Here is the Visit of the king of Thessaly’s son Cael an
iarainn to Ireland, and how unfortunately his walking-match
turned out with him; or according to some authorities, the
Adventure of the Carle of the Drab Coat.
From
Egerton MS 154
Translated by Standish O'Grady. Silva Gaedelica, V.II.
It
was a day of gathering and of conference constituted by
Finn son of Cumall son of Art son of Trenmor grandson of
Baeiscne, with the seven battalions of the reserve and
seven of the regular Fianna, at the Hill of Edar son of
Edgaeth; and as they threw an eye over the sea and great
main they saw a roomy and a gallant ship that upon the
waters bore right down for them, from the eastward and
under a press of sail. She was fitted out as though for war
and contention; and they had not long to wait before they
marked a tall, bellicose, impetuously valiant
óglaech
rise by
means of his javelins’ stavesor of his spears’ shafts, and
so attain both his soles’ width of the white- sanded beach.
A polished and most comely lorica he had on; an armature
that was solid and infrangible surrounded him; his handsome
red shield surmounted his shoulder, and on his head was a
hard helmet; at his left side a sword, wide-grooved,
straight in the blade; in his two fists he held a pair of
thick-shafted spears, unburnished but sharp; a becoming
mantle of scarlet hung on his shoulders, with a brooch of
the burnt gold on his broad chest.
Thus equipped then, and in this fashion, he came into the
presence of Finn and of the Fianna; and Finn spoke to him,
saying: “of the whole world’s bloods, noble or ignoble, who
art thou, warrior; or out of which airt of the four art
come to us?" “Cael
an iarainn is my
name, the king of Thessaly’s son; and in all that which
(since I left my own land and up to this present) I have
perambulated of the globe, I have not left either isle or
island but I have brought under tribute of my sword and
under my own hand. What now I desire therefore is to carry
off the universal tribute and capital power of Ireland.”
Conan said: “we never have seen laech,
nor heard of warrior, but a man to turn him would be found
in Ireland.” “Conan,” answered Cael, “in thine utterance
find I nought else than that of a fool or gaby; for were
all they that during these seven years past are dead of the
Fianna added now to those that yet live of them, I would in
one single day treat them all to the grievousness of death
and of life curtailed. But I will do a thing which ye will
esteem a condition easier than that: if among the whole of
you ye find one only laeck that in running, or in single
fight, or in wrestling shall get the better of me, no more
worry nor trouble will I inflict on you, but will get me
gone back to my own land again:’ “Why now,” said Finn, “the
runner that we have: Caeilte mac Ronan to wit, he at this
moment is not at home; and were he here he would have a run
with thee; but if, warrior, thou be a one that will tarry
with the Fianna, and with them make friendship and observe
the same, while I go to Tara of the Kings to fetch Caeilte
whom if I find not there I shall to a certainty get in
Keshcorran of the Fianna then do so.” “So be it done,” Cael
assented.
Then Finn started on the road, and had not gone far when he
happened on an intricate gloomy wood, the diameter of which
a deeply scooped out hollow way traversed throughout. Into
this forest he had not penetrated any distance before he
met a diabolical-looking being of evil aspect, an
irrational wild monster of a yellow-complexioned
thick-boned giant having on him a long drab coat down to
the calves of his two legs, either of which Under him as
they carried the great fellow’s ill-assorted body was like
the mast of some ship of largest rate; like the side of a
wide-wombed boat was each brogue of the two that garnished
his knobbed feet armed with curved nails; the drab coat
that invested him had to it a pewter platter’s width of a
skirt-trimming consisting in a yellow stucco of mud, and
this at every step that he took would flap against the calf
of one leg so as to knock out of it a report that could be
heard half-a-mile of country away; while every time that he
lifted a foot, there used half-a-barrel of mire to squirt
upwards to his buttocks and even over his entire
yellow-tinted person. Finn fell to consider the great man
for a length of time (for never before had he seen his
like) and walked still on his way till the other spoke,
saying: “what is this course of trudging or wandering that
is befallen thee to make, Finn son of Cumall, all alone and
solitary without a man of Ireland’s Fianna by thee?"
