The Coming of Cuculain Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  SETANTA RUNS AWAY

  "For a boy's way is the wind's way."

  --LONGFELLOW

  And now the daily life of that remote dun no longer pleased the boy, forthe war-spirit within drave him on. Moreover he longed for comrades andplayfellows, for his fearful mother permitted him no longer to associatewith children of that rude realm whose conversation and behaviour shemisliked for her child. She loved him greatly and perceived not how hechanged, or how the new years in their coming and their going both gaveand took away continually.

  In summer the boy sat often with the chief bard under the thatched eavesof the dun, while the crying swallows above came and went, asking manyquestions concerning his forefathers back the ascending line up to Rury,and again downwards through the ramifications of that mighty stem, andconcerning famous marches and forays, and battles and single combats,and who was worthy and lived and died well, and who not. More than allelse he delighted to hear about Fergus Mac Roy, who seemed to him thegreatest and best of all the Red Branch. In winter, cradled in strongarms, he listened to the reminiscences and conversation of the men ofwar as they sat and talked round the blazing logs in the hall, while thelight flickered upon warlike faces, and those who drew drink went roundbearing mead and ale.

  Upon his seventh birthday early in the morning he ran to his mother andcried, "Mother, send me now to Emain Macha, to my uncle."

  Dectera grew pale when she heard that word and her knees smote togetherwith loving fear. For answer she withdrew him from the society of themen and kept him by herself in the women's quarter, which was calledgrianan. The grianan was in the north end of the palace behind theking's throne. In the hall men could see above them the rafters whichupheld the roof and the joining of the great central pillar with thesame. From the upper storey of the grianan a door opened upon the greathall directly above the throne of the king, and before that door was arailed gallery.

  Thence it was the custom of Dectera to supervise in the morning thelabours of the household thralls and at night to rebuke unseemlyrevelry, and at the fit hour to command silence and sleep. Thence tooin the evening, ere he went to his small couch, Setanta would cry out"good-night" and "good slumber" to his friends in the hall, who laughedmuch amongst themselves for the secret of his immurement was not hid.Moreover, Dectera gave straight commandment to her women, at peril ofher displeasure and of sore bodily chastisement, that they should notspeak to him any word concerning Emain Macha. The boy as yet knew notwhere lay the wondrous city, whether in heaven or on earth or beyondthe sea. To him it was still as it were a fairy city or in the land ofdreams.

  One day he saw afar upon the plain long lines of lowing kine andof laden garrans wending north-westward. He questioned his motherconcerning that sight. She answered, "It is the high King's tributeout of Murthemney." [Footnote: A territory conterminous with the modernCounty of Louth.]

  "Mother," he said, "how runs the road hence to the great city?"

  "That thou shalt not know," said his mother, looking narrowly on theboy.

  But still the strong spirit from within, irresistible, urged on the lad.One day while his mother conversed with him, inadvertently she utteredcertain words, and he knew that the road to Emain Macha went past themountain of Slieve Fuad. [Footnote: Now the Fews mountain lying on thedirect way between Dundalk and Armagh.] That night he dreamed of EmainMacha, and he rose up early in the morning and clambered on to the roofof the palace through a window and gazed long upon the mountain. Thenext night too he dreamed of Emain Macha, and heard voices which wereunintelligible, and again the third night he heard the voices andone voice said, "This our labour is vain, let him alone. He is somechangeling and not of the blood of Rury. He will be a grazier, I think,and buy cattle and sell them for a profit." And the other said, "Nay,let us not leave him yet. Remember how valiantly he faced the fiercewater-dog and slew him at one cast." When he climbed to the roof, as hismanner was, to gaze at the mountain, he thought that Slieve Fuad noddedto him and beckoned. He broke fast with his mother and the women thatday and ate and drank silently with bright eyes, and when that meal wasended he donned his best attire and took his toy weapons and a new balland his ashen hurle shod with red bronze.

  "Wherefore this holiday attire?" said his mother.

  "Because I shall see great people ere I put it off," he answered.

