In the days when King Conchobar mac Nessa ruled, there was born to Dechtire the king’s sister, a little baby son whom she called Setanta.  Setanta later came to be called Cuchulainn.

As a small child in his parents’ house, Setanta would listen with wonder and fascination to stories about King Conchobar and his knights. He heard also stories of the boys at Conchobar’s court at Emain, who spent their time playing hurley and other games of skill, waiting for the day when they would be men and knights and warriors under Conchobar. And Setanta longed to go to Emain, to join the boy-troop of Conchobar.

So he told his mother Dechtire, that he longed to go to the play-fields of Emain.

‘It is too soon for you, my son,’ said Dechtire. ‘Wait till you are older, or there comes someone who can take you with him and look after you.’

‘That would take too long, my mother,’ said Setanta. ‘I will not wait that long. You must tell me where Emain lies and I will find my way there.’

‘It lies to the north, my son,’ said Dechtire. ‘It is too far for you to go, and the way is difficult and dangerous. The Sliab Fuait, the Few Mountains, lie between you and Emain.’

‘I must go to Emain, my mother,’ said Setanta. ‘Never mind how long or difficult the journey, I must go.’

So little Setanta, who was only five years old, set forth all by himself for Emain, for the court of his uncle, King Conchobar. With him he took his toys to play with on the way. He took his hurley of bronze, and his ball of silver; and his little staff and his little shield and his toy darts.

To shorten his journey he played with his toys: he would hit the ball a good long distance with his hurl-bat, then throw the hurley after it; he’d throw his toy darts, and his toy staff the same long distance, then run as fast as he could after them. And he would snatch up the hurl-bat and pick up the ball and gather up the toy darts, all before his toy staff hit the ground. Then he would do it all over again. In this way, playing with his toys, little Setanta reached Emain.

There, on the green, he saw the boy-troop at play with their hurl-bats and their ball, under the leadership of Folloman, Conchobar’s son. Without waiting to introduce himself, or asking for permission to join, little Setanta ran onto the green, and capturing the ball, drove it straight towards the goal. No one could take the ball from him or stop him.

The boys stared at him in amazement, and also in anger. ‘How dare the little brat spoil our game?’ said Folloman, the king’s son. ‘Besides, he has joined in without first asking for our protection.’ In Emain it was forbidden to join in the games of the boy-troop without first asking for their protection. ‘Come, boys,’ called Folloman. ‘Let us teach this young fellow a lesson for breaking in on our game this way.’

There were a hundred and fifty young boys in the boy-troop of Emain. A hundred and fifty of them ran at Setanta all together, and threw their hundred and fifty bats at his head. He fended them off with his toy staff. They threw their hundred and fifty balls at him. He fended them off with his hands. They threw their hundred and fifty toy spears at him. He fended them off with his toy shield.

And then a great anger came over little Setanta. He shuddered and shook and his hair seemed on fire. One eye became as small as a needle’s eye, while the other opened as wide as the mouth of a wine cup. His mouth stretched from ear to ear, and his whole body was covered in a furious light. Then little Setanta ran among the boys of the boy-troop of Conchobar and scattered them. Fifty of them fell to the ground under Setanta’s anger, while the rest ran for safety as fast as they could.

Close by sat King Conchobar, playing chess with one of his knights. ‘Hold still, little fellow,’ said Conchobar, catching hold of Setanta by the wrist as he ran past. ‘You are not treating my boy-troop very gently, are you?’

‘And I have good reason not to,’ said little Setanta. ‘They haven’t been very gentle with me, when all I wanted was to play with them. I did not know you treated guests so harshly.’

‘Who are you, little fellow?’ asked Conchobar.

‘Setanta, I am,’ said Setanta. ‘Son of Sualtim, and your own sister Dechtire.’

‘Did you not know that it is forbidden among the boys of the boy-troop of Emain to join in their game without first seeking their protection?’ asked Conchobar.

‘No,’ said little Setanta. ‘I did not know, otherwise I would have been on my guard against them.’

At that, Conchobar called out to the boys, ‘Here, you boys! Do you grant your protection to little Setanta, my sister’s son?’

And the boys all gathered together and cried, ‘Yes – we grant it.’

But Setanta once more ran into the boys and started fighting them, and laid fifty of them flat on the ground before Conchobar could stop him.

‘Hey, little fellow!’ cried Conchobar. ‘Why are you still fighting the boys?’

‘They must come under my protection as I have come under theirs,’ said Setanta. ‘Otherwise I will fight every one of them, till they are all laid flat on the ground.’

At that Conchobar said to him, ‘Do you, little boy, grant your protection to the boys of the boy-troop?’

And Setanta said, ‘Yes – I grant it.’

From that moment the boy-troop came under the protection and shield of little Setanta, who was only five years old, but who had already shown signs of greatness.

And that was how Setanta came to live at the court of Conchobar and become one of the boys of the boy-troop of Emain.