Myths and Legends of the Celts (Penguin Reference)

by James MacKillop

  In a startling reversal of expectations, the Connacht charioteer strikes a fatal blow against the hound as forceful as ten armies. Fer Loga uses a chariot pole to decapitate the majestic beast, letting the body fall to one side but keeping the head on his pole. At this point the storyteller adds that this episode lends itself to two place-names: Mag nAilbe [Ailbe’s plain], in the valley of the River Barrow, where the action is taking place, and Ibar Cinn Chon [yew tree of the hound’s head], a bogus etymology for ‘Connacht’ itself.

  Seeking one last advantage for his province, Fer Loga lies in wait in the heather, ready to roll Ailbe’s severed head into the roadway. His ambush succeeds as he springs into Conchobar’s chariot and seizes the king by the throat. Realizing his disadvantage, Conchobar bargains for his freedom on Fer Loga’s terms. Pausing, the charioteer thinks of a wish he would like fulfilled.

  ‘I would like to see the women of Emain Macha and their young daughters sing choruses around me every evening for a year, with the words, “Fer Loga is my darling.” ’

  Conchobar grants the request. He and Fer Loga proceed to Emain Macha where the maidens are obliged to follow the king’s command. After a happy year, Fer Loga with a gift of two of Conchobar’s horses returns to the west, fording the Shannon at Athlone.

  BRICCRIU’S CONTENTIOUS FEAST

  Trouble-making is ever Briccriu Neimthenga’s pleasure. His insidious suggestions about how the pork might be carved at Mac Da Thó’s dinner party are but a prelude to his grander shenanigans in the eighth-century story bearing his name, Fled Bricrenn [Briccriu’s Feast]. His prey this time are three Ulster heroes, Conall Cernach, Lóegaire Búadach and Cúchulainn and, through them, their wives. His tactic, simple but effective, is an appeal to vanity: Which of you shall rank first? Who should take precedence? Who deserves to cut the champion’s esteemed portion?

  The story survives in four variant eleventh-century texts deriving from an eighth-century original, which in turn appears to have had antecedents of even earlier date. When coordinated, the entire narrative connects two barely related episodes: (a) Briccriu’s inciting of competition for the champion’s portion; and (b) the beheading contest or giant’s challenge. Despite the modest caesura in the action Fled Bricrenn is often seen as one of the most finished stories as well as one of the longest, after the imposing Táin Bó Cuailnge.

  As soon as they hear about the feast, the Ulstermen are reluctant to accept-invitations to Briccriu’s sumptuous new residence at Dún Rudraige [Dundrum, Co. Down], fashioned after the banqueting hall at Tara. The host’s reputation for irascibility is enough to put them off. Knowing this, Briccriu forces acceptance by threatening to set all of Ulster into turmoil if they do not come: father and son will be set one against another, mother against daughter, even the two breasts of each woman will strike against each other until their milk is soured. Acknowledging the grief Briccriu could surely bring about, many give in and go, but only on the condition that the host himself should not enter the mansion. Untroubled by such ineffective limits on his deviousness, Briccriu sets about tickling the self-importance of the three heroes even before they arrive. He entices Lóegaire first, slathering him with flattery and then taunting him with questions such as why he does not receive the champion’s portion, the choicest cut of succulent, milk-fed pork when he is at Emain Macha. Rising to Briccriu’s bait, Lóegaire protests that he could have the champion’s portion if he really wanted it.

  Briccriu quickly plays the same tricks on Conall and Cúchulainn – unctuous flattery followed by prickly goads about unappreciated feats of valour and heroism. Cúchulainn is the angriest of the three, swearing that he will have the head of anyone who takes the champion’s portion before him. At this Briccriu beams with satisfaction at his handiwork.

