seemed to be a very demon
of war; with his little hurle grasped, like a war-mace, in both hands,
he laid about him on every side, and the boys were tumbling fast. He
sprang at tall youths, like a hound at a stag's throat. He rushed
through crowds of his enemies like a hawk through a flock of birds. The
boys, seized with a panic, cried out that it was one of the Tuatha from
the fairy hills of the Boyne, and fled right and left to gain the
shelter of the trees. Some of them, pursued by the stranger, ran round
Conchubar Mac Nessa and his knight. The boy, however, running straight,
sprang over the chess table; but Conchubar seized him deftly by the
wrist and brought him to a stand, but with dilated eyes and panting.

"Why are you so enraged, my boy?" said the King, "and why do you so
maltreat my nobles?"

"Because they have not treated me with the respect due to a stranger,"
replied the boy.

"Who are you yourself?" said Conchubar.

"I am Setanta, the son of Sualtim, and Dectera, your own sister, is my
mother; and it is not before my uncle's palace that I should be insulted
and dishonoured."

This was the debut and first martial exploit of the great Cuculain, type
of Irish chivalry and courage, in the bardic firmament a bright and
particular star of strength, daring, and glory, that will not set nor
suffer aught but transient obscuration till the extinction of the Irish
race; Cuculain, bravest of the brave, whose glory affected even the
temperate-minded Tierna, so that his sober pen has inscribed, in the
annals of ancient Erin, this testimony: "_Cuculain, filius Sualtam
fortissimus heros Scotorum_."

After this Setanta was regularly received into the military school,
where, ere long, he became a favourite both with old and young. He
placed himself under the tuition of Fergus Mac Roy, who, each day, grew
more and more proud of his pupil, for while still a boy his fame was
extending over Ulla.

It was not long after this that Setanta received the name by which he is
more generally known. Culain was chief of the black country of Ulla, and
of a people altogether given up to the making of weapons and armour,
where the sound of the hammer and husky bellows were for ever heard. One
day Conchubar and some of his knights, passing through the park to
partake of an entertainment at the house of the armourer, paused awhile,
looking at the boys at play. Then, as all were praising his little
nephew, Conchubar called to him, and