Myths & Legends of the Celtic RaceRolleston, T. W. (Thomas William)
Religion
Myths & Legends of the Celtic Race
Rolleston, T. W. (Thomas William)
Celts -- Religion; Mythology, Celtic
With the coming of Finn the Fianna of Erin came to their glory, and with
his life their glory passed away. For he ruled them as no other captain
ever did, both strongly and wisely, and never bore a grudge against any,
but freely forgave a man all offences save disloyalty to his lord. Thus it
is told that Conan, son of the lord of Luachar, him who had the Treasure
Bag and whom Finn slew at Rath Luachar, was for seven years an outlaw and
marauder, harrying the Fians and killing here a man and there a hound, and
firing dwellings, and raiding their cattle. At last they ran him to a
corner at Carn Lewy, in Munster, and when he saw that he could escape no
more he stole upon Finn as he sat down after a chase, and flung his arms
round him from behind, holding him fast and motionless. Finn knew who held
him thus, and said: “What wilt thou, Conan?” Conan said: “To make a
covenant of service and fealty with thee, for I may no longer evade thy
wrath.” So Finn laughed and said: “Be it so, Conan, and if thou prove
faithful and valiant I also will keep faith.” Conan served him for thirty
years, and no man of all the Fianna was keener and hardier in fight.
*Conan mac Morna*
There was also another Conan, namely, mac Morna, who was big and bald, and
unwieldy in manly exercises, but whose tongue was bitter and scurrilous;
no high or brave thing was done that Conan the Bald did not mock and
belittle. It is said that when he was stripped he showed down his back and
buttocks a black sheep’s fleece instead of a man’s skin, and this is the
way it came about. One day when Conan and certain others of the Fianna
were hunting in the forest they came to a stately dūn, white-walled, with
coloured thatching on the roof, and they entered it to seek hospitality.
But when they were within they found no man, but a great empty hall with
pillars of cedar-wood and silken hangings about it, like the hall of a
wealthy lord. In the midst there was a table set forth with a sumptuous
feast of boar’s flesh and venison, and a great vat of yew-wood full of red
wine, and cups of gold and silver. So they set themselves gaily to eat and
drink, for they were hungry from the chase, and talk and laughter were
loud around the board. But one of them ere long started to his feet with a
cry of fear and wonder, and they all looked round, and saw before their
eyes the tapestried walls changing to rough wooden beams, and the ceiling
to foul sooty thatch like that of a herdsman’s hut. So they knew they were
being entrapped by some enchantment of the Fairy Folk, and all sprang to
their feet and made for the doorway, that was no longer high and stately,
but was shrinking to the size of a fox earth—all but Conan the Bald, who
was gluttonously devouring the good things on the table, and heeded
nothing else. Then they shouted to him, and as the last of them went out
he strove to rise and follow, but found himself limed to the chair so that
he could not stir.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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