Читать книгу Legendary Heroes of Ireland - Harold F. Hughes - Страница 6

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Many stories are told of the boyhood of this hero. He grew tall and straight with long fair hair and bright blue eyes. Because of his complexion he was called Finn, which means “The Fair”.

Living among the wild things of the forest he grew like them. No deer could run away from him, he could run at full speed without cracking a dry branch, he could track any animal by the prints on the forest floor, while his eyes were as keen as those of an eagle.

An early adventure of the boy reminds one of the story told of Putnam, our hero of Revolutionary days. I refer to the story of the killing of the wolf. In the case of Finn it was a wildcat. While he was still a very young child his friends of the forest were greatly annoyed by the visits of a vicious wildcat. This animal made steady attacks on the flocks and herds of the people of the forest.

The men hunted for the animal without result. No one thought of Finn as a hunter and he told no one of his intention. With his knowledge of tracking he found the trail of the wildcat and followed it to its lair in a deep cave. Without hesitation he went right in until he found the animal.

There was no space in the cave for the use of a sword, so Finn did not draw it. Instead he attacked the animal with his bare hands. He caught it by the throat and held it until it ceased its struggles. Then he carried the dead beast back and showed it to the surprised residents of the forest. Its skin afterwards became part of his costume.

When he was old enough for books, the old woman gave him into the charge of the hermit of the forest. This man taught him the “Twelve Books of Poetry”, which seems to be about all the people of those days learned from books. Finn was a bright pupil and very early became skilful enough to write poetry himself.

I am afraid that the hermit took little interest in the teaching of his pupil. You see, the man was deeply interested in gaining wisdom for himself. He had placed his hut on the bank of a little stream, not, as you suppose, so that he would have water for cooking, but because this was the stream mentioned in the prophecy as the one up which the Salmon of Knowledge would come.

In the folk stories of many races we find the salmon considered as the wisest of fishes. In Ireland, however, there was the story of this particular salmon which would some day swim up the stream. The man who ate the flesh of this fish would be ever afterwards the wisest man in the country.

The prophecy said that the fish would come when the man who was to eat him arrived. As no one knew who this was to be, the hermit had hopes that the fish would come to him.

Finn helped to watch for this wonderful fish. This was a task he loved, and it was one to which he was well suited on account of his keen eyes. One afternoon, while he lay on the bank, a big, beautiful salmon swam slowly toward him. The sunlight glistened on his scales that shone like silver.

The big fish swam right in front of him, turning back and forth in the sunlight and showing very plainly that it did not intend swimming away. At last Finn remembered that it was a fish he was waiting for, so he reached into the water for it. The salmon offered no fight, but allowed the boy to lift him out upon the bank.

Of course the hermit was delighted to see the fish. He knew at once that it was the Salmon of Knowledge. He felt that he was already the wisest man in the country. But even with knowledge so close to him he still had a desire to have some one else do the work. He set his pupil at the task of cooking the fish, cautioning him against eating a bite of it. Then he went off to take a nap.

Finn sat before the fire turning the fish slowly. He, too, had heard of the Salmon of Knowledge, but he never guessed that this was the one. Neither did he have any idea that he was the person of the prophecy. He did not even know who he was, nor anything about his father or mother. As he turned the smoking fish he got his thumb against the meat and burnt it severely. To ease the pain he put it in his mouth and sucked the sore thumb.

That was all that was necessary to give him knowledge. He sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger. Buckling on his sword he went in and roused the hermit from his sleep. What the man saw in his pupil’s eyes frightened him.

“Did you eat that salmon?” demanded the hermit.

“I but burnt my finger on it and sucked the place,” said Finn. “That was enough. I know now that I am the son of Cool and that you killed him while he lay wounded. Get up and defend yourself, for I am about to avenge my father!”

Finn was but a boy, but already the strength of a champion was coming to him. The hermit fought for his life, but he was no match for the son of the man he had treacherously killed. He quickly paid for his foul deed, and Finn ate the Salmon of Knowledge, as it was intended he should.

From that time on he had more wisdom than the wisest man in Ireland. Not only that, but when in times of stress he desired to know the outcome of a battle or an adventure, by biting the thumb which had been burned he could tell the result. In other stories you will see how this knowledge aided him. Of course, you will wonder why he ever made mistakes with such a gift. I am unable to tell you that. Many of the adventures we read of a wise man would never have attempted. Probably he only used this thumb in times of great importance for fear that if he used it for everything the great gift would leave him.