The Tain

by Ciaran Carson

  ‘The man you’re up against is not far off,’ said Ailill to his sons, the Maines.

  They rose to their feet and looked around. They were settling down again when Cú Chulainn struck. He slung a stone at one of them and broke his head.

  ‘That was some uprising,’ said Maenén2 the jester, ‘after all your big talk. Me, I would have taken his head off.’

  Cú Chulainn slung a stone at him and broke his head.

  This, then, is how they became casualties: firstly, Órlám on the mound called after him; the three sons of Gárach at the ford called after them; Fertedil between royalty; and Maenén on the mound called after him.

  ‘I swear by the god my people swear by,’ said Ailill, ‘that I’ll cut in two any man who mocks Cú Chulainn from now on. Let’s proceed to Cúailnge, travelling by day and night. If things go on like this, that man will kill two thirds of our army.’

  Then the harpers of the Venerable Tree of Caín Bile came from the Red Cataract of Ess Ruad to play for them. The Connachtmen took them for spies sent by Ulster. They hunted them until they turned into deer and vanished into the standing-stones at Lía Mór, for they were druids of great power.

  Lethan – the Broad – came to his ford on the river Nith in Conaille. Galled by Cú Chulainn’s deeds, he lay in wait for him. Cú Chulainn cut off his head and left it with the body. Hence the name Áth Lethan, Broad Ford. Many chariots were broken in the fighting just before that in the next ford. Hence the name Áth Carpat, Chariot Ford. Lethan’s charioteer, Mulcha – the Boss – was cut down on the shoulder-ridge that lies between the two fords. Hence Guala Mulchaí, Boss Shoulder.

  The next day the Irish army began to lay waste Bregia Plain and Muirthemne Plain. Fergus felt it in his bones that his foster-son Cú Chulainn was nearby, and told the men to be on their guard against him. For he knew that though they would not find Cú Chulainn, he would find them. As the army crossed the plain, the Morrígan – the Nightmare Queen3 – came in the form of a bird and settled on a standing-stone in Temair Cúailnge, and chanted these words to the Brown Bull:

  restless does the Dark Bull know death-dealing slaughter

  secret that the raven wrings from writhing soldiers

  as the Dark One grazes on the dark green grasses

  waving meadows blossoming with necks and flowers

  lowing cattle of the Badb the groans of battle

  armies ground to dust the raven struts on corpses

  war-clouds raging over Cúailnge day and night

  kith and kin lie down to join the tribes of dead

  Then the Bull made his way to Sliab Culinn with his entourage of fifty heifers, followed by his keeper, who was called Forgaimen – the Skin Rug.4 The Bull threw off the three fifties of young fellows that used to play on his back and killed two thirds of them. In Cúailnge he dug a trench through Tír Marccéni – the Land of the Plumed Horses – before he went, throwing the earth up after him with his heels.

  Here are some of the qualities of the Donn Cúailnge:

  He could bull fifty heifers every day. They’d calve at the same hour the next day, and those that didn’t would burst, overwhelmed as they were by the offspring of the Brown Bull. Fifty grown young fellows would play games every evening on the broad of his back. His shadow could shelter a hundred warriors from heat or cold. Another of his qualities was this, that no ghost or gremlin or battle-demon would dare approach the zone in which he stood. And every evening as he came to his byre the bass swell of his lowing resounded throughout the four quarters of Cúailnge to make great music for its people.

  The next day the army advanced through the rocks and dunes of Conaille Muirthemne. Medb ordered a tortoise-shell of shields to be placed over her in case Cú Chulainn should fire a stone at her from the hills or the heights. But he made no attack that day.

  Cú Chulainn was at Sliab Cuincu, Yoke Mountain, when the army arrived in Cúailnge and pitched their tents. Medb told one of her handmaids, Lóchu, to go and fetch her water from the river. So Lóchu went with an escort of fifty women. Cú Chulainn took her for Medb. He slung a stone at her from the heights of Cuincu and killed her on the flat place that bears her name, Réid Lócha, Lócha’s Level, in Cúailnge.

