The High Deeds of Finn MacCool Read online

  The stallion was a grey with strange tiger-spot markings, and his bridle and head ornaments were of reddest gold, and the mare was red, with a bridle of three-times purified silver and a golden bit.

  ‘These alone would be worth crossing the sea for,’ said Goll Mac Morna, and sighed as a dog sighs, who eats his fill and flings himself down by the fire after a hard day’s hunting.

  They struck off the heads of the slain and knotted them to their belts by the long hair; three heads at his belt each of the Fian warriors had, except for Goll Mac Morna, who had four. And with Goll and Dearmid riding the red mare and the grey stallion, Bran and Skolawn loping ahead of them, and Arthur captive in their midst, they set out for the place where they had left the war-boat, and they ran it down into the shallows and went on board and set sail for Erin.

  It was no easy voyage they had of it. The mare and the stallion were angry and afraid, and more than once came near to capsizing the boat and going to join the white steeds of Manannan the Lord of the Sea – and taking the warriors with them. But at last they came safely to shore on the coast of Erin, and set out for Ben Eader, where Finn was still waiting for them.

  ‘You have been a long time,’ said Finn, fondling the ears of Bran and Skolawn while the two great hounds crouched whimpering with joy against his knee.

  ‘It was a long trail we followed,’ said Goll, ‘but the hunting was good in the end.’ And the warriors flung down the heads at the Fian Captain’s feet. Osca flung his heads down last of all, and the pride was on him like the dark bloom on the wings of a moth. Then they thrust forward Arthur to stand captive before him, and lastly Goll and Dearmid brought up the two horses, whose like no man had seen in Erin before.

  Finn accepted all that they had brought, and he said to the captive Prince, ‘Arthur, son of Britt, an ill thing you have done, but I’m not wishing to waste a bold warrior, for all that. If I cut these bonds, will you take back the old bonds that bind all the Fianna? Will you swear fealty again to me, as though it were for the first time and all this had never happened?’

  ‘I will so, and that gladly,’ said Arthur. So he swore fealty again to Finn Mac Cool, and followed him faithfully, to the day of both their deaths.

  And Finn took the mare and stallion and bred from them. And the mare foaled many times, dropping eight fine foals at every birth. And her foals, and their foals after them, became the cavalry horses of the Fianna, who had had no cavalry before.

  10

  The Hostel of the Quicken Trees

  Once there was a king of Lochlan whose name was Colga of the Hard Weapons, for he was a mighty and a warlike king, and on a day he called his chiefs together to the broad green before his palace of Berva, and said to them, ‘You know that I am called King of the Four Tribes of Lochlan and of the Islands of the Sea. Yet there is an island which does not bow to my rule, and that is the green island of Erin. Now, therefore, it is in my mind that when the sailing winds come we will run the long war-boats down to the sea, and sail for this Erin, to set the matter right.’

  And his chieftains shouted in agreement and beat upon their shields.

  Then the King sent word throughout the land of Lochlan, calling his war host together; and they ran the war-boats down into the surf. And with the rowers straining at the oars and the sailing winds of early summer filling the great square sails, they set out to conquer Erin; and so at last they made landfall on the coast of Ulster.

  Cormac Mac Art, High King of Erin, heard of their landing from his coast watchers, and sent word by his swifest runners to Finn at the Hill of Almu. Then Finn sent out runners in his turn, summoning all the Fianna to meet him at a certain point on the Ulster coast, and himself led the Leinster companies north to join the hosting.

  All together, they marched against the Lochlan men in the strong camp they had raised on the shore. And there between green hills and the pale sea sands the battle joined. And in the thick of the fighting Colga and Osca the son of Oisĩn came together, shield to shield and sword to sword and eye to glaring eye, and did not break apart until the King of Lochlan lay dead on the trampled shore-grass. The Lochlan men lost heart when they saw their King go down, and though they fought on until evening, they broke at last and ran for their ships, and the Fianna, hard on their heels made red slaughter among them, so that of all those who had sailed from Lochlan to conquer the green island of Erin, only one was left alive. This was Midac, the King’s youngest son, who had come with his father on his first war-trail.

