Gods and Fighting Men
Reign of Bres
But if Nuada won the battle, be lost his own arm in it, that was struck off
by Sreng; and by that loss there came troubles and vexation on his people.
For it was a law with the Tuatha de Danaan that no man that was not perfect
in shape should be king. And after Nuada had lost the battle he was put out of
the kingship on that account.
And the king they chose in his place was Bres, that was the most beautiful of
all their young men, so that if a person wanted to praise any beautiful thing,
whether it was a plain, or a dun, or ale, or a flame, or a woman, or a man, or a
horse, it is what he would say, "It is as beautiful as Bres." And he was the son
of a woman of the Tuatha de Danaan, but who his father was no one knew but
But in spite of Bres being so beautiful, his reign brought no great good luck
to his people; for the Fomor, whose dwelling-place was beyond the sea, or as
some say below the sea westward, began putting tribute on them, the way they
would get them under their own rule.
It was a long time before that the Fomor came first to Ireland; dreadful they
were to look at, and maimed, having but one foot or one hand, and they under the
leadership of a giant and his mother. There never came to Ireland an army more
horrible or more dreadful than that army of the Fomor. And they were friendly
with the Firbolgs and content to leave Ireland to them, but there was jealousy
between them and the Men of Dea.
And it was a hard tax they put on them, a third part of their corn they
asked, and a third part of their milk, and a third part of their children, so
that there was not smoke rising from a roof in Ireland but was under tribute to
them. And Bres made no stand against them, but let them get their way.
And as to Bres himself, he put a tax on every house in Ireland of the milk of
the hornless dun cows, or of the milk of cows of some other single colour,
enough for a hundred men. And one time to deceive him, Nechtan singed all the
cows of Ireland in a fire of fern, and then he smeared them with the ashes of
flax seed, the way they were all dark brown. He did that by the advice of the
Druid Findgoll, son of Findemas. And another time they made three hundred cows
of wood with dark brown pails in place of udders, and the pails were filled with
black bog stuff. Then Bres came to look at the cows, and see them milked before
him, and Cian, father of Lugh, was there. And when they were milked it was the
bog stuff that was squeezed out; and Bres took a drink of it thinking it to be
milk, and he was not the better of it for a long time.
And there was another thing against Bres; he was no way open handed, and the
chief men of the Tuatha de Danaan grumbled against him, for their knives were
never greased in his house, and however often they might visit him there was no
smell of ale on their breath. And there was no sort of pleasure or merriment in
his house, and no call for their poets, or singers, or harpers, or pipers, or
horn-blowers, or jugglers, or fools. And as to the trials of strength they were
used to see between their champions, the only use their strength was put to now
was to be doing work for the king. Ogma himself, the shining poet, was under
orders to bring firing to the palace every day for the whole army from the
Islands of Mod; and he so weak for want of food that the sea would sweep away
two-thirds of his bundle every day. And as to the Dagda, he was put to build
raths, for he was a good builder, and he made a trench round Kath Brese. And he
used often to be tired at the work, and one time, he nearly gave in altogether
for want of food, and this is the way that happened. He used to meet in the
house an idle blind man, Cridenbel his name was, that had a sharp tongue, and
that coveted the Dagda's share of food, for he thought his own to be small
beside it. So he said to him: "For the sake of your good name let the three best
bits of your share be given to me." And the Dagda gave in to that every night;
but he was the worse of it, for what the blind man called a bit would be the
size of a good pig, and with his three bits he would take a full third of the
But one day, as the Dagda was in the trench, he saw his son, Angus Og, coming
to him. "That is a good meeting," said Angus; "but what is on you, for you have
no good appearance to-day?" "There is a reason for that," said the Dagda, "for
every evening, Cridenbel, the blind man, makes a demand for the three best bits
of my share of food, and takes them from me." "I will give you an advice," said
Angus. He put his hand in his bag then, and took out three pieces of gold and
gave them to him.
"Put these pieces of gold into the three bits you will give this evening to
Cridenbel," he said "and they will be the best bits in the dish, and the gold
will turn within him the way he will die."
So that in the evening the Dagda did that; and no sooner had Cridenbel
swallowed down the gold than he died. Some of the people said then to the king:
"The Dagda has killed Cridenbel, giving him some deadly herb." The king believed
that, and there was anger on him against the Dagda, and he gave orders he should
be put to death. But the Dagda said: "You are not giving the right judgment of a
prince." And he told all that had happened, and how Cridenbel used to say, "Give
me the three best bits before you, for my own share is not good to-night." "And
on this night," he said, "the three pieces of gold were the best things before
me, and I gave them to him, and he died."
The king gave orders then to have the body cut open. And they found the gold
inside it, and they knew it was the truth the Dagda had told.
And Angus came to him again the next day, and he said: "Your work will soon
be done, and when you are given your wages, take nothing they may offer you till
the cattle of Ireland are brought before you and choose out a heifer then, black
and black-maned, that I will tell you the signs of."
So when the Dagda had brought his work to an end, and they asked him what
reward he wanted, he did as Angus had bidden him. And that seemed folly to Bres;
he thought the Dagda would asked more than a heifer of him.
