There could be no doubt that Maeve’s wish was her court’s command and before the sun set twenty champions in full battle regalia were lined up in their war chariots accompanied by their drivers and grooms. Wagons loaded with supplies stood ready and several mounted messengers were included to keep Maeve informed concerning their progress. Although a single horseman might complete the journey in less than a day, the entourage would take at least a couple of days as they crossed the midlands through the present day counties of Longford, Cavan and Meath.
The detachment, under the command of a champion called Fineen, departed Cruachan before the sun set to satisfy the queen. They only travelled a few miles, however, when Fineen ordered the company to halt for the night. The queen and her fury were out of sight and Fineen had no intention of actually travelling in the dark. To do so was foolhardy because not only would they risk damage to their chariots along the rocky roads that crossed the country, but night was a time for the spirits they would prefer not to encounter. While Maeve could instill fear in her subjects, she did not inspire devotion to duty or a willingness to do anything more than was absolutely necessary.
CHAPTER THREE
The old woman reached down and took the infant Ferdia into her arms. Like many of those who lived at or near Dundalk, Mairéad was a widow whose husband and sons died in the bloody battles that were frequently fought in the age of Celtic heroes.
Although death in battle might have been a heroic end for the legendary Celtic warriors, that was of little consolation to the mothers, wives and children who were left behind. They faced the future with no one to support them; totally reliant on the charity of their friends and extended family. Mairéad had been alone for decades and, like many others in her situation, she moved to the security of the stronghold of a champion, exchanging her domestic skills and experience for a place to live and a bite to eat. Although her eyesight was no longer clear, and her arthritic hands could no longer knit and sew, Mairéad shared the wisdom of her years and nearly everyone, not only from the stronghold but from miles around, sought her advice.
Of equal importance, the old woman was wonder with infants and small children. At all hours of the day and night, she could be found rocking one of her many adoptive great-grand children in her arms and comforting them when they cried. And then, when they were older, swarms of children would gather at her skirts to learn all measure of wondrous things. Since she had nurtured multiple generations of these young people Mairéad was well respected and treasured by the residents of Cúchulainn’s fortified compound.
With all her experience, there was no question but that Mairéad would assume responsibility for the infant sons of the great Cúchulainn. From the moment Emer placed the little boys in the old woman’s arms, as she departed to mourn her husband, Mairéad never left the children’s side. Fergus and Ferdia became her life and she observed their every motion, every smile and every change of expression. Mairéad carefully ensured that the wet-nurses properly fed the children and she even remained, snoring softly in her chair, while they slept. Although Mairéad might have said the same thing about every child she had assisted, it soon became clear to the old woman that these infants were special.
Even though Fergus and Ferdia were only several days old when they were orphaned, Mairéad could see that there seemed to be a magical aura surrounding the twins. Unlike some babies whose eyes appear milky during their first weeks, the boys’ big blue eyes seemed unusually clear. They took in the world around them with an apparent understanding, unheard of in an infant child who might ordinarily see just shapes and colors. The infants’ heads inclined toward the sound of speaking voices and from their expressions they seemed to know what people were saying. This unusual attention suggested that, in the absence of their own speech, Fergus and Ferdia were intent on absorbing every word that was uttered in their presence. The twins never once cried out or shed a tear if they were hungry, thirsty or in discomfort because they seemed to be able to communicate with Mairéad in a mysterious way that, for all her experience she could not quite explain.
Although only infants, the twins apparently inherited remarkable physical strength from their famous father. When visitors put their finger into the little fellows’ hands they were amazed at the strength of their grips. And when the children were taken from their crib, their neck muscles stood out, supporting their heads unlike any other newborn baby. Fergus and Ferdia were certainly happy, healthy infants, both displaying a mop of golden hair, just like their father. Although the venerable Mairéad jealously guarded the twins, there was no shortage of people who quickly volunteered to adopt the children and rear them as their own.
After Cúchulainn and Emer were buried, many from the funeral party returned to the compound to mourn the couple’s passing and to determine what was to become of the little orphans. The group gathered at Cúchulainn’s house where a meal was prepared. Just before the food was served, Cathbad the Druid suddenly appeared at the head table, almost, it seemed, materializing out of thin air. He was tall and slender and although the top of his head was bald, a long mane of silver hair began at the sides of his head and flowed down his back. A full silver beard matched the color, silky texture and length of his hair, reaching well down the druid’s chest. Cathbad was dressed in plain brown hooded robe cinched at the middle with a black rope. When those gathered had recovered from the surprise of his appearance, Cathbad called for Fergus and Ferdia to be brought to him. Mairéad presented the twins and Cathbad held his great-grandchildren for the first time.
The old man pondered each child, staring deeply into blue eyes that remained totally focused without as much as a blink. The children seemed to stare as intently into Cathbad’s eyes as Cathbad searched the boys’. A strange glow came over the unlikely trio and the room fell silent as all social chatter ceased for many minutes. It was clear that something special was taking place and everyone looked to the elder druid with anticipation.