  He was brought captive before Finn, and because he was so young, Finn did not have him slain, saying, ‘Even a wolf cub may be tamed, if he is taken young enough from the lair. He shall be fostered in my own household.’ So when the dead were buried and the wounded brought back to Almu of the White Walls, Finn set the fierce and silent boy among his own household, and gave him servants and tutors as though he were his own son, and when he was old enough, even enlisted him in the Fianna.

  Midac hunted and feasted with the Fian warriors, and fought in their ranks when it was time for fighting. But he remained silent and aloof, and made no friends among them.

  One day Conan Maol said to Finn, ‘Captain, there is such a thing as being too trusting.’

  ‘Is there so?’ said Finn.

  ‘Have you never thought that Midac of Lochlan has little cause to love you?’

  ‘I have treated him no better and no worse than my own sons, since the day that he was taken captive.’

  ‘Yet it was by you that his father and all his kin were slain, and the men of Lochlan know how to hate well and long. Midac has no friends among the Fianna, he talks with no one, but he is for ever watching and listening. He is at great pains to find out all that has to do with the defence of Erin. And in Lochlan there are still mighty chieftains with many ships and war bands to fill them. Therefore I say that there is such a thing as being too trusting.’

  Finn did not take the matter very deeply, knowing, as all the Fianna knew, that Conan Maol never said a good word when he could say an ill one. But he thought for a while, and it seemed to him that all the same, there was sense in what his fat warrior said.

  ‘What would you advise, then?’ he said at last.

  ‘Get him clear of Almu,’ said Conan. ‘Since it is only fitting that he should still be treated as a prince, give him land of his own, and cattle, and a house and household; but let it be in some other part of Erin, where he cannot be listening to all our councils.’

  Finn went away and thought again. And then he sent for him, and said, ‘Midac, you have been brought up from boyhood in my household, and trained as I trained my own sons, but now you are a man, and the time for training is past, and you should be having a land-holding and household of your own. Choose the two holdings that best please you in all Erin, and they shall be yours and your son’s after you with cattle and slaves.’

  Midac listened to the Fian Captain in cold silence, and answered in a voice as cold as his silence. ‘The Lord of the Fianna is generous. If I may have my choice of all the holdings in Erin, I will have the Holding of Kenri on the Shannon, and the Holding of the Islands north of it across the river.’

  His answer came so quickly that Finn knew that he had had the matter thought out already, and he guessed the reason for Midac’s choice – for between those two holdings the Shannon widened into a great firth set with islands and many sheltered creeks, and a whole Lochlan fleet could lie there in safety.

  But he could not break his word. So Midac had the holdings of his choice, and the cattle and the slaves, and built his house and lived there. He lived there fourteen years, and in all that time neither the High King nor Finn nor any other of the Fianna saw him or had word of him.

  And then one day Finn and the Fianna went to hunt in the woods towards Kenri. But when all was made ready for the hunting, Finn, as he sometimes did, decided to watch the sport from the top of the hill of Knockfierna, where the hunting camp was being made ready, and some of his companions remained with h
im, while the rest took the hounds and scattered in search of wolf or wild boar.

  Presently the men on the hill top saw coming up towards them a tall and splendid warrior clad in a shirt of Lochlan ring-mail, his shield on his shoulder, his two war spears in his right hand. He came to a stand before Finn, and saluted him in all courtesy. ‘Greeting to you, Finn Mac Cool, Lord of the Fianna.’

  And Finn returned the greeting. ‘And to you, friend-and-stranger, if you will tell us what name to call you by.’

  But Conan cut in. ‘Neither friend nor stranger. Men change in fourteen years, Captain, but do you not know Midac of Lochlan, whom you brought up at your own hearth?’

  ‘Surely I know him now,’ Finn said, ‘and by your looks you have grown to be the most noble champion in the Five Provinces. But in all these fourteen years we have had no word of you.’

