How Ronan Slew His Son
A famous
king was over Leinster, even Ronan son of Aed. And Ethne
daughter of Cumascach son of Eogan of the Deisi of Munster
was by his side. She bore a son to him, Mael Fothartaig son
of Ronan, a son the most famous that ever came into
Leinster. In his honor all would rise at gatherings and
campings and games and fairs and fights and shooting
contests. He was the desire of all their maidens and the
darling of all their young women, Mael Fothartaig.
His mother died. For a long while Ronan was without a wife.
“Why do you not take a wife?” said his son. “You were
better with a wife by your side.”
“I am told,” said Ronan, “Eochaid, the king of Dunseverick
in the north, has a fair daughter.”
“Truly, you are not a mate for a girl,” said the youth.
“Will you not take a sedate woman? That would be more
fitting than a little skittish thing of a girl.”
It was impossible to hinder him. Ronan went and slept with
her in the north, and brought her home with him. But Mae!
Fothartaig went on a journey in the south of Leinster.
She came down from the north. “Where is your son, Ronan?”
said she; “I am told you have a good son.”
“I have indeed,” said Ronan, “a son the best there is in
Lein ster.”
“Then let him be summoned to me that he may receive me and
that he may receive my people and my treasures and my
jewels.”
“He shall come indeed,” said Ronan.
Then Mael Fothartaig came and made great welcome to her.
“You shall have love,” said the youth. “Whatever we shall
get of jewels and treasures for loving Ronan, it shall go
to you.”
“I am well pleased,” said she, “that you should act for my
advantage.”
A fair young woman was in attendance on her. The queen sent
her forthwith to Mael Fothartaig to solicit him, but the
young woman dared not give the message lest Mael Fothartaig
should kill her. Then the queen vowed to her that she would
strike off her head unless she spoke. MaeL Fothartaig was
playing a game of chess with his two foster-brothers, Dorm
and Congal, the two sons of his foster-father. They were
always about him. The young woman drew near them and began
playing chess with them. Then she attempted to give the
message but she dared not. She blushed, and the men noticed
it. Mael Fothartaig went away.
“What is it that you want to say?” Congal said to the
woman. “it is not I that want it,” said she, “but the
daughter of Eochaid would like to have Maci Fothartaig as a
lover.”
“Do not say it, woman,” said Congal. “You will be dead if
Mael Fothartaig hears it. However, I will deal with Maci
Foth artaig on your own behalf, if you wish it.”
The young woman told the queen: “I am well pleased,” said
she, “for you will dare to say the message if you lie with
him yourself. And you shall deal with him on my behalf
thereafter.”
It was done. The young woman slept with Mael Fothartaig.
“Well, now,” said the queen, “you still do not plead for me
with him. You would like better to have that man for
yourself alone. You shall die then by my hand.”
One day the young woman turned to Maci Fothartaig weeping.
“What ails you, woman?” said he.
“The daughter of Eochaid is threatening to kill me,” said
she, “for my not pleading with you that she may meet with
you.”
“A likely story!” said he. “It was not bad of you that you
have taken a safeguard. Woman,” he said, “if I were thrust
into a fiery coal-pit that would make ashes and dust of me
three times, I would not meet with the wife of Ronan,
though all should blame me for it. I will go away, to avoid
her.” Thereupon he went with fifty warriors into Scotland.
He found great welcome with the king of Scotland. He had
hounds for hares, hounds for boars, hounds for deer. Bur
Doilin and Daithlenn, two hounds of Mael Fotbaftaig, would
kill every quarry in turn before them. Every host that was
routed before the king of Scotland, and every fight that
was won, it was the doing of Mael Fothartaig.
“What is this, O Ronan?” said the men of Leinster. “Did you
send Mael Fothartaig out of the land? You shall die by us
unless be return.”
This news was brought to Mael Fothartaig, and he came back
from Scotland. This is where he chanced to come from the
east, to Dunseverick. Great welcome was made for him. “You
do wrong, Mael Fothartaig,” said Eochaid, “that you do not
go with our daughter. To you we gave her, and not to yon
old churl, Ronan.”
“Bad is that indeed,” said MaeI Fothartaig. He went to Lein
ster and they gave him a great welcome. The same young
woman slept with him. “I must have that man from you,” said
the daughter of Eochaid to her attendant, “or death upon
your head!”
