The Hound of Ulster (9 page)

The carriers came forward to do their part, and as the deep shoulder-cut was made amid a sudden silence in the uproar of the hall, the three charioteers of Laery and Conall and Cuchulain rose as one man, each to claim the Portion for his own lord.

For maybe the time that it would take an arrow to fly three hundred paces, the silence endured; and then tumult roared up through the hall, the three heroes shouting each for himself, and the others shouting for support of this man or that, until the King struck with all his force the silver rod in his hand upon the bronze forepost of the High Seat. And at the sound, like the throbbing clash of a great bell, all men fell silent, and stood looking towards the King.

But into the hush a new tumult arose, rushing nearer, the voices of many women raised in some quarrel of their own. ‘It is in my mind that Bricrieu has been at his work again,' said Cathbad into his beard, and above the babble of women's voices, Emer's voice sounded, clear as the note of a silver trumpet, and her fists were beating on the postern-door. ‘Cuchulain! Cuchulain! let me in!'

Cuchulain leapt to fling the bar aside, and dragged open the small heavy door, and Emer sprang through, between rage and laughter, and Fedelm the wife of Laery, and Conall's young bride Lendabair, that he had taken less than a moon ago, came thrusting after her and behind them all their companions.

Conor the King leaned forward in the High Seat, again striking the bronze forepost for silence, and demanded the meaning of the uproar.

Emer had been first into the hall, but Fedelm was the first to speak, flinging back the strong bay hair that had broken loose with her running, and fronting the whole hall with blazing pride. ‘Look upon me, my Lord the King and all you warriors of Ulster. There is royal blood in me, and it is not for nothing that I am called Fedelm the Beautiful, as it is not for nothing that my husband is Laery the Triumphant, Laery of the Red Hand. Look upon me, and deny my right to walk first into the drink hall before all the other women of Ulster!'

Then Lendabair spoke out for herself; small she was and sweet, and cherished as a little pet bird, so that it was no wonder that she was called Lendabair the Favourite; and the hair of her soft and pollen-yellow so that sometimes the colour of it would make Cuchulain remember the yellow hair of the Princess Aifa. Now she spoke out fiercely enough, a small thing fighting for its own. ‘I am not without some beauty too, and if I am not so fair as Fedelm, yet
I
have Conall of the Great Spear for my husband, Conall of the Victories! He goes with brave steps up to the spears of the fight, he brings his bright sword into the battle for Ulster, and none can stand against him. And proud he is, coming back to
me
afterwards, with the heads of the enemies in his hands! By right of Conall's war spear I should walk before all other women in Ulster!'

Then Emer spoke, last of all, fierce as a falcon, standing beside the Royal Fire, and more beautiful than all the rest. ‘I am black, whereas my sisters here are bronze and golden, yet it is
I
who am called Emer of the Beautiful Hair, and they are not so fair as I am. There is no other woman has the joy of loving or the strength of loving that I have; and my Lord is Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster, the Hound of Battle, the strong keeper of the gateway against all who come with spears. He fights from over the ears of his horses, he leaps like a salmon,
he hews down whole armies; and I am the woman of the Hound of Ulster, and there is none worthy to walk before me among the women of the Red Branch or the women of Ulster or the women of all Ireland!'

‘Now Bricrieu has spent a happy evening,' Cathbad murmured to himself, but he scarcely meant to be heard, and none heard him, for now the men were joining in again, Laery and Conall and Cuchulain each shouting for his own wife now as well as for himself, and demanding of the King that he should make the choice. But Connor Mac Nessa, sitting alone on the High Seat, looking with frown-furrowed eyes into the faces of his three heroes and their three wives, knew that if he attempted to decide between them he would but make bitter enemies of the other two, and the struggle between themselves would still go on, unless their hot blood were first given time to cool. ‘If my Queen had not died at young Follaman's birth,' he thought, ‘I could have dealt with the women anyway, for they would not dare this wild squabbling if there were a Queen to walk before all three of them.'

