Dearmid and Fotla, still fighting their waiting battle at the ford, heard the war shout behind them, and a rush of feet, and knew that Finn and his companions had come, and their hearts leapt within them, as they drove home their own attack. But the enemy sprang to meet them, and the fighting thickened to a red tempest of blows. And in the midst of it, grim Goll Mac Morna and the proud young prince came together, and as they fought, Goll’s battle fury rose until nothing and no man could stand against him, and with one last mighty blow he hacked the head from Borba’s shoulders and sent it bounding across the water like a boy skimming stones on a pond.
When they saw their leader drop Borba’s warriors lost heart and began to yield, and one of their number sprang back and sped his way to the Dun of the Island, shouting to Sinsar of the Battles how his son was slain and his war host hard pressed by Finn himself, and beginning to give ground.
And the King of the World, leaving his grief for a later time rose and summoned his whole war host to the very last fighting man, and marched for the ford with vengeance in his heart.
All the Fianna had returned from their hunting and were with Oisĩn when Finn’s messenger reached the camp on Knockfierna, and panted out his whole terrible story. And instantly every man caught up his weapons and marched for the Hostel of the Quicken Trees. They came in sight of the ford just as the King of the World came down towards it from the far side. And when they saw each other, both war hosts checked to put themselves into battle array. The Fianna divided off into their five bands, with Finn himself at the head of Clan Bascna leading the Leinster men, and Goll leading Clan Morna and the Connacht companies. They advanced, each man with his long spear in his hand and his sword loose in its sheath. And as they advanced, so the war host of the King of the World advanced, darkening all the hill side with their numbers.
When they came within range, the throw-spears began to fly between them, and great gaps were torn in the ranks on either side, before ever the battle joined; then they drew their swords and rushed upon each other, meeting in the midst of the ford, and the water boiling all about them with the thresh of battle. Finn seemed in all places at once, his great voice clear as a war horn above the tumult, and wherever he was, men gathered fresh strength and courage, and thrust forward, scattering their enemies before them.
But the King of the World was encouraging his own men in the same way, and wherever his silken standard flew, they in their turn gathered heart and flung themselves afresh upon the Fianna.
And now young Osca, son of Oisĩn, pausing an instant to rest on his sword, saw the King’s standard and the surge forward that followed it, and his heart burst into flame within him, and with a great shout, he rushed upon the warriors who surrounded the King.
When Sinsar of the Battles saw him coming, he ordered his bodyguard to stand back, and a grim joy lifted his heart, for there would be a fine vengeance in slaying this grandson of Finn’s with his own hands. And at first sight, Osca seemed so slight and young that he thought the vengeance would be easy. So he waited till Osca was almost upon him, and then sprang forward to make an end swiftly. Osca was taken by surprise and reeled back, then gathered himself and stood his ground, giving blow for blow until the clash of their blades rang all up and down the river glen, and the sparks flew as though from a forge fire, and even the battle-locked warriors all about them checked to watch. And for a while it seemed that Osca could make no headway against the King. Then the young champion called in his heart on the valour of his forefathers, and strung himself for one mighty effort, and swung his sword and brought it sweeping sideways in a blow that sheared through mail and buckler, so that the King’s head leapt from his shoulders and went downstream after his son’s!
At the sight, the Fianna set up a triumphant shout, and again surged forward. And before this new assault, the foreign war host gave back – and back – and broke and streamed away with the Fian warriors baying on their heels and slaughtering as they went. Only a handful of the enemy escaped to the coast, and their ships, to carry back to their own country word of the death of their King and his whole war host.
11
Dearmid and Grania
Now at the time of this story, Finn was beginning to grow old, and his second wife Manissa, daughter of Garad of the Black Knee, was some while dead. And he began to wish to take a third wife, for when he had no woman beside him, he remembered Saba the mother of Oisĩn too well. Oisĩn understood this and said to him one day, ‘If you wish for another wife, my father, why be without one? There is not a maiden worth the having in all green Erin who will not think herself happy if you crook your little finger at her.’
