Cuchulainn was hunting sea-birds
with his deadly sling on the sand of Baile's Strand. He was
alone. All his friends, the great warriors of the Red Branch,
lay sick and helpless at the palace of Eamhain Macha. He
alone was free of the wicked spell which had struck them
down. He alone must defend the land of Ulster in case of
attack.
Suddenly he saw a messenger from
Eamhain Macha coming quickly towards him. The news was bad.
Cuchulainn's many enemies were marching in one mighty army
towards the broders of Ulster. Quenn Meabh was at their head.
She had heard of the sickness of the Red Branch and knew that
Ulster was unguarded. Now she could have revenge for her
defeat at the ford.
At this terrible news Cuchulainn
leaped into the messenger's chariot and away he sped to
Eamhain Macha. Rushing into the palace, he grabbed his
weapons and flung his cloak about his shoulders. Then strange
things began to happen. The sliver brooch he wore in his
cloak fell to the ground and pierced his foot. Then his
mighty horse, the Grey of Macha, refused to be brought to the
chariot. When Cuchulainn himself went to the horse the
gallant Grey shed big round tears of blood at his master's
feet. These were all bad signs - a warning to Cuchulainn that
some great evil was about to fall upon him. But he paid no
heed. Jumping into his chariot he sped towards the Gap of the
North, the great road-way into Ulster, along which the enemy
must pass.
All the queens of Eamhain Macha
raised a great wail of grief and wept bitterly when he left
them. They loved their gallant hero and greatly feared they
never again would see him.
On the way he visited his mother
to bid her farewell. She came out to greet him, bringing a
cup of sweet red wine. But as Chuchulainn raied it to his
lips, the wine turned to blood. In anger he flung the cup
from him and it dashed against a rock. He knew now that his
life was near and end. Unafraid, he drove quickly southward
towards the Ulster border.
Chuculainn visiting his mother for the last time.
Throught the Gap of the North
Cuchulainn sped. The galloping hoofs kicked up great sods of
earth as his chariot came crashing into the enemy camp. Queen
Meabh's troops were filled with terror at the sight of this
mighty warrior coming against them. High in his great
war-chariot he stood, a sword in one hand and his deadly
spear in the other. He flung his spears with such force that
they passed through a warrior with such force that they
passed through a warrior, killing those who stood behind.
Three times he drove through the enemy camp, scattering death
around him. Each time he fought more fiercly than before.
Then Lu, whose father Cuchulainn
had killed managed to get his magic spear from him. With all
his might, he flung the spear at the passing chariot. Too
late, Cuchulainn sprang to the ground to avoid the deadly
weapon. It pierced his breast, an Ulster's greatest hero fell
dying on the plain. Raising his head, he saw a great
pillar-stone standing nearby. Painfully he stumbled towards
it. He placed his torn cloak around the top of the pillar and
passed it under his arms. Then he tied it firmly across his
chest, so that he would die standing with drawn sword and
facing his enemies.
Meabh's soldiers watched him afar.
So great was their fear of him that no man would go close
while there was still life in his body. SIngle-handed, this
mighty warrior had slain half their army. They stood waiting.
Slowly his head sank lower on his breast. A bird flew down
from the sky and settled on his shoulder.
Cuchulainn was dead.