Dearmid was angry that men were hunting his hills without his leave, and he gave Finn no very courteous greeting, but, still panting from his climb, demanded to know who it was that had unleashed the hounds.
‘Some of our men took the hounds out at midnight, being restless and hot-headed from drinking wine,’ Finn said. ‘One of the hounds found the scent of a wild boar. Indeed I would have stopped the chase if I had but been here in time, for I know this trail they follow, the trail of the Wild Boar of Ben Bulben, and to go after that one is a far worse danger to the hunter than to the hunted. Many good men and hounds have died on his tushes before today.’ Suddenly as he spoke, his eyes widened and he pointed into the distance behind Dearmid. ‘And see, the thing happens again – the Boar has broken cover and our men are running from him! It is he that is hunting them!’
And turning to look where the old Fian captain pointed, Dearmid saw that what he said was true.
For a few moments they watched in horror, then Finn cried out, ‘He is heading uphill – making towards this very spot! It is in my mind that the sooner we are out of his way, the better!’
‘I will not move aside for a hunted boar!’ Dearmid said, and his hand tightened on his spear.
‘This is no mortal boar, and it is not he that is the hunted one! Remember also that you are under the geise never to hunt wild pig!’
And now it seemed that a madness seized upon Dearmid; but in truth it was the old doom working within him. And he shouted in defiance, ‘Neither for fear of this boar, nor for any other wild beast, nor for the keeping of my geise unbroken, will I leave this place like a scared hound with my tail between my legs!’
So Finn went his way with a strange mingling of feelings within him, so that he wanted at one and the same time to fling his spear at the sky and laugh until his heart burst within his breast, and to lie with his face on the ground and howl like a dog over a dead master, for all the sorrows that ever had happened since the world began.
And Dearmid, left standing on the hill crest, alone save for his hound, looked after Finn Mac Cool, and said in his heart, ‘Now, did you, my old Captain rouse, the Boar and set on this chase, hoping that my death would come of it? Well, if I am fated to die in this spot, then I am fated. No man may escape his doom.’
And he made ready to receive the Boar, as it came thundering up the mountain slope with the Fianna far-scattered all about it. As it came, Dearmid loosed Mac-an-Choill against it, but though till now the hound had always been the bravest of the brave, he turned and fled howling before the wicked red-eyed thing that had neither ears nor tail.
Then Dearmid set his finger in the silken loop of the Ga-boi and hurled the light spear with perfect aim. It struck the boar in the middle of the forehead, but fell to the ground without so much as disturbing one of the brute’s harsh black bristles. Then, cursing himself that he had not heeded Grania’s advice as to his weapons, he ripped his hunting-blade from its sheath and, with the brute right upon him, struck a mighty blow at the black neck behind where the ears should have been. But the blade flew into a score of pieces, leaving only the hilt in his hand; and not so much as one bristle of the board’s hide was cut through.
And now, as Dearmid, quite defenceless, leapt aside, the great brute swung round upon him with a squeal of fury and hurled him to the ground, and rooting for for him, as a tame pig roots for acorns in the ground, brought him up on the curve of its mighty tushes, and flung him down once more with a ghastly wound torn out of his side and pouring red into the grass. Squealing still, it backed, and turned to charge again, but Dearmid, with his last despairing strength, flung the dagger hilt at him so mightily that it broke the flat skull and drove through to the brain, and the Boar of Ben Bulben crashed to the ground and rolled over dead.
Then Finn and the rest of the hunting band came up. And Finn stood looking down on Dearmid while he lay bleeding his life away, and said at last in a harsh and grating voice, ‘Not so beautiful now, eh, my Dearmid of the Love Spot?’
And Dearmid gasped, ‘It is in your power to heal me, even now, Finn Mac Cool.’
‘How?’ said Finn.
‘All men know that you can heal even a man at the point of death.’
‘True enough,’ said Finn, ‘but tell me, Dearmid O’Dyna, why should I be giving back life to you, of all the men in Erin?’
