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diff --git a/3495-0.txt b/3495-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be8571b --- /dev/null +++ b/3495-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7531 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The King of Ireland’s Son, by Padraic Colum + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The King of Ireland’s Son + +Author: Padraic Colum + +Posting Date: February 9, 2009 [EBook #3495] +Release Date: October, 2002 +Last Updated: November 3, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING OF IRELAND’S SON *** + + + + +Produced by A. Elizabeth Warren + + + + + +THE KING OF IRELAND’S SON + +by Padraic Colum + + + + +CONTENTS: + + FEDELMA, THE ENCHANTER’S DAUGHTER + + WHEN THE KING OF THE CATS CAME TO KING CONNAL’S DOMINION + + THE SWORD OF LIGHT AND THE UNIQUE TALE, WITH AS MUCH OF THE ADVENTURES + OF GILLY OF THE GOAT-SKIN AS IS GIVEN IN “THE CRANESKIN BOOK” + + THE TOWN OF THE RED CASTLE + + THE KING OF THE LAND OF MIST + + THE HOUSE OF CROM DUV + + THE SPAE-WOMAN + + + + + +FEDELMA, THE ENCHANTER’S DAUGHTER + + + +I + +Connal was the name of the King who ruled over Ireland at that time. +He had three sons, and, as the fir-trees grow, some crooked and some +straight, one of them grew up so wild that in the end the King and the +King’s Councillor had to let him have his own way in everything. This +youth was the King’s eldest son and his mother had died before she could +be a guide to him. + +Now after the King and the King’s Councillor left him to his own way the +youth I’m telling you about did nothing but ride and hunt all day. Well, +one morning he rode abroad-- + + His hound at his heel, + His hawk on his wrist; + A brave steed to carry him whither he list, + And the blue sky over him, + +and he rode on until he came to a turn in the road. There he saw a gray +old man seated on a heap of stones playing a game of cards with himself. +First he had one hand winning and then he had the other. Now he would +say “That’s my good right,” and then he would say “Play and beat that, +my gallant left.” The King of Ireland’s Son sat on his horse to watch +the strange old man, and as he watched him he sang a song to himself + + I put the fastenings on my boat + For a year and for a day, + And I went where the rowans grow, + And where the moorhens lay; + + And I went over the stepping-stones + And dipped my feet in the ford, + And came at last to the Swineherd’s house,-- + The Youth without a Sword. + + A swallow sang upon his porch + “Glu-ee, glu-ee, glu-ee,” + “The wonder of all wandering, + The wonder of the sea;” + A swallow soon to leave ground sang + “Glu-ee, glu-ee, glu-ee.” + +“Prince,” said the old fellow looking up at him, “if you can play a game +as well as you can sing a song, I’d like if you would sit down beside +me.” + +“I can play any game,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. He fastened his +horse to the branch of a tree and sat down on the heap of stones beside +the old man. + +“What shall we play for?” said the gray old fellow. + +“Whatever you like,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“If I win you must give me anything I ask, and if you win I shall give +you anything you ask. Will you agree to that?” + +“If it is agreeable to you it is agreeable to me,” said the King of +Ireland’s Son. + +They played, and the King of Ireland’s Son won the game. “Now what do +you desire me to give, King’s Son?” said the gray old fellow. + +“I shan’t ask you for anything,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “for I +think you haven’t much to give.” + +“Never mind that,” said the gray old fellow. “I mustn’t break my +promise, and so you must ask me for something.” + +“Very well,” said the King’s Son. “Then there’s a field at the back of +my father’s Castle and I want to see it filled with cattle to-morrow +morning. Can you do that for me?” + +“I can,” said the gray old fellow. + +“Then I want fifty cows, each one white with a red ear, and a white calf +going beside each cow.” + +“The cattle shall be as you wish.” + +“Well, when that’s done I shall think the wager has been paid,” said the +King of Ireland’s son. He mounted his horse, smiling at the foolish +old man who played cards with himself and who thought he could bring +together fifty white kine, each with a red ear, and a white calf by the +side of each cow. He rode away + + His hound at his heel, + His hawk on his wrist; + A brave steed to carry him whither he list, + And the green ground under him, + +and he thought no more of the gray old fellow. + + +But in the morning, when he was taking his horse out of the stable, +he heard the grooms talking about a strange happening. Art, the King’s +Steward, had gone out and had found the field at the back of the Castle +filled with cattle. There were fifty white red-eared kine there and each +cow had a white calf at her side. The King had ordered Art, his Steward, +to drive them away. The King of Ireland’s Son watched Art and his men +trying to do it. But no sooner were the strange cattle put out at one +side of the field than they came back on the other. Then down came +Maravaun, the King’s Councillor. He declared they were enchanted cattle, +and that no one on Ireland’s ground could put them away. So in the +seven-acre field the cattle stayed. + +When the King of Ireland’s Son saw what his companion of yesterday could +do he rode straight to the glen to try if he could have another game +with him. There at the turn of the road, on a heap of stones, the gray +old fellow was sitting playing a game of cards, the right hand against +the left. The King of Ireland’s Son fastened his horse to the branch of +a tree and dismounted. + +“Did you find yesterday’s wager settled?” said the gray old fellow. + +“I did,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“Then shall we have another game of cards on the same understanding?” + said the gray old fellow. + +“I agree, if you agree,” said the King of Ireland’s son. He sat under +the bush beside him and they played again. The King of Ireland’s Son +won. + +“What would you like me to do for you this time?” said the gray old +fellow. + +Now the King’s Son had a step-mother, and she was often cross-tempered, +and that very morning he and she had vexed each other. So he said, “Let +a brown bear, holding a burning coal in his mouth, put Caintigern the +Queen from her chair in the supper-room to-night.” + +“It shall be done,” said the gray old fellow. + +Then the King of Ireland’s Son mounted his horse and rode away + + His hound at his heel, + His hawk on his wrist; + A brave steed to carry him whither he list, + And the green ground under him, + +and he went back to the Castle. That night a brown bear, holding a +burning coal in his mouth, came into the supper-room and stood between +Caintigern the Queen and the chair that belonged to her. None of the +servants could drive it away, and when Maravaun, the King’s Councillor, +came he said, “This is an enchanted creature also, and it is best for us +to leave it alone.” So the whole company went and left the brown bear in +the supper-room seated ‘in the Queen’s chair. + + + +II + + +The next morning when he wakened the King’s Son said, “That was a +wonderful thing that happened last night in the supper-room. I must go +off and play a third game with the gray old fellow who sits on a heap of +stones at the turn of the road.” So, in the morning early he mounted and +rode away + + His hound at his heel, + His hawk on his wrist; + A brave steed to carry him whither he list, + And the green ground under him, + +and he rode on until he came to the turn in the road. Sure enough the +old gray fellow was there. “So you’ve come to me again, King’s Son,” + said he. “I have,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “and I’ll play a last +game with you on the same understanding as before.” He tied his horse to +the branch and sat down on the heap of stones. They played. The King of +Ireland’s Son lost the game. Immediately the gray old fellow threw +the cards down on the stones and a wind came up and carried them away. +Standing up he was terribly tall. + +“King’s Son,” said he, “I am your father’s enemy and I have done him an +injury. And to the Queen who is your father’s wife I have done an injury +too. You have lost the game and now you must take the penalty I put upon +you. You must find out my dwelling-place and take three hairs out of my +beard within a year and a day, or else lose your head.” + +With that he took the King of Ireland’s Son by the shoulders and lifted +him on his horse, turning the horse in the direction of the King’s +Castle. The King’s Son rode on + + His hound at his heel, + His hawk on his wrist; + A brave steed to carry him whither he list, + And the blue sky over him. + +That evening the King noticed that his son was greatly troubled. And +when he lay down to sleep everyone in the Castle heard his groans and +his moans. The next day he told his father the story from beginning to +end. The King sent for Maravaun his Councillor and asked him if he knew +who the Enchanter was and where his son would be likely to find him. + +“From what he said,” said Maravaun, “we may guess who he is. He is the +Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands and his dwelling-place is hard to +find. Nevertheless your son must seek for him and take the three hairs +out of his beard or else lose his head. For if the heir to your kingdom +does not honorably pay his forfeit, the ground of Ireland won’t give +crops and the cattle won’t give milk.” “And,” said the Councillor, “as a +year is little for his search, he should start off at once, although I’m +bound to say, that I don’t know what direction he should go in.” + +The next day the King’s Son said good-by to his father and his +foster-brothers and started off on his journey. His step-mother would +not give him her blessing on account of his having brought in the brown +bear that turned her from her chair in the supper-room. Nor would she +let him have the good horse he always rode. Instead the Prince was given +a horse that was lame in a leg and short in the tail. And neither hawk +nor hound went with him this time. + + +All day the King’s Son was going, traveling through wood and waste until +the coming on of night. The little fluttering birds were going from the +bush tops, from tuft to tuft, and to the briar-roots, going to rest; but +if they were, he was not, till the night came on, blind and dark. Then +the King’s Son ate his bread and meat, put his satchel under his head +and lay down to take his rest on the edge of a great waste. + +In the morning he mounted his horse and rode on. And as he went across +the waste he saw an extraordinary sight--everywhere were the bodies of +dead creatures--a cock, a wren, a mouse, a weasel, a fox, a badger, a +raven---all the birds and beasts that the King’s Son had ever known. He +went on, but he saw no living creature before him. And then, at the end +of the waste he came upon two living creatures struggling. One was an +eagle and the other was an eel. And the eel had twisted itself round the +eagle, and the eagle had covered her eyes with the black films of death. +The King’s Son jumped off his horse and cut the eel in two with a sharp +stroke of his sword. + +The eagle drew the films from her eyes and looked full at the King’s +Son. “I am Laheen the Eagle,” she said, “and I will pay you for this +service, Son of King Connal. Know that there has been a battle of the +creatures--a battle to decide which of the creatures will make laws for +a year. All were killed except the eel and myself, and if you had not +come I would have been killed and the eel would have made the laws. I am +Laheen the Eagle and always I will be your friend. And now you must tell +me how I can serve you.” + +“You can serve me,” said the King’s Son, “by showing me how I may come +to the dominion of the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands.” + +“I am the only creature who can show you, King’s Son. And if I were not +old now I would carry you there on my back. But I can tell you how you +can get there. Ride forward for a day, first with the sun before you and +then with the sun at your back, until you come to the shore of a lake. +Stay there until you see three swans flying down. They are the three +daughters of the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands. Mark the one who +carries a green scarf in her mouth. She is the youngest daughter and +the one who can help you. When the swans come to the ground they will +transform themselves into maidens and bathe in the lake. Two will come +out, put on their swanskins and transform themselves and fly away. But +you must hide the swanskin that belongs to the youngest maiden. She will +search and search and when she cannot find it she will cry out, ‘I would +do anything in the world for the creature who would find my swanskin for +me.’ Give the swanskin to her then, and tell her that the only thing she +can do for you is to show you the way to her father’s dominion. She will +do that, and so you will come to the House of the Enchanter of the Black +Back-Lands. And now farewell to you, Son of King Connal.” + +Laheen the Eagle spread out her wings and flew away, and the King’s Son +journeyed on, first with the sun before him and then with the sun at +his back, until he came to the shore of a wide lake. He turned his horse +away, rested himself on the ground, and as soon as the clear day came he +began to watch for the three swans. + + + +III + + +They came, they flew down, and when they touched the ground they +transformed themselves into three maidens and went to bathe in the lake. +The one who carried the green scarf left her swanskin under a bush. The +King’s Son took it and hid it in a hollow tree. + +Two of the maidens soon came out of the water, put on their swanskins +and flew away as swans. The younger maiden stayed for a while in the +lake. Then she came out and began to search for her swanskin. She +searched and searched, and at last the King’s Son heard her say, “I +would do anything in the world for the creature who would find my +swanskin for me.” Then he came from where he was hiding and gave her the +swanskin. “I am the Son of the King of Ireland,” he said, “and I want +you to show me the way to your father’s dominion.” + +“I would prefer to do anything else for you,” said the maiden. “I do not +want anything else,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“If I show you how to get there will you be content?” + +“I shall be content.” + +“You must never let my father know that I showed you the way. And he +must not know when you come that you are the King of Ireland’s Son.” + +“I will not tell him you showed me the way and I will not let him know +who I am.” + + +Now that she had the swanskin she was able to transform herself. She +whistled and a blue falcon came down and perched on a tree. “That falcon +is my own bird,” said she. “Follow where it flies and you will come to +my father’s house. And now good-by to you. You will be in danger, but +I will try to help you. Fedelma is my name.” She rose up as a swan and +flew away. + +The blue falcon went flying from bush to bush and from rock to rock. +The night came, but in the morning the blue falcon was seen again. The +King’s Son followed, and at last he saw a house before him. He went in, +and there, seated on a chair of gold was the man who seemed so tall when +he threw down the cards upon the heap of stones. The Enchanter did not +recognize the King’s Son without his hawk and his hound and the fine +clothes he used to wear. He asked who he was and the King’s Son said he +was a youth who had just finished an apprenticeship to a wizard. “And,” + said he, “I have heard that you have three fair daughters, and I came to +strive to gain one of them for a wife.” + +“In that case,” said the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands, “you will +have to do three tasks for me. If you are able to do them I will give +you one of my three daughters in marriage. If you fail to do any one of +them you will lose your head. Are you willing to make the trial?” + +“I am willing,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“Then I shall give you your first task to-morrow. It is unlucky that you +came to-day. In this country we eat a meal only once a week, and we have +had our meal this morning.” + +“It is all the same to me,” said the King’s Son, “I can do without food +or drink for a month without any hardship.” + +“I suppose you can do without sleep too?” said the Enchanter of the +Black Back-Lands. + +“Easily,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“That is good. Come outside now, and I’ll show you your bed.” He took +the King’s Son outside and showed him a dry narrow water-tank at the +gable end of the house. “There is where you are to sleep” said the +Enchanter. “Tuck yourself into it now and be ready for your first task +at the rising of the sun.” + +The King of Ireland’s Son went into the little tank. He was +uncomfortable there you may be sure. But in the middle of the night +Fedelma came and brought him into a fine room where he ate and then +slept until the sun was about to rise in the morning. She called him and +he went outside and laid himself down in the water-tank. + +As soon as the sun rose the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands came out +of the house and stood beside the water-tank. “Come now,” said he, “and +I will show you the first task you have to perform.” He took him to +where a herd of goats was grazing. Away from the goats was a fawn with +white feet and little bright horns. The fawn saw them, bounded into the +air, and raced away to the wood as quickly as any arrow that a man ever +shot from a bow. + +“That is Whitefoot the Fawn,” said the Enchanter of the Black +Back-Lands. “She grazes with my goats but none of my gillies can bring +her into my goat-house. Here is your first task--run down Whitefoot the +Fawn and bring her with my goats into the goat-shelter this evening.” + When he said that the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands went away +laughing to himself. + +“Good-by, my life,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “I might as well try +to catch an eagle on the wing as to run down the deer that has gone out +of sight already.” He sat down on the ground and his despair was great. +Then his name was called and he saw Fedelma coming towards him. She +looked at him as though she were in dread, and said, “What task has my +father set you?” He told her and then she smiled. “I was in dread it +would be a more terrible task,” she said. “This one is easy. I can help +you to catch Whitefoot the Fawn. But first eat what I have brought you.” + + +She put down bread and meat and wine, and they sat down and he ate +and drank. “I thought he might set you this task,” she said, “and so I +brought you something from my father’s store of enchanted things. Here +are the Shoes of Swiftness. With these on your feet you can run down +Whitefoot the Fawn. But you must catch her before she has gone very far +away. Remember that she must be brought in when the goats are going into +their shelter at sunset. You will have to walk back for all the time you +must keep hold of her silver horns. Hasten now. Run her down with the +Shoes of Swiftness and then lay hold of her horns. Above all things +Whitefoot dreads the loss of her silver horns.” + +He thanked Fedelma. He put on the Shoes of Swiftness and went into the +wood. Now he could go as the eagle flies. He found Whitefoot the Fawn +drinking at the Raven’s pool. + +When she saw him she went from thicket to thicket. The Shoes of +Swiftness were hardly any use to him in these shut-in places. At last he +beat her from the last thicket. It was the hour of noon-tide then. There +was a clear plain before them and with the Shoes of Swiftness he ran her +down. There were tears in the Fawn’s eyes and he knew she was troubled +with the dread of losing her silver horns. + +He kept his hands on the horns and they went back over miles of plain +and pasture, bog and wood. The hours were going quicker than they were +going. When ‘he came within the domain of the Enchanter of the Black +Back-Lands he saw the goats going quickly before him. They were hurrying +from their pastures to the goat-shelter, one stopping, maybe, to bite +the top of a hedge and another giving this one a blow with her horns to +hurry her on. “By your silver horns, we must go faster,” said the King +of Ireland’s Son to the Fawn. They went more quickly then. + +He saw the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands waiting at the goat-house, +now counting the goats that came along and now looking at the sun. When +he saw the King of Ireland’s Son coming with his capture he was so angry +that he struck an old full-bearded goat that had stopped to rub itself. +The goat reared up and struck him with his horns. “Well,” said the +Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands, “you have performed your first task, +I see. You are a greater enchanter than I thought you were. +Whitefoot the Fawn can go in with my goats. Go back now to your own +sleeping-place. To-morrow I’ll come to you early and give you your +second task.” + +The King of Ireland’s Son went back and into the dry water-tank. He was +tired with his day’s journey after Whitefoot the Fawn. It was his hope +that Fedelma would come to him and give him shelter for that night. + + + +IV + + +Until the white moon rose above the trees; until the hounds went out +hunting for themselves; until the foxes came down and hid in the hedges, +waiting for the cocks and hens to stir out at the first light--so long +did the King of Ireland’s Son stay huddled in the dry water-tank. + +By that time he was stiff and sore and hungry. He saw a great white owl +flying towards the tank. The owl perched on the edge and stared at the +King’s Son. “Have you a message for me?” he asked. The owl shrugged with +its wings three times. He thought that meant a message. He got out of +the tank and prepared to follow the owl. It flew slowly and near the +ground, so he was able to follow it along a path through the wood. + +The King’s Son thought the owl was bringing him to a place where Fedelma +was, and that he would get food there, and shelter for the rest of the +night. And sure enough the owl flew to a little house in the wood. The +King’s Son looked through the window and he saw a room lighted with +candles and a table with plates and dishes and cups, with bread and meat +and wine. And he saw at the fire a young woman spinning at a spinning +wheel, and her back was towards him, and her hair was the same as +Fedelma’s. Then he lifted the latch of the door and went very joyfully +into the little house. + +But when the young woman at the spinning wheel turned round he saw that +she was not Fedelma at all. She had a little mouth, a long and a hooked +nose, and her eyes looked cross-ways at a person. The thread she was +spinning she bit with her long teeth, and she said, “You are welcome +here, Prince.” + +“And who are you?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “Aefa is my name,” + said she, “I am the eldest and the wisest daughter of the Enchanter of +the Black Back-lands. My father is preparing a task for you,” said she, +“and it will be a terrible task, and there will be no one to help you +with it, so you will lose your head surely. And what I would advise you +to do is to escape out of this country at once.” + +“And how can I escape?” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “There’s only +one way to escape,” said she, “and that is for you to take the Slight +Red Steed that my father has secured under nine locks. That steed is the +only creature that can bring you to your own country. I will show you +how to get it and then I will ride to your home with you.” + +“And why should you do that?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“Because I would marry you,” said Aefa. + +“But,” said he, “if I live at all Fedelma is the one I will marry.” + +No sooner did he say the words than Aefa screamed out, “Seize him, +my cat-o’-the-mountain. Seize him and hold him.” Then the +cat-o’-the-mountain that was under the table sprang across the room and +fixed himself on his shoulder. He ran out of the house. All the time he +was running the cat-o’-the-mountain was trying to tear his eyes out. He +made his way through woods and thickets, and mighty glad he was when +he saw the tank at the gable-end of the house. The cat-’o-the-mountain +dropped from his back then. He got into the tank and waited and waited. +No message came from Fedelma. He was a long time there, stiff and +sore and hungry, before the sun rose and the Enchanter of the Black +Back-Lands came out of the house. + + + +V + +“I hope you had a good night’s rest,” said the Enchanter of the Black +Back-Lands, when he came to where the King of Ireland’s Son was +crouched, just at the rising of the sun. “I had indeed,” said the King’s +Son. “And I suppose you feel fit for another task,” said the Enchanter +of the Black Back-Lands. “More fit than ever in my life before,” said +the King of Ireland’s Son. + +The Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands took him past the goat-house +and to where there was an open shelter for his bee-hives. “I want this +shelter thatched,” said he, “and I want to have it thatched with the +feathers of birds. Go,” said he, “and get enough feathers of wild birds +and come back and thatch the bee-hive shelter for me, and let it be done +before the set of sun.” He gave the King’s Son arrows and a bow and +a bag to put the feathers in, and advised him to search the moor for +birds. Then he went back to the house. + +The King of Ireland’s Son ran to the moor and watched for birds to fly +across. At last one came. He shot at it with an arrow but did not bring +it down. He hunted the moor all over but found no other bird. He hoped +that he would see Fedelma before his head was taken off. + +Then he heard his name called and he saw Fedelma coming towards him. She +looked at him as before with dread in thier eyes and asked him what task +her father had set him. “A terrible task,” he said, and he told her +what it was. Fedelma laughed. “I was in dread he would give you another +task,” she said. “I can help you with this one. Sit down now and eat and +drink from what I have brought you.” + +He sat down and ate and drank and he felt hopeful seeing Fedelma beside +him. When he had eaten Fedelma said, “My blue falcon will gather the +birds and pull the feathers off for you. Still, unless you gather them +quickly there is danger, for the roof must be thatched with feathers at +the set of sun.” She whistled and her blue falcon came. He followed +it across the moor. The blue falcon flew up in the air and gave a +bird-call. Birds gathered and she swooped amongst them pulling feathers +off their backs and out of their wings. Soon there was a heap of +feathers on the ground--pigeons’ feathers and pie’s feathers, crane’s +and crow’s, blackbird’s and starling’s. The King of Ireland’s Son +quickly gathered them into his bag. The falcon flew to another place and +gave her bird-call again. The birds gathered, and she went amongst +them, plucking their feathers. The King’s Son gathered them and the blue +falcon flew to another place. Over and over again the blue falcon called +to the birds and plucked out their feathers, and over and over again the +King’s Son gathered them into his bag. When he thought he had feathers +enough to thatch the roof he ran back to the shelter. He began the +thatching, binding the feathers down with little willow rods. He had +just finished when the sun went down. The old Enchanter came up and +when he saw what the King’s Son had done he was greatly surprised. “You +surely learned from the wizard you were apprenticed to,” said he.. “But +to-morrow I will try you with another task. Go now and sleep in the +place where you were last night.” The King’s Son, glad that the head was +still on his shoulders, went and lay down in the water-tank. + + + +VI + +Until the white moon went out in the sky; until the Secret People began +to whisper in the woods--so long did the King of Ireland’s Son remain in +the dry water-tank that night. + +And then, when it was neither dark nor light, he saw a crane flying +towards him. It lighted on the edge of the tank. “Have you a message for +me?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. The crane tapped three times with +its beak. Then the King’s Son got out of the tank and prepared to follow +the bird-messenger. + +This was the way the crane went. It would fly a little way and then +light on the ground until the Prince came up to it. Then it would fly +again. Over marshes and across little streams the crane led him. And all +the time the King of Ireland’s Son thought he was being brought to the +place where Fedelma was--to the place where he would get food and where +he could rest until just before the sun rose. + +They went on and on till they came to an old tower. The crane lighted +upon it. The King’s Son saw there was an iron door in the tower and he +pulled a chain until it opened. Then he saw a little room lighted with +candles, and he saw a young woman looking at herself in the glass. Her +back was towards him and her hair was the same as Fedelma’s. + +But when the young woman turned round he saw she was not Fedelma. She +was little, and she had a face that was brown and tight like a nut. She +made herself very friendly to the King of Ireland’s Son and went to him +and took his hands and smiled into his face. + +“You are welcome here,” said she. + +“Who are you?” he asked. “I am Gilveen,” said she, “the second and +the most loving of the three daughters of the Enchanter of the Black +Back-Lands.” She stroked his face and his hands when she spoke to him. + +“And why did you send for me?” + +“Because I know what great trouble you are in. My father is preparing a +task for you, and it will be a terrible one. You will never be able to +carry it out.” + +“And what should you advise me to do, King’s daughter?” + +“Let me help you. In this tower,” said she, “there are the wisest books +in the world. We’ll surely find in one of them a way for you to get from +this country. And then I’ll go back with you to your own land.” + +“Why would you do that?” asked the King of Ire-land’s Son. + +“Because I wish to be your wife,” Gilveen said. + +“But,” said he, “if I live at all Fedelma is the one I’ll marry.” + +When he said that Gilveen drew her lips together and her chin became +like a horn. Then she whistled through her teeth, and instantly +everything in the room began to attack the King’s Son. The looking glass +on the wall flung itself at him and hit him on the back of the head. The +leg of the table gave him a terrible blow at the back of the knees. He +saw the two candles hopping across the floor to burn his legs. He ran +out of the room, and when he got to the door it swung around and gave +him a blow that flung him away from the tower. The crane that was +waiting on the tower flew down, its neck and beak outstretched, and gave +him a blow on the back. + +So the King of Ireland’s Son went back over the marshes and across the +little streams, and he was glad when he saw the gable-end of the house +again. Je went into the tank. He knew that he had not long to wait +before the sun would rise and the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands +would come to him and give him the third and the most difficult of the +three tasks. And he thought that Fedelma was surely shut away from him +and that she would not be able to help him that day. + + + +VII + + +At the rising of the sun the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands came to +where the King of Ireland’s Son was huddled and said, “I am now going to +set you the third and last task. Rise up now and come with me.” + +The King’s Son came out of the water-tank and fol-lowed the Enchanter. +They went to where there was a well. The King’s Son looked down and he +could not see the bottom, so deep the well was. “At the bottom,” said +the Enchanter “is the Ring of Youth. You must get it and bring it to me, +or else you must lose your head at the setting of that sun.” That was +all he said. He turned then and went away. + +The King’s Son looked into the well and he saw no way of getting down +its deep smooth sides. He walked back towards the Castle. On his way he +met Fedelma, and she looked at him with deep dread in her eyes. “What +task did my father set you to-day?” said she. “He bids me go down into +a well,” said the King’s Son. “A well!” said Fedelma, and she became all +dread. “I have to take the Ring of Youth from the bot-tom and bring it +to him,” said the King’s Son. “Oh,” said Fedelma,’”he has set you the +task I dreaded.” + +Then she said, “You will lose your life if the Ring of Youth is not +taken out of the well. And if you lose yours I shall lose my life too. +There is one way to get down the sides of the well. You must kill me. +Take my bones and make them as steps while you go down the sides. Then, +when you have taken the Ring of Youth out of the water, put my bones +as they were before, and put the Ring above my heart. I shall be alive +again. But you must be careful that you leave every bone as it was.” + +The King’s Son fell into a deeper dread than Fedelma when he heard what +she said. “This can never be,” he cried. “It must be,” said she, “and by +all your vows and promises I command that you do it. Kill me now and do +as I have bidden you. If it be done I shall live. If it be not done you +will lose your life and I will never regain mine.” + +He killed her. He took the bones as she had bidden him, and he made +steps down the sides of the well. He searched at the bottom, and he +found the Ring of Youth. He brought the bones together again. Down on +his knees he went, and his heart did not beat nor did his breath come or +go until he had fixed them in their places. Over the heart he placed the +Ring. Life came back to Fedelma. + +“You have done well,” she said. “One thing only is not in its place--the +joint of my little finger.” She held up her hand and he saw that her +little finger was bent. + +“I have helped you in everything,” said Fedelma, “and in the last task +I could not have helped you if you had not been true to me when Aefa and +Gilveen brought you to them. Now the three tasks are done, and you can +ask my father for one of his daughters in marriage. When you bring him +the Ring of Youth he will ask you to make a choice. I pray that the one +chosen will be myself.” + +“None other will I have but you, Fedelma, love of my heart,” said the +King of Ireland’s Son. + + + +VIII + + +The King of Ireland’s Son went into the house before the setting of the +sun. The Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands was seated on his chair of +gold. “Have you brought me the Ring of Youth?” he asked. + +“I have brought it,” said the King’s Son. + +“Give it to me then,” said the Enchanter. + +“I will not,” said the King’s Son, “until you give what you promised me +at the end of my tasks--one of your three daughters for my wife.” + +The Enchanter brought him to a closed door. “My three daughters are +within that room,” said he. “Put your hand through the hole in the door, +and the one whose hand you hold when I open it--it is she you will have +to marry.” + +Then wasn’t the mind of the King’s Son greatly troubled? If he held the +hand of Aefa or Gilveen he would lose his love Fedelma. He stood without +putting out his hand. “Put your hand through the hole of the door or +go away from my house altogether,” said the Enchanter of the Black +Back-Lands. + +The King of Ireland’s Son ventured to put his hand through the hole in +the door. The hands of the maidens inside were all held in a bunch. But +no sooner did he touch them than he found that one had a broken finger. +This he knew was Fedelma’s hand, and this was the hand he held. + +“You may open the door now,” said he to the Enchanter. He opened the +door and the King of Ireland’s Son drew Fedelma to him. “This is the +maiden I choose,” said he, “and now give her her dowry.” + +“The dowry that should go with me,” said Fedelma, “is the Slight +Red Steed.” “What dowry do you want with her, young man?” said the +Enchanter. + +“No other dowry but the Slight Red Steed.” + +“Go round to the stable then and get it. And I hope no well-trained +wizard like you will come this way again.” + +“No well-trained wizard am I, but the King of Ire-land’s Son. And I have +found your dwelling-place within a year and a day. And now I pluck the +three hairs out of your heard, Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands.” + +The beard of the Enchanter bristled like spikes on a hedgehog, and the +balls of his eyes stuck out of his head. The King’s Son plucked the +three hairs of his beard before he could lift a hand or say a word. +“Mount the Slight Red Steed and be off, the two of you,” said the +Enchanter. + +The King of Ireland’s Son and Fedelma mounted the Slight Red Steed +and rode off, and the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands, and his two +daughters, Aefa and Gilveen, in a rage watched them ride away. + + + +IX + + +They crossed the River of the Ox, and went over the Mountain of the Fox +and were in the Glen of the Badger before the sun rose. And there, at +the foot of the Hill of Horns, they found an old man gathering dew from +the grass. + +“Could you tell us where we might find the Little Sage of the Mountain?” + Fedelma asked the old man. + +“I am the Little Sage of the Mountain,” said he, “and what is it you +want of me?” + +“To betroth us for marriage,” said Fedelma. + +“I will do that. Come to my house, the pair of you. And as you are both +young and better able to walk than I am it would be fitting to let me +ride on your horse.” + +The King’s Son and Fedelma got off and the Little Sage of the Mountain +got on the Slight Red Steed. They took the path that went round the Hill +of Horns. And at the other side of the hill they found a hut thatched +with one great wing of a bird. The Little Sage got off the Slight Red +Steed. “Now,” said he, “you’re both young, and I’m an old man and it +would be fitting for you to do my day’s work before you call upon me to +do anything for you. Now would you,” said he to the King of Ireland’s +Son, “take this spade in your hand and go into the garden and dig my +potatoes for me? And would you,” said he to Fedelma, “sit down at the +quern-stone and grind the wheat for me?” + +The King of Ireland’s Son went into the garden and Fedelma sat at the +quern-stone that was just outside the door; he dug and she ground +while the Little Sage sat at the fire looking into a big book. And when +Fedelma and the King’s Son were tired with their labor he gave them a +drink of buttermilk. + +She made cakes out of the wheat she had ground and the King’s Son washed +the potatoes and the Little Sage boiled them and so they made their +supper. Then the Little Sage of the Mountain melted lead and made two +rings; and one ring he gave to Fedelma to give to the King’s Son and one +he gave to the King’s Son to give to Fedelma. And when the rings were +given he said, “You are betrothed for your marriage now.” + +They stayed with the Little Sage of the Mountain that night, and when +the sun rose they left the house that was thatched with the great wing +of a bird and they turned towards the Meadow of Brightness and the Wood +of Shadows that were between them and the King of Ireland’s domain. They +rode on the Slight Red Steed, and the Little Sage of the Mountain went +with them a part of the way. He seemed downcast and when they asked him +the reason he said, “I see dividing ways and far journeys for you both.” + “But how can that be,” said the King’s Son, “when, in a little while we +will win to my father’s domain?” “It may be I am wrong,” said the Little +Sage, “and if I am not, remember that devotion brings together dividing +ways and that high hearts win to the end of every journey.” He bade +them good-by then, and turned back to his hut that was thatched with the +great wing of a bird. + +They rode across the Meadow of Brightness and Fedelma’s blue falcon +sailed above them. “Yonder is a field of white flowers,” said she, “and +while we are crossing it you must tell me a story.” + +“I know by heart,” said the King’s Son, “only the stories that Maravaun, +my father’s Councillor, has put into the book he is composing--the book +that is called ‘The Breastplate of Instruction.’” + +“Then,” said Fedelma, “tell me a story from ‘The Breastplate of +Instruction,’ while we are crossing this field of white flowers.” + +“I will tell you the first story that is in it,” said the King’s Son. +Then while they were crossing the field of white flowers the King’s Son +told Fedelma the story of + + + +The Ass and the Seal + + +X + +A seal that had spent a curious fore-noon paddling around the island +of Ilaun-Beg drew itself up on a rock the better to carry on its +investigations. It was now within five yards of the actual island. On +the little beach there were three curraghs in which the island-men went +over the sea; they were turned bottom up and heavy stones were placed +upon them to prevent their being carried away by the high winds. The +seal noted them as he rested upon the flat rock. He noted too a little +ass that was standing beyond the curraghs, sheltering himself where the +cliffs hollowed in. + +Now this ass was as curious as the seal, and when he saw the smooth +creature that was moving its head about with such intelligence he came +down to the water’s edge. Two of his legs were spancelled with a piece +of straw rope, but being used to such impediment he came over without +any awkwardness. He looked inquiringly at the seal. + +The gray-headed crow of the cliff lighted on a spar of rock and made +herself an interpreter between the two. “Shaggy beast of the Island,” + said the seal, “friend and follower of men, tell me about their fabulous +existence.” + +“Do you mean the hay-getters?” said the ass. + +“You know well whom he means,” said the gray-headed crow viciously. +“Answer him now.” + +“You gravell me entirely when you ask about men,” said the ass. “I don’t +know much about them. They live to themselves and I live to myself. +Their houses are full of smoke and it blinds my eyes to go in. There +used to be green fields here and high grass that became hay, but there’s +nothing like that now. I think men have given up eating what grows out +of the ground. I see nothing, I smell nothing, but fish, fish, fish.” + +The gray-headed crow had a vicious eye fixed on the ass all the time he +was speaking. “You’re saying all that,” said she, “because they let the +little horse stay all night in the house and beat you out of it.” + +“My friend,” said the seal, “it is evident that men deceive you by +appearances. I know men. I have followed their boats and have +listened to the wonderful sounds they make with their voices and with +instruments. Do they not draw fish out of the depths by enchantments? Do +they not build their habitations with music? Do they not draw the moon +out of the sea and set it for a light in their houses? And is it not +known that the fairest daughters of the sea have loved men?” + +“When I’m awake long o’ moonlit nights I feel like that myself,” said +the ass. Then the recollections of these long, frosty nights made him +yawn. Then he brayed. + +“What it is to live near men,” said the seal in admiration. “What +wonderful sounds!” + +“I’d cross the water and rub noses with you,” said the ass, “only I’m +afraid of crocodiles.” + +“Crocodiles?” said the gray-headed crow. + +“Yes,” said the ass. “It’s because I’m of a very old family, you know. +They were Egyptians. My people never liked to cross water in their own +country. There were crocodiles there.” + +“I don’t want to waste any more time listening to nonsense,” said the +gray-headed crow. She flew to the ass’s back and plucked out some of the +felt. “I’ll take this for my own habitation,” she said, and flew back to +the cliff. + +The ass would have kicked up his heels only two of his legs were +fastened with the straw rope. He turned away, and without a word of +farewell to the seal went scrambling up the bank of the island. + +The seal stayed for a while moving his head about intelligently. Then +he slipped into the water and paddled off. “One feels their lives in +music,” he said; “great tones vibrate round the island where men live. +It is very wonderful.” + +“That,” said the King’s Son, “is the first story in ‘The Breastplate of +Instruction,’--‘The Ass and the Seal.’ And now you must tell me a story +while we are crossing the field of blue flowers.” + +“Then it will be a very little story,” said Fedelma. They crossed a +little field of blue flowers, and Fedelma told + + + +The Sending of the Crystal Egg + + +XI + +The Kings of Murias heard that King Atlas had to bear The world upon his +back, so they sent him then and there The Crystal Egg that would be +the Swan of Endless Tales That his burthen for a while might lie on his +shoulder-scales Fair-balanced while he heard the Tales the Swan poured +forth--North-world Tales for the while he watched the Star of the North; +And East-world Tales he would hear in the morning swart and cool, When +the Lions Nimrod had spared came up from the drinking pool; West-world +Tales for the King when he turned him with the sun; Then whispers of +magic Tales from Africa, his own. + +But the Kings of Murias made the Crane their messenger--The fitful Crane +whose thoughts are always frightening her She slipped from Islet to +Isle, she sloped from Foreland to Coast; She passed through cracks in +the mountains and came over trees like a ghost; And then fled back in +dismay when she saw on the hollow plains The final battle between the +Pigmies and the Cranes. + +Where is the Crystal Egg that was sent King Atlas then? Hatched it will +be one day and the Tales will be told to men: That is if it be not laid +in some King’s old Treasury: That is if the fitful Crane did not lose it +threading the Sea! + +They were not long going through the little field of blue flowers, and +when they went through it they came to another field of white flowers. +Fedelma asked the King’s Son to tell her another story, and thereupon he +told her the second story in “The Breastplate of Instruction.” + + + +The Story of the Young Cuckoo + + +XII + +The young cuckoo made desperate attempts to get himself through the +narrow opening in the hollow tree. He screamed when he failed to get +through. + +His foster-parents had remained so long beside him that they were wasted +and sad while the other birds, their broods reared, were vigorous and +joyful. They heard the one that had been reared in their nest, the young +cuckoo, scream, but this time they did not fly towards him. The young +cuckoo screamed again, but there was something in that scream that +reminded the foster-parents of hawks. They flew away. They were +miserable in their flight, these birds, for they knew they were +committing a treason. + +They had built their nest in a hollow tree that had a little opening. +A cuckoo laid her egg on the ground and, carrying it in her beak, had +placed it in the nest. Their own young had been pushed out. They had +worn themselves to get provision for the terrible and fascinating +creature who had remained in their nest. + +When the time came for him to make his flight he could not get his +body through the little opening. Yesterday he had begun to try. The two +foster-parents flew to him again and again with food. But now their own +nesting place had become strange to them. They would never go near it +again. The young cuckoo was forsaken. + +A woodpecker ran round the tree. He looked into the hollow and saw the +big bird crumpled up. + +“Hello,” said the woodpecker. “How did you get here?” + +“Born here,” said the young cuckoo sulkily. + +“Oh, were you?” said the woodpecker and he ran round the tree again. + +When he came back to the opening the young cuckoo was standing up with +his mouth open. + +“Feed me,” said he. + +“I’ve to rush round frightfully to get something for myself,” said the +woodpecker. + +“At least, someone ought to bring me food,” said the young cuckoo. + +“How is that?” said the woodpecker. + +“Well, oughtn’t they to?” said the young cuckoo. + +“I wouldn’t say so,” said the woodpecker, “you have the use of your +wits, haven’t you?” He ran round the trunk of the tree again and +devoured a lean grub. The young cuckoo struggled at the opening and +screamed again. + +“Don’t be drawing too much attention to yourself,” advised the +woodpecker when he came to the opening again. “They might take you for a +young hawk, you know.” + +“Who might?” said the cuckoo. “The neighbors. They would pull a young +hawk to pieces.” + +“What am I to do?” said the young cuckoo. + +“What’s in your nature to do?” + +“My nature?” said the young cuckoo. “It’s my nature to swing myself on +branches high up in a tree. It’s my nature to spread out my wings and +fly over pleasant places. It is my nature to be alone. But not alone as +here. Alone with the sound of my own voice.” Suddenly he cried, “Cuckoo, +cuckoo, cuckoo!” + +“I know you now,” said the woodpecker. “There’s going to be a storm,” he +said; “trust a woodpecker to know that.” + +The young cuckoo strove towards the big sky again, and he screamed so +viciously that a rat that had just come out of the ditch fastened his +eyes on him. That creature looked bad to the young cuckoo. Rain plopped +on the leaves. Thunder crashed. A bolt struck the tree, and the part +above the opening was torn away. + +The young cuckoo flung himself out on the grass and went awkwardly +amongst the blue bells. “What a world,” said he. “All this wet and fire +and noise to get me out of the nest. What a world!” The young cuckoo +was free, and these were the first words he said when he went into the +world. + +That was the last story the King’s Son told from Maravaun’s book, “The +Breastplate of Instruction.” They had another little field of blue +flowers to cross, and as they went across it Fedelma told the King’s Son + + +THE STORY OF THE CLOUD-WOMAN + +XIII + + The Cloud-woman, Mor, was the daughter + Of Griann, the Sun,--well, and she + Made a marriage to equal that grandeur, + For her Goodman was Lir, the Sea. + + The Cloud-woman Mor, she had seven + Strong sons, and the story-books say + Their inches grew in the night-time, + And grew over again in the day. + + The Cloud-woman Mor,--as they grew in + Their bone, she grew in her pride, + Till her haughtiness turned away, men say, + Her goodman Lir from her side; + + Then she lived in Mor’s Home and she watched + With pride her sons and her crop, + Till one day the wish in her grew + To view from the mountain-top + All, all that she owned, so she + Traveled without any stop. + + And what did she see? A thousand + + Fields and her own fields small, small! + “What a fine and wide place is Eirinn,” said she, + “I am Mor, but not great after all.” + + Then a herdsman came, and he told her + That her sons had stolen away: + They had left the calves in the hollow, + With the goose-flock they would not stay: + + They had seen three ships on the sea + And nothing would do them but go: + Mor wept and wept when she heard it, + And her tears made runnels below. + + Then her shining splendor departed: + She went, and she left no trace, + And the Cloud-woman, Mor, was never + Beheld again in that place. + + The proud woman, Mor, who was daughter + Of Griann, the Sun, and who made + A marriage to equal that grandeur, + Passed away as a shade. + + +XIV + +And that was the last story that Fedelma told, for they had crossed the +Meadows of Brightness and had come to a nameless place--a stretch of +broken ground where there were black rocks and dead grass and bare roots +of trees with here and there a hawthorn tree in blossom. “I fear this +place. We must not halt here,” Fedelma said. + +And then a flock of ravens came from the rocks, and flying straight +at them attacked Fedelma and the King of Ireland’s Son. The King’s Son +sprang from the steed and taking his sword in his hand he fought the +ravens until he drove them away. They rode on again. But now the ravens +flew back and attacked them again and the King of Ireland’s Son fought +them until his hands were wearied. He mounted the steed again, and they +rode swiftly on. And the ravens came the third time and attacked them +more fiercely than before. The King’s Son fought them until he had +killed all but three and until he was covered with their blood and +feathers. + +The three that had escaped flew away. “Oh, mount the Slight Red Steed +and let us ride fast,” said Fedelma to the King’s Son. + +“I am filled with weariness,” he said. “Bid the steed stay by the rock, +lay my sword at my side, and let me sleep with my head on your lap.” + +“I fear for us both if you slumber here,” said Fedelma. + +“I must sleep, and I pray that you let me lay my head on your lap.” + +“I know not what would awaken you if you slumber here.” + +“I will awaken,” said the King’s Son, “but now I must sleep, and I would +slumber with my head on your lap.” + +She got down from the Slight Red Steed and she bade it stay by a rock; +she put his sword by the place he would sleep and she took his head upon +her lap. The King’s Son slept. + +As she watched over him a great fear grew in Fedelma. Every hour she +would say to him, “Are you near waking, my dear, my dear?” But no flush +of waking appeared on the face of the King of Ireland’s Son. + +Then she saw a man coming across the nameless place, across the broken +ground, with its dead grass and black rocks and with its roots and +stumps of trees. The man who came near them was taller than any man she +had seen before--he was tall as a tree. Fedelma knew him from what she +had heard told about him--she knew him to be the King of the Land of +Mist. + +The King of the Land of Mist came straight to them. He stood before +Fedelma and he said, “I seek Fedelma, the daughter of the Enchanter of +the Black Back-Lands and the fairest woman within the seas of Eirinn.” + +“Then go to her father’s house and seek Fedelma there,” said she to him. + +“I have sought her there,” said the King of the Land of Mist, “but she +left her father’s house to go with the King of Ireland’s Son.” + +“Then seek her in the Castle of the King of Ireland,” said Fedelma. + +“That I will not. Fedelma is here, and Fedelma will come with me,” said +the King of the Land of Mist. + +“I will not leave him with whom I am plighted,” said Fedelma. + +Then the King of the Land of Mist took up the King of Ireland’s Son. +High he held him--higher than a tree grows. “I will dash him down on the +rocks and break the life within him,” said he. + +“Do not so,” said Fedelma. “Tell me. If I go with you what would win me +back?” + +“Nothing but the sword whose stroke would slay me--the Sword of Light,” + said the King of the Land of Mist. He held up the King of Ireland’s Son +again, and again he was about to dash him against the rocks. The blue +falcon that was overhead flew down and settled on the rock behind her. +Fedelma knew that what she and the King of the Land of Mist would say +now would be carried some place and told to someone. “Leave my love, the +King’s Son, to his rest,” she said. + +“If I do not break the life in him will you come with me, Fedelma?” + +“I will go with you if you tell again what will win me back from you.” + +“The Sword of Light whose stroke will slay me.” + +“I will go with you if you swear by all your vows and promises not to +make me your wife nor your sweetheart for a year and a day.” + +“I swear by all my vows and promises not to make you my wife nor my +sweetheart for a year and a day.” + +“I will go with you if you let it be that I fall into a slumber that +will last for a year and a day.” + +“I will let that be, fairest maid within the seas of Eirinn.” + +“I will go with you if you will tell me what will take me out of that +slumber.” + +“If one cuts a tress of your hair with a stroke of the Sword of Light it +will take you out of that slumber.” + +The blue falcon that was behind heard what the King of the Land of +Mist said. She rose up and remained overhead with her wings outspread. +Fedelma took the ring off her own finger and put it on the finger of the +King of Ireland’s Son, and she wrote upon the ground in Ogham letters, +“The King of the Land of Mist.” + +“If it be not you who wakens me, love,” she said, “may it be that I +never waken.” + +“Come, daughter of the Enchanter,” said the King of the Land of Mist. + +“Pluck the branch of hawthorn and give it to me that I may fall into my +slumber here,” said Fedelma. + +The King of the Land of Mist plucked a flowering branch of hawthorn +and gave it to her. She held the flowers against her face and fell into +slumber. For a while she and the King of Ireland’s Son were side by side +in sleep. + +Then the King of the Land of Mist took Fedelma in his arms and strode +along that nameless place, over the broken ground with its dead grass +and its black rocks and its stumps and roots of trees and the three +ravens that had escaped the sword of the King of Ire-land’s Son followed +where he went. + + +XV + +Long, long after Fedelma had been taken by the King of the Land of Mist +the King of Ireland’s Son came out of his slumber. He saw around him +that nameless place with its black rocks and bare roots of trees. He +remembered he had come to it with Fedelma. He sprang up and looked for +her, but no one was near him. “Fedelma, Fedelma!” He searched and he +called, but it was as if no one had ever been with him. He found his +sword; be searched for his steed, but the Slight Red Steed was gone too. + +He thought that the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands had followed them +and had taken Fedelma from him. He turned to go towards the Enchanter’s +country and then he found what Fedelma had written upon the ground in +Ogham letters + +____II_____________\/______//___ IIII /\ + +“The King of the Land of Mist” + +He did not know what direction to take to get to the dominion of the +King of the Land of Mist. He crossed the broken ground and he found no +trace of Fedelma nor of him who had taken her. He found himself close to +the Wood of Shadows. He went through it. As he went on he saw scores and +scores of shadows. Nothing else was in the wood--no bird, no squirrel, +no cricket. The shadows had the whole wood to themselves. They ran +swiftly from tree to tree, and now and then one would stop at a tree and +wait. Often the King of Ireland’s Son came close to a waiting shadow. +One became like a small old man with a beard. The King’s Son saw this +shadow again and again. What were they, the shadows, he asked himself? +Maybe they were wise creatures and could tell him what he wanted to +know. + +He thought he heard them whispering together. Then one little shadow +with trailing legs went slowly from tree to tree. The King of Ireland’s +Son thought he would catch and hold a shadow and make it tell him where +he should go to find the dominion of the King of the Land of Mist. + +He went after one shadow and another and waited beside a tree for one to +come. Often he thought he saw the small old man with the beard and +the little creature with trailing legs. And then he began to see other +shadows--men with the heads of rooks and men with queer heavy swords +upon their shoulders. He followed them on and on through the wood and he +heard their whispering becoming louder and louder, and then he thought +that as he went on the shadows, instead of slipping before him, began to +turn back and go past and surround him. Then he heard a voice just under +the ground at his feet say, “Shout--shout out your own name, Son of King +Connal!” Then the King’s Son shouted out his own name and the whispers +ceased in the wood and the shadows went backward and forward no more. + +He went on and came to a stream within the wood and he went against its +flow all night as well as all day, hoping to meet some living thing that +would tell him how he might come to the dominion of the King of the Land +of Mist. In the forenoon of another day he came to where the wood grew +thin and then he went past the last trees. + +He saw a horse grazing: he ran up to it and found that it was the Slight +Red Steed that had carried Fedelma and himself from the house of the +Enchanter. Then as he laid hold of the steed a hound ran up to him and +a hawk flew down and he saw that they were the hawk and the hound that +used to be with him when he rode abroad from his father’s Castle. + +He mounted and seeing his hound at his heel and his hawk circling above +he felt a longing to go back to his father’s Castle which he knew to be +near and where he might find out where the King of the Land of Mist had +his dominion. + +So the King of Ireland’s Son rode back to his father’s Castle-- + + His hound at his heel, + His hawk on his wrist. + + + + +WHEN THE KING OF THE CATS CAME TO KING CONNAL’S DOMINION + + + +I + +The King of Ireland’s Son was home again, but as he kept asking about a +King and a Kingdom no one had ever heard of, people thought he had lost +his wits in his search for the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands. He +rode abroad every day to ask strangers if they knew where the King of +the Land of Mist had his dominion and he came back to his father’s every +night in the hope that one would be at the Castle who could tell him +where the place that he sought was. Maravaun wanted to relate to him +fables from “The Breastplate of Instruction” but the King’s Son did not +hear a word that Maravaun said. After a while he listened to the things +that Art, the King’s Steward, related to him, for it was Art who had +shown the King’s Son the leaden ring that was on his finger. He took it +off, remembering the betrothal ring that the Little Sage had made, and +then he saw that it was not his, but Fedelma’s ring that he wore. Then +he felt as if Fedelma had sent a message to him, and he was less wild in +his thoughts. + +Afterwards, in the evenings, when he came back from his ridings, he +would cross the meadows with Art, the King’s Steward, or would stand +with him while the herdsmen drove the cattle into the byres. Then he +would listen to what Art related to him. And one evening he heard Art +say, “The most remarkable event that happened was the coming into this +land of the King of the Cats.” + +“I will listen to what you tell me about it,” said the King’s Son. +“Then,” said Art, the King’s Steward, “to your father’s Son in all truth +be it told”-- + + + +The King of the Cats stood up. He was a grand creature. His body was +brown and striped across as if one had burned on wood with a hot poker. +Like all the race of the Royal Cats of the Isle of Man he was without a +tail. But he had extraordinarily fine whiskers. They went each side of +his face to the length of a dinner-dish. He had such eyes that when he +turned one of them upward the bird that was flying across dropped from +the sky. And when he turned the other one down he could make a hole in +the floor. + +He lived in the Isle of Man. Once he had been King of the Cats of +Ireland and Britain, of Norway and Denmark, and the whole Northern and +Western World. But after the Norsemen won in the wars the Cats of Norway +and Britain swore by Thor and Odin that they would give him no more +allegiance. So for a hundred years and a day he had got allegiance +only from the Cats of the Western World; that is, from Ireland and the +Islands beyond. + +The tribute he received was still worth having. In May he was sent a +boatful of herring. In August he was let have two boatfuls of mackerel. +In November he was given five barrels of preserved mice. At other +seasons he had for his tribute one out of every hundred birds that flew +across the Island on their way to Ireland--tomtits, pee-wits, linnets, +siskins, starlings, martins, wrens and tender young barn owls. He was +also sent the following as marks of allegiance and respect: a salmon, +to show his dominion over the rivers; the skin of a marten to show his +dominion in the woods; a live cricket to show his dominion in the houses +of men; the horn of a cow, to show his right to a portion of the milk +produced in the Western World. + + +But the tribute from the Western World became smaller and smaller. One +year the boat did not come with the herring. Mackerel was sent to him +afterwards but he knew it was sent to him because so much was +being taken out of the sea that the farmer-men were plowing their +mackerel-catches into the land to make their crops grow. Then a year +came when he got neither the salmon nor the marten skin, neither the +live cricket nor the cow’s horn. Then he got righteously and royally +indignant. He stood up on his four paws on the floor of his palace, and +declared to his wife that he himself was going to Ireland to know what +prevented the sending of his lawful tribute to him. He called for +his Prime Minister then and said, “Prepare for Us our Speech from the +Throne.” + +The Prime Minister went to the Parliament House and wrote down “Oyez, +Oyez, Oyez!” But he could not remember any more of the ancient language +in which the speeches from the Throne were always written. He went home +and hanged himself with a measure of tape and his wife buried the body +under the hearth-stone. + +“Speech or no speech,” said the King of the Cats, “I’m going to pay a +royal visit to my subjects in Ireland.” + +He went to the top of the cliff and he made a spring. He landed on the +deck of a ship that was bringing the King of Norway’s daughter to be +married to the King of Scotland’s son. The ship nearly sank with the +crash of his body on it. He ran up the sails and placed himself on the +mast of the ship. There he gathered his feet together and made another +spring. This time he landed on a boat that was bringing oak-timber to +build a King’s Palace in London. He stood where the timber was highest +and made another spring. This time he landed on the Giant’s Causeway +that runs from Ireland out into the sea. He picked his steps from +boulder to boulder, and then walked royally and resolutely on the ground +of Ireland. A man was riding on horseback with a woman seated on the +saddle behind him. The King of the Cats waited until they came up. + +“My good man,” said he very grandly, “when you go back to your house, +tell the ash-covered cat in the corner that the King of the Cats has come +to Ireland to see him.” + +His manner was so grand that the man took off his hat and the woman made +a courtesy. Then the King of the Cats sprang into the branch of a tree +of the forest and slept till it was past the mid-day heat. + +I nearly forgot to tell you that as he slept on the branch his whiskers +stood around his face the breadth of a dinner-dish either way. + + + +II + +The next day the King’s Son rode abroad and where he went that day he +saw no man nor woman nor living creature in the land around. But coming +back he saw a falcon sailing in the air above. He rode on and the falcon +sailed above, never rising high in the air, and never swooping down. +The King’s Son fitted an arrow to his bow and shot at the falcon. +Immediately it rose in the air and flew swiftly away, but a feather from +it fell before him. The King’s Son picked the feather up. It was a blue +feather. Then the King’s Son thought of Fedelma’s falcon--of the bird +that flew above them when they rode across the Meadows of Brightness. +It might be Fedelma’s falcon, the one he had shot at, and it might have +come to show him the way to the Land of Mist. But the falcon was not to +be seen now. + +He did not go amongst the strangers in his father’s Castle that evening; +but he stood with Art who was watching the herdsmen drive the cattle +into the byres. And Art after a while said, “I will tell you more about +the coming of the King of the Cats into King Connal’s Dominion. And as +before I say + +“To your father’s Son in all truth be it told “-- + + +The King of the Cats waited on the branch of the tree until the moon +was in the sky like a roast duck on a dish of gold, and still neither +retainer, vassal nor subject came to do him service. He was vexed, I +tell you, at the want of respect shown him. + +This was the reason why none of his subjects came to him for such a long +time: The man and woman he had spoken to went into their house and did +not say a word about the King of the Cats until they had eaten their +supper. Then when the man had smoked his second pipe, he said to the +woman: “That was a wonderful thing that happened to us to-day. A cat to +walk up to two Christians and say to them, ‘Tell the ashy pet in your +chimney corner at home that the King of the Cats has come to see him.’” + +No sooner were the words said than the lean, gray, ash-covered cat that +lay on the hearthstone sprang on the back of the man’s chair. + +“I will say this,” said the man; “it’s a bad time when two Christians +like ourselves are stopped on their way back from the market and +ordered--ordered, no less--to give a message to one’s own cat lying on +one’s own hearthstone.” + +“By my fur and daws, you’re a long time coming to his message,” said the +cat on the back of the chair; “what was it, anyway?” + +“The King of the Cats has come to Ireland to see you,” said the man, +very much surprised. + +“It’s a wonder you told it at all,” said the cat, going to the door. +“And where did you see His Majesty?” + +“You shouldn’t have spoken,” said the man’s wife. + +“And how did I know a cat could understand?” said the man. + +“When you have done talking amongst yourselves,” said the cat, “would +you tell me where you met His Majesty?” + +“Nothing will I tell you,” said the man, “until I hear your own name +from you.” + +“My name,” said the cat, “is Quick-to-Grab, and well you should know +it.” + +“Not a word will we tell you,” said the woman, “until we hear what the +King of the Cats is doing in Ireland. Is he bringing wars and rebellions +into the country?” + +“Wars and rebellions,--no, ma’am,” said Quick-to-Grab, “but deliverance +from oppression. Why are the cats of the country lean and lazy and +covered with ashes? It is because the cat that goes outside the house in +the sunlight, to hunt or to play, is made to suffer with the loss of an +eye.” + +“And who makes them suffer with the loss of an eye?” said the woman. +“One whose reign is nearly over now,” said Quick-to-Grab. “But tell me +where you saw His Majesty?” + +“No,” said the man. “No,” said the woman, “for we don’t like your +impertinence. Back with you to the hearthstone, and watch the mouse-hole +for us.” + +Quick-to-Grab walked straight out of the door. + +“May no prosperity come to this house,” said he, “for denying me when I +asked where the King of the Cats was pleased to speak to you.” + +But he put his ear to the door when he went outside and he heard the +woman say,-- + +“The horse will tell him that we saw the King of the Cats a mile this +side of the Giant’s Causeway.” (That was a mistake. The horse could +not have told it at all, because horses never know the language that is +spoken in houses--only cats know it fully and dogs know a little of it.) + +Quick-to-Grab now knew where the King of the Cats might be found. He +went creeping by hedges, loping across fields, bounding through woods, +until he came under the branch in the forest where the King of the +Cats rested, his whiskers standing round his face the breadth of a +dinner-dish. + +When he came-under the branch Quick-to-Grab mewed a little in Egyptian, +which is the ceremonial language of the Cats. The King of the Cats came +to the end of the branch. + +“Who are you, vassal?” said he in Phoenician. + +“A humble retainer of my lord,” said Quick-to-Grab in High-Pictish (this +is a language very suitable to cats but it is only their historians who +now use it). + +They continued their conversation in Irish. + +“What sign shall I show the others that will make them know you are the +King of the Cats?” said Quick-to-Grab. + +The King of the Cats chased up the tree and pulled down heavy branches. +“There is a sign of my royal prowess,” said he. + +“It’s a good sign,” said Quick-to-Grab. They were about to talk again +when Quick-to-Grab put down his tail and ran up another tree greatly +frightened. + +“What ails you?” said the King of the Cats. “Can you not stay still +while you are speaking to your lord and master?” + +“Old-fellow Badger is coming this way,” said Quick-to-Grab, “and when he +puts his teeth in one he never lets go.” + +Without saying a word the King of the Cats jumped down from the tree. +Old-fellow Badger was coming through the glade. When he saw the King of +the Cats crouching there he stopped and bared his terrible teeth. The +King of the Cats bent himself to spring. Then Old-fellow Badger turned +round and went lumbering back. + +“Oh, by my claws and fur,” said Quick-to-Grab, “you are the real King of +the Cats. Let me be your Councillor. Let me advise your Majesty in the +times that will be so difficult for your subjects and yourself. Know +that the Cats of Ireland are impoverished and oppressed. They are under +a terrible tyranny.” + +“Who oppresses my vassals, retainers and subjects?” said the King of the +Cats. + +“The Eagle-Emperor. He has made a law that no cat may leave a man’s +house as long as the birds (he makes an exception in the case of owls) +have any business abroad.” + +“I will tear him to pieces,” said the King of the Cats. “How can I reach +him?” + +“No cat has thought of reaching him,” said Quick-to-Grab, “they only +think of keeping out of his way. Now let me advise your Majesty. None +of our enemies must know that you have come into this country. You must +appear as a common cat.” + +“What, me?” said the King of the Cats. + +“Yes, your Majesty, for the sake of the deliverance of your subjects you +will have to appear as a common cat.” + +“And be submissive and eat scraps?” + +“That will be only in the daytime,” said Quick-to-Grab, “in the +night-time you will have your court and your feasts.” + +“At least, let the place I stay in be no hovel,” said the King of +the Cats. “I shall refuse to go into a house where there are washing +days--damp clothes before a fire and all that.” + +“I shall use my best diplomacy to safeguard your comfort and dignity,” + said Quick-to-Grab, “please invest me as your Prime Minister.” + +The King of the Cats invested Quick-to-Grab by biting the fur round his +neck. Then the King and his Prime Minister parted. The King of the Cats +took up quarters for a day or two in a round tower. Quick-to-Grab made a +journey through the country-side. He went into every house and whispered +a word to every cat that was there, and whether the cat was watching a +mouse-hole, or chasing crickets, or playing with kittens, when he or she +heard that word they sat up and considered. + + + +III + + +Early, early, next day the King of Ireland’s Son rode out in search +of the blue falcon, but although he rode from the ring of day to the +gathering of the dark clouds he saw no sign of it on rock or tree or in +the air. Very wearily he rode back, and after his horse was stabled he +stood with Art in the meadows watching the cattle being driven by. And +Art, the King’s Steward, said: “The Coming of the King of the Cats into +King Connal’s dominion is a story still to be told. To your father’s +Son in all truth be it told”-- + + +Quick-to-Grab, in consultation with the Seven Elders of the Cat-Kin +decided that the Blacksmith’s forge would be a fit residence for the +King of the Cats. It was clean and commodious. But the best reason of +all for his going there was this: people and beasts from all parts +came into the forge and the King of the Cats might learn from their +discussions where the Eagle-Emperor was and how he might be destroyed. + +His Majesty found that the Forge was not a bad residence for a King +living unbeknownst. It was dry and warm. He liked the look of the flames +that mounted up with the blowing of the bellows. He used to sit on a +heap of old saddles on the floor and watch the horses being shod or +waiting to be shod. He listened to the talk of the men. The people in +the Forge treated him respectfully and often referred to his size, his +appearance and his fine manners. + +Every night he went out to a feast that the cats had prepared for him. +Quick-to-Grab always walked back to the Forge with him to give a Prime +Minister’s advice. He warned His Majesty not to let the human beings +know that he understood and could converse in their language--(all cats +know men’s language, but men do not know that the cats know). He told +him not to be too haughty (as a King might be inclined to be) to any +creature in the Forge. + +The King of the Cats took this advice. He used even to twitch his ears +as a mark of respect to Mahon, the hound whose kennel was just outside +the forge, and to the hounds that Mahon had to visit him. He even made +advances to the Cock who walked up and down outside. + +This Cock made himself very annoying to the King of the Cats. He used +to strut up and down saying to himself over and over again, “I’m +Cock-o’-the-Walk, I’m Cock-o’-the-Walk.” Sometimes he would come into +the Forge and say it to the horses. The King of the Cats wondered how +the human beings could put up with a creature who was so stupid and so +vain. He had a red comb that fell over one eye. He had purple feathers +on his tail. He had great spurs on his heels. He used to put his head on +one side and yawn when the King of the Cats appeared. + +Cock-o’-the-Walk used to come into the Forge at night and sleep on the +bellows. And when the King of the Cats came back from the feasts he +used to waken up and say to himself, “I’m Cock-o’-the-Walk, I’m +Cock-o’-the-Walk. The Cats are not a respectable people.” + +One noonday there were men in the Forge. They were talking to the Smith. +Said one, “Could you tell us, Smith, where iron came from?” The King of +the Cats knew but he said nothing. Cock-o’-the-Walk came to the door and +held his head as if he were listening. + +“I can’t tell where iron came from,” said the Smith, “but if that Cock +could talk he could tell you. The world knows that the Cock is the +wisest and the most ancient of creatures.” + +“I’m Cock-o’-the-Walk,” said the Cock to a rusty ass’s shoe. + +“Yes, the Cock is a wonderful creature,” said the man who had asked the +question. + +“Not wonderful at all,” said the King of the Cats, “and if you had asked +me I could have told you where iron came from.” + +“And where did iron come from?” said the Smith. + +“From the Mountains of the Moon,” said the King of the Cats. + +The men in the Forge put their hands on their knees and looked down at +him. Mahon the hound came into the Forge with other hounds at his tail, +and seeing the men looking at the King of the Cats, Mahon put his nose +to him. Cock-o’-the-Walk flapped his wings insolently. The King of the +Cats struck at the red hanging comb with his paw. The Cock flew up in +the air. The King of the Cats sprang out of the window, and as he did, +Mahon and the other hounds sprang after him-- + + +IV + +The King of Ireland’s Son rode towards the East the next day, and in the +first hour’s journey he saw the blue falcon sailing above. He followed +where it went and the falcon never lifted nor stooped, but sailed +steadily on, only now and again beating the air with its wings. Over +benns and through glens and across moors the blue falcon flew and the +King of Ireland’s Son followed. Then his horse stumbled; he could not go +any further, and he lost sight of the blue falcon. + +Black night was falling down on the ground when he came back to the +King’s Castle. Art, the King’s Steward, was waiting for him and he +walked beside his limping horse. And Art said when they were a little +way together, “The Coming of the King of the Cats is a story still to be +told. + +“To your father’s Son in all truth be it told “-- + + +By the magic powers they possessed it was made known to all the cats +in the country that their King was being pursued by the hounds. Then on +every hearthstone a cat howled. Cats sprang to the doors, overturning +cradles upon children. They stood upon the thresholds and they all made +the same curse--“That ye may break your backs, that ye may break your +backs before ye catch the King of the Cats.” + +When he heard the howls of his vassals, retainers and subjects, the King +of the Cats turned over on his back and clawed at the first hound that +came after him. He stood up then. So firmly did he set himself on his +four legs that those that dashed at him did not overthrow him. He +humped up his body and lifted his forepaws. The hounds held back. A horn +sounded and that gave them an excuse to get away from the claws and the +teeth, the power and the animosity of the King of the Cats. + +Then, even though it might cost each and every one of them the loss of +an eye, the cats that had sight of him came running up. “We will go with +you, my lord, we will help you, my lord,” they cried all together. + +“Go back to the hearthstones,” said the King of the Cats. “Go back and +be civil and quiet again in the houses. You will hear of my deeds. I go +to find the tracks of our enemy, the Eagle-Emperor.” + +When they heard that announcement the cats lamented, and the noise of +their lamentation was so dreadful that horses broke their harnesses +where they were yoked; men and women lost the color of their faces +thinking some dreadful visitation was coming on the land; every bag of +oats and rye turned five times to the right and five times to the left +with the fright it got; dishes were broken, knives were hurled round, +and the King’s Castle was shaken to the bottom stone. + +“It is not the time to seek the tracks of the Eagle-Emperor,” said +Quick-to-Grab. “Stay for a while longer in men’s houses.” + +“Never,” said the King of the Cats. “Never will I stay by the +hearthstone and submit to be abused by cocks and hounds and men. I will +range the world openly now and seek out the enemy of the Cat-Kind, the +Eagle-Emperor.” + +Without once turning his back he went towards the wood that was filled +with his enemies, the birds. The cats, when they saw their petitions +were no use, went everyone back to the house where he or she stayed. +Each one sat before a mouse-hole and pretended to be watching. But +though mice stirred all round them the cats of Ireland never turned a +head that night. + +It was the wren, the smallest of birds, that saw him and knew him for +the King of the Cats. The wren flew through the wood to summon the +Hawk-Clan. But it was towards sunset now and the hawks had taken up +their stations at the edge of the wood to watch that they might pick up +the farmers’ chickens. They wouldn’t turn an eye when the wren told +them that a cat was in the wood during the time forbidden to cats to be +outside the houses of men. “It is the King of the Cats,” said the wren. +None of the hawks lifted a wing. They were waiting for the chickens that +would stray about the moment after sunset. + +But if the wren couldn’t rouse the Hawk-Clan she was able to rouse the +other bird-tribes. “A cat, a cat, on your lives a cat,” she called out +as she flew through the wood. The rooks that were going home now rose +above the trees, cawing threats. The blackbirds, thrushes and jays +screamed as they flew before the King of the Cats. The woodpeckers, +hedge-sparrows, tom-tits, robins and linnets chattered as they flew +behind him. Sometimes the young rooks made a great show of attacking +him. They flew down from the flock. “He is here, here, here,” they cawed +and flew up again. The rooks kept telling themselves and the other birds +in the wood what they were going to do with the King of the Cats. But a +single raven did more against him than the thousand rooks that made so +much noise. This raven was in a hole in the tree. She struck the King of +the Cats on the head with her beak as he went past. + +The King of the Cats was annoyed by the uproar the birds were making and +he was angered by the raven’s stroke, but he did not want to enter into +a battle with the birds. He was on his way to the house of the Hag of +the Wood who was then known as the Hag of the Ashes. Now as this is the +first time you have heard of the Hag of the Ashes, I’ll have to tell +you how the King of the Cats had heard of her and how he knew where her +house was in the wood. + + + +V + +The next day the King’s Son put a bridle on the Slight Red Steed and +rode towards the East again. He saw the blue falcon and he followed +where it flew. Over benns, and through glens and across mountains and +moors the blue falcon went and the Slight Red Steed neither swerved nor +stumbled but went as the bird flew. The falcon lighted on a pine tree +that grew alone. The King’s Son rode up and put his hands to the tree +to climb and put his head against it, and as he did he heard speech from +the tree. “The stroke of the Sword of Light will slay the King of the +Land of Mist and the stroke of the Sword of Light that will cut a tress +of her hair will awaken Fedelma.” There was no more speech from the tree +and the falcon rose from its branches and flew high up in the air. Then +the King of Ireland’s Son rode back towards his father’s Castle. + +He went to the meadow and stood with Art and listened to what Art had to +tell him. And as before the King’s Steward began-- + +“To your father’s Son in all truth be it told”-- + + +Quick-to-Grab had said to the King of the Cats, “If ever you need the +counsel of a human being, go to no one else but the Hag of the Ashes who +was once called the Hag of the Wood. In the very centre of the wood four +ash trees are drawn together at the tops, wattles are woven round these +ash trees, and in the little house made in this way the Hag of the Ashes +lives, with no one near her since her nine daughters went away, but her +goat that’s her only friend.” The King of the Cats was now in the centre +of the wood. He saw four ash trees drawn together at the tops and he +jumped to them. + +Now the Hag of the Ashes had a bad neighbor. This was a crane that had +built her nest across the roof of the little house. The nest prevented +the smoke from coming out at the top and the house below was filled +with it. The Hag could hardly keep alive on account of the smoke and she +could neither take away the nest nor banish the bird. + +The crane was there when the King of the Cats sprang on the roof. She +was sitting with her two legs stretched out, and when the King of the +Cats came down beside her she slipped away and sailed over the trees. +“Time for me to be going,” said the crane. And from that day to this she +never came back to the house of the Hag of the