Gods and Fighting Men by Lady I. A Gregory (novels in english TXT) 📖
- Author: Lady I. A Gregory
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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,
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