The queen’s attendant told Mael Fothartaig. “What shall I
do in this matter, Congal?” said Mael Fothartaig.
“Give me a reward for it,” said Congal, “and I will keep
the woman off you so that she shall no longer think of
you.”
“You shall have my horse with its bridle, and my clothing,”
said Mael Fothartaig.
“Nought will I take,” said Congal, “save thy two hounds, so
that they shall be in my entire possession.”
“You shall have them,” said Mael-Fothartaig.
“Go then to-morrow,” said Congal, “and hunt at the ‘Cows of
Aife.’” The “Cows of Aife” are stones which are on the side
of the mountain. They are like white cows from afar. “Go
and hunt there. And the woman shall send her mistress to a
tryst with us, and I will put her from you.”
“It shall be done,” said her mistress to her.
It seemed long to her till morning. On the morrow they went
to the tryst, and saw Congal before them. “Whither away,
harlot?” he said. “You can be about no good walking about
alone, or about anything unless coming to a tryst with a
man. Go home,” he said, “and take a curse.” Congal went
with her to her house. And they saw her coming towards them
once more. “Is it thus,” said Congal, “you want to disgrace
the king of Leinster, you vile woman! If I see you again, I
shall take your head and put it on a stake before the face
of Ronan. A bad woman to disgrace him in ditches and brakes
going alone to meet a lad.” He laid a horse-whip on her and
left her in her house.
“I will spout a jet of blood in your face,” said she.
Ronan came home. Mael Fothartaig’s men came into the house
before him. He stayed alone outside hunting. “Where is Mael
Fothartaig to-night, Congal?” said Ronan.
“He is out doors,” said Congal.
“Woe is me, my son to be abroad alone, and the number to
whom he gives good things!”
“You have made us deaf with talking about your son,” said
his wife.
“It is right to talk of him,” said Ronan. “For there is not
in Ireland a son better apcording to the wish of his
father. For his jealousy on my behalf is the same both with
men and women at Ath Cliath and at Clar Daire Moir and at
Drochet Cairbri as if it were for his own soul, so that
there is ease for me and for you, woman,” said Ronan.
“Truly,” she said, “he shall not get from me the ease that
he wishes, even to meet with me to your dishonor. I shall
not be alive withstanding him any longer. Congal has taken
me to him three times since morning, so that I with
difficulty escaped from his hands.”
“Malediction on your lips, you bad woman!” said Ronan. “It
is false.”
“You will see a proof of it now,” said she. “I will sing
half a quatrain to see whether it will fit with what Mael
Fothartaig will sing.” He used to do this every night to
please her. He would sing one half quatrain, she would sing
the other half.
He came in then and was drying his shins at the fire, and
Congal by his side. His jester Mac Glass was at his games
on the floor of the house. Then Mael Fothartaig said, for
the day was cold:
It
is cold against the whirlwind
For any one herding the cows of Aife.
“Hear
this, Ronan,” said she. “Sing that again,” said she. It is
cold against the whirlwind
For any one herding the cows of Aife.
Said she:
It
is a vain herding,
With no kine, with no lover to meet.
(That is, “neither did I come, nor did you take the cows
with you.”)
“It is
true this time,” said Ronan. There was a warrior by Ronan’s
side, Aedan son of Fiachna Lara. “O Aedan,” said he, “a
spear into Mael Fothartaig, and another into Conga!!” When.
Mae! Fothartaig had turned his back to them by the fire,
Aedan planted the spear in him, so that he put its points
through him, as he was on his seat. As Conga! rose Aedan
thrust a spear into him, so that it passed through his
heart. The jester jumped up. Aedan sent a spear after him
so that t brought his bowels out.
“You have wrought enough on the men, O Aedan!” said Mael
Fothartaig from his seat.
“It was your luck,” said Ronan, “that you found no woman to
solicit but my wife.”
“Wretched is that falsehood, O Ronan,” said the youth,
“which has been put on you to kill your only son without
guilt. By your rank and by the tryst to which I go, the
tryst with death, not greater is my guilt to think of
meeting with her than that I should meet with my mother.