Ashes. + +“Oh, thanks to you, good creature,” said the Hag of the Ashes, coming +out of the house. “Tear down her nest now and let the smoke rise up +through the roof.” + +The King of the Cats tore up the sticks and wool that the crane’s nest +was made of, and the smoke came up through the top of the house. “Oh, +thanks to you, good creature, that has destroyed the cross crane’s nest. +Come down on my floor now and I’ll do everything that will serve you.” + +The King of the Cats jumped down on the floor of the Hag’s house and saw +the Hag of the Ashes sitting in a corner, She was a little, little woman +in a gray cloak. All over the floor there were ashes in heaps, for +she used to light a fire in one corner and when it was burnt out light +another beside the ashes of the first. The smoke had never gone through +the hole in the roof since the crane had built her nest on the top of +the house. Her face was yellow with the smoke and her eyes were half +closed on account of it. + +“Do you know who I am, Hag of the Ashes?” said the King of the Cats when +he stood on the floor. + +“You are a cat, honey,” said the Hag of the Ashes. “I am the King of the +Cats.” + +“The King of the Cats you are indeed. And it was you who let the smoke +out of the top of my little house by destroying the nest the cross crane +had built on it.” + +“It was I who did that.” + +“Welcome to you then, King of the Cats. And what service can the Hag of +the Ashes do for you in return?” + +“I would go to where the Eagle-Emperor is. You must show me the way.” + +“By my cloak I will do that. The Eagle-Emperor lives on the top of the +Hill of Horns.” + +“And how can I get to the top of the Hill of Horns?” + +“I don’t know how you can get there at all. All over the Hill is bare +starvation. No four-footed thing can reach the top--no four-footed +thing, I mean, but my goat that’s tied to the hawthorn bush outside.” + +“I will ride on the back of your goat to the top of the Hill of Horns.” + +“No, no, good King of the Cats. I have only my goat for company and how +could I bear to be parted from him?” + +“Lend me your goat, and when I come back from the Hill of Horns I will +plate his horns with gold and shoe his hooves with silver.” + +“No, no, good King of the Cats. How could I bear my goat to be away from +me, and I having no other company?” + +“If you do not let me ride on your goat to the top of the Hill of Horns +I will leave a sign on your house that will bring the cross crane to +build her nest on the top of it again.” + +“Then take my goat, King of the Cats, take my goat but let him come back +to me soon.” + +“I will. Come with me now and bid him take me to the top of the Hill of +Horns.” + +The King of the Cats marched out of the house and the Hag of the Ashes +hobbled after him. The goat was lying under the hawthorn bush. He put +his horns to the ground when they came up to him. + +“Will you go to the Hill of Horns?” said the Hag of the Ashes. + +“Indeed, that I will not do,” said the goat. + +“Oh, the soft tops of the hedges on the way to the Hill of Horns--sweet +in the mouth of a goat they should be,” said the Hag of the Ashes. “But +my own poor goat wants to stay here and eat the tops of the burnt-up +thistles.” + +“Why didn’t you tell me of the hedges on the way to the Hill of Horns +before?” said the goat, rising to his feet. “To the Hill of Horns I’ll +go.” + +“And will you let a cat ride on your back to the Hill of Horns?” + +“Indeed, I will not do that.” + +“Then, my poor goat, I’ll not untie the rope that’s round your neck, for +you can’t go to the Hill of Horns without this cat riding on your back.” + +“Let him sit on my back then and hold my horns, and I’ll take no notice +of him.” + +The Hag of the Ashes untied the rope that was round his neck, the King +of the Cats jumped up on the goat’s back, and they started off on the +path through the wood. “Oh, how I’ll miss my goat, until he comes back +to me with gold on his horns and silver on his hooves,” the Hag of the +Ashes cried after them. + + + +VI + +The King of Ireland’s Son did not leave the Castle the next day, but +stayed to question those who came to it about the Sword of Light. And +some had heard of the Sword of Light and some had not heard of it. In +the afternoon he was in the chambers of the Castle and he watched his +two foster-brothers, Dermott and Downal, the sons of Caintigern, the +Queen, playing chess. They played the game upon his board and with his +figures. And when he went up to them and told them they had permission +to use the board and the figures, they said, “We had forgotten that you +owned these things.” The King’s Son saw that everything in the Castle +was coming into the possession of his foster-brothers. + +He found another board with other chess-men and he played a game with +the King’s Steward. And Art said, “The coming of the King of the Cats +into King Connal’s Dominion is a story still to be told. + +“To your father’s Son in all truth be it told “-- + + +What should a goat do but ramble down laneways, wander across fields, +stray along hedges and stay to rest under shady trees? All this the +Hag’s goat did. But at last he brought the King of the Cats to the foot +of the Hill of Horns. + +And what was the Hill of Horns like, asks my kind foster-child. It was +hills of stones on the top of a hill of stones. Only a goat could foot +it from pebble to stone, from stone to boulder, from boulder Ko crag, +and from crag to mountain-shoulder. It was well and not ill what the +Hag’s goat did. But then thunder sounded; lightning struck fire out of +the stones, the wind mixed itself with the rain and the tempest pelted +cat and goat. The goat stood on a mountain-shoulder. The wind rushed +up from the bottom and carried the companions to the top of the Hill of +Horns. Down sprang the cat. But the goat stood on his hind-legs to +butt back at the wind. The wind caught him between the beard and the +under-quarters and swept him from the top and down the other side of the +hill (and what happened to the Hag’s goat after this I never heard). The +King of the Cats put his claws into the crevices of a standing stone and +held to it with great tenacity. And then, when the wind abated and he +looked across his shoulder, he found that he was standing beside the +nest of the Eagle-Emperor. + +It was a hollow edged with rocks, and round that hollow were scattered +the horns of the deer and goats that the Eagle-Emperor had carried off. +And in the hollow there was a calf and a hare and a salmon. The King of +the Cats sprang into the Eagle-Emperor’s nest. First he ate the salmon. +Then he stretched himself between the hare and the calf and waited for +the Eagle-Emperor. + +At last he appeared. Down he came to the nest making circles in the air. +He lighted on the rocky rim. The King of the Cats rose with body bent +for the spring, and if the Eagle-Emperor was not astonished at his +appearance it was because an Eagle can never be astonished. + +A brave man would be glad if he could have seen the Eagle-Emperor as +he crouched there on the rock rim of his nest. He spread down his wings +till they were great strong shields. He bent down his outspread tail. +He bent down his neck so that his eyes might look into the creature that +faced him. And his cruel, curved, heavy beak was ready for the stroke. + +But the King of the Cats sprang into the air. The Eagle lifted himself +up but the Cat came down on his broad back. The Eagle-Emperor screamed +his war-scream and flew off the hill. He struck at the King of the Cats +with the backs of his broad wings. Then he plunged down. On the stones +below he would tear his enemy with beak and claws. + +It was the Cat that reached the ground. As the Eagle went to strike at +him he sprang again and tore the Eagle’s breast. Then the Eagle-Emperor +caught the King of the Cats in his claws and flew up again, screaming +his battle-scream. Drops of blood from both fell on the ground. The +Eagle had not a conqueror’s grip on his enemy and the King of the Cats +was able to tear at him. + +It happened that Curoi, King of the Munster Fairies, was marching at the +head of his troop to play a game of hurling with the Fianna of Ireland, +captained by Fergus, and for the hand of Aine’, the daughter of +Mananaun, the Lord of the Sea. Just when the ball was about to be thrown +in the air the Eagle-Emperor and the King of the Cats were seen mixed +together in their struggle. One troop took the side of the Eagle and the +other took the side of the Cat. The men of the country came up and took +sides too. Then the men began to fight amongst themselves and some were +left dead on the ground. And this went on until there were hosts of the +men of Ireland fighting each other on account of the Eagle-Emperor +and the King of the Cats. The King of the Fairies and the Chief of the +Fianna marched their men away to a hill top where they might watch the +battle in the air and the battles on the ground. “If this should go +on,” said Curoi, “our troops will join in and men and Fairies will be +slaughtered. We must end the combat in the air.” Saying this he took up +the hurling-ball and flung it at the Cat and Eagle. Both came down on +the ground. The Cat was about to spring, the Eagle was about to pounce, +when Curoi darted between them and struck both with his spear. Eagle and +Cat became figures of stone. And there they are now, a Stone Eagle with +his wings outspread and a Stone Cat with his teeth bared and his paws +raised. And the Eagle-Emperor and the King of the Cats will remain like +that until Curoi strikes them again with his fairy-spear. + +When the Cat and the Eagle were turned into stone the men of the country +wondered for a while and then they went away. And the Fairies of Munster +and the Fianna of Ireland played the hurling match for the hand of Aine’ +the daughter of Mananaun who is Lord of the Sea, and what the result of +that hurling match was is told in another book. + +And that ends my history of the coming into Ire-land of the King of the +Cats. + + +The King of Ireland’s Son left Art and went into an unused room in the +Castle to search for a little bell that he might put upon the Slight Red +Steed. He found the little bell, but it fell out of his hand and slipped +through a crack in the floor. He went and looked through the crack. He +saw below a room and in it was Caintigern, the Queen, and beside her +were two women in the cloaks of enchantresses. And when he looked again +he knew the two of them--they were Aefa and Gilveen, the daughters of +the enchanter of the Black Back-Lands and Fedelma’s sisters. “And +will my two sons come to rule over their father’s dominion?” he heard +Caintigern ask. + +“The Prince who gains the Sword of Light will rule over his father’s +dominion,” Aefa said. + +“Then one of my sons must get the Sword of Light,” Caintigern said. +“Tell me where they must go to get knowledge of where it is.” + +“Only the Gobaun Saor knows where the Sword of Light is,” said Aefa. + +“The Gobaun Saor! Can he be seen by men?” said Caintigern. + +“He can be seen,” said Aefa. “And there is one--the Little Sage of the +Mountain--who can tell what road to go to find the Gobaun Saor.” + +“Then,” said Caintigern, “my two sons, Dermott and Downal, will ride out +to-morrow to find the Little Sage of the Mountain, and the Gobaun Saor, +so that one of them may find the Sword of Light and come to rule over +his father’s dominion.” + +When the King of Ireland’s Son heard that, he went to the stable where +the Slight Red Steed was, and put the bridle upon him and rode towards +the Hill of Horns, on one side of which was the house thatched with the +one great wing of a bird, where the Little Sage of the Mountain lived. + + + + +THE SWORD OF LIGHT + +AND THE UNIQUE TALE WITH AS MUCH OF THE ADVENTURES OF GILLY OF THE +GOATSKIN AS IS GIVEN IN “THE CRANESKIN BOOK” + + + +I + +He came to the house that was thatched with the one great wing of a +bird, and, as before, the Little Sage of the Mountain asked him to do a +day’s work. The King’s Son reaped the corn for the Little Sage, and as +he was reaping it his two foster-brothers, Dermott and Downal, rode by +on their fine horses. They did not know who the young fellow was who +was reaping in the field and they shouted for the Little Sage of the +Mountain to come out of the house and speak to them. “We want to know +where to find the Gobaun Saor who is to give us the Sword of Light,” + said Dermott. + +“Come in,” said the Sage, “and help me with my day’s work, and I’ll +search in my book for some direction.” + +“We can’t do such an unprincely thing as take service with you,” said +Downal. “Tell us now where we must go to find the Gobaun Saor.” + +“I think you have made a mistake,” said the Little Sage. “I’m an +ignorant man, and I can’t answer such a question without study.” + +“Ride on, brother,” said Downal, “he can tell us nothing.” Dermott and +Downal rode off on their fine horses, the silver bells on their bridles +ringing. + +That night, when he had eaten his supper, the Little Sage told the +King’s Son where to go. It is forbidden to tell where the King of +Ireland’s Son found the Builder and Shaper for the Gods. In a certain +place he came to where the Gobaun Saor had set up his forge and planted +his anvil, and he saw the Gobaun Saor beating on a shape of iron. + +“You want to find the Sword of Light,” said the Gobaun, his eyes as +straight as the line of a sword-blade, “but show me first your will, +your mind and your purpose.” + +“How can I do that?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“Guard my anvil for a few nights,” said the Gobaun Saor. “A Fua comes +out of the river sometimes and tries to carry it off.” + +The Gobaun Saor had to make a journey to look at trees that were growing +in the forest, and the King’s Son guarded his anvil. And at night a Fua +came out of the river and flung great stones, striving to drive him away +from the anvil. He ran down to the river bank to drive it away, but the +creature caught him in its long arms and tried to drown him in the deep +water. The King of Ireland’s Son was near his death, but he broke away +from the Fua, and when the creature caught him again, he dragged it up +the bank and held it against a tree. “I will give you the mastery of +all arts because you have mastered me,” said the Fua. “I do not want the +mastery of arts, but maybe you can tell me where to find the Sword +of Light.” “You want to know that--do you?” said the Fua, and then it +twisted from him and went into the river. + +The Fua came the next night and flung stones as before, and the King’s +Son wrestled with it in the very middle of the river, and held him +so that he could not get to the other bank. “I will give you heaps of +wealth because you have mastered me,” said the creature with the big +eyes and the long arms. “Not wealth, but the knowledge of where to +come on the Sword of Light is what I want from you,” said the King of +Ireland’s Son. But the Fua twisted from him and ran away again. + +The next night the Fua came again, and the King’s Son wrestled with him +in the middle of the river and followed him up the other bank, and held +him against a tree. “I will give you the craft that will make you +the greatest of Kings, because you have mastered me.” “Not craft, but +knowledge of where the Sword of Light is, I want from you,” said the +King’s Son. “Only one of the People of Light can tell you that,” said +the Fua. It became a small, empty sort of creature and lay on the ground +like a shadow. + +The Gobaun Saor came back to his forge and his anvil. “You have guarded +my anvil for me,” he said, “and I will tell you where to go for the +Sword of Light. It is in the Palace of the Ancient Ones under the Lake. +You have an enchanted steed that can go to that Lake. I shall turn his +head, and he shall go straight to it. When you come to the edge of the +Lake pull the branches of the Fountain Tree and give the Slight Red +Steed the leaves to eat. Mount now and go.” + +The King of Ireland’s Son mounted the Slight Red Steed and went +traveling again. + + +II + +From all its branches, high and low, water was falling in little +streams. This was the Fountain Tree indeed. He did not dismount, the +King of Ireland’s Son, but pulled the branches and he gave them to the +Slight Red Steed to eat. + +He ate no more than three mouthfuls. Then he stamped on the ground with +his hooves, lifted his head high and neighed three times. With that he +plunged into the water of the Lake and swam and swam as if he had the +strength of a dragon. He swam while there was light on the water and he +swam while there was night on the water, and when the sun of the next +day was a hand’s breadth above the lake he came to the Black Island. + +All on that Island was black and burnt, and there were black ashes up to +the horse’s knees. And no sooner had the Slight Red Steed put his hooves +on the Island than he galloped straight to the middle of it. He +galloped through an opening in the black rock and went through a hundred +passages, each going lower than the other, and at last he came into the +wide space of a hall. + +The hall was lighted. When the King’s Son looked to see where the light +came from he saw a sword hanging from the roof. And the brightness of +the Sword was such that the hall was well lighted. The King of Ireland’s +Son galloped the Slight Red Steed forward and made it rear up. His hand +grasped the hilt of the Sword. As he pulled it down the Sword screeched +in his hand. + +He flashed it about and saw what other things were in the Cave. He saw +one woman, and two women and three women. He came to them and he saw +they were sleeping. And as he flashed the Sword about he saw other women +sleeping too. There were twelve women in the Cave where the Sword of +Light had been hanging and the women were sleeping. + +And in the hands of each of the sleeping women was a great gemmed cup. +The spirit of the King’s Son had grown haughty since he felt the Sword +in his hands. “You have the sword, why should you not have the cup?” + something within him said. He took a cup from the hands of one of the +sleeping women and drank the bubbling water that it held. His spirit +grew more haughty with that draught. From the hands of each of the +twelve sleeping women he took the cup and he drank the draught of +bubbling water that it held. And when he had drunk the twelve draughts +of bubbling water he felt that with the Sword of Light in his hands he +could cut his way through the earth. + +He mounted the Slight Red Steed and rode it through the Cave and swam +it across the Lake with No Name. He held the Sword of Light across his +saddle. The Steed went as the current drew him, for it was long since he +had eaten the leaves of the Fountain Tree, and the spirit that had made +him vigorous coming was feeble now. The current brought them to the +shore below where the Fountain Tree grew. + + +And there on the shore he saw a bunch of little men, little women and +littler children, all with smoke-colored skins, all with but one eye in +their heads, all crying and screaming at each other like sea-birds, and +all sitting round a fire of dried water weeds, cooking and eating eels +and crab-apples. + +The King of Ireland’s Son put his hands on the bridle-rein and drew the +Slight Red Steed out of the water. The women with one right eye and +the men with one left eye, and the children in their bare smoky skins +screamed at him, “What do you want, what do you want, man with the +horse?” + +“Feed and water my steed for me,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“We are the Swallow People, and no one commands us to do things,” said +an old fellow with a beard like knots of ropes. + +“Feed my steed with red wheat and water it with pure spring water,” said +the King’s Son fiercely. “I am the King of Ireland’s Son and the Sword +of Light is in my hands, and what I command must be done.” + +“We are the Swallow People and we are accounted a harmless people,” said +the old fellow. + +“Why are ye harmless?” said the King’s Son, and he flourished the sword +at them. + +“Come into our cave, King’s Son,” said the old fellow, “we will give you +refreshment there, and the children will attend to your steed.” + +He went into the cave with certain of the Swallow People. They were all +unmannerly. They kept screaming and crying to each other; they pulled +at the clothes of the King’s Son and pinched him. One of them bit his +hands. When they came into the cave they all sat down on black stones. +One pulled in a black ass loaded with nets. They took the nets off its +back, and before the King’s Son knew that anything was about to happen +they threw the nets around him. The meshes of the nets were sticky. He +felt himself caught. He ran at the Swallow People and fell over a stone. +Then they drew more nets around his legs. + +The old fellow whom he had commanded took up the Sword of Light. Then +the Swallow People pulled up the ass that had carried the nets and +rubbed its hard hoof on the Sword. The King’s Son did not know what +happened to it. Then he heard them cry, “The brightness is gone off the +thing now.” They left the Sword on a black rock, and now no light came +from it. Then all the Swallow People scrambled out of the cave. + +They came back eating eels and crab-apples out of their hands. They paid +no attention to the King of Ireland’s Son, but climbed into a cave above +where he was lying. + +He broke the nets that were round him. He found the Sword on the black +stones, with the brightness all gone from it because of the rubbing with +the ass’s hoof. He climbed up the wall of the other cave to punish the +Swallow People. They saw him before he could see them in the darkness, +and they all went into holes and hid themselves as if they were rats and +mice. + +With the blackened sword in his hands the King of Ireland’s Son went out +of the Cave, and the horse he had left behind, the Slight Red Steed, was +not to be found. + + +III + +Without a steed and with a blackened sword the King of Ireland’s Son +came to where the Gobaun Saor had set up his forge and planted his +anvil. No water nor sand would clean the Sword, but he left it down +before the Gobaun Saor, hoping that he would show him a way to dean it. +“The Sword must be bright that will kill the King of the Land of Mist +and cut the tress that will awaken the Enchanter’s daughter,” said the +Gobaun Saor. “You have let the Sword be blackened. Carry the blackened +Sword with you now.” + +“Brighten it for me and I will serve you,” said the King of Ireland’s +Son. + +“It is not easy for me to brighten the Sword now,” said the Gobaun Saor. +“But find me the Unique Tale and what went before its beginning and what +comes after its end, and I shall brighten the sword for you and show you +the way to the Land of Mist. Go now, and search for the Unique Tale.” + +He went, and he had many far journeys, I can tell you, and he found no +person who had any knowledge of the Unique Tale or who knew any way of +coming to the Land of Mist. One twilight in a wood he saw a great bird +flying towards him. It lighted on an old tree, and the King of Ireland’s +Son saw it was Laheen the Eagle. + +“Are you still a friend to me, Eagle?” said the King’s Son. + +“I am still a friend to you, King’s Son,” said Laheen. + +“Then tell me where I should go to get knowledge of the Unique Tale,” + said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“The Unique Tale--I never heard of it at all,” said Laheen the Eagle, +changing from one leg to the other. “I am old,” she said, shaking her +wings, “and I never heard of the Unique Tale.” + +The King’s Son looked and saw that Laheen was really old. Her neck was +bare of feathers and her wings were gray. “Oh, if you are so old,” said +the King’s Son, “and have gone to so many places, and do not know of the +Unique Tale, to whom can I go to get knowledge of it?” + +“Listen,” said Laheen the Eagle, “there are five of us that are called +the Five Ancient Ones of Ireland, and it is not known which one of +the five is the oldest. There is myself, Laheen the Eagle; there is +Blackfoot the Elk of Ben Gulban, there is the Crow of Achill, the Salmon +of Assaroe and the Old Woman of Beare. We do not know ourselves which +of us is the oldest, but we know that we five are the most ancient of +living things. I have never heard of the Unique Tale,” said Laheen, “but +maybe one of the other Ancients has heard of it.” + +“I will go to them,” said the King’s Son. “Tell me how I will find the +Crow of Achill, the Elk of Ben Gulban, the Salmon of Assaroe and the Old +Woman of Beare--tell me how to go to them, Laheen the Eagle.” + +“You need not go to the Salmon of Assaroe,” said the Eagle, “for the +Salmon would not have heard any tale. I will get you means of finding +the other three. Follow the stream now until you come to the river. Wait +at the ford and I will fly to you there.” Laheen the Eagle then shook +her wings and flew slowly away. The King of Ireland’s Son followed the +stream until he came to the river--the River of the Ox it was. + + + +IV + +And having come to the River of the Ox he sought the ford and waited +there for Laheen the Eagle. When it was high noon he saw the shadow of +the Eagle in the water of the ford. He looked up. Laheen let something +fall into the shallows. It was a wheel. Then Laheen lighted on the rocks +of a waterfall above the ford and spoke to the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“Son of King Connal,” she said, “roll this wheel before you and follow +it where it goes. It will bring you first where Blackfoot the Elk +abides. Ask the Elk has he knowledge of the Unique Tale. If he has no +knowledge of it start the wheel rolling again. It will bring you then +where the Crow of Achill abides. If the Crow cannot tell you anything of +the Unique Tale, let the wheel bring you to where the Old Woman of Beare +lives. If she cannot tell you of the Unique Tale, I cannot give you any +further help.” + +Laheen the Eagle then spread out her wings and rising above the mist of +the waterfall flew away. + +The King of Ireland’s Son took the wheel out of the shallow water and +set it rolling before him. It went on without his touching it again. +Then he was going and ever going with the clear day going before him +and the dark night coming behind him, going through scrubby fields and +shaggy bog-lands, going up steep mountain sides and along bare mountain +ridges, until at last he came to a high mound on a lonesome mountain. +And as high as the mound and as lonesome as the mountain was the Elk +that was standing there with wide, wide horns. The wheel ceased rolling. + +“I am from Laheen the Eagle,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +The Elk moved his wide-horned head and looked down at him. “And why have +you come to me, son?” said the Elk. + +“I came to ask if you had knowledge of the Unique Tale,” said the King +of Ireland’s Son. + +“I have no knowledge of the Unique Tale,” said the Elk in a deep voice. + +“And are you not Blackfoot, the Elk of Ben Gulban, one of the five of +the oldest creatures in the world?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“I am the Elk of Ben Gulban,” said Blackfoot, “and it may be that there +is no creature in the world more ancient than I am. The Fianna hunted me +with their hounds before the Sons of Mile’ came to the Island of Woods. +If it was a Tale of Finn or Caelta or Goll, of Oscar or Oisin or Conan, +I could tell it to you. But I know nothing of the Unique Tale.” + +Then Blackfoot the Elk of Ben Gulban turned his wide-horned head away +and looked at the full old moon that was coming up in the sky. And the +King of Ireland’s Son took up the wheel and went to look for a shelter. +He found a sheep-cote on the side of the mountain and lay down and slept +between sheep. + + + +V + + +When the sun rose he lifted up the wheel and set it going before him. He +was going and ever going down long hillsides and across spreading plains +till he came to where old trees and tree-stumps were standing hardly +close enough together to keep each other company. The wheel went through +this ancient wood and stopped before a fallen oak-tree. And sitting on a +branch of that oak, with a gray head bent and featherless wings gathered +up to her neck was a crow. + +“I come from Laheen the Eagle,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“What did you say?” said the Crow, opening one eye. + +“I come from Laheen the Eagle,” said the King of Ireland’s Son again. + +“Oh, from Laheen,” said the Crow and dosed her eye again. + +“And I came to ask for knowledge of the Unique Tale,” said the King of +Ireland’s Son. + +“Laheen,” said the Crow, “I remember Laheen the Eagle.” Keeping her eyes +shut, she laughed and laughed until she was utterly hoarse. “I remember +Laheen the Eagle,” she said again. “Laheen never found out what I did +to her once. I stole the Crystal Egg out of her nest. Well, and how is +Laheen the Eagle?” she said sharply, opening one eye. + +“Laheen is well,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “She sent me to ask if +you had knowledge of the Unique Tale.” + +“I am older than Laheen,” said the Crow. “I remember Paralon’s People. +The Salmon of Assaroe always said he was before Paralon’s People. But +never mind! Laheen can’t say that. If I could only get the feathers to +stay on my wings I’d pay Laheen a visit some day. How are Laheen and her +bird-flocks?” + +“O Crow of Achill,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “I was sent to ask +if you had knowledge of the Unique Tale.” + +“The Unique Tale! No, I never heard of it,” said the Crow. She gathered +her wings up to her neck again and bent her gray head. + +“Think, O Crow of Achill,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “I will bring +you the warmest wool for your nest.” + +“I never heard of the Unique Tale,” said the Crow. “Tell Laheen I was +asking for her.” Nothing would rouse the Crow of Achill again. The King +of Ireland’s Son set the wheel rolling and followed it. Then he was +going and ever going with the clear day before him and the dark night +coming behind him. He came to a wide field where there were field-fares +or ground larks in companies. He crossed it. He came to a plain of tall +daisies where there were thousands of butterflies. He crossed it. +He came to a field of buttercups where blue pigeons were feeding. He +crossed it. He came to a field of flax in blue blossom. He crossed it +and came to a smoke-blackened stone house deep sunk in the ground. The +wheel stopped rolling before it and he went into the house. + + +An old woman was seated on the ground before the fire basting a goose. A +rabbit-skin cap was on her hairless head and there were no eye-brows on +her face. Three strange birds were eating out of the pot--a cuckoo, a +corncrake and a swallow. “Come to the fire, gilly,” said the old woman +when she looked round. + +“I am not a gilly, but the King of Ireland’s Son,” said he. + +“Well, let that be. What do you want of me?” + +“Are you the Old Woman of Beare?” + +“I have been called the Old Woman of Beare since your +fore-great-grandfather’s time.” + +“How old are you, old mother?” + +“I do not know. But do you see the three birds that are picking out +of my pot? For two score years the swallow was coming to my house and +building outside. Then he came and built inside. Then for three score +years he was coming into my house to build here. Now he never goes +across the sea at all, and do you see the corncrake? For five score +years she was coming to the meadow outside. Then she began to run into +the house to see what was happening here. For two score years she was +running in and out. Then she stayed here altogether. Now she never goes +across the sea at all. And do you see the cuckoo there? For seven score +years she used to come to a tree that was outside and sing over her +notes. Then when the tree was gone, she used to light on the roof of my +house. Then she used to come in to see herself in a looking glass. I +do not know how many score years the cuckoo was going and coming, but I +know it is many score years since she went across the sea.” + +“I went from Laheen the Eagle to Blackfoot the Elk, and from the Elk of +Ben Gulban to the Crow of Achill, and from the Crow of Achill, I come to +you to ask if you have knowledge of the Unique Tale.” + +“The Unique Tale, indeed,” said the Old Woman of Beare. “One came to me +only last night to tell me the Unique Tale. He is the young man who is +counting the horns.” + +“What young man is he and what horns is he counting?” + +“He is no King’s Son, but a gilly--Gilly of the Goat-skin he is called. +He is counting the horns that are in two pits outside. When the horns +are counted I will know the number of my half-years.” + +“How is that, old mother?” + +“My father used to kill an ox every year on my birthday, and after my +father’s death, my servants, one after the other, used to kill an ox for +me. The horns of the oxen were put into two pits, one on the right-hand +side of the house and one on the left-hand side. If one knew the number +of the horns one would know the number of, my half-years, for every +pair of horns goes to make a year of my life. Gilly of the Goatskin is +counting the horns for me now, and when he finishes counting them I will +let him tell the Unique Tale.” + +“But you must let me listen to the tale too, Old Woman of Beare.” + +“If you count the horns in one pit I will let you listen to the tale.” + +“Then I will count the horns in one pit.” + +“Go outside then and count them.” + +The King of Ireland’s Son went outside. He found on the right-hand side +of the house a deep quarry-pit. Round the edge of it were horns of all +kinds, black horns and white horns, straight horns and crooked horns. +And below in the pit he saw a young man digging for horns that were sunk +in the ground. He had on a jacket made of the skin of a goat. + +“Who are you?” said the young man in the quarry-pit. “I am the King of +Ireland’s Son. And who may you be?” + +“Who I am I don’t know,” said the young man in the goatskin, “but they +call me Gilly of the Goatskin. What have you come here for?” + +“To get knowledge of the Unique Tale.” + +“And it was to tell the same Unique Tale that I came here myself. Why do +you want to know the Unique Tale?” + +“That would make a long story. Why do you want to tell it?” + +“That would make a longer story. There is a quarry-pit at the left-hand +side of the house filled with horns and it must be your task to count +them.” + +“I will count them,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “But you will be +finished before me. Do not tell the Old Woman of Beare the Tale until we +both sit down together.” + +“If that suits you it will suit me,” said Gilly of the Goatskin, and he +began to dig again. + +The King of Ireland’s Son went to the left-hand side of the house. +He found the quarry-pit and went into it to count the horns that were +there--black horns and white horns, straight horns and crooked horns. +And now, while the King of Ireland’s Son is in the quarry-pit, I +will tell you the adventures of Gilly--the Lad or the Servant--of the +Goatskin, which adventures are written in “The Craneskin Book.” + + + +VI + +He never stirred out of the cradle till he was past twelve years of age, +but lay there night and day, long days and short days; the only garment +he ever put on was a goatskin; a hunter had once put it down on the +floor beside his cradle and he reached out with his two hands, drew it +in and put the goatskin on him. He got his name and his coat at the same +time, for he was called ever afterwards “Gilly of the Goatskin.” + +But although he never stirred out of the cradle, Gilly of the Goatskin +had ways of diverting himself. He used to shoot arrows with a bow out +of the door of the house and hit a mark on a tree that was opposite him. +_And where did he get the bow and arrows?_ The bow fell down from the +roof of the house and into the cradle. And as for arrows he used to make +them out of the wands that the Hags brought in to make baskets with. But +the Hags never saw him using the bow and sending off the arrows. All day +they would be going along the streams gathering the willow wands for the +baskets they made. + +He knew nobody except the three Hags of the Long Teeth, and he had never +heard the name of mother or father. Often, when she was peeling the +wands with a black-handled knife, the Hag of the House used to tell +Gilly of the Goatskin the troubles that were in store for him--danger +from the sword and the spear and the knife, from water and fire, from +the beasts of the earth and the birds of the air. She delighted to tell +him about the evils that would befall him. And she used to laugh when +she told him he was a hump-back and that people would throw stones at +him. + + +One day when the Hags were away gathering willow wands, Gilly turned the +cradle over and lay under it. He wanted to see what they would do when +they did not see him sitting up in the cradle. They came in. Gilly +looked through a crack in the cradle and saw the Hags--they were old and +crooked and had long teeth that came down below their chins. + +“He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone!” screamed the Hag of the House, when +she did not see Gilly in the cradle. + +“He’s gone,” said one of the long-toothed Hags. “I told you he would go +away. Why didn’t you cut out his heart yesterday, or the day before?” + +“Mind what I tell you,” said the other Hag of the Long Teeth. “Mind what +I tell you. His father’s son will grow into a powerful champion.” + +“Not he,” said the Hag of the House, with great anger. “He’ll never +become a Champion. He’s only a little hump-backed fellow with no weapons +and with no garment but a goatskin.” + +“It would be better to kill him when he comes back,” said the first of +the Hags with the Long Teeth. + +“And if he doesn’t come back, tell the Giant Crom Duv,” said the second. + +Gilly of the Goatskin crept from under the cradle, put his bow resting +on the bottom that was now turned uppermost, took up some of the rods +that were on the floor and then shouted at the Hags. “Oh, if that’s +a hazel rod he has at his bow he will kill us all,” they screamed out +together. + +He drew back the string, fired the willow rod and struck the middle Hag +full on the breast. The three Hags fell down on the ground. The pot that +was always hanging over the fire turned itself upside down and the +house was filled with smoke. Gilly of the Goatskin, the bow in his hand, +sprang across the cradle, over the threshold of the door, and out into +the width and the height, the length and the breadth, the gloom and the +gleam of the world. + + + +VII + +He was out, as I have said, in the width and the height, the length and +the breadth, the gloom and the gleam of the world. He fired arrows into +the air. He leaped over ditches, he rolled down hillsides, he raced +over level places until he came to what surprised him more than all the +things in the world--a river. He had never seen such water before and +he wondered to see it moving with swiftness. “Where is it going?” said +Gilly of the Goatskin. “Does it go on like that in the night as well +as in the day?” He ran by its side and shouted to the river. He saw +a wide-winged bird flying across it. It was the bird that we call the +crane or the heron. And as Gilly watched the great winged thing he saw +that it held a little animal in its claws. Gilly fired an arrow and +the crane dropped towards the ground. The little animal that was in its +claws fell down. The crane rose up again and flew back across the river. + +The little animal that had been in the claws of the crane came to Gilly +of the Goatskin. It was smaller than the one-eyed cat that used to sit +on the hearth of the Hag of the House. It kept its head up and was very +bold-looking. “Good morning, Lad in the Goatskin,” it said to Gilly, +“you saved my life and I’m very thankful to you.” “What are you?” said +Gilly of the Goat-skin. “I’m the Weasel. I’m the boldest and bravest +creature in this country. I’m the lion of these parts, I am. And,” said +the Weasel, “I never served anyone before, but I’ll be your servant +for a quarter of a year. Tell me what way you’re going and I’ll go with +you.” “I’m going the way he’s going,” said Gilly, nodding towards the +river, “and I’ll keep beside him till he wants to turn back.” “Oh, then +you’ll have to go a long way,” said the Weasel, “but I’ll go with you no +matter bow far you go.” The Weasel walked by Gilly’s side very bravely +and very independently. + +“Oh, look,” said Gilly to the Weasel, “what is that that’s in the +water?” + +The Weasel looked and saw a crystal egg in the shallows. + +“It’s an egg,” said the Weasel, “I often eat one myself. I’ll bring it +up from the bottom to you. I’m good at carrying eggs.” + +The Weasel went into the water and put his mouth to the egg and tried to +lift it. He could not move it. He tried to lift it with his paws as well +as with his mouth; but this did not do either. He came up the bank then, +and said to Gilly, “You’ll think I’m a poor sort of a servant because I +can’t take an egg out of the water. But if I can’t win one way I’ll win +another way.” He went into the reeds by the river and he said, “Hear me, +frogs! There’s a great army coming to take you out of the reeds and eat +you red and raw.” Then Gilly saw the queer frogs lifting up their +heads, “Oh, what will we do, what will we do?” they cried to the Weasel. +“There’s only one thing to be done,” said the Weasel. “You gather up +all the pebbles in the bed of the fiver and we’ll make a big wail on the +bank to defend you.” The frogs dived into the water at once and dragged +up pebbles. Gilly and the Weasel piled them on the bank. Then three +frogs carried up the Crystal Egg. The Weasel took it from them when they +left it on the bank. Then he climbed a tree and cried out to the frogs, +“The army is frightened and is running away.” “Oh, thank you, thank +you,” said the frogs, “we’ll never forget your goodness to us.” Then +they sat down in the marsh and told each other what a narrow escape they +all had. + +The Weasel gave Gilly the Crystal Egg. It was heavy and he carried it +for a while in his hand. They went on. After a while said Gilly of the +Goatskin, “The night’s coming on and the fiver shows no sign of turning +back. I wish there was a nice place to shelter us.” No sooner did he say +the word than he and the Weasel found them-selves standing before the +open door of a nice little house. They went in. A clear fire was burning +on the hearth, an arm chair was before it, and a bed was made at the +other side of the fire. “This is good,” said Gilly, “and now I wish that +we had something to eat.” No sooner did he say the words than a table +appeared with bread and meat, fruit and wine on it. “Where do these +fine things come from, I wonder,” said Gilly of the Goatskin. “It’s my +belief,” said the Weasel, “that all these things come to us on account +of the egg you have in your hand. It’s a magic egg.” Gilly of the +Goatskin put the egg on the table and wished that he might see himself +as he had seen himself in the river. Nothing appeared. Then he took the +egg in his hand and wished again. And then there was a looking glass on +the wall before him, and he saw himself in it better than he had seen +himself in the river. Gilly of the Goatskin knew that he had only to +hold the Crystal Egg in his hand and wish, to get all he could think of. + + + +VIII + + +Gilly of the Goatskin wished for wide windows in his house and he got +them. He wished for a light within when there was darkness without, and +he got a silver lamp that burned until he wished to sleep. He wished for +the songs of birds and he had a blackbird singing upon his half-door, a +lark over his chimney, a goldfinch and a green linnet within his window, +and a shy wren in the evening singing from the top of his dresser. Then +he wished to hear the conversation of the beasts and all the creatures +of the fields and the wood and the mountain top came into his house. + +The hare used to come in early in the morning. He was always the first +visitor and he never remained long, and always while he was there he +kept running up and down the house, and he generally ended his visit by +jumping through the open window. The martens, the beautiful wild cats of +the wood, came in to see Gilly once; they were very proud and told +him nothing. The little black rabbits were very much impressed by the +martens, and all the time the martens were there they stayed under the +bed and the chairs. Two or three times the King of the Wood himself--the +Boar of the Bristles and the Long Tusks--came to see Gilly; he used to +push open the door and then stand in the middle of the floor grunting +and grunting. Once he brought his wife with him, and six or seven of +their little pigs that went running over the floor, with their ears +hanging over their eyes, came with them too. The hedgehogs used to come, +but they always made themselves disagreeable. They just lay down by +the fire and snored, and when they wakened up they quarrelled with +each other. Everybody said that the hedgehogs’ children were very badly +brought up and very badly provided for. The squirrels who were so clean +and careful, and so fond of their children, thought the hedgehogs were +very bad creatures indeed. “It is just like them to have dirty sticky +thorns around them instead of nice clean fur,” said the squirrel’s wife. +“But, my dear,” said the squirrel, “every animal can’t have fur.” + “How well,” said she, “the rabbits have fur, though dear knows they’re +creatures of not much account. It’s all just to let us see that they’re +some relation of that horrible, horrible boar that goes crashing and +marching through the wood.” + +The deer never came into the house, and Gilly had a shed made for them +outside. They would come into it and stay there for many nights and +days, and Gilly used to go out and talk with them. They knew about far +countries, and strange paths and passes, but they did not know so much +about men and about the doings of other creatures as the Fox did. + +The Fox used to come in the evening and stay until nearly morning +whether Gilly fell asleep or kept awake. The Fox was a very good talker. +He used to lie down at the hearth with his paws stretched out, and tell +about this one and that one, and what she said and what he did. If the +Fox came to see you, and if he was in good humor for talking, you would +stay up all night to listen to him. I know I should. It was the Fox +who told Gilly what the Crow of Achill did to Laheen the Eagle. She had +stolen the Crystal Egg that Laheen was about to hatch--the Crystal Egg +that the Crane had left on a bare rock. It was the Fox who told Gilly +how the first cat came into the world. And it was the Fox who told Gilly +about the generations of the eel. All I say is that it is a pity the Fox +cannot be trusted, for a better one to talk and tell a story it would be +hard to find. He was always picking up and eating things that had been +left over--a potato roasting in the ashes, an apple left upon a plate, +a piece of meat under a cover. Gilly did not grudge these things to Rory +the Fox and he always left something in a bag for him to take home to +the young foxes. + + +I had nearly forgotten to tell you about Gilly’s friend, the brave +Weasel. He had made a home for himself under the roof. Sometimes he +would go away for a day or so and he would never tell Gilly where he +had been. When he was at home he made himself the door-keeper of +Gilly’s house. If any of the creatures made themselves disagreeable by +quarrelling amongst each other, or by being uncivil to Gilly, the +Weasel would just walk over to them and look them in the eyes. Then that +creature went away. Always he held his head up and if Gilly asked him +for advice he would say three words, “Have no fear; have no fear.” + +One day Gilly wanted to have a bunch of cherries with his dinner, and he +went to find the Crystal Egg so that he might wish for it. The Crystal +Egg was not in the place he had left it. He called the Weasel and the +two of them searched the house. The Crystal Egg was nowhere to be found. +“One of the creatures has stolen the Egg,” said the Weasel, “but whoever +stole it I will make bring it back. I’ll soon find out who did it.” The +Weasel walked up to every creature that came in, looked him or her in +the eye and said, “Did you steal the Crystal Egg?” And every creature +that came in said, “No, Little Lion, I didn’t steal it.” Next day they +had examined every creature except the Fox. The Fox had not been in the +night before nor the night before that again. He did not come in the +evening they missed the Crystal Egg nor the evening after that evening. +That night the Weasel said, “As sure as there are teeth in my head the +Fox stole the Crystal Egg. As soon as there is light we’ll search for +him and make him give the Egg back to us.” + + + +IX + + +The Weasel was right; it was Rory the Fox who had stolen Gilly’s Crystal +Egg. One night, just as he was leaving Gilly’s house, the moon shone +full upon the Crystal Egg. In the turn of a hand Rory the Fox had made a +little spring and had taken the Egg in his mouth. Then he slipped out by +the door as quick and as quiet as a leaf blown in the wind. + +He couldn’t help himself stealing the Egg, when the chance came. He had +had a dream about it. He dreamt that the Egg had been hatched and that +out of it had come the most toothsome bird that a Fox had ever taken by +the neck. He snapped his teeth in his sleep when he dreamt of it. The +Fox told his youngsters about the bird he had dreamt of--a bird as big +as a goose and so fat on the neck and the breast that it could hardly +stir from sitting. The youngsters had smacked their lips and +snapped their teeth. Every time he came home now they used to say to +him--“Father, have you brought us the Boobrie Bird?” No wonder that his +eyes used to turn to the Crystal Egg when he sat in Gilly’s house. And +then because the moon shone on it just as he was leaving, and because he +knew that Gilly’s back was turned, he could not keep himself from making +a little spring and taking the Crystal Egg softly in his mouth. + +He went amongst the dark, dark trees with the soft and easy trot of a +Fox. He knew well what he should do with the Egg. He had dreamt that it +had been hatched by the Spae-Woman’s old rheumatic goose. This goose was +called Old Mother Hatchie and the Fox had never carried her off because +he knew she was always hatching out goslings for his table. He went +through the trees and across the fields towards the Spae-Woman’s house. + +The Spae-Woman lived by telling people their fortunes and reading them +their dreams. That is why she was called the Spae-Woman. The people gave +her goods for telling them their dreams and fortunes and she left her +land and stock to whatever chanced. The fences of her fields were broken +and rotted. Her hens had been carried off by the Fox. Her goat had gone +wild. She had neither ox nor ass nor sheep nor pig. The Fox went through +her fence now as lightning would go through a gooseberry bush and he +came out before her barn. There was a hole in the barn-door and he went +through that. And in the north-west corner of the barn, he saw Old Mother +Hatchie sitting on a nest of straw and he knew that there was a clutch +of eggs under her. She cackled when she saw the Fox on the floor of the +barn but she never stirred off the nest. Rory left what was in his mouth +on the ground. Old Mother Hatchie put her head on one side and looked at +the Egg that was clear in the full moonlight. + +“This egg, Mistress Hatchie,” said Rory the Fox, “is from the Hen-wife +of the Queen of Ireland. The Queen asked the Hen-wife to ask me to leave +it with you. She thinks there’s no bird in the world but yourself that +is worthy to hatch it and to rear the gosling that comes out of it.” + +“That’s right, that’s right,” said Mother Hatchie. “Put it here, put +it here.” She lifted her wing and the Fox put the Crystal Egg into the +brood-nest. + +He went out of the barn, crossed the field again, and went amongst the +dark, dark trees. He went along slowly now for he began to think that +Gilly might find out who stole the Crystal Egg and be vexed with him. +Then he thought of the Weasel. The Fox began to think he might be sorry +for himself if the Weasel was set on his track. + +Rory did not go to Gilly’s house the next night nor the night after. The +third night, as he was going home from a ramble, the Owl hooted at him. +“Why do you hoot at me, Big Moth?” said the Fox stopping in his trot. +(He always called the Owl “Big Moth” to pretend that he thought she +wasn’t a bird at all, but a moth. He made this pretence because he was +annoyed that he could never get an owl to eat). “Why do you hoot at +me, Big Moth?” said he. “The Weasel’s going to have your bones for +his stepping-stones and your blood for his morning dram,” said the Owl +balefully as she went amongst the dark, dark trees. The Fox stopped long +to consider. Then he went to his burrow and told his youngsters they +would have to move house. He had them stirring at the first light. +He gave them a frog each for their breakfast and took them across the +country. They came to a burrow that Old-Fellow Badger had just left and +Rory the Fox brought his youngsters into it and told them that it would +be their new house. + + + +X + + +The evening after when Rory the Fox was taking his nap he heard one of +his youngsters give a sharp cry. They were playing outside the burrow, +lie looked out and he saw that his three youngsters were afraid of +something that was between them and the burrow. He looked again and saw +the Weasel. + +“Ahem,” said Rory the Fox, “and how are we this morning?” + +The Weasel had marked one of Rory’s youngsters for attack. Although Rory +spoke, he never took his eyes off the youngster he had marked. + +“My dear friend,” said the Fox, “I was just going to say--if you are +looking for anything, perhaps I could tell you where it might be found.” + +“Crystal Egg,” said the Weasel without ever taking away his +blood-thirsty gaze from Rory’s youngster. + +“Oh, the Crystal Egg,” said Rory the Fox. “Yes, to be sure. I could +bring you at once to the place where the Crystal Egg is.” He came out of +the burrow and saw Gilly standing on the bank behind. + +“I think it is time for my children to go back to their burrow,” said +Rory the Fox. “Please excuse them, my friends.” The Weasel took his eyes +off the youngster he had marked and the three little foxes scampered +into the burrow. + +“This way, friends,” said the Fox, and he started off towards the +Spae-Woman’s house with the light and easy trot of a fox. Gilly and the +Weasel went behind him. They crossed a field of flax, a field of +hemp and a field of barley. They came to the broken fence before the +Spae-Woman’s house, and in front of the house they saw the Spae-Woman +herself and she was crying and crying. + +The Fox hid behind the fence, the Weasel climbed up on the ditch and +Gilly himself went to the woman. + +“What ails you at all?” said Gilly to her. + +“My goose--the only fowl left to me has been taken by robbers.” + +“Ask her where the clutch of eggs is that the goose was hatching,” said +Rory the Fox anxiously, putting his head over the fence. + +“And where is the clutch of eggs, ma’am, that your goose was hatching?” + +“The robbers took the nest with the goose and the eggs with the nest,” + said the Spae-Woman. + +“And the Crystal Egg was with the other eggs,” said the Fox to Gilly. He +said no more. He made a quick turn and got clear away before the Weasel +could spring on him. He ran back to his burrow. He told the little foxes +they must change houses again. That night they lay in a wood and at the +first light they crossed water and went to live on an island where the +Weasel never came. + +“Where did the robbers go with the goose, the nest, and the eggs?” said +Gilly of the Goatskin. + +“They went to the river,” said the Spae-Woman. “I followed them every +inch of the way. They got into a boat and they hoisted their sails. They +rowed and they rowed, so that the hard gravel of the bottom was brought +to the top, and the froth of the top was driven down to the bottom of +the river. And wherever they are,” said the Spae-Woman, “they are far +from us now.” + +“Will you come with me?” said Gilly to the Weasel, “we will track them +down and take back the Crystal Egg.” + +“I engaged myself to be with you for a quarter of a year,” said the +Weasel, “and the three months are up now, Gilly. Winter is coming on and +I must see to my own affairs.” + +“Then good-by, Weasel,” said Gilly. “I will search for the Crystal Egg +myself. But first I must ask the woman to let me rest in the house and +to give me some provision for my journey.” The Weasel looked up into +Gilly’s face and said good-by to him. Then Gilly followed the Spae-Woman +into her house. “Ocone,” she was saying to herself, “my dream told me +I was to lose my poor goose, and still I never did anything to make it +hard for the robbers to take her from me.” + + + +XI + + +Well, in the Spae-Woman’s house he stayed for three-quarters of a year. +He often went in search of the robbers who had taken the Crystal Egg +with the Spae-Woman’s goose, but no trace of them nor their booty could +he ever find. He met birds and beasts who were his friends, but he could +not have speech with them without the Egg that let him have anything he +wished. He did work for the Spae-Woman--fixed her fences and repaired +her barn and brought _brosna_ for her fire every evening from the wood. +At night, before he went to sleep, the Spae-Woman used to tell him her +dreams of the night before and tell him about the people who had come to +her house to have their fortunes told. + +One Monday morning she said to him, “I have had an inlook, son of +my heart, and I know that my gossip, the Churl of the Townland of +Mischance, is going to come and take you into his service.” + +“And what sort of a man is your gossip, the Churl of the Townland of +Mischance?” Gilly asked. + +“An unkind man. Two youths who served me he took away, one after the +other, and miserable are they made by what he did to them. I’m in dread +of your being brought to the Townland of Mischance.” + +“Why are you in dread of it, Spae-Woman?” said Gilly. “Sure, I’ll be +glad enough to see the world.” + +“That’s what the other two youths said,” said the Spae-Woman. “Now I’ll +tell you what my gossip the Churl of the Townland of Mischance does: he +makes a bargain with the youth that goes into his service, telling him +he will give him a guinea, a groat and a tester for his three months’ +service. And he tells the youth that if he says he is sorry for the +bargain he must lose his wages and part with a strip of his skin, an +inch wide. He rode on a bob-tailed, big-headed, spavined and spotted +horse, from his neck to his heel. Oh, he is an unkind man, my gossip, +the Churl of the Townland of Mischance.” + +“And is there no way to get the better of him?” asked Gilly. + +“There is, but it is a hard way,” said the Spae-Woman. “If one could +make him say that he, the master, is sorry for the bargain, the Churl +himself would lose a strip of his skin an inch wide from his neck to his +heel, and would have to pay full wages no matter how short a time the +youth served him.” + +“It’s a bargain anyway,” said Gilly, “and if he comes I’ll take service +with the Churl of the Townland of Mischance.” + +The first wet day that came brought the Churl of the Townland of +Mischance. He rode on a bob-tailed, big-headed, spavined and spotted +horse. He carried an ash-plant in his hand to flog the horse and to +strike at the dogs that crossed his way. He had blue lips, eyes looking +crossways and eyebrows like a furze bush. He had a bag before him filled +with boiled pigs’ feet. Now when he rode up to the house, he had a +pig’s foot to his mouth and was eating. He got down off the bob-tailed, +big-headed, spavined and spotted horse, and came in. + +“I heard there was a young fellow at your house and I want him to take +service with me,” said he to the Spae-Woman. + +“If the bargain is a good one I’ll take service with you,” said Gilly. + +“All right, my lad,” said the Churl. “Here is the bargain, and it’s as +fair as fair can be. I’ll give you a guinea, a groat and a tester for +your three months’ work with me.” + +“I believe it’s good wages,” said Gilly. + +“It is. Howsoever, if you ever say you are sorry you made the bargain +you will lose your wages, and besides that you will lose a strip of your +skin an inch wide from your neck to your heel. I have to put that in +or I’d never get work done for me at all. The serving boys are always +saying ‘I can’t do that,’ and ‘I’m sorry I made the bargain with you.’” + +“And if you say you’re sorry you made the bargain?” + +“Oh, then I’ll have to lose a strip of my skin an inch wide from my neck +to my heel, and besides that I’ll have to give you full wages no matter +how short a time you served me.” + +“Well, if that suits you it will suit me,” said Gilly of the Goatskin. + +“Then walk beside my horse and we’ll get back to the Townland of +Mischance to-night,” said the Churl. Then he swished his ash-plant +towards Gilly and ordered him to get ready. The Spae-Woman wiped the +tears from her face with her apron, gave Gilly a cake with her blessing, +and he started off with the Churl for the Townland of Mischance. + + + + +XII + + +What did Gilly of the Goatskin do in the Townland of Mischance? He got +up early and went to bed late; he was kept digging, delving and ditching +until he was so tired that he could go to sleep in a furze bush; he ate +a breakfast that left him hungry five hours before dinner-time, and he +ate a dinner that made it seem long until supper-time. If he complained +the Churl would say, “Well, then you are sorry for your bargain,” and +Gilly would say “No,” rather than lose the wages he had earned and a +strip of his skin into the bargain. + +One day the Churl said to him, “Go into the town for salt for my supper, +take the short way across the pasture-field, and be sure not to let the +grass grow under your feet.” “All right, master,” said Gilly. “Maybe +you would bring me my coat out of the house so that I needn’t make two +journeys.” The Churl went into the house for Gilly’s coat. When he came +back he found Gilly standing in the nice grass of the pasture-field +lighting a wisp of hay. “What are you doing that for?” said the Churl to +him. “To burn the grass on the pasture-field,” said Gilly. “To burn the +grass on my pasture-field, you villain--the grass that is for my good +race-horse’s feeding! What do you mean, at all?” “Sure, you told me not +to let the grass grow under my feet,” said Gilly. “Doesn’t the world +know that the grass is growing every minute, and how will I prevent it +from growing under my feet if I don’t burn it?” With that he stooped +down to put the lighted hay to the grass of the pasture-field. “Stop, +stop,” said the Churl, “I meant that you were to go to the town, +without loitering on the way.” “Well, it’s a pity you didn’t speak more +clearly,” said Gilly, “for now the grass is a-fire.” The Churl bad to +stamp on the grass to put the fire out. He burnt his shins, and that +made him very angry. “O you fool,” said he to Gilly, “I’m sorry--” “Are +you sorry for the bargain you made with me, Master?” “No. I was going +to say I was sorry I hadn’t made my meaning clear to you. Go now to the +town and bring me back salt for my supper as quickly as you can.” + +After that the Churl was very careful when he gave Gilly an order to +speak to him very exactly. This became a great trouble to him, for the +people in the Townland of Mischance used always to say, “Don’t let the +grass grow under your feet,” when they meant “Make haste,” and “Don’t +be there until you’re back,” when they meant “Go quickly” and “Come with +horses’ legs” when they meant “come with great speed.” He became tired +of speaking to Gilly by the letter, so he made up his mind to give him +an order that could not be carried out, so that he might have a chance +of sending him away without the wages he had earned. + +One Monday morning he called Gilly to the door of the house and said to +him, “Take this sheep-skin to the market and bring me back the price +of it and the skin.” “Very well, Master,” said Gilly. He put the skin +across his arm and went towards the town. The people on the road said +to him, “What do you want for the sheep-skin, young fellow?” “I want +the skin and the price of it,” Gilly said. The people laughed at him and +said, “You’re going to give yourself a long journey, young fellow.” + +He went through the market asking for the skin and the price of it. +Everyone joked about him. He went into the market-house and came to a +woman who was buying things that no one else would buy. “What do you +want, youth?” said she. “The price of the skin and the skin itself,” + said Gilly. She took the skin from him and plucked the wool out of it. +She put the wool in her bag and put the skin back on the board. “There’s +the skin,” said she, “and here’s the price of it.” She left three groats +and a tester on top of the skin. + +The Churl had finished his supper when Gilly came into the house. “Well, +Master, I’ve come back to you,” said Gilly. “Did you bring me the price +of it and the skin itself?” said the Churl. “There is the skin,” said +Gilly, putting on the table the sheep-skin with the wool plucked out of +it. “And here’s the price of it--three groats and a tester,” said he, +leaving the money on top of the skin. + +After that the Churl of the Townland of Mischance began to be afraid +that Gilly of the Goatskin would be too wise for him, and would get away +at the end of the three months with his wages, a guinea, a groat and a +tester, in his fist. This thought made the Churl very downcast, because, +for many months now, he had got hard labor out of his serving-boys, +without giving them a single cross for wages. + + + +XIII + + +The day after Christmas the Churl said to Gilly, “This is Saint +Stephen’s Day. I’m going to such a man’s barn to see the mummers perform +a play. Foolish people give these idle fellows money for playing, but +I won’t do any such thing as that. I’ll see something of what they are +doing, drink a few glasses and get away before they start collecting +money from the people that are watching them. They call this collection +their dues, no less.” + +“And what can I do for you, Master?” said Gilly. “Run into the barn at +midnight and shout out, ‘Master, Master, your mill is on fire.’ That +will give me an excuse for running out. Do you understand now what I +want you to do?” + +“I understand, Master.” + +The Churl put on his coat and took his stick in his hand. “Mind what +I’ve said to you,” said he. “Don’t be a minute later than midnight. Be +sure to come in with a great rash--come in with horse’s legs--do you +understand me?” + +“I understand you, Master,” said Gilly. + +The mummers were dancing before they began the play when the Churl came +into the barn. “That’s a rich man,” said one of them to another. “We +must see that he puts a good handful into our bag.” The Churl sat on the +bench with the farmer who had a score of cows, with the blacksmith who +shod the King’s horses, and with the merchant who had been in foreign +parts and who wore big silver rings in his ears. Half the people who +were there I could not tell you, but there were there-- + + Biddie Early + Tatter-Jack Walsh + Aunt Jug + Lundy Foot + Matt the Thresher + Nora Criona + Conan Maol, and + Shaun the Omadhaun. + +Some said that the King of Ireland’s Son was there too. The play was +“The Unicorn from the Stars.” The mummers did it very well although they +had no one to take the part of the Unicorn. + +They were in the middle of the play when Gilly of the Goatskin rushed +into the barn. “Master, master,” he shouted, “your mill--your mill is +on fire.” The Churl stood up, and then put his glass to his head and +drained what was in it. “Make way for me, good people,” said he. “Let +me out of this, good people.” Some people near the door began to talk +of what Gilly held in his hands. “What have you there, my servant?” said +the Churl. “A pair of horse’s legs, Master. I could only carry two of +them.” + +The Churl caught Gilly by the throat. “A pair of horse’s legs,” said he. +“Where did you get a pair of horse’s legs?” + +“Off a horse,” said Gilly. “I had trouble in cutting them off. Bad cess +to you for telling me to come here with horse’s legs.” + +“And whose horse did you cut the legs off?” “Your own, Master. You +wouldn’t have liked me to cut the legs off any other person’s horse. And +I thought your race-horse’s legs would be the most suitable to cut off.” + +The mummers and the people were gathered round them and they saw the +Churl’s face get black with vexation. + +“O my misfortune, that ever I met with you,” said the Churl. + +“Are you sorry for your bargain, Master?” said Gilly. + +“Sorry--I’ll be sorry every day and night of my life for it,” said the +Churl. + +“You hear what my Master says, good people,” said Gilly. + +“Aye, sure. He says he’s sorry for the bargain he made with you,” said +some of the people. + +“Then,” said Gilly, “strip him and put him across the bench until I cut +a strip of his skin an inch wide from his neck to his heel.” + + +None of the people would consent to do that. “Well, I’ll tell you +something that will make you consent,” said Gilly. “This man made two +poor servant-boys work for him, paid them no wages, and took a strip of +their skin, so that they are sick and sore to this day. Will that make +you strip him and put him across the bench?” + +“No,” said some of the people. + +“He ordered me to come here to-night and to shout ‘Master, master, your +mill is on fire,’ so that he might be able to leave without paying the +mummers their dues. His mill is not on fire at all.” + +“Strip him,” said the first mummer. + +“Put him across the bench,” said another. + +“Here’s a skinner’s knife for you,” said a third. + +The mummers seized the Churl, stripped him and put him across the bench. +Gilly took the knife and began to sharpen it on the ground. + +“Have mercy on me,” said the Churl. + +“You did not have mercy on the other two poor servant-boys,” said Gilly. + +“I’ll give you your wages in full.” + +“That’s not enough.” + +“I’ll give you double wages to give to the other servant-boys.” + +“And will you pay the mummers’ dues for all the people here?” + +“No, no, no. I can’t do that.” + +“Stretch out your neck then until I mark the place where I shall begin +to cut the skin.” + +“Don’t put the knife to me. I’ll pay the dues for all,” said the Churl. + +“You heard what he said,” said Gilly to the people. “He will pay me +wages in full, give me double wages to hand to the servant-boys he has +injured, and pay the mummers’ dues for everyone.” + +“We heard him say that,” said the people. + +“Stand up and dress yourself,” said Gilly to the Churl. “What do I want +with a strip of your skin? But I hope all here will go home with you +and stand in your house until you have paid all the money that’s claimed +from you.” + +“We’ll go home with him,” said the mummers. + +“We’ll stand on his floor until he has paid all the money he has agreed +to pay,” said the others. + +“And now I must tell you, neighbors,” said Gilly, “that I never cut the +legs of a living horse--neither his horse nor anyone else’s. This pair +was taken off a poor dead horse by the skinners that were cutting it +up.” + +Well, they all went to the Churl’s house and there they stayed until +he opened his stone chest and took out his money-box and paid to the +mummers the dues of all the people with sixpence over, and paid Gilly +his wages in full, one guinea, one groat and a tester, and handed him +double wages to give to each of the servant-boys he had injured. Gilly +took the money and left the house of the Churl of the Townland of +Mischance, and the people and the mummers went to the road with him, and +cheered him as he went on his way. + + + + +XIV + + +So, without hap or mishap, Gilly came again to the house of the +Spae-Woman. She was sitting at her door-step grinding corn with a quern +when he came before her. She cried over him, not believing that he had +come safe from the Townland of Mischance. And as long as he was with her +she spoke to him of his “poor back.” + +He stayed with her for two seasons. He mended her fences and he cleaned +her spring-well; he ground her corn and he brought back her swarm of +bees; he trained a dog to chase the crows out of her field; he had the +ass shod, the sheep washed and the goat spancelled. The Spae-Woman was +much beholden to him for all he did for her, and one day she said to +him, “Gilly of the Goat-skin you are called, but another name is due +to you now.” “And who will give me another name?” said Gilly of the +Goatskin. “Who’ll give it to you? Who but the Old Woman of Beare,” said +the Spae-Woman. + +The next day she said to him, “I had a dream last night, and I know now +what you are to do. You must go now to the Old Woman of Beare for the +name that is due to you. And before she gives it to you, you must tell +her and whoever else is in her house as much as you know of the Unique +Tale.” + +“But I know nothing at all of the Unique Tale,” said Gilly of the +Goatskin. + +“There is always a blank before a beginning,” said the Spae-Woman. “This +evening, when I am grinding the corn at the quern I shall tell you the +Unique Tale.” + +That evening when she sat at the door-step of her house and when the sun +was setting behind the elder-bushes the Spae-Woman told Gilly the third +part of the Unique Tale. Then she baked a cake and killed a cock for him +and told him to start on the morrow’s morning for the house of the Old +Woman of Beare. + +Well, he started off in the morning bright and early, leaving good +health with the Spae-Woman behind him, and away he went, crossing high +hills, passing low dales, and keeping on his way without halt or rest, +the clear day going and the dark night coming, taking lodgings each +evening wherever he found them, and at last he came to the house of the +Old Woman of Beare. + +He went into the house and found her making marks in the ashes of her +fire while her cuckoo, her corncrake and her swallow were picking grains +off the table. + +“And what can I do for you, good youth?” said the Old Woman of Beare. + +“Give me a name,” said Gilly, “and listen to the story I have to tell +you.” + + +“That I will not,” said the Old Woman of Beare, “until you have done a +task for me.” + +“What task can I do for you?” said Gilly of the Goatskin. “I would +know,” said she, “which of us four is the oldest creature in the +world--myself or Laheen the Eagle, Blackfoot the Elk or the Crow of +Achill--I leave the Salmon of Assaroe out of account altogether.” + +“And how can a youth like me help you to know that?” said Gilly of the +Goatskin. + +“An ox was killed on the day I was born and on every one of my birthdays +afterwards. The horns of the oxen are in two quarries outside. You must +count them and tell me how much half of them amounts to and then I shall +know my age.” + +“That I’ll do if you feed me and give me shelter,” said Gilly of the +Goatskin. “Eat as you like,” said the Old Woman of Beare. She pushed him +a loaf of bread and a bottle of water. When he cut a slice of the loaf +it was just as if nothing had been cut off, and when he took a cupful +out of the bottle it was as if no water had been taken out of it at +all. When he had drunk and eaten he left the complete loaf and the full +bottle of water on the shelf, went outside and began to count the horns +on the right-hand side. + +On the second day a strange youth came to him and saluted him, and then +went to count the horns in the quarry on the left-hand side. This youth +was none other than the King of Ireland’s Son. + +On the third day they had the horns all counted. Then Gilly of the +Goatskin and the King of Ireland’s Son met together under a bush. “How +many horns have you counted?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “So many,” + said Gilly of the Goatskin. “And how many horns have you counted?” “So +many,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + + +Just as they were adding the two numbers together they both heard sounds +in the air--they were like the sounds that Bards make chanting their +verses. And when they looked up they saw a swan flying round and +round above them. And the swan chanted the story of the coming of the +Milesians to Eirinn, and as the two youths listened they forgot the +number of horns they had counted. And when the swan had flown away they +looked at each other and as they were hungry they went into the house +and ate slices of the unwasted loaf and drank cupfuls out of the +inexhaustible bottle. Then the Old Woman of Beare wakened up and asked +them to tell her the number of her years. + +“We cannot tell you although we counted all the horns,” said the King of +Ireland’s Son, “for just as we were putting the numbers together a swan +sang to us and we forgot the number we had counted.” + +“You didn’t do your task rightly,” she said, “but as I promised to give +this youth a name and to listen to the story he had to tell, I shall +have to let it be. You may tell the story now, Gilly of the Goatskin.” + +They sat at the fire, and while the Old Woman of Beare spun threads on +a very ancient spindle, and while the corncrake, the cuckoo and the +swallow picked up grains and murmured to themselves, Gilly of the +Goatskin told them the Unique Tale. And the story as Gilly of the +Goatskin told it follows this.-- + + + + +A Unique Tale + + +A King and a Queen were walking one day by the blue pool in their +domain. The swan had come to the blue pool, and the bright yellow +flowers of the broom were above the water. “Och,” said the Queen, “if I +might have a daughter that would show such colors--the blue of the pool +in her eyes, the bright yellow of the broom in her hair, and the white +of the swan in her skin--I would let my seven sons go with the wild +geese.” “Hush,” said the King. “You ask for a doom, and it may be sent +you.” A shivering came upon the Queen. They went back to the Castle, and +that evening the nurse told them that a gray man had passed in a circle +round her seven sons saying, “If it be as your mother desired, let it be +as she has said.” + +Well, before the broom blossomed again and before the swan came to the +blue pool, a child was born to the Queen. It was a girl. The King was +sitting with his seven sons when the women came to tell him of the new +birth. “O my sons,” said he, “may ye be with me all my life.” But his +sons moved from him as he said it. Out through the door they went, and +up the mound that was before the door. There they changed into gray wild +geese, and the seven flew towards the empty hills. + +No councillor that the King consulted could help to win them back +again, and no hunter that he sent through the country could gain tale or +tidings of them. The King and Queen were left with one child only, the +girl just born. They called her “Sheen,” a word that means “Storm,” + because her coming was a storm that swept away her seven brothers. The +Queen died, my hearers. Then little Sheen was forgotten by her father, +and she was reared and companioned by the servants of the house. + +One day, when she was the age her eldest brother was when he was changed +from his human form, Sheen went with Mor, the Woodman’s daughter, and +Siav, the basket-maker’s foster-child, to gather berries in the wood. +Going here and there she got separated from Siav and Mor. She came to a +place where there were lots of berries and went step after step to pick +them. Her feet went down in a marsh. She cried to Mor and Siav, but no +answers came from them. She cried and cried again. Her cries startled +seven wild geese that rose up and flew round her. “Save me,” she cried +to them. Then one of the wild geese spoke to her. “Anyone but a girl we +would save from the marsh, but such a one we cannot save, because it was +a girl who lost us our human forms and the loving companionship of +our father.” Then Sheen knew--for the servants had often told her the +story--that it was one of her seven brothers who spoke. “Since ever I +knew of it,” said she, “the whole of my trouble has been that I was the +cause of your losing your human form and the companionship of our father +who is now called the Lonely King. Believe me,” said she, “that I would +have striven and striven to win you back.” There was so much feeling in +her voice that her seven brothers, although they had been hardened by +thinking about their misfortune, were touched at their hearts and +they flew down to help her. They bore up her arms, they caught at her +shoulders, they raised up her feet. They carried her beyond the marsh. +Then she knelt down and cried to them, “O my brothers dear, is there +anything I can do to restore you to your human forms?” “There is,” said +the first of the seven wild geese. She begged them to tell it to her. +“It’s a long and a tiresome labor we would put on you,” said one. “If +you would gather the light down that grows on the bogs with your own +hands,” said another, “and if you spun that down into threads, and wove +the threads into a cloth and sewed the cloth into a shirt, and did that +over and over again until you had made seven shirts for us, all that +time without laughing or crying or saying a word, you could save us. One +shirt you could weave and spin and sew in a year. And it would not be +until the seven shirts were put upon us that the human form would be +restored to each of us.” “I would be glad to do all that,” said Sheen, +“and I would cry no tear, laugh no laugh, and say no word all the time I +was doing this task.” + +Then said the eldest brother, “The marsh is between you and our father’s +house, and between you and the companions who were with you to-day. If +you would do the task that would restore us to our human forms, it were +best you did not go back. Beyond the trees is the house of a lone woman, +and there you may live until your task is finished.” The seven wild +geese then flew back to the marsh, and Sheen went to the house beyond +the trees. The Spae-Woman lived there. She took Sheen to be a dumb girl, +and she gave her food and shelter for the services she did--bringing +water from the well in the daytime and grinding corn at the quern +at dusk. She had the rest of the day and night for her own task. She +gathered the bog-down between noon and sunset and spun the thread at +night. When she had lengths of thread spun she began to weave them on +the loom. At the end of a year she had the first shirt made. In another +year she made the second, then the third, then the fourth, the fifth and +the sixth. And all the time she said no word, laughed no laugh and cried +no tear. + + +She was gathering the bog-down for the seventh and last shirt. Once she +went abroad on a day when the snow was melted and she felt her footsteps +light. Hundreds of birds were on the ground eating plentifully and +calling to one another. Sheen could hardly keep from her mouth the song +that was in her mind. She would sing and laugh and talk when the last +thread was spun and woven, when the last stitch was sewn, and when the +shirts of bog-down she had made in silence would have brought back her +brothers to their own human forms. She gathered the scarce heads of the +cannavan or bog-down with one hand, while she held the other hand to her +lips. + +Something dropped down at her feet. It was a white grouse and it +remained cowering on the ground. Sheen looked up and she saw a hawk +above. And when she looked round she saw a man coming across the bog. +The hawk flew towards him and lighted on his shoulder. + +Sheen held the white grouse to her breast. The man came near to her +and spoke to her and his voice made her stand. He wore the dress of a +hunter. His face was brown and lean and his eyes were bright-blue like +gentian-flowers. No word did Sheen say to him and he passed on with the +hawk on his shoulder. Then with the grouse held at her breast she went +back to the Spae-Woman’s house. + +That night when she spun her thread she thought of the blue-eyed, +brown-faced man. Would any of her brothers be like him, she wondered, +when they were restored to their human shapes. She fed the white grouse +with grains of corn and left it to rest in the window-niche above her +bed. And then she lay awake and tried to know the meaning in the song +the Spae-Woman sang when she sat spinning wool in the chimney Corner-- + + You would not slumber + If laid at my breast! + Little sister, + I’ll rock you to rest! + + The flood on the river beats + The swan from its nest! + You would not slumber + If laid at my breast! + + The rain-drops encumber + The hawthorn’s crest: + My thoughts have no number: + You would not slumber + If laid at my breast, + Little sister, + I’ll rock you to rest. + +She passed the night between sleeping and waking, and when the light +grew she saw the white grouse crouching against the window-opening. +She opened the door and stepped outside to let the grouse fly from her +hands. + +And there, on the ground before her was a sword! Sheen knew it to be the +sword of the man she had seen yesterday, and she knew the man had been +before the door in the night-time. She knelt on the ground to look at +the bright blue blade. O my listeners, if I was there I was in the +crows that flew down heavily and cawed as they picked up something that +pleased them, in the wood-cushats that cooed in the trees, in the small +birds that quarreled in the thatch of the house, and in the breeze that +blew round--the first breeze of the day. + +The Spae-Woman came outside and saw what Sheen was looking at--the sword +on the ground. “It is wrought with cunning that only the smiths of Kings +possess,” she said. She took the sword and hung it on the branch of a +tree so that the dews of the ground might not rust it. “I think the +one who owns it is the stranger who is seen in the wild places +hereabouts--the man whom the neighbors call the Hunter-King,” she said +to Sheen. + +On another day Sheen went to gather bog-down. This time she crossed the +river by the stepping-stones and went into a country where there were +many cattle. She stood wondering at their numbers and wishing that such +a cow and such a calf might belong to the Spae-Woman. Then the next +thing she saw was two black horses striving with each other. They showed +their teeth at each other and bit and kicked. Then they came racing +towards her. “Oh,” said Sheen to herself, “they are Breogan’s wild +stallions.” She ran, but the horses