A Book of Myths, by Jean Lang - Umnet

over to the enemy. His brother, Illann the Fair, filled with shame, did
what he could to make amends. He went forth, and many hundreds of
the besieging army fell before him, ere death stayed his loyal hand. At
his death the Ultonians again fired the house, and first Ardan and then
Ainle left their chess for a fiercer game, and glutted their sword blades
with the blood of their enemies. Last came the turn of Naoise. He
kissed Deirdrê, and drank a drink, and went out against the men of
Conor, and where his brothers had slain hundreds, a thousand fell
before his sword.
Then fear came into the heart of Conor, for he foresaw that against the
Sons of Usna no man could prevail, save by magic. Thus he sent for
Cathbad the Druid, who was even then very near death, and the old
man was carried on a litter to the House of the Red Branch, from which
the flames were leaping, and before which the dead lay in heaps.
And Conor besought him to help him to subdue the Sons of Usna ere
they should have slain every Ultonian in the land. So by his magic
Cathbad raised a hedge of spears round the house. But Naoise, Ardan,
and Ainle, with Deirdrê in their centre, sheltered by their shields, burst
suddenly forth from the blazing house, and cut a way for themselves
through the hedge as though they sheared green wheat. And, laughing
aloud, they took a terrible toll of lives from the Ultonians who would
have withstood them. Then again the Druid put forth his power, and a
noise like the noise of many waters was in the ears of all who were
there. So suddenly the magic flood arose that there was no chance of
escape for the Sons of Usna. Higher it mounted, ever higher, and
Naoise held Deirdrê on his shoulder, and smiled up in her eyes as the
water rose past his middle. Then suddenly as it had come, the flood
abated, and all was well with the Ultonians who had sheltered on a
rising ground. But the Sons of Usna found themselves entrapped in a
morass where the water had been. Conor, seeing them in his hands at
last, bade some of his warriors go and take them. But for shame no
Ultonian would go, and it was a man from Norway who walked along a
dry spit of land to where they stood, sunk deep in the green bog. "Slay
me first!" called Ardan as he drew near, sword in hand. "I am the
youngest, and, who knows, my death may change the tides of fate!"