# Heroes of the dawn/The Passing of the Fianna

illustrator: Beatrice Elvery
THE PASSING OF THE FIANNA
After the departure of Oisin with Niav, Fionn and his men remained many months at Berramain. Every morning at sunrise Fionn would shade his eyes with his hands and gaze steadily over the sea, longing and watching for the return of his son. Every sunset, too, he would keep watch, but Oisin did not return.
A year passed by, then Fionn and Caeilté, with their Fians, travelled eastward to settle a dispute they had with some of the dwellers on the Boyne; and it was in the fighting there, so one legend says, that Fionn met with his death. Another old story says that Fionn did not meet his death in such a manner, but that, when quite a boy, he was put under geasa (vow) to make a certain mighty leap once every year; and this year, owing to old age, and the feebleness caused by grief and the ​hurts he had received at the battle of Gabhra, he failed to make the leap and was killed. You remember, however, that Fionn's mother, Muireen, belonged to the Tuatha de Danann—or Sidhe (Shee) as they are now called—and it is more likely that Fionn was not killed at all, but went away to join his kindred in one of their pleasant invisible dwelling-places. Indeed it is recorded that Mongan, a king of Ulster who lived at the beginning of the seventh century, was in reality Fionn, who had returned to earth in a different body.
Now for Caeilté the homes of men became unendurable. He, too, had suffered many griefs and losses during the past year: at the battle of Gabhra his sons were all killed, Oscur the brave was dead, Oisin had gone with a faery maiden to an enchanted land, and now Fionn had passed from him, and he was left alone and desolate.
He called the Fians to him, and said:
"My comrades, the power of the Fianna is broken, nor do I think it will evermore attain to its former might. We have still many powerful friends scattered throughout Ireland, ​who will be glad to number you among their fighters if you choose. As for myself, the joy of our roving and adventurous life has gone from me, and I intend to go to the house of the Sidhe at Assaroe, and there seek forgetfulness of my sorrows. If I thought Oisin would return I would remain with you; but it is not likely he will ever leave the pleasant Land of Youth."
The Fians were silent for a time, then eighteen of them, one after another, said they would accompany Caeilté if he would give them permission, and the others said they would travel back to Berramain, for Oisin might return some day. What happened to those who vainly waited for Oisin I do not know—with their departure from Caeilté they seem to have passed out of the knowledge of the ancient chroniclers.
We know, however, that Caeilté and his eighteen followers went to the enchanted house of the Sidhe at Assaroe, for when St. Patrick preached a strange and new doctrine in Ireland, two hundred years later, the old scribes wrote that Caeilté and his men came ​forth from Assaroe and appeared to Patrick, telling him the history and adventures of Fionn and the Fianna Eireann.
In the old books it is also written that, early in the seventh century, Caeilté again appeared—this time to Mongan, King of Ulster. Mongan had a dispute with his chief bard Forgall as to the death-place of a king, Fothad Airgtech, whom Caeilté had slain. Forgall said the king was killed at some place in Leinster, but Mongan said he got his death-blow near the Lame Water, in Ulster. The bard was so angry with Mongan for daring to contradict him that he threatened to place spells upon the king and all his household, and insisted that Mongan should prove the truth of the statement he had made; if he failed to prove it within three days all his possessions, and even himself, were to become the bard's property.
Knowing that he had made a true statement, and that its truth would be proved in some manner or other, Mongan cheerfully agreed to this condition. Two days passed, and part of the third day also; then Forgall ​came to Mongan, and said that he had come to take possession of both him and his property. Mongan only replied: "Wait until the close of day."
Evening came, and Mongan was in his palace, surrounded by the warriors and nobles of Ulster. His queen sat beside him, weeping and full of sorrow, for in little more than an hour the three days would expire, and still Mongan had made no effort to prove his word.
"Why do you weep?" said Mongan; "do you not know that aid is drawing nearer and nearer to us? Even now I hear the feet of our helper as he strides over the hills and rivers on his way here." He knew that Caeilté was coming to his assistance, though none of the others seemed to see or hear anything unusual.
He had scarcely finished speaking when an extremely tall and handsome warrior, carrying a long spear-shaft in his hand, suddenly appeared in the great hall of the palace, and corroborated the assertion Mongan had made to Forgall.
"I remember it well," said the warrior, "see​ing that I killed him myself. The spear-head from this shaft in my hand passed through his body, and buried itself in the earth beyond him. I was with you at the time," he said to Mongan. Then turning round to the people assembled in the hall, he said to them: "I was with Fionn."
"Be silent, Caeilté," said Mongan; "these secrets should not be spoken."
Caeilté then turned to Forgall, and said to him:
"Come with me; I will show you where Fothad is buried, and at the head of his tomb you will find a pillar, and on it is written in Ogham: 'Here is Fothad Airgtech. He was fighting against Fionn when Caeilté slew him.'
Every one in the dún followed Caeilté, who pointed out to them the place where the spear-head was sunk deep in the ground, and the burial-place of the king with its Ogham inscription. Then, when the truth of Mongan's word was proved, Caeilté left them and returned again to his invisible home.
Another time a king of Ireland was travelling through a dense forest, and the night was
'I AM THE CANDLE-HOLDER OF THE KING,' THE STRANGER REPLIED
​so dark that he could not tell how he was going. Suddenly he was confronted by a tall warrior, with shining star-like eyes, and holding a lighted torch in his hand. He took the bridle of the king's horse, and led it through the wood on to the road. Then the king said to him:
"Who and what are you?"
"I am the candle-holder of the king," the stranger replied.
"I think," said the king, "the two gentle eyes of Caeilté shine in the holder."
"It is a true word you have spoken," said the warrior, smiling, and disappeared.
The old stories do not say that Caeilté appeared any more among men. But perhaps, some summer evening when the late dusk is falling over hill and plain and the cockchafers are beginning their curious droning flight, if you or I, or others who love these ancient heroic stories, happen to be in that part of Donegal where the Hill of Assaroe is, Caeilté may come forth from his secret home of enchantment, his tall spear in his hand, and his eyes shining with a gentle and chivalrous ​light. Perhaps, too, he would himself tell us many stories and adventures—relating to himself and the great Fian-chief and his heroes—which the passing centuries have not preserved to us.