Read Online The Hound of Ulster by Rosemary Sutcliff - Free Book Online

did not know that was the way of it!’
    â€˜You might have known, if you had cared to listen. It is a thing that blows about on the wind, for any man to know.’
    â€˜However that may be, I did
not
know!’ Cuchulain said. ‘I did but mean that she should wait a little, in payment for the waiting she put upon me,’ and he turned on his heel with no more said, and went striding off to the stables and chariot sheds, where the drivers were playing knucklebones in the autumn sunshine.
    He shouted for Laeg his charioteer to yoke the horses without delay. ‘We are done with hunting for a while, my King of Drivers! We are for the D Å« n of Forgall the Wily, to bring home a bride.’
    â€˜It is not fitting that the groom should go without agroomsman at his back, to fetch the bride away,’ said Laeg, leaving his game.
    And laughter returned to Cuchulain and he called to Conall who was passing the stables, ‘I am away to fetch my bride. Will you come with me for my groomsman?’
    And Conall said, ‘Surely, though it’s little enough help I’ll be, with the wounds scarce healed on me. I and who else?’
    â€˜Any who choose to come.’
    â€˜In that case you will be driving to D Å« n Forgall with half the host of Ulster at your back.’
    â€˜Fergus Mac Roy, then,’ Cuchulain said. ‘Always he has been as a father to me, and it is right that he should come with me now. And Laery if he chooses, and the three sons of Usna. That should be enough, with the charioteers. Bid them all bring their weapons.’
    And Cuchulain and Conall looked at each other, eye into kindling eye.
    And so a little later when the shadows were shortening under the ramparts, Cuchulain set out at the head of six chariots, to fetch home Emer from her father’s hearth though she were ten times promised to the King of Munster. And he and the Red Branch Warriors who followed him were clad all in the brilliant plaids of green and black and red and saffron, and the ornaments of gold and bronze that befitted a bridal party; and fluttering scarves were tied to the chariot rims; but each man’s war cap hung among the coloured scarves, and under the gay mantles he wore his battle shirt, and he tossed up his weapons in his hand.
    In the evening of another day they came thundering up through the faint frosty mist of late autumn to the great turf and timber walls of D Å« n Forgall, and smelled the warm reek of the byres and the tang of wood-smoke hanging low in theevening air. It was still daylight, but already the gates were closed with the thorn barricades. And springing from his chariot Cuchulain beat his spear across his shield rim, calling for the people within to open up to him. A warrior stepped out of the mist on to the open rampart that flanked the gateway, and stood looking down at him, leaning on his spear.
    â€˜Who calls for entrance when the gates are closed?’
    â€˜Who closes the gates before cowstalling time?’ Cuchulain called up, standing on widespread feet.
    â€˜Forgall the Wily closes the gates of his own D Å« n in his own time. Who calls for entrance?’
    â€˜Cuchulain of Ulster, come to bring away his bride.’
    Heads were showing all along the rampart now; the man’s eyes widened, and he laughed and stepped back, and a few moments later, as Cuchulain still stood staring up at the crest of the timber facing, another figure appeared in his stead, the tall shape of Forgall the Wily, clad in the long dark robes that marked his rank among the Druid kind, with the sacred gold lunula on his breast but a naked sword in his hand.
    â€˜Go home again, Cuchulain of Ulster. It does not please me that any man should come shouting under the walls of D Å« n Forgall for a bride.’
    â€˜Not even Lugaid of Munster?’ Cuchulain shouted back.
    Forgall’s lips twisted in a smile. ‘Would that be any concern of yours, my little hound