  Once King Conchobar leads the Ulster party to Briccriu’s residence, the host neglects his promise to stay away and attends to such household matters as the ordering of the musicians and the presentation of the banquet, from the wine to the much anticipated roast pig. Once he and his wife are sure that all is ready, they leave the dining hall with one last invitation to mayhem. Briccriu calls out that the magnificent champion’s portion is to be set before the guests and that only the greatest champion deserves it. Retreating to a secure vantage point, the hosts wish to watch the forces they have set in motion without being scarred themselves. Cúchulainn’s charioteer Láeg seizes the initiative by demanding that the champion’s portion be delivered to his master. This provokes the expected clamour from the other two heroes’ charioteers, and soon the retainers and their masters join in the raucous mêlée. Briccriu’s hope that one hero will destroy another is dashed when a cooler head prevails. Sencha mac Ailella, Conchobar’s chief judge and poet, steps forward with a disarmingly simple solution: the champion’s portion should be divided three ways, implying parity among the three contestants.

  Thwarted in this, his first stratagem, Briccriu turns to the consorts of the three heroes, sure that he has readier prey this time. Observing that Fedelm Noíchrothach, wife of Lóegaire, is tipsy from too much wine, he praises her as the foremost woman of Ulster for her beauty, nobility and intelligence. Enjoying her rapt attention, he goads her to take precedence among the women by being the first to pass through the door of Briccriu’s residence, an act that will confirm her rank. In quick order he uses the same simple ploys with Lendabair, wife of Conall Cernach, and Emer, wife of Cúchulainn. When the three noble women and their entourages meet three ridges away from the hall, each believes that Briccriu has spoken only to her and so projects a studied calm about making her way to the banquet. Measured, stately steps give way to a faster pace as they pass from the third to the second ridge. Briccriu’s intrigue seems to be working as the parties draw closer to Dún Rudraige and each woman breaks into a run, hoisting her skirts and exposing her backside. Arriving at the door they compete in boasting contests over who has the more formidable husband, prompting Conall and Lóegaire to tear down the pillars so that Fedelm and Lendabair may enter. Cúchulainn takes more direct action, prising up an entire wall of the edifice, hefting it so high that stars in the sky are visible beneath the foundations. This allows Emer, unhurriedly, to step first into the house. Once she is in, Cúchulainn drops the wall, which crashes into the earth, sinking deeper than the length of a full-grown warrior. All this violence to the house’s physical integrity undulates through the rest of the structure, sending Briccriu’s balcony at a severe tilt, causing him and his wife to slide off and plop down farcically into a pile of slimy muck.

  Fit to be tied, despite the absurdity of his condition, Briccriu demands that Dún Rudraige be restored to its earlier glory, screaming his rage before everyone present. The peacemaker Sencha mac Ailella then implores Cúchulainn to act, but the hero, exhausted from breaking in his horse, the Grey of Macha, cannot budge it. Suddenly, Cúchulainn seems transformed: his body is stretched like an extended bow, his face is distorted and his hair stands on end. This is an early instance of his empowering ríastrad, an untranslatable term known in English as his battle fury, battle frenzy or warp spasm. It usually comes upon him when he needs to draw on additional reserves of conviction and strength while threatened in combat; there are several instances in the next chapter. In this preview, ríastrad infuses Cúchulainn with all the muscle he needs to raise Briccriu’s house in one thrust and restore it as it had been. With this Cúchulainn himself regains his normal appearance, and the entire company settles down to enjoy the rest of the feast.

  Briccriu’s challenge to the vanity of the Ulster heroes remains unsatisfied, of course, but he is not the immediate instigator of the third episode of the unfolding story. The Ulstermen themselves decide to take the question of who deserves the champion’s portion to their usual enemies, Queen Medb of Connacht and her consort Ailill in their fortress of Cruachain. Everyone concerned with the question, headed by King Conchobar mac Nessa, packs up and begins to head west. So massive and extensive is the entourage that the rumble of
humans and animals in motion extends all the way to the household of Medb herself, who remarks to her daughter Finnabair how odd it is to hear thunder on such a sunny day.

  Taking a high vantage point in the fortress, Finnabair calls out detailed and particular descriptions of the approaching heroes for her mother to identify. Lóegaire has long braided yellow hair, brown at the root, blood red in the middle and golden yellow at the tip. Long braided hair also adorns Conall Cernach, whose bright, glistening face is half-red and half-white. Finnabair saves her highest praise for the third rider, whom she judges to be the most beautiful man in all of Ireland, even though he is sad and dark. It is Cúchulainn. His clothing brightens his appearance, a scarlet tunic fastened with a gold, ornamented brooch over his white breast.

