The Death of Lugh as a Turning of the Ages
The death of Lugh is not simply the end of a great hero and ruler. This myth can be read on several levels at once:
A human story — jealousy, revenge, and tragedy. Sacred kingship — oaths, contracts, and the bond between the king and the land. A cosmic cycle — the turning of seasons and the transition between ages.
This layered structure reflects another characteristic of Lugh himself. I’ve explained it in this post. I consider Lugh on several levels at once — as a hero, as a divine figure of myth, and as a higher manifestation of divine power (Trefuilngid Tre-eochair). Hints of Lugh’s multi-layered nature also appear in the myth of the birth of Cú Chulainn with his triple conception on different parts of the man-god spectrum.
Because of this, the story of Lugh’s death unfolds not as a single event, but as a knot of meanings that only becomes clear when all its layers are seen together.
I used this article as a starting point of my research, many thanks to the author.
Level One — The Human Story
On the surface, the story of Lugh’s death feels strangely unresolved. One of the greatest heroes of the Tuatha Dé Danann — a master of many arts, a strategist, and a powerful magician — dies in a way that almost feels accidental. He does not unleash overwhelming magic. He does not defend himself with the powers he clearly possesses.
Instead, the story unfolds in a very human way. Lugh discovers the relationship between Buí and Cermait. In anger, he kills Cermait. But Cermait has sons — Mac Cuill, Mac Cecht, and Mac Gréine. They take revenge and eventually kill Lugh.
Significantly, they do this through deception.
At first glance, the story looks almost disappointing: a great king undone by a personal conflict and a revenge killing. But even at this level there are details that make the story feel more complex.
Why does Lugh — a master strategist — allow events to unfold this way? Why does he seem almost unprepared for the attack? And why does the myth emphasise deception and broken agreements in the death of a figure so strongly associated with oaths, contracts, and sacred order?
These questions begin to suggest that the story may not simply be about revenge. Something deeper is happening beneath the surface.
Level Two — Sacred Kingship
Death as Part of the Cycle of Kingship
When we look at other elements of the myth, the picture begins to change. The reign of Lugh is described through the symbolism of chariots, where different parts correspond to different states of power.
The sequence of Charioteers (corresponding to levels of Action) is the following:
paunch → center → creation → growth in abundance with care → tension → conflict → death.
Seen in this pattern, death is not an accident or failure. It is a natural stage in the cycle of kingship.
From this perspective, the strange simplicity of Lugh’s death begins to make more sense. The king does not always die in the moment of greatest glory. Sometimes he dies when the cycle itself has reached its turning point. And the nature of Lugh’s wife Buí supports this principle.
Lugh’s wifes
Analysis of the parts of Lugh’s chariots (part 1, part 2) shows Lugh’s strong bond with the land, reflected in goddesses (it’s Ana in the chariot’s part).
In Irish tradition the bond between king and land is often expressed through a female figure — an embodiment of sovereignty with many names. Through her, the land accepts or rejects a ruler. From this perspective Lugh’s wife Buí can be read not only as a character, but as one form of the land and its power. The story of her fate then becomes more than a personal drama: it becomes a myth about the changing of rulers and the beginning of a new cycle of the land. And the land decides when it’s the time for a ruler to change.
There’s a theory that Buí might be Cailleach, who pairs with Brigid for a half of a year each. Similar duality might be noticed for Áine and Grian. And given the fact that Buí and her sister Nás (another Lugh’s wife) died almost at one time, one might assume that they could be aspects of one goddess, representing two parts of the year. The fact that by some legends Lugh established Lughnasad in their honor (and by other sources — for Tailtiu) proves their significance as land goddesses.
Interesting fact is that the name of Buí means without treachery/cheating and yet she’s the one suspected in one. On the human level that seems ironical, but on the level of sovereignty it’s an indicator that everything goes by design.
What about the other two wives, Echtach and Englic? If Buí and Nás represents one dual goddess, Echtach and Englic might be added for a triad. Just like Ériu, Banba, and Fódla — the wives of Mac Cuill, Mac Cecht, and Mac Gréine. By the way, Ériu in Banshenchas is mentioned as Lugh's lover.
For me, it all reflects a calendar myth (and the story of Welsh Lleu too) — and that’s a cosmic level. For a kingship level there’s another important side that explains Lugh’s death.
