CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Cúchulainn's Neck on the Block

Laoghaire hurried head down out of the hall amid the murmurs of the astounded diners.

The murmurs were soon silenced by the sound of more rumbling and tremors as the horrid visitor returned. Cú Roí reappeared from the shadows grinning evilly, his red-rimmed eyes searching the hall as he bellowed:

"Well then brave Laoghaire, where are you? Come and honour your side of the contract."

The only sound was the giant's breathing and in the hush that descended, the air of anxiety and foreboding was almost palpable. A whole minute passed without a response to Cú Roí's challenge and he muttered scornfully.

"So Laoghaire was Ulster's bravest man? I grant that at least he made an attempt to meet my test. That was before he realised there was a greater need for courage and integrity than he anticipated."

After a pause, the giant began to chortle with a low-pitched rumble that made the windows resonate portentously.

"If he was the bravest man in Ulster I weep for the most timid! I mourn for Ulster's manhood."

Cúchulainn was about to spring to his feet to rebuke him, but with a howl of rage Conal was on his feet.

"Now you listen to me evil ogre," he began.

In his surprise at this show of spirit, Cúchulainn settled back in his chair. Here was a chance for Conal to acquit himself of unspoken charges of timidity in the face of danger.

"I will hear no more calumny about my brave countrymen," Conal hissed menacingly. "I will stand for no lies from an ugly monster such as you Cú Roí! Let me have that accursed axe and stretch your monstrous neck on your bloody block!"

As he stepped boldly off the dais his wife, Lendabar screamed and rushed to intercept him.

"Please Conal my love, have nothing to do with this devil. No matter how bravely or honourably you conduct yourself, you will die by his hand and he will live."

Conal grasped her upper arms, jerking her away and breaking her embrace.

He snarled:

"Damn you Lendabar, how dare you shame me in the presence of our King and my keenest rival for the Champion's Portion. Do you want to be known throughout Éire and Alba as the widow of a coward?"

Lendabar gasped at the word.

"A widow?"

The sound of it from her own lips heightened the look of terror on her face.

"I would a thousand times choose to be the lowliest wench in the world than to pay the price of being the most celebrated widow!"

Lendabar fell on her knees and wrapped her arms around Conal's feet, sobbing pitiably.

"Conal, my beloved, I beg of you, do not submit yourself to the docile death of a goose with your neck on a block. At least live in the hope of dying a warrior's death in battle."

He bent down, and grasping her by the shoulders swung her roughly to one side.

"Move aside woman, this is men's business."

"And it will be women's business to scrub your blood from the floor," she retorted tearfully.

Several of her older maidservants came, helped her to her feet, and murmuring words of consolation to their grieving mistress, led her gently away. Conal stepped boldly to within a few feet of the towering Cú Roí who was still grinning at the pathetic, human drama.

"So this is an example of Ulster chivalry," sneered Cú Roí with a snort that shook the building once more.

Conal reached for the great axe.

"Cú Roí, lay your ugly head across the block."

Shaking with mirth the giant dropped to his knees and stretched his shaggy neck on the block. Conal picked up the axe decisively and swinging it easily through a wide arc, brought it down with a sickening squish.

Cú Roí's severed head once more spun in a gush of blood from his neck.

Conal, his teeth flashing and eyes blazing, pursued the slithering head, swinging the axe once more. The blow clove the skull in two equal hemispheres. A second and third blow divided it like an apple into neat quarters. Blow after frenzied blow rained down on the fragments of skull and brain until nothing remained but a gory pulp.

"Call in the dogs," he bellowed, kicking and scattering the soggy mess." There's a rare feast for them here."

Nobody moved, no sound could be heard except Conal's rasping breath and the dining hall looked like a disorderly waxworks of randomly placed effigies.

Conal bellowed:

"Come on hounds of Ulster."

The pack leader regarded Conol with suspicion, then padded cautiously back up the hall, his claws clicking on the floor.

Showing the whites of their eyes, more took courage from him and followed timorously to as though there was an invisible barrier. Gradually their apprehension began to mount and their movements became more uncertain, then tails between their legs they slunk away to take refuge under the tables.

"Wise dogs," shouted Conal with shaky bravado. "You know wholesome meat and you know the evil in a devil's head!"

Even as he spoke a gasp went up from the crowd, for the minced head of Cú Roí was stirring. The movement grew more rapid as the mess began to spin rapidly like a lump of clay on a potter's wheel. Conal's eyes bulged in horror as he watched the head begin to reconstitute itself. Finally the restored head came to rest, the terrible eyes staring sightlessly up at the roof, the mouth set in a frightening rictus.

Conal took an uncertain step to the rear and dropped the axe with a clatter. The mincemeat on the floor had actually restored itself to the awful likeness of the giant leaving not as much as a speck of blood, a splinter of bone or a single hair.

