As you may know, ancient Ireland was divided into many kingdoms, who fought constantly with one another. Among these kingdoms, there was no animosity greater than that between Ulster and Leinster. The feud was so ancient that none now living knew its cause, though most agreed that it probably started over cattle, or what was said about the bridesmaid at a wedding.
Be that as it may, the fates often play cruel tricks on men. Thus it was that one day Baile, the only son of Buainn, the King of Ulster, came to a masked ball, whereupon he became enamored of a mysterious lady. Upon pursuit, he learned that she was none other than Ailinn, the daughter of the King of Leinster. As their parents were mortal enemies, it followed by simple syllogism that they, too, should inherit their quarrel.
But love often defies logic, and so the two continued their courtship, meeting in secret at Ross na Rig on the banks of the Boyne. Baile resolved to make known his affection for the daughter of the King of Leinster. More, he knew that there was no more certain way to destroy an enemy than to make him family. Thus one day, he set out for Leinster to profess his love.
On the road to Leinster, he saw a remarkable sight. A wailing figure, stretched across the road, its unkempt hair and tattered rags giving no clue of sex or age. Baile approached and said “Good sir...madam...friend...wherefore do you display such distress?”
The figure stood, and thus revealed itself to be a man. “I despair, for I bear awful tidings. The weight of the sorrow which I carry for another tears at my heart.”
“Well then, tell me so that we may share the sorrow.”
“Nay, it is too terrible for any to bear, but for myself and he who must know it, Baile, the son of the King of Ulster.”
“Then you are fortunate, and I perhaps am not, for I am Baile the son of the King of Ulster. So tell me this sorrowful news.” After some dissimulation, the messenger spoke.
“It has been foretold that Ailinn and Baile will never be united in this life, but only in the next. And this must be true, for just this morning Ailinn was met by warriors of Leinster, full of rage against any who would consort with their hated enemy. Indeed, I have seen her body.”
Upon hearing this, Baile tore at his garments. “Ailinn is dead?”
“You may believe it.”
“This cannot be!”
“That is true. Ah, how much better I feel for having relieved myself of this sorrowful news!”
“The light has gone from the world and plunged us into winter everlasting! If the fates deny us this world, then let us hasten to the next!” And with that, Baile took his dagger and plunged it into his heart, falling dead at the feet of the messenger.
The messenger regarded the lifeless body of Baile, and spoke to it. “All that I have said is true, and more. And now I must convey news of your death to the still-breathing body of Ailinn, who was this morning becalmed at council with the captains of Leinster.”
And so he did. When she heard the news of Baile's death, she was so overcome with grief that she perished at once.
Now, Baile's cousin knew of their affair, and thus swore on his honor to Baile's intent to end the feud between Ulster and Leinster through nuptial bond. And this was likewise confirmed by Ailinn's lady in waiting. And so it was that Baile and Ailinn would be buried side by side. In the course of time, two trees grew from their graves: a yew from his, and an apple from hers. These grew intertwined, and stand as a monument to their love, and as a reminder of the cost of ancient quarrel.
Notes
This story emerged from a challenge to perform somebody else's work. I decided to use the story of Baile and Aillinn, which is a story told by Aoife ingen Chonchobair. She enjoyed the piece (though I rather butchered the pronunciation of the Irish names...), and we even arranged to do a "No, that's not how the story goes..." at a Concordian event (Albany region) a few years back.
The story itself can be traced to a manuscript at Trinity College (Trin. Coll., Dublin, H.3.18, written ca. 1511); allusions to the yew of Baile and the apple tree of Ailinn can be found in the Book of Leinster (1130). (Bishop of Limerick, “On the Ogam Beithluisnin; with a Note on Scythian Letters.” Hermathena, Vol. 5, 1877, p. 235) A translation of the story can be found in Kuno Meyer, “Scel Baili Binnberlaig” (Revue Celtique, Vol. 13, 1892).
I have modified the story somewhat to make it “more English.” The feud and the meeting of Baile and Ailinn at a masked ball is plagiarized from inspired by another work by some minor English playwright.