were able to make circles round her. +“Breogan’s wild stallions,” said she, “they will rush in and trample me +to death.” Then she heard someone shouting commands to the horses. She +saw a man strike one of the stallions with a staff, making him rear +high. She saw him make the other stand with the command that was in his +voice. She ran to the river, but she slipped on the stepping-stones; +she fell down and she felt the water flowing upon her. The man came and +lifting her up carried her to her own side of the river. Across the bog +he carried her, and when she looked at him she saw the lean face and +eyes blue like gentian-flowers--she saw the face of the man who was +called the Hunter-King. He left her on the ground when they passed the +bog, and she went on her way without speaking. + +Nothing of this no more than of anything else that happened to her, or +anything that she thought of, did Sheen tell the Spae-Woman. But she +wished and she wished that the Hunter-King might come past while there +was a light in the house and step within and talk to the Spae-Woman, so +that she herself, while spinning the thread, could hear his voice and +listen to the things he talked about. She often stood at the door and +watched across the bog to see if anything was coming to her. + +A neighbor-woman came across the door-step one evening and Sheen went +into the house after her, for she felt that something was going to be +told. There was a dead man in a house. He had been found in the wood. He +was known as the Hunter-King. Sheen stood at her bed and heard what the +neighbor-woman said. + +The Hunter-King was being waked in the neighbor-woman’s house, and her +eldest daughter had been the corpse-watcher the first night. In the +morning they found that the girl’s hand had been withered. The woman’s +second daughter was the corpse-watcher the second night and her right +hand had been left trembling. This was the third and last night that the +Hunter-King would be waked, and to-night there was no one to watch his +corpse. + +Sheen thought that nothing would ever happen in the world again, now +that the Hunter-King was dead. She thought that there was no loneliness +so great as that of his corpse with no one to watch it on the last +strange night it would be above ground. The neighbor-woman went from the +Spae-Woman and Sheen went after her. She was standing on the door-step +of her house. “Oh, colleen,” said the neighbor-woman, “I am wanting +a girl to watch a corpse in my house to-night--the third and the last +night for watching. Will you watch and I will give you a comb for your +hair?” Sheen showed that she would serve the woman and she went into the +wake-house. At first she was afraid to look at the bed. Then she went +over and saw the Hunter-King with his face still, his eyes closed down, +and the plate of salt on his breast. His gray gaunt hound was stretched +across his feet. + + +The woman and her daughters lighted candles and placed them in the +window recesses and at the head of the corpse. Then they went into their +dormer-room and left Sheen to her watching. She sat at the fire and made +one fagot after another blaze up. She had brought her basket of bog-down +and she began to spin a thread upon the neighbor-woman’s wheel. + +She finished the thread and put it round her neck. Then she began to +search for more candles so that she might be able to light one, as +another went out. But as she rose up all the candles went out all at +once. The hound started from the foot of the bed. Then she saw the +corpse sitting up stiffly in the place where it had been laid. + +Something in Sheen overcame her dread, and she went over to the corpse +and took the salt that was on its breast and put it on its lips. Then a +voice came from between the lips. “Fair Maid,” said the voice, “have +you the courage to follow me? The others failed me and they have been +stricken. Are you faithful?” “I will follow you,” said Sheen. “Then,” + said the corpse, “put your hands on my shoulders and come with me. I +must go over the Quaking Bog, and through the Burning forest, and across +the Icy Sea.” Sheen put her hands on his shoulders. A storm came and +they were swept through the roof of the house. They were carried through +the night. Down they came on the ground and the dead man sprang away +from Sheen. She went to follow him and found her feet upon a shaking +sod. They were on the Quaking Bog, she knew. The corpse of the +Hunter-King went ahead and she knew that she must keep it in sight. He +went swiftly. The sod went under her feet and she was in the watery mud. +She struggled out and jumped over a pool that was hidden with heather. +All the time she was in dread that the figure that went before her so +quickly would be lost to her. She sank and she struggled and she sprang +across pools and morasses. All the time what had been the corpse of the +Hunter-King went before her. + +Then she saw fires against the sky and she knew they were coming to the +Burning Forest. The figure before her sprang across a ditch and went +into the forest. Sheen sprang across it too. Burning branches fell +across her path as she went on. Hot winds burnt her face. Flames dazzled +and smoke dazed her. But the figure before her went straight on and +Sheen went straight on too. + +The forest ended on a cliff. Below was the sea. The figure before her +dived down and Sheen dived too. The cold chilled her to the marrow. She +thought the chill would drive the life out of her. But she saw the head +of one swimming before her and she swam on. + +And then they were on land again. “Fair Maid,” said the corpse of the +Hunter-King, “put your hands on my shoulders again.” She put her hands +on his shoulders. A storm came and swept them away. They were driven +through the roof of the neighbor-woman’s house. The candle-wicks +fluttered and light came on them again. She saw the hound standing in +the middle of the floor. She saw the corpse sitting where it had been +laid and the eyes were now open. + +“Fair Maid,” said the voice of the Hunter-King, “you have brought me +back to life. I am a man under enchantment. There is a witch-woman in +the wood that I gave my love to. She enchanted me so that the soul was +out of my body, and wandering away. It was my soul you followed. And the +enchantment was to be broken when I found a heart so faithful that it +would follow my soul over the Quaking Bog, through the Burning Forest +and across the Icy Sea. You have brought my soul and my life back to +me.” + +Then she ran out of the neighbor’s house. The night after, in the +Spae-Woman’s house she finished weaving the threads that were on the +loom. The next night she stitched the cloth and made the sixth shirt. +The day after she went into the bog to gather the bog-down for the +seventh shirt. She had gathered her basketful and was going through the +wood about the hour of sunset. At the edge of the thin wood she saw the +Hunter-King standing. He took her hands and his were warm hands. His +brown face and his gentian-blue eyes were high and noble. And Sheen +felt a joy like the sharpness of a sword when he sang to her about the +brightness of her hair and the blue of her eyes. “O Maid,” said he, +“is there anything that binds you to this place?” Sheen showed him the +bog-down in the basket and the woven thread that was round her neck. +“Come with me to my kingdom,” said he, “and you shall be my wife and the +love of my heart.” The next evening Sheen went with him. She took the +six shirts she had spun and woven and stitched. The Hunter-King lifted +her before him on a black horse and they rode into his Kingdom. + + +And now Sheen was the wife of the Hunter-King. She would have been happy +if her husband’s sisters had been kind. But they were jealous and they +made everything in the Castle unfriendly to her. And often they talked +before her brother saying that Sheen was not noble at all, and that the +reason she did not speak was because her language was a base one. They +watched her when she went out to gather bog-down in the daytime, and +they watched her when she spun by herself at night. Sheen longed for the +days and nights to pass so that the last threads might be spun and woven +and the last stitches put in the seventh shirt. Then her brothers would +be with her. She could tell the King about herself and silence the bad +talk of his sisters. But as she neared the end of her task she became +more and more in dread. + +The threads were spun and woven for the seventh shirt. The cloth was +made and the first stitches were put in it. Then Sheen’s little son was +born. The King was away at the time, gathering his men together at far +parts of the Kingdom, and he sent a message saying that Sheen and her +baby were to be well-minded, and that his sisters were not to leave the +chamber where she was until he returned. + +On the third night, while Sheen was in her bed with her baby beside her, +and while her sisters-in-law were in the room, a strange music was heard +outside. It was played all round the King’s house. Whoever heard it fell +into deep slumber. The kern that were on guard slept. The maids that +were whispering together fell into a slumber. And a deep sleep came upon +Sheen and her child and on her three sisters-in-law who watched in the +chamber. + +Then a gray wolf that had been seen outside sprang in through the window +opening. He took Sheen’s child in his mouth. He sprang back through the +window opening and was seen about the place no more. Her sisters-in-law +wakened while Sheen still slept. They went to tend it and found the +child was gone. Then they were afraid of what their brother would do to +them for letting this happen. They made a plot to clear themselves, +and before Sheen wakened they had killed a little beast and smeared its +blood upon the pillows of the bed. + + +When the King came into his wife’s chamber he saw his sisters on the +ground lamenting and tearing the hairs out of their heads. He went to +where his wife was sleeping and saw blood upon her hands and upon the +pillows. He turned on his sisters with his sword in his hand. They cried +out that they could not have prevented the thing that had happened--that +the Queen had laid hands on the child and having killed it had thrown +its body to the gray wolf that had been watching outside. + +And while they were speaking Sheen awakened. She put out her arms but +her child was not beside her. She found blood upon the pillows. Then +she heard her sisters-in-law accuse her to the King of having killed her +child and flung its body to the gray wolf outside. She fell into a swoon +and when she came out of it her mind was lost to her. + +The King knelt to her and begged her to tell him what had happened. But +she only knew she was to say no word. Then he used to watch her and he +wondered why she cried no tear. On the fourth day after she rose from +her bed and searched the Castle for the piece of cloth she had spun +and woven out of the bog-down. She found it and began to sew it for the +seventh shirt. The King’s sisters came to him and said, “The woman you +brought here is of another race from ours. She has forgotten that a +child was born to her, and that she killed it and flung its body to the +gray wolf. She sits there now just stitching a garment.” The King went +and saw her stitching and stitching as if her life depended on each +stitch she put into the cloth. He spoke to her and she looked up but did +not speak. Then the King’s heart was hardened. He took her and brought +her outside the gate of the Castle. “Go back to the people you came +from,” said he, “for I cannot bear that you should be here, and not +speak to me of what has happened.” Sheen knew she was being sent from +the house he had brought her to. A bitter cry came from her. Then the +stitched cloth that was in her hand became bog-down and was blown away +on the breeze. When she saw this happen she turned from the King’s +Castle and ran through the woods crying and crying. + +She went through the woods for many days, living on berries and the +water of springs. At last she came to the Spae-Woman’s house. The +Spae-Woman was before the door and she welcomed Sheen back. She gave her +drinks she had made from strange herbs, and in a season Sheen’s mind and +health came back to her, and she knew all that had happened. She thought +she would win back her seven brothers, and then, with their help, win +back her child and her husband. But she knew she would have to gather +the bog-down, spin the threads and weave them all over again, as +her tears and cries had broken her task. She told her story to the +Spae-Woman. Then she went into silence again, gathering the bog-down and +spinning the thread. + +But when the first thread was spun the memory of her child blew against +her heart and she cried tears down. The thread she had spun became +bog-down and was blown away. For days she wept and wept. Then +the Spae-Woman said to her, “Commit the child you have lost to +Diachbha--that is, to Destiny--and Diachbha may bring it about that +he shall be the one that will restore your seven brothers their human +forms. And when you have committed your lost little son to Diachbha go +back to your husband and tell him all you have lived through.” + +Sheen, believing in the Spae-Woman’s wisdom, did what was told her. She +made an image of her lost little son with leaves and left it on the top +of the house where it was blown away by the winds. Then she was ready to +go back to her husband and tell him all that had happened in her life. +But on the day she was bringing the last pitcher of water from the well +she met him on the path before her. “Do you remember that I carried +you across the bog?” he said. “And do you remember that I followed your +soul?” said she. + +These were the first words she ever spoke to him. They went back +together to the Spae-Woman’s and she told him all that had been in her +life. He told her how his sisters had acknowledged that they had spoken +falsely against her. + +He took her back to his own Kingdom, and there, as King and Queen they +still live. But the name she bears is not Sheen or Storm now. Two sons +more were born to her. But her seven brothers are still seven wild +geese, and the Queen has found no trace of her first-born son. But the +Spae-Woman has had a dream, and the dream has revealed this to her: the +Son that Sheen lost is in the world, and if the maiden who will come to +love him, will give seven drops of her heart’s blood, the Queen’s seven +brothers will regain their human forms. + + +“So that is the Unique Tale,” said the Old Woman of Beare. “If you ever +find out what went before it and what comes after it come back here and +tell it to me. But I don’t think you’ll get the rest of it,” said she, +“seeing that the two of you weren’t able to count the horns outside.” + She went on talking and talking, Gilly and the King’s Son hearing what +she said when she spoke in a sudden high voice, and not hearing when +she murmured on as if talking to the ashes or to the pot or to the +corncrake, the cuckoo or the swallow that were picking grains off the +floor. “If you see Laheen the Eagle again, or Blackfoot the Elk or the +Crow of Achill tell them to come and visit me sometime. I’m all alone +here except for my swallow and cuckoo and corncrake. And mind you, great +Kings and Princes used to come to see me.” So she went on talking in low +tones and in sudden high tones. + +“You must come with me and help me to get the rest of the Unique Tale,” + said the King of Ireland’s Son. “That I’ll do,” said Gilly of the +Goatskin. “But I must get a name first. + +“Old Mother,” said he, to the Old Woman of Beare. “You must now give me +a name.” + +“I’ll give you a name,” said the Old Woman of Beare, “but you must stand +before me and strip off the goatskin that covers you.” + +Gilly pulled at the strings and the goatskin fell on the ground. The Old +Woman of Beare nodded her head. “You have the stars on your breast that +denote the Son of a King,” she said. + +“The Son of a King--me!” said Gilly of the Goatskin. “You have the stars +on your breast,” said the Old Woman of Beare. + +Gilly looked at himself and saw the three stars on his breast. “If I am +the Son of a King I never knew it until now,” he said. + +“You are the son of a King,” said the Old Woman of Beare, “and I will +give you a name when you come back to me. But I want you, first of all, +to find out what happened to the Crystal Egg.” + +“The Crystal Egg!” said Gilly in great surprise. + +“The Crystal Egg indeed,” said the Old Woman of Beare. “You must know +that it was stolen out of the nest of Laheen the Eagle, and the creature +that stole it was the Crow of Achill. But what happened to the Crystal +Egg after that no one knows.” + +“I myself had it after that,” said Gilly, “and it was stolen from me by +Rory the Fox. And then it was put under a goose to hatch.” “A goose to +hatch the Crystal Egg after an Eagle had half-hatched it! Aye, aye, to +be sure, that’s right,” said the Old Woman of Beare. “And now you must +go and find out what happened to it. Go now, and when you come back I +will give you your name.” + +“I will do that,” said Gilly of the Goatskin. Then he turned to the +King’s Son. “Three days before Midsummer’s Day meet me on the road to +the Town of the Red Castle, and I will go with you to find out what went +before and what comes after the Unique Tale,” he said. + +“I will meet you,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +The two youths went to the table and ate slices of the unwasted loaf +and drank draughts from the inexhaustible bottle. “I shall stay here to +practise sword-cuts and sword-thrusts,” said the King’s Son, “until four +days before Midsummer’s Day.” The two youths went to the door. + +“Seven waves of good-luck to you, Old Woman of Beare,” said Gilly of the +Goatskin. + +“May your double be slain and yourself remain,” said the King’s Son. +Then they went out together, but not along the same path did the two +youths go. + + +Gilly slept as he traveled that night, for he fell in with a man who was +driving a load of hay to the fair, and when he got into the cart he lay +against the hay and slept. When he parted with the carter he cut a holly +stick and journeyed along the road by himself. At the fall of night he +came to a place that made him think he had been there before: he looked +around and then he knew that this was the place he had lived in when he +had the Crystal Egg. He looked to see if the house was there: it +was, and people were living in it, for he saw smoke coming out of the +chimney. It was dark now and Gilly thought he could not do better than +take shelter in that house. + +He went to the door and knocked. There was a lot of rattling behind, +and then a crooked old woman opened the door to him. “What do you want?” + said she. + +“Can I have shelter here for to-night, ma’am?” said Gilly. + +“You can get no shelter hem,” said the old woman, “and I’d advise you to +begone.” + +“May I ask who lives here?” said Gilly, putting his foot inside the +door. + +“Six very honest men whose business keeps them out until two and three +in the morning,” said the crooked old woman. + +Gilly guessed that the honest men whose business kept them out until +two and three in the morning were the robbers he had heard about. And he +thought they might be the very men who had carried off the Spae-Woman’s +goose and the Crystal Egg along with it. “Would you tell me, good +woman,” said Gilly, “did your six honest men ever bring to this house an +old hatching goose?” + +“They did indeed,” said the crooked woman, “and a heart-scald the same +old hatching goose is. It goes round the house and round the house, +trying to hatch the cups I leave out of my hands.” + +Then Gilly pushed the door open wide and stepped into the house. + +“Don’t stay in the house,” said the crooked old woman. “I’ll tell you +the truth now. My masters are robbers, and they’ll skin you alive if +they find you here when they come back in the morning.” + +“It’s more likely I’ll skin them alive,” said Gilly, and he looked +so fierce that he fairly frightened the old woman. “And if you don’t +satisfy me with supper and a bed I’ll leave you to meet them hanging +from the door.” + +The crooked old woman was so terrified that she gave him a supper of +porridge and showed him a bed to sleep in. He turned in and slept. He +was roused by a candle being held to his eyes. He wakened up and saw six +robbers standing round him with knives in their hands. + +“What brings you under our roof?” said the Captain. “Answer me now +before we skin you as we would skin an eel.” + +“Speak up and answer the Captain,” said the robbers. + +“Why shouldn’t I be under this roof?” said Gilly. “I am the Master-Thief +of the World.” + +The robbers put their hands on their knees and laughed at that. Gilly +jumped out of the bed. “I have come to show you the arts of thievery and +roguery,” said he. “I’ll show you some tricks that will let you hold up +your heads amongst the thieves and robbers of the world.” + + +He looked so bold and he spoke so bold that the robbers began to think +he might have some reason for talking as he did. They left him and went +off to their beds. Gilly slept again. At the broad noon they were all +sitting at breakfast--Gilly and the six robbers. A farmer went past +leading a goat to the fair. + +“Could any of you steal that goat without doing any violence to the man +who is driving it?” said Gilly. + +“I couldn’t,” said one robber, and “I couldn’t,” said another robber, +and “I’d be hardly able to do that myself,” said the Captain of the +Robbers. + +“I can do it,” said Gilly. “I’ll be back with the goat before you are +through with your breakfast.” He went outside. + +Gilly knew that country well and he ran through the wood until he was +a bend of the road ahead of the farmer who was leading his goat to the +fair. He took off one shoe and left it in the middle of the road. He +ran on then until he was round another bend of the road. He took off the +other shoe and left it down. Then he hid behind the hedge and waited. + +The farmer came to where the first shoe was. “That’s not a bad shoe,” + said he, “and if there was a comrade for it, it would be worth picking +up.” He went on then and came to where the other shoe was lying. “Here +is the comrade,” said he, “and it’s worth my while now to go back for +the first.” + +He tied the goat to the mile-stone and went back. As soon as the farmer +had turned his back, Gilly took the collar off the goat, left it on the +milestone and took the goat through a gap in the hedge. He brought it +to the house before the robbers were through with their breakfast. They +were all terribly surprised. The Captain began to bite at his nails. + +The farmer, with the two shoes under his arm, came to where he had left +the goat. The goat was gone and its collar was left on the milestone. He +knew that a robber had taken his goat. “And I had promised Ann, my +wife, to buy her a new shawl at the fair,” said he. “She’ll never stop +scolding me if I go back to her now with one hand as long as the other. +The best thing I can do is to take a sheep out of my field and sell +that. Then when she is in good humor on account of getting the shawl +I’ll tell her about the loss of my goat.” So the farmer went back to the +field. + +They were sitting down to a game of cards after breakfast--the six +robbers and Gilly--when they saw the farmer going past with the sheep. +“I’ll be bound that he’ll watch that sheep more closely than he watched +the goat,” said one of the robbers. “Could any of you steal that sheep +without doing him any violence?” said Gilly. “I couldn’t,” said one +robber, and “I couldn’t,” said another robber. “I could hardly do that +myself,” said the Captain of the Robbers. “I’ll bring the sheep here +before you’re through with the game of cards,” said Gilly. + +The farmer was just past the milestone when he saw a man hanging on a +tree. “The saints between us and harm,” said he, “do they hang men along +this road?” Now the man hanging from the tree was Gilly. He had fastened +himself to a branch with his belt, putting it under his arm-pits. He +slipped down from the branch and ran till he was ahead of the farmer. +The farmer saw another man hanging from a tree. “The saints preserve +us,” said he, “sure; it’s not possible that they hanged two men along +this road?” Gilly slipped down from that tree too and ran on until he +was ahead of the farmer again. The farmer saw a third man hanging from +a tree. “Am I leaving my senses?” said he. “I’ll go back and see if the +other men are hanging there as I thought they were.” He tied the sheep +to a bush and went back. As soon as he turned, Gilly slipped down from +the tree, took the sheep through a gap, and got back to the robbers +before they were through with the game. All the robbers said it was +a wonderful thing he had done. The Captain of the Robbers was left +standing by himself scratching his head. + +The farmer found no men hanging on trees and he thought he was out of +his mind. He came back and he found his sheep gone. “What will I do +now?” said he. “I daren’t let Ann know I lost a goat and a sheep until +I put her into good humor by showing the shawl I bought her at the fair. +There’s nothing to be done now, but take a bullock out of the field and +sell it at the fair.” He went to the field then, took a bullock out of +it, and passed the house just as the robbers were lighting their pipes. +“If he watched the goat and the sheep closely he’ll watch the bullock +nine times as closely,” said one of the robbers. + +“Which of you could take the bullock without doing the man any +violence?” said Gilly. “I couldn’t,” said one robber, and “I couldn’t,” + said another robber. “If you could do it,” said the Captain of the +Robbers to Gilly, “I’ll resign my command and give it to you.” “Done,” + said Gilly, and he went out of the house again. + +He went quickly through the wood, and when he came near where the farmer +was he began to bleat like a goat. The farmer stopped and listened. Then +Gilly began to baa like the sheep. “That sounds very like my goat and +sheep,” said the farmer. “Maybe they weren’t taken at all, but just +strayed off. If I can get them now, I needn’t make any excuses to Ann my +wife.” He tied the bullock to a tree and went into the wood. As soon as +he did, Gilly slipped out, took the bullock by the rope and hurried back +to the house. The robbers were gathered at the door to watch for his +coming back. When they saw him with the bullock they threw up their +hats. “This man must be our Captain,” they said. The Captain was biting +his lips and his nails. At last he took off his hat with the feathers in +it and gave it to Gilly. “You’re our Captain now,” said the robbers. + +Gilly ordered that the goat, the sheep and the bullock be put into the +byre, that the door be locked and the key be given to him. All that was +done. Then said he to all the robbers, “I demand to know what became of +the Crystal Egg that was with the goose you stole from the Spae-Woman.” + “The Crystal Egg,” said one of the robbers. “It hatched, and a queer +bird came out of it.” “Where is that bird now?” said Gilly. “On the +waves of the lake near at hand,” said the robbers. “We see it every +day.” “Take me to the lake till I see the Bird out of the Crystal Egg,” + said Gilly. They locked the door of the house behind them, and the +seven, Gilly at their head, wearing the hat with feathers, marched down +to the lake. + + + + +XVI + + + +Then they showed him the bird that was on the waves of the lake--a swan +she was and she floated proudly. The swan came towards them and as she +drew nearer they could hear her voice. The sounds she made were not +like any sound of birds, but like the sounds bards make chanting their +verses. Words came on high notes and low notes, but they were like words +in a strange language. And still the swan chanted as she drew near to +the shore where Gilly and the six robbers stood. + +She spread out her wings, and, raising her neck she curved it, while +she stayed watching the men on the bank. “Hear the Swan of Endless +Tales--the Swan of Endless Tales” she sang in words they knew. Then she +raised herself out of the water, turned round in the air, and flew back +to the middle of the lake. + +“Time for us to be leaving the place when there is a bird on the lake +that can speak like that,” said Mogue, who had been the Captain of the +Robbers. “To-night I’m leaving this townland.” + +“And I am leaving too,” said another robber. “And I too,” said another. +“And I may be going away from this place,” said Gilly of the Goatskin. + +The robbers went away from him and back to the house and Gilly sat by +the edge of the lake waiting to see if the Swan of Endless Tales would +come back and tell him something. She did not come. As Gilly sat there +the farmer who had lost his goat, his sheep and his bullock came by. He +was dragging one foot after the other and looking very downcast. “What +is the matter with you, honest man?” said Gilly. + +The farmer told him how he had lost his goat, his sheep and his bullock. +He told him how he had thought he heard his goat bleating and his sheep +ba’ing, and how he went through the wood to search for them, and how his +bullock was gone when he came back to the road. “And what to say to +my wife Ann I don’t know,” said he, “particularly as I have brought no +shawl to put her in good humor. Heavy is the blame she’ll give me on +account of my losing a goat, a sheep and a bullock.” + +Gilly took a key out of his pocket. “Do you see this key?” said he. +“Take it and open the byre door at such a place, and you’ll find in that +byre your goat, your sheep and your bullock. There are robbers in that +house, but if they try to prevent your taking your own tell them that +all the threshers of the country are coming to beat them with flails.” + The farmer took the key and went away very thankful to Gilly. The story +says that he got back his goat, his sheep and his bullock and made it an +excuse that he had seen three magpies on the road for not going to the +fair to buy a shawl for his wife Ann. The robbers were very frightened +when he told them about the threshers coming and they went away from +that part of the country. + +As for Gilly, he thought he would go back to the Old Woman of Beare for +his name. He took the path by the edge of the lake. And as he journeyed +along with his holly-stick in his hand he heard the Swan of Endless +Tales chanting. + + + + +THE TOWN OF THE RED CASTLE + + + +I + + +Flann was the name that the Old Woman of Beare gave to Gilly of the +Goatskin when he came back to tell her that the Swan of Endless Tales +had been hatched out of the Crystal Egg. He went from her house then and +came to where the King of Ireland’s Son waited for him. The two comrades +went along a well-traveled road. As they went on they fell in with men +driving herds of ponies, men carrying packs on their backs, men with +tools for working gold and silver, bronze and iron. Every man whom they +asked said, “We are going to the Town of the Red Castle, and to the +great fair that will be held there.” The King’s Son and Flann thought +they should go to the Town of the Red Castle too, for where so many +people would be, there was a chance of hearing what went before and what +came after the Unique Tale. So they went on. + +And when they had come to a well that was under a great rock those whom +they were with halted. They said it was the custom for the merchants +and sellers to wait there for a day and to go into the Town of the Red +Castle the day following. “On this day,” they said, “the people of the +Town celebrate the Festival of Midsummer, and they do not like a great +company of people to go into their Town until the Festival is over.” + +The King of Ireland’s Son and Flann went on, and they were let into the +town. The people had lighted great fires in their market-place and they +were driving their cattle through the fires: “If there be evil on you, +may it burn, may it burn,” they were crying. They were afraid that +witches and enchanters might come into the town with the merchants and +the sellers, and that was the reason they did not permit a great company +to enter. + +The fires in all their houses had been quenched that day, and they might +not be lighted except from the fires the cattle had gone through. The +fires were left blazing high and the King’s Son and Flann spent hours +watching them, and watching the crowds that were around. + +Then the time came to take fire to the houses. They who came for fire +were all young maidens. Each came into the light of one of the great +fires, took coals from a fire that had burnt low, placed them in a new +earthen vessel and went away. Flann thought that all the maidens were +beautiful and wonderful, although the King’s Son told him that some were +black-faced, and some crop-headed and some hunchbacked. Then a maiden +came, who was so high above the rest that Flann had no words to speak of +her. + +She had silver on her head and silver on her arms, and the people around +the fires all bowed to her. She had black, black hair and she had a +smiling face--not happily smiling, but proudly smiling. Flann thought +that a star had bent down with her. And when she had taken the fire and +had gone away, Flann said, “She is surely the King’s daughter!” + +“She is,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “The people here have spoken +her name.” “What is her name?” asked Flann. “It is Lassarina,” said the +King’s Son, “Flame-of-Wine.” + +“Shall we see her again?” said Flann. + +“That I do not know,” said the King’s Son. “Come now, and let us ask the +people here if they have knowledge of the Unique Tale.” + +“Wait,” said Flann, “they are talking about Princess Flame-of-Wine.” He +did not move, but listened to what was said. All said that the King’s +daughter was proud. Some said she was beautiful, but others answered +that her lips were thin, and her eyes were mocking. No other maidens +came for fire. Flann stood before the one that still blazed, and thought +and thought. The King’s Son asked many if they had knowledge of the +Unique Tale, but no one had heard of it. Some told him that there would +be merchants and sellers from many parts of the world at the fair that +would be held on the morrow, and that there would be a chance of meeting +one who had knowledge of it. Then the King’s Son went with one who +brought him to a Brufir’s--that is, to a House of Hospitality maintained +by the King for strangers. As for Flann, he sat looking into the fire +until it died down, and then he slept before it. + + + +II + + +Flann was wakened by a gander and his flock of geese that stood round +him; shook their wings and set up their goose-gabble. It was day then, +although there was still a star in the sky. He threw furze-roots where +there was a glow, and made a fire blaze up again. Then the dogs of the +town came down to look at him, and then stole away. + +Horns were blown outside, and the watchman opened the gates. Flann shook +himself and stood up to see the folk that were coming in. First came the +men who drove the mountain ponies that had lately fed with the deer +in wild places. Then came men in leathern jerkins who led wide-horned +bulls--a black bull and a white bull, and a white bull and a black bull, +one after the other. Then there were men who brought in high, swift +hounds, three to each leash they held. Women in brown cloaks carried +cages of birds. Men carried on their shoulders and in their belts tools +for working gold and silver, bronze and iron. And there were calves and +sheep, and great horses and weighty chariots, and colored cloths, and +things closed in packs that merchants carried on their shoulders. +The famous bards, and story-tellers and harpists would not come until +noon-time when the business of the fair would have abated, but with the +crowd of beggars came ballad-singers, and the tellers of the stories +that were called “Go-by-the-Market-Stake,” because they were told around +the stake in the market place and were very common. + +And at the tail of the comers whom did Flann see but Mogue, the Captain +of the Robbers! + + +Mogue wore a hare-skin cap, his left eye protruded as usual, and he +walked limpingly. He had a pack on his back, and he led a small, swift +looking horse of a reddish color. Flann called to him as he passed and +Mogue gave a great start. He grinned when he saw it was Flann and walked +up to him. + +“Mogue,” said Flann, “what are you doing in the Town of the Red Castle?” + +“I’m here to sell a few things,” said Mogue, “this little horse,” said +he, “and a few things I have in my pack.” + +“And where are your friends?” asked Flann. “My band, do you mean?” + said Mogue. “Sure, they all left me when you proved you were the better +robber. What are you doing here?” + +“I have no business at all,” said Flann. + +“By the Hazel! that’s what I like to hear you say. Join me then. You and +me would do well together.” + +“I won’t join you,” said Flann. + +“I’d rather have you with me than the whole of the band. What were they +anyway? Cabbage-heads!” Mogue winked with his protruding eye. “Wait till +you see me again,” said he. “I’ve the grandest things in my pack.” He +went on leading the little horse. Then Flann set out to look for the +King’s Son. + +He found him at the door of the Brufir’s, and they drank bowls of milk +and ate oaten bread together, and then went to the gate of the town to +watch the notable people who were coming in. + +And with the bards and harpers and Kings’ envoys who came in, the King’s +Son saw his two half-brothers, Dermott and Downal. He hailed them and +they knew him and came up to him gladly. The King’s Son made Flann known +to them, saying that he too was the son of a King. + +They looked fine youths, Downal and Dermott, in their red cloaks, with +their heads held high, and a brag in their walk and their words. They +left their horses with the grooms and walked with Flann and the King’s +Son. They were tall and ruddy; the King’s Son was more brown in the +hair and more hawk-like in the face: the three were different from the +dark-haired, dark-eyed, red-lipped lad to whom the Old Woman of Beare +had given the name of Flann. + +No one had seen the King who lived in the Red Castle, Dermott and Downal +told the other two. He was called the Wry-faced King, and, on account of +his disfigurement, he let no one but his Councilors see him. + +“We are to go to his Castle to-day,” said Dermott and Downal. “You come +too, brother,” said he to the King’s Son. + +“And you too, comrade,” said Downal to Flann. “Why should we not all go? +By Ogma! Are we not all sons of Kings?” + +Flann wondered if he would see the King’s daughter, Flame-of-Wine. He +would surely go to the Castle. + +They drank ale, played chess and talked until it was afternoon. Then the +grooms who were with Downal and Dermott brought the four youths new red +cloaks. They put them on and went towards the King’s Castle. + +“Brother,” said Dermott to the King’s Son, “I want to tell you that we +are not going back to our father’s Castle nor to his Kingdom. We have +taken the world for our pillow. We are going to leave the grooms asleep +one fine morning, and go as the salmon goes down the river.” + +“Why do you want to leave our father’s Kingdom?” + +“Because we don’t want to rule nor to learn to rule. We’ll let you, +brother, do all that. We’re going to learn the trade of a sword-smith. +We would make fine swords. And with the King of Senlabor there is a +famous sword-smith, and we are going to learn the trade from him.” + + +The four went to the Red Castle, and they were brought in and they went +and sat on the benches to wait for the King’s Steward who would receive +them. And while they waited they watched the play of a pet fox in +the courtyard. Flann was wondering all the time if the Princess +Flame-of-Wine would pass through the court-yard or come into the hall +where they waited. + +Then he saw her come up the courtyard. She saw the youths in the hall +and she turned round to watch the pet fox for a while. Then she came +into the chamber and stood near the door. + +She wore a mask across her face, but her brow and mouth and chin were +shown. The youths saluted her, and she bent her head to them. One of the +women who had brought birds to the Fair followed her, bringing a cage. +Flame-of-Wine talked to this woman in a strange language. + +Although she talked to the woman, Flann saw that she watched his three +companions. Him she did not notice, because the bench on which he sat +was behind the others. Flame-of-Wine looked at the King’s Son first, +and then turned her eyes from him. She bent her head to listen to what +Downal and Dermott were saying. Flann she did not look at at all, and he +became sick at heart of the Red Castle. + +The King’s Steward came into the Hall and when he announced who the +youths were--three sons of the King of Ireland traveling with their +foster-brother--Flame-of-Wine went over and spoke to them. “May we see +you to-morrow, Kings’ Sons,” she said. “To-morrow is our feast of the +Gathering of Apples. It might be pleasant for you to hear music in the +King’s garden.” + +She smiled on Downal and Dermott and on the King’s Son and went out of +the Chamber. The King’s Steward feasted the four youths and afterwards +made them presents. But Flann did not heed what he ate nor what he heard +said, nor what present was given him. + + + +III + +The four youths left the Castle and Downal and Dermott took their own +way when they came to the foot-bridge that was across the river. Then +when they were crossing it the King’s Son and Flann saw two figures--a +middle-aged, sturdy man and an old, broken-looking woman--meet before +the Bull’s Field. “It is the Gobaun Saor,” said the King’s Son. “It is +the Spae-Woman,” said Flann. They went to them, each wishing to greet +his friend and helper. + +There they saw a sturdy, middle-aged man and a broken-looking old woman. +But the woman looking on the man saw one who had full wisdom to plan and +full strength to build, whose wisdom and whose strength could neither +grow nor diminish. And the man looking on the woman saw one whose brow +had all quiet, whose heart had all benignity. “Hail, Gobaun, Builder for +the Gods,” said the woman. “Hail, Grania Oi, Reconciler for the Gods,” + said the man. + +Then the two youths came swiftly up to them, and the King’s Son greeted +the middle-aged man, and Flann kissed the hands of the old woman. + +“What of your search, King’s Son?” said the Gobaun Saor. + +“I have found the Unique Tale, but not what went before nor what comes +after it,” said the King’s Son. + +“I will clear the Sword of Light of its stain when you bring me the +whole of the Unique Tale,” said the Gobaun Saor. + +“I would search the whole world for it,” said the King’s Son. “But now +the time is becoming short for me.” “Be quick and active,” said the +Gobaun Saor. “I have set up my forge,” said he, “outside the town +between two high stones. When you bring the whole of the Tale to me I +shall clear your sword.” + +“Will you not tell him, Gobaun Saor,” said the Spae-Woman, “where he may +find the one who will tell him the rest of the story?” + +“If he sees one he knows in this town,” said the Gobaun Saor, “let him +mount a horse he has mounted before and pursue that one and force him to +tell what went before and what comes after the Unique Tale.” + +Saying this the Gobaun Saor turned away and walked along the road that +went out of the town. + +The Spae-Woman had brought besoms to the town to sell. She showed the +two youths the little house she lived in while she was there. It was +filled with the heather-stalks which she bound together for besoms. + +They left the Spae-Woman and went through the town, the King of +Ireland’s Son searching every place for a man he knew or a horse he had +mounted before, while Flann thought about the Princess Flame-of-Wine, +and how little she considered him beside the King’s Son and Dermott +and Downal. They came to where a crowd was standing before a conjurer’s +booth. They halted and stood waiting for the conjurer to appear. He came +out and put a ladder standing upright with nothing to lean against and +began climbing up. Up, up, up, he went, and the ladder grew higher and +higher as he climbed. Flann thought he would climb into the sky. Then +the ladder got smaller and smaller and Flann saw the conjurer coming +down on the other side. “He has come here to take that horse,” said a +voice behind the King of Ireland’s Son. + +The King’s Son looked round, and on the outskirts of the crowd he saw a +man with a hare-skin cap and a protruding eye who was holding a reddish +horse, while he watched the conjuror. The King of Ireland’s Son knew the +horse--it was the Slight Red Steed that had carried him and Fedelma from +the Enchanter’s house and had brought him to the Cave where he had found +the Sword of Light. He looked at the conjuror again and he saw he was +no other than the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands. Then it crossed his +mind what the Gobaun Saor had said to him. + +He had seen a man he knew and a horse he had mounted before. He was to +mount that horse, follow the man, and force him to tell the rest of the +Unique Tale. + +The King’s Son drew back to the outskirts of the crowd. He snatched the +bridle from the hands of Mogue, the man who held it, and jumped up on +the back of the Slight Red Steed. + +As soon as he did this the ladder that was standing upright fell on the +ground. The people shouted and broke away. And then the King’s Son saw +the Enchanter jump across a house and make for the gate of the town. + +But if he could jump across a house so could the Slight Red Steed. The +King’s Son turned its head, plucked at its rein, and over the same house +it sprang too. The more he ran the more swift the Enchanter became. He +jumped over the gate of the town, the Slight Red Steed after him. He +went swiftly across the country, making high springs over ditches and +hedges. No other steed but the Slight Red Steed could have kept its +rider in sight of him. + + + + +IV + + +Up hill and down dale the Enchanter went, but, mounted on the Slight Red +Steed, the King of Ireland’s Son was in hot pursuit. The Enchanter raced +up the side of the seventh hill, and when the King’s Son came to the top +of it he found no one in sight. + +He raced on, however, and he passed a dead man hanging from a tree. He +raced on and on, but still the Enchanter was not to be seen. Then the +thought came into his mind that the man who was hanging from the tree +and who he thought was dead was the crafty old Enchanter. He turned the +Slight Red Steed round and raced back. The man that had been hanging +from the tree was there no longer. + +The King’s Son turned his horse amongst the trees and began to search +for the Enchanter. He found no trace of him. “I have lost again,” he +said. Then he threw the bridle on the neck of the horse and he said, “Go +your own way now, my Slight Red Steed.” + +When he said that the Slight Red Steed twitched its ears and galloped +towards the West. It went through woods and across streams, and when the +crows were flying home and the kites were flying abroad it brought the +King’s Son to a stone house standing in the middle of a bog. “It may be +the Enchanter is in this house,” said the King’s Son. He jumped off the +Slight Red Steed, pushed the door of the house open, and there, seated +on a chair in the middle of the floor with a woman sitting beside him, +was the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands. “So,” said the Enchanter, “my +Slight Red Steed has brought you to me.” + +“So,” said the King’s Son, “I have found you, my crafty old Enchanter.” + +“And now that you have found me, what do you want of me?” said the +Enchanter. + +“Your head,” said the King’s Son, drawing the tarnished Sword of Light. + +“Will nothing less than my head content you?” said the Enchanter. + +“Nothing less--unless it be what went before, and what comes after the +Unique Tale.” + +“The Unique Tale,” said the Enchanter. “I will tell you what I know of +it.” Thereupon he began + + +I was a Druid and the Son of a Druid, and I had learned the language of +the birds. And one morning, as I walked abroad, I heard a blackbird and +a robin talking, and when I heard what they said I smiled to myself. + +“Now the woman I had just married noticed that I kept smiling, and she +questioned me. ‘Why do you keep smiling to yourself?’ I would not tell +her. ‘Is that not the truth? ‘“ said the Enchanter to a woman who sat +beside him. “It is the truth,” said she. + +“On the third day I was still smiling to myself, and my wife questioned +me, and when I did not answer threw dish-water into my face. ‘May +blindness come upon you if you do not tell me why you are smiling,’ said +she. Then I told her why I smiled to myself. I had heard what the birds +said. The blackbird said to the robin, ‘Do you know that just under +where we are sitting are three rods of enchantment, and if one were to +take one of them and strike a man with it, he would be changed to any +creature one named?’ That is what I had heard the birds say and I smiled +because I was the only creature who knew about the rods of enchantment. + +“My wife made me show her where the rods were. She cut one of them when +I went away. That evening she came behind me and struck me with a rod. +‘Go out now and roam as a wolf,’ she said, and there and then I was +changed into a wolf. ‘Is that not true?’” said he to the woman. “It is +true,” she said. + +“And being changed into a wolf, I went through the woods seeking wolf’s +meat. And now you must ask my wife to tell you more of the story.” The +King of Ireland’s Son turned to the woman who sat on the seat next the +Enchanter, and asked her to tell him more of the story. And thereupon +she began + + +Before all that happened I was known as the Maid of the Green Mantle. +One day a King rode up a mountain with five score followers and a mist +came on them as they rode. The King saw his followers no more. He called +out after a while and four score answered him. And he called out again +after another while and two score answered him. And after another while +he called out again and only a score answered him through the mist, and +when he called out again no one answered him at all. + +“The King went up the mountain until he came to the place where I lived +with the Druids who reared me. He stayed long in that place. The King +loved me for a while and I loved the King, and when he went away I +followed him. + +“Because he would not come back to me I enchanted him so that there +were times when he was left between life and death. Once when he was +seemingly dead a girl watched by him, and she followed his spirit into +many terrible places and so broke my enchantment.” + +“Sheen was the girl’s name,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“Sheen was her name,” said the woman. “He brought her to his Kingdom, +and made her his queen. After that I married the man who is here +now--the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands, the Son of the Druid of the +Gray Rock. Ask him now to tell you the rest of the story.” + +When she changed me into a gray wolf,” said the Enchanter, “I went +through the woods searching for what a wolf might eat, but could find +nothing to stay my hunger. Then I came back and stood outside my house +and the woman who had been called the Maid of the Green Mantle came to +me. ‘I will give you back your human form,’ she said, ‘if you do as I +bid you.’ + +“I promised her I would do as she bade. + +“She bade me go to a King’s house where a child had been born. She bade +me steal the child away. I went to the King’s house. I went into the +chamber and I stole the child from the mother’s side. Then I ran through +the woods. But in the end I fell into a trap that the Giant Crom Duv had +set for the wolves that chased his stray cattle. + +“For a night I lay in the trap with the child beside me. Then Crom Duv +came and lifted out wolf and child. Three Hags with Long Teeth were +there when he took us out of the trap, and he gave the child to one of +them, telling her to rear it so that the child might be a servant for +him. + +“He put me into a sack, promising himself that he would give me a good +beating. He left me on the floor of his house. But while he was gone for +his club I bit my way out of the sack and made my escape. I came back +to my own house, and my wife struck me with the wand of enchantment, and +changed me from a wolf into a man again. ‘Is that not true?’” said he to +the woman. + +“It is true,” said she. + +“That is all of the Unique Tale that I know,” said the Enchanter of +the Black Back-Lands, “and now that I have told it to you, put up your +sword.” + +“I will put up no sword,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “until you +tell me what King and Queen were the father and mother of the child that +was reared by the Hags of the Long Teeth.” + +“I made no promise to tell you that,” said the En-chanter of the Black +Back-Lands. “You have got the story you asked for, and now let me see +your back going through my door.” + +“Yes, you have got the story, and be off with you now,” said the woman +who sat by the fire. + + +He put up his sword; he went to the door; he left the house of the +Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands. He mounted the Slight Red Steed and +rode off. He knew now what went before and what came after the Unique +Tale. The Gobaun Saor would clean the blemish of the blade of the Sword +of Light and would show him how to come to the Land of Mist. Then he +would win back his love Fedelma. + +He thought too on the tidings he had for his comrade Flann--Flann was +the Son of the King who was called the Hunter-King and of Sheen whose +brothers had been changed into seven wild geese. He shook his horse’s +reins and went back towards the Town of the Red Castle. + + +V + + +Flann thought upon the Princess Flame-of-Wine. He walked through the +town after the King’s Son had ridden after the Enchanter, without +noticing anyone until he heard a call and saw Mogue standing beside a +little tent that he had set up before the Bull’s Field. + +Flann went to Mogue and found him very disconsolate on account of the +loss of the horse he had brought into the town. “This is a bad town to +be in,” said Mogue, “and unless I persuade yourself to become partners +with me I shall have done badly in it. Join with me now and we’ll do +some fine feats together.” + +“It would not become a King’s Son to join with a robber-captain,” said +Flann. + +“Fine talk, fine talk,” said Mogue. He thought that Flann was jesting +with him when he spoke of himself as a King’s Son. + +“I want to sell three treasures I have with me,” said Mogue. “I have the +most wonderful things that were ever brought into this town.” + +“Show them to me,” said Flann. + +Mogue opened one of his packs and took out a box. When he opened this +box a fragrance came such as Flann had never felt before. “What is that +that smells like a garden of sweet flowers?” said Flann. + +“It is the Rose of Sweet Smells,” said Mogue, and he took a little rose +out of the box. “It never withers and its fragrance is never any less. +It is a treasure for a King’s daughter. But I will not show it in this +town.” + +“And what is that shining thing in the box?” + +“It is the Comb of Magnificence. That is another treasure for a King’s +daughter. The maiden who would wear it would look the most queenly woman +in the Kingdom. But I won’t show that either.” + +“What else have you, Mogue?” + +“A girdle. The woman who wears it would have to speak the truth.” The +Town of + +Flann thought he would do much to get the Rose of Sweet Smells or +the Comb of Magnificence and bring them as presents to the Princess +Flame-of-Wine. + +He slept in Mogue’s tent, and at the peep of day, he rose up and went +to the House of Hospitality where Dermott and Downal were. With them he +would go to the King’s orchard, and he would see, and perhaps he +would speak to, Flame-of-Wine. But Dermott and Downal were not in the +Brufir’s. Flann wakened their grooms and he and they made search for the +two youths. But there was no trace of Dermott and Downal. It seemed they +had left before daybreak with their horses. Flann went with the grooms +to the gate of the town. There they heard from the watchman that the two +youths had gone through the gate and that they had told the watchman to +tell the grooms that they had gone to take the world for their pillow. + +The grooms were dismayed to hear this, and so indeed was Flann. Without +the King’s Son and without Downal and Dermott how would he go to the +King’s Garden? He went back to Mogue’s tent to consider what he +should do. And first he thought he would not go to the Festival of the +Gathering of the Apples, as he knew that Flame-of-Wine had only asked +him with his comrades. And then he thought that whatever else happened +he would go to the King’s orchard and see Flame-of-Wine. + +If he had one of the wonderful things that Mogue had shown him--the Rose +of Sweet Smells or the Comb of Magnificence! These would show her that +he was of some consequence. If he had either of these wonderful things +and offered it to her she might be pleased with him! + +He sat outside the tent and waited for Mogue to return. When he came +Flann said to him, “I will go with you as a servant, and I will serve +you well although I am a King’s Son, if you will give me something now.” + +“What do you want from me?” said Mogue. + +“Give me the Rose of Sweet Smells,” said Flann. + +“Sure that’s the finest thing I have. I couldn’t give you that.” + +“I will serve you for two years if you will give it to me,” said Flann. + +“No,” said Mogue. + +“I will serve you for three years if you will give it to me,” said +Flann. + +“I will give it to you if you will serve me for three years.” Thereupon +Mogue opened his pack and took the box out. He opened it and put the +Rose of Sweet Smells into Flann’s hand. + +At once Flann started off for the King’s orchard. The Steward who had +seen him the day before signed to the servants to let him pass through +the gate. He went into the King’s orchard. + +Maidens were singing the “Song for the Time of the Blossoming of the +Apple-trees” and all that day and night Flann held their song in his +mind + + The touch of hands that drew it down + Kindled to blossom all the bough + O breathe the wonder of the branch, + And let it through the darkness go! + + + +Youths were gathering apples, and the Princess Flame-of-Wine walked by +herself on the orchard paths. + +At last she came to where Flann stood and lifting her eyes she looked at +him. “I had companions,” said Flann, “but they have gone away.” + +“They are unmannerly,” said Flame-of-Wine with anger, and she turned +away. + +Flann took the rose from under his cloak. Its fragrance came to +Flame-of-Wine and she turned to him again. + +“This is the Rose of Sweet Smells,” said Flann. “Will you take it from +me, Princess?” + +She came back to him and took the rose in her hand, and there was wonder +in her face. + +“It will never wither, and its fragrance will never fail,” said Flann. +“It is the Rose of Sweet Smells. A King’s daughter should have it.” + +Flame-of-Wine held the rose in her hand, and smiled on Flann. “What is +your name, King’s Son?” said she, with bright and friendly eyes. + +“Flann,” he said. + +“Walk with me, Flann,” said she. They walked along the orchard paths, +and the youths and maidens turned towards the fragrance that the Rose of +Sweet Smells gave. Flame-of-Wine laughed, and said, “They all wonder at +the treasure you have brought me, Flann. If you could hear what I shall +tell them about you! I shall tell them that you are the son of a King of +Arabia--no less. They will believe me because you have brought me such a +treasure! I suppose there is nothing more wonderful than this rose!” + +Then Flann told her about the other wonderful thing he had seen--the +Comb of Magnificence. “A King’s daughter should have such a treasure,” + said Flame-of-Wine. “Oh, how jealous I should be if someone brought the +Comb of Magnificence to either of my two sisters--to Bloom-of-Youth +or Breast-of-Light. I should think then that this rose was not such a +treasure after all.” + +When he was leaving the orchard she plucked a flower and gave it to him. +“Come and walk in the orchard with me to-morrow,” she said. + +“Surely I will come,” said Flann. + +“Bring the Comb of Magnificence to me too,” said she. “I could not be +proud of this rose, and I could not love you so well for bringing it +to me if I thought that any other maiden had the Comb of Magnificence. +Bring it to me, Flann.” + +“I will bring it to you,” said Flann. + + + +VI + + +He was at the gate of the town when the King of Ireland’s Son rode back +on the Slight Red Steed. The King’s Son dismounted, put his arm about +Flann and told him that he now had the whole of the Unique Tale. They +sat before Mogue’s tent, and the King’s Son told Flann the whole of the +story he had searched for--how a King traveling through the mist had +come to where Druids and the Maid of the Green Mantle lived, how the +King was enchanted, and how the maiden Sheen released him from the +enchantment. He told him, too, how the Enchanter was changed into a +wolf, and how the wolf carried away Sheen’s child. “And the Unique Tale +is in part your own history, Flann,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, +“for the child that was left with the Hags of the Long Teeth was no one +else than yourself, for you, Flann, have on your breast the stars that +denote the Son of a King.” + +“It is so, it is so,” said Flann, “and I will find out what King and +Queen were my father and my mother.” + +“Go to the Hags of the Long Teeth and force them to tell you,” said the +King’s Son. + +“I will do that,” said Flann, but in his own mind he said, “I will first +bring the Comb of Magnificence to Flame-of-Wine, and I will tell her +that I will have to be away for so many years with Mogue and I shall ask +her to remember me until I come back to her. Then I shall go to the Hags +of the Long Teeth and force them to tell me what King and Queen were my +father and mother.” + +The King of Ireland’s Son left Flann to his thoughts and went to find +the Gobaun Saor who would clear for him the tarnished blade of the Sword +of Light and would show him the way to where the King of the Land of +Mist had his dominion. + +Mogue spent his time with the ballad-singers and the story-tellers +around the market-stake, and when he came back to his tent he wanted +to drink ale and go to sleep, but Flann turned him from the ale-pot by +saying to him, “I want the Comb of Magnificence from you, Mogue.” + +“By my skin,” said Mogue, “it’s my blood you’ll want next, my lad.” + +“If you give me the Comb of Magnificence, Mogue, I shall serve you for +six years--three years more than I said yesterday. I shall serve you +well, even though I am the son of a King and can find out who my father +and mother are.” + +“I won’t give you the Comb of Magnificence.” + +“I’ll serve you seven years if you do, Mogue.” + +Mogue drank and drank out of the ale-pot, frowning to himself. He put +the ale-pot away and said, “I suppose your life won’t be any good to you +unless I give you the Comb of Magnificence?” + +“That is so, Mogue.” + +Mogue sighed heavily, but he went to his pack and took out the box that +the treasures were in. He let Flann take out the Comb of Magnificence. + +“Seven years you will have to serve me,” said Mogue, “and you will have +to begin your service now.” + +“I will begin it now,” said Flann, but he stole out of the tent, put on +his red cloak and went to the King’s orchard. + + + +VII + + +“Oh, Flann, my treasure-bringer,” said Flame-of-Wine, when she came to +him. “I have brought you the Comb of Magnificence,” said he. Her hands +went out and her eyes became large and shining. He put the Comb of +Magnificence into her hands. + +She put the comb into the back of her hair, and she became at once like +the tower that is builded--what broke its height and turned the full +sunlight from it has been taken away, and the tower stands, the pride +of a King and the delight of a people. When she put the Comb of +Magnificence into her hair she became of all Kings’ daughters the most +stately. + +She walked with Flann along the paths of the orchard, but always she +was watching her shadow to see if it showed her added magnificence. Her +shadow showed nothing. She took Flann to the well in the orchard, and +looked down into it, but her image in the well did not show her added +magnificence either. Soon she became tired of walking on the orchard +paths, and when she came to the gate she walked no further but stood +with Flann at the gate. “A kiss for you, Flann, my treasure-bringer,” + said she, and she kissed him and then went hurrying away. And as Flann +watched her he thought that although she had kissed him he was not now +in her mind. + +He went out of the orchard disconsolate, thinking that when he was on +his seven years’ service with Mogue Princess Flame-of-Wine might forget +him. As he walked on he passed the little house where the Spae-Woman had +her besoms and heather-stalks. She ran to him when she saw him. + +“Have you heard that the King’s Son has found what went before, and what +comes after the Unique Tale?” said she. + +“That I have. And I have to go to the Hags of the Long Teeth to find out +who my father and mother were, for surely I am the child who was taken +from Sheen.” + +“And do you remember that Sheen’s seven brothers were changed into seven +wild geese?” said she. + +“I remember that, mother.” + +“And seven wild geese they will be until a maiden who loves you will +give seven drops of her heart’s blood to bring them back to their human +shapes.” + +“I remember that, mother.” “Whatever maid you love, her you must ask +if she would give seven drops of her heart’s blood. It may be that she +would. It may be that she would not and that you would still love her +without thought of her giving one drop of blood of her little finger.” + +“I cannot ask the maiden I love to give seven drops of her heart’s +blood.” + +“Who is the maiden you love?” + +“The King’s daughter, Flame-of-Wine.” + +He told the Spae-Woman about the presents he had given her--he told +the Spae-Woman too that he had bound himself to seven years’ service +to Mogue on account of these presents. The Spae-Woman said, “What other +treasures are in Mogue’s pack?” + +“One treasure more the Girdle of Truth. Whoever puts it on can speak +nothing but the truth.” + +Said the Spae-Woman, “You are to take the Girdle of Truth and give it +to Flame-of-Wine. Tell Mogue that I said he is to give it to you without +adding one day to your years’ service. When Flame-of-Wine has put the +girdle around her waist ask her for the seven drops of heart’s blood +that will bring your mother’s seven brothers back to their human shapes. +She may love you and yet refuse to give you the seven drops from her +heart. But tell her of this, and hear what she will say.” + +Flann left the Spae-Woman’s and went back to Mogue’s tent. The loss of +his treasures had overcome Mogue and he was drinking steadily and went +from one bad temper to another. + +“Begin your service now by watching the tent while I sleep,” said he. + +“There is one thing more I want from you, Mogue,” said Flann. + +“By the Eye of Balor! you’re a cuckoo in my nest. What do you want now?” + +“The Girdle of Truth.” + +“Is it my last treasure you’d be taking on me?” + +“The Spae-Woman bid me tell you that you’re to give me the Girdle of +Truth.” + +“It’s a pity of me, it’s a pity of me,” said Mogue. But he took the box +out of his pack, and let Flann take the girdle. + + + +VIII + + +Flame-of-Wine saw him. She walked slowly down the orchard path so that +all might notice the stateliness of her appearance. + +“I am glad to see you again, Flann,” said she. “Have your comrades yet +come back to my father’s town?” + + +Flann told her that one of them had returned. + +“Bid him come see me,” said Flame-of-Wine. Then she saw the girdle in +his hands. + +“What is it you have?” said she. + +“Something that went with the other treasures--a girdle.” + +“Will you not let me have it, Flann?” She took the girdle in her hands. +“Tell me, youth,” she said, “how you got all these treasures?” + +“I will have to give seven years’ service for them,” Flann said. + +“Seven years,” said she, “but you will remember--will you not--that I +loved you for bringing them to me?” + +“Will you remember me until I come back from my seven years’ service?” + +“Oh, yes,” said Flame-of-Wine, and she put the girdle around her waist +as she spoke. + +“Someone said to me,” said Flann, “that I should ask the maiden who +loved me for seven drops of her heart’s blood.” The girdle was now round +Flame-of-Wine’s waist. She laughed with mockery. “Seven drops of heart’s +blood,” said she. “I would not give this fellow seven eggs out of my +robin’s nest. I tell him I love him for bringing me the three treasures +for a King’s daughter. I tell him that, but I should be ashamed of +myself if I thought I could have any love for such a fellow.” + +“Do you tell me the truth now,” said Flann. + +“The truth, the truth,” said she, “of course I tell you the truth. Oh, +and there are other truths. I shall be ashamed forever if I tell them. +Oh, oh. They are rising to my tongue, and every time I press them back +this girdle tightens and tightens until I think it will kill me.” + +“Farewell, then, Flame-of-Wine.” + +“Take off the girdle, take off the girdle! What truths are in my mind! +I shall speak them and I shall be ashamed. But I shall die in pain if I +hold them back. Loosen the girdle, loosen the girdle! Take the rose you +gave me and loosen the girdle.” She let the rose fall on the ground. + +“I will loosen the girdle for you,” said Flann. + +“But loosen it now. How I have to strive to keep truths back, and +oh, what pain I am in! Take the Comb of Magnificence, and loosen the +girdle.” She threw the comb down on the ground. + +He took up the Rose of Sweet Smells and the Comb of Magnificence and he +took the girdle off her waist. “Oh, what a terrible thing I put round my +waist,” said Flame-of-Wine. “Take it away, Flann, take it away. But give +me back the Rose of Sweet Smells and the Comb of Magnificence,--give +them back to me and I shall love you always.” + +“You cannot love me. And why should I give seven years in service for +your sake? I will leave these treasures back in Mogue’s pack.” + +“Oh, you are a peddler, a peddler. Go from me,” said Flame-of-Wine. “And +do not be in the Town of the Red Castle to-morrow, or I shall have my +father’s hunting dogs set upon you.” She turned away angrily and went +into the Castle. + +Flann went back to Mogue’s tent and left the Rose of Sweet Smells, the +Comb of Magnificence and the Girdle of Truth upon Mogue’s pack. He sat +in the corner and cried bitterly. Then the King of Ireland’s Son came and +told him that his sword was bright once more--that the stains that had +blemished its blade had been cleared away by the Gobaun Saor who had +also shown him the way to the Land of the Mist. He put his arm about +Flann and told him that he was starting now to rescue his love Fedelma +from the Castle of the King of the Land of Mist. + + + + +THE KING OF THE LAND OF MIST + + + +I + + +The King of Ireland’s Son came to the place where the river that he +followed takes the name of the River of the Broken Towers. It is called +by that name because the men of the old days tried to build towers +across its course. The towers were built a little way across the river +that at this place was tremendously wide. + +“The Glashan will carry you across the River of the Broken Towers to +the shore of the Land of Mist,” the Gobaun Saor had said to the King of +Ireland’s Son. And now he was at the River of the Broken Towers but the +Glashan-creature was not to be seen. + +Then he saw the Glashan. He was leaning his back against one of the +Towers and smoking a short pipe. The water of the river was up to his +knees. He was covered with hair and had a big head with horse’s +ears. And the Glashan twitched his horse’s ears as he smoked in great +contentment. + +“Glashan, come here,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +But the Glashan gave him no heed at all. + +“I want you to carry me across the River of the Broken Towers,” shouted +the King of Ireland’s Son. The Glashan went on smoking and twisting his +ears. + +And the King of Ireland’s Son might have known that the whole clan +of the Gruagachs and Glashans are fond of their own ease and will do +nothing if they can help it. He twitched his ears more sharply when the +King’s Son threw a pebble at him. Then after about three hours he came +slowly across the river. From his big knees down he had horse’s feet. + +“Take me on your big shoulders, Glashan,” said the King of Ireland’s +Son, “and carry me across to the shore of the Land of Mist.” + +“Not carrying any more across,” said the Glashan. The King of Ireland’s +Son drew the Sword of Light and flashed it. + +“Oh, if you have that, you’ll have to be carried across,” said the +Glashan. “But wait until I rest myself.” + +“What did you do that you should rest?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. +“Take me on your shoulders and start off.” + +“Musha,” said the Glashan, “aren’t you very anxious to lose your life?” + +“Take me on your shoulders.” “Well, come then. You’re not the first +living dead man I carried across.” The Glashan put his pipe into his +ear. The King of Ireland’s Son mounted his shoulders and laid hold of +his thick mane. Then the Glashan put his horse’s legs into the water and +started to cross the River of the Broken Towers. + +“The Land of Mist has a King,” said the Glashan, when they were in the +middle of the river. + +“That, Glashan, I know,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“All right,” said the Glashan. + +Then said he when they were three-quarters of the way across, “Maybe you +don’t know that the King of the Land of Mist will kill you?” + +“Maybe ‘tis I who will kill him,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“You’d be a hardy little fellow if you did that,” said the Glashan. “But +you won’t do it.” + + +They went on. The water was up to the Glashan’s waist but that gave him +no trouble. So broad was the river that they were traveling across it +all day. The Glashan threw the King’s Son in once when he stooped to +pick up an eel. Said the King of Ireland’s Son, “What way is the Castle +of the King of the Land of Mist guarded, Glashan?” + +“It has seven gates,” said the Glashan. + +“And how are the gates guarded?” + +“I’m tired,” said the Glashan, “and I can’t talk.” + +“Tell me, or I’ll twist the horse’s ears off your head.” + +“Well, the first gate is guarded by a plover only. It sits on the third +pinnacle over the gate, and when anyone comes near it rises up and flies +round the Castle crying until its sharp cries put the other guards on +the watch.” + +“And what other guards are there?” + +“Oh, I’m tired, and I can talk no more.” + +The King of Ireland’s Son twisted his horse’s ears, and then the Glashan +said + + +“The second gate is guarded by five spear-men.” + +“And how is the third gate guarded?” + +“The third gate is guarded by seven swordsmen.” + +“And how is the fourth gate guarded?” + +“The fourth gate is guarded by the King of the Land of Mist himself.” + +“And the fifth gate?” + +“The fifth gate is guarded by the King of the Land of Mist himself.” + +“And the sixth gate?” + +“The sixth gate is guarded by the King of the Land of Mist.” + +“And how is the seventh gate guarded?” + +“The seventh gate is guarded by a Hag.” + +“By a Hag only?” “By a Hag with poisoned nails. But I’m tired now, and +I’ll talk no more to you. If I could strike a light now I’d smoke a +pipe.” + +Still they went on, and just at the screech of the day they came to the +other shore of the River of the Broken Towers. The King of Ireland’s Son +sprang from the shoulders of the Glashan and went into the mist. + + + + +II + + +He came to where turrets and pinnacles appeared above the mist. He +climbed the rock upon which the Castle was built. He came to the first +gate, and as he did the plover that was on the third pinnacle above rose +up and flew round the Castle with sharp cries. + +He raised a fragment of the ground-rock and flung it against the gate. +He burst it open. He dashed in then and through the first courtyard of +the Castle. + +As he went towards the second gate it was flung open, and the five +spear-men ran upon him. But they had not counted on what was to face +them--the Sword of Light in the bands of the King of Ireland’s Son. + +Its stroke cut the spear heads from the spear-holds, and its quick +glancing dazzled the eyes of the spear-men. On each and every one of +them it inflicted the wound of death. He dashed through the second gate +and into the third courtyard. + +But as he did the third gate was flung open and seven swordsmen came +forth. They made themselves like a half circle and came towards the King +of Ireland’s Son. He dazzled their eyes with a wide sweep of his sword. +He darted it swiftly at each of them and on the seven swordsmen too he +inflicted wounds of death. + +He went through the third courtyard and towards the fourth gate. As he +did it opened slowly and a single champion came forth. He closed the +gate behind him and stood with a long gray sword in his hand. This was +the King of the Land of Mist. His shoulders were where a tall man’s +head would be. His face was like a stone, and his eyes had never looked +except with scorn upon a foe. + +When his enemy began his attack the King of Ireland’s Son had power to +do nothing else but guard himself from that weighty sword. He had the +Sword of Light for a guard and well did that bright, swift blade guard +him. The two fought across the courtyard making hard places soft and +soft places hard with their trampling. They fought from when it was +early to when it was noon, and they fought from when it was noon until +it was long afternoon. And not a single wound did the King of Ireland’s +Son inflict upon the King of the Land of Mist, and not a single wound +did the King of the Land of Mist inflict upon him. + +But the King of Ireland’s Son was growing faint and weary. His eyes +were worn with watching the strokes and thrusts of the sword that was +battling against him. His arms could hardly bear up his own sword. His +heart became a stream of blood that would have gushed from his breast. + +And then, as he was about to fall down with his head under the sword +of the King of the Land of Mist a name rose above all his +thoughts--“Fedelma.” If he sank down and the sword of the King of the +Land of Mist fell on him, never would she be saved. The will became +strong again in the King of Ireland’s Son. His heart became a steady +beating thing. The weight that was upon his arms passed away. Strongly +he held the sword in his hand and he began to attack the King of the +Land of Mist. + +And now he saw that the sword in the hand of his enemy was broken and +worn with the guard that the Sword of Light had put against it. And now +he made a strong attack. As the light was leaving the sky and as the +darkness was coming down he saw that the strength was waning in the +King of the Land of Mist. The sword in his hand was more worn and more +broken. At last the blade was only a span from the hilt. As he drew back +to the gate of the fourth courtyard the King of Ireland’s Son sprang at +him and thrust the Sword of Light through his breast. He stood with his +face becoming exceedingly terrible. He flung what remained of his sword, +and the broken blade struck the foot of the King of Ireland’s Son and +pierced it. Then the King of the Land of Mist fell down on the ground +before the fourth gate. + +So weary from his battles, so pained with the wound of his foot was +the King of Ireland’s Son that he did not try to cross the body and go +towards the fifth gate. He turned back. He climbed down the rock and +went towards the River of the Broken Towers. + +The Glashan was broiling on a hot stone the eel he had taken out of the +river. “Wash my wound and give me refreshment, Glashan,” said the King +of Ireland’s Son. + +The Glashan washed the wound in his foot and gave him a portion of the +broiled eel with cresses and water. + +“To-morrow’s dawn I shall go back,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “and +go through the fifth and sixth and seventh gate and take away Fedelma.” + +“If the King of the Land of Mist lets you,” said the Glashan. + +“He is dead,” said the King of Ireland’s Son, “I thrust my sword through +his breast.” + +“And where is his head?” said the Glashan. + +“It is on his corpse,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. + +“Then you will have another fight to-morrow. His life is in his head, +and his life will come back to him if you did not cut it off. It is he, +I tell you, who will guard the fourth and fifth and sixth gate.” + +“That I do not believe, Glashan,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “There +is no one to guard the gates now but the Hag you spoke of. To-morrow I +shall take Fedelma out of her captivity, and we will both leave the Land +of Mist. But I must sleep now.” + +He laid the Sword of Light beside him, stretched himself on the ground +and went to sleep. The Glashan drew his horse’s legs under him, took the +pipe out of his ear, and smoked all through the night. + + + +III + + +The King of Ireland’s Son rose in the morning but he was in pain and +weariness on account of his wounded foot. He ate the cresses and drank +the water that the Glashan gave him, and he started off for the Castle +of the King of the Mist. “‘Tis only an old woman I shall have to deal +with to-day,” he said, “and then I shall awaken Fedelma, my love.” + +He passed through the first gate and the first court-yard, through the +second gate and the second court-yard, through the third gate and the +third courtyard. The fourth gate was closed, and as he went towards it, +it opened slowly, and the King of the Land of Mist stood there--as high, +as stone-faced, and as scornful as before, and in his hand he had a +weighty gray sword. + +They fought as they fought the day before. But the guard the King of +Ireland’s Son made against the sword of the King of the Land of Mist was +weaker than before, because of the pain and weariness that came from his +wound. But still he kept the Sword of Light before him and the Sword of +the King of the Land of Mist could not pass it. They fought until it was +afternoon. The heart in his body seemed turned to a jet of blood that +would gush forth. His eyes were straining themselves out of their +sockets. His arms could hardly bear up his sword. He fell down upon one +knee, but he was able to hold the sword so that it guarded his head. + +Then the image of Fedelma appeared before him. He sprang up and his arms +regained their power. His heart became steady in his breast. And as he +made an attack upon the King of the Land of Mist, he saw that the blade +in his hand was broken and worn because of its strokes against the Sword +of Light. + +They fought with blades that seemed to kindle each other into sparks and +flashes of light. They fought until the blade in the hand of the King of +the Land of Mist was worn to a hand breadth above the hilt. He drew +back towards the gate of the fifth courtyard. The King of Ireland’s Son +sprang at him and thrust the Sword of Light through his breast. Down on +the stones before the fifth gate of his Castle fell the King of the Land +of Mist. + +The King of Ireland’s Son stepped over the body and went towards the +fifth gate. Then he remembered what the Glashan had said, “His life is +in his head.” He went back to where the King of the Land of Mist had +fallen. With a clean sweep of his sword he cut the head off the body. + +Then out of the mist that was all around three ravens came. With beak +and claws they laid hold of the head and lifted it up. They fluttered +heavily away, keeping near the ground. + +With his sword in his hand the King of Ireland’s Son chased the ravens. +He followed them through the fourth courtyard, the third courtyard, the +second and the first. They flew off the rock on which the Castle was +built and disappeared in the mist. + +He knew he would have to watch by the body of the King of the Land of +Mist, so that the head might not be placed upon it. He sat down before +the fifth gate. Pain and weariness, hunger and thirst oppressed him. + +He longed for something that would allay his hunger and thirst. But he +knew that he could not go to the river to get refreshment of water and +cresses from the Glashan. Something fell beside him in the courtyard. +It was a beautiful, bright-colored apple. He went to pick it up, but +it rolled away towards the third courtyard. He followed it. Then, as he +looked back he saw that the ravens had lighted near the body of the King +of the Land of Mist, holding the head in their beaks and claws. He ran +back and the ravens lifted the head up again and flew away. + +He watched for another long time, and his hunger and his thirst made him +long for the bright-colored apple he had seen. + +Another apple fell down. He went to pick it up and it rolled away. But +now the King of Ireland’s Son thought of nothing hut that bright-colored +apple. He followed it as it rolled. + +It roiled through the third courtyard, and the second and the first. It +rolled out of the first gate and on to the rock upon which the Castle +was built. It rolled off the rock. The King of Ireland’s Son sprang down +and he saw the apple become a raven’s head and beak. + +He climbed up the rock and ran back. And when he came into the first +courtyard he saw that the three ravens had come back again. They had +brought the head to the body, and body and head were now joined. The +King of the Land of Mist stood up again, and his head was turned towards +his left shoulder. He went to the sixth gate and took up a sword that +was beside it. + + + +IV + + +They fought their last battle before the sixth gate. The guard that the +King of Ireland’s Son made was weak, and if the King of the Land of Mist +could have turned fully upon him, he could have disarmed and killed him. +But his head had been so placed upon his body that it looked The King +of the Land of Mist 237 over his left shoulder. He was able to draw his +sword down the breast of the King of Ireland’s Son, wounding him. +The King’s Son whirled his sword around his head and flung it at his +wry-headed enemy. It swept his head off, and the King of the Land of +Mist fell down. + +The King of