A wide angle pan slowly sweeps to the right across a panorama of mountains receding into the mist. We are treated to a spectacular vista of the haunting, otherworldly beauty that can only be the Hebrides.
The camera settles on a vast, dark expanse below the misty backdrop of mountains going into the sea. A tiny figure is seen struggling in the middle of it –Cuchulainn, alone in Skatha's bog, thigh deep in muck, trying to move through its immensity toward the right of the frame.
The bog water is greyish black, and in a closer shot we see just how serious Cuchulainn's struggle really is. He is aching and exhausted, there seems no end to the bog, whenever he ceases to struggle for sheer tiredness he starts sinking, and we realize that he is going to die here if he gives up.
A supernatural voice speaks from out of frame.
Light's voice (quietly): "Bad day?"
Cuchulainn looks around, and we discover that the camera's point of view has been Light's point of view. The camera tracks in a semicircle and stops, facing Cuchulainn, looking slightly down at him. We see his haggard, weary face looking up at us. He has a close beard now, the first growth of a youth. A golden hand and forearm extend forward into frame, and Cuchulainn reaches up his left arm to grasp the hand.
The camera tracks behind Cuchulainn's shoulder as he approaches a gorge. It is really a strait between two rocky islands. He stops at the cliff edge. Spanning the gorge is a thin golden thread.
Light's voice: "Hold my hand, close your eyes and jump like a salmon, and I will bring you across. But if you open your eyes, even a crack, then you will fall and be dashed to pieces on the rocks below." There is a pause. "I see Skatha has sent someone to help you."
We see a young red haired man walking straight toward the camera from some distance away, over the tall grasses of the cliff top. We do not see the cliff's edge except for a little bit at the right side of the frame. The young man's name is Ferdia.
Ferdia (calls out): "You there! What do you think you're doing? None but Skatha can cross here."
Cuchulainn's voice (out of frame): "I have one with me who is my guide."
Ferdia stops in centre frame. We see his whole figure, hands on hips.
Ferdia: "I see no one. And who might you be?"
Cuchulainn's voice: "Cuchulainn of Uillaid. And you?"
Ferdia: "Ferdia, of the West Country. I've heard that the men of Uillaid are afraid of their own shadows."
Cuchulainn's voice: "You have. Then watch this and tremble, Ferdia of the West Country."
The camera travels above the turbulent, dark waters. We get a bird's eye view directly down the heart stopping distance to the ultramarine depths, along with lots of ambient sound. Waves beat against the dark rocks far below.
Then we see a closeup of two feet planted firmly apart. They are a woman's feet, clad in the Gaelic manner. The camera pans up her legs, which are in the usual trousers under a belted shift reaching halfway down the thighs. It tracks up her body, which is in full battle gear, and ends with a closeup of her face. She is motionless and proud, and sternly beautiful. In her features are traces of her black African heritage.
Skatha: "You have done well, Cuchulainn. Welcome to my island. I am Skatha."
We look back at the gorge.
Skatha's voice (out of frame): "Look behind you, brave one."
We see a wide and stable straight bridge, not a suspension bridge, with comfortably high railings. It is entirely made of gold. Anyone's grandmother could walk across it easily.
Skatha's voice (out of frame, with amused softness): "The way back is always easy."
On a red cedar wall hangs a plain iron holder like a torch holder. In it is a large, heavy iron weapon which looks like a spear, but thicker. It has a crossbar halfway down the handle for easier use, and the tip of it is broad and thick as if something is contained inside.
Skatha's voice (out of frame): "It is the Gae Bolg. The ultimate weapon."
Cuchulainn's voice (respectful, also out of frame): "How does it work?"
Skatha's voice: "No one has ever used it. Only the greatest warrior of all time may wield the Gae Bolg. Legend has it that as soon as it pierces flesh, a hundred spikes rise up from inside and disembowel the victim."
Cuchulainn's voice: "I will win the right to carry the Gae Bolg."
Skatha's voice: "You have passed only two tests. There is a third to come. But if you do win the Gae Bolg, I'm not sure you'll want it. For legend has it also that the Gae Bolg carries a secret, and I know not what it is." The shot ends in a slow fade.
