Heroes of the dawn/The Death of Oscur
THE DEATH OF OSCUR
Fionn had grown very old; he had watched three kings reign and die—Conn the Hundred-Fighter; Art the Lonely, son of Conn; and Cormac mac Art. Cairbre, son of Cormac, now ruled over Ireland, and at the beginning of his reign the old blood-feuds and jealousies between the Clan Basna and Clan Morna reawakened, for Fionn and his men never forgot that Goll mac Morna had slain Cumall, the father of Fionn. Cairbre, too, was jealous of the power that Fionn and his heroes had attained to, so it was an easy matter for the Clan Morna to persuade him to depose Fionn and the Clan Basna from the headship of the Fianna Eireann, and appoint them instead.
At this time there was discontent between Fercorb, King of Munster, and Cairbre; and when Fionn was deposed from power seven battalions of the Fiainia Eireann gathered to him, and marching straightway to Fercorb, who was related to Fionn, they took service with him.
Cairbre's anger against Fionn and the southern king grew still greater when he heard this. He called his followers together and said:
"I have taken the headship of the Fianna Eireann from Fionn and his clan, and commanded them to lay down their arms, but they have joined the rebellious King of Munster, and paid no heed to my words. Long years the people of Ireland have suffered silently under their powerful sway and the great tributes they imposed, and if Fionn still gathers these tributes, and imposes his will on you as he has hitherto done, you will have no peace nor will you gather wealth for your children. Men of Ireland, will you still continue to pay tribute to Fionn and allow him to quarter his Fianna and his hounds upon you as he chooses, or will you band yourselves together and fight him till he and his proud clan are subdued?"
Most of the people were delighted with the king's words, and shouted loudly that they would give no more tribute to Fionn, nor own his authority. They were not chivalrous as their forefathers had been, nor did they appreciate the noble and generous deeds and the watchful care of Fionn and his companions. But among those listening to Cairbre were some whose sympathies were altogether with the aged Fian-chief, and these sent swift messengers to Fionn, saying how the people were gathering in rebellion against him.
Fionn took counsel with Fercorb, and they sent heralds to Cairbre with a challenge of war. They then called all their fighting men together; but Cairbre called on the other kings and their nobles, and for each man that Fionn had Cairbre had ten times as many.
Notwithstanding the weight of years that lay upon him, Fionn rejoiced when he heard how his enemies outnumbered him.
"It will be a great fight," he said to the Fians, "and when it is ended many of us who are now living will be with the gods in the Land of the Ever-Young. As for myself, I am old in years, and of waning strength, and care not how soon I hear the call of the Immortal Ones."
"Do not speak like that," said Caeilté mac Ronan, "for with your death I think the glory of the Fianna would depart. And it is the wish of the Fianna that you let your son Oisin command them in the forthcoming battle, for they fear lest harm should befall you."
But Fionn would not listen to that—he would lead his army himself, he said. It did not take him long to complete his preparations, then he marched up to Leinster with his army, and not far from Dublin, on the plain of Gabhra—which is now called Garristown—he saw the tents and banners of Cairbre and his fighters, and foremost among them were the ancient enemies of Fionn, the warriors of the Clan Morna.
Three nights Fionn lay encamped on the plain of Gabhra, within sight of his enemy; and what those nights were to Cairbre and his followers I do not know, but to the Fians they were nights of ill-omen. Each morning when they rose Oscur's banner of white silk, embroidered with a slender rowan-tree and clusters of flaming berries, had fallen to the ground, and each night the camp was surrounded by a sorrowful moaning sound, as though hosts of unseen beings were lamenting the fall of noble heroes. On the morning of the third day Fionn sent heralds to Cairbre, announcing his intention to open the battle, and the armies arrayed themselves against each other.
But before they entered the battle the Fians knelt on the ground and kissed it; then raised the warrior cry. Afterwards they flung themselves against the great army of King Cairbre, and the bards say that so fierce was the fight that three showers rose over their heads in the strife: a shower of fire from their spears, a shower of sparks from their clashing shields, and a shower of blood from their wounds.