Ireland’s Son saw on the outstretched neck the mark of the +other beheading. He took up the Sword of Light again and prepared to +hold the head against all that might come for it. + +But no creature came. And then the hair on the severed head became loose +and it was blown away by the wind. And the bones of the head became a +powder and the flesh became a froth, and all was blown away by the wind. + +Then the King of Ireland’s Son went through the sixth courtyard and came +to the seventh gate. And before it he saw the last of the sentinels. A +Hag, she was seated on the top of a water-tank taking white doves out of +a basket and throwing them to ravens that flew down from the walls and +tore the doves to pieces. + +When the Hag saw the King of Ireland’s Son she sprang down from the +water-tank and ran towards him with outstretched arms and long poisoned +nails. With a sweep of his sword he cut the nails from her hands. Ravens +picked up the nails, and then, as they tried to fly away, they fell +dead. + +“The Sword of Light will take off your head if you do not take me on the +moment to where Fedelma is,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “I am sorry +to do it,” said the Hag, “but come, since you are the conqueror.” + +He followed the Hag into the Castle. In a net, hanging across a chamber, +he saw Fedelma. She was still, but she breathed. And the branch of +hawthorn that put her asleep was fresh beside her. Strands of her bright +hair came through the meshes of the net and were fastened to the wall. +With a sweep of the Sword of Light he cut the strands. + + +Her eyes opened. She saw the King of Ireland’s Son, and the full light +came back to her eyes, and the full life into her face. + +He cut the net from where it hung and laid it on the ground. He cut open +the meshes. Fedelma rose out of it and went into his arms. + +He lifted her up and carried her out into the seventh courtyard. Then +the Hag who had been one of the sentinels came out of the Castle, closed +the door behind her and ran away into the mist, three ravens flying +after her. + +And as for Fedelma and the King of Ireland’s Son, they went through the +courtyards of the Castle and through the mists of the country and down +to the River of the Broken Towers. They found the Glashan broiling a +salmon upon hot stones. Salmon were coming from the sea and the Glashan +went in and caught more, The King of the Land of Mist 239 broiled and +gave them to the King of Ireland’s Son and Fedelma to eat. The little +black water-hen came out of the river and they fed it. The next day the +King of Ireland’s Son bade the Glashan take Fedelma on his shoulders and +carry her to the other shore of the River of the Broken Towers. And +he himself followed the little black water-hen who showed him all the +shallow places in the river so that he crossed with the water never +above his waist. But he was nearly dead from cold and weariness, and +from the wounds on breast and foot when he came to the other side and +found the Glashan and Fedelma waiting for him. + +They ate salmon again and rested for a day. They bade good-by to the +Glashan, who went back to the river to hunt for salmon. Then they went +along the bank of the river hand in hand while the King of Ireland’s Son +told Fedelma of all the things that had happened to him in his search +for her. + +They came to where the river became known as the River of the Morning +Star. And then, in the distance, they saw the Hill of Horns. Towards the +Hill of Horns they went, and, at the near side of it, they found a house +thatched with the wing of a bird. It was the house of the Little Sage +of the Mountain. To the house of the Little Sage of the Mountain Fedelma +and the King’s Son now went. + + + + TO THE MEMORY OF BEATRICE CASSIDY COLUM + + + + +THE HOUSE OF CROM DUV + + + +I + + +The story is now about Flann. He went through the East gate of the Town +of the Red Castle and his journey was to the house of the Hags of the +Long Teeth where he might learn what Queen and King were his mother and +his father. It is with the youth Flann, once called the Gilly of the +Goatskin, that we will go if it be pleasing to you, Son of my Heart. He +went his way in the evening, when, as the bard said:-- + + The blackbird shakes his metal notes + Against the edge of day, + And I am left upon my road + With one star on my way. + +And he went his way in the night, when, as the same bard said:-- + + The night has told it to the hills, + And told the partridge in the nest, + And left it on the long white roads, + She will give light instead of rest. + +And he went on between the dusk and the dawn, when, as the same bard +said again:-- + + Behold the sky is covered, + As with a mighty shroud: + A forlorn light is lying + Between the earth and cloud. + + +And he went on in the dawn, when as the bard said (and this is the +last stanza he made, for the King said there was nothing at all in his +adventure):-- + + In the silence of the morning + Myself, myself went by, + Where lonely trees sway branches + Against spaces of the sky. + +And then, when the sun was looking over the first high hills he came to +a river. He knew it was the river he followed before, for no other river +in the country was so wide or held so much water. As he had gone with +the flow of the river then he thought he would go against the flow of +the river now, and so he might come back to the glens and ridges and +deep boggy places he had traveled from. + + +He met a Fisherman who was drying his nets and he asked him what name +the river had. The Fisherman said it had two names. The people on the +right bank called it the Day-break River and the people on the left bank +called it the River of the Morning Star. And the Fisherman told him he +was to be careful not to call it the River of the Morning Star when he +was on the right bank nor the Daybreak River when he was on the left, as +the people on either side wanted to keep to the name their fathers had +for it and were ill-mannered to the stranger who gave it a different +name. The Fisherman told Flann he was sorry he had told him the two +names for the River and that the best thing he could do was to forget +one of the names and call it just the River of the Morning Star as he +was on the left bank. + +Flann went on with the day widening before him and when the height of +the noon was past he came to the glens and ridges and deep boggy places +he had traveled from. He went on with the bright day going before him +and the brown night coming behind him, and at dusk he came to the black +and burnt place where the Hags of the Long Teeth had their house of +stone. + +He saw the house with a puff of smoke coming through every crevice +in the stones. He went to the shut door and knocked on it with the +knocking-stone. + +“Who’s without?” said one of the Hags. + +“Who’s within?” said Flann. + +“The Three Hags of the Long Teeth,” said one of the Hags, “and if you +want to know it,” said she, “they are the runners and summoners, the +brewers and candle-makers for Crom Duv, the Giant.” + +Flann struck a heavier blow with the knocking-stone and the door broke +in. He stepped into the smoke-filled house. + +“No welcome to you, whoever you are,” said one of the three Hags who +were seated around the fire. + +“I am the lad who was called Gilly of the Goatskin, and whom you reared +up here,” said he, “and I have come back to you.” + +The three Hags turned from the fire then and screamed at him. + +“And what brought you back to us, humpy fellow?” said the first Hag. + +“I came back to make you tell me what Queen and King were my mother and +father.” + +“Why should you think a King and Queen were your father and mother?” + they said to him. + +“Because I have on my breast the stars of a son of a King,” said Flann, +“and,” said he, “I have in my hand a sword that will make you tell me.” + +He came towards them and they were afraid. Then the first Hag bent her +knee to him, and, said she, “Loosen the hearthstone with your sword and +you will find a token that will let you know who your father was.” + +Flann put his sword under the hearthstone and pried it up. But if +it were a token, what was under the hearthstone was an evil thing--a +cockatrice. It had been hatched out of a serpent’s egg by a black cock +of nine years. It had the head and crest of a cock and the body of a +black serpent. The cockatrice lifted itself up on its tail and looked at +him with red eyes. The sight of that head made Flann dizzy and he fell +down on the floor. Then it went down and the Hags put the hearthstone +above it. + +“What will we do with the fellow?” said one of the Hags, looking at +Flann who was in a swoon on the floor. + +“Cut of his head with the sword that he threatened us with,” said +another. + +“No,” said the third Hag. “Crom Duv the Giant is in want of a servant. +Let him take this fellow. Then maybe the Giant will give us what he has +promised us for so long--a Berry to each of us from the Fairy Rowan Tree +that grows in his courtyard.” + +“Let it be, let it be,” said the other Hags. They put green branches on +the fire so that Crom Duv would see the smoke and come to the house. In +the morning he came. He brought Flann outside, and after awhile Flann’s +senses came back to him. Then the Giant tied a rope round his arms and +drove him before him with a long iron spike that he had for a staff. + + + + +II + + + +Crom Duv’s arms stretched down to his twisted knees; he had long, +yellow, overlapping horse’s teeth in his mouth, with a fall-down +under-lip and a drawn-back upper-lip; he had a matted rug of hair on his +head. He was as high as a haystack. He carried in his twisted hand an +iron spike pointed at the end. And wherever he was going he went as +quickly as a running mule. + +He tied Flann’s hands behind his back and drew the rope round Flann’s +body. Then he started off. Flann was dragged on as if at the tail of +a cart. Over ditches and through streams; up hillsides and down into +hollows he was hauled. Then they came into a plain as round as the wheel +of a cart. Across the plain they went and into a mile-deep wood. Beyond +the wood there were buildings--such walls and such heaps of stones Flann +never saw before. + +But before they had entered the wood they had come to a high grassy +mound. And standing on that grassy mound was the most tremendous bull +that Flann had ever seen. + +“What bull is that, Giant?” said Flann. + + “My own bull,” said Crom Duv, “the Bull of the Mound. Look back at him, +little fellow. If ever you try to escape from my service my Bull of the +Mound will toss you into the air and trample you into the ground.” Crom +Duv blew on a horn that he had across his chest. The Bull of the Mound +rushed down the slope snorting. Crom Duv shouted and the bull stood +still with his tremendous head bent down. + +Flann’s heart, I tell you, sank, when he saw the bull that guarded Crom +Duv’s house. They went through the deep wood then, and came to the gate +of the Giant’s Keep. Only a chain was across it, and Crom Duv lifted +up the chain. The courtyard was filled with cattle black and red and +striped. The Giant tied Flann to a stone pillar. “Are you there, Morag, +my byre-maid?” he shouted. + +“I am here,” said a voice from the byre. More cattle were in the byre +and someone was milking them. + +There was straw on the ground of the courtyard and Crom Duv lay down on +it and went to sleep with the cattle trampling around him. A great stone +wall was being built all round the Giant’s Keep--a wall six feet thick +and built as high as twenty feet in some places and in others as high +as twelve. The wall was still being built, for heaps of stones and great +mixing-pans were about. And just before the door of the Keep was a +Rowan Tree that grew to a great height. At the very top of the tree were +bunches of red berries. Cats were lying around the stems of the tree and +cats were in its branches--great yellow cats. More yellow cats stepped +out of the house and came over to him. They looked Flann all over and +went back, mewing to each other. + +The cattle that were in the courtyard went into the byre one by one as +they were called by the voice of the byre-maid. Crom Duv still slept. By +and by a little red hen that was picking about the courtyard came near +him and holding up her head looked Flann all over. + +When the last cow had gone in and the last stream of milk had sounded in +the milking-vessel the byre-maid came into the courtyard. Flann thought +he would see a long-armed creature like Crom Duv himself. Instead he saw +a girl with good and kind eyes, whose disfigurements were that her face +was pitted and her hair was bushy. “I am Morag, Crom Duv’s byre-maid,” + said she. + +“Will Crom Duv kill me?” said Flann. + +“No. He’ll make you serve him,” said the byre-maid. + +“And what will he make me do for him?” + +“He will make you help to build his wall. Crom Duv goes out every +morning to bring his cattle to pasture on the plain. And when he comes +back he builds the wall round his house. He’ll make you mix mortar and +carry it to him, for I heard him say he wants a servant to do that.” + +“I’ll escape from this,” said Flann, “and I’ll bring you with me.” + +“Hush,” said Morag, and she pointed to seven yellow cats that were +standing at Crom Duv’s door, watching them. “The cats,” said she, +“are Crom Duv’s watchers here and the Bull of the Mound is his watcher +out-side.” + +“And is this Little Red Hen a watcher too?” said Flann, for the Little +Red Hen was watching them sideways. “The Little Red Hen is my friend and +adviser,” Morag, and she went into the house with two vessels of milk. + + +Crom Duv wakened up. He untied Flann and left him free. “You must mix +mortar for me now,” he said. He went into the byre and came out with a +great vessel of milk. He left it down near the mixing-pan. He went to +the side of the house and came back with a trough of blood. + +“What are these for, Crom Duv?” said Flann. “To mix the mortar with, +gilly,” said the Giant. “Bullock’s blood and new milk is what I mix my +mortar with, so that nothing can break down the walls that I’m building +round the Fairy Rowan Tree. Every day I kill a bullock and every day my +byre-maid fills a vessel of milk to mix with my mortar. Set to now, and +mix the mortar for me.” + +Flann brought lime and sand to the mixing-pan and he mixed them in +bullock’s blood and new milk. He carried stones to Crom Duv. And so +he worked until it was dark. Then Crom Duv got down from where he was +building and told Flann to go into the house. + +The yellow cats were there and Flann counted sixteen of them. Eight +more were outside, in the branches or around the stem of the Rowan Tree. +Morag came in, bringing a great dish of porridge. Crom Duv took up a +wooden spoon and ate porridge out of vessel after vessel of milk. Then +he shouted for his beer and Morag brought him vessel after vessel of +beer. Crom Duv emptied one after the other..Then he shouted for his +knife and when Morag brought it he began to sharpen it, singing a queer +song to himself. + +“He’s sharpening a knife to kill a bullock in the morning,” said Morag. +“Come now, and I’ll give you your supper.” + +She took him to the kitchen at the back of the house. She gave him +porridge and milk and he ate his supper. Then she showed him a ladder to +a room above, and he went up there and made a bed for himself. He slept +soundly, although he dreamed of the twenty-four yellow cats within, and +the tremendous Bull of the Mound outside Crom Duv’s Keep. + + + + +III + + +This is how the days were spent in the house of Crom Duv. The Giant and +his two servants, Flann and Morag, were out of their beds at the mouth +of the day. Crom Duv sounded his horn and the Bull of the Mound bellowed +an answer. Then he started work on his wall, making Flann carry mortar +to him. Morag put down the fire and boiled the pots. Pots of porridge, +plates of butter and pans of milk were on the table when’ Crom Duv and +Flann came in to their breakfasts. Then, when the Giant had driven out +his cattle to the pasture Flann cleaned the byre and made the mortar, +mixing lime and sand with bullock’s blood and new milk. In the afternoon +the Giant came back and he and Flann started work on the wall. + +All the time the twenty-four yellow cats lay on the branches of the +Rowan Tree or walked about the court-yard or lapped up great crocks +of milk. Morag’s Little Red Hen went hopping round the courtyard. She +seemed to be sleepy or to be always considering something. If one of the +twenty-four yellow cats looked at her the Little Red Hen would waken up, +murmur something, and hop away. + +One day the cattle came home without Crom Duv. “He has gone on one of +his journeys,” said Morag, “and will not be back for a night and a day.” + +“Then it is time for me to make my escape,” said Flann. + +“How can you make your escape, my dear, my dear?” said Morag. “If you +go by the front the Bull of the Mound will toss you in the air and then +trample you into the ground.” + +“But I have strength and cunning and activity enough to climb the wall +at the back.” + +“But if you climb the wall at the back,” said Morag, “you will only come +to the Moat of Poisoned Water.” “The Moat of Poisoned Water?” “The +Moat of Poisoned Water,” said Morag. “The water poisons the skin of any +creature that tries to swim across the Moat.” + +Flann was downcast when he heard of the Moat of Poisoned Water. But his +mind was fixed on climbing the wall. “I may find some way of crossing +the poisoned water,” he said, “so bake my cake and give me provision for +my journey.” + +Morag baked a cake and put it on the griddle. And when it was baked she +wrapped it in a napkin and gave it to him. “Take my blessing with it,” + said she, “and if you escape, may you meet someone who will be a better +help to you than I was. I must keep the twenty-four cats from watching +you while you are climbing the wall.” + +“And how will you do that?” said Flann. + +She showed him what she would do. With a piece of glass she made on the +wall of the byre the shadows of flying birds. Birds never flew +across the House of Crom Duv and the cats were greatly taken with the +appearances that Morag made with the piece of glass. Six cats watched, +and then another six came, and after them six more, and after them the +six that watched in the Rowan Tree. And the twenty-four yellow cats sat +round and watched with burning eyes the appearances of birds that Morag +made on the byre-wall. Flann looked back and saw her seated on a stone, +and he thought the Byre-Maid looked lonesome. + +He tried with all his activity, all his cunning and all his strength, +and at last he climbed the wall at the back of Crom Duv’s house. He gave +a whistle to let Morag know he was over. Then he went through a little +wood and came to the Moat of Poisoned Water. + +Very ugly the dead water looked. Ugly stakes stuck up from the mud to +pierce any creature that tried to leap across. And here and there on the +water were patches of green poison as big as cabbage leaves. Flann drew +back from the Moat. Leap it he could not, and swim it he dare not. And +just as he drew back he saw a creature he knew come down to the bank +opposite to him. It was Rory the Fox. Rory carried in his mouth the skin +of a calf. He dropped the skin into the water and pushed it out before +him. Then he got into the water and swam very cautiously, always pushing +the calf’s skin before him. Then Rory climbed up on the bank where Flann +was, and the skin, all green and wrinkled, sank down into the water. + +Rory was going to turn tail, but then he recognized Flann. “Master,” + said he, and he licked the dust on the ground. + +“What are you doing here, Rory?” said Flann. + +“I won’t mind telling you if you promise to tell no other creature,” + said Rory. + +“I won’t tell,” said Flann. + +“Well then,” said Rory, “I have moved my little family over here. I was +being chased about a good deal, and my little family wasn’t safe. So I +moved them over here.” The fox turned and looked round at the country +behind him. “It suits me very well,” said he; “no creature would think +of crossing this moat after me.” + +“Well,” said Flann, “tell me how you are able to cross it.” + +“I will,” said the fox, “if you promise never to hunt me nor any of my +little family.” + +“I promise,” said Flann. + +“Well,” said Rory, “the water poisons every skin. Now the reason that I +pushed the calf’s skin across was that it might take the poison out of +the water. The water poisons every skin. But where the skin goes the +poison is taken out of the water for a while, and a living creature can +cross behind it if he is cautious.” + +“I thank you for showing me the way to cross the moat,” said Flann. + +“I don’t mind showing you,” said Rory the Fox, and he went off to his +burrow. + +There were deer-skins and calf-skins both sides of the moat. Flann +took a calf’s skin. He pushed it into the water with a stick. He swam +cautiously behind it. When he reached the other side of the moat, the +skin, all green and wrinkled, sank in the water. + +Flann jumped and laughed and shouted when he found himself in the forest +and clear of Crom Duv’s house. He went on. It was grand to see the +woodpecker hammering on the branch, and to see him stop, busy as he +was to say “Pass, friend.” Two young deer came out of the depths of the +wood. They were too young and too innocent to have anything to tell him, +but they bounded alongside of him as he raced along the Hunter’s Path. +He jumped and he shouted again when he saw the river before him--the +river that was called the Daybreak River on the right bank and the River +of the Morning Star on the left. He said to himself, “This time, in +troth, I will go the whole way with the river. A moving thing is my +delight. The river is the most wonderful of all the things I have seen +on my travels.” + +Then he thought he would eat some of the cake that Morag had baked for +him. He sat down and broke it. Then as he ate it the thought of Morag +came into his mind. He thought he was looking at her putting the cake on +the griddle. He went a little way along the river and then he began to +feel lonesome. He turned back, “I’ll go to Crom Duv’s House,” said he, +“and show Morag the way to escape. And then she and I will follow the +river, and I won’t be lonesome while she’s with me.” + +So back along the Hunter’s Path Flann went. He came to the Moat of +Poisoned Water. He found a deer-skin and pushed it into the water and +then swam cautiously across the moat. He climbed the wall then, and when +he put his head above it he saw Morag. She was watching for him. + +“Crom Duv has not come back yet,” said she, “but oh, my dear, my dear, I +can’t prevent the yellow cats from watching you come over the wall.” + +First six cats came and then another six and they sat round and watched +Flann come down the wall. They did nothing to him, but when he came down +on the ground they followed him wherever he went. + +“You crossed the moat,” said Morag, “then why did you come back?” + +“I came back,” said Flann, “to bring you with me.” + +“But,” said she, “I cannot leave Crom Duv’s house.” + +“I’ll show you how to cross the moat,” said he, “and we’ll both be glad +to be going by the moving river.” + +Tears came into Morag’s eyes. “I’d go with you, my dear,” said she, “but +I cannot leave Crom Duv’s house until I get what I came for.” + +“And what did you come for, Morag?” said he. + +“I came,” said she, “for two of the rowan berries that grow on the +Fairy Rowan Tree in Crom Duv’s court-yard. I know now that to get these +berries is the hardest task in the world. Come within,” said she, “and +if we sit long enough at the supper-board I will tell you my story.” + +They sat at the supper-board long, and Morag told + + + + +The Story of Morag + + + +IV + + +I was reared in the Spae-Woman’s house with two other girls, Baun and +Deelish, my foster-sisters. The Spae-Woman’s house is on the top of a +knowe, away from every place, and few ever came that way. + +One morning I went to the well for water. When I looked into it I saw, +not my own image, but the image of a young man. I drew up my pitcher +filled with water, and went back to the Spae-Woman’s house. At noontide +Baun went to the well for water. She came back and her pitcher was only +half-filled. Before dark Deelish went to the well. She came back without +a pitcher, for it fell and broke on the flags of the well. + +The next day Baun and Deelish each plaited their hair, and they said +to her who was foster-mother for the three of us: “No one will come to +marry us in this far-away place. We will go into the world to seek our +fortunes. So,” said they, “bake a cake for each of us before the fall of +the night.” + +The Spae-Woman put three cakes on the griddle and baked them. And when +they were baked she said to Baun and Deelish: “Will you each take the +half of the cake and my blessing, or the whole of the cake without my +blessing?” And Baun and Deelish each said, “The whole of the cake will +be little enough for our journey.” + +Each then took her cake under her arm and went the path down the knowe. +Then said I to myself, “It would be well to go after my foster-sisters +for they might meet misfortune on the road.” So I said to my +foster-mother, “Give me the third cake on the griddle until I go after +my foster-sisters.” + +“Will you have half of the cake and my blessing or the whole of the cake +without my blessing?” said she to me. + +“The half of the cake and your blessing, mother,” said I. + +She cut the cake in two with a black-handled knife and gave me the even +half of it. Then said she:-- + + May the old sea’s + Seven Daughters + They who spin + Life’s longest threads, + Protect and guard you! + +She put salt in my hand then, and put the Little Red Hen under my arm, +and I went off. + +I went on then till I came in sight of Baun and Deelish. Just as I +caught up on them I heard one say to the other, “This ugly, freckled +girl will disgrace us if she comes with us.” They tied my hands and feet +with a rope they found on the road and left me in a wood. + + +I got the rope off my hands and feet and ran and ran until I came in +sight of them again. And when I was coming on them I heard one say to +the other, “This ugly, freckled girl will claim relationship with us +wherever we go, and we will get no good man to marry us.” They laid hold +of me again and put me in a lime-kiln, and put beams across it, and put +heavy stones on the beams. But my Little Red Hen showed me how to get +out of the lime-kiln. Then I ran and I ran until I caught up with Baun +and Deelish again. + +“Let her come with us this evening,” said one to the other, “and +to-morrow we’ll find some way of getting rid of her.” + +The night was drawing down now, and we had to look for a house that +would give us shelter. We saw a hut far off the road and we went to the +broken door. It was the house of the Hags of the Long Teeth. We asked +for shelter. They showed us a big bed in the dormer-room, and they told +us we could have supper when the porridge was boiled. + +The three Hags sat round the fire with their heads together. Baun and +Deelish were in a corner plaiting their hair, but the Little Red Hen +murmured that I was to listen to what the Hags said. + +“We will give them to Crom Duv in the morning” one said. And another +said, “I have put a sleeping-pin in the pillow that will be under each, +and they will not waken.” + +When I heard what they said I wanted to think of what we could do to +make our escape. I asked Baun to sing to me. She said she would if I +washed her feet. I got a basin of water and washed Baun’s feet, and +while she sang, and while the Hags thought we were not minding them, I +considered what we might do to escape. The Hags hung a pot over the fire +and the three of them sat around it once more. + +When I had washed my foster-sister’s feet I took a besom and began to +sweep the floor of the house. One of the Hags was very pleased to see me +doing that. She said I would make a good servant, and after a while she +asked me to sit at the fire. I sat in the corner of the chimney. They +had put meal in the water, and I began to stir it with a pot-stick. +Then the Hag that had asked me to the fire said, “I will give you a good +share of milk with your porridge if you keep stirring the pot for us.” + This was just what I wanted to be let do. I sat in the chimney-corner +and kept stirring the porridge while the Hags dozed before the fire. + +First, I got a dish and ladle and took out of the pot some half-cooked +porridge. This I left one side. Then I took down the salt-box that was +on the chimney-shelf and mixed handfuls of salt in the porridge left in +the pot. + + +When it was all cooked I emptied it into another dish and brought the +two dishes to the table. Then I told the Hags that all was ready. They +came over to the table and they gave my foster-sisters and myself three +porringers of goat’s milk. We ate out of the first dish and they ate out +of the second. “By my sleep to-night,” said one Hag, “this porridge is +salty.” “Too little salt is in it for my taste,” said my foster-sister +Deelish. “It is as salt as the depths of the sea,” said another of the +Hags. “My respects to you, ma’am,” said Baun, “but I do not taste any +salt on it at all.” My foster-sisters were so earnest that the Hags +thought themselves mistaken, and they ate the whole dishful of porridge. + +The bed was made for us, and the pillows were laid on the bed, and I +knew that the slumber-pin was in each of the pillows. I wanted to put +off the time for going to bed so I began to tell stories. Baun and +Deelish said it was still young in the night, and that I should tell no +short ones, but the long story of Eithne, Balor’s daughter. I had just +begun that story, when one of the Hags cried out that she was consumed +with thirst. + +She ran to the pitcher, and there was no water in it. Then another Hag +shouted out that the thirst was strangling her. The third one said she +could not live another minute without a mouthful of water. She took the +pitcher and started for the well. No sooner was she gone than the +second Hag said she couldn’t wait for the first one to come back and she +started out after her. Then the third one thought that the pair +would stay too long talking at the well, and she started after them. +Immediately I took the pillows off our bed and put them on the Hags’ +bed, taking their pillows instead. + +The Hags came back with a half-filled pitcher, and they ordered us to +go to our bed. We went, and they sat for a while drinking porringers of +water. “Crom Duv will be here the first thing in the morning,” I heard +one of them say. They put their heads on the pillows and in the turn of +a hand they were dead-fast-sound asleep. I told my foster-sisters then +what I had done and why I had done it. They were very frightened, but +seeing the Hags so sound asleep they composed themselves and slept too. + +Before the screech of day Crom Duv came to the house. I went outside and +saw the Giant. I said I was the servant of the Hags, and that they were +sleeping still. He said, “They are my runners and summoners, my brewers, +bakers and candle-makers, and they have no right to be sleeping so +late.” Then he went away. + +I knew that the three Hags would slumber until we took the pillows from +under their heads. We left them sleeping while we put down a fire and +made our break-fast. Then, when we were ready for our journey, we took +the pillows from under their heads. The three Hags started up then, +but we were out on the door, and had taken the first three steps of our +journey. + + + + +V + + +Without hap or mishap we came at last to the domain of the King of +Senlabor. Baun went to sing for the King’s foster-daughters, and Deelish +went to work at the little loom in the King’s chamber. We were not long +at the court of the King of Senlabor when two youths came there from the +court of the King of Ireland--Dermott and Downal were their names. There +was a famous sword-smith with the King of Senlabor and these two came +to learn the trade from him. And my two foster-sisters fell so deeply in +love with the two youths that every night the pillow on each side of me +was wet with their tears. + +I went to work in the King’s kitchen. Now the King had a dish of such +fine earthware and with such beautiful patterns upon it that he never +let it be carried from the Kitchen to the Feast-Hall, nor from the +Feast-Hall to the Kitchen without going himself behind the servant who +carried it. One day the servant brought it into the Kitchen to be washed +and the King came behind the servant. I took the dish and cleaned it +with thrice-boiled water and dried it with cloths of three different +kinds. Then I covered it with sweet-smelling herbs and left it in a bin +where it was sunk in soft bran. The King was pleased to see the good +care I took of his dish, and he said before his servant that he would +do me any favor I would ask. There and then I told him about my two +foster-sisters Baun and Deelish, and how they were in love with the two +youths Dermott and Downal who had come from the court of the King of +Ireland. I asked that when these two youths were being given wives, that +the King should remember my foster-sisters. + +The King was greatly vexed at my request. He declared that the two +youths had on their breasts the stars that denoted the sons of Kings and +that he intended they should marry his own two foster-daughters when the +maidens were of age to wed. “It may be,” he said, “that these two youths +will bring what my Queen longs for--a berry from the Fairy Rowan Tree +that is guarded by the Giant Crom Duv.” + +The next day the King’s Councillor was feeding the birds and I was +sifting the corn. I asked him what was the history of the Fairy Rowan +Tree that the Giant Crom Duv guarded and why it was that the Queen +longed for a berry of it. There and then he told me this story:-- + + + + +The Story of the Fairy Rowan Tree + + +The history of the Fairy Rowan Tree (said the King’s Councillor) begins +with Aine’, the daughter of Mananaun who is Lord of the Sea. Curoi, the +King of the Munster Fairies loved Aine’ and sought her in marriage. But +the desire of the girl’s heart was set upon Fergus who was a mortal, +and one of the Fianna of Ireland. Now when Mananaun MacLir heard Curoi’s +proposals and learned how his daughter’s heart was inclined, he said, +“Let the matter be settled in this way: we will call a hurling-match +between the Fairies of Munster and the Fianna of Ireland with Curoi to +captain one side and Fergus to captain the other, and if the Fairies +win, Aine’ will marry Curoi and if the Fianna have the victory she will +have my leave to marry this mortal Fergus.” + +So a hurling-match was called for the first day of Lunassa, and it +was to be played along the strand of the sea. Mananaun himself set the +goal-marks, and Aine’ was there to watch the game. It was played from +the rising of the sun until the high tide of noon, and neither side won +a goal. Then the players stopped to eat the refreshment that Mananaun +had provided. + +This is what Mananaun had brought from his own country, Silver-Cloud +Plain: a branch of bright-red rowan berries. Whoever ate one of these +rowan berries his hunger and his weariness left him in a moment. The +berries were to be eaten by the players, Mananaun said, and not one of +them was to be taken into the world of the mortals or the world of the +Fairies. + +When they stopped playing at the high tide of noon the mortal Fergus saw +Aine’ and saw her for the first time. A spirit that he had never felt +before flowed into him at the sight of Mananaun’s daughter. He forgot to +eat the berry he was given and held it in his mouth by the stalk. + +He went into the hurling-match again and now he was like a hawk amongst +small birds. Curoi defended the goal and drove the ball back. Fergus +drove it to the goal again; the two champions met and Curoi’s hurl, made +out of rhinoceros’ horn, did not beat down Fergus’s hurl made out of the +ash of the wood. The hosts stood aside and left the game to Fergus and +Curoi. Curoi’s hurl jerked the ball upward; then Fergus gave it the +double stroke first with the handle and then with the weighted end +of the hurl and drove it, beautifully as a flying bird, between the +goal-marks that Mananaun had set up. The match was won by the goal that +Fergus had gained. + +The Fianna then invited the Fairies of Munster to a feast that they were +giving to Fergus and his bride. The Fairies went, and Mananaun and Aine’ +went before them all. Fergus marched at the head of his troop with the +rowan berry still hanging from his mouth. And as he went he bit the +stalk and the berry fell to the ground. Fergus never heeded that. + +When the feast was over he went to where Mananaun stood with his +daughter. Aine’ gave him her hand. “And it is well,” said Conan, the +Fool of the Fianna, “that this thick-witted Fergus has at last dropped +the berry out of his mouth.” “What berry?” said Curoi, who was standing +by. “The rowan berry,” said Conan, “that he carried across two townlands +the same as if he were a bird.” + +When Mananaun heard this he asked about the berry that Fergus had +carried. It was not to be found. Then the Fianna and the Fairies of +Munster started back to look for a trace of it. What they found was a +wonderful Rowan Tree. It had grown out of the berry that Fergus had let +fall, but as yet there were no berries on its branches. + +Mananaun, when he saw the tree said, “No mortal may take a berry that +grows on it. Hear my sentence now. Fergus will have to guard this tree +until he gets one who will guard it for him. And he may not see nor keep +company with Aine’ his bride until he finds one who will guard it better +than he can guard it himself.” Then Mananaun wrapped his daughter in his +cloak and strode away in a mist. The Fairy Host went in one direction +and the Fianna in another, and Fergus was left standing sorrowfully by +the Fairy Rowan Tree. + + +Next day (said Morag), when the King’s Councillor was feeding the birds +and I was sifting the corn, he told me the rest of the history of the +Fairy Rowan Tree. Fergus thought and thought how he might leave off +watching it and be with Aine’, his bride. At last he bethought him of +a Giant who lived on a rocky island with only a flock of goats for his +possessions. This Giant had begged Finn, the Chief of the Fianna, for +a strip of the land of Ireland, even if it were only the breadth of a +bull’s hide. Finn had refused him. But now Fergus sent to Finn and asked +him to bring the Giant to be the guardian of the Fairy Rowan Tree and to +give him the land around it. “I mislike letting this giant Crom Duv have +any portion of the land of Ireland,” said Finn, “nevertheless we cannot +refuse Fergus.” + +So Finn sent some of the Fianna to the Giant and they found him +living on a bare rock of an island with only a flock of goats for his +possessions. Crom Duv lay on his back and laughed when he heard what +message the men of the Fianna brought to him. Then he put them and his +flock of goats into his big boat and rowed them over to Ireland. + +Crom Duv swore by his flock of goats he would guard the Fairy Rowan Tree +until the red berries ceased to come on its branches. Fergus left his +place at the tree then and went to Aine’, and it may be that she and he +are still together. + +Well did Crom Duv guard the tree, never going far from it and sleeping +at night in its branches. And one year a heifer came and fed with his +flock of goats and another year a bullock came. And these were the +beginning of his great herd of cattle. He has become more and more +greedy for cattle, said the King’s Councillor, and now he takes them +away to far pastures. But still the Fairy Rowan Tree is well guarded. +The Bull that is called the Bull of the Mound is on guard near by, and +twenty-four fierce yellow cats watch the tree night and day. + +The Queen of Senlabor and many another woman besides desires a berry +from the Fairy Rowan Tree that stands in Crom Duv’s courtyard. For +the woman who is old and who eats a berry from that tree becomes young +again, and the maid who is young and who eats a berry gets all the +beauty that should be hers of right. And now, my maid, said the King’s +Councillor to me, I have told you the history of the Fairy Rowan Tree. + +When I heard all this (said Morag), I made up my mind to get a berry for +the Queen and maybe another berry besides from the Fairy Rowan Tree in +Crom Duv’s courtyard. When the King came into the kitchen again, I asked +him would he permit my foster-sisters to marry Downal and Dermott if I +brought to his Queen a berry from the Fairy Rowan Tree. He said he would +give permission heartily. That night when I felt the tears of Baun and +Deelish I told them I was going to search for such a dowry for them that +when they had it the King would let them marry the youths they had set +their hearts on. They did not believe I could do anything to help them, +but they gave me leave to go. + +The next day I told the Queen I was going to seek for a berry from the +Fairy Rowan Tree. She told me that if I could bring back one berry to +her she would give me all the things she possessed. I said good-by to my +foster-sisters and with the Little Red Hen under my arm I went towards +the house of the Hags of the Long Teeth. I built a shelter and waited +till Crom Duv came that way. One early morning he came by. I stood +before him and I told him that I wanted to take service in his house. + +Crom Duv had never had a servant in his house. But I told him that he +should have a byre-maid and that I was well fitted to look after his +cattle. He told me to follow him. I saw the Bull of the Mound and I was +made wonder how I could get away with the berry from the Fairy Rowan +Tree. Then I saw the twenty-four fierce yellow cats and I was made +wonder how I could get the berry from the tree. And after that I found +out about the Moat of Poisoned Water that is behind the high wall at the +back of Crom Duv’s house. And so now (said Morag), you know why I have +come here and how hard the task is I have taken on myself. + + + + +VI + + + +Now that he had heard the history of the Fairy Rowan Tree, Flann often +looked at the clusters of scarlet berries that were high up on its +branches. The Tree could be climbed, Flann knew. But on the top of the +tree and along its branches were the fierce yellow cats--the cats that +the Hags of the Long Teeth had reared for Crom Duv, thinking that he +would some time give each of them the berry that would make them young +again. And at the butt of the tree there were more cats. And all about +the courtyard the Hags’ fierce cats paraded themselves. + +The walls round the Giant’s Keep were being built higher by Crom Duv, +helped by his servant Flann. The Giant’s herd was now increased by many +calves, and Morag the byre-maid had much to do to keep all the cows +milked. And day and night Morag and Flann heard the bellowing of the +Bull of the Mound. + +Now one day while Crom Duv was away with his herd, Flann and Morag were +in the courtyard. They saw the Little Red Hen rouse herself up, shake +her wings and turn a bright eye on them. “What dost thou say, my Little +Red Hen?” said Morag. + +“The Pooka,” murmured the Little Red Hen. “The Pooka rides a fierce +horse, but the Pooka