‘Good grief,’ he said. ‘Truly, you are the best warrior in Ireland. I have twenty-four sons in the camp. Let me go and tell them about my hidden treasure. Then I’ll come back and you can cut off my head, for if this spear is taken out I’ll die anyway.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Cú Chulainn. ‘But do come back.’
Nad Crantail went to the camp. They all came out to meet him, saying,
‘Where is the head of the Torqued Man?’
‘Warriors, hold on. I have something to tell my sons. Then I’m going back to deal with Cú Chulainn.’
He went back after Cú Chulainn, and threw his sword at him. Cú Chulainn jumped into the air. He became terribly transformed, as he had with the young fellows in Emain. He landed on Nad Crantail’s shield and cut off his head. He struck again through the headless neck and split him to the navel. The four bits fell to the ground.
Then Cú Chulainn chanted this verse:
Now that Nad Crantail is dead
the fight goes on but more so.
Right now I could ply my blade
on a third of Medb’s army.
VII
THEY FIND
THE BULL
MEDB TOOK A THIRD of her army to Cuib to look for the bull, and Cú Chulainn tailed her. She took the Midluachair Road then, advancing against the Ulster folk and the Cruithin as far north as Dún Sobairche, the Primrose Fort.
Cú Chulainn saw a thing: Buide Mac Báin1 coming from Sliab Culinn with the bull and fifteen heifers, and an escort of sixty men of Ailill’s household, every man of them cloaked. Cú Chulainn went up to them.
‘Where did you get the cattle?’ said Cú Chulainn.
‘From yonder mountain,’ said one of the soldiers.
‘Where’s their herdsman?’ said Cú Chulainn.
‘Where we found him,’ said the soldier.
Cú Chulainn took three bounds over to the ford to talk to their leader.
‘What is your name?’ he said.
‘One who’s neither friend nor foe – Buide Mac Báin,’ he said.
‘Here’s a spear for Buide,’ said Cú Chulainn.
He drove a javelin into his armpit and the point ended up making two bits of his liver. He died by his ford, called Áth mBuide because of him.
The bull was brought into the camp.
Then it was decided that a Cú Chulainn deprived of his javelin would cause no more trouble than the next man. Redg,2 Ailill’s satirist, was sent to get the javelin from him.
‘Give me the javelin,’ said the satirist.
‘Not that,’ said Cú Chulainn, ‘but I’ll give you something just as dear.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ said the satirist.
Cú Chulainn gave him a slap because he wouldn’t accept his offer. Redg threatened him with a satire if he didn’t give him the javelin. Cú Chulainn fired the javelin clean through his head.
‘That was a dear and speedy gift,’ said the satirist.
Hence the name Áth Tolam Sét, the Ford of the Speedy Gift. The copper point of the javelin landed at another ford further east. Umarrith, the Copper Landing Place, is the name of that ford.
Here is the list of those killed by Cú Chulainn in Cuib: Nath Coirpre at the grove named after him; Cruthan at his ford; the Cattlemen’s Sons at their cairn; Marc on his hillock; Meille on his mound; Badb in his tower; and Bogaine in his bog.
Cú Chulainn turned again to Muirthemne, his heart set on defending his homeland. After going there he killed the Crónech men at Focherd. He came upon them as they were setting up camp. There were twenty of them, ten cupbearers and ten warriors.
Medb turned back again from the north after a fortnight’s ravaging the province, attacking, among others, Findmór wife of Celtchar Mac Uthidir, and taking fifty of her women at the razing of Dún Sobairche in the Dál Riada country. Wherever in Cuib Medb rested her horsewhip, that place is known as Bile Medba, Medb’s Mast.3 Any ford or any high place that she stopped at is called Áth Medba, Medb’s Ford, and Dindgna Medba, Medb’s High Place.
They all met up again at Focherd, Ailill and Medb and the team that drove the bull. The bull’s original keeper tried to make off with it, but by beating sticks on their shields they drove the bull into a narrow pass. There the hooves of the animals drove the keeper into the ground. Forgaimen – the Skin Rug – was his name. His remains are still there. And the hill there is called Forgaimen.
The problem that they slept with that night was where to find a man to stand against Cú Chulainn at the ford.
‘Let’s ask Cú Chulainn for a truce,’ said Ailill.
