The road between the small Roscommon village of Tulsk and the town of Ballaghadereen travels through the site of one of the most important ancient ritual centres on the whole island of Ireland. It is easy to pass by without realising this. Perhaps the sight of a green mound on the side of the road might stir a memory of ancient Cruachain, home of the warrior queen, Maeve; or perhaps, passing through Tulsk, you might stop for a coffee at the Heritage Centre and discover that there is a world of ancient magical places surrounding the village. Even among those interested in mythology and archaeology, Rathcroghan is surprisingly little known and explored. The site covers 6 kilometres (almost 4 miles) and includes over 80 different pre-Norman features. There are monuments dating from various periods – Megalithic tombs, Bronze Age cairns and forts of the early Christian period. Within the complex, there are acres of unexplored mounds and a cave reputed to be the entry to the otherworld.
Tulsk Abbey, County Roscommon.
Detailed surveying of this huge site began only in the 1980s, and excavation of the features is still in the early stages. Many of the structures remain a mystery but some certainly date back to 3000BC. Ráth Cruachain, or Cruachain Fort, the largest mound in the complex, is easily accessible from the road, and this is traditionally held to be the place where the quarrel between Ailill and Maeve began over who had the greatest wealth. This was the quarrel which started the Táin, Ireland’s great epic. As with so many of these sites, Iron Age dwellings were built on the site of much older structures, often graves, because these places had been held sacred over many centuries. Ráth Cruachain is not a high mound, but like Tara, it gives the sense of altitude and distance – of imperial powers looking over acres of land and claiming it as a kingdom. The sky is wide and the surrounding land flat, but not boggy – this is good, fertile grazing land.
To the south of the mound, there are traces of an ancient avenue, running east to west, which was probably used in the ceremonies held here at Samhain, the cusp of the new year, when Maeve would consult with her druids as to what the future year might bring to her and her people. During my visit on a bright winter’s day, the outlines of the hills seemed etched in some hard, bright metal – silver or perhaps iron – and the land itself, with its smooth green mounds, leaves a sense of a landscape little changed over long centuries. It is easy to imagine the herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, the horses and pigs and dairy cows, being herded before Maeve and Ailill, and the people moving backwards and forwards from their wattle huts, sheltered by earthen mounds and wooden fences. As the red sun sets in the sky, it is also easy to imagine the warriors gathering, filling the plains as far as the eye can see, readying themselves for their march to Ulster and to death.
Rathnadarve or Ráth na dTarbh, the Fort of the Bulls, is a large ring-barrow, situated near Ráth Cruachain at Ballymacthomas. According to local tradition, this is the circular earthen stockade where the Brown Bull and the White Bull were herded together to fight their last battle. Nearby is Oweynagat or Uaimh na gCat, the Cave of the Cats, a place steeped in local folklore and myth. Access to the cave is possible, though wet-weather gear is essential. In 1779, it was still known as the Hell-Mouth of Ireland, a tradition that had survived for thousands of years. In this cave, the war-goddess, the Morrigan, was said to live, and, at Samhain, magic pigs and bronze-beaked birds issued forth from it. The great hero, Nera, entered the underworld through Owneygat. A further legend links the cave with a tunnel connecting it with the caves of Keshcorann in Sligo, another home of malevolent female deities. Mirroring this site of otherworld power, at Carnfree, south of Tulsk, there is a centre of earthly power which, in historical times, was the inauguration site of the O’Conors, kings of Connacht.
Cruachain continued as an important centre of assembly well into the beginning of the Christian era; it may have been deserted as late as the beginning of the ninth century. Legend has it that Christianity came here with St Patrick, who met the two daughters of the King of Leinster as they were learning the ways of magic from the Cruachain druids, at Ogulla or Clebach well, southwest of Tulsk. As was usual with these stories, the two maidens enthusiastically embraced the Christian faith and died directly after having received baptism. The well is still the site of a local pattern and is well cared for by the people of the village. In fact, Rathcroghan has been fortunate in that the population has respected the monuments enough to keep them preserved through many centuries. The local community has now established an excellent interpretative centre which helps greatly in putting the locality into context. However, nothing can really compete with visiting the mounds themselves and watching the flocks of birds blown across the plains by a wind as fierce and relentless as the will of Connacht’s ancient queen.
