The Voyage of Máel Dúin

Long ago, in the kingdom of the Corco Duibne in the west of Ireland, there lived a young man named Máel Dúin whose life was shaped by tragedy from his very beginning. His father, Ailill of the Edge of Battle, was a great warrior and chieftain who had been killed by raiders when Máel Dúin was still a baby. The child was raised by his mother’s sister and her husband, who loved him as their own son but never told him the truth about his parentage.

Máel Dúin grew to be tall and strong, skilled with sword and spear, and beloved by all who knew him for his courage, his generosity, and his quick wit. He was particularly famous for his prowess in the ancient sport of hurling, where his speed and skill were unmatched by any young man in all of Munster.

One day, when Máel Dúin was playing hurling with the other young men of his fosterage, a quarrel arose over a disputed goal. In the heat of the argument, one of the players – a churlish youth who had always been jealous of Máel Dúin’s skill – shouted out in anger: “At least I know who my real father was! You’re nothing but a foundling, raised on charity!”

The words struck Máel Dúin like a physical blow. He had always wondered why he looked so different from his foster parents, why certain expressions sometimes crossed their faces when they looked at him, why they grew quiet when talk turned to the old days before his birth.

That evening, Máel Dúin confronted his foster mother. “Tell me the truth,” he demanded. “Who was my real father? Who am I really?”

With tears in her eyes, his foster mother told him the whole story. His father had been Ailill of the Edge of Battle, a noble chieftain who had been murdered by raiders from Leix while defending his lands. Máel Dúin’s mother had died in childbirth shortly after, and he had been brought to his foster parents as an infant.

“Your father was a great man,” she said, “brave and honorable and beloved by his people. He would have been proud of the warrior you’ve become.”

But Máel Dúin’s heart was filled with a burning anger that overshadowed any pride he might have felt. “Who killed him?” he asked. “Are his murderers still alive?”

“They are,” his foster mother replied reluctantly. “The raiders came from the territory of the Leix people, led by a chieftain named Conganchnes the Destroyer. They burned your father’s fortress and carried off much plunder before sailing away to the islands beyond the coast.”

From that moment, Máel Dúin could think of nothing but revenge. He gathered together a group of seventeen companions – warriors who had been his friends since childhood and who were willing to follow him on any adventure, no matter how dangerous.

But before setting out on his quest, Máel Dúin went to consult with a wise druid named Nuca, who was renowned throughout Ireland for his ability to see the future and give counsel to those who sought it.

“I can help you,” said the druid after hearing Máel Dúin’s story, “but you must follow my instructions exactly. Build a coracle of hides – a boat to carry exactly seventeen men, no more and no fewer. Choose your companions carefully, for their courage and loyalty will be tested beyond measure. And above all, remember this: no one must join your voyage after you set sail. If anyone tries to come aboard your vessel once your journey has begun, it will bring disaster upon all of you.”

Máel Dúin built the coracle exactly as the druid had instructed, with seventeen places for seventeen men. He selected his companions with great care, choosing those who had proven their bravery, their loyalty, and their skill in many battles. When all was ready, they carried the boat down to the shore and prepared to launch it into the western sea.

But just as they were pushing off from the beach, three figures came running down to the water’s edge. They were Máel Dúin’s three foster brothers, young men who had not been chosen for the voyage but who loved him dearly and could not bear to be left behind.

“Brother!” called the eldest of them. “Do not leave us behind! We have been with you since childhood, shared every joy and sorrow. Take us with you on this great adventure!”

Máel Dúin’s heart was torn. He loved his foster brothers, but he remembered the druid’s warning. “I cannot,” he called back. “The druid said exactly seventeen men, no more. To take you would bring disaster on us all.”

But the three young men would not be discouraged. They plunged into the sea and began swimming after the coracle, calling out their pleas to be taken aboard.

Máel Dúin watched in anguish as his foster brothers struggled in the cold water. He could not bear to see them drown, yet he feared to disobey the druid’s instructions. Finally, love overcame caution, and he ordered his men to pull the three swimmers aboard.

