INTO THE WELL#5.WOUNDS [12.03.21].pdf

“INTO THE WELL”
EP. #5: WOUNDS [or PRIDE?]
Black. The sounds of an early morning fill the air. An infrequent wind
rustles thick gorse.
Bard Long ago, in Scotland, there was a warrior woman named Scáthach. Famous
all over the known world for her wisdom and martial prowess. Many warriors came to
her for teaching from every corner of the continent, all in the hopes of becoming the
greatest fighter in the world.
For, among Scáthach’s arsenal of techniques was a feat so powerful it meant
certain death to any it was used against. It was called the Gae Bolga. A deadly spear
that was cast with the foot. When it pierced flesh, it would release a multitude of
barbs within the body, causing wounds too great to be healed.
Wielding this weapon was a responsibility that Scáthach had never shared
with her students, and perhaps, that total power over life and death should be in no
mortal’s hands.
Waves crash against rocks, and gulls cry overhead. And a strong wind
carries us around the coast, then abruptly changes direction,
announcing the coming of something new.
Bard One day Scáthach sat with one of her best students, Ferdia, a young lad from
the land called Connaught in the west of Ireland.

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Scáthach We are well pleased with your progress, and I am happy to elevate you to the
rank of apprentice.
Ferdia Thank you, teacher Scáthach.
Scáthach But, Ferdia, beware your pride. For I fear in my heart it may prove
your undoing.
Bard While Ferdia mulled on these words, Scáthach’s daughter, Uathach, entered.
She was the chief servant at Scáthach’s dun, the Fortress of Shadows, and was in
charge of the admitting prospective students.
Uathach Mother, there is little warrior begging to be accepted into your teaching.
Scáthach (sighing) Another? Truly we must live in an age of heroes for me to be
this popular. Draw back the bridge; I will take no more students this season.
Bard Scáthach’s dun was on a tall island separated from the mainland by a rope-
bridge that could be withdrawn in times of defence. This bridge was drawn back to
prevent the warrior from setting foot on the island, and Scáthach was about to return
to her instructions, when Uathach interrupted again.
Scáthach What now?
Uathach Mother, the warrior has leapt the gap between here and the mainland,
and now approaches the gates.
Scáthach Impressive, but still, bar the heavy ironwood gate, I will take no more students
this season.
Bard Uathach did as instructed, and Scáthach returned to her lesson. But before she
could continue, she was interrupted yet again.
Scáthach What?!
Uathach Mother, the warrior has put his spear straight through the gate, and is
trying to pry it open.

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Scáthach Hmm. He must be a great warrior indeed, come Ferdia, let us see who this is
who keeps interrupting us.
Footsteps slap across hard rock as the three go down the steps to the
front gate.
Ferdia That spear that pokes through is of Irish make.
Scáthach Indeed? Let us discover who this mighty warrior is; open the gate!
We heard the scraping and concerted effort of the guards pulling open
the heavy gate. As they do, the warrior outside goes to push and
instead falls to the floor in front of them.
Bard As the gates opened, the warrior had made to push against them, and a
fourteen-year-old boy fell face first onto the ground.
Boy Ouch!
Ferdia He doesn’t show the grace of mighty warrior.
Boy (face smushed into rock) I will show you the grace of my sword-arm, (rising)
then, you can show me how graceful you fall!
Scáthach Feisty, isn’t he?
Bard The boy who now stood before them was short for his age, but had a
stockiness that revealed a strength beyond his years. He was handsome, with features
that were nearly feminine.
Upon noticing Scáthach’s inspection of him, he stood up straighter and puffed
out his chest.

