The Boyhood Deeds of Cú Chulainn

I The Road to Emain

In the war for the Brown Bull of Cúailnge, when the armies of Medb and Ailill marched on Ulster, the men of Ulster lay helpless in their old weakness, the curse of Macha: all of them but Cú Chulainn and his father. ¹

At a ford the army came on a forked branch, cut with a single stroke of a sword and set in the middle of the stream, so that no chariot could pass it. On its four points were four heads. That ford is Áth Gabla, the Ford of the Fork.

What kind of man, Ailill asked, is this Hound we hear of among the Ulstermen? How old is he?

Seventeen, said Fergus, who had known him as a child at Emain. And you will not find his like among them.

He has the one body, said Medb. He can be wounded. He can be taken.

It would be no wonder if he did great things today, said Fergus, when even as a small boy his deeds were a man’s. And he told them.

He was reared by his mother and father in Mag Muirthemne, and the stories came to him there of the boys at Emain Macha: three fifties of them, at their games on the king’s play-field. He asked his mother to let him go.

Not until you have warriors of Ulster to go with you, she said.

That’s too long to wait. Which way is it?

North, said his mother, and it’s a hard road. Sliabh Fuaid is between you.

I’ll find it, he said, and he went, with his little shield of lath, his toy spear, his hurley and his ball. All the way he threw the spear ahead of him, and ran, and caught it by the point before the butt could touch the ground.

So he came to the play-field at Emain and walked straight in among the boys. No one ever set foot on that field without first asking the boys for their protection.

He did not know that.

II The Boy-Troop

He insults us, said Follomon, Conchobar’s son, who led the boys. Throw at him!

Three fifties of toy spears flew at him, and every one stuck in his shield of lath. Then came all their balls, and he caught each one against his chest. Then three fifties of hurleys, and he beat them away so that not one touched him, and gathered up a bundle of them on his back.

Then the ríastrad came on him, the distortion. Every hair on his head stood as if it had been hammered in, with a spark of fire on each one. One eye shrank as small as the eye of a needle; the other opened as wide as the mouth of a mead-cup. His jaw was laid bare to the ear, and his mouth gaped until you could see down his throat, and the hero’s light rose from the crown of his head. ²

Then he went for them. He laid fifty of them low before they reached the door of Emain. Nine ran past the place where Conchobar and I sat at our game of fidchell, said Fergus, and the boy sprang over the board after them.

Conchobar caught him by the arm. That’s hard treatment for the boys, he said.

I have the right, said the boy. I came from my mother and father to play with them, and they have not been good to me.

What is your name?

I am Sétanta mac Sualtaim, and your sister Deichtine is my mother.

Why didn’t you ask the boys for their protection?

I didn’t know. Take me under yours, then, against them.

Conchobar agreed. At once the boy turned and went after the boys again, all through the king’s house. What do you want with them now? said the king.

That they come under my protection.

That was agreed too. Out on the play-field the fallen boys got to their feet, their foster-mothers and foster-fathers helping them.

His five years were not full when he did that, said Fergus. Is it any wonder that at seventeen he cuts four heads off at a ford? ³

III Culann’s Hound

Then another of the Ulstermen spoke, Conall Cernach. We know that boy, he said, and all the better for his being a fosterling of ours. It was not long after that he did another deed. ⁴

Culann the smith was making a feast for Conchobar, and he asked the king not to bring a crowd. He had no lands to feed them from, only the work of his own two hands and his tongs.

So Conchobar set out with fifty chariots of the noblest of his champions. On the way he turned aside to the play-field, as he always did coming and going, to be greeted by the boys, and there he saw Sétanta driving the ball against all three fifties of them, and beating them.

The king wondered at it. If this one lives to be a man, he asked, will his deeds grow with him? Everyone said they would. Come with me to the feast, the king told the boy. You’ll be a guest.

I haven’t had my fill of play yet, said Sétanta. I’ll come after you.

At Culann’s house the smith asked the king: Is anyone to follow you?

