The High Deeds of Finn MacCool Read online

  Conan, seeing this, bellowed to the Hard Ghilli to catch his accursed horse before she could make any more mischief.

  But for answer, the Hard Ghilli tossed him the halter, saying with a cavernous yawn, ‘I’m tired. If you’re wanting her fetched off from your precious beasts, go you and do it yourself.’

  Conan in a spitting rage had no time to argue and use his familiar weapon of barbed words. He snatched up the halter and ran so fast that he came up with the ill-tempered mare just before she reached his horses, and flinging the halter over her head, tried to drag her round and lead her back to the others. But instantly the mare became as immovable as though she had turned into a tree and taken root. And though Conan hauled and heaved and tugged until he was purple in the face, he could not budge her one finger’s breadth.

  Meanwhile, the rest of Finn’s companions who had followed, stood round holding their sides with laughter. Fergus Finvel said, snatching at his breath, ‘I never thought to see our fat Conan playing horse boy to any man – and not over successfuly at that! Why are you not getting up on her back and showing her who’s master, Conan Maol?’

  Conan, stung by their jeers and laughter, scrambled on to the mare’s back and began to kick her in the ribs and hammer his fists between her laid-back ears, to make her go. But the mare only drew back her lips as though she too were laughing, and remained immovable as ever.

  ‘Och now, I know what the trouble is,’ said Fergus Finvel. ‘She has been used to the Giolla Dacker on her back, and him a giant no less, and fat as you are, like enough she cannot feel your weight, and is not even knowing she’s a rider up there at all!’

  ‘Well, that’s a thing can be easily set right,’ said Coil Croda the Battle-Victor, and he sprang up behind Conan. But still the mare never stirred. Then Dara Donn mounted behind Coil, and Angus Mac Airt behind him, and so on until there were fourteen of the Fianna sitting on the back of the Giolla Dacker’s horse and belabouring her to make her move. And she not seeming to feel them there at all for the notice she took of them.

  Then the Giolla Dacker flew into a great state of indignation, and turned on Finn shouting, ‘I see now how much all these fine accounts of you are worth! Your men are pleased to make a mock of my horse and therefore of me, and you do nothing to stop them! I’ll not stand it, I’m telling you! Pay me my money and let me go from your service!’

  ‘That was a short service!’ said Finn, bending over the laughter pain in his belly. ‘The agreement was that you should claim your wages after a year.’

  ‘On second thoughts,’ said the Giolla Dacker, ‘I’d not be accepting wages from such as you! And now I’m away to find a better master.’

  And so saying, he turned and began to stroll slowly away in the direction of the coast of Kerry.

  The mare seeing this, pricked up her lop ears and ambled quietly after him, the fourteen still on her back, and the rest of the Fianna still doubled up with laughter to see them so. But before they had covered three times the lenght of their own morning shadows, the Giolla Dacker checked and looked back to make sure the horse was following him, then tucked up his kilt and went on again. But now he went with the speed of a swallow darting through the blue air, as a stone whirled from the sling; he went so fast that his bow legs were only a blur under him, and the mare neighed three times and quickened into a flying gallop to keep up with him. Now the fourteen on her back strove to fling themselves off, but they were held fast and could not tear themselves free.

  Then their comrades, seeing that they were now really in trouble, stopped laughing, and gave chase all the way to the coast. When they reached the seashore they thought that surely the Giolla Dacker and his demon mare must stop, but he ran straight on out to sea, and the mare after him, plunging into the water without an instant’s slackening of her speed. Ligan Lumina who could run almost as fast as Keelta Mac Ronan and jump further than any other man of the Fianna, had outdistanced the rest in the chase, and making one mighty leap, he actually caught the mare by the tail, just as she took to the water. But he might have had no more weight than a cockle-burr, for all the hindrance that he was to her, and as she plunged on through the shallows and into the deeps, towing him behind her, he found that his hands were stuck fast to her tail and he could no more let go than the fourteen riders could free themselves from her back.