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Scáthach Tell me, what is your name and origin?
Boy I come for the north of Ireland, in the dominion of the Ulaid, Ulster.
My name is Cúchulainn!
Ferdia I’ve never heard of him.
Cúchulainn Yet! You have not heard of me yet. I have been sent by my king, (and
uncle), because I am to be the greatest warrior Ireland has ever seen!
Ferdia (agitated) Hmpf! That title will have to be earned, and it is one that I also
seek. Besides, you seem a little too short to achieve it.
Cúchulainn Perhaps, if I cut off your head, our heights will be matched?
Ferdia Why you!
Scáthach Enough! I will not allow fighting among my students. Under my roof; you are
allies.
Cúchulainn Does this mean you will take me on?
Scáthach It does.
Cúchulainn Yay! Ferdia No!
Scáthach You will begin as all do; as the lowest of the servants.
Cúchulainn I will serve gladly, and do whatever is necessary.
Scáthach Good. Ferdia, as our newest full apprentice, you will take Cúchulainn
as your body servant.
Ferdia Mine?
Scáthach Yes, you see the humility this boy shows? Learn it. It may save your
life.
Ferdia He does not seem that humble to me.
Scáthach Humility is the inverse of pride, not confidence. Confidence is
security, while pride is insecurity. Think on this before our next lesson.

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Bard And with that Scáthach left them, and Cúchulainn’s life in her dun began.
The young Ulster-lad did as he was told without complaint, he looked after
Ferdia’s spears and made his bed. All the while, Ferdia ignored him as if he were a
slave. However, Cúchulainn didn’t ignore Ferdia.
Though only a year his senior, he was taller than little Cúchulainn by a head
and a half. He was the best out of Scáthach apprentices, and Cúchulainn greatly
admired him.
For, despite his pride, Ferdia was quick with a smile, and quicker still to come
to the aid of his friends. As time went on, it was this smile that Cúchulainn sought
most.
At this time, Scáthach and her pupils were responsible for maintaining
Scotland’s northern shores. And she would send her students to resolve quarrels or
drive off invaders.
One such day, an army of a hundred strong came to land upon the shores, and
Ferdia and Cúchulainn were send to assess the situation and if possible, eliminate the
threat.
A strong wind buffets the two heroes as they stand on high cliffs.
Ferdia draws his sword.
Ferdia From those rocks I can look down onto the beach where they are landing.
Cúchulainn Those rocks look slippery, friend Ferdia.
Bard As usual, Ferdia ignored Cuchulainn’s advice and climbed up onto the rocks.
Of course, he did slip, and Cúchulainn was forced to quickly grab hold of him to

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prevent him falling to his death. As Ferdia grasped at his sturdy companion, he
dropped his sword, and it fell down the cliff edge to the beach below.
The commotion drew the attention of the invaders, who took up Ferdia’s
sword and began to mock him harshly.
Tears started to prick at the young man’s eyes from the shame of it all. And as
Cúchulainn watched on, he grew angry. Unable to bear the upset on Ferdia’s features,
he flew into a rage at the invaders.
He became possessed by his warp-spasm, the ríastrad. It made him into a
monstrous thing, hideous and shapeless. His shanks and his joints, every knuckle and
angle and organ from head to foot, shook like a tree in the flood. His body made a
furious twist inside his skin, so that his feet and shins switched to the rear and his
heels and calves switched to the front.
His temples stretched to the nape of his neck, and he sucked one eye deep into
his head while the other eye fell out along his cheek. His mouth weirdly distorted: his
cheek peeled back from his jaws until the gullet appeared, his lungs and his liver
flapped in his mouth and throat. The hair of his head twisted and stood up on his scalp
with rage.
Ferdia looked on in shock, as in this form, Cúchulainn tore through the
enemy’s ranks.
Ferdia (in shock) What is this?
Bard It is the ríastrad. For you see, Cúchulainn is no ordinary boy. It’s a long and
complicated tale, but essentially, he has two fathers, one a mortal man; the other, a
Tuath dé Danann. The warrior Lugh, whose parentage counts both Tuath and
Fomorian.
What you see now is the result of that mixed heritage.

