Gods and Fighting Men, Lady I. A Gregory [best e books to read TXT] 📗

Angus. He put his hand

in his bag then, and took out three pieces of gold and gave them to him.

 

"Put these pieces of gold into the three bits you will give this evening

to Cridenbel," he said, "and they will be the best bits in the dish, and

the gold will turn within him the way he will die."

 

So in the evening the Dagda did that; and no sooner had Cridenbel

swallowed down the gold than he died. Some of the people said then to

the king: "The Dagda has killed Cridenbel, giving him some deadly herb."

The king believed that, and there was anger on him against the Dagda,

and he gave orders he should be put to death. But the Dagda said: "You

are not giving the right judgment of a prince." And he told all that had

happened, and how Cridenbel used to say, "Give me the three best bits

before you, for my own share is not good to-night." "And on this

night," he said, "the three pieces of gold were the best things before

me, and I gave them to him, and he died."

 

The king gave orders then to have the body cut open. And they found the

gold inside it, and they knew it was the truth the Dagda had told.

 

And Angus came to him again the next day, and he said: "Your work will

soon be done, and when you are given your wages, take nothing they may

offer you till the cattle of Ireland are brought before you, and choose

out a heifer then, black and black-maned, that I will tell you the signs

of."

 

So when the Dagda had brought his work to an end, and they asked him

what reward he wanted, he did as Angus had bidden him. And that seemed

folly to Bres; he thought the Dagda would have asked more than a heifer

of him.

 

There came a day at last when a poet came to look for hospitality at the

king's house, Corpre, son of Etain, poet of the Tuatha de Danaan. And it

is how he was treated, he was put in a little dark narrow house where

there was no fire, or furniture, or bed; and for a feast three small

cakes, and they dry, were brought to him on a little dish. When he rose

up on the morrow he was no way thankful, and as he was going across the

green, it is what he said: "Without food ready on a dish; without milk

enough for a calf to grow on; without shelter; without light in the

darkness of night; without enough to pay a story-teller; may that be the

prosperity of Bres."

 

And from that day there was no good luck with Bres, but it is going down

he was for ever after. And that was the first satire ever made in

Ireland.

 

Now as to Nuada: after his arm being struck off, he was in his sickness

for a while, and then Diancecht, the healer, made an arm of silver for

him, with movement in every finger of it, and put it on him. And from

that he was called Nuada Argat-lamh, of the Silver Hand, for ever after.

 

Now Miach, son of Diancecht, was a better hand at healing than his

father, and had done many things. He met a young man, having but one

eye, at Teamhair one time, and the young man said: "If you are a good

physician you will put an eye in the place of the eye I lost." "I could

put the eye of that cat in your lap in its place," said Miach. "I would

like that well," said the young man. So Miach put the cat's eye in his

head; but he would as soon have been without it after, for when he

wanted to sleep and take his rest, it is then the eye would start at the

squeaking of the mice, or the flight of the birds, or the movement of

the rushes; and when he was wanting to watch an army or a gathering, it

is then it was sure to be in a deep sleep.

 

And Miach was not satisfied with what his father had done to the king,

and he took Nuada's own hand that had been struck off, and brought it to

him and set it in its place, and he said: "Joint to joint, and sinew to

sinew." Three days and three nights he was with the king; the first day

he put the hand against his side, and the second day against his breast,

till it was covered with skin, and the third day he put bulrushes that

were blackened in the fire on it, and at the end of that time the king

was healed.

 

But Diancecht was vexed when he saw his son doing a better cure than

himself, and he threw his sword at his head, that it cut the flesh, but

the lad healed the wound by means of his skill. Then Diancecht threw it

a second time, that it reached the bone, but the lad was able to cure

the wound. Then he struck him the third time and the fourth, till he cut

out the brain, for he knew no physician could cure him after that blow;

and Miach died, and he buried him.

 

And herbs grew up from his grave, to the number of his joints and

sinews, three hundred and sixty-five. And Airmed, his sister, came and

spread out her cloak and laid out the herbs in it, according to their

virtue. But Diancecht saw her doing that, and he came and mixed up the

herbs, so that no one knows all their right powers to this day.

 

Then when the Tuatha de Danaan saw Nuada as well as he was before, they

gathered together to Teamhair, where Bres was, and they bade him give up

the kingship, for he had held it long enough. So he had to give it up,

though he was not very willing, and Nuada was put back in the kingship

again.

