Wars of the Irish Kings by David W. McCullough Read Free Book Online

fell at the hands of Ochtríallach son of Indech. Lug and Balor of the piercing eye met in the battle. The latter had a destructive eye which was never opened except on a battlefield. Four men would raise the lid of the eye by a polished ring in its lid. The host which looked at that eye, even if they were many thousands in number, would offer no resistance to warriors. It had that poisonous power for this reason: once his father’s druids were brewing magic. He came and looked over the window, and the fumes of the concoction affected the eye and the venomous power of the brew settled in it. Then he and Lug met ….
    “Lift up me eyelid, lad,” said Balor, “so I may see the talkative fellow who is conversing with me.”
    The lid was raised from Balor’s eye. Then Lug cast a sling stone at himwhich carried the eye through his head, and it was his own host that looked at it. He fell on top of the Fomorian host so that twenty-seven of them died under his side; and the crown of his head struck against the breast of Indech mac Dé Domnann so that a gush of blood spouted over his lips ….
    Then the Morrígan the daughter of Ernmas came, and she was strengthening the Túatha Dé to fight the battle resolutely and fiercely. She then chanted the following poem:
    “Kings arise to the battle! …”
    Immediately afterwards the battle broke, and the Fomoire were driven to the sea. The champion Ogma son of Elatha and Indech mac Dé Domnann fell together in single combat ….
    “A question: what is the number of the slain?” Lug said to Loch.
    “I do not know the number of peasants and rabble. As to the number of Fomorian lords and nobles and champions and over-kings, I do know: 3 + 3 × 20 + 50 × 100 men + 20 × 100 + 3 × 50 + 9 × 5 + 4 × 20 × 1000 + 8 + 8 × 20 + 7 + 4 × 20 + 6 + 4 × 20 + 5 + 8 × 20 + 2 + 40, including the grandson of Net with 90 men. That is the number of the slain of the Fomorian over-kings and high nobles who fell in the battle.
    “But regarding the number of peasants and common people and rabble and people of every art who came in company with the great host—for every warrior and every high noble and every over-king of the Fomoire came to the battle with his personal followers, so that all fell there, both their free men and their unfree servants—I count only a few of the over-kings’ servants. This then is the number of those I counted as I watched: 7 + 7 × 20 × 20 × 100 × 100 + 90 including Sab Úanchennach son of Coirpre Colc, the son of a servant of Indech mac Dé Domnann (that is, the son of a servant of the Fomorian king).
    “As for the men who fought in pairs and the spearmen, warriors who did not reach the heart of the battle who also fell there—until the stars of heaven can be counted, and the sands of the sea, and flakes of snow, and dew on a lawn, and hailstones, and grass beneath the feet of horses, and the horses of the son of Lir in a sea storm—they will not be counted at all.”
    Immediately afterward they found an opportunity to kill Bres mac Elathan. He said, “It is better to spare me than to kill me.”
    “What then will follow from that?” said Lug.
    “The cows of Ireland will always be in milk,” said Bres, “if I am spared.”
    “I will tell that to our wise men,” said Lug.
    So Lug went to Máeltne Mórbrethach and said to him, “Shall Bres be spared for giving constant milk to the cows of Ireland?”
    “He shall not be spared,” said Máeltne. “He has no power over their age or their calving, even if he controls their milk as long as they are alive.”
    Lug said to Bres, “That does not save you; you have no power over their age or their calving, even if you control their milk.”
    Bres said, “Máeltne has given bitter alarms!”
    “Is there anything else which will save you, Bres?” said Lug.
    “There is indeed. Tell your lawyer they will reap a harvest every quarter in return for sparing me.”
    Lug said to Máeltne, “Shall Bres be spared