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Ferdia I cannot believe this is the same person who spent the last few moons
cleaning my undergarments. If only for this one day, I cannot say that I’m a better
warrior than Cúchulainn.
Bard Ferdia looked on as Cúchulainn slew all the invaders one by one. As he killed
the last, a huge, icy wave rose up out of the sea and crashed into him. A massive
plume of steam burst forth, covering the beach in a mist. And as the wind cleared it,
Cúchulainn was revealed to be back to normal.
He fetched Ferdia’s sword from among the bodies and brought it back to him.
Ferdia I have judged you harshly, little Cúchulainn, and I hope you’ll accept
my apology.
Bard He struck out his hand and favoured the younger boy with a bright smile. It
warmed Cúchulainn’s heart, and he took the hand gladly.
From that day on, the two were inseparable. They did everything together and
helped each other reach new heights of greatness.
Cúchulainn advanced quickly, and it was only two years later, that they both
knelt before Scáthach, having reached the end of their lessons.
Scáthach You have both proven yourselves to be the greatest of my apprentices. And the
worthiest of my final lesson, the one I have yet to find someone to teach. You are
equals in every weapon, art and poetry. Your feats are matched in any contest.
But, only one of you can benefit from my last teaching. It is a deadly art I’m
still unsure if I will reveal.
Tell me now, each of you, why should you receive this honour, and
responsibility?
Ferdia, you were here first, you may speak first.
Bard Ferdia was clever, and thought he knew how to pass this final test.

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Ferdia I should receive the lesson, because it is a glory of which I am most deserving.
Cúchulainn is the nephew of a king, he has a life of privilege and
prestige wating for him back home. I am from humble origins, and will forever have
to prove myself by the strength of my arm, not the purity of my blood. Therefore, this
power should be mine, as I will put it to better use.
Scáthach Cúchulainn, what say you?
There is silence as Cúchulainn mulls this over.
Cúchulainn (slowly) I think… you should give it to Ferdia.
Ferdia What?
Scáthach Oh? And what makes you say this?
Cúchulainn It matters to him more. I have received the training I sought, and have gained
wisdom as well as lasting friendship. I have no desire to take anything from Ferdia
that he wishes to be his.
Scáthach Then, I have made my decision. What I would teach is a responsibility
to be used with much forethought, not a glory to be boasted of. Cúchulainn, you have
proven yourself more worthy.
Cúchulainn But!
Scáthach Ferdia, leave us.
Bard Without a word, Ferdia left the room. And Scáthach taught Cúchulainn the use
of the Gae Bolga. The ultimate weapon.
Scáthach You see, this weapon is a last resort. Only to be used when your life, or the life
of those you protect, is at the most risk.

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It is a terrible curse I give you, this ability to kill with such ease, and it
stretches the very boundaries of honour. Only you have shown you can put the needs
of others above that of yourself, and I know you will not use this power selfishly.
Cúchulainn I understand.
Bard Once the lesson was done, Cúchulainn returned to the quarters he and
Ferdia shared. He found his friend staring silently out of a window, gazing across the
cold sea.
Cúchulainn I am sorry.
(silence) I really did want you to be the one.
(silence still) please, I cannot bare for us to part ways on bad terms.
Ferdia (eventually) Why?
Cúchulainn Sorry?
Ferdia Why did you say it? Why would you put me ahead of you? We’re are friends,
sure, but it was a contest, and you submitted to me. Why?
Cúchulainn I didn’t want to see you upset.
Ferdia We are warriors, we should not care about such things.
Cúchulainn Scáthach disagrees, she thinks we should fight with our hearts.
Bard Ferdia didn’t know how to respond to this. The earnestness of his
friend struck him. He moved closer.
Ferdia And what does your heart say?
Cúchulainn It says… it says that I love you.
Bard Ferdia didn’t respond. Instead, he reached out, and brushed his fingers against
the soft skin of Cúchulainn’s face. Cúchulainn pushed back, nuzzling into Ferdia’s
strong hand. They held there for a moment.
Ferdia I…