‘In return for the times that I saved yours,’ Dearmid answered, and groaned in his bitter pain and the sorrow of old friendship turned to hate. ‘Do you remember the night we rested at the house of Derca Donnara, and even as we sat at the table, Cairbri of the Liffey with your enemies of Tara and of Bregia and of Mide, surrounded the place and threw firebrands into the thatch? And when you would have rushed forth to meet them, and doubtless also the death they had in their spears for you, I thrust you back into your seat and bade you finish the feast, and sallied out with my own men to quench the flames and drive back your enemies? For Cairbri was no enemy of mine! If I had asked you for a drink from your cupped hands that night, when we came back into the hall with our wounds red upon us, you would have given it to me gladly enough.’
‘Then. But not now,’ said Finn.
‘Or the night that you were captive in the Hostel of the Quicken Trees, and I held the ford, that your enemies might not come upon you helpless, and afterwards brought up the bleeding heads of three kings in the hollow of my shield, to set you free? If I had asked you for a drink at that night’s end, would you have refused me?’
‘Not then. But now,’ Finn said.
‘Now! Even now! Give me a drink from your hands!’ Dearmid begged weakly. ‘For the chill of death creeps upon me; and I tell you this. I see a day – a day of slaughter and despair – and after it, few enough of the Fianna left to tell how it ended. Then you will need my help as never you needed it before, and bitter in your heart shall be the memory of this day on Ben Bulben, when you could have saved me and would not, and my place empty beside your shoulder, that might have been staunchly filled.’
Then Osca spoke up, kneeling with Dearmid’s head on his knee, his voice soft and ugly in his throat. ‘Finn my grandfather, an ill thing it is, that I should be speaking to you so, but speak I will, and it is you that shall listen! You shall give Dearmid to drink from your cupped hands; and quickly, lest it be too late!’
‘Even if I would, there is no water to be had in this place.’
‘That is not true,’ Dearmid whispered, ‘and you know it, my Captain, for not nine paces from here, hidden under that bramble bush, is a spring of clear water.’
So Finn went to the spring, and cupping his two hands together he brought up a palmful of water, and turned back to Dearmid. But midway, the memory of Grania’s choice rose in him again, and he let the precious water run through his fingers.
‘Try again, Finn my grandfather,’ said Osca, still more softly, and his black brows drew together.
And Finn stooped again and filled his cupped hands, and again turned back to Dearmid, and midway, remembered Grania, and let the water trickle through his fingers.
‘Finn my grandfather,’ said Osca, and his voice was softer than ever, ‘near kin as we are, if you do not bring the water this third time, only one of us two shall leave Ben Bulben crest alive!’
And Finn saw that the young warrior meant it, and though indeed he knew that in single combat he could still slay Osca or any other of the Fianna, a cold horror woke in his belly, and he turned back a third time to the water, and came quickly, not a drop now spilling through his fingers, But even as he reached his side, Dearmid’s head dropped back and the life went out of him on a long sigh.
The Fianna gathered about him, and set up three long heavy shouts for the death of Dearmid O’Dyna. And when they were silent, Osca laid Dearmid gently down on the stained and trampled grass, and said, looking straight and steady up at Finn, ‘I wish that it was you were lying here in Dearmid’s stead! For now the bravest and most generous heart in all the Fianna is still.’ And he bent h
is head and wept. ‘Why was I not remembering that Dearmid’s life was linked with the life of a wild boar? I would have found some means to call off the hunt, and so delay for a while longer this time of sorrow!’
Then they left the hill, Finn leading the hound Macan-Choill. But Osca and Dering and Mac Lugha turned back and flung their cloaks over Dearmid’s body, before they followed the others.
Grania sat in the look-out place of her home, watching for Dearmid’s return. And at last she saw the hunting party on the homeward track and Finn Mac Cool walking foremost, leading Dearmid’s great hound. But of Dearmid himself, no sign, not so much as his shadow on the grass. And then she understood and fell all her length senseless on the ground, while her women wailed about her.
When she came to herself once more, the hunting party was within the gates, and the word running through the household that Dearmid had got his death from the Wild Boar of Ben Bulben. Then all the people within the dun raised three loud and bitter cries of lamentation which rang through the glens and across the lonely moors and pierced the very clouds of the sky. But Grania’s wailing rose above them all.
