Читать книгу Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster - Eleanor Hull - Страница 7

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Now all that she had heard that night so troubled Meave that she thought not well to proceed upon her hosting at that time. She lay upon her bed and pondered long upon the fairy woman’s words, and more and more she wondered who this youth might be, the lad of mighty feats whom all men called “The Hound of Ulster.” When daylight came, she sent a message to the captains of her host, commanding them to tarry yet a day, till she should learn further about the youth who stood upon her path and seemed a threatening terror to her hosts. Then like a king and queen they robed themselves and sat within their tents, Ailill and she, and sent a herald forth commanding Fergus and the chief of Ulster’s exiles to appear before them, to tell them of Cuchulain.

When they were gathered, Fergus, Cormac son of Conor and the rest, Ailill addressed them. “We hear strange tales of one of Ulster’s chiefs, a youthful hero whom men call the “Hound.” From you, O chiefs of Ulster, we would learn all you can tell about this famous lad. What age hath he? and wherefore hath he gained this name? and have his deeds become known to you?”

“His deeds are known to us, indeed,” Fergus replied, “For all the land of Ulster rings with this young hero’s renown.”

“Shall we find him hard to deal with?” then said Meave. “Last night I met a fairy-maid, who told me to beware, for among the warriors of the North, this lad would trouble us the most.”

“He will trouble you the most, indeed,” said Cormac and Fergus with one voice. “You will not find a warrior in your path that is so hard to deal with, not a hero that is fiercer, nor a raven more greedy of prey, nor a lion that is more dangerous than he. You will not find another man to equal him, whether of his age or of a greater age, so strong and terrible and brave is he, nor is his match in Erin either for his beauty or his prowess or in all deeds and feats of skill.”

“I care not for all this,” said haughty Meave; “not these the things I fear; for, after all, whatever you may say, Cuchulain, like another, is but one; he can be wounded like a common man, he will die like any other, he can be captured like any warrior. Besides, his age is but that of a grown-up girl; his deeds of manhood come not yet.”

“Not so indeed,” said Fergus and they all. “It would be strange if he to-day were not the equal of any grown-up man or many men; for even when he was in his fifth year, he surpassed all the chieftain’s sons of Emain Macha at their play; when he was but seven he took arms, and slew his man; when he was a stripling he went to perfect himself in feats of championship with Scáth, the woman-warrior of Alba; and now to-day when he is nearly seventeen years old, his strength must be equal to the strength of many men.”

“Tell us,” said Meave, “who is this warrior-lad; tell us also of his boyish feats and how the name of ‘Ulster’s Hound’ came to be his.”

“I will tell you,” said Fergus; “for Cuchulain is my own foster-son and Conor’s; though they say, and I myself believe it, that he is of the offspring of the gods, and that Lugh of the Long Arms, God of Light, is guardian to the boy. But Sualtach is his father, a warrior of Ulster, and the child was reared by the seaside northward on Murthemne’s plain, which is his own possession. At my knees he was brought up, and Amergin the poet was his tutor; the sister of King Conor nourished him with Conall the Victorious in her home. For at his birth Morann the judge prophesied of his future renown. ‘His praise,’ he said, ‘will be in all men’s mouths, his deeds will be recounted by kings and great men, warriors and charioteers, poets and sages. All men will love him; he will give combat for Ulster against her enemies; he will decide your quarrels; he will avenge your wrongs. Welcome the little stranger who is here.’ ”

And Meave and Ailill said, “That is a brave account to give of a young child; no wonder is it that Ulster prides herself in him; but tell us now, Fergus, for eager are we all to hear, the feats of Cuchulain as a little boy.”

Cuchulain sets out for Emain Macha

“I will tell you that,” said Fergus. “When he was yet a tiny boy, not much past four years old, some one in passing by Murthemne told him a long tale of the boy-corps of King Conor in Emain Macha; that the King had established it for all the sons of nobles and of chiefs, to train them up in strength and bravery. He told him that the King had set apart a playing-ground for the boys, close to his own fort, and there every day they practised games of skill, and feats of arms, and wrestled and threw each other. He told him, too, that the King took so much interest in the boy-corps, that scarce a day passed by that he did not spend some time in watching the pastimes of the lads, for he looked to them to be his future men-of-war and leaders of his hosts. He told the little boy that when they had proved themselves fit by skill and aptness for a higher grade, the King bestowed on them a set of war-gear suited to their age, small spears and javelins, a slender sword, and all equipment like a champion. Now when the boy heard this, a great longing arose within his little mind to see the boy-corps and join in their sports and practising for war. ‘I would wrestle, too,’ he said, ‘and I am sure that I could throw my fellow.’ But I and his guardians,” said Fergus, “objected that he was yet too young, and that when he was ten years old it would be soon enough to test his strength against the older boys. For to send a boy of four years old or five to take his part among lads of ten or twelve we thought not well, for we feared that harm would come to him, knowing that he must ever, since his babyhood, be in the midst of all that was going on. Therefore, we said, ‘Wait, my child, until some grown warrior can go with thee, to protect thee from the rough practice of the elder boys and bid them have a care for thee, or else till Conor the King, thy fosterer, himself calls thee hither under his proper charge.’ But the lad said to his mother, that it was too long to wait, and that even on this instant he would set off; ‘And all you have to do, mother, is to set me on my way, for I know not which way Emain lies.’ ‘A long and weary way for a young boy it is to Emain,’ said his mother, ‘for the range of the Slieve Fuad Mountains must be crossed.’ ‘Point me but out the general direction,’ he replied. ‘Over there, to the north-west, lies the palace of the king.’ ‘Let me but get my things, and I am off,’ he said.

