#BookologyThursday: `Towards the fall of night the horrid brood of mis-shaped children betook them to the Glen. On the swift magic wind of their own making they soared aloft, and at the very entrance to the Glen they lighted on the ground. There #Meave‘s allies began to work their noisome spells. Out of the light wee puff-balls and the rustling forest leaves they formed great lines of fighting-men, all armed with battle-weapons of the hooded sharp-spiked thistle-stalks. All round the lightsome, pleasant house the army stood, in marshalled band on band, and all the country rang with battle-shouts and cries of war and trumpetings, and loud pealing laughter, and the taunts of strong men when they mock at cowards.
In the palace Cuchulain caught the uproar and the mocking laughter of the phantom fairy hosts. He started up and would have rushed madly from the hall, but those around him stayed and hindered. “Close fast the doors,” they said, “if for this one day and to-morrow we can keep him fast, the magic evil spell is past.” And Emer came to him and said, “This one day yet abide, O dear one, noblest of the whole world’s race, my one and only love. These are but shows and phantoms that thou hearest wrought by the sprites to lure thee to thy doom. To-morrow, or the next day, or the next, comes Conall Cernach back from travelling. Alone, thou fallest; with him thou art a match for any host. For Ulster’s sake and ours, and for thine own, abide.”
Then at this thing Cu felt a mighty shame; his soul was filled with storms of anger and reproach. “Alas! alas!” he cried, “henceforth there is no cause to guard my life. My span is ended, my honour is destroyed. Better for me than all the gold and riches of the world, if I had died before there fell on me this shame. In every tongue this noble saying is recorded, “Fame outlives life”; but by your urgency I keep my life, when all my fame and honour is destroyed. Come death, come life, to-morrow I go forth.”
And gloomily and sadly he sat down, nor would he play or listen to the music of the bards, or hold sweet converse with the women, but all that night, till break of day, he tried and proved his weapons, and his spears and sword he polished lovingly, and he sent Laeg out to catch his chariot-steeds and bring them to the green beside the house. And his heart revived within him when he heard without the neigh of the Grey of Macha and the Black Steed of the Glen.` #Celtic
Source: Gods and Fighting Men by Lady Gregory - Project Gutenberg eBook

#BookologyThursday: `With deep wiles #Meave laid her cruel plans, plotting #Cuchulain’s death; Murthemne and Cuchulain’s country she filled with war-bands, marching through the land wasting and marauding, and they burned the villages and the forests of the plain, so that the whole region was a cloud of fire about them.
Everywhere throughout the Province the horrid brood of mis-shaped children sought him, but Meave#s allies found him not, neither in Dun Dalgan nor in Emain, nor in his own country of Murthemne’s Plain; but at last one of them soared up to the very clouds of heaven and surveyed the whole wide land of Ulster, and from a hidden forest glen she heard the sound of joyous revelry and the high, shrill voice of women’s laughter, and the cheerful noise of a great company keeping festival together.
Then she transformed herself into the shape of a black raven, and swooped down and perched above the seat on which Cuchulain sat. And it seemed to Cuchulain that he heard words, inciting him to go forth.
“Dun Dalgan is burned,” they said to him, “and all the province is laid waste; the war-bands and the hosts of Meave have ravaged all the land, and everywhere but smoke and flames are seen. Arise, O Hound, arise!”
But to the rest it seemed as though the raven croaked, and they laughed loud to hear the bird of ill-omen croaking in the house. Cuchulain sprang to his feet to rush forth; but, as he rose, his mantle caught beneath his feet, and he was thrown backwards on his seat. Once more he rose in haste and red with shame, but the great kingly brooch that fastened his mantle, being loosened by his fall, dropped on his foot, and dropping pierced his skin. “Alas! alas!” he cried, “even my mantle warns me of ill-luck!” And Emer said, “’Tis even so; heed now the warning of a friend. Let this pass, Cu; for three days stay with us, and then in peace thou mayest go forth to fight. For three days only have the Children of the Blast their fatal power. Not for thyself or thine own safety do we thus entreat, but for the sake of Ulster and her king. For Ulster is destroyed if Cuchulain falls. For three days then abide.” And for the sake of Ulster Cuchulain stayed, though heaviness and shame sat deep upon him, and in his heart he longed to go. And wearily he sat down again to play his game of chess. .` #Celtic
Source: Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster, by Eleanor Hull

