The Tain

In Part 6, “From Finnabair Chuailnge to Conaille,” the narrative splits, just as the armies do, and then returns to the main story just as the armies return to each other. The first and more straightforward version of the tale explains how Medb’s army changes the landscape by marking its passage in pursuit of the bull. In both, they are up against nature—here the waters of the river—just as they must face Cúchulainn, who can now summon the waters to his defense. The second version is more explicit in attributing the raging waters to Cúchulainn’s power.

The second, longer version of the story treats the journey with more detail. The army’s separation allows the introduction of a love triangle between Medb, Fergus, and Ailill, who are already in a tenuous alliance. With the armies (and the royal couple) split apart, Fergus and Medb become intimate, and naturally this complicates the alliance formed between the royal couple and the former king.

The Táin is often preoccupied with the balance of power and the formation of alliances, and the intimacy that emerges between a queen and a former king is treated in-depth here, as each character expresses themselves through verse. Ailill initiates a game of fidchell, a Celtic boardgame that is a likely predecessor to chess and centers around strategic defense of a “king.” Through this metaphor of the game, Ailill mocks Fergus for making himself vulnerable by sleeping with Medb, likening it to a sort of battle that is dishonorable through its secrecy. On one hand, there is the literal disarming of Fergus while he is with Medb, who has essentially rendered him vulnerable to attack through their sexual relations. His sword, already a phallic symbol, is stolen and hidden by Ailill, who laughs off the infidelity as a strategic move to gain Fergus’s loyalty. However, Ailill’s power seems compromised as well, as he simultaneously blames Medb for the transgression, saying, “I lay first fault / straight at women’s / own sweet swellings / and loving lust” (105), and asserting Fergus could not take his place despite her weakness.

Unlike the typically straightforward narrative voice of the prose sections, the use of verse here, whether spoken or sung in performance, allows more complex and psychologically driven ideas to emerge. Sexual double entendres and metaphors express more than one meaning, which fits the complex, multilayered alliance between the men. Through the metaphor of the game, Ailill is negotiating something delicate, a shift in power and alliances, for his own authority is threatened by Fergus’s liaison with Medb. He accepts their infidelity, seeing it as a practical means to keep Fergus’s loyalty. As for Fergus, he agrees that two kings should not kill one another over a queen’s desires, saying, “A pity friend / we hack each other / with sharp words / in the public gaze / right speech offends / right ways run wrong / javelins wiped / kings killing kings / at a great man’s word” (107). The more abstract language of this dialogue in verse allows for the intersection of sexual and political alliances and game strategies while making a connection to the real violence of the battlefield (and the possibility of violence between the two kings). In fact, this section ends with Fergus allowing Ailill’s men to shelter among his own, who have the protection of Cúchulainn.

Part 7 and the previous section are marked by the large number of men Cúchulainn kills singlehandedly, usually from a distance with his sling. He kills quickly and plentifully, typically without battles or dialogue. The narrative sometimes uses more words to describe a character’s outfit than a battle, favoring moments that dwell on the social contract between warriors rather than the battle itself. This is apparent in the conflict between Etarcomol and Cúchulainn, for example, where the latter is a reluctant hero against the vain and aggressive Etarcomol. While Cúchulainn seeks multiple opportunities to let Etarcomol return under Fergus’s protection, Etarcomol cannot keep himself from insulting Cúchulainn, and his lack of self-restraint leads to his violent death.

The combat with Nadcranntail similarly reveals how crucial Cúchulainn’s adherence to the rules of combat and honor is to his status as a hero. When he plays with the spears Nadcranntail launches at him, it is interpreted as cowardice. But Cúchulainn’s explains that the renowned warrior was not properly armed for battle against him, and it was a mercy that he did not engage in combat. When Nadcranntail returns, the boy-warrior even wears a fake beard to make it seem like a fair competition. When Nadcranntail breaks his oath about returning to be executed, Cúchulainn is livid and shows no mercy in destroying the warrior. The Cúchulainn who was once a chaotic force that needed taming by Conchobor’s hand is now a disciplined warrior who values and sets the rules of combat.

In Part 8 Cúchulainn continues his single combats against Medb and Ailill’s forces. His physical appearance, which is still boyish, is always contradicted by his superhuman strength. This strength is sometimes out of his control, as when he accidentally kills Ferbaeth after their attempted truce. Yet Cúchulainn is often depicted as being a reasonable communicator who goes to talk to the men in the camps before combat or after killing someone, as he does when he kills Ferbaeth outside of a combat scenario. His straightforwardness and honesty juxtapose with the dishonesty of Ailill and Medb, who can only get warriors to fight him through trickery.

Illustrating this juxtaposition, Cúchulainn encounters a pair of brothers, which demonstrates his openness to negotiation and mercy. He is willing to spare the life of Láréne when his brother Lugaid requests it, since Láréne was tricked into fighting Cúchulainn with the promise of Finnabair. This mercy is granted; however, later in this section Cúchulainn fights and kills two brothers (Lóch and Long), using berry juice to trick them into combat, since he appears too young to fight; Cúchulainn is not above employing tricks of his own.

Encountering another sort of trickery, Cúchulainn’s rejection of the Morrígan’s attempt at seduction likewise contrasts with the many men being seduced into battle by the prospect of Finnabair. This episode reinforces his “purity” as a hero who is battling for the right reasons (the honor of his people) rather than the wrong reasons (a woman). He can see through the Morrígan’s disguise, and through she indeed attacks him later while he is fighting Lóch, he defeats them both at the ford. She again tricks him and simultaneously restores him to health, receiving his blessing which in turn restores her health. This is not the reader’s last encounter with the Morrígan, who returns at the end of the epic to ensure the final battle. In The Táin the Morrígan appears as a trickster and a troublemaker capable of undermining Cúchulainn and making him vulnerable when no man can do so, and the first time the audience sees Cúchulainn seriously wounded is due to her interference in one of his combats.