Aloud, he said, ‘This is a feast, not a battle ground! The Champion's Portion shall be divided among the three of you for this night, and later, we will put the thing to Maeve of Connacht, for being a stranger she may see with a clearer judgement than I among my own Red Branch kinsmen. Only this I say to you, that whatever her decision, you shall abide by it. And now, before the good meat grows cold——'

So Laery and Conall and Cuchulain sheathed their swords that had been out by that time, and sat down again, glaring at each other, but forced to abide by the King's ruling.

Only Bricrieu, watching through a chink in the hanging was ill content at the way his evening's amusement had gone.

The feast at D
Å«
n Drum lasted for three days and three
nights, with hunting by day and eating and drinking and harp music after dark, and during all that time the three heroes kept the peace between them but did not sit on the same bench nor drink from the same wine-cup. And on the fourth morning, when it was ended, they set out for Cruachan in Roscommon of Connacht to demand the judgement of Maeve and the King, as to which of them should be accounted the Champion of Ireland. And many of the Ulster warriors drove with them to see what befell.

And so by and by, sitting in her bower at Cruachan, beside the Hill of the Sidhe, Queen Maeve wondered, as Emer had done, to hear thunder from a clear sky, but her young daughter Findabair the Fair, who would be Queen after her, looked from the high window, and said, ‘Mother, I see chariots coming.'

‘Who drives in them?' demanded Maeve, looking up from combing her long straight fair hair beside the fire.

‘In the first, a big man with blazing red-gold hair and beard. His cloak is purple as a thundercloud and he bears a javelin in his hand.'

‘That sounds like Laery the Triumphant, the Storm of War,' said her mother. ‘Sore trouble there will be in Cruachan, if he comes in anger! Who else?'

‘In the second chariot I see a young fair-haired man with a skin as clear red and white as fresh blood spilled on snow. Chequered blue and crimson is his cloak, and his shield is brown with a bronze rim.'

‘That sounds to be Conall of the Victories,' said Maeve. ‘A sad day for Cruachan if he comes with his sword unsheathed!'

‘There is a third chariot,' said Findabair, ‘and the horses of its team are one grey as rain, and one black as midnight. The
sods from their hooves fly in their wake like gulls behind the plough, and they cover the ground with the speed of a winter wind. And in that chariot stands a dark youth, his pleated tunic is crimson, and his cloak white and clasped with gold, and his shield is crimson with a silver rim and images of animals shine on it in gold. His hair is dark, and his look is dark also, yet it might well draw love, and assuredly it shoots fire; and the Hero light plays about his head.'

‘That can only be the Hero Cuchulain,' said Maeve. ‘Truly we shall be ground like fresh barley in the mill, if that one comes as an enemy.' And she rose and strode to the window beside her daughter and stood looking out, with her jewelled comb in her hand, and the long silver gilt hair falling either side of her long, fair, fierce face. And she saw the three chariots and behind them almost all of the Red Branch Warriors, the sound of the chariots and the horses' hooves as the dashing waves of the sea. ‘I will send word to summon the King,' she said. ‘We must welcome them fitly, and feast them finely, and if they are for trouble maybe that will turn their wrath away from Cruachan.'

And so the three heroes and their followers received a courteous welcome from Maeve, who was not wont to welcome strangers, and from Ailell, the King in her crowned shadow, and were feasted royally for three days and three nights, and at the end of that time, they demanded of Maeve and Ailell the judgement that they had come for. And Maeve and the King put them to three tests, by the three great cats of the Lordly Ones, and by the witches of a certain haunted valley, and by setting them to fight one at a time with Ailell's own foster father Ercol, who was a mighty magician skilled in all the ancient magic of red bronze and grey iron and blade's edge and shield's rim. And in all these tests and encounters,
Cuchulain was the only one to overthrow his antagonists. But still Laery and Conall would not admit his right to the Championship of Ireland.