#BookologyThursday: `With a fierce and cruel glee those hideous children of the storm bade Vulcan and his crew farewell, and on the rough and whistling blast that blows keen from the east, they rose on high and made their way to Erin’s coasts, alighting on the plain before the fort of #Meave. She, rising early on the morrow, looked forth out of her bower, and saw her allies resting, each upon one leg perched on the rampart’s top. Her five-fold crimson mantle flung about her, straightway she stepped forth and made them welcome, and with a cruel joy she heard their news. The venomed spears and hard-wrought swords she took into her hands, and waved and brandished them to try their power, but though from point to hilt she bent them back, no sign of crack or failure could she find. “Well-tempered swords are these, indeed,” she cried, “by these my deadly foe shall fall at last.”
Then straight to Ulster she sent forth the brood of ill-formed goblin women. “Seek out #Cuchulain where he lies,” she said, “and on him try your spells. Set right before his face your magic tide of ocean-waves that he may rush into the flood and come thus to his death; or, if that fail, tempt him with magic troops and armed battalions made out of puff-balls or of fluttering leaves and armed with sharp and prickly thistle-spikes. Thus lure him forth, for I have heard it said that Emer and her women hold him with their gentle wiles within his own strong fort, till he be healed of all his pain and wounds. Tempt you him out into the open plain, and there his foes will find and speak with him and utterly and for ever strike him down. My hosts are there, and Luga’s hosts and Erc’s. Give to each one of them your magic spears, that he may not escape. Thus shall the strength of Ulster fall at last! Thus shall our vengeance come! Within the space of three short days bring in his head to me.” .` #Celtic
Source: Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster, by Eleanor Hull

#BookologyThursday: `To take revenge, Queen Meave allied herself with a brood of monstrous, ill-shaped sprites, half-women, half-goblins, in their forms and minds. She sent them throughout the whole wide distant world to learn some secret way to bring #Cuchulain to his death. Monstrous they were, for but one single eye was in their foreheads, and their right legs and left arms were lopped off at the stump. They did not move along the earth like men, but on the broad back of the whistling winds and wrapped in magic clouds of their own making, they sped o’er land and sea.
Hideous and frightful were they to behold, and hideous were their thoughts and their designs. When they drew near, a poisonous ill-wind preceded them, and all the sky was dark with venomous clouds about them and above, so that although they saw them not, men shrank with fear and felt but ill at ease. These creatures then she sent through the wide spaces of the universe to learn all cruel magic arts that hurt and trouble men. And for five years they wandered through the earth, until they reached the fearful realm where Vulcan forged his weapons in the fire.
The secret of all poisonous herbs they learned, the use of every charm that spoils men’s lives and drives them to despair; they learned to raise a magic stormy sea upon dry land, in which men might be drowned; and out of forest twigs and fluttering leaves they learned to form a host of fighting-men and armed them with the spiked thorn of the thistle leaves or with the blackthorn’s barb.
From Vulcan’s hand three cruel spears they took, their names, ‘Wind,’ ‘Good-luck,’ and ‘Cast’; three swords of magic power, too, they got, the ‘Wounder,’ and the ‘Hacker,’ and the ‘Hewer.’ “By these three spears or these three swords the splendid Hound shall die,” was Vulcan’s word; “each one of them shall kill a king of Erin, and among those kings will be the mighty king of Erin’s hero-chiefs, the triumphant, heavy-smiting, noble youth, whom men call ‘Ulster’s Hound.’” #Celtic
Source: Cuchulain, the Hound of Ulster, by Eleanor Hull