  ‘And never in all that time,’ put in Conan with rising indignation, ‘has he invited you or any of his old comrades to eat beneath his roof!’

  Midac answered pleasantly enough, ‘If Finn and the Fianna have not feasted with me, surely that is none of my fault; there was never a time when they would not have been welcome.’ He smiled and held out his free hand. ‘But now you are come, and there is a feast waiting for you. I have had it set out in my guest hostel, the Hostel of the Quicken Trees, which is nearer than my dun, which I have built on one of the islands for greater strength in time of trouble.’

  Finn agreed gladly to go and feast with him, and after pointing out their way, Midac left them, saying that he must go on ahead to make sure all things were in order.

  When he was gone, the companions on the hill top held council together, and it was decided that Oisĩn, with Dearmid O’Dyna, and Fotla and Keelta Mac Ronan, and a young son of Finn’s called Ficna with his foster-brother Innsa, should remain to tell the rest of the hunting party when they returned, and bring them on down, while Goll Mac Morna and Conan and some others went down with Finn to the Hostel. And it was decided also that Finn should send back word of how they fared.

  Finn and his companions set out, following the way that Midac had pointed out to them, and after walking for a good while, they came to a fine and splendid hostel standing in the midst of a level green and surrounded by quicken trees lit with clusters of flaming berries. A river flowed close by, and a path led down the steep and rocky slope to it, at a place where there was a ford.

  And the strange thing was that for all the size and splendour of the place, not a living soul was to be seen. Not a thing moved save the river water and a little wind that swayed the scarlet clusters of the quicken trees. Then Finn smelled danger, and he would have turned back, only that he had given his promise.

  The great door stood wide open, and he went in, the others behind him.

  They had never seen a hall so splendid, not even in the High King’s palace at Tara. A great fire burned on the hearth, bright and smokeless and sweet-scented; the walls were hung with fine embroidered webs of blue and violet and crimson, and all round the hall were couches spread with brilliant rugs and deep rich furs. But here also there was no living soul. Nothing moved but the flames of the fire.

  Still wondering the meaning of this, they seated themselves on the couches, and hardly had they done so when one of the inner doors opened, and Midac stood there. He looked them over, speaking no word. A long look to each and every one. Then he turned on his heel and went out shutting the door again behind him.

  Finn and his companions waited a while longer with uneasiness growing upon them. At last Finn said, ‘I am thinking it a strange thing, that we should have been bidden to a feast, and kept so long without food or drink.’

  ‘It is in my mind that there is a thing stranger still,’ said old Goll Mac Morna, suddenly. ‘The hearth fire, which was clear and smokeless and scented as a may tree in flower when we entered this place, is now filling the hall with foul black smoke!’ he began to cough.

  And that was not the only change, for in the same instant the beautiful hangings fell away in a shower of withered leaves from the walls that were only rotten planks; the couches with their soft coverings were gone, so that the warriors were now sitting on bare black earth that was cold as the first snows of winter. And the many doors had disappeared, leaving only the one that they had come in by, and that one shrunk to half its size and closely fastened.

  Then Finn said, ‘I never tarry in a house that has only one way out. Let one of you break down the door and we will be out of this foul smokey den.’

  ‘That’s a thing easily done,’ said Conan, and made to scramble to his feet, then fell back with a howl. ‘Help me! Oh friends, help! I’m fixed to this cold clay floor as though I were rooted here like the quicken trees!’

  And when they would have gone to his aid, all the rest found themselves fat to the ground in the same manner. For three heart-beats of time, the shock of it held them frozen silent. Then Goll said harshly, ‘Midac has laid a trap and we have walked into it. Quick, Finn, put your Thumb of Knowledge between your teeth, that we may know what we face, and how to escape from this ugly plight.’