Ignoring the cold, steely stare of Cúchulainn, Conal took another, livelier step to the rear as Cú Roí's torso stirred.

A horrified cry like a chorus of demons arose among the Ulstermen. Some, leaping from their tables and chairs, made for the door. These sparked a panic and many slipped and fell in the press of bodies striving to reach the exit. Only a few hardened warriors and concerned women remained to witness what happened next.

Cú Roí's hand began to scrabble around the floor. When it touched the head, the hand closed on it grasping it by the hair. Then in one deft movement the head was back on the neck.

Lendabar screamed long and mournfully from the far end of the hall as the terrible news filtered through. Cú Roí rose with a spine-chilling chuckle as he addressed a dazed King Conor. The King seemed to have aged by twenty years during the terrifying spectacle and he stood uncertainly, holding on to the arm of his chair with a trembling hand. Cú Roí emitted a raucous, mocking laugh and roared.

"Conor son of Nessa, those two young men of yours could have promising careers as politicians, but as men of their word, never!"

Ignoring Conal, Cú Roí picked up the axe and the block and once more retreated into the shadows. Without turning he whispered menacingly:

"I will be back shortly to test your honour and integrity, brave Conal."

Conal stood surveying the half empty hall, then announced loudly:

"Er, my wife, Lendabar. I must go to her. She is distressed. I must console her."

Then, shuffling indecisively for a moment, he lowered his head and hurried away.

Cúchulainn stepped up on the table, placed his hands on his hips and raised his voice.

"Well, while Laoghaire feeds his horse and Conal consoles his wife I shall try to entertain our uninvited guest."

His voice echoed hollowly in the half deserted hall.

"Are you there Cú? This is the other Cú calling! Come and meet an honourable Ulsterman."

After a minute of silence Cú Roí shuffled out of the shadows, his iron armour and weapons glinting dully in the candlelight.

"Aha Cúchulainn, I am ready for you Ulsterman!"

Cúchulainn leaped lightly from the table and walked to meet his supernatural foe.

"Here, give me that hair-splitting axe of yours and stretch your hairy neck on your block."

With a scowl the giant knelt, laying his neck across the block once more. Without a second's hesitation Cúchulainn picked up the axe and tossed it easily into the air. Making one graceful revolution in its flight its blade dropped with precision on to the giant's neck neatly severing his head. Then, hands on his hips, Cúchulainn waited for the inevitable resurrection.

As the giant stirred, Cúchulainn picked up the severed head and planted it firmly in its owners groping hand.

"Your head, Cú Roí, never again will you use its distorted brain in presuming to pass judgement on a mortal who unlike you, is not yet damned."

Cú Roí replaced his head, rose to his feet and wordlessly shuffled off into the shadows. As he went, Cúchulainn continued to stand his ground.

Cú Roí shuffled back into the light, his face contorted, and huge body shaking with rage.

"Stupid Cúchulainn, what men will not do in their vanity! Get your neck upon my block and see how you like the darkness of death."

Cúchulainn, with a defiant laugh threw himself on the ground, stretching his neck upon the block.

"I know I shall be in Tír na nOg in a moment. From there I will more effectively deal with you and your like."

Screaming, Emer rushed towards Cúchulainn, but her ladies in waiting caught up with her within a few paces of the frightening scene.

"Dear Cúchulainn, my precious darling, don't be deceived by this evil visitation. Let it go back to the darkness whence it has come. Stay with me in the light, until you receive a nobler call from Tir na nOg."

Sencha rose to his feet, spilling the wine on the table and trembling with emotion, but before he could speak Laoghaire and Conal rushed up the hall and stood protectively beside Emer. There was a great buzz of conversation as more Ulstermen and their ladies summoned enough courage to drift nervously back into the scene, to see what fate had in store for their great hero. Laoghaire, leaning towards the prone Cúchulainn, called out:

"Wait, Cúchulainn our dear and noble friend, wait! You have truly proven yourself a man of honour, courage and integrity. There is no need of further evidence."

Cúchulainn's arch rival, Conal, broke in:

"Especially not evidence that will deprive us of your noble and inspiring company for ever!"

Laoghaire sprinted up to the dais.

"Cúchulainn, if you will spare yourself we will gladly concede the Champion's Portion. We will be honoured enough just to be allowed to sit at the same table as you. We will accompany you on all your missions and adventures in future. We will be your firm and faithful companions, come what may."

Emer broke free from the restraining hands of her servants and sobbing, knelt beside Cúchulainn, the two warriors standing protectively over her: "Oh, Cúchulainn my love, forebear from this horror for my sake."

Ignoring their pleas, Cúchulainn addressed the giant:

"Cú Roí! Go ahead and experience for the first time what it is like to strike off an honourable mortal's head. If only I could witness your anguished downfall when you do!"

Emer screamed.

"Please no! Please my darling ...."

Is this the end of the line for our hero? Join us next Sunday for our final chapter.