himself is a timid little fellow.” Then the Little +Red Hen drooped her wings again, and went on picking in the courtyard. + +“The Pooka rides a fierce horse,” said Morag, “if the Pooka rides a +fierce horse he might carry us past the Bull of the Mound.” + +“And if the Pooka himself is a timid little fellow we might take the +fierce horse from him,” said Flann. + +“But this does not tell us how to get the berries off the Fairy Rowan +Tree,” said Morag. + +“No,” said Flann, “it does not tell us how to get the berries off the +tree the cats guard.” + +The next day Morag gave grains to the Little Red Hen and begged for +words. After a while the Little Red Hen murmured, “There are things I +know, and things I don’t know, but I do know what grows near the ground, +and if you pull a certain herb, and put it round the necks of the cats +they will not be able to see in the light nor in the dark. And to-morrow +is the day of Sowain,” said the Little Red Hen. She said no more words. +She had become sleepy and now she flew down and roosted under the table. +There she went on murmuring to herself--as all hens murmur--where the +Children of Dana hid their treasures--they know, for it was the Children +of Dana who brought the hens to Ireland. + +“To-morrow,” said Morag to Flann, “follow the Little Red Hen, and if +she makes any sign when she touches an herb that grows near the ground, +pluck that herb and bring it to me.” + +That night Morag and Flann talked about the Pooka and his fierce horse. +On Sowain night--the night before the real short days begin--the Pooka +rides through the countryside touching any fruit that remains, so that +it may bring no taste into winter. The blackberries that were good +to eat the day before are no good on November day, because the Pooka +touched them the night before. What else the Pooka does no one really +knows. He is a timid fellow as the Little Red Hen said, and he hopes +that the sight of his big black horse and the sound of its trampling and +panting as he rides by will frighten people out of his way, for he has a +great fear of being seen. + +The next day the Little Red Hen stayed in the courtyard until Crom Duv +left with his herd. Flann followed her. She went here and there between +the house and the wall at the back, now picking a grain of sand and +now an ant or spider or fly. And as she went about the Little Red Hen +murmured a song to herself:-- + + When sleep would settle on me + Like the wild bird down on the nest, + The wind comes out of the West: + It tears at the door, maybe, + And frightens away my rest-- + When sleep would come upon me + Like the wild bird down on the nest. + + The cock is aloft with his crest: + The barn-owl comes from her quest + She fixes an eye upon me + And frightens away my rest + When sleep would settle on me + Like the wild bird down on its nest. + +Flann watched all the Little Red Hen did. He saw her put her head on +one side and look down for a while at a certain herb that grew near the +ground. Flann plucked that herb and brought it to Morag. + +The cattle had come home, but Crom Duv was not with them. Morag milked +the cows and brought all the milk within, leaving no milk for the cats +to drink outside. Six came into the kitchen to get their supper there. +One after another they sprang up on the table, one more proud and +overbearing than the other. Each cat ate without condescending to make +a single mew. “Cat of my heart,” said Morag to the first, when he had +finished drinking his milk. “Cat of my heart! How noble you would look +with this red around your neck.” She held out a little satchel in which +a bit of the herb was sewn. The first cat gave a look that said, “Well, +you may put it on me.” Morag put the red satchel around his neck and he +jumped off the table. + +It was so with all the other cats. They finished lapping their milk and +Morag showed them the red ribbon satchel. They let her put it round each +of their necks and then they sprang off the table, and marched off more +scornful and overbearing than before. + + +Six of the fierce yellow cats climbed into the branches of the Fairy +Rowan Tree; six stayed in the kitchen; six went into Crom Duv’s chamber, +and six went to march round the house, three taking each side. No sound +came from the cats that were within or without. Morag drew a ball of +cotton across the floor, and the cats that were in the kitchen gave no +sign of seeing it. “The sight has left their eyes,” said Morag. “Then,” + said Flann, “I will climb the Fairy Rowan Tree and bring down two +berries.” “Be sure you bring down two, my dear, my dear,” said Morag. + +They went out to the courtyard and Flann began to climb the Fairy Rowan +Tree with all suppleness, strength and cunning. The cats that were +below felt him going up the tree and the cats that were above humped +themselves up. Flann passed the first branch on which a cat was +crouched. He went above where the rowan berries were, and bending down +he picked two of them and put them into his mouth. + +He came down quickly with the cats tearing at him. Others had come out +of the house and were mewing and spitting in the courtyard. Only one had +fastened itself on Flann’s jerkin, and this one would not let go. “Come +into the wood, come into the wood,” said Morag. “Now we must stand +between the house and the mound, and wait till the Pooka rides by.” + Flann put the two berries into her hand, they jumped across the chain, +and ran from the house of the Giant Crom Duv. + + + + +VII + + + +They went into the wood, Flann and Morag, and the Little Red Hen was +under Morag’s arm. They thought they would hide behind trees until they +heard the coming of the Pooka and his horse. But they were not far in +the wood when they heard Crom Duv coming towards his house. He came +towards them with the iron spike in his hand. Flann and Morag ran. +Then from tree to tree Crom Duv chased them, shouting and snorting and +smashing down branches with the iron spike in his hand. Morag and +Flann came to a stream, and as they ran along its bank they heard the +trampling and panting of a horse coming towards them. Up it came, a +great black horse with a sweeping mane. “Halt, Pooka,” said Flann in +a commanding voice. The black horse halted and the Pooka that was its +rider slipped down to its tail. + +Flann held the snorting horse and Morag got on its back. Then Flann +sprang up between Morag and the horse’s head. Crom Duv was just beside +them. “Away, Pooka, away,” said Flann, and the horse started through the +wood like the wind of March. + +And then Crom Duv blew on the horn that was across his breast and the +Bull of the Mound bellowed in answer. As they went by the mound the Bull +charged down and its horns tossed the tail of the Pooka’s horse. The +Bull turned and swept after them with his head down and hot breath +coming out of his nostrils. And when they were in the hollow he was on +the height, and when they were on the height he was in the hollow. And a +hollow or a height behind his Bull came Crom Duv himself. + +Then the breath of the Bull became hot upon Morag and Flann and the +Pooka. “Oh, what shall we do now?” said Morag to the Pooka who was +hanging on to the horse’s tail, his little face all twisted up with +fear. + + +“Put your hand into my horse’s ear and fling behind what you will find +there,” said the Pooka, his teeth chattering. Flann put his hand into +the horse’s right ear and found a twig of ash. He flung it behind them. +Instantly a tangled wood sprang up. They heard the Bull driving through +the tangle of the wood and they heard Crom Duv shouting as he smashed +his way through the brakes and branches. But the Bull and the man got +through the wood and again they began to gain on the Pooka’s horse. +Again the breath of the Bull became hot upon them. “Oh, Pooka, what +shall we do now?” said Morag. + +“Put your hand into my horse’s ear and fling behind what you will find +there,” said the Pooka, his teeth chattering with fear as he held on to +his horse’s tail. Flann put his hand into the horse’s left ear and he +found a bubble of water. He flung it behind them. Instantly it spread +out as a lake and as they rode on, the lake waters spread behind them. + +Morag and Flann never knew whether the Giant and the Bull went into that +lake, or if they did, whether they ever came out of it. They crossed the +river that marked the bounds of Crom Duv’s domain and they were safe. +Flann pulled up the horse and jumped on to the ground. Morag sprang down +with the Little Red Hen. Then the Pooka swung forward and whispered into +his horse’s ear. Instantly it struck fire out of its hooves and sprang +down the side of a hill. From that day to this Morag nor Flann ever saw +sight of the Pooka and his big, black, snorting and foaming horse. + +“Dost thou know where we are, my Little Red Hen?” said Morag when the +sun was in the sky again. + +“There are things I know and things I don’t know,” said the Little Red +Hen, “but I know we are near the place we started from.” + +“Which way do we go to come to that place, my Little Red Hen?” said +Morag. “The way of the sun,” said the Little Red Hen. So Morag and Flann +went the way of the sun and the Little Red Hen hopped beside them. Morag +had in a weasel-skin purse around her neck the two rowan berries that +Flann had given her. + +They went towards the house of the Spae-Woman. And as they went Morag +told Flann of the life she had there when she and her foster-sisters +were growing up, and Flann told Morag of the things he did when he was +in the house of the Spae-Woman after she and her foster-sisters had left +it. + +They climbed the heather-covered knowe on which was the Spae-Woman’s +house and the Little Red Hen went flitting and fluttering towards the +gate. The Spae-Woman’s old goat was standing in the yard, and its horns +went down and its beard touched its knees and it looked at the Little +Red Hen. Then the Little Red Hen flew up on its back. “We’re here again, +here again,” said the Little Red Hen. + +And then the Spae-Woman came to the door and saw who the comers were. +She covered them with kisses and watered them with tears, and dried them +with cloths silken and with the hair of her head. + + + + +VIII + + + +Flann told the Spae-Woman all his adventures. And when he had told her +all he said--“What Queen is my mother, O my fosterer?” “Your mother,” + said the Spae-Woman, “is Caintigern, the Queen of the King of Ireland.” + +“And is my mother then not Sheen whose story has been told me?” “Her +name was changed to Caintigern when her husband who was called the +Hunter-King made himself King over Ireland and began to rule as King +Connal.” + +“Then who is my comrade who is called the King of Ireland’s Son?” + +“He too is King Connal’s son, born of a queen who died at his birth and +who was wife to King Connal before he went on his wanderings and met +Sheen your mother.” + +And as the Spae-Woman said this someone came and stood at the doorway. A +girl she was and wherever the sun was it shone on her, and wherever the +breeze was it rippled over her. White as the snow upon a lake frozen +over was the girl, and as beautiful as flowers and as alive as birds +were her eyes, while her cheeks had the red of fox-gloves and her hair +was the blending of five bright soft colors. She looked at Flann happily +and her eyes had the kind look that was always in Morag’s eyes. And +she came and ‘knelt down, putting her hands on his knees. “I am Morag, +Flann,” she said. + +“Morag indeed,” said he, “but how have you become so fair?” + +“I have eaten the berry from the Fairy Rowan Tree,” said she, “and now I +am as fair as I should be.” + +All day they were together and Flann was happy that his friend was so +beautiful and that so beautiful a being was his friend. And he told +her of his adventures in the Town of the Red Castle and of the Princess +Flame-of-Wine and his love for her. “And if you love her still I will +never see you again,” said Morag. + +“But,” said Flann, “I could not love her after the way she mocked at +me.” + +“When did she mock at you?” + +“When I took her a message that the Spae-Woman told me to give her.” + +“And what was that message?” + +“‘Ask her,’ said the Spae-Woman, ‘for seven drops of her heart’s +blood--she can give them and live--so that the spell may be taken from +the seven wild geese and the mother who longs for you may be at +peace again.’ This was the message the Spae-Woman told me to give +Flame-of-Wine. And though I had given her wonderful gifts she laughed at +me when I took it to her. And by the way she laughed I knew she was hard +of heart.” + +“Yet seven drops of heart’s blood are hard to give,” said Morag sadly. + +“But the maiden who loves can give them,” said the Spae-Woman who was +behind. + +“It is true, foster-mother,” said Morag. + +That evening Morag said, “To-morrow I must pre-pare for my journey to +the Queen of Senlabor. You, Flann, may not come with me. The Spae-Woman +has sent a message to your mother, and you must be here to meet her when +she comes. A happy meeting to her and you, O Flann of my heart. And I +shall leave you a token to give to her. So to-morrow I go to the Queen +of Senlabor with the Rowan Berry and I shall bring my Little Red Hen +for company, and shall stay only until my sisters are wed to Dermott and +Downal, your brothers.” + +The next day when he came into the house he saw Morag dressed for her +journey but seated at the fire. She was pale and ill-looking. “Do not +go to-day, Morag,” said he. “I shall go to-day,” said Morag. She put her +hand into the bosom of her dress and took out a newly-woven handkerchief +folded. “This is a token for your mother,” she said. “I have woven it +for her. Give her this gift from me when you have welcomed her.” + +“That I will do, Morag, my heart,” said Flann. + +The Spae-Woman came in and kissed Morag good-by and said the charm for a +journey over her. + + May my Silver- + Shielded Magian + Shed all lights + Across your path. + +Then Morag put the Little Red Hen under her arm and started out. “I +shall find you,” said she to Flann, “at the Castle of the King of +Ireland, for it is there I shall go when I part from my foster-sisters +and the Queen of Senlabor. Kiss me now. But if you kiss anyone until you +kiss me again you will forget me. Remember that.” + +“I will remember,” said Flann, and he kissed Morag and said, “When you +come to the King of Ireland’s Castle we will be married.” + +“You gave me the Rowan Berry,” said Morag, “and the Rowan Berry gave me +all the beauty that should be mine. But what good will my beauty be to +me if you forget me?” + +“But, Morag,” said he, “how could I forget you?” + +She said nothing but went down the side of the knowe and Flann watched +and watched until his eyes had no power to see any more. + + + + +THE SPAE-WOMAN + + + +I + + +There are many things to tell you still, my kind foster-child, but +little time have I to tell you them, for the barnacle-geese are flying +over the house, and when they have all flown by I shall have no more to +say. And I have to tell you yet how the King of Ireland’s Son won home +with Fedelma, the Enchanter’s daughter, and how it came to pass that the +Seven Wild Geese that were Caintigern’s brothers were disenchanted and +became men again. But above all I have to tell you the end of that story +that was begun in the house of the Giant Crom Duv--the story of Flann +and Morag. + +The barnacle-geese are flying over the house as I said. And so they were +crossing and flying on the night the King of Ireland’s Son and Fedelma +whom he had brought from the Land of Mist stayed in the house of the +Little Sage of the Mountain. On that night the Little Sage told them +from what bird had come the wing that thatched his house. That was a +wonderful story. And he told them too about the next place they should +go to--the Spae-woman’s house. There, he said he would find people that +they knew--Flann, the King’s Son’s comrade, and Caintigern, the wife of +the King of Ireland, and Fedelma’s sister, Gilveen. + +In the morning the Little Sage of the Mountain took them down the +hillside to the place where Fedelma and the King’s Son would get a horse +to ride to the Spae-Woman’s house. The Little Sage told them from +what people the Spae-Woman came and why she lived amongst the poor +and foolish without name or splendor or riches. And that, too, was a +wonderful story. + + +Now as the three went along the river-side they saw a girl on the other +side of the river and she was walking from the place towards which they +were going. The girl sang to herself as she went along, and the King’s +Son and Fedelma and the Little Sage of the Mountain heard what she +sang,-- + + A berry, a berry, a red rowan berry, + A red rowan berry brought mc beauty and love. + + But drops of my heart’s blood, drops of my heart’s blood, + Seven drops of my heart’s blood I have given away. + + Seven wild geese were men, seven wild geese were men, + Seven drops of my heart’s blood are there for your spell. + + A kiss for my love, a kiss for my love, + May his kiss go to none till he meet me again. + + If to one go his kiss, if to one go his kiss, + He may meet, he may meet, and not know me again. + +The girl on the other bank of the river passed on, and the King’s Son +and Fedelma with the Little Sage of the Mountain came to the meadow +where the horse was. A heavy, slow-moving horse he seemed. But when they +mounted him they found he had the three qualities of Finn’s steeds--a +quick rush against a hill, the gait of a fox, easy and proud, on the +level ground, and the jump of a deer over harriers. They left health and +good luck with the Little Sage of the Mountain, and on the horse he gave +them they rode on to the Spae-Woman’s house. + + + +II + + +When Fedelma and the King of Ireland’s Son came to the Spae-Woman’s +house, who was the first person they saw there but Gilveen, Fedelma’s +sister! She came to where they reined their horse and smiled in the +faces of her sister and the King of Ireland’s Son. And she it was who +gave them their first welcome. “And you will be asking how I came here,” + said Gilveen, “and I will tell you without wasting candle-light. Myself +and sister Aefa went to the court of the King of Ireland after you, my +sister, had gone from us with the lucky man of your choice. And as for +Aefa, she has been lucky too in finding a match and she is now married +to Maravaun the King’s Councillor. I have been with Caintigern the +Queen. And now the Queen is in the house of the Spae-Woman with the +youth Flann and she is longing to give the clasp of welcome to both of +you. And if you sit beside me on this grassy ditch I will tell you the +whole story from the first to the last syllable.” + +They sat together, and Gilveen told Fedelma and the King’s Son the +story. The Spae-Woman had sent a message to Caintigern the Queen to tell +her she had tidings of her first-born son. Thereupon Caintigern went to +the Spae-Woman’s house and Gilveen, her attendant, went with her. She +found there Flann who had been known as Gilly of the Goatskin, and knew +him for the son who had been stolen from her when he was born. Flann +gave his mother a token which had been given him by a young woman. The +token was a handkerchief and it held seven drops of heart’s blood. The +Spae-Woman told the Queen that these seven drops would disenchant her +brothers who had been changed from their own forms into the forms of +seven wild geese. + +And while Gilveen was telling them all this Flann came to see whose +horse was there, and great was his joy to find his comrade the King of +Ireland’s Son. They knew now that they were the sons of the one father, +and they embraced each other as brothers. And Flann took the hand of +Fedelma and he told her and the King’s Son of his love for Morag. But +when he was speaking of Morag, Gilveen went away. + +Then Flann took them into the Spae-Woman’s house, and the Queen who was +seated at the fire rose up and gave them the clasp of welcome. The +face she turned to the King’s Son was kindly and she called him by his +child’s name. She said too that she was well pleased that he and Flann +her son were good comrades, and she prayed they would be good comrades +always. + + +Fedelma and the King of Ireland’s Son rested themselves for a day. Then +the Spae-Woman said that the Queen would strive on the next night--it +was the night of the full moon--to bring back her seven brothers to +their own forms. The Spae-Woman said too that the Queen and herself +should be left alone in the house and that the King of Ireland’s +Son with Flann and Fedelma and Gilveen should go towards the King of +Ireland’s Castle with MacStairn the woodman, and wait for the Queen at a +place a day’s journey away. + +So the King of Ireland’s Son and Flann, Fedelma and Gilveen bade good-by +to the Queen, to the Spae-Woman and to the Spae-Woman’s house, and +started their journey towards the King’s Castle with MacStairn the +Woodman who walked beside their horses, a big axe in his hands. + +At night MacStairn built two bothies for them--one covered with green +boughs for Fedelma and Gilveen and one covered with cut sods for Flann +and the King of Ireland’s Son. Flann lay near the opening of this +bothie. And at night, when the only stir in the forest was that of the +leaves whispering to the Secret People, Gilveen arose from where she lay +and came to the other bothie and whispered Flann’s name. He awakened, +and thinking that Morag had come back to him (he had been dreaming of +her), he put out his arms, drew Gilveen to him and kissed her. Then +Gilveen ran back to her own bothie. And Flann did not know whether he +had awakened or whether he had remained in a dream. + +But when he arose the next morning no thought of Morag was in his +mind. And when the King’s Son rode with Fedelma he rode with Gilveen. +Afterwards Gilveen gave him a drink that enchanted him, so that he +thought of her night and day. + +Neither Fedelma nor the King’s Son knew what had come over Flann. They +mentioned the name he had spoken of so often--Morag’s name but it seemed +as if it had no meaning for him. At noon they halted to bide until the +Queen came with or without her seven brothers. Flann and Gilveen were +always together. And always Gilveen was smiling. + + + +III + + +When Caintigern had come, when she knew her son Flann, and when it was +known to her and to the Spae-Woman that the token Morag had given him +held the seven drops of heart’s blood that would bring back to their +own forms the seven wild geese that were Caintigern’s brothers--when +all this was known the Spae-Woman sent her most secret messenger to the +marshes to give word to the seven wild geese that they were to fly to +her house on the night when the moon was full. Her messenger was the +corncrake. She traveled night and day, running swiftly through the +meadows. She hid on the edge of the marshes and craked out her message +to the seven wild geese. At last they heard what she said. On the day +before the night of the full moon they flew, the seven together, towards +the Spae-Woman’s house. + +No one was in the house but Caintigern the Queen. The door was left +open to the light of the moon. The seven wild geese flew down and stayed +outside the door, moving their heads and wings in the full moonlight. + +Then Caintigern arose and took bread that the Spae-Woman had made. She +moistened it in her mouth, and into each bit of moistened bread she put +a piece of the handkerchief that had a drop of blood. She held out +her hand, giving each the moistened bread. The first that ate it fell +forward on the floor of the Spae-Woman’s house, his head down on the +ground. His sister saw him then as a kneeling man with this arms held +behind him as if they were bound. And when she looked outside she saw +the others like kneeling men with their heads bent and their arms held +behind them. Then Caintigern said, giving the Spae-Woman her secret +name, “O Grania Oi, let it be that my brothers be changed back to men!” + When she said this she saw the Spae-Woman coming across the court-yard. +The Spae-Woman waved her hands over the bent figures. They lifted +themselves up as men--as naked, gray men. + +The Spae-Woman gave each a garment and the seven men came into the +house. They would stand and not sit, and for long they had no speech. +Their sister knelt before each and wet his hand with her tears. She +thought she should see them as youths or as young men, and they were +gray now and past the prime of their lives. + +They stayed at the house and speech came back to them. Then they longed +to go back to their father’s, but Caintigern could not bear that they +should go from her sight. At last four of her brothers went and three +stayed with her. They would go to her husband’s Castle and the others +would go too after they had been at their father’s. Then one day +Caintigern said farewell. The thanks that was due to the Spae-Woman, she +said she would give by her treatment of the maid who had given the +token to her son Flann. And she prayed that Morag would soon come to the +King’s Castle. + + +She went with her three brothers to the place where Flann and the King +of Ireland’s Son, Fedelma and Gilveen waited for them. A smith groomed +and decked horses for all of them and they rode towards the King of +Ireland’s Castle, MacStairn, the Woodman, going before to announce their +coming. + +The King of Ireland waited at the stone where the riders to his Castle +dismount, and his steward, his Councillor and his Druid were beside him. +He lifted his wife off her horse and she brought him to Flann. And when +the King looked into Flann’s eyes he knew he was his son and the son +of Sheen, now known as Caintigern. He gave Flann a father’s clasp of +welcome. And the queen brought him to her own three brothers who had +been estranged from human companionship from before he knew her. And she +brought him to the youth who was always known as the King of Ireland’s +Son, and him his father welcomed from the path of danger. + +And then the King’s Son took Fedelma to his father and told him she +was his love and his wife to be. And the King welcomed Fedelma to the +Castle. Then said Gilveen, “There is a secret between this young man, +Flann, and myself.” + +“What is the secret?” said the Queen, laying her hands suddenly upon +Gilveen’s shoulders. + +“That I am his wife to be,” said Gilveen. + +The Queen went to her son and said, “Dost thou not remember Morag, +Flann, who gave the token that thou gavest me?” + +And Flann said, “Morag! I think the Spae-Woman spoke of her name in a +story.” + +“I am Flann’s wife to be,” said Gilveen, smiling in his face. + +“Yes, my wife to be,” said Flann. Then the King welcomed Gilveen too, +and they all went into the Castle. He told his wife he had messages from +the King of Senlabor about his other sons Dermott and Downal, saying +that they were making good names for themselves, and that everything +they did was becoming to sons of Kings. In the hall Fedelma saw Aefa her +other sister. Aefa was so proud of herself since she married Maravaun +the King’s Councillor that she would hardly speak to anyone. She gave +her sisters the tips of her fingers and she bowed very slightingly to +the two youths. The King questioned his druid as to when it would be +well to have marriages made in his Castle and the druid said it would be +well not to make them until the next appearance of the full moon. + + + + +IV + + + +As for Morag she went by track and path, by boher and bohereen, through +fords in rivers and over stepping-stones across them, until at last she +came to the country of Senlabor and to the Castle of the King. + +No one of high degree was in the Castle, for all had gone to watch the +young horses being broken in the meadow by the river; the King and +Queen had gone, and the King’s foster-daughters; and of the maids in the +Castle, Baun and Deelish had gone too. The King’s Councillor also had +gone from the Castle. Morag went and stayed in the kitchen, and the +maids who were there did not know her, either because they were new and +had not heard her spoken of at all, or because she had changed to such +beauty through eating the berry of the Fairy Rowan Tree that no one +could know her now for Morag who had cleaned dishes in that kitchen +before. + +It was Breas the King’s Steward who came to her and asked her who she +was. She told him. Then Breas looked sharply at her and saw she was +indeed Morag who had been in the King’s kitchen. Then he said loudly, +“Before you left you broke the dish that the King looked on as his +especial treasure, and for this, you will be left in the Stone House. I +who have power in this matter order that it be so.” Then he said in her +ear, “But kisses and sweet words would make me willing to save you.” + +Morag, in a voice raised, called him by that evil name that he was known +by to the servants and their gossips. But the servants, hearing that +name said in the hearing of Breas, pretended to be scandalized. They +went to Morag and struck her with the besoms they had for sweeping the +floor. + + +Just then her foster-sisters, Baun and Deelish, came into the kitchen. +Seeing her there they knew her. They spoke to her quietly, but with +anger, saying they had not wanted her to go on the journey she had +taken, but, as she had gone it was a pity she had come back, for now she +had behaved in an iii-mannered way, and they who were her foster-sisters +would be thought to be as ill-mannered; they told her too that before +she came back they were well-liked by all, and that Breas had even +ordered a shady place to be given them at the horse-breaking sports, +and they had been able to see the two youths who had broken the horses, +Dermott and Downal. + +“It was for a benefit to you that I came back,” said Morag. “I shall +ask one of you to do a thing for me. You, Baun, sing for the +foster-daughters of the King. Before they sleep to-night ask them to +tell the Queen that Morag has returned, and has a thing to give her.” + +“I shall try to remember that, Morag,” said Baun. Morag was taken to +the Stone House by strong-armed bondswomen, and Baun and Deelish sat in +corners and cried and did not go near her. + +That night the King’s foster-daughters kept awake for long, and after +Baun had sung to them they asked her to tell them what had happened in +the Castle. Then Baun remembered the tumult in the kitchen that had come +from the name given to Breas. She told the King’s foster-daughters that +Morag had come back. “She was reared in the same house with us,” said +Baun, “but she is not of the same parents.” And then she said; “If your +Fair Finenesses can remember, tell the Queen that Morag has come back.” + +The next day when they were walking with the Queen one of the King’s +foster-daughters said, “Did you know of a maid named Morag? I have heard +that she has been away and has come back.” + +“How did she fare?” said the Queen. + +“We have not heard that,” said the maiden who spoke. + +The Queen went to where Baun and Deelish were and from them she heard +that Morag had been put into the Stone House on the charge that she had +broken the King’s dish when she had been in the Castle before. Now the +Queen knew that the dish had been safe after Morag had left. She went +to the King’s Steward and accused him of having broken it and Breas +admitted that it was so. Thereupon he lost his rank and became the +meanest and the most despised servant in the Castle. + +The Queen went to the Stone House and took Morag out. She asked her how +she had fared and thereupon Morag put the Rowan Berry in the Queen’s +hand. She hastened to her own chamber and ate it, and her youth and +beauty came back to her, and the King who had grown solitary, loved the +Queen again. + +Then Morag came to great honor in the Castle and the Queen asked her +to name the greatest favor she could think of. And the favor that Morag +named was marriages for her foster-sisters with the two youths they +loved, Downal and Dermott from the court of the King of Ireland. + +The Queen, when she heard this, brought fine clothes out of her chests +and gave them to Baun and Deelish. When they had dressed in these +clothes the Queen made them known to the two youths. Downal and Dermott +fell in love with Morag’s foster-sisters, and the King named a day for +the pairs to marry. + +Morag waited to see the marriages, and the King and Queen made it a +grand affair. There were seven hundred guests at the short table, +eight hundred at the long table, nine hundred at the round table, and +a thousand in the great hall. I was there, and I heard the whole story. +But I got no present save shoes of paper and stockings of butter-milk +and these a herdsman stole from me as I crossed the mountains. + +But Morag got better presents, for the Queen gave her three gifts--a +scissors that cut cloth of itself, a ball of thread that went into the +needle of itself, and a needle that sewed of itself. + + + + +V + + + +Morag, with the three gifts that the Queen of Senlabor gave her, +came again to the Spae-Woman’s house. Her Little Red Hen was in the +courtyard, and she fluttered up to meet her. But there was no sign of +any other life about the place. Then, below at the washing-stream +she found the Spae-Woman rinsing clothes. She was standing on the +middle-stones, clapping her hands as if in great trouble. “Oh, Morag, +my daughter Morag,” cried the Spae-Woman, “there are signs on the +clothes--there are signs on the clothes!” + +After a while she ceased crying and clapping her hands and came up from +the stream. She showed Morag that in all the shifts and dimities she +washed for her, a hole came just above where her heart would be. Morag +grew pale when she saw that, but she stood steadily and she did not +wail. “Should I go to the King’s Castle, fosterer?” said she. “No,” + said the Spae-Woman, “but to the woodman’s hut that is near the King’s +Castle. And take your Little Red Hen with you, my daughter,” said she, +“and do not forget the three presents that the Queen of Senlabor gave +you.” Then the Spae-Woman stood up and said the blessing of the journey +over Morag:-- + + May the Olden + One, whom Fairy + Women nurtured + Through seven ages, + Bring you seven + Waves of fortune. + +Morag gave her the clasp of farewell then, and went on her way with the +Little Red Hen under her arm and the three presents that the Queen of +Senlabor gave her in her pouch. + + +Morag was going and ever going from the blink of day to the mouth of +dark and that for three crossings of the sun, and at last she came +within sight of the Castle of the King of Ireland. She asked a dog-boy +for the hut of MacStairn the Woodman and the hut was shown to her. She +went to it and saw the wife of MacStairn. She told her she was a girl +traveling alone and she asked for shelter. “I can give you shelter,” + said MacStairn’s wife, “and I can get you earnings too, for there is +much sewing-work to be done at this time.” Morag asked her what reason +there was for that, and the woodman’s wife told her there were two +couples in the Castle to be married soon. “One is the youth whom we have +always called the King of Ireland’s Son. He is to be married to a maiden +called Fedelma. The other is a youth who is the King’s son too, hut +who has been away for a long time. Flann is his name. And he is to be +married to a damsel called Gilveen.” + +When she heard that, it was as if a knife had been put into and turned +in her heart. She let the Little Red Hen drop from her arm. “I would sew +the garments that the damsel Gilveen is to wear,” said she, and she sat +down on the stone outside the woodman’s hut. MacStairn’s wife then sent +to the Castle to say that there was one in her hut who could sew all the +garments that Gilveen would send her. + +The next day, with a servant walking behind, Gilveen came to the +woodman’s hut with a basket of cloths and patterns. The basket was left +down and Gilveen began to tell MacStairn’s wife how she wanted them cut, +stitched and embroidered. Morag took up the crimson doth and let her +scissors--the scissors that the Queen of Senlabor gave her--run through +it. It cut out the pattern exactly. “What a wonderful scissors,” said +Gilveen. She stooped down to where Morag was sitting on the stone +outside of the woodman’s house and took up the scissors in her hand. She +examined it. “I cannot give it back to you,” said she. “Give it to me, +and I will let you have any favor you ask.” “Since you want me to +ask you for a favor,” said Morag, “I ask that you let me sit at the +supper-table to-night alone with the youth you are to marry.” “That will +do me no harm,” said Gilveen. She went away, taking the scissors and +smiling to herself. + +That night Morag went into the Castle and came to the supper-table where +Flann was seated alone. But Gilveen had put a sleeping-draught into +Flann’s cup and he neither saw nor knew Morag when she sat at the +table. “Do you remember, Flann,” said she, “how we used to sit at the +supper-board in the house of Crom Duv?” But Flann did not hear her, nor +see her, and then Morag had to go away. + + + +VI + + +The next day Gilveen came to where Morag sat on the stone outside the +woodman’s hut to watch her stitch the garment she had cut out. The +thread went into the needle of itself. “What a wonderful ball of +thread,” said Gilveen, taking it up. “I cannot give it back to you. Ask +me for a favor in place of it.” “Since you would have me ask a favor,” + said Morag, “I ask that you let me sit at the supper-table alone with +the youth you are going to marry.” “That will do me no harm,” said +Gilveen. She took the ball of thread and went away smiling. + +That night Morag went into the Castle and came to the supper-table where +Flann was seated alone. But Gilveen again had put a sleeping-draught +into his cup, and Flann did not see or know Morag. “Do you not remember, +Flann,” said she, “the story of Morag that I told you across the +supper-board in the House of Crom Duv?” But Flann gave no sign of +knowing her, and then Morag had to go away. + +The next day Gilveen came to watch Morag make the red embroideries upon +the white garment. When she put the needle into the cloth it worked out +the pattern of itself. “This is the most wonderful thing of all,” said +Gilveen. She stooped down and took the needle in her hand. “I cannot +give this back to you,” she said, “and you will have to ask for a favor +that will recompense you.” + +“If I must ask for a favor,” said Morag, “the only favor I would ask is +that you let me sit at the supper-table to-night alone with the youth +you are to marry.” “That will do me no harm,” said Gilveen, and she took +the needle and went away smiling. Morag went to the Castle again that +night, but this time she took the Little Red Hen with her. She scattered +grains on the table and the Little Red Hen picked them up. “Little Hen, +Little Red Hen,” said Morag, “he slept too when I gave the seven drops +of my heart’s blood for his mother’s sake.” The Little Red Hen flew +into Flann’s face. “Seven drops of heart’s blood, seven drops of heart’s +blood,” said the Little Red Hen, and Flann heard the words. + +He opened his eyes and saw the Little Red Hen on the table and knew that +she belonged to one that he had known. Morag, at the other side of the +table, looked strange and shadowy to him. But he threw crumbs on the +table and fed the Little Red Hen, and as he watched her picking up the +crumbs the memory of Morag came back to him. Then he saw her. He knew +her for his sweetheart and his promised wife and he went to her and +asked her how it came that she had not been in his mind for so long. “I +will tell you how you came to forget me,” said she, “it was because of +the kiss you gave Gilveen, and the enchantment she was able to put on +you because of that kiss.” + +There was sorrow on Morag’s face when she said that, but the sorrow went +as the thin clouds go from before the face of the high-hung moon, and +Flann saw her as his kind comrade of Crom Duv’s and as his beautiful +friend of the Spae-Woman’s house. They kissed each other then, and every +enchantment went but the lasting enchantment of love, and they sat with +hands joined until the log in the fire beside them had burnt itself down +into a brand and the brand had burnt itself into ashes, and all the time +that passed was, as they thought, only while the watching-gilly outside +walked from one side of the Castle Gate to the other. + + +Gilveen had come into the room and she saw Flann and Morag give each +other a true-lover’s kiss. She went away. But the next day she came to +the King’s Steward, Art, who at one time wanted to marry her, and whom +she had refused because Aefa, her sister, had married one of a higher +degree--she came to Art and she told him that she would not marry Flann +because she had found out that he had a low-born sweetheart. “And I am +ready to marry you, Art,” she said. And Art was well pleased, and he and +Gilveen left the Castle to be married. + +Then the day came when Fedelma and the King of Ireland’s Son, and Morag +and Flann were married. They were plighted to each other in the Circle +of Stones by the Druids who invoked upon them the powers of the Sun, the +Moon, the Earth, and the Air. They were married at the height of the day +and they feasted at night when the wax candles were lighted round the +tables. They had Greek honey and Lochlinn beer; ducks from Achill, +apples from Emain and venison from the Hunting Hill; they had trout +and grouse and plovers’ eggs and a boar’s head for every King in the +company. And these were the Kings who sat down to table with the King of +Eirinn: the King of Sorcha, the King of Hispania, the King of Lochlinn +and the King of the Green Island who had Sunbeam for his daughter. And +they had there the best heroes of Lochlinn, the best story-tellers of +Alba, the best bards of Eirinn. They laid sorrow and they raised music, +and the harpers played until the great champion Split-the-Shields told a +tale of the realm of Greece and how he slew the three lions that guarded +the daughter of the King. They feasted for six days and the last day +was better than the first, and the laugh they laughed when Witless, the +Saxon fool, told how Split-the-Shield’s story should have ended, shook +the young jackdaws out of every chimney in the Castle and brought them +down fluttering on the floors. + +The King of Ireland lived long, but he died while his sons were in their +strong manhood, and after he passed away the Island of Destiny came +under the equal rule of the two. And one had rule over the courts and +cities, the harbors and the military encampments. And the other had rule +over the waste places and the villages and the roads where masterless +men walked. And the deeds of one are in the histories the shanachies +have written in the language of the learned, and the deeds of the other +are in the stories the people tell to you and to me. + + When I crossed the Ford + They were turning the Mountain Pass; + When I stood on the Stepping-stones + They were travelling the Road of Glass. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s The King of Ireland’s Son, by Padraic Colum + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING OF IRELAND’S SON *** + +***** This file should be named 3495-0.txt or 3495-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/9/3495/ + +Produced by A. 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