PILLOW TALK:
The Beginning of the Táin Bó Cuailgne
The marital bed at Rathcroghan was vast and deep, and Ailill Mac Máta never questioned who his wife and consort, Queen Maeve of Connacht, brought into it. She had married him not only because he was a king in his own right, but because he was a man who would not be mean, or cowardly, or jealous; she boasted that she never had one man without another waiting in his shadow. Ailill had reason to know the truth of this, for at the moment he was quite sure that his wife was sleeping with Fergus Mac Róich, the Ulster warrior who had taken refuge in the court of Cruachain after Conchobhar Mac Neasa had tricked him into betraying the Sons of Usna. Fergus was an embittered man, but nonetheless a great warrior and a clever counsellor; still, Ailill wondered if his wife really had to give him the friendship of her thighs as well as that of her court in order to keep him in their camp.
He looked down at her while she slept, her straight yellow hair loose on the fine pillows, her grey eyes closed; for once, her long face was peaceful, but Ailill knew that just as soon as she woke there would be plots and dissension and sometimes, and not rarely, false promises coming from that lovely mouth. However, times had been quiet lately and the land rich in herds, the rivals to their power lying low before the combined strength of Maeve and Ailill. They knew the ruthlessness of Maeve – she had killed her sister in order to rule at Rathcroghan and she would kill, sell or barter any of her loved ones to keep it and to keep her power. Ailill’s face was tender as he looked at her, for she held her husband’s devotion like she held her great wolfhounds, tight to her side on a short leash, easily brought to heel. Yet, deep down, he thought to himself that she was lucky to have him, for there were not many who could have put up with her scheming and her temper.
As he watched the sunlight streaming down on his wife’s face, she opened one eye and looked at him. Maeve, when she awoke, awoke like a warrior, fully alert and ready for battle.
‘What is it?’ she asked, ‘What are you thinking of?’
‘Ah, nothing really,’ said Ailill.
‘Go on, then,’ said Maeve. ‘You must have been thinking of something.’
Ailill answered at random: ‘I was just thinking that you were a lucky woman to have married me.’
Maeve sat up against the pillows and narrowed her eyes.
‘And what do you mean by that?’
Ailill shrugged. He was beginning to regret that he had started this conversation.
‘Only that you are better off now than the day you married me.’
‘Am I indeed? And are you not better off that I took you still young and brought you to my bed and gave such gifts to you? I was the highest and mightiest, the bravest in battle of my father’s six daughters, and that is why I rule in his place. Look at the soldiers I have and the common men and the herds and the bondmaids and the gold. Do I not rule over this great land with wealth enough without you to be called one of Ireland’s great queens? I have heard them say that you are no more than a kept man really, husband dear.’
Ailill rose from the bed and began to buckle on his sword.
‘That is not the truth and well you know it, woman. I have brought you great wealth.’
Maeve rose also, and pulled her sword towards her.
‘Well, then, prove it – let us each count our wealth and see who is the richest.’
‘Let us do that, so,’ said Ailill.
The counting of the goods took many days. First of all, the household goods were piled in great heaps and counted – everything from buckets and tubs to golden rings and bracelets; clothes of all colours; slaves and servants; swords and shields and bronze-tipped spears. But Ailill and Maeve were equal in all that their households held.
Then they started on the animals – the pigs, the sheep, the rams, the lambs, the mares and foals and stallions – but again there was no difference between what they possessed.
Finally, they counted the herds of cattle. They walked around the stockades listening to the bellowing within while all the calves and cows and bulls were counted. And once again, they were equal – except for one thing. Ailill had the great bull Finnbheannach, who had left his wife’s herd to be with that of the king.
