Celtic Tales - Louey Chisholm (best fiction novels to read txt) 📗

of Usna, shalt thou never leave us, nor shalt thou go forth from us, but of thine own free will.’

Early next morning one hundred and fifty men rode with the three sons of Usna and Deirdre, the wife of Nathos, toward the bay where their black galley was harboured. It was not till night, when on the high ridge of a hill, that they looked backward, and there in the far valley below, where stood the castle of the sons of Usna, they beheld a column of flame.

And Nathos’ brow grew dark. ‘The fire that ye see in the valley below devours the castle of the sons of Usna. The hand that lit the fire is none other than the hand of Concobar the King.’

Then they rode on and rested not until they reached the black galley in the golden bay. The scent of the sea and the gleam of its blue waters and dancing waves made them strong and glad and free.

As for Deirdre, who had never beheld the sea and its great wonders, she laughed with joy and sang a song of the ocean which Lavarcam had taught her long since and when its meaning was dark.

At sundown the galley came to the shores of Mull, and because the wind fell they put into a bay, and as they gazed across the waters to the rocky headlands of Alba, they talked long as to whither they should sail on the morrow. Should it be to crave protection of the King, or should it be to where their father’s castle had stood before it had been destroyed?

But that night there came a galley from the long island to the north. In it sailed twenty men with their chief. And with the chief came a richly-clad stranger, but so hooded that none might look upon his face.

Steadfastly did the stranger gaze upon Deirdre, as the chief urged the sons of Usna to cross the sea to Alba, and journey inland to the palace of the King.

‘But first come, Nathos, to my high-walled castle,’ said the stranger, ‘and bring with thee thy wife and thy brothers.’

‘It were not well to come to a man’s castle and know not the man’s name,’ said Nathos.

‘My name is Angus,’ answered the stranger.

‘Then, Angus, let me behold thy face, for it were not well to come to a man’s castle, having not looked upon the man’s face.’

So Angus threw back his hood, and Nathos saw that Deirdre’s lips grew white, as she said, ‘Not tomorrow, Angus; but on the morn that follows, if thou wilt come again, then shalt thou lead us to thy high-walled castle. This day have we travelled far and would fain rest.’

But Angus turned him again to the sons of Usna and pleaded that they should linger no longer in the isle. ‘To-night may this island be tempest-swept, to-night may the host of Concobar be upon you, and then what shall befall this fair one? Bring her rather to my castle, and there let her rest in safety with my wife and her maidens.’

But as Nathos glanced at Deirdre, he saw that her purpose was firm, and he said once again the words she had spoken, ‘Not tomorrow, Angus; but on the morn that follows, if thou wilt come again, then shall we come with thee to thy high-walled castle’

Then Angus, frowning, went with the chief and his men to their galley. And as they set sail he asked how many men the sons of Usna had with them. But when it was told him that they numbered one hundred and fifty, he said no more, for there were but thirty that sailed with the chief, and what could one man do against five?

It was not until the strangers had gone that Nathos asked Deirdre wherefore she delayed to visit so great a lord as Angus.

‘Thou shalt hear wherefore I went not this day, nor shall go on any day to come to the castle of him who calleth himself Angus. So he calleth himself, but in truth he is none other than the King of Alba. In a dream was it so revealed unto me, when I saw him stand victorious over your dead body. Nathos, that man would fain steal me from you, and deliver you into the hands of Concobar.’

‘Deirdre hath wisdom,’ said Ardan. ‘By the morn after tomorrow we must be far hence, for ere the sun shall rise may not yonder chief be upon us with thrice the number of our men?’

And Nathos, though he was sore grieved for the weariness of Deirdre, bowed his head. So they set sail, and through the thick mist of a starless night their galley silently breasted the unseen waves. But when they came north of the long island, they bent to their oars, and as they rowed yet northward Deirdre laughed again for joy, as she listened to the music of the rowers’ strokes.

When dawn glimmered they came to a sea-loch, its waters o’ershadowed by the sleeping hills. And there they were told that the King of Alba, who had called himself Angus, had no castle in the west, and had already left for Dunedin. They heard, too, that the chief who sailed with him to Mull was no longer a great lord, and that they had nought to fear.

Greatly did the sons of Usna rejoice, for now might they sail south to the land upon which their father’s castle had stood in their boyhood.

But for eight days they lingered by the shores of the sea-loch, and as its salt breath touched Deirdre’s cheeks, she grew yet more fair, and as her eyes drank in the glory of Western Alba, they shone with a radiance that dazzled the beholder.

