A Play for Narrator and Mummers
by G. R. Grove
Cast:
- Narrator
- Young Cúchulainn
- King Conchobar
- Culann the Smith
- Assorted Warriors
Narrator: Many of you will have heard of the great Irish hero Cúchulainn, the Hound of Ulster, who according to some tales was the son of the God Lugh. This is the story of how Cúchulainn got his name, for before as a boy he had first been called Sétanta.
(Enter Cúchulainn playing with ball.)
It happened when Cúchulainn was still a boy at his foster-father Conchobar’s court.
(Enter Conchobar to Cúchulainn.)
Conchobar had been invited one day to a feast, and invited Cúchulainn to go with him. But Cúchulainn wanted to finish his game first. “I’ll come later,” he said. So Conchobar went on without him.
(Exit Conchobar, followed by Cúchulainn. Enter Smith and assorted warriors, drinking and laughing. Conchobar enters to them.)
When Conchobar arrived at the Smith’s house, the party was in full swing. “Welcome, King!” cried the Smith. (Smith hands Conchobar a drink.) “Are we all here now?”
“Yes,” said Conchobar, forgetting about Cúchulainn.
“Good!” cried the Smith. “You” (points at warrior) “go and release my hound. He will guard our walls tonight and keep us safe.” (Warrior goes out. Barking and howling off stage.)
Meanwhile Cúchulainn was approaching the Smith’s house. When the Hound saw him, it rushed upon him to kill him.
(More barking and howling.)
“Oh Gods!” cried Conchobar. “I forgot! My foster-son Sétanta is coming too!”
“The hound will kill him!” cried Culann. (Howling and screaming offstage, then silence.) “Let’s go and see what’s left!” (All start to rush off, then stop. Cúchulainn enters, dragging dead “hound”. Conchobar and Warriors cheer.)
“You’re alive!” cried Conchobar, embracing him. (Conchobar hugs Cúchulainn.) “How did you kill him?”
“With my ball,” said Cúchulainn. (Holds up bloody ball.) “I threw it down his throat as he opened his mouth to seize me.”
(Smith kneels beside the dead hound, weeping, then looks up at Cúchulainn.)
“You are welcome, boy,” said Smith, “for your mother’s sake. But I did ill to give this feast. My hound was all my protection. Now that he is dead, thieves will come from the four quarters of Ireland, and take all I own. I am ruined.”
“No you aren’t,” said Cúchulainn. “I will raise a pup for you from the same pack, and train him. And until he is grown, I will be your hound, and guard you and all you have.”
“For that,” said Conchobar, “your name shall be Cúchulainn, the Hound of Culann.”
“I like that for a name,” said Cúchulainn.