The camera tracks behind Cuchulainn's shoulder again as he walks along the top of a rocky windswept cliff. Tall grasses blow in the wind. He is walking toward a woman who stands, feet apart, in full battle dress, her long shining red hair blown around her like flames, seeming to have a life of its own. He stops –and the camera stops with him– about ten feet away from her.
Skatha's voice (from out of frame): "This is your final test. My sister Aifa wishes to do battle with you. To the death. This is not sparring. And be warned, she was my finest student."
Aifa moves toward the camera, still in centre frame. Her face is impassive. She stops two feet away from Cuchulainn, who has not moved. With the same impassive face, she looks into Cuchulainn's eyes, just above and to the left of the camera. There is a pause for three seconds -then suddenly, like lightning, she lunges at him with her sword. Just as quickly he brings up his shield, which takes up only a small part of the left side of the frame.
From about twenty feet away, off the edge of the cliff, we see Cuchulainn and Aifa engaged in battle. She fiercely attacks him again and again with her sword and he parries without actually attacking her. Finally he catches the crossbar of her sword hilt on the top of his shield and as he draws the shield up to protect his face, the motion throws her off balance and she falls backward. We look down at her lying on the tall grass, panting. She does not try to get up, but just looks up challengingly.
Aifa: "So. Kill me now and get it over with."
Cuchulainn: "No."
Aifa: "You've won. Take my head. It will be your first trophy."
Cuchulainn: "Get up."
Aifa: (without getting up) "What's the matter with you? Don't you want my head?"
Cuchulainn (laughing): "I'd like a lot more than your head."
Aifa (incensed): "You insult me! Take my head and be gone!"
From the cliff edge, we see Cuchulainn reach down and take hold of Aifa's hand. Then he lifts it and she accepts his assistance as she gets to her feet. The two stand facing each other without moving and we see them in profile, head to toe, from about fifteen feet away.
Aifa: "Why didn't you kill me?"
Cuchulainn (smiling): "I never hit a woman."
Aifa (softly): "Then you pass the final test."
From about twenty-five feet away we see Cuchulainn and Aifa strolling along the cliffside, arm in arm. They stop to look at the view, like any other romantic couple, with their backs to the camera. Next we see a closeup of them in profile as they look out over the water, the breeze playing with their hair. Cuchulainn is nearer the camera than Aifa. After a while she speaks quietly without turning her head or changing focus.
Aifa: "I know you have to go."
There is a pause, in which Cuchulainn does not answer. He looks down a little, pensively. Then she turns to face him, and thus turns toward the camera also. Her left hand gently turns his right cheek so that he faces her. We see her full face as she gazes searchingly into his eyes, though we see only his shoulder and the nape of his neck.
Aifa: "There's no avoiding it." She pauses. "You have something to say. Speak."
We see a closeup of Cuchulainn's left hand as he removes a gold ring from his left middle finger and places it in her hand. He clasps her hands in his own.
Cuchulainn (softly): "If you should bear me a son, flower of my heart, send him to me as soon as his hand is big enough for this ring. Name him Connla, and bid him tell no one his name. I will know him by the ring, for there is no other like it."
We see Ferdia and Cuchulainn taking up the armhold used by arm wrestlers in a demonstration of solidarity. They look deep into each other's eyes in true brotherhood of spirit. As they speak they reaffirm their grip.
Ferdia: "Tomorrow we must go home. Why could you not be a man of the west?"
Cuchulainn: "Why could you not be a man of the north?" They both smile wryly.
Ferdia: "West or north, together or apart, we are brothers forever." They look into each other's eyes in silence.
Next we see a closeup of Cuchulainn's arm and hand holding the Gae Bolg. He is walking toward the camera across a navigable part of Skatha's bog. The camera tracks back at the same pace as his walking, and then while continuing this it zooms in to a closeup of his triumphant face with the wind lapping at his hair.
An establishing shot shows us King Conor's fort of Emain Macha. The walls are three storeys tall, made of red cedar logs with pointed ends upward which give the structure a formidable appearance. We are looking up from a distance. Armed men are on the ramparts, moving around frantically.
We are in Conor's dining hall, but the table is against one side wall now and the bales of hay are against the other. Conor is pacing the floor amid his most trusted warriors. The dirt floor is bare, like all Celtic ground floors. The fireplace and the shields and arms on the walls are as before. Conor is well dressed with magnificent torc, rings and armrings. He wears a cloak with an exquisitely wrought brooch.
