This is how the first ranging of the hero, CuRuada, came to be.  After CuRuada and several of the Boy’s Troop of the Red Branch warriors took up their arms, these were exhibiting their skill at arms before the hosting of the Red Branch and before the king, Concubar.  The Boy’s Troop lads were all sons of the Red Branch warriors for none was admitted to the Boy’s Troop unless he was a son of one of the Red Branch knights.  Indeed this was true of everyone, proud fathers looked on as their sons showed their prowess, and none was so proud as Concubar, for though he was not married, CuRuada was indeed his son, though secretly to most, by the faerie woman, Fand.

These lads were in very high spirits, and with their martial display they were a danger to themselves and to others.  Perceiving the potential for disaster, Fergus, who was the commander and main instructor in arms of the Boy’s Troop, advised the king to send CuRuada and the rest out on a ranging where their high spirits would do no harm and likely some good.  This seemed wise to the King, for though a king is the leader of his warriors, he is established and maintained by the peace and prosperity that he brings for his people.

Now the King, Concubar, had a great shield that would roar when the king was in danger, and too Concubar could wield it so that its roaring could gain the attention of warriors even in the noise of combat.  So Concubar took his great shield and made the roaring that brought the king to the attention of the lads and brought them immediately to heal, even the hound, CuRuada.

When they were all gathered, the King, Concubar said, “Welcome all you new warriors to the knights of the Red Branch, and you have arrived at a fortunate time for Ulster.  You may all have heard the words of our chief druid, Cathbad.  Though harvests are plentiful, though calving will bring wealth, there may be war too, in fact we know that one almost always brings the other from jealous neighbors.  For this reason we must be vigilant and we must expect danger from places where we do not expect it, and threat where there has never been before.  So my lads, it is important that we send you, young heroes, on an urgent quest to range our borders to the North and the West where we do not expect trouble and, having seen to their security, return to report their condition.”

So saying the king gave their war-like, rambunctious, pugilistic, contentious, battle anxiousness a direction where he thought it would do no damage, for in the West of Ulster were the great mountains of the West and true, there were hill men there in the foothills below, but none below the White Dash, the violent stream of water that fell rapidly from the foothills. 

To the North the King had still more confidence, for there beyond the ridge that later fell down to the great lake of the north, was no neighbor at all save the deer.  Perhaps too might be the folk of Fand the faerie woman, but who knew if they even inhabited the same world as Concubar and his Gaels, for Fand seemed born of the mist where he found her and to which she later returned after their trysting.

So, while the other fathers were advising their sons on what the proper manner of a warrior on a ranging should be, Concubar took under his arm, Son, named by his mother, Fand, and sent to Concubar, and known by all as CuRuada, the Hound of Ulster.  Concubar gave some martial advice and he advised CuRuada to go West from Emain Macha and to the White Dash but no further.  Then, said the King, turn along that stream and go northward to the ridge above the forest that falls to the great inland sea, but no further, said he.  Then go you and your mates along that ridge’s base, and not the heights, until you come to the forester’s road, and so by that way back to Emain Macha.  This do you, for yours will be the command and when you return we will all go a’hunting in the South. 

This then was good to CuRuada’s hearing because, having taken up his arms, his would be the command of the expedition.  Then too, he was not unaware that South along the way was the Ford across the Red Branch river where lived Emer.  This too seemed very good to him as he meant to have her as his wife. 

Thus CuRuada began his border ranging, but he did not know that Concubar had met with Wil McCullen, Emer’s father, and they had spoken of a marriage and made sureties.  For this reason Concubar meant for this hunting trip to lead to a feast at that same hostelry where Concubar would see his bride to be, the daughter of McCullen, Emer, who CuRuada loved.

In the first section of this story, we are introduced to Ulster (in this world, Tir na Nua, a young country in the North and West by the Western mountains), the king, Concubar, and of course, CuRuada and Emer.  This post begins the heroic deeds of CuRuada and what leads, finally, to tragedy.

“Ruaridh Ua Birlinn, what can you tell me about him?” asked Iamerge.

Jim took a swig of his ale and then thumped it down on the bar, “Ruaridh is a fine fellow.  As it turns out he’s a better trader than his father.  He runs his business tight like he used to run the ships for his Da.”  Jim picked up his ale and looked at Iamerge as he took another drink.

“Just that?  A better trader than his father?  Runs a tight ship?  You aren’t telling me much, what about the man.  What’s he like?

Cooper chuckled, “Well, I knew his Da, Rod Ua Birlinn.  Let’s just say that Ruaridh is no Roderick, but that might be age.  Might be, but I think it is more like that he takes after his mother.”