 

There was great vexation on Bres then, and he searched his mind to know

how could he be avenged on those that had put him out, and how he could

gather an army against them; and he went to his mother, Eri, daughter of

Delbaith, and bade her tell him what his race was.

 

"I know that well," she said; and she told him then that his father was

a king of the Fomor, Elathan, son of Dalbaech, and that he came to her

one time over a level sea in some great vessel that seemed to be of

silver, but she could not see its shape, and he himself having the

appearance of a young man with yellow hair, and his clothes sewed with

gold, and five rings of gold about his neck. And she that had refused

the love of all the young men of her own people, gave him her love, and

she cried when he left her. And he gave her a ring from his hand, and

bade her give it only to the man whose finger it would fit, and he went

away then the same way as he had come.

 

And she brought out the ring then to Bres, and he put it round his

middle finger, and it fitted him well. And they went then together to

the hill where she was the time she saw the silver vessel coming, and

down to the strand, and she and Bres and his people set out for the

country of the Fomor.

 

And when they came to that country they found a great plain with many

gatherings of people on it, and they went to the gathering that looked

the best, and the people asked where did they come from, and they said

they were come from Ireland. "Have you hounds with you?" they asked them

then, for it was the custom at that time, when strangers came to a

gathering, to give them some friendly challenge. "We have hounds," said

Bres. So the hounds were matched against one another, and the hounds of

the Tuatha de Danaan were better than the hounds of the Fomor. "Have you

horses for a race?" they asked then. "We have," said Bres. And the

horses of the Tuatha de Danaan beat the horses of the Fomor.

 

Then they asked was any one among them a good hand with the sword, and

they said Bres was the best. But when he put his hand to his sword,

Elathan, his father, that was among them, knew the ring, and he asked

who was this young man. Then his mother answered him and told the whole

story, and that Bres was his own son.

 

There was sorrow on his father then, and he said: "What was it drove you

out of the country you were king over?" And Bres said: "Nothing drove me

out but my own injustice and my own hardness; I took away their

treasures from the people, and their jewels, and their food itself. And

there were never taxes put on them before I was their king."

 

"That is bad," said his father; "it is of their prosperity you had a

right to think more than of your own kingship. And their good-will

would be better than their curses," he said; "and what is it you are

come to look for here?" "I am come to look for fighting men," said Bres,

"that I may take Ireland by force." "You have no right to get it by

injustice when you could not keep it by justice," said his father. "What

advice have you for me then?" said Bres.

 

And Elathan bade him go to the chief king of the Fomor, Balor of the

Evil Eye, to see what advice and what help would he give him.

 

BOOK TWO: LUGH OF THE LONG HAND. CHAPTER I. (THE COMING OF LUGH)

Now as to Nuada of the Silver Hand, he was holding a great feast at

Teamhair one time, after he was back in the kingship. And there were two

door-keepers at Teamhair, Gamal, son of Figal, and Camel, son of

Riagall. And a young man came to the door where one of them was, and

bade him bring him in to the king. "Who are you yourself?" said the

door-keeper. "I am Lugh, son of Cian of the Tuatha de Danaan, and of

Ethlinn, daughter of Balor, King of the Fomor," he said; "and I am

foster-son of Taillte, daughter of the King of the Great Plain, and of

Echaid the Rough, son of Duach." "What are you skilled in?" said the

door-keeper; "for no one without an art comes into Teamhair." "Question

me," said Lugh; "I am a carpenter." "We do not want you; we have a

carpenter ourselves, Luchtar, son of Luachaid." "Then I am a smith." "We

have a smith ourselves, Colum Cuaillemech of the Three New Ways." "Then

I am a champion." "That is no use to us; we have a champion before,

Ogma, brother to the king." "Question me again," he said; "I am a

harper." "That is no use to us; we have a harper ourselves, Abhean, son

of Bicelmos, that the Men of the Three Gods brought from the hills." "I

am-a poet," he said then, "and a teller of tales." "That is no use to

us; we have a teller of tales ourselves, Ere, son of Ethaman." "And I am

a magician." "That is no use to us; we have plenty of magicians and

people of power." "I am a physician," he said. "That is no use; we have

Diancecht-for our physician." "Let me be a cup-bearer," he said. "We do

not want you; we have nine cup-bearers ourselves." "I am a good worker

in brass." "We have a worker in brass ourselves, that is Credne Cerd."

 

Then Lugh said: "Go and ask the king if he has any one man that can do

all these things, and if he has,