And now indeed Ailell grew perplexed, for he knew that he could no longer delay giving his judgement, and he knew that whichever of the three he named Champion, the two disappointed heroes would be his enemies from that day forward, and he was a peaceable man. He took counsel with Maeve in their chamber, and Maeve, who was as warlike as he was peaceable, listened to him with scorn and half-laughter on her pale face. ‘What makes you think that the matter is for
your
judgement, little royal husband?' said she. For in Connacht the Queen was the Queen in her own right, but the King was the King only because he married her. But she was no fool, and though she scorned him for his caution, she knew in her heart that he was right to be anxious. So she said at last, ‘Ach now, I spoke unthinking. But cease troubling for yourself and leave all to me. I promise you that I will so work it that all three of these Ulster madmen shall go from here satisfied.'

And summoning the King's armour-bearer, she bade him first to fetch certain things from the treasury, and then call to her Laery the Triumphant. And when the big ruddy man came ducking his head under the black and saffron painted lintel, she spoke for the King who sat uneasily beside her. ‘Welcome to you, Laery the Triumphant. Well may men call you by that name, for you are the Champion of Ireland, and to you, my lord, I award the right to the Champion's Portion at any feast where you may be present.' And smiling, she took from the table and held out to him a cup of polished bronze with a silver bird inlaid upon one side. ‘In token that it is so, take this, and show it to no man until you come again to King Connor at Emain Macha. Then show it before all men, and
claim your right to the Championship of Ireland, and none, I think, will dispute it with you.'

So Laery stowed the cup in his breast, and went back to the great hall where the warriors were at their evening pastimes.

Then Maeve sent the armour-bearer for Conall, bidding him make sure that Laery and Cuchulain did not see. And to Conall also, she pretended to award the Championship of Ireland. But the cup that she gave him to show in proof was of whitest silver, inlaid with a bird of gold.

She waited until the other two had gone to their sleeping places before sending the armour-bearer for Cuchulain, who was sitting late over a game of chess with one of Ailell's warriors. But Cuchulain only twitched his shoulders as though a fly were troubling him, and would not come before he had finished and won the game.

Maeve grew angry at that, for she was the Queen of Connacht to her heart's core, and she sat tapping her foot on the hearth-stone, her eyes glittering bright and heavy under her lids while she waited, and twisted the ear of her favourite hound bitch between finger and thumb when it crept to her, until the poor brute yelped with surprise and pain. ‘He shall have cause to regret one day that he kept Maeve of Connacht waiting!' she said.

But when at last Cuchulain appeared, she smiled upon him and greeted him as she had done the other two. ‘Most welcome are you, Cuchulain of Ulster. But it is in my heart that you will never be lacking for welcome, save when you come in wrath, and then all men must quail before you as before the wrath of the High Gods themselves.' And she held out to him a third cup, wrought of yellow river gold, on which was a bird worked out in coral and carbuncle and blue enamel. ‘Take this as a royal gift from Connacht to the Champion of all Ireland. Show
it to no man until you come to King Conor at Emain Macha, then bring it out in the sight of all men. No other warrior, I think, will claim the right to the Championship hereafter.'

So Cuchulain stowed the golden cup in the breast of his tunic, and went out well content to the warriors' sleeping place.

Next morning the Red Branch Warriors took their leave of Maeve and Ailell, and set out for Emain Macha once again. And the chariots of Laery and Conall and Cuchulain drove in the forefront as by right, leaving the rest to follow in the cloud of their dust. But none of the three heroes asked the other two how they had fared, for each thought that he knew.

So they came again to Emain Macha, and that night there was feasting in the King's Hall to welcome the warriors home. And when the Champion's Portion was cut from the great roast and set aside, the feasting fell silent, and all men looked towards the three.

Then Laery rose in his place, and pulled from the breast of his tunic the bronze cup with the silver bird. ‘I claim the Champion's Share!'

‘By what right?' demanded Conor.

‘By right of this cup, which Maeve of Connacht gave me to prove it!'

But before the words were out of his mouth, Conall of the Victories sprang to his feet, holding high the cup of silver with the bird of gold upon it. ‘What of this, then, my lord the King? This that was given to
me
by the same Queen of Connacht, to prove
my
right to the Champion's Portion.'

And in the same instant Cuchulain also was on his feet and holding up for all to see, the cup of gold with its jewelled bird, which blazed in the firelit hall like the sun at midsummer. And standing there he said no word at all, but laughed until his laughter rang against the weapons on the walls.