“Such,” replied Finn, “is the measure of my perplexity and
trouble that I cannot frame to tell thee that nor, though I
could, would it do me any good whatsoever.” “Unless to me
thou do explain the matter, thou wilt for ever suffer the
damage and detriment of it [i.e. of thy reticence].” “Well
then,” Finn began, “if I must tell it thee, know it to be
the king of Thessaly’s son Cael
an iarainn that
yesterday at noon came in at Ben-Edar, looking to acquire
for himself the rent and rule of all Ireland unless only
that some one laech
I may
find who in running, in single combat or at wrestling,
shall overcome him.” “And what would ye do?“ the big one
enquired: “for I know him well, and there is not a single
thing asserted by him but he is able to fulfil: upon the
Fianna universally he would inflict slaughter of men and
virile óglaechs.”
Finn went on: “I would proceed to Tara of the Kings to
fetch Caeilte, whom if I find not there I shall undoubtedly
get in Keshcorann of the Fianna, in order that of yon
warrior he may win a running match.” “Verily then,” said
the big fellow, “thou art but ‘a kingdomless man’ if
Caeilte son of Ronan be thy grand resource with which to
scare away the other.” “Then indeed I know not what I shall
do,” said Finn. “But I do,” quoth the great man: “wouldst
thou but put up with me, of that hero I would upon my oath
win a running wager.” Finn rejoined: “I esteem that in
carrying thy coat and huge brogues for a single half-mile
of country thou hast thine utmost endeavour to perform, and
not to embark in a running bet with that
laech.” “By
all that’s positive, unless I win it of him not a man of
all Ireland will bring it off.” “So be it done,” consented
Finn: “but what is thy name?" and he made answer: “my name
is bodach
an chóta lachtna or ‘the
carle of the drab coat.”’
Then Finn and the Carle returned back again, nor concerning
their travel and wayfaring is anything told us until they
reached Ben-Edar.
There Ireland’s Fianna in their numbers gathered about the
big man, for never before had they seen his like;
Cael
an iarainn too came
upon the ground, and enquired whether Finn had brought a
man to run with him. Finn answered that he had, and
exhibited his man; but when Cael had seen the Carle he
objected that to all eternity he would not run with any
such greasy bodach.
At this hearing the latter emitted a coarse burst of
horse-laughter, saying: “in respect of me thou art
deceived, warrior; acquaint me therefore with the length of
course that thou wouldst run, the which if I run not with
thee, and more too if such be thy pleasure, thine it shall
be to take the stakes.” “I care not,” rejoined Cael, “to
have in front of me a course of less than three score
miles.” “‘Tis well as it happens,” said the Cane: “three
score miles exactly they are from Ben-Edar to Slieveluachra
of Munster.” “So be it done,” Cael assented. “Well then,”
suggested the bodach,
“the right thing for us to do is to proceed westwards to
Slieveluachra to begin with, and there to put up to-night,
so that to-morrow we may be ready for our start and our
walk.”
Those two good laechs
(Cael
an iarainn the king
of Thessaly’s son namely, and the Carle of the drab coat)
set out accordingly, - and of their journey there is not
any record until as the sun went under they reached
Slieveluachra of Munster. “Cael,” said the other then, “it
behoves us to knock up some kind of dwelling, whether house
or hut, to have over our heads.” But Cael - retorted: “by
all that’s certain, I never will set about building a house
on Slieveluachra for the sake of passing one night there,
considering that I have no desire at all ever during the
whole - Course of my life to return thither.” “So be it,”
quoth the bodach:
“but if I can manage to put up the like, ‘tis far enough
away outside of it will be any that shall not have given
his help to make it.”
The Carle entered then into the nearest darkling and
intricate wood, where he never stayed nor rested till he
had tied up four-and-twenty couples of gross timber; and
these, along with their complement of rafters from the same
wood and of fresh rushes of the mountain, he brought in
that one load and so erected a house long and wide, all
thatched and warm. Of the forest’s sticks both green and
dry he on that lodging’s floor made up a vast bonfire, and
a second time addressed Cael: “if thou be a man to come
with me and in these woods seek some game or other-” ‘I
understand nothing about it,” answered Cael: “and if I did,
‘tis not to second the like of thee would go.”
