Early Irish Myths and Sagas - Jeffrey Gantz [41]
‘I saw a strapping fellow before the same apartment in the centre of the house,’ said Ingcél. ‘A shameful haircut he had, and every hair on his head was as white as a mountain bog. Gold earrings on his ears, and a cloak of many colours about him; nine swords in his hands, and nine silver shields and nine apples of gold. He threw up the swords and shields and apples, and only one remained in his hand, but none fell to the ground, and their movement was like that of bees going past one another on a beautiful day. When I saw him, he was at his most splendid; but as I looked, everything fell to the floor, and a great clatter arose about him. The ruler said to the trickster, then, “We have known each other since I was a lad, and never before has that trick failed you.” “Alas, alas, fair popa Conare,” the trickster replied, “it was proper that this should happen, for a keen, baleful eye is staring at me. A man with three pupils is watching the passing of three companies, and his watching is nothing at all for him. Baleful that. A battle will be fought; it will be remembered until the day of Judgement, and there will be evil at the entrance to the hostel.” After that, he took his swords in hand, and his silver shields and his apples of gold, and everything fell on the floor again, and there was a great clatter. He put everything away, then, and abandoned his feat and said “Fer Calliu, rise now, do not permit the slaughter of your pig. Find out who is at the entrance to the house doing injury to the men of the hostel.” “Fer Cúailge, Fer Lé, Fer Gar, Fer Rogel and Fer Rogain are there,” said Fer Calliu. “They have announced a deed that was not expected, Conare’s forgiveness by the five sons of Dond Désa, his five beloved foster-brothers.” Explain that, Fer Rogain – who recited that poem?’
‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘That one was Tulchaíne, the royal fool of the king of Temuir, Conare’s trickster, a man of great power. Three nines will fall by him at the first onslaught, and he will match the performance of anyone in the hostel, and, though wounded, he will escape afterwards.’ ‘On his account alone, there should be no destruction. Happy the man who spares him,’ 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 nine men before the same apartment,’ said Ingcél. ‘Fair yellow manes they had, and short trousers and speckled red tunics and shields lest they be struck. A sword with an ivory hilt in the hand of each man, and anyone who entered the house would be struck with those swords. No one dared enter the house without their permission. Explain that, Fer Rogain.’
‘Not difficult that,’ said Fer Rogain. ‘Those are the three Mochmaitnechs of Mide, the three Búadeltachs of Brega and the three Sostachs of Slíab Fúait. Nine tens will fall by them at the first onslaught, and they will match the performance of anyone in the hostel, and, though wounded, they will escape afterwards.’ ‘Woe to him who carries out this destruction, if only because of those nine,’ 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 another apartment, with two men in it,’ said Ingcél. ‘Stout and strong they were, with short trousers, and they were dusky red; short hair at the back of their heads and long hair on top. Each was as quick as a mill wheel going past the other, the one going to the apartment,