Another saga belonging to this cycle affords so curious a picture of pagan customs that it is worth while to give here some extracts from it. This is the story of Mac Dáthó's Pig and Hound, which is contained in the Book of Leinster, a MS. copied about the year 1150. It was first published without a translation by Windisch in his "Irische Texte," from the Book of Leinster copy collated with two others. It has since been translated by Kuno Meyer from a fifteenth-century vellum.[1] The story runs as follows.

Mac Dáthó was a famous landholder in Leinster, and he possessed a hound so extraordinarily strong and swift that it could run round Leinster in a day. All Ireland was full of the fame of that hound, and every one desired to have it. It struck Mève and Oilioll, king and queen of Connacht, to send an embassy to Mac Dáthó to ask him for his hound, at the same time that the notion came to Conor, king of Ulster, that he also would like to possess it. Two embassies reach Mac Dáthó's house at the same time, the one from Connacht and the other from Ulster, and both ask for the hound for their respective masters. Mac Dáthó's house was one of those open[Pg 355] hostelries[2] of which there were five at that time in Ireland.

    "Seven doors," says the saga, "there were in each hostelry, seven roads through it, and seven fireplaces therein. Seven caldrons in the seven fireplaces. An ox and a salted pig would go into each of these caldrons, and the man that came along the road would (i.e., any traveller who passed the way was entitled to) thrust the flesh fork into the caldron, and whatever he brought up with the first thrust, that he would eat, and if nothing were brought up with the first thrust there was no other for him."

The messengers are brought before Mac Dáthó to his bed, and questioned as to the cause of their coming.

    "'To ask for the hound are we come,' said the messengers of Connacht, 'from Oilioll and from Mève, and in exchange for it there shall be given three score hundred milch cows at once, and a chariot with the two horses that are best in Connacht under it, and as much again at the end of the year besides all that.'

    "'We, too, have come to ask for it,' said the messengers of Ulster, 'and Conor is no worse a friend than Oilioll and Mève, and the same amount shall be given from the north (i.e., from the Ultonians) and be added to, and there will be good friendship from it continually.'

    "Mac Dáthó fell into a great silence, and was three days and nights without sleeping, nor could he eat food for the greatness of his trouble, but was moving about from one side to another. It was then his wife addressed him and said, 'Long is the fast in which thou art,' said she; 'there is plenty of food by thee, though thou dost not eat it.'

    "And then she said—

    "'Sleeplessness was brought
    To Mac Dáthó into his house.
    There was something on which he deliberated
    Though he speaks to none.[3]

    He turns away from me to the wall,
    The Hero of the Féne of fierce valour,
    His prudent wife observes
    That her mate is without sleep.'"

A dialogue in verse follows. The wife advises her husband[Pg 356] to promise the hound to both sets of messengers. In his perplexity he weakly decides to do this. After the messengers had stayed with him for three nights and days, feasting, he called to him first the envoys of Connacht and said to them—

    "'I was in great doubt and perplexity, and this is what is grown out of it, that I have given the hound to Oilioll and Mève, and let them come for it splendidly and proudly, with as many warriors and nobles as they can get, and they shall have drink and food and many gifts besides, and shall take the hound and be welcome.'

    "He also went with the messengers of Ulster and said to them, 'After much doubting I have given the hound to Conor, and let him and the flower of the province come for it proudly, and they shall have many other gifts and you shall be welcome.' But for one and the same day he made his tryst with them all."

Accordingly on the appointed day the warriors and men of each province arrive at his hostelry in great state and pomp.

    "He himself went to meet them and bade them welcome. ''Tis welcome ye are, O warriors,' said he, 'come within into the close.'

    "Then they went over, and into the hostelry; one half of the house for the men of Connacht and the other half for the men of Ulster. That house was not a small one. Seven doors in it and fifty beds between (every) two doors. Those were not faces of friends at a feast, the people who were in that house, for many of them had injured other. For three hundred years before the birth of Christ there had been war between them.[4]

    "'Let the pig be killed for them,' said Mac Dáthó."

This celebrated pig had been fed for seven years on the milk of three score milch cows, and it was so huge that it took sixty men to draw it when slain. Its tail alone was a load for nine men.

"'The pig is good,'" said Conor, king of Ulster.

"'It is good,'" said Oilioll, king of Connacht.

