7. The Youthful Exploits of Cuchulain

“Now this lad was reared in the house of his father and mother at Dairgthech (‘the Oak House’ (?)), namely, in the plain of Murthemne, and the tales of the youths of Emain were told to him. For there are always thrice fifty boys at play there,” said Fergus. Forasmuch as in this wise Conchobar passed his reign ever since he, the king, assumed his sovereignty, to wit: As soon as he arose, forthwith in settling the cares and affairs of the province; thereafter, the day he divided in three: first, the first third he spent a-watching the youths play games of skill and of hurling; the next third of the day, a-playing draughts and chess, and the last third a-feasting on meat and a-quaffing ale, till sleep possessed them all, the while minstrels and harpers lulled him to sleep. For all that I am a long time in banishment because of him, I give my word,” said Fergus, “there is not in Erin nor in Alba a warrior the like of Conchobar.”

“And the lad was told the tales of the boys and the boy-troop in Emain; and the child said to his mother, he would go to have part in the games on the play-field of Emain. “It is too soon for thee, little son,” said his mother; “wait till there go with thee a champion of the champions of Ulster, or some of the attendants of Conchobar to enjoin thy protection and thy safety on the boy-troop.” “I think it too long for that, my mother,” the little lad answered, “I will not wait for it. But do thou show me what place lies Emain Macha.” “Northwards, there; it is far away from thee,” said his mother, “the place wherein it lies, and the way is hard. Sliab Fuait lies between thee and Emain.” “At all hazards, I will essay it,” he answered.

“The boy fared forth and took his playthings with him. His little lath-shield he took, and his hurley of bronze and his ball of silver; and he took his little javelin for throwing; and his toy-staff he took with its fire-hardened butt-end, and he began to shorten the length of his journey with them. He would give the ball a stroke with the hurl-bat, so that he sent it a long distance from him. Then with a second throw he would cast his hurley so that it went a distance no shorter than the first throw. He would hurl his little darts, and let fly his toy-staff, and make a wild chase after them. Then he would catch up his hurl-bat and pick up the ball and snatch up the dart, and the stock of the toy-staff had not touched the ground when he caught its tip which was in the air.

“He went his way to the mound-seat of Emain, where was the boy-troop. Thrice fifty youths were with Folloman, Conchobar’s son, at their games on the fair-green of Emain. “The little lad went on to the play-field into the midst of the boys, and he whipped the ball between his two legs away from them, nor did he suffer it to travel higher up than the top of his knee, nor did he let it lower down than his ankle, and he drove it and held it between his two legs and not one of the boys was able to get a prod nor a stroke nor a blow nor a shot at it, so that he carried it over the brink of the goal away from them.

Then he goes to the youths without binding them to protect him. For no one used to approach them on their play-field without first securing from them a pledge of protection. He was weetless thereof.

“Then they all gazed upon him. They wondered and marvelled. “Come, boys!” cried Folloman, Conchobar’s son, “the urchin insults us. Throw yourselves all on yon fellow, and his death shall come at my hands; for it is geis among you for any youth to come into your game, without first entrusting his safety to you. And do you all attack him together, for we know that yon wight is some one of the heroes of Ulster; and they shall not make it their wont to break into your sports without first entrusting their safety and protection to you.”

“Thereupon they all set upon him together. They cast their thrice fifty hurl-bats at the poll of the boy’s head. He raises his single toy-staff and wards off the thrice fifty hurries, so that they neither hurt him nor harm him, and he takes a load of them on his back. Then they throw their thrice fifty balls at the lad. He raises his upper arm and his forearm and the palms of his hands against them and parries the thrice fifty balls. They throw at him the thrice fifty play-spears charred at the end. The boy raises his little lath-shield against them and fends off the thrice fifty play-staffs, and they all remain stuck in his lath-shield.

Thereupon contortions took hold of him. Thou wouldst have weened it was a hammering wherewith each hair was hammered into his head, with such an uprising it rose. Thou wouldst have weened it was a spark of fire that was on every single hair there. He closed one of his eyes so that it was no wider than the eye of a needle. He opened the other wide so that it was as big as the mouth of a mead-cup. He stretched his mouth from his jaw-bones to his ears; he opened his mouth wide to his jaw so that his gullet was seen. The champion’s light rose up from his crown.

“It was then he ran in among them. He scattered fifty king’s sons of them over the ground underneath him before they got to the gate of Emain. Five of them,” Fergus continued, “dashed headlong between me and Conchobar, where we were playing chess, even on Cennchaem (‘Fairhead’) the chessboard of Conchobar, on the mound-seat of Emain. The little boy pursued them to cut them off. Then he sprang over the chessboard after the nine.

Conchobar seized the little lad by the wrists. “Hold, little boy. I see ’tis not gently thou dealest with the boy-band.” ”Good reason I have,” quoth the little lad. “From home, from mother and father I came to play with them, and they have not been good to me. I had not a guest’s honour at the hands of the boy-troop on my arrival, for all that I came from far-away lands.” “How is that? Who art thou, and what is thy name?” asked Conchobar. “Little Setanta am I, son of Sualtaim. Son am I to Dechtire, thine own sister; and not through thee did I expect to be thus aggrieved.” “How so, little one?” said Conchobar. “Knewest thou not that it is forbidden among the boy-troop, that it is geis for them for any boy to approach them in their land without first claiming his protection from them?” “I knew it not,” said the lad. “Had I known it, I would have been on my guard against them.” “Good, now, ye boys,” Conchobar cried; “take ye upon you the protection of the little lad.” “We grant it, indeed,” they made answer.

