But there was one great bull in Ailill’s herd, that had been a calf of one of Medb’s cows—Finnbennach was his name, the White Horned—and Finnbennach, refusing to be led by a woman, had gone over the king’s herd. Medb couldn’t find in her herd the equal of this bull, and her spirits dropped as though she hadn’t a single penny.
Placed far outside the confines of context, this quote may seem completely unworthy of attention or analysis. Surprisingly enough, however, it turns out that the information presented here will turn out to be of extraordinary import as it casts a long shadow over the entirety of the narrative that follows. The text begins in a very strange and unusual manner in which the aforementioned Ailill and Medb are engaged in a long and, frankly, almost silly argument over which of the two are possessed of the greater respective wealth. The debate eventually all boils down to this bull named Finnbennach which—yes, you read right—refused to live a life in the service of a female owner. Things get really complicated from this point.
He turned the chariot round made to set off. But they saw a young grown girl in front of them. She had yellow hair. She wore a speckled cloak fastened around her wit ha gold pin, a red-embroidered hooded tunic and sandals with gold clasps. Her brow was broad, her jaw narrow, her two eyebrows pitch black, with delicate dark lashes casting shadows half way down her cheeks. You would think her lips were inset with Parthian scarlet.
As far as plot goes, there is not really a whole lot that is going on here. Not that the reader isn’t offered an entertaining tale, but this is really an example of one of those stories where the enjoyment comes from the telling more than the details of the tale itself. And part of the joy of the telling is an abundance of descriptive prose like the imagery in this example which is actually only half of the paragraph portraying this young blonde woman. The rest of the imagery details her hair, eyes, teeth, and ends with a simple declarative statement of fact: “she was armed.”
“Ask Dáire to lend me Donn Cuailnge for a year. At the end of the year he can have fifty yearling heifers in payment for the loan, and the Brown Bull of Cuailnge back. And you can offer him this too, Mac Roth, if the people of the country badly of losing their fine jewel, the Donn Cuailnge: if Dáire himself comes with the bull I’ll give him a portion of the fine Plain of Ai equal to his own lands, and chariot worth thrice seven bondmaids, and my own friendly thighs on top of that.”
Clearly, the right possession of that bull as the determiner of who is the wealthiest is not a trifling deal. Look at all that Medb is prepared to offer to enjoy a simple matter of bragging rights. Her own thighs which will prove quite friendly to whomever is in receivership of them. Yes, indeed, the right to brag about who is the wealthier is a very big deal and Medb is in no mood to mess around. And all this fuss over what began as a simple case of pillow talk.
