VI. THE MARCH OF THE HOST
Joseph Dunn translation
W. 472. Medb perceived this and she upbraided him for it, and chanted the lay:—
Medb:
"Fergus, speak, what shall we say? What may mean this devious way? For we wander north and south; Over other lands we stray!"
Fergus:
"Medb, why art thou so perturbed? There's no treacherous purpose here. Ulster's land it is, O queen, Over which I've led thy host!"
Medb:
"Ailill, splendid with his hosts,
Thou hast not bent all thy mind
To direct us on our way!"
Fergus:
"Not to bring the host to harm
Make these changing circuits I.
Haply could I now avoid
Medb:
"Ill of thee to wrong our host, Fergus, son of Ross the Red; Much good hast thou found with us, Fergus, in thy banishment!"
No more shalt thou lead our troops;
Haply someone else we'll find
To direct us on our way!2"
"I will be in the van of the troops no longer," cried Fergus; "but do thou find another to go before them." For all that, Fergus kept his place in the van of the troops.
Fergus:
"Well for ye to heed and watch, With array of arms and men. He will come, the one we fear, Murthemne's great, deedful youth!"
Medb:LL. fo. 58a.
"How so dear, this battle-rede, Comes from thee, * Roig's son most bold. Men and arms have I enough To attend Cuchulain here!"
Fergus:
"Thou shalt need them, Medb of Ai,
Men and arms for battle hard,
All the night and all the day!"
Medb:
"I have kept here in reserve Heroes fit for fight and spoil; Thirty hundred hostage-chiefs, Leinster's bravest champions they. Fighting men from Cruachan fair, Braves from clear-streamed Luachair, Four full realms of goodly Gaels Will defend me from this man!"
Fergus:
"Rich in troops from Mourne and Bann, Blood he'll draw o'er shafts of spears; He will cast to mire and sand These three thousand Leinstermen. With the swallow's swiftest speed, With the rush of biting wind, So bounds on my dear brave Hound, Breathing slaughter on his foes!"
Medb:
"Fergus, should he come 'tween us, To Cuchulain bear this word: He were prudent to stay still; Cruachan holds a check in store."
Fergus:
"Valiant will the slaughter be
For the Blacksmith's Hound will spill
Showers of blood on hosts of men!"
"Grant ye have not heard till now,
Giving ear to Dubthach's fray:
Dire-black war upon ye waits,
War for Murthemne to wage.
"Turfy Cron will hold them back, Keep them back from Murthemne,5 9Till the warriors' work is done On Ochainè's northern mount!
"'Quick,' to Cormac, Ailill cries; 'Go and seek ye out your son, Loose no cattle from the fields, Lest the din of the host reach them!'
"Battle they'll have here eftsoon,
Medb and one third of the host.
Corpses will be scattered wide
"What bespeaks this withe to us, What purports its secret rede? And what number cast it here, Was it one man or a host?
"If ye go past here this night,
On ye'll come the tear-flesh Hound;
Yours the blame, if ye it scorn!
If ye go your way past this.
Find, ye druids, find out here,
For what cause this withe was made!"
"Cut by hero, cast by chief, As a perfect trap for foes. Stayer of lords—with hosts of men— One man cast it with one hand!
"With fierce rage the battle 'gins
Bound to meet this madman's rage;
This the name that's on the withe!
Else they break the law of war—
Let some one man of ye cast,
As one man this withe did cast!2
"Woes to bring with hundred fights On four realms of Erin's land; Naught I know 'less it be this For what cause the withe was made!"
Thereupon the hosts advanced, and as they went they felled the wood with their swords before their chariots, so that Slechta ('the Hewn Road') is still the by-name of that place where is Partraige Beca ('the Lesser Partry') south-west of Cenannas na Rig ('Kells of the Kings') near Cul Sibrille.
W. 719.
"Grenca's ford shall change its name, From the strong and fierce Hound's deed. Here we see a four-pronged fork, Set to prove all Erin's men! "On two points—as sign of war— Are Fraech's head and Fochnam's head; On its other points are thrust Err's head and Innell's withal! "And yon ogam on its side, Find, ye druids, in due form, Who has set it upright there? What host drove it in the ground?"
(A druid answers:)
"Yon forked pole—with fearful strength— Which thou seest, Fergus, there, One man cut, to welcome us, With one perfect stroke of sword!
"Pointed it and shouldered it— Though this was no light exploit— After that he flung it down, To uproot for one of you!
"Grenca was its name till now—
All will keep its memory—
From the fork that's in the ford!"
After the lay, spake Ailill: "I marvel and wonder, O Fergus, who could have sharpened the fork and slain with such speed the four that had gone out before us." "Fitter it were to marvel and wonder at him who with a single stroke lopped the fork which thou seest, root and top, pointed and charred it and flung it the length of a throw from the hinder part of his chariot, from the tip of a single hand, so that it sank over two-thirds into the ground and that naught save one-third is above; nor was a hole first dug with his sword, but through a grey stone's flag it was thrust, and thus it is geis for the men of Erin to proceed to the bed of this ford till one of ye pull out the fork with the tip of one hand, even as he erewhile drove it down."
"Here behold the famous fork, By which cruel Cuchulain stood. Here he left, for hurt to all, Four heads of his border-foes!
"Surely he'd not flee therefrom,
'Fore aught man, how brave or bold.
On its hard rind there is gore!
"To its hurt the host goes east,
Seeking Cualnge's wild Brown bull.
'Neath Cuchulain's baneful sword!
For which sharp-armed war will rage;
At the fall of each head's skull
Erin's every tribe shall weep!
"I have nothing to relate
Men and women hear the tale
Of this fork, how it came here!"
"I ask, then, whether Eogan son of Durthacht, King of Fernmag, would have come?" "In sooth, it is not likely. For, had he come hither, the pick of the men of Fernmag would have come with him, battle he would give them, before him they would break, and it is not he that would be routed."
"I ask, then: Who would be likely to have come to us? Is it likely that he would have come, Celtchai son of Uthechar?" "No more is it likely that it was he. A shame it would be to make light of him in his absence, him the battle-stone for the foes of the province, the head of all the retainers and the gate-of-battle of Ulster. And even should there be against him in one place and one mass and one march and one camp, and on one and the same hill all the men of Erin from the west to the east, from the south to the north, battle he would give them, before him they would break and it is not he that would be routed."