From Conor's point of view we see a guard enter, in such a hurry that he almost forgets to touch his spear to his forehead before speaking. He is very agitated.
Guard: "Conor! Cuchulainn is on his way."
Everyone else in the room becomes instantly as agitated as the guard. Then a tracking shot follows Conor from the side as he paces back and forward faster than before.
Conor (irritated): "Blast the man! Once he's won a battle why can't he simmer down?" We return to the guard.
Guard (hastily): "The watch say his battle frenzy is full upon him and he's heading straight for us!"
Conor motions roughly to two of his men.
Conor (irritably): "Get me a seat." The men leave the frame and return, clearly with a bale of hay which they put under him, though we do not see it. The camera zooms in gradually on Conor's brooding face.
"One thing only will stop him in his tracks. One thing."
The camera is behind Cuchulainn, who is driving his own chariot. One black horse and one white horse are harnessed, and are thundering along like fury toward Conor's fort in the distance.
Cuchulainn's shoulder length hair and the horses' wild manes are whipped by the wind of their approach. Cuchulainn's hair and clothes are drenched in blood. The ambient sound of the horses' hoofs is overwhelming.
Conor's castle gets closer every moment, but it is still in the distance, with a line of people extending from one side to the other in front of it. They look like women, each one swathed in a cloak.
The camera is now on top of the ramparts, looking down on the women lined up in front of the castle from one side to the other. They stand silently. Each one has her weight on one leg in a rather voluptuous pose and the ends of her cloak grasped in both hands, which are held in front of her chest.
Though we can only barely see the women's shoulders, they seem to be uncovered. We hear ambient sounds, a rustle of leaves in the trees, a bird, and a faint rumbling getting steadily nearer. We see the line of women in profile from ankle height to their left.
The sound continues and the rumbling, getting louder and louder, is clearly the thundering of Cuchulainn's horses and chariot wheels. Louder and louder they become, and the tension mounts with each moment. What we're seeing all this time are three and a half of the women who happen to be in frame because they're at the middle of the line. We see them from behind and from about knee level, almost silhouetted against the sunlight of the background, standing like statues. The tension continues to mount.
At the last moment, when it has become unbearable, the horses' hooves appear at the top of the frame, instantly followed by the rest of them and the chariot, horribly decorated with the smoke dried trophy heads of Cuchulainn's slain enemies. The horses and the chariot are dripping with blood. Drops of blood shoot through the top of the frame and spatter the ground in front of the horses.
We never see Cuchulainn's face because the horses are suddenly rearing and the chariot has thundered to a halt. This is because at the very moment when the tension becomes unbearable, something happens, and it is this: at one and the same moment all the women drop their cloaks. They are stark naked.
An establishing shot shows Conor's dining hall full of people who have not yet sat down to eat. It looks much as it did the first time Cuchulainn saw Emer. Some of them are milling around and conversing. One of them is Emer, who politely takes leave of the young man to whom she has been speaking. The camera tracks alongside her.
People in the background find their places at the table, not without some potentially violent arguing over who sits where. Cuchulainn enters through the right side of the frame. He is now clean shaven. He approaches Emer from behind, and his face is somewhat obscured by her nearer one as he speaks. Her head is turned away, toward the camera. She has assumed a frosty expression, with eyes downcast.
Suddenly she dimples as an irresistible thought occurs to her. Then she speaks teasingly, in a singsong tone, raising her voice a little so Cuchulainn can hear her. There is just a touch of vitriol.
Emer: "Ah, it's Cuchulainn. The one with the terrible hemorrhaging problem."
Everyone around her except Cuchulainn recoils in horror, and suddenly all ambient sound in the room ceases. A very brief shot shows other diners, some seated, some standing, waiting wide eyed to see what will happen. Then we return to Emer and Cuchulainn, as seen before. Cuchulainn grins, delighted at Emer's brand of humour. She adopts an attitude both prim and coquettish, inclining her head and looking up through her lashes.
"Does your mother know that you leave such a mess?"
She is smiling slyly, and there is a twinkle in her eye. People in the background glance at each other as if to say, 'So far, so good'. Emer points at the floor, chin down, eyes up. Her voice becomes very high pitched.
"Look, you're dripping. Cuchulainn? Come on, clean it up. Clean it up. I want all of that off the floor this very minute."
As she scolds, Cuchulainn stands totally unmoving, looking at her, his arms crossed in front of him. At the words 'clean it up', a quick closeup shows a red mustached Gael staring in wide eyed horror, then we return to see Emer and Cuchulainn as before. Emer notices the men behind her growing restless, and addresses them pointedly.
"I beg your pardon, ladies, was I threatening?"
The last word is delivered quite chillingly in her singsong tones. She returns her attention to the motionless Cuchulainn.
"Ah, another tattoo. Right...there. Where do you find the room? What, a present for me? Oh, it's a head, how charming."
Needless to say, there is no head, and there is no blood. Emer's smile abruptly disappears, and she gives Cuchulainn a burning look.
"And where have you been all my life?" This last is delivered in an even more singsong tone than usual.
Cuchulainn (reasonably): "Emer can bide her time a little for all the waiting she made me do."
Emer (without moving her head, eyes downcast again): "No she can't, since all the time she cries for you her father presses the suit of King Lugaid from the south. And it goes hard with her, for he is not a patient man." There is a pause.
Cuchulainn (in a determined tone, looking hard at her): "She will cry no more."
We hear the tune of 'Clerk Saunders' accompanied by hoofbeats, and see Cuchulainn on his white horse against a black night sky. Emer sits behind him with her arms around his waist. The horse is breaking into a full run, and the camera tracks alongside as we hear cries and shouts in the background coming from out of frame.
Next we see, from below, the wooden wall of Forgall's fort, three storeys high, made of red cedar logs with the upward ends carved into points, and the heads and shoulders of warriors above it. The warriors yell and gesticulate, but the sound is too far away to understand.
One of them is Forgall, and a closer shot looks slightly up at him on the ramparts facing the camera, a sturdy man with a red beard, shaking both fists above his head. He is yelling, but we can't hear him since the ambient sounds are from around Cuchulainn and Emer. Behind Forgall some of his men are still donning their armour, while others are clearly departing.
An establishing shot shows the dining hall of Cuchulainn's uncle Bricria, who has aged since we last saw him. The dining hall is like Conor's, only smaller. The table is packed with guests. A closeup shows Bricria himself at the head of the table, talking to Cuchulainn, who sits at his right.
Bricria: "I see married life has not lost you popularity with the young ladies."
Cuchulainn (suspiciously): "And what would be the meaning of that?"
Bricria (apparently musing): "They would not deny you the Championship of Eireaan."
Cuchulainn (pretending not to care): "Who denies me the Championship?"
Bricria (waving a hand vaguely): "Och, Laery the Triumphant and Conall of the Victories, both of them. I wonder how they dare, for what triumphs and what victories are a matter of opinion. They say you learned nothing but shadow play from Skatha, but I'd like to see them do as well."
Next we see the same establishing shot as before, at Bricria's dining hall, but with a warrior named Conall on Bricria's right.
Bricria: "I was sorry to hear that your friends turned out so badly, Conall."
Conall is seen in closeup. He is a vigorous young man with black hair, quite handsome.
Conall: "What friends would they be, Bricria?"
A closeup shows Bricria feigning surprise.
Bricria: "Laery and Cuchulainn, of course. Every man should know what's said of him behind his back. 'What victories?' Can you believe it?"
We need not even bother with another establishing shot. We're at another of Bricria's banquets, and this time it's Laery at Bricria's right. We see both men in frame. Laery is a powerfully built middle aged man with a few grey hairs among the red.
Laery: "And what trickery is this?"
Bricria: "Not mine, but the poisoned tongues of Conall and Cuchulainn both, strutting around defying a seasoned warrior to impress their women. They've both been saying you're afraid to claim the Championship for yourself, as if you were running shy of them and all. I don't know what they're thinking of, but they're young." This last is spoken with a feigned air of indulgence.
An establishing shot shows yet another of Bricria's banquets, exactly as before, only this time all three of his victims have been invited. Cuchulainn sits next to the head of the table, at Bricria's right. Laeg is farther down the table, somewhere in the middle.
Two young men enter, carrying the entire carcass of a roast boar on a platter. A large knife sticks out of the carcass. One man holds the front end of the platter behind him while the other holds the back end before him. The front man turns and they place the platter on the table in front of Bricria, who rises and begins to carve the Champion's portion from the carcass. Laeg rises.
