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67 pages 2 hours read

Transl. Thomas Kinsella

The Tain

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2002

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Themes

The Hero’s Journey

At the center of The Táin is the hero’s journey, for while the overarching epic narrative leads to a final battle between the Connacht and Ulster armies, the story more closely follows Cúchulainn’s transformation from a wild, powerful, uncontrolled force of nature as a boy to a disciplined and fair warrior. In the prehistories Cúchulainn is constantly testing the boundaries of his powers and transgressing cultural norms, and the men of Ulster must scramble to accommodate his chaotic energy or control his outbursts. For example, his initial run-in with the boy troop in Ulster when he failed to ask them for protection (77) reveals his boyhood ignorance, and his inability to master his own energy is demonstrated when Conchobor must deploy naked women to distract Cúchulainn, who was so aggressive after battle he returned home on a path of destruction to attack his own people (92).

These stories are presented in contrast with the Cúchulainn who holds off the Irish forces, day after day, strategically invoking challenges and rules for combat, and punishing those who undermine those rules. In Cúchulainn’s boyhood histories, this moment of change and maturity is marked when he takes on the name the “Hound of Ulster” (84). In doing so, Cúchulainn rectifies the killing of the guard dog by assuming the responsibility of protecting Culann and the Murtheimne Plain in its place, a commitment that is echoed later as he singlehandedly holds back the Irish army’s incursion.

The hero’s transformation is illustrated through each test presented by his single-combat challenges, where he deploys his daring feats while adhering to a sense of honor and fair play. Even though he is still an adolescent, he honors the rules of combat better than the seasoned warriors he encounters. However, his most significant moment of change and self-reflection is seen in the battle with Ferdia and its aftermath. As he mourns Ferdia’s death, the reader sees Cúchulainn process the weight of this loss, and his repeated lament, “all play, all sport, until Ferdia came to the ford” (204), betrays his heartbreak and regret. Something has changed for him—what was “play” has become much more serious, like a child who has finally moved from the safe play of sparring to the dangers of mortal combat. Indeed, his childhood sparring partner has been felled, not only by his own hand but also by the use if his most deadly weapon, the gae bolga.

So while Cúchulainn’s journey is a literal one, at one point following the Irish armies as they approach Ulster, it is also one of maturity and responsibility, as he comes into his own as a warrior. Becoming a warrior means reckoning with the weight of death and loss at your own hand. By centering on the hero’s journey, The Táin defies the modern boundaries of genre and often resembles medieval romance, for while Cúchulainn is not necessarily on a “quest” in the traditional sense, his individual evolution follows a trajectory of transformation and becoming that has much in common with romantic heroes of the 12th and 13th centuries.

Authority and Gender

There is an underlying theme of male versus female authority that creates constant tension throughout The Táin. The remscéla features a range of exceptional women, from the ideal wives modeled by Macha, Emer, and Derdriu, to the warrior-prophetess Scáthach and the warrior-chief Aife (who the young Cúchulainn could only defeat through trickery), to name just a few. These examples and others present positive examples of female authority and capability. In contrast, The Táin is more critical of a woman’s contribution to society and her role as a leader in Irish culture.

Medb is a primary example of this misogynist critique, for while her pursuit of the Brown Bull ends in failure, it begins with the desire for equality within her marriage. Certainly, the narrative critiques her desiring that equality and demonstrates that it is a fruitless pursuit, and her failures are explicitly blamed on her being a woman. She is depicted as openly sexual, a tool for negotiation and seduction. She likewise uses the promise of her daughter’s body as a point of negotiation, always ending in deception. This dishonesty is rooted in her body—its use, worth, and value—as is her weakness, as evidenced by her overwhelming need to relieve herself at the end of the final battle. The woman’s body complicates matters that are uncomplicated between men, undermining truces, rules, and laws. The sense of honor and obligation that drives Cúchulainn is depicted as manipulated and ignored by Medb.

The appearance of the Morrígan at certain moments reinforces the view that women serve only as a distraction to men’s affairs. Her chanting stirs up trouble in some cases, and Cúchulainn directly insults her offer of aid, claiming he does not have time to deal with a woman and that “it wasn’t for a woman’s backside [he] took on this ordeal” (133). It is notable that aside from the Morrígan (and by proxy, Medb), Cúchulainn is never directly challenged by a woman during The Táin as he is repeatedly in the remscéla; here women do not belong on or near the battlefield, which is within the realm of men’s obligations.

