Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster

by Eleanor Hull

And sounds rose on the air, like the muttering of a demon host, quarrelling and wrangling, so that a man might well shiver before such a sound. But when he saw the demon host, the spirit of Cuchulain revived within him, and he felt his old force and courage and his strength returning to him, and all his weakness passed away.

And he said to Labra, “I would fain drive round the host and number them.” In ever-widening circles he began to drive round the tents. But, as he drove, on every side they sprang up before him innumerable as the blades of grass on a meadow-field, or as the stars on a brilliant summer’s night, or like the grains of sand upon the ocean’s shore. Black and gloomy they stood on every hand, and grim and gaunt the warriors who moved about amongst them, and terrible their blood-red steeds. It seemed to Cuchulain that the smell of blood was already in the air, and all the plain was dark and dim with mist, so that he could not count or number them, or see the end of them at all.

But the spirit of Cuchulain faltered not, and he returned to Labra, and said to him, “Leave me now alone with this great army and take away with you the champions you have brought. This battle I will fight alone.”

So Labra and his men departed and Cuchulain remained alone facing the phantom host. Then two ravens, the birds of knowledge and destiny, with whom are the secrets of the druids, came between Cuchulain and the host, and all that night they made a dismal croaking, so that the demon men grew sore afraid.

“One would think,” they said, “that the Madman of Emain Macha were close at hand, from the croaking of those ravens;” for it was thus they spoke among themselves of Cuchulain, because he changed his aspect in time of combat, and a wild and strange appearance came upon him. And they chased away the ravens, and left no place of rest for them in all that land.

All that night Cuchulain stood with his hand upon his spear, watching the demon host. Very early in the morning, he saw one of their chief leaders going forth out of his tent, to bathe his hands at the spring; and his tunic fell back and left his shoulder bare. At once, with a cast of his spear, Cuchulain transfixed him through his shoulder to the earth.

When the demon host saw their captain fall, they arose, and in swarms and close battalions they came down upon Cuchulain. Then his war-fury came upon him, and wildly and terribly he attacked them, scattering them to right and left; and so furious was he and so deadly were his blows, that they feared to come nigh him. It filled them with awe to see one single man fighting with a host; but as the shining of the sun drives the mist before it on a dewy morn of early spring, so did the radiance of the face of Cuchulain disperse and drive away the army of the demons, for they could not stand before the splendour and the shining of his countenance. Then Senach the Spectral attacked him, and furious was the contest fought between them, but in the end Cuchulain prevailed and slew him; and all the host, when they saw that, turned and fled.

At length Cuchulain returned, his sword dripping with blood; and the heat of his body after the fight was such that water had to be thrown over him, before he could be touched; and the men of Labra feared that his wrath would turn against themselves. They brought him into the house and bathed him and changed his raiment, and slowly his own appearance came back upon him; and after that, they led him to Fand, who awaited his return with her fifty maidens round her. Very beautiful was the house in which Fand and Labra awaited Cuchulain. Couches of copper with pillars of fine gold were ranged around the hall, and soft pillows and cushions of coloured silk were piled on each of them; the flashing of the jewels from the golden pillars giving light to all who were in the house. Noble youths in glossy garments of smooth silk offered drink in golden goblets, and as they drank, the harpers and musicians gave forth sweet music, and the story-tellers recited their tales. Laughter and merriment were heard throughout the house, while from the eaves the fairy-birds warbled in harmony with the music of the harps. Fifty youths of stately mien, and fifty maidens with twisted hair bedecked with golden coronals waited on Fand, on Labra and his spouse. Near the house to westward, where the sun went down, stood dappled steeds, pawing the ground and ready for their riders. On the east of the house stood three bright apple-trees, dropping ruddy fruit, and in front of the door a tree that gave forth sweetest harmony, such as would sooth wounded men to sleep, or bring health to women in their sickness. Above the well another tree, with silver leaves that reddened in the sunlight, dropped fragrant food, pleasant to all who tasted it. Ever on the gentle breeze the tops of the tree swayed together, and ever they swung wide; and as they met food fell down sufficient for thrice three hundred men. A vat stood in the hall, full to the top of mead and sparkling ale, and all the porch, above its silver posts, was thatched with wings of birds, in stripes of brown and red.

Now Fand sat on a daïs, waiting for Cuchulain. And when he came before her, clothed as a king, his noble manly form bathed and refreshed, his golden hair gathered above his brow round an apple of bright gold, and all his face aflame with the vigour of the fight, she thought that she had never looked upon a man so brilliant as he.