  In an instant Medb knows each of the warriors from her daughter’s words but cautions that each of them could bring danger to the household. She orders that three vats of icy water be set aside to cool the battle fever of the three when they arrive.

  Learning the reason for the Ulstermen’s journey to Cruachain, Ailill is most uneasy, knowing that whatever he decides will make for him two implacable enemies. For a moment he is spared the invidious choice when three druidic cats are let loose among the Ulster threesome, scratching their food and baring claws. Lóegaire and Conall escape to the rafters while Cúchulainn remains calm, holding the demonic cats at bay all night. Seeing this, Ailill assumes his decision has been made and declares the champion’s portion for Cúchulainn. But Lóegaire and Conall object vehemently, arguing that magic beasts cannot test a champion’s strength, only other men.

  Disgusted with her husband’s indecision, which she calls cowardly, Medb proposes her own plan to separate the men, who she says are as different from one another as bronze is to silver, and silver is to gold.

  She then speaks to the Ulster heroes one by one, telling each a variation of the same story. She allows Lóegaire and Conall to think they are her favourites, giving a bronze cup with a silver bird on the bottom to Lóegaire and a silver cup with a gold bird on the bottom to Conall, asking both not to divulge their little secret. Cúchulainn, playing the boardgame fidchell with Láeg, is harder to coax. She puts her arm around him and whispers in his ear that he is the greatest hero in Ulster and most deserving of the champion’s portion. From under her garments she takes a splendid gold cup with a bejewelled bird at the base. As with the others, she asks him not to speak of this.

  On their return to Emain Macha the three heroes are hosted at a banquet at which the champion’s portion is carved but not served to anyone. Dubthach Dóeltenga [chafer-tongued], a man as rancorous as Briccriu, snarls that the expedition to Cruachain settled nothing and the champion’s portion might as well be given to some hero other than the three current competitors. At that Lóegaire holds up his bronze cup to prove that he was Ailill’s and Medb’s choice, a secret until now. A startled Conall objects, brandishing his elegant silver cup, a sure sign that he had been favoured by the royalty of the west. Never one to be stampeded by the heat of the moment, Cúchulainn is slower to speak. Reaching into his cloak he produces his golden goblet, studded with jewels, and on the bottom the bird composed of precious gems. ‘This is the best token of all,’ he avows. ‘With justice the champion’s portion should be mine.’ His presumption provokes Lóegaire and Conall to draw their swords and all three are about to flail one another when Sencha intervenes once more, reminding the trio that Medb had duped all of them, not each one individually. Thus, once again the question of who deserved the champion’s portion is unresolved, and so the meat is cut up and distributed to the whole company.

  Next, the three Ulster heroes seek the judgement of a wizard-warrior in the south, Cú Roí mac Dáiri of west Munster. He lives in a magical, impregnable fortress that revolves on its axis each night so that its entrance can never be found after sunset; it is identified with the Iron Age ruin of Cahirconree on the Dingle Peninsula, Co. Kerry. The host is away in far-off Scythia when the trio arrive; they are asked to keep watch at night until Cú Roí comes back. Lóegaire, the eldest, is keeping the first watch when a giant comes from the sea. Taking the Ulsterman up in one hand, the giant rolls him between his palms like a chess-piece turned on a lathe and then contemptuously throws him over the wall into the mud. Next night, Conall Cernach gets the same abusive handling. On the third night Cúchulainn fares better, overcoming attacks from nine warriors, a monstrous beast and finally the giant himself. When he enters the fortress the next morning, Cúchulainn sighs, to which the host’s wife, Bláithíne, responds that his sigh should be for victory and triumph. After a short interval, Cú Roí enters, carrying the spoils of earlier conquests that Cúchulainn had left outside, and declares that he alone among the three Ulstermen is most deserving of the champion’s portion. Cú Roí confirms his decision with a reward of gold and silver and promises, further, that Cúchulainn’s wife Emer will enjoy precedence over all the women of the province.