The silence lasted for several more minutes, although to some it seemed like a much longer time. Finally, a young voice from the rear of the room was heard to ask, “Is it the sight? Have you seen a vision? Have you seen the future?”
The question was met a universal “Hush” from the rest of the gathering who knew that no one could rush the process. Cathbad would make a pronouncement in his own time.
After another, seemingly interminable delay, the druid’s voice, cracking with age emotion, was finally heard.
“I have seen something magical in the eyes of these children, but for the first time in my life, I do not fully understand what it means.”
This statement was met with a collective groan and those present looked at each other in concern and confusion. Cathbad was widely regarded as one of the greatest druids who ever lived. For as long as any of them remembered, he had been the great oracle whose wisdom was required when any important decision needed to be made. His pronouncements were always delivered with a confidence that inspired everyone who listened but this was the first time those gathered ever heard Cathbad speak with anything except absolute certainty.
The old man continued, “Perhaps, I am nearing the end of my days on earth and perhaps my powers have begun to desert me.”
“No” several people replied, “This cannot be.”
One woman spoke, “Noble father, you are the greatest druid who has ever walked the earth. Surely your powers would not desert you when we need your wisdom.”
Cathbad continued to consider the young children before holding them both high above his head. After a time he lowered the children and gazed at the group that surrounded him. “I will tell you what I see, and perhaps in time I will understand what it means. It may be that if I seek the wisdom of the trees and the wind, I will understand what I see. If I am not successful in interpreting this vision, it will be up to someone else to stand in my place and this will be the last time I will ever exercise my powers of vision and foresight.”
The room again fell silent.
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Cathbad began, “I see in these boys a remarkable strength. They will be heroic champions, like their father, but in ways their father would never have dreamed. Their destiny however heroic will not be determined on the field of battle and, unlike Cúchulainn, they will not die a hero’s death.”
The people murmured among themselves. They were obviously well pleased with the prediction that Fergus and Ferdia would be heroic champions, but what was a heroic champion if not in the image of Cúchulainn? And, if the twins were not to die a hero’s death, did this mean they would die a coward, or merely old men? Everyone seemed to have his or her opinion and the din rose as discussions continued.
Cathbad raised his hand and silence again descended, “I see a strange world, one I do not recognize from any story or legend I have heard. I see strange people, dark-skinned people, light-skinned people and people of all shades in between, dressed in strange clothing gathering to honor Ferdia. But I do not recognize these people. Who are they? Where do they come from? Where are they gathered? These are the things I do not know and I do not understand. That is the reason I will have to ponder what I have seen and consider what is to be done.”
“But what of Fergus?” a voice cried from the rear of the room.
Cathbad looked for a time at the second child before replying, “I see a similar destiny for Fergus, but it does not appear to be identical. I see the same strange people and strange clothing but the shadows have descended on my vision and I see little else.”
The druid handed the children back to Mairéad and he retired from the room disappearing as mysteriously as he had arrived. The discussions among the guests resumed immediately with everyone asking questions and giving opinions. The feast continued well into the night but by the time the group retired to their sleeping mats, the future of Dundalk and the young orphan sons of Cúchulainn was no clearer than it had been when their parents died.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny as if Mother Nature, having expressed her sorrow and grief at the loss of Cúchulainn and Emer, was announcing that life must continue. Many of those who travelled to pay their final respects to the great hero and his wife gathered their belongings and prepared to depart. It seemed that no one was actually leaving; rather they milled around outside the main residence within the compound talking among and looking anxiously for some sign of the chief druid. It was apparent that no one wanted to leave before hearing what Cathbad might have to say, particularly as it related to the fostering of young Fergus and Ferdia.
The sun was nearly at its highest point when Cathbad arrived, this time clad in a white robe, trimmed in gold. Calling for the children, he held them close to his heart and made a pronouncement in a loud and clear voice, quite in contrast to his hesitancy of the prior night.
“I will take Fergus and Ferdia with me to Conchubar’s court at Emain Macha and there I will discuss the boys’ future with the king. I acknowledge that many of you gathered here would rear these children with love and affection preparing them for their destiny, whatever that may be. Conall, I know that in your care, Fergus and Ferdia would become great champions, as you yourself are. You have avenged the death of Cúchulainn and I have no doubt that you would protect his sons. I know that others, related by blood or fosterage, would also do these children great honor as their foster parents.”
Cathbad concluded, “The boys are, however, grand nephews of Conchubar and it is only appropriate that any decisions regarding the fostering of the children must originate with the king. Finally, I fear that we have not heard the end of Maeve, whose own son was killed in reparation for the death of Cúchulainn. She may yet try to take the lives of Cúchulainn’s sons in further revenge. In my opinion Emain Macha is the safest place for children of their vulnerable years.”
