DeDanaan

Filed by Aine MacDermot

He entered the palace. There was one couple inside awaiting him. The warrior’s figure was distinguished owing to the beauty of his shape, the comeliness of his form, and the wonder of his countenance. The girl along with him, mature, yellowhaired, with a golden head-dress, was the loveliest of the world’s women. Cormac’s feet were washed by invisible hands. There was bathing in a pool without the need of attendance. The heated stones of themselves went into and came out of the water.

As they were there after the hour of nine they saw a man coming into the house. A wood-axe was in his right hand, and a log in his left hand, and a pig behind him. “‘Tis time to make ready within,” said the warrior, “because a noble guest is here.”

The man struck the pig and killed it. And he cleft his log so that he had three sets of part-cleavings. The pig was cast into the cauldron.

“It is time for you to turn it,” said the warrior.

“That would be useless,” said the kitchener, “for never, never will the pig be boiled until a truth is told for each quarter of it.”

“Then,” said the warrior, “do thou tell us the first truth.”

“One day,” said he, “when I was going round the land, I found another man’s cows on my property, and I brought them with me into a cattle-pound. The owner of the cows followed me and said that he would give me a reward for letting his cows go free. I gave him his cows. He gave me a pig and an axe and a log, the pig to be killed with the axe every night, and the log to be cleft by it, and there would then be enough firewood to boil the pig, and enough for the palace besides. And, moreover, the pig would be alive the next morning and the log be whole. And from then till today they have been like that.”

“True, indeed, is that tale,” said the warrior.

The pig was turned in the cauldron and only one quarter of it was found boiled.

“Let us have another tale of truth,” said they.

“I will tell one,” said the warrior. “Ploughing-time had come. When we desired to plough that field outside, it was found ploughed, harrowed and sown with wheat. When we desired to reap it, the crop was found stacked in the field. When we desired to draw it into that side out there, it was found in the enclosure all in one thatched rick. We have been eating it from then till today; but it is no whit greater or less.”

Then the pig was turned in the cauldron, and another quarter was found to be cooked.

“It is now my turn,” said the woman. “I have seven cows and seven sheep. The milk of the seven cows is enough for the people of the Land of Promise. From the wool of the seven sheep comes all the clothing they require.”

At this story the third quarter of the pig was boiled.

“It is now thy turn,” they said to Cormac.

So Cormac related how his wife and his son and his daughter had been taken from him, and how he himself had pursued them until he arrived at that house.

So with that the whole pig was boiled.

Then they carved the pig, and his portion was placed before Cormac. “I never eat a meal,” said Cormac, “without fifty in my company.” The warrior sang a song to him and put him asleep. After this he awoke and saw fifty warriors, and his son and his wife and his daughter, along with him. Thereupon his spirit was strengthened. Then ale and food were dealt out to them, and they became happy and joyous. A cup of gold was placed in the warrior’s hand. Cormac was marveling at the cup, for the number of forms upon it and the strangeness of its workmanship. “There is something about it still more strange,” said the warrior. “Let three falsehoods be spoken under it, and it will break into three. Then let three true declarations be made under it, and it will unite again as it was before.” The warrior spoke under it three falsehoods, and it broke into three parts. “It would be well to utter truth,” said the warrior, “for the sake of restoring the cup. I declare, O Cormac,” said he, “that until today neither thy wife nor thy daughter has seen the face of a man since they were taken from thee out of Tara, and that thy son has not seen a woman’s face.” The cup thereupon became whole.

“Take thy family now,” said the warrior, “and take the cup that thou mayest have it for discerning between truth and falsehood. And thou shalt have the branch for music and delight. And on the day that thou shalt die they all will be taken from thee. I am Manannan son of Lir,” said he, “king of the Land of Promise; and to see the Land of Promise was the reason I brought thee hither. The host of horsemen which thou beheldest thatching the house are the men of art in Ireland, collecting cattle and wealth which passes away into nothing. The man whom thou sawest kindling the fire is a thriftless young chief, and out of his housekeeping he pays for everything he consumes. The fountain which thou sawest, with the five streams out of it, is the Fountain of Knowledge, and the streams are the five senses through which knowledge is obtained. And no one will have knowledge who drinks not a draught out of the fountain itself and out of the streams. The folk of many arts are those who drink of them both.”

Now on the morrow morning, when Cormac arose, he found himself on the green of Tara, with his wife and his son and daughter, and having his Branch and Cup.

Source: Cross, Tom Peete, and Slover, Clark Harris; Ancient Irish Tales, 1936.

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