Oisin and Niamh

By Greg Niedt

In the days before St. Patrick, there dwelt the Fenians, the greatest band of warriors ever to walk in Ireland. They were a tight-knit band of men, strong and valiant, and they defeated their enemies well. Their leader was Finn MacCumhail, braver than all the rest; he led them the length and breadth of the island, seeking new adventures.

One day, the band was out by Lake Killarney, hunting in the woods, when a figure appeared on the surface of the water. It was a woman, a goddess of the Tuatha de Danann, and her step was light across the lake. She was the fairest woman that any of the Fenians had yet seen, with golden hair bedecked with rings, fair skin and red cheeks, and eyes that were blue as the sky. A golden crown perched on her head, and her dress was a nut-brown, sewn with red and gold, flowing down to her slippers. She trod across the grass, leaving no footprint, and smiled to the party. "I am Niamh," she announced, "the daughter of Manannan, Son of the Sea. I have come to choose my love, Finn MacCumhail, from your band."

"My lady," Finn said, agape at her beauty, "all my men are brave and handsome, as you may see. Whom will you choose?"

"I know your mind, dear Finn. You would not lose any of your men; I tell you, then, to choose for me. But choose honestly, for I will know a lie if I hear it. Which of your men do you care for the most? In whom do you place the most trust?"

And Finn was bound to answer truthfully. With a heavy heart, he named, "Oisin."

Niamh called forward Oisin; he was Finn's son, and much like his father in face and form. Niamh looked him up and down, and nodded her head. "I have long had my eye on this one as well," she said gaily, and took Oisin by the hand. "Will you come with me, Oisin, son of Finn? Will you come with me to the Land of the Young?"

"My lady," Oisin replied with a deep bow, "you know I am powerless to resist your fairness. But I hesitate to leave my companions…."

"You may return to them whenever you choose," she reassured him. "I understand your love for them."

"Return to us someday soon, my son," Finn added, embracing him. "I would not lose my best warrior, if I could I help it." Oisin clasped his hand and swore to return, then followed Niamh down to the water; for even the greatest Cu Chuileann could not resist the call of a goddess.

A steed of the Tuatha de Danann had risen out of the water; it was a pure, snowy white, with gilded shoes and a silver bridle. Oisin mounted first, and gently lifted Niamh onto the horse in front of him. She spurred it on across the water. A swift mist sprang up, and Oisin turned back one last time at the faces of his companions on the shore.

Niamh showed Oisin the wonders of the world as they rode on. The horse galloped across the ocean waves as she spoke: "The trees are thick with every fruit you could want, and they flower in an eternal spring. The leaves and petals are thick as snow on the ground, and there is honey and wine to be drunk. It is Tir na n Og, the Land of Youth and Beauty…no one dies in my father's kingdom, and there are such sights to be seen. Look there!" She pointed over the water, to where a hornless fawn was chased by an Annwn hound, white-furred and red-eyed. And there were palaces with golden walls on the surface of the sea; at one of them, Oisin dismounted from the horse and challenged the Fomor, the dark god, who was keeping one of Niamh's kinswomen prisoner. They took her up on the horse, and all of them went on to the Land together.

Oisin grew to love Niamh as she grew to love him, and the rest of her kinsmen and kinswomen were kind to Oisin as well. So great were the joys of Niamh's paradise that for three hundred timeless years, Oisin forgot about his life in Ireland, the days with his companions. But after that time had passed, there was a day when he gazed at the waves, and he missed the other side of them, through the walls of mist. He told his wife of his longing, and she sighed heavily. "You may go back, my beautiful Oisin. But you must take special care, if you wish to return to me."

She whistled for her horse, and the elegant white steed came down the hill to them. "You must swear that you will not dismount my horse for any reason. Swear to me, my love, that you shall not touch the soil of the earth while you are there."

"I swear," he said, and kissed her once. "I will see my old companions again, and then I shall return to you." With one swift motion, he climbed onto the horse, and spurred it down across the beach, over the water, and reached Ireland again before the sun had risen once more.

But St. Patrick had come over those three hundred years, and the land was changed. Legends had fled from Ireland; the people were normal, short and weak, painfully ordinary. Oisin felt a great pity for them as he rode down their roads, asking for word of the Fenians. Most just stared at his stature in disbelief; others told him that the Fenians and their leader were long since dead, and the great battle of Gabhra long years ago. They were a legend, giants that had disappeared beyond memory. Oisin roamed the land with a heavy heart, and resigned himself to the fact that his father, and all their friends, were gone.

Along the way, there was a group of men trying to lift a heavy stone to build a stonework; Oisin, in his pity, reached down a hand to help them. But as he lifted the rock, the saddle broke from the weight, and he tumbled down to the soil. As he struck the earth, he felt all the power of the Tuatha drain from him, and the youth fled from his body, leaving him a blind and decrepit old man. The fae horse vanished like mist, much to the men's wonder; they fled the stranger who had been transformed so quickly and eerily.

Another man came down the road, though, dressed in green and white, carrying a shepherd's crook for a staff. He reached his hand down to the old man, saying he was Patrick, the Christian missionary. "I am Oisin," said his charge, barely able to stand. "Tell me, good Patrick, who the people say is wise; have you heard news of the Fenians?"

"Rest first, my friend. Then I shall speak with you of the old legends."

He took Oisin into his home and set him in a bed. But Oisin continued to ask of the Fenians, and could not see the frown on the good saint's face. Each time St. Patrick neglected to answer, until the ninth inquiry. Finally, the saint said, in a moment of irritation, "Do you think I don't know who you are, Oisin? I know you seek your companions; but know that they went to their graves unbaptized, unshriven of their sins. Will you not see God, and see the wonders of heaven? You have little time left, I sense."

"I have seen the wonders of the Tuatha," Oisin replied mildly. "I have no need for heavens."

"Oisin! Don't you see that you will meet your end in Hell, like the rest of your companions? If you don't follow the Christ--"

"This Christ baffles me, good Patrick," Oisin replied sternly. "How can your Heaven be closed to my companions? I should think that any God would be proud to have Finn and his Fenians in his kingdom."

"Then I cannot dissaude you?" But Patrick already knew the answer.

"I will go where my companions lie," Oisin answered; and a fit of coughing seized him. "In heaven or hell, I will hunt with my friends, woo women with them, listen to the tales of bards; I shall be a Fenian forever." And with that the life left his body, and he left to find the ones he had long left behind.