Maeve’s pale face went white with rage when she saw that her husband had something that she did not have, for truly the beast was magnificent. Fifty young boys could play on the breadth of his back, and when he stamped the earth, he dug a trench of thirty feet. The very palace of Cruachain shook when he bellowed.
Maeve felt all her pleasure in her wealth turn to ashes in her mouth, and she demanded of her counsellors where she might find a bull the equal of Finnbheannach. She was told of such a one, the Donn of Cooley, who was owned by the farmer Dáire. She called her messenger, Mac Roth, to her. ‘Go to Dáire,’ she said. ‘And tell him that in exchange for the loan of his bull for a year, I will give him such gifts as he will never have seen before – bondmaids and gold, cattle and horses, and my protection for life. Promise him anything, but come back with the bull.’
Mac Roth returned some days later, but without the bull. Maeve came to meet him in her chariot, her face set with anger when she saw no sign of the Donn.
Mac Roth stood before Maeve with his eyes cast down and told his tale: ‘When we arrived at the house of Dáire, we were welcomed with much honour. I put forward your proposition and the farmer, who is an excitable man, was so delighted that he burst his cushion underneath him, bouncing up and down with glee. He called for wine and fine food to seal the bargain.’
Mac Roth paused, then continued in a lower voice. ‘Some of the company drank too deeply of the good wine put before us. Their tongues were loosened and they began to boast that it was as well Dáire had agreed to let us have the bull, as if he had not done so, it would have been no difficulty for us to take the Donn away from him by force.
‘By this stage, Dáire too had been drinking; and he became angry. He told us to go back to our mistress and tell her that he would let no bull of his stray into Connacht.’ Mac Roth paused.
‘Continue,’ said Maeve icily.
‘He said also …’ Mac Roth swallowed. ‘He said to me to tell my mistress that if she is in need of a bull let her come to him and see what the men of Ulster can do for her.’
Maeve’s face was set with rage.
‘So be it,’ she said. ‘We will go to Ulster. We will go into Ulster with such a hosting that the men of Ulster will bow down before us in terror. We have Fergus Mac Róich and he will lead us through the gap of the north and we will slaughter every mother’s son of them. I will call on all my allies from the south and the east and we will make these proud Ulstermen eat their words. And then we will take this bull into Connacht to be part of my herd.’
She stopped, for she had suddenly noticed that there was a girl sitting in her chariot – a golden-haired girl, armed with a spear and dressed in a speckled green cloak. The girl had not been there the moment before.
Maeve spoke quietly, for she knew by the triple irises in the girl’s eyes that she was in the presence of a member of the Sídh. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘I am Fedelm the prophetess,’ the girl answered.
‘Tell me then,’ said Maeve. ‘Do you see a great victory for me over the Ulstermen?’
The girl’s eyes met Maeve’s.
‘I see crimson; I see red,’ she said.
‘But do you see me bringing the Donn back to my herds?’
‘I see crimson; I see red,’ said the girl again.
‘Do you see me leading my army, victorious and proud?’
‘I see crimson; I see red,’ said the girl.
So Maeve turned from her and asked her no more, but began to plan how she would gain allies. She would promise gold and riches, land and bondmaids to those who fought with her, and if that was not enough, she would promise her daughter, Fionnabhair, to the warriors of Ireland. She would even promise her own body to those who would work with her to destroy the forces of Ulster, to beat every warrior of the north into the ground. She would win such a victory that all who heard her story would say that she was the greatest ruler in Ireland. She planned how she would watch, laughing, while Dáire, who had dared to insult her, had his head and his privates cut off and placed on a stake. She counted her finger rings and thought about how many more she could pile in her coffers. She had long ago given up wearing an extra one for every king killed, for there had been so many, but she would be sure to get more to store for her daughter’s dowry. She sniffed the air, smelling blood, and watched as a scald-crow took flight from the body of a dead calf, its black shape cutting through the gentle blue sky.
And so began the Táin Bó Cuailgne, The Cattle Raid of Cooley.
The story of the Táin is continued in ‘The Fight at the Ford’ and ‘The Battle of the Bulls’.