{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_2892/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_2892","id":"gutenberg_2892","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2892","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Fairy tales -- Ireland","Fantasy","Folklore","Folklore -- Ireland","Tales -- Ireland"],"text":"IRISH FAIRY TALES\n\nBy James Stephens\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n      THE STORY OF TUAN MAC CAIRILL\n      THE BOYHOOD OF FIONN\n      THE BIRTH OF BRAN\n      OISI\u2019N\u2019S MOTHER\n      THE WOOING OF BECFOLA\n      THE LITTLE BRAWL AT ALLEN\n      THE CARL OF THE DRAB COAT\n      THE ENCHANTED CAVE OF CESH CORRAN\n      BECUMA OF THE WHITE SKIN\n      MONGAN\u2019S FRENZY\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF TUAN MAC CAIRILL\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nFinnian, the Abbott of Moville, went southwards and eastwards in great\nhaste. News had come to him in Donegal that there were yet people in his\nown province who believed in gods that he did not approve of, and the\ngods that we do not approve of are treated scurvily, even by saintly\nmen.\n\nHe was told of a powerful gentleman who observed neither Saint\u2019s day nor\nSunday.\n\n\u201cA powerful person!\u201d said Finnian.\n\n\u201cAll that,\u201d was the reply.\n\n\u201cWe shall try this person\u2019s power,\u201d said Finnian.\n\n\u201cHe is reputed to be a wise and hardy man,\u201d said his informant.\n\n\u201cWe shall test his wisdom and his hardihood.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is,\u201d that gossip whispered--\u201che is a magician.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will magician him,\u201d cried Finnian angrily. \u201cWhere does that man\nlive?\u201d\n\nHe was informed, and he proceeded to that direction without delay.\n\nIn no great time he came to the stronghold of the gentleman who followed\nancient ways, and he demanded admittance in order that he might preach\nand prove the new God, and exorcise and terrify and banish even the\nmemory of the old one; for to a god grown old Time is as ruthless as to\na beggarman grown old.\n\nBut the Ulster gentleman refused Finnian admittance. He barricaded\nhis house, he shuttered his windows, and in a gloom of indignation and\nprotest he continued the practices of ten thousand years, and would\nnot hearken to Finnian calling at the window or to Time knocking at his\ndoor.\n\nBut of those adversaries it was the first he redoubted.\n\nFinnian loomed on him as a portent and a terror; but he had no fear of\nTime. Indeed he was the foster-brother of Time, and so disdainful of the\nbitter god that he did not even disdain him; he leaped over the scythe,\nhe dodged under it, and the sole occasions on which Time laughs is when\nhe chances on Tuan, the son of Cairill, the son of Muredac Red-neck.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nNow Finnian could not abide that any person should resist both the\nGospel and himself, and he proceeded to force the stronghold by peaceful\nbut powerful methods. He fasted on the gentleman, and he did so to such\npurpose that he was admitted to the house; for to an hospitable heart\nthe idea that a stranger may expire on your doorstep from sheer famine\ncannot be tolerated. The gentleman, however, did not give in without a\nstruggle: he thought that when Finnian had grown sufficiently hungry he\nwould lift the siege and take himself off to some place where he might\nget food. But he did not know Finnian. The great abbot sat down on a\nspot just beyond the door, and composed himself to all that might follow\nfrom his action. He bent his gaze on the ground between his feet,\nand entered into a meditation from which he would Only be released by\nadmission or death.\n\nThe first day passed quietly.\n\nOften the gentleman would send a servitor to spy if that deserter of the\ngods was still before his door, and each time the servant replied that\nhe was still there.\n\n\u201cHe will be gone in the morning,\u201d said the hopeful master.\n\nOn the morrow the state of siege continued, and through that day the\nservants were sent many times to observe through spy-holes.\n\n\u201cGo,\u201d he would say, \u201cand find out if the worshipper of new gods has\ntaken himself away.\u201d\n\nBut the servants returned each time with the same information.\n\n\u201cThe new druid is still there,\u201d they said.\n\nAll through that day no one could leave the stronghold. And the enforced\nseclusion wrought on the minds of the servants, while the cessation\nof all work banded them together in small groups that whispered and\ndiscussed and disputed. Then these groups would disperse to peep through\nthe spy-hole at the patient, immobile figure seated before the door,\nwrapped in a meditation that was timeless and unconcerned. They\ntook fright at the spectacle, and once or twice a woman screamed\nhysterically, and was bundled away with a companion\u2019s hand clapped on\nher mouth, so that the ear of their master should not be affronted.\n\n\u201cHe has his own troubles,\u201d they said. \u201cIt is a combat of the gods that\nis taking place.\u201d\n\nSo much for the women; but the men also were uneasy. They prowled up and\ndown, tramping from the spy-hole to the kitchen, and from the kitchen\nto the turreted roof. And from the roof they would look down on the\nmotionless figure below, and speculate on many things, including\nthe staunchness of man, the qualities of their master, and even the\npossibility that the new gods might be as powerful as the old.\nFrom these peepings and discussions they would return languid and\ndiscouraged.\n\n\u201cIf,\u201d said one irritable guard, \u201cif we buzzed a spear at the persistent\nstranger, or if one slung at him with a jagged pebble!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d his master demanded wrathfully, \u201cis a spear to be thrown at\nan unarmed stranger? And from this house!\u201d And he soundly cuffed that\nindelicate servant.\n\n\u201cBe at peace all of you,\u201d he said, \u201cfor hunger has a whip, and he will\ndrive the stranger away in the night.\u201d\n\nThe household retired to wretched beds; but for the master of the house\nthere was no sleep. He marched his halls all night, going often to\nthe spy-hole to see if that shadow was still sitting in the shade, and\npacing thence, tormented, preoccupied, refusing even the nose of his\nfavourite dog as it pressed lovingly into his closed palm.\n\nOn the morrow he gave in.\n\nThe great door was swung wide, and two of his servants carried Finnian\ninto the house, for the saint could no longer walk or stand upright by\nreason of the hunger and exposure to which he had submitted. But his\nframe was tough as the unconquerable spirit that dwelt within it, and\nin no long time he was ready for whatever might come of dispute or\nanathema.\n\nBeing quite re-established he undertook the conversion of the master of\nthe house, and the siege he laid against that notable intelligence was\nlong spoken of among those who are interested in such things.\n\nHe had beaten the disease of Mugain; he had beaten his own pupil the\ngreat Colm Cille; he beat Tuan also, and just as the latter\u2019s door had\nopened to the persistent stranger, so his heart opened, and Finnian\nmarched there to do the will of God, and his own will.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nOne day they were talking together about the majesty of God and His\nlove, for although Tuan had now received much instruction on this\nsubject he yet needed more, and he laid as close a siege on Finnian\nas Finnian had before that laid on him. But man works outwardly and\ninwardly. After rest he has energy, after energy he needs repose; so,\nwhen we have given instruction for a time, we need instruction, and must\nreceive it or the spirit faints and wisdom herself grows bitter.\n\nTherefore Finnian said: \u201cTell me now about yourself, dear heart.\u201d\n\nBut Tuan was avid of information about the True God. \u201cNo, no,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201cthe past has nothing more of interest for me, and I do not wish\nanything to come between my soul and its instruction; continue to teach\nme, dear friend and saintly father.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will do that,\u201d Finnian replied, \u201cbut I must first meditate deeply on\nyou, and must know you well. Tell me your past, my beloved, for a man is\nhis past, and is to be known by it.\u201d\n\nBut Tuan pleaded: \u201cLet the past be content with itself, for man needs\nforgetfulness as well as memory.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son,\u201d said Finnian, \u201call that has ever been done has been done for\nthe glory of God, and to confess our good and evil deeds is part of\ninstruction; for the soul must recall its acts and abide by them, or\nrenounce them by confession and penitence. Tell me your genealogy first,\nand by what descent you occupy these lands and stronghold, and then I\nwill examine your acts and your conscience.\u201d\n\nTuan replied obediently: \u201cI am known as Tuan, son of Cairill, son of\nMuredac Red-neck, and these are the hereditary lands of my father.\u201d\n\nThe saint nodded.\n\n\u201cI am not as well acquainted with Ulster genealogies as I should be, yet\nI know something of them. I am by blood a Leinsterman,\u201d he continued.\n\n\u201cMine is a long pedigree,\u201d Tuan murmured.\n\nFinnian received that information with respect and interest.\n\n\u201cI also,\u201d he said, \u201chave an honourable record.\u201d\n\nHis host continued: \u201cI am indeed Tuan, the son of Starn, the son of\nSera, who was brother to Partholon.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d said Finnian in bewilderment, \u201cthere is an error here, for you\nhave recited two different genealogies.\u201d\n\n\u201cDifferent genealogies, indeed,\u201d replied Tuan thoughtfully, \u201cbut they\nare my genealogies.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not understand this,\u201d Finnian declared roundly.\n\n\u201cI am now known as Tuan mac Cairill,\u201d the other replied, \u201cbut in the\ndays of old I was known as Tuan mac Starn, mac Sera.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe brother of Partholon,\u201d the saint gasped.\n\n\u201cThat is my pedigree,\u201d Tuan said.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d Finnian objected in bewilderment, \u201cPartholon came to Ireland not\nlong after the Flood.\u201d\n\n\u201cI came with him,\u201d said Tuan mildly.\n\nThe saint pushed his chair back hastily, and sat staring at his host,\nand as he stared the blood grew chill in his veins, and his hair crept\nalong his scalp and stood on end.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nBut Finnian was not one who remained long in bewilderment. He thought on\nthe might of God and he became that might, and was tranquil.\n\nHe was one who loved God and Ireland, and to the person who could\ninstruct him in these great themes he gave all the interest of his mind\nand the sympathy of his heart.\n\n\u201cIt is a wonder you tell me, my beloved,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd now you must\ntell me more.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat must I tell?\u201d asked Tuan resignedly.\n\n\u201cTell me of the beginning of time in Ireland, and of the bearing of\nPartholon, the son of Noah\u2019s son.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have almost forgotten him,\u201d said Tuan. \u201cA greatly bearded, greatly\nshouldered man he was. A man of sweet deeds and sweet ways.\u201d\n\n\u201cContinue, my love,\u201d said Finnian.\n\n\u201cHe came to Ireland in a ship. Twenty-four men and twenty-four women\ncame with him. But before that time no man had come to Ireland, and in\nthe western parts of the world no human being lived or moved. As we drew\non Ireland from the sea the country seemed like an unending forest. Far\nas the eye could reach, and in whatever direction, there were trees; and\nfrom these there came the unceasing singing of birds. Over all that land\nthe sun shone warm and beautiful, so that to our sea-weary eyes, our\nwind-tormented ears, it seemed as if we were driving on Paradise.\n\n\u201cWe landed and we heard the rumble of water going gloomily through the\ndarkness of the forest. Following the water we came to a glade where\nthe sun shone and where the earth was warmed, and there Partholon rested\nwith his twenty-four couples, and made a city and a livelihood.\n\n\u201cThere were fish in the rivers of Eire\u2019, there were animals in her\ncoverts. Wild and shy and monstrous creatures ranged in her plains and\nforests. Creatures that one could see through and walk through. Long we\nlived in ease, and we saw new animals grow,--the bear, the wolf, the\nbadger, the deer, and the boar.\n\n\u201cPartholon\u2019s people increased until from twenty-four couples there came\nfive thousand people, who lived in amity and contentment although they\nhad no wits.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey had no wits!\u201d Finnian commented.\n\n\u201cThey had no need of wits,\u201d Tuan said.\n\n\u201cI have heard that the first-born were mindless,\u201d said Finnian.\n\u201cContinue your story, my beloved.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, sudden as a rising wind, between one night and a morning, there\ncame a sickness that bloated the stomach and purpled the skin, and on\nthe seventh day all of the race of Partholon were dead, save one man\nonly.\u201d \u201cThere always escapes one man,\u201d said Finnian thoughtfully.\n\n\u201cAnd I am that man,\u201d his companion affirmed.\n\nTuan shaded his brow with his hand, and he remembered backwards through\nincredible ages to the beginning of the world and the first days of\nEire\u2019. And Finnian, with his blood again running chill and his scalp\ncrawling uneasily, stared backwards with him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\u201cTell on, my love,\u201d Finnian murmured\n\n\u201cI was alone,\u201d said Tuan. \u201cI was so alone that my own shadow frightened\nme. I was so alone that the sound of a bird in flight, or the creaking\nof a dew-drenched bough, whipped me to cover as a rabbit is scared to\nhis burrow.\n\n\u201cThe creatures of the forest scented me and knew I was alone. They stole\nwith silken pad behind my back and snarled when I faced them; the long,\ngrey wolves with hanging tongues and staring eyes chased me to my cleft\nrock; there was no creature so weak but it might hunt me, there was no\ncreature so timid but it might outface me. And so I lived for two tens\nof years and two years, until I knew all that a beast surmises and had\nforgotten all that a man had known.\n\n\u201cI could pad as gently as any; I could run as tirelessly. I could be\ninvisible and patient as a wild cat crouching among leaves; I could\nsmell danger in my sleep and leap at it with wakeful claws; I could bark\nand growl and clash with my teeth and tear with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell on, my beloved,\u201d said Finnian, \u201cyou shall rest in God, dear\nheart.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt the end of that time,\u201d said Tuan, \u201cNemed the son of Agnoman came to\nIreland with a fleet of thirty-four barques, and in each barque there\nwere thirty couples of people.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have heard it,\u201d said Finnian.\n\n\u201cMy heart leaped for joy when I saw the great fleet rounding the land,\nand I followed them along scarped cliffs, leaping from rock to rock like\na wild goat, while the ships tacked and swung seeking a harbour. There I\nstooped to drink at a pool, and I saw myself in the chill water.\n\n\u201cI saw that I was hairy and tufty and bristled as a savage boar; that I\nwas lean as a stripped bush; that I was greyer than a badger; withered\nand wrinkled like an empty sack; naked as a fish; wretched as a starving\ncrow in winter; and on my fingers and toes there were great curving\nclaws, so that I looked like nothing that was known, like nothing that\nwas animal or divine. And I sat by the pool weeping my loneliness and\nwildness and my stern old age; and I could do no more than cry and\nlament between the earth and the sky, while the beasts that tracked me\nlistened from behind the trees, or crouched among bushes to stare at me\nfrom their drowsy covert.\n\n\u201cA storm arose, and when I looked again from my tall cliff I saw that\ngreat fleet rolling as in a giant\u2019s hand. At times they were pitched\nagainst the sky and staggered aloft, spinning gustily there like\nwind-blown leaves. Then they were hurled from these dizzy tops to the\nflat, moaning gulf, to the glassy, inky horror that swirled and whirled\nbetween ten waves. At times a wave leaped howling under a ship, and with\na buffet dashed it into air, and chased it upwards with thunder stroke\non stroke, and followed again, close as a chasing wolf, trying with\nhammering on hammering to beat in the wide-wombed bottom and suck out\nthe frightened lives through one black gape. A wave fell on a ship and\nsunk it down with a thrust, stern as though a whole sky had tumbled at\nit, and the barque did not cease to go down until it crashed and sank in\nthe sand at the bottom of the sea.\n\n\u201cThe night came, and with it a thousand darknesses fell from the\nscreeching sky. Not a round-eyed creature of the night might pierce an\ninch of that multiplied gloom. Not a creature dared creep or stand. For\na great wind strode the world lashing its league-long whips in cracks\nof thunder, and singing to itself, now in a world-wide yell, now in an\near-dizzying hum and buzz; or with a long snarl and whine it hovered\nover the world searching for life to destroy.\n\n\u201cAnd at times, from the moaning and yelping blackness of the sea, there\ncame a sound--thin-drawn as from millions of miles away, distinct as\nthough uttered in the ear like a whisper of confidence--and I knew that\na drowning man was calling on his God as he thrashed and was battered\ninto silence, and that a blue-lipped woman was calling on her man as her\nhair whipped round her brows and she whirled about like a top.\n\n\u201cAround me the trees were dragged from earth with dying groans; they\nleaped into the air and flew like birds. Great waves whizzed from the\nsea: spinning across the cliffs and hurtling to the earth in monstrous\nclots of foam; the very rocks came trundling and sidling and grinding\namong the trees; and in that rage, and in that horror of blackness I\nfell asleep, or I was beaten into slumber.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\u201cTHERE I dreamed, and I saw myself changing into a stag in dream, and\nI felt in dream the beating of a new heart within me, and in dream I\narched my neck and braced my powerful limbs.\n\n\u201cI awoke from the dream, and I was that which I had dreamed.\n\n\u201cI stood a while stamping upon a rock, with my bristling head swung\nhigh, breathing through wide nostrils all the savour of the world. For\nI had come marvellously from decrepitude to strength. I had writhed from\nthe bonds of age and was young again. I smelled the turf and knew for\nthe first time how sweet that smelled. And like lightning my moving nose\nsniffed all things to my heart and separated them into knowledge.\n\n\u201cLong I stood there, ringing my iron hoof on stone, and learning all\nthings through my nose. Each breeze that came from the right hand or the\nleft brought me a tale. A wind carried me the tang of wolf, and against\nthat smell I stared and stamped. And on a wind there came the scent of\nmy own kind, and at that I belled. Oh, loud and clear and sweet was the\nvoice of the great stag. With what ease my lovely note went lilting.\nWith what joy I heard the answering call. With what delight I bounded,\nbounded, bounded; light as a bird\u2019s plume, powerful as a storm, untiring\nas the sea.\n\n\u201cHere now was ease in ten-yard springings, with a swinging head, with\nthe rise and fall of a swallow, with the curve and flow and urge of an\notter of the sea. What a tingle dwelt about my heart! What a thrill spun\nto the lofty points of my antlers! How the world was new! How the sun\nwas new! How the wind caressed me!\n\n\u201cWith unswerving forehead and steady eye I met all that came. The old,\nlone wolf leaped sideways, snarling, and slunk away. The lumbering bear\nswung his head of hesitations and thought again; he trotted his small\nred eye away with him to a near-by brake. The stags of my race fled from\nmy rocky forehead, or were pushed back and back until their legs broke\nunder them and I trampled them to death. I was the beloved, the well\nknown, the leader of the herds of Ireland.\n\n\u201cAnd at times I came back from my boundings about Eire\u2019, for the strings\nof my heart were drawn to Ulster; and, standing away, my wide nose took\nthe air, while I knew with joy, with terror, that men were blown on the\nwind. A proud head hung to the turf then, and the tears of memory rolled\nfrom a large, bright eye.\n\n\u201cAt times I drew near, delicately, standing among thick leaves or\ncrouched in long grown grasses, and I stared and mourned as I looked on\nmen. For Nemed and four couples had been saved from that fierce storm,\nand I saw them increase and multiply until four thousand couples lived\nand laughed and were riotous in the sun, for the people of Nemed had\nsmall minds but great activity. They were savage fighters and hunters.\n\n\u201cBut one time I came, drawn by that intolerable anguish of memory, and\nall of these people were gone: the place that knew them was silent: in\nthe land where they had moved there was nothing of them but their bones\nthat glinted in the sun.\n\n\u201cOld age came on me there. Among these bones weariness crept into my\nlimbs. My head grew heavy, my eyes dim, my knees jerked and trembled,\nand there the wolves dared chase me.\n\n\u201cI went again to the cave that had been my home when I was an old man.\n\n\u201cOne day I stole from the cave to snatch a mouthful of grass, for I was\nclosely besieged by wolves. They made their rush, and I barely escaped\nfrom them. They sat beyond the cave staring at me.\n\n\u201cI knew their tongue. I knew all that they said to each other, and all\nthat they said to me. But there was yet a thud left in my forehead, a\ndeadly trample in my hoof. They did not dare come into the cave.\n\n\u201c\u2018To-morrow,\u2019 they said, \u2018we will tear out your throat, and gnaw on your\nliving haunch\u2019.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\u201cThen my soul rose to the height of Doom, and I intended all that might\nhappen to me, and agreed to it.\n\n\u201c\u2018To-morrow,\u2019 I said, \u2018I will go out among ye, and I will die,\u2019 and at\nthat the wolves howled joyfully, hungrily, impatiently.\n\n\u201cI slept, and I saw myself changing into a boar in dream, and I felt in\ndream the beating of a new heart within me, and in dream I stretched my\npowerful neck and braced my eager limbs. I awoke from my dream, and I\nwas that which I had dreamed.\n\n\u201cThe night wore away, the darkness lifted, the day came; and from\nwithout the cave the wolves called to me: \u201c\u2018Come out, O Skinny Stag.\nCome out and die.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd I, with joyful heart, thrust a black bristle through the hole of\nthe cave, and when they saw that wriggling snout, those curving tusks,\nthat red fierce eye, the wolves fled yelping, tumbling over each other,\nfrantic with terror; and I behind them, a wild cat for leaping, a giant\nfor strength, a devil for ferocity; a madness and gladness of lusty,\nunsparing life; a killer, a champion, a boar who could not be defied.\n\n\u201cI took the lordship of the boars of Ireland.\n\n\u201cWherever I looked among my tribes I saw love and obedience: whenever\nI appeared among the strangers they fled away. And the wolves feared me\nthen, and the great, grim bear went bounding on heavy paws. I charged\nhim at the head of my troop and rolled him over and over; but it is not\neasy to kill the bear, so deeply is his life packed under that stinking\npelt. He picked himself up and ran, and was knocked down, and ran again\nblindly, butting into trees and stones. Not a claw did the big bear\nflash, not a tooth did he show, as he ran whimpering like a baby, or\nas he stood with my nose rammed against his mouth, snarling up into his\nnostrils.\n\n\u201cI challenged all that moved. All creatures but one. For men had again\ncome to Ireland. Semion, the son of Stariath, with his people, from whom\nthe men of Domnann and the Fir Bolg and the Galiuin are descended. These\nI did not chase, and when they chased me I fled.\n\n\u201cOften I would go, drawn by my memoried heart, to look at them as they\nmoved among their fields; and I spoke to my mind in bitterness: \u2018When\nthe people of Partholon were gathered in counsel my voice was heard; it\nwas sweet to all who heard it, and the words I spoke were wise. The eyes\nof women brightened and softened when they looked at me. They loved to\nhear him when he sang who now wanders in the forest with a tusky herd.\u2019\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n\u201cOLD age again overtook me. Weariness stole into my limbs, and anguish\ndozed into my mind. I went to my Ulster cave and dreamed my dream, and I\nchanged into a hawk.\n\n\u201cI left the ground. The sweet air was my kingdom, and my bright eye\nstared on a hundred miles. I soared, I swooped; I hung, motionless as a\nliving stone, over the abyss; I lived in joy and slept in peace, and had\nmy fill of the sweetness of life.\n\n\u201cDuring that time Beothach, the son of Iarbonel the Prophet, came to\nIreland with his people, and there was a great battle between his men\nand the children of Semion. Long I hung over that combat, seeing every\nspear that hurtled, every stone that whizzed from a sling, every sword\nthat flashed up and down, and the endless glittering of the shields. And\nat the end I saw that the victory was with Iarbonel. And from his people\nthe Tuatha De\u2019 and the Ande\u2019 came, although their origin is forgotten,\nand learned people, because of their excellent wisdom and intelligence,\nsay that they came from heaven.\n\n\u201cThese are the people of Faery. All these are the gods.\n\n\u201cFor long, long years I was a hawk. I knew every hill and stream; every\nfield and glen of Ireland. I knew the shape of cliffs and coasts, and\nhow all places looked under the sun or moon. And I was still a hawk when\nthe sons of Mil drove the Tuatha De\u2019 Danann under the ground, and held\nIreland against arms or wizardry; and this was the coming of men and the\nbeginning of genealogies.\n\n\u201cThen I grew old, and in my Ulster cave close to the sea I dreamed my\ndream, and in it I became a salmon. The green tides of ocean rose over\nme and my dream, so that I drowned in the sea and did not die, for I\nawoke in deep waters, and I was that which I dreamed. I had been a man,\na stag, a boar, a bird, and now I was a fish. In all my changes I had\njoy and fulness of life. But in the water joy lay deeper, life pulsed\ndeeper. For on land or air there is always something excessive and\nhindering; as arms that swing at the sides of a man, and which the\nmind must remember. The stag has legs to be tucked away for sleep, and\nuntucked for movement; and the bird has wings that must be folded and\npecked and cared for. But the fish has but one piece from his nose to\nhis tail. He is complete, single and unencumbered. He turns in one turn,\nand goes up and down and round in one sole movement.\n\n\u201cHow I flew through the soft element: how I joyed in the country where\nthere is no harshness: in the element which upholds and gives way; which\ncaresses and lets go, and will not let you fall. For man may stumble in\na furrow; the stag tumble from a cliff; the hawk, wing-weary and beaten,\nwith darkness around him and the storm behind, may dash his brains\nagainst a tree. But the home of the salmon is his delight, and the sea\nguards all her creatures.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\n\u201cI became the king of the salmon, and, with my multitudes, I ranged on\nthe tides of the world. Green and purple distances were under me: green\nand gold the sunlit regions above. In these latitudes I moved through a\nworld of amber, myself amber and gold; in those others, in a sparkle\nof lucent blue, I curved, lit like a living jewel: and in these again,\nthrough dusks of ebony all mazed with silver, I shot and shone, the\nwonder of the sea.\n\n\u201cI saw the monsters of the uttermost ocean go heaving by; and the long\nlithe brutes that are toothed to their tails: and below, where gloom\ndipped down on gloom, vast, livid tangles that coiled and uncoiled, and\nlapsed down steeps and hells of the sea where even the salmon could not\ngo.\n\n\u201cI knew the sea. I knew the secret caves where ocean roars to ocean; the\nfloods that are icy cold, from which the nose of a salmon leaps back as\nat a sting; and the warm streams in which we rocked and dozed and were\ncarried forward without motion. I swam on the outermost rim of the great\nworld, where nothing was but the sea and the sky and the salmon; where\neven the wind was silent, and the water was clear as clean grey rock.\n\n\u201cAnd then, far away in the sea, I remembered Ulster, and there came on\nme an instant, uncontrollable anguish to be there. I turned, and through\ndays and nights I swam tirelessly, jubilantly; with terror wakening in\nme, too, and a whisper through my being that I must reach Ireland or\ndie.\n\n\u201cI fought my way to Ulster from the sea.\n\n\u201cAh, how that end of the journey was hard! A sickness was racking in\nevery one of my bones, a languor and weariness creeping through my every\nfibre and muscle. The waves held me back and held me back; the soft\nwaters seemed to have grown hard; and it was as though I were urging\nthrough a rock as I strained towards Ulster from the sea.\n\n\u201cSo tired I was! I could have loosened my frame and been swept away;\nI could have slept and been drifted and wafted away; swinging on\ngrey-green billows that had turned from the land and were heaving and\nmounting and surging to the far blue water.\n\n\u201cOnly the unconquerable heart of the salmon could brave that end of\ntoil. The sound of the rivers of Ireland racing down to the sea came to\nme in the last numb effort: the love of Ireland bore me up: the gods of\nthe rivers trod to me in the white-curled breakers, so that I left\nthe sea at long, long last; and I lay in sweet water in the curve of a\ncrannied rock, exhausted, three parts dead, triumphant.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n\u201cDelight and strength came to me again, and now I explored all the\ninland ways, the great lakes of Ireland, and her swift brown rivers.\n\n\u201cWhat a joy to lie under an inch of water basking in the sun, or beneath\na shady ledge to watch the small creatures that speed like lightning on\nthe rippling top. I saw the dragon-flies flash and dart and turn, with\na poise, with a speed that no other winged thing knows: I saw the hawk\nhover and stare and swoop: he fell like a falling stone, but he could\nnot catch the king of the salmon: I saw the cold-eyed cat stretching\nalong a bough level with the water, eager to hook and lift the creatures\nof the river. And I saw men.\n\n\u201cThey saw me also. They came to know me and look for me. They lay in\nwait at the waterfalls up which I leaped like a silver flash. They held\nout nets for me; they hid traps under leaves; they made cords of the\ncolour of water, of the colour of weeds--but this salmon had a nose that\nknew how a weed felt and how a string--they drifted meat on a sightless\nstring, but I knew of the hook; they thrust spears at me, and threw\nlances which they drew back again with a cord. Many a wound I got from\nmen, many a sorrowful scar.\n\n\u201cEvery beast pursued me in the waters and along the banks; the barking,\nblack-skinned otter came after me in lust and gust and swirl; the wild\ncat fished for me; the hawk and the steep-winged, spear-beaked birds\ndived down on me, and men crept on me with nets the width of a river,\nso that I got no rest. My life became a ceaseless scurry and wound and\nescape, a burden and anguish of watchfulness--and then I was caught.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\n\u201cTHE fisherman of Cairill, the King of Ulster, took me in his net. Ah,\nthat was a happy man when he saw me! He shouted for joy when he saw the\ngreat salmon in his net.\n\n\u201cI was still in the water as he hauled delicately. I was still in the\nwater as he pulled me to the bank. My nose touched air and spun from it\nas from fire, and I dived with all my might against the bottom of the\nnet, holding yet to the water, loving it, mad with terror that I must\nquit that loveliness. But the net held and I came up.\n\n\u201c\u2018Be quiet, King of the River,\u2019 said the fisherman, \u2018give in to Doom,\u2019\nsaid he.\n\n\u201cI was in air, and it was as though I were in fire. The air pressed on\nme like a fiery mountain. It beat on my scales and scorched them. It\nrushed down my throat and scalded me. It weighed on me and squeezed me,\nso that my eyes felt as though they must burst from my head, my head as\nthough it would leap from my body, and my body as though it would swell\nand expand and fly in a thousand pieces.\n\n\u201cThe light blinded me, the heat tormented me, the dry air made me\nshrivel and gasp; and, as he lay on the grass, the great salmon whirled\nhis desperate nose once more to the river, and leaped, leaped, leaped,\neven under the mountain of air. He could leap upwards, but not forwards,\nand yet he leaped, for in each rise he could see the twinkling waves,\nthe rippling and curling waters.\n\n\u201c\u2018Be at ease, O King,\u2019 said the fisherman. \u2018Be at rest, my beloved. Let\ngo the stream. Let the oozy marge be forgotten, and the sandy bed where\nthe shades dance all in green and gloom, and the brown flood sings\nalong.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd as he carried me to the palace he sang a song of the river, and a\nsong of Doom, and a song in praise of the King of the Waters.\n\n\u201cWhen the king\u2019s wife saw me she desired me. I was put over a fire and\nroasted, and she ate me. And when time passed she gave birth to me, and\nI was her son and the son of Cairill the king. I remember warmth and\ndarkness and movement and unseen sounds. All that happened I remember,\nfrom the time I was on the gridiron until the time I was born. I forget\nnothing of these things.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said Finnian, \u201cyou will be born again, for I shall baptize\nyou into the family of the Living God.\u201d ---- So far the story of Tuan,\nthe son of Cairill.\n\nNo man knows if he died in those distant ages when Finnian was Abbot of\nMoville, or if he still keeps his fort in Ulster, watching all things,\nand remembering them for the glory of God and the honour of Ireland.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOYHOOD OF FIONN\n\n\n\n\nHe was a king, a seer and a poet. He was a lord with a manifold and\ngreat train. He was our magician, our knowledgable one, our soothsayer.\nAll that he did was sweet with him. And, however ye deem my testimony\nof Fionn excessive, and, although ye hold my praising overstrained,\nnevertheless, and by the King that is above me, he was three times\nbetter than all I say.--Saint PATRICK.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nFionn [pronounce Fewn to rhyme with \u201ctune\u201d] got his first training among\nwomen. There is no wonder in that, for it is the pup\u2019s mother teaches it\nto fight, and women know that fighting is a necessary art although men\npretend there are others that are better. These were the women druids,\nBovmall and Lia Luachra. It will be wondered why his own mother did not\ntrain him in the first natural savageries of existence, but she could\nnot do it. She could not keep him with her for dread of the clann-Morna.\nThe sons of Morna had been fighting and intriguing for a long time to\noust her husband, Uail, from the captaincy of the Fianna of Ireland,\nand they had ousted him at last by killing him. It was the only way\nthey could get rid of such a man; but it was not an easy way, for what\nFionn\u2019s father did not know in arms could not be taught to him even by\nMorna. Still, the hound that can wait will catch a hare at last, and\neven Manana\u2019nn sleeps. Fionn\u2019s mother was beautiful, long-haired Muirne:\nso she is always referred to. She was the daughter of Teigue, the son of\nNuada from Faery, and her mother was Ethlinn. That is, her brother\nwas Lugh of the Long Hand himself, and with a god, and such a god, for\nbrother we may marvel that she could have been in dread of Morna or his\nsons, or of any one. But women have strange loves, strange fears, and\nthese are so bound up with one another that the thing which is presented\nto us is not often the thing that is to be seen.\n\nHowever it may be, when Uall died Muirne got married again to the King\nof Kerry. She gave the child to Bovmall and Lia Luachra to rear, and we\nmay be sure that she gave injunctions with him, and many of them. The\nyoungster was brought to the woods of Slieve Bloom and was nursed there\nin secret.\n\nIt is likely the women were fond of him, for other than Fionn there\nwas no life about them. He would be their life; and their eyes may\nhave seemed as twin benedictions resting on the small fair head. He was\nfair-haired, and it was for his fairness that he was afterwards called\nFionn; but at this period he was known as Deimne. They saw the food they\nput into his little frame reproduce itself length-ways and sideways in\ntough inches, and in springs and energies that crawled at first, and\nthen toddled, and then ran. He had birds for playmates, but all the\ncreatures that live in a wood must have been his comrades. There would\nhave been for little Fionn long hours of lonely sunshine, when the world\nseemed just sunshine and a sky. There would have been hours as long,\nwhen existence passed like a shade among shadows, in the multitudinous\ntappings of rain that dripped from leaf to leaf in the wood, and slipped\nso to the ground. He would have known little snaky paths, narrow enough\nto be filled by his own small feet, or a goat\u2019s; and he would have\nwondered where they went, and have marvelled again to find that,\nwherever they went, they came at last, through loops and twists of the\nbranchy wood, to his own door. He may have thought of his own door as\nthe beginning and end of the world, whence all things went, and whither\nall things came.\n\nPerhaps he did not see the lark for a long time, but he would have heard\nhim, far out of sight in the endless sky, thrilling and thrilling until\nthe world seemed to have no other sound but that clear sweetness; and\nwhat a world it was to make that sound! Whistles and chirps, coos and\ncaws and croaks, would have grown familiar to him. And he could at last\nhave told which brother of the great brotherhood was making the noise\nhe heard at any moment. The wind too: he would have listened to its\nthousand voices as it moved in all seasons and in all moods. Perhaps a\nhorse would stray into the thick screen about his home, and would look\nas solemnly on Fionn as Fionn did on it. Or, coming suddenly on him,\nthe horse might stare, all a-cock with eyes and ears and nose, one\nlong-drawn facial extension, ere he turned and bounded away with\nmanes all over him and hoofs all under him and tails all round him. A\nsolemn-nosed, stern-eyed cow would amble and stamp in his wood to find a\nflyless shadow; or a strayed sheep would poke its gentle muzzle through\nleaves.\n\n\u201cA boy,\u201d he might think, as he stared on a staring horse, \u201ca boy cannot\nwag his tail to keep the flies off,\u201d and that lack may have saddened\nhim. He may have thought that a cow can snort and be dignified at\nthe one moment, and that timidity is comely in a sheep. He would have\nscolded the jackdaw, and tried to out-whistle the throstle, and wondered\nwhy his pipe got tired when the blackbird\u2019s didn\u2019t. There would be flies\nto be watched, slender atoms in yellow gauze that flew, and filmy specks\nthat flittered, and sturdy, thick-ribbed brutes that pounced like cats\nand bit like dogs and flew like lightning. He may have mourned for the\nspider in bad luck who caught that fly. There would be much to see and\nremember and compare, and there would be, always, his two guardians. The\nflies change from second to second; one cannot tell if this bird is a\nvisitor or an inhabitant, and a sheep is just sister to a sheep; but the\nwomen were as rooted as the house itself.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nWere his nurses comely or harsh-looking? Fionn would not know. This was\nthe one who picked him up when he fell, and that was the one who patted\nthe bruise. This one said: \u201cMind you do not tumble in the well!\u201d\n\nAnd that one: \u201cMind the little knees among the nettles.\u201d\n\nBut he did tumble and record that the only notable thing about a well\nis that it is wet. And as for nettles, if they hit him he hit back. He\nslashed into them with a stick and brought them low. There was nothing\nin wells or nettles, only women dreaded them. One patronised women and\ninstructed them and comforted them, for they were afraid about one.\n\nThey thought that one should not climb a tree!\n\n\u201cNext week,\u201d they said at last, \u201cyou may climb this one,\u201d and \u201cnext\nweek\u201d lived at the end of the world!\n\nBut the tree that was climbed was not worth while when it had been\nclimbed twice. There was a bigger one near by. There were trees that no\none could climb, with vast shadow on one side and vaster sunshine on\nthe other. It took a long time to walk round them, and you could not see\ntheir tops.\n\nIt was pleasant to stand on a branch that swayed and sprung, and it was\ngood to stare at an impenetrable roof of leaves and then climb into it.\nHow wonderful the loneliness was up there! When he looked down there\nwas an undulating floor of leaves, green and green and greener to a very\nblackness of greeniness; and when he looked up there were leaves\nagain, green and less green and not green at all, up to a very snow and\nblindness of greeniness; and above and below and around there was sway\nand motion, the whisper of leaf on leaf, and the eternal silence to\nwhich one listened and at which one tried to look.\n\nWhen he was six years of age his mother, beautiful, long-haired Muirne,\ncame to see him. She came secretly, for she feared the sons of Morna,\nand she had paced through lonely places in many counties before she\nreached the hut in the wood, and the cot where he lay with his fists\nshut and sleep gripped in them.\n\nHe awakened to be sure. He would have one ear that would catch an\nunusual voice, one eye that would open, however sleepy the other one\nwas. She took him in her arms and kissed him, and she sang a sleepy song\nuntil the small boy slept again.\n\nWe may be sure that the eye that could stay open stayed open that night\nas long as it could, and that the one ear listened to the sleepy song\nuntil the song got too low to be heard, until it was too tender to be\nfelt vibrating along those soft arms, until Fionn was asleep again, with\na new picture in his little head and a new notion to ponder on.\n\nThe mother of himself! His own mother!\n\nBut when he awakened she was gone.\n\nShe was going back secretly, in dread of the sons of Morna, slipping\nthrough gloomy woods, keeping away from habitations, getting by desolate\nand lonely ways to her lord in Kerry.\n\nPerhaps it was he that was afraid of the sons of Morna, and perhaps she\nloved him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE women druids, his guardians, belonged to his father\u2019s people.\nBovmall was Uail\u2019s sister, and, consequently, Fionn\u2019s aunt. Only such\na blood-tie could have bound them to the clann-Baiscne, for it is not\neasy, having moved in the world of court and camp, to go hide with a\nbaby in a wood; and to live, as they must have lived, in terror.\n\nWhat stories they would have told the child of the sons of Morna. Of\nMorna himself, the huge-shouldered, stern-eyed, violent Connachtman; and\nof his sons--young Goll Mor mac Morna in particular, as huge-shouldered\nas his father, as fierce in the onset, but merry-eyed when the other\nwas grim, and bubbling with a laughter that made men forgive even his\nbutcheries. Of Cona\u2019n Mael mac Morna his brother, gruff as a badger,\nbearded like a boar, bald as a crow, and with a tongue that could manage\nan insult where another man would not find even a stammer. His boast was\nthat when he saw an open door he went into it, and when he saw a closed\ndoor he went into it. When he saw a peaceful man he insulted him, and\nwhen he met a man who was not peaceful he insulted him. There was Garra\nDuv mac Morna, and savage Art Og, who cared as little for their own\nskins as they did for the next man\u2019s, and Garra must have been rough\nindeed to have earned in that clan the name of the Rough mac Morna.\nThere were others: wild Connachtmen all, as untameable, as unaccountable\nas their own wonderful countryside.\n\nFionn would have heard much of them, and it is likely that he practised\non a nettle at taking the head off Goll, and that he hunted a sheep\nfrom cover in the implacable manner he intended later on for Cona\u2019n the\nSwearer.\n\nBut it is of Uail mac Baiscne he would have heard most. With what a\ndilation of spirit the ladies would have told tales of him, Fionn\u2019s\nfather. How their voices would have become a chant as feat was added\nto feat, glory piled on glory. The most famous of men and the most\nbeautiful; the hardest fighter; the easiest giver; the kingly champion;\nthe chief of the Fianna na h-Eirinn. Tales of how he had been way-laid\nand got free; of how he had been generous and got free; of how he had\nbeen angry and went marching with the speed of an eagle and the direct\nonfall of a storm; while in front and at the sides, angled from the prow\nof his terrific advance, were fleeing multitudes who did not dare to\nwait and scarce had time to run. And of how at last, when the time\ncame to quell him, nothing less than the whole might of Ireland was\nsufficient for that great downfall.\n\nWe may be sure that on these adventures Fionn was with his father, going\nstep for step with the long-striding hero, and heartening him mightily.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nHe was given good training by the women in running and leaping and\nswimming.\n\nOne of them would take a thorn switch in her hand, and Fionn would\ntake a thorn switch in his hand, and each would try to strike the other\nrunning round a tree.\n\nYou had to go fast to keep away from the switch behind, and a small boy\nfeels a switch. Fionn would run his best to get away from that prickly\nstinger, but how he would run when it was his turn to deal the strokes!\n\nWith reason too, for his nurses had suddenly grown implacable. They\npursued him with a savagery which he could not distinguish from hatred,\nand they swished him well whenever they got the chance.\n\nFionn learned to run. After a while he could buzz around a tree like\na maddened fly, and oh, the joy, when he felt himself drawing from the\nswitch and gaining from behind on its bearer! How he strained and panted\nto catch on that pursuing person and pursue her and get his own switch\ninto action.\n\nHe learned to jump by chasing hares in a bumpy field. Up went the hare\nand up went Fionn, and away with the two of them, hopping and popping\nacross the field. If the hare turned while Fionn was after her it was\nswitch for Fionn; so that in a while it did not matter to Fionn which\nway the hare jumped for he could jump that way too. Long-ways, sideways\nor baw-ways, Fionn hopped where the hare hopped, and at last he was the\nowner of a hop that any hare would give an ear for.\n\nHe was taught to swim, and it may be that his heart sank when he fronted\nthe lesson. The water was cold. It was deep. One could see the bottom,\nleagues below, millions of miles below. A small boy might shiver as he\nstared into that wink and blink and twink of brown pebbles and murder.\nAnd these implacable women threw him in!\n\nPerhaps he would not go in at first. He may have smiled at them, and\ncoaxed, and hung back. It was a leg and an arm gripped then; a swing for\nFionn, and out and away with him; plop and flop for him; down into chill\ndeep death for him, and up with a splutter; with a sob; with a grasp\nat everything that caught nothing; with a wild flurry; with a raging\ndespair; with a bubble and snort as he was hauled again down, and down,\nand down, and found as suddenly that he had been hauled out.\n\nFionn learned to swim until he could pop into the water like an otter\nand slide through it like an eel.