‘Lugaid’s the man for the job,’ said they all.
Lugaid went to speak with him.
The message was delivered.
‘You can have your truce,’ said Cú Chulainn, ‘so long as you don’t break it.’
Then they sent for Cúr Mac Dalath to take on Cú Chulainn. Anyone that Cúr drew blood from never lasted longer than nine days.
‘If he kills Cú Chulainn,’ said Medb, ‘we win. If it’s he who ends up getting killed, it will be a relief to us all. It’s not pleasant being around him feeding or sleeping.’
Cúr arrived. He was far from pleased when he saw he was to meet a beardless youngster.
‘This is some assignment you’ve given me, and no mistake,’ he said. ‘If I’d known this was the one I’d to fight I wouldn’t have bothered to come. One of our own cubs would have done rightly.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Cormac Connlongas, ‘we’d think it an achievement if you beat him yourself.’
‘Well, things being what they are,’ said Cúr, ‘and since I said I’d do it, you can get ready to set off tomorrow morning, for it won’t take me long to kill this young buck.’
Early the next morning he went to meet him, telling the army to prepare to advance after his encounter with Cú Chulainn, for they’d have a clear road.
He arrived to find Cú Chulainn practising his feats of arms.
Here is the list of his feats:4 the ball-feat, the blade-feat and the feat of the levelled shield; the javelin-feat and the rope-feat; the body-feat, the cat-feat and the hero’s salmon-leap; the pole-vault and the hurdle-leap; the noble charioteer’s reverse turn; the gae bolga and the brazen edge; the wheel-feat and the eight-man-feat; the breathing-feat, the mouth-rage and the warrior’s roar; the stop-cut and the ricochet-stun-shot; and climbing a spear and straightening up on its point. All these were performed according to warrior’s rules.
For a third of the day Cúr threw everything he had against him from behind his shield, but failed to penetrate the whirlwind of Cú Chulainn’s feats. In fact Cú Chulainn didn’t even know he was under fire until Fiacha Mac Fir Febe said to him:
‘Look out, there’s a man attacking you!’
Cú Chulainn glanced up. He was still holding a ball from the ball-feat and he threw it so hard at Cúr that it ricocheted off the boss of his shield between rim and frame and out the back of the wretch’s head.
Fergus went back to the army.
‘You are bound by the terms of the truce,’ he said, ‘to wait here another day.’
‘Not exactly here,’ said Ailill. ‘We’ll go back to camp.’
Then Láth Mac Dabró was likewise put forward to face Cú Chulainn. He too fell. Again Fergus went back to remind them of their truce. So they stayed where they were, as Cúr Mac Dalath was killed, and Lath Mac Dabró, and Foirc Mac Trí n-Aignech, and Srubgaile Mac Eobith – all slain in single combat.
‘Go to the camp, comrade Láeg,’ said Cú Chulainn, ‘and ask Lugaid Mac Nóis Uí Lomairc who is to take me on tomorrow. Get all the detail, and give him my warm regards.’
Láeg went.
‘Well met,’ said Lugaid. ‘It’s a hard station for Cú Chulainn, to be fighting the men of Ireland single-handed.’
‘Who takes him on tomorrow?’
‘Someone who is a comrade of both Cú Chulainn’s and mine – bad cess to him and his weapons! – is takin
g him on: Fer Báeth.5 They said they’d give him Finnabair for it, and make him king of his people.’
Láeg went back to Cú Chulainn.
‘My comrade Láeg does not seemed pleased with his news,’ said Cú Chulainn.
Láeg gave him the whole story. Fer Báeth had been summoned to Ailill’s and Medb’s tent and told to sit down beside Finnabair. He was told she would be given to him on account of his being chosen to engage with Cú Chulainn. They considered him a strong contender because both he and Cú Chulainn had received the same training under Scáthach. They got him drunk on wine, telling him it showed how much they valued him, for they’d brought only fifty wagonloads of it with them. And Finnabair herself served him the dear wine.
‘I don’t hold with all this,’ said Fer Báeth. ‘Cú Chulainn is my foster-brother. Our lives are sworn to each other. But having said that, I could take him on tomorrow and cut off his head.’
‘That you will,’ said Medb.
Cú Chulainn sent Láeg to ask Lugaid to come and talk with him. Lugaid came.
