# Heroes of the dawn/The Hosting of Slieve-na-man

illustrator: Beatrice Elvery
THE HOSTING OF SLIEVE-NA-MAN
It was a bitterly cold day in the beginning of winter, and Fionn, who with his son Oisin, Oscur, Caeilte, Diarmuid, and the son of Lugach had been travelling from early in the morning, soon after midday found themselves in a desolate part of the country lying a little to the south of Loch Erne. Heavy hailstorms frequently swept down upon them, and they were looking for a house to shelter in when they started a shy, beautiful fawn from its lair in a hazel-wood. It ran swiftly away from them, and, forgetting all their discomfort, they followed it from one place to another till they came to Slieve-na-man. Suddenly the fawn disappeared from their sight and they could not tell in which direction it went. Indeed, it seemed to them to disappear into the ground.
​The night began to grow very dark, and thick flakes of snow fell softly over everything, while now and again a little, shrill wind sounded weirdly through the leafless branches of the trees. Fionn and his men were very tired, and the bitter cold and storm robbed them of all their energy and strength. They longed earnestly for a house where they could rest and stretch their limbs in warm comfort before a blazing fire.
"Go, Caeilté," said Fionn, "and see if there is any house near where we can find protection from this night's tempest."
Though Caeilté was weary and numb with cold, he willingly obeyed his chief's command, and hurried away as quickly as he could down the road leading to the southward of the mountain, and there, in a curve of the hillside, he saw a great house, with bright shafts of light streaming from its windows and wide-open door across the snowy ground. For some time he stood looking at it, wondering whether he should go and inquire of the owner if he would give hospitality to Fionn and his Fians, or whether he should go back to Fionn and ​tell him of his discovery. Finally he determined to go straight up to the house, and walking in through the door, sat down on a curiously-fashioned chair of amethyst crystal just inside. No one appeared to notice him, so he sat still and observed the house and the people in it, the like of whom he had never seen before. On one side of the house he saw a number of men with shining spears and shields, and by each man stood a beautiful woman; on the other side stood a group of gentle-eyed, yellow-haired girls, with fur cloaks reaching from their shoulders to their heels. In the centre of the floor was another crystal chair, like the one he sat on, and sitting on this was a tall, beautiful girl, who played a harp and sang as she played. In the midst of a song she glanced round, and looked at the Fian.
"Caeilté," she said, and he wondered how she knew his name, "your long journey today and the storm has wearied you. Come near to the fire, and good meat and strong ale shall be placed before you."
"That I cannot do," Caeilté replied, "while ​my comrades are waiting cold and hungry in the snow outside. Fionn mac Cumall, with some of the Fians, are out there, and he sent me to look for a house that would shelter him from this night's storm."
"There is no man in Ireland we would sooner welcome this night than the chief of the Fianna," said one of the men. "So hurry, Caeilté, and bring Fionn and his warriors in. In his own place Fionn has never been known to refuse hospitality to man or beast, and not one of us would refuse it to him."
Caeilté quickly returned to Fionn, who said:
"You have been a long time away, it seems to me. Never before in my life have I been so distressed as I am now by the biting wind and storm of this night; no, not even by all the wounds I have received in battle."
Caeilté spoke gently to him, for the great hero-chief was growing old, and told him of the house that lay hidden on the hillside, and through the blinding snow and darkness the Fians made their way thither. The man who had spoken to Caeilté before came forward and conducted them to the end of the room, ​where there was a warm fire of logs, and called a young girl to wait on them.
"Give these heroes," he said, "the best there is in the house. Let them have the freshest of meat and the strongest of old ale, so that their weariness will fall from them like a cloak."
When the Fians had finished their supper Fionn rose from his seat and stretched his mighty limbs.
"Surely there is some magic in the food and drink you have given us," he said to his host, "for rarely, except when the battle-fury has been on me, have I felt the strength I do this night."
"It is a true word you have spoken," said the man, who seemed to be the chief of the house. "The meat you have eaten is that of one of Angus Oge's enchanted swine, which, though it was killed to-day, will be living again to-morrow. The golden-shining apples came from Manannan's Isle of Youth hidden in the distant sea; and from the hazel-trees of wisdom, which overhang the sacred well, the nuts are gathered. He who has once ​eaten of these things will have strength and valour and wisdom as long as his life endures."
