Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster

by Eleanor Hull

Everywhere throughout the Province the horrid brood of mis-shaped children sought him, but they found him not, neither in Dun Dalgan nor in Emain, nor in his own country of Murthemne’s Plain; but at last one of them soared up to the very clouds of heaven and surveyed the whole wide land of Ulster, and from a hidden forest glen she heard the sound of joyous revelry and the high, shrill voice of women’s laughter, and the cheerful noise of a great company keeping festival together.

Then she transformed herself into the shape of a black raven, and swooped down and perched above the seat on which Cuchulain sat. And it seemed to Cuchulain that he heard words, inciting him to go forth.

“Dun Dalgan is burned,” they said to him, “and all the province is laid waste; the war-bands and the hosts of Meave have ravaged all the land, and everywhere but smoke and flames are seen. Arise, O Hound, arise!”

But to the rest it seemed as though the raven croaked, and they laughed loud to hear the bird of ill-omen croaking in the house. Cuchulain sprang to his feet to rush forth; but, as he rose, his mantle caught beneath his feet, and he was thrown backwards on his seat. Once more he rose in haste and red with shame, but the great kingly brooch that fastened his mantle, being loosened by his fall, dropped on his foot, and dropping pierced his skin. “Alas! alas!” he cried, “even my mantle warns me of ill-luck!” And Emer said, “’Tis even so; heed now the warning of a friend. Let this pass, Cu; for three days stay with us, and then in peace thou mayest go forth to fight. For three days only have the Children of the Blast their fatal power. Not for thyself or thine own safety do we thus entreat, but for the sake of Ulster and her king. For Ulster is destroyed if Cuchulain falls. For three days then abide.” And for the sake of Ulster Cuchulain stayed, though heaviness and shame sat deep upon him, and in his heart he longed to go. And wearily he sat down again to play his game of chess.

For that night the Wild Women of the Blast went back, and they waited until another day was past, but towards the fall of night the horrid brood of mis-shaped children betook them to the Glen. On the swift magic wind of their own making they soared aloft, and at the very entrance to the Glen they lighted on the ground. There they began to work their noisome spells. Out of the light wee puff-balls and the rustling forest leaves they formed great lines of fighting-men, all armed with battle-weapons of the hooded sharp-spiked thistle-stalks. All round the lightsome, pleasant house the army stood, in marshalled band on band, and all the country rang with battle-shouts and cries of war and trumpetings, and loud pealing laughter, and the taunts of strong men when they mock at cowards.

In the palace Cuchulain caught the uproar and the mocking laughter of the phantom fairy hosts. He started up and would have rushed madly from the hall, but those around him stayed and hindered. “Close fast the doors,” they said, “if for this one day and to-morrow we can keep him fast, the magic evil spell is past.” And Emer came to him and said, “This one day yet abide, O dear one, noblest of the whole world’s race, my one and only love. These are but shows and phantoms that thou hearest wrought by the sprites to lure thee to thy doom. To-morrow, or the next day, or the next, comes Conall Cernach back from travelling. Alone, thou fallest; with him thou art a match for any host. For Ulster’s sake and ours, and for thine own, abide.”

Then at this thing Cu felt a mighty shame; his soul was filled with storms of anger and reproach. “Alas! alas!” he cried, “henceforth there is no cause to guard my life. My span is ended, my honour is destroyed. Better for me than all the gold and riches of the world, if I had died before there fell on me this shame. In every tongue this noble saying is recorded, “Fame outlives life”; but by your urgency I keep my life, when all my fame and honour is destroyed. Come death, come life, to-morrow I go forth.”

And gloomily and sadly he sat down, nor would he play or listen to the music of the bards, or hold sweet converse with the women, but all that night, till break of day, he tried and proved his weapons, and his spears and sword he polished lovingly, and he sent Laeg out to catch his chariot-steeds and bring them to the green beside the house. And his heart revived within him when he heard without the neigh of the Grey of Macha and the Black Steed of the Glen.

But the foul Children of the Blast were disappointed and dismayed because they could not tempt Cuchulain out. And all that night they sat in council, devising plans to snare him. “We have but one day more,” they said, “before our power is lost. To-morrow then and verily, we lure him forth.”

Before the morning’s sun was well arisen, on the blast of the swift moaning wind of their own making, and all unseen, they came around the glen. Then they put forth their magic spells and round the house they made the likeness of a mighty sea that wave on wave rolled ever nearer to the pleasure-house, threatening to overwhelm it as it stood. Amid the women’s talk and loving laughter, and the sweet music of the harps and singing men, Cuchulain heard the lapping of the waves, and the low distant ocean’s roar, and whistling of the wind upon the sea. Then he rose up and seized his weapons in his hand, and for all Emer and the rest could do, he rushed forth from the house. And madness came upon him when he saw the rolling billows rising ever towards the house, and all the land covered with mist and spray; and he called Emer, and would have lifted her up above the waves to carry her in safety through the billows. But Emer and the rest could see no waves, only the green waving grasses of the pleasure-field, and nought they heard save the soft rustling breath of spring that whispered through the leaves. And Emer said: “Little Cu, O my first love and darling of all earth’s men, never until this hour have I or any of thy women-folk put hindrance in thy way in any exploit or battle-raid that thou didst desire. Though oft we wept, and many a time we thought thou never wouldst return, we never held thee back. But now for my sake, my own chosen sweetheart, go not forth. No sea is that thou seest upon the green, but only waving grasses and the fluttering leaves. Heed not the magic noisome spells of those thy enemies, but one day more abide. Then never till the end of life or time will we restrain or hold thee back again.” But Cuchulain said, “Emer, restrain me not; I see the horses of Manannan riding on the waves; I hear Manannan’s fairy harp play gently o’er the billows; Manannan’s ancient face I see beckoning me o’er the main.”