No one, said Conchobar.

Then I’ll loose my hound, said Culann, to keep the cattle and the stock, and we’ll shut the gate. It took three chains to hold that hound, with three men on every chain.

The boy came. The hound went for him. He threw aside his ball and his hurley and took the hound in his two hands, one at its throat and one at its back, and dashed it against the pillar-stone that stood beside him, so that every limb of it sprang apart.

The Ulstermen came pouring out to him, some over the wall and some through the gates of the court, and they set him on Conchobar’s knee.

IV The Hound of Culann

You are welcome, boy, said Culann, for your mother’s sake. But I wish I had never made this feast. My life is a life wasted now, and my household a household without its keeper. That hound was the man of my house. He kept my life and my honour. He guarded every beast I had, in the field and in the house.

That’s no great matter, said the boy. I’ll rear you a whelp of the same litter. And until it is grown and fit to work, I’ll be your hound myself. I’ll guard your cattle, and I’ll guard you, and I’ll guard all Mag Muirthemne, so that not a herd nor a beast is taken out of it.

Then your name will be Cú Chulainn, said Cathbad the druid. The hound of Culann.

I am content to have that name, said the boy. ⁵

He did that in his seventh year, said Conall Cernach. Is it any wonder he does great deeds now, with his seventeen years complete?

V Famous and Short-Lived

Then a third Ulsterman spoke, Fiachu mac Fir Febe. He did another deed, he said.

Cathbad the druid was with his son, King Conchobar, and a hundred young men were about him learning druidry, for a hundred was the number he always taught. One of them asked what that day would be good for. Whoever takes arms today, said Cathbad, his name will be over Ireland forever, and the fame of his deeds will never end.

Cú Chulainn heard it. He went to Conchobar and asked for arms.

Who told you to ask? said the king.

My friend Cathbad.

Conchobar gave him arms, and the boy shook them and swung them about in the middle of the house, and they broke. Fifteen sets of arms were kept at Emain against the breaking of weapons and the arming of youths, and he broke every one. Then they gave him the king’s own. Those held. He brandished them, and blessed the king whose arms they were.

Cathbad came in. Is the boy taking arms? he asked.

He is, said Conchobar.

Then that is no luck for his mother’s son.

Wasn’t it you who told him to?

Not I, said Cathbad.

Why did you lie to me, you wild thing? the king asked the boy.

It was no lie, king of heroes, said Cú Chulainn. He taught it to his pupils this morning. I heard him south of Emain, and I came to you then.

The day is good, said Cathbad. Whoever takes arms today will be famous and renowned. But his life will be short.

A great wonder, said Cú Chulainn. If I am famous, I am content to be one day in the world. ⁶

VI As Far as the Road Goes

Another day a man asked the druids what that day was good for. Whoever goes up into a chariot today, said Cathbad, his name will be over Ireland forever.

So Cú Chulainn asked for a chariot. He set his hand between the two shafts, and the chariot broke. He broke twelve that way. Then they gave him Conchobar’s own, and it held.

Conchobar’s charioteer, Ibor, turned the horses and told him to get out. The horses are fine, said the boy, and so am I. Just take me round Emain. So round Emain they went, and past the play-field so that the boys could bless him, and then he begged Ibor out onto the road. Put the goad to them, he said.

Which way? said Ibor.

As far as the road goes.

It took them to Sliabh Fuaid, where Conall Cernach was keeping watch. The champions of Ulster took their turns there to guard the province, to protect anyone who came with poetry and to fight anyone who came to fight, so that no one reached Emain unseen. Conall wished the boy victory and triumph.

Go home to the fort now, Conall, said Cú Chulainn, and leave the watch to me.

For a poet you might do, said Conall. For a fighting man, it’s early for you yet.

So the boy put a stone in his sling and broke the pole of Conall’s chariot. Why did you do that? said Conall. To try my hand, said the boy, and the straightness of my throw. Go back to Emain, friend Conall. Content, then, said Conall, and from that place he went no further.