  Standing on the beach, spent and panting from their long and desperate chase, Finn and the rest saw their comrades carried out of sight. And wasting no time on exclaiming and lamenting, they set themselves to decide what was best to do. They determined to make for the coast below Ben Eader, where a ship was always kept fitted and ready for sea in case of need, and sail westward in search of their lost comrades. So Finn chose out fifteen of his best and bravest men to go with him, including old Goll Mac Morna and young Dearmid O’Dyna. But Oisĩn he left behind, because he was his eldest son and must captain the Fianna while he was away.

  They set out for Ben Eader, and went on board the waiting ship, and sailed south and then west round the coast of Erin, then out into the bright western sea. They raised the square sail and the rowers bent to the oars, and the ship sped westward like a live and willing creature, until the green shores and the white sands of Erin were lost behind them.

  Many days went by: and at last they saw ahead of them an island rising sheer out of the water as though to hit the clouds, and seemingly no way up the sheer cliffs at all.

  They sailed and rowed right round the island, and still they found no way up, not so much as a mountain cat could climb. But they came to a place where Faltlaba, the best tracker among them, sniffed three times and said that both the Giolla Dacker and his horse had landed here. And since there was no sign of them at the foot of the cliff, it was clear that they must somehow have climbed it to the top.

  Now all of them understood that at the back of these happenings there was enchantment of some kind, and that they had to do with the Lordly People, and of them all, the best fitted to go forward on an adventure of this kind was Dearmid O’Dyna, for he had been foster-reared in Brugh-Na-Boyna, by Angus Ōg himself, one of the greatest of the Danann Princes, though that is a story for telling at a later time.

  So Dearmid rose in the ship, and put on his war gear, and slung his sword over his shoulder, and took his two long spears one in either hand, and the warrior’s battle-fury came upon him so that the air glowed all about him and the clouds gathered over his head, and his beauty grew terrible to look upon. Then he crouched and made himself taut like a strung bow, and springing upward on the butts of his spears he made a great bound, and landed on a rock ledge far up the sheer face of the cliff. From there, using his spears and his hands and his feet, he leapt and swung from ledge to ledge and from cranny to cranny, working his way ever upward, while his comrades craned their necks to stare up at him from far and further below. And at last he gained the cliff top, and had green grass under his feet again.

  Before him spread woods and thickets of fair and shady trees ringing with birdsong, and cool to the ear with the sound of running streams. And beyond the woods showed level grasslands gay with flowers of white and crimson and blue and yellow. Dearmid looked about him, and seeing still no sign of the Giolla Dacker or his horse, he thought that his best course was to walk straight on through the woods, for maybe in the open land on the far side he would find people who could tell him where to look for them.

  So he left the cliff behind him and took to the trees, walking straight on, so far as he could judge his direction among their slender trunks and mazy branches, until at last he came out on the other side. And there ahead of him in the midst of a green meadow as smooth as a lawn, he saw a tall broad-headed apple tree heavy with fruit. Nine standing stones made a circle about it, and close beside it, in the centre of the circle, stood another stone, taller than all the rest. At the foot of this tallest stone, a spring of clear water bubbled up and flowed away in a looping stream across the meadow.

  Dearmid was hot and thirsty aft
er his climb, and he hurried towards the spring, and knelt to cup the water in his hands and drink. But as his lips touched the water he heard a low menacing murmur, the jink of weapons, the heavy tramp of feet, as though a whole war host were coming upon him across the plain. He let the water run back through his fingers, and starting up, looked about him. But the sounds had stopped on the instant, and there was nothing to be seen.

  He stooped to drink again, and again came the sounds of an approaching war host. A second time Dearmid sprang up and looked all about him, and saw nothing, no one. But this time, chancing to glance up to the top of the pillar-stone, he saw lying there a beautiful speckled drinking horn, bound and rimmed with yellow gold and curiously enriched with jewels and coloured enamels.

  ‘Maybe the well will not allow any man to drink its waters except from this horn,’ thought Dearmid, and he reached up and took down the horn, dipped it into the water, and drank. This time he heard no sound of an advancing war host, but no sooner had he drained the last drop, then he saw coming towards him a tall man in a cloak of poppy red. A band of red gold held his dark hair back from from his forehead, and under it his face was dark with anger, so that he seemed altogther black-bloomed like a thunder cloud.

