Early Irish Myths and Sagas (32 page)

Cú Chulaind stretched himself, then, until a warrior’s foot would fit between each rib, and he stretched his neck until it reached the other side of the block. The churl raised his axe so that it reached the rafters of the house. What with the creaking of the old hide that he wore and the swish of his axe as he raised it with the strength of his two arms, the sound he made was like that of a rustling forest on a windy night. The churl brought the axe down, then, upon Cú Chulaind’s neck – with the blade turned up. All the chieftains of Ulaid saw this.

‘Rise, Cú Chulaind!’ the churl then said. ‘Of all the warriors in Ulaid and Ériu, whatever their merit, none is your equal for courage and skill and honour. You are the supreme warrior of Ériu, and the champion’s portion is yours, without contest; moreover, your wife will henceforth enter the drinking house before all the other women of Ulaid. Whoever might dispute this judgement, I swear by what my people swear by, his life will not be long.’ After that, the churl vanished. It was Cú Rui son of Dáre, who in that guise had come to fulfil the promise he had made to Cú Chulaind.

This, the most stunning tale ever written in Irish, is better known as the story of Derdriu; yet originally it was as much a story of treachery and honour as of romance. ‘The Exile of the Sons of Uisliu’answers the question ‘Why were Fergus and so many other Ulaid chieftains in exile in Connachta at the time of the cattle raid of Cúailnge?’ At this level, Fergus is the key figure: once his word – his guarantee of Noísiu’s safety – has been violated, he becomes Conchubur’s enemy; any other course would be shameful. ‘The Exile of the Sons of Uisliu’moves from personal exile to political exile; it thus marks the decline of the Ulster Cycle.

Underlying literature and history, of course, is myth, the familiar regeneration pattern of old king–goddess–young king: Conchubur–Derdriu–Noísiu. Derdriu passes from Conchubur to Noísiu and back to Conchubur; myth becomes history with Noísiu’s death, and yet it is at the threatened resumption of the pattern, with Eogan replacing Noísiu, that Derdriu kills herself. Cú Chulaind is notable by his absence; perhaps he arrived in the Ulster Cycle too late to play a major part (a small one being out of the question), or perhaps he simply never fitted in.

Although much of the tale is presented in verse, the poetry generally repeats and elaborates upon the narrative
rather than adding to it. The tone is markedly less severe and more romantic than that of the prose, and the lines do not have the elegant simplicity and chaste beauty of those in ‘The Wasting Sickness of Cú Chulaind’. But subsequent versions of the story – and there are many – are less restrained still: Noísiu, Aindle and Arddán, having been captured, are executed with one blow of Eogan’s sword so that none will outlive the others; Derdriu seizes a knife and kills herself as soon as Noísiu is dead; the lovers are buried next to each other, and yews growing out of their graves intertwine. These later versions are not without their own appeal; yet it is the earliest (surviving) recension, from the Book of Leinster, that is translated here.

‘The Exile of the Sons of Uisliu’ is the inspiration (through intermediary translations and retellings) for Yeats’s play
Deirdre
, for Synge’s play
Deirdre of the Sorrows
and for James Stephens’s novel
Deirdre
.

The Ulaid were drinking at the house of Fedilmid son of Dall, Conchubur’s storyteller, and Fedilmid’s wife was standing over them and serving, even though she was with child. Drinking horns and portions of food went round, and the house was filled with drunken shouting. When it came time to sleep, Fedilmid’s wife rose to go to her bed, but as she crossed the house the child in her womb screamed so that it was heard throughout the court. At that scream the men all rose, and they were standing chin to chin, but
Senchae son of Ailill quieted them, saying ‘Do not disturb each other! Let the woman be brought to us that we might learn what caused that noise.’ So the woman was brought to them, and her husband asked her:

What is this violent noise that resounds,
that rages in your roaring womb?
The outcry between your two sides – mighty its sound –
crushes the ears of those who hear it.
My heart is terribly wounded:
a great fear has seized it.

Then Fedilmid’s wife spoke to Cathub, for he was a wise man:

Listen to Cathub, fair of face,
a handsome prince, great and powerful his crown,
exalted by his druid wisdom.
I myself do not have the white words
through which my husband might obtain
an answer to his question,
for, though it cried out in the cradle of my body,
no woman knows

what her womb bears.

And Cathub replied:

In the cradle of your womb there cried out
a woman with twisted yellow hair
and beautiful grey green eyes.
Foxglove her purple pink cheeks,
the colour of snow her flawless teeth,
brilliant her Parthian-red lips.
A woman over whom there will be great slaughter
among the chariot-warriors of Ulaid.
There screams in your roaring womb
a tall, beautiful, long-haired woman
whom champions will contest,
whom high kings will woo;
and to the west of Conchubur’s province
there will be a rich harvest of fighting men.
Parthian-red lips will frame
those flawless teeth;
high queens will envy her
her matchless, faultless form.

Then Cathub placed his hand on the woman’s womb, and the child murmured, and he said ‘Indeed, it is a girl, and her name will be Derdriu, and there will be trouble on her account.’ After the girl had been born, Cathub said:

Though you may have fame and beauty,
Derdriu, you will destroy much;
Ulaid will suffer on your account,
fair daughter of Fedilmid.

And after that there will be still more deaths
because of you, woman like a flame.
In your lifetime – hear this –
the three sons of Uisliu will be exiled.

In your lifetime a violent deed
will be done at Emuin;
repented thereafter will be the treachery
that violated the guarantee of mighty Fergus.

Because of you, woman of fate,
Fergus will be exiled from Ulaid,
and – a deed that will cause much weeping –
Conchubur’s son Fiachnae will be slain.