Then when the eighth day was come, they sailed forth and settled close by the ground on which had stood their boyhood’s home. And it was with great joy that those who dwelt on hill and shore heard of the return of the sons of Usna, and many gathered around them, doing homage.

Then the hundred and fifty men whom Nathos had brought with him, sent he back to their own Green Isle.

‘And thou, Ailne, and thou, Ardan, will ye not also return? Here may Deirdre and I, with a few followers, dwell alone in safety.’

But his brothers would not leave Nathos, for were they not under a bond that they would stand each by each, even unto death?

All through the winter they dwelt in peace and content. By day they would hunt and fish, and when night fell Deirdre let fall from her lips such wonder-stirring sounds that their heroic bosoms swelled with dreams of noble deeds and high endeavour.

But when Spring burst upon the land with her blossom and her singing-birds, it was told the sons of Usna that the King of Alba had sworn to burn to the ground every stone that stood on the land that had been their father’s, and to slay Nathos, and wed the Star-eyed Deirdre.

So in their great galley they set forth, taking with them fifty men. Northward they sailed, through narrow sea-lochs, until they reached the mountains that had been the childhood’s home of their dead mother.

On the summit of a high hill stood the castle where she had once dwelt. Now it was forsaken of all save wandering shepherds and nesting birds, and here, in all the glory of spring, did the sons of Usna make their home. Nor was it long before the chiefs of the mountain-lands swore allegiance to Nathos and did him homage, and he was as a king among the people of his mother’s land.

And while yet the wild thyme bloomed, word was brought to the sons of Usna that the King of Alba was dead, and that the King who now reigned would fain sign a bond of friendship with Nathos and his brothers.

And the bond was signed, and for three years the sons of Usna dwelt in peace and great joy. In the north they rested while yet the mountain-sides were aglow with the purple and gold of heather and bracken, but ever before the first frosts came would they sail south to the land that the brave Usna had ruled, where now they could dwell in safety and in peace.

Thence ofttimes in the young summer would they sail southwards. No bluer blue, no greener green, had it been given mortal eye to behold. And throughout the land of Alba was it told of the fame of the sons of Usna, and no poet or bard had a song so fair as that which sang of the wondrous beauty of Deirdre.

[Illustration: Thence ofttimes in the young summer would they sail southward]

 

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In his dazzling palace in the Green Isle of Erin, Concobar dwelt with gloomy thoughts of vengeance. This Nathos who had stolen Deirdre from the forest beyond the Moor of Loneliness should no longer be suffered to live in peace. He should surely die, and Deirdre the Star-eyed should yet be Concobar’s Queen.

And the King made a feast so magnificent that such had never been seen in the Green Isle. And to it were called all the princes and nobles of the land over which Concobar held sway.

It was in the midst of the feast, as they sat around the board, that a hush fell upon the great company, while Concobar spoke to them of his discontent. ‘It is not meet that these three heroes of the realm, Nathos, Ardan and Ailne, should be exiled from our isle for the sake of a woman, be she fair as May. Should dark days befall, sore would be our need, therefore let the sons of Usna be brought hither from their northern mountain home.’

At these words great was the joy of all, for there was not one but knew that it was for fear of the pitiless anger of Concobar that Nathos had fled from the Green Isle.

‘Go forth,’ said Concobar, when he saw the gladness of the people, ‘go hence to Alba and come not again until ye bring with you the three sons of Usna.’

Then spake one among them, ‘Right gladly we go, but who can bring to thee Nathos, if it be not his will?’

‘He who loves me most,’ answered the King, ‘he it is that will fail not to bring with him the exiled heroes.’

And after the feast the King drew aside a warrior prince, and spake thus: ‘Were I to send thee to Alba to the sons of Usna, and if at my command thou didst see them slain before thee, what then wouldst thou do?’

‘Then, O King, would I slay those who did the monstrous deed, even were it at thy command.’

Again the King called to him a warrior prince. To him he spake as to the first. And this prince made answer, ‘If by thy command I saw the sons of Usna lie dead before me, then woe be upon thee, for with mine own hand should I take thy life.’

Then spake the King likewise to Fergus, and Fergus answered, ‘Let what may befall the sons of Usna, never shall my hand be lifted against the King.’

‘To thee, good Fergus, do I intrust this thing. Go thou to Alba and bring hither with thee Nathos, and Ailne, and Ardan. And when thou art come again to Erin, keep thou thy bond to feast at the house of Borrach, but the three sons of Usna send thou straightway hither.’

So it was that on the morrow Fergus set sail in a black barge for Alba, taking with him but his two sons and a steersman.

The bloom