“So, its a debt I’ve come to claim.  A deal was struck a long time gone and with the father.  What are my chances, collecting from the son?  If I’m to have aught to pay back your kindness it will come from that.”

“Oh you’ll likely have no trouble.  And as to my fee, I told you, I like to know what’s what, if you’ll tell me what I don’t, I’m more than grateful.  Right now, I’ve told you that Ruaridh ain’t Rod, and that the worst of him might come from Mongfind, the mother.  A boy always wants to live up to the the father and Ruaridh is no exception, he’s a good Celt, open-handed.”

“So avoid Mongfind.  Fair enough.”

“Avoid letting the woman into the business end.”  Cooper shivered and looked back to his ale, “So that’s what I know, now tell me what I don’t know my good friend Iamerge, who looks like a monk but isn’t.  I can tell there’s a story and I’ll hear it.” Jim winked and nursed his ale.

These fragments of the lore of Tir na Nua are presented raw, first draft, and unedited. I apologize for their original condition. However, my first priority is to capture sketches, so to speak, of the people and places of Tir na Nua. I have promised Free Celtic Fiction and before I can shape these sketches into more polished works I need to write these drafts. I share them, as they are, while I try to find the time to improve them. — LSO

 Read the beginning of this story: the Red Son of Concubar

the Coming of CuRuada the Red Son of Concubar

Nine days after Concubar’s tryst with the deer woman of the wood, the king was feasting in his great hall with his Red Branch warriors.  They would not leave off asking him about the woman and what was said between them.  Some of his men felt that it was good fortune and some were worried it was ill, but Concubar wished only that he could find the woman again.  How can I, Concubar thought, when I don’t even know her name?

Cathbad the, chief druid of Ulster, came into the hall in distress, “My lord Concubar, there is trouble on the hurley pitch.  The boys troop has cornered another boy and are beating him to death.”

Concubar sighed, “Boys will be boys, must I truly drag them from their prey?  What is this other boy to me?  Perhaps the troop has good cause.  Did you think of that Cathbad?”

“As to who the boy is, I can not say, but his cloak marks him as a prince and the broach upon it says he is the son of a king,”  said Cathbad, “And if you would know who he might be to you you’d best stop them soon or there will be no finding it out until the king, who is his father comes looking for his son.  I doubt he will be pleased.”

So the king rose from his couch and went to the hurley pitch with haste, all his warriors with him.  Now a king among the Gael must rule by right of a choosing.  He must be strong in body, perfect, and strong in voice so that his commands will be heard and obeyed. 

Concubar was without peer and his commands were always followed, so powerful was his voice.  So Concubar shouted with his commanding voice, “See here, stop beating that boy,”  said Concubar.

Even his command would not stop the boys.  So shocking was this that Concubar said not another word, but began to pull the boys off one at a time and throw them to his warriors, who’s sons they were.  When Concubar reached the bottom of the scrum he found Donall, the son of the champion, Cormac, and a little fellow with hair like flame of fire.

“Leave off you two! What is the meaning of this?”  shouted Concubar, and finally the boys stopped their struggles.  “What mischief are you all up to Donall?”

Donal answered, “This little fellow came and said that he wanted to play at hurley with us.  Nobody can play with the boy’s troop unless he be worthy, so we asked his name, but this little fellow would not say it, he claimed he was bound by his gesa not to give his name except to the king.”

Another boy piped up, “He wouldn’t say, so we told him he couldn’t play.  Then he stole our sliotar and carried it off to the goal.”

“Liar, I stole nothing, I only wanted to play.” said the little fellow.

“. . . so when he put the sliotar in the goal we confronted him.  Without permission and giving his name he should not play at hurley with the boys troop.” said Donall

“I have as much right as anyone here.” shouted the little fellow.

All the boys started to yell at that and curse him. “After that he attacked us.” said Donall

“Another lie! You pushed me down first.” howled the little red-haired boy.

“This one little boy attacked you?  All of you?” Asked the king.

“He is a demon or worse! He broke Felmid’s arm and who knows what else?” said Donall.

“This little fellow?” asked Concubar again, and the boys troop was shamed to silence.

Concubar set the two boys down.  He looked around at the boys, many of which had woundings and some who sat on the ground nursing broken bones, and the king wondered, who could this child be?

Concubar turned to the little fellow. “So boy, what is your name?”  he asked not unkindly.  He looked sternly in the boys face, but he found no fear there at all.

“I told them and I’ll tell you or anyone else, I can tell my name to none but the king, it is a gesa on me.”  Then it was that Concubar saw that the cloak he wore was outsized for one so small for it was a man’s cloak, a king’s cloak, indeed Concubar saw that it was his cloak pinned with his broach and on the childs hand was his ring.