three or four windings it took him out upon a sandy desert. He had no
sooner set foot upon the desert than he heard behind him a crashing
sound louder than thunder. He looked around, and he saw that the walls
of mountain through which he had just passed had fallen into the valley,
and filled it up so that he could no longer tell where it had been.
The sun was beating fiercely on the desert, and the sands were almost as
hot as burning cinders; and as Cuglas advanced over them his body became
dried up, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and when his
thirst was at its height a fountain of sparkling water sprang up in the
burning plain a few paces in front of him; but when he came up quite
close to it and stretched out his parched hands to cool them in the
limpid waters, the fountain vanished as suddenly as it appeared. With
great pain, and almost choking with heat and thirst, he struggled on,
and again the fountain sprang up in front of him and moved before him,
almost within his reach. At last he came to the end of the desert, and
he saw a green hill up which a pathway climbed; but as he came to the
foot of the hill, there, sitting right in his way, was a beautiful fairy
holding out towards him a crystal cup, over the rim of which flowed
water as clear as crystal. Unable to resist the temptation, the prince
seized the cold, bright goblet, and drank the water. When he did so his
thirst vanished, but the fairy, and the green hill, and the burning
desert disappeared, and he was standing in the forest behind the palace
of the fairy queen.
That evening the queen returned, and at the feast she talked as gaily
to the prince as if she knew not of his attempt to leave the Floating
Island, and the prince spoke as gaily as he could to her, although in
his heart there was sadness when he remembered that if he had only
dashed away the crystal cup, he would be at that moment in the royal
banquet hall of Tara, sitting beside the Princess Ailinn.
And he thought the feast would never end; but it was over at last, and
the prince returