The Boyhood of Fionn
Автор книги James Stephens
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Fion got his first training among women. There is no wonder in that, for it is the pup's. Mother teaches it to fight, and women know that fighting is a necessary art, although men pretend there are others that are better. These were the women, druids. BAV Mall and Leah Luatra.
It will be wondered why his own mother did not train him in the first natural savageries of existence. But she could not do it. She could not keep him with her for dread of the clan Morna. The sons of Morna had been fighting and intriguing for a long time to oust her husband Whale, from the captaincy of the Fianna of Ireland, and they had ousted him at last by killing him. It was the only way they could get rid of such a man.
But it was not an easy way, for what Fion's father did not know in arms could not be taught to him even by Morna. Still the hound that can wait will catch a hair at last and even Banan sleeps. Fion's mother was beautiful, long haired, moon, so she is always referred to. She was the daughter of Teague, the son of Nuada from Fairy, and her mother was Ethelin that is, her brother was love of the Long Hand himself, and with a god, and such a god for brother, we may marvel that she could have been in dread of Morna or his sons, or of anyone. But women have strange loves, strange fears, and these are so bound up with one another that the thing which is presented to us is not often the thing that is to be seen, however it may be.
When all died, Murray got married again to the King of Carrie. She gave the child to Bavmal and Leah Luashra to rear, and we may be sure that she gave injunctions with him. And many of them the youngster was brought to the woods of Sleeve Bloom and was nursed there in secret. It is likely the women were fond of him, for other than Fion there was no life about them. He would be their life, and their eyes may have seemed as twin benedictions resting on the small fair head.
He was fair haired, and it was for his fairness that he was afterwards called Fion. But at this period he was known as Dion. They saw the food they put into his little frame reproduce itself length ways and sideways and tough inches and in springs and energies that crawled at first and then toddled and then ran. He had birds for playmates, but all the creatures that live in a wood must have been his comrades. There would have been, for little Fionlong, hours of lonely sunshine when the world seemed just sunshine and a sky.
There would have been hours as long when existence passed like a shade among shadows in the multitudinous tappings of rain that dripped from leaf to leaf to leaf in the wood and slipped so to the ground. He would have known little snaky paths narrow enough to be filled by his own small feet or a goat's. And he would have wondered where they went and have marveled again to find that wherever they went, they came at last through loops and twists of the branchy wood to his own door. He may have thought of his own door as the beginning and end of the world, whence all things went and whither, all things came.