Foster Families, Kin, and Community

The importance of the “family” is a central theme to The Táin, and yet the definition of family is much larger and all-encompassing than most modern definitions. The act of fostering is crucial for this society, where biological fathers and mothers are only part of a child’s upbringing; parents share childrearing with others in the community, designating foster parents as a point of honor. As a result, the child is quite literally raised by the village. Cúchulainn is a great example of the effect of foster parenting, for he has multiple foster parents, all of whom impart different qualities and resources to the child. His strength reflects the community’s strength, and as the judge Morann states, “In this manner he will be formed by all—chariot-fighter, prince and sage. He will be cherished by many, this boy, and he will settle your trials of honor and win your ford-fights and all your battles” (25).

The other effect of this practice of fostering the broadening of the idea of kin, and the tightening of bonds throughout the community, where foster brothers and foster fathers become just as dear as biological family. These bonds show their real importance in moments of conflict during The Táin. Cúchulainn only battles with Ferdia and Ferbaeth because they have been tricked, and the deaths of these foster brothers cause him true suffering. In another example, Fergus and Cúchulainn’s foster bond trumps Fergus’s loyalty to Medb and Ailill, and the two yield to one another rather than fight to the death. Ultimately, the bond between foster father and son undermines Medb’s entire campaign against Ulster, for when Fergus yields to Cúchulainn, her forces are finally routed.

In fact, the bond of community is sometimes placed higher than the biological bond between families. Consider the treatment of foster sons compared to real sons, as in the case of Connla, who is killed by his own father Cúchulainn. While Emer pleads with Cúchulainn to spare the boy’s life, the fact remains that his child has attacked his people, and Cúchulainn retorts, “No matter who he is, wife […] I must kill him for the honor of Ulster” (44). By raising a child in a community, the warrior’s responsibility is situated more in his obligation to the whole over the family bloodline.

Honor in Combat

Typical to heroes of the premodern epic, Cúchulainn is driven by a refined sense of honor in combat. This adherence to the rules of combat is partly strategic: His early challenges to the Irish armies with the spancel-hoop required them to engage with him on his terms, and his later invocation of single-combat rules allows him to hold back the Irish armies until the men of Ulster recover from their pangs. This sense of strategy is echoed in the occasional mentions of a game called fidchell, which like chess is a game of strategy adhering to specific rules that guide the encounters on the board, all while protecting the “king.” Cúchulainn is not only an exceptional warrior, but he also knows how to use the rules of combat to his advantage and still maintain his sense of honor and fairness.

This sense of fairness is present throughout The Táin, most notably in Cúchulainn’s fight with Ferdia. From their post-combat rituals to taking turns in choosing a combat style for each day, the two men seek to make their encounter as fair as possible so no one can cry foul. However, there are moments where Cúchulainn bends the rules, typically in response to another’s trickery. For instance, Medb calls on him to visit her unarmed, but as Laeg points out, “A warrior without his weapons is not under warriors’ law; he is treated under the rule for cowards” (138), so Cúchulainn goes with his weapons and is able to avoid her trap.

Medb serves as a foil to heighten the reader’s awareness of Cúchulainn’s honor, for she plays fast and loose with the rules. While she gets her warriors drunk so they will fight him, Cúchulainn attempts to convince these same warriors to forfeit and turn away. Cúchulainn, “not being a killer of women” (250), even lets Medb flee when he is within his rights to kill her, as he views killing a woman whose back is turned as dishonorable.

Rivalry Between Friends

Most of the conflicts in The Táin center on once-harmonious friendships ripped apart by petty conflict. These friendships are often emphasized as being equal, from the two pig-keepers who become the great bulls Finnbennach and Donn Cuailnge, to Ailill and Medb’s argument over resources, to Fergus and Conchobor’s dispute between kings. The ripple effects of these arguments engulf others in their wake. This is seen in the example of the two foster brothers, Cúchulainn and Ferdia, fighting each other to the death on behalf of their warring communities. Their sense of obligation brings them to face one another, but the dispute is not personal (even though Medb manipulates Ferdia into thinking Cúchulainn insulted him). After killing Ferdia, Cúchulainn expresses his regret at not “remembering” the depth of their bond, implying their connection should have been elevated over the useless skirmish of war.

Small disputes run the danger of becoming big problems, often fueled by idle chatter among the low-born peasants, as with the epic conflict that arises between the pig-keepers. Likewise, Medb and Ailill’s conflict and the ill-fated cattle raid are sparked by Ailill’s offhand comment about the comparison of resources. And while Conchobor and Ailill form a truce initially, the small fight over stray animals snowballs into a larger brawl that eventually involves both armies. The broader repercussions of these small, interpersonal disputes echo throughout the epic and in the Ulster cycle more broadly, revealing the danger of disagreement that is not quickly and justly settled. While the human armies establish a lasting peace at the end of the epic, the bulls’ final fight demonstrates that not all disputes can be so peacefully resolved, and the gravity of these encounters leaves permanent marks on the landscape and the culture.

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