Then Dering Mac Doba, he who had the Inner Sight, said, ‘I could name you a maiden in all ways worthy to be your wife.’
‘And who is she.’
‘She is Grania, daughter of Cormac the High King, and the most beautiful of all the maidens of Erin.’
‘Then let you and Oisĩn go to Tara, and ask the High King for the maiden, to sit by my hearth,’ said Finn, not much caring which way the thing went.
So Oisĩn and Dering set out for Tara, and were made welcome by Cormac the High King. But when they told him their errand, he said, ‘There is scarcely a prince or chieftain in all Erin who has not come seeking my daughter in marriage, and she has refused them all and made it seem that it was I who refused them. She has made me more than enough of enemies thereby, and I am weary of it. Ask her yourselves, and so this time at least, I shall not get the blame if she refuses.’
Then he took them to the women’s apartments on the sunny side of the palace, and there they found the Princess, tall and dusky-fair as a white-throated foxglove, sitting on a couch with all her maidens about her, stringing beads of yellow amber into a girdle. And when they had told her their errand from Finn Mac Cool, she went on stringing the amber beads, and said, clearly without much thought to the matter, ‘If he seems a worthy son-in-law to you, my father, then I suppose he will do well enough for a husband for me.’
So Oisĩn and Dering returned to Almu of the White Walls, with word for Finn that the Princess Grania had accepted him, and he was to go to Tara in two weeks’ time, to bring away his bride.
The two weeks passed, and with the chiefs and champions of the Fianna for his bodyguard (and never was any man having a prouder or more splendid bodyguard) Finn rode to Tara to claim his bride.
Cormac the King greeted them with good honour, and that night there was feasting in the high hall of Tara, and at the feasting, the High King sat in his chair of state, with the Queen at his left hand and Finn at his right, and Grania sat beside the Queen her mother. And while it could be seen that Finn turned often in his seat for a glimpse of Grania, after their first meeting she scarcely looked at him at all. Dara of the Poems, one of Finn’s Druids, sat at her left and presently she began to talk to him.
‘This is fine company gathered in my father’s hall, but save for Oisĩn I know none of them, being so newly judged old enough to come out from the women’s court at times like these. Tell me, then, who is the grim old warrior with one eye?’
‘That is Goll Mac Morna the Terrible in Battle,’ said Dara.
‘And the young champion on his right?’
‘That is Osca the son of Oisĩn.’
‘Who then, is the chief built like a greyhound?’
‘That is Keelta Mac Ronan, the swift-footed.’
Grania was silent a moment, then she asked: ‘And the champion with the dark hair and the fair skin and the mole on his brow, who looks as though he could be both gentle and terrible. Who is that one?’
‘That is Dearmid O’Dyna, Dearmid of the Love Spot. Do not look too hard, for it is said that all women who look his way are apt to fall in love with him.’
But Grania went on looking, and presently she called one of her handmaidens to her, and said, ‘Go and fetch me the chased drinking horn from my chamber,’ and then whispered something in her ear, which was heard by no other soul.
; And when the girl brought it, no one except Grania saw the few drops of blood-red liquid already in the bottom of the horn. She filled it to the brim from the great wine vat on the table then gave it back to her maiden, saying, ‘Take this to Finn Mac Cool from me, and tell him that I would have him drink from my own horn.’
Finn took the cup and drank, bending his head to her, then passed the wine-horn to the High King, who drank likewise and passed it to his Queen. And after that, Grania bade her maiden to take it to the Prince her brother, Cairbri of the Liffey, and so on until all who she wished had drunk from the horn. And in a little while a soft deep sleep fell upon them all.
Then Grania rose from her seat, and walked straight down the hall and sat herself beside Dearmid, and looking into his eyes said, ‘Dearmid O’Dyna, if I were to give you my love, would you give me yours to fill the place it left empty in my heart?’
