Alas, for I'd worked this story for the contest, and yet it is no comedy, although there are funny things in it. But so as not to waste the audience, and without shame, for it is a great tale, may I offer it for Beltane as a tale worth hearing? But a long one, so I shall tell it over some time, if I may. . .

The Tale of Fin MacCumhaill

Over in the West country, they still tell the tale of Cumhail Macart and his son, Fin. Cumhail was the greatest of the champions, but it had been foretold that. if he ever wed, he would die in battle. No fool, Cumhail went lighthearted and gay among the maidens and all wished for, but none could have, him. Until, that is, one bright day he saw the King of Kerry’s daughter, hair dark as raven’s wing, eyes as blue as the shoals of the sea, her breast soft and white as swan’s down. Then he knew not a moment’s peace or rest until he had met her and married her in secret. But he knew not that the King of Kerry had been told by a Druid that the son of his own daughter would slay him, so he’d kept the maiden so close, only Cumhail found a way to her door!

‘Twas the very next day, word came that a great battle must be fought and Cumhail the champion before all! As the men geared for battle, Cumhail found his mother, Meara, and told her everything, crying “I must be killed today, Mother, and then what will happen if my wife bears a son? For her father has sworn to murder any such. Promise me that you will hide the child and raise it in secret.” Meara promised and the prophecy was proved . . . Cumhail died that day in battle and, nine months later, his lady bore a fair son. The King was wroth and ordered that the child be taken on the very day of his birth and thrown from the castle window into the loch below, and so fearful were his men that they did the an evil deed.

But magic was in it, for the baby sank deep, and all turned away from the shore, but he swam back to the world of sun with a salmon clasped in his hand! Then Meara, who had watched and waited her chance to take the child, took him in her arms, saying “This is truly the son of my son!” and ran away, taking the child deep from the site of any man in the deep forest. The king sought desperately but could not find the child, and then he fell into an evil rage. And then, calling his men, the King cried that all newborn sons throughout his lands would that very day be killed, knowing that his daughter’s son must die with the others. But all for nothing, for the deed was done, yet the child did not die.

Mother Meara found shelter in the forest and, with the help of a woodman, lived inside a great oak tree, fashioned as cunning as any house. The woodman who helped her, she afterwards slew, saying “Now no enemy shall ever know the way to my son’s son’s house!” She had brought a child as playmate to her grandson, and named the boy Bran. But she gave no name to the child she had saved.

Meara taught the boy to run and hide and be as swift as any deer startled by the hunter, to outrun the foxes and to fly like the hare. And so they lived until the boy was 15, when Meara took him and Bran to a great contest, the King of Kerry against a neighboring king, when hurling teams fought out in mock what men do in real wars, all for the sake of a gaming crown. Neither team could win against the other until the boy joined the side against the King of Kerry; then the team could not lose, for he struck the ball again and again and no guard could stand against him.

The King of Kerry saw the boy’s golden hair, and called “who is that fin cumhail?” [who is that with the fair white hair?”] And Fin Cumhail his grandmother named him on the spot, for the King, not knowing, had used his true name.

The King was enraged that this boy was the victor and shouted that he be seized and put to death. Then Meara and Fin and Bran ran as no one has ever ran before, away from the King’s men, from that part of the land, from kingdoms into new lands, a running step of a league and six leagues in a breath. And the King was furious and promised told to whoever brought back the head of the fair-haired youth who had shamed him.

After a while and a while, when Fin grew tired, the old woman took him on her back and they fairly flew over the ground until they were many leagues away. Then, the old woman said to Fin, “Look behind you – what do you see?”

Fin said “I see a man on a white horse, grandmother, following after us!”

The old woman said, “Bah, there’s no endurance to a white horse – we are well away!” And on they ran.

The old woman then said, “Look again behind you – what do you see?”

Fin said, “I see a man on a brown horse, grandmother, following close!”

Meara said, “Never fear a brown horse, it will never overtake us.” And on they ran.

Then she asked, “Look now – what do you see?”

Fin said, “Alas, grandmother, there’s the devil’s black horse behind us with a black warrior on his back.” And then the woman despaired, for no one can beat a black horse.

“Now listen, grandson” she said, “Ahead is a black bog. You must escape, for we will never escape the Black Rider. I am old and like to die soon, so you and Bran must run on and I will sink in the bog up to my neck. When the Black Rider finds me, I’ll tell him you sank in the bog and I went in to save you. You and I and your father all had the fairest hair in Eire. He will cut off my head and take it to the king, saying it is yours. That way you and Bran will be saved and will avenge me and your father and poor mother.”

Fin agreed, and he and Bran fled, and it all fell out just as Meara had said, for the Black Rider took her head back, thinking to fool the king and get the gold. But Bran and Fin ran on, until . . .

THE TALE WILL CONTINUE LATER!