The Hound of Ulster Read Online Free PDF

wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down beside the fire in the central hut and slept for a while, the lightear-cocked sleep of the hunter. And the sun went down into the dark, and the moon climbed out of the dark. Then he woke and got up and stretched, feeling the weariness of the journey gone from his body, and walked out of the hut circle towards the Bridge of Leaps. And most of the others thronged after him, laughing and jesting, for he had made no secret of what he meant to do.
    The gulf was a black gash in the moonlight, and the narrow bridge was slippery—shining as though a vast snail had crawled over and left its track of silver slime behind. And when he saw it straight before him, he flung off his cloak and began to run, swifter and swifter until on the very brink of the chasm he gathered himself and sprang for the centre of the bridge. He landed just short of it, and the bridge leapt upward, rearing like a killer colt, and flung him back among the young warriors who had come down to watch the game. Furious, he sprang to his feet and again ran for the bridge and sprang; and again the bridge reared up and tossed him contemptuously back. Yet again he sprang and yet again for the third time he was flung off into the midst of his companions. He was bruised and battered in body and spirit, and there was a roar of laughter from the young warriors, and Ferdia cried out as he struggled again to his feet. ‘Best wait for Skatha in the morning, little whelp! Then if you cannot bide like the rest of us, maybe she will pick you up like a little lap dog and carry you across!’
    Rage flared in Cuchulain’s heart, and he shut his teeth and shouted back, ‘Best wish me well in the next leap—even a lap dog can bite, and you shall know that, if I am flung back yet again among you.’ And running forward for the fourth time, he summoned up all the strength that he knew was in him, and strength that he had not known was in him before, and leapt out over the abyss. The moonlight had turned red before hiseyes, and great seas pounded in his head, but his foot was set firmly in the centre of the Bridge of Leaps, and with another bound he was across and racing up through the rocks and salt-crusted turf to the gates of the D Å« n.
    He beat upon the gates with his dagger. Watch dogs bayed and a voice quieted them. The great timber leaves were drawn back before him as though he were expected, and in the opening, with the light of her attendant warriors’ torches making a blaze of her hair that was strong as the mane of a bay horse, stood a lean-faced woman in an old leather tunic and a kilt of saffron wool that reached barely to her knees, and the bronze ornaments and the white scars of a warrior on her arms. She stood leaning on a great spear and looking at him, with huge dogs crouching around her. ‘And who are you that come to the D Å« n of Skatha, when the fires are smoored for the night?’ she said.
    â€˜I am Cuchulain, the Hound of Cullen, and I come to learn whatever you will teach me of the arts of war.’
    â€˜Rather, I should have said, watching you from the ramparts but now, that you were the Lord of All the Grasshoppers,’ she said, and flung back her head and laughed at him with a snapping of white teeth that were big and square like a horse’s. ‘Go back now—you will find it easier this time—and do not make that leap again until I teach you the way of it; for the untaught man may chance to make it safely once, but not again; and a sad thing it would be to waste the best pupil who has come to me in years!’
    So Cuchulain pressed his spear to his forehead in the way of a warrior saluting his chieftain, and swung on his heel and strode down once more to the Bridge of Leaps. And this time it was as broad as a buckler and as easy to cross as the ditch-causeway into Emain Macha.
    The rest were still gathered on the other side, and he made at once for Ferdia,