‘So Fer Báeth is coming to take me on tomorrow,’ said Cú Chulainn.
‘That he is,’ said Lugaid.
‘An evil day,’ said Cú Chulainn. ‘I won’t come out of this alive. We are perfectly matched as regards age, skill and weight. Lugaid, give him my best wishes. Tell him that to take me on is not the act of a true warrior. Ask him to come and talk with me tonight.’
Lugaid spoke to him. Fer Báeth did not shirk the issue, but went that night with Fiacha Mac Fir Febe to renounce his friendship with Cú Chulainn. Cú Chulainn appealed to him as a foster-brother, brought up by the same foster-mother Scáthach.
‘I’m obliged to do it,’ said Fer Báeth. ‘I gave Medb my word.’
‘Then keep your friendship,’ said Cú Chulainn, and he stormed off. In the glen he trod on a piece of split holly and the point came out at his knee. He pulled it out.
‘Hold on, Fer Báeth, till you see what I’ve found.’
‘Throw it over here,’ said Fer Báeth.
Cú Chulainn threw the holly-rod after Fer Báeth. It went through the hollow at the back of his neck and out through his mouth, and he fell on his back in the glen.
‘Some throw,’ said Fer Báeth.
Hence the name Focherd – the Throw – in Muirthemne.
Or else it was Fiacha Mac Fir Febe who said: ‘You were quick to throw today, Cú Chulainn,’ and that thus Focherd was named.
‘Your partner has fallen,’ said Fergus. ‘Tell me, will you have to pay for him tomorrow?’
‘Whatever it takes,’ said Cú Chulainn.
He sent Láeg again to see how matters stood in the camp, and whether Fer Báeth had survived. Said Lugaid:
‘Fer Báeth has died. Tell Cú Chulainn to come and talk to me when he’s ready.’
Then Fergus was heard to chant:
Fer Báeth, your foolish foray
led to a grave in this ground.
You angered a wise fellow
and found death in Croen Corand.
In Croen Corand this high hill
was called Frithi from of old.
But Fer Báeth, since here you fell
Focherd shall it now be called.
‘You’ll have to get someone to fight him tomorrow,’ said Lugaid.
‘We’ll get no one,’ said Ailill, ‘unless we’re crafty. Any man that comes to you, give him wine till he’s in good form, and say to him, “That’s the last of the wine we brought from Crúachan, but we’d hate for you to have to drink water while you’re in our camp” – and let Finnabair sit at his right hand, and then say to him, “You can have her if you bring back the head of the Torqued Man.’”
Each night a hero was sent for; each night the offer was made; and each hero in turn was killed. They were running out of heroes to take him on. So they called in Lugaid’s brother, Láríne Mac Nóis. He had a great conceit of himself. They gave him wine and put Finnabair at his right hand. Medb looked at the pair.
‘What a sweet couple,’ she said, ‘and so well matched.’
‘I wouldn’t argue with that,’ said Ailill, ‘and he shall have her if he brings me the head of the Torqued Man.’
‘That I will,’ said Láríne.
Lugaid approached them.
‘Who have you got for the ford tomorrow?’
‘Láríne’s taken it on,’ said Ailill.
Lugaid went to talk to Cú Chulainn. They met at Fer Báeth’s Glen and saluted each other.
‘Here’s why I wanted to talk,’ said Lugaid. ‘They’ve got this thick-witted, arrogant boor – my brother Láríne. They tricked him with the girl. For the sake of our friendship don’t kill him and leave me without a brother. He’s been set up to set us two at odds. But I don’t mind if you give him a good hiding, for he’s coming despite me.’
The following day Láríne came to take on Cú Chulainn, with the girl there to cheer him on. Cú Chulainn went for him with his bare hands and forcibly disarmed him. Then he grabbed him and shook him and squeezed him till the shit ran out of him, polluting the ford and stinking up the air all around. Cú Chulainn threw him into Lugaid’s arms. For the rest of his days his bowels didn’t work right. He was never without chest trouble, and eating was a constant pain. Yet he is the only man who met Cú Chulainn on the Táin Bó Cúailnge and escaped with his life – not that it was much of a life.
Cú Chulainn saw a young woman6 coming towards him, very beautiful and wearing a dress of many colours.
‘Who are you?’ he said.