There came a day at last when a poet came to look for hospitality at the
king's house, Corpre, son of Etain, poet of the Tuatha de Danaan. And it is how
he was treated, he was put in a little dark narrow house where there was no
fire, or furniture, or bed; and a feast three small cakes, and they dry, were
brought to him on little dish. When he rose up on the morrow he was no way
thankful, and as he was going across the green, it is what he said: "With food
ready on a dish; without milk enough for a calf to grow without shelter, without
light in the darkness of night; with enough to pay a story-teller; may that be
the prosperity of Bres."
And from that day there was no good luck with Bres, but it is going down he
was for ever after. And that was the first satire ever made in Ireland.
Now as to Nuada after his arm being struck off, he was in his sickness for a
while, and then Diancecht, the healer, made an arm of silver for him, with
movement in every finger of it, and put it on him. And from that he was called
Nuada Argat-lamh, of the Silver Hand, for ever after.
Now Miach, son of Diancecht, was a better hand at healing than his father,
and had done many things. He met a young man, having but one eye, at Teamhair
one time, and the young man said: "If you are a good physician, you will put an
eye in the place of the eye I lost." "I could put the eye of that cat in your
lap in its place," said Miach. "I would like that well," said the young man. So
Miach put the cat's eye in his head; but he would as soon have been without it
after, for when he wanted to sleep and take his rest, it is then the eye would
start at the squeaking of the mice or the flight of the birds, or the movement
of the rushes; and when he was wanting to watch an army or a gathering, it is
then it was sure to be in deep sleep.
And Miach was not satisfied with what his father had done to the king, and he
took Nuada's own hand that had been struck off, and, brought it to him and set
it in its place, and he said: "Joint to joint, and sinew to sinew." Three days
and three nights he was with the, king; the first day he put his hand against
his side, and the second day against his breast, till it was covered with skin,
and the third day he put bulrushes that were blackened in the fire on it, and at
the end of that time the king was healed.
But Diancecht was vexed when he saw his son doing a better cure, than
himself, and he threw his sword at his head, that it cut the flesh, but the lad
healed the wound by means of his skill. Then Diancecht threw it a second time,
that it reached the bone, but the lad was able to cure the wound. Then he struck
him the third time and The fourth, till he cut out the brain, for he knew no
physician could cure him after that blow; and Miach died, and he buried him.
And herbs grew up from his grave, to the number of his joints and sinews
three hundred and sixty-five. And Airmed, his sister, came up and spread out her
cloak and laid out the herbs in it, according to their virtue. But Diancecht saw
her doing that, and he came and mixed up the herbs, so that no one knows all
their right powers to this day.
Then when the Tuatha de Danaan saw Nuada as well as he was before, they
gathered together to Teamhair, where Bres was, and they bade him to give up the
kingship, for he had held it long enough. So he had to give it up, though he was
not very willing, and Nuada was put back in the kingship again.
There was great vexation on Bres then, and he searched his mind to know how
could he be avenged on those that had put him out, and how he could gather an
army against them; and he went to his mother, Eri, daughter of Delbaith, and
bade her tell him what his race was.
"I know that well," she said; and she told him then that his father was a
king of the Fomor, Elathan, son of Dalbaech, and that he came to her one time
over a level sea in some great vessel that seemed to be of silver, but she could
not see its shape, and he himself having the appearance of a young man with
yellow hair, and his clothes sewed with gold, and five rings of gold about his
neck. And she that had refused the love of all the young men of her own people,
gave him her love, and she cried when he left her. And he gave her a ring from
his hand, and bade her give it only to the man whose finger it would fit, and he
went away then the same way as he had come.
And she brought out the ring then to Bres, and he put it round his middle
finger, and it fitted him well. And they went then together to the hill where
she was the time she saw the silver vessel coming, and down to the strand, and
she and Bres and his people set out for the country of the Fomor.
And when they came to that country they found a great plain with many
gatherings of people on it, and they went to the gathering that looked the best,
and the people asked where did they come from, and they said they were come from
Ireland. "Have you hounds with you?" they asked them then, for it was the custom
at that tune, when strangers came to a gathering to give them some friendly
challenge. "We have hounds," said Bros. So the hounds were matched against one
another, and the hounds of the Tuatha de Dannan were better than the hounds of
the Fomor. "Have you horses for a race?" they asked then. "We have," said Bres.
And the horses of the Tuatha de Danaan beat the horses of the Fomor.
Then they asked was any one among them a good hand with the sword, and they
said Bres was the best. But when he put his hand to his sword, Elathan, his
father, that was among them, knew the ring, and he asked who was this young man.
Then his mother answered him and told the whole story, and that Bres was his own
There was sorrow on his father then, and he said: "What was it drove you out
of the country you were king over?" And Bres said: "Nothing drove me out but my
own injustice and my own hardness; I took away their treasures from the people,
and their jewels, and their food itself. And there were never taxes put on them
before I was their king."
"That is bad," said his father; "it is of their prosperity you had a right to
think more than of your own kingship. And their good-will would be better than
their curses," he said; "and what is it you are come to look for here?" "I am
come to look for fighting men," said Bres, "that I may take Ireland by force."
"You have no right to get it by injustice when you could not keep it by
justice," said his father. "What advice have you for me then?" said Bres.
And Elathan bade him go to the chief king of the Fomor, Balor of the Evil
Eye, to see what advice and what help would he give him.