Early Irish Myths and Sagas (7 page)

She returned home, then, and Ailill said to her, ‘Good our meeting here, for I have been healed, and you have not
been dishonoured.’ ‘Wonderful that,’ said Étaín. After that, Echu returned from his circuit; he rejoiced to find his brother alive, and he thanked Étaín for what she had done in his absence.

*

One beautiful summer day, Echu Airem king of Temuir rose and climbed on to the rampart of Temuir to look out over Mag mBreg, and he saw the plain vibrant with colour and bloom of every hue. And when he looked round the rampart, he saw a strange young warrior. The man wore a scarlet tunic; golden yellow hair fell to his shoulders, and his eyes were sparkling grey. In one hand he carried a five-pointed spear; in the other he held a shield studded with a white boss and gold gems. Echu was silent, for he did not remember the stranger’s being in Temuir the previous evening, and at this hour the doors had not yet been opened.

The stranger approached Echu, and Echu said ‘Welcome, young warrior whom I do not know.’ ‘It is for that I have come,’ said the warrior. ‘I do not recognize you,’ said Echu. ‘But I know you,’ said the warrior. ‘What is your name?’ asked Echu. ‘Not a famous one: Mider of Brí Léith.’ ‘What has brought you here?’ Echu asked. ‘The wish to play fid-chell with you,’ Mider replied.
⁷
‘Indeed, I am good at fid-chell,’ answered Echu. ‘Let us see,’ said Mider. ‘The queen is asleep,’ said Echu, ‘and the fidchell set is with her in the house.’ ‘No worse the fidchell set I have with me,’ said Mider. True that: the board was of silver and the men were of gold, a precious stone glittered in each corner of the board, and the bag for the men was woven in rounds of bronze.

Mider set up the pieces, then, and he said to Echu ‘Let us play.’ ‘I will not play unless there is a stake,’ Echu replied. ‘What do you want to play for?’ asked Mider. ‘All
the same to me,’ answered Echu. ‘If you win,’ said Mider. ‘I will give you fifty dark grey horses with dappled, blood-red heads, sharp-eared, broad-chested, wide-nostrilled, slender-footed, strong, keen, tall, swift, steady and yokable, and fifty enamelled bridles to go with them. You will have them at the third hour tomorrow.’ Echu made the same wager; they played, and Mider lost his stake. He departed, then, taking his fidchell set with him.

The following day, at dawn, Echu rose and went out on to the rampart of Temuir, and he saw his opponent coming towards him. He did not know where Mider had gone the previous day or whence he came from now, but he saw the fifty dark grey horses with their enamelled bridles. ‘Honourable this,’ he said. ‘What was promised is due,’ answered Mider, and he went on ‘Will we play fidchell?’ ‘Indeed,’ said Echu, ‘but there must be a stake.’ ‘I will give you fifty fiery boars,’ said Mider, ‘curly-haired, dappled, light grey underneath and dark grey above, with horses’ hooves on them, and a blackthorn vat that can hold them all. Besides that, fifty gold-hilted swords. Moreover, fifty white red-eared cows and fifty white red-eared calves, and a bronze spancel on each calf. Moreover, fifty grey red-headed wethers, three-headed, three-horned. Moreover, fifty ivory-hilted blades. Moreover, fifty bright-speckled cloaks. But each fifty on its own day.’

Thereafter Echu’s foster-father questioned him, asking how he had obtained such riches, and Echu answered ‘It happened thus.’ ‘Indeed. You must take care,’ replied his foster-father, ‘for it is a man of great power who has come to you. Set him difficult tasks, my son.’ When Mider came to him, then, Echu imposed these famous great labours: clearing Mide of stones, laying rushes over Tethbae, laying a causeway over Móin Lámrige, foresting Bréifne. ‘You ask too much of me,’ said Mider. ‘Indeed, I do not,’ replied
Echu. ‘I have a request, then,’ said Mider. ‘Let neither man nor woman under your rule walk outside before sunrise tomorrow.’ ‘You will have that,’ said Echu.