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Bard He pulled his hand away.
Ferdia I hope we meet again.
Bard And so, the two heroes parted ways, and returned to their respective provinces
back in Ireland. Unaware, that war was brewing…
In Connaught at this time, there was a queen who was the most powerful and
most wealthy ruler in all of Ireland. She fought and connived her way to this position.
Making good on a line of strong warriors and kings and queens before her. She was
Medb, proud daughter of Eochu Fidlech, who was the child of Finn, child of
Finnoman, child of Finnen, child of Fingall, child of Rioth, child of Rigeon, child of
Blathacht, the child of Beothacht, child of Enna Agnech, who was the child of Angus
Turbech!
(phew, didn’t think I’d make it through that one).
She was married to man named Ailill, child of… I’m not going there, and he
didn’t care about it anyway.
Their relationship was passionate, and intense, they often squabbled and often
made up. It was one such night that they lay together talking, when their discussion
became heated…
Medb I am glad that you and I together. For if I had a partner that was prone to
jealousy or meanness. I would be unhappy. While now I am confident and happy in
my place.
Ailill And why, my love, would I be jealous of you? You are queen to be sure, and
while my two elder brother are kings themselves, and I have never desired such titles.
I am happy enough with my wealth and content to spend my days with you in charge.

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Medb Yes, but all the same. I didn’t suppose you be jealous of my rule, more my
riches, for I know, of course, that wealth is your desire, over power. And my wealth is
greater than yours.
Ailill You astonish me, no one has more wealth than myself. I know this for a fact.
Medb Come now, there’s no need to get so defensive. It is no feat to be poorer off
than a queen.
Ailill Be that as it may, poorer than you am I not.
Bard With that, Ailill jumped out of the bed and awoke their servants, while
blearily Medb followed behind.
He called for the least valuable of their assets to be brought out, to see who
had more wealth; their goods and jewels, their cauldrons and buckets and pots, their
porringers and tubs and basins. Then their gold artefacts, their rings and their
bracelets, and their thumb rings, all were brought out.
And their outfits of purple and blue and black and green and yellow, whether
plain or multi coloured, plaid, checked or striped.
Their flocks of sheep were brought… ah look, you get the point.
Eventually, when all was said, done, when every asset was compared
and judged to be equal; it came down to the last. There was a prize bull in Medb’s
herd; Finnbennach was his name, the white-horned, and Ailill had no bull to equal it
among his herd.
To Ailill; it was as if he hadn’t a single penny.
Ailill This is outrageous, I thought myself richer, and would have settled for
being equal. But to be your lesser, it grinds at me.
Medb My love, I wanted not to hurt you so deeply. This began as a compliment of
your magnanimity, be at peace please.

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Ailill I cannot, it hurts me to feel that much lesser in my own estimation.
Medb (considering) Right then. Bard? Harken to me; is there a match to this
bull anywhere in the provinces of Ireland?
Bard That there is; there is its match, and equal in every way.
You see, long ago, there were two pig keepers; Friuch from Connacht
and Rucht from Munster. The pigkeepers both had the power to change themselves
into any form and thus being both pigkeepers of the same power, knew one another
well.
But one day, Friuch and Rucht came into competition about who had the
greatest power and they argued. So it was, when Rucht visited Friuch, Friuch cast a
spell on his pigs which meant that even though they would eat they would remain
lean. The following year Rucht cast the same spell on Friuch’s pigs. While this
proved them equal, they were both fired as pig keepers by their respective Kings.
After this they spent two years in the forms birds, competing with their songs,
and they made a terrible babble. Then two years as sea creatures, racing as they
swam. Two years as stags making a shambles of each other’s dwelling places. Then
two warriors gashing each other. Two phantoms terrifying each other. Two dragons
pouring snow on each other’s land.
Eventually they lost all their possessions, and herds. Their friends passed
away, and they were left alone with no one but each other; but still they fought on.
Until one day, the wily poet, Fintan Mac Bochra, tricked them into to
transforming into two worms, and they were, at last, separated from one another. One
got into the magic well in Cooley where a cow belonging to Daire MacFiachnae drank
it up. The other got into a well here in Connacht where a cow belonging to you,
Medb, drank it up.

