A Book of Myths
about to be born a daughter, with eyes like stars that are mirrored
by night in the water, with lips red as the rowan berries and teeth
more white than pearls; with a voice more sweet than the music of
fairy harps. "A maiden fair, tall, long haired, for whom champions
will contend ... and mighty kings be envious of her lovely, faultless
form." For her sweet sake, he said, more blood should be spilt in Erin
than for generations and ages past, and many heroes and bright torches
of the Gaels should lose their lives. For love of her, three heroes of
eternal renown must give their lives away, the sea in which her starry
eyes should mirror themselves would be a sea of blood, and woe
unutterable should come on the sons of Erin. Then up spoke the lords
of the Red Branch, and grimly they looked at Felim the Harper:
"If the babe that thy wife is about to bear is to bring such evil upon
our land, better that thou shouldst shed her innocent blood ere she
spills the blood of our nation."
And Felim made answer:
"It is well spoken. Bitter it is for my wife and for me to lose a
child so beautiful, yet shall I slay her that my land may be saved
from such a doom."
But Conor, the king, spoke then, and because the witchery of the
perfect beauty and the magic charm of Deirdre was felt by him even
before she was born, he said: "She shall not die. Upon myself I take
the doom. The child shall be kept apart from all men until she is of
an age to wed. Then shall I take her for my wife, and none shall dare
to contend for her."
His voice had barely ceased, when a messenger came to Felim to tell
him that a daughter was born to him, and on his heels came a
procession of chanting women, bearing the babe on a flower-decked
cushion. And all who saw the tiny thing, with milk-white skin, and
locks "more yellow than the western gold of the summer sun," looked on
her with the fear that even the bravest heart feels on facing the
Unknown. And Cathbad spoke: "Let Deirdre be her name, sweet menace
that she is." And the babe gazed up with starry eyes at the
white-haired Druid as he chanted to her:
"_Many will be jealous of your face, O flame of beauty;
for your sake heroes shall go to exile. For there is
harm in your face; it will bring banishment and death on
the sons of kings. In your fate, O beautiful child, are
wounds and ill-doings, and shedding of blood._
"_You will have a little grave apart to yourself; you
will be a tale of wonder for ever, Deirdre._"
Lady Gregory's Translation.
As Conor commanded, Deirdre, the little "babe of destiny," was left
with her mother for only a month and a day, and then was sent with a
nurse and with Cathbad the Druid to a lonely island, thickly wooded,
and only accessible by a sort of causeway at low tide. Here she grew
into maidenhood, and each day became more fair. She had instruction
from Cathbad in religion and in all manner of wisdom, and it would
seem as though she also learned from him some of that mystical power
that enabled her to see things hidden from human eyes.
"Tell me," one day she asked her teacher, "who made the stars, the
firmament above, the earth, the flowers, both thee and me?"
And Cathbad answered: "God. But who God is, alas! no man can say."
Then Deirdre, an impetuous child, seized the druidical staff from the
hand of Cathbad, broke it in two, and flung the pieces far out on the
water. "Ah, Cathbad!" she cried, "there shall come One in the dim
future for whom all your Druid spells and charms are naught."
Then seeing Cathbad hang his head, and a tear trickle down his face,
for he knew that the child spoke truth, the child, grieved at giving
pain to the friend whom she loved, threw her arms about the old man's
neck, and by her kisses strove to comfort him.
As Deirdre grew older, Conor sent one from his court to educate her in
all that any queen should know. They called her the Lavarcam, which,
in our tongue, really means the Gossip, and she was one of royal blood
who belonged to a class that in those days had been trained to be
chroniclers, or story-tellers. The Lavarcam was a clever woman, and
she marvelled at the wondrous beauty of the child she came to teach,
and at her equally marvellous mind.
One winter day, when the snow lay deep, it came to pass that Deirdre
saw lying on the snow a calf that had been slain for her food. The red
blood that ran from its neck had brought a black raven swooping down
upon the snow. And to Lavarcam Deirdre said: "If there were a man who
had hair of the blackness of that raven, skin of the whiteness of the
snow, and cheeks as red as the blood that stains its whiteness, to him
should I give my heart."
And Lavarcam, without thought, made answer:
"One I know whose skin is whiter than the snow, whose cheeks are ruddy
as the blood that stained the snow, and whose hair is black and glossy
as the raven's wing. He has eyes of the darkest blue of the sky, and
head and shoulders is he above all the men of Erin."
"And what will be the name of that man, Lavarcam?" asked Deirdre. "And
whence is he, and what his degree?"
And Lavarcam made answer that he of whom she spoke was Naoise, one of
the three sons of Usna, a great lord of Alba, and that these three
sons were mighty champions who had been trained at the famed military
school at Sgathaig[14] in the Isle of Skye.
Then said Deirdre: "My love shall be given to none but Naoise, son of
Usna. To him shall it belong forever."
From that day forward, Naoise held kingship over the thoughts and
dreams of Deirdre.
And when Lavarcam saw how deep her careless words had sunk into the
heart of the maiden, she grew afraid, and tried to think of a means by
which to undo the harm which, in her thoughtlessness, she had wrought.