Again the bodach sought the nearest wood’s recesses, into
which he was not penetrated far when he roused a drove of
wild swine; the stoutest boar that he saw he cut off from
the rest and, along every track, through every covert,
followed until by strenuousness of running and of painful
effort he vanquished and struck him to the earth; neatly
and expeditiously he made him ready and before that same
great fire put him down to roast, with a turning
contrivance to the spits that should keep them going of
themselves. Then the Carle started, nor ever halted before
he attained to the baron of Inchiquin’s house (that was a
score and ten miles from Slieveluachra) and brought away
two barrels of wine, two pewter dishes, all as much bread
as there was ready in the house, a table and a chair, the
whole of which he carried in the one load and so regained
Slieveluachra. Here he found his meat roasted before him;
half of the boar, a moiety of the bread and a barrel of
wine he set aside to provide for the morning; the other
half of each he served to himself upon the table, and
comfortably, luxuriously, sat down. He ate his full quantum
of meat, after which he ingurgitated into his person a
barrel of wine; upon the floor of that caravanserai he
shook out a copious layer of rushes, and was wrapped in
sleep and lasting slumber until on the morrow’s day both
the all-brilliant sun rose, and Cael an iarainn (who during
the night had been on the mountain’s side without meat or
drink) came and roused him from his snooze, saying:
“rise, bodach!
it is now time for us to set about our journey and our
wayfaring.” With that the Cane woke up, rubbed his eyes
with his palms, and said: “there is an hour’s time of my
sleep that I have not worked out yet; but since thou art in
a hurry, I yield thee my consent that thou be off, and
undoubtedly I will be after thee.”
Accordingly Cael went ahead upon the way, not without great
misgiving by reason of the small account which he saw
the bodach
make of
him. When now the latter had slept his stint he rose to a
sitting posture, washed his face and hands, served himself
up meat on the table; then at his perfect ease sat down to
it, ate up the remaining half of boar and bread, and
finally swigged off the second barrel of wine.
At this point the Cane got up, in his drab coat’s skirt he
carefully stowed away the pig’s bones, and away with him at
the speed of a swallow or of a roe, or as it had been a
blast of the searing March wind careering over the summit
of some hill or rugged-headed rock, until he
overhauled Cael
an iarainn and
across the way in front of him pitched out the porker’s
bones, saying: “try, Cael, whether upon those bones thou
mayest find any little pick at all; for sure it is that
after passing last night in fasting condition on
Slieveluachra thou art full of hunger.” “Thou shouldst be
hanged, Carle,” he answered, “ere I would go look for meat
upon the bones which with thy glutton-tusks thou hast
gnawed!” “Well then,” said the bodach,
“it were none too much for thee to put on a gait of going
better than thou hast done as yet.”
Here he pushed on as though he were turned to be a madman,
and in that one heat went thirty miles; then he fell to
eating of blackberries from the brambles that were on
either side of the road or way, till such time as Cael came
up to him and said: “bodach, thirty miles back from here is
the spot in which I saw one skirt of thy drab coat twisted
round the neck of a bush, and the second tangled in another
bush ten miles behind that again.” “Is it the skirts of my
coat?" asked the Cane, looking himself all down. “‘Tis they
just,” Cael said. “In that case,” argued the
bodach,
“that which it were the right thing for thee to do would be
to delay here eating of blackberries, in order for me to
return and bring back the skirts of my coat.” “It is very
certain that I will do no such thing,” answered Cael, and:
“so be it,” said the bodach.
Cael went his road, while the Carle returned till he found
the skirts of his coat as the other had said; he sat down,
pulled out his needle and thread, and so stitched them on
in their own place again. This done he retraced his steps,
and Cael was not gone far when the Carle caught him up and
said to him: “Cael, thou must put on a gait of going better
than thou hast done yet, if an thou hast already expressed
thou wouldst carry off all Ireland’s tribute; for I will do
no more turning back now.”
