Early Irish Myths and Sagas - Jeffrey Gantz [38]
‘I saw a man in an ornamented apartment,’ said Ingcél, ‘and he is the handsomest of the heroes of Ériu. He had a fleecy crimson cloak about him. As bright as snow one cheek, as speckled red as foxglove the other; as blue as hyacinth one eye, as black as a beetle’s back the other. His fair, yellow hair would fill a reaping basket, and it was as fleecy as the wool of a ram. If a sackful of red nuts were emptied over his hand, not a single nut would reach the ground. In his hands, a gold-hilted sword, a blood-red shield studded with rivets of white gold and gold plates, and a long, three-ridged spear with a shaft the thickness of an outer yoke. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’
‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain, ‘for the men of Ériu know that child. He is Conall Cernach son of Amorgen, and just now he has fallen in with Conare, for Conare loves him above all others, and that because the two are so similar in shape and form. A good warrior Conall Cernach. The blood-red shield on his back is so studded with rivets of white gold that it is speckled, and thus the Ulaid have named it the Bricriu of Conall Cernach. I swear by what my people swear by, many a drop of red blood will splatter that shield tonight at the entrance to the hostel. There are seven entrances to the house, and Conall Cernach will meet us at each one, and he will not be absent from any; and his ridged spear will serve the drink of death to many. Three hundred will fall by him at the first onslaught, and a man for each weapon, and a man for himself, and he will match the performance of any man in the hostel; he will boast of victories over kings and royal heirs and plundering chieftains, and, though wounded, he will escape afterwards. When he encounters you in the hostel, as numerous as hailstones or blades of grass or stars in the sky will be your cloven heads and cloven skulls and heaps of entrails that he crushes after he has scattered you about the ridges.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this destruction,’ said Lomnae Drúth. ‘You do not rule me,’ said Ingcél. ‘Clouds of blood will come to you.’ ‘After that, what did you see?’ asked Lomnae Drúth.
‘I saw an apartment, the most beautifully decorated one in the house, with hangings and ornaments of silver, and three men in it,’ said Ingcél. ‘The men on either Side were fair with their flaxen hair and their cloaks; they were as white as snow, and their cheeks blushed pleasingly. Between them a callow youth with the ardour and deeds of a lord and the advice of a seer. The cloak he wore was like mist on the first day of summer: its colour and appearance changed from moment to moment, and each colour was lovelier than the one before. Moreover, there was a wheel of gold over the front of the cloak, and it reached from his chin to his navel. His hair was the colour of refined gold. Of all the forms I have seen in the world, his is the most beautiful. At his Side, there was a gold-hilted sword; a hand’s length of it was visible, and the light reflected from that part of the sword would enable a man out in front of the house to discern a fleshworm. Sweeter the music of that sword than the sweet sound of the golden pipes that drone in the royal house.
‘This is what I said upon seeing him,’ Ingcél continued. ‘ “I see a lofty, noble reign, and a noisy flowering that blooms with an abundant spring tide. A furious ardour of fair forms is assembled. I see a noble, restrained king who rules by right and by consent, from partition to wall. I see the diadem of a fair prince, proper to the dignity of a ruling lord. A gleam of light his lordly countenance. I see his two shining cheeks, as white and glistening and noble-hued as snow. His two eyes are blue grey and