When Fionn heard this he began to wonder what manner of people he had come among—whether they were magicians or people of the Sidhe.
"Who are you, warrior, and who are your companions?" he questioned. "Many years I have been up and down through Ireland, going from north to south, from east to west, and I do not remember meeting you before."
"We are of the race of those who see, but are not seen," answered the man, "for I am Donn mac Midir, and the twenty-seven men yonder are my brothers, sons of Midir the Sun-Bright also. We, and others of our kin, were happy together until Bove Derg obtained the kingship of the Tuatha de Danann, and claimed hostages from us. But we rebelled, and would not accede to Bove Derg's demands unless all the Tuatha de Danann gave hostages too. Because of this Bove Derg threatened my father, and to save him much trouble and warfare we left him, and with many hundreds of our followers hid ourselves in this quiet, ​secret spot. In time Bove Derg discovered us, and even now will not let us abide in peace, but wages war on us continually. Many hundreds we were, I say, for I and my brothers had ten hundred men each; now we alone remain to carry on the fight."
"What caused so many of your people to die?" asked Fionn.
"Every year the Tuatha de Danann come in battle against us on the plain outside, and I fear that the next time they come we shall not be able to withstand them. But if our losses have been great, theirs have been great also," said Donn mac Midir proudly, "and it is better for us to fall fighting than to live in unjust subjection."
Fionn held out his hand to Donn, and exclaimed:
"By my spear, I would that you and your brothers belonged to the Fianna, for we too have always waged war on the unjust, and if we can give you help in your fighting we will. But tell me now, O son of Midir, in your battles with the Tuatha de Danann what losses have they sustained?"
​"You see the long green mound in the field outside—that is where Diangala, their most powerful enchanter, is buried," Donn replied. "He came to the battle, thinking that his spells would be stronger than our magic arts and keen bright blades. But he was overcome, and death met him on the green grass under which he now lies."
"That was a great loss indeed," said Fionn. "Had they others to equal that?"
"Another time we captured from them all the treasure they valued most; cups and vessels of shining gold, and many jewels of great price, but the loss of this treasure caused them less grief than the death of Diangala. Another loss they had was Fethna, their woman-minstrel, who made music of most surpassing sweetness and power, that brought joy and peace and dreams of high deeds into their hearts, and when we killed her they mourned exceedingly."
"It is not right to make war on women," said Fionn sternly.
"She came in the guise of a man," Donn explained, "and in the stress of the fight a ​spear passed through her, and she died. Now, to-morrow is the time appointed for the Tuatha de Danann to appear again, and, because we knew ourselves to be in great danger of defeat, we changed one of our women into the semblance of a shy fawn, and bade her seek you out and entice you to our house. It is our hope that you, the most famous warrior in Ireland, will fight with us when we encounter the Tuatha de Danann again."
"I give you my word," said Fionn, "that the one thing I am longing for more than another is the crash of meeting shields, and the sound of spears clashing together."
They all passed the night in feasting and making merry, and rested during the morning hours; but when the evening was near Donn mac Midir said to Fionn:
"Come; I will show you where we meet our enemies in battle," and he led Fionn out to the broad green field before the house.
"How many will stand up against you?" asked Fionn.
"There will be a great number," answered ​Donn. "Bove Derg himself, with many hundreds of warriors, will be here; Angus Oge, from Brugh-na-Boinne, with his people; and Lir, from Slieve Fuad, with all his followers, and probably many others."
"It will indeed be a great fight," said Fionn joyfully, "and many noble deeds will be wrought before the sun rises again." Then he turned to the Fians: "My comrades, we must fight as we have never fought before, if we wish to see our homes and any of the Fianna again."
"O Fionn," they cried indignantly, "have you ever known us to lack courage or show faintness in the time of danger?"
"If I travelled all the quarters of the earth," Fionn answered, "I could find none more fearless than you; and having you with me I would go forth cheerfully against unnumbered enemies." Then, addressing Donn: "When do you think the Tuatha de Danann will attack you?"
"When the day is merging into the darkness of night, for that is their hour of power," Donn replied.
​At this moment one of Bonn's brothers came running swiftly from the house, and great astonishment was in his face and his voice.