No person had ever walked out on the bog, but, after that, Echu commanded his steward to go out and see how the causeway was laid down. The steward went out into the bog, and it seemed that every man in the world was assembling there from sunrise to sunset. The men made a mound of their clothes, and that is where Mider sat. The trees of the forest, with their trunks and their roots, went into the foundation of the causeway, while Mider stood and encouraged the workers on every side. You would have thought that every man in the world was there making noise. After that, clay and gravel and stones were spread over the bog. Until that night, it had been customary for the men of Ériu to yoke oxen across the forehead, but that night it was seen that the people of the Síde placed the yoke across the shoulders. Echu thereafter did the same, and that is why he was called Echu Airem, for he was the first of the men of Ériu to place a yoke on the necks of oxen.
⁸
And these are the words that the host spoke as they were building the causeway: ‘Place it here, place it there, excellent oxen, in the hours after sundown, very onerous is the demand, no one knows whose the gain, whose the loss in building the causeway over Móin Lámrige.’ If the host had not been spied upon, there would have been no better road in the entire world; but, for that reason, the causeway was not made perfect.

Thereafter, the steward returned to Echu and described the great undertaking he had seen, and he said that in the entire world there was not the like of such power. As they were speaking, they saw Mider coming towards them, severely dressed and with an angry expression on his face. Echu was afraid, but he greeted Mider, and the latter replied
‘It is for that I have come. It was harsh and senseless of you to impose such great difficulties and hardships upon me. I would have performed yet another task that would have pleased you, but I was angry with you.’ ‘I will not return anger for anger – rather, I will set your mind at ease,’ said Echu. ‘I will accept that,’ said Mider. ‘Will we play fidchell now?’ ‘What will the wager be?’ asked Echu. ‘Whatever stake the winner names,’ said Mider. That day it was Mider who won. ‘You have taken my stake,’ said Echu. ‘I could have done so earlier if I had wished,’ replied Mider. ‘What will you have from me?’ asked Echu. ‘My arms round Étaín and a kiss from her,’ said Mider. Echu fell silent at that; finally, he said ‘Return a month from today, and you will have that.’

The previous year, Mider had come to woo Étaín, but he had not been successful. The name by which he had called her then was Bé Find,
⁹
and this is how he had spoken to her:

Bé Find, will you come with me
to a wondrous land where there is music?
Hair is like the blooming primrose there;
smooth bodies are the colour of snow.

There, there is neither mine nor yours;
bright are teeth, dark are brows.
A delight to the eye the number of our hosts,
the colour of foxglove every cheek.

The colour of the plain-pink every neck,
a delight to the eye blackbirds’ eggs;
though fair to the eye Mag Fáil,
it is a desert next to Mag Már.

Intoxicating the ale of Inis Fáil;
more intoxicating by far that of Tír Már.
Á wonderful land that I describe:
youth does not precede age.

Warm, sweet streams throughout the land,
your choice of mead and wine.
A distinguished people, without blemish,
conceived without sin or crime.

We see everyone everywhere,
and no one sees us:
the darkness of Adam’s sin
prevents our being discerned.

Woman, if you come to my bright people,
you will have a crown of gold for your head;
honey, wine, fresh milk to drink
you will have with me there, Bé Find.

Étaín had replied ‘If you obtain me from my husband, I will go with you, but if you do not, I will stay.’ After that, Mider went to Echu to play fidchell, and at first he lost in order that he might have reason to quarrel. That is why he fulfilled Echu’s great demands, and that is why he afterwards proposed an undetermined stake.

Mider thus agreed to return after a month. Echu arranged for the best warriors and warbands in Ériu to assemble at Temuir, each band encircling the next, with Temuir in the middle and the king and queen in the centre of their house and the doors locked, for they knew it was a man of great power who would come. That night, Étaín was serving the chieftains, for serving drink was a special talent of hers. As they were talking, they saw Mider coming towards them in the centre of the house; he had always been beautiful, but that night he was more beautiful still. The hosts who saw him were astonished, and they fell silent, but Echu bade him welcome. ‘It is that I have come for,’ Mider said, ‘that and what was promised me, for it is due. What was promised you was given.’ ‘I have not thought about it,’ said Echu. ‘Étaín herself promised me she would leave you,’ said Mider, and at that, Étaín blushed. ‘Do not blush, Étain,’
said Mider, ‘for you have done no wrong. I have spent a year wooing you with the most beautiful gifts and treasures in Ériu, and I have not taken you without Echu’s permission. If I have won you, I have done no evil.’ ‘I have said,’ Étaín replied, ‘that I will not go with you unless Echu sells me. For my part, you may take me if Echu sells me.’ ‘Indeed, I will not sell you,’ said Echu, ‘but he may put his arms round you here in the centre of the house.’ ‘That I will do.’ said Mider. He shifted his weapons to his left hand and put his right hand round Étaín, and he bore her up through the skylight of the house. Ashamed, the hosts rose up round the king, and they saw two swans flying round Temuir and making for Síd ar Femuin.