Then there arose a difficulty about the dividing of the pig. As in the case of the "heroes' bit" the best warrior was to[Pg 357] divide it. King Oilioll asked King Conor what they should do about it, when suddenly the mischievous, ill-minded Bricriu spoke from a chamber overhead and asked, "How should it be divided except by a contest of arms seeing that all the valorous warriors of Connacht were there."

    "'Let it be so,' said Oilioll.

    "'We like it well,' said Conor, 'for we have lads in the house who have many a time gone round the border.'

    "'There will be need of thy lads to-night, O Conor,' said a famous old warrior from Cruachna Conalath in the west. 'The roads of Luachra Dedad have often had their backs turned to them (as they fled). Many, too, the fat beeves they left with me.'

    "''Twas a fat beef thou leftest with me,' said Munremar mac Gerrcind, 'even thine own brother, Cruithne mac Ruaidlinde from Cruachna Conalath of Connacht.'

    "'He was no better,' said Lewy mac Conroi, 'than Irloth, son of Fergus, son of Leite, who was left dead by Echbél, son of Dedad, at Tara Luachra.'

    "'What sort of man do ye think,' said Celtchair mac Uthechair, 'was Conganchnes, son of (that same) Dedad, who was slain by myself, and me to strike the head off him?'

    "Each of them brought up his exploits in the face of the other, till at last it came to one man who beat every one, even Cet mac Mágach of Connacht.[5]

    "He raised his prowess over the host, and took his knife in his hand, and sat down by the pig. 'Now let there be found,' said he, 'among the men of Ireland one man to abide contest with me, or let me divide the pig.'

    "There was not at that time found a warrior of Ulster to stand up to him, and great silence fell upon them.

    "'Stop that for me, O Laeghaire [Leary],' said Conor, [King of Ulster, i.e., 'Delay, if you can, Cet's dividing the pig'].

    [Pg 358]

    "Said Leary, 'It shall not be—Cet to divide the pig before the face of us all!'

    "'Wait a little, Leary,' said Cet, 'that thou mayest speak with me. For it is a custom with you men of Ulster that every youth among you who takes arms makes us his first goal.[6] Thou, too, didst come to the border, and thus leftest charioteer and chariot and horses with me, and thou didst then escape with a lance through thee. Thou shalt not get at the pig in that manner!'

    "Leary sat down upon his couch.

    "'It shall not be,' said a tall, fair warrior of Ulster, coming out of his chamber above, 'that Cet divide the pig.'

    "'Who is this?' said Cet.

    "'A better warrior than thou,' say all, 'even Angus, son of Hand-wail of Ulster.'

    "'Why is his father called Hand-wail?' said Cet.

    "'We know not indeed,' say all.

    "'But I know,' said Cet; 'once I went eastward (i.e., crossed the border into Ulster), an alarm-cry is raised around me, and Hand-wail came up with me, like every one else. He makes a cast of a large lance at me. I make a cast at him with the same lance, which struck off his hand, so that it was (i.e., fell) on the field before him. What brings the son of that man to stand up to me?' said Cet.

    "Then Angus goes to his couch.

    "'Still keep up the contest,' said Cet, 'or let me divide the pig.'

    "'It is not right that thou divide it, O Cet,' said another tall, fair warrior of Ulster.

    "'Who is this?' said Cet.

    "'Owen Mór, son of Durthacht,' say all, 'king of Fernmag.'[7]

    "'I have seen him before,' said Cet.

    "'Where hast thou seen me,' said Owen.

    "'In front of thine own house when I took a drove of cattle from thee; the alarm cry was raised in the land around me, and thou didst meet me and didst cast a spear at me, so that it stood out of my shield. I cast the same spear at thee, which passed through thy[Pg 359] head and struck thine eye out of thy head, and the men of Ireland see thee with one eye ever since.'

    "He sat down in his seat after that.

    "'Still keep up the contest, men of Ulster,' said Cet, 'or let me divide the pig.'

    "'Thou shalt not divide it,' said Munremar, son of Gerrcend.

    "'Is that Munremar?' said Cet.

    "'It is he,' say the men of Ireland.

    "'It was I who last cleaned my hands in thee, O Munremar,' said Cet; 'it is not three days yet since out of thine own land I carried off three warriors' heads from thee, together with the head of thy first son.'

    "Munremar sat down on his seat.

&............