In the year when Ciaran the son of the Carpenter died, the same year when
Tuathal Maelgariv was killed and the year when Diarmait the son of Cerrbel
became king of all Ireland, the year 538 of our era in short, it happened
that there was a great gathering of the men of Ireland at the Hill of
Uisneach in Royal Meath.
In addition to the Council which was being held, there were games and
tournaments and brilliant deployments of troops, and universal feastings
and enjoyments. The gathering lasted for a week, and on the last day of
the week Mongan was moving through the crowd with seven guards, his
story-teller Cairide’, and his wife.
It had been a beautiful day, with brilliant sunshine and great sport, but
suddenly clouds began to gather in the sky to the west, and others came
rushing blackly from the east. When these clouds met the world went dark
for a space, and there fell from the sky a shower of hailstones, so large
that each man wondered at their size, and so swift and heavy that the
women and young people of the host screamed from the pain of the blows
they received.
Mongan’s men made a roof of their shields, and the hailstones battered on
the shields so terribly that even under them they were afraid. They began
to move away from the host looking for shelter, and when they had gone
apart a little way they turned the edge of a small hill and a knoll of
trees, and in the twinkling of an eye they were in fair weather.
One minute they heard the clashing and bashing of the hailstones, the
howling of the venomous wind, the screams of women and the uproar of the
crowd on the Hill of Uisneach, and the next minute they heard nothing more
of those sounds and saw nothing more of these sights, for they had been
permitted to go at one step out of the world of men and into the world of
Faery.
