Then Iubdan said, "I have a better counsel than that, O King; let me have liberty to go and speak with them, and I shall bid them make good what mischief they have done, and they shall return home forthwith."
Fergus granted that; and when the Wee Folk saw Iubdan approaching them, they set up a shout of triumph that a man might have heard a bowshot off, for they believed they had prevailed and that Iubdan was released to them. But Iubdan said, "My faithful people, you must now begone, and I may not go with you; make good also all the mischief that ye have done, and know that if ye do any more I must die."
Then the Wee Folk departed, very downcast and sorrowful, but they did as Iubdan had bidden them.
Iubdan, however, went to Fergus and said, "Take, O King, the choicest of my treasures, and let me go."
"What is thy choicest treasure?" said Fergus.
Iubdan then began to recite to Fergus the list of his possessions, such as druidic weapons, and love-charms, and instruments of music that played without touch of human hand, and vats of ale that could never be emptied; and he named among other n.o.ble treasures a pair of shoes, wearing which a man could go over or under the sea as readily as on dry land.
At the same time aeda, the dwarf and poet of Ulster, returned hale and well from the land of Faylinn, and much did he entertain the King and all the court with tales of the smallness of the Wee Folk, and their marvel at his own size, and their bravery and beauty, and their marble palaces and matchless minstrelsy.
So the King, Fergus mac Leda, was well content to take a ransom, namely the magic shoes, which he desired above all the treasures of Faylinn, and to let Iubdan go. And he gave him rich gifts, as did also the n.o.bles of Ulster, and wished him blessing and victory; and Iubdan he departed, with Bebo his wife, having first bestowed upon Fergus the magical shoes. And of him the tale hath now no more to say.
But Fergus never tired of donning the shoes of Iubdan and traversing the secret depths of the lakes and rivers of Ulster. Thereby, too, in the end he got his death, for as the wise say that the gifts of Faery may not be enjoyed without peril by mortal men, so in this case too it proved. For, one day as Fergus was exploring the depths of Loch Rury he met the monster, namely the river-horse, which inhabited that lake. Horrible of form it was, swelling and contracting like a blacksmith"s bellows, and with eyes like torches, and glittering tusks, and a mane of coa.r.s.e hair on its crest and neck. When it saw Fergus it laid back its ears, and its neck arched like a rainbow over his head, and the vast mouth gaped to devour him. Then Fergus rose quickly to the surface and made for the land, and the beast after him, driving before it a huge wave of foam. Barely did he escape with his life; but with the horror of the sight his features were distorted and his mouth was twisted around to the side of his head, so that he was called Fergus Wry-mouth from that day forth. And the gillie that was with him told the tale of the adventure.
Now there was a law in Ireland that no man might be king who was disfigured by any bodily blemish. His people, therefore, loving Fergus, kept from him all knowledge of his condition, and the Queen let all mirrors that were in the palace be put away. But one day it chanced that a bondmaid was negligent in preparing the bath, and Fergus being impatient, gave her a stroke with a switch which he had in his hand. The maid in anger turned upon him, and cried, "It would better become thee to avenge thyself on the riverhorse that hath twisted thy mouth, than to do brave deeds on women."
Fergus then bade a mirror be fetched, and when he saw his face in it, he said, "The woman spake truth; the riverhorse of Loch Rury has done this thing."
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Fergus goes down into the lake"]
The next day Fergus put on the shoes of Iubdan and went forth to Loch Rury, and with him went the lords of Ulster. And when he reached the margin of the lake he drew his sword and went down into it, and soon the waters covered him.
After a while those that watched upon the bank saw a bubbling and a mighty commotion in the waters, now here, now there, and waves of b.l.o.o.d.y froth broke at their feet. At last, as they strained their eyes upon the tossing water, they saw Fergus rise to his middle from it, pale and b.l.o.o.d.y. In his right hand he waved aloft his sword, his left was twisted in the coa.r.s.e hair of the monster"s head, and they saw that his countenance was fair and kingly as of old. "Ulstermen, I have conquered," he cried; and as he did so he sank down again, dead with his dead foe, into their red grave in Loch Rury.
And the Ulster lords went back to Emania, sorrowful yet proud, for they knew that a seed of honour had been sown that day in their land from which should spring a breed of high-hearted fighting men for many a generation to come.
CHAPTER V
The Carving of mac Datho"s Boar
Once upon a time there dwelt in the province of Leinster a wealthy hospitable lord named Mesroda, son of Datho. Two possessions had he; namely, a hound which could outrun every other hound and every wild beast in Erinn, and a boar which was the finest and greatest in size that man had ever beheld.
Now the fame of this hound was noised all about the land, and many were the princes and lords who longed to possess it. And it came to pa.s.s that Conor, King of Ulster, and Maev, Queen of Connacht, sent messengers to mac Datho to ask him to sell them the hound for a price, and both the messengers arrived at the Dun of mac Datho on the same day. Said the Connacht messenger, "We will give thee in exchange for the hound six hundred milch cows, and a chariot with two horses, the best that are to be found in Connacht, and at the end of a year thou shalt have as much again." And the messenger of King Conor said, "We will give no less than Connacht, and the friendship and alliance of Ulster, and that will be better for thee than the friendship of Connacht."
Then Mesroda mac Datho fell silent, and for three days he would not eat nor drink, nor could he sleep o" nights, but tossed restlessly on his bed. His wife observed his condition, and said to him, "Thy fast hath been long, Mesroda, though good food is by thee in plenty; and at night thou turnest thy face to the wall, and well I know thou dost not sleep. What is the cause of thy trouble?"
"There is a saying," replied mac Datho, ""Trust not a thrall with money, nor a woman with a secret.""
