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   https://milkweedfolk.bandcamp.com/album/remsc-la-2

   All text and images are taken from of The Táin translated by Thomas Kinsella from the Irish epic Táin Bó Cuailnge

   Many remscéla, or pre-tales, lead up to the Táin. Though not strictly part of the story they are important tributaries. This work details the remscéla contained in p.1-20

   The Táin saga is probably Ireland’s most illustrious saga. It’s a sort of King Arthur-style Irish legend. It’s a heroic saga and deals with a cattle raid basically, what else. Táin means raid, it was originally Táin Bó Cuailnge, the Cattle Raid of Cooley. It deals with a conflict between the forces of Ulster and the forces of the rest of Ireland. It concerns a queen in the south of Ireland called Medb and her allies attacking Ulster to steal a prize bull. The fact that the Táin is about a battle, I’m sure, particularly about a battle over something, uh, some sort of strange totem reflects something very close to the soul of the Irish. All the wars are merry and all their songs are sad, I mean they do seem to make a-a-a, do a lot of fighting about, over things, yeah I think there’s a certain amount of significance in that. Queen Medb was the lady who led the allies of the south of Ireland and, uh, she was a very wily old queen — With her royal women sitting outside Emain Nes daughter of Eochaid. Druid Cathbad from the Tratraige of Mag Inis passed by. ‘What is the hour lucky for?’ the girl said to him. 'For begetting a king on a queen', and so she took him in. Feast of Othar, Nes was delivered of the boy Conchobor. Fergus mac Roich, king in Ulster, sought Nes for his wife. ‘Only if I get in return kingship for my son. Give the name to him for a year so they can call his son the son of a king’. Year to the day Fergus called back his pledge, but the men of Ulster said they were insulted that Fergus had like a dowry given them. ‘What Fergus sold let it stay sold, what bought let it stay bought’ and in this way Conchobor became king and with kingship Fergus parted. No wiser in the world, no harder warrior, every man in Ulster worshipped Conchobor. Heroes and brave champions every fight went before him, any man gave him a bed gave him his wife to sleep with. Spoils and severed heads kept at the ruddy branch, the king sat at the red, red being royal. Téte Brec, the Twinkling Hoard, sets of goblets drinking horns. Conall Cernach’s swift to hand the black shield of Cúchulainn. Hundred and fifty rooms panelled all in red yew, gold birds on copper screens, coal vat for drinking. Over Conchobor’s head there was gold apples on silver rod if it shook all noise would stop you would hear a needle drop. Crunniuc lived with all his sons in a lonely place in the mountains. When he was in the house alone he saw coming toward him a woman. She began to work as though she was well accustomed to the house and without being asked when night came slept with Crunniuc. A fair in Ulster was held, in his best clothes Crunniuc set out. Woman said it would be well not to grow careless or boastful. At the end of the day the king's chariot was brought onto the field and the crowd said nothing could beat those horses. ‘My wife is faster,’ said Crunniuc. He was taken before the king, messenger sent for the woman. ‘Now I’m with child’ the woman said ‘to go is a heavy burden’. She went to the fair as her pangs gripped her. Cried out ‘Wait till my child is born a mother bore each one of you’ but the crowd would not be moved. What was that shuddering sound in the hollow of your womb the uproar at your waist. Hurts all ears that hear it my heart trembles as at some terror or cruel injury. She turned to Cathbad and said ‘Druid can you answer him? Though the womb was my own what it holds no woman knows’. Twisted yellow tresses, green irised beauty, cheeks flushed like foxglove howled in your womb. Chariot warriors will deal blows for her jealousy dog her like a flame. On her waist placed his hand ‘There is a girl there’ he said. Derdriu shall be her name and everywhere leave little graves. One time in winter the girl’s foster father was skinning a milk-fed calf on the snow and a raven the blood was drinking, she said, ‘I could desire a man those colours; hair like the raven, his cheeks like the blood and his body like the snow on the ground’. ‘He is close at hand’, Leborcham said ‘He is Noisiu the son of Uisliu’ Noisiu was chanting along the ramparts near Emain, the three sons of Uisliu chanted very sweet. She slipped out to pass him as though she didn’t recognise him. She said ‘I could desire a young man like you’ ‘You couldn’t,’ he said ‘for you have to yourself the king of all Ulster and been raised for his bed’ at that she rushed at him grabbed the two ears of his head said ‘Shame and mockery if you don’t take me’. Sons of Uisliu crossed the sea with hundred fifty fighting men. Came to Alba hired themselves out as soldiers to its king. Built their house so that no one could see the girl that was within. Steward came round early saw the girl went to wake the king. ‘I never saw a woman that was fit for you until today, if you have killed Noisiu mac Uislenn you can have the woman’. ‘No’, said the king ‘But ask everyday if nothing can be done then we’ll call together fighting men, kill sons of Uisliu’. News reached Ulster and everyone said that it would be a shame, sons of Uisliu fall for the fault of a bad woman. Conchobor sent for them and the sons of Uisliu crossed the sea promises of safety came to stand upon Emain green. Noisiu was met by a spear thrust broke his back and through him down. Field broke out in slaughter Derdriu taken and her hands were bound. No one left but by the spike of spear or by the slash of sword. Three hundred and fifty men laid down, Emain Macha burned. 'Noisiu’s voice a sweet sound to hear forever, the three sons’ triumphant song. Now I need not watch nor wait for Noisiu, the son of Uisliu will not come'.
   credits
   released May 2, 2025

   All work Milkweed
   mastering by Rupert Clervaux

   

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