

  other single colour, enough for a hundred men. And one time, to

  deceive him, Nechtan singed all the cows of Ireland in a fire of fem,

  and then he smeared them with the ashes of flax seed, the way they

  were all dark brown. He did that by the advice of the Druid Findgoll, son of Findemas. And another time they made three hundred cows of wood with dark brown pails in place of udders, and the

  pails were filled with black bog stuff. Then Bres came to look at the

  cows, and to see them milked before him, and Cian, father of

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  Lugh, was there. And when they were milked it was the bog stuff

  that was squeezed out; and Bres took a drink of it thinking it to be

  milk, and he was not the better of it for a long time.

  And there was another thing against Bres; he was no way openhanded, and the chief men of the Tuatha de Danaan grumbled against him, for their knives were never greased in his house, and

  however often they might visit him there was no smell of ale on

  their breath. And there was no sort of pleasure or merriment in his

  house, and no call for their poets, or singers, or harpers, or pipers,

  or horn-blowers, or jugglers, or fools. And as to the trials of

  strength they were used to see between their champions, the only

  use their strength was put to now was to be doing work for the

  king. Ogma himself, the shining poet, was under orders to bring

  firing to the palace every day for the whole army from the Islands

  of Mod; and he so weak for want of food that the sea would sweep

  away two-thirds of his bundle every day. And as to the Dagda, he

  was put to build raths, for he was a good builder, and he made a

  trench round Rath Brese. And he used often to be tired at the

  work, and one time he nearly gave in altogether for want of food,

  and this is the way that happened. He used to meet in the house an

  idle blind man, Cridenbel his name was, that had a sharp tongue,

  and that coveted the Dagda's share of food, for he thought his own

  to be small beside it. So he said to him: "For the sake of your good

  name let the three best bits of your share be given to me." And the

  Dagda gave in to that every night; but he was the worse of it, for

  what the blind man called a bit would be the size of a good pig,

  and with his three bits he would take a full third of the whole.

  But one day, as the Dagda was in the trench, he saw his son,

  Angus Og, coming to him. "That is a good meeting," said Angus;

  "but what is on you, for you have no good appearance to-day?"

  "There is a reason for that," said the Dagda, "for every evening,

  Cridenbel, the blind man, makes a demand for the three best bits

  of my share of food, and takes them from me. " "I will give you an

  advice," said Angus. He put his hand in his bag then, and took

  out three pieces of gold and gave them to him.

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  "Put these pieces of gold into the three bits you will give this

  evening to Cridenbel," he said, "and they will be the best bits

  in the dish, and the gold will tum within him the way he will die."

  So in the evening
the Dagda did that; and no sooner had

  Cridenbel swallowed down the gold than he died. Some of the

  people said then to the king: "The Dagda has killed Cridenbel,

  giving him some deadly herb." The king believed that, and there

  was anger on him against Dagda, and he gave orders he should be

  put to death. But the Dagda said: "You are not giving the right

  judgment of a prince." And he told all that had happened, and

  how Cridenbel used to say, "Give me the three best bits before

  you, for my own share is not good to-night. " "And on this night,"

  he said, "the three pieces of gold were the best things before me,

  and I gave them to him, and he died."

  The king gave orders then to have the body cut open. And

  they found the gold inside it, and they knew it was the truth the

  Dagda had told.

  And Angus came to him again the next day, and he said: "Your

  work will soon be done, and when you are given your wages, take

  nothing they may offer you till the cattle of Ireland are brought

  before you, and choose out a heifer then, black and black-maned,

  that I will tell you the signs of. "

  So when the Dagda had brought his work to an end, and they

  asked him what reward he wanted, he did as Angus had bidden

  him. And that seemed folly to Bres; he thought the Dagda would

  have asked more than a heifer of him.

  There came a day at last when a poet came to look for hospitality at the king's house, Corpre, son of Etain, poet of the Tuatha de Danaan. And it is how he was treated, he was put in a little

  dark narrow house where there was no fire, or furniture, or bed;

  and for a feast three small cakes, and they dry, were brought to

  him on a little dish. When he rose up on the morrow he was no

  way thankful, and as he was going across the green, it is what he

  said: "Without food ready on a dish; without milk enough for a

  calf to grow on; without shelter; without light in the darkness of

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  night; without enough to pay a story-teller; may that be the prosperity of Bres. "

  And from that day there was no good luck with Bres, but i t is

  going down he was for ever after. And that was the first satire ever

  made in Ireland.

  Now as to Nuada: after his arm being struck off, he was in his

  sickness for a while, and then Diancecht, the healer, made an arm

 

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