"When should a man talk to a woman," said his wife, "but when something were amiss? What thy mind cannot solve perchance another"s may."
Then mac Datho told his wife of the request for his hound both from Ulster and from Connacht at one and the same time, "and whichever of them I deny," he said, "they will harry my cattle and slay my people."
"Then hear my counsel," said the woman. "Give it to both of them, and bid them come and fetch it; and if there be any harrying to be done, let them even harry each other; but in no way mayest thou keep the hound."
On that, mac Datho rose up and shook himself, and called for food and drink, and made merry with himself and his guests. Then he sent privately for the messenger of Queen Maev, and said to him, "Long have I doubted what to do, but now I am resolved to give the hound to Connacht. Let ye send for it on such a day with a train of your n.o.bles or warriors and bear him forth n.o.bly and proudly, for he is worth it; and ye shall all have drink and food and royal entertainment in my Dun." So the messenger departed, well pleased.
To the Ulster messenger mac Datho said, "After much perplexity I have resolved to give my hound to Conor. Let the best of the Ulstermen come to fetch him, and they shall be welcomed and entertained as is fitting." And for these he named the same day as he had done for the emba.s.sy from Connacht.
When the appointed day came round, the flower of the fighting men of two provinces of Ireland were a.s.sembled before the Dun of the son of Datho, and there were also Conor, King of Ulster, and Ailill, the husband of Maev, Queen of Connacht. Mac Datho went forth to meet them.
"Welcome, warriors," he said to them, "albeit for two armies at once we were not prepared." Then he bade them into the Dun, and in the great hall they sat down. Now in this hall there were seven doors, and between every two doors were benches for fifty men. Not as friends bidden to a feast did the men of Ulster and of Connacht look upon one another, since for three hundred years the provinces had ever been at war.
"Let the great boar be killed," said mac Datho, and it was done. For seven years had that boar been nourished on the milk of fifty cows; yet rather on venom should it have been nourished, such was the mischief that was to come from the carving of it.
When the boar was roasted it was brought in, and many other kinds of food as side dishes, "and if more be wanting to the feast," said mac Datho, "it shall be slain for you before the morning."
"The boar is good," said Conor.
"It is a fine boar," said Ailill; "and now, O mac Datho, how shall it be divided among us?"
There was among the Ulster company one Bricru, son of Carbad, whose delight was in biting speeches and in fomenting strife, though he himself was never known to draw sword in any quarrel. He now spoke from his couch in answer to Ailill:
"How should the boar be divided, O son of Datho, except by appointing to carve it him who is best in deeds of arms? Here be all the valiant men of Ireland a.s.sembled; have none of us. .h.i.t each other a blow on the nose ere now?"
"Good," said Ailill, "so let it be done."
"We also agree," said Conor; "there are plenty of our lads in the house that have many a time gone round the border of the Provinces."
"You will want them to-night, Conor," said an old warrior from Conlad in the West. "They have often been seen on their backs on the roads of rushy Dedah, and many a fat steer have they left with me."
"It was a fat bullock thou didst have with thee once upon a day,"
replied Moonremar of Ulster, "even thine own brother, and by the rushy road of Conlad he came and went not back."
""Twas a better man than he, even Irloth, son of Fergus mac Leda, who fell by the hand of Echbael in Tara Luachra," replied Lugad of Munster.
"Echbael?" cried Keltchar, son of Uthecar Hornskin of Ulster. "Is it of him ye boast, whom I myself slew and cut off his head?"
And thus the heroes bandied about the tales and taunts of their victories, until at length Ket, son of Maga of the Connachtmen, arose and stood over the boar and took the knife into his hand. "Now," he cried, "let one man in Ulster match his deeds with mine, or else hold ye your peace and let me carve the boar!"
For a while there was silence, and then Conor King of Ulster, said to Logary the Triumphant, "Stay that for me." So Logary arose and said, "Ket shall never carve the boar for all of us."
"Not so fast, Logary," said Ket. "It is the custom among you Ulstermen that when a youth first takes arms he comes to prove himself on us. So didst thou, Logary, and we met thee at the border. From that meeting I have thy chariot and horses, and thou hadst a spear through thy ribs Not thus wilt thou get the boar from me." Then Logary sat down on his bench.
"Ket shall never divide that pig," spake then a tall fair-haired warrior from Ulster, coming down the hall. "Whom have we here?" asked Ket. "A better man than thou," shouted the Ulstermen, "even Angus, son of Lama Gabad." "Indeed?" said Ket, "and why is his father called Lama Gabad [wanting a hand]?" "We know not," said they. "But I know it,"
said Ket. "Once I went on a foray to the East, and was attacked by a troop, Lama Gabad among them. He flung a lance at me. I seized the same lance and flung it back, and it sh.o.r.e off his hand, and it lay there on the field before him. Shall that man"s son measure himself with me?" And Angus went to his bench and sat down.
"Keep up the contest," then cried Ket tauntingly, "or let me divide the boar." "That thou shalt not," cried another Ulster warrior of great stature. "And who is this?" said Ket. "Owen Mor, King of Fermag,"
said the Ulstermen. "I have seen him ere now," said Ket. "I took a drove of cattle from him before his own house. He put a spear through my shield and I flung it back and it tore out one of his eyes, and one-eyed he is to this day." Then Owen Mor sat down.
"Have ye any more to contest the pig with me?" then said Ket. "Thou hast not won it yet," said Moonremar, son of Gerrkind, rising up. "Is that Moonremar?" said Ket, "It is," they cried.
"It is but three days," said Ket, "since I was the last man who won renown of thee. Three heads of thy fighting men did I carry off from Dun Moonremar, and one of the three was the head of thy eldest son."