The Feast of The Fort of Geese
Summary by Myles Dillon

‘There was once a famous king of Ireland, Domnall son of Aed son of Ainmire son of Sédna son of Fergus Long-Head son of Conall Gulban son of Niall of the Nine Hostages, of the race of Conn of the Hundred Battles and Ugaine Mar. For it was Ugaine Már who took pledges by the sun and moon and sea and dew and light and by all the elements visible and invisible and every element in heaven and on earth that the kingship of Ireland should belong to his children for ever And Tuathal Techtmar son of Fiacha Finnola took the same pledges, after the manner of his ancestor Ugaine Mar; and if any should contest against his children for the kingship of Ireland in spite of those pledges and the elements by which he had bound them, that the lawful right to Tara with its supporting families and the ancient communities of Tara and Meath should still belong to his children for ever; and though some one of the children of Ugaine or Tuathal should consent to grant the kingship to someone else, nonetheless that king shall have no right to enter Tara unless he give a territory - equally established to the children of Ugaine Mar and Tuathal Techtmar for as long as he shall be king over them, and when that king shall die, Tara shall belong to the children of Ugaine, as Ugaine himself bound upon the men of Ireland when he took hostages from Ireland and Scotland and as far as Brittany in the east. But Tara was cursed by Ruadán of Lothra and by the twelve apostles of Ireland and all the saints of Ireland.’ And whosoever took the kingship it was not lucky for him to dwell at Tara after it had been cursed; but whatever place seemed most venerable and most pleasant to the king who became king of Ireland, there his seat and dwelling used to be, as indeed Domnall son of Aed established his seat at Dan na nGéd on the bank of the Boyne. And he designed seven great ramparts about that fort after the manner of Tara of the Kings, and he designed even the houses of the fort after the manner of the houses of Tara: namely, the great Central Hall where the king himself used to abide, with kings and queens and ollams, and all that were best in every art; and the Hall of Munster and the Hall of Leinster and the Banquet-Hall of Connacht and the Assembly-Hall of Ulster and the Prison of the Hostages and the Star of the Poets and the Palace of the Single Pillar (which Cormac son of Art first made for his daughter) and all the other houses.’

Domnall saw one night in a dream that a whelp that he had reared on his own knee went from him raging and gathered the packs of Ireland, Scotland, the Saxons and the Britons against Ireland. The dogs fought seven battles against him and the men of Ireland, and were defeated in the seventh battle, and his own dog was killed in that last battle. Domnall leaped naked from the bed on to the floor. The queen put her arms around his neck and bade him stay beside her and not be frightened by a dream, when the people of Conall and of Eogan and of Qriel, and the Clann Colmáin and the race of Aed Sláine and the four families of Tara were gathered around him. The king went back to bed, but refused to tell his dream till he should consult his brother, Mael Chaba the cleric, the best interpreter of dreams in Ireland.

Mael Chaba had renounced the kingship of Ireland for the love of God and retired to a. hermitage at Druim Dilair where he dwelt with a hundred monks and ten women for the sacrifice of the Mass and the recital of the Office. The king told him his dream, and Mael Chaba explained it, for it had long since been foretold. A whelp in a dream means a king’s son. The king had two fosterlings, Cobthach Caem son of Ragallach, and Congal Claim son of Scannlan of the l~road Shield. lSow Ragallacb was king of Connacht, and Congal was himself king of Ulster. Either of the two would go into revolt and bring marauders from Scotland and from the Franks, Saxons and Britons to Ireland. Seven battles would be fought, and in the seventh battle the rebellious fosterson would fall. The hermit advised that the king should give a feast for the men of Ireland and take hostages from each province, and that these two fostersons should be held captive for a year, for the harm goes out of every dream in a year, and that they should then be dismissed with gifts. The king replied that he would rather depart out of Ireland than use treachery against his own I ostersons, and moreover that though alt the world should oppose him Congal would never oppose him. In a short poem the dialogue of the king and the hermit is repeated.

The king went home and prepared a feast for his inauguration. He sent out stewards to procure all the goose-eggs they could find, for be was eager that nothing should be lacking to the feast. It was not easy to get them. The stewards travelled through Meath and came at last upon a hut occupied by a holy woman, where they found a basin full of goose-eggs. They seized the eggs in spite of the woman’s protest. She told them the hut was the hermitage of a saint whose practice it was to stand all day in the river Boyne up to his armpits reciting the psalms, and in the evening to sup of an egg and a half ‘with four sprigs of cress from the Boyne. They made no answer, but carried off the eggs. Great evil came of this, for Ireland has since known no peace. When the holy man returned, he was angry and laid his heaviest curse on the feast that was being prepared.

