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Updated: May 15, 2025
"The brother of Partholon," the saint gasped. "That is my pedigree," Tuan said. "But," Finnian objected in bewilderment, "Partholon came to Ireland not long after the Flood." "I came with him," said Tuan mildly. The saint pushed his chair back hastily, and sat staring at his host, and as he stared the blood grew chill in his veins, and his hair crept along his scalp and stood on end.
Following the water we came to a glade where the sun shone and where the earth was warmed, and there Partholon rested with his twenty-four couples, and made a city and a livelihood. "There were fish in the rivers of Eire', there were animals in her coverts. Wild and shy and monstrous creatures ranged in her plains and forests. Creatures that one could see through and walk through.
These I did not chase, and when they chased me I fled. "Often I would go, drawn by my memoried heart, to look at them as they moved among their fields; and I spoke to my mind in bitterness: 'When the people of Partholon were gathered in counsel my voice was heard; it was sweet to all who heard it, and the words I spoke were wise. The eyes of women brightened and softened when they looked at me.
"What must I tell?" asked Tuan resignedly. "Tell me of the beginning of time in Ireland, and of the bearing of Partholon, the son of Noah's son." "I have almost forgotten him," said Tuan. "A greatly bearded, greatly shouldered man he was. A man of sweet deeds and sweet ways." "Continue, my love," said Finnian. "He came to Ireland in a ship. Twenty-four men and twenty-four women came with him.
I am by blood a Leinsterman," he continued. "Mine is a long pedigree," Tuan murmured. Finnian received that information with respect and interest. "I also," he said, "have an honourable record." His host continued: "I am indeed Tuan, the son of Starn, the son of Sera, who was brother to Partholon."
"I have heard that the first-born were mindless," said Finnian. "Continue your story, my beloved." "Then, sudden as a rising wind, between one night and a morning, there came a sickness that bloated the stomach and purpled the skin, and on the seventh day all of the race of Partholon were dead, save one man only." "There always escapes one man," said Finnian thoughtfully.
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