He was the greatest of all the Heroes of Ireland. Born of a mortal woman "Princess Dechtire" and a God "Lugh". His life on this world was brief and glorious. His legend is glorious and tragic. Known as the boy "Setanta" who became the warrior "Cuchulain".

His mother was sister to King Conor of Ulster, who had married her off to the highest bidder, who was "Sualtim" a powerful chieftain in his own right.

On Dechtire wedding night Lugh came to visit her in her sleep. He told her of his love for her and asked her to come to his world with him. She asked "For how long would it be". And he replied "For as long as you wish, a day, a night, a year, an eternity. A day and a night she said. She wraped her arms around Lughs neck he brought her to his world "Brugh na Boinne".

There she met "Moriath" an old woman, who told her that she must not stay too long in the other world for time runs slower in Brugh na Boinne than it does in the world of humanes, for one day in Brugh na Boinne is one year in the human world. Dechtire told the old woman she was staying a day and a night. That will be long enough said Moriath. Long enough for what? Asked Dechtire. To create a legend, the old woman replied.

Dechtire received Lugh into her bed and throughout the day they made love so many times that Dechtire had lost count, but as twilight came she knew without a doubt that she had conceived a child.

A year had passed in the mortal world and Dechtire had returned with Moriath. They stood infront of Conor, Dechtire was holding her son, Moriath took the child from Dechtire´s hands and passed it across to Conor. Behold your nephew, Conor. This is Setanta, son of God and mortal woman. Behold a hero. His fame will live on echo down the years.

THE NAMING.

Even as a young boy, Setanta was different than the other children he was faster, stronger, quicker and attentive. As the seasons changed, Setanta changed from a boy to a young man, everyone grew to admire the handsome, fearless youth. By the time Setanta had reached his eight summer only the strongest or most cunning of warriors would go up against him in games or training, by the time the boy had passed his twelfth summer he could not bested.

Once a year Conor made a point of visiting the craftsmen who servied him. Setanta was playing hurley in a field, as usual he played alone against a team of eleven and sometimes fifteen other boys, and such was his skill and speed that he had never yet lost a game. Conor stopped at the edge of the field and raised his hand to Setanta. It is time to pay our respects to Culain the Smith. You should come. Setanta told him to go on and that he would finish the game and then follow.

The evening had drawn to a close before Setanta finished the game and suddenly remembered that he was supposed to follow Conor to Culain´s fort. It was nightfall by the time Setanta made it to Culain´s fort. Setanta came around the fort, he heard scrabbling behind him. Instinct drove him down and to one side just as a beast crashed into the wall of the fort. He came to his feet and faced the beast. It was impossible to make out details, but Setanta formed the impression of a long-haired, four.footed creature, with a narrow head, which was on a level with his.

Rows of white teeth gleamed in starlight. The beast padded towards Setanta, moving silently now. It leaped at Setanta, powerful muscles carrying it up and foward. Setanta threw himslef towards the beast, rolling beneath it, coming up behind it. The beast stumbled, confused by the disapperance of his prey. As it turned, lightning flashed, illuminating the beast for an instant, it was a dog, an enormous hunting dog, the biggest he had ever seen. there was a thick spiked collar around his neck and a similary spiked leather jerkin across its back.

It´s teeth were massive, it´s eyes a dull sulphurous yellow. Dropping low to the ground on his belly, it crept towards Setanta, Setanta backed away, he knew he could not out run the beast and he was unarmed except for the hurley stick in his hand.Thunder boomed again, but the beast did not even flich, in the split second the lightning seared across the sky, the beast leapt, jaws gaping. Setanta had guessed that the beast would jump with the lightning, in the instant the lightning flared it would be momentarily blinded. He would only have one chance.

In the instant before the lightning cracked, he tossed the hurley ball in the air high. His timing was perfect, the lightning painted the night in sharp black and white at the precise moment he struck the ball with the  hurley stick. The ball struck the huge dog in its gaping mouth, smashing through teethe before erupting outwards through the back of the dogs skull. The dog was dead before it hit the ground at Setanta´s feet.

At the moment the fort came to life. The gates were thrown open Coner was the first to come out, he looked at the boy and then to the dog, a tall, brawny man wearing studded armour came running up. He looked from Setanta to the dog and then knelt by the beast and cradled it´s shattered head in his arms. I raised this dog from a pup he said. I bred it´s sire and dame, my father bred their sires. For three generations the hounds of Culain have garded this fort, and with every generatin the hound became bigger, stronger, fiercer. And you killed it. How? He demanded. Setanta shrugged, with a hurley ball.

Cunlain the Smith said there is an ancient prophecy that when the hounds of Culain die, then so too will the clan of Culain. You have doomed us boy. Setanta knelt by Smith. "Not intentionally". Never the less, you have doomed us. Is there no other hound? Setanta asked. A pup born ten nights past. Then let me be your hound, let me guard your fort untill it is raised to maturity. You? Cunlain asked, looking from the boy to Conor. He did kill your hound, Conor reminded him. So he did. Then this must be the boy Setanta, son of a God and mortal woman. The Smith nodded. You will be my hound, you will be the  cu culain, the hound of Culain. Cu Culain, Setanta said quickly. Cuchulain, yes, I will guard your fort. Coming to his feet, he announced to the assembled warriors, Setanta died this night. Henceforth, let me be known as Cuchulain, the Hound of Culain.

[ Settlers In Ireland ]  [ Vikings Come To Stay ]  [ Emperor Of The Irish ] 

[ Viking Ireland ]  [ Dublin The Viking City ]  [ Irish Mythology/Folklore ]

[ Oisin & Tir na nOg ]  [ Irish Legends & Myths ]  [ Pictures ]  [ Links ]

[ Irish tales ]  [ Home ]  [ E-mail ]  [ SignGuestbook ]  [ ViewGuestbook ]