Everyone present accepted the wisdom of this pronouncement. Conall, who had avenged Cúchulainn, stood and, speaking for the group, said, “Your counsel, great father, is wise. I am prepared to ride with you to protect the children and yourself from any attempts on their lives, or indeed, on your own.”
Cathbad replied, “I thank you for your generous offer, however I think it best that I travel in my own way and I can assure you that we will arrive safely at the court of Conchubar. I will report your kindness and support to the king and I am confident that he will call on you should the occasion require it.”
Mairéad then stepped forward, “Brother Cathbad,” she began, “I am an old woman and my days in this life are numbered in weeks rather than months or years. I also have a destiny and I have seen visions that will bind me to these children for as long as the fates require. While their future destiny may be determined by your sight, I must attend to these children until it is time for one of us to move on.”
Cathbad considered the old woman for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “I will take the children to Conchubar and you can be assured of their safety. As soon as you are prepared to travel, old sister, and proper precautions are made for your own safety, you must follow after me. You can then continue your service to Fergus and Ferdia at Emain Macha.”
And so it was that the young boys, heirs of the great Cúchulainn, were taken from Dundalk to the fort of their great-uncle the king, Conchubar. Cathbad took the children and tucked them into special slings across the old man’s chest. The druid followed the secret path off the man-made island on which the compound was located to the stable where he mounted a grey stallion and galloped off. About two hundred yards later, it appeared as if Cathbad and the horse rode through some type of curtain because suddenly they were no longer visible and all that remained was the faint clattering of hoofs.
CHAPTER FOUR
The great horse seemed to fly over the ground covering long distances with each stride. It was only about thirty miles from Dundalk to Emain Macha, the ancient seat of the kings of Ulster, and although the terrain was rough, Cathbad and his precious burdens arrived at Conchubar’s court in less than two hours.
Emain Macha was a massive ring fort whose earthen walls, nearly twenty feet high extended over eighty yards from the center point. The walls formed a great earthen circle several yards beyond the base of a perfectly round and gently sloping hill with only a main gate to permit access to the fort. Emain Macha was the fortress of the great king Conchubar whose residence was in the principal building located at the center of the ring fort on the summit of the hill. Like the fortress, the king’s residence was round, following the contours of the hill. The structure itself was over one hundred yards in diameter and from a distance it appeared as a giant thatched cone. This roof was supported by a series of poles, located in concentric circles, with the poles closer to the center increasing the roof’s height, both because they were longer and because they were also located higher on the hill. The center and tallest post was just under thirty-five feet high. The external set of poles supported a wall constructed of interwoven branches finished with stones and dried mud.
Although the residence was technically only one room, various cloth and animal hide drapes provided privacy for the many members of the king’s court who resided within the structure. One principal fire in the center of the building provided heat and kept the residence reasonably dry. The fire was vented through a small grid in the ceiling, but because of drafts from the sides of the structure the smoke did not always make its way out through the grid. The result was that when the weather was cold and damp, the building was filled with a smoky haze.
Smaller buildings, also round in shape with earthen walls, and poles supporting a thatched roof were scattered at the base of the hill inside the perimeter wall. These buildings provided the support services for the great hall as well as lodgings for many of those associated with the court. Included among the support buildings was a granary where wheat was ground into flour, a forge where weapons and farming utensils were fashioned and a kitchen where meals were prepared.
As Cathbad approached Emain Macha, he stopped on an adjacent hill and surveyed the king’s fort
ress for the best part of an hour. Then, satisfied that nothing was amiss at his destination, Cathbad showed himself at the main gate and was escorted with much ceremony, up the hill and into the great hall.
The residence of the king was dark and the smell of burning wood contrasted starkly with the sweet fresh air that the travelers had enjoyed. Although the sun shone brightly, it was still early spring and there was little warmth on the hills overlooking the Boyne. In contrast, the great hall was warm as the flames from the great fire in the middle of the room still leaped toward the vent above. Inside the great circular house was a beehive of activity as its residents and staff scurried around attending to their daily chores.
After pausing for a moment just inside the entrance so that he could become accustomed to the dark, Cathbad strode toward the back of the great round house where he knew his son would be seated, tending to his own responsibilities. As Cathbad walked around the great fire, Conchubar Mac Nessa, the high king of Ulster, himself an old man, rose and greeted his father, the great druid.
Conchubar had once been tall and strong as befits one of the greatest kings of pre-Celtic Ireland. He had been successful in many battles and defended the people of Ulster against invasions in time of war and led them to prosperity in times of peace. Conchubar had ruled his kingdom for many, many years but now he was growing old and tired. Age had not only shrunk the once great warrior but he was also so badly bent forward that the beard and moustaches flowing from his broad chin, no longer touched his chest. In addition, his body was often wracked with coughing spells and there was no question but that the end of his mortal life was nearly at hand. Despite that, Conchubar maintained a remarkable good sense of humor since, like all of his people, he had no fear of death. He knew his soul would continue on its journey after his body passed from the earth.
The Legends Page 3