Echu assembled the best men of Ériu, then, and went to Síd ar Femuin, that is, Síd Ban Find; and the men of Ériu advised him to unearth every síd in the land until the woman were found. They dug into Síd Ban Find until someone came out and told them that the woman was not there. ‘The king of the Side of Ériu is the man who came to you. He is in his royal fort with the woman; go there.’ Echu and his people went north and began to dig up Mider’s síd; they were at it for a year and three months, and whatever they dug up one day would be filled back in the next. Two white ravens came forth from the síd, followed by two hounds, Scleth and Samair. After that, the men returned south to Síd Ban Find and again began to dig it up. Someone came out and said ‘What do you have against us, Echu? We did not take your wife. No wrong has been done you. You dare not say anything harmful to a king.’ ‘I will not leave you,’ said Echu, ‘until you tell me how I may retrieve my wife.’ ‘Take with you blind dogs and cats, and leave them. That is what you must do each day.’

They returned north and did that. As they were tearing down Síd Breg Léith, they saw Mider coming towards them,
and he said ‘What do you have against me? You have not played fair with me, and you have imposed great hardships upon me. You sold your wife to me – do not injure me, then.’ ‘She will not remain with you,’ said Echu. ‘She will not, then,’ replied Mider. ‘Go home – by the truth of the one and the other, your wife will return to you by the third hour tomorrow. If that satisfies you, injure me no further.’ ‘I accept that,’ said Echu. Mider secured his promise and departed.

At the third hour of the following day, they saw fifty women, all of the same appearance as Étaín and all dressed alike. At that, the hosts fell silent. A grey hag came before them and said to Echu ‘It is time for us to return home. Choose your wife now, or tell one of these women to remain with you.’ ‘How will you resolve your doubt?’ Echu asked his men. ‘We have no idea how,’ they answered. ‘But I have,’ said Echu. ‘My wife is the best at serving in Ériu, and that is how I will know her.’ Twenty-five of the women were sent to one side of the house, then, and twenty-five to the other side, and a vessel full of liquid was placed between them. The women came from one side and from the other, and still Echu could not find Étaín. It came down to the last two women: the first began to pour, and Echu said ‘This is Étaín, but she is not herself.’ He and his men held a council, and they decided ‘This is Étaín though it is not her serving.’ The other women left, then. The men of Ériu were greatly pleased with what Echu had done, and with the mighty accomplishments of the oxen and the rescue of the woman from the people of the Síde.

One fine day, Echu rose, and he was talking to his wife in the centre of the house when they saw Mider coming towards them. ‘Well, Echu,’ Mider said. ‘Well,’ said Echu. ‘It is not fair play I have had from you,’ said Mider, ‘considering the hardships you imposed upon me and the troops
you brought against me and all that you demanded of me. There is nothing you have not exacted from me.’ ‘I did not sell you my wife,’ said Echu. ‘Will you clear your conscience against me?’ asked Mider. ‘Not unless you offer a pledge of your own,’ replied Echu. ‘Are you content, then?’ asked Mider. ‘I am,’ Echu replied. ‘So am I,’ said Mider. ‘Your wife was pregnant when I took her from you, and she bore a daughter, and it is that daughter who is with you now. Your wife is with me, and you have let her go a second time.’ With these words, Mider departed.

Echu did not dare unearth Mider’s síd again, for he had pledged himself content. He was distressed that his wife had escaped and that he had slept with his own daughter; his daughter, moreover, became pregnant and bore a daughter. ‘O gods,’ he said, ‘never will I look upon the daughter of my daughter.’ Two members of his household took the girl, then, to throw her into a pit with wild beasts. They stopped at the house of Findlám, a herdsman of Temuir; this house was at Slíab Fúait, in the middle of a wilderness. There was no one in the house; the men ate there, and they threw the girl to the bitch and its pups that were in the house’s kennel, and they left. When the herdsman and his wife returned and saw the fair-haired child in the kennel, they were astonished. They took her from the kennel and reared her, though they knew not whence she had come, and she prospered, for she was the daughter of a king and a queen. She was the best of women at embroidery: her eyes saw nothing that her hands could not embroider. She was reared by Findlám and his wife until, one day, Eterscélae’s people saw her and told their king. Eterscélae took her away by force and made her his wife, and thus she became the mother of Conare son of Eterscélae.