“May the gods forgive us,” he muttered as they hauled the soaking young men into the boat. “The druid warned that this would bring disaster, but I cannot let my brothers die.”

And so they set sail with twenty men instead of seventeen, their voyage cursed from the very beginning by Máel Dúin’s choice to save his foster brothers rather than follow the druid’s counsel.

For three days and three nights, they sailed through normal seas under ordinary skies, following the course that would take them to the territory of the Leix raiders. But on the fourth morning, they awoke to find themselves surrounded by impossible wonders.

The sea had turned a brilliant silver color, and in the distance rose an island unlike anything they had ever seen. Its cliffs were made of what appeared to be polished crystal, and waterfalls of liquid light cascaded from their heights into the silver sea.

“Where are we?” whispered one of Máel Dúin’s companions. “This is not the sea we know.”

“We have sailed beyond the edge of the ordinary world,” Máel Dúin replied, though he was as amazed as any of them. “It seems our quest for revenge has led us into the realm of marvels.”

This was the first of thirty-one miraculous islands that Máel Dúin and his companions would visit during their extraordinary voyage. Each island was stranger and more wonderful than the last, and each taught them something about the nature of the world and their place in it.

On the Island of Giant Ants, they saw insects as large as horses that could devour a full-grown man in moments. They escaped by sailing away quickly, but not before learning that even the smallest creatures can become dangerous when they grow beyond their natural size.

On the Island of Terraced Birds, they found hundreds of thousands of birds arranged in perfect rows according to their age – the youngest at the bottom, the oldest at the top. The birds sang in perfect harmony, creating music more beautiful than any human choir could produce. Here they learned about the order and beauty that can emerge when all creatures know their proper place.

The Island of the Fierce Beast was home to a creature that looked like a horse but had legs that could stretch and contract like leather straps. It chased them around the island at incredible speed, its legs extending to cover vast distances in a single stride. They barely escaped, learning that some dangers are too strange to fight with conventional weapons.

On the Island of Giant Horses, they found steeds as large as elephants, racing each other around the island with thunderous hoofbeats that shook the earth. The giants who rode these horses were having a festival, and their joy was so infectious that Máel Dúin’s men forgot their quest for a while and simply marveled at the spectacle.

The Island of the Stone Door was surrounded by a wall of white stone in which there was only one entrance, closed by a door that opened and shut by itself every few moments. Many ships had been wrecked trying to pass through, but Máel Dúin timed their passage perfectly and sailed through just as the door opened wide.

On the Island of Apples, they found trees bearing fruit that sustained them for forty days. Each apple lasted one man for a full day and night, and the taste was more delicious than anything they had ever eaten. Here they learned that nature could provide abundantly for those who approached it with respect and gratitude.

The Island of Wondrous Beasts was populated by creatures that seemed to be made of living fire, racing around the island so fast that they appeared as streaks of light. The heat from their passage was so intense that Máel Dúin and his men could not land, but they watched in amazement as the fire-beasts danced their eternal dance.

On the Island of the Red Swine, they found pigs with scarlet fur that turned the color of fire when they were excited. The swine were peaceful and friendly, allowing the travelers to pet them and marvel at their strange beauty.

The Island of the Beautiful Women was perhaps the most tempting of all. Here lived women of incredible beauty who invited the voyagers to stay and be their husbands. The island was a paradise of pleasure and comfort, and many of Máel Dúin’s men wanted to remain there forever. But Máel Dúin remembered his quest and insisted they continue, even though leaving such beauty behind was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

On the Island of the Revolving Fire, they found a fortress that spun constantly, surrounded by walls of flame. Through the fire, they could see people feasting and laughing inside, but there was no way to reach them safely. They realized that some joys are meant to be observed from a distance, not possessed.

The Island of the Four Walls was divided into four sections by walls of gold, silver, copper, and iron. In each section lived people dressed in clothing that matched their wall – golden people in the gold section, silver people behind the silver wall, and so on. When Máel Dúin tried to speak to them, they acted as if they could neither see nor hear the visitors, as if the travelers belonged to an entirely different world.