  ‘Dearmid O’Dyna,’ said the strange champion, ‘is not Erin green and wide enough, and running with streams enough for your drinking, that you must come here into my broad green country, and take my drinking horn and drink from my well?’

  ‘Surely this is a sorry welcome!’ Dearmid said.

  ‘You should not insult your host by making free with his hospitality if you want a better!’ said the champion, and advanced on Dearmid with his sword out. Dearmid met him half-way, his own sword in his hand, and knee to knee, they fought like antler-locked stags in the autumn season.

  All that day they fought, neither gaining any advantage over the other; all day till evening came. And as the sun was sinking, suddenly the champion sprang backward into the very centre of the pool and sank from sight, as though the spring had swallowed him.

  Dearmid, very weary, stood on the brink, leaning on his sword and staring at the place where the champion had disappeared. Then (for he knew the ways of the Danann People), he spread his cloak under the apple tree, and lay down to sleep, until the champion of the spring, who had gone with the sun should come back with the sun again.

  When he woke, the sun was just showing above the edge of the world, and already the champion of the spring stood ready beside the tall pillar-stone.

  All that day they fought, as they had fought the day before, and at sunset, just as before, the champion sprang backward into the pool and sank from sight, and Dearmid spread his cloak under the apple tree and slept until sunrise. The third day it all happened just as before, and each morning the champion looked more darkly terrible than he had done the previous evening. But as the fourth day drew to a close, Dearmid was well prepared, and as the dark champion made his backward leap, the Fian warrior sprang forward and flung his arms round him so that they sank together.

  Down and down they went, the light growing small like a green bubble overhead, into a darkness that was full of strange shifting shadows. Dearmid felt the shadows brushing against him though he could not see them, and it seemed to him that they had been sinking for long years of time and must go on sinking for ever, when he saw another green bubble, beneath their feet this time, very small but growing larger as they sank towards it. Then it was as though they pricked the bubble with their feet, and it burst, and in place of the evening light that they had left behind, the cool light of morning flooded in upon them, and they were standing on solid ground once more.

  The instant their feet touched the ground, the dark champion tore himself away from Dearmid’s grasp and rushed away. Dearmid would have followed, but the weariness and the wounds of his four day’s fighting suddenly rose up and engulfed him, and before he had taken three paces, he sank to the ground and into the deepest and purest and most refreshing sleep that he had known since he was a boy, with the Boyne singing to him all night long as it flowed past his sleeping place.

  He was awakened by a light blow on the shoulder, and opened his eyes to see a young man with hair that clung close about his head and neck like a helmet of red gold, an air of command about him such as marked the greatest of the Fian Chiefs in Erin, and in his hand a naked sword. Dearmid sprang to his feet and reached for his own sword, but the young man smiled, and sheathed his blade.

  ‘I am no enemy. I touched you with the flat of my blade to rouse you, for you are sleeping in a dangerous place. Come with me and you shall find somewhere better and safer to have your sleep out.’

  ‘This is a better welcome than I had from another warrior a while back,’ said Dearmid, and he and the young man set out together.

  If the world above on the island had seemed fair, the world through which Dearmid now walked was fairer still; the birdsong sweeter, the colours of leaf and flower so brilliant that they glimmered as though formed of rainbow light. After a while they came to a splendid dun, whose white walls seemed to shine of themselves as white flowers do at twilight, and where apple trees clustered about the outer walls carrying silver blossom and golden fruit at the same time. They went in, and the young man led Dearmid by side ways that avoided the crowded courts and all the places where people were, to an inner chamber somewhere behind the hall. It seemed that he was the lord of the dun, for when he shouted for servants to heat up water in the biggest cauldron and make all ready for a guest-bath, they came running to do his will; and in no time at all the fire was blown up, and soft linen towels and jars of sweet-smelling unguents were brought in while the water was heating in a great bronze cauldron. When it was hot enough and swung clear of the fire, the young man himself scattered into it balsams and healing herbs, so that when Dearmid stepped into it, instantly his wounds knit up and his weariness fell away from him, and when he had bathed, and stepped out again, he felt as though he had never been weary in all his life and could never be weary in all the rest of it. Meanwhile the lord of the dun had caused Dearmid’s tattered and battle-stained clothes to be gathered up and thrown away, and a fine shirt of saffron silk with breeks of the softest chequered stuff and a mantle of crimson silk to be brought in their place. And while Dearmid put them on, they talked together.