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Both cows then birthed each a bull, Finnbennach, which you now own, and the
Donn Cuailnge. The brown bull of Cooley.
Ailill Then, it is this other bull I desire.
Bard That’s not really why I told that story…
Medb (ignoring him) Then, my love, you shall have it.
Bard (You can’t see, but I’m rolling my eyes…)
(let’s out a breath) Medb sent her messengers to Daire of Cooley, and asked
for a loan of his bull, with a promise of wealth, and land as a reward. Daire agreed
but, that night, Medb’s messengers got drunk and bragged that even had Daire said
no, the forces of Medb could have easily taken it by force.
Hearing of this boast, Daire withdrew the bull from the agreement, and said
that Medb would never have the strength to take it from him. The messengers
returned to Medb and spoke of this…
If Ailill’s greatest insecurity was his wealth, then Medb’s was her power. She
decided she would remind Daire that she was the strongest leader in all Ireland.
She summoned to herself the greatest warriors in the land, all of which owed
her fealty for one reason or another. And they marched on Ulster, to make war there.
But Ulster’s warriors were under a curse. Years before, the knights of the Red
Branch, as the greatest of their warriors were called, forced a pregnant woman into
cruel race, and when she died in birthing, she cursed them.
For she was, in truth, Macha, a woman of Tuath dé Danann.
The curse went that whenever the warriors of Ulster needed their strength
most, it would desert them. And for nine days and nine nights, they would endure the
pains of a woman in childbirth.

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This curse would last for nine generations: each fighting-man of Ulster, as
soon as he was old enough to grow a beard, would come under the curse.
And so, as Medb led her forces to war, they met no opposition. They
slaughtered and pillaged along the borders of Ulster. Making sport of the innocents
that dwelt there.
This drew the attention of the one warrior free from Macha’s curse. A warrior
whose heritage ensured he would be able to fight.
This was, of course, Cúchulainn.
Cúchulainn had grown into the greatest and most famous warrior in all
of Ireland. For three days he harried them, as they tracked east toward Cooley. But
even he knew that he could not hope to hold back an alliance of all the other
provinces.
So, he challenged them to single combat in the fords which lined the borders
of Ulster. And for three days, one by one, he defeated every warrior put against him,
until Medb began to fear that their armies would never take the bull.
Medb Where is Ferdia? Is he not the greatest warrior in all of Connaught, why has he
not come?
Bard It was true, Ferdia remained absent from the conflict. For he was no fool and
knew from the first that the warriors of Ireland would be forced to contend with
Cúchulainn.
And Ferdia had had no desire to face him, though not due to fear…
However, Medb send poets to him, who threatened him with satire and
mockery should he not at least attend a feast with the queen. Ferdia relented to this,
and joined Medb, Ailill, and the assembled host of the provinces of Ireland.

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They did not mention Cúchulainn, and instead filled Ferdia with food and
drink. It was when this was done, that Medb finally addressed him.
Medb Well now, Ferdia, do you know why you were invited to this tent?
Bard Ferdia smiled to himself, and played along with the queen’s game.
Ferdia Indeed, I do not. Except that the noblest of Ireland are here, and isn’t just and
right that I be here too?
Goblets clink, and cheers of agreement echo around.
Medb Indeed, that is not why. But actually, it is to give you a chariot, worth ten
times seven bondsmen, and equipment for twelve warriors. And a fine piece of plain
and a permanent residence in my palace. That comes with as much wine as you want,
and freedom from tax and tribute for you and your kith and kin.
Anything you require, by my ancestors, I will guarantee it.
Ferdia These are great offers and gifts, tell me, what must I do to avail of
them?
Medb Slay Cúchulainn at the ford in the morning.
Bard Ferdia shook his head, rising.
Ferdia As great and all as those gifts are, I would rather leave them than fight
Cúchulainn.
Bard With that pronouncement he turned to leave, but, as he reached the exit…
Medb Well then, what Cúchulainn said was true.
Bard Ferdia stopped, gripped by a sudden fear.
Ferdia What did he say?