Oath binding and oath breaking
On the mythological level Lugh is not simply a warrior or avenger. He is also a strategist, a keeper of oaths, and a master of planning.
Before the battle with Balor he speaks words that are strikingly unusual for an epic hero. Lugh says that the enemies were summoned by his will and by his arts.
In other words, he is not merely reacting to events. He is setting them in motion. The same pattern reflects in the names of Lugh’s chariots — both actions and cycles that have to end.
This suggests a deeper principle in Lugh’s mythology: he often appears as the one who initiates processes that must eventually reach their completion.
After the victory over the Fomorians, Lugh compels King Bres to reveal the laws of agriculture. Through this act a new order of the land is established — rules governing cultivation, harvest, and distribution.
Thus Lugh becomes king not only through strength, but through law, agreement, and the proper ordering of the land.
This makes the manner of his death even more striking. He is not killed in open battle. He is killed through deception and the breaking of a pact.
If Lugh represents the order upheld through oaths and agreements, his death can be read as a moment when that order itself begins to break down.
Level Three — The Cosmic Cycle
On a larger scale, Lugh is closely connected with the rhythms of nature and the turning of the year. In addition to the analysis of Lugh’s wives there is a story of Turenn’s sons, which is symmetrical to the Lugh’s death. His father Cian was also killed by three brothers. Later Lugh forces them through a series of trials that ultimately lead to their deaths. The names of these brothers are connected with the time of July, just before the festival of Lughnasadh.
In symbolic terms their defeat opens the season of harvest. Lugh receives the gifts of the land. Here again the familiar Celtic theme appears: death and fertility are intertwined. And the cycle repeats.
On the cosmic level Lugh is connected with the regulation of natural forces. In the battle with Balor Lugh is described as one who can command: winds, clouds, rain, the sun, the moon. He defeats Balor — the embodiment of a destructive, scorching sun — thereby restoring the balance necessary for the fertility of the land.
This creates a calendrical structure within the myth. Lugh is closely linked with Lughnasadh, the beginning of the harvest season — the moment when the sun reaches its peak and begins to decline. Thus Lugh’s death can also be read as a mythological reflection of the turning of the year. And death and decline are inevitable and known.
Knowledge of the Future and the Willing Departure
Across myths Lugh often speaks as though he already knows the course of events (his speech with Balor, Tuirenn’s sons). He does not simply react to circumstances — he organises them.
If we read the myth in this way, his death takes on a different meaning. It may not be a defeat. Instead, it may represent a conscious completion of a cycle.
Lugh appears in several traditions as a figure connected with: prophetic knowledge, poetry and, the fili, the fate of kings. Even after his death he continues to influence royal power.
In this light his role is not simply to hold power forever. He knows that the age of Tuata Dé Danann is ending (Cermait's sons that killed him are the last mythological kings) and he deliberately chose to leave to continue his influence. His role is to ensure that the order of the world continues. And he connects the ages and the orders.
A Bridge Between Ages
After his death, Lugh continues to act within the world of humans. He appears as a mysterious figure connected with the fate of kings. He becomes the father of Cú Chulainn. He continues to guide events and destinies.
Lugh often appears as a liminal figure — a newcomer from beyond Ireland, a master of many arts, a hero who stands between worlds. Because of this, his role after death becomes especially significant.
He becomes a bridge between ages — between the time of the gods and the time of humans.
What's more interesting, it reflects of later cultural changes as well. Ireland was one of the few places in Europe where ancient myths were not erased but preserved and rewritten during the Christian period. And the myth of Lugh’s death also reflects this transition to the written tradition.
Ogham and the Beginning of a New Age
In this myth we encounter the first mention of Ogham: Ogma invents ogham writing to warn Lugh that his wife is in danger, carving Beith marks. It is the first Ogham letter, the birch. In Celtic symbolism the birch is associated with:
purification
the beginning of a cycle
renewal
This symbolism fits Lugh’s role remarkably well. He brings an old age to its close and sets a new one in motion.
The appearance of Ogham here can therefore be read symbolically. A world where knowledge was transmitted through sacred speech, poetry, and living memory begins to transform into a world of signs and writing.
This symbolism also found reflection in the history of the people themselves. Sacred knowledge that had once been preserved orally by druids began to be written down in myths and manuscripts.Thus the age of the Tuatha Dé Danann gradually gives way to the age of humans — where memory is preserved not only through living tradition, but also through texts.