“The little lad went into the game again under the protection of the boy-troop. Thereupon they loosed hands from him, and once more he rushed amongst them throughout the house. He laid low fifty of their princes on the ground under him. Their fathers thought it was death he had given them. That was it not, but stunned they were with front-blows and mid-blows and long-blows. “Hold!" cried Conchobar. “Why art thou yet at them?” “I swear by my gods whom I worship” (said the boy) “they shall all come under my protection and shielding, as I have put myself under their protection and shielding. Otherwise I shall not lighten my hands off them until I have brought them all to earth.” “Well, little lad, take thou upon thee the protection of the boy-troop.” “I grant it, indeed,” said the lad. Thereupon the boy-troop went under his protection and shielding.

Then they all went back to the play-field, and the boys whom he had overthrown there arose. Their nurses and tutors helped them.

“Now, once upon a time,” continued Fergus, “when he was a gilla, he slept not in Emain Macha till morning.” “Tell me,” Conchobar said to him, “why sleepest thou not in Emain Macha, Cuchulain?”

“I sleep not, unless it be equally high at my head and my feet.” Then Conchobar had a pillar-stone set up at his head and another at his feet, and between them a bed apart was made for him.

“Another time a certain man went to wake him, and the lad struck him with his fist in the neck or in the forehead, so that it drove in the front of his forehead on to his brain and he overthrew the pillar-stone with his forearm.”

“It is known,” exclaimed Ailill, “that that was the fist of a champion and the arm of a hero.” “And from that time,” continued Fergus, “no one durst wake him, so that he used to wake of himself.

“Then, another time, he played ball on the play-field east of Emain, and he was alone on one side against the thrice fifty boys. He always worsted in every game in the east (?) in this way. Thereafter the lad began to use his fists on them, so that fifty boys of them died thereof. He took to flight then, till he took refuge under the cushion of Conchobar’s couch.

The Ulstermen sprang up all around him. I, too, sprang up, and Conchobar, thereat. The lad himself rose up under the couch, so that he hove up the couch and the thirty warriors that were on it withal, so that he bore it into the middle of the house. Straightway the Ulstermen sat around him in the house. We settled it then,” continued Fergus, “and reconciled the boy-troop to him afterwards.

“The broil of war arose between Ulster and Eogan son of Durthacht. The Ulstermen go forth to the war. The lad Setanta is left behind asleep. The men of Ulster are beaten. Conchobar and Cuscraid Menn (‘the Stammerer’) of Macha are left on the field and many besides them. Their groans awaken the lad. Thereat he stretches himself, so that the two stones are snapped that are near him. This took place in the presence of Bricriu yonder,” Fergus added. “Then he gets up. I meet him at the door of the liss, I being severely wounded. “Hey, God keep thy life, O Fergus my master,” says he; “where is Conchobar?” “I know not,” I answer. Thereupon he goes out. The night is dark. He makes for the battlefield, until he sees before him a man and half his head on him and half of another man on his back. “Help me, Cuchulain,” he cries; “I have been stricken, and I bear on my back half of my brother. Carry it for me a while.”

“I will not carry it,” says he. Thereupon the man throws the load at him. Cuchulain throws it back from him. They grapple with one another. Cuchulain is overthrown. Then I heard something. It was Badb from the corpses: “Ill the stuff of a warrior that is there under the feet of a phantom.” Thereat Cuchulain arises from underneath him, and he strikes off his head with his playing-stick and proceeds to drive the ball before him over the field of battle.

“Is my master Conchobar on this battle-field?” That one makes answer. He goes towards him, to where he espies him in a ditch and the earth piled around him on both sides to hide him. “Wherefore art thou come to the battle-field?” Conchobar asks; “is it that thou mightst see mortal terror there?” Then Cuchulain lifts him out of the ditch. The six strong men of Ulster that were with us could not have lifted him out more bravely. “Get thee before us to yonder house,” says Conchobar, “to make me a fire there.” He kindles a great fire for him. “Good now,” quoth Conchobar, “if one would bring me a roast pig, I would live.” “I will go fetch it,” says Cuchulain. Thereupon he sallies out, when he sees a man at a cooking-pit in the heart of the wood. One of his hands holds his weapons therein, the other roasts the pork. Ill-favoured, indeed, is the man. For the which, Cuchulain attacks him and takes his head and his pig with him. Conchobar eats the pig then. “Let us go to our house,” says Conchobar. They meet Cuscraid son of Conchobar and there were heavy wounds on him. Cuchulain carries him on his back. The three then proceed to Emain Macha.

“Another time the Ulstermen were in their ‘Pains.’ Now, there was no ‘Pains’ amongst us,” Fergus continued, “in women or boys, nor in any one outside the borders of Ulster, nor in Cuchulain and his father. It was for this reason no one dared shed the blood of the men of Ulster, for that the ‘Pains’ fell on the one that wounded them. There came thrice nine men from the Isles of Faiche. They pass over our rear fort, the whiles we are in our ‘Pains.’ The women scream in the fort. The youths are in the play-field. They come at the cry. When the boys catch sight of the swarthy men, they all take to flight save Cuchulain alone. He hurls the hand-stones and his playing-staff at them. He slays nine of them and they leave fifty wounds on him and proceed thence on their journey.

“A youngster did that deed,” Fergus continued, “at the close of five years after his birth, when he overthrew the sons of champions and warriors at the very door of their liss and dûn. No need is there of wonder or surprise, if he should do great deeds, if he should come to the confines of the land, if he should cut off the four-pronged fork, if he should slay one man or two men or three men or four men, when there are seventeen full years of him now on the Cattle-lifting of Cualnge.”

“In sooth, then, we know that youth,” spoke out Conall Cernach (‘the Victorious’), “and it is all the better we should know him, for he is a fosterling of our own.”