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Medb He said, my dear, that in his province, defeating you would be considered one
of his lesser victories.
Bard Ferdia was struck by these remarks. It was true that since they had parted ways
Cúchulainn’s renown had spread far and wide, while he was only known in his native
land. He was once more reminded of the day Scáthach chose Cúchulainn over him.
But worst of all, he was hurt that Cúchulainn would say something so cruel
about him.
Ferdia It wasn’t right of him to say that! I swear by my ancestors I’ll be the first man
at the ford in the morning!
Bard So the deal was done, Ferdia would fight Cúchulainn or forever by shamed as
an oathbreaker.
Ferdia left the Queen’s tent to rest up before the fight. But he found sleep
ellusive. A part of him knew he had been tricked, that Cúchulainn would never say
such things, but an oath was an oath.
And as he tossed and turned, he feared that even if he won the following day,
he would never again be able to call his soul his own.
Ferdia rose early the next morning and went to the ford to await Cúchulainn’s
arrival.
Cúchulainn himself didn’t get up until the sun was well risen; for he didn’t
want his opponents to think fear had driven him to an early start. Eventually he, and
his charioteer, his close friend, Laeg, approached the ford.
Laeg Someone awaits down there, but he is too far away, I cannot make out who.
Cúchulainn He’s not too far away for to see them.
Bard Cúchulainn peered down for a time.
Laeg Even you don’t find it easy.

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Cúchulainn Look, I see he’s as tall as a glittering rock, his spear is a blasted pine, his
shield the rising moon… (recognising) he is the friend of my secret thoughts.
Ferdia…
Bard Cúchulainn rushed to the ford before Laeg could stop him.
Cúchulainn Ferdia? Why have you come? Tell me it is not to fight.
Ferdia Why not? Do you fear to beat me too easily? Am I not sport enough
for you?
Cúchulainn “Sport enough”? Killing a hundred hundred challengers would still not be
sport while the people of Ulster suffer under this invasion. Regardless, I wouldn’t
fight you because of the love I bear you, not because I wouldn’t enjoy it.
Ferdia Well, you tune has changed so. I thought slaying me wouldn’t have been a
challenge at all?
Cúchulainn What is this nonsense?
Ferdia My words are nonsense now?
Cúchulainn No! That’s not what I meant. What is happening?
Bard Oh! Enough of this!
Both What?
Bard This back and forth will go forever. Ferdia, think clearly, would
Cúchulainn say something like that about you? Truly, does it seem likely?
Ferdia What Bard, do you claim that I was lied to by a queen?
Bard Bah, queen or not, I think that suggesting that the person who
blackmailed you into attending them has lied, isn’t as big a stretch in reason as saying
that this man would speak ill of you.
Ferdia (pause) That is actually a good point.
Bard “Actually”? I always make good points.

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Ferdia It doesn’t matter, it is too late now. I have sworn an oath, I cannot back
out.
Bard An oath given due to a lie!
Ferdia You are a mere bard, what do you know of honour?
Bard What do you warriors have against bards? We, after all, are the keepers of
your precious honour. Who do you think will tell of it after it gets you killed?
Anyway, I would rather be called dishonourable and see my friends live, than myself
live with the alternative.
Cúchulainn Ferdia is right. An oath is an oath. I would not like to see Ferdia become the
person to prove a promise given is worth nothing.
Bard HA! Warriors are the kings of broken promises, you all die to prevent having
to fulfil them! Let me tell you a story about honour…
Cúchulainn Do you have to?
Bard (growls) Yes, it seems I fecking do!
(takes a deep breath to calm themselves) Long ago, well actually not
that long ago, or maybe not yet? Anyway, there once was a warrior who was trained
in every martial art. A person considered to be the greatest champion of their age.
And he had a son.
A child of battle and strife, this boy was raised apart from his father, and never
knew his face. When he came of age, he was sent to the land of his father. But;
By… His… Honour… Was forbidden from revealing his identity to anyone but the
person who defeated him.
So of course, when he was stopped along the border, instead of revealing his
name, he challenged the best warriors of that land to combat, and who was sent
against him? The warrior whose job it was to defend those lands. His own father.