Oscur and his Fians went backwards and forwards through the hosts of Cairbre, searching for the Clan Morna, determined to end now and for ever the old bitterness and enmity which, though smothered and hidden, had existed since Cumall had died by the hand of Goll mac Morna. At length they found them, and for hours a hard fight raged round Oscur's banner; but in the end all who remained of the Clan Morna fled before the battle-fury of the Fians.
The plain of Gabhra was covered with the dead and dying of both armies when Oscur, panting, wounded, and weary almost to death, saw Cairbre riding towards him, surrounded by a band of chosen warriors. Then the poets sang to Oscur, chanting the deeds of bygone heroes of the Clan Basna; and Oscur, filled with pride in his race and name, clashed his spear and shield together and rushed forward to meet the king. Cairbre watched him coming, and made a swift cast of his spear, which passed through Oscur's body and brought him to the ground. A cry of grief went up from the Fians, and a shout of victory rose from the king's fighters; but too soon they shouted, for Oscur, rising on one knee, threw his spear with such unerring aim that the king, struck through the heart, fell off his horse and died. With the death of Cairbre his men broke and fled, and the few Fians who survived, even the wounded Oscur, raised a cry of triumph.
Night fell, but a bright moon shone over the plain of death, and by its light those who were living searched for their dead. Hither came Caeilté, looking for his six sons, and found them all lying dead. Hither, too, wandered Oisin, searching for his brave and chivalrous son—"Oscur, who never lied," for so the bards sang of him. At last he found Oscur, leaning on his left arm, his battered shield by his side, his broken spear still in his right hand, and the life-blood streaming from his wounds.
Oisin stood over him in unutterable woe. Then Oscur stretched out his hand to his father and said:
"My father, I thank the gods that you are safe."
But Oisin, because of sorrow and exceeding grief, could speak no word.
Then Caeilté, grieving over his dead sons,
AT LAST HE FOUND OSCUR, LEANING ON HIS LEFT ARM
came to where Oscur was lying, and seeing Oisin's grief and Oscar's distress, put his own trouble on one side. He spoke cheerfully to Oscur:
"Remember other battles, Oscur, when we could see the sunlight shine through the spear-thrusts in your body, and yet you were healed."
"There is no healing for me now," said Oscur. "Never again shall I see the sun rise over Ben Edar, or hear the thrushes sing in Gleann-na-smol. I have fought my last battle and run my last chase," and the broken spear slipped out of his hand.
The Fians gathered together and watched by Oscur through the night. Silently they sat, saying no word; nor, with all his pain, would Oscur add to their grief by making any moan. In the cold grey dawn the aged Fionn came swiftly towards them and knelt down by his dying grandson's side.
"O Oscur, light of my eyes, child of my heart, would that I were lying in your place," lamented Fionn.
Hearing his beloved chiefs voice Oscur opened his dim eyes and raised himself a little from the ground.
"Grieve not for me," he whispered. "See, already the hosts of the Ever-Living Ones wait to guard me on my way to the Land of the Living Heart."
He tried to stretch out his hand to Fionn, but it dropped powerless to his side, and listening to Fionn's grief the life went from him.
Fionn turned away, and covering his face with his hands wept heavy, unavailing tears. Only twice during his life did he weep: once for the death of his wise hound Bran, and now over Oscur, his heart's delight.
The handful of Fians who survived raised the three cries of sorrow over the dead hero; afterwards they prepared him for the grave. From his shoulders to his feet he was covered with wounds, only his face remained calm and beautiful, unmarked by any hurt.
They covered Oscur's breast with his banner—the white silken banner embroidered with the slender rowan-tree and drooping clusters of blood-red berries—then they carried him on their spears to his grave. At Gabhra are the graves of many great kings and heroes; but the grave of the brave and chivalrous Oscur is the greatest of all, for the whole rath of Gabhra belongs to him alone.