Then Gaul went back to his camp.
II.
With the first streaks of morning light, the great battle of Gowra began. The men fought as only Fenians could fight against one another. Finn threw himself into the struggle with reckless bravery, but the late afternoon found him still unwounded. Many a splendid hero went down, Gaul of Morna among them. The High King, however, did not allow the fight to lag when his leader was killed. He took charge of the forces himself.
Finn tried all day to get his monarch into a combat with him, but the High King was too shrewd. He kept clear of any of the stronger fighters of Finn’s forces. It was Oscar, wounded and tired, who finally cornered him and forced him to fight or show his cowardice.
Like a rat in a trap, the High King put up a desperate battle. He was fresh and strong, and so was almost a match for the wounded Oscar. The end came when both men sank to the ground at the same time. Before Finn could reach the side of his grandson, both men were dead.
Then Finn’s mighty heart broke. He looked about the field, where small groups of men still struggled desperately. He determined that the contest should stop. He blew a loud blast on his horn. The men stopped in surprise. Finn’s voice rang out over the field.
“Men of Erin,” he called. “Sad am I that I have lived to see the day when brother fights against brother, friend against friend. Let the fighting cease. Gaul and the High King are dead, and Finn will soon be with you no longer. I care not to live to think over this useless conflict. From now on the Fenians will live only in song and story. Go back to the chase and the pursuits of peace. I command you never to draw sword again unless it be to protect Erin from a foreign foe.”
Then Finn called his servant and bade him bring to him the drinking horn from his camp. This horn he had carried with him all through his later years. It held the magic water which would bring sleep and forgetfulness to any who drank from it. When the horn was brought he drained it to the last drop. Then he bade farewell to his men, took his weapons with him and went into a cave on the hillside to await the sleep that was already stealing over his limbs.
A thousand years rolled by. A new race of people took possession of Erin. Only from the lips of the poets and the bards could one hear of the mighty heroes. Some laugh and say the tales are not true. But the legend is still told among the Irish peasants that Finn still sleeps in his cave on the hill, and that if Ireland ever is invaded again, he will come out and gather his Fenians for battle.