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The father, even though he recognised something in the youth, was honour
bound to face him. The two fought, and the father overcame the son. Mortally
wounding him. When he did, the son revealed his identity, and then died in his
father’s arms. All the while the great warrior wondered what honour there was in
slaying his only son…
Ferdia You speak of the cost of honour.
Bard I speak of the cost of foolishness.
Cúchulainn Thank you, Bard, for that pointless diversion. Come now,
Ferdia, ignore them, and let our combat begin.
Bard Please! I’m begging you, for once, will someone realise the cost of their
actions before they are forced to pay it? Whatever pain you think you may feel, I
promise, it will be tenfold that.
Ferdia (sigh) Let us get this over with.
Bard Why can you never learn?
(sighs deeply) So they fought, but they were as evenly matched as ever,
and none could gain the upper hand. As the sun set, they called a break until the next
day.
Both had wounded the other, though not gravely, so doctors came forth from
the lands under Cúchulainn’s protection. And for every soothing plant and herb that
was put to the cuts and gashes of Cúchulainn, he sent the same to Ferdia, so that the
people of Ireland could not say, if Ferdia fell, that it was because Cúchulainn got
better care.
That night they shared the same fire, and slept at the same camp. The next
morning, they rose early and began again, once more they were evenly matched until

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nightfall. For every cut and stab Ferdia landed on Cúchulainn, the same was returned
to him.
Now, Ferdia was better supplied that Cúchulainn, but for every piece of food
and reviving drink that Ferdia received from the army’s provisions, he sent the same
to Cúchulainn, so that if Cúchulainn fell, the people of Ireland could not say it was
because Ferdia was better fed.
That night they shared the same fire and slept at the same camp.
On the third day Ferdia rose fist, and left Cúchulainn still sleeping. He
knew in his bones that today would be the decisive day of their encounter. He stood
waiting in the ford when Cúchulainn rose and joined him.
Cúchulainn You do not look well today Ferdia, your hair has grown dull overnight, and
your eye is clouded, you are not in good shape.
Bard And it was true, the emotional toll of their combat was beginning to show,
Ferdia did look haggard and ghastly. In response to Cúchulainn concern, Ferdia shook
his head gravely.
Ferdia This combat shouldn’t be, I should have thought before I took that foolish
oath, I should have seen the lie. I should have known, that you feel the same way
about me, that I feel about you…
Bard He walked away to take his position, as Cúchulainn looked like he had been
struck in the heart. Eventually, with great reluctance, Cúchulainn took his place.
Laeg This will be it, for Ulster, I fear.
Bard Are you talking to me?
Laeg Do see any others?
Bard I suppose not…

of 25
Laeg I do not think that little Cú will be able to bring himself to kill Ferdia. And the
innocent people of this province will suffer greatly with none to protect them. I beg
you, you must needle and nettle him, get his temper up. Only the ríastrad will let him
do what needs to be done.
Bard No way! I am against this foolishness altogether. Why don’t they just stop
fighting?
Laeg For three days now, Medb’s army have waited for their opportunity to plunder
and pillage these lands. If Ferdia does not fall, do you think they will stay there a day
longer?
Cúchulainn fights to defend the defenceless. Would you have him do it alone?
Bard Well why don’t you do it?
Laeg Alas, maybe I too am a coward. But I love him too dearly to force this pain
upon him. For to kill Ferdia may break him, but it needs to be done. Besides, is this
not your job? Is this not why you exist? Satire, mockery; it is your duty as a bard.
Bard But… I can’t it too much… I’m not…
Roars, and cries, steel meets steel. The water churns as the conflict
grows more intense.
Bard The combat in the ford grew closer than ever, they brought all their skills to
bear on one another. But each strike of Cúchulainn’s sword was weaker than the last,
as if slowly his will was failing him, and the horror of his task was fully realised. It
was obvious then, that he would lose, and innocent people would suffer…

of 25
The bard takes deep breaths, the kind someone takes before
making a high jump. They push themselves into action.
Bard Forgive me what I must do…
You call this fighting, puppy dog of Cullen? He whacks you around
like a mother whacks a bold child. He beats you like flax in a pond! He grinds you
like salt in a mill! He goes through you like a drill through oak, and over you like ivy
over a tree.
Never again can you call yourself a proper warrior, or boast about great deeds
and skill at arms, you are nothing but a twisted little imp. And hear you will reach you
deserved demise!
Cúchulainn roars in anger.
Bard This jeering worked, and Cúchulainn grew as angry as a storm. The ríastrad
came over him, he became twisted and transformed. Lost to the fury of battle. And he
used this power to fight back against Ferdia with all his might.
He swung hard at the man he loved, and knocked the sword straight from his
hand. As he did, Ferdia drew his side dagger and sank it into to Cúchulainn chest.
The combat had finally gone too far. And even in this state Cúchulainn knew
what must be done.
Cúchulainn Laeg! The Gae Bolga!
Bard And so, the charioteer floated the spear down the river, and it reached
Cúchulainn just as Ferdia bore down to make one final stab. The spear was a
Cúchulainn’s feet, he took it in the bow of his toes and kicked it up.

