The Táin

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by Liam Mac Uistin


  But who would defend the province in the meantime? King Conor and his warriors still lay in enchanted sleep at Eman Macha. Nothing now stood in Maeve’s way. As soon as she realised that, she would order her army to cross the river. They would come upon the unconscious figure of Cuchulainn and kill him!

  Laeg stood up and stared anxiously over at the queen’s camp. Everything there was quiet. Maeve and her men were waiting for Cuchulainn to reappear at the ford.

  Laeg turned in alarm as he heard the sudden sound of a horse’s hooves. Then he smiled as he recognised the tall nobleman who was approaching. It was Cuchulainn’s father, Sualdam.

  ‘I was on my way to Eman Macha when I heard that Cuchulainn was here,’ Sualdam said. He paused and stared down at his son lying unconscious on the ground. ‘What has happened to leave him in this sorry state?’

  Laeg explained about Cuchulainn’s stand against the warriors of Maeve. ‘It will be some time before he regains his strength. And in the meantime there is nobody to defend Ulster.’

  ‘Where are Conor and his men?’ Sualdam asked.

  ‘A magic spell has been placed on them,’ Laeg said. ‘They are all sound asleep in the palace.’

  ‘I shall go there now and try and awaken them!’ Sualdam said quickly. He wheeled his horse around and galloped away.

  Laeg turned and with a worried expression watched the enemy’s camp again. His heart gave a skip as a warrior emerged carrying his weapons. The man came down halfway to the river and stared in puzzlement at the unguarded ford. Then he turned slowly and walked back to the camp. Laeg shook his head. It would not be long until Maeve understood that nobody now was in her way. He had better put Cuchulainn into the chariot and take him off to a place of safety. Maeve’s men would kill him if he left him where he was. He hurried back to where Cuchulainn was lying.

  Cuchulainn’s eyes flickered open and he stared up at Laeg. ‘Your father was here,’ Laeg said. ‘He has gone to Eman Macha to see if he can arouse King Conor and his men.’

  ‘That will take time,’ Cuchulainn whispered. He raised himself up on his elbow. ‘I must guard the ford!’

  ‘But you are too weak to fight,’ Laeg protested.

  Cuchulainn nodded. ‘I know that’, he said, ‘but my enemies don’t.’ Grimacing with pain he rose to his feet. ‘Help me down to the water’s edge while it is dark. Tie me to a boulder there and put my sword in my hand. Then leave me there alone. When my enemies see me in the morning they will think I have recovered.’

  So Laeg brought Cuchulainn down to the river and tied him securely to the boulder. He placed a sword in Cuchulainn’s hand and reluctantly went away. When Maeve and her men looked out next morning they saw with dismay that Cuchulainn had returned.

  Sualdam meanwhile had arrived at Eman Macha. He rode up to the palace gates and shouted, ‘Wake up, men of Ulster! Come and defend your province against Maeve and her warriors.’

  There was no response from inside the palace. Sualdam shouted again but still there was no answer. He tried to open the gates but they were locked. He shook his head impatiently and circled the palace walls looking for a place low enough for his horse to jump over.

  His eyes lit up when he saw a suitable place. He set the horse in a gallop towards it and the animal sailed up and over into the palace grounds.

  As they landed, the shield on Sualdam’s back broke loose from its strap. It flew over his shoulder and the sharp rim sliced through his neck. His head spun through the air and rolled along the ground until it came to rest under a palace window.

  ‘Wake up, men of Ulster!’ the head called out. ‘Come and defend your province against Maeve and her warriors!’

  The power of the spell on the men inside was already beginning to fade. The warning shout through the window now jerked them into wakefulness. They rubbed their eyes and listened in astonishment as the voice continued to call out.

  King Conor jumped up and crashed his fist on the table. ‘Get ready for battle!’ he ordered. His men scrambled to their feet, grabbed their weapons, and raced to their horses.

  Back at the ford the grim figure of Cuchulainn still kept Maeve’s army at bay. But his head was beginning to sag and a glazed look came into his eyes. Only the thongs that tied him to the boulder prevented him from slumping to the ground.

  Maeve was watching him from her camp. After a while she suspected that something was wrong. ‘Cuchulainn hasn’t moved from that rock all day,’ she said to Fergus. ‘Perhaps he is weaker than we think.’

  ‘It may be just a trick to lure your men out,’ Fergus cautioned.

  ‘But look at the way his head droops,’ Maeve said, ‘He seems too weak to fight.’ She laughed suddenly and said, ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

  She called one of her warriors and asked him to go to the ford. The man hesitated and was about to shake his head when Maeve said, ‘I don’t want you to do combat with Cuchulainn. If he moves to attack you come back here.’

  The warrior walked down to the river. He stared nervously at Cuchulainn, ready for flight at the first sign of danger. But Cuchulainn did not move. After a while the warrior grew bolder. He picked up a stone and threw it at Cuchulainn. Then he began to jeer him. There was still no move from Cuchulainn. The warrior turned and called out, ‘The demon is powerless!’

