Heroes of the dawn/The Enchanted Cave
THE ENCHANTED CAVE
Conaran Mac Imidel, one of the Tuatha de Danann chiefs, was lord of Keshcorran in the north at the time when Fionn, with a great number of his Fians, went up there to hunt. It did not please Conaran that Fionn should hunt over his country then; so he called his three daughters, who were skilled in every kind of sorcery and witchcraft, and could assume any form they chose, and said to them:
"Weave spells over Fionn and his men that will hold them in bondage, for I do not want them roaming and hunting through all my country at this time."
The daughters of Conaran talked together, then the eldest of them, who was called Iarran, said to her father:
"It shall be done; but do you go to the crooked holly-tree and bring us three forked sticks from it. We will place a spell on the Fians from which they shall never recover."
Conaran brought the holly-sticks to his daughters, and they, taking three bundles of yarn and the forked twigs, sought the cave that penetrates far into the mound of Keshcorran. They seated themselves just inside it, and planting their sticks firmly in the sandy floor, stretched the wool on them, and began to wind and twist it into ropes.
Now Fionn was sitting on the hill-top, with only his two dogs, Bran and Sgeolan, and Conan mac Morna to keep him company. When the hounds heard the other dogs barking as they followed the chase through the woods below, they strained at their leash, and whined to get away also. Fionn set them free, and watched them racing down the hillside, and after a time he and Conan followed them.
When they had walked a little distance a faint sound of singing fell on their ears, and they stopped to listen:
In the Dún of Darkness
With soft wool we weave
Chains for the heroes.
Death and Despair
In the threads are woven.
Stronger than white bronze
Is the thread from the fleeces
Of the flocks of Darkness.
Fionn and Conan looked at each other. "It seems to me," said Fionn, "that this is a matter touching us. We will see who are the singers of that little song."
"It's a song that is not to my liking," said Conan, "and I think I will stop where I am."
"Never yet," Fionn said, "has any one of the Fianna lacked courage in any adventure, and surely it shall not be said that Conan mac Morna showed fear because of a song he heard sung!"
"By my spear, it shall not," Conan replied, and his face flushed redly. "Let us go now," and he walked onward.
As they rounded a huge ledge of rock they came in sight of the cave, and saw three maidens sitting at the entrance. Young and fair they seemed to be, but when Fionn looked at them more closely he observed that their eyes had a strange red glare in them, like the eyes of an animal when it is waiting to pounce on its prey.
"I think there is something evil about them," said Fionn, "though they look fair and gentle. Perhaps it will be wiser for us not to go nearer."
"Surely such a great hero as Fionn mac Cumall does not fear three gentle maidens?" taunted Conan, and laughed loudly.
"I am not afraid of the greatest champion on earth, so why should I fear women?" answered Fionn. "But there are powers belonging to an unseen world which even the most courageous man may fear, without having his courage questioned, and a presentiment that such powers are near is on me now. However, we will speak to these girls," and he walked up to the mouth of the cave and stood before them.
"What are you doing," he asked, "and why do you sing such a weird song as you work?"
"We are making a rope to amuse ourselves with," answered Iarran, "and while we work we sing the thoughts that enter our minds. But will you not come into the cave and talk to us for a time? Our father, Conaran mac Imidel, is away, and during his absence we are lonely."
Fionn hesitated—he remembered the song he had heard them sing; then he thought how foolish it was to imagine that these girls could work harm to him or his Fians, so he and Conan stepped over the rope, which was woven from one side of the cave's mouth to the other. No sooner were they inside the cave than a trembling came over all their limbs, and the strength left their bodies. Then, before their eyes, the maidens transformed themselves into terrible, fierce-looking hags, more deformed and ugly than any one the Fians had ever seen before. They seized the heroes, and bound them fast with a portion of the enchanted woollen rope, then threw them into a corner of the cave, scoffing at them as they lay there helpless.
When the hags returned to the entrance, Conan began to taunt and revile Fionn.
"Is it not enough for you, O Fionn," he said, "that you have put my life in danger many times before? And now you have done it again. Though the poets sing of you as a doer of great deeds, and say you know what has happened in the past and will happen in the future, I think they lie, for surely one who had so much wisdom would not get into the trouble you do. But if you'll take off these old witches' enchanted bonds, and let me escape from them, I shall believe there is some truth in what the bards say about you."
"Be silent, Conan," said Fionn, "and if your last hour is near, as possibly it is, do not spend it in reviling, but in thinking noble thoughts, as befits one of the Fianna Eireann. Why struggle against Fate, or rebel because Death draws near? When this life is over we shall go to the Happy Isles, where the Ever-Living Ones dwell, and where only the noble and wise have place."