  From Finnabair Cúailnge the army fanned out and set fire to the district. They rounded up the women, boys, girls and cattle and brought them to Finnabair.

  ‘Not such a good take,’ said Medb. ‘I see you haven’t got the bull.’

  ‘He’s nowhere to be found in the province,’ said everyone.

  Lóthar – the Tub – one of Medb’s cattlemen, was summoned.

  ‘Where, in your humble opinion,’ said she, ‘is the bull?’

  ‘I tremble to tell you,’ said the Tub, ‘but the night the Ulstermen were laid low by the Curse, he took off with sixty heifers, and he’s now at the Black Whirlpool of Dubchoire in Glenn Gatt.’

  ‘Go,’ said Medb. ‘Each pair of men, take an osier shackle.’

  So they did. Hence the name Glenn Gatt, Osier Glen.

  Then they brought the bull to Finnabair. When the bull caught sight of the Tub, he went for him and ripped out his guts with his horns. He ran amok through the camp with his entourage of three fifties of heifers, and fifty warriors were killed.

  Then the bull vanished and they were at their wits’ end as to where.

  Medb asked another of her cattlemen where he thought the bull might be.

  ‘I think he might be in the innermost recesses of Sliab Culinn.’

  They went there, laying waste to Cúailnge on the way, but found no bull. The river Cronn rose up against them as high as the tree-tops so that they spent the night by the water’s edge. Medb ordered a select few of her people to cross the Cronn.

  The next morning a hero attempted it. His name was Úalu. He shouldered a great flagstone to steady him against the current. The river upended him, stone and all. His grave and stone are still there on the roadside by the river. They call it Lia Úalann, Úalu’s Standing Stone.

  It was there that Cú Chulainn killed Cronn and Cóemdele in a furious attack. A hundred warriors died at his hand, among them Róan and Roae, two chroniclers of the Táin. A gross of kings were killed by him beside the same river.

  Then the army skirted the river Cronn as far as its source, and would have crossed the mountain between source and summit, but Medb had other ideas. She preferred to cross the mountain by leaving a track that would show forever her contempt for Ulster. It took them three days and three nights to dig up the terrain before them to make the Pass of the Cúailnge Cattle, Bernas Bó Cúailnge.

  Then they went through the Pass of the Cúailnge Cattle with all the cattle of Cúailnge. They spent the night at Glenn Dáil Imda, the Glen of the Great Gathering, in Cúailnge. That place is also called Botha on account of the bothies they built there. The next day they went on to the river Colptha – the river of the Yearling Heifers. Recklessly they attempted a crossing. It rose up against them and swept a hundred charioteers into the sea. That place is now called Cluain Carpat, Chariot Water-Meadow. They skirted the Colptha up to its source at Bélat Ailóin and spent the night at Liasa Liac, the Flagstone Sheds, so called because of the stone shelters they built there for their calves. They came through Glenn Gatlaig and the river Gatlaig rose up against them. Previously it had been called the Sechaire, Meander, but from then on it was called the Gatlaig, Osier, because they’d taken the calves over tied with osiers. They spent the night in Druim Féne, Warrior Ridge, in Conaille.

  That was how they fared from Cúailnge to the plain of Machaire according to this version. But other authorities and other books give a different account of events as they proceeded from Finnabair to Conaille, as follows:

  When they had assembled with their plunder in Finnabair in Cúailnge, Medb said:

  ‘Split up the army. We’re too many to go by the one road. Let Ailill take half by way of Mídluachair. We’ll go with Fergus through the Ulster Pass, Bernas Bó nUlad.’

  ‘The
half we’re left with,’ said Fergus, ‘is not the better half. We’ll have to cut through the mountain to make a road for the cattle.’

  So they did, whence the name Bernas Bó nUlad, Ulster Cattle Pass.

  Then Ailill said to his charioteer Cuillius:5

  ‘Spy on Medb and Fergus for me today. I don’t know why they’re keeping such close company, and it would please me if you brought me a clue.’