\n\nHe used to try to chase a fish the way he chased hares in the bumpy\nfield--but there are terrible spurts in a fish. It may be that a fish\ncannot hop, but he gets there in a flash, and he isn\u2019t there in another.\nUp or down, sideways or endways, it is all one to a fish. He goes and\nis gone. He twists this way and disappears the other way. He is over\nyou when he ought to be under you, and he is biting your toe when you\nthought you were biting his tail.\n\nYou cannot catch a fish by swimming, but you can try, and Fionn tried.\nHe got a grudging commendation from the terrible women when he was able\nto slip noiselessly in the tide, swim under water to where a wild duck\nwas floating and grip it by the leg.\n\n\u201cQu--,\u201d said the duck, and he disappeared before he had time to get the\n\u201c-ack\u201d out of him.\n\nSo the time went, and Fionn grew long and straight and tough like a\nsapling; limber as a willow, and with the flirt and spring of a young\nbird. One of the ladies may have said, \u201cHe is shaping very well, my\ndear,\u201d and the other replied, as is the morose privilege of an aunt,\n\u201cHe will never be as good as his father,\u201d but their hearts must have\noverflowed in the night, in the silence, in the darkness, when they\nthought of the living swiftness they had fashioned, and that dear fair\nhead.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nONE day his guardians were agitated: they held confabulations at which\nFionn was not permitted to assist. A man who passed by in the morning\nhad spoken to them. They fed the man, and during his feeding Fionn had\nbeen shooed from the door as if he were a chicken. When the stranger\ntook his road the women went with him a short distance. As they passed\nthe man lifted a hand and bent a knee to Fionn.\n\n\u201cMy soul to you, young master,\u201d he said, and as he said it, Fionn\nknew that he could have the man\u2019s soul, or his boots, or his feet, or\nanything that belonged to him.\n\nWhen the women returned they were mysterious and whispery. They chased\nFionn into the house, and when they got him in they chased him out\nagain. They chased each other around the house for another whisper. They\ncalculated things by the shape of clouds, by lengths of shadows, by the\nflight of birds, by two flies racing on a flat stone, by throwing bones\nover their left shoulders, and by every kind of trick and game and\nchance that you could put a mind to.\n\nThey told Fionn he must sleep in a tree that night, and they put him\nunder bonds not to sing or whistle or cough or sneeze until the morning.\n\nFionn did sneeze. He never sneezed so much in his life. He sat up in his\ntree and nearly sneezed himself out of it. Flies got up his nose, two\nat a time, one up each nose, and his head nearly fell off the way he\nsneezed.\n\n\u201cYou are doing that on purpose,\u201d said a savage whisper from the foot of\nthe tree.\n\nBut Fionn was not doing it on purpose. He tucked himself into a fork the\nway he had been taught, and he passed the crawliest, tickliest night he\nhad ever known. After a while he did not want to sneeze, he wanted to\nscream: and in particular he wanted to come down from the tree. But he\ndid not scream, nor did he leave the tree. His word was passed, and he\nstayed in his tree as silent as a mouse and as watchful, until he fell\nout of it.\n\nIn the morning a band of travelling poets were passing, and the\nwomen handed Fionn over to them. This time they could not prevent him\noverhearing.\n\n\u201cThe sons of Morna!\u201d they said.\n\nAnd Fionn\u2019s heart might have swelled with rage, but that it was already\nswollen with adventure. And also the expected was happening. Behind\nevery hour of their day and every moment of their lives lay the sons of\nMorna. Fionn had run after them as deer: he jumped after them as hares:\nhe dived after them as fish. They lived in the house with him: they\nsat at the table and ate his meat. One dreamed of them, and they were\nexpected in the morning as the sun is. They knew only too well that the\nson of Uail was living, and they knew that their own sons would know\nno ease while that son lived; for they believed in those days that like\nbreeds like, and that the son of Uail would be Uail with additions.\n\nHis guardians knew that their hiding-place must at last be discovered,\nand that, when it was found, the sons of Morna would come. They had\nno doubt of that, and every action of their lives was based on that\ncertainty. For no secret can remain secret. Some broken soldier tramping\nhome to his people will find it out; a herd seeking his strayed cattle\nor a band of travelling musicians will get the wind of it. How many\npeople will move through even the remotest wood in a year! The crows\nwill tell a secret if no one else does; and under a bush, behind a clump\nof bracken, what eyes may there not be! But if your secret is legged\nlike a young goat! If it is tongued like a wolf! One can hide a baby,\nbut you cannot hide a boy. He will rove unless you tie him to a post,\nand he will whistle then.\n\nThe sons of Morna came, but there were only two grim women living in a\nlonely hut to greet them. We may be sure they were well greeted. One can\nimagine Goll\u2019s merry stare taking in all that could be seen; Cona\u2019n\u2019s\ngrim eye raking the women\u2019s faces while his tongue raked them again; the\nRough mac Morna shouldering here and there in the house and about it,\nwith maybe a hatchet in his hand, and Art Og coursing further afield and\nvowing that if the cub was there he would find him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nBut Fionn was gone. He was away, bound with his band of poets for the\nGaltees.\n\nIt is likely they were junior poets come to the end of a year\u2019s\ntraining, and returning to their own province to see again the people at\nhome, and to be wondered at and exclaimed at as they exhibited bits of\nthe knowledge which they had brought from the great schools. They would\nknow tags of rhyme and tricks about learning which Fionn would hear of;\nand now and again, as they rested in a glade or by the brink of a river,\nthey might try their lessons over. They might even refer to the ogham\nwands on which the first words of their tasks and the opening lines of\npoems were cut; and it is likely that, being new to these things, they\nwould talk of them to a youngster, and, thinking that his wits could be\nno better than their own, they might have explained to him how ogham was\nwritten. But it is far more likely that his women guardians had already\nstarted him at those lessons.\n\nStill this band of young bards would have been of infinite interest to\nFionn, not on account of what they had learned, but because of what they\nknew. All the things that he should have known as by nature: the look,\nthe movement, the feeling of crowds; the shouldering and intercourse of\nman with man; the clustering of houses and how people bore themselves\nin and about them; the movement of armed men, and the homecoming look\nof wounds; tales of births, and marriages and deaths; the chase with its\nmultitudes of men and dogs; all the noise, the dust, the excitement of\nmere living. These, to Fionn, new come from leaves and shadows and the\ndipple and dapple of a wood, would have seemed wonderful; and the tales\nthey would have told of their masters, their looks, fads, severities,\nsillinesses, would have been wonderful also.\n\nThat band should have chattered like a rookery.\n\nThey must have been young, for one time a Leinsterman came on them, a\ngreat robber named Fiacuil mac Cona, and he killed the poets. He chopped\nthem up and chopped them down. He did not leave one poeteen of them\nall. He put them out of the world and out of life, so that they stopped\nbeing, and no one could tell where they went or what had really happened\nto them; and it is a wonder indeed that one can do that to anything let\nalone a band. If they were not youngsters, the bold Fiacuil could not\nhave managed them all. Or, perhaps, he too had a band, although the\nrecord does not say so; but kill them he did, and they died that way.\n\nFionn saw that deed, and his blood may have been cold enough as he\nwatched the great robber coursing the poets as a wild dog rages in a\nflock. And when his turn came, when they were all dead, and the grim,\nred-handed man trod at him, Fionn may have shivered, but he would have\nshown his teeth and laid roundly on the monster with his hands. Perhaps\nhe did that, and perhaps for that he was spared.\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d roared the staring black-mouth with the red tongue\nsquirming in it like a frisky fish.\n\n\u201cThe son of Uail, son of Baiscne,\u201d quoth hardy Fionn. And at that the\nrobber ceased to be a robber, the murderer disappeared, the black-rimmed\nchasm packed with red fish and precipices changed to something else, and\nthe round eyes that had been popping out of their sockets and trying\nto bite, changed also. There remained a laughing and crying and loving\nservant who wanted to tie himself into knots if that would please the\nson of his great captain. Fionn went home on the robber\u2019s shoulder, and\nthe robber gave great snorts and made great jumps and behaved like a\nfirst-rate horse. For this same Fiacuil was the husband of Bovmall,\nFionn\u2019s aunt. He had taken to the wilds when clann-Baiscne was broken,\nand he was at war with a world that had dared to kill his Chief.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nA new life for Fionn in the robber\u2019s den that was hidden in a vast cold\nmarsh.\n\nA tricky place that would be, with sudden exits and even suddener\nentrances, and with damp, winding, spidery places to hoard treasure in,\nor to hide oneself in.\n\nIf the robber was a solitary he would, for lack of someone else,\nhave talked greatly to Fionn. He would have shown his weapons and\ndemonstrated how he used them, and with what slash he chipped his\nvictim, and with what slice he chopped him. He would have told why a\nslash was enough for this man and why that man should be sliced. All men\nare masters when one is young, and Fionn would have found knowledge here\nalso. He would have seen Fiacuil\u2019s great spear that had thirty rivets\nof Arabian gold in its socket, and that had to be kept wrapped up and\ntied down so that it would not kill people out of mere spitefulness. It\nhad come from Faery, out of the Shi\u2019 of Aillen mac Midna, and it would\nbe brought back again later on between the same man\u2019s shoulder-blades.\n\nWhat tales that man could tell a boy, and what questions a boy could ask\nhim. He would have known a thousand tricks, and because our instinct is\nto teach, and because no man can keep a trick from a boy, he would show\nthem to Fionn.\n\nThere was the marsh too; a whole new life to be learned; a complicated,\nmysterious, dank, slippery, reedy, treacherous life, but with its own\nbeauty and an allurement that could grow on one, so that you could\nforget the solid world and love only that which quaked and gurgled.\n\nIn this place you may swim. By this sign and this you will know if it is\nsafe to do so, said Fiacuil mac Cona; but in this place, with this sign\non it and that, you must not venture a toe.\n\nBut where Fionn would venture his toes his ears would follow.\n\nThere are coiling weeds down there, the robber counselled him; there are\nthin, tough, snaky binders that will trip you and grip you, that will\npull you and will not let you go again until you are drowned; until\nyou are swaying and swinging away below, with outstretched arms, with\noutstretched legs, with a face all stares and smiles and jockeyings,\ngripped in those leathery arms, until there is no more to be gripped of\nyou even by them.\n\n\u201cWatch these and this and that,\u201d Fionn would have been told, \u201cand always\nswim with a knife in your teeth.\u201d\n\nHe lived there until his guardians found out where he was and came after\nhim. Fiacuil gave him up to them, and he was brought home again to\nthe woods of Slieve Bloom, but he had gathered great knowledge and new\nsupplenesses.\n\nThe sons of Morna left him alone for a long time. Having made their\nessay they grew careless.\n\n\u201cLet him be,\u201d they said. \u201cHe will come to us when the time comes.\u201d\n\nBut it is likely too that they had had their own means of getting\ninformation about him. How he shaped? what muscles he had? and did\nhe spring clean from the mark or had he to get off with a push? Fionn\nstayed with his guardians and hunted for them. He could run a deer down\nand haul it home by the reluctant skull. \u201cCome on, Goll,\u201d he would say\nto his stag, or, lifting it over a tussock with a tough grip on the\nsnout, \u201cAre you coming, bald Cona\u2019n, or shall I kick you in the neck?\u201d\n\nThe time must have been nigh when he would think of taking the world\nitself by the nose, to haul it over tussocks and drag it into his\npen; for he was of the breed in whom mastery is born, and who are good\nmasters.\n\nBut reports of his prowess were getting abroad. Clann-Morna began to\nstretch itself uneasily, and, one day, his guardians sent him on his\ntravels.\n\n\u201cIt is best for you to leave us now,\u201d they said to the tall stripling,\n\u201cfor the sons of Morna are watching again to kill you.\u201d\n\nThe woods at that may have seemed haunted. A stone might sling at one\nfrom a tree-top; but from which tree of a thousand trees did it come? An\narrow buzzing by one\u2019s ear would slide into the ground and quiver there\nsilently, menacingly, hinting of the brothers it had left in the quiver\nbehind; to the right? to the left? how many brothers? in how many\nquivers...? Fionn was a woodsman, but he had only two eyes to look with,\none set of feet to carry him in one sole direction. But when he was\nlooking to the front what, or how many whats, could be staring at him\nfrom the back? He might face in this direction, away from, or towards a\nsmile on a hidden face and a finger on a string. A lance might slide at\nhim from this bush or from the one yonder.. In the night he might have\nfought them; his ears against theirs; his noiseless feet against their\nlurking ones; his knowledge of the wood against their legion: but during\nthe day he had no chance.\n\nFionn went to seek his fortune, to match himself against all that might\nhappen, and to carve a name for himself that will live while Time has an\near and knows an Irishman.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nFionn went away, and now he was alone. But he was as fitted for\nloneliness as the crane is that haunts the solitudes and bleak wastes\nof the sea; for the man with a thought has a comrade, and Fionn\u2019s mind\nworked as featly as his body did. To be alone was no trouble to him who,\nhowever surrounded, was to be lonely his life long; for this will be\nsaid of Fionn when all is said, that all that came to him went from him,\nand that happiness was never his companion for more than a moment.\n\nBut he was not now looking for loneliness. He was seeking the\ninstruction of a crowd, and therefore when he met a crowd he went into\nit. His eyes were skilled to observe in the moving dusk and dapple of\ngreen woods. They were trained to pick out of shadows birds that were\nthemselves dun-coloured shades, and to see among trees the animals that\nare coloured like the bark of trees. The hare crouching in the fronds\nwas visible to him, and the fish that swayed in-visibly in the sway and\nflicker of a green bank. He would see all that was to be seen, and he\nwould see all that is passed by the eye that is half blind from use and\nwont.\n\nAt Moy Life\u2019 he came on lads swimming in a pool; and, as he looked\non them sporting in the flush tide, he thought that the tricks they\nperformed were not hard for him, and that he could have shown them new\nones.\n\nBoys must know what another boy can do, and they will match themselves\nagainst everything. They did their best under these observing eyes, and\nit was not long until he was invited to compete with them and show his\nmettle. Such an invitation is a challenge; it is almost, among boys, a\ndeclaration of war. But Fionn was so far beyond them in swimming that\neven the word master did not apply to that superiority.\n\nWhile he was swimming one remarked: \u201cHe is fair and well shaped,\u201d and\nthereafter he was called \u201cFionn\u201d or the Fair One. His name came from\nboys, and will, perhaps, be preserved by them.\n\nHe stayed with these lads for some time, and it may be that they\nidolised him at first, for it is the way with boys to be astounded and\nenraptured by feats; but in the end, and that was inevitable, they grew\njealous of the stranger. Those who had been the champions before he came\nwould marshal each other, and, by social pressure, would muster all the\nothers against him; so that in the end not a friendly eye was turned on\nFionn in that assembly. For not only did he beat them at swimming, he\nbeat their best at running and jumping, and when the sport degenerated\ninto violence, as it was bound to, the roughness of Fionn would be ten\ntimes as rough as the roughness of the roughest rough they could put\nforward. Bravery is pride when one is young, and Fionn was proud.\n\nThere must have been anger in his mind as he went away leaving that lake\nbehind him, and those snarling and scowling boys, but there would have\nbeen disappointment also, for his desire at this time should have been\ntowards friendliness.\n\nHe went thence to Lock Le\u2019in and took service with the King of\nFinntraigh. That kingdom may have been thus called from Fionn himself\nand would have been known by another name when he arrived there.\n\nHe hunted for the King of Finntraigh, and it soon grew evident that\nthere was no hunter in his service to equal Fionn. More, there was no\nhunter of them all who even distantly approached him in excellence. The\nothers ran after deer, using the speed of their legs, the noses of their\ndogs and a thousand well-worn tricks to bring them within reach, and,\noften enough, the animal escaped them. But the deer that Fionn got the\ntrack of did not get away, and it seemed even that the animals sought\nhim so many did he catch.\n\nThe king marvelled at the stories that were told of this new hunter, but\nas kings are greater than other people so they are more curious; and,\nbeing on the plane of excellence, they must see all that is excellently\ntold of.\n\nThe king wished to see him, and Fionn must have wondered what the king\nthought as that gracious lord looked on him. Whatever was thought, what\nthe king said was as direct in utterance as it was in observation.\n\n\u201cIf Uail the son of Baiscne has a son,\u201d said the king, \u201cyou would surely\nbe that son.\u201d\n\nWe are not told if the King of Finntraigh said anything more, but we\nknow that Fionn left his service soon afterwards.\n\nHe went southwards and was next in the employment of the King of Kerry,\nthe same lord who had married his own mother. In that service he came to\nsuch consideration that we hear of him as playing a match of chess with\nthe king, and by this game we know that he was still a boy in his mind\nhowever mightily his limbs were spreading. Able as he was in sports and\nhuntings, he was yet too young to be politic, but he remained impolitic\nto the end of his days, for whatever he was able to do he would do, no\nmatter who was offended thereat; and whatever he was not able to do he\nwould do also. That was Fionn.\n\nOnce, as they rested on a chase, a debate arose among the Fianna-Finn as\nto what was the finest music in the world.\n\n\u201cTell us that,\u201d said Fionn turning to Oisi\u2019n [pronounced Usheen]\n\n\u201cThe cuckoo calling from the tree that is highest in the hedge,\u201d cried\nhis merry son.\n\n\u201cA good sound,\u201d said Fionn. \u201cAnd you, Oscar,\u201d he asked, \u201cwhat is to your\nmind the finest of music?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe top of music is the ring of a spear on a shield,\u201d cried the stout\nlad.\n\n\u201cIt is a good sound,\u201d said Fionn. And the other champions told their\ndelight; the belling of a stag across water, the baying of a tuneful\npack heard in the distance, the song of a lark, the laugh of a gleeful\ngirl, or the whisper of a moved one.\n\n\u201cThey are good sounds all,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cTell us, chief,\u201d one ventured, \u201cwhat you think?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe music of what happens,\u201d said great Fionn, \u201cthat is the finest music\nin the world.\u201d\n\nHe loved \u201cwhat happened,\u201d and would not evade it by the swerve of\na hair; so on this occasion what was occurring he would have occur,\nalthough a king was his rival and his master. It may be that his mother\nwas watching the match and that he could not but exhibit his skill\nbefore her. He committed the enormity of winning seven games in\nsuccession from the king himself!!!\n\nIt is seldom indeed that a subject can beat a king at chess, and this\nmonarch was properly amazed.\n\n\u201cWho are you at all?\u201d he cried, starting back from the chessboard and\nstaring on Fionn.\n\n\u201cI am the son of a countryman of the Luigne of Tara,\u201d said Fionn.\n\nHe may have blushed as he said it, for the king, possibly for the first\ntime, was really looking at him, and was looking back through twenty\nyears of time as he did so. The observation of a king is faultless--it\nis proved a thousand times over in the tales, and this king\u2019s equipment\nwas as royal as the next.\n\n\u201cYou are no such son,\u201d said the indignant monarch, \u201cbut you are the son\nthat Muirne my wife bore to Uall mac Balscne.\u201d\n\nAnd at that Fionn had no more to say; but his eyes may have flown to his\nmother and stayed there.\n\n\u201cYou cannot remain here,\u201d his step-father continued. \u201cI do not want you\nkilled under my protection,\u201d he explained, or complained.\n\nPerhaps it was on Fionn\u2019s account he dreaded the sons of Morna, but no\none knows what Fionn thought of him for he never thereafter spoke of his\nstep-father. As for Muirne she must have loved her lord; or she may have\nbeen terrified in truth of the sons of Morna and for Fionn; but it is so\nalso, that if a woman loves her second husband she can dislike all that\nreminds her of the first one. Fionn went on his travels again.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nAll desires save one are fleeting, but that one lasts for ever. Fionn,\nwith all desires, had the lasting one, for he would go anywhere and\nforsake anything for wisdom; and it was in search of this that he went\nto the place where Finegas lived on a bank of the Boyne Water. But\nfor dread of the clann-Morna he did not go as Fionn. He called himself\nDeimne on that journey.\n\nWe get wise by asking questions, and even if these are not answered we\nget wise, for a well-packed question carries its answer on its back as\na snail carries its shell. Fionn asked every question he could think of,\nand his master, who was a poet, and so an honourable man, answered them\nall, not to the limit of his patience, for it was limitless, but to the\nlimit of his ability.\n\n\u201cWhy do you live on the bank of a river?\u201d was one of these questions.\n\u201cBecause a poem is a revelation, and it is by the brink of running water\nthat poetry is revealed to the mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow long have you been here?\u201d was the next query. \u201cSeven years,\u201d the\npoet answered.\n\n\u201cIt is a long time,\u201d said wondering Fionn.\n\n\u201cI would wait twice as long for a poem,\u201d said the inveterate bard.\n\n\u201cHave you caught good poems?\u201d Fionn asked him.\n\n\u201cThe poems I am fit for,\u201d said the mild master. \u201cNo person can get more\nthan that, for a man\u2019s readiness is his limit.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould you have got as good poems by the Shannon or the Suir or by sweet\nAna Life\u2019?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are good rivers,\u201d was the answer. \u201cThey all belong to good gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut why did you choose this river out of all the rivers?\u201d\n\nFinegas beamed on his pupil.\n\n\u201cI would tell you anything,\u201d said he, \u201cand I will tell you that.\u201d\n\nFionn sat at the kindly man\u2019s feet, his hands absent among tall grasses,\nand listening with all his ears. \u201cA prophecy was made to me,\u201d Finegas\nbegan. \u201cA man of knowledge foretold that I should catch the Salmon of\nKnowledge in the Boyne Water.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d said Fionn eagerly.\n\n\u201cThen I would have All Knowledge.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd after that?\u201d the boy insisted.\n\n\u201cWhat should there be after that?\u201d the poet retorted.\n\n\u201cI mean, what would you do with All Knowledge?\u201d\n\n\u201cA weighty question,\u201d said Finegas smilingly. \u201cI could answer it if I\nhad All Knowledge, but not until then. What would you do, my dear?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would make a poem,\u201d Fionn cried.\n\n\u201cI think too,\u201d said the poet, \u201cthat that is what would be done.\u201d\n\nIn return for instruction Fionn had taken over the service of his\nmaster\u2019s hut, and as he went about the household duties, drawing the\nwater, lighting the fire, and carrying rushes for the floor and the\nbeds, he thought over all the poet had taught him, and his mind dwelt on\nthe rules of metre, the cunningness of words, and the need for a clean,\nbrave mind. But in his thousand thoughts he yet remembered the Salmon of\nKnowledge as eagerly as his master did. He already venerated Finegas\nfor his great learning, his poetic skill, for an hundred reasons; but,\nlooking on him as the ordained eater of the Salmon of Knowledge, he\nvenerated him to the edge of measure. Indeed, he loved as well as\nvenerated this master because of his unfailing kindness, his patience,\nhis readiness to teach, and his skill in teaching.\n\n\u201cI have learned much from you, dear master,\u201d said Fionn gratefully.\n\n\u201cAll that I have is yours if you can take it,\u201d the poet answered, \u201cfor\nyou are entitled to all that you can take, but to no more than that.\nTake, so, with both hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may catch the salmon while I am with you,\u201d the hopeful boy mused.\n\u201cWould not that be a great happening!\u201d and he stared in ecstasy across\nthe grass at those visions which a boy\u2019s mind knows.\n\n\u201cLet us pray for that,\u201d said Finegas fervently.\n\n\u201cHere is a question,\u201d Fionn continued. \u201cHow does this salmon get wisdom\ninto his flesh?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is a hazel bush overhanging a secret pool in a secret place. The\nNuts of Knowledge drop from the Sacred Bush into the pool, and as they\nfloat, a salmon takes them in his mouth and eats them.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be almost as easy,\u201d the boy submitted, \u201cif one were to set on\nthe track of the Sacred Hazel and eat the nuts straight from the bush.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat would not be very easy,\u201d said the poet, \u201cand yet it is not as easy\nas that, for the bush can only be found by its own knowledge, and that\nknowledge can only be got by eating the nuts, and the nuts can only be\ngot by eating the salmon.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe must wait for the salmon,\u201d said Fionn in a rage of resignation.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nLife continued for him in a round of timeless time, wherein days and\nnights were uneventful and were yet filled with interest. As the day\npacked its load of strength into his frame, so it added its store of\nknowledge to his mind, and each night sealed the twain, for it is in the\nnight that we make secure what we have gathered in the day.\n\nIf he had told of these days he would have told of a succession of meals\nand sleeps, and of an endless conversation, from which his mind would\nnow and again slip away to a solitude of its own, where, in large hazy\natmospheres, it swung and drifted and reposed. Then he would be back\nagain, and it was a pleasure for him to catch up on the thought that was\nforward and re-create for it all the matter he had missed. But he could\nnot often make these sleepy sallies; his master was too experienced a\nteacher to allow any such bright-faced, eager-eyed abstractions, and as\nthe druid women had switched his legs around a tree, so Finegas chased\nhis mind, demanding sense in his questions and understanding in his\nreplies.\n\nTo ask questions can become the laziest and wobbliest occupation of a\nmind, but when you must yourself answer the problem that you have posed,\nyou will meditate your question with care and frame it with precision.\nFionn\u2019s mind learned to jump in a bumpier field than that in which he\nhad chased rabbits. And when he had asked his question, and given his\nown answer to it, Finegas would take the matter up and make clear to him\nwhere the query was badly formed or at what point the answer had begun\nto go astray, so that Fionn came to understand by what successions a\ngood question grows at last to a good answer.\n\nOne day, not long after the conversation told of, Finegas came to the\nplace where Fionn was. The poet had a shallow osier basket on his arm,\nand on his face there was a look that was at once triumphant and gloomy.\nHe was excited certainly, but he was sad also, and as he stood gazing on\nFionn his eyes were so kind that the boy was touched, and they were yet\nso melancholy that it almost made Fionn weep. \u201cWhat is it, my master?\u201d\n said the alarmed boy.\n\nThe poet placed his osier basket on the grass.\n\n\u201cLook in the basket, dear son,\u201d he said. Fionn looked.\n\n\u201cThere is a salmon in the basket.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is The Salmon,\u201d said Finegas with a great sigh. Fionn leaped for\ndelight.\n\n\u201cI am glad for you, master,\u201d he cried. \u201cIndeed I am glad for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I am glad, my dear soul,\u201d the master rejoined.\n\nBut, having said it, he bent his brow to his hand and for a long time he\nwas silent and gathered into himself.\n\n\u201cWhat should be done now?\u201d Fionn demanded, as he stared on the beautiful\nfish.\n\nFinegas rose from where he sat by the osier basket.\n\n\u201cI will be back in a short time,\u201d he said heavily. \u201cWhile I am away you\nmay roast the salmon, so that it will be ready against my return.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will roast it indeed,\u201d said Fionn.\n\nThe poet gazed long and earnestly on him.\n\n\u201cYou will not eat any of my salmon while I am away?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cI will not eat the littlest piece,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cI am sure you will not,\u201d the other murmured, as he turned and walked\nslowly across the grass and behind the sheltering bushes on the ridge.\n\nFionn cooked the salmon. It was beautiful and tempting and savoury as\nit smoked on a wooden platter among cool green leaves; and it looked all\nthese to Finegas when he came from behind the fringing bushes and sat\nin the grass outside his door. He gazed on the fish with more than his\neyes. He looked on it with his heart, with his soul in his eyes, and\nwhen he turned to look on Fionn the boy did not know whether the love\nthat was in his eyes was for the fish or for himself. Yet he did know\nthat a great moment had arrived for the poet.\n\n\u201cSo,\u201d said Finegas, \u201cyou did not eat it on me after all?\u201d \u201cDid I not\npromise?\u201d Fionn replied.\n\n\u201cAnd yet,\u201d his master continued, \u201cI went away so that you might eat the\nfish if you felt you had to.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy should I want another man\u2019s fish?\u201d said proud Fionn.\n\n\u201cBecause young people have strong desires. I thought you might have\ntasted it, and then you would have eaten it on me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did taste it by chance,\u201d Fionn laughed, \u201cfor while the fish was\nroasting a great blister rose on its skin. I did not like the look of\nthat blister, and I pressed it down with my thumb. That burned my thumb,\nso I popped it in my mouth to heal the smart. If your salmon tastes as\nnice as my thumb did,\u201d he laughed, \u201cit will taste very nice.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat did you say your name was, dear heart?\u201d the poet asked.\n\n\u201cI said my name was Deimne.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour name is not Deimne,\u201d said the mild man, \u201cyour name is Fionn.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d the boy answered, \u201cbut I do not know how you know it.\u201d\n\n\u201cEven if I have not eaten the Salmon of Knowledge I have some small\nscience of my own.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is very clever to know things as you know them,\u201d Fionn replied\nwonderingly. \u201cWhat more do you know of me, dear master?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know that I did not tell you the truth,\u201d said the heavy-hearted man.\n\n\u201cWhat did you tell me instead of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI told you a lie.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not a good thing to do,\u201d Fionn admitted. \u201cWhat sort of a lie was\nthe lie, master?\u201d \u201cI told you that the Salmon of Knowledge was to be\ncaught by me, according to the prophecy.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was true indeed, and I have caught the fish. But I did not tell\nyou that the salmon was not to be eaten by me, although that also was in\nthe prophecy, and that omission was the lie.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not a great lie,\u201d said Fionn soothingly.\n\n\u201cIt must not become a greater one,\u201d the poet replied sternly.\n\n\u201cWho was the fish given to?\u201d his companion wondered.\n\n\u201cIt was given to you,\u201d Finegas answered. \u201cIt was given to Fionn, the son\nof Uail, the son of Baiscne, and it will be given to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall have a half of the fish,\u201d cried Fionn.\n\n\u201cI will not eat a piece of its skin that is as small as the point of its\nsmallest bone,\u201d said the resolute and trembling bard. \u201cLet you now eat\nup the fish, and I shall watch you and give praise to the gods of the\nUnderworld and of the Elements.\u201d\n\nFionn then ate the Salmon of Knowledge, and when it had disappeared a\ngreat jollity and tranquillity and exuberance returned to the poet.\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said he, \u201cI had a great combat with that fish.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid it fight for its life?\u201d Fionn inquired.\n\n\u201cIt did, but that was not the fight I meant.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall eat a Salmon of Knowledge too,\u201d Fionn assured him.\n\n\u201cYou have eaten one,\u201d cried the blithe poet, \u201cand if you make such a\npromise it will be because you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cI promise it and know it,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cyou shall eat a Salmon of\nKnowledge yet.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nHe had received all that he could get from Finegas. His education was\nfinished and the time had come to test it, and to try all else that he\nhad of mind and body. He bade farewell to the gentle poet, and set out\nfor Tara of the Kings.\n\nIt was Samhain-tide, and the feast of Tara was being held, at which all\nthat was wise or skilful or well-born in Ireland were gathered together.\n\nThis is how Tara was when Tara was. There was the High King\u2019s palace\nwith its fortification; without it was another fortification enclosing\nthe four minor palaces, each of which was maintained by one of the four\nprovincial kings; without that again was the great banqueting hall, and\naround it and enclosing all of the sacred hill in its gigantic bound ran\nthe main outer ramparts of Tara. From it, the centre of Ireland, four\ngreat roads went, north, south, east, and west, and along these roads,\nfrom the top and the bottom and the two sides of Ireland, there moved\nfor weeks before Samhain an endless stream of passengers.\n\nHere a gay band went carrying rich treasure to decorate the pavilion of\na Munster lord. On another road a vat of seasoned yew, monstrous as a\nhouse on wheels and drawn by an hundred laborious oxen, came bumping and\njoggling the ale that thirsty Connaught princes would drink. On a road\nagain the learned men of Leinster, each with an idea in his head that\nwould discomfit a northern ollav and make a southern one gape and\nfidget, would be marching solemnly, each by a horse that was piled high\non the back and widely at the sides with clean-peeled willow or oaken\nwands, that were carved from the top to the bottom with the ogham signs;\nthe first lines of poems (for it was an offence against wisdom to commit\nmore than initial lines to writing), the names and dates of kings, the\nprocession of laws of Tara and of the sub-kingdoms, the names of places\nand their meanings. On the brown stallion ambling peacefully yonder\nthere might go the warring of the gods for two or ten thousand years;\nthis mare with the dainty pace and the vicious eye might be sidling\nunder a load of oaken odes in honour of her owner\u2019s family, with a\nfew bundles of tales of wonder added in case they might be useful; and\nperhaps the restive piebald was backing the history of Ireland into a\nditch.\n\nOn such a journey all people spoke together, for all were friends, and\nno person regarded the weapon in another man\u2019s hand other than as an\nimplement to poke a reluctant cow with, or to pacify with loud wallops\nsome hoof-proud colt.\n\nInto this teem and profusion of jolly humanity Fionn slipped, and if his\nmood had been as bellicose as a wounded boar he would yet have found\nno man to quarrel with, and if his eye had been as sharp as a jealous\nhusband\u2019s he would have found no eye to meet it with calculation or\nmenace or fear; for the Peace of Ireland was in being, and for six weeks\nman was neighbour to man, and the nation was the guest of the High King.\nFionn went in with the notables.\n\nHis arrival had been timed for the opening day and the great feast of\nwelcome. He may have marvelled, looking on the bright city, with its\npillars of gleaming bronze and the roofs that were painted in many\ncolours, so that each house seemed to be covered by the spreading wings\nof some gigantic and gorgeous bird. And the palaces themselves, mellow\nwith red oak, polished within and without by the wear and the care of\na thousand years, and carved with the patient skill of unending\ngenerations of the most famous artists of the most artistic country of\nthe western world, would have given him much to marvel at also. It\nmust have seemed like a city of dream, a city to catch the heart, when,\ncoming over the great plain, Fionn saw Tara of the Kings held on its\nhill as in a hand to gather all the gold of the falling sun, and to\nrestore a brightness as mellow and tender as that universal largess.\n\nIn the great banqueting hall everything was in order for the feast. The\nnobles of Ireland with their winsome consorts, the learned and artistic\nprofessions represented by the pick of their time were in place. The\nArd-Ri, Corm of the Hundred Battles, had taken his place on the raised\ndais which commanded the whole of that vast hall. At his Right hand his\nson Art, to be afterwards as famous as his famous father, took his seat,\nand on his left Goll mor mac Morna, chief of the Fianna of Ireland, had\nthe seat of honour. As the High King took his place he could see every\nperson who was noted in the land for any reason. He would know every one\nwho was present, for the fame of all men is sealed at Tara, and behind\nhis chair a herald stood to tell anything the king might not know or had\nforgotten.\n\nConn gave the signal and his guests seated themselves.\n\nThe time had come for the squires to take their stations behind their\nmasters and mistresses. But, for the moment, the great room was seated,\nand the doors were held to allow a moment of respect to pass before the\nservers and squires came in.\n\nLooking over his guests, Conn observed that a young man was yet\nstanding.\n\n\u201cThere is a gentleman,\u201d he murmured, \u201cfor whom no seat has been found.\u201d\n\nWe may be sure that the Master of the Banquet blushed at that.\n\n\u201cAnd,\u201d the king continued, \u201cI do not seem to know the young man.\u201d\n\nNor did his herald, nor did the unfortunate Master, nor did anybody; for\nthe eyes of all were now turned where the king\u2019s went.\n\n\u201cGive me my horn,\u201d said the gracious monarch.\n\nThe horn of state was put to his hand.\n\n\u201cYoung gentleman,\u201d he called to the stranger, \u201cI wish to drink to your\nhealth and to welcome you to Tara.\u201d\n\nThe young man came forward then, greater-shouldered than any mighty\nman of that gathering, longer and cleaner limbed, with his fair curls\ndancing about his beardless face. The king put the great horn into his\nhand.\n\n\u201cTell me your name,\u201d he commanded gently.\n\n\u201cI am Fionn, the son of Uail, the son of Baiscne,\u201d said the youth.\n\nAnd at that saying a touch as of lightning went through the gathering\nso that each person quivered, and the son of the great, murdered captain\nlooked by the king\u2019s shoulder into the twinkling eye of Goll. But no\nword was uttered, no movement made except the movement and the utterance\nof the Ard-Ri\u2019.\n\n\u201cYou are the son of a friend,\u201d said the great-hearted monarch. \u201cYou\nshall have the seat of a friend.\u201d\n\nHe placed Fionn at the right hand of his own son Art.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nIt is to be known that on the night of the Feast of Samhain the doors\nseparating this world and the next one are opened, and the inhabitants\nof either world can leave their respective spheres and appear in the\nworld of the other beings.\n\nNow there was a grandson to the Dagda Mor, the Lord of the Underworld,\nand he was named Aillen mac Midna, out of Shi\u2019 Finnachy, and this Aillen\nbore an implacable enmity to Tara and the Ard-Ri\u2019.\n\nAs well as being monarch of Ireland her High King was chief of the\npeople learned in magic, and it is possible that at some time Conn had\nadventured into Tir na n-Og, the Land of the Young, and had done some\ndeed or misdeed in Aillen\u2019s lordship or in his family. It must have been\nan ill deed in truth, for it was in a very rage of revenge that Aillen\ncame yearly at the permitted time to ravage Tara.\n\nNine times he had come on this mission of revenge, but it is not to be\nsupposed that he could actually destroy the holy city: the Ard-Ri\u2019\nand magicians could prevent that, but he could yet do a damage so\nconsiderable that it was worth Conn\u2019s while to take special extra\nprecautions against him, including the precaution of chance.\n\nTherefore, when the feast was over and the banquet had commenced, the\nHundred Fighter stood from his throne and looked over his assembled\npeople.\n\nThe Chain of Silence was shaken by the attendant whose duty and honour\nwas the Silver Chain, and at that delicate chime the halt went silent,\nand a general wonder ensued as to what matter the High King would submit\nto his people.\n\n\u201cFriends and heroes,\u201d said Conn, \u201cAillen, the son of Midna, will come\nto-night from Slieve Fuaid with occult, terrible fire against our\ncity. Is there among you one who loves Tara and the king, and who will\nundertake our defence against that being?\u201d\n\nHe spoke in silence, and when he had finished he listened to the same\nsilence, but it was now deep, ominous, agonized. Each man glanced\nuneasily on his neighbour and then stared at his wine-cup or his\nfingers. The hearts of young men went hot for a gallant moment and were\nchilled in the succeeding one, for they had all heard of Aillen out of\nShl Finnachy in the north. The lesser gentlemen looked under their brows\nat the greater champions, and these peered furtively at the greatest of\nall. Art og mac Morna of the Hard Strokes fell to biting his fingers,\nCona\u2019n the Swearer and Garra mac Morna grumbled irritably to each other\nand at their neighbours, even Caelte, the son of Rona\u2019n, looked down\ninto his own lap, and Goll Mor sipped at his wine without any twinkle\nin his eye. A horrid embarrassment came into the great hall, and as the\nHigh King stood in that palpitating silence his noble face changed\nfrom kindly to grave and from that to a terrible sternness. In another\nmoment, to the undying shame of every person present, he would have been\ncompelled to lift his own challenge and declare himself the champion of\nTara for that night, but the shame that was on the faces of his people\nwould remain in the heart of their king. Goll\u2019s merry mind would help\nhim to forget, but even his heart would be wrung by a memory that he\nwould not dare to face. It was at that terrible moment that Fionn stood\nup.\n\n\u201cWhat,\u201d said he, \u201cwill be given to the man who undertakes this defence?\u201d\n\n\u201cAll that can be rightly asked will be royally bestowed,\u201d was the king\u2019s\nanswer.\n\n\u201cWho are the sureties?\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cThe kings of Ireland, and Red Cith with his magicians.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will undertake the defence,\u201d said Fionn. And on that, the kings and\nmagicians who were present bound themselves to the fulfilment of the\nbargain.\n\nFionn marched from the banqueting hall, and as he went, all who were\npresent of nobles and retainers and servants acclaimed him and wished\nhim luck. But in their hearts they were bidding him good-bye, for all\nwere assured that the lad was marching to a death so unescapeable that\nhe might already be counted as a dead man.\n\nIt is likely that Fionn looked for help to the people of the Shi\u2019\nthemselves, for, through his mother, he belonged to the tribes of Dana,\nalthough, on the father\u2019s side, his blood was well compounded with\nmortal clay. It may be, too, that he knew how events would turn, for he\nhad eaten the Salmon of Knowledge. Yet it is not recorded that on this\noccasion he invoked any magical art as he did on other adventures.\n\nFionn\u2019s way of discovering whatever was happening and hidden was always\nthe same and is many times referred to. A shallow, oblong dish of pure,\npale gold was brought to him. This dish was filled with clear water.\nThen Fionn would bend his head and stare into the water, and as he\nstared he would place his thumb in his mouth under his \u201cTooth of\nKnowledge,\u201d his \u201cwisdom tooth.\u201d\n\nKnowledge, may it be said, is higher than magic and is more to be\nsought. It is quite possible to see what is happening and yet not know\nwhat is forward, for while seeing is believing it does not follow that\neither seeing or believing is knowing. Many a person can see a thing and\nbelieve a thing and know just as little about it as the person who does\nneither. But Fionn would see and know, or he would under-stand a decent\nratio of his visions. That he was versed in magic is true, for he was\never known as the Knowledgeable man, and later he had two magicians\nin his household named Dirim and mac-Reith to do the rough work of\nknowledge for their busy master.\n\nIt was not from the Shi\u2019, however, that assistance came to Fionn.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nHe marched through the successive fortifications until he came to the\nouter, great wall, the boundary of the city, and when he had passed this\nhe was on the wide plain of Tara.\n\nOther than himself no person was abroad, for on the night of the Feast\nof Samhain none but a madman would quit the shelter of a house even if\nit were on fire; for whatever disasters might be within a house would be\nas nothing to the calamities without it.\n\nThe noise of the banquet was not now audible to Fionn--it is possible,\nhowever, that there was a shamefaced silence in the great hall--and the\nlights of the city were hidden by the successive great ramparts. The sky\nwas over him; the earth under him; and than these there was nothing, or\nthere was but the darkness and the wind.\n\nBut darkness was not a thing to terrify him, bred in the nightness of\na wood and the very fosterling of gloom; nor could the wind afflict his\near or his heart. There was no note in its orchestra that he had not\nbrooded on and become, which becoming is magic. The long-drawn moan of\nit; the thrilling whisper and hush; the shrill, sweet whistle, so thin\nit can scarcely be heard, and is taken more by the nerves than by the\near; the screech, sudden as a devil\u2019s yell and loud as ten thunders; the\ncry as of one who flies with backward look to the shelter of leaves and\ndarkness; and the sob as of one stricken with an age-long misery, only\nat times remembered, but remembered then with what a pang! His ear\nknew by what successions they arrived, and by what stages they grew and\ndiminished. Listening in the dark to the bundle of noises which make a\nnoise he could disentangle them and assign a place and a reason to each\ngradation of sound that formed the chorus: there was the patter of a\nrabbit, and there the scurrying of a hare; a bush rustled yonder,\nbut that brief rustle was a bird; that pressure was a wolf, and this\nhesitation a fox; the scraping yonder was but a rough leaf against bark,\nand the scratching beyond it was a ferret\u2019s claw.\n\nFear cannot be where knowledge is, and Fionn was not fearful.\n\nHis mind, quietly busy on all sides, picked up one sound and dwelt on\nit. \u201cA man,\u201d said Fionn, and he listened in that direction, back towards\nthe city.\n\nA man it was, almost as skilled in darkness as Fionn himself \u201cThis is no\nenemy,\u201d Fionn thought; \u201chis walking is open.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho comes?\u201d he called.\n\n\u201cA friend,\u201d said the newcomer.\n\n\u201cGive a friend\u2019s name,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cFiacuil mac Cona,\u201d was the answer.\n\n\u201cAh, my pulse and heart!\u201d cried Fionn, and he strode a few paces to meet\nthe great robber who had fostered him among the marshes.\n\n\u201cSo you are not afraid,\u201d he said joyfully.\n\n\u201cI am afraid in good truth,\u201d Fiacuil whispered, \u201cand the minute my\nbusiness with you is finished I will trot back as quick as legs will\ncarry me. May the gods protect my going as they protected my coming,\u201d\n said the robber piously.\n\n\u201cAmen,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cand now, tell me what you have come for?\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you any plan against this lord of the Shl?\u201d Fiacuil whispered.\n\n\u201cI will attack him,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cThat is not a plan,\u201d the other groaned, \u201cwe do not plan to deliver an\nattack but to win a victory.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs this a very terrible person?\u201d Fionn asked.\n\n\u201cTerrible indeed. No one can get near him or away from him. He comes out\nof the Shi\u2019 playing sweet, low music on a timpan and a pipe, and all who\nhear this music fall asleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not fall asleep,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cYou will indeed, for everybody does.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat happens then?\u201d Fionn asked.\n\n\u201cWhen all are asleep Aillen mac Midna blows a dart of fire out of his\nmouth, and everything that is touched by that fire is destroyed, and he\ncan blow his fire to an incredible distance and to any direction.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are very brave to come to help me,\u201d Fionn murmured, \u201cespecially\nwhen you are not able to help me at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can help,\u201d Fiacuil replied, \u201cbut I must be paid.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat payment?\u201d\n\n\u201cA third of all you earn and a seat at your council.\u201d\n\n\u201cI grant that,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cand now, tell me your plan?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou remember my spear with the thirty rivets of Arabian gold in its\nsocket?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe one,\u201d Fionn queried, \u201cthat had its head wrapped in a blanket and\nwas stuck in a bucket of water and was chained to a wall as well--the\nvenomous Birgha?\u201d \u201cThat one,\u201d Fiacuil replied.\n\n\u201cIt is Aillen mac Midna\u2019s own spear,\u201d he continued, \u201cand it was taken\nout of his Shi\u2019 by your father.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d said Fionn, wondering nevertheless where Fiacuil got the spear,\nbut too generous to ask.\n\n\u201cWhen you hear the great man of the Shi\u2019 coming, take the wrappings off\nthe head of the spear and bend your face over it; the heat of the spear,\nthe stench of it, all its pernicious and acrid qualities will prevent\nyou from going to sleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you sure of that?\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cYou couldn\u2019t go to sleep close to that stench; nobody could,\u201d Fiacuil\nreplied decidedly.\n\nHe continued: \u201cAillen mac Midna will be off his guard when he stops\nplaying and begins to blow his fire; he will think everybody is asleep;\nthen you can deliver the attack you were speaking of, and all good luck\ngo with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will give him back his spear,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cHere it is,\u201d said Fiacuil, taking the Birgha from under his cloak. \u201cBut\nbe as careful of it, my pulse, be as frightened of it as you are of the\nman of Dana.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will be frightened of nothing,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cand the only person I\nwill be sorry for is that Aillen mac Midna, who is going to get his own\nspear back.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will go away now,\u201d his companion whispered, \u201cfor it is growing darker\nwhere you would have thought there was no more room for darkness, and\nthere is an eerie feeling abroad which I do not like. That man from the\nShi\u2019 may come any minute, and if I catch one sound of his music I am\ndone for.\u201d\n\nThe robber went away and again Fionn was alone.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nHe listened to the retreating footsteps until they could be heard no\nmore, and the one sound that came to his tense ears was the beating of\nhis own heart.\n\nEven the wind had ceased, and there seemed to be nothing in the world\nbut the darkness and himself. In that gigantic blackness, in that unseen\nquietude and vacancy, the mind could cease to be personal to itself. It\ncould be overwhelmed and merged in space, so that consciousness would\nbe transferred or dissipated, and one might sleep standing; for the mind\nfears loneliness more than all else, and will escape to the moon rather\nthan be driven inwards on its own being.\n\nBut Fionn was not lonely, and he was not afraid when the son of Midna\ncame.\n\nA long stretch of the silent night had gone by, minute following minute\nin a slow sequence, wherein as there was no change there was no time;\nwherein there was no past and no future, but a stupefying, endless\npresent which is almost the annihilation of consciousness. A change\ncame then, for the clouds had also been moving and the moon at last was\nsensed behind them--not as a radiance, but as a percolation of light,\na gleam that was strained through matter after matter and was less than\nthe very wraith or remembrance of itself; a thing seen so narrowly,\nso sparsely, that the eye could doubt if it was or was not seeing, and\nmight conceive that its own memory was re-creating that which was still\nabsent.\n\nBut Fionn\u2019s eye was the eye of a wild creature that spies on darkness\nand moves there wittingly. He saw, then, not a thing but a movement;\nsomething that was darker than the darkness it loomed on; not a being\nbut a presence, and, as it were, impending pressure. And in a little he\nheard the deliberate pace of that great being.\n\nFionn bent to his spear and unloosed its coverings.\n\nThen from the darkness there came another sound; a low, sweet sound;\nthrillingly joyous, thrillingly low; so low the ear could scarcely note\nit, so sweet the ear wished to catch nothing else and would strive to\nhear it rather than all sounds that may be heard by man: the music of\nanother world! the unearthly, dear melody of the Shi\u2019! So sweet it was\nthat the sense strained to it, and having reached must follow drowsily\nin its wake, and would merge in it, and could not return again to its\nown place until that strange harmony was finished and the ear restored\nto freedom.\n\nBut Fionn had taken the covering from his spear, and with his brow\npressed close to it he kept his mind and all his senses engaged on that\nsizzling, murderous point.\n\nThe music ceased and Aillen hissed a fierce blue flame from his mouth,\nand it was as though he hissed lightning.\n\nHere it would seem that Fionn used magic, for spreading out his fringed\nmantle he caught the flame. Rather he stopped it, for it slid from the\nmantle and sped down into the earth to the depth of twenty-six spans;\nfrom which that slope is still called the Glen of the Mantle, and the\nrise on which Aillen stood is known as the Ard of Fire.\n\nOne can imagine the surprise of Aillen mac Midna, seeing his fire caught\nand quenched by an invisible hand. And one can imagine that at this\ncheck he might be frightened, for who would be more terrified than a\nmagician who sees his magic fail, and who, knowing of power, will guess\nat powers of which he has no conception and may well dread.\n\nEverything had been done by him as it should be done. His pipe had been\nplayed and his timpan, all who heard that music should be asleep, and\nyet his fire was caught in full course and was quenched.\n\nAillen, with all the terrific strength of which he was master, blew\nagain, and the great jet of blue flame came roaring and whistling from\nhim and was caught and disappeared.\n\nPanic swirled into the man from Faery; he turned from that terrible spot\nand fled, not knowing what might be behind, but dreading it as he\nhad never before dreaded anything, and the unknown pursued him; that\nterrible defence became offence and hung to his heel as a wolf pads by\nthe flank of a bull.\n\nAnd Aillen was not in his own world! He was in the world of men, where\nmovement is not easy and the very air a burden. In his own sphere, in\nhis own element, he might have outrun Fionn, but this was Fionn\u2019s world,\nFionn\u2019s element, and the flying god was not gross enough to outstrip\nhim. Yet what a race he gave, for it was but at the entrance to his\nown Shi\u2019 that the pursuer got close enough. Fionn put a finger into\nthe thong of the great spear, and at that cast night fell on Aillen\nmac Midna. His eyes went black, his mind whirled and ceased, there\ncame nothingness where he had been, and as the Birgha whistled into his\nshoulder-blades he withered away, he tumbled emptily and was dead. Fionn\ntook his lovely head from its shoulders and went back through the night\nto Tara.\n\nTriumphant Fionn, who had dealt death to a god, and to whom death would\nbe dealt, and who is now dead!\n\nHe reached the palace at sunrise.\n\nOn that morning all were astir early. They wished to see what\ndestruction had been wrought by the great being, but it was young Fionn\nthey saw and that redoubtable head swinging by its hair. \u201cWhat is your\ndemand?\u201d said the Ard-Ri\u2019. \u201cThe thing that it is right I should ask,\u201d\n said Fionn: \u201cthe command of the Fianna of Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cMake your choice,\u201d said Conn to Goll Mor; \u201cyou will leave Ireland, or\nyou will place your hand in the hand of this champion and be his man.\u201d\n\nGoll could do a thing that would be hard for another person, and he\ncould do it so beautifully that he was not diminished by any action.\n\n\u201cHere is my hand,\u201d said Goll.\n\nAnd he twinkled at the stern, young eyes that gazed on him as he made\nhis submission.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIRTH OF BRAN\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nThere are people who do not like dogs a bit--they are usually women--but\nin this story there is a man who did not like dogs. In fact, he hated\nthem. When he saw one he used to go black in the face, and he threw\nrocks at it until it got out of sight. But the Power that protects all\ncreatures had put a squint into this man\u2019s eye, so that he always threw\ncrooked.\n\nThis gentleman\u2019s name was Fergus Fionnliath, and his stronghold was near\nthe harbour of Galway. Whenever a dog barked he would leap out of his\nseat, and he would throw everything that he owned out of the window in\nthe direction of the bark. He gave prizes to servants who disliked dogs,\nand when he heard that a man had drowned a litter of pups he used to\nvisit that person and try to marry his daughter.\n\nNow Fionn, the son of Uail, was the reverse of Fergus Fionnliath in this\nmatter, for he delighted in dogs, and he knew everything about them from\nthe setting of the first little white tooth to the rocking of the last\nlong yellow one. He knew the affections and antipathies which are proper\nin a dog; the degree of obedience to which dogs may be trained without\nlosing their honourable qualities or becoming servile and suspicious;\nhe knew the hopes that animate them, the apprehensions which tingle in\ntheir blood, and all that is to be demanded from, or forgiven in, a\npaw, an ear, a nose, an eye, or a tooth; and he understood these things\nbecause he loved dogs, for it is by love alone that we understand\nanything.\n\nAmong the three hundred dogs which Fionn owned there were two to whom\nhe gave an especial tenderness, and who were his daily and nightly\ncompanions. These two were Bran and Sceo\u2019lan, but if a person were to\nguess for twenty years he would not find out why Fionn loved these two\ndogs and why he would never be separated from them.\n\nFionn\u2019s mother, Muirne, went to wide Allen of Leinster to visit her son,\nand she brought her young sister Tuiren with her. The mother and aunt\nof the great captain were well treated among the Fianna, first, because\nthey were parents to Fionn, and second, because they were beautiful and\nnoble women.\n\nNo words can describe how delightful Muirne was--she took the branch;\nand as to Tuiren, a man could not look at her without becoming angry\nor dejected. Her face was fresh as a spring morning; her voice more\ncheerful than the cuckoo calling from the branch that is highest in the\nhedge; and her form swayed like a reed and flowed like a river, so that\neach person thought she would surely flow to him.\n\nMen who had wives of their own grew moody and downcast because they\ncould not hope to marry her, while the bachelors of the Fianna stared at\neach other with truculent, bloodshot eyes, and then they gazed on Tuiren\nso gently that she may have imagined she was being beamed on by the mild\neyes of the dawn.\n\nIt was to an Ulster gentleman, Iollan Eachtach, that she gave her love,\nand this chief stated his rights and qualities and asked for her in\nmarriage.\n\nNow Fionn did not dislike the man of Ulster, but either he did not\nknow them well or else he knew them too well, for he made a curious\nstipulation before consenting to the marriage. He bound Iollan to return\nthe lady if there should be occasion to think her unhappy, and Iollan\nagreed to do so. The sureties to this bargain were Caelte mac Ronan,\nGoll mac Morna, and Lugaidh. Lugaidh himself gave the bride away, but\nit was not a pleasant ceremony for him, because he also was in love with\nthe lady, and he would have preferred keeping her to giving her away.\nWhen she had gone he made a poem about her, beginning:\n\n       \u201cThere is no more light in the sky--\u201d\n\nAnd hundreds of sad people learned the poem by heart.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nWhen Iollan and Tuiren were married they went to Ulster, and they lived\ntogether very happily. But the law of life is change; nothing\ncontinues in the same way for any length of time; happiness must become\nunhappiness, and will be succeeded again by the joy it had displaced.\nThe past also must be reckoned with; it is seldom as far behind us as we\ncould wish: it is more often in front, blocking the way, and the future\ntrips over it just when we think that the road is clear and joy our own.\n\nIollan had a past. He was not ashamed of it; he merely thought it\nwas finished, although in truth it was only beginning, for it is that\nperpetual beginning of the past that we call the future.\n\nBefore he joined the Fianna he had been in love with a lady of the Shi\u2019,\nnamed Uct Dealv (Fair Breast), and they had been sweethearts for years.\nHow often he had visited his sweetheart in Faery! With what eagerness\nand anticipation he had gone there; the lover\u2019s whistle that he used to\ngive was known to every person in that Shi\u2019, and he had been discussed\nby more than one of the delicate sweet ladies of Faery. \u201cThat is your\nwhistle, Fair Breast,\u201d her sister of the Shi\u2019 would say.\n\nAnd Uct Dealv would reply: \u201cYes, that is my mortal, my lover, my pulse,\nand my one treasure.\u201d\n\nShe laid her spinning aside, or her embroidery if she was at that, or if\nshe were baking a cake of fine wheaten bread mixed with honey she would\nleave the cake to bake itself and fly to Iollan. Then they went hand in\nhand in the country that smells of apple-blossom and honey, looking on\nheavy-boughed trees and on dancing and beaming clouds. Or they stood\ndreaming together, locked in a clasping of arms and eyes, gazing up\nand down on each other, Iollan staring down into sweet grey wells that\npeeped and flickered under thin brows, and Uct Dealv looking up into\ngreat black ones that went dreamy and went hot in endless alternation.\n\nThen Iollan would go back to the world of men, and Uct Dealv would\nreturn to her occupations in the Land of the Ever Young.\n\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d her sister of the Shi\u2019 would ask.\n\n\u201cHe said I was the Berry of the Mountain, the Star of Knowledge, and the\nBlossom of the Raspberry.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey always say the same thing,\u201d her sister pouted.\n\n\u201cBut they look other things,\u201d Uct Dealv insisted. \u201cThey feel other\nthings,\u201d she murmured; and an endless conversation recommenced.\n\nThen for some time Iollan did not come to Faery, and Uct Dealv marvelled\nat that, while her sister made an hundred surmises, each one worse than\nthe last.\n\n\u201cHe is not dead or he would be here,\u201d she said. \u201cHe has forgotten you,\nmy darling.\u201d\n\nNews was brought to Tlr na n-Og of the marriage of Iollan and Tuiren,\nand when Uct Dealv heard that news her heart ceased to beat for a\nmoment, and she closed her eyes.\n\n\u201cNow!\u201d said her sister of the Shi\u2019. \u201cThat is how long the love of a\nmortal lasts,\u201d she added, in the voice of sad triumph which is proper to\nsisters.\n\nBut on Uct Dealv there came a rage of jealousy and despair such as no\nperson in the Shi\u2019 had ever heard of, and from that moment she\nbecame capable of every ill deed; for there are two things not easily\ncontrolled, and they are hunger and jealousy. She determined that the\nwoman who had supplanted her in Iollan\u2019s affections should rue the day\nshe did it. She pondered and brooded revenge in her heart, sitting in\nthoughtful solitude and bitter collectedness until at last she had a\nplan.\n\nShe understood the arts of magic and shape-changing, so she changed\nher shape into that of Fionn\u2019s female runner, the best-known woman in\nIreland; then she set out from Faery and appeared in the world. She\ntravelled in the direction of Iollan\u2019s stronghold.\n\nIollan knew the appearance of Fionn\u2019s messenger, but he was surprised to\nsee her.\n\nShe saluted him.\n\n\u201cHealth and long life, my master.\u201d.\n\n\u201cHealth and good days,\u201d he replied. \u201cWhat brings you here, dear heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cI come from Fionn.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd your message?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cThe royal captain intends to visit you.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will be welcome,\u201d said Iollan. \u201cWe shall give him an Ulster feast.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe world knows what that is,\u201d said the messenger courteously. \u201cAnd\nnow,\u201d she continued, \u201cI have messages for your queen.\u201d\n\nTuiren then walked from the house with the messenger, but when they had\ngone a short distance Uct Dealv drew a hazel rod from beneath her cloak\nand struck it on the queen\u2019s shoulder, and on the instant Tuiren\u2019s\nfigure trembled and quivered, and it began to whirl inwards and\ndownwards, and she changed into the appearance of a hound.\n\nIt was sad to see the beautiful, slender dog standing shivering and\nastonished, and sad to see the lovely eyes that looked out pitifully\nin terror and amazement. But Uct Dealv did not feel sad. She clasped\na chain about the hound\u2019s neck, and they set off westward towards the\nhouse of Fergus Fionnliath, who was reputed to be the unfriendliest man\nin the world to a dog. It was because of his reputation that Uct Dealv\nwas bringing the hound to him. She did not want a good home for this\ndog: she wanted the worst home that could be found in the world, and she\nthought that Fergus would revenge for her the rage and jealousy which\nshe felt towards Tuiren.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nAs they paced along Uct Dealv railed bitterly against the hound, and\nshook and jerked her chain. Many a sharp cry the hound gave in that\njourney, many a mild lament.\n\n\u201cAh, supplanter! Ah, taker of another girl\u2019s sweetheart!\u201d said Uct Dealv\nfiercely. \u201cHow would your lover take it if he could see you now? How\nwould he look if he saw your pointy ears, your long thin snout, your\nshivering, skinny legs, and your long grey tail. He would not love you\nnow, bad girl!\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you heard of Fergus Fionnliath,\u201d she said again, \u201cthe man who does\nnot like dogs?\u201d\n\nTuiren had indeed heard of him.\n\n\u201cIt is to Fergus I shall bring you,\u201d cried Uct Dealv. \u201cHe will throw\nstones at you. You have never had a stone thrown at you. Ah, bad girl!\nYou do not know how a stone sounds as it nips the ear with a whirling\nbuzz, nor how jagged and heavy it feels as it thumps against a skinny\nleg. Robber! Mortal! Bad girl! You have never been whipped, but you will\nbe whipped now. You shall hear the song of a lash as it curls forward\nand bites inward and drags backward. You shall dig up old bones\nstealthily at night, and chew them against famine. You shall whine and\nsqueal at the moon, and shiver in the cold, and you will never take\nanother girl\u2019s sweetheart again.\u201d\n\nAnd it was in those terms and in that tone that she spoke to Tuiren\nas they journeyed forward, so that the hound trembled and shrank, and\nwhined pitifully and in despair.\n\nThey came to Fergus Fionnliath\u2019s stronghold, and Uct Dealv demanded\nadmittance.\n\n\u201cLeave that dog outside,\u201d said the servant.\n\n\u201cI will not do so,\u201d said the pretended messenger.\n\n\u201cYou can come in without the dog, or you can stay out with the dog,\u201d\n said the surly guardian.\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d cried Uct Dealv, \u201cI will come in with this dog, or your\nmaster shall answer for it to Fionn.\u201d\n\nAt the name of Fionn the servant almost fell out of his standing. He\nflew to acquaint his master, and Fergus himself came to the great door\nof the stronghold.\n\n\u201cBy my faith,\u201d he cried in amazement, \u201cit is a dog.\u201d\n\n\u201cA dog it is,\u201d growled the glum servant.\n\n\u201cGo you away,\u201d said Fergus to Uct Dealv, \u201cand when you have killed the\ndog come back to me and I will give you a present.\u201d\n\n\u201cLife and health, my good master, from Fionn, the son of Uail, the son\nof Baiscne,\u201d said she to Fergus.\n\n\u201cLife and health back to Fionn,\u201d he replied. \u201cCome into the house and\ngive your message, but leave the dog outside, for I don\u2019t like dogs.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe dog comes in,\u201d the messenger replied.\n\n\u201cHow is that?\u201d cried Fergus angrily.\n\n\u201cFionn sends you this hound to take care of until he comes for her,\u201d\n said the messenger.\n\n\u201cI wonder at that,\u201d Fergus growled, \u201cfor Fionn knows well that there is\nnot a man in the world has less of a liking for dogs than I have.\u201d\n\n\u201cHowever that may be, master, I have given Fionn\u2019s message, and here at\nmy heel is the dog. Do you take her or refuse her?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I could refuse anything to Fionn it would be a dog,\u201d said Fergus,\n\u201cbut I could not refuse anything to Fionn, so give me the hound.\u201d\n\nUct Dealv put the chain in his hand.\n\n\u201cAh, bad dog!\u201d said she.\n\nAnd then she went away well satisfied with her revenge, and returned to\nher own people in the Shi.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nOn the following day Fergus called his servant.\n\n\u201cHas that dog stopped shivering yet?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cIt has not, sir,\u201d said the servant.\n\n\u201cBring the beast here,\u201d said his master, \u201cfor whoever else is\ndissatisfied Fionn must be satisfied.\u201d\n\nThe dog was brought, and he examined it with a jaundiced and bitter eye.\n\n\u201cIt has the shivers indeed,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cThe shivers it has,\u201d said the servant.\n\n\u201cHow do you cure the shivers?\u201d his master demanded, for he thought that\nif the animal\u2019s legs dropped off Fionn would not be satisfied.\n\n\u201cThere is a way,\u201d said the servant doubtfully.\n\n\u201cIf there is a way, tell it to me,\u201d cried his master angrily.\n\n\u201cIf you were to take the beast up in your arms and hug it and kiss it,\nthe shivers would stop,\u201d said the man.\n\n\u201cDo you mean--?\u201d his master thundered, and he stretched his hand for a\nclub.\n\n\u201cI heard that,\u201d said the servant humbly.\n\n\u201cTake that dog up,\u201d Fergus commanded, \u201cand hug it and kiss it, and if I\nfind a single shiver left in the beast I\u2019ll break your head.\u201d\n\nThe man bent to the hound, but it snapped a piece out of his hand, and\nnearly bit his nose off as well.\n\n\u201cThat dog doesn\u2019t like me,\u201d said the man.\n\n\u201cNor do I,\u201d roared Fergus; \u201cget out of my sight.\u201d\n\nThe man went away and Fergus was left alone with the hound, but the poor\ncreature was so terrified that it began to tremble ten times worse than\nbefore.\n\n\u201cIts legs will drop off,\u201d said Fergus. \u201cFionn will blame me,\u201d he cried\nin despair.\n\nHe walked to the hound.\n\n\u201cIf you snap at my nose, or if you put as much as the start of a tooth\ninto the beginning of a finger!\u201d he growled.\n\nHe picked up the dog, but it did not snap, it only trembled. He held it\ngingerly for a few moments.\n\n\u201cIf it has to be hugged,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019ll hug it. I\u2019d do more than that\nfor Fionn.\u201d\n\nHe tucked and tightened the animal into his breast, and marched moodily\nup and down the room. The dog\u2019s nose lay along his breast under his\nchin, and as he gave it dutiful hugs, one hug to every five paces, the\ndog put out its tongue and licked him timidly under the chin.\n\n\u201cStop,\u201d roared Fergus, \u201cstop that forever,\u201d and he grew very red in\nthe face, and stared truculently down along his nose. A soft brown eye\nlooked up at him and the shy tongue touched again on his chin.\n\n\u201cIf it has to be kissed,\u201d said Fergus gloomily, \u201cI\u2019ll kiss it; I\u2019d do\nmore than that for Fionn,\u201d he groaned.\n\nHe bent his head, shut his eyes, and brought the dog\u2019s jaw against his\nlips. And at that the dog gave little wriggles in his arms, and little\nbarks, and little licks, so that he could scarcely hold her. He put the\nhound down at last.\n\n\u201cThere is not a single shiver left in her,\u201d he said.\n\nAnd that was true.\n\nEverywhere he walked the dog followed him, giving little prances and\nlittle pats against him, and keeping her eyes fixed on his with such\neagerness and intelligence that he marvelled.\n\n\u201cThat dog likes me,\u201d he murmured in amazement.\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d he cried next day, \u201cI like that dog.\u201d\n\nThe day after that he was calling her \u201cMy One Treasure, My Little\nBranch.\u201d And within a week he could not bear her to be out of his sight\nfor an instant.\n\nHe was tormented by the idea that some evil person might throw a stone\nat the hound, so he assembled his servants and retainers and addressed\nthem.\n\nHe told them that the hound was the Queen of Creatures, the Pulse of his\nHeart, and the Apple of his Eye, and he warned them that the person who\nas much as looked sideways on her, or knocked one shiver out of her,\nwould answer for the deed with pains and indignities. He recited a list\nof calamities which would befall such a miscreant, and these woes began\nwith flaying and ended with dismemberment, and had inside bits of such\ncomplicated and ingenious torment that the blood of the men who heard it\nran chill in their veins, and the women of the household fainted where\nthey stood.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nIn course of time the news came to Fionn that his mother\u2019s sister\nwas not living with Iollan. He at once sent a messenger calling\nfor fulfilment of the pledge that had been given to the Fianna, and\ndemanding the instant return of Tuiren. Iollan was in a sad condition\nwhen this demand was made. He guessed that Uct Dealv had a hand in the\ndisappearance of his queen, and he begged that time should be given him\nin which to find the lost girl. He promised if he could not discover\nher within a certain period that he would deliver his body into Fionn\u2019s\nhands, and would abide by whatever judgement Fionn might pronounce. The\ngreat captain agreed to that.\n\n\u201cTell the wife-loser that I will have the girl or I will have his head,\u201d\n said Fionn.\n\nIollan set out then for Faery. He knew the way, and in no great time he\ncame to the hill where Uct Dealv was.\n\nIt was hard to get Uct Dealv to meet him, but at last she consented, and\nthey met under the apple boughs of Faery.\n\n\u201cWell!\u201d said Uct Dealv. \u201cAh! Breaker of Vows and Traitor to Love,\u201d said\nshe.\n\n\u201cHail and a blessing,\u201d said Iollan humbly.\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d she cried, \u201cI will give you no blessing, for it was no\nblessing you left with me when we parted.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am in danger,\u201d said Iollan.\n\n\u201cWhat is that to me?\u201d she replied fiercely.\n\n\u201cFionn may claim my head,\u201d he murmured.\n\n\u201cLet him claim what he can take,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Iollan proudly, \u201che will claim what I can give.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me your tale,\u201d said she coldly.\n\nIollan told his story then, and, he concluded, \u201cI am certain that you\nhave hidden the girl.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I save your head from Fionn,\u201d the woman of the Shi\u2019 replied, \u201cthen\nyour head will belong to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d said Iollan.\n\n\u201cAnd if your head is mine, the body that goes under it is mine. Do you\nagree to that?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d said Iollan.\n\n\u201cGive me your pledge,\u201d said Uct Dealv, \u201cthat if I save you from this\ndanger you will keep me as your sweetheart until the end of life and\ntime.\u201d\n\n\u201cI give that pledge,\u201d said Iollan.\n\nUct Dealv went then to the house of Fergus Fionnliath, and she broke the\nenchantment that was on the hound, so that Tuiren\u2019s own shape came back\nto her; but in the matter of two small whelps, to which the hound had\ngiven birth, the enchantment could not be broken, so they had to remain\nas they were. These two whelps were Bran and Sceo\u2019lan. They were sent\nto Fionn, and he loved them for ever after, for they were loyal and\naffectionate, as only dogs can be, and they were as intelligent as human\nbeings. Besides that, they were Fionn\u2019s own cousins.\n\nTuiren was then asked in marriage by Lugaidh who had loved her so long.\nHe had to prove to her that he was not any other woman\u2019s sweetheart,\nand when he proved that they were married, and they lived happily ever\nafter, which is the proper way to live. He wrote a poem beginning:\n\n     \u201cLovely the day. Dear is the eye of the dawn--\u201d\n\nAnd a thousand merry people learned it after him.\n\nBut as to Fergus Fionnliath, he took to his bed, and he stayed there for\na year and a day suffering from blighted affection, and he would have\ndied in the bed only that Fionn sent him a special pup, and in a week\nthat young hound became the Star of Fortune and the very Pulse of his\nHeart, so that he got well again, and he also lived happily ever after.\n\n\n\n\nOISIN\u2019S MOTHER\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nEVENING was drawing nigh, and the Fianna-Finn had decided to hunt no\nmore that day. The hounds were whistled to heel, and a sober, homeward\nmarch began. For men will walk soberly in the evening, however they go\nin the day, and dogs will take the mood from their masters. They were\npacing so, through the golden-shafted, tender-coloured eve, when a\nfawn leaped suddenly from covert, and, with that leap, all quietness\nvanished: the men shouted, the dogs gave tongue, and a furious chase\ncommenced.\n\nFionn loved a chase at any hour, and, with Bran and Sceo\u2019lan, he\noutstripped the men and dogs of his troop, until nothing remained in the\nlimpid world but Fionn, the two hounds, and the nimble, beautiful fawn.\nThese, and the occasional boulders, round which they raced, or over\nwhich they scrambled; the solitary tree which dozed aloof and beautiful\nin the path, the occasional clump of trees that hived sweet shadow as\na hive hoards honey, and the rustling grass that stretched to infinity,\nand that moved and crept and swung under the breeze in endless, rhythmic\nbillowings.\n\nIn his wildest moment Fionn was thoughtful, and now, although running\nhard, he was thoughtful. There was no movement of his beloved hounds\nthat he did not know; not a twitch or fling of the head, not a cock\nof the ears or tail that was not significant to him. But on this chase\nwhatever signs the dogs gave were not understood by their master.\n\nHe had never seen them in such eager flight. They were almost utterly\nabsorbed in it, but they did not whine with eagerness, nor did they cast\nany glance towards him for the encouraging word which he never failed to\ngive when they sought it.\n\nThey did look at him, but it was a look which he could not comprehend.\nThere was a question and a statement in those deep eyes, and he could\nnot understand what that question might be, nor what it was they sought\nto convey. Now and again one of the dogs turned a head in full flight,\nand stared, not at Fionn, but distantly backwards, over the spreading\nand swelling plain where their companions of the hunt had disappeared.\n\u201cThey are looking for the other hounds,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cAnd yet they do not give tongue! Tongue it, a Vran!\u201d he shouted, \u201cBell\nit out, a Heo\u2019lan!\u201d\n\nIt was then they looked at him, the look which he could not understand\nand had never seen on a chase. They did not tongue it, nor bell it, but\nthey added silence to silence and speed to speed, until the lean grey\nbodies were one pucker and lashing of movement.\n\nFionn marvelled. \u201cThey do not want the other dogs to hear or to come on\nthis chase,\u201d he murmured, and he wondered what might be passing within\nthose slender heads.\n\n\u201cThe fawn runs well,\u201d his thought continued. \u201cWhat is it, a Vran, my\nheart? After her, a Heo\u2019lan! Hist and away, my loves!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is going and to spare in that beast yet,\u201d his mind went on. \u201cShe\nis not stretched to the full, nor half stretched. She may outrun even\nBran,\u201d he thought ragingly.\n\nThey were racing through a smooth valley in a steady, beautiful, speedy\nflight when, suddenly, the fawn stopped and lay on the grass, and it lay\nwith the calm of an animal that has no fear, and the leisure of one that\nis not pressed.\n\n\u201cHere is a change,\u201d said Fionn, staring in astonishment.\n\n\u201cShe is not winded,\u201d he said. \u201cWhat is she lying down for?\u201d But Bran and\nSceo\u2019lan did not stop; they added another inch to their long-stretched\neasy bodies, and came up on the fawn.\n\n\u201cIt is an easy kill,\u201d said Fionn regretfully. \u201cThey have her,\u201d he cried.\n\nBut he was again astonished, for the dogs did not kill. They leaped and\nplayed about the fawn, licking its face, and rubbing delighted noses\nagainst its neck.\n\nFionn came up then. His long spear was lowered in his fist at the\nthrust, and his sharp knife was in its sheath, but he did not use them,\nfor the fawn and the two hounds began to play round him, and the fawn\nwas as affectionate towards him as the hounds were; so that when a\nvelvet nose was thrust in his palm, it was as often a fawn\u2019s muzzle as a\nhound\u2019s.\n\nIn that joyous company he came to wide Allen of Leinster, where the\npeople were surprised to see the hounds and the fawn and the Chief and\nnone other of the hunters that had set out with them.\n\nWhen the others reached home, the Chief told of his chase, and it was\nagreed that such a fawn must not be killed, but that it should be kept\nand well treated, and that it should be the pet fawn of the Fianna.\nBut some of those who remembered Brah\u2019s parentage thought that as Bran\nherself had come from the Shi so this fawn might have come out of the\nShi also.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nLate that night, when he was preparing for rest, the door of Fionn\u2019s\nchamber opened gently and a young woman came into the room. The captain\nstared at her, as he well might, for he had never seen or imagined to\nsee a woman so beautiful as this was. Indeed, she was not a woman, but\na young girl, and her bearing was so gently noble, her look so modestly\nhigh, that the champion dared scarcely look at her, although he could\nnot by any means have looked away.\n\nAs she stood within the doorway, smiling, and shy as a flower,\nbeautifully timid as a fawn, the Chief communed with his heart.\n\n\u201cShe is the Sky-woman of the Dawn,\u201d he said. \u201cShe is the light on the\nfoam. She is white and odorous as an apple-blossom. She smells of spice\nand honey. She is my beloved beyond the women of the world. She shall\nnever be taken from me.\u201d\n\nAnd that thought was delight and anguish to him: delight because of such\nsweet prospect, anguish because it was not yet realised, and might not\nbe.\n\nAs the dogs had looked at him on the chase with a look that he did not\nunderstand, so she looked at him, and in her regard there was a question\nthat baffled him and a statement which he could not follow.\n\nHe spoke to her then, mastering his heart to do it.\n\n\u201cI do not seem to know you,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cYou do not know me indeed,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cIt is the more wonderful,\u201d he continued gently, \u201cfor I should know\nevery person that is here. What do you require from me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your protection, royal captain.\u201d\n\n\u201cI give that to all,\u201d he answered. \u201cAgainst whom do you desire\nprotection?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am in terror of the Fear Doirche.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Dark Man of the Shi?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is my enemy,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cHe is mine now,\u201d said Fionn. \u201cTell me your story.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name is Saeve, and I am a woman of Faery,\u201d she commenced. \u201cIn the\nShi\u2019 many men gave me their love, but I gave my love to no man of my\ncountry.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was not reasonable,\u201d the other chided with a blithe heart.\n\n\u201cI was contented,\u201d she replied, \u201cand what we do not want we do not lack.\nBut if my love went anywhere it went to a mortal, a man of the men of\nIreland.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d said Fionn in mortal distress, \u201cI marvel who that man can\nbe!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is known to you,\u201d she murmured. \u201cI lived thus in the peace of Faery,\nhearing often of my mortal champion, for the rumour of his great deeds\nhad gone through the Shi\u2019, until a day came when the Black Magician\nof the Men of God put his eye on me, and, after that day, in whatever\ndirection I looked I saw his eye.\u201d\n\nShe stopped at that, and the terror that was in her heart was on her\nface. \u201cHe is everywhere,\u201d she whispered. \u201cHe is in the bushes, and on\nthe hill. He looked up at me from the water, and he stared down on\nme from the sky. His voice commands out of the spaces, and it demands\nsecretly in the heart. He is not here or there, he is in all places at\nall times. I cannot escape from him,\u201d she said, \u201cand I am afraid,\u201d and\nat that she wept noiselessly and stared on Fionn.\n\n\u201cHe is my enemy,\u201d Fionn growled. \u201cI name him as my enemy.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will protect me,\u201d she implored.\n\n\u201cWhere I am let him not come,\u201d said Fionn. \u201cI also have knowledge. I am\nFionn, the son of Uail, the son of Baiscne, a man among men and a god\nwhere the gods are.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe asked me in marriage,\u201d she continued, \u201cbut my mind was full of my\nown dear hero, and I refused the Dark Man.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was your right, and I swear by my hand that if the man you desire\nis alive and unmarried he shall marry you or he will answer to me for\nthe refusal.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is not married,\u201d said Saeve, \u201cand you have small control over him.\u201d\n The Chief frowned thoughtfully. \u201cExcept the High King and the kings I\nhave authority in this land.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat man has authority over himself?\u201d said Saeve.\n\n\u201cDo you mean that I am the man you seek?\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cIt is to yourself I gave my love,\u201d she replied. \u201cThis is good news,\u201d\n Fionn cried joyfully, \u201cfor the moment you came through the door I loved\nand desired you, and the thought that you wished for another man went\ninto my heart like a sword.\u201d Indeed, Fionn loved Saeve as he had not\nloved a woman before and would never love one again. He loved her as he\nhad never loved anything before. He could not bear to be away from her.\nWhen he saw her he did not see the world, and when he saw the world\nwithout her it was as though he saw nothing, or as if he looked on a\nprospect that was bleak and depressing. The belling of a stag had been\nmusic to Fionn, but when Saeve spoke that was sound enough for him. He\nhad loved to hear the cuckoo calling in the spring from the tree that\nis highest in the hedge, or the blackbird\u2019s jolly whistle in an autumn\nbush, or the thin, sweet enchantment that comes to the mind when a lark\nthrills out of sight in the air and the hushed fields listen to the\nsong. But his wife\u2019s voice was sweeter to Fionn than the singing of a\nlark. She filled him with wonder and surmise. There was magic in the\ntips of her fingers. Her thin palm ravished him. Her slender foot set\nhis heart beating; and whatever way her head moved there came a new\nshape of beauty to her face.\n\n\u201cShe is always new,\u201d said Fionn. \u201cShe is always better than any other\nwoman; she is always better than herself.\u201d\n\nHe attended no more to the Fianna. He ceased to hunt. He did not listen\nto the songs of poets or the curious sayings of magicians, for all of\nthese were in his wife, and something that was beyond these was in her\nalso.\n\n\u201cShe is this world and the next one; she is completion,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nIt happened that the men of Lochlann came on an expedition against\nIreland. A monstrous fleet rounded the bluffs of Ben Edair, and the\nDanes landed there, to prepare an attack which would render them masters\nof the country. Fionn and the Fianna-Finn marched against them. He did\nnot like the men of Lochlann at any time, but this time he moved against\nthem in wrath, for not only were they attacking Ireland, but they had\ncome between him and the deepest joy his life had known.\n\nIt was a hard fight, but a short one. The Lochlannachs were driven back\nto their ships, and within a week the only Danes remaining in Ireland\nwere those that had been buried there.\n\nThat finished, he left the victorious Fianna and returned swiftly to the\nplain of Allen, for he could not bear to be one unnecessary day parted\nfrom Saeve.\n\n\u201cYou are not leaving us!\u201d exclaimed Goll mac Morna.\n\n\u201cI must go,\u201d Fionn replied.\n\n\u201cYou will not desert the victory feast,\u201d Conan reproached him.\n\n\u201cStay with us, Chief,\u201d Caelte begged.\n\n\u201cWhat is a feast without Fionn?\u201d they complained.\n\nBut he would not stay.\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d he cried, \u201cI must go. She will be looking for me from the\nwindow.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will happen indeed,\u201d Goll admitted.\n\n\u201cThat will happen,\u201d cried Fionn. \u201cAnd when she sees me far out on the\nplain, she will run through the great gate to meet me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be the queer wife would neglect that run,\u201d Cona\u2019n growled.\n\n\u201cI shall hold her hand again,\u201d Fionn entrusted to Caelte\u2019s ear.\n\n\u201cYou will do that, surely.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall look into her face,\u201d his lord insisted. But he saw that not\neven beloved Caelte understood the meaning of that, and he knew sadly\nand yet proudly that what he meant could not be explained by any one and\ncould not be comprehended by any one.\n\n\u201cYou are in love, dear heart,\u201d said Caelte.\n\n\u201cIn love he is,\u201d Cona\u2019n grumbled. \u201cA cordial for women, a disease for\nmen, a state of wretchedness.\u201d\n\n\u201cWretched in truth,\u201d the Chief murmured. \u201cLove makes us poor We have not\neyes enough to see all that is to be seen, nor hands enough to seize the\ntenth of all we want. When I look in her eyes I am tormented because I\nam not looking at her lips, and when I see her lips my soul cries out,\n\u2018Look at her eyes, look at her eyes.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is how it happens,\u201d said Goll rememberingly.\n\n\u201cThat way and no other,\u201d Caelte agreed.\n\nAnd the champions looked backwards in time on these lips and those, and\nknew their Chief would go.\n\nWhen Fionn came in sight of the great keep his blood and his feet\nquickened, and now and again he waved a spear in the air.\n\n\u201cShe does not see me yet,\u201d he thought mournfully.\n\n\u201cShe cannot see me yet,\u201d he amended, reproaching himself.\n\nBut his mind was troubled, for he thought also, or he felt without\nthinking, that had the positions been changed he would have seen her at\ntwice the distance.\n\n\u201cShe thinks I have been unable to get away from the battle, or that I\nwas forced to remain for the feast.\u201d\n\nAnd, without thinking it, he thought that had the positions been changed\nhe would have known that nothing could retain the one that was absent.\n\n\u201cWomen,\u201d he said, \u201care shamefaced, they do not like to appear eager when\nothers are observing them.\u201d\n\nBut he knew that he would not have known if others were observing him,\nand that he would not have cared about it if he had known. And he knew\nthat his Saeve would not have seen, and would not have cared for any\neyes than his.\n\nHe gripped his spear on that reflection, and ran as he had not run in\nhis life, so that it was a panting, dishevelled man that raced heavily\nthrough the gates of the great Dun.\n\nWithin the Dun there was disorder. Servants were shouting to one\nanother, and women were running to and fro aimlessly, wringing their\nhands and screaming; and, when they saw the Champion, those nearest to\nhim ran away, and there was a general effort on the part of every\nperson to get behind every other person. But Fionn caught the eye of his\nbutler, Gariv Crona\u2019n, the Rough Buzzer, and held it.\n\n\u201cCome you here,\u201d he said.\n\nAnd the Rough Buzzer came to him without a single buzz in his body.\n\n\u201cWhere is the Flower of Allen?\u201d his master demanded.\n\n\u201cI do not know, master,\u201d the terrified servant replied.\n\n\u201cYou do not know!\u201d said Fionn. \u201cTell what you do know.\u201d\n\nAnd the man told him this story.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\u201cWhen you had been away for a day the guards were surprised. They were\nlooking from the heights of the Dun, and the Flower of Allen was with\nthem. She, for she had a quest\u2019s eye, called out that the master of the\nFianna was coming over the ridges to the Dun, and she ran from the keep\nto meet you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was not I,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cIt bore your shape,\u201d replied Gariv Cronan. \u201cIt had your armour and your\nface, and the dogs, Bran and Sceo\u2019lan, were with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey were with me,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cThey seemed to be with it,\u201d said the servant humbly\n\n\u201cTell us this tale,\u201d cried Fionn.\n\n\u201cWe were distrustful,\u201d the servant continued. \u201cWe had never known Fionn\nto return from a combat before it had been fought, and we knew you could\nnot have reached Ben Edar or encountered the Lochlannachs. So we urged\nour lady to let us go out to meet you, but to remain herself in the\nDun.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was good urging,\u201d Fionn assented.\n\n\u201cShe would not be advised,\u201d the servant wailed. \u201cShe cried to us, \u2018Let\nme go to meet my love\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cShe cried on us, \u2018Let me go to meet my husband, the father of the child\nthat is not born.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d groaned deep-wounded Fionn. \u201cShe ran towards your appearance\nthat had your arms stretched out to her.\u201d\n\nAt that wise Fionn put his hand before his eyes, seeing all that\nhappened.\n\n\u201cTell on your tale,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cShe ran to those arms, and when she reached them the figure lifted\nits hand. It touched her with a hazel rod, and, while we looked, she\ndisappeared, and where she had been there was a fawn standing and\nshivering. The fawn turned and bounded towards the gate of the Dun, but\nthe hounds that were by flew after her.\u201d\n\nFionn stared on him like a lost man.\n\n\u201cThey took her by the throat--\u201d the shivering servant whispered.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d cried Fionn in a terrible voice.\n\n\u201cAnd they dragged her back to the figure that seemed to be Fionn. Three\ntimes she broke away and came bounding to us, and three times the dogs\ntook her by the throat and dragged her back.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou stood to look!\u201d the Chief snarled.\n\n\u201cNo, master, we ran, but she vanished as we got to her; the great hounds\nvanished away, and that being that seemed to be Fionn disappeared with\nthem. We were left in the rough grass, staring about us and at each\nother, and listening to the moan of the wind and the terror of our\nhearts.\u201d\n\n\u201cForgive us, dear master,\u201d the servant cried. But the great captain made\nhim no answer. He stood as though he were dumb and blind, and now and\nagain he beat terribly on his breast with his closed fist, as though he\nwould kill that within him which should be dead and could not die. He\nwent so, beating on his breast, to his inner room in the Dun, and he was\nnot seen again for the rest of that day, nor until the sun rose over Moy\nLife\u2019 in the morning.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nFor many years after that time, when he was not fighting against the\nenemies of Ireland, Fionn was searching and hunting through the length\nand breadth of the country in the hope that he might again chance on his\nlovely lady from the Shi\u2019. Through all that time he slept in misery each\nnight and he rose each day to grief. Whenever he hunted he brought only\nthe hounds that he trusted, Bran and Sceo\u2019lan, Lomaire, Brod, and Lomlu;\nfor if a fawn was chased each of these five great dogs would know if\nthat was a fawn to be killed or one to be protected, and so there was\nsmall danger to Saeve and a small hope of finding her.\n\nOnce, when seven years had passed in fruitless search, Fionn and the\nchief nobles of the Fianna were hunting Ben Gulbain. All the hounds of\nthe Fianna were out, for Fionn had now given up hope of encountering\nthe Flower of Allen. As the hunt swept along the sides of the hill there\narose a great outcry of hounds from a narrow place high on the slope\nand, over all that uproar there came the savage baying of Fionn\u2019s own\ndogs.\n\n\u201cWhat is this for?\u201d said Fionn, and with his companions he pressed to\nthe spot whence the noise came.\n\n\u201cThey are fighting all the hounds of the Fianna,\u201d cried a champion.\n\nAnd they were. The five wise hounds were in a circle and were giving\nbattle to an hundred dogs at once. They were bristling and terrible, and\neach bite from those great, keen jaws was woe to the beast that received\nit. Nor did they fight in silence as was their custom and training, but\nbetween each onslaught the great heads were uplifted, and they pealed\nloudly, mournfully, urgently, for their master.\n\n\u201cThey are calling on me,\u201d he roared.\n\nAnd with that he ran, as he had only once before run, and the men who\nwere nigh to him went racing as they would not have run for their lives.\nThey came to the narrow place on the slope of the mountain, and they saw\nthe five great hounds in a circle keeping off the other dogs, and in\nthe middle of the ring a little boy was standing. He had long, beautiful\nhair, and he was naked. He was not daunted by the terrible combat and\nclamour of the hounds. He did not look at the hounds, but he stared like\na young prince at Fionn and the champions as they rushed towards him\nscattering the pack with the butts of their spears. When the fight was\nover, Bran and Sceo\u2019lan ran whining to the little boy and licked his\nhands.\n\n\u201cThey do that to no one,\u201d said a bystander. \u201cWhat new master is this\nthey have found?\u201d\n\nFionn bent to the boy. \u201cTell me, my little prince and pulse, what your\nname is, and how you have come into the middle of a hunting-pack, and\nwhy you are naked?\u201d\n\nBut the boy did not understand the language of the men of Ireland. He\nput his hand into Fionn\u2019s, and the Chief felt as if that little hand had\nbeen put into his heart. He lifted the lad to his great shoulder.\n\n\u201cWe have caught something on this hunt,\u201d said he to Caelte mac Rongn.\n\u201cWe must bring this treasure home. You shall be one of the Fianna-Finn,\nmy darling,\u201d he called upwards.\n\nThe boy looked down on him, and in the noble trust and fearlessness of\nthat regard Fionn\u2019s heart melted away.\n\n\u201cMy little fawn!\u201d he said.\n\nAnd he remembered that other fawn. He set the boy between his knees and\nstared at him earnestly and long.\n\n\u201cThere is surely the same look,\u201d he said to his wakening heart; \u201cthat is\nthe very eye of Saeve.\u201d\n\nThe grief flooded out of his heart as at a stroke, and joy foamed into\nit in one great tide. He marched back singing to the encampment, and men\nsaw once more the merry Chief they had almost forgotten.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nJust as at one time he could not be parted from Saeve, so now he could\nnot be separated from this boy. He had a thousand names for him, each\none more tender than the last: \u201cMy Fawn, My Pulse, My Secret Little\nTreasure,\u201d or he would call him \u201cMy Music, My Blossoming Branch, My\nStore in the Heart, My Soul.\u201d And the dogs were as wild for the boy as\nFionn was. He could sit in safety among a pack that would have torn any\nman to pieces, and the reason was that Bran and Sceo\u2019lan, with their\nthree whelps, followed him about like shadows. When he was with the pack\nthese five were with him, and woeful indeed was the eye they turned\non their comrades when these pushed too closely or were not properly\nhumble. They thrashed the pack severally and collectively until every\nhound in Fionn\u2019s kennels knew that the little lad was their master, and\nthat there was nothing in the world so sacred as he was.\n\nIn no long time the five wise hounds could have given over their\nguardianship, so complete was the recognition of their young lord. But\nthey did not so give over, for it was not love they gave the lad but\nadoration.\n\nFionn even may have been embarrassed by their too close attendance. If\nhe had been able to do so he might have spoken harshly to his dogs, but\nhe could not; it was unthinkable that he should; and the boy might have\nspoken harshly to him if he had dared to do it. For this was the order\nof Fionn\u2019s affection: first there was the boy; next, Bran and Sceo\u2019lan\nwith their three whelps; then Caelte mac Rona\u2019n, and from him down\nthrough the champions. He loved them all, but it was along that\nprecedence his affections ran. The thorn that went into Bran\u2019s foot ran\ninto Fionn\u2019s also. The world knew it, and there was not a champion but\nadmitted sorrowfully that there was reason for his love.\n\nLittle by little the boy came to understand their speech and to speak it\nhimself, and at last he was able to tell his story to Fionn.\n\nThere were many blanks in the tale, for a young child does not remember\nvery well. Deeds grow old in a day and are buried in a night. New\nmemories come crowding on old ones, and one must learn to forget as well\nas to remember. A whole new life had come on this boy, a life that was\ninstant and memorable, so that his present memories blended into and\nobscured the past, and he could not be quite sure if that which he told\nof had happened in this world or in the world he had left.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\u201cI used to live,\u201d he said, \u201cin a wide, beautiful place. There were hills\nand valleys there, and woods and streams, but in whatever direction I\nwent I came always to a cliff, so tall it seemed to lean against the\nsky, and so straight that even a goat would not have imagined to climb\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know of any such place,\u201d Fionn mused.\n\n\u201cThere is no such place in Ireland,\u201d said Caelte, \u201cbut in the Shi\u2019 there\nis such a place.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is in truth,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cI used to eat fruits and roots in the summer,\u201d the boy continued, \u201cbut\nin the winter food was left for me in a cave.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas there no one with you?\u201d Fionn asked.\n\n\u201cNo one but a deer that loved me, and that I loved.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh me!\u201d cried Fionn in anguish, \u201ctell me your tale, my son.\u201d\n\n\u201cA dark stern man came often after us, and he used to speak with the\ndeer. Sometimes he talked gently and softly and coaxingly, but at times\nagain he would shout loudly and in a harsh, angry voice. But whatever\nway he talked the deer would draw away from him in dread, and he always\nleft her at last furiously.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the Dark Magician of the Men of God,\u201d cried Fionn despairingly.\n\n\u201cIt is indeed, my soul,\u201d said Caelte.\n\n\u201cThe last time I saw the deer,\u201d the child continued, \u201cthe dark man was\nspeaking to her. He spoke for a long time. He spoke gently and angrily,\nand gently and angrily, so that I thought he would never stop talking,\nbut in the end he struck her with a hazel rod, so that she was forced\nto follow him when he went away. She was looking back at me all the time\nand she was crying so bitterly that any one would pity her. I tried to\nfollow her also, but I could not move, and I cried after her too, with\nrage and grief, until I could see her no more and hear her no more. Then\nI fell on the grass, my senses went away from me, and when I awoke I was\non the hill in the middle of the hounds where you found me.\u201d\n\nThat was the boy whom the Fianna called Oisi\u2019n, or the Little Fawn. He\ngrew to be a great fighter afterwards, and he was the chief maker of\npoems in the world. But he was not yet finished with the Shi. He was to\ngo back into Faery when the time came, and to come thence again to tell\nthese tales, for it was by him these tales were told.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOOING OF BECFOLA\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nWe do not know where Becfola came from. Nor do we know for certain where\nshe went to. We do not even know her real name, for the name Becfola,\n\u201cDowerless\u201d or \u201cSmall-dowered,\u201d was given to her as a nickname. This\nonly is certain, that she disappeared from the world we know of, and\nthat she went to a realm where even conjecture may not follow her.\n\nIt happened in the days when Dermod, son of the famous Ae of Slane, was\nmonarch of all Ireland. He was unmarried, but he had many foster-sons,\nprinces from the Four Provinces, who were sent by their fathers as\ntokens of loyalty and affection to the Ard-Ri, and his duties as a\nfoster-father were righteously acquitted. Among the young princes of his\nhousehold there was one, Crimthann, son of Ae, King of Leinster, whom\nthe High King preferred to the others over whom he held fatherly sway.\nNor was this wonderful, for the lad loved him also, and was as eager and\nintelligent and modest as becomes a prince.\n\nThe High King and Crimthann would often set out from Tara to hunt and\nhawk, sometimes unaccompanied even by a servant; and on these excursions\nthe king imparted to his foster-son his own wide knowledge of forest\ncraft, and advised him generally as to the bearing and duties of a\nprince, the conduct of a court, and the care of a people.\n\nDermod mac Ae delighted in these solitary adventures, and when he\ncould steal a day from policy and affairs he would send word privily to\nCrimthann. The boy, having donned his hunting gear, would join the king\nat a place arranged between them, and then they ranged abroad as chance\nmight direct.\n\nOn one of these adventures, as they searched a flooded river to find the\nford, they saw a solitary woman in a chariot driving from the west.\n\n\u201cI wonder what that means?\u201d the king exclaimed thoughtfully.\n\n\u201cWhy should you wonder at a woman in a chariot?\u201d his companion inquired,\nfor Crimthann loved and would have knowledge.\n\n\u201cGood, my Treasure,\u201d Dermod answered, \u201cour minds are astonished when we\nsee a woman able to drive a cow to pasture, for it has always seemed to\nus that they do not drive well.\u201d\n\nCrimthann absorbed instruction like a sponge and digested it as rapidly.\n\n\u201cI think that is justly said,\u201d he agreed.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d Dermod continued, \u201cwhen we see a woman driving a chariot of two\nhorses, then we are amazed indeed.\u201d\n\nWhen the machinery of anything is explained to us we grow interested,\nand Crimthann became, by instruction, as astonished as the king was.\n\n\u201cIn good truth,\u201d said he, \u201cthe woman is driving two horses.\u201d\n\n\u201cHad you not observed it before?\u201d his master asked with kindly malice.\n\n\u201cI had observed but not noticed,\u201d the young man admitted.\n\n\u201cFurther,\u201d said the king, \u201csurmise is aroused in us when we discover a\nwoman far from a house; for you will have both observed and noticed that\nwomen are home-dwellers, and that a house without a woman or a woman\nwithout a house are imperfect objects, and although they be but half\nobserved, they are noticed on the double.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no doubting it,\u201d the prince answered from a knitted and\nthought-tormented brow.\n\n\u201cWe shall ask this woman for information about herself,\u201d said the king\ndecidedly.\n\n\u201cLet us do so,\u201d his ward agreed\n\n\u201cThe king\u2019s majesty uses the words \u2018we\u2019 and \u2018us\u2019 when referring to\nthe king\u2019s majesty,\u201d said Dermod, \u201cbut princes who do not yet\nrule territories must use another form of speech when referring to\nthemselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am very thoughtless,\u201d said Crimthann humbly.\n\nThe king kissed him on both cheeks.\n\n\u201cIndeed, my dear heart and my son, we are not scolding you, but you must\ntry not to look so terribly thoughtful when you think. It is part of the\nart of a ruler.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall never master that hard art,\u201d lamented his fosterling.\n\n\u201cWe must all master it,\u201d Dermod replied. \u201cWe may think with our minds\nand with our tongues, but we should never think with our noses and with\nour eyebrows.\u201d\n\nThe woman in the chariot had drawn nigh to the ford by which they were\nstanding, and, without pause, she swung her steeds into the shallows and\ncame across the river in a tumult of foam and spray.\n\n\u201cDoes she not drive well?\u201d cried Crimthann admiringly.\n\n\u201cWhen you are older,\u201d the king counselled him, \u201cyou will admire that\nwhich is truly admirable, for although the driving is good the lady is\nbetter.\u201d\n\nHe continued with enthusiasm.\n\n\u201cShe is in truth a wonder of the world and an endless delight to the\neye.\u201d\n\nShe was all that and more, and, as she took the horses through the river\nand lifted them up the bank, her flying hair and parted lips and all the\nyoung strength and grace of her body went into the king\u2019s eye and could\nnot easily come out again.\n\nNevertheless, it was upon his ward that the lady\u2019s gaze rested, and if\nthe king could scarcely look away from her, she could, but only with an\nequal effort, look away from Crimthann.\n\n\u201cHalt there!\u201d cried the king.\n\n\u201cWho should I halt for?\u201d the lady demanded, halting all the same, as is\nthe manner of women, who rebel against command and yet receive it.\n\n\u201cHalt for Dermod!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are Dermods and Dermods in this world,\u201d she quoted.\n\n\u201cThere is yet but one Ard-Ri\u2019,\u201d the monarch answered.\n\nShe then descended from the chariot and made her reverence.\n\n\u201cI wish to know your name?\u201d said he.\n\nBut at this demand the lady frowned and answered decidedly:\n\n\u201cI do not wish to tell it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish to know also where you come from and to what place you are\ngoing?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not wish to tell any of these things.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot to the king!\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not wish to tell them to any one.\u201d\n\nCrimthann was scandalised.\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d he pleaded, \u201cyou will surely not withhold information from the\nArd-Ri\u2019?\u201d\n\nBut the lady stared as royally on the High King as the High King did on\nher, and, whatever it was he saw in those lovely eyes, the king did not\ninsist.\n\nHe drew Crimthann apart, for he withheld no instruction from that lad.\n\n\u201cMy heart,\u201d he said, \u201cwe must always try to act wisely, and we should\nonly insist on receiving answers to questions in which we are personally\nconcerned.\u201d\n\nCrimthann imbibed all the justice of that remark.\n\n\u201cThus I do not really require to know this lady\u2019s name, nor do I care\nfrom what direction she comes.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do not?\u201d Crimthann asked.\n\n\u201cNo, but what I do wish to know is, Will she marry me?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my hand that is a notable question,\u201d his companion stammered.\n\n\u201cIt is a question that must be answered,\u201d the king cried triumphantly.\n\u201cBut,\u201d he continued, \u201cto learn what woman she is, or where she comes\nfrom, might bring us torment as well as information. Who knows in what\nadventures the past has engaged her!\u201d\n\nAnd he stared for a profound moment on disturbing, sinister horizons,\nand Crimthann meditated there with him.\n\n\u201cThe past is hers,\u201d he concluded, \u201cbut the future is ours, and we shall\nonly demand that which is pertinent to the future.\u201d\n\nHe returned to the lady.\n\n\u201cWe wish you to be our wife,\u201d he said. And he gazed on her benevolently\nand firmly and carefully when he said that, so that her regard could\nnot stray otherwhere. Yet, even as he looked, a tear did well into those\nlovely eyes, and behind her brow a thought moved of the beautiful boy\nwho was looking at her from the king\u2019s side.\n\nBut when the High King of Ireland asks us to marry him we do not refuse,\nfor it is not a thing that we shall be asked to do every day in the\nweek, and there is no woman in the world but would love to rule it in\nTara.\n\nNo second tear crept on the lady\u2019s lashes, and, with her hand in the\nking\u2019s hand, they paced together towards the palace, while behind them,\nin melancholy mood, Crimthann mac Ae led the horses and the chariot.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nThey were married in a haste which equalled the king\u2019s desire; and as he\ndid not again ask her name, and as she did not volunteer to give it, and\nas she brought no dowry to her husband and received none from him, she\nwas called Becfola, the Dowerless.\n\nTime passed, and the king\u2019s happiness was as great as his expectation\nof it had promised. But on the part of Becfola no similar tidings can be\ngiven.\n\nThere are those whose happiness lies in ambition and station, and to\nsuch a one the fact of being queen to the High King of Ireland is a\nsatisfaction at which desire is sated. But the mind of Becfola was not\nof this temperate quality, and, lacking Crimthann, it seemed to her that\nshe possessed nothing.\n\nFor to her mind he was the sunlight in the sun, the brightness in the\nmoonbeam; he was the savour in fruit and the taste in honey; and when\nshe looked from Crimthann to the king she could not but consider that\nthe right man was in the wrong place. She thought that crowned only with\nhis curls Crlmthann mac Ae was more nobly diademed than are the masters\nof the world, and she told him so.\n\nHis terror on hearing this unexpected news was so great that he\nmeditated immediate flight from Tara; but when a thing has been uttered\nonce it is easier said the second time and on the third repetition it is\npatiently listened to.\n\nAfter no great delay Crimthann mac Ae agreed and arranged that he and\nBecfola should fly from Tara, and it was part of their understanding\nthat they should live happily ever after.\n\nOne morning, when not even a bird was astir, the king felt that his dear\ncompanion was rising. He looked with one eye at the light that stole\ngreyly through the window, and recognised that it could not in justice\nbe called light.\n\n\u201cThere is not even a bird up,\u201d he murmured.\n\nAnd then to Becfola.\n\n\u201cWhat is the early rising for, dear heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cAn engagement I have,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cThis is not a time for engagements,\u201d said the calm monarch.\n\n\u201cLet it be so,\u201d she replied, and she dressed rapidly.\n\n\u201cAnd what is the engagement?\u201d he pursued.\n\n\u201cRaiment that I left at a certain place and must have. Eight silken\nsmocks embroidered with gold, eight precious brooches of beaten gold,\nthree diadems of pure gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt this hour,\u201d said the patient king, \u201cthe bed is better than the\nroad.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet it be so,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cAnd moreover,\u201d he continued, \u201ca Sunday journey brings bad luck.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet the luck come that will come,\u201d she answered.\n\n\u201cTo keep a cat from cream or a woman from her gear is not work for a\nking,\u201d said the monarch severely.\n\nThe Ard-Ri\u2019 could look on all things with composure, and regard all\nbeings with a tranquil eye; but it should be known that there was one\ndeed entirely hateful to him, and he would punish its commission with\nthe very last rigour--this was, a transgression of the Sunday. During\nsix days of the week all that could happen might happen, so far as\nDermod was concerned, but on the seventh day nothing should happen at\nall if the High King could restrain it. Had it been possible he would\nhave tethered the birds to their own green branches on that day, and\nforbidden the clouds to pack the upper world with stir and colour. These\nthe king permitted, with a tight lip, perhaps, but all else that came\nunder his hand felt his control.\n\nIt was his custom when he arose on the morn of Sunday to climb to the\nmost elevated point of Tara, and gaze thence on every side, so that\nhe might see if any fairies or people of the Shi\u2019 were disporting\nthemselves in his lordship; for he absolutely prohibited the usage of\nthe earth to these beings on the Sunday, and woe\u2019s worth was it for the\nsweet being he discovered breaking his law.\n\nWe do not know what ill he could do to the fairies, but during Dermod\u2019s\nreign the world said its prayers on Sunday and the Shi\u2019 folk stayed in\ntheir hills.\n\nIt may be imagined, therefore, with what wrath he saw his wife\u2019s\npreparations for her journey, but, although a king can do everything,\nwhat can a husband do...? He rearranged himself for slumber.\n\n\u201cI am no party to this untimely journey,\u201d he said angrily.\n\n\u201cLet it be so,\u201d said Becfola.\n\nShe left the palace with one maid, and as she crossed the doorway\nsomething happened to her, but by what means it happened would be hard\nto tell; for in the one pace she passed out of the palace and out of the\nworld, and the second step she trod was in Faery, but she did not know\nthis.\n\nHer intention was to go to Cluain da chaillech to meet Crimthann, but\nwhen she left the palace she did not remember Crimthann any more.\n\nTo her eye and to the eye of her maid the world was as it always had\nbeen, and the landmarks they knew were about them. But the object for\nwhich they were travelling was different, although unknown, and the\npeople they passed on the roads were unknown, and were yet people that\nthey knew.\n\nThey set out southwards from Tara into the Duffry of Leinster, and after\nsome time they came into wild country and went astray. At last Becfola\nhalted, saying:\n\n\u201cI do not know where we are.\u201d\n\nThe maid replied that she also did not know.\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d said Becfola, \u201cif we continue to walk straight on we shall arrive\nsomewhere.\u201d\n\nThey went on, and the maid watered the road with her tears.\n\nNight drew on them; a grey chill, a grey silence, and they were\nenveloped in that chill and silence; and they began to go in expectation\nand terror, for they both knew and did not know that which they were\nbound for.\n\nAs they toiled desolately up the rustling and whispering side of a\nlow hill the maid chanced to look back, and when she looked back she\nscreamed and pointed, and clung to Becfola\u2019s arm. Becfola followed the\npointing finger, and saw below a large black mass that moved jerkily\nforward.\n\n\u201cWolves!\u201d cried the maid. \u201cRun to the trees yonder,\u201d her mistress\nordered. \u201cWe will climb them and sit among the branches.\u201d\n\nThey ran then, the maid moaning and lamenting all the while.\n\n\u201cI cannot climb a tree,\u201d she sobbed, \u201cI shall be eaten by the wolves.\u201d\n\nAnd that was true.\n\nBut her mistress climbed a tree, and drew by a hand\u2019s breadth from the\nrap and snap and slaver of those steel jaws. Then, sitting on a branch,\nshe looked with angry woe at the straining and snarling horde below,\nseeing many a white fang in those grinning jowls, and the smouldering,\nred blink of those leaping and prowling eyes.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nBut after some time the moon arose and the wolves went away, for their\nleader, a sagacious and crafty chief, declared that as long as they\nremained where they were, the lady would remain where she was; and so,\nwith a hearty curse on trees, the troop departed. Becfola had pains in\nher legs from the way she had wrapped them about the branch, but there\nwas no part of her that did not ache, for a lady does not sit with any\nease upon a tree.\n\nFor some time she did not care to come down from the branch. \u201cThose\nwolves may return,\u201d she said, \u201cfor their chief is crafty and sagacious,\nand it is certain, from the look I caught in his eye as he departed,\nthat he would rather taste of me than cat any woman he has met.\u201d\n\nShe looked carefully in every direction to see if one might discover\nthem in hiding; she looked closely and lingeringly at the shadows under\ndistant trees to see if these shadows moved; and she listened on every\nwind to try if she could distinguish a yap or a yawn or a sneeze. But\nshe saw or heard nothing; and little by little tranquillity crept into\nher mind, and she began to consider that a danger which is past is a\ndanger that may be neglected.\n\nYet ere she descended she looked again on the world of jet and silver\nthat dozed about her, and she spied a red glimmer among distant trees.\n\n\u201cThere is no danger where there is light,\u201d she said, and she thereupon\ncame from the tree and ran in the direction that she had noted.\n\nIn a spot between three great oaks she came upon a man who was roasting\na wild boar over a fire. She saluted this youth and sat beside him. But\nafter the first glance and greeting he did not look at her again, nor\ndid he speak.\n\nWhen the boar was cooked he ate of it and she had her share. Then he\narose from the fire and walked away among the trees. Becfola followed,\nfeeling ruefully that something new to her experience had arrived;\n\u201cfor,\u201d she thought, \u201cit is usual that young men should not speak to me\nnow that I am the mate of a king, but it is very unusual that young men\nshould not look at me.\u201d\n\nBut if the young man did not look at her she looked well at him, and\nwhat she saw pleased her so much that she had no time for further\ncogitation. For if Crimthann had been beautiful, this youth was ten\ntimes more beautiful. The curls on Crimthann\u2019s head had been indeed as\na benediction to the queen\u2019s eye, so that she had eaten the better and\nslept the sounder for seeing him. But the sight of this youth left her\nwithout the desire to eat, and, as for sleep, she dreaded it, for if she\nclosed an eye she would be robbed of the one delight in time, which was\nto look at this young man, and not to cease looking at him while her eye\ncould peer or her head could remain upright.\n\nThey came to an inlet of the sea all sweet and calm under the round,\nsilver-flooding moon, and the young man, with Becfola treading on his\nheel, stepped into a boat and rowed to a high-jutting, pleasant island.\nThere they went inland towards a vast palace, in which there was no\nperson but themselves alone, and there the young man went to sleep,\nwhile Becfola sat staring at him until the unavoidable peace pressed\ndown her eyelids and she too slumbered.\n\nShe was awakened in the morning by a great shout.\n\n\u201cCome out, Flann, come out, my heart!\u201d\n\nThe young man leaped from his couch, girded on his harness, and strode\nout. Three young men met him, each in battle harness, and these four\nadvanced to meet four other men who awaited them at a little distance on\nthe lawn. Then these two sets of four fought togethor with every warlike\ncourtesy but with every warlike severity, and at the end of that combat\nthere was but one man standing, and the other seven lay tossed in death.\n\nBecfola spoke to the youth.\n\n\u201cYour combat has indeed been gallant,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cAlas,\u201d he replied, \u201cif it has been a gallant deed it has not been a\ngood one, for my three brothers are dead and my four nephews are dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh me!\u201d cried Becfola, \u201cwhy did you fight that fight?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor the lordship of this island, the Isle of Fedach, son of Dali.\u201d\n\nBut, although Becfola was moved and horrified by this battle, it was in\nanother direction that her interest lay; therefore she soon asked the\nquestion which lay next her heart:\n\n\u201cWhy would you not speak to me or look at me?\u201d\n\n\u201cUntil I have won the kingship of this land from all claimants, I am no\nmatch for the mate of the High King of Ireland,\u201d he replied.\n\nAnd that reply was llke balm to the heart of Becfola.\n\n\u201cWhat shall I do?\u201d she inquired radiantly. \u201cReturn to your home,\u201d he\ncounselled. \u201cI will escort you there with your maid, for she is not\nreally dead, and when I have won my lordship I will go seek you in\nTara.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will surely come,\u201d she insisted.\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI will come.\u201d\n\nThese three returned then, and at the end of a day and night they saw\nfar off the mighty roofs of Tara massed in the morning haze. The\nyoung man left them, and with many a backward look and with dragging,\nreluctant feet, Becfola crossed the threshold of the palace, wondering\nwhat she should say to Dermod and how she could account for an absence\nof three days\u2019 duration.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nIT was so early that not even a bird was yet awake, and the dull grey\nlight that came from the atmosphere enlarged and made indistinct all\nthat one looked at, and swathed all things in a cold and livid gloom.\n\nAs she trod cautiously through dim corridors Becfola was glad that,\nsaving the guards, no creature was astir, and that for some time yet\nshe need account to no person for her movements. She was glad also of\na respite which would enable her to settle into her home and draw about\nher the composure which women feel when they are surrounded by the walls\nof their houses, and can see about them the possessions which, by the\nfact of ownership, have become almost a part of their personality.\nSundered from her belongings, no woman is tranquil, her heart is not\ntruly at ease, however her mind may function, so that under the broad\nsky or in the house of another she is not the competent, precise\nindividual which she becomes when she sees again her household in order\nand her domestic requirements at her hand.\n\nBecfola pushed the door of the king\u2019s sleeping chamber and entered\nnoiselessly. Then she sat quietly in a seat gazing on the recumbent\nmonarch, and prepared to consider how she should advance to him when\nhe awakened, and with what information she might stay his inquiries or\nreproaches.\n\n\u201cI will reproach him,\u201d she thought. \u201cI will call him a bad husband\nand astonish him, and he will forget everything but his own alarm and\nindignation.\u201d\n\nBut at that moment the king lifted his head from the pillow and looked\nkindly at her. Her heart gave a great throb, and she prepared to speak\nat once and in great volume before he could formulate any question.\nBut the king spoke first, and what he said so astonished her that the\nexplanation and reproach with which her tongue was thrilling fled\nfrom it at a stroke, and she could only sit staring and bewildered and\ntongue-tied.\n\n\u201cWell, my dear heart,\u201d said the king, \u201chave you decided not to keep that\nengagement?\u201d\n\n\u201cI--I--!\u201d Becfola stammered.\n\n\u201cIt is truly not an hour for engagements,\u201d Dermod insisted, \u201cfor not\na bird of the birds has left his tree; and,\u201d he continued maliciously,\n\u201cthe light is such that you could not see an engagement even if you met\none.\u201d\n\n\u201cI,\u201d Becfola gasped. \u201cI---!\u201d\n\n\u201cA Sunday journey,\u201d he went on, \u201cis a notorious bad journey. No good can\ncome from it. You can get your smocks and diadems to-morrow. But at this\nhour a wise person leaves engagements to the bats and the staring owls\nand the round-eyed creatures that prowl and sniff in the dark. Come back\nto the warm bed, sweet woman, and set on your journey in the morning.\u201d\n\nSuch a load of apprehension was lifted from Becfola\u2019s heart that she\ninstantly did as she had been commanded, and such a bewilderment had yet\npossession of her faculties that she could not think or utter a word on\nany subject.\n\nYet the thought did come into her head as she stretched in the warm\ngloom that Crimthann the son of Ae must be now attending her at\nCluain da chaillech, and she thought of that young man as of something\nwonderful and very ridiculous, and the fact that he was waiting for\nher troubled her no more than if a sheep had been waiting for her or a\nroadside bush.\n\nShe fell asleep.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nIn the morning as they sat at breakfast four clerics were announced, and\nwhen they entered the king looked on them with stern disapproval.\n\n\u201cWhat is the meaning of this journey on Sunday?\u201d he demanded.\n\nA lank-jawed, thin-browed brother, with uneasy, intertwining fingers,\nand a deep-set, venomous eye, was the spokesman of those four.\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d he said, and the fingers of his right hand strangled and did\nto death the fingers of his left hand, \u201cindeed, we have transgressed by\norder.\u201d\n\n\u201cExplain that.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have been sent to you hurriedly by our master, Molasius of\nDevenish.\u201d\n\n\u201cA pious, a saintly man,\u201d the king interrupted, \u201cand one who does not\ncountenance transgressions of the Sunday.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe were ordered to tell you as follows,\u201d said the grim cleric, and he\nburied the fingers of his right hand in his left fist, so that one could\nnot hope to see them resurrected again. \u201cIt was the duty of one of\nthe Brothers of Devenish,\u201d he continued, \u201cto turn out the cattle this\nmorning before the dawn of day, and that Brother, while in his duty, saw\neight comely young men who fought together.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the morning of Sunday,\u201d Dermod exploded.\n\nThe cleric nodded with savage emphasis.\n\n\u201cOn the morning of this self-same and instant sacred day.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell on,\u201d said the king wrathfully.\n\nBut terror gripped with sudden fingers at Becfola\u2019s heart.\n\n\u201cDo not tell horrid stories on the Sunday,\u201d she pleaded. \u201cNo good can\ncome to any one from such a tale.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, this must be told, sweet lady,\u201d said the king. But the cleric\nstared at her glumly, forbiddingly, and resumed his story at a gesture.\n\n\u201cOf these eight men, seven were killed.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are in hell,\u201d the king said gloomily.\n\n\u201cIn hell they are,\u201d the cleric replied with enthusiasm.\n\n\u201cAnd the one that was not killed?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is alive,\u201d that cleric responded.\n\n\u201cHe would be,\u201d the monarch assented. \u201cTell your tale.\u201d\n\n\u201cMolasius had those seven miscreants buried, and he took from their\nunhallowed necks and from their lewd arms and from their unblessed\nweapons the load of two men in gold and silver treasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo men\u2019s load!\u201d said Dermod thoughtfully.\n\n\u201cThat much,\u201d said the lean cleric. \u201cNo more, no less. And he has sent us\nto find out what part of that hellish treasure belongs to the Brothers\nof Devenish and how much is the property of the king.\u201d\n\nBecfola again broke in, speaking graciously, regally, hastily: \u201cLet\nthose Brothers have the entire of the treasure, for it is Sunday\ntreasure, and as such it will bring no luck to any one.\u201d\n\nThe cleric again looked at her coldly, with a harsh-lidded, small-set,\ngrey-eyed glare, and waited for the king\u2019s reply.\n\nDermod pondered, shaking his head as to an argument on his left side,\nand then nodding it again as to an argument on his right.\n\n\u201cIt shall be done as this sweet queen advises. Let a reliquary be formed\nwith cunning workmanship of that gold and silver, dated with my date and\nsigned with my name, to be in memory of my grandmother who gave birth to\na lamb, to a salmon, and then to my father, the Ard-Ri\u2019. And, as to the\ntreasure that remains over, a pastoral staff may be beaten from it in\nhonour of Molasius, the pious man.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe story is not ended,\u201d said that glum, spike-chinned cleric.\n\nThe king moved with jovial impatience.\n\n\u201cIf you continue it,\u201d he said, \u201cit will surely come to an end some time.\nA stone on a stone makes a house, dear heart, and a word on a word tells\na tale.\u201d\n\nThe cleric wrapped himself into himself, and became lean and menacing.\nHe whispered: \u201cBesides the young man, named Flann, who was not slain,\nthere was another person present at the scene and the combat and the\ntransgression of Sunday.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho was that person?\u201d said the alarmed monarch.\n\nThe cleric spiked forward his chin, and then butted forward his brow.\n\n\u201cIt was the wife of the king,\u201d he shouted. \u201cIt was the woman called\nBecfola. It was that woman,\u201d he roared, and he extended a lean,\ninflexible, unending first finger at the queen.\n\n\u201cDog!\u201d the king stammered, starting up.\n\n\u201cIf that be in truth a woman,\u201d the cleric screamed.\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d the king demanded in wrath and terror.\n\n\u201cEither she is a woman of this world to be punished, or she is a woman\nof the Shi\u2019 to be banished, but this holy morning she was in the Shi\u2019,\nand her arms were about the neck of Flann.\u201d\n\nThe king sank back in his chair stupefied, gazing from one to the other,\nand then turned an unseeing, fear-dimmed eye towards Becfola.\n\n\u201cIs this true, my pulse?\u201d he murmured.\n\n\u201cIt is true,\u201d Becfola replied, and she became suddenly to the king\u2019s eye\na whiteness and a stare. He pointed to the door.\n\n\u201cGo to your engagement,\u201d he stammered. \u201cGo to that Flann.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is waiting for me,\u201d said Becfola with proud shame, \u201cand the thought\nthat he should wait wrings my heart.\u201d\n\nShe went out from the palace then. She went away from Tara: and in all\nIreland and in the world of living men she was not seen again, and she\nwas never heard of again.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE BRAWL AT ALLEN\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said Cairell Whiteskin, \u201cthat although judgement was given\nagainst Fionn, it was Fionn had the rights of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe had eleven hundred killed,\u201d said Cona\u2019n amiably, \u201cand you may call\nthat the rights of it if you like.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll the same--\u201d Cairell began argumentatively.\n\n\u201cAnd it was you that commenced it,\u201d Cona\u2019n continued.\n\n\u201cHo! Ho!\u201d Cairell cried. \u201cWhy, you are as much to blame as I am.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Cona\u2019n, \u201cfor you hit me first.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if we had not been separated--\u201d the other growled.\n\n\u201cSeparated!\u201d said Cona\u2019n, with a grin that made his beard poke all\naround his face.\n\n\u201cYes, separated. If they had not come between us I still think--\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t think out loud, dear heart, for you and I are at peace by law.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d said Cairell, \u201cand a man must stick by a judgement. Come\nwith me, my dear, and let us see how the youngsters are shaping in the\nschool. One of them has rather a way with him as a swordsman.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo youngster is any good with a sword,\u201d Conan replied.\n\n\u201cYou are right there,\u201d said Cairell. \u201cIt takes a good ripe man for that\nweapon.\u201d\n\n\u201cBoys are good enough with slings,\u201d Confro continued, \u201cbut except for\neating their fill and running away from a fight, you can\u2019t count on\nboys.\u201d\n\nThe two bulky men turned towards the school of the Fianna.\n\nIt happened that Fionn mac Uail had summoned the gentlemen of the Fianna\nand their wives to a banquet. Everybody came, for a banquet given by\nFionn was not a thing to be missed. There was Goll mor mac Morna and his\npeople; Fionn\u2019s son Oisi\u2019n and his grandson Oscar. There was Dermod of\nthe Gay Face, Caelte mac Ronan--but indeed there were too many to be\ntold of, for all the pillars of war and battle-torches of the Gael were\nthere.\n\nThe banquet began.\n\nFionn sat in the Chief Captain\u2019s seat in the middle of the fort; and\nfacing him, in the place of honour, he placed the mirthful Goll mac\nMorna; and from these, ranging on either side, the nobles of the Fianna\ntook each the place that fitted his degree and patrimony.\n\nAfter good eating, good conversation; and after good conversation,\nsleep--that is the order of a banquet: so when each person had been\nserved with food to the limit of desire the butlers carried in shining,\nand jewelled drinking-horns, each having its tide of smooth, heady\nliquor. Then the young heroes grew merry and audacious, the ladies\nbecame gentle and kind, and the poets became wonders of knowledge and\nprophecy. Every eye beamed in that assembly, and on Fionn every eye was\nturned continually in the hope of a glance from the great, mild hero.\n\nGoll spoke to him across the table enthusiastically.\n\n\u201cThere is nothing wanting to this banquet, O Chief,\u201d said he.\n\nAnd Fionn smiled back into that eye which seemed a well of tenderness\nand friendship.\n\n\u201cNothing is wanting,\u201d he replied, \u201cbut a well-shaped poem.\u201d A crier\nstood up then, holding in one hand a length of coarse iron links and in\nthe other a chain of delicate, antique silver. He shook the iron chain\nso that the servants and followers of the household should be silent,\nand he shook the silver one so that the nobles and poets should hearken\nalso.\n\nFergus, called True-Lips, the poet of the Fianna-Finn, then sang of\nFionn and his ancestors and their deeds. When he had finished Fionn and\nOisi\u2019n and Oscar and mac Lugac of the Terrible Hand gave him rare and\ncostly presents, so that every person wondered at their munificence, and\neven the poet, accustomed to the liberality of kings and princes, was\nastonished at his gifts.\n\nFergus then turned to the side of Goll mac Morna, and he sang of the\nForts, the Destructions, the Raids, and the Wooings of clann-Morna; and\nas the poems succeeded each other, Goll grew more and more jovial and\ncontented. When the songs were finished Goll turned in his seat.\n\n\u201cWhere is my runner?\u201d he cried.\n\nHe had a woman runner, a marvel for swiftness and trust. She stepped\nforward.\n\n\u201cI am here, royal captain.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you collected my tribute from Denmark?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is here.\u201d\n\nAnd, with help, she laid beside him the load of three men of doubly\nrefined gold. Out of this treasure, and from the treasure of rings and\nbracelets and torques that were with him, Goll mac Morna paid Fergus for\nhis songs, and, much as Fionn had given, Goll gave twice as much.\n\nBut, as the banquet proceeded, Goll gave, whether it was to harpers or\nprophets or jugglers, more than any one else gave, so that Fionn became\ndispleased, and as the banquet proceeded he grew stern and silent.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n[This version of the death of Uail is not correct. Also Cnocha is not in\nLochlann but in Ireland.]