Celtic Tales of Enchantment

Celtic Tales of Enchantment Read Free

Book: Celtic Tales of Enchantment Read Free
Author: Liam Mac Uistin
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news, Fionn looked startled. ‘This is very serious,’ he said, ‘I am under a geas never to stay in a quicken tree palace with only one door. It means great danger. Let us rise and break our way out through the walls.’
    But as he and the others tried to get up, the couches under them vanished and they fell heavily to the ground, where they were stuck fast. Conán grabbed his spear and, planting it on the floor, tried to lever himself upright. But he remained fixed where he was. He tried again, leaning all his weight on the shaft of the spear. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, his arms and shoulders ached with effort, and suddenly he lost his grip on his spear. He plunged headfirst to the floor, and when he tried to straighten up, found that he was fixed by the top of his head to the cold clay.
    ‘Help me!’ he cried out to his brother.
    ‘How can I help? I can’t move either,’ Goll replied. ‘Your suspicions were well-founded, Conán. There is no doubt that Miodhach is behind this treachery.’
    He looked across at Fionn. ‘Place your thumb in your mouth so that we may know the extent of the trouble we are in.’ Fionn had acquired the power to foretell events in this way when he burnt his thumb on the salmon of knowledge, caught in the sacred waters of the River Boyne.
    Fionn put his thumb in his mouth for several seconds, then withdrew it, looking very troubled. ‘We are all in mortal danger. I can see no escape from Miodhach’s terrible trap.’
    ‘What does he intend to do to us?’ Goll asked.
    ‘He plans to kill us all,’ Fionn replied. ‘He has brought many Lochlannachs to this part of Ireland. They are commanded by Sinsear of the Battles, he who calls himself King of the World. With him are eighteen other kings and princes, and eighteen battalions of warriors. When they have disposed of us they will go after the High King and claim power over this land.’
    Fionn glanced grimly at his comrades. ‘There are three thousand men in each battalion,’ he said ominously.
    Goll shook his head. ‘Then we are hopelessly outnumbered.’
    ‘And while we are stuck to the ground like this, we can’t even make a decent fight,’ his brother added.
    ‘Miodhach got the three kings of the Island of the Torrent to use their magical powers to cast a spell on us,’ Fionn explained. ‘They brought over clay from that enchanted island and placed it on the floor of this palace. It is that which keeps us stuck to the ground. The only way the spell can be broken is by spilling the blood of those same three kings on the clay.’
    The others groaned loudly. It seemed hopeless. Fionn raised his hand. ‘Lamentation will not help us,’ he said. ‘It is better that we should sound the Dord Fianna. Some of our comrades may hear us and come to our aid.’ The Dord Fianna was a musical war-cry which the Fianna used in times of battle or danger.
    So Fionn and his comrades began to sound the Dord Fianna in a last desperate attempt to escape death at the hands of their enemies.

    Oisín was getting worried. ‘My father has been gone for hours. I wonder why he sent no messenger to us as he promised,’ he said anxiously. ‘Someone will have to go to the palace and find out what has happened.’
    ‘I’ll go,’ volunteered Fionn’s youngest son, Fiachna.
    ‘And I will go with you,’ said Inse Mac Suibhne, who was Fionn’s foster-son.
    They hurried away. As they approached the palace they heard the humming sound of the Dord Fianna.
    ‘Things must be well with them if they are making music,’ Inse observed.
    Fiachna listened, then shook his head. ‘When the Dord Fianna is sounded so slowly and sadly, it usually means danger.’
    There was a lull in the Dord and Fionn heard the voices outside. ‘Is that Fiachna,’ he called out.
    ‘Yes,’ Fiachna replied. ‘And Inse is here too.’
    ‘Do not come any closer,’ Fionn warned. ‘Miodhach has betrayed us. This palace is full of spells and we are stuck to the

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