A hideous couple arrived at the palace. Their limbs were huge, their shins sharp as a razor, the feet reversed; if a bushel of apples were thrown on their heads, not an apple would fall to the ground, but each would be impaled upon each single hair; their bodies were black as coal, their eyes white as Snow; the woman had a beard and the man had none.’ Between them they carried a tub of goose-eggs. They announced that they were guests coming to the feast and bringing their share. The king made them welcome, and food for a hundred men was set before them. The man alone devoured it. Food for a hundred was again set down, and the woman alone devoured it and asked for more. The same ration was given them, and this time they shared it. ‘Give us food,’ they said, ‘if you have it.’ But the steward refused, until the men of Ireland should come to the feast. They replied that evil would come of their being first to partake of the feast, for they were of the host of Hell, and the devils were preparing trouble for the company. They leaped away and vanished.

‘The kings of the provinces were bidden to that feast, with their petty kings and chiefs and lords and soldiers and artists ordinary and extraordinary. The kings of the provinces of Ireland at that time were: Congal Claen son of Scannlán, king of Ulster, Crimthann son of Aed Cerr, king of Leinster, Mael Düin son of Aed Bennán, king of Munster, and his brother Illann son of Aed Bennán, king of South Munster, and Ragallach son of Uada, king of Connacht. And Domnall son of Aed was himself High King of Ireland over them all.’

When all were assembled, Domnall welcomed them and asked Congal to go into the banquet-hall and appraise the feast. Congal went in and beheld the food and wine and ale, and his eye rested upon the goose-eggs, and he ate a bite from one of them and drank afterwards. He came out and declared that though the men of Ireland should stay four months they would have enough to eat and drink. The king then went in and he was told of the saint’s curse. He asked who had eaten of the egg, for he knew that the first man to partake of the feast after it had been cursed would be the man who would oppose him. They told him that it was his own fosterson, Congal; and the king was sad, for he knew that Congal had often shown folly and wickedness.

The twelve apostles of Ireland were summoned to bless the feast and remove the curse. They were Findén of Moville and Findén of Clonard and Comm Chile and Colm son of Crimthann, Ciarán of Clonmacnoise, Caindech son of Ua Daland, Comgall of Bangor, Brendan son of Finding and Brendan of Birr, Ruadán of Lothra, Nindid the Pious, Mo Bhi Clárainech and Mo Laise son of Nat Fraech.’ They all blessed the feast, but Congal had already partaken of it, and that evil they could not undo.

The custom was that when a king of the Southern Ui Neil was High King the king of Connacht should be at his right hand, and when a king of the Northern Ui Néill was High King the king of Ulster on his right and the king of Connacht on his left. But on this occasion the king of the nine cantreds of Oriel sat beside Domnall, from which great harm resulted. Food and drink were served until all were merry, and a goose-egg on a silver dish was placed before each king. The silver dish was changed to wood, and the goose-egg to a hen-egg, after they had been placed before Congal Claen. His people were outraged at this, and one of the Ulster lords complained of the double insult, for Congal had also been deprived of his seat at the High King’s right hand. Congal would not at first pay heed, for he expected no dishonour in his foster-father’s house. The same man spoke again, and his words are given in a short poem.

This time Congal was seized with rage, and the fury Tesiphone entered into his heart to prompt him to evil. The king’s steward tried to restrain him and was cut down in the presence of the assembled guests. Then Congal proceeded to recite his griev­ances. Domnall had sought the friendship of Ulster and received Congal into fosterage, but had sent back to Ulster the nurse who brought the child, and entrusted him to a woman of his own people. Through this woman’s neglect Congal had been stung in the eye by a bee so that he squinted: whence his name Congal Claen (‘Crooked’). Then Domnall had been forced to flee to Scotland by Suibne Menn, who was High King at that time, and had taken Congal with him. They returned to Ireland, and Domnall had encouraged Congal to kill Suibne, promising him security in his possessions when he Domnall should be High King. Congal had stolen upon Suibne as he was playing chess and thrust his spear through him so that the stone against which he sat answered the spear. As he was dying, the king hurled a chessman at Congal and destroyed his squinting eye. He was Congal Claen already, and after that he was Congal Caech (‘One-Eyed’). Domnall became High King, and Congal, on his father’s death, came to be confirmed in the kingship of Ulster as had been promised him; but the promise was not fulfilled. Tyrone, Tyrconnell and the nine cantreds of Oriel had been taken from him, and Oriel given to Maelodar Macha who now sat at the right hand of the High King in Congal’s place. Maelodar got a goose-egg on a dish of silver, and he a hen-egg on a dish of wood.

