Early Irish Myths and Sagas - Jeffrey Gantz [108]
Underlying literature and history, of course, is myth, the familiar regeneration pattern of old king–goddess–young king: Conchubur–Derdriu–Noísiu. Derdriu passes from Conchubur to Noísiu and back to Conchubur; myth becomes history with Noísiu’s death, and yet it is at the threatened resumption of the pattern, with Eogan replacing Noísiu, that Derdriu kills herself. Cú Chulaind is notable by his absence; perhaps he arrived in the Ulster Cycle too late to play a major part (a small one being out of the question), or perhaps he simply never fitted in.
Although much of the tale is presented in verse, the poetry generally repeats and elaborates upon the narrative rather than adding to it. The tone is markedly less severe and more romantic than that of the prose, and the lines do not have the elegant simplicity and chaste beauty of those in ‘The Wasting Sickness of Cú Chulaind’. But subsequent versions of the story – and there are many – are less restrained still: Noísiu, Aindle and Arddán, having been captured, are executed with one blow of Eogan’s sword so that none will outlive the others; Derdriu seizes a knife and kills herself as soon as Noísiu is dead; the lovers are buried next to each other, and yews growing out of their graves intertwine. These later versions are not without their own appeal; yet it is the earliest (surviving) recension, from the Book of Leinster, that is translated here.
‘The Exile of the Sons of Uisliu’ is the inspiration (through intermediary translations and retellings) for Yeats’s play Deirdre, for Synge’s play Deirdre of the Sorrows and for James Stephens’s novel Deirdre.
The Exile of the sons of Uisliu
The Ulaid were drinking at the house of Fedilmid son of Dall, Conchubur’s storyteller, and Fedilmid’s wife was standing over them and serving, even though she was with child. Drinking horns and portions of food went round, and the house was filled with drunken shouting. When it came time to sleep, Fedilmid’s wife rose to go to her bed, but as she crossed the house the child in her womb screamed so that it was heard throughout the court. At that scream the men all rose, and they were standing chin to chin, but Senchae son of Ailill quieted them, saying ‘Do not disturb each other! Let the woman be brought to us that we might learn what caused that noise.’ So the woman was brought to them, and her husband asked her:
What is this violent noise that resounds,
that rages in your roaring womb?
The outcry between your two sides – mighty its sound –
crushes the ears of those who hear it.
My heart is terribly wounded:
a great fear has seized it.
Then Fedilmid’s wife spoke to Cathub, for he was a wise man:
Listen to Cathub, fair of face,
a handsome prince, great and powerful his crown,
exalted by his druid wisdom.
I myself do not have the white words
through which my husband might obtain
an answer to his question,
for, though it cried out in the cradle of my body,
no woman knows
what her womb bears.
And Cathub replied:
In the cradle of your womb there cried out
a woman with twisted yellow hair
and beautiful grey green eyes.
Foxglove her purple pink cheeks,
the colour of snow her flawless teeth,
brilliant her Parthian-red lips.
A woman over whom there will be great slaughter
among the chariot-warriors of Ulaid.
There screams in your roaring womb
a tall, beautiful, long-haired woman
whom champions will contest,
whom high kings will woo;
and to the west of Conchubur’s