Then with the speed of swallow [etc. as before] the
bodach
set off
as though converted into a madman; and such the impetuous
rush of pedestrianism which carried him along, that soon he
surmounted the crown of a certain hill within five miles of
Ben-Edar, where he devoted himself to eating of
blackberries from the brambles until he had made of himself
a juice-filled sack. He then put off his drab coat, again
produced his needle and thread, and sewed up the garment so
as to make out of it a long and wide bag, very deep. This
he stuffed to the muzzle with blackberries, and on his skin
rubbed a quantity of the same so that he was as black as
any smith’s coal; said load he hoisted upon his shoulder
and, stoutly, nimble-footedly set out, making for Ben-Edar.
The position of Finn and of the general Fianna was that
they were filled with great apprehension of
Cael
an iarainn’s being
in front, for without knowing in the world who he was they
had pitched all their hope in the Carle. Now abroad on
a tulach’s
top Finn had a certain emissary to spy whether of the two
that raced held the lead; and he, so soon as he caught
sight of the Carle, went in and told Finn that Cael came
along in the way and the bodach
dead
upon his shoulder. “A suit of arms and of armour,” cried
Finn, “to him that shall bring us tidings better than
these!” and a second messenger when he was gone out
recognised it to be the bodach
that was
there. Around him the Fianna of all Ireland flocked
together joyously, and sought news. “I have good news for
you,” he said: “but for the magnitude of my hunger it is
not possible for me to publish it before I eat my
sufficiency of parched-corn meal and blackberries mixed: my
share of these I have brought with me, and let you now
provide me my fill of such meal.” On Ben-Edar now a great
cloth was opened out on which to serve the Carle, with a
heap of meal in its very centre; in among the meal he shot
his sack of blackberries, and with a will turned to at
eating them.
But soon they saw Cael along the road, with his hand at his
sword’s hilt, his two eyes blazing red in his head, and he
ready to charge in among the Fianna to hew them and to
bone-split When then the bodach
saw him
in this array, he picked up his great paw’s fill of the
meal and blackberries, and upon Cael discharged the mess to
such purpose that he banished his head to the distance of a
fair scope of ground from his body; then where the head was
thither he ran, and with it a second time let fly at the
trunk in a way that he fastened it on as solid as ever it
had been. The manner of him now however was with his face
to his back, his poll upon his chest; so the
bodach
ran at
him, dashed his whole carcase violently to earth, lashed
him up hard and fast and inextricably, and said: “Cael, was
it not a mistaken thing for thee to say that on this
occasion the chief rent and sovereign power of Ireland,
though there were none but thyself alone to strive for it,
would be suffered to go with thee? nevertheless none shall
ever have it to say to Ireland’s Fianna that to a solitary
warrior, he having none but himself to take his part, they
would administer grievousness of death and of short life.
If therefore thou be one to swear by sun and moon in
guarantee of thy transmitting the rent of Thessaly yearly
during thy life long to Finn and to the Fianna, thou shalt
have thy life in the guise which now thou wearest” By sun
and moon Cael swore yearly to fulfil that all his life.
Then the bodach
takes
him by the tips of his fingers, leads him to his ship and
puts him in sitting posture into her; to the vessel’s
afterpart he gave a kick, and with that same sent her seven
leagues out to sea. There you have the fashion in which the
expedition of the king of Thessaly’s son
Cael an iarainn turned
out with him: to be dismissed home under the conditions of
a fool or simpleton, without power ever again so long as he
should live to strike a blow in battle or in tough single
encounter. The bodach
came
back to Finn and the Fianna, and told them that he was the
fairy chief of ráth
Chruachan or
‘Rathcroghan,’ that came to loose them out of the fetters
in which they had been [i.e. to succour them in their
straits]. For the fairy chief Finn then made a feast and
banquet of a year and a day.
So far then the adventures of Cael an iarainn, the king of
Thessaly’s son, and of the Carle of the Drab Coat
Finis.