As island followed island, each stranger than the last, Máel Dúin began to change. The anger that had driven him to begin this voyage gradually transformed into wonder. The thirst for revenge that had consumed his thoughts gave way to a growing wisdom about the nature of the world and his place in it.

On the Island of the Glass Bridge, they found an ancient hermit who had been living alone for centuries, sustained by divine grace and the fish that angels brought him each day. The holy man spoke to them about forgiveness and the futility of hatred.

“Young warrior,” the hermit said to Máel Dúin, “what brings you to this place beyond the world?”

“I seek the man who killed my father,” Máel Dúin replied, though the words felt strange in his mouth after all he had seen.

The hermit smiled sadly. “And what will you gain when you find him? Will killing him bring your father back to life? Will it heal the wound in your heart, or will it only create new wounds?”

Máel Dúin had no answer, for he was no longer certain what he truly wanted.

Finally, after visiting thirty miraculous islands, they came to the thirty-first and last island of their voyage. To their amazement, it was the very island where the raiders who had killed Máel Dúin’s father had made their home.

They could see Conganchnes the Destroyer and his men on the beach, older now but clearly the same warriors who had carried out the attack so many years ago. Máel Dúin’s companions looked to him expectantly, waiting for him to give the order to attack and claim the revenge they had sailed so far to find.

But Máel Dúin hesitated. All the wonders he had seen, all the islands that had shown him the vast strangeness and beauty of the world, had changed him. The burning anger that had once consumed him had been replaced by something deeper and more complex.

As he watched his father’s killers going about their daily lives, he saw that they were just men – aging, tired men who probably gave little thought to the raid that had changed his life forever. They had wives and children, friends and responsibilities. They were not monsters, just humans who had made choices that led to tragedy.

“What are your orders, my lord?” asked one of his companions. “Shall we attack?”

Máel Dúin looked at his men, all of whom had followed him faithfully through thirty-one impossible islands and months of voyaging. He thought of his foster brothers, who had risked drowning rather than be separated from him. He thought of all the beauty and wonder they had witnessed, all the lessons they had learned about the strange and magnificent nature of the world.

“No,” he said finally. “We will not attack.”

His men stared at him in amazement. “But my lord,” one of them protested, “this is why we came. This is what we’ve sailed so far to achieve.”

“No,” Máel Dúin repeated, his voice growing stronger. “We came seeking revenge, but we have found something much more valuable. We have seen wonders beyond imagination, learned truths about the world that no other men know, and proven that love and loyalty are stronger than hatred and vengeance. That is treasure enough for any lifetime.”

He turned the coracle away from the island without landing. “We return to Ireland,” he announced. “Not as failed avengers, but as men who have traveled farther and seen more than any men before us. We will carry these stories home and share them with our people, so that they too may know that the world is far stranger and more beautiful than they ever imagined.”

The voyage home took only a few days, as if the magical currents that had carried them to the otherworldly islands now bore them swiftly back to familiar shores. When they landed on the beach where they had begun their journey, they found that many years had passed in Ireland, though it had seemed like only months to them.

Máel Dúin returned to his foster parents, who wept with joy to see him alive. He told them of his decision to abandon his quest for revenge, and they were proud of the wisdom he had gained. The stories of his voyage spread throughout Ireland and beyond, becoming some of the most beloved tales ever told.

Years later, when people asked Máel Dúin if he ever regretted not taking his revenge, he would smile and point to the western horizon.

“Out there,” he would say, “beyond the edge of the ordinary world, are islands of wonder that would take your breath away. I have seen horses that run on legs like leather straps, birds that sing in perfect harmony, and women so beautiful they make your heart ache with joy. I have walked on islands made of crystal and sailed through seas of liquid silver. What revenge could be worth more than that?”

The Voyage of Máel Dúin became a lesson that echoed through the generations, teaching that the greatest adventures often take us not to the destination we planned, but to discoveries we never imagined. It reminds us that anger and hatred, however justified they may seem, can blind us to the beauty and wonder that surround us every day.

Most importantly, it shows us that true wisdom comes not from achieving what we thought we wanted, but from learning to see the world with new eyes and finding treasures we never knew we were seeking.