we will hunt the deer and the wild bulls;
And, when we have grown weary, light our fires
Between the wood and water, or on some mountain
Where the shape-changers of the morning come.
The High King there would make a mock of me
Because I did not take a wife among them.
Why do you hang your head? It’s a good life:
The head grows prouder in the light of the dawn,
And friendship thickens in the murmuring dark
Where the spare hazels meet the wool-white foam.
But I can see there’s no more need for words
And that you’ll be my friend from this day out.
CONCHUBAR.
He has come hither not in his own name
But in Queen Aoife’s, and has challenged us
In challenging the foremost man of us all.
CUCHULAIN.
Well, well, what matter?
CONCHUBAR.
You think it does not matter;
And that a fancy lighter than the air,
A whim of the moment has more matter in it.
For having none that shall reign after you,
You cannot think as I do, who would leave
A throne too high for insult.
CUCHULAIN.
Let your children
Re-mortar their inheritance, as we have,
And put more muscle on.—I’ll give you gifts,
But I’d have something too—that arm-ring, boy.
We’ll have this quarrel out when you are older.
YOUNG MAN.
There is no man I’d sooner have my friend
Than you, whose name has gone about the world
As if it had been the wind; but Aoife’d say
I had turned coward.
CUCHULAIN.
I will give you gifts
That Aoife’ll know, and all her people know,
To have come from me. [Showing cloak.
My father gave me this.
He came to try me, rising up at dawn
Out of the cold dark of the rich sea.
He challenged me to battle, but before
My sword had touched his sword, told me his name,
Gave me this cloak, and vanished. It was woven
By women of the Country-under-Wave
Out of the fleeces of the sea. O! tell her
I was afraid, or tell her what you will.
No; tell her that I heard a raven croak
On the north side of the house, and was afraid.
CONCHUBAR.
Some witch of the air has troubled Cuchulain’s mind.
CUCHULAIN.
No witchcraft. His head is like a woman’s head
I had a fancy for.
CONCHUBAR.
A witch of the air
Can make a leaf confound us with memories.
They run upon the wind and hurl the spells
That make us nothing, out of the invisible wind.
They have gone to school to learn the trick of it.
CUCHULAIN.
No, no—there’s nothing out of common here;
The winds are innocent.—That arm-ring, boy.
A KING.
If I’ve your leave I’ll take this challenge up.
ANOTHER KING.
No, give it me, High King, for this wild Aoife
Has carried off my slaves.
ANOTHER KING.
No, give it me,
For she has harried me in house and herd.
ANOTHER KING.
I claim this fight.
OTHER KINGS [together].
And I! And I! And I!
CUCHULAIN.
Back! back! Put up your swords! Put up your swords!
There’s none alive that shall accept a challenge
I have refused. Laegaire, put up your sword!
YOUNG MAN.
No, let them come. If they’ve a mind for it,
I’ll try it out with any two together.
CUCHULAIN.
That’s spoken as I’d have spoken it at your age.
But you are in my house. Whatever man
Would fight with you shall fight it out with me.
They’re dumb, they’re dumb. How many of you would meet [Draws sword.
This mutterer, this old whistler, this sandpiper,
This edge that’s greyer than the tide, this mouse
That’s gnawing at the timbers of the world,
This, this—— Boy, I would meet them