\n\n\nThe wonderful gift-giving of Goll continued, and an uneasiness and\nembarrassment began to creep through the great banqueting hall.\n\nGentlemen looked at each other questioningly, and then spoke again on\nindifferent matters, but only with half of their minds. The singers, the\nharpers, and jugglers submitted to that constraint, so that every person\nfelt awkward and no one knew what should be done or what would happen,\nand from that doubt dulness came, with silence following on its heels.\n\nThere is nothing more terrible than silence. Shame grows in that blank,\nor anger gathers there, and we must choose which of these is to be our\nmaster.\n\nThat choice lay before Fionn, who never knew shame.\n\n\u201cGoll,\u201d said he, \u201chow long have you been taking tribute from the people\nof Lochlann?\u201d\n\n\u201cA long time now,\u201d said Goll.\n\nAnd he looked into an eye that was stern and unfriendly.\n\n\u201cI thought that my rent was the only one those people had to pay,\u201d Fionn\ncontinued.\n\n\u201cYour memory is at fault,\u201d said Goll.\n\n\u201cLet it be so,\u201d said Fionn. \u201cHow did your tribute arise?\u201d\n\n\u201cLong ago, Fionn, in the days when your father forced war on me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cWhen he raised the High King against me and banished me from Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cContinue,\u201d said Fionn, and he held Goll\u2019s eye under the great beetle of\nhis brow.\n\n\u201cI went into Britain,\u201d said Goll, \u201cand your father followed me there. I\nwent into White Lochlann (Norway) and took it. Your father banished me\nthence also.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cI went into the land of the Saxons and your father chased me out of\nthat land. And then, in Lochlann, at the battle of Cnocha your father\nand I met at last, foot to foot, eye to eye, and there, Fionn!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd there, Goll?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd there I killed your father.\u201d\n\nFionn sat rigid and unmoving, his face stony and terrible as the face of\na monument carved on the side of a cliff.\n\n\u201cTell all your tale,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cAt that battle I beat the Lochlannachs. I penetrated to the hold of the\nDanish king, and I took out of his dungeon the men who had lain\nthere for a year and were awaiting their deaths. I liberated fifteen\nprisoners, and one of them was Fionn.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true,\u201d said Fionn.\n\nGoll\u2019s anger fled at the word.\n\n\u201cDo not be jealous of me, dear heart, for if I had twice the tribute I\nwould give it to you and to Ireland.\u201d\n\nBut at the word jealous the Chief\u2019s anger revived.\n\n\u201cIt is an impertinence,\u201d he cried, \u201cto boast at this table that you\nkilled my father.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d Goll replied, \u201cif Fionn were to treat me as his father did\nI would treat Fionn the way I treated Fionn\u2019s father.\u201d\n\nFionn closed his eyes and beat away the anger that was rising within\nhim. He smiled grimly.\n\n\u201cIf I were so minded, I would not let that last word go with you, Goll,\nfor I have here an hundred men for every man of yours.\u201d\n\nGoll laughed aloud.\n\n\u201cSo had your father,\u201d he said.\n\nFionn\u2019s brother, Cairell Whiteskin, broke into the conversation with a\nharsh laugh.\n\n\u201cHow many of Fionn\u2019s household has the wonderful Goll put down?\u201d he\ncried.\n\nBut Goll\u2019s brother, bald Cona\u2019n the Swearer, turned a savage eye on\nCairell.\n\n\u201cBy my weapons,\u201d said he, \u201cthere were never less than an hundred-and-one\nmen with Goll, and the least of them could have put you down easily\nenough.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh?\u201d cried Cairell. \u201cAnd are you one of the hundred-and-one, old\nscaldhead?\u201d\n\n\u201cOne indeed, my thick-witted, thin-livered Cairell, and I undertake to\nprove on your hide that what my brother said was true and that what your\nbrother said was false.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou undertake that,\u201d growled Cairell, and on the word he loosed a\nfurious buffet at Con\u2019an, which Cona\u2019n returned with a fist so big that\nevery part of Cairell\u2019s face was hit with the one blow. The two then\nfell into grips, and went lurching and punching about the great hall.\nTwo of Oscar\u2019s sons could not bear to see their uncle being worsted, and\nthey leaped at Cona\u2019n, and two of Goll\u2019s sons rushed at them. Then Oscar\nhimself leaped up, and with a hammer in either hand he went battering\ninto the melee.\n\n\u201cI thank the gods,\u201d said Cona\u2019n, \u201cfor the chance of killing yourself,\nOscar.\u201d\n\nThese two encountered then, and Oscar knocked a groan of distress out of\nCona\u2019n. He looked appealingly at his brother Art og mac Morna, and that\npowerful champion flew to his aid and wounded Oscar. Oisi\u2019n, Oscar\u2019s\nfather, could not abide that; he dashed in and quelled Art Og. Then\nRough Hair mac Morna wounded Oisin and was himself tumbled by mac Lugac,\nwho was again wounded by Gara mac Morna.\n\nThe banqueting hall was in tumult. In every part of it men were giving\nand taking blows. Here two champions with their arms round each other\u2019s\nnecks were stamping round and round in a slow, sad dance. Here were two\ncrouching against each other, looking for a soft place to hit. Yonder a\nbig-shouldered person lifted another man in his arms and threw him at a\nsmall group that charged him. In a retired corner a gentleman stood in\na thoughtful attitude while he tried to pull out a tooth that had been\nknocked loose.\n\n\u201cYou can\u2019t fight,\u201d he mumbled, \u201cwith a loose shoe or a loose tooth.\u201d\n\n\u201cHurry up with that tooth,\u201d the man in front of him grum-bled, \u201cfor I\nwant to knock out another one.\u201d\n\nPressed against the wall was a bevy of ladies, some of whom were\nscreaming and some laughing and all of whom were calling on the men to\ngo back to their seats.\n\nOnly two people remained seated in the hall.\n\nGoll sat twisted round watching the progress of the brawl critically,\nand Fionn, sitting opposite, watched Goll.\n\nJust then Faelan, another of Fionn\u2019s sons, stormed the hall with three\nhundred of the Fianna, and by this force all Goll\u2019s people were put out\nof doors, where the fight continued.\n\nGoll looked then calmly on Fionn.\n\n\u201cYour people are using their weapons,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cAre they?\u201d Fionn inquired as calmly, and as though addressing the air.\n\n\u201cIn the matter of weapons--!\u201d said Goll.\n\nAnd the hard-fighting pillar of battle turned to where his arms hung on\nthe wall behind him. He took his solid, well-balanced sword in his fist,\nover his left arm his ample, bossy shield, and, with another side-look\nat Fionn, he left the hall and charged irresistibly into the fray.\n\nFionn then arose. He took his accoutrements from the wall also and\nstrode out. Then he raised the triumphant Fenian shout and went into the\ncombat.\n\nThat was no place for a sick person to be. It was not the corner which\na slender-fingered woman would choose to do up her hair; nor was it the\nspot an ancient man would select to think quietly in, for the tumult of\nsword on sword, of axe on shield, the roar of the contending parties,\nthe crying of wounded men, and the screaming of frightened women\ndestroyed peace, and over all was the rallying cry of Goll mac Morna and\nthe great shout of Fionn.\n\nThen Fergus True-Lips gathered about him all the poets of the Fianna,\nand they surrounded the combatants. They began to chant and intone\nlong, heavy rhymes and incantations, until the rhythmic beating of their\nvoices covered even the noise of war, so that the men stopped hacking\nand hewing, and let their weapons drop from their hands. These were\npicked up by the poets and a reconciliation was effected between the two\nparties.\n\nBut Fionn affirmed that he would make no peace with clann-Morna until\nthe matter had been judged by the king, Cormac mac Art, and by his\ndaughter Ailve, and by his son Cairbre of Ana Life\u2019 and by Fintan the\nchief poet. Goll agreed that the affair should be submitted to that\ncourt, and a day was appointed, a fortnight from that date, to meet\nat Tara of the Kings for judgement. Then the hall was cleansed and the\nbanquet recommenced.\n\nOf Fionn\u2019s people eleven hundred of men and women were dead, while of\nGoll\u2019s people eleven men and fifty women were dead. But it was through\nfright the women died, for not one of them had a wound or a bruise or a\nmark.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nAT the end of a fortnight Fionn and Goll and the chief men of the Fianna\nattended at Tara. The king, his son and daughter, with Flahri, Feehal,\nand Fintan mac Bocna sat in the place of judgement, and Cormac called on\nthe witnesses for evidence.\n\nFionn stood up, but the moment he did so Goll mac Morna arose also.\n\n\u201cI object to Fionn giving evidence,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cWhy so?\u201d the king asked.\n\n\u201cBecause in any matter that concerned me Fionn would turn a lie into\ntruth and the truth into a lie.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not think that is so,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cYou see, he has already commenced it,\u201d cried Goll.\n\n\u201cIf you object to the testimony of the chief person present, in what way\nare we to obtain evidence?\u201d the king demanded.\n\n\u201cI,\u201d said Goll, \u201cwill trust to the evidence of Fergus True-Lips. He is\nFionn\u2019s poet, and will tell no lie against his master; he is a poet, and\nwill tell no lie against any one.\u201d\n\n\u201cI agree to that,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cI require, nevertheless,\u201d Goll continued, \u201cthat Fergus should swear\nbefore the Court, by his gods, that he will do justice between us.\u201d\n\nFergus was accordingly sworn, and gave his evidence. He stated that\nFionn\u2019s brother Cairell struck Cona\u2019n mac Morna, that Goll\u2019s two sons\ncame to help Cona\u2019n, that Oscar went to help Cairell, and with that\nFionn\u2019s people and the clann-Morna rose at each other, and what had\nstarted as a brawl ended as a battle with eleven hundred of Fionn\u2019s\npeople and sixty-one of Goll\u2019s people dead.\n\n\u201cI marvel,\u201d said the king in a discontented voice, \u201cthat, considering\nthe numbers against them, the losses of clann-Morna should be so small.\u201d\n\nFionn blushed when he heard that.\n\nFergus replied:\n\n\u201cGoll mac Morna covered his people with his shield. All that slaughter\nwas done by him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe press was too great,\u201d Fionn grumbled. \u201cI could not get at him in\ntime or---\u201d\n\n\u201cOr what?\u201d said Goll with a great laugh.\n\nFionn shook his head sternly and said no more.\n\n\u201cWhat is your judgement?\u201d Cormac demanded of his fellow-judges.\n\nFlahri pronounced first.\n\n\u201cI give damages to clann-Morna.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d said Cormac.\n\n\u201cBecause they were attacked first.\u201d\n\nCormac looked at him stubbornly.\n\n\u201cI do not agree with your judgement,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cWhat is there faulty in it?\u201d Flahri asked.\n\n\u201cYou have not considered,\u201d the king replied, \u201cthat a soldier owes\nobedience to his captain, and that, given the time and the place, Fionn\nwas the captain and Goll was only a simple soldier.\u201d\n\nFlahri considered the king\u2019s suggestion.\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d he said, \u201cwould hold good for the white-striking or blows of\nfists, but not for the red-striking or sword-strokes.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is your judgement?\u201d the king asked Feehal. Feehal then pronounced:\n\n\u201cI hold that clann-Morna were attacked first, and that they are to be\nfree from payment of damages.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd as regards Fionn?\u201d said Cormac.\n\n\u201cI hold that on account of his great losses Fionn is to be exempt\nfrom payment of damages, and that his losses are to be considered as\ndamages.\u201d\n\n\u201cI agree in that judgement,\u201d said Fintan.\n\nThe king and his son also agreed, and the decision was imparted to the\nFianna.\n\n\u201cOne must abide by a judgement,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cDo you abide by it?\u201d Goll demanded.\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d said Fionn.\n\nGoll and Fionn then kissed each other, and thus peace was made. For,\nnotwithstanding the endless bicker of these two heroes, they loved each\nother well.\n\n\nYet, now that the years have gone by, I think the fault lay with Goll\nand not with Fionn, and that the judgement given did not consider\neverything. For at that table Goll should not have given greater gifts\nthan his master and host did. And it was not right of Goll to take by\nforce the position of greatest gift-giver of the Fianna, for there was\nnever in the world one greater at giving gifts, or giving battle, or\nmaking poems than Fionn was.\n\nThat side of the affair was not brought before the Court. But perhaps it\nwas suppressed out of delicacy for Fionn, for if Goll could be accused\nof ostentation, Fionn was open to the uglier charge of jealousy. It\nwas, nevertheless, Goll\u2019s forward and impish temper which commenced the\nbrawl, and the verdict of time must be to exonerate Fionn and to let the\nblame go where it is merited.\n\nThere is, however, this to be added and remembered, that whenever Fionn\nwas in a tight corner it was Goll that plucked him out of it; and, later\non, when time did his worst on them all and the Fianna were sent to hell\nas unbelievers, it was Goll mac Morna who assaulted hell, with a chain\nin his great fist and three iron balls swinging from it, and it was\nhe who attacked the hosts of great devils and brought Fionn and the\nFianna-Finn out with him.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CARL OF THE DRAB COAT\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nOne day something happened to Fionn, the son of Uail; that is, he\ndeparted from the world of men, and was set wandering in great distress\nof mind through Faery. He had days and nights there and adventures\nthere, and was able to bring back the memory of these.\n\nThat, by itself, is wonderful, for there are few people who remember\nthat they have been to Faery or aught of all that happened to them in\nthat state.\n\nIn truth we do not go to Faery, we become Faery, and in the beating of a\npulse we may live for a year or a thousand years. But when we return\nthe memory is quickly clouded, and we seem to have had a dream or seen a\nvision, although we have verily been in Faery.\n\nIt was wonderful, then, that Fionn should have remembered all that\nhappened to him in that wide-spun moment, but in this tale there is yet\nmore to marvel at; for not only did Fionn go to Faery, but the great\narmy which he had marshalled to Ben Edair [The Hill of Howth] were\ntranslated also, and neither he nor they were aware that they had\ndeparted from the world until they came back to it.\n\nFourteen battles, seven of the reserve and seven of the regular Fianna,\nhad been taken by the Chief on a great march and manoeuvre. When they\nreached Ben Edair it was decided to pitch camp so that the troops\nmight rest in view of the warlike plan which Fionn had imagined for the\nmorrow. The camp was chosen, and each squadron and company of the host\nwere lodged into an appropriate place, so there was no overcrowding and\nno halt or interruption of the march; for where a company halted that\nwas its place of rest, and in that place it hindered no other company,\nand was at its own ease.\n\nWhen this was accomplished the leaders of battalions gathered on a\nlevel, grassy plateau overlooking the sea, where a consultation began\nas to the next day\u2019s manoeuvres, and during this discussion they looked\noften on the wide water that lay wrinkling and twinkling below them.\n\nA roomy ship under great press of sall was bearing on Ben Edair from the\neast.\n\nNow and again, in a lull of the discussion, a champion would look and\nremark on the hurrying vessel; and it may have been during one of these\nmoments that the adventure happened to Fionn and the Fianna.\n\n\u201cI wonder where that ship comes from?\u201d said Cona\u2019n idly.\n\nBut no person could surmise anything about it beyond that it was a\nvessel well equipped for war.\n\nAs the ship drew by the shore the watchers observed a tall man swing\nfrom the side by means of his spear shafts, and in a little while this\ngentleman was announced to Fionn, and was brought into his presence.\n\nA sturdy, bellicose, forthright personage he was indeed. He was equipped\nin a wonderful solidity of armour, with a hard, carven helmet on\nhis head, a splendid red-bossed shield swinging on his shoulder, a\nwide-grooved, straight sword clashing along his thigh. On his shoulders\nunder the shield he carried a splendid scarlet mantle; over his breast\nwas a great brooch of burnt gold, and in his fist he gripped a pair of\nthick-shafted, unburnished spears.\n\nFionn and the champions looked on this gentleman, and they admired\nexceedingly his bearing and equipment.\n\n\u201cOf what blood are you, young gentleman?\u201d Fionn demanded, \u201cand from\nwhich of the four corners of the world do you come?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name is Cael of the Iron,\u201d the stranger answered, \u201cand I am son to\nthe King of Thessaly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat errand has brought you here?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not go on errands,\u201d the man replied sternly, \u201cbut on the affairs\nthat please me.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe it so. What is the pleasing affair which brings you to this land?\u201d\n\n\u201cSince I left my own country I have not gone from a land or an island\nuntil it paid tribute to me and acknowledged my lordship.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you have come to this realm,\u201d cried Fionn, doubting his ears.\n\n\u201cFor tribute and sovereignty,\u201d growled that other, and he struck the\nhaft of his spear violently on the ground.\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d said Cona\u2019n, \u201cwe have never heard of a warrior, however\ngreat, but his peer was found in Ireland, and the funeral songs of all\nsuch have been chanted by the women of this land.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my hand and word,\u201d said the harsh stranger, \u201cyour talk makes me\nthink of a small boy or of an idiot.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake heed, sir,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cfor the champions and great dragons of\nthe Gael are standing by you, and around us there are fourteen battles\nof the Fianna of Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf all the Fianna who have died in the last seven years were added to\nall that are now here,\u201d the stranger asserted, \u201cI would treat all of\nthese and those grievously, and would curtail their limbs and their\nlives.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is no small boast,\u201d Cona\u2019n murmured, staring at him.\n\n\u201cIt is no boast at all,\u201d said Cael, \u201cand, to show my quality and\nstanding, I will propose a deed to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive out your deed,\u201d Fionn commanded.\n\n\u201cThus,\u201d said Cael with cold savagery. \u201cIf you can find a man among your\nfourteen battalions who can outrun or outwrestle or outfight me, I will\ntake myself off to my own country, and will trouble you no more.\u201d\n\nAnd so harshly did he speak, and with such a belligerent eye did he\nstare, that dismay began to seize on the champions, and even Fionn felt\nthat his breath had halted.\n\n\u201cIt is spoken like a hero,\u201d he admitted after a moment, \u201cand if you\ncannot be matched on those terms it will not be from a dearth of\napplicants.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn running alone,\u201d Fionn continued thoughtfully, \u201cwe have a notable\nchampion, Caelte mac Rona\u2019n.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis son of Rona\u2019n will not long be notable,\u201d the stranger asserted.\n\n\u201cHe can outstrip the red deer,\u201d said Cona\u2019n.\n\n\u201cHe can outrun the wind,\u201d cried Fionn.\n\n\u201cHe will not be asked to outrun the red deer or the wind,\u201d the stranger\nsneered. \u201cHe will be asked to outrun me,\u201d he thundered. \u201cProduce this\nrunner, and we shall discover if he keeps as great heart in his feet as\nhe has made you think.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is not with us,\u201d Cona\u2019n lamented.\n\n\u201cThese notable warriors are never with us when the call is made,\u201d said\nthe grim stranger.\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d cried Fionn, \u201che shall be here in no great time, for I\nwill fetch him myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe it so,\u201d said Cael. \u201cAnd during my absence,\u201d Fionn continued, \u201cI\nleave this as a compact, that you make friends with the Fianna here\npresent, and that you observe all the conditions and ceremonies of\nfriendship.\u201d\n\nCael agreed to that.\n\n\u201cI will not hurt any of these people until you return,\u201d he said.\n\nFionn then set out towards Tara of the Kings, for he thought Caelte mac\nRomin would surely be there; \u201cand if he is not there,\u201d said the champion\nto himself, \u201cthen I shall find him at Cesh Corran of the Fianna.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nHe had not gone a great distance from Ben Edair when he came to\nan intricate, gloomy wood, where the trees grew so thickly and the\nundergrowth was such a sprout and tangle that one could scarcely pass\nthrough it. He remembered that a path had once been hacked through the\nwood, and he sought for this. It was a deeply scooped, hollow way, and\nit ran or wriggled through the entire length of the wood.\n\nInto this gloomy drain Fionn descended and made progress, but when he\nhad penetrated deeply in the dank forest he heard a sound of thumping\nand squelching footsteps, and he saw coming towards him a horrible,\nevil-visaged being; a wild, monstrous, yellow-skinned, big-boned giant,\ndressed in nothing but an ill-made, mud-plastered, drab-coloured coat,\nwhich swaggled and clapped against the calves of his big bare legs. On\nhis stamping feet there were great brogues of boots that were shaped\nlike, but were bigger than, a boat, and each time he put a foot down it\nsquashed and squirted a barrelful of mud from the sunk road.\n\nFionn had never seen the like of this vast person, and he stood gazing\non him, lost in a stare of astonishment.\n\nThe great man saluted him.\n\n\u201cAll alone, Fionn?\u201d he cried. \u201cHow does it happen that not one Fenian\nof the Fianna is at the side of his captain?\u201d At this inquiry Fionn got\nback his wits.\n\n\u201cThat is too long a story and it is too intricate and pressing to be\ntold, also I have no time to spare now.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet tell it now,\u201d the monstrous man insisted.\n\nFionn, thus pressed, told of the coming of Cael of the Iron, of the\nchallenge the latter had issued, and that he, Fionn, was off to Tara of\nthe Kings to find Caelte mac Rona\u2019n.\n\n\u201cI know that foreigner well,\u201d the big man commented.\n\n\u201cIs he the champion he makes himself out to be?\u201d Fionn inquired.\n\n\u201cHe can do twice as much as he said he would do,\u201d the monster replied.\n\n\u201cHe won\u2019t outrun Caelte mac Rona\u2019n,\u201d Fionn asserted. The big man jeered.\n\n\u201cSay that he won\u2019t outrun a hedgehog, dear heart. This Cael will end the\ncourse by the time your Caelte begins to think of starting.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cI no longer know where to turn, or how to protect\nthe honour of Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know how to do these things,\u201d the other man commented with a slow nod\nof the head.\n\n\u201cIf you do,\u201d Fionn pleaded, \u201ctell it to me upon your honour.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will do that,\u201d the man replied.\n\n\u201cDo not look any further for the rusty-kneed, slow-trotting son of\nRona\u2019n,\u201d he continued, \u201cbut ask me to run your race, and, by this hand,\nI will be first at the post.\u201d\n\nAt this the Chief began to laugh.\n\n\u201cMy good friend, you have work enough to carry the two tons of mud that\nare plastered on each of your coat-tails, to say nothing of your weighty\nboots.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d the man cried, \u201cthere is no person in Ireland but myself\ncan win that race. I claim a chance.\u201d\n\nFionn agreed then. \u201cBe it so,\u201d said he. \u201cAnd now, tell me your name?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am known as the Carl of the Drab Coat.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll names are names,\u201d Fionn responded, \u201cand that also is a name.\u201d\n\nThey returned then to Ben Edair.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nWhen they came among the host the men of Ireland gathered about the vast\nstranger; and there were some who hid their faces in their mantles so\nthat they should not be seen to laugh, and there were some who rolled\nalong the ground in merriment, and there were others who could only hold\ntheir mouths open and crook their knees and hang their arms and stare\ndumbfoundedly upon the stranger, as though they were utterly dazed.\n\nCael of the Iron came also on the scene, and he examined the stranger\nwith close and particular attention.\n\n\u201cWhat in the name of the devil is this thing?\u201d he asked of Fionn.\n\n\u201cDear heart,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cthis is the champion I am putting against you\nin the race.\u201d\n\nCael of the Iron grew purple in the face, and he almost swallowed his\ntongue through wrath.\n\n\u201cUntil the end of eternity,\u201d he roared, \u201cand until the very last moment\nof doom I will not move one foot in a race with this greasy, big-hoofed,\nill-assembled resemblance of a beggarman.\u201d\n\nBut at this the Carl burst into a roar of laughter, so that the eardrums\nof the warriors present almost burst inside of their heads.\n\n\u201cBe reassured, my darling, I am no beggarman, and my quality is not more\ngross than is the blood of the most delicate prince in this assembly.\nYou will not evade your challenge in that way, my love, and you shall\nrun with me or you shall run to your ship with me behind you. What\nlength of course do you propose, dear heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cI never run less than sixty miles,\u201d Cael replied sullenly.\n\n\u201cIt is a small run,\u201d said the Carl, \u201cbut it will do. From this place\nto the Hill of the Rushes, Slieve Luachra of Munster, is exactly sixty\nmiles. Will that suit you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t care how it is done,\u201d Cael answered.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said the Carl, \u201cwe may go off to Slieve Luachra now, and in the\nmorning we can start our race there to here.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet it be done that way,\u201d said Cael.\n\nThese two set out then for Munster, and as the sun was setting they\nreached Slieve Luachra and prepared to spend the night there.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\u201cCael, my pulse,\u201d said the Carl, \u201cwe had better build a house or a hut\nto pass the night in.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019Il build nothing,\u201d Cael replied, looking on the Carl with great\ndisfavour.\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d\n\n\u201cI won\u2019t build house or hut for the sake of passing one night here, for\nI hope never to see this place again.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019Il build a house myself,\u201d said the Carl, \u201cand the man who does not\nhelp in the building can stay outside of the house.\u201d\n\nThe Carl stumped to a near-by wood, and he never rested until he had\nfelled and tied together twenty-four couples of big timber. He thrust\nthese under one arm and under the other he tucked a bundle of rushes for\nhis bed, and with that one load he rushed up a house, well thatched and\nsnug, and with the timber that remained over he made a bonfire on the\nfloor of the house.\n\nHis companion sat at a distance regarding the work with rage and\naversion.\n\n\u201cNow Cael, my darling,\u201d said the Carl, \u201cif you are a man help me to look\nfor something to eat, for there is game here.\u201d\n\n\u201cHelp yourself,\u201d roared Cael, \u201cfor all that I want is not to be near\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe tooth that does not help gets no helping,\u201d the other replied.\n\nIn a short time the Carl returned with a wild boar which he had run\ndown. He cooked the beast over his bonfire and ate one half of it,\nleaving the other half for his breakfast. Then he lay down on the\nrushes, and in two turns he fell asleep.\n\nBut Cael lay out on the side of the hill, and if he went to sleep that\nnight he slept fasting. It was he, however, who awakened the Carl in the\nmorning.\n\n\u201cGet up, beggarman, if you are going to run against me.\u201d\n\nThe Carl rubbed his eyes.\n\n\u201cI never get up until I have had my fill of sleep, and there is another\nhour of it due to me. But if you are in a hurry, my delight, you can\nstart running now with a blessing. I will trot on your track when I\nwaken up.\u201d\n\nCael began to race then, and he was glad of the start, for his\nantagonist made so little account of him that he did not know what to\nexpect when the Carl would begin to run.\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d said Cael to himself, \u201cwith an hour\u2019s start the beggarman will\nhave to move his bones if he wants to catch on me,\u201d and he settled down\nto a good, pelting race.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nAt the end of an hour the Carl awoke. He ate the second half of the\nboar, and he tied the unpicked bones in the tail of his coat. Then with\na great rattling of the boar\u2019s bones he started.\n\nIt is hard to tell how he ran or at what speed he ran, but he went\nforward in great two-legged jumps, and at times he moved in\nimmense one-legged, mud-spattering hops, and at times again, with\nwide-stretched, far-flung, terrible-tramping, space-destroying legs he\nran.\n\nHe left the swallows behind as if they were asleep. He caught up on\na red deer, jumped over it, and left it standing. The wind was always\nbehind him, for he outran it every time; and he caught up in jumps and\nbounces on Cael of the Iron, although Cael was running well, with\nhis fists up and his head back and his two legs flying in and out so\nvigorously that you could not see them because of that speedy movement.\n\nTrotting by the side of Cael, the Carl thrust a hand into the tail of\nhis coat and pulled out a fistfull of red bones.\n\n\u201cHere, my heart, is a meaty bone,\u201d said he, \u201cfor you fasted all night,\npoor friend, and if you pick a bit off the bone your stomach will get a\nrest.\u201d\n\n\u201cKeep your filth, beggarman,\u201d the other replied, \u201cfor I would rather be\nhanged than gnaw on a bone that you have browsed.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you run, my pulse?\u201d said the Carl earnestly; \u201cwhy don\u2019t you\ntry to win the race?\u201d\n\nCael then began to move his limbs as if they were the wings of a fly,\nor the fins of a little fish, or as if they were the six legs of a\nterrified spider.\n\n\u201cI am running,\u201d he gasped.\n\n\u201cBut try and run like this,\u201d the Carl admonished, and he gave a\nwriggling bound and a sudden outstretching and scurrying of shanks, and\nhe disappeared from Cael\u2019s sight in one wild spatter of big boots.\n\nDespair fell on Cael of the Iron, but he had a great heart. \u201cI will run\nuntil I burst,\u201d he shrieked, \u201cand when I burst, may I burst to a great\ndistance, and may I trip that beggar-man up with my burstings and make\nhim break his leg.\u201d\n\nHe settled then to a determined, savage, implacable trot. He caught up\non the Carl at last, for the latter had stopped to eat blackberries from\nthe bushes on the road, and when he drew nigh, Cael began to jeer and\nsneer angrily at the Carl.\n\n\u201cWho lost the tails of his coat?\u201d he roared.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t ask riddles of a man that\u2019s eating blackberries,\u201d the Carl\nrebuked him.\n\n\u201cThe dog without a tall and the coat without a tail,\u201d cried Cael.\n\n\u201cI give it up,\u201d the Carl mumbled.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s yourself, beggarman,\u201d jeered Cael.\n\n\u201cI am myself,\u201d the Carl gurgled through a mouthful of blackberries,\n\u201cand as I am myself, how can it be myself? That is a silly riddle,\u201d he\nburbled.\n\n\u201cLook at your coat, tub of grease?\u201d\n\nThe Carl did so.\n\n\u201cMy faith,\u201d said he, \u201cwhere are the two tails of my coat?\u201d \u201cI could\nsmell one of them and it wrapped around a little tree thirty miles\nback,\u201d said Cael, \u201cand the other one was dishonouring a bush ten miles\nbehind that.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is bad luck to be separated from the tails of your own coat,\u201d the\nCarl grumbled. \u201cI\u2019ll have to go back for them. Wait here, beloved, and\neat blackberries until I come back, and we\u2019ll both start fair.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot half a second will I wait,\u201d Cael replied, and he began to run\ntowards Ben Edair as a lover runs to his maiden or as a bee flies to his\nhive.\n\n\u201cI haven\u2019t had half my share of blackberries either,\u201d the Carl lamented\nas he started to run backwards for his coat-tails.\n\nHe ran determinedly on that backward journey, and as the path he had\ntravelled was beaten out as if it had been trampled by an hundred bulls\nyoked neck to neck, he was able to find the two bushes and the two\ncoat-tails. He sewed them on his coat.\n\nThen he sprang up, and he took to a fit and a vortex and an exasperation\nof running for which no description may be found. The thumping of his\nbig boots grew as con-tinuous as the pattering of hailstones on a\nroof, and the wind of his passage blew trees down. The beasts that were\nranging beside his path dropped dead from concussion, and the steam that\nsnored from his nose blew birds into bits and made great lumps of cloud\nfall out of the sky.\n\nHe again caught up on Cael, who was running with his head down and his\ntoes up.\n\n\u201cIf you won\u2019t try to run, my treasure,\u201d said the Carl, \u201cyou will never\nget your tribute.\u201d\n\nAnd with that he incensed and exploded himself into an eye-blinding,\ncontinuous, waggle and complexity of boots that left Cael behind him in\na flash.\n\n\u201cI will run until I burst,\u201d sobbed Cael, and he screwed agitation and\ndespair into his legs until he hummed and buzzed like a blue-bottle on a\nwindow.\n\nFive miles from Ben Edair the Carl stopped, for he had again come among\nblackberries.\n\nHe ate of these until he was no more than a sack of juice, and when\nhe heard the humming and buzzing of Cael of the Iron he mourned and\nlamented that he could not wait to eat his fill He took off his coat,\nstuffed it full of blackberries, swung it on his shoulders, and went\nbounding stoutly and nimbly for Ben Edair.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nIt would be hard to tell of the terror that was in Fionn\u2019s breast and\nin the hearts of the Fianna while they attended the conclusion of that\nrace.\n\nThey discussed it unendingly, and at some moment of the day a man\nupbraided Fionn because he had not found Caelte the son of Rona\u2019n as had\nbeen agreed on.\n\n\u201cThere is no one can run like Caelte,\u201d one man averred.\n\n\u201cHe covers the ground,\u201d said another.\n\n\u201cHe is light as a feather.\u201d\n\n\u201cSwift as a stag.\u201d \u201cLunged like a bull.\u201d\n\n\u201cLegged like a wolf.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe runs!\u201d\n\nThese things were said to Fionn, and Fionn said these things to himself.\n\nWith every passing minute a drop of lead thumped down into every heart,\nand a pang of despair stabbed up to every brain.\n\n\u201cGo,\u201d said Fionn to a hawk-eyed man, \u201cgo to the top of this hill and\nwatch for the coming of the racers.\u201d\n\nAnd he sent lithe men with him so that they might run back in endless\nsuccession with the news.\n\nThe messengers began to run through his tent at minute intervals calling\n\u201cnothing,\u201d \u201cnothing,\u201d \u201cnothing,\u201d as they paused and darted away.\n\nAnd the words, \u201cnothing, nothing, nothing,\u201d began to drowse into the\nbrains of every person present.\n\n\u201cWhat can we hope from that Carl?\u201d a champion demanded savagely.\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d cried a messenger who stood and sped.\n\n\u201cA clump!\u201d cried a champion.\n\n\u201cA hog!\u201d said another.\n\n\u201cA flat-footed.\u201d\n\n\u201cLittle-wlnded.\u201d\n\n\u201cBig-bellied.\u201d\n\n\u201cLazy-boned.\u201d\n\n\u201cPork!\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you think, Fionn, that a whale could swim on land, or what did you\nimagine that lump could do?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d cried a messenger, and was sped as he spoke.\n\nRage began to gnaw in Fionn\u2019s soul, and a red haze danced and flickered\nbefore his eyes. His hands began to twitch and a desire crept over him\nto seize on champions by the neck, and to shake and worry and rage among\nthem like a wild dog raging among sheep.\n\nHe looked on one, and yet he seemed to look on all at once.\n\n\u201cBe silent,\u201d he growled. \u201cLet each man be silent as a dead man.\u201d\n\nAnd he sat forward, seeing all, seeing none, with his mouth drooping\nopen, and such a wildness and bristle lowering from that great glum brow\nthat the champions shivered as though already in the chill of death, and\nwere silent.\n\nHe rose and stalked to the tent-door.\n\n\u201cWhere to, O Fionn?\u201d said a champion humbly.\n\n\u201cTo the hill-top,\u201d said Fionn, and he stalked on.\n\nThey followed him, whispering among themselves, keeping their eyes on\nthe ground as they climbed.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\u201cWhat do you see?\u201d Fionn demanded of the watcher.\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d that man replied.\n\n\u201cLook again,\u201d said Fionn.\n\nThe eagle-eyed man lifted a face, thin and sharp as though it had been\ncarven on the wind, and he stared forward with an immobile intentness.\n\n\u201cWhat do you see?\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d the man replied.\n\n\u201cI will look myself,\u201d said Fionn, and his great brow bent forward and\ngloomed afar.\n\nThe watcher stood beside, staring with his tense face and unwinking,\nlidless eye.\n\n\u201cWhat can you see, O Fionn?\u201d said the watcher.\n\n\u201cI can see nothing,\u201d said Fionn, and he projected again his grim, gaunt\nforehead. For it seemed as if the watcher stared with his whole face,\naye, and with his hands; but Fionn brooded weightedly on distance with\nhis puckered and crannied brow.\n\nThey looked again.\n\n\u201cWhat can you see?\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cI see nothing,\u201d said the watcher.\n\n\u201cI do not know if I see or if I surmise, but something moves,\u201d said\nFionn. \u201cThere is a trample,\u201d he said.\n\nThe watcher became then an eye, a rigidity, an intense out-thrusting and\nransacking of thin-spun distance. At last he spoke.\n\n\u201cThere is a dust,\u201d he said.\n\nAnd at that the champions gazed also, straining hungrily afar, until\ntheir eyes became filled with a blue darkness and they could no longer\nsee even the things that were close to them.\n\n\u201cI,\u201d cried Cona\u2019n triumphantly, \u201cI see a dust.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d cried another.\n\n\u201cAnd I.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see a man,\u201d said the eagle-eyed watcher.\n\nAnd again they stared, until their straining eyes grew dim with tears\nand winks, and they saw trees that stood up and sat down, and fields\nthat wobbled and spun round and round in a giddily swirling world.\n\n\u201cThere is a man,\u201d Cona\u2019n roared.\n\n\n\u201cA man there is,\u201d cried another.\n\n\u201cAnd he is carrying a man on his back,\u201d said the watcher.\n\n\u201cIt is Cael of the Iron carrying the Carl on his back,\u201d he groaned.\n\n\u201cThe great pork!\u201d a man gritted.\n\n\u201cThe no-good!\u201d sobbed another.\n\n\u201cThe lean-hearted.\u201d\n\n\u201cThick-thighed.\u201d\n\n\u201cRamshackle.\u201d\n\n\u201cMuddle-headed.\u201d\n\n\u201cHog!\u201d screamed a champion.\n\nAnd he beat his fists angrily against a tree.\n\nBut the eagle-eyed watcher watched until his eyes narrowed and became\npin-points, and he ceased to be a man and became an optic.\n\n\u201cWait,\u201d he breathed, \u201cwait until I screw into one other inch of sight.\u201d\n\nAnd they waited, looking no longer on that scarcely perceptible speck in\nthe distance, but straining upon the eye of the watcher as though they\nwould penetrate it and look through it.\n\n\u201cIt is the Carl,\u201d he said, \u201ccarrying something on his back, and behind\nhim again there is a dust.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you sure?\u201d said Fionn in a voice that rumbled and vibrated like\nthunder.\n\n\u201cIt is the Carl,\u201d said the watcher, \u201cand the dust behind him is Cael of\nthe Iron trying to catch him up.\u201d\n\nThen the Fianna gave a roar of exultation, and each man seized his\nneighbour and kissed him on both cheeks; and they gripped hands about\nFionn, and they danced round and round in a great circle, roaring with\nlaughter and relief, in the ecstasy which only comes where grisly fear\nhas been and whence that bony jowl has taken itself away.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nThe Carl of the Drab Coat came bumping and stumping and clumping into\nthe camp, and was surrounded by a multitude that adored him and hailed\nhim with tears.\n\n\u201cMeal!\u201d he bawled, \u201cmeal for the love of the stars!\u201d\n\nAnd he bawled, \u201cMeal, meal!\u201d until he bawled everybody into silence.\n\nFionn addressed him.\n\n\u201cWhat for the meal, dear heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor the inside of my mouth,\u201d said the Carl, \u201cfor the recesses and\ncrannies and deep-down profundities of my stomach. Meal, meal!\u201d he\nlamented.\n\nMeal was brought.\n\nThe Carl put his coat on the ground, opened it carefully, and revealed\na store of blackberries, squashed, crushed, mangled, democratic,\nill-looking.\n\n\u201cThe meal!\u201d he groaned, \u201cthe meal!\u201d\n\nIt was given to him.\n\n\u201cWhat of the race, my pulse?\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cWait, wait,\u201d cried the Carl. \u201cI die, I die for meal and blackberries.\u201d\n\nInto the centre of the mess of blackberries he discharged a barrel of\nmeal, and be mixed the two up and through, and round and down, until\nthe pile of white-black, red-brown slibber-slobber reached up to his\nshoulders. Then he commenced to paw and impel and project and cram the\nmixture into his mouth, and between each mouthful he sighed a contented\nsigh, and during every mouthful he gurgled an oozy gurgle.\n\nBut while Fionn and the Fianna stared like lost minds upon the Carl,\nthere came a sound of buzzing, as if a hornet or a queen of the wasps or\na savage, steep-winged griffin was hovering about them, and looking away\nthey saw Cael of the Iron charging on them with a monstrous extension\nand scurry of his legs. He had a sword in his hand, and there was\nnothing in his face but redness and ferocity.\n\nFear fell llke night around the Fianna, and they stood with slack knees\nand hanging hands waiting for death. But the Carl lifted a pawful of his\noozy slop and discharged this at Cael with such a smash that the man\u2019s\nhead spun off his shoulders and hopped along the ground. The Carl then\npicked up the head and threw it at the body with such aim and force\nthat the neck part of the head jammed into the neck part of the body and\nstuck there, as good a head as ever, you would have said, but that it\nbad got twisted the wrong way round. The Carl then lashed his opponent\nhand and foot.\n\n\u201cNow, dear heart, do you still claim tribute and lordship of Ireland?\u201d\n said he.\n\n\u201cLet me go home,\u201d groaned Cael, \u201cI want to go home.\u201d\n\n\u201cSwear by the sun and moon, if I let you go home, that you will send to\nFionn, yearly and every year, the rent of the land of Thessaly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI swear that,\u201d said Cael, \u201cand I would swear anything to get home.\u201d\n\nThe Carl lifted him then and put him sitting into his ship. Then he\nraised his big boot and gave the boat a kick that drove it seven leagues\nout into the sea, and that was how the adventure of Cael of the Iron\nfinished.\n\n\u201cWho are you, sir?\u201d said Fionn to the Carl.\n\nBut before answering the Carl\u2019s shape changed into one of splendour and\ndelight.\n\n\u201cI am ruler of the Shi\u2019 of Rath Cruachan,\u201d he said.\n\nThen Fionn mac Uail made a feast and a banquet for the jovial god, and\nwith that the tale is ended of the King of Thessaly\u2019s son and the Carl\nof the Drab Coat.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ENCHANTED CAVE OF CESH CORRAN\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nFionn mac Uail was the most prudent chief of an army in the world, but\nhe was not always prudent on his own account. Discipline sometimes\nirked him, and he would then take any opportunity that presented for an\nadventure; for he was not only a soldier, he was a poet also, that is, a\nman of science, and whatever was strange or unusual had an irresistible\nat-traction for him. Such a soldier was he that, single-handed, he could\ntake the Fianna out of any hole they got into, but such an inveterate\npoet was he that all the Fianna together could scarcely retrieve him\nfrom the abysses into which he tumbled. It took him to keep the Fianna\nsafe, but it took all the Fianna to keep their captain out of danger.\nThey did not complain of this, for they loved every hair of Fionn\u2019s head\nmore than they loved their wives and children, and that was reasonable\nfor there was never in the world a person more worthy of love than Fionn\nwas.\n\nGoll mac Morna did not admit so much in words, but he admitted it in\nall his actions, for although he never lost an opportunity of killing\na member of Fionn\u2019s family (there was deadly feud between clann-Baiscne\nand clann-Morna), yet a call from Fionn brought Goll raging to his\nassistance like a lion that rages tenderly by his mate. Not even a call\nwas necessary, for Goll felt in his heart when Fionn was threatened, and\nhe would leave Fionn\u2019s own brother only half-killed to fly where his arm\nwas wanted. He was never thanked, of course, for although Fionn loved\nGoll he did not like him, and that was how Goll felt towards Fionn.\n\nFionn, with Cona\u2019n the Swearer and the dogs Bran and Sceo\u2019lan, was\nsitting on the hunting-mound at the top of Cesh Corran. Below and around\non every side the Fianna were beating the coverts in Legney and Brefny,\nranging the fastnesses of Glen Dallan, creeping in the nut and beech\nforests of Carbury, spying among the woods of Kyle Conor, and ranging\nthe wide plain of Moy Conal.\n\nThe great captain was happy: his eyes were resting on the sights he\nliked best--the sunlight of a clear day, the waving trees, the pure\nsky, and the lovely movement of the earth; and his ears were filled with\ndelectable sounds--the baying of eager dogs, the clear calling of young\nmen, the shrill whistling that came from every side, and each sound of\nwhich told a definite thing about the hunt. There was also the plunge\nand scurry of the deer, the yapping of badgers, and the whirr of birds\ndriven into reluctant flight.