  She kissed him and he went forth as at other times to play upon thelawn by himself. The king sat upon a stone seat hard by the door of thegrianan. Under the eaves he sat sunning himself and gazing upon the sea.The boy kneeled and kissed his hand. His father stroked his head andsaid, "Win victory and blessings, dear Setanta." He looked at the lad asif he would speak further, but restrained himself and leaned back againin his seat.

  Dectera sat in the window of the upper chamber amongst her women. Theysat around her sewing and embroidering. She herself was embroidering anew mantle for the boy against his next birthday, though that indeed wasfar away, but ever while her hands wrought her eyes were on the lawn.

  "Mother," cried Setanta, "watch this stroke."

  He flung his ball into the air and as it fell met it with his hurle,leaning back and putting his whole force into the blow, and struck itinto the clouds. It was long before the ball fell. It fell at his feet.

  "Mother," he cried again, "watch this stroke."

  He went to the east mearing of the spacious lawn and struck the ballto the west. It traversed the great lawn ere it touched the earth andbounded shining above the trees. Truly it was a marvellous stroke forone so young. As he went for his ball the boy stood still before thewindow. "Give me thy blessing, dear mother," he said.

  "Win victory and blessing for ever, O Setanta," she answered. "Trulythou art an expert hurler."

  "These feats," he replied, "are nothing to what I shall yet do inneedlework, O mother, when I am of age to be trusted with my firstneedle, and knighted by thy hands, and enrolled amongst the valiantcompany of thy sewing-women."

  "What meaneth the boy?" said his mother, for she perceived that he spokeawry.

  "That his childhood is over, O Dectera," answered one of her women, "andthat thou art living in the past and in dreams. For who can hold backTime in his career?"

  The queen's heart leaped when she heard that word, and the blood forsookher face. She bent down her head over her work and her tears fell.After a space she looked out again upon the lawn to see if the boy hadreturned, but he had not.

  She bade her women go and fetch him, and afterwards the whole household.They called aloud, "Setanta, Setanta," but there was no answer, onlysilence and the watching and mocking trees and a sound like low laughterin the leaves; for Setanta was far away.

  The boy came out of that forest on the west side. Soon he struck thegreat road which from Ath-a-clia [Footnote: Ath-a-cliah, i.e., theFord of the Hurdles. It was the Irish name for Dublin.] ran throughMurthemney to Emain Macha, and saw before him the purple mountain ofSlieve Fuad. In his left hand was his sheaf of toy javelins; in hisright the hurle; his little shield was strapped upon his back. The boywent swiftly, for there was power upon him that day, and with his ashenhurle shod with red bronze ever urged his ball forward. So he wentdriving, his ball before him. At other times he would cast a javelinfar out westward and pursue its flight. Ever as he went there ever flewbeside him a grey-necked crow. "It is a good omen," said the boy, for heknew that the bird was sacred to the Mor-Reega.

  He was amazed at his own speed and the elasticity of his limbs. Oncewhen he rose after having gathered his thrown javelin, a man stoodbeside him who had the port and countenance of some ancient hero, andwhose attire was strange. He was taller and nobler than any living man.He bore a rod-sling in his right hand, and in his left, in a leash ofbronze, he led a hound. The hound was like white fire. Setanta couldhardly look in that man's face, but he did. The man smiled and said--

  "Whither away, my son?"

  "To Emain Macha, to my uncle Concobar," said the boy.
r />   "Dost thou know me, Setanta?" said the man.

  "I think thou art Lu Lam-fada Mac Ethlend," [Footnote: Lu theLong-Handed son of Ethlenn. This mysterious being, being one of thedeities of the pagan Irish, seems to have been the Sun-god.] answeredSetanta.

  "I am thy friend," said the man, "fear nothing, for I shall be with theealways."

  Then the man and the hound disappeared as if they had been resolvedinto the rays of the sun; Setanta saw nothing, only the grey-necked crowstarting for flight. Then a second man in a wide blue mantle speckedwith white like flying foam came against him and flung his mantle overSetanta. There was a sound in his ears like the roaring of the sea.[Footnote: This man was Mananan son of Lir. He was the Sea-god.]Chariots and horses came from the east after that. Setanta recognisedthose who urged on the steeds, they were his own people. "Surely," hesaid, "I shall be taken now." The men drave past him. "If I mistakenot," he said, "the man who flung his mantle over me was Mananan the sonof Lir."