Now Conor had made a law that none but Cathbad, Lavarcam, and the
nurse of Deirdre should pass through the forest that led to her
hiding-place, and that none but they should look upon her until his
own eyes beheld her and he took her for his wife. But as Lavarcam one
day came from seeing Deirdre, and from listening to her many eager
questions about Naoise, she met a swineherd, rough in looks and
speech, and clad in the pelt of a deer, and with him two rough
fellows, bondmen of the Ultonians, and to her quick mind there came a
plan. Thus she bade them follow her into the forbidden forest and
there to remain, by the side of a well, until they should hear the
bark of a fox and the cry of a jay. Then they were to walk slowly on
through the woods, speaking to none whom they might meet, and still
keeping silence when they were again out of the shadow of the trees.
Then Lavarcam sped back to Deirdre and begged her to come with her to
enjoy the beauty of the woods. In a little, Lavarcam strayed away from
her charge, and soon the cry of a jay and the bark of a fox were
heard, and while Deirdre still marvelled at the sounds that came so
close together, Lavarcam returned. Nor had she been back a minute
before three men came through the trees and slowly walked past, close
to where Lavarcam and Deirdre were hidden.
"I have never seen men so near before," said Deirdre. "Only from the
outskirts of the forest have I seen them very far away. Who are these
men, who bring no joy to my eyes?"
And Lavarcam made answer: "These are Naoise, Ardan, and Ainle--the
three sons of Usna."
But Deirdre looked hard at Lavarcam, and scorn and laughter were in
her merry eyes.
"Then shall I have speech with Naoise, Ardan, and Ainle," she said,
and ere Lavarcam could stop her, she had flitted through the trees by
a path amongst the fern, and stood suddenly before the three men.
And the rough hinds, seeing such perfect loveliness, made very sure
that Deirdre was one of the _sidhe_[15] and stared at her with the
round eyes and gaping mouths of wondering terror.
For a moment Deirdre gazed at them. Then: "Are ye the Sons of Usna?"
she asked.
And when they stood like stocks, frightened and stupid, she lashed
them with her mockery, until the swineherd could no more, and blurted
out the whole truth to this most beautiful of all the world. Then,
very gently, like pearls from a silver string, the words fell from the
rowan-red lips of Deirdre: "I blame thee not, poor swineherd," she
said, "and that thou mayst know that I deem thee a true man, I would
fain ask thee to do one thing for me."
And when the eyes of the herd met the eyes of Deirdre, a soul was born
in him, and he knew things of which he never before had dreamed.
"If I can do one thing to please thee, that will I do," he said. "Aye,
and gladly pay for it with my life. Thenceforth my life is thine."
And Deirdre said: "I would fain see Naoise, one of the Sons of Usna."
And once more the swineherd said: "My life is thine."
Then Deirdre, seeing in his eyes a very beautiful thing, stooped and
kissed the swineherd on his weather-beaten, tanned forehead.
"Go, then," she said, "to Naoise. Tell him that I, Deirdre, dream of
him all the night and think of him all the day, and that I bid him
meet me here to-morrow an hour before the setting of the sun."
The swineherd watched her flit into the shadows of the trees, and then
went on his way, through the snowy woods, that he might pay with his
life for the kiss that Deirdre had given him.
Sorely puzzled was Lavarcam over the doings of Deirdre that day, for
Deirdre told her not a word of what had passed between her and the
swineherd. On the morrow, when she left her to go back to the court of
King Conor, she saw, as she drew near Emain Macha, where he stayed,
black wings that flapped over something that lay on the snow. At her
approach there rose three ravens, three kites, and three hoodie-crows,
and she saw that their prey was the body of the swineherd with gaping
spear-wounds all over him. Yet even then he looked happy. He had died
laughing, and there was still a smile on his lips. Faithfully had he
delivered his message, and when he had spoken of the beauty of
Deirdre, rumour of his speech had reached the king, and the spears of
Conor's men had enabled him to make true the words he had said to
Deirdre: "I will pay for it with my life." In this way was shed the
first blood of that great sea of blood that was spilt for the love of
Deirdre, the Beauty of the World.
From where the swineherd lay, Lavarcam went to the camp of the Sons
of Usna, and to Naoise she told the story of the love that Deirdre
bore him, and counselled him to come to the place where she was
hidden, and behold her beauty. And Naoise, who had seen how even a
rough clod of a hind could achieve the noble chivalry of a race of
kings for her dear sake, felt his heart throb within him. "I will
come," he said to Lavarcam.
Days passed, and Deirdre waited, very sure that Naoise must come to
her at last. And one day she heard a song of magical sweetness coming
through the trees. Three voices sung the song, and it was as though
one of the _sidhe_ played a harp to cast a spell upon men. The voice
of Ainle, youngest of the Sons of Usna, was like the sweet upper
strings of the harp, that of Ardan the strings in the middle, and the
voice of Naoise was like the strings whose deep resonance can play
upon the hearts of warriors and move them to tears. Then Deirdre knew
that she heard the voice of her beloved, and she sped to him as a bird
speeds to her mate. Even as Lavarcam had told her was Naoise, eldest
of the Sons of Usna, but no words had been able to tell Naoise of the
beauty of Deirdre.
"It was as though a sudden flood of sunshine burst forth
in that place. For a woman came from the thicket more
beautiful than any dream he had ever dreamed. She was
clad in a saffron robe over white that was like the