After this recital Congal vowed to avenge his wrongs and went out, followed by the men of Ulster. Domnall first sent the holy men after Congal to persuade him to return to the feast and accept satisfaction, but he threatened to kill them. Then the poets were sent, and he received them with gifts, but would accept no satisfaction but war. He went to the house of Cellach, his father’s brother, and told his story. Cellach, who had been a great warrior, was now deaf and helpless with age, but he girded on his sword and said: ‘I swear if you had accepted any satisfaction from the king but war, the men of Ulster could not prevent me from running this sword through your heart, for it is not the custom of Ulster to accept satisfaction before the battle until they have avenged their wrongs. And I have seven good sons, and they will go with you into the battle, and I would go myself if I could. They shall not boast over Ulster while I live.’ In a spirited poem he incites his nephew to vengeance.

Congal crossed the sea to Scotland to seek the aid of his grandfather, Echaid the Yellow son of Aedán, king of Scotland, who dwelt at Dun Monaid. His mother was a daughter of

Echaid, and Echaid’s wife was a daughter of Echaid Aingces, king of the Britons. Echaid told Congal that he had promised Domnall, when he was in exile in Scotland, never to oppose him, but that his four sons would join in an expedition against Ireland. A council was held, and the king’s chief druid, Dub Diad, and the other druids were petitioned to give them a sign whether the expedition would prospe1r. The druids counselled against it, and Echaid advised Congal to go to the king of the Britons and invoke his aid.

While the Britons were in council with Congal, a strange warrior came up to the place where they were, and sat on the king’s right hand, between him and Congal. The others asked him why he sat there, and he answered that no seat had been offered him and that that was the best he could find. The king laughed and said he had done right. They asked him for news, and he gave them the news of all the world. They asked his name and race, but he refused to answer.

The crowd dispersed into the fort, leaving the warrior alone on the mound where the council had been held. The king’s poet came up and conversed with him. Then heavy sleet and snow began to fall, and the warrior sheltered the poet with his shield, and laid down his weapons in the snow. The poet bade him come to his house for the night, and the warrior went along with him.

The king’s messenger came to summon the poet, and they went to the fort. The poet was given a seat near the king and the warrior was seated farther off. He was warned that if there was a marrow-bone on his dish he should not touch it, for there was a mighty warrior there whose privilege it was to take every marrow-bone. The stranger violated this custom, and then killed the mighty warrior. All rose up to avenge this outrage, but the stranger put them to flight, slaying many, and then sat down beside the poet. He told the king and queen they need have no fear. Then he took off his helmet, and his face was beautiful in the flush of battle.

The queen saw a ring on his finger that she had given twenty years before to her son, who had set out to learn feats of arms and never returned. The stranger said that he was her son, and she confirmed this by discovering under his right shoulder a grain of gold that she had placed there for luck and as a token of identity.’ But the king would not believe it, for three other warriors had come in the past, claiming to be Conan, his only son. Next morning the true Conan, for this was he, set out and encountered each of the three pretenders. He slew the first two, who were impostors, but the third confessed that he was indeed a king’s son, but not the son of Echaid, king of the Britons. He was the son of the king of Lochlann. His father had been killed treacherously by his own brother, and the prince, driven into exile, hoped to be accepted as Conan and so win the power to avenge his father. The two made peace and entered the fort. But the king required further proof. He had a fort on the border of the Britons’ country at Dun Dá Laeha where there was a stone that a liar could not move, and there were two horses that a liar could not ride. Conan passed these tests and was acknowledged.

Then Congal assembled the hosts of the Saxons under their king Garb son of Rogarb, and the hosts of France under their king Dairbre son of Dornmar, and of the Britons under Conan Rod and of Scotland under the four sons of Echaid the Yellow, Aed and Congal Mend and Suibne and Domnall Brecc. He led that great army to Ireland and gave battle to Domnall and the men of Ireland at Moira. And a great slaughter was made, and Congal fell there. ‘These are the three virtues of the battle: the victory of Domnall in his truth over Congal in his falsehood, and that Suibne became a madman (on account of the number of poems he composed), and that one of the men of Scotland returned to his own country without ship or bark, with another warrior attached to him.’

Cellach son of Mael Chaba, that is to say the son of Domnall’s brother, slew Conan Rod in single combat. Of the Ulstermen only six hundred escaped; and of the foreigners one man alone, namely Dub Diad the druid, who flew through the air out of the battle and reached Scotland with a dead warrior attached to his leg. For Congal had tied his men in pairs so that one should not flee from another.

‘That is the Feast of Dun na nGéd and the cause of the Battle of Moira.’