  Divers persons, noble and ignoble, passed him on the way, some riding inchariots, some going on foot. They went as though they saw him not.

  In the evening he came to Slieve Fuad. He gathered a bed of dried mossand heaped moss upon his shield for a pillow. He wrapped himself in hismantle, and lay down to sleep, and felt neither cold nor hunger. Whilehe slept a great steed, a stallion, grey to whiteness, came close tohim, and walked all round him, and smelt him, and stayed by him till themorning.

  Setanta was awaked by the loud singing of the birds. Light of heart theboy started from his mossy couch and wondered at that tuneful chorus.The dawning day trembled through the trees still half-bare, for it wasthe month of May.

  "Horses have been here in the night," said the boy, "one horse. Whatmighty hoof marks!" He wondered the more seeing how the marks encircledhim. "I too will one day have a chariot and horses, and a deftcharioteer." He stood musing, "Is it the grey of Macha? [Footnote: Thegoddess Macha, already referred to, had a horse which was called theGrey of Macha--Liath-Macha. He was said to be still alive dwellinginvisibly in Erin.] They say that he haunts this mountain." He hastenedto the brook, and finding a deep pool, bathed in the clear pure waterand dried himself in his woollen bratta [Footnote: The Gaelic word formantle.] of divers colours. Very happy and joyous was Setanta that day.And he spread out the bratta to dry, and put on his shirt of fine linenand his woollen tunic that reached to the knees in many plaits. Shoes hehad none; bare and naked were his swift feet.

  "This is the mountain of Fuad the son of Brogan," [Footnote: An ancientMilesian hero. Brogan was uncle of Milesius.] said he. "I would Iknew where lies his cairn in this great forest that I might pay mystone-tribute to the hero." Soon he found it and laid his stone upon theheap. He climbed to the hill's brow and looked westward and saw far awaythe white shining duns of the marvellous city from which, even now, themorning smoke went up into the windless air. He trembled, and rejoiced,and wept. He stood a long time there gazing at Emain Macha. Descending,he struck again the great road, but he went slowly; he cast not hisjavelins and drave not his ball. Again, from a rising ground he sawEmain Macha, this time near at hand. He remained there a long timefilled with awe and fear. He covered his head with his mantle and weptaloud, and said he would return to Dun Dalgan, that he dared not setunworthy feet in that holy place.

  Then he heard the cheerful voices of the boys as they brake from theroyal palace and ran down the wide smooth lawn to the hurling-ground.His heart yearned for their companionship, yet he feared greatly, andhis mind misgave him as to the manner in which they would receive him.He longed to go to them and say, "I am little Setanta, and my uncle isthe king, and I would be your friend and playfellow." Hope and love andfear confused his mind. Yet it came to him that he was urged forwards,by whom he knew not. Reluctantly, with many pausings, he drew nigh tothe players and stood solitary on the edge of the lawn southwards, forthe company that held that barrier were the weaker. He hoped that someone would call to him and welcome him, but none called or welcomed.Silently the child wept, and the front of his mantle was steeped in histears. Some looked at him, but with looks of cold surprise, as thoughthey said, "Who is this stranger boy and what doth he here? Would thathe took himself away out of this and went elsewhere." The boy thoughtthat he would be welcomed and made much of because he was a king's sonand nephew of the high King of Ulla, and on account of his skill inhurling, and because he himself longed so exceedingly for companions andcomrades, and because there were within him such fountains of affectionand loving kindness. And many a time happy visions had passed beforehis eyes awake or asleep of the meeting between himself and his futurecomrades, but the event itself when it happened was by no means what hehad anticipated. For no one kissed him and bade him welcome or took himby the right hand and led him in, and no one seemed glad of his comingand he was here of no account at all. Bitter truly was thy weeping, dearSetanta.