Dearmid straightened at the table and his eyes flew wide. For one moment before he was on guard against her his heart leapt with joy, like a bird waking in his breast. Then he remembered his duty to his chief. ‘The maiden who is Finn Mac Cool’s cannot be Dearmid O’Dyna’s.’
Grania lowered the white lids over her eyes and looked on the floor. But she never thought of giving up what she had so suddenly found. ‘I know that was your duty, and not your heart that spoke, or I should not be daring to say more. But you see how it is with me. Finn is a great hero and any maiden would be honoured to be sought by him, but he is as old as my father, and I do not love him. You, who are young, as I am, must surely pity me, and listen when I beg you to save me from becoming his wife.’
Then Dearmid was sore troubled, for indeed his love had gone out from him to the Princess Grania, and to hear her plead for his help and have to refuse it, was like a knife turning in a wound; but he still held firm to his loyalty, and answered her coldly, ‘You made the choice of your own free will. And if you cannot see that a man is not less worth loving because he has soldiered through more years than another man, what is that to me?’ And then he burst out, ‘And even if I were to be as false to him as you are, and did as you would have me do, there is not a fastness in all Erin that would shelter us from the wrath of Finn!’
‘So, so,’ said Grania. ‘I have tried one way, now I will try another. I lay you under geise, under the bonds that no hero may break and save his honour and his soul, that you take me with you out of Tara before Finn and his companions waken from their sleep.’ She rose to her feet. ‘At moonrise I will be waiting for you at the wicket gate that leads out from the women’s court. If you do not come, I will fly from Tara alone, but the geise I leave on your head.’
And turning she left the hall.
Dearmid turned to the few friends closest to him, who had not been given the drugged wine, and who had sat in silence, seeing and hearing all that went on. ‘Oisĩn, what am I to do?’
Oisĩn said, ‘My heart is heavy to be saying it, but no man may break the bonds of geise. Break your faith with my father, but beware of his vengeance afterwards.’
And Dearmid turned to Osca, Oisĩn’s son, for young as he was, his counsel as well as his weapon-skill was well worth having.
‘It is a sorry champion who breaks his geise, and the shadow of a man he will be afterwards.’
‘Keelta Mac Ronan, what counsel do you give me?’
‘Follow the Princess,’ Keelta said, ‘for indeed she would make an ill wife for Finn. But run swiftly and do not be checking to look back.’
Last of all, Dearmid turned to Dering, his closest friend and sworn sword brother.
‘If you go with the Princess Grania,’ Dering said (and they knew by his face that a flash of the Sight was on him), ‘your death will come of it. Yet the man who breaks such a geise is not worthy to have lived at all.’
So Dearmid rose, and took his sword from where it hung behind him, and slung it on. He took his leave of the men who had been his friends since he came to manhood, knowing that he would never hunt with them nor sit at supper, nor fight at shoulder’s touch with them ever again. All that was ended, because of Grania. He went out to the wicket gate.
Outside the gate, Grania was waiting with a dark cloak thrown about her. ‘Go back,’ he said. ‘No one yet knows what has passed, save for a few who are my friends and will not speak of it. Go back and there’s no one else will ever know.’
But Grania said, ‘I will not go back. I will go with you because you have my heart in your breast.’
So Dearmid gave up the struggle, and said, ‘If you will have it so, then I will have it so, and no man shall take you from me.’
They went westward and westward until they reached the Shannon ford, and there Dearmid took Grania up in his arms and carried her across, so that not the sole of her foot nor the trailing hem of her mantle were wetted. They went upstream a mile, and then turned southwest till they came to the Wood of the Two Tents. And in the thick heart of the Wood, Dearmid cut green branches with his sword and wove them into a cabin for Grania. And while she rested there, he brought her water from a nearby spring in his war-cap, and hunted for her so that she might eat and drink.
Early next morning, the King and his household and his guests roused from their sleep, and found Dearmid and Grania flown. Then wild jealousy seized on Finn, and he sent for his trackers, men of the Clan Navan, and bade them follow on Dearmid’s track.