of 25
The spear pierced Ferdia deeply, releasing its bards and bringing about a
hundred wounds.
Ferdia froze where he stood, and the look of shock on his face broke
Cúchulainn out of the warp-spasm. He returned to normal as Ferdia toppled into arms.
Cuchulainn carried him to the side of the ford and fell to his knees,
cradling Ferdia in his arms.
Ferdia (weakly) That’s enough fighting now.
Cúchulainn (crying) This isn’t fair! I’ve fought for innocents, I fought for those
who couldn’t fight for themselves, I should not have been the one forced to kill you.
Ferdia Hey! At least I die by your foot and not your hand, eh?
Cúchulainn laughs through the tears, sniffing, and wiping his eyes.
Cúchulainn This morning, you said, you feel the same way. Tell me, how do you feel?
Ferdia (coughing up blood) You know.
Cúchulainn But say it, please? Ferdia? Ferdia? Please say it, if only once! Please!
Laeg He is gone.
The sound of water running through the ford is all that is heard.
Bard (lowly) Cúchulainn didn’t cry out, or keen blindly to the heavens. He didn’t
have anything left to give. To him, for that moment, everything he was had just died
in his arms. He knelt there, numb, clutching at Ferdia’s butchered body.
Laeg Come now, we must rise before the army comes upon us.

of 25
Bard Eventually, Laeg roused him enough to lead him away. All night they
stumbled away, while the forces of Connaught stayed rooted by fear of the Gae Bolga.
As charioteer and warrior, reached the crest of a hill, they were greeted by a
sunrise, and the sound of drums.
Cúchulainn had bought them enough time, the curse was ended, and Ulster
had marshalled their forces at last.
They charged past the weary Cúchulainn and met the forces of Medb head on.
We hear them charge and cry out, as a massive, horrific battle is
joined.
Bard Many heroes bled and died on the plains that day. And I would speak of their
deeds and triumphs, but it doesn’t matter.
Not anymore.
What does matter is that Medb was driven off, but not before capturing
the brown bull. She and Ailill fled back to Connaught with their prize in tow. But
their armies decimated.
After it was over, Cúchulainn returned to the ford and found Ferdia’s body.
He and Laeg rose a cairn above the fallen hero. And Cúchulainn stood
vigil over the grave.
A moments respectful silence is held, and the sounds of nature
go by.
Cúchulainn Tell me I did the right thing.

of 25
Bard I can’t, it’s not right I tell anything anymore.
Cúchulainn That story you told before, the warrior who killed his own son, what was his
name?
Bard That warrior? He didn’t have a name, at least not one to call his own. Even in
his name, he belonged to someone else. And he would forever be used to fulfil other
people’s aims, (mournful laugh) even now.
He made a choice you see, when he was just a boy, and he took up arms for
the first time. He was told that if he did, he would be remembered forever in Ireland’s
history, but would die young and bereft of everything he held dear.
Cúchulainn (whisper) I’m not sure that boy knew what that meant.
Bard I’m not sure any little boy ever does.
The sound begins to fade.
Bard But wait! What of the bulls? Ha, surely you can guess.
Medb and Ailill had them fight one another, to finally judge who was
greater. The brown bull won, and finally slayed his rival of many lifetimes. But he
was mortally wounded in the combat.
He staggered back towards Ulster, eventually stumbling and collapsing into a
ford.
Where he died alone.
Black out.

INTO THE WELL#5.WOUNDS [12.03.21].pdf

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INTO THE WELL#5.WOUNDS [12.03.21].pdf