A caterwauling phantom among the winds of the west.
But what are you waiting for? into the water, I say!
If there’s no sword can harm you, I’ve an older trick to play,
An old five-fingered trick to tumble you out of the place;
I am Sualtim’s son Cuchulain – what, do you laugh in my face?
So you too think me in earnest in wagering poll for poll!
A drinking joke and a gibe and a juggler’s feat, that is all,
To make the time go quickly – for I am the drinker’s friend,
The kindest of all Shape-Changers from here to the world’s end,
The best of all tipsy companions. And now I bring you a gift:
I will lay it there on the ground for the best of you all to lift,
[He lays his Helmet on the ground]
And wear upon his own head, and choose for yourselves the best.
O! Laegaire and Conall are brave, but they were afraid of my jest.
Well, maybe I jest too grimly when the ale is in the cup.
There, I’m forgiven now —
[Then in a more solemn voice as he goes out]
Let the bravest take it up.
[Conall takes up Helmet and gazes at it with delight]
[Singing, with a swaggering stride]
Laegaire is best;
Between water and hill,
He fought in the west
With cat heads, until
At the break of day
All fell by his sword,
And he carried away
Their hidden hoard.
[He seizes the Helmet]
Give it me, for what did you find in the bag
But the straw and the broken delf and the bits of dirty rag
You’d taken for good money?
No, no, but give it me.
[He takes Helmet]
The Helmet’s mine or Laegaire’s – you’re the youngest of us three.
[Filling Helmet with ale]
I did not take it to keep it – the Red Man gave it for one,
But I shall give it to all – to all of us three or to none;
That is as you look upon it – we will pass it to and fro,
And time and time about, drink out of it and so
Stroke into peace this cat that has come to take our lives.
Now it is purring again, and now I drink to your wives,
And I drink to Emer, my wife.
[A great noise without and shouting]
Why, what in God’s name is that noise?
What else but the charioteers and the kitchen and stable boys
Shouting against each other, and the worst of all is your own,
That chariot-driver, Laeg, and they’ll keep it up till the dawn,
And there’s not a man in the house that will close his eyes to-night,
Or be able to keep them from it, or know what set them to fight.
[A noise of horns without]
There, do you hear them now? such hatred has each for each
They have taken the hunting horns to drown one other’s speech
For fear the truth may prevail. – Here’s your good health and long life,
And, though she be quarrelsome, good health to Emer, your wife.
[The Charioteers, Stable Boys and Kitchen Boys come running in. They carry great horns, ladles and the like]
I am Laeg, Cuchulain’s driver, and my master’s cock of the yard.
Conall would scatter his feathers.
[Confused murmurs]
[To Cuchulain]
No use, they won’t hear a word.
They’ll keep it up till the dawn.
It is Laegaire that is the best,
For he fought with cats in Connaught while Conall took his rest
And drained his ale pot.
Laegaire – what does a man of his sort
Care for the like of us! He did it for his own sport.
It was all mere luck at the best.
But Conall, I say —
Let me speak.
You’d be dumb if the cock of the yard would but open his beak.
Before your cock was born, my master was in the fight.
Go home and praise your grand-dad. They took to the horns for spite,
For I said that no cock of your sort had been born since the fight began.
Conall has got it, the best man has got it, and I am his man.
Who was it started this quarrel?
It was Laeg.
It was Laeg done it all.
A high, wide, foxy man came where we sat in the hall,
Getting our supper ready, with a great voice like the wind,
And cried that there was a helmet, or something of the kind,
That was for the foremost man upon the ridge of the earth.
So I cried your name through the hall,
[The others cry out and blow horns, partly drowning the rest of his speech]
but they denied its worth,
Preferring Laegaire or Conall, and they cried to drown my voice;
But I have so strong a throat that I drowned all their noise
Till they took to the hunting horns and blew them into my face,
And as neither side would give in – we would settle it in this place.
Let the Helmet be taken from Conall.
No, Conall is the best man here.
Give it to Laegaire that made the murderous cats pay dear.
It has been given to none: that our rivalry might cease,
We have turned that murderous cat into a cup of peace.
I drank the first; and then Conall; give it to Laegaire now,
[Conall gives Helmet to Laegaire]
That it may purr in his hand and all of our servants know
That since the ale went in, its claws went out of sight.
That’s well – I will stop my shouting.
Cuchulain is in the right;
I am tired of this big horn that has made me hoarse as a rook.
Cuchulain, you drank the first.
By drinking the first he took
The whole of the honours himself.
Cuchulain, you drank the first.
If Laegaire drink from it now he claims to be last and worst.
Cuchulain and Conall have drunk.
He is lost if he taste a drop.
[Laying Helmet on table]
Did you claim to be better than us by drinking first from the cup?
[His words are partly drowned by the murmurs of the crowd though he speaks very loud]
That juggler from the sea, that old red herring it is
Who has set us all by the ears – he brought the Helmet for this,
And because we would not quarrel he ran elsewhere to shout
That Conall and Laegaire wronged me, till all had fallen out.
[The murmur grows less so that his words are heard]
Who knows where he is now or who he is spurring to fight?
So get you gone, and whatever may cry aloud in the night,
Or show itself in the air, be silent until morn.
Cuchulain is in the right – I am tired of this big horn.
Go!
[The Servants turn toward the door but stop on hearing the voices of Women outside]
[Without]
Mine is the better to look at.
[Without]
But mine is better born.