Here he discovered tribes that were sib to him in the country off Tir Conall. When the two sons of his ancestor, Niall of the Nine Hostages, made sword-land of so much of Ulster they gave to the northern lands beyond the country of The Waters, the names of Tir Eogan and Tir Conall—that is to say Tir Eogan or the Country of Eogan, and Tir Conall, or Country of Conall.
He found a warm welcome and many followers amongst his kith and kin; the young warrior, on his matchless steed, took the Hibernian hearts by storm. Hoary chieftains, weary of warring on each other, came at the call of one who bore the ancient name; huntsmen left the chase and armed their great wolfhounds for war; youths from schools and monasteries left parchment and vellum and took up pike and battle-axe again. And Cormac found smiles and favour from the daughters of the land; as he passed they would run and offer him mead and milk and apples; many a king’s daughter, in her sunny grianan with her carved work-box before her, busied herself embroidering saffron coloured crisses for the black-haired youth; many a maiden of less degree offered him simpler love-tokens; but, if here and there he dallied, he was never drawn from the great object of his ride—to gather warriors to do his father’s bidding.
From Druid and from Christian alike the same tale met his ear:
“The greater part of the noble youth of Hibernia become missionaries and monks—wandering often to the very limits of the earth. Of those left behind, the idle and careless join the bards; the rest turn pirates—plundering their own people as well as the Britons and Saxons. We need such as thee, Cormac of Fail, to strike once more the ancient chords, and rally our men around thee!”
All agreed it was among the bards he was to find warriors—that great and numerous company, comprising two thirds of the men of Hibernia—could he but rouse them from the enervating spirit that pervaded them. Ethne smiled to herself, well pleased, for it was from the bards or Filid, she herself had decided they should find followers; for, although Druidism was not always openly avowed by them, she knew at heart they retained the ancient faith she trusted to revive in Hibernia.
Hibernia needed him, Ethne told him often; and her words encouraged the wild hopes he cherished. Hibernia—with her gold and her learning, her intellect, her enterprise, her high spirit—might she not be mistress of the world, could she but send forth warriors as she sent missionaries?
The Christian zeal Ireland showed was the wonder of the age. Daily, from her shores, she saw her children depart to spread the gospel in the world. Kings and scholars—ardent and dauntless—bare foot and clothed in sack-cloth going forth to spend their lives in wattled cote by barren sea-shore, or to freeze in Alpine heights, or in open boats on the ocean. Giving their lives up gladly, that they might spread the Light in a world of darkness. There were others, spending lives of prayer, fast-bound in gray stone walls—fasting and lying in cold stone—and others again spending lives of toil in the monasteries, making copies of the gospels and the pentateuch for the use of men; covering coarse Irish vellum with hand-writing of the greatest beauty.
The two faiths—Christian and Pagan—were strangely mingled in these northern lands. Monastery rose within sight of Druid circle—cromlech and cross side by side; the Christian crosses often owed their beauty to the druidical symbols with which they were wreathed. One night Cormac would lodge with a Druid in the shadow of an ancient tower—on the next he would crouch on the cold clay of a hermit’s cave. At Derry, or the Place of Oaks, he stayed with the monks who were building the great monastery Columba had founded—then he passed to the palace of the northern kings and joined in its revelry; in the day-time sitting and watching the feats of the juggling Druids—and at night listening to their tales as he sat with the hounds and men by the hall fire. The spirit of early Christianity was to work by degrees amongst the heathen; it was difficult to wean the people entirely from the ancient superstitions; often the priests were content, for the time, if they could but abolish the cruel and evil rites of the Druids.
And Cormac—with a boy’s hopeful outlook—began to trust Ethne was in a state of transition from the pagan to the Christian faith; for she ceased to speak to him of the Druids and their religion; no longer seemed desirous of turning him towards it.
Cormac and his followers rode on—through boundless forests, marshy wilds, and high-lying pasture-lands; through a land without cities; over broad, unbridged rivers that they crossed at fords and shallows on their swimming horses, or by the aid of stepping stones and hurdles; by unpaved roads and bridle-paths; galloping through scattered hamlets of wattle and wicker-work; scaring the cotter’s children at play among the marsh mallows; sometimes slackening their speed amid pastures gray with sheep. Now pausing to exchange a word with some half-crazed swineherd; now bursting into wild Hibernian songs; and for days meeting no living creature save red-deer, wild boar, and swine.