still feed them.’
As they were there in the hostel, a woman appeared at the entrance, after sunset, and sought to be let in. As long as a weaver’s beam, and as black, her two shins. She wore a very fleecy, striped mantle. Her beard reached her knees, and her mouth was on one Side of her head. She put one shoulder against the doorpost and cast a baleful eye upon the king and the youths about him, and Conare said to her from inside the house ‘Well then, woman, what do you see for us, if you are a seer?’ ‘Indeed, I see that neither hide nor hair of you will escape from this house, save what the birds carry off in their claws,’ the woman replied. ‘It is not ill fortune that we prophesied, woman,’ said Conare. ‘Neither do you usually prophesy for us. What is your name?’ ‘Cailb,’ she replied. ‘A name with nothing to spare, that,’ said Conare. ‘Indeed, I have many other names,’ she said. ‘What are they?’ asked Conare. ‘Not difficult that,’ she replied. ‘Samuin, Sinand, Sesclend, Sodb, Saiglend, Samlocht, Caill, Coll, Díchoem, Díchuil, Díchim, Díchuimne, Díchuinne, Dárne, Dárine, Der Úane, Egem, Agam, Ethamne, Gnim, Cluche, Cethardam, Nith, Nemuin, Nóenden, Badb, Blosc, Bloar, Úaet, Mede, Mod.’ And she recited these in one breath, and standing on one foot, at the entrance to the house.
‘What do you want, then?’ Conare asked. ‘Whateverpleases you,’ she answered. ‘There is a geiss against my admitting a single woman after sunset,’ said Conare. ‘Geiss or not,’ replied the woman, ‘I will not go until I have had hospitality from this house tonight.’ ‘Tell her,’ said Conare, ‘that she will be sent an ox and a salted pig and the leftovers if only she will go elsewhere tonight.’ ‘Indeed, if the king cannot spare a meal and a bed in his house for one woman, if the hospitality of the sovereign in this hostel is no more, then something will be gotten from someone else, someone of honour,’ answered the woman. ‘Savage her reply,’ said Conare. ‘Let her in, then, despite the geiss against it.’ After this conversation with the woman, and her prophecy of doom, a great fear came over the host, but no one knew why.
The raiders, meanwhile, reached land and advanced as far as Lecca Cind Slébe. The hostel was always open, and that is why it was called a hostel, for it was like the mouth of a man when he yawns. Each night, Conare kindled a huge fire, a boar in the forest. Seven outlets it had, and when a log was taken from its SíDe, the extent of the flames at each outlet was that of a burning oratory. Seventeen of Conare’s chariots stood at each entrance to the house, and the great light inside was visible to the watchers outside through the wheels of those chariots.
‘Explain that, Fer Rogain,’ said Ingcél. ‘What is that great light yonder?’ ‘I do not know it,’ said Fer Rogain, ‘unless it is the fire of a king.’ ‘May God not bring that man here tonight. It is grievous,’ said the sons of Dond Désa. ‘What are the properties of his reign in Ériu?’ Ingcél asked. ‘His reign is good,’ replied Fer Rogain. ‘Since he became king, no cloud has obscured the sun from the middle of spring to the middle of autumn. Not a drop of dew falls from the grass until noon; no gust of wind stirs a cow’s tail until evening. No wolf takes more than one bull calf from everyenclosure during the year, and seven wolves remain by the wall of his house as a guarantee of this agreement; there is a further guarantee, moreover, and that is Mace Locc, who pleads their case in Conare’s house. Each man’s voice seems to his neighbour as melodious as the strings of harps, and that because of the excellence of law and peace and goodwill throughout Ériu. It is in Conare’s reign that we have the three crowns of Ériu: the crown of corn, the crown of flowers and the crown of acorns. May God not bring that man here tonight. It is grievous. It is a pig that
As they were there in the hostel, a woman appeared at the entrance, after sunset, and sought to be let in. As long as a weaver’s beam, and as black, her two shins. She wore a very fleecy, striped mantle. Her beard reached her knees, and her mouth was on one Side of her head. She put one shoulder against the doorpost and cast a baleful eye upon the king and the youths about him, and Conare said to her from inside the house ‘Well then, woman, what do you see for us, if you are a seer?’ ‘Indeed, I see that neither hide nor hair of you will escape from this house, save what the birds carry off in their claws,’ the woman replied. ‘It is not ill fortune that we prophesied, woman,’ said Conare. ‘Neither do you usually prophesy for us. What is your name?’ ‘Cailb,’ she replied. ‘A name with nothing to spare, that,’ said Conare. ‘Indeed, I have many other names,’ she said. ‘What are they?’ asked Conare. ‘Not difficult that,’ she replied. ‘Samuin, Sinand, Sesclend, Sodb, Saiglend, Samlocht, Caill, Coll, Díchoem, Díchuil, Díchim, Díchuimne, Díchuinne, Dárne, Dárine, Der Úane, Egem, Agam, Ethamne, Gnim, Cluche, Cethardam, Nith, Nemuin, Nóenden, Badb, Blosc, Bloar, Úaet, Mede, Mod.’ And she recited these in one breath, and standing on one foot, at the entrance to the house.
‘What do you want, then?’ Conare asked. ‘Whateverpleases you,’ she answered. ‘There is a geiss against my admitting a single woman after sunset,’ said Conare. ‘Geiss or not,’ replied the woman, ‘I will not go until I have had hospitality from this house tonight.’ ‘Tell her,’ said Conare, ‘that she will be sent an ox and a salted pig and the leftovers if only she will go elsewhere tonight.’ ‘Indeed, if the king cannot spare a meal and a bed in his house for one woman, if the hospitality of the sovereign in this hostel is no more, then something will be gotten from someone else, someone of honour,’ answered the woman. ‘Savage her reply,’ said Conare. ‘Let her in, then, despite the geiss against it.’ After this conversation with the woman, and her prophecy of doom, a great fear came over the host, but no one knew why.
The raiders, meanwhile, reached land and advanced as far as Lecca Cind Slébe. The hostel was always open, and that is why it was called a hostel, for it was like the mouth of a man when he yawns. Each night, Conare kindled a huge fire, a boar in the forest. Seven outlets it had, and when a log was taken from its SíDe, the extent of the flames at each outlet was that of a burning oratory. Seventeen of Conare’s chariots stood at each entrance to the house, and the great light inside was visible to the watchers outside through the wheels of those chariots.
‘Explain that, Fer Rogain,’ said Ingcél. ‘What is that great light yonder?’ ‘I do not know it,’ said Fer Rogain, ‘unless it is the fire of a king.’ ‘May God not bring that man here tonight. It is grievous,’ said the sons of Dond Désa. ‘What are the properties of his reign in Ériu?’ Ingcél asked. ‘His reign is good,’ replied Fer Rogain. ‘Since he became king, no cloud has obscured the sun from the middle of spring to the middle of autumn. Not a drop of dew falls from the grass until noon; no gust of wind stirs a cow’s tail until evening. No wolf takes more than one bull calf from everyenclosure during the year, and seven wolves remain by the wall of his house as a guarantee of this agreement; there is a further guarantee, moreover, and that is Mace Locc, who pleads their case in Conare’s house. Each man’s voice seems to his neighbour as melodious as the strings of harps, and that because of the excellence of law and peace and goodwill throughout Ériu. It is in Conare’s reign that we have the three crowns of Ériu: the crown of corn, the crown of flowers and the crown of acorns. May God not bring that man here tonight. It is grievous. It is a pig that
Similar Books
