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The ancient caveman, in his love or lust, is often depicted as a wild, half-clothed figure, dragging his future bride across the hills and rivers by her hair as she, similarly untamed, screams wildly at the man she will soon learn to love, if only for carnal purposes. It is a common image, one that has been presented often, especially since the rise of the evolutionary theory, and one that supposedly reduces even the suave, tuxedo-clad men of our contemporary era down to the hunters they are at heart. It is the love of the chase, the desire of the hunt, that supposedly drives many men to reach for women simply to feel the excitement and adrenaline of the chase, the pursuit, or the courtship. To put it delicately, the act of winning a lady is enjoyable in itself; the ambitious struggle is just as delightful as the concluding triumph.
Throughout the years, men have pursued their loves, their brides, and their wives. Whether the victory is a triumph of physical strength, as in the rape of the Sabine women by the early Romans, or a decision of chivalry or suave persuasion, the struggle precludes the wedding, and is a rite to be undergone by nearly every male whose eyes have glimpsed a woman. Over the years, however, the nature of that struggle has altered as the times and cultures in which it is expressed have slowly changed.
In Medieval days, romance and love were common, and frequently went hand-in-hand with scandal, intrigue, or infidelity. The complex love triangle that has initiated hundreds of stories over the years found origins in the folklore of ancient Ireland, in tales of Deirdre and the men of Ulster, or in the well-known story of Tristan and Iseult. Tales of complex courtships thrived then, as well, and warriors very often battled over either a woman or her honor, often in a treacherous fight “to the death.” Other men were simply put through their paces, sometimes literally, as they proved their worth and merit while the father of the bride watched critically.
Medieval stories of romance, battle, supernatural, and the like were often told around a fire, where the guests could laugh at the antics of the warriors and husbands or the expressions of the storyteller. Most, because of this verbal history, are vague in their details, though many were recorded sometime in the twelfth century AD. Unfortunately, however, the fireside tone has been lost over the years, as the English language has changed and the stories of old have been nearly forgotten. Even those that are translated are often presented in a dialectic form; not unintelligible but certainly not as enjoyable to contemporary readers as they would have been all those years ago. The stories themselves are still relevant, but the words are often scholarly and not conversational.
The three stories selected here were chosen for their romance from the Ulster Cycle, the oldest of the four cycles of Irish legends.1 The romances in the Ulster Cycle are, of course, varied, just as romance varies from couple to couple, and, likewise, the three here are varied. Some are wild tales of intrigue; others are simpler and tell of the courtship of a lady. Some are tragic; some end like happily ever-after fairy tales. They still hold together, however, by the thread of romance, and with the idea of a man winning his bride. In some cases, he must endure physical strain to win her; in others, he must employ cunning; even more frequently, he must use both, simultaneously. On occasion, he does not win his prize.
Still, the hunt is on. The men are prepared. The descendants of the vicious cavemen and ancestors of the courtly Renaissance figures must make their mark on history in their own fashon. The bards did well to tell stories like these, for from these timeless stories has grown the literature of a thousand years.
Read the stories: The Tale of Emer, Aengus and the Swans, or Deirdre's Song.
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