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nNow the king of the Shi\u2019 of Cesh Corran, Conaran, son of Imidel, was\nalso watching the hunt, but Fionn did not see him, for we cannot see the\npeople of Faery until we enter their realm, and Fionn was not thinking\nof Faery at that moment. Conaran did not like Fionn, and, seeing that\nthe great champion was alone, save for Cona\u2019n and the two hounds Bran\nand Sceo\u2019lan, he thought the time had come to get Fionn into his power.\nWe do not know what Fionn had done to Conaran, but it must have been bad\nenough, for the king of the Shi\u2019 of Cesh Cotran was filled with joy\nat the sight of Fionn thus close to him, thus unprotected, thus\nunsuspicious.\n\nThis Conaran had four daughters. He was fond of them and proud of them,\nbut if one were to search the Shi\u2019s of Ireland or the land of Ireland,\nthe equal of these four would not be found for ugliness and bad humour\nand twisted temperaments.\n\nTheir hair was black as ink and tough as wire: it stuck up and poked out\nand hung down about their heads in bushes and spikes and tangles. Their\neyes were bleary and red. Their mouths were black and twisted, and in\neach of these mouths there was a hedge of curved yellow fangs. They had\nlong scraggy necks that could turn all the way round like the neck of\na hen. Their arms were long and skinny and muscular, and at the end of\neach finger they had a spiked nail that was as hard as horn and as sharp\nas a briar. Their bodies were covered with a bristle of hair and fur\nand fluff, so that they looked like dogs in some parts and like cats\nin others, and in other parts again they looked like chickens. They had\nmoustaches poking under their noses and woolly wads growing out of their\nears, so that when you looked at them the first time you never wanted\nto look at them again, and if you had to look at them a second time you\nwere likely to die of the sight.\n\nThey were called Caevo\u2019g, Cuillen, and Iaran. The fourth daughter,\nIarnach, was not present at that moment, so nothing need be said of her\nyet.\n\nConaran called these three to him.\n\n\u201cFionn is alone,\u201d said he. \u201cFionn is alone, my treasures.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Caevo\u2019g, and her jaw crunched upwards and stuck outwards, as\nwas usual with her when she was satisfied.\n\n\u201cWhen the chance comes take it,\u201d Conaran continued, and he smiled a\nblack, beetle-browed, unbenevolent smile.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a good word,\u201d quoth Cuillen, and she swung her jaw loose and made\nit waggle up and down, for that was the way she smiled.\n\n\u201cAnd here is the chance,\u201d her father added.\n\n\u201cThe chance is here,\u201d Iaran echoed, with a smile that was very like\nher sister\u2019s, only that it was worse, and the wen that grew on her nose\njoggled to and fro and did not get its balance again for a long time.\n\nThen they smiled a smile that was agreeable to their own eyes, but which\nwould have been a deadly thing for anybody else to see.\n\n\u201cBut Fionn cannot see us,\u201d Caevo\u2019g objected, and her brow set downwards\nand her chin set upwards and her mouth squeezed sidewards, so that her\nface looked like a badly disappointed nut.\n\n\u201cAnd we are worth seeing,\u201d Cuillen continued, and the disappointment\nthat was set in her sister\u2019s face got carved and twisted into hers, but\nit was worse in her case.\n\n\u201cThat is the truth,\u201d said Iaran in a voice of lamentation, and her face\ntook on a gnarl and a writhe and a solidity of ugly woe that beat the\nother two and made even her father marvel.\n\n\u201cHe cannot see us now,\u201d Conaran replied, \u201cbut he will see us in a\nminute.\u201d\n\n\u201cWon\u2019t Fionn be glad when he sees us!\u201d said the three sisters.\n\nAnd then they joined hands and danced joyfully around their father, and\nthey sang a song, the first line of which is:\n\n      \u201cFionn thinks he is safe. But who knows when the sky will\n   fall?\u201d\n\nLots of the people in the Shi\u2019 learned that song by heart, and they\napplied it to every kind of circumstance.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nBY his arts Conaran changed the sight of Fionn\u2019s eyes, and he did the\nsame for Cona\u2019n.\n\nIn a few minutes Fionn stood up from his place on the mound. Everything\nwas about him as before, and he did not know that he had gone into\nFaery. He walked for a minute up and down the hillock. Then, as by\nchance, he stepped down the sloping end of the mound and stood with his\nmouth open, staring. He cried out:\n\n\u201cCome down here, Cona\u2019n, my darling.\u201d\n\nCona\u2019n stepped down to him.\n\n\u201cAm I dreaming?\u201d Fionn demanded, and he stretched out his finger before\nhim.\n\n\u201cIf you are dreaming,\u201d said Congn, \u201cI\u2019m dreaming too. They weren\u2019t here\na minute ago,\u201d he stammered.\n\nFionn looked up at the sky and found that it was still there. He stared\nto one side and saw the trees of Kyle Conor waving in the distance. He\nbent his ear to the wind and heard the shouting of hunters, the yapping\nof dogs, and the clear whistles, which told how the hunt was going.\n\n\u201cWell!\u201d said Fionn to himself.\n\n\u201cBy my hand!\u201d quoth Cona\u2019n to his own soul.\n\nAnd the two men stared into the hillside as though what they were\nlooking at was too wonderful to be looked away from.\n\n\u201cWho are they?\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cWhat are they?\u201d Cona\u2019n gasped. And they stared again.\n\nFor there was a great hole like a doorway in the side of the mound, and\nin that doorway the daughters of Conaran sat spinning. They had three\ncrooked sticks of holly set up before the cave, and they were reeling\nyarn off these. But it was enchantment they were weaving.\n\n\u201cOne could not call them handsome,\u201d said Cona\u2019n.\n\n\u201cOne could,\u201d Fionn replied, \u201cbut it would not be true.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot see them properly,\u201d Fionn complained. \u201cThey are hiding behind\nthe holly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would be contented if I could not see them at all,\u201d his companion\ngrumbled.\n\nBut the Chief insisted.\n\n\u201cI want to make sure that it is whiskers they are wearing.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them wear whiskers or not wear them,\u201d Cona\u2019n counselled. \u201cBut let\nus have nothing to do with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne must not be frightened of anything,\u201d Fionn stated.\n\n\u201cI am not frightened,\u201d Cona\u2019n explained. \u201cI only want to keep my good\nopinion of women, and if the three yonder are women, then I feel sure I\nshall begin to dislike females from this minute out.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome on, my love,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cfor I must find out if these whiskers\nare true.\u201d\n\nHe strode resolutely into the cave. He pushed the branches of holly\naside and marched up to Conaran\u2019s daughters, with Cona\u2019n behind him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nThe instant they passed the holly a strange weakness came over the\nheroes. Their fists seemed to grow heavy as lead, and went dingle-dangle\nat the ends of their arms; their legs became as light as straws and\nbegan to bend in and out; their necks became too delicate to hold\nanything up, so that their heads wibbled and wobbled from side to side.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong at all?\u201d said Cona\u2019n, as he tumbled to the ground.\n\n\u201cEverything is,\u201d Fionn replied, and he tumbled beside him.\n\nThe three sisters then tied the heroes with every kind of loop and twist\nand knot that could be thought of.\n\n\u201cThose are whiskers!\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said Conan.\n\n\u201cWhat a place you must hunt whiskers in?\u201d he mumbled savagely. \u201cWho\nwants whiskers?\u201d he groaned.\n\nBut Fionn was thinking of other things.\n\n\u201cIf there was any way of warning the Fianna not to come here,\u201d Fionn\nmurmured.\n\n\u201cThere is no way, my darling,\u201d said Caevo\u2019g, and she smiled a smile that\nwould have killed Fionn, only that he shut his eyes in time.\n\nAfter a moment he murmured again:\n\n\u201cCona\u2019n, my dear love, give the warning whistle so that the Fianna will\nkeep out of this place.\u201d\n\nA little whoof, like the sound that would be made by a baby and it\nasleep, came from Cona\u2019n.\n\n\u201cFionn,\u201d said he, \u201cthere isn\u2019t a whistle in me. We are done for,\u201d said\nhe.\n\n\u201cYou are done for, indeed,\u201d said Cuillen, and she smiled a hairy and\ntwisty and fangy smile that almost finished Cona\u2019n.\n\nBy that time some of the Fianna had returned to the mound to see why\nBran and Sceo\u2019lan were barking so outrageously. They saw the cave and\nwent into it, but no sooner had they passed the holly branches than\ntheir strength went from them, and they were seized and bound by the\nvicious hags. Little by little all the members of the Fianna returned to\nthe hill, and each of them was drawn into the cave, and each was bound\nby the sisters.\n\nOisi\u2019n and Oscar and mac Lugac came, with the nobles of clann-Baiscne,\nand with those of clann-Corcoran and clann-Smo\u2019l; they all came, and\nthey were all bound.\n\nIt was a wonderful sight and a great deed this binding of the Fianna,\nand the three sisters laughed with a joy that was terrible to hear and\nwas almost death to see. As the men were captured they were carried by\nthe hags into dark mysterious holes and black perplexing labyrinths.\n\n\u201cHere is another one,\u201d cried Caevo\u2019g as she bundled a trussed champion\nalong.\n\n\u201cThis one is fat,\u201d said Cuillen, and she rolled a bulky Fenian along\nlike a wheel.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d said Iaran, \u201cis a love of a man. One could eat this kind of\nman,\u201d she murmured, and she licked a lip that had whiskers growing\ninside as well as out.\n\nAnd the corded champion whimpered in her arms, for he did not know\nbut eating might indeed be his fate, and he would have preferred to be\ncoffined anywhere in the world rather than to be coffined inside of that\nface. So far for them.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nWithin the cave there was silence except for the voices of the hags and\nthe scarcely audible moaning of the Fianna-Finn, but without there was\na dreadful uproar, for as each man returned from the chase his dogs came\nwith him, and although the men went into the cave the dogs did not.\n\nThey were too wise.\n\nThey stood outside, filled with savagery and terror, for they could\nscent their masters and their masters\u2019 danger, and perhaps they could\nget from the cave smells till then unknown and full of alarm.\n\nFrom the troop of dogs there arose a baying and barking, a snarling and\nhowling and growling, a yelping and squealing and bawling for which no\nwords can be found. Now and again a dog nosed among a thousand smells\nand scented his master; the ruff of his neck stood up like a hog\u2019s\nbristles and a netty ridge prickled along his spine. Then with red eyes,\nwith bared fangs, with a hoarse, deep snort and growl he rushed at the\ncave, and then he halted and sneaked back again with all his ruffles\nsmoothed, his tail between his legs, his eyes screwed sideways in\nmiserable apology and alarm, and a long thin whine of woe dribbling out\nof his nose.\n\nThe three sisters took their wide-channelled, hard-tempered swords in\ntheir hands, and prepared to slay the Fianna, but before doing so they\ngave one more look from the door of the cave to see if there might be a\nstraggler of the Fianna who was escaping death by straggling, and they\nsaw one coming towards them with Bran and Sceo\u2019lan leaping beside him,\nwhile all the other dogs began to burst their throats with barks and\nsplit their noses with snorts and wag their tails off at sight of the\ntall, valiant, white-toothed champion, Goll mor mac Morna. \u201cWe will kill\nthat one first,\u201d said Caevo\u2019g.\n\n\u201cThere is only one of him,\u201d said Cuillen.\n\n\u201cAnd each of us three is the match for an hundred,\u201d said Iaran.\n\nThe uncanny, misbehaved, and outrageous harridans advanced then to meet\nthe son of Morna, and when he saw these three Goll whipped the sword\nfrom his thigh, swung his buckler round, and got to them in ten great\nleaps.\n\nSilence fell on the world during that conflict. The wind went down; the\nclouds stood still; the old hill itself held its breath; the warriors\nwithin ceased to be men and became each an ear; and the dogs sat in\na vast circle round the combatants, with their heads all to one side,\ntheir noses poked forward, their mouths half open, and their tails\nforgotten. Now and again a dog whined in a whisper and snapped a\nlittle snap on the air, but except for that there was neither sound nor\nmovement.\n\nIt was a long fight. It was a hard and a tricky fight, and Goll won it\nby bravery and strategy and great good luck; for with one shrewd slice\nof his blade he carved two of these mighty termagants into equal halves,\nso that there were noses and whiskers to his right hand and knees and\ntoes to his left: and that stroke was known afterwards as one of the\nthree great sword-strokes of Ireland. The third hag, however, had\nmanaged to get behind Goll, and she leaped on to his back with the bound\nof a panther, and hung here with the skilful, many-legged, tight-twisted\nclutching of a spider. But the great champion gave a twist of his hips\nand a swing of his shoulders that whirled her around him like a sack.\nHe got her on the ground and tied her hands with the straps of a shield,\nand he was going to give her the last blow when she appealed to his\nhonour and bravery.\n\n\u201cI put my life under your protection,\u201d said she. \u201cAnd if you let me go\nfree I will lift the enchantment from the Fianna-Finn and will give them\nall back to you again.\u201d\n\n\u201cI agree to that,\u201d said Goll, and he untied her straps. The harridan did\nas she had promised, and in a short time Fionn and Oisi\u2019n and Oscar and\nCona\u2019n were released, and after that all the Fianna were released.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nAs each man came out of the cave he gave a jump and a shout; the courage\nof the world went into him and he felt that he could fight twenty. But\nwhile they were talking over the adventure and explaining how it had\nhappened, a vast figure strode over the side of the hill and descended\namong them. It was Conaran\u2019s fourth daughter.\n\nIf the other three had been terrible to look on, this one was more\nterrible than the three together. She was clad in iron plate, and she\nhad a wicked sword by her side and a knobby club in her hand She halted\nby the bodies of her sisters, and bitter tears streamed down into her\nbeard.\n\n\u201cAlas, my sweet ones,\u201d said she, \u201cI am too late.\u201d\n\nAnd then she stared fiercely at Fionn.\n\n\u201cI demand a combat,\u201d she roared.\n\n\u201cIt is your right,\u201d said Fionn. He turned to his son.\n\n\u201cOisi\u2019n, my heart, kill me this honourable hag.\u201d But for the only time\nin his life Oisi\u2019n shrank from a combat.\n\n\u201cI cannot do it,\u201d he said, \u201cI feel too weak.\u201d\n\nFionn was astounded. \u201cOscar,\u201d he said, \u201cwill you kill me this great\nhag?\u201d\n\nOscar stammered miserably. \u201cI would not be able to,\u201d he said.\n\nCona\u2019n also refused, and so did Caelte mac Rona\u2019n and mac Lugac, for\nthere was no man there but was terrified by the sight of that mighty and\nvaliant harridan.\n\nFionn rose to his feet. \u201cI will take this combat myself,\u201d he said\nsternly.\n\nAnd he swung his buckler forward and stretched his right hand to the\nsword. But at that terrible sight Goll mae Morna blushed deeply and\nleaped from the ground.\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d he cried; \u201cno, my soul, Fionn, this would not be a proper\ncombat for you. I take this fight.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have done your share, Goll,\u201d said the captain.\n\n\u201cI should finish the fight I began,\u201d Goll continued, \u201cfor it was I who\nkilled the two sisters of this valiant hag, and it is against me the\nfeud lies.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will do for me,\u201d said the horrible daughter of Conaran. \u201cI will\nkill Goll mor mac Morna first, and after that I will kill Fionn, and\nafter that I will kill every Fenian of the Fianna-Finn.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may begin, Goll,\u201d said Fionn, \u201cand I give you my blessing.\u201d\n\nGoll then strode forward to the fight, and the hag moved against him\nwith equal alacrity. In a moment the heavens rang to the clash of swords\non bucklers. It was hard to with-stand the terrific blows of that mighty\nfemale, for her sword played with the quickness of lightning and smote\nlike the heavy crashing of a storm. But into that din and encirclement\nGoll pressed and ventured, steady as a rock in water, agile as a\ncreature of the sea, and when one of the combatants retreated it was\nthe hag that gave backwards. As her foot moved a great shout of joy rose\nfrom the Fianna. A snarl went over the huge face of the monster and\nshe leaped forward again, but she met Goll\u2019s point in the road; it went\nthrough her, and in another moment Goll took her head from its shoulders\nand swung it on high before Fionn.\n\nAs the Fianna turned homewards Fionn spoke to his great champion and\nenemy.\n\n\u201cGoll,\u201d he said, \u201cI have a daughter.\u201d\n\n\u201cA lovely girl, a blossom of the dawn,\u201d said Goll.\n\n\u201cWould she please you as a wife?\u201d the chief demanded.\n\n\u201cShe would please me,\u201d said Goll.\n\n\u201cShe is your wife,\u201d said Fionn.\n\n\nBut that did not prevent Goll from killing Fionn\u2019s brother Cairell later\non, nor did it prevent Fionn from killing Goll later on again, and\nthe last did not prevent Goll from rescuing Fionn out of hell when the\nFianna-Finn were sent there under the new God. Nor is there any reason\nto complain or to be astonished at these things, for it is a mutual\nworld we llve in, a give-and-take world, and there is no great harm in\nit.\n\n\n\n\nBECUMA OF THE WHITE SKIN\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nThere are more worlds than one, and in many ways they are unlike each\nother. But joy and sorrow, or, in other words, good and evil, are not\nabsent in their degree from any of the worlds, for wherever there is\nlife there is action, and action is but the expression of one or other\nof these qualities.\n\nAfter this Earth there is the world of the Shi\u2019. Beyond it again lies\nthe Many-Coloured Land. Next comes the Land of Wonder, and after that\nthe Land of Promise awaits us. You will cross clay to get into the Shi\u2019;\nyou will cross water to attain the Many-Coloured Land; fire must be\npassed ere the Land of Wonder is attained, but we do not know what will\nbe crossed for the fourth world.\n\nThis adventure of Conn the Hundred Fighter and his son Art was by the\nway of water, and therefore he was more advanced in magic than Fionn\nwas, all of whose adventures were by the path of clay and into Faery\nonly, but Conn was the High King and so the arch-magician of Ireland.\n\nA council had been called in the Many-Coloured Land to discuss the case\nof a lady named Becuma Cneisgel, that is, Becuma of the White Skin, the\ndaughter of Eogan Inver. She had run away from her husband Labraid and\nhad taken refuge with Gadiar, one of the sons of Mananna\u2019n mac Lir, the\ngod of the sea, and the ruler, therefore, of that sphere.\n\nIt seems, then, that there is marriage in two other spheres. In the\nShi\u2019 matrimony is recorded as being parallel in every respect with\nearth-marriage, and the desire which urges to it seems to be as violent\nand inconstant as it is with us; but in the Many-Coloured Land marriage\nis but a contemplation of beauty, a brooding and meditation wherein all\ngrosser desire is unknown and children are born to sinless parents.\n\nIn the Shi\u2019 the crime of Becuma would have been lightly considered, and\nwould have received none or but a nominal punishment, but in the second\nworld a horrid gravity attaches to such a lapse, and the retribution\nmeted is implacable and grim. It may be dissolution by fire, and that\ncan note a destruction too final for the mind to contemplate; or it may\nbe banishment from that sphere to a lower and worse one.\n\nThis was the fate of Becuma of the White Skin.\n\nOne may wonder how, having attained to that sphere, she could have\ncarried with her so strong a memory of the earth. It is certain that she\nwas not a fit person to exist in the Many-Coloured Land, and it is to be\nfeared that she was organised too grossly even for life in the Shi\u2019.\n\nShe was an earth-woman, and she was banished to the earth.\n\nWord was sent to the Shi\u2019s of Ireland that this lady should not be\npermitted to enter any of them; from which it would seem that the\nordinances of the Shi come from the higher world, and, it might follow,\nthat the conduct of earth lies in the Shi\u2019.\n\nIn that way, the gates of her own world and the innumerable doors of\nFaery being closed against her, Becuma was forced to appear in the world\nof men.\n\nIt is pleasant, however, notwithstanding her terrible crime and her\nwoeful punishment, to think how courageous she was. When she was told\nher sentence, nay, her doom, she made no outcry, nor did she waste any\ntime in sorrow. She went home and put on her nicest clothes.\n\nShe wore a red satin smock, and, over this, a cloak of green silk out of\nwhich long fringes of gold swung and sparkled, and she had light sandals\nof white bronze on her thin, shapely feet. She had long soft hair that\nwas yellow as gold, and soft as the curling foam of the sea. Her eyes\nwere wide and clear as water and were grey as a dove\u2019s breast. Her teeth\nwere white as snow and of an evenness to marvel at. Her lips were thin\nand beautifully curved: red lips in truth, red as winter berries and\ntempting as the fruits of summer. The people who superintended her\ndeparture said mournfully that when she was gone there would be no more\nbeauty left in their world.\n\nShe stepped into a coracle, it was pushed on the enchanted waters, and\nit went forward, world within world, until land appeared, and her boat\nswung in low tide against a rock at the foot of Ben Edair.\n\nSo far for her.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nConn the Hundred Fighter, Ard-Ri\u2019 of Ireland, was in the lowest spirits\nthat can be imagined, for his wife was dead. He had been Ard-Ri for nine\nyears, and during his term the corn used to be reaped three times in\neach year, and there was full and plenty of everything. There are few\nkings who can boast of more kingly results than he can, but there was\nsore trouble in store for him.\n\nHe had been married to Eithne, the daughter of Brisland Binn, King of\nNorway, and, next to his subjects, he loved his wife more than all that\nwas lovable in the world. But the term of man and woman, of king or\nqueen, is set in the stars, and there is no escaping Doom for any one;\nso, when her time came, Eithne died.\n\nNow there were three great burying-places in Ireland--the Brugh of the\nBoyne in Ulster, over which Angus Og is chief and god; the Shi\u2019 mound\nof Cruachan Ahi, where Ethal Anbual presides over the underworld of\nConnacht, and Tailltin, in Royal Meath. It was in this last, the sacred\nplace of his own lordship, that Conn laid his wife to rest.\n\nHer funeral games were played during nine days. Her keen was sung by\npoets and harpers, and a cairn ten acres wide was heaved over her clay.\nThen the keening ceased and the games drew to an end; the princes of the\nFive Prov-inces returned by horse or by chariot to their own places;\nthe concourse of mourners melted away, and there was nothing left by\nthe great cairn but the sun that dozed upon it in the daytime, the heavy\nclouds that brooded on it in the night, and the desolate, memoried king.\n\nFor the dead queen had been so lovely that Conn could not forget her;\nshe had been so kind at every moment that he could not but miss her at\nevery moment; but it was in the Council Chamber and the Judgement\nHall that he most pondered her memory. For she had also been wise, and\nlack-ing her guidance, all grave affairs seemed graver, shadowing each\nday and going with him to the pillow at night.\n\nThe trouble of the king becomes the trouble of the subject, for how\nshall we live if judgement is withheld, or if faulty decisions are\npromulgated? Therefore, with the sorrow of the king, all Ireland was in\ngrief, and it was the wish of every person that he should marry again.\n\nSuch an idea, however, did not occur to him, for he could not conceive\nhow any woman should fill the place his queen had vacated. He grew more\nand more despondent, and less and less fitted to cope with affairs of\nstate, and one day he instructed his son Art to take the rule during his\nabsence, and he set out for Ben Edair.\n\nFor a great wish had come upon him to walk beside the sea; to listen\nto the roll and boom of long, grey breakers; to gaze on an unfruitful,\ndesolate wilderness of waters; and to forget in those sights all that\nhe could forget, and if he could not forget then to remember all that he\nshould remember.\n\nHe was thus gazing and brooding when one day he observed a coracle\ndrawing to the shore. A young girl stepped from it and walked to him\namong black boulders and patches of yellow sand.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nBeing a king he had authority to ask questions. Conn asked her,\ntherefore, all the questions that he could think of, for it is not every\nday that a lady drives from the sea, and she wearing a golden-fringed\ncloak of green silk through which a red satin smock peeped at the\nopenings. She replied to his questions, but she did not tell him all the\ntruth; for, indeed, she could not afford to.\n\nShe knew who he was, for she retained some of the powers proper to the\nworlds she had left, and as he looked on her soft yellow hair and on her\nthin red lips, Conn recognised, as all men do, that one who is lovely\nmust also be good, and so he did not frame any inquiry on that count;\nfor everything is forgotten in the presence of a pretty woman, and a\nmagician can be bewitched also.\n\nShe told Conn that the fame of his son Art had reached even the\nMany-Coloured Land, and that she had fallen in love with the boy. This\ndid not seem unreasonable to one who had himself ventured much in Faery,\nand who had known so many of the people of that world leave their own\nland for the love of a mortal.\n\n\u201cWhat is your name, my sweet lady?\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cI am called Delvcaem (Fair Shape) and I am the daughter of Morgan,\u201d she\nreplied.\n\n\u201cI have heard much of Morgan,\u201d said the king. \u201cHe is a very great\nmagician.\u201d\n\nDuring this conversation Conn had been regarding her with the minute\nfreedom which is right only in a king. At what precise instant he forgot\nhis dead consort we do not know, but it is certain that at this moment\nhis mind was no longer burdened with that dear and lovely memory. His\nvoice was melancholy when he spoke again.\n\n\u201cYou love my son!\u201d\n\n\u201cWho could avoid loving him?\u201d she murmured.\n\n\u201cWhen a woman speaks to a man about the love she feels for another man\nshe is not liked. And,\u201d he continued, \u201cwhen she speaks to a man who has\nno wife of his own about her love for another man then she is disliked.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would not be disliked by you,\u201d Becuma murmured.\n\n\u201cNevertheless,\u201d said he regally, \u201cI will not come between a woman and\nher choice.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not know you lacked a wife,\u201d said Becuma, but indeed she did.\n\n\u201cYou know it now,\u201d the king replied sternly.\n\n\u201cWhat shall I do?\u201d she inquired, \u201cam I to wed you or your son?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must choose,\u201d Conn answered.\n\n\u201cIf you allow me to choose it means that you do not want me very badly,\u201d\n said she with a smile.\n\n\u201cThen I will not allow you to choose,\u201d cried the king, \u201cand it is with\nmyself you shall marry.\u201d\n\nHe took her hand in his and kissed it.\n\n\u201cLovely is this pale thin hand. Lovely is the slender foot that I see in\na small bronze shoe,\u201d said the king.\n\nAfter a suitable time she continued:\n\n\u201cI should not like your son to be at Tara when I am there, or for a year\nafterwards, for I do not wish to meet him until I have forgotten him and\nhave come to know you well.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not wish to banish my son,\u201d the king protested.\n\n\u201cIt would not really be a banishment,\u201d she said. \u201cA prince\u2019s duty could\nbe set him, and in such an absence he would improve his knowledge both\nof Ireland and of men. Further,\u201d she continued with downcast eyes,\n\u201cwhen you remember the reason that brought me here you will see that his\npresence would be an embarrassment to us both, and my presence would be\nunpleasant to him if he remembers his mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cNevertheless,\u201d said Conn stubbornly, \u201cI do not wish to banish my son;\nit is awkward and unnecessary.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor a year only,\u201d she pleaded.\n\n\u201cIt is yet,\u201d he continued thoughtfully, \u201ca reasonable reason that you\ngive and I will do what you ask, but by my hand and word I don\u2019t like\ndoing it.\u201d\n\nThey set out then briskly and joyfully on the homeward journey, and in\ndue time they reached Tara of the Kings.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nIt is part of the education of a prince to be a good chess player, and\nto continually exercise his mind in view of the judgements that he will\nbe called upon to give and the knotty, tortuous, and perplexing matters\nwhich will obscure the issues which he must judge. Art, the son of Conn,\nwas sitting at chess with Cromdes, his father\u2019s magician.\n\n\u201cBe very careful about the move you are going to make,\u201d said Cromdes.\n\n\u201cCAN I be careful?\u201d Art inquired. \u201cIs the move that you are thinking of\nin my power?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not,\u201d the other admitted.\n\n\u201cThen I need not be more careful than usual,\u201d Art replied, and he made\nhis move.\n\n\u201cIt is a move of banishment,\u201d said Cromdes.\n\n\u201cAs I will not banish myself, I suppose my father will do it, but I do\nnot know why he should.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour father will not banish you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho then?\u201d \u201cYour mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy mother is dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have a new one,\u201d said the magician.\n\n\u201cHere is news,\u201d said Art. \u201cI think I shall not love my new mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will yet love her better than she loves you,\u201d said Cromdes, meaning\nthereby that they would hate each other.\n\nWhile they spoke the king and Becuma entered the palace.\n\n\u201cI had better go to greet my father,\u201d said the young man.\n\n\u201cYou had better wait until he sends for you,\u201d his companion advised, and\nthey returned to their game.\n\nIn due time a messenger came from the king directing Art to leave Tara\ninstantly, and to leave Ireland for one full year.\n\nHe left Tara that night, and for the space of a year he was not seen\nagain in Ireland. But during that period things did not go well with the\nking nor with Ireland. Every year before that time three crops of corn\nused to be lifted off the land, but during Art\u2019s absence there was no\ncorn in Ireland and there was no milk. The whole land went hungry.\n\nLean people were in every house, lean cattle in every field; the bushes\ndid not swing out their timely berries or seasonable nuts; the bees went\nabroad as busily as ever, but each night they returned languidly, with\nempty pouches, and there was no honey in their hives when the honey\nseason came. People began to look at each other questioningly,\nmeaningly, and dark remarks passed between them, for they knew that a\nbad harvest means, somehow, a bad king, and, although this belief can be\ncombated, it is too firmly rooted in wisdom to be dismissed.\n\nThe poets and magicians met to consider why this disaster should have\nbefallen the country and by their arts they discovered the truth about\nthe king\u2019s wife, and that she was Becuma of the White Skin, and they\ndiscovered also the cause of her banishment from the Many-Coloured Land\nthat is beyond the sea, which is beyond even the grave.\n\nThey told the truth to the king, but he could not bear to be parted from\nthat slender-handed, gold-haired, thin-lipped, blithe enchantress, and\nhe required them to discover some means whereby he might retain his wife\nand his crown. There was a way and the magicians told him of it.\n\n\u201cIf the son of a sinless couple can be found and if his blood be mixed\nwith the soll of Tara the blight and ruin will depart from Ireland,\u201d\n said the magicians.\n\n\u201cIf there is such a boy I will find him,\u201d cried the Hundred Fighter.\n\nAt the end of a year Art returned to Tara. His father delivered to him\nthe sceptre of Ireland, and he set out on a journey to find the son of a\nsinless couple such as he had been told of.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nThe High King did not know where exactly he should look for such a\nsaviour, but he was well educated and knew how to look for whatever was\nlacking. This knowledge will be useful to those upon whom a similar duty\nshould ever devolve.\n\nHe went to Ben Edair. He stepped into a coracle and pushed out to the\ndeep, and he permitted the coracle to go as the winds and the waves\ndirected it.\n\nIn such a way he voyaged among the small islands of the sea until he\nlost all knowledge of his course and was adrift far out in ocean. He was\nunder the guidance of the stars and the great luminaries.\n\nHe saw black seals that stared and barked and dived dancingly, with the\nround turn of a bow and the forward onset of an arrow. Great whales came\nheaving from the green-hued void, blowing a wave of the sea high\ninto the air from their noses and smacking their wide flat tails\nthunder-ously on the water. Porpoises went snorting past in bands and\nclans. Small fish came sliding and flickering, and all the outlandish\ncreatures of the deep rose by his bobbing craft and swirled and sped\naway.\n\nWild storms howled by him so that the boat climbed painfully to the sky\non a mile-high wave, balanced for a tense moment on its level top, and\nsped down the glassy side as a stone goes furiously from a sling.\n\nOr, again, caught in the chop of a broken sea, it stayed shuddering and\nbacking, while above his head there was only a low sad sky, and around\nhim the lap and wash of grey waves that were never the same and were\nnever different.\n\nAfter long staring on the hungry nothingness of air and water he would\nstare on the skin-stretched fabric of his boat as on a strangeness, or\nhe would examine his hands and the texture of his skin and the stiff\nblack hairs that grew behind his knuckles and sprouted around his ring,\nand he found in these things newness and wonder.\n\nThen, when days of storm had passed, the low grey clouds shivered and\ncracked in a thousand places, each grim islet went scudding to the\nhorizon as though terrified by some great breadth, and when they had\npassed he stared into vast after vast of blue infinity, in the depths\nof which his eyes stayed and could not pierce, and wherefrom they could\nscarcely be withdrawn. A sun beamed thence that filled the air with\nsparkle and the sea with a thousand lights, and looking on these he was\nreminded of his home at Tara: of the columns of white and yellow bronze\nthat blazed out sunnily on the sun, and the red and white and yellow\npainted roofs that beamed at and astonished the eye.\n\nSailing thus, lost in a succession of days and nights, of winds and\ncalms, he came at last to an island.\n\nHis back was turned to it, and long before he saw it he smelled it and\nwondered; for he had been sitting as in a daze, musing on a change that\nhad seemed to come in his changeless world; and for a long time he could\nnot tell what that was which made a difference on the salt-whipped wind\nor why he should be excited. For suddenly he had become excited and his\nheart leaped in violent expectation.\n\n\u201cIt is an October smell,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cIt is apples that I smell.\u201d\n\nHe turned then and saw the island, fragrant with apple trees, sweet with\nwells of wine; and, hearkening towards the shore, his ears, dulled yet\nwith the unending rhythms of the sea, distinguished and were filled\nwith song; for the isle was, as it were, a nest of birds, and they sang\njoyously, sweetly, triumphantly.\n\nHe landed on that lovely island, and went forward under the darting\nbirds, under the apple boughs, skirting fragrant lakes about which were\nwoods of the sacred hazel and into which the nuts of knowledge fell and\nswam; and he blessed the gods of his people because of the ground that\ndid not shiver and because of the deeply rooted trees that could not gad\nor budge.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nHaving gone some distance by these pleasant ways he saw a shapely house\ndozing in the sunlight.\n\nIt was thatched with the wings of birds, blue wings and yellow and white\nwings, and in the centre of the house there was a door of crystal set in\nposts of bronze.\n\nThe queen of this island lived there, Rigru (Large-eyed), the daughter\nof Lodan, and wife of Daire Degamra. She was seated on a crystal\nthrone with her son Segda by her side, and they welcomed the High King\ncourteously.\n\nThere were no servants in this palace; nor was there need for them. The\nHigh King found that his hands had washed themselves, and when later on\nhe noticed that food had been placed before him he noticed also that\nit had come without the assistance of servile hands. A cloak was laid\ngently about his shoulders, and he was glad of it, for his own was\nsoiled by exposure to sun and wind and water, and was not worthy of a\nlady\u2019s eye.\n\nThen he was invited to eat.\n\nHe noticed, however, that food had been set for no one but himself, and\nthis did not please him, for to eat alone was contrary to the hospitable\nusage of a king, and was contrary also to his contract with the gods.\n\n\u201cGood, my hosts,\u201d he remonstrated, \u201cit is geasa (taboo) for me to eat\nalone.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut we never eat together,\u201d the queen replied.\n\n\u201cI cannot violate my geasa,\u201d said the High King.\n\n\u201cI will eat with you,\u201d said Segda (Sweet Speech), \u201cand thus, while you\nare our guest you will not do violence to your vows.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d said Conn, \u201cthat will be a great satisfaction, for I have\nalready all the trouble that I can cope with and have no wish to add to\nit by offending the gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is your trouble?\u201d the gentle queen asked. \u201cDuring a year,\u201d Conn\nreplied, \u201cthere has been neither corn nor milk in Ireland. The land is\nparched, the trees are withered, the birds do not sing in Ireland, and\nthe bees do not make honey.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are certainly in trouble,\u201d the queen assented.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d she continued, \u201cfor what purpose have you come to our island?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have come to ask for the loan of your son.\u201d\n\n\u201cA loan of my son!\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been informed,\u201d Conn explained, \u201cthat if the son of a sinless\ncouple is brought to Tara and is bathed in the waters of Ireland the\nland will be delivered from those ills.\u201d\n\nThe king of this island, Daire, had not hitherto spoken, but he now did\nso with astonishment and emphasis.\n\n\u201cWe would not lend our son to any one, not even to gain the kingship of\nthe world,\u201d said he.\n\nBut Segda, observing that the guest\u2019s countenance was discomposed, broke\nin:\n\n\u201cIt is not kind to refuse a thing that the Ard-Ri\u2019 of Ireland asks for,\nand I will go with him.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not go, my pulse,\u201d his father advised.\n\n\u201cDo not go, my one treasure,\u201d his mother pleaded.\n\n\u201cI must go indeed,\u201d the boy replied, \u201cfor it is to do good I am\nrequired, and no person may shirk such a requirement.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo then,\u201d said his father, \u201cbut I will place you under the protection\nof the High King and of the Four Provincial Kings of Ireland, and under\nthe protection of Art, the son of Conn, and of Fionn, the son of Uail,\nand under the protection of the magicians and poets and the men of art\nin Ireland.\u201d And he thereupon bound these protections and safeguards on\nthe Ard-Ri\u2019 with an oath.\n\n\u201cI will answer for these protections,\u201d said Conn.\n\nHe departed then from the island with Segda and in three days they\nreached Ireland, and in due time they arrived at Tara.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nOn reaching the palace Conn called his magicians and poets to a council\nand informed them that he had found the boy they sought--the son of a\nvirgin. These learned people consulted together, and they stated that\nthe young man must be killed, and that his blood should be mixed with\nthe earth of Tara and sprinkled under the withered trees.\n\nWhen Segda heard this he was astonished and defiant; then, seeing that\nhe was alone and without prospect of succour, he grew downcast and was\nin great fear for his life. But remembering the safeguards under which\nhe had been placed, he enumerated these to the assembly, and called on\nthe High King to grant him the protections that were his due.\n\nConn was greatly perturbed, but, as in duty bound, he placed the boy\nunder the various protections that were in his oath, and, with the\ncourage of one who has no more to gain or lose, he placed Segda,\nfurthermore, under the protection of all the men of Ireland.\n\nBut the men of Ireland refused to accept that bond, saying that although\nthe Ard-Ri\u2019 was acting justly towards the boy he was not acting justly\ntowards Ireland.\n\n\u201cWe do not wish to slay this prince for our pleasure,\u201d they argued, \u201cbut\nfor the safety of Ireland he must be killed.\u201d\n\nAngry parties were formed. Art, and Fionn the son of Uail, and the\nprinces of the land were outraged at the idea that one who had been\nplaced under their protection should be hurt by any hand. But the men of\nIreland and the magicians stated that the king had gone to Faery for a\nspecial purpose, and that his acts outside or contrary to that purpose\nwere illegal, and committed no person to obedience.\n\nThere were debates in the Council Hall, in the market-place, in the\nstreets of Tara, some holding that national honour dissolved and\nabsolved all personal honour, and others protesting that no man had\naught but his personal honour, and that above it not the gods, not even\nIreland, could be placed--for it is to be known that Ireland is a god.\n\nSuch a debate was in course, and Segda, to whom both sides addressed\ngentle and courteous arguments, grew more and more disconsolate.\n\n\u201cYou shall die for Ireland, dear heart,\u201d said one of them, and he gave\nSegda three kisses on each cheek.\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d said Segda, returning those kisses, \u201cindeed I had not\nbargained to die for Ireland, but only to bathe in her waters and to\nremove her pestilence.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut dear child and prince,\u201d said another, kissing him likewise, \u201cif any\none of us could save Ireland by dying for her how cheerfully we would\ndie.\u201d\n\nAnd Segda, returning his three kisses, agreed that the death was noble,\nbut that it was not in his undertaking.\n\nThen, observing the stricken countenances about him, and the faces of\nmen and women hewn thin by hunger, his resolution melted away, and he\nsaid:\n\n\u201cI think I must die for you,\u201d and then he said:\n\n\u201cI will die for you.\u201d\n\nAnd when he had said that, all the people present touched his cheek with\ntheir lips, and the love and peace of Ireland entered into his soul, so\nthat he was tranquil and proud and happy.\n\nThe executioner drew his wide, thin blade and all those present covered\ntheir eyes with their cloaks, when a wailing voice called on the\nexecutioner to delay yet a moment. The High King uncovered his eyes and\nsaw that a woman had approached driving a cow before her.\n\n\u201cWhy are you killing the boy?\u201d she demanded.\n\nThe reason for this slaying was explained to her.\n\n\u201cAre you sure,\u201d she asked, \u201cthat the poets and magicians really know\neverything?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo they not?\u201d the king inquired.\n\n\u201cDo they?\u201d she insisted.\n\nAnd then turning to the magicians:\n\n\u201cLet one magician of the magicians tell me what is hidden in the bags\nthat are lying across the back of my cow.\u201d\n\nBut no magician could tell it, nor did they try to.\n\n\u201cQuestions are not answered thus,\u201d they said. \u201cThere is formulae, and\nthe calling up of spirits, and lengthy complicated preparations in our\nart.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not badly learned in these arts,\u201d said the woman, \u201cand I say that\nif you slay this cow the effect will be the same as if you had killed\nthe boy.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe would prefer to kill a cow or a thousand cows rather than harm this\nyoung prince,\u201d said Conn, \u201cbut if we spare the boy will these evils\nreturn?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will not be banished until you have banished their cause.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what is their cause?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecuma is the cause, and she must be banished.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you must tell me what to do,\u201d said Conn, \u201ctell me at least to do\nsomething that I can do.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell you certainly. You can keep Becuma and your ills as long as\nyou want to. It does not matter to me. Come, my son,\u201d she said to\nSegda, for it was Segda\u2019s mother who had come to save him; and then\nthat sinless queen and her son went back to their home of enchantment,\nleaving the king and Fionn and the magicians and nobles of Ireland\nastonished and ashamed.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nThere are good and evil people in this and in every other world, and the\nperson who goes hence will go to the good or the evil that is native\nto him, while those who return come as surely to their due. The trouble\nwhich had fallen on Becuma did not leave her repentant, and the sweet\nlady began to do wrong as instantly and innocently as a flower begins\nto grow. It was she who was responsible for the ills which had come on\nIreland, and we may wonder why she brought these plagues and droughts to\nwhat was now her own country.\n\nUnder all wrong-doing lies personal vanity or the feeling that we are\nendowed and privileged beyond our fellows. It is probable that, however\ncourageously she had accepted fate, Becuma had been sharply stricken in\nher pride; in the sense of personal strength, aloofness, and identity,\nin which the mind likens itself to god and will resist every domination\nbut its own. She had been punished, that is, she had submitted to\ncontrol, and her sense of freedom, of privilege, of very being, was\noutraged. The mind flinches even from the control of natural law, and\nhow much more from the despotism of its own separated likenesses, for if\nanother can control me that other has usurped me, has become me, and how\nterribly I seem diminished by the seeming addition!\n\nThis sense of separateness is vanity, and is the bed of all wrong-doing.\nFor we are not freedom, we are control, and we must submit to our own\nfunction ere we can exercise it. Even unconsciously we accept the rights\nof others to all that we have, and if we will not share our good with\nthem, it is because we cannot, having none; but we will yet give what\nwe have, although that be evil. To insist on other people sharing in\nour personal torment is the first step towards insisting that they shall\nshare in our joy, as we shall insist when we get it.