  ‘Forgive me if I am asking many questions,’ Dearmid said. ‘So many strange things have chanced that the very ground seems unsure beneath my feet, and not until I know the who and the where and the why of it, will the ground grow solid again.’

  ‘Ask then, and I will forgive the number of the questions,’ said the lord of the dun, smiling.

  ‘What land is this, then? And who was the champion I fought with through four days, at the pool? And, young lord, who are you, who give me the hospitality of your house?’

  The other laughed. ‘That is three questions to be going on with, and I will answer each in turn. This land is Tir-fa-Thonn, the Land under the Sea, and the champion who you fought with at the pool is its King. As for myself, I am the King’s brother – look, and you will remember me, for not long since I took service for a year and a day with Finn Mac Cool, though indeed I served but little of the agreed time.’

  As he spoke, he gazed fixedly at Dearmid, and Dearmid returning the gaze, seemed to see someone else forming behind his eyes: a huge fat man with bow legs and a face all over hair, and him dragging a hideous old black horse behind him.

  ‘Why, you – you are the Giolla Dacker!’

  ‘I am indeed,’ said the Prince.

  ‘Then here is another question for you. Where are the fifteen of my Fian brothers who you carried off on the back and clinging to the tail of your horse?’

  ‘Safe and well, as you shall see in a while when we gather for this evening’s feasting in my hall.’

  ‘And why were you carrying them off at all?’

  ‘Because I had need of them, and of you and the rest of the war-boat’s crew that I knew Finn Mac Cool w
ould bring seeking them.’

  ‘What need would that be?’ demanded Dearmid.

  ‘Half this kingdom is mine by right, but when our father left the kingship, my brother, who was older and stronger than I, seized my heritage along with his own. But here with me I have seven score heroes who are loyal to me, and here, also, see, I have summoned the very flower of the warriors of Erin. With your help, if you will but give it to me, I shall win back my kingdom and all that was reft from me by my brother. And after, each and every one of you shall claim from me whatever you most desire.’

  ‘For myself, it is a bargain,’ Dearmid said. ‘My comrades must speak for themselves.’

  So Dearmid and the Prince of Tir-fa-Thonn struck hands as men sealing a bargain, and swore faith and loyalty, each to the other.

  Meanwhile Finn and the rest of the Fianna who had sailed with him, having waited five days for Dearmid’s return, determined to go in search of him. They took all the cables and ropes in the ship, and knotted them together until they had a rope long enough to reach from the bottom to the top of the cliff. Then the two best climbers among them went up the cliff-face, following the way that Dearmid had taken, and carrying the end of the rope with them. And reaching the top at last, they made fast the rope to a jut of rock, so that the rest could climb after them.

  When the last warrior was standing safely on the cliff-top grass, they set out through the woods, just as Dearmid had done, but they came out at another point, and so never saw the magic spring that had led Dearmid to his adventure. Instead, they came to a cave among the last of the trees, and since the sun was sinking, they entered it to see if it would make a good shelter for the night.

  ‘It looks both warm and dry,’ said Finn, ‘but it is never well to sleep in such a place without first finding the far end, lest any danger lurk in the further depths.’ So they went in further – and further – and further still, but the cave went on and on, seemingly without any end at all. And they were just about to give up and turn back to camp in the open, when they saw daylight glimmering far ahead of them. So they pushed on towards it, but whereas they had left behind them the honey-glow of sunset, they stepped out from the cave into a cool clear flood of early morning light.