Chapter XVI

The Champion’s Covenant.

§ 91. Once upon a time as the Ultonians were in Emain, fatigued after
the gathering and the games, Conchobar and Fergus mac Rôig, with
Ultonia’s nobles as well, proceeded from the sporting field outside and
gat seated in the Royal Court (lit. Red Branch) of Conchobar. Neither
Cuchulainn nor Conall the Victorious nor Loigaire the Triumphant were
there that night. But the hosts of Ultonia’s valiant heroes were there. As
they were seated, it being eventide, and the day drawing towards the
close, they saw a big uncouth fellow of exceeding ugliness drawing nigh
them into the hall. To them it seemed as if none of the Ultonians would
reach half his height. Horrible and ugly was the carle’s guise. Next his
skin he wore an old hide with a dark dun mantle around him, and over
him a great spreading club-tree (branch) the size of a winter-shed, under
which thirty bullocks could find shelter. Ravenous yellow eyes he had,
protruding from his head, each of the twain the size of an ox-vat. Each
finger as thick as another person’s wrist. In his left hand a stock, a
burden for twenty yoke of oxen. In his right hand an axe weighing thrice
fifty glowing molten masses [of metal]. Its handle would require a
plough-team (a yoke of six) to move it. Its sharpness such that it would
lop off hairs, the wind blowing them against its edge.
§ 92. In that guise he went and stood by the fork-beam beside the
fire. “Is the hall lacking in room for you,” quoth Duach of the Chafer
Tongue to the uncouth clodhopper, “that ye find no other place than by
the fork-beam, unless ye wish to be domestic luminary?—only sooner
will a blaze be to the house than brightness to the household.” “What
property soever may be mine, sooth ye will agree, no matter how big I
am, that the household as a whole will be enlightened, while the hall will
not be burnt.
§ 93. “That, however, is not my sole function; I have others as well.
But neither in Erin nor in Alba nor in Europe nor in Africa nor in Asia,
including Greece, Scythia, the Isles of Gades, the Pillars of Hercules, and
Bregon’s Tower (Brigantium), have I found the quest on which I have
come, nor a man to do me fairplay regarding it. Since ye Ultonians have
excelled all the folks of those lands in strength, prowess, valour; in rank,
magnanimity, dignity; in truth, generosity and worth, get ye one among
you to give me the boon I crave.”
§ 94. “In sooth it is not just that the honour of a province be carried
off,” quoth Fergus mac Rôich, “because of one man who fails in keeping
his word of honour. Death, certainly, is not a whit nearer to him than to
you.” “Not that I shun it,” quoth he. “Make thy quest known to us then,”
quoth Fergus mac Rôich. “If but fairplay be vouchsafed me, I will tell it.”
“It is right also to give fairplay,” quoth Sencha, son of Ailill, “for it
beseemeth not a great clannish folk to break a mutual covenant over any
unknown individual. To us too it seemeth likely, if at long last you find
such a person, you will find here one worthy of you.” “Conchobar I put
aside,” he quoth, “for sake of his sovranty, and Fergus mac Rôich also on
account of his like privilege. These two excepted, come whosoever of you
that may venture, that I may ^[23]
cut off his head to-night, he mine
to-morrow night.”
§ 95. “Sure then there is no warrior here,” quoth Duach, “after these
two.” “By my troth there will be this moment,” quoth Fat-Neck, son of
Short Head, as he sprang on to the floor of the hall. The strength then of
yon Fat Neck was as the strength of a hundred warriors, each arm
having the might of a hundred “centaurs.” “Bend down, bachlach,”
quoth Fat-Neck, “that I may cut your head off to night, you to cut off
mine to-morrow night.” “Were that my quest, I could have got it
anywhere,” quoth the bachlach. “Let us act according to our covenant,”
he quoth, “I to cut off your head to-night, you to avenge it to morrow
night.” “By my people’s god,” quoth Duach of the Chafer Tongue, “death
is thus for thee no pleasant prospect should the man killed to-night attack
thee on the morrow. ^[24] It is given to you alone if you have the power,
being killed night after night (lit. to be killed every night), to avenge it
next day.” “Truly I will carry out what you all as a body agree upon by
way of counsel,^[25] strange as it may seem to you,” quoth the bachlach. He
then pledged the other to keep his troth in this contention as to fulfilling
his tryst on the morrow.
§ 96. With that Fat-Neck took the axe from out of the bachlach’s hand.
Seven feet apart were its two angles. Then did the bachlach put his neck
across the block. Fat-Neck dealt a blow across it with the axe till it stuck