Laeg: "Bricria–"
Two other men rise near the middle of the table. They are charioteers to Conall and Laery.
All three men (in perfect unison): "I claim the Champion's portion–" They all stop, taken aback, then start again. And again it's in perfect unison! "–for my lord." Surprised a second time, they eye each other in rather alarmed silence. The shot ends in a fade.
An establishing shot shows Conor's dining hall. A banquet is in progress, and there is plenty of ambient sound. Suddenly it dies out, with only a slight trail, as we hear the sound of a door being banged open against the far wall and the heavy tread of a very large man entering the room and stopping in the middle, out of frame. Everyone looks up and freezes in astonishment.
From Conor's perspective at the head of the table, we see a bearded giant with reddish blond hair standing facing him. The giant is dressed like a Gael but with sleeves, which they do not usually wear in warm weather. He has a broad face with high cheekbones, a small upturned nose and a generous mouth. The giant looks down to a point just above the camera. He speaks in a very deep voice with a singsong Swedish accent.
Giant: "I am Curoi the Volsung."
We cut to a closeup of Cuchulainn leaning slightly toward the warrior next to him.
Cuchulainn: "One of their young girls." We return to the giant.
Giant: "I heard there's a dispute in your hall over who is Champion of Eireaan, and I've come to settle it. All three contestants know me."
At this point the camera pans across the table from the first to the second to the third. The next shot returns to the giant, seen as before.
Giant: "You saw each take a hack at my neck with my axe, and you know my agreement with each that he let me have a turn on him, at an appointed time and place."
He raises his voice.
"Only one man kept that agreement. Aye, and there's no shame in it for the other two. The bravest man in battle turns into a quivering mess before an execution. But that's the test of a true champion, what he does when there's nothing to be done, and the Champion of Eireaan is there!"
Before the last word the giant's arm rises to point, and at the last word we see Cuchulainn sitting unmoving in centre frame at the table. The two other contenders are beside him.
In a wider angle shot, everyone's eyes are toward him, and all are unmoving. We hear the sound of the giant's tread as he leaves the hall, banging the door behind him and stalking away until there is silence.
The silence lasts for about eight seconds. Then suddenly all three warriors start moving restlessly. As a murmur runs through the hall, questions start coming out of them. At the moment they start talking, we see Bricria leaving the table with a furtive look on his face. The warriors' questions overlap each other. First comes Conall, then Laery, then Cuchulainn, and none finishes.
Conall: "All right, but why did you say evil of me to–"
Laery: "It's true, but you scorned me in front of–"
Cuchulainn: "But why did you slander me to–"
They look at each other in sudden stupefaction.
Next we see two men running toward the static camera through a hallway leading from Conor's dining hall. Laery is first, followed closely by Conall. They are in a rage, seen from a very low angle. Next we see Laery's face, teeth bared, again from below, with Conall's just behind, also with teeth bared. Then we see the two running away from the camera, which has turned to view them and is now against the wall of the hallway on their right side. Spanning the two shots are the sounds of their feet and the unbroken cry of rage emitting from each one's open mouth.
We return to Cuchulainn, who is finishing his dinner. The camera is across the table from him, facing him.
Cuchulainn (calmly, without looking up): "I guess Bricria will be taking up residence in the rafters."
Bricria's voice (from above, out of frame): "I was rooting for you from the beginning."
Cuchulainn: "And you knew how I looked forward to losing my head."
Bricria: "It was just a test."
Cuchulainn: "Well, don't trouble yourself to come down in a hurry. Relax up there for a while."
We see Bricria from below. He is hanging from a rafter by his arms and legs, in a position he won't be able to hold for long, but a grin is on his face. A ripple of laughter continues as background for the rest of the scene.
One of the diners (out of frame, laughing): "Feeling comfortable?"
Another diner (out of frame, overlapping the first): "Like it up there?"
We see a female warrior with long red hair unsheath her sword and poke it upward at Bricria, who is out of frame. Then we see the sword point come up through the bottom of the frame, pricking Bricria on the rear as he hangs there.
Bricria: "Aye, it's fine."
A third diner (again out of frame): "Good for your health."
Bricria: "True enough, I'll last longer where I am." He is answered by more laughter.
illustration courtesy of Le Monde Celte
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