PROLOGUE
After the battles of Commar, Gabair, and Ollarba the Fian was destroyed. The survivors scattered, in small bands, across Ireland and, by the time our story begins, only two of the nobles of this ancient Fian were still alive: Oisin, the son of Finn mac Cumaill ‘the son of Cumair, and Cailte, the son of Crundchu, son of Ronan.
By this time their earlier fighting abihties were much reduced. Sixteen of the Fian warriors travelled with them across the wooded and flower-covered slopes of the Fews. By evening they had reached the bright Herb Gardens, now called Louth, and sat down there, at the setting of the sun, in great sorrow and despair.
Cailte then said to Oisin, ‘Well, good Oisin, where shall we go, before day’s end, to find some hospitality for the night.’ ‘That I do not know,’ said Oisin, ‘since, of the elders of the Fian the old companions of Fionn mac Cumaill, only the three of us remain; you, Cailte, and I, and the Lady and Guardian Cama, who watched over Finn from his boyhood until the very day of his death.’
‘We can certainly expect hospitality from her tonight,’ said Cailte, ‘for no one could count or describe the gifts and treasures that Fionn, the Lord of the Fian, gave to her. He even gave her the drinking-horn Angalach, one of the three best treasures that ever came to him, given to him by Moriath, the daughter of the King of the Sea of the Greeks.’
Cama gave them lodging for the night and asked them who they might be. When they told her their names she shed long and bitter tears. Each asked the other about the many years that had passed since their last meeting; afterwards the Fian went to the guest hall she had provided. The Lady Cama, the old guardian of Fionn mac Cumaill, had the freshest of foods brought to them, with the oldest of wines. She knew well how such men had been fed in the old days, and also the great quantity of food that Oisin and Cailte required.
Weak and infirm though she was, she spoke with them of the Fian and of Fionn mac Cumaill, likewise of Oscar, son of Oisin, of Mac Lugach, the battle of Gabair, and other matters. These reminiscences caused a great silence to fall on them.
Cailte then said, ‘Just as painful for us as these memories is the fact that the eighteen of us, the only survivors of that great and noble fellowship, must now part4 Tales of the Elders of Ireland from one another.’
Oisin replied, ‘I swear there will be little fight or strength left in me when the others have gone.’ And though they were manly warriors, they, together with Lady Cama, wept deeply and disconsolately. They received their fill of food and drink there, and stayed on for three days and nights. As they took leave of Cama,
Oisin recited the following lines:
‘Cama is weary today, she is at the end of her journey;
Childless, heirless, old age is upon her.’
They went outside onto the grassy lawn to take counsel and decided that they must now part, one from the other, and their parting was as the parting of the soul from its body. Oisin went to the Sid of the Breast of Cleitech,* where his mother, Blai, daughter of Dearg Dianscothach ‘the Quick of Speech’, lived. Cailte went to the estuary of Bec the Exile, now the site of the monastery of Drogheda. It had been named after Bec the Exile who died there.
He was the son of Airist, King of the Romans. He had come to conquer Ireland, but a great wave drowned him at that place. From the estuary Cailte went on to the Pool of Fiacc, on the bright-flowing Boyne, then southwards across the Old Plain of Brega to the Fortress of the Red Ridge, where Patrick, son of Calpurn, then happened to be.
Dooley, Ann, and Harry Roe, trans. 1999. Tales of the Elders of Ireland (Acallam na Senórach). pp. 3-4.