When at last she became calm, she ordered her people to go to Ben Bulben and fetch home the body of her lord. Then she turned to Finn, who stood by, still holding Mac-an-Choill in leash, and said, ‘You will be going from here, now, for this is no place where you would wish to be. But leave me my lord’s hound.’
‘Surely a hound can be little use to you,’ said Finn, ‘and a hunting dog will do better with a man than with a woman.’
But Osca, as white as Dearmid lying dead on Ben Bulben, came forward and took the leash from Finn’s hand and gave it to Grania.
When Grania’s people came to Ben Bulben crest, they found Angus Ōg standing in grief over Dearmid’s body, with all his folk behind him; the tall Danann warriors holding their shields hind-side forward in token of peace. And as Grania’s people drew near, Angus lifted his head and asked them what they had come for.
‘The Princess Grania has sent us to fetch home the body of her lord,’ said they.
But Angus said, ‘Grania had him while he lived, and it is because of her he died. Now, what is left of him comes with me to Brugh-Na-Boyna, for that is his home.’
And he gave orders for Dearmid’s body to be placed on a golden bier, with his javelins fixed point upward on either side. And his people rested the bier on their shoulders, and carried it slowly away towards Brugh-Na-Boyna.
For a while, Grania continued her life alone, grieving for her lost lord, and teaching her sons to hate Finn Mac Cool for their father’s death. But her heart was not made for hopeless sorrow, and before three summers were past, her grief began to fade. Then Finn came to her again. At first she met him with bitter scorn, but he knew how to wait, and was so patient in his waiting, so gentle and loving-kind, that at last she began to soften towards him. And the day came when she made peace between him and her sons, and returned with him as his bride, to Almu of the White Walls.
But when he brought her in through the gate, the Fianna burst into bitter laughter. ‘A bad bargain have you made, Finn Mac Cool, for Dearmid was worth a hundred of this one!’
And Fergus Finvel said, ‘Better keep her tied to the roof tree, lest she run off with the next man to catch her eye, seeing there is so little faith in her!’
And though, after the first ugly greeting, the Fianna treated Grania always as befitted Finn’s wife, there was coldness between them and her always, for Dearmid’s sake.
Nevertheless, Finn’s wife she remained, until the last day of his life.
14
The Battle of Gavra
Cormac Mac Art the High King died.
And Cairbri of the Liffey, his son, set his foot on the Crowning Stone in the midst of the High Court at Tara, and standing so, with one foot on the Stone and the other on a red bull’s hide, he was crowned High King of Erin in his father’s place. And Finn with the Fian chiefs and champions stood by, on one side, facing the warriors of the King’s household standing on the other, and raised three great shouts of triumph and of greeting for the new High King.
But Finn’s heart was heavy under his bronze breast-armour, and a shadow lay on his mind, for he knew Cairbri had always hated him and the Clan Bascna.
Now Cairbri had a daughter called Sgeimh Solais, which means Light of Beauty. And indeed she was well named, for though scarcely yet out of her childhood, she was already the fairest thing in all Erin, more fair even than Grania had been at her age. And many great chiefs and nobles and even kings from across the seas came seeking her in marriage. And at last, after many others had failed – for this princess too was hard to please – a marriage was arranged between her and the King’s son of the Decies, and a great wedding feast was made ready.
It was the custom that when any princess of the royal house of Tara went to her wedding, the High King should give the Fianna a tribute of twenty ingots of gold. And the way of it was this: that when the nine days’ wedding feast was about to begin, the chiefs of the Fianna sent their youngest and most newly-joined warrior into the High King’s hall to claim the tribute, and themselves waited for his return in their encampment on the broad green before the palace.
But Cairbri of the LIffey hated not only Finn and the Clan Bascna, for Dearmid’s sake, but he hated the whole Fianna, for under Finn’ captaincy they had grown to be a great power in the land; and Cairbri was afraid that the time might come when they would be stronger than the High King. He had long been looking for a chance to break them, and now it seemed to him that the chance was come . . .