  So Finn put his thumb between his teeth and waited for the knowledge, and then he gave a deep and bitter groan. ‘Fourteen years has Midac, son of the King of Lochlan, plotted against us, and now his plotting has come to its harvest time, and I can see no way to escape for us. For in the Dun of the Island, he has even now a war host gathered to destroy the Fianna. It is led by Sinsar of the Battles, King of the World, and his son Borba the Haughty, and with them are the three Kings of the Island of the Torrent, strong and fierce as three dragons, and mighty in magic-making. It is they who by their black spells have made us fast here, and we can never be set free until the blood of all three of them is sprinkled on this earthen floor. And soon, Sinsar’s warriors will be here to make an end of us – and we are as helpless as trussed fowls to defend ourselves.’

  Then Conan Maol (who, let you remember, had been held captive in this way before, and had a ram’s fleece down his back to prove it), began to rage and lament, until Finn silenced him. ‘It is not fitting for heroes to wail like women or howl like dogs at full moon, in the shadow of death. Rather let us raise the war chant, the Dord Fian, that it may strengthen and put heart into us before we die.’

  So all together, they raised the Dord Fian that was half war-song, half battle cry, chanting slowly and proudly and terribly, as men before a battle that they know can have only one end.

  Oisĩn and the party waiting on the hill of Knockfierna grew anxious when evening came and still there was no sign of the messenger Finn had promised to send back. And Ficna got to his feet and said that he would go down to the Hostel of the Quicken Trees, and see for himself how it went with his father, and Innsa his foster-brother rose to go with him.

  It was nightfall when they reached the Hostel but there were no lights anywhere. And as they drew near, from the dark and seemingly forsaken hall ahead of them, they heard the loud slow strain of the Dord Fian coming from within.

  ‘At least they are here in this place, and safe,’ said Innsa.

  But Ficna shook his head. ‘It is only in time of sorest danger that Finn my father raises the Dord Fian in manner so slow and stately-grim.’

  Now as the war-song fell silent, Finn, within their prison, heard the hushed, quiet voices outside, and called out, ‘Is that Ficna?’

  ‘Yes, my father.’

  ‘Come no nearer, my son, for this place teams with evil magic.’ And quickly and urgently Finn told all that had happened, and how only the blood of the three Kings could save him and his companions. At that, Innsa cried out, and hearing him, Finn demanded who else was there.

  ‘It is Innsa, your foster-son.’

  ‘Then fly, both of you, while there is still time, for it will not be long before our enemies come carrying their swords this way!’

  But both young men refused to seek their own safety. ‘For while we are here,’ said Ficna, ‘at least there are two warriors fre
e to stand between you and our foes.’

  Then Finn sighed a great sigh, and said, ‘So be it then. Every man’s fate is written on his forehead . . . Now listen; to reach this place the foreigners must cross the river that runs below here. The ford is narrow, and the banks on this side steep and rocky, and one man might hold it against many – for a while. Go now, and hold that ford, and it may yet be that help will come in time.’

  So the two young warriors went down to the ford. And when they had taken stock of the place, Ficna said, ‘It is even as my father said; one man might hold this place against many. So now, let you guard the ford alone for a while, and I will go to the island, and if it is not already too late, find if there be any way in which the war host might be attacked before they set out.’

  And he went across the ford and on into the night, while Innsa remained behind, leaning on his sword and waiting.

  In the Dun of the Island there was feasting and great merrymaking at the news that Midac brought, and one of the chieftains of the King of the World whispered to another chieftain, his brother, ‘I am away now while they are all drinking, to the Hostel of the Quicken Trees. But soon I shall be back, bearing the head of Finn Mac Cool. So I shall gain much renown, and win the high favour of the King.’

  And he gathered his own war band, and set out. When they came to the ford, it was black night, but peering across the water, the chieftain thought he saw the shape of a warrior on the far side, and called out to know who it might be.

  ‘I am Innsa, of the house of Finn Mac Cool,’ came back the answer.

  And the chieftain laughed and said, ‘Well met! For we are come on a visit to Finn Mac Cool now, to take his head back to our King. And it’s yourself will be just the man to lead us to him.’

  ‘That would be a strange way of carrying out my orders, which are to hold this ford against all comers.’