The Clan Navan men followed the trail to the Shannon ford and up river to the place where Dearmid and Grania had turned southwest. Then they smelled the ground and took note of a grass blade lying over, and found a single strand of dark wool on a briar spray, and said to Finn, ‘Easy enough now, for the trail runs straight towards the Wood of the Two Tents.’
So Finn bade the trackers go ahead while he and the rest of the Fianna followed on behind. And the trackers pushed forward, running low like hounds on the trail, until they came to the Wood and the thickest part of the Wood, and there they found a fenced enclosure. For Dearmid had cleared a space round his hut, and surrounded it by a stockade that no man could pierce. And seven narrow sapling-woven doors it had, facing seven different ways into the Wood.
One of the trackers climbed a tree from which he could look into the enclosure, and then went back and told Finn halted at the edge of the Wood that there was a fenced enclosure in the thick of the trees, and that Dearmid O’Dyna was inside it, with a woman whose hair was as dark as his own.
‘That will be Grania, sure enough,’ Finn said grimly, and ordered his men forward. So they came back to the heart of the Wood and the enclosure, and spread out to surround it. And within the stockade, Grania heard what was going forward, and trembled and fell to wild and silent weeping. And Dearmid kissed her three times and promised her that she need have no fear, for all would yet be well with them.
Now Angus Ōg, the most wise and fair and skilled in magic of the Danann lords, was Dearmid’s foster-father, as has been told before, and loved him like a son. And he knew by his magic art that Dearmid was in deadly peril. And he came from the Boyne, speeding on the wings of the south wind, with his crown of wild swans flying about his head, and was suddenly in the enclosure in the midst of the Wood of the Two Tents.
Dearmid’s heart leapt up at the sight of his foster-father, and he would have flung his arms about him, but Angus said only, ‘What is this that you have done, fosterling?’
And Dearmid told him all the story in as few words as might be, with the Fianna moving outside the stockade.
When he had finished, Angus Ōg, said, ‘It is an ill story, and I’m thinking it will have an ill end, but not yet. Let the two of you come under my mantle, and take each a corner of it, and I will bring you out from this place, no man knowing.’
But Dearmid shook his head. ‘Take Grania under your mantle, but for me, I will find my own way out and follow you. But if I should be killed, take the Princess back to her father, and bid him to treat her neither better nor worse for having chosen me.’
So Angus flung his ma
ntle over Grania, his mantle that was blue as the summer sky or the flowers of the blue-eyed grass, and telling Dearmid where to follow, leapt up once more invisible into the wind.
When they were gone, Dearmid took his sharp spears in his hands and went to the nearest of the seven doors, and demanded to know who was outside it.
‘Oisĩn and Osca,’ came the answer, ‘and with us none but Clan Bascna. Come out to us and none will harm you.’
‘I will not come out to bring trouble upon you for your friendship to me,’ said Dearmid, and he went and asked the same question at the second door.
‘Keelta Mac Ronan and the Clan Ronan. Come out this way, and find none but friends.’
‘It is not I that will bring trouble on the heads of my friends,’ said Dearmid, and went to the third door.
‘Conan of the Grey Rushes, and Fertai the son of Goll Mac Morna, and the Clan Morna. None of us best of friends with Finn, though we serve under his banner.’
And Dearmid went to the fourth door.
‘A close comrade of yours is here, Guan of the Munster Fianna. We are from the same hunting runs, you and I and if need be I and my men will fight to the death for you.’
And Dearmid went to the fifth door.
‘Finn the son of Glore Loud-Voice, and with me the Ulstermen. Come out to us, and we will kill you if we catch you, but we will take care not to see you pass.’
And Dearmid went to the sixth door.
‘Clan Navan, watching for you like dogs at a rat hole. We are Finn’s men. Come out to us and be a mark for our spears.’
‘My spears are for warriors. I do not foul them with the blood of shoeless, trail-sniffing vagabonds!’ And he went to the seventh door and demanded, ‘Who stands outside?’