“These were the things that the child took in his hand. His hurley of brass and his ball of silver in one hand, his throwing javelin and his toy spear in the other. Away he went then, and as he went, this would he do to make the way seem short. He would place his ball on the ground and strike it with his hurley, driving it before him ever so far; then he flung the hurley after it, driving that as far again; then, always running on, he threw his javelin, and last of all his spear. Then he would make a playful rush after them, pick up the hurley, ball, and javelin as he ran, while, before ever the spear’s tip touched the earth, he had caught it by the other end. Thus on he ran, scarce feeling tired, so engrossed was he in the game.

“At last Cuchulain reached Emain, and sought out the palace of the King and the playing-field where the boys were practising, three times fifty in number, under the charge of Follaman, one of Conor’s younger sons; the King himself being present, watching the game.

“The youths had been practising martial exercises, but when Cuchulain came up they were hurling on the green. Without waiting for anyone, the little fellow dived in amongst them and took a hand in the game. He got the ball between his legs and held it there; not suffering it to travel higher up than his knees or lower than his ankle-joints, so making it impossible for any of them to get a stroke at it, or in any way to touch it. In this way he got it gradually nearer and nearer the end of the field; then with one effort he lifted it up and sent it home over the goal. In utter amazement the whole corps looked on. But Follaman their captain cried—‘Good now, boys, all together meet this youngster who has come in we know not whence, and kill him on the spot as he deserves. The boy insults us that he comes amongst us without placing himself under the protection of some chief’s son in order that his life should be preserved; for it is not allowed to the son of any private person or common warrior to intrude upon your game, without first having asked permission and taken a pledge of the chiefs’ sons that his life shall be respected; we admit not common men to the boy-corps save under the protection of some youth of higher rank.’ For they did not know Cuchulain, neither did he know the rules of the boy-corps. ‘Have at him, all of you,’ cried Follaman, ‘and give him what he deserves; no doubt he is the son of some private man, who has no right to intrude into your play without safe conduct. Defend your honour and the honour of the corps.’ Then the whole of the lads gathered round Cuchulain and began to threaten him, and together with one throw they hurled at him their toy spears, on every side at once. But Cuchulain stood firm, and one and all he parried them and caught them on his little shield. Then all together they threw at him their hurley-sticks, three fifties at a time; but all of them he parried, catching a bundle of them on his back. Then they tried their balls, throwing them all together, but he fended them off with arms and fists and the palms of his hands, catching them into his bosom as they fell. After a long while of this his ‘hero-fury’ seized Cuchulain. His hair rose upright on his head, and in his wrath and fierceness it seemed as though a light poured forth from each single hair, crowning him with a crown of fire. A strong contortion shook him, and he grew larger and taller as he stood before the lads, so that they shrank terrified before him. He made for them like a young lion springing on his prey, and before they could reach the door of the fort fleeing from him for safety, he had stretched fifty of them on the ground.

“Now it happened that the King and I,” said Fergus, “were playing chess together at a table in the open air, on the borders of the playing field, amusing ourselves while the boys’ games were going on. Five of the boys, not seeing in their haste where they were running, rushed past the place where Conor and I were sitting, and nearly overturned the table with the chess. Cuchulain was in full pursuit, and he seemed about to leap the table to make after them, when the King caught him by the arm.

“ ‘Hold, my little fellow,’ said the King, restraining him, ‘I see this is no gentle game thou playest with the boy-corps.’

“ ‘What could I do?’ replied the lad. ‘I came to-day, O King, from a far land to join myself with them, and they have not been good to me; I have not had the reception of a welcome guest.’

“ ‘What is your name, little one?’ said the King. ‘Setanta, son of Sualtach, is my name; your own foster-son am I, and the foster-son of Fergus,’ said the boy. ‘It was not fitting that I should have had this rough reception.’ ‘But knewest thou not the rules of the boy-corps, that a new-comer must go under their protection, so that they will respect his life?’ said the King. ‘That I knew not,’ said the boy, ‘otherwise I should have conformed to their rules; do thou thyself undertake my protection, I pray thee, O King.’ The King liked the fine spirit of the lad, and his open face and bravery in his self-defence, and he said, ‘I will do that, my boy.’ Then he called the boy-corps together, and said, ‘I, myself, have taken upon me the protection of this little boy; promise me now that he shall play amongst you safely.’ ‘We promise it,’ they said. Then all made off to play again; but Setanta does just what he will with them, wrestling and throwing them, and soon fifty of them are stretched upon the ground. Their fathers think that they are dead, and raise a cry against Setanta. But no such thing; merely had he with his charges, pulls, and pushes so frightened them, that they fell down at last through terror on the grass.

“ ‘What on earth is the lad at with them now?’ asks Conor.

“ ‘You bound them over to protect me,’ said the boy, ‘but you never bound me over to protect them; and I avow that until they place themselves under my protection, as I am placed under theirs, I will not lighten my hand from them.’ ‘I place them under thy protection then,’ said Conor. ‘And I grant it,’ said the lad.

“And now,” said Fergus to Queen Meave and Ailill, “I submit that a youngster who, at the age of four or five years did all this, need not excite your wonder, because now being turned seventeen years, he prove a formidable foe to Connaught in time of war.”

“I think not indeed,” said Ailill; and sulkily Meave said, “Perhaps, indeed, he may.”