Because of you, woman of fate,
Gerrce son of Illadán will be slain,
and – a crime no less awful –
Eogan son of Durthacht will be destroyed.

You will do a frightful fierce deed
out of anger at Ulaid’s high king;
your grave will be everywhere –
yours will be a famous tale, Derdriu.

‘Let the child be slain!’ said the young warriors. ‘No,’ said Conchubur, ‘I will take her away tomorrow, and I will rear her as I see fit, and she will be my companion.’ And none of the Ulaid dared oppose him. Derdriu was reared by Conchubur until she was by far the most beautiful woman in Ériu. She was reared in a court apart, lest any of the Ulaid see her before she was to sleep with Conchubur, and no one was allowed into that court save her foster-father and her foster-mother and a woman named Lebarcham who was a satirist and could not be barred.

One day, in winter, Derdriu’s foster-father was outside, in the snow, flaying a weaned calf for her. Derdriu saw a raven drinking the blood on the snow, and she said to Lebarcham ‘I could love a man with those three colours: hair like a raven, cheeks like blood and body like snow.’ ‘Then luck and good fortune are with you,’ answered Lebarcham, ‘for such a man is not far off. Ïn fact, he is quite near: Noísiu son of Uisliu.’ Derdriu replied ‘I will be ill, then, until I see him.’

It happened one day that Noísiu was standing alone on the rampart of the stronghold of Emuin, and he was singing. The singing of the sons of Uisliu was very melodious: every cow that heard it gave two thirds more milk, and every man who heard it grew peaceful and sated with music. The sons of Uisliu were also good fighters: when they stood back to back, they could hold off the entire province of Ulaid. Moreover, they were as swift as hunting hounds and could overtake and kill wild animals.

When Noísiu was outside alone, then, Derdriu stole out to him and made as if to go past, and he did not recognize her. ‘A fine heifer that that is going by,’ he said. ‘The heifers are bound to be fine where there are no bulls,’ she answered. ‘You have the bull of the province: the king of Ulaid,’ Noísiu said. ‘Between the two of you, I would choose a young bull
like yourself,’ Derdriu replied. ‘No! There is Cathub’s prophecy,’ said Noísiu. ‘Are you rejecting me, then?’ she asked. ‘I am, indeed,’ he answered. At that, Derdriu leapt at him and seized him by the ears, saying ‘Two ears of shame and mockery these unless you take me with you!’ Away from me, woman!’ Noísiu said. ‘Too late!’ answered Derdriu.

With that, Noísiu began to sing. When the Ulaid heard his singing they rose up against each other, but the other sons of Uisliu went out to restrain their brother. ‘What are you doing?’ they asked. ‘The Ulaid will be coming to blows on your account.’ Then Noísiu told his brothers what had happened. ‘Evil will come of this,’ they said. ‘Even so, you will not be disgraced while we are alive. We will all take her to another land – there is not in Ériu a king who will turn us away.’ That was their advice. They departed that night: three fifties of warriors and three fifties of women and three fifties of hounds and three fifties of servants and Derdriu mingled in with them.

For a long time, the brothers found protection with kings throughout Ériu, though through his snares and treacheries Conchubur often attempted to destroy them, from Ess Rúaid to the south-west and then back north-east to Bend Étair. Finally, the Ulaid drove them out of Ériu and into Albu; there, they settled in the wilderness, and, when the game of the mountains ran out, they helped themselves to cattle. One day, the men of Albu gathered to destroy them, so they went to the king of Albu, and he took them into his entourage; they became mercenaries and erected their dwellings on the green. Because of Derdriu, they built their houses so that no one could see her, for they feared there might be killing on her account.

Early one morning, however, the king’s steward went out round the house of Derdriu and Noísiu, and he saw the
lovers sleeping. At once, he went and awakened the king, saying ‘Until now, we have not found a woman worthy of you. But there is with Noísiu son of Uisliu a woman worthy of the king of the western world. Let Noísiu be slain that the woman might sleep with you.’ ‘No,’ replied the king, ‘but go to her each day in secret and woo her for me.’

The steward did that, but everything he said to Derdriu she told Noísiu the same night. Since nothing could be got from her, the sons of Uisliu were sent into battles and hazards and dangerous situations that they might be killed, but they were so hardy that every attempt failed. So the men of Albu gathered to kill them; they told Derdriu, and she told Noísiu, saying ‘Depart! Unless you leave tonight, you will be slain tomorrow.’ That night, Derdriu and the sons of Uisliu departed and went to an island in the sea.

This news reached the Ulaid, and they said to Conchubur ‘A pity that the sons of Uisliu should die in a strange land because of a bad woman. Better that you should be lenient and not slay them – let them return and take them in.’ ‘Let them come, then,’ said Conchubur, ‘or let guarantors be sent to them.’ That message was taken to Noísiu and his brothers, and they replied ‘A welcome message that. We will come; we ask for Fergus as a guarantor, and Dubthach, and Conchubur’s son Cormac.’

So these men went to Albu and accompanied Derdriu and the sons of Uisliu back to Ériu. On Conchubur’s orders, however, the Ulaid all strove to invite Fergus to feasts and banquets, for the sons of Uisliu had sworn that the first food they touched in Ériu would be Conchubur’s. Thus, Fergus and Dubthach remained behind, while Fergus’s son Fíachu went on with Derdriu and the sons of Uisliu until they reached the green of Emuin Machae. Meanwhile, Éogan son of Durthacht, the king of Fernmag, had made up with Conchubur – the two had long been at odds – and had
been charged to kill the sons of Uisliu, who would be kept from Conchubur by the king of Ulaid’s mercenaries.