The Story of Deirdre
There was a man in Ireland once who was called Malcolm Harper. The man was a right good man, and
he had a goodly share of this world's goods. He had a wife, but no family. What did Malcolm hear
but that a soothsayer had come home to the place, and as the man was a right good man, he wished
that the soothsayer might come near them. Whether it was that he was invited or that he came of
himself, the soothsayer came to the house of Malcolm. Just out of the chat.
And the soothsayer went forth out of the house and he was not long outside when he returned.
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"Well," said the soothsayer, "I saw in my second sight that it is on account of a daughter of
yours that the greatest amount of blood shall be shed that has ever been shed in Erin since time
and race began. And the three most famous heroes that ever were found will lose their heads on
her account."
After a time a daughter was born to Malcolm, he did not allow a living being to come to his
house, only himself and the nurse. He asked this woman, "Will you yourself bring up the child to
keep her in hiding far away where eye will not see a sight of her nor ear hear a word about her?"
The woman said she would, so Malcolm got three men, and he took them away to a large mountain,
distant and far from reach, without the knowledge or notice of any one. He caused there a
hillock, round and green, to be dug out of the middle, and the hole thus made to be covered
carefully over so that a little company could dwell there together. This was done. This site is
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Deirdre and her foster-mother dwelt in the bothy mid the hills without the knowledge or the
suspicion of any living person about them and without anything occurring, until Deirdre was
sixteen years of age. Deirdre grew like the white sapling, straight and trim as the rash on the
moss. She was the creature of fairest form, of loveliest aspect, and of gentlest nature that
existed between earth and heaven in all Ireland--whatever colour of hue she had before, there was
nobody that looked into her face but she would blush fiery red over it.
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The woman that had charge of her, gave Deirdre every information and skill of which she herself
had knowledge and skill. There was not a blade of grass growing from root, nor a bird singing in
the wood, nor a star shining from heaven but Deirdre had a name for it. But one thing, she did
not wish her to have either part or parley with any single living man of the rest of the world.
But on a gloomy winter night,, with black, scowling clouds, a hunter of game was wearily
travelling the hills, and what happened but that he missed the trail of the hunt, and lost his
course and companions. A drowsiness came upon the man as he wearily wandered over the hills, and
he lay down by the side of the beautiful green knoll in which Deirdre lived, and he slept. The
man was faint from hunger and wandering, and benumbed with cold, and a deep sleep fell upon him.
When he lay down beside the green hill where Deirdre was, a troubled dream came to the man, and
he thought that he enjoyed the warmth of a fairy broch, the fairies being inside playing music.
The hunter shouted out in his dream, if there was any one in the broch, to let him in for the
Holy One's sake. Deirdre heard the voice and said to her foster-mother: "O foster-mother, what
cry is that?" "It is nothing at all, Deirdre--merely the birds of the air astray and seeking each
other. But let them go past to the bosky glade. There is no shelter or house for them here." "Oh,
foster-mother, the bird asked to get inside for the sake of the God of the Elements, and you
yourself tell me that anything that is asked in His name we ought to do. If you will not allow
the bird that is being benumbed with cold, and done to death with hunger, to be let in, I do not
think much of your language or your faith. But since I give credence to your language and to your
faith, which you taught me, I will myself let in the bird." And Deirdre arose and drew the bolt
from the leaf of the door, and she let in
the hunter. She placed a seat in the place for sitting, food in the place for eating, and drink
in the place for drinking for the man who came to the house. "Oh, for this life and raiment, you
man that came in, keep restraint on your tongue!" said the old woman. "It is not a great thing
for you to keep your mouth shut and your tongue quiet when you get a home and shelter of a hearth
on a gloomy winter's night."
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"Well," said the hunter, "I may do that--keep my mouth shut and my tongue quiet, since I came to
the house and received hospitality from you; but by the hand of thy father and grandfather, and
by your own two hands, if some other of the people of the world saw this beauteous creature you
have here hid away, they would not long leave her with you, I swear."
"What men are these you refer to?" said Deirdre.
"Well, I will tell you, young woman," said the hunter. This is the next
"They are Naois, son of Uisnech, and Allen and Arden his two brothers."
"What like are these men when seen,
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were to see them?" said Deirdre.
"Why, the aspect and form of the men when seen are these," said the hunter: "they have the colour
of the raven on their hair, their skin like swan on the wave in whiteness, and their cheeks as
the blood of the brindled red calf, and their speed and their leap are those of the salmon of the
torrent and the deer of the grey mountain side. And Naois is head and shoulders over the rest of
the people of Erin."[
"However they are," said the nurse, "be you off from here and take another road. And, King of
Light and Sun! in good sooth and certainty, little are my thanks for yourself or for her that let
you in!"
The hunter went away, and went straight to the palace of King Connachar. He sent word in to the
king that he wished to speak to him if he pleased. The king answered the message and came out to
speak to the man. "What is the reason of your journey?" said the king to the hunter. Just out of
the chat.
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Connachar, King of Ulster, sent for his nearest kinsmen, and he told them of his intent. Though
early rose the song of the birds mid the rocky caves and the music of the birds in the grove,
earlier than that did Connachar, King of Ulster, arise, with his little troop of dear friends, in
the delightful twilight of the fresh and gentle May; the dew was heavy on each bush and flower
and stem, as they went to bring Deirdre forth from the green knoll where she stayed. Many a youth
was there who had a lithe leaping and lissom step when they started whose step was faint,
failing, and faltering when they reached the bothy on account of the length of the way and
roughness of the road.
The Story of Deirdre