  A loud cheer came from the camp. ‘Come on!’ Maeve shouted. ‘There is nothing now to stop us!’

  She leaped into her chariot and drove quickly to the ford. Her men followed her, waving their swords and spears. Laeg watched in despair as the triumphant army surged towards the river. Cuchulainn would soon be dead. Laeg seized his weapons. He would die fighting beside him! Then, just as he was about to run down to the ford, he heard the thunder of hooves behind him and the harsh shouts of angry men. He looked around and jumped with joy. The warriors of Ulster had arrived to do battle!

  The two armies clashed in the river. Swords slashed and spears jabbed, turning the water into a churning stream of blood. For a whole day the battle raged fiercely. Then Maeve’s warriors began to give way. Sensing victory, King Conor gave a great shout of triumph. But it died away on his lips when he saw his old enemy Fergus rallying the retreating men and leading them in a savage attack that pushed the Ulstermen back over the river. They were cut down like ripe wheat as Fergus swept through them with his great two-handled sword.

  A sudden battle-spasm came over Cuchulainn. He broke the thongs that held him to the boulder and rushed into the fight. His sword carved a path through the men opposing him and then suddenly he came face-to-face with Fergus.

  For a moment they stared at each other. Then Cuchulainn said, ‘Remember your promise. Give way to me.’

  ‘Very well,’ Fergus said, and he withdrew from the battle, followed by his men.

  When Maeve and her warriors saw this they turned and fled. Cuchulainn raced after her and caught up with her. The queen’s eyes opened wide with fear. ‘Spare me,’ she pleaded.

  Cuchulainn slowly lowered his sword. ‘You deserve to be killed,’ he said. ‘But I will spare you, provided you promise never to invade Ulster again.’

  ‘I promise,’ she said.

  Cuchulainn let her go then and she hurried back to her palace at Cruachan. ‘At least I still have the Brown Bull of Cooley,’ she consoled herself as she arrived at the gates.

  But soon she was to lose that also.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE BROWN BULL ESCAPES

  MAEVE STRODE INTO THE FIELD where her husband Ailill was admiring his bull Finnbeannach. ‘I’ve a much finer animal than that,’ she said.

  Ailill laughed scornfully. ‘You’d nothing to equal Finnbeannach when we compared our herds,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Well, I do now!’ she snapped and calling her servants she ordered them to bring the Brown Bull of Cooley to the field.

  Ailill’s face fell when he saw the magnificent animal. ‘You see?’ Maeve crowed. ‘I am richer than you after all.’

  Bu
t she had hardly finished speaking when the Brown Bull bellowed angrily and suddenly attacked Finnbeannach. After a short fierce fight, Ailill’s bull lay dead on the ground. Ailill drew his sword. ‘I will kill that animal of yours!’ he shouted.

  Maeve tried to hold him back but he broke free from her grip and advanced on the Brown Bull. As Maeve ran after Ailill, the bull bellowed again and made a sudden charge at them. They stopped, turned, and ran for their lives. They raced into the palace and closed the massive door behind them. The bull’s horns thudded into the door. Then he shook his head and scattering everybody before him escaped into the hills. Maeve sent her herdsmen out to look for him but they never found him again.

  Daire Mac Fiachna was sitting in his house in Cooley when he heard a familiar bellow outside. He could hardly believe his ears. He rushed to the window and looked out. The Brown Bull had come home! His face glowed with joy as he hurried out to welcome his treasure.

  And so the Táin ended.

  About the Author

  LIAM MAC UISTIN is a Celtic scholar, writer and playwright. One of his writings was selected by the Irish government for inscription in the National Garden of Remembrance in Dublin. His version of The Táin has introduced many young readers to one of Ireland’s most ancient legends, while Celtic Magic Tales is a vivid retelling of four very different myths. The Hunt for Diarmaid and Gráinne is his third book of ancient Celtic tales.

  Copyright

  This eBook edition first published 2012 by The O’Brien Press Ltd,

  12 Terenure Road East, Rathgar, Dublin 6, Ireland

  Tel: +35314923333;Fax:+35314922777

  E-mail: [email protected]

  Website: www.obrien.ie

  First published1989

  eBook ISBN 978–1-84717–388–1

  Copyright for text©Liam Mac Uistin

  Copyright for editing, layout, illustrations and design

  © The O’Brien Press Ltd

  UNAUTHORISED COPYING IS ILLEGAL

  All rights reserved.No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilised in any form or my any means, including electronic,digital,mechanical,visual or audio, or mounted on any network servers, without permission in writing from the publisher. Carrying out any unauthorised act in relation to a copyright work may result in both a civil claim for damages and criminal prosecution. For permission to copyany part of this publication contact The O’Brien Press Ltd at [email protected].

  British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Mac Uistin, Liam

  The Táin: The Great Celtic Epic

  1. Irish tales and legends

  398.2’09415

  The O’Brien Press

  receives assistance from:

  Typesetting, layout, editing, design: The O’Brien Press Ltd

  Illustrations: Donald Teskey

 

 

 


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