The High Deeds of Finn MacCool (14 page)

Dearmid stood looking down at Ficna's body lying in the shallows of the ford. Then he put out his foot and rolled Midac aside. The last of life still lingered in the Lochlan prince, and he groaned.

‘If I had found you dead, I would have passed you by,' Dearmid said, ‘but since I find you living, your head shall make some little payment to Finn Mac Cool for his son's death.'

And with one quick stroke of his sword, he smote off Midac's head.

Then, leaving Fotla to guard the ford, he turned and went up through the rocks towards the Hostel of the Quicken Trees, swinging Midac's head by the hair as he went. When he reached the Hostel he shouted and hammered at the door, for the rage was still red in him. And Finn called to him knowing his voice, ‘Keep out of this place, for it crawls with foul magic. But tell us who fought the last battle at the ford. We heard the shouting and the weapon-clash, and we know nothing more.'

‘Ficna your son fought that battle, single-handed against a whole war band.'

‘And how is it with Ficna now?'

‘He is dead,' said Dearmid, ‘Slaughtered when he was weary and sore wounded, by Midac of Lochlan. I was too late to prevent it, but I have taken vengeance for him, and it is Midac's head that I have in my hand.'

For a long time Finn was silent. And when at last he spoke, his voice was heavy with grief. ‘Victory and strength to you, Dearmid. Often have you been the saving of the Fianna when we were in sore straits. But never have I, the Fian Captain, or those with me been in such deadly peril as this. For here we sit, held captive by enchantment, and nothing can free us save the blood of the three Kings of the Island of the Torrent, if it be sprinkled while still warm, on the ground all about us. Meanwhile we are helpless even to defend ourselves. Therefore our only hope is that you should guard the ford until sunrise, when surely the rest of the Fianna will have returned from their hunting and come to your aid.'

‘Fotla is at the ford now,' Dearmid said, ‘and he and I together will hold it against all comers, till three sunrises hence, if need be.' And he was turning away to go back to the ford when Conan Maol let out a groan that checked him in his tracks.

‘Miserable was the hour in which I came to this place, and cold as seashore ice is the earthen floor that holds me captive; but worst of all is to be so long without food or drink, while all the while there will be food and wine for an army no further off than the Dun of the Island. Oh Dearmid, if ever we took the oath of brotherhood that binds all the Fianna, get me some of that food, for I can bear the hunger pains in my belly no more.'

Dearmid struck his spear butt on the ground. ‘An
enemy war host seeks your death, and the deaths of Finn and all those with you in there, and only Fotla and myself to hold the ford against them. Is that not enough work for two men? Must I then leave Fotla to hold the ford alone while I go running my neck into needless hazard to steal food for a glutton?'

‘If I were a maiden with blue eyes and golden hair, you would make a different answer. But you have always hated me, and many an ill turn you have done me; and now you are well pleased that I should die of hunger in this place!'

‘Och then,' said Dearmid, ‘let you stop this snapping and snarling, and I will try to get you the food. Anything is better than to be made deaf by the wagging of that evil tongue of yours.'

He went back to Fotla and told him how the thing stood, and that he must guard the ford alone for a while, and went on towards the Dun of the Island.

It was low water, and the sand and shingle made a causeway so that he was able to reach the island almost dry shod. As he drew near, he heard loud drunken voices and all the uproar of a feast that has reached its height, and creeping to the door, he looked in, and saw the great hall crowded with warriors, and the King of the World with his son beside him in the High Place, and many servants going to and fro with great chargers of food and drinking horns brimming with wine.

Dearmid slipped through the outer doors, and took his stand in the shadows of the foreporch, close beside the inner door, and waited his chance, sword in hand. Soon, one of the servants passed close to him, and swift as a salmon's leap. Dearmid struck off his head
and caught the wine horn from his hand as he fell, so that not a drop was spilled. Then sheathing his sword, he walked into the hall and straight up to the High Table, picked up one of the serving dishes, and went out through the great door into the night bearing the food and drink with him; and in all the noise and drinking, no one noticed him or wondered at what he did.

When he reached the ford once more, he found Fotla asleep on the bank, and was half minded to rouse him with a kick, but thinking to himself that the young warrior was worn out with toil and watching, he left him there and went on up to the Hostel with the food for Conan Maol.

The next question was how to get the food to the fat warrior, but he managed it at last by tossing it in to him piece by piece, through a chink in the rotten wall, and when Conan had wolfed down the last mouthful, never so much as offering a bite to his leader and comrades, Dearmid got on the roof and broke a hole in the tattered thatch directly over where he sat captive on the floor, and poured the wine down into his great open mouth till it was gone to the last drop.

Then Dearmid went back to the ford, and found all quiet, and Fotla still asleep, and sat down beside him.