They drove on to another mountain with a white cairn on its top, and the whole plain of Breg lay open below them. Ibor named every fort in it between Tara and Kells, every meadow and ford and famous place. Last he showed him the fort of the three sons of Nechta Scéne, who boasted that there were not more Ulstermen alive than they had killed.

We’ll go there, said Cú Chulainn.

That’s danger for us, said Ibor.

It’s not to keep out of it that we go.

VII The Sons of Nechta Scéne

They unyoked the horses where the bog met the river, above the fort. A pillar-stone stood there with a ring of withe about it. Cú Chulainn took off the ring and threw it as far as he could into the river, and let the stream carry it away; and that was a breach of geis for the sons of Nechta Scéne. ⁷

Then he lay down by the pillar to sleep. Don’t wake me for a few, he told Ibor. Wake me for many.

The sons came out. Who’s that there? said one.

A little boy, said Ibor, out in a chariot for the first time today.

I’m no little boy at all, said Cú Chulainn. The boy who is here has come looking for a fight with a man.

That pleases me, said the first of the brothers.

It will please you in the ford there, said Cú Chulainn.

Mind this one, said Ibor. That’s Foill. If you don’t reach him with the first thrust, you won’t reach him before evening.

I swear by the god my people swear by, said Cú Chulainn, he’ll try his skill on the Ulstermen no more, once my friend Conchobar’s broad spear leaves my hand. ⁸ He threw it, and it broke Foill’s back, and he took the head.

Mind the next, said Ibor. That’s Fandall. He goes over the water no heavier than a swan or a swallow.

You’ve seen how I cross the pool at Emain, said Cú Chulainn. They met in the ford, and he killed him and took his head.

Mind the third, said Ibor. That’s Tuachell. No weapon has ever brought him down.

Here’s the javelin for him, then, said Cú Chulainn, to make a red sieve of him. He threw, and it went home, and he went in and cut off the head.

Behind them rose a cry: their mother, Nechta Scéne.

Cú Chulainn heaped the three heads and the spoils into the chariot. I won’t let go of my triumph, he said, till I reach Emain Macha.

VIII The Return to Emain

You promised me a good run, the boy told Ibor, and we need it now, with a pursuit behind us. Back they went, so fast that the horses overtook the wind and the birds, and Cú Chulainn could sling a stone and catch it again before it fell.

At Sliabh Fuaid they came on a herd of wild deer. Which would the Ulstermen think more of, said the boy, dead or alive?

Alive, said Ibor. Anyone can bring one dead. You can’t bring one alive.

I can. Drive into the bog. The horses stuck fast, and he leapt down and caught the nearest deer, the finest of them, and bound it between the shafts.

Then a flock of swans went over. He brought down eight with a small stone from his sling, then twelve with a big one. Ibor was afraid to climb down past the wild horses and the antlers to gather them, until the boy swore by the god the Ulstermen swear by that one look from him would hold the deer. It held.

That was how he came to Emain Macha: the wild deer behind the chariot, the white swans flying over it, and the three heads inside.

A man in a chariot is coming, cried the watchman in Emain, and he will spill the blood of everyone in the court unless heed is taken. The boy turned the left side of his chariot towards Emain, and that was geis there, a thing forbidden. Unless a man is found to fight me, he swore, I will spill the blood of everyone in this fort.

Send the women out to him naked, said Conchobar.

So the women of Emain went out, with Mugain, Conchobar’s wife, at their head, and bared their breasts to him. These are the warriors who will meet you today, said Mugain.

The boy hid his face. Then the warriors of Emain seized him and put him into a vat of cold water, and the vat burst round him. They put him into a second, and it boiled up in bubbles as big as your fist. The third he only warmed, until it was neither too hot nor too cold.

Then he came out, and Queen Mugain put a blue cloak on him with a silver brooch in it, and a hooded tunic, and he sat at Conchobar’s knee. That was his place ever after.

He did all this in his seventh year, said Fiachu. Is it any wonder he can rout an army now, with his seventeen years complete?