Conan continued muttering to himself, but Fionn, wrapped in his own thoughts, paid no heed to him.
It was not long till some of the Fians came
THEY SEIZED THE HEROES AND BOUND THEM FAST
up the hillside looking for their chief. When they saw the dreadful-looking hags inside the cave they stopped, and viewed them with astonishment; then they caught sight of Fionn and Conan, bound and powerless, and wild with indignation and anger stepped over the barrier to free them. But helplessness fell on them too, and though they struggled with what remnant of strength they still possessed, the witches easily overcame them.
The day passed on, and one group after another of the Fians came up the hillside, and seeing the plight their comrades were in attempted to rescue them; but the same fate befell them as the others. At last, late in the afternoon, Oscur and Caeilté and mac Lugach, with a great number of the Clan Basna and Clan Morna, attracted by the baying of hounds at the cave mouth—for they would not follow their masters into the cave—ascended the hill to see what was happening. They too were overcome by the magic spells the demon hags had woven about the cave, and were easily bound and thrown into dark corners with the other Fians.
The witches looked at each other, well satisfied with the way they had captured the Fians, whose brave deeds and unfailing courage were sung all over the country.
"I think we have them all," said larran to her sisters, "and now, if you will fetch the two-edged swords from the dun, we will kill them." Then, addressing the Fians: "Great heroes you are indeed, to be so easily conquered by three women. Among you all there is not one who has strength to lift a weapon, nor will you ever again hunt or trespass in our province, for before the night passes there will be no Fians alive in the land of Imidel."
The sisters, Caemog and Cullen of the Red Hair, returned with the swords to Iarran, but before they began to slay the heroes they went outside the cave, and looked round on every side, thinking that perhaps some of the Fians might have escaped their enchantments.
They were on the point of returning to perform their dreadful work when, emerging from the wood clothing the lower slopes of the hillside, they observed a man of very noble and warlike appearance striding towards them. The setting sun shone on the long unsheathed sword he carried in his hand, and by the device on his shield the witches knew that he who approached them was Goll mac Morna, one of the most unconquerable of the Fian chiefs. As he came near to them they raised their swords and rushed at him, uttering horrid cries, and taken unawares, for a moment he stood in danger of death. But he soon recovered himself, and a fierce rage rose in him at the discourteous manner in which the wicked witches had attacked him, so that he determined to kill them; and, using all the battleskill that he possessed, with one mighty stroke he gave Caemog and Cullen their death-wounds.
Iarran, seeing that her sisters were dead, pretended to give up the battle, and dropped her sword on the ground. But deceit was in her heart, and the first time that Goll mac Morna turned his eyes from her to the hideous beings stretched on the grass, she swiftly passed to his back, and clasped her strong arms about him, so that only with the utmost difficulty could he twist himself round to face her. For a long time they struggled together, then, as Goll felt his strength failing him, he made a tremendous effort, and throwing the hag to the ground bound her feet and hands with the straps of his shield. So great was his anger at her treachery that he would have killed her instantly, but she implored him to spare her.
"O warrior that never yet was conquered, and whose courage has never faltered in any battle, surely it were better for you to spare my life, and in return I will liberate the Fians from their enchanted bonds, which I only am able to do. Release me, I pray you, and by all the gods I worship I swear that what I have promised I will perform."
Goll mac Morna released her and said:
"For the present your life is safe from me; but if you do not fulfil your promise to the uttermost, I vow you shall be tied to a stake and burnt to ashes. Come now to the Fianna, and loose them from the wicked enchantment you have placed on them."
Together they walked to the cave, and going over to the Fians the witch waved her hands and chanted over them:
Back to your underworld, all my demon helpers,
Fly to your caverns where no sunlight falls:
Hither comes a warrior born of the Immortals,
Hurry from his presence to your moonless halls.
Loose the chains that bind these Fians brave and noble,
Loose the strong enchantment wrought by Fomor art;
Hasten now, dark spirits, to the hidden portal,
All our wiles availed naught, conquered we depart.
There was a strange rustling sound in the cave as she chanted, and the Fians saw a host of shadowy beings—huge and monstrous, and hideous beyond words—rise up from about them and melt and disappear into the darkness of the cave beyond. At the same moment the oppression left their limbs, and when they stood up, hardly daring to believe that the witches' enchantment was so quickly dispelled, they found that all their strength and energy had returned to them.
At supper that evening the Fians made great rejoicing, while the Druids and poets of the Fianna composed and sang songs of praise in honour of Goll mac Morna, who had delivered them when they were in a more deadly peril than had ever befallen them before.