  Cuillius came across the pair of them in Cluichre, the Shelter. They had dallied there while the army went on ahead. They did not hear Cuillius as he came into their presence. It so happened that Fergus’s sword was lying beside him. Cuillius drew it from its sheath and left the sheath empty. Cuillius went to Ailill.

  ‘So?’ said Mill.

  ‘So indeed,’ said Cuillius. ‘Here’s your clue.’

  ‘So far so good,’ said Ailill.

  They smiled at one another.

  ‘Just as you thought,’ said Cuillius, ‘I found them in bed together.’

  ‘It’s right for her,’ said Ailill. ‘She did it to help the campaign. Keep the sword in good order. Wrap it in linen and put it under the seat of your chariot.’

  Fergus looked round for his sword.

  ‘I am undone,’ he said.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ said Medb.

  ‘The bad turn I’ve done Ailill,’ he said. ‘Wait here till I come back from the wood,’ said Fergus, ‘and don’t wonder if I’m gone for some time.’

  Medb didn’t know that the sword had gone. He went away from her, carrying the sword of his charioteer. He hewed a sword from a tree in the wood. Hence the Ulster name for it, Fid Mórthruaille, Big Scabbard Wood.

  ‘Let’s catch up with the others,’ said Fergus.

  The two halves of the army met on the plain. They pitched their tents. Ailill sent for Fergus to play chess.6 When Fergus came into the tent Ailill began laughing at him. Fergus said:

  better the man who is mocked if not deluded

  by his damned deed sword-tip seared by Macha’s scorn

  Gailéoin blades grim outcry vengeance thwarted

  by a woman’s will likewise lying bloody corpses

  captured herds spears

  crushed against Cú Chulainn’s mountain likewise

  trunkless heads tumbled struggle

  Ailill said:

  declare no war your weapon lost in the deep ford

  of a royal belly pastures sicken standing stones cry out

  dark father Medb among seething tribes

  backbiting witnesses of the wild wood struggling with

  rambling women however they come arms clamouring

  through the fog likewise of tumultuous deeds

  ‘Sit yourself down,’ said Ailill. ‘Let’s play chess. You’re welcome here.’ And Ailill said:

  play chess and draughts7 face to face

  with king and queen the field prepared and eager

  for armies in iron companies no matter for what

  stakes you play I know the game well

  likewise queens and women true what they say

  the first fault theirs their sweet companionable wrath

  Finnabair’s dear shield valorous Fergus

  with bellowing herds at the heart of his forces

  in regal form with dragon-blaze and viper-hiss

  and lion-slash forever to the fore Fergus Mac Rossa Róich

  They began to play chess. They moved the gold and silver men across the bronze board. And Ailill said:

  it’s not right for a king so sweet and slender

  to be borne by death on a bronze point more beautiful

  the frenzied board imperious Medb brought down

  these wise men I move against Fergus

  likewise as we play out the vengeful game

  Medb said:

  leave off these words so wild and foolish

  unfit for a queen the furtive love

  of glib strangers a judgement that is not

  unjust no havoc wrought shun

  the cattlemen likewise caterwauling

  Fergus in the clear

  Fergus was heard to say:

  alas they spout words hawkish

  to this tribe and that likewise fed by backbiters

  by secret gold bewitched by javelins

  wiped out likewise royalty brought down

  mocked at your command

  They stayed there that night. Next morning Ailill was heard to say:

  one great soldier faces the huge forces

  by Cronn’s dark water O’Nessa’s stream

  his deeds fulfilled in Connacht combat

  blood streams from headless necks likewise

  where heroes congregate a parliament of graves

  floodwaters rise against the beardless one

  the Ulster champion

  Medb spoke:

  keep sword in sheath O arrogant Mac Mata

  while chariots tumble from stony heights

  men herded women snatched

  likewise cattle and a multitude of heads

  swords broken on all sides heroic deeds

  wrought in murk oxen driven women

  likewise great armies turning from

  the battle plain of Cúailnge O sleeping army

  Fergus was heard:

  a great head spiked on the scythed hub

  of a chariot wheel the features bold as brass

  let them swear likewise by their people

  render oaths unto their queen bear arms

  against whatever enemy

  Medb was heard:

  let it be done according to his word

  let it be done for he is yoked as to a breast

  to your command the armies march

  while Ailill’s power is in your hands

  against whatever enemy

  They advanced to the river Cronn. Maine, a son of Aillil, was heard to say:

  send me on an urgent mission

  to take on the blond forceful man

  who keeps off father and mother

  from the horned cattle likewise to leap

  into a chariot with forceful feat

  to wipe clean the battle field

  Fergus was heard:

  don’t go son brave and all as you are

  they’ll only say your head will be cut

  from its neck by the beardless boy who hurls

  insults from the heights to the plains

  summons up rivers shakes the woods

  wrenches into shape great deeds

  a power of water crowds of drowned

  Ailill laid low Medb mocked faces turned

  by sword and spear

  ‘Let me go ahead with the exiles,’ said Fergus, ‘to see that the lad gets fair play, with the cattle out front, the army in back, and the women following.’

  Medb was heard:

  listen Fergus for the sake of your good name

  guard these cattle with your good army

  subjugate with rage the Ulstermen

  are not easily cast down on the plain of Aí

  assemble where the tracks confer

  Fergus said:

  for pity’s sake Medb listening I’m not

  before the tribe your pliable boy

  to struggle through the battle-mist in Emain

  no more to rain blows on the tribe

  cast no stone at the back of my neck

  what good is that at the heels of the hunt

  Cú Chulainn came to meet them at the ford on the Cronn.

  ‘Comrade Láeg,’ he said to his charioteer, ‘the army is closing in.’

  Láeg said:

  I swear by the gods I’ll do great deeds

  among charioteers driving through the battle-zone

  borne by slender steeds with silver yokes

  and golden wheels to roll over royal heads

  leaping onwards to victory

  Cú Chulainn said:

  now Láeg grasp the reins

  tear through the fray fo
r Macha’s victory

  like women running after sons

  through pinewoods over crackling pine-cones

  erupt against Ailill and Medb impress

  triumphant stamp upon their face

  ‘I summon the waters to come to my aid,’ said Cú Chulainn. ‘I summon heaven and earth and above all the Cronn.’

  The black waters of the Cronn

  will keep them from Muirthemne,

  until soldier’s work be done

  up North at Mount Ochaíne.

  And the water rose to the tree-tops.

  Maine, a son of Ailill and Medb, came forward before the rest. Cú Chulainn put an end to him in the ford, and thirty horsemen of his household were drowned. A further thirty-two soldiers were killed by him in the ford.

  They pitched their tents by the same ford. Lugaid Mac Nóis Uí Lomairc Allchomaig went out with a troop of thirty horse-soldiers to parley with Cú Chulainn.

  ‘Well met, Lugaid,’ said Cú Chulainn. ‘If a flock of wildfowl settled on Muirthemne Plain, I’d give you a goose and share another; if fish crowded the river-mouths, I’d give you a salmon and share another, and I’d give you three sprigs of herb besides – watercress, brooklime and sea samphire. And a man to stand for you at the ford of battle.’

  ‘I believe it,’ said Lugaid. ‘I wish a wealth of followers for the same lad.’

  ‘Fine army you have there,’ said Cú Chulainn.

  ‘Well, there’s more of them than there are of you. But that’ll not daunt you.’

  ‘All I need is fair play and fair fight,’ said Cú Chulainn. ‘Comrade Lugaid,’ he said, ‘is your army afraid of me?’

  ‘I swear to god,’ said Lugaid, ‘that not one or two of them dares to piss outside the camp, but twenty or thirty of them have to go.’

  ‘Maybe they’d go somewhere else,’ said Cú Chulainn, ‘if I began pelting them with my sling. And should they come to pit their strength against mine, you’d do well to remember your closeness to the men of Ulster. Now tell me, Lugaid, what it is you want.’