\n\nBecuma considered that if she must suffer all else she met should suffer\nalso. She raged, therefore, against Ireland, and in particular she raged\nagainst young Art, her husband\u2019s son, and she left undone nothing that\ncould afflict Ireland or the prince. She may have felt that she could\nnot make them suffer, and that is a maddening thought to any woman. Or\nperhaps she had really desired the son instead of the father, and her\nthwarted desire had perpetuated itself as hate. But it is true that Art\nregarded his mother\u2019s successor with intense dislike, and it is true\nthat she actively returned it.\n\nOne day Becuma came on the lawn before the palace, and seeing that Art\nwas at chess with Cromdes she walked to the table on which the match was\nbeing played and for some time regarded the game. But the young prince\ndid not take any notice of her while she stood by the board, for he knew\nthat this girl was the enemy of Ireland, and he could not bring himself\neven to look at her.\n\nBecuma, looking down on his beautiful head, smiled as much in rage as in\ndisdain.\n\n\u201cO son of a king,\u201d said she, \u201cI demand a game with you for stakes.\u201d\n\nArt then raised his head and stood up courteously, but he did not look\nat her.\n\n\u201cWhatever the queen demands I will do,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cAm I not your mother also?\u201d she replied mockingly, as she took the seat\nwhich the chief magician leaped from.\n\nThe game was set then, and her play was so skilful that Art was hard put\nto counter her moves. But at a point of the game Becuma grew thoughtful,\nand, as by a lapse of memory, she made a move which gave the victory to\nher opponent. But she had intended that. She sat then, biting on her lip\nwith her white small teeth and staring angrily at Art.\n\n\u201cWhat do you demand from me?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cI bind you to eat no food in Ireland until you find the wand of Curoi,\nson of Dare\u2019.\u201d\n\nBecuma then put a cloak about her and she went from Tara northward and\neastward until she came to the dewy, sparkling Brugh of Angus mac an Og\nin Ulster, but she was not admitted there. She went thence to the Shi\u2019\nruled over by Eogabal, and although this lord would not admit her, his\ndaughter Aine\u2019, who was her foster-sister, let her into Faery.\n\nShe made inquiries and was informed where the dun of Curoi mac Dare\u2019\nwas, and when she had received this intelligence she set out for Sliev\nMis. By what arts she coaxed Curoi to give up his wand it matters not,\nenough that she was able to return in triumph to Tara. When she handed\nthe wand to Art, she said:\n\n\u201cI claim my game of revenge.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is due to you,\u201d said Art, and they sat on the lawn before the palace\nand played.\n\nA hard game that was, and at times each of the combatants sat for an\nhour staring on the board before the next move was made, and at times\nthey looked from the board and for hours stared on the sky seeking as\nthough in heaven for advice. But Becuma\u2019s foster-sister, Aine\u2019, came\nfrom the Shi\u2019, and, unseen by any, she interfered with Art\u2019s play, so\nthat, suddenly, when he looked again on the board, his face went pale,\nfor he saw that the game was lost.\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t move that piece,\u201d said he sternly.\n\n\u201cNor did I,\u201d Becuma replied, and she called on the onlookers to confirm\nthat statement.\n\nShe was smiling to herself secretly, for she had seen what the mortal\neyes around could not see.\n\n\u201cI think the game is mine,\u201d she insisted softly.\n\n\u201cI think that your friends in Faery have cheated,\u201d he replied, \u201cbut the\ngame is yours if you are content to win it that way.\u201d\n\n\u201cI bind you,\u201d said Becuma, \u201cto eat no food in Ireland until you have\nfound Delvcaem, the daughter of Morgan.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere do I look for her?\u201d said Art in despair.\n\n\u201cShe is in one of the islands of the sea,\u201d Becuma replied, \u201cthat is\nall I will tell you,\u201d and she looked at him maliciously, joyously,\ncontentedly, for she thought he would never return from that journey,\nand that Morgan would see to it.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nArt, as his father had done before him, set out for the Many-Coloured\nLand, but it was from Inver Colpa he embarked and not from Ben Edair.\n\nAt a certain time he passed from the rough green ridges of the sea to\nenchanted waters, and he roamed from island to island asking all people\nhow he might come to Delvcaem, the daughter of Morgan. But he got no\nnews from any one, until he reached an island that was fragrant with\nwild apples, gay with flowers, and joyous with the song of birds and the\ndeep mellow drumming of the bees. In this island he was met by a lady,\nCrede\u2019, the Truly Beautiful, and when they had exchanged kisses, he told\nher who he was and on what errand he was bent.\n\n\u201cWe have been expecting you,\u201d said Crede\u2019, \u201cbut alas, poor soul, it is\na hard, and a long, bad way that you must go; for there is sea and land,\ndanger and difficulty between you and the daughter of Morgan.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet I must go there,\u201d he answered.\n\n\u201cThere is a wild dark ocean to be crossed. There is a dense wood where\nevery thorn on every tree is sharp as a spear-point and is curved and\nclutching. There is a deep gulf to be gone through,\u201d she said, \u201ca place\nof silence and terror, full of dumb, venomous monsters. There is an\nimmense oak forest--dark, dense, thorny, a place to be strayed in,\na place to be utterly bewildered and lost in. There is a vast dark\nwilderness, and therein is a dark house, lonely and full of echoes, and\nin it there are seven gloomy hags, who are warned already of your coming\nand are waiting to plunge you in a bath of molten lead.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not a choice journey,\u201d said Art, \u201cbut I have no choice and must\ngo.\u201d\n\n\u201cShould you pass those hags,\u201d she continued, \u201cand no one has yet passed\nthem, you must meet Ailill of the Black Teeth, the son of Mongan Tender\nBlossom, and who could pass that gigantic and terrible fighter?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not easy to find the daughter of Morgan,\u201d said Art in a\nmelancholy voice.\n\n\u201cIt is not easy,\u201d Crede\u2019 replied eagerly, \u201cand if you will take my\nadvice--\u201d\n\n\u201cAdvise me,\u201d he broke in, \u201cfor in truth there is no man standing in such\nneed of counsel as I do.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would advise you,\u201d said Crede\u2019 in a low voice, \u201cto seek no more for\nthe sweet daughter of Morgan, but to stay in this place where all that\nis lovely is at your service.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, but--\u201d cried Art in astonishment.\n\n\u201cAm I not as sweet as the daughter of Morgan?\u201d she demanded, and she\nstood before him queenly and pleadingly, and her eyes took his with\nimperious tenderness.\n\n\u201cBy my hand,\u201d he answered, \u201cyou are sweeter and lovelier than any being\nunder the sun, but--\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd with me,\u201d she said, \u201cyou will forget Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am under bonds,\u201d cried Art, \u201cI have passed my word, and I would\nnot forget Ireland or cut myself from it for all the kingdoms of the\nMany-Coloured Land.\u201d\n\nCrede\u2019 urged no more at that time, but as they were parting she\nwhispered, \u201cThere are two girls, sisters of my own, in Morgan\u2019s palace.\nThey will come to you with a cup in either hand; one cup will be filled\nwith wine and one with poison. Drink from the right-hand cup, O my\ndear.\u201d\n\nArt stepped into his coracle, and then, wringing her hands, she made yet\nan attempt to dissuade him from that drear journey.\n\n\u201cDo not leave me,\u201d she urged. \u201cDo not affront these dangers. Around the\npalace of Morgan there is a palisade of copper spikes, and on the top of\neach spike the head of a man grins and shrivels. There is one spike only\nwhich bears no head, and it is for your head that spike is waiting. Do\nnot go there, my love.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must go indeed,\u201d said. Art earnestly.\n\n\u201cThere is yet a danger,\u201d she called. \u201cBeware of Delvcaem\u2019s mother, Dog\nHead, daughter of the King of the Dog Heads. Beware of her.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed,\u201d said Art to himself, \u201cthere is so much to beware of that I\nwill beware of nothing. I will go about my business,\u201d he said to the\nwaves, \u201cand I will let those beings and monsters and the people of the\nDog Heads go about their business.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nHe went forward in his light bark, and at some moment found that he\nhad parted from those seas and was adrift on vaster and more turbulent\nbillows. From those dark-green surges there gaped at him monstrous\nand cavernous jaws; and round, wicked, red-rimmed, bulging eyes stared\nfixedly at the boat. A ridge of inky water rushed foaming mountainously\non his board, and behind that ridge came a vast warty head that gurgled\nand groaned. But at these vile creatures he thrust with his lengthy\nspear or stabbed at closer reach with a dagger.\n\nHe was not spared one of the terrors which had been foretold. Thus, in\nthe dark thick oak forest he slew the seven hags and buried them in the\nmolten lead which they had heated for him. He climbed an icy mountain,\nthe cold breath of which seemed to slip into his body and chip off\ninside of his bones, and there, until he mastered the sort of climbing\non ice, for each step that he took upwards he slipped back ten steps.\nAlmost his heart gave way before he learned to climb that venomous hill.\nIn a forked glen into which he slipped at night-fall he was surrounded\nby giant toads, who spat poison, and were icy as the land they lived\nin, and were cold and foul and savage. At Sliav Saev he encountered the\nlong-maned lions who lie in wait for the beasts of the world, growling\nwoefully as they squat above their prey and crunch those terrified\nbones. He came on Ailill of the Black Teeth sitting on the bridge that\nspanned a torrent, and the grim giant was grinding his teeth on a pillar\nstone. Art drew nigh unobserved and brought him low.\n\nIt was not for nothing that these difficulties and dangers were in his\npath. These things and creatures were the invention of Dog Head, the\nwife of Morgan, for it had become known to her that she would die on the\nday her daughter was wooed. Therefore none of the dangers encountered\nby Art were real, but were magical chimeras conjured against him by the\ngreat witch.\n\nAffronting all, conquering all, he came in time to Morgan\u2019s dun, a place\nso lovely that after the miseries through which he had struggled he\nalmost wept to see beauty again.\n\nDelvcaem knew that he was coming. She was waiting for him, yearning for\nhim. To her mind Art was not only love, he was freedom, for the poor\ngirl was a captive in her father\u2019s home. A great pillar an hundred feet\nhigh had been built on the roof of Morgan\u2019s palace, and on the top of\nthis pillar a tiny room had been constructed, and in this room Delvcaem\nwas a prisoner.\n\nShe was lovelier in shape than any other princess of the Many-Coloured\nLand. She was wiser than all the other women of that land, and she\nwas skilful in music, embroidery, and chastity, and in all else that\npertained to the knowledge of a queen.\n\nAlthough Delvcaem\u2019s mother wished nothing but ill to Art, she yet\ntreated him with the courtesy proper in a queen on the one hand and\nfitting towards the son of the King of Ireland on the other. Therefore,\nwhen Art entered the palace he was met and kissed, and he was bathed and\nclothed and fed. Two young girls came to him then, having a cup in\neach of their hands, and presented him with the kingly drink, but,\nremembering the warning which Credl had given him, he drank only from\nthe right-hand cup and escaped the poison. Next he was visited by\nDelvcaem\u2019s mother, Dog Head, daughter of the King of the Dog Heads, and\nMorgan\u2019s queen. She was dressed in full armour, and she challenged Art\nto fight with her.\n\nIt was a woeful combat, for there was no craft or sagacity unknown to\nher, and Art would infallibly have perished by her hand but that her\ndays were numbered, her star was out, and her time had come. It was her\nhead that rolled on the ground when the combat was over, and it was\nher head that grinned and shrivelled on the vacant spike which she had\nreserved for Art\u2019s.\n\nThen Art liberated Delvcaem from her prison at the top of the pillar\nand they were affianced together. But the ceremony had scarcely been\ncompleted when the tread of a single man caused the palace to quake and\nseemed to jar the world.\n\nIt was Morgan returning to the palace.\n\nThe gloomy king challenged him to combat also, and in his honour Art\nput on the battle harness which he had brought from Ireland. He wore a\nbreastplate and helmet of gold, a mantle of blue satin swung from his\nshoulders, his left hand was thrust into the grips of a purple\nshield, deeply bossed with silver, and in the other hand he held the\nwide-grooved, blue hilted sword which had rung so often into fights and\ncombats, and joyous feats and exercises.\n\nUp to this time the trials through which he had passed had seemed so\ngreat that they could not easily be added to. But if all those trials\nhad been gathered into one vast calamity they would not equal one half\nof the rage and catastrophe of his war with Morgan.\n\nFor what he could not effect by arms Morgan would endeavour by guile,\nso that while Art drove at him or parried a crafty blow, the shape of\nMorgan changed before his eyes, and the monstrous king was having at him\nin another form, and from a new direction.\n\nIt was well for the son of the Ard-Ri\u2019 that he had been beloved by the\npoets and magicians of his land, and that they had taught him all that\nwas known of shape-changing and words of power.\n\nHe had need of all these.\n\nAt times, for the weapon must change with the enemy, they fought with\ntheir foreheads as two giant stags, and the crash of their monstrous\nonslaught rolled and lingered on the air long after their skulls had\nparted. Then as two lions, long-clawed, deep-mouthed, snarling, with\nrigid mane, with red-eyed glare, with flashing, sharp-white fangs, they\nprowled lithely about each other seeking for an opening. And then as two\ngreen-ridged, white-topped, broad-swung, overwhelming, vehement billows\nof the deep, they met and crashed and sunk into and rolled away from\neach other; and the noise of these two waves was as the roar of all\nocean when the howl of the tempest is drowned in the league-long fury of\nthe surge.\n\nBut when the wife\u2019s time has come the husband is doomed. He is required\nelsewhere by his beloved, and Morgan went to rejoin his queen in the\nworld that comes after the Many-Coloured Land, and his victor shore that\nknowledgeable head away from its giant shoulders.\n\nHe did not tarry in the Many-Coloured Land, for he had nothing further\nto seek there. He gathered the things which pleased him best from among\nthe treasures of its grisly king, and with Delvcaem by his side they\nstepped into the coracle.\n\nThen, setting their minds on Ireland, they went there as it were in a\nflash.\n\nThe waves of all the world seemed to whirl past them in one huge, green\ncataract. The sound of all these oceans boomed in their ears for one\neternal instant. Nothing was for that moment but a vast roar and pour\nof waters. Thence they swung into a silence equally vast, and so sudden\nthat it was as thunderous in the comparison as was the elemental rage\nthey quitted. For a time they sat panting, staring at each other,\nholding each other, lest not only their lives but their very souls\nshould be swirled away in the gusty passage of world within world; and\nthen, looking abroad, they saw the small bright waves creaming by the\nrocks of Ben Edair, and they blessed the power that had guided and\nprotected them, and they blessed the comely land of Ir.\n\nOn reaching Tara, Delvcaem, who was more powerful in art and magic than\nBecuma, ordered the latter to go away, and she did so.\n\nShe left the king\u2019s side. She came from the midst of the counsellors and\nmagicians. She did not bid farewell to any one. She did not say good-bye\nto the king as she set out for Ben Edair.\n\nWhere she could go to no man knew, for she had been ban-ished from the\nMany-Coloured Land and could not return there. She was forbidden entry\nto the Shi\u2019 by Angus Og, and she could not remain in Ireland. She went\nto Sasana and she became a queen in that country, and it was she who\nfostered the rage against the Holy Land which has not ceased to this\nday.\n\n\n\n\nMONGAN\u2019S FRENZY\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nThe abbot of the Monastery of Moville sent word to the story-tellers of\nIreland that when they were in his neighbourhood they should call at\nthe monastery, for he wished to collect and write down the stories which\nwere in danger of being forgotten.\n\n\u201cThese things also must be told,\u201d said he.\n\nIn particular he wished to gather tales which told of the deeds that had\nbeen done before the Gospel came to Ireland.\n\n\u201cFor,\u201d said he, \u201cthere are very good tales among those ones, and it\nwould be a pity if the people who come after us should be ignorant of\nwhat happened long ago, and of the deeds of their fathers.\u201d\n\nSo, whenever a story-teller chanced in that neighbourhood he was\ndirected to the monastery, and there he received a welcome and his fill\nof all that is good for man.\n\nThe abbot\u2019s manuscript boxes began to fill up, and he used to regard\nthat growing store with pride and joy. In the evenings, when the days\ngrew short and the light went early, he would call for some one of these\nmanuscripts and have it read to him by candle-light, in order that he\nmight satisfy himself that it was as good as he had judged it to be on\nthe previous hearing.\n\nOne day a story-teller came to the monastery, and, like all the others,\nhe was heartily welcomed and given a great deal more than his need.\n\nHe said that his name was Cairide\u2019, and that he had a story to tell\nwhich could not be bettered among the stories of Ireland.\n\nThe abbot\u2019s eyes glistened when he heard that. He rubbed his hands\ntogether and smiled on his guest.\n\n\u201cWhat is the name of your story?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cIt is called \u2018Mongan\u2019s Frenzy.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cI never heard of it before,\u201d cried the abbot joyfully.\n\n\u201cI am the only man that knows it,\u201d Cairide\u2019 replied.\n\n\u201cBut how does that come about?\u201d the abbot inquired.\n\n\u201cBecause it belongs to my family,\u201d the story-teller answered. \u201cThere\nwas a Cairide\u2019 of my nation with Mongan when he went into Faery. This\nCairide\u2019 listened to the story when it was first told. Then he told\nit to his son, and his son told it to his son, and that son\u2019s\ngreat-great-grandson\u2019s son told it to his son\u2019s son, and he told it to\nmy father, and my father told it to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you shall tell it to me,\u201d cried the abbot triumphantly.\n\n\u201cI will indeed,\u201d said Cairide\u2019. Vellum was then brought and quills. The\ncopyists sat at their tables. Ale was placed beside the story-teller,\nand he told this tale to the abbot.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nSaid Cairide\u2019:\n\nMongan\u2019s wife at that time was Bro\u2019tiarna, the Flame Lady. She was\npassionate and fierce, and because the blood would flood suddenly to her\ncheek, so that she who had seemed a lily became, while you looked upon\nher, a rose, she was called Flame Lady. She loved Mongan with ecstasy\nand abandon, and for that also he called her Flame Lady.\n\nBut there may have been something of calculation even in her wildest\nmoment, for if she was delighted in her affection she was tormented in\nit also, as are all those who love the great ones of life and strive to\nequal themselves where equality is not possible.\n\nFor her husband was at once more than himself and less than himself.\nHe was less than himself because he was now Mongan. He was more than\nhimself because he was one who had long disappeared from the world of\nmen. His lament had been sung and his funeral games played many,\nmany years before, and Bro\u2019tiarna sensed in him secrets, experiences,\nknowledges in which she could have no part, and for which she was\ngreedily envious.\n\nSo she was continually asking him little, simple questions a\u2019 propos of\nevery kind of thing.\n\nShe weighed all that he said on whatever subject, and when he talked in\nhis sleep she listened to his dream.\n\nThe knowledge that she gleaned from those listenings tormented her\nfar more than it satisfied her, for the names of other women were\ncontinually on his lips, sometimes in terms of dear affection, sometimes\nin accents of anger or despair, and in his sleep he spoke familiarly\nof people whom the story-tellers told of, but who had been dead for\ncenturies. Therefore she was perplexed, and became filled with a very\nrage of curiosity.\n\nAmong the names which her husband mentioned there was one which, because\nof the frequency with which it appeared, and because of the tone of\nanguish and love and longing in which it was uttered, she thought of\noftener than the others: this name was Duv Laca. Although she questioned\nand cross-questioned Cairide\u2019, her story-teller, she could discover\nnothing about a lady who had been known as the Black Duck. But one night\nwhen Mongan seemed to speak with Duv Laca he mentioned her father as\nFiachna Duv mac Demain, and the story-teller said that king had been\ndead for a vast number of years.\n\nShe asked her husband then, boldly, to tell her the story of Duv Laca,\nand under the influence of their mutual love he promised to tell it to\nher some time, but each time she reminded him of his promise he became\nconfused, and said that he would tell it some other time.\n\nAs time went on the poor Flame Lady grew more and more jealous of Duv\nLaca, and more and more certain that, if only she could know what\nhad happened, she would get some ease to her tormented heart and some\nassuagement of her perfectly natural curiosity. Therefore she lost no\nopportunity of reminding Mongan of his promise, and on each occasion he\nrenewed the promise and put it back to another time.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nIn the year when Ciaran the son of the Carpenter died, the same year\nwhen Tuathal Maelgariv was killed and the year when Diarmait the son of\nCerrbel became king of all Ireland, the year 538 of our era in short, it\nhappened that there was a great gathering of the men of Ireland at the\nHill of Uisneach in Royal Meath.\n\nIn addition to the Council which was being held, there were games and\ntournaments and brilliant deployments of troops, and universal feastings\nand enjoyments. The gathering lasted for a week, and on the last day\nof the week Mongan was moving through the crowd with seven guards, his\nstory-teller Cairide\u2019, and his wife.\n\nIt had been a beautiful day, with brilliant sunshine and great sport,\nbut suddenly clouds began to gather in the sky to the west, and others\ncame rushing blackly from the east. When these clouds met the world went\ndark for a space, and there fell from the sky a shower of hailstones, so\nlarge that each man wondered at their size, and so swift and heavy that\nthe women and young people of the host screamed from the pain of the\nblows they received.\n\nMongan\u2019s men made a roof of their shields, and the hailstones battered\non the shields so terribly that even under them they were afraid. They\nbegan to move away from the host looking for shelter, and when they had\ngone apart a little way they turned the edge of a small hill and a knoll\nof trees, and in the twinkling of an eye they were in fair weather.\n\nOne minute they heard the clashing and bashing of the hailstones, the\nhowling of the venomous wind, the screams of women and the uproar of the\ncrowd on the Hill of Uisneach, and the next minute they heard nothing\nmore of those sounds and saw nothing more of these sights, for they had\nbeen permitted to go at one step out of the world of men and into the\nworld of Faery.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nThere is a difference between this world and the world of Faery, but it\nis not immediately perceptible. Everything that is here is there, but\nthe things that are there are better than those that are here. All\nthings that are bright are there brighter. There is more gold in the\nsun and more silver in the moon of that land. There is more scent in the\nflowers, more savour in the fruit. There is more comeliness in the men\nand more tenderness in the women. Everything in Faery is better by this\none wonderful degree, and it is by this betterness you will know that\nyou are there if you should ever happen to get there.\n\nMongan and his companions stepped from the world of storm into sunshine\nand a scented world. The instant they stepped they stood, bewildered,\nlooking at each other silently, questioningly, and then with one accord\nthey turned to look back whence they had come.\n\nThere was no storm behind them. The sunlight drowsed there as it did in\nfront, a peaceful flooding of living gold. They saw the shapes of\nthe country to which their eyes were accustomed, and recognised the\nwell-known landmarks, but it seemed that the distant hills were a trifle\nhigher, and the grass which clothed them and stretched between was\ngreener, was more velvety: that the trees were better clothed and had\nmore of peace as they hung over the quiet ground.\n\nBut Mongan knew what had happened, and he smiled with glee as he watched\nhis astonished companions, and he sniffed that balmy air as one whose\nnostrils remembered it.\n\n\u201cYou had better come with me,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cWhere are we?\u201d his wife asked. \u201cWhy, we are here,\u201d cried Mongan; \u201cwhere\nelse should we be?\u201d\n\nHe set off then, and the others followed, staring about them cautiously,\nand each man keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword.\n\n\u201cAre we in Faery?\u201d the Flame Lady asked.\n\n\u201cWe are,\u201d said Mongan.\n\nWhen they had gone a little distance they came to a grove of ancient\ntrees. Mightily tail and well grown these trees were, and the trunk of\neach could not have been spanned by ten broad men. As they went among\nthese quiet giants into the dappled obscurity and silence, their\nthoughts became grave, and all the motions of their minds elevated\nas though they must equal in greatness and dignity those ancient and\nglorious trees. When they passed through the grove they saw a lovely\nhouse before them, built of mellow wood and with a roof of bronze--it\nwas like the dwelling of a king, and over the windows of the Sunny Room\nthere was a balcony. There were ladies on this balcony, and when they\nsaw the travellers approaching they sent messengers to welcome them.\n\nMongan and his companions were then brought into the house, and all was\ndone for them that could be done for honoured guests. Everything within\nthe house was as excellent as all without, and it was inhabited by seven\nmen and seven women, and it was evident that Mongan and these people\nwere well acquainted.\n\nIn the evening a feast was prepared, and when they had eaten well there\nwas a banquet. There were seven vats of wine, and as Mongan loved wine\nhe was very happy, and he drank more on that occasion than any one had\never noticed him to drink before.\n\nIt was while he was in this condition of glee and expansion that the\nFlame Lady put her arms about his neck and begged he would tell her the\nstory of Duv Laca, and, being boisterous then and full of good spirits,\nhe agreed to her request, and he prepared to tell the tale.\n\nThe seven men and seven women of the Fairy Palace then took their\nplaces about him in a half-circle; his own seven guards sat behind\nthem; his wife, the Flame Lady, sat by his side; and at the back of\nall Cairid, his story-teller sat, listening with all his ears, and\nremembering every word that was uttered.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nSaid Mongan:\n\nIn the days of long ago and the times that have disappeared for ever,\nthere was one Fiachna Finn the son of Baltan, the son of Murchertach,\nthe son of Muredach, the son of Eogan, the son of Neill. He went from\nhis own country when he was young, for he wished to see the land of\nLochlann, and he knew that he would be welcomed by the king of that\ncountry, for Fiachna\u2019s father and Eolgarg\u2019s father had done deeds in\ncommon and were obliged to each other.\n\nHe was welcomed, and he stayed at the Court of Lochlann in great ease\nand in the midst of pleasures.\n\nIt then happened that Eolgarg Mor fell sick and the doctors could not\ncure him. They sent for other doctors, but they could not cure him, nor\ncould any one say what he was suffering from, beyond that he was wasting\nvisibly before their eyes, and would certainly become a shadow and\ndisappear in air unless he was healed and fattened and made visible.\n\nThey sent for more distant doctors, and then for others more distant\nstill, and at last they found a man who claimed that he could make a\ncure if the king were supplied with the medicine which he would order.\n\n\u201cWhat medicine is that?\u201d said they all.\n\n\u201cThis is the medicine,\u201d said the doctor. \u201cFind a perfectly white cow\nwith red ears, and boil it down in the lump, and if the king drinks that\nrendering he will recover.\u201d\n\nBefore he had well said it messengers were going from the palace in all\ndirections looking for such a cow. They found lots of cows which were\nnearly like what they wanted, but it was only by chance they came on\nthe cow which would do the work, and that beast belonged to the most\nnotorious and malicious and cantankerous female in Lochlann, the Black\nHag. Now the Black Hag was not only those things that have been said;\nshe was also whiskered and warty and one-eyed and obstreperous, and she\nwas notorious and ill-favoured in many other ways also.\n\nThey offered her a cow in the place of her own cow, but she refused to\ngive it. Then they offered a cow for each leg of her cow, but she would\nnot accept that offer unless Fiachna went bail for the payment. He\nagreed to do so, and they drove the beast away.\n\nOn the return journey he was met by messengers who brought news from\nIreland. They said that the King of Ulster was dead, and that he,\nFiachna Finn, had been elected king in the dead king\u2019s place. He at once\ntook ship for Ireland, and found that all he had been told was true, and\nhe took up the government of Ulster.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nA year passed, and one day as he was sitting at judgement there came\na great noise from without, and this noise was so persistent that the\npeople and suitors were scandalised, and Fiachna at last ordered that\nthe noisy person should be brought before him to be judged.\n\nIt was done, and to his surprise the person turned out to be the Black\nHag.\n\nShe blamed him in the court before his people, and complained that he\nhad taken away her cow, and that she had not been paid the four cows he\nhad gone bail for, and she demanded judgement from him and justice.\n\n\u201cIf you will consider it to be justice, I will give you twenty cows\nmyself,\u201d said Fiachna.\n\n\u201cI would not take all the cows in Ulster,\u201d she screamed.\n\n\u201cPronounce judgement yourself,\u201d said the king, \u201cand if I can do what you\ndemand I will do it.\u201d For he did not like to be in the wrong, and he did\nnot wish that any person should have an unsatisfied claim upon him.\n\nThe Black Hag then pronounced judgement, and the king had to fulfil it.\n\n\u201cI have come,\u201d said she, \u201cfrom the east to the west; you must come from\nthe west to the east and make war for me, and revenge me on the King of\nLochlann.\u201d\n\nFiachna had to do as she demanded, and, although it was with a heavy\nheart, he set out in three days\u2019 time for Lochlann, and he brought with\nhim ten battalions.\n\nHe sent messengers before him to Big Eolgarg warning him of his coming,\nof his intention, and of the number of troops he was bringing; and when\nhe landed Eolgarg met him with an equal force, and they fought together.\n\nIn the first battle three hundred of the men of Lochlann were killed,\nbut in the next battle Eolgarg Mor did not fight fair, for he let some\nvenomous sheep out of a tent, and these attacked the men of Ulster and\nkilled nine hundred of them.\n\nSo vast was the slaughter made by these sheep and so great the terror\nthey caused, that no one could stand before them, but by great good luck\nthere was a wood at hand, and the men of Ulster, warriors and princes\nand charioteers, were forced to climb up the trees, and they roosted\namong the branches like great birds, while the venomous sheep ranged\nbelow bleating terribly and tearing up the ground.\n\nFiachna Fim was also sitting in a tree, very high up, and he was\ndisconsolate.\n\n\u201cWe are disgraced,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cIt is very lucky,\u201d said the man in the branch below, \u201cthat a sheep\ncannot climb a tree.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are disgraced for ever,\u201d said the King of Ulster.\n\n\u201cIf those sheep learn how to climb, we are undone surely,\u201d said the man\nbelow.\n\n\u201cI will go down and fight the sheep,\u201d said Fiachna. But the others would\nnot let the king go.\n\n\u201cIt is not right,\u201d they said, \u201cthat you should fight sheep.\u201d\n\n\u201cSome one must fight them,\u201d said Fiachna Finn, \u201cbut no more of my men\nshall die until I fight myself; for if I am fated to die, I will die and\nI cannot escape it, and if it is the sheep\u2019s fate to die, then die they\nwill; for there is no man can avoid destiny, and there is no sheep can\ndodge it either.\u201d\n\n\u201cPraise be to god!\u201d said the warrior that was higher up.\n\n\u201cAmen!\u201d said the man who was higher than he, and the rest of the\nwarriors wished good luck to the king.\n\nHe started then to climb down the tree with a heavy heart, but while\nhe hung from the last branch and was about to let go, he noticed a tall\nwarrior walking towards him. The king pulled himself up on the branch\nagain and sat dangle-legged on it to see what the warrior would do.\n\nThe stranger was a very tall man, dressed in a green cloak with a silver\nbrooch at the shoulder. He had a golden band about his hair and golden\nsandals on his feet, and he was laughing heartily at the plight of the\nmen of Ireland.\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\u201cIt is not nice of you to laugh at us,\u201d said Fiachna Finn.\n\n\u201cWho could help laughing at a king hunkering on a branch and his army\nroosting around him like hens?\u201d said the stranger.\n\n\u201cNevertheless,\u201d the king replied, \u201cit would be courteous of you not to\nlaugh at misfortune.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe laugh when we can,\u201d commented the stranger, \u201cand are thankful for\nthe chance.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may come up into the tree,\u201d said Fiachna, \u201cfor I perceive that you\nare a mannerly person, and I see that some of the venomous sheep are\ncharging in this direction. I would rather protect you,\u201d he continued,\n\u201cthan see you killed; for,\u201d said he lamentably, \u201cI am getting down now\nto fight the sheep.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will not hurt me,\u201d said the stranger. \u201cWho are you?\u201d the king\nasked.\n\n\u201cI am Mananna\u2019n, the son of Lir.\u201d\n\nFiachna knew then that the stranger could not be hurt.\n\n\u201cWhat will you give me if I deliver you from the sheep?\u201d asked\nMananna\u2019n.\n\n\u201cI will give you anything you ask, if I have that thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI ask the rights of your crown and of your household for one day.\u201d\n\nFiachna\u2019s breath was taken away by that request, and he took a little\ntime to compose himself, then he said mildly:\n\n\u201cI will not have one man of Ireland killed if I can save him. All that\nI have they give me, all that I have I give to them, and if I must give\nthis also, then I will give this, although it would be easier for me to\ngive my life.\u201d \u201cThat is agreed,\u201d said Mannana\u2019n.\n\nHe had something wrapped in a fold of his cloak, and he unwrapped and\nproduced this thing.\n\nIt was a dog.\n\nNow if the sheep were venomous, this dog was more venomous still, for it\nwas fearful to look at. In body it was not large, but its head was of a\ngreat size, and the mouth that was shaped in that head was able to open\nlike the lid of a pot. It was not teeth which were in that head, but\nhooks and fangs and prongs. Dreadful was that mouth to look at, terrible\nto look into, woeful to think about; and from it, or from the broad,\nloose nose that waggled above it, there came a sound which no word of\nman could describe, for it was not a snarl, nor was it a howl, although\nit was both of these. It was neither a growl nor a grunt, although it\nwas both of these; it was not a yowl nor a groan, although it was both\nof these: for it was one sound made up of these sounds, and there was in\nit, too, a whine and a yelp, and a long-drawn snoring noise, and a deep\npurring noise, and a noise that was like the squeal of a rusty hinge,\nand there were other noises in it also.\n\n\u201cThe gods be praised!\u201d said the man who was in the branch above the\nking.\n\n\u201cWhat for this time?\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cBecause that dog cannot climb a tree,\u201d said the man.\n\nAnd the man on a branch yet above him groaned out \u201cAmen!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to frighten sheep like a dog,\u201d said Mananna\u2019n, \u201cand\nthere is nothing to frighten these sheep like this dog.\u201d\n\nHe put the dog on the ground then.\n\n\u201cLittle dogeen, little treasure,\u201d said he, \u201cgo and kill the sheep.\u201d\n\nAnd when he said that the dog put an addition and an addendum on to the\nnoise he had been making before, so that the men of Ireland stuck their\nfingers into their ears and turned the whites of their eyes upwards, and\nnearly fell off their branches with the fear and the fright which that\nsound put into them.\n\nIt did not take the dog long to do what he had been ordered. He went\nforward, at first, with a slow waddle, and as the venomous sheep came to\nmeet him in bounces, he then went to meet them in wriggles; so that in a\nwhile he went so fast that you could see nothing of him but a head and\na wriggle. He dealt with the sheep in this way, a jump and a chop for\neach, and he never missed his jump and he never missed his chop. When he\ngot his grip he swung round on it as if it was a hinge. The swing began\nwith the chop, and it ended with the bit loose and the sheep giving its\nlast kick. At the end of ten minutes all the sheep were lying on the\nground, and the same bit was out of every sheep, and every sheep was\ndead.\n\n\u201cYou can come down now,\u201d said Mananna\u2019n.\n\n\u201cThat dog can\u2019t climb a tree,\u201d said the man in the branch above the king\nwarningly.\n\n\u201cPraise be to the gods!\u201d said the man who was above him.\n\n\u201cAmen!\u201d said the warrior who was higher up than that. And the man in the\nnext tree said:\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t move a hand or a foot until the dog chokes himself to death on\nthe dead meat.\u201d\n\nThe dog, however, did not eat a bit of the meat. He trotted to his\nmaster, and Mananna\u2019n took him up and wrapped him in his cloak.\n\n\u201cNow you can come down,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cI wish that dog was dead!\u201d said the king.\n\nBut he swung himself out of the tree all the same, for he did not wish\nto seem frightened before Mananna\u2019n. \u201cYou can go now and beat the men\nof Lochlann,\u201d said Mananna\u2019n. \u201cYou will be King of Lochlann before\nnightfall.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t mind that,\u201d said the king. \u201cIt\u2019s no threat,\u201d said Mananna\u2019n.\n\nThe son of Lir turned then and went away in the direction of Ireland to\ntake up his one-day rights, and Fiachna continued his battle with the\nLochlannachs.\n\nHe beat them before nightfall, and by that victory he became King of\nLochlann and King of the Saxons and the Britons.\n\nHe gave the Black Hag seven castles with their territories, and he gave\nher one hundred of every sort of cattle that he had captured. She was\nsatisfied.\n\nThen he went back to Ireland, and after he had been there for some time\nhis wife gave birth to a son.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n\u201cYou have not told me one word about Duv Laca,\u201d said the Flame Lady\nreproachfully.\n\n\u201cI am coming to that,\u201d replied Mongan.\n\nHe motioned towards one of the great vats, and wine was brought to him,\nof which he drank so joyously and so deeply that all people wondered at\nhis thirst, his capacity, and his jovial spirits.\n\n\u201cNow, I will begin again.\u201d\n\n\nSaid Mongan: There was an attendant in Fiachna Finn\u2019s palace who was\ncalled An Da\u2019v, and the same night that Fiachna\u2019s wife bore a son, the\nwife of An Da\u2019v gave birth to a son also. This latter child was called\nmac an Da\u2019v, but the son of Fiachna\u2019s wife was named Mongan.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d murmured the Flame Lady.\n\nThe queen was angry. She said it was unjust and presumptuous that the\nservant should get a child at the same time that she got one herself,\nbut there was no help for it, because the child was there and could not\nbe obliterated.\n\nNow this also must be told.\n\nThere was a neighbouring prince called Fiachna Duv, and he was the ruler\nof the Dal Fiatach. For a long time he had been at enmity and spiteful\nwarfare with Fiachna Finn; and to this Fiachna Duv there was born in\nthe same night a daughter, and this girl was named Duv Laca of the White\nHand.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d cried the Flame Lady.\n\n\u201cYou see!\u201d said Mongan, and he drank anew and joyously of the fairy\nwine.\n\nIn order to end the trouble between Fiachna Finn and Fiachna Duv the\nbabies were affianced to each other in the cradle on the day after they\nwere born, and the men of Ireland rejoiced at that deed and at that\nnews. But soon there came dismay and sorrow in the land, for when the\nlittle Mongan was three days old his real father, Mananna\u2019n the son\nof Lir, appeared in the middle of the palace. He wrapped Mongan in his\ngreen cloak and took him away to rear and train in the Land of Promise,\nwhich is beyond the sea that is at the other side of the grave.\n\nWhen Fiachna Duv heard that Mongan, who was affianced to his daughter\nDuv Laca, had disappeared, he considered that his compact of peace was\nat an end, and one day he came by surprise and attacked the palace.\nHe killed Fiachna Finn in that battle, and be crowned himself King of\nUlster.\n\nThe men of Ulster disliked him, and they petitioned Mananna\u2019n to bring\nMongan back, but Mananna\u2019n would not do this until the boy was sixteen\nyears of age and well reared in the wisdom of the Land of Promise. Then\nhe did bring Mongan back, and by his means peace was made between Mongan\nand Fiachna Duv, and Mongan was married to his cradle-bride, the young\nDuv Laca.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nOne day Mongan and Duv Laca were playing chess in their palace. Mongan\nhad just made a move of skill, and he looked up from the board to see\nif Duv Laca seemed as discontented as she had a right to be. He saw\nthen over Duv Laca\u2019s shoulder a little black-faced, tufty-headed cleric\nleaning against the door-post inside the room.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing there?\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing there yourself?\u201d said the little black-faced cleric.\n\n\u201cIndeed, I have a right to be in my own house,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cIndeed I do not agree with you,\u201d said the cleric.\n\n\u201cWhere ought I be, then?\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cYou ought to be at Dun Fiathac avenging the murder of your father,\u201d\n replied the cleric, \u201cand you ought to be ashamed of yourself for not\nhaving done it long ago. You can play chess with your wife when you have\nwon the right to leisure.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how can I kill my wife\u2019s father?\u201d Mongan exclaimed. \u201cBy starting\nabout it at once,\u201d said the cleric. \u201cHere is a way of talking!\u201d said\nMongan.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d the cleric continued, \u201cthat Duv Laca will not agree with a\nword I say on this subject, and that she will try to prevent you from\ndoing what you have a right to do, for that is a wife\u2019s business, but a\nman\u2019s business is to do what I have just told you; so come with me now\nand do not wait to think about it, and do not wait to play any more\nchess. Fiachna Duv has only a small force with him at this moment,\nand we can burn his palace as he burned your father\u2019s palace, and\nkill himself as he killed your father, and crown you King of Ulster\nrightfully the way he crowned himself wrongfully as a king.\u201d\n\n\u201cI begin to think that you own a lucky tongue, my black-faced friend,\u201d\n said Mongan, \u201cand I will go with you.\u201d\n\nHe collected his forces then, and he burned Fiachna Duv\u2019s fortress, and\nhe killed Fiachna Duv, and he was crowned King of Ulster.\n\nThen for the first time he felt secure and at liberty to play chess.\nBut he did not know until afterwards that the black-faced, tufty-headed\nperson was his father Mananna\u2019n, although that was the fact.\n\nThere are some who say, however, that Fiachna the Black was killed in\nthe year 624 by the lord of the Scot\u2019s Dal Riada, Condad Cerr, at the\nbattle of Ard Carainn; but the people who say this do not know what they\nare talking about, and they do not care greatly what it is they say.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to marvel about in this Duv Laca,\u201d said the Flame Lady\nscornfully. \u201cShe has got married, and she has been beaten at chess. It\nhas happened before.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us keep to the story,\u201d said Mongan, and, having taken some few\ndozen deep draughts of the wine, he became even more jovial than before.\nThen he recommenced his tale:\n\nIt happened on a day that Mongan had need of treasure. He had many\npresents to make, and he had not as much gold and silver and cattle as\nwas proper for a king. He called his nobles together and discussed what\nwas the best thing to be done, and it was arranged that he should visit\nthe provincial kings and ask boons from them.\n\nHe set out at once on his round of visits, and the first province he\nwent to was Leinster.\n\nThe King of Leinster at that time was Branduv, the son of Echach. He\nwelcomed Mongan and treated him well, and that night Mongan slept in his\npalace.\n\nWhen he awoke in the morning he looked out of a lofty window, and he\nsaw on the sunny lawn before the palace a herd of cows. There were fifty\ncows in all, for he counted them, and each cow had a calf beside her,\nand each cow and calf was pure white in colour, and each of them had red\nears.\n\nWhen Mongan saw these cows, he fell in love with them as he had never\nfallen in love with anything before.\n\nHe came down from the window and walked on the sunny lawn among the\ncows, looking at each of them and speaking words of affection and\nendearment to them all; and while he was thus walking and talking and\nlooking and loving, he noticed that some one was moving beside him. He\nlooked from the cows then, and saw that the King of Leinster was at his\nside.\n\n\u201cAre you in love with the cows?\u201d Branduv asked him.\n\n\u201cI am,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cEverybody is,\u201d said the King of Leinster.