But she has been soliciting me since she came into this
land, and Conga! has taken her back three times to-day that
she might not meet me. There was no guilt in Congal that
you should kill him.” Then a raven carried the bowels of
the jester on to the front-bridge . . . of the stronghold.
The churls were laughing. Mae! Fothartaig thought it a
villainy. He said:
O
Mac Glass,
Gather your bowels in,
Though you know no shame,
Churls are laughing at you.
Thereafter
the three died. They were taken into a house apart. Ronan
went and sat at the head of his son three days and three
nights. But Donn, Mael-Fothartaig’s foster-brother,
Congal’s brother, went with twenty horsemen to Dunseverick.
They docoyed Eochaid to come to the border of the land, as
it were to meet Mael Fothartaig that had eloped with his
daughter. And they took his head and the heads of his son
and of his wife.
Then said Ronan, sitting at the head of his son:
It
is cold against the whirlwind
For any one herding the cows of Aife.
That is a vain herding,
With no cows, with no one to love.
Cold is the wind
In front of the warriors’ house:
They were dear warriors
That were between me and the wind.
Sleep, daughter of Eochaid,
Great is the bitterness of the wind:
Woe is me, Mael Fothartaig
Is slain for the guilt of a lustful woman.
Sleep, daughter of Eochaid,
There is no rest for me though thou sleep not,
To see Mael Fothartaig
In his shirt full of blood.
The
daughter of Eochaid said:
Woe
is me, O corpse in the corner,
That wast the mark of many eyes,
The sin that we committed,
It was thy torment after thy banishment.
Ronan
said:
Sleep,
daughter of Eochaid,
Men are not mad:
Though thou hast wetted thy mantle,
it is not my son thou dost bewail.
Then
came Donn and threw the head of Eochaid on his daugh ter’s
breast, and her mother’s head and her brother’s head.
Thereupon she arose and threw herself on to her knife, so
that it came out through her back.
Then said Ronan:
Eochaid
has got but one shirt
After having been in a mantle:
The sorrow that is on Dun Ale
is on Dunseverick.
Give ye food, give drink
To the hound of Mael Fothartaig,
The hound of the man that would give food
To any one, whatever reward he might get.
Sad to me is the torture of the hound Dathlenn,
With rods of steel over her sides,
Our reproach is not on her,
It is not she who sold our dear ones.
* * * *
The men, the youths, the horses,
That were around Mael Fothartaig,
They would not envy any one’s cheer,
While their chief was alive.
The men, the youths, the horses,
That were around Mael-Fothartaig,
* * * *
They would run a race of steeds.
The men, the youths, the horses,
That were around Mael Fothartaig,
Many a time they would set up
Triumphant shouts after lasting victories.
The men of Mael Fothartaig,
I allow that they were not insignificant;
Not well they stood by a man
Who would come when they needed him.
My son Mael Fothartaig,
Whose abode was the tall forest,
Kings and royal princes
Would not part from him without great respect.
My son Mael Fothartaig
Traversed Scotland of coasts:
He was a warrior among hosts of warriors,
When he would achieve his deeds on them.
My son Mael Fothartaig,
He was the support of the host:
The white tall flashing salmon
Hath taken a cold dwelling.
Then the
men of Leinster around Ronan began keening. Ronan was
thrown on his back. Mael Fothartaig’s two sons, Aed and
Mael Tuile, set out after Aedan and seized him. Aed wounded
him and riddled him with a spear. “Let me get up,
warriors,” said Ronan, “unless you wish to kill me. Is the
man dead?” said he.
“Dead indeed,” said the warriors. “Who killed him?” said
he.
“Aed slew him,” said the warriors. “Did Mael Tuile wound
him?” said he. “No,” said the warriors.
“May he not wound a man till Doom!” said he. “But the palm
of prowess and of valor to the boy that slew him.”
Then said Ronan:
It
is a great thing
For the son of a churl to slay the son of a king;
That was clear on his day of death
To Aedan, son of Fiachna Lara.
Then the
fight was carried near him up to the front of the house,
and he said:
This
battle on the plain
I await without Mael Fothartaig:
Awaiting the new fight,
He does not support the old champion.
At that
a spout of blood broke over his lips and he died forthwith.
That is how Ronan slew his son.