‘The daughter of King Búan the Constant,’ she said, ‘and I’ve come to you. I love you because of all the things I’ve heard about you, and I’ve brought my treasures and my cattle with me.’
‘This is not a good time,’ said Cú Chulainn. ‘We suffer failure and famine. It wouldn’t be right for me to go with a woman, in the midst of such troubles.’
‘I could be a help to you.’
‘It wasn’t for a woman’s arse that I took this on.’
‘Then I’ll add to your troubles,’ said she. ‘I’ll go for you when you’re deep into fighting. I’ll get under your feet in the ford in the shape of an eel and make sure you fall.’
‘That’s easier to swallow than the king’s daughter,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you between my toes and I’ll break your ribs, and you’ll bear that mark forever unless it’s lifted from you by a blessing.’
‘I’ll come as a grey she-wolf, and stampede cattle into the ford against you.’
‘I’ll put your eye out with a stone from my sling, and you’ll bear that mark forever unless it’s lifted from you by a blessing.’
‘I’ll come as a hornless red heifer, and lead the cattle to surge against you in the waters, whether ford or pool, and you’ll not know me.’
‘I’ll fire a stone at you,’ he said, ‘and break the leg from under you, and you’ll bear that mark forever unless it’s lifted from you by a blessing.’
She left him then.
Lóch7 Mac Emonis was the next to be called up. They promised him Finnabair, a piece of the arable land of Aí as big as Muirthemne Plain, gear for a dozen soldiers and a chariot worth seven bondmaids. But he thought it beneath him to fight a mere boy. He had a brother, Long8 Mac Emonis, and they offered him the same bounty – girl, gear, chariot and land. He went to meet Cú Chulainn. Cú Chulainn killed him and had the body sent to his brother Lóch. Lóch said that if he knew it was a grown man who had killed him, he would kill him for it.
That day, Cú Chulainn put on his festive garb, and the women climbed on the men’s shoulders to catch a glimpse of him. They called out to him that he was being mocked in the camp because he had no beard, and that a real warrior wouldn’t fight him, only little imps like himself, and he’d be better off putting on a false beard. So he did, in order to get Lóch to fight him. He took a fistful of grass and whispered a spell into it to make them all think he had a beard.
‘True enough,’ said the women. ‘C
ú Chulainn has a beard. Now it’s right and proper for a warrior to take him on.’
They did this in order to get Lóch to fight him, but Lóch said:
‘I won’t fight him until tomorrow week.’
‘It’s not right and proper to leave him in peace for that length of time,’ said Medb. ‘We’ll send a squad of heroes every night to seek him out and catch him off guard.’
They did so: a squad went every night to seek him out, and he killed them all. He killed seven Conalls, seven Oenguses, seven Uarguses, seven Celtres, eight Fiacs, ten Ailills, ten Delbaeths and ten Tasachs. Such were his accomplishments that week in Áth Grena.
So Medb began to pressurize Lóch.
‘It’s a great shame on you,’ she said, ‘that your brother’s murderer is wreaking havoc on our army, and you’re not fit to take him on. Surely a jumped-up little imp like him would be no match for the fire and fury of a warrior like you, and anyway, didn’t the same foster-mother teach you the same martial arts?’
Lóch went to avenge his brother, persuaded that he would meet a bearded man.
‘Come to the ford upstream,’ said Lóch. ‘I’ll not meet you in a ford tainted by my brother’s death.’
As Cú Chulainn came to the ford some men were driving cattle over it.
‘There’ll be a thirst for water at the ford today,’ said Gabrán the poet.
Hence the names Áth Tarteisc,9 Ford of the Thirst for Water, and Tír Mór Tarteisc, the Hinterland of Tarteisc.
As the men clashed in the ford, jabbing and slashing at each other, an eel cast three coils about Cú Chulainn’s feet and threw him on to his back. Lóch attacked him with his sword till the ford ran red with his blood.
‘This is a poor show,’ said Fergus, ‘to put on before the enemy. Someone heckle him, otherwise it’ll be no contest.’
Bricriu ‘Venom Tongue’ Mac Carbada got to his feet and began to heckle Cú Chulainn.
‘You’re finished!’ he said, ‘losing out to a small fish just as the men of Ulster struggle from their sick-beds to help you. But then it must be hard for you to act the champion when you’re up against a real contender, with all of Ireland looking on.’
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