\n\n\u201cI never saw anything like them,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cNobody has,\u201d said the King of Leinster.\n\n\u201cI never saw anything I would rather have than these cows,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cThese,\u201d said the King of Leinster, \u201care the most beautiful cows\nin Ireland, and,\u201d he continued thoughtfully, \u201cDuv Laca is the most\nbeautiful woman in Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no lie in what you say,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cIs it not a queer thing,\u201d said the King of Leinster, \u201cthat I should\nhave what you want with all your soul, and you should have what I want\nwith all my heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cQueer indeed,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cbut what is it that you do want?\u201d\n\n\u201cDuv Laca, of course,\u201d said the King of Leinster.\n\n\u201cDo you mean,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cthat you would exchange this herd of fifty\npure white cows having red ears--\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd their fifty calves,\u201d said the King of Leinster--\n\n\u201cFor Duv Laca, or for any woman in the world?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would,\u201d cried the King of Leinster, and he thumped his knee as he\nsaid it.\n\n\u201cDone,\u201d roared Mongan, and the two kings shook hands on the bargain.\n\nMongan then called some of his own people, and before any more words\ncould be said and before any alteration could be made, he set his men\nbehind the cows and marched home with them to Ulster.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nDuv Laca wanted to know where the cows came from, and Mongan told her\nthat the King of Leinster had given them to him. She fell in love with\nthem as Mongan had done, but there was nobody in the world could have\navoided loving those cows: such cows they were! such wonders! Mongan\nand Duv Laca used to play chess together, and then they would go out\ntogether to look at the cows, and then they would go in together and\nwould talk to each other about the cows. Everything they did they did\ntogether, for they loved to be with each other.\n\nHowever, a change came.\n\nOne morning a great noise of voices and trampling of horses and rattle\nof armour came about the palace. Mongan looked from the window.\n\n\u201cWho is coming?\u201d asked Duv Laca.\n\nBut he did not answer her.\n\n\u201cThe noise must announce the visit of a king,\u201d Duv Laca continued.\n\nBut Mongan did not say a word. Duv Laca then went to the window.\n\n\u201cWho is that king?\u201d she asked.\n\nAnd her husband replied to her then.\n\n\u201cThat is the King of Leinster,\u201d said he mournfully.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Duv Laca surprised, \u201cis he not welcome?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is welcome indeed,\u201d said Mongan lamentably.\n\n\u201cLet us go out and welcome him properly,\u201d Duv Laca suggested.\n\n\u201cLet us not go near him at all,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cfor he is coming to\ncomplete his bargain.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat bargain are you talking about?\u201d Duv Laca asked. But Mongan would\nnot answer that.\n\n\u201cLet us go out,\u201d said he, \u201cfor we must go out.\u201d\n\nMongan and Duv Laca went out then and welcomed the King of Leinster.\nThey brought him and his chief men into the palace, and water was\nbrought for their baths, and rooms were appointed for them, and\neverything was done that should be done for guests.\n\nThat night there was a feast, and after the feast there was a banquet,\nand all through the feast and the banquet the King of Leinster stared\nat Duv Laca with joy, and sometimes his breast was delivered of great\nsighs, and at times he moved as though in perturbation of spirit and\nmental agony.\n\n\u201cThere is something wrong with the King of Leinster,\u201d Duv Laca\nwhispered.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t care if there is,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cYou must ask what he wants.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t want to know it,\u201d said Mongan. \u201cNevertheless, you musk ask\nhim,\u201d she insisted.\n\nSo Mongan did ask him, and it was in a melancholy voice that he asked\nit.\n\n\u201cDo you want anything?\u201d said he to the King of Leinster.\n\n\u201cI do indeed,\u201d said Branduv.\n\n\u201cIf it is in Ulster I will get it for you,\u201d said Mongan mournfully.\n\n\u201cIt is in Ulster,\u201d said Branduv.\n\nMongan did not want to say anything more then, but the King of Leinster\nwas so intent and everybody else was listening and Duv Laca was nudging\nhis arm, so he said: \u201cWhat is it that you do want?\u201d \u201cI want Duv Laca.\u201d\n\n\u201cI want her too,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cYou made your bargain,\u201d said the King of Leinster, \u201cmy cows and their\ncalves for your Duv Laca, and the man that makes a bargain keeps a\nbargain.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never before heard,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cof a man giving away his own\nwife.\u201d\n\n\u201cEven if you never heard of it before, you must do it now,\u201d said Duv\nLaca, \u201cfor honour is longer than life.\u201d\n\nMongan became angry when Duv Laca said that. His face went red as a\nsunset, and the veins swelled in his neck and his forehead.\n\n\u201cDo you say that?\u201d he cried to Duv Laca.\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d said Duv Laca.\n\n\u201cLet the King of Leinster take her,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nDuv Laca and the King of Leinster went apart then to speak together, and\nthe eye of the king seemed to be as big as a plate, so fevered was\nit and so enlarged and inflamed by the look of Duv Laca. He was so\nconfounded with joy also that his words got mixed up with his teeth, and\nDuv Laca did not know exactly what it was he was trying to say, and\nhe did not seem to know himself. But at last he did say something\nintelligible, and this is what he said.\n\n\u201cI am a very happy man,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d said Duv Laca, \u201cam the happiest woman in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy should you be happy?\u201d the astonished king demanded.\n\n\u201cListen to me,\u201d she said. \u201cIf you tried to take me away from this place\nagainst my own wish, one half of the men of Ulster would be dead before\nyou got me and the other half would be badly wounded in my defence.\u201d\n\n\u201cA bargain is a bargain,\u201d the King of Leinster began.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d she continued, \u201cthey will not prevent my going away, for they all\nknow that I have been in love with you for ages.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat have you been in with me for ages?\u201d said the amazed king.\n\n\u201cIn love with you,\u201d replied Duv Laca.\n\n\u201cThis is news,\u201d said the king, \u201cand it is good news.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, by my word,\u201d said Duv Laca, \u201cI will not go with you unless you\ngrant me a boon.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll that I have,\u201d cried Branduv, \u201cand all that every-body has.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you must pass your word and pledge your word that you will do what\nI ask.\u201d\n\n\u201cI pass it and pledge it,\u201d cried the joyful king.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Duv Laca, \u201cthis is what I bind on you.\u201d\n\n\u201cLight the yolk!\u201d he cried.\n\n\u201cUntil one year is up and out you are not to pass the night in any house\nthat I am in.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my head and hand!\u201d Branduv stammered.\n\n\u201cAnd if you come into a house where I am during the time and term of\nthat year, you are not to sit down in the chair that I am sitting in.\u201d\n\n\u201cHeavy is my doom!\u201d he groaned.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d said Duv Laca, \u201cif I am sitting in a chair or a seat you are\nto sit in a chair that is over against me and opposite to me and at a\ndistance from me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said the king, and he smote his hands together, and then he beat\nthem on his head, and then he looked at them and at everything about,\nand he could not tell what anything was or where anything was, for his\nmind was clouded and his wits had gone astray.\n\n\u201cWhy do you bind these woes on me?\u201d he pleaded.\n\n\n\u201cI wish to find out if you truly love me.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I do,\u201d said the king. \u201cI love you madly and dearly, and with all my\nfaculties and members.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is the way! love you,\u201d said Duv Laca. \u201cWe shall have a notable\nyear of courtship and joy. And let us go now,\u201d she continued, \u201cfor I am\nimpatient to be with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said Branduv, as he followed her. \u201cAlas, alas!\u201d said the King of\nLeinster.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said the Flame Lady, \u201cthat whoever lost that woman had no\nreason to be sad.\u201d\n\nMongan took her chin in his hand and kissed her lips.\n\n\u201cAll that you say is lovely, for you are lovely,\u201d said he, \u201cand you are\nmy delight and the joy of the world.\u201d\n\nThen the attendants brought him wine, and he drank so joyously of that\nand so deeply, that those who observed him thought he would surely burst\nand drown them. But he laughed loudly and with enormous delight, until\nthe vessels of gold and silver and bronze chimed mellowly to his peal\nand the rafters of the house went creaking.\n\nSaid he:\n\nMongan loved Duv Laca of the White Hand better than he loved his life,\nbetter than he loved his honour. The kingdoms of the world did not weigh\nwith him beside the string of her shoe. He would not look at a sunset\nif he could see her. He would not listen to a harp if he could hear her\nspeak, for she was the delight of ages, the gem of time, and the wonder\nof the world till Doom.\n\nShe went to Leinster with the king of that country, and when she had\ngone Mongan fell grievously sick, so that it did not seem he could ever\nrecover again; and he began to waste and wither, and he began to look\nlike a skeleton, and a bony structure, and a misery.\n\nNow this also must be known.\n\nDuv Laca had a young attendant, who was her foster-sister as well as her\nservant, and on the day that she got married to Mongan, her attendant\nwas married to mac an Da\u2019v, who was servant and foster-brother to\nMongan. When Duv Laca went away with the King of Leinster, her servant,\nmac an Da\u2019v\u2019s wife, went with her, so there were two wifeless men\nin Ulster at that time, namely, Mongan the king and mac an Da\u2019v his\nservant.\n\nOne day as Mongan sat in the sun, brooding lamentably on his fate, mac\nan Da\u2019v came to him.\n\n\u201cHow are things with you, master?\u201d asked Mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cBad,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cIt was a poor day brought you off with Mananna\u2019n to the Land of\nPromise,\u201d said his servant.\n\n\u201cWhy should you think that?\u201d inquired Mongan.\n\n\u201cBecause,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cyou learned nothing in the Land of Promise\nexcept how to eat a lot of food and how to do nothing in a deal of\ntime.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat business is it of yours?\u201d said Mongan angrily.\n\n\u201cIt is my business surely,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cfor my wife has gone off\nto Leinster with your wife, and she wouldn\u2019t have gone if you hadn\u2019t\nmade a bet and a bargain with that accursed king.\u201d\n\nMac an Da\u2019v began to weep then.\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t make a bargain with any king,\u201d said he, \u201cand yet my wife has\ngone away with one, and it\u2019s all because of you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no one sorrier for you than I am,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cThere is indeed,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cfor I am sorrier myself.\u201d\n\nMongan roused himself then.\n\n\u201cYou have a claim on me truly,\u201d said he, \u201cand I will not have any one\nwith a claim on me that is not satisfied. Go,\u201d he said to mac an Da\u2019v,\n\u201cto that fairy place we both know of. You remember the baskets I left\nthere with the sod from Ireland in one and the sod from Scotland in the\nother; bring me the baskets and sods.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me the why of this?\u201d said his servant.\n\n\u201cThe King of Leinster will ask his wizards what I am doing, and this is\nwhat I will be doing. I will get on your back with a foot in each of the\nbaskets, and when Branduv asks the wizards where I am they will tell him\nthat I have one leg in Ireland and one leg in Scotland, and as long as\nthey tell him that he will think he need not bother himself about me,\nand we will go into Leinster that way.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo bad way either,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v.\n\nThey set out then.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nIt was a long, uneasy journey, for although mac an Da\u2019v was of stout\nheart and goodwill, yet no man can carry another on his back from Ulster\nto Leinster and go quick. Still, if you keep on driving a pig or a story\nthey will get at last to where you wish them to go, and the man who\ncontinues putting one foot in front of the other will leave his home\nbehind, and will come at last to the edge of the sea and the end of the\nworld.\n\nWhen they reached Leinster the feast of Moy Life\u2019 was being held, and\nthey pushed on by forced marches and long stages so as to be in time,\nand thus they came to the Moy of Cell Camain, and they mixed with the\ncrowd that were going to the feast.\n\nA great and joyous concourse of people streamed about them. There were\nyoung men and young girls, and when these were not holding each other\u2019s\nhands it was because their arms were round each other\u2019s necks. There\nwere old, lusty women going by, and when these were not talking together\nit was because their mouths were mutually filled with apples and\nmeat-pies. There were young warriors with mantles of green and purple\nand red flying behind them on the breeze, and when these were not\nlooking disdainfully on older soldiers it was because the older soldiers\nhappened at the moment to be looking at them. There were old warriors\nwith yard-long beards flying behind their shoulders llke wisps of hay,\nand when these were not nursing a broken arm or a cracked skull, it was\nbecause they were nursing wounds in their stomachs or their legs. There\nwere troops of young women who giggled as long as their breaths lasted\nand beamed when it gave out. Bands of boys who whispered mysteriously\ntogether and pointed with their fingers in every direction at once, and\nwould suddenly begin to run like a herd of stampeded horses. There were\nmen with carts full of roasted meats. Women with little vats full of\nmead, and others carrying milk and beer. Folk of both sorts with towers\nswaying on their heads, and they dripping with honey. Children having\nbaskets piled with red apples, and old women who peddled shell-fish and\nboiled lobsters. There were people who sold twenty kinds of bread, with\nbutter thrown in. Sellers of onions and cheese, and others who supplied\nspare bits of armour, odd scabbards, spear handles, breastplate-laces.\nPeople who cut your hair or told your fortune or gave you a hot bath in\na pot. Others who put a shoe on your horse or a piece of embroidery on\nyour mantle; and others, again, who took stains off your sword or dyed\nyour finger-nails or sold you a hound.\n\nIt was a great and joyous gathering that was going to the feast.\n\nMongan and his servant sat against a grassy hedge by the roadside and\nwatched the multitude streaming past.\n\nJust then Mongan glanced to the right whence the people were coming.\nThen he pulled the hood of his cloak over his ears and over his brow.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said he in a deep and anguished voice.\n\nMac an Da\u2019v turned to him.\n\n\u201cIs it a pain in your stomach, master?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not,\u201d said Mongan. \u201cWell, what made you make that brutal and\nbelching noise?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was a sigh I gave,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cWhatever it was,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cwhat was it?\u201d\n\n\u201cLook down the road on this side and tell me who is coming,\u201d said his\nmaster.\n\n\u201cIt is a lord with his troop.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the King of Leinster,\u201d said Mongan. \u201cThe man,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v\nin a tone of great pity, \u201cthe man that took away your wife! And,\u201d he\nroared in a voice of extraordinary savagery, \u201cthe man that took away my\nwife into the bargain, and she not in the bargain.\u201d\n\n\u201cHush,\u201d said Mongan, for a man who heard his shout stopped to tie a\nsandie, or to listen.\n\n\u201cMaster,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v as the troop drew abreast and moved past.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, my good friend?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me throw a little small piece of a rock at the King of Leinster.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not.\u201d\n\n\u201cA little bit only, a small bit about twice the size of my head.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not let you,\u201d said Mongan.\n\nWhen the king had gone by mac an Da\u2019v groaned a deep and dejected groan.\n\n\u201cOco\u2019n!\u201d said he. \u201cOco\u2019n-i\u2019o-go-deo\u2019!\u201d said he.\n\nThe man who had tied his sandal said then: \u201cAre you in pain, honest\nman?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not in pain,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cWell, what was it that knocked a howl out of you like the yelp of a\nsick dog, honest man?\u201d\n\n\u201cGo away,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cgo away, you flat-faced, nosey person.\u201d\n \u201cThere is no politeness left in this country,\u201d said the stranger, and he\nwent away to a certain distance, and from thence he threw a stone at mac\nan Da\u2019v\u2019s nose, and hit it.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nThe road was now not so crowded as it had been. Minutes would pass and\nonly a few travellers would come, and minutes more would go when nobody\nwas in sight at all.\n\nThen two men came down the road: they were clerics.\n\n\u201cI never saw that kind of uniform before,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cEven if you didn\u2019t,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cthere are plenty of them about. They\nare men that don\u2019t believe in our gods,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cDo they not, indeed?\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v. \u201cThe rascals!\u201d said he. \u201cWhat,\nwhat would Mananna\u2019n say to that?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe one in front carrying the big book is Tibraide\u2019. He is the priest\nof Cell Camain, and he is the chief of those two.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, and indeed!\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v. \u201cThe one behind must be his\nservant, for he has a load on his back.\u201d\n\nThe priests were reading their offices, and mac an Da\u2019v marvelled at\nthat.\n\n\n\u201cWhat is it they are doing?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cThey are reading.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, and indeed they are,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v. \u201cI can\u2019t make out a\nword of the language except that the man behind says amen, amen, every\ntime the man in front puts a grunt out of him. And they don\u2019t like our\ngods at all!\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cThey do not,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cPlay a trick on them, master,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v. Mongan agreed to play\na trick on the priests.\n\nHe looked at them hard for a minute, and then he waved his hand at them.\n\nThe two priests stopped, and they stared straight in front of them, and\nthen they looked at each other, and then they looked at the sky. The\nclerk began to bless himself, and then Tibraide\u2019 began to bless himself,\nand after that they didn\u2019t know what to do. For where there had been a\nroad with hedges on each side and fields stretching beyond them, there\nwas now no road, no hedge, no field; but there was a great broad river\nsweeping across their path; a mighty tumble of yellowy-brown waters,\nvery swift, very savage; churning and billowing and jockeying among\nrough boulders and islands of stone. It was a water of villainous depth\nand of detestable wetness; of ugly hurrying and of desolate cavernous\nsound. At a little to their right there was a thin uncomely bridge that\nwaggled across the torrent.\n\nTibraide\u2019 rubbed his eyes, and then he looked again. \u201cDo you see what I\nsee?\u201d said he to the clerk.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what you see,\u201d said the clerk, \u201cbut what I see I never did\nsee before, and I wish I did not see it now.\u201d\n\n\u201cI was born in this place,\u201d said Tibraide\u2019, \u201cmy father was born here\nbefore me, and my grandfather was born here before him, but until this\nday and this minute I never saw a river here before, and I never heard\nof one.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat will we do at all?\u201d said the clerk. \u201cWhat will we do at all?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will be sensible,\u201d said Tibraide\u2019 sternly, \u201cand we will go about our\nbusiness,\u201d said he. \u201cIf rivers fall out of the sky what has that to do\nwith you, and if there is a river here, which there is, why, thank God,\nthere is a bridge over it too.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould you put a toe on that bridge?\u201d said the clerk. \u201cWhat is the\nbridge for?\u201d said Tibraide\u2019 Mongan and mac an Da\u2019v followed them.\n\nWhen they got to the middle of the bridge it broke under them, and they\nwere precipitated into that boiling yellow flood.\n\nMongan snatched at the book as it fell from Tibraide\u2019s hand.\n\n\u201cWon\u2019t you let them drown, master?\u201d asked mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cI\u2019ll send them a mile down the stream, and then they\ncan come to land.\u201d\n\nMongan then took on himself the form of Tibraide\u2019 and he turned mac an\nDa\u2019v into the shape of the clerk.\n\n\u201cMy head has gone bald,\u201d said the servant in a whisper.\n\n\u201cThat is part of it,\u201d replied Mongan. \u201cSo long as we know,\u201d said mac an\nDa\u2019v.\n\nThey went on then to meet the King of Leinster.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nThey met him near the place where the games were played.\n\n\u201cGood my soul, Tibraide\u2019!\u201d cried the King of Leinster, and he gave\nMongan a kiss. Mongan kissed him back again.\n\n\u201cAmen, amen,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cWhat for?\u201d said the King of Leinster.\n\nAnd then mac an Da\u2019v began to sneeze, for he didn\u2019t know what for.\n\n\u201cIt is a long time since I saw you, Tibraide\u2019,\u201d said the king, \u201cbut at\nthis minute I am in great haste and hurry. Go you on before me to the\nfortress, and you can talk to the queen that you\u2019ll find there, she that\nused to be the King of Ulster\u2019s wife. Kevin Cochlach, my charioteer,\nwill go with you, and I will follow you myself in a while.\u201d\n\nThe King of Leinster went off then, and Mongan and his servant went with\nthe charioteer and the people.\n\nMongan read away out of the book, for he found it interesting, and he\ndid not want to talk to the charioteer, and mac an Da\u2019v cried amen,\namen, every time that Mongan took his breath. The people who were going\nwith them said to one another that mac an Da\u2019v was a queer kind of\nclerk, and that they had never seen any one who had such a mouthful of\namens.\n\nBut in a while they came to the fortress, and they got into it without\nany trouble, for Kevin Cochlach, the king\u2019s charioteer, brought them in.\nThen they were led to the room where Duv Laca was, and as he went into\nthat room Mongan shut his eyes, for he did not want to look at Duv Laca\nwhile other people might be looking at him.\n\n\u201cLet everybody leave this room, while I am talking to the queen,\u201d said\nhe; and all the attendants left the room, except one, and she wouldn\u2019t\ngo, for she wouldn\u2019t leave her mistress.\n\nThen Mongan opened his eyes and he saw Duv Laca, and he made a great\nbound to her and took her in his arms, and mac an Da\u2019v made a savage and\nvicious and terrible jump at the attendant, and took her in his arms,\nand bit her ear and kissed her neck and wept down into her back.\n\n\u201cGo away,\u201d said the girl, \u201cunhand me, villain,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cI will not,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cfor I\u2019m your own husband, I\u2019m your own\nmac, your little mac, your macky-wac-wac.\u201d Then the attendant gave a\nlittle squeal, and she bit him on each ear and kissed his neck and wept\ndown into his back, and said that it wasn\u2019t true and that it was.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nBut they were not alone, although they thought they were. The hag that\nguarded the jewels was in the room. She sat hunched up against the wail,\nand as she looked like a bundle of rags they did not notice her. She\nbegan to speak then.\n\n\u201cTerrible are the things I see,\u201d said she. \u201cTerrible are the things I\nsee.\u201d\n\nMongan and his servant gave a jump of surprise, and their two wives\njumped and squealed. Then Mongan puffed out his cheeks till his face\nlooked like a bladder, and he blew a magic breath at the hag, so that\nshe seemed to be surrounded by a fog, and when she looked through that\nbreath everything seemed to be different to what she had thought. Then\nshe began to beg everybody\u2019s pardon.\n\n\u201cI had an evil vision,\u201d said she, \u201cI saw crossways. How sad it is that I\nshould begin to see the sort of things I thought I saw.\u201d\n\n\u201cSit in this chair, mother,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cand tell me what you thought\nyou saw,\u201d and he slipped a spike under her, and mac an Da\u2019v pushed her\ninto the seat, and she died on the spike.\n\nJust then there came a knocking at the door. Mac an Da\u2019v opened it, and\nthere was Tibraide, standing outside, and twenty-nine of his men were\nwith him, and they were all laughing.\n\n\u201cA mile was not half enough,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v reproachfully.\n\nThe Chamberlain of the fortress pushed into the room and he stared from\none Tibraide\u2019 to the other.\n\n\u201cThis is a fine growing year,\u201d said he. \u201cThere never was a year\nwhen Tibraide\u2019s were as plentiful as they are this year. There is a\nTibraide\u2019 outside and a Tibraide\u2019 inside, and who knows but there are\nsome more of them under the bed. The place is crawling with them,\u201d said\nhe.\n\nMongan pointed at Tibraide\u2019.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you know who that is?\u201d he cried.\n\n\u201cI know who he says he is,\u201d said the Chamberlain.\n\n\u201cWell, he is Mongan,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cand these twenty-nine men are\ntwenty-nine of his nobles from Ulster.\u201d\n\nAt that news the men of the household picked up clubs and cudgels and\nevery kind of thing that was near, and made a violent and woeful attack\non Tibraide\u2019s men The King of Leinster came in then, and when he was\ntold Tibraide\u2019 was Mongan he attacked them as well, and it was with\ndifficulty that Tibraide\u2019 got away to Cell Camain with nine of his men\nand they all wounded.\n\nThe King of Leinster came back then. He went to Duv Laca\u2019s room.\n\n\u201cWhere is Tibraide\u2019?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t Tibraide was here,\u201d said the hag who was still sitting on\nthe spike, and was not half dead, \u201cit was Mongan.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy did you let him near you?\u201d said the king to Duv Laca.\n\n\u201cThere is no one has a better right to be near me than Mongan has,\u201d said\nDuv Laca, \u201che is my own husband,\u201d said she.\n\nAnd then the king cried out in dismay: \u201cI have beaten Tibraide\u2019s\npeople.\u201d He rushed from the room.\n\n\u201cSend for Tibraide\u2019 till I apologise,\u201d he cried. \u201cTell him it was all a\nmistake. Tell him it was Mongan.\u201d\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nMongan and his servant went home, and (for what pleasure is greater than\nthat of memory exercised in conversation?) for a time the feeling of an\nadventure well accomplished kept him in some contentment. But at the\nend of a time that pleasure was worn out, and Mongan grew at first\ndispirited and then sullen, and after that as ill as he had been on the\nprevious occasion. For he could not forget Duv Laca of the White Hand,\nand he could not remember her without longing and despair.\n\nIt was in the illness which comes from longing and despair that he sat\none day looking on a world that was black although the sun shone, and\nthat was lean and unwholesome although autumn fruits were heavy on the\nearth and the joys of harvest were about him.\n\n\u201cWinter is in my heart,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand I am cold already.\u201d\n\nHe thought too that some day he would die, and the thought was not\nunpleasant, for one half of his life was away in the territories of the\nKing of Leinster, and the half that he kept in himself had no spice in\nit.\n\nHe was thinking in this way when mac an Da\u2019v came towards him over the\nlawn, and he noticed that mac an Da\u2019v was walking like an old man.\n\nHe took little slow steps, and he did not loosen his knees when he\nwalked, so he went stiffly. One of his feet turned pitifully outwards,\nand the other turned lamentably in. His chest was pulled inwards, and\nhis head was stuck outwards and hung down in the place where his chest\nshould have been, and his arms were crooked in front of him with the\nhands turned wrongly, so that one palm was shown to the east of the\nworld and the other one was turned to the west.\n\n\u201cHow goes it, mac an Da\u2019v?\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cBad,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cIs that the sun I see shining, my friend?\u201d the king asked.\n\n\u201cIt may be the sun,\u201d replied mac an Da\u2019v, peering curiously at the\ngolden radiance that dozed about them, \u201cbut maybe it\u2019s a yellow fog.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is life at all?\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cIt is a weariness and a tiredness,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v. \u201cIt is a long\nyawn without sleepiness. It is a bee, lost at midnight and buzzing on\na pane. It is the noise made by a tied-up dog. It is nothing worth\ndreaming about. It is nothing at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow well you explain my feelings about Duv Laca,\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cI was thinking about my own lamb,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v. \u201cI was thinking\nabout my own treasure, my cup of cheeriness, and the pulse of my heart.\u201d\n And with that he burst into tears.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said the king.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d sobbed mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cwhat right have I to complain? I am only\nthe servant, and although I didn\u2019t make any bargain with the King of\nLeinster or with any king of them all, yet my wife is gone away as if\nshe was the consort of a potentate the same as Duv Laca is.\u201d\n\nMongan was sorry then for his servant, and he roused himself.\n\n\u201cI am going to send you to Duv Laca.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere the one is the other will be,\u201d cried mac an Da\u2019v joyously.\n\n\u201cGo,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cto Rath Descirt of Bregia; you know that place?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs well as my tongue knows my teeth.\u201d\n\n\u201cDuv Laca is there; see her, and ask her what she wants me to do.\u201d\n\nMac an Da\u2019v went there and returned.\n\n\u201cDuv Laca says that you are to come at once, for the King of Leinster is\njourneying around his territory, and Kevin Cochlach, the charioteer, is\nmaking bitter love to her and wants her to run away with him.\u201d\n\nMongan set out, and in no great time, for they travelled day and night,\nthey came to Bregla, and gained admittance to the fortress, but just\nas he got in he had to go out again, for the King of Leinster had been\nwarned of Mongan\u2019s journey, and came back to his fortress in the nick of\ntime.\n\nWhen the men of Ulster saw the condition into which Mongan fell they\nwere in great distress, and they all got sick through compassion for\ntheir king. The nobles suggested to him that they should march against\nLeinster and kill that king and bring back Duv Laca, but Mongan would\nnot consent to this plan.\n\n\u201cFor,\u201d said he, \u201cthe thing I lost through my own folly I shall get back\nthrough my own craft.\u201d\n\nAnd when he said that his spirits revived, and he called for mac an\nDa\u2019v.\n\n\u201cYou know, my friend,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cthat I can\u2019t get Duv Laca back\nunless the King of Leinster asks me to take her back, for a bargain is a\nbargain.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will happen when pigs fly,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cand,\u201d said he, \u201cI\ndid not make any bargain with any king that is in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cI heard you say that before,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cI will say it till Doom,\u201d cried his servant, \u201cfor my wife has gone\naway with that pestilent king, and he has got the double of your bad\nbargain.\u201d\n\nMongan and his servant then set out for Leinster.\n\nWhen they neared that country they found a great crowd going on the road\nwith them, and they learned that the king was giving a feast in honour\nof his marriage to Duv Laca, for the year of waiting was nearly out, and\nthe king had sworn he would delay no longer.\n\nThey went on, therefore, but in low spirits, and at last they saw the\nwalls of the king\u2019s castle towering before them, and a noble company\ngoing to and fro on the lawn.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nTHEY sat in a place where they could watch the castle and compose\nthemselves after their journey.\n\n\u201cHow are we going to get into the castle?\u201d asked mac an Da\u2019v.\n\nFor there were hatchetmen on guard in the big gateway, and there were\nspearmen at short intervals around the walls, and men to throw hot\nporridge off the roof were standing in the right places.\n\n\u201cIf we cannot get in by hook, we will get in by crook,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cThey are both good ways,\u201d said Mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cand whichever of them you\ndecide on I\u2019ll stick by.\u201d\n\nJust then they saw the Hag of the Mill coming out of the mill which was\ndown the road a little.\n\nNow the Hag of the Mill was a bony, thin pole of a hag with odd feet.\nThat is, she had one foot that was too big for her, so that when she\nlifted it up it pulled her over; and she had one foot that was too small\nfor her, so that when she lifted it up she didn\u2019t know what to do with\nit. She was so long that you thought you would never see the end of her,\nand she was so thin that you thought you didn\u2019t see her at all. One of\nher eyes was set where her nose should be and there was an ear in its\nplace, and her nose itself was hanging out of her chin, and she had\nwhiskers round it. She was dressed in a red rag that was really a hole\nwith a fringe on it, and she was singing \u201cOh, hush thee, my one love\u201d to\na cat that was yelping on her shoulder.\n\nShe had a tall skinny dog behind her called Brotar. It hadn\u2019t a tooth in\nits head except one, and it had the toothache in that tooth. Every few\nsteps it used to sit down on its hunkers and point its nose straight\nupwards, and make a long, sad complaint about its tooth; and after that\nit used to reach its hind leg round and try to scratch out its tooth;\nand then it used to be pulled on again by the straw rope that was round\nits neck, and which was tied at the other end to the hag\u2019s heaviest\nfoot.\n\nThere was an old, knock-kneed, raw-boned, one-eyed, little-winded,\nheavy-headed mare with her also. Every time it put a front leg forward\nit shivered all over the rest of its legs backwards, and when it put a\nhind leg forward it shivered all over the rest of its legs frontwards,\nand it used to give a great whistle through its nose when it was out of\nbreath, and a big, thin hen was sitting on its croup. Mongan looked on\nthe Hag of the Mill with delight and affection.\n\n\u201cThis time,\u201d said he to mac an Da\u2019v, \u201cI\u2019ll get back my wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will indeed,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v heartily, \u201cand you\u2019ll get mine back\ntoo.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo over yonder,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cand tell the Hag of the Mill that I want\nto talk to her.\u201d\n\nMac an Da\u2019v brought her over to him.\n\n\u201cIs it true what the servant man said?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cHe said you wanted to talk to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cThis is a wonderful hour and a glorious minute,\u201d said the hag, \u201cfor\nthis is the first time in sixty years that any one wanted to talk to me.\nTalk on now,\u201d said she, \u201cand I\u2019ll listen to you if I can remember how to\ndo it. Talk gently,\u201d said she, \u201cthe way you won\u2019t disturb the animals,\nfor they are all sick.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are sick indeed,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v pityingly.\n\n\u201cThe cat has a sore tail,\u201d said she, \u201cby reason of sitting too close to\na part of the hob that was hot. The dog has a toothache, the horse has a\npain in her stomach, and the hen has the pip.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, it\u2019s a sad world,\u201d said mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cThere you are!\u201d said the hag.\n\n\u201cTell me,\u201d Mongan commenced, \u201cif you got a wish, what it is you would\nwish for?\u201d\n\nThe hag took the cat off her shoulder and gave it to mac an Da\u2019v.\n\n\u201cHold that for me while I think,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cWould you like to be a lovely young girl?\u201d asked Mongan.\n\n\u201cI\u2019d sooner be that than a skinned eel,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cAnd would you like to marry me or the King of Leinster?\u201d \u201cI\u2019d like to\nmarry either of you, or both of you, or whichever of you came first.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cyou shall have your wish.\u201d\n\nHe touched her with his finger, and the instant he touched her all\ndilapidation and wryness and age went from her, and she became so\nbeautiful that one dared scarcely look on her, and so young that she\nseemed but sixteen years of age.\n\n\u201cYou are not the Hag of the Mill any longer,\u201d said Mongan, \u201cyou are\nIvell of the Shining Cheeks, daughter of the King of Munster.\u201d\n\nHe touched the dog too, and it became a little silky lapdog that could\nnestle in your palm. Then he changed the old mare into a brisk, piebald\npalfrey. Then he changed himself so that he became the living image of\nAe, the son of the King of Connaught, who had just been married to Ivell\nof the Shining Cheeks, and then he changed mac an Da\u2019v into the likeness\nof Ae\u2019s attendant, and then they all set off towards the fortress,\nsinging the song that begins: My wife is nicer than any one\u2019s wife, Any\none\u2019s wife, any one\u2019s wife, My wife is nicer than any one\u2019s wife, Which\nnobody can deny.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nThe doorkeeper brought word to the King of Leinster that the son of the\nKing of Connaught, Ae the Beautiful, and his wife, Ivell of the Shining\nCheeks, were at the door, that they had been banished from Connaught\nby Ae\u2019s father, and they were seeking the protection of the King of\nLeinster.\n\nBranduv came to the door himself to welcome them, and the minute he\nlooked on Ivell of the Shining Cheeks it was plain that he liked looking\nat her.\n\nIt was now drawing towards evening, and a feast was prepared for the\nguests with a banquet to follow it. At the feast Duv Laca sat beside the\nKing of Leinster, but Mongan sat opposite him with Ivell, and Mongan put\nmore and more magic into the hag, so that her cheeks shone and her eyes\ngleamed, and she was utterly bewitching to the eye; and when Branduv\nlooked at her she seemed to grow more and more lovely and more and more\ndesirable, and at last there was not a bone in his body as big as an\ninch that was not filled with love and longing for the girl.\n\nEvery few minutes he gave a great sigh as if he had eaten too much, and\nwhen Duv Laca asked him if he had eaten too much he said he had but\nthat he had not drunk enough, and by that he meant that he had not drunk\nenough from the eyes of the girl before him.\n\nAt the banquet which was then held he looked at her again, and every\ntime he took a drink he toasted Ivell across the brim of his goblet, and\nin a little while she began to toast him back across the rim of her\ncup, for he was drinking ale, but she was drinking mead. Then he sent a\nmessenger to her to say that it was a far better thing to be the wife\nof the King of Leinster than to be the wife of the son of the King of\nConnaught, for a king is better than a prince, and Ivell thought that\nthis was as wise a thing as anybody had ever said. And then he sent a\nmessage to say that he loved her so much that he would certainly burst\nof love if it did not stop.\n\nMongan heard the whispering, and he told the hag that if she did what he\nadvised she would certainly get either himself or the King of Leinster\nfor a husband.\n\n\u201cEither of you will be welcome,\u201d said the hag.\n\n\u201cWhen the king says he loves you, ask him to prove it by gifts; ask for\nhis drinking-horn first.\u201d\n\nShe asked for that, and he sent it to her filled with good liquor; then\nshe asked for his girdle, and he sent her that.\n\nHis people argued with him and said it was not right that he should give\naway the treasures of Leinster to the wife of the King of Connaught\u2019s\nson; but he said that it did not matter, for when he got the girl he\nwould get his treasures with her. But every time he sent anything to the\nhag, mac an Da\u2019v snatched it out of her lap and put it in his pocket.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said Mongan to the hag, \u201ctell the servant to say that you would\nnot leave your own husband for all the wealth of the world.\u201d\n\nShe told the servant that, and the servant told it to the king. When\nBranduv heard it he nearly went mad with love and longing and jealousy,\nand with rage also, because of the treasure he had given her and might\nnot get back. He called Mongan over to him, and spoke to him very\nthreateningly and ragingly.\n\n\u201cI am not one who takes a thing without giving a thing,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cNobody could say you were,\u201d agreed Mongan.\n\n\u201cDo you see this woman sitting beside me?\u201d he continued, pointing to Duv\nLaca.\n\n\u201cI do indeed,\u201d said Mongan.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Branduv, \u201cthis woman is Duv Laca of the White Hand that I\ntook away from Mongan; she is just going to marry me, but if you will\nmake an exchange, you can marry this Duv Laca here, and I will marry\nthat Ivell of the Shining Cheeks yonder.\u201d\n\nMongan pretended to be very angry then.\n\n\u201cIf I had come here with horses and treasure you would be in your right\nto take these from me, but you have no right to ask for what you are now\nasking.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do ask for it,\u201d said Branduv menacingly, \u201cand you must not refuse a\nlord.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d said Mongan reluctantly, and as if in great fear; \u201cif you\nwill make the exchange I will make it, although it breaks my heart.\u201d\n\nHe brought Ivell over to the king then and gave her three kisses.\n\n\u201cThe king would suspect something if I did not kiss you,\u201d said he, and\nthen he gave the hag over to the king. After that they all got drunk and\nmerry, and soon there was a great snoring and snorting, and very soon\nall the servants fell asleep also, so that Mongan could not get anything\nto drink. Mac an Da\u2019v said it was a great shame, and he kicked some of\nthe servants, but they did not budge, and then he slipped out to the\nstables and saddled two mares. He got on one with his wife behind him\nand Mongan got on the other with Duv Laca behind him, and they rode away\ntowards Ulster like the wind, singing this song: The King of Leinster\nwas married to-day, Married to-day, married to-day, The King of Leinster\nwas married to-day, And every one wishes him joy.\n\nIn the morning the servants came to waken the King of Leinster, and when\nthey saw the face of the hag lying on the pillow beside the king, and\nher nose all covered with whiskers, and her big foot and little foot\nsticking away out at the end of the bed, they began to laugh, and poke\none another in the stomachs and thump one another on the shoulders, so\nthat the noise awakened the king, and he asked what was the matter with\nthem at all. It was then he saw the hag lying beside him, and he gave a\ngreat screech and jumped out of the bed.\n\n\u201cAren\u2019t you the Hag of the Mill?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cI am indeed,\u201d she replied, \u201cand I love you dearly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish I didn\u2019t see you,\u201d said Branduv.\n\nThat was the end of the story, and when he had told it Mongan began to\nlaugh uproariously and called for more wine. He drank this deeply, as\nthough he was full of thirst and despair and a wild jollity, but when\nthe Flame Lady began to weep he took her in his arms and caressed her,\nand said that she was the love of his heart and the one treasure of the\nworld.\n\nAfter that they feasted in great contentment, and at the end of the\nfeasting they went away from Faery and returned to the world of men.\n\nThey came to Mongan\u2019s palace at Moy Linney, and it was not until they\nreached the palace that they found they had been away one whole year,\nfor they had thought they were only away one night. They lived\nthen peacefully and lovingly together, and that ends the story, but\nBro\u2019tiarna did not know that Mongan was Fionn.\n\n\nThe abbot leaned forward.\n\n\u201cWas Mongan Fionn?\u201d he asked in a whisper.\n\n\u201cHe was,\u201d replied Cairide\u2019.\n\n\u201cIndeed, indeed!\u201d said the abbot.\n\nAfter a while he continued: \u201cThere is only one part of your story that I\ndo not like.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat part is that?\u201d asked Cairide\u2019.\n\n\u201cIt is the part where the holy man Tibraide\u2019 was ill treated by that\nrap--by that--by Mongan.\u201d\n\nCairide\u2019 agreed that it was ill done, but to himself he said gleefully\nthat whenever he was asked to tell the story of how he told the story of\nMongan he would remember what the abbot said.","title":"Irish Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":66089}