When tidings of the death of Midac and his war band reached the Dun of the Island, the three Kings of the Island of the Torrent were filled with black fury that he had gone against Finn without telling them. ‘It is our spells that hold him and his companions captive in the Hostel of the Quicken Trees,' they said, ‘and ours by right is the killing. And now before some other
chieftain thinks to try his spear, we will go and do our own killing!'

So they gathered a strong war band and set out. They came to the ford, and saw in the dim first light of day, the shape of a warrior standing guard on the further side. With one voice they called across to him to know who he was.

Back came the answer. ‘I am Dearmid O'Dyna, and one of the champions of Finn Mac Cool, and I wait here to hold the ford against all comers.'

At first they tried speaking him fair, bidding him to leave the ford and no harm should come to him, but Dearmid would have none of that. ‘Finn and his companions are under my shield till sunrise. And I do not stir from this place while I live.'

Then the foremost of the enemy rushed upon Dearmid, but he stood against them as a rock stands against a boiling sea, and struck them down as they came, more and more of them thrusting forward into the gaps left by their fallen comrades; and in the midst of the battle, Fotla started up from his sleep and glaring wildly about him, caught up his sword. He shouted to Dearmid, furious that the other had not wakened him, but Dearmid bade him keep his anger for their foes, and Fotla ran upon them so that they went down before him like ripe barley before a hail storm.

Then the three Kings, seeing their men falling left and right, set up a great yelling, and themselves charged into the ford. Dearmid met them, and they fought together until their shields were hacked and their war gear broken and their hot blood ran down. And one by one Dearmid slew the three Kings, while
Fotla with his sword-play held the enemy off from him.

When all was over, the two champions stood breathing in great gasps, and bleeding from a score of wounds. And then Dearmid remembered what Finn had told him as to the breaking of the spell, and he cut off the heads of the three Kings and knotted them together by their hair, and then, Fotla behind him, went back to the Hostel of the Quicken Trees.

As they drew nearer, Finn shouted to them from within, desperate to know the outcome of the latest fighting. And Dearmid shouted back, ‘Well and truly have we held the ford, Fotla and I. We have slain the three Kings of the Island of the Torrent, and I hold
their three heads warmly bleeding in the hollow of my shield. How shall I bring them to you?'

‘Victory and strength to you! Never had the Fianna of Erin two more valiant champions. Let you sprinkle some of the blood on the door.'

Dearmid did as he was bid, and as the crimson drops spattered upon the timbers, the door crashed back, and he saw Finn and his companions still captive upon the floor. Dearmid made all haste to sprinkle the ground about them, and as the bright drops fell hissing upon the earth, each of the captives groaned and struggled to his feet, weary and stiff, but free. They flung their arms about the two champions in thankfulness. But the danger was not yet past, for though they were indeed loosed from the magic bonds, Finn and his companions had scarcely more strength than hour-old calves.

‘Not until the sun rises clear of the hills, and the last of this foul magic falls away, shall we have strength to draw sword,' Finn groaned. ‘Therefore the ford is still yours to guard, my brothers. Hold until sunrise, and then we shall surely come to relieve you.'

So Dearmid and Fotla went back to the ford yet one time more.

After the last fighting, the few of the enemy to escape carried word of what had happened back to the Dun of the Island. Then Borba the Haughty rose up and said, ‘It must be that the Island of the Torrent breeds feeble warriors. Now I will take my own men and avenge the death of so many of the war host, and I will bring back the head of Finn Mac Cool to lay at my father's feet.' (For those who brought back word of the
battle did not know that Finn and his companions were freed, though still lacking all their strength.)

So Borba gathered the boldest and best of his warriors and set out, and came to the ford.

Dearmid and Fotla saw them coming, a black, spear-barbed mass of warriors behind their shields, and felt the ground shake as they drew near, and knew that sorely out-numbered as they had been before, never until now had such a war host as this come down to the ford. And Dearmid spake quickly to young Fotla beside him: ‘Now is the time for cunning and wariness more than for valour. When they try to rush us, do not be troubling too much to kill, but to keep yourself in one piece behind your shield, for the longer we can hold them in weapon-play, the more chance we have of victory, with the sky already bright in the East, and Finn himself coming to our aid with the sunrise!'

So the two champions fought a waiting fight there at the ford, crouched behind their battered shields, against the dark wave of warriors that crashed upon them. Sometimes they slew, but more often they parried, and never did they yield back a toe's length of ground.

The sky grew light, and lighter yet, and at last the sun rose clear of the hills, and like an old cloak, the spell-cast weakness fell from the men who waited among the quicken trees. ‘Now!' cried Finn, and they drew their weapons and sprang up like the sun, and ran for the ford, while the swiftest among them set off like the March wind to take the call for help to Oisĩn at Knockfierna.

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.