in the block underneath, cutting off the head till it lay by the base of the
fork-beam, the house being filled with the blood. Straightway the
bachlach rose, recovered himself, clasped his head, block and axe to his
breast, thus made his exit from the hall with blood streaming from his
neck. It filled the Red Branch on every side. Great was the folk’s horror,
wondering at the marvel that had appeared to them. “By my people’s
god,” quoth Duach of the Chafer Tongue, “if the bachlach, having been
killed to-night, come back tomorrow, he will not leave a man alive in
Ultonia.” The following night, however, he returned, and Fat-Neck
shirked him. Then began the bachlach to urge his pact with Fat-Neck.
“Sooth it is not right for Fat-Neck not to fulfil his covenant with me.”
§ 97. That night, however, Loigaire the Triumphant was present.
“Who of the warriors that contest Ultonia’s Champion’s Portion will
carry out a covenant to-night with me? Where is Loigaire the
Triumphant?” quoth he. “Here,” said Loigaire. He pledged him too, yet
Loigaire kept not his tryst. The bachlach returned on the morrow and
similarly pledged Conall Cernach, who came not as he had sworn.
§ 98. The fourth night the bachlach returned, and fierce and furious
was he. All the ladies of Ultonia came that night to see the strange
marvel that had come into the Red Branch. That night Cuchulainn was
there also. Then the fellow began to upbraid them. “Ye men of Ultonia,
your valour and your prowess are gone. Your warriors greatly covet the
Champion’s Portion, yet are unable to contest it. Where is yon poor mad
wight that is hight Cuchulainn? Fain would I know if his word be better
than the others’.” “No covenant do I desire with you,” quoth Cuchulainn.
“Likely is that, you wretched fly;^[26] greatly thou dost fear to die.”
Whereupon Cuchulainn sprang towards him and dealt him a blow with
the axe, hurling his head to the top rafter of the Red Branch till the whole
hall shook. Cuchulainn again caught up the head and gave it a blow with
the axe and smashed it. Thereafter the bachlach rose up.
§ 99. On the morrow the Ultonians were watching Cuchulainn to see
whether he would shirk the bachlach as the other heroes had done. As
Cuchulainn was awaiting the bachlach, they saw that great dejection
seized him. It had been fitting had they sung his dirge. They felt sure his
life would last only till the bachlach came. Then quoth Cuchulainn with
shame to Conchobar:^[27]
“Thou shall not go until my pledge to the
bachlach is fulfilled; for death awaits me, and I would rather have death
with honour.”
§ 100. They were there as the day was closing when they saw the
bachlach approaching. “Where is Cuchulainn?” he quoth. “Here am I,” he
answered. “You’re dull of speech to-night, unhappy one; greatly you fear
to die. Yet, though great your fear, death you have not shirked.”
Thereafter Cuchulainn went up to him and stretched his neck across the
block, which was of such size that his neck reached but half-way. “Stretch
out your neck, you wretch,” the bachlach quoth. “You keep me in
torment,” quoth Cuchulainn. “Despatch me quickly; last night, by my
troth, I tormented you not. Verily I swear if you torment me, I shall
make myself as long as a crane above you.” “I cannot slay you,” quoth
the bachlach, “what with the size of the block and the shortness of your
neck and of your side” (sic!).
§ 101. Then Cuchulainn stretched out his neck so that a warrior’s
full-grown foot would have fitted between any two of his ribs; his neck
he distended till it reached the other side of the block. The bachlach
raised his axe till it reached the roof-tree of the hall. The creaking of the
old hide that was about the fellow and the crashing of the axe—both his
arms being raised aloft with all his might—were as the loud noise of a
wood tempest-tossed in a night of storm. Down it came then ... on his
neck, its blunt side below,—all the nobles of Ultonia gazing upon them.
§ 102. “O Cuchulainn, arise! ... Of the warriors of Ultonia and Erin, no
matter their mettle, none is found to be compared with thee in valour,
bravery and truthfulness. The sovranty of the heroes of Erin to thee from
this hour forth and the Champion’s Portion undisputed, and to thy lady
the precedence alway of the ladies of Ultonia in the Mead Hall. And
whosoever shall lay wager against thee from now, as my folks swear I
swear, while on life he will be in [sore scathe].” Then the bachlach
vanished. It was Curoi mac Dairi who in that guise had come to fulfil the
promise he had given to Cuchulainn.

And the Ulster Women’s War of Words
And the Champion’s Wager in Emain
And the Hosting of the Ultonians
To Cruachan.