[CHAPTER XV]
The Fall of Ferdia
On that night before the conflict, Cuchulain also was preparing himself for what lay before him on the morrow. No sooner had Fergus left him, than Laeg his charioteer came to him, and said, “How, my master, will you spend this night?” “I had not thought,” said Cuchulain, “of spending it in any other way than other nights. What would you have me do?”
“I am thinking,” said the charioteer, “that Ferdia will not come alone to the ford to-morrow, but that in such a fight as this, the chief warriors and nobles of Ireland will be present to see the combat. And sure am I that Ferdia will come to the combat washed and bathed, with his hair fresh cut and plaited, in all the magnificence of a battle-champion; but you are fatigued and worn after these combats, unwashed and uncombed, for it has not been possible to adorn yourself in these times of strife and lonely living. Glad should I be, therefore, if you would return to your wife, to Emer of the beautiful hair, where she is awaiting you at Slieve Fuad, and there adorn yourself, so that you may not appear dishevelled and distressed before the men of Erin.” So that night Cuchulain went home to Emer, and gentle and loving was she to him after their separation from each other; and very early in the morning he returned refreshed and comforted to the place where he had been encamped. “Harness our horses for us now, O Laeg, and yoke our war-chariot, for an early-rising champion was Ferdia in the old time. If he is waiting for us at the ford, maybe he is thinking the morning long.”
So the chariot was yoked and Cuchulain sprang into it, and with the speed of a swallow, or of a wild deer flying before the hounds, he set forth to the place of conflict. And round the head of the High Rock and Bulwark of Ulster, even Cuchulain, there gathered the Fairy People of the Glens and the Wild Wizard Folk of the air and mists, and the demon sprites of war and battle, shouting and screaming before the impending conflict; they hovered over him and around him, as it was their wont to do when he went to mortal combat, and the air was filled with their noises and hoarse wailings, rejoicing in the slaughter.
Soon, indeed, the charioteer of Ferdia heard the uproar, and he arose and began to awaken his master, chanting a song in praise of Cuchulain, and calling on Ferdia to arise and meet him. Then Ferdia sprang up.
“How looks Cuchulain this morning?” he cried. “Surely weak and faint he comes to the ford, after a whole winter passed in combating the men of Erin.”
“Not with signs of weakness or of faintness advances the warrior towards us,” the charioteer replied, “but with clangour of arms and clatter of wheels and the trampling of horses equal to a king’s, this warrior draweth nigh. The clanking of the missile-shields I hear, and the hiss of spears, the roll of the chariot with the beautiful silver yoke. Heroic the champion who urges on the steeds, a noble hawk of battle, a martial hero, a Hound of Combat. A year agone I knew that he would come, the stay of Emain, Ulster’s watchful Hound. Over Bray Rossa I perceive him come, skirting the hamlet of the Ancient Tree, along the broad highway; the Hound, the Hound of Ulster in his might.”
“O come, fellow, have done with this belauding of our enemy; methinks a bribe has passed from him to you, to bid you sing his praises. He has slept sound, no doubt, for he is late. I tire of waiting here to kill him. Let us get ready now at once to meet him.”
Then Cuchulain drew up on the borders of the ford. And on his way he had appealed to his charioteer, instructing him that should he grow weak in the fight, or seem to be giving way before Ferdia, he was to taunt him with cowardice, and fling reproaches and bad names at him, so that his anger would arise and he would fight more valiantly than before; but if he were doing well, his charioteer was to stand upon the brink and praise him, to keep his spirits up. And Laeg laughed and said, “Is it on this wise that I must taunt thee? ‘Arise, Cuchulain, a yearling babe would fight better than thou; that man Ferdia overthrows thee as easily as a cat waves her tail; like foam dancing on the water, he blows thee along; he pulls thee about as a mother might play with her little boy!’ How will that do?”
“That will do very well,” said Cuchulain, laughing also; “surely I shall fight better after that.” And with that they came to the ford, and Cuchulain drew up upon the north side, and Ferdia on the south side of the stream.