The Fianna in their encampment waited long and long for the return of young Ferdia with the royal slaves bearing the gold. He came at last, but not out through the gates with the gold-bearers behind him. He came alone and over the ramparts, falling all arms and legs, heavy as a dead man falls. And when they ran forward and stood about him they saw the spear wound over his heart. And the voice of Cairbri’s herald called down to them from the ramparts: ‘Hear the words of the High King of Erin: “There have been over-many demands from the Fianna in my father’s time; take now from me the answer that I make to all such, now that I, Cairbri, am the High King.”’
They brought the boy’s body to Finn and told him the words of Cairbri Mac Cormac.
And Finn stood up and swore a mighty and terrible oath. ‘The High King’s answer is received and laid to heart. I, Finn Mac Cool the Lord of the Fianna, have laid it close to heart. And now I swear on my father’s head, that never again while I am its Captain, shall there be peace between the High King and the Fianna of Erin!’
Then the Fianna of Clan Bascna shouted their wrath and beat with their spears upon their shields. And many shouted to Finn to lead them at once in storming the Royal Hill of Tara. But Fer-tai, the Fian Chief of Tara and the Meath men, who was marriage-kin to Goll Mac Morna, rose and stood over against him with the Clan Morna at his back, and called on them to hold by the High King and not by Finn Mac Cool. So fighting broke out between Clan Bascna and Clan Morna, and the old feud that had slept so long woke and raged forth like a forest fire.
But Cairbri, seeing from the walls of Tara the fighting in the Fian camp, knew that the two clans were too nearly matched; and he had need of the Clan Morna chieftains. So he sent his swiftest messenger running to them with word to break off the fight and fall back within the walls of the Royal Hill. Then the Clan Morna chiefs under Fer-tai broke off the fight, and fell back, while the King’s own household warriors manned the ramparts to cover their retreat with a hail-storm of spears.
Then, seeing that to push after them would be to run upon disaster, Finn sounded his horn to recall his own men. And that sunset, without pausing even to break the camp, Finn ordered the standard of the Fianna to be raised and they marched South to join themselves to Fercob, King of Munster, who was marriage-kin to Finn Mac Cool, even as was Cairbri, but a friend and sworn comrade beside.
They sent runners ahead to warn Fercob, and as t
hey went, they called on the main body of the Fianna to gather to the Munster hosting-plain.
And in like manner, Cairbri sent out his runners, summoning them, and the kings of all the Provinces, to muster to him at Tara. And the Clan Morna and the kings of Ulster and Connacht and even Finn’s own Leinster mustered to Tara. But Fercob of Munster gathered his spears to fight beside Finn, and the Clan Bascna were with them there.
The sound of armourers’ hammers on anvils rang from shore to shore of Erin, and the whitt-whitt-whitt of weapons on weapon-stones in the forecourts of chief and captain; and the very ground trembled under the tramp of feet as the warriors gathered to Cairbri or to Finn.
Then the fighting began, and the ding of hammer on anvil became the clash of blade on blade where the war-bands met in small fierce weapon-flurries, trying each other’s strength. Then, as streamlets flow into a stream and the streams flow at last into the Shannon or the slow strong Boyne, the small fights became greater ones, and at last the two war hosts came to face each other on the bare sunny moors of Gavra for the last battle that must settle all things between them.
On the night before the battle the watchfires of the hosts were as though the stars had fallen from the sky in two great scattered swathes of light, and between them the moor was an emptiness of dark. When the morning came, the two war hosts took up their battle array, and between them the moor stretched empty to the wind and sunlight, and murmurous with bees.
On the one side, Cairbri the High King stood beneath his silken standard, and behind him and on either side stretched the war host of Tara, company by company under their chieftains. Fer-tai and Fir-li his son captained the Clan Morna and all of the Fianna that stood with them, and the kings of the provinces each with their warriors, and close around the High King the five sons of Urgriu of the ancient tribes of Tara, each leading one of the ‘Pillars’ of the High King’s own household troops.