  When the troupe returns to Emain Macha that night, the matter is anything but settled. Lóegaire and Conall deny that Cú Roí has awarded the champion’s portion to Cúchulainn as they did not witness what went on inside the fortress. Cúchulainn decides not to contend for his rightful prize as to do so would bring more sorrow than joy.

  The final and crucial episode of the narrative is absent or illegible in the three recensions of Fled Bricrenn but survives in a separate manuscript found in Edinburgh. Determining the rightful claimant to the champion’s portion is still the dominant theme, but in this last action Briccriu has completely disappeared, his role taken with lesser stature by the evil-tongued Dubthach.

  One evening at Cráebruad, the Red Branch hall at Emain Macha, Conchobar and Fergus (who had preceded Conchobar on the throne) preside over a gathering that follows an exhausting tournament. Suddenly a huge, uncouth and churlish giant bursts into the hall, clearly looking for trouble. His yellow, ravenous eyes are as big as cauldrons and his fingers as thick as a man’s wrist. He wears a tunic made of old hide covered by a dun-coloured mantle. The block he carries in his left hand would strain twenty yokes of oxen simply to budge. In his right hand he carries a huge axe whose handle would require six horses to carry and whose edge would cut hair aloft in the wind. He announces that he has been searching the world to find a man brave enough to keep a pact with him. With Conchobar and Fergus excepted because of their rank, the churlish giant asks that someone present agree to allow the giant to cut off his head with the axe. His part of the bargain will be to return the following night and place his own neck on the chopping-block to receive the same treatment. After some of Dubthach’s gibes, the giant reverses the offer, submitting his neck to the chopping-block first.

  As Lóegaire, Conall and Cúchulainn are absent, a lesser but strong warrior with an unfortunate name steps forward, Munremur mac Gerrcind [fat neck son of short head]. Doing what he is asked, Munremur raises the colossal axe and with one blow separates the giant’s head from his shoulders. It rolls on the floor, leaving a trail of blood. Without wasting time, the giant reaches down to pick up the head, and with his axe over his shoulder strides from the room. On the following the night when the giant returns, head restored to his neck, Munremur is nowhere to be found.

  On that second night, however, Lóegaire is present, prompting the giant to raise the question of the champion’s portion. The giant calls out Lóegaire’s name and asks that anyone contesting for the Ulster champion portion should be willing to carry out the beheading covenant. Lóegaire agrees, but his experience is the same as Munremur’s. On the third night the giant challenges Conall, who, like the two before him, lops off the head easily but is elsewhere when it is his turn at the chopping-block.

  On the fourth night, in Conall’s absence, the giant rails against the court, Ulster in general and, finally, Cúchulainn in particular, who is present. Keeping his distance, the Ulster hero avers that he does not desire a covenant with the visitor, to which the giant snarls that he really fears death
too much enter into the bargain. This gibe prompts Cúchulainn to leap toward the giant and swing the axe in a would-be lethal blow. For extra measure, Cúchulainn hurls the head to the top rafter and, when it falls to the floor, smashes it into smithereens. When this is done, the giant still rises, carrying with him what is left of the head.

  Tension rises among the courtiers over how the dispute will be settled. On the fifth night the giant returns with his head restored, but Cúchulainn is keeping his half of the bargain. When Cúchulainn kneels and put his neck on the block, the giant teases him, telling him it is too short. Cúchulainn is willing to make his neck as long as a heron’s but asks that he be killed quickly and not made sport of. The giant raises his axe on high, and he swings it so swiftly that the hissing is like wind through trees. But as metal meets skin, it appears that the giant has put the blunt side of the blade toward Cúchulainn’s neck. The stroke is gentle, barely enough to mark the hero.

  The giant then asks Cúchulainn to stand and declares that he has no equal for bravery, honesty and honour. He must take the champion’s portion, and his wife Emer must take first place in the banqueting hall. At this the giant reveals that he is Cú Roí and swears that anyone who disputes with him puts his own life in danger.

  The beheading bargain in Fled Bricrenn is much commented upon. It anticipates a better known sequence in the English romance Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (fourteenth century), written down many centuries later. As folk motif M221, it is found in more stories than these two.

  THE INTOXICATION OF THE ULSTERMEN