"There is a Fian's shield on the wall, and a noise like a rushing wind is issuing from it," he cried, "and the spear hanging beneath it is struggling and writhing, though no hand is near it, and a strange, weird music sounds from it."
"It is mine," said Fionn, "and the demons imprisoned in it make a deadly song of war."
They hurried into the house, and Fionn took his murmuring, twisting spear into his hand.
"Oh, my treasure," he said to it lovingly, "now I hear your voice I know there will be a fight which even the high gods will leave their thrones to witness."
As he spoke flames ran up and down the blue-black spear, like venomous lightning gleams, and the low murmuring changed to a clear, triumphant war-song:
Carry me forth in thy hand, O Fionn, I would battle and slay Host upon host of the fighters who come When the night follows day.
​Forged was I by Culain the Smith In an isle of the sea; Spells were woven and demons called To the making of me.
Lord of a myriad deaths am I, The Taker of Life; I the invincible, I the brave, The lover of strife.
Hold me fast in thy hand, O Fionn, For I hear with glee, Feet of a multitude moving swift, To be slain by me.
The spear writhed and twisted in Fionn's hand, and pointed to the doorway, and so great was the strength in it that Fionn's mighty arm was stretched to the uttermost.
"Oh, my bright treasure," he cried again to it, "the song you sing is indeed to my mind, and I think that the slaughter you will do this night will be such that men will remember you in ages yet to come. But listen, what is that noise?" he said to Donn, as a sound like sea-waves rolling over shingle, or like innumerable spears clashing on shields, fell on his ear.
"The warriors of the Tuatha de Danann are coming," said one of the sons of Midir, rushing in.
​Fiona took his shield from the wall, and followed by the little band of brothers and his own men, walked to the door and looked out.
"Most worthy opponents they seem to be," he said, "and much I like their appearance, with their strong, keen-pointed spears. Oscur," he called.
"Here I am, chief of the Fians," he answered.
"Fight more bravely than ever before in the coming battle; you also, Diarmuid, and the son of Lugach. And in the battle pay no heed to Caeilté or Oisin or myself, but watch over the safety of the sons of Midir, for it would be an unending reproach to our honour and loyalty were any harm to befall them, since they have sought our aid. Take your weapons and your shields now, and come with me, for the last gleam of sunset has faded away, and the hour of battle is near."
Then from the setting in of darkness to the dawning of light a very valiant fight was fought; but above all the din and noise of the ringing spears could be heard the fierce song of the demons in Fionn's magic blade, as it thrust ​and hacked its way through whoever chanced before it. Wherever the press was thickest it made an open path; backwards and forwards like lightning flashes it darted, and no man could withstand it, or the strong hand that grasped it. And as the foemen gazed on Fionn dread filled their hearts, for round his head shone the red light of battle, and now and again a form like a fiery serpent reared and twisted about him; while the flames that ran from haft to point of his spear lengthened themselves out and fashioned a shape of fear, from which the Tuatha de Danann recoiled in terror.
So they fought through the long winter night, until a grey dawn lightened the eastern sky, when the Tuatha de Danann, finally repulsed, withdrew from the battle, mourning their heaps of slain. But only one of Midir's sons was killed, though all the other brothers were sorely wounded. As for the Fians, there was not one single inch of their bodies which had not its spear-thrust, and for days after Fionn could not lift his spear-arm, so stiff and sore it was from the work of that night. But
ROUND HIS HEAD SHONE THE RED LIGHT OF BATTLE
​Oscur and Diarmuid were in the worst plight; and the life would have gone from them altogether had not Dorm mac Midir travelled far to find Fingin, the ancient faery physician of Slieve Fuad, who had more knowledge of healing herbs than all other doctors in Ireland.
When the Fians had fully recovered from their wounds Fionn called a council of the sons of Midir and the Tuatha de Danann, and they agreed there should be peace for evermore between them. Afterwards Fionn and his men returned to their home on the Hill of Allen, and found the Fianna mourning them as dead; for though it seemed to Fionn and his comrades that they had been absent only a few days, to their amazement the Fianna said their absence had lasted for nearly a year and a half. And among all the Fianna that night there was feasting and joy, because their great hero and chief had returned to them.