The Hound of Ulster Read Free

remaining months, for one soft autumn day with the colours of the world all rich and dark as though the bloom of bilberries were on them, he came up from spear practice, and passed close by the thicket of ancient hazels that dropped their nuts into the water above the ford of the stream. And under the hazel trees, Cathbad sat with some of the Boys’ Band about him, propounding to them the laws of their people—for it was his task to teach them such things, together with star wisdom and the art of cutting the Ogham word signs on willow rods. The lesson was over, but as Cuchulain came splashing through the ford, there was laughter and a dappling of eager voices, for the boys, who were all of them near their time for becoming men, were trying to coax him into foretelling to them what days would be most fortunate for Taking Valour, for Cathbad was wise in other things than law and writing.
    â€˜I am tired. I have told enough,’ Cathbad said.
    â€˜Of law, yes,’ the others chorused, ‘but this is another thing.’ And one of them, Cormac Coilinglass, the second son of the King, leaned forward with his arms across his knees and grinned at him. ‘If you give us a day under good stars for ourstarting out, shall we not be like to do you the more credit among men, master dear?’
    Cathbad smiled into his long beard that was still streaked with gold, though the hair of his head was white as a swan’s wing; but under his white brows was a frown. ‘Children, children you are, seeking to make the old man prance for you like a juggler with apples and silver cups. This much I will do, and no more. I will tell you what fortune lies upon this day, waiting for any boy who Takes Valour on it,’ and he smoothed a space on the bare earth before him, and shook red and white sand upon it from two horns at his girdle, and began with his long forefinger to trace in the sand the strange curved lines of divination, while Cuchulain his grandson checked and stood watching with his hand on the trunk of the nearest hazel tree. Cathbad was scarcely aware of him, as he stooped frowning over the patterns in the sand, for he never put forth the least part of his power without giving to it his whole self, as though the fate of all Ireland hung upon what he did. He drew more lines and studied them, frowning still, while the boys crowded closer, half of them breathing down his neck, then he brushed all smooth again, and looked up, slowly, pressing his hands across his eyes, as though he would brush away the things that he had seen. ‘The boy who takes up the spear and shield of manhood on this day will become the greatest and most renowned of all the warriors of Ireland, men will follow at his call to the world’s end, and his enemies will shudder at the thunder of his chariot wheels, and the harpers shall sing of him while green Ireland yet rises above the sea; but his flowering-time shall be brief as that of the white bell-bine, opening in the morning and drooping before night. For he shall not live to count one grey hair at his temples . . . I can see no more.’
    Cuchulain turned away from the hazel thicket where thenuts fell splashing into the water above the ford, and set himself to the steep heathery slope that was crowned by the turf and timber ramparts and the great gate of Emain Macha. Once within the gates, he went in search of Conor the King, and found him just back from the hunting, sitting at ease on the bench before the Great Hall, with his legs stretched out before him, and his favourite hounds at his knee.
    Cuchulain went and stood before him, and Conor, who was at peace with the world after his day’s hunting, looked up and said, ‘Well now, and what will you be wanting, standing there so big and fierce, with your shadow darkening the sun?’
    â€˜My Lord the King, I come to claim the weapons of my manhood today. I have learned all that the Boys’ House teaches, and now I