Fantasy fiction; Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Mythology, Celtic -- Fiction
For the next few days Duallach went hither and thither trying to raise
a bodyguard, and every man he met had some story of Costello, how he
killed the wrestler when but a boy by so straining at the belt that went
about them both that he broke the big wrestler's back; how when somewhat
older he dragged fierce horses through a ford in the Unchion for a
wager; how when he came to manhood he broke the steel horseshoe in Mayo;
how he drove many men before him through Rushy Meadow at Drum-an-air
because of a malevolent song they had about his poverty; and of many
another deed of his strength and pride; but he could find none who
would trust themselves with any so passionate and poor in a quarrel with
careful and wealthy persons like Dermott of the Sheep and Namara of the
Lake.
Then Costello went out himself, and after listening to many excuses and
in many places, brought in a big half-witted fellow, who followed him
like a dog, a farm-labourer who worshipped him for his strength, a fat
farmer whose forefathers had served his family, and a couple of lads who
looked after his goats and cows; and marshalled them before the fire
in the empty hall. They had brought with them their stout cudgels,
and Costello gave them an old pistol apiece, and kept them all night
drinking Spanish ale and shooting at a white turnip which he pinned
against the wall with a skewer. Duallach of the pipes sat on the
bench in the chimney playing 'The Green Bunch of Rushes', 'The Unchion
Stream,' and 'The Princes of Breffeny' on his old pipes, and railing now
at the appearance of the shooters, now at their clumsy shooting, and
now at Costello because he had no better servants. The labourer, the
half-witted fellow, the farmer and the lads were all well accustomed to
Duallach's railing, for it was as inseparable from wake or wedding as
the squealing of his pipes, but they wondered at the forbearance of
Costello, who seldom came either to wake or wedding, and if he had would
scarce have been patient with a scolding piper.
On the next evening they set out for Cool-a-vin, Costello riding a
tolerable horse and carrying a sword, the others upon rough-haired
garrons, and with their stout cudgels under their arms. As they rode
over the bogs and in the boreens among the hills they could see
fire answering fire from hill to hill, from horizon to horizon, and
everywhere groups who danced in the red light on the turf, celebrating
the bridal of life and fire. When they came to Dermott's house they saw
before the door an unusually large group of the very poor, dancing about
a fire, in the midst of which was a blazing cartwheel, that circular
dance which is so ancient that the gods, long dwindled to be but
fairies, dance no other in their secret places. From the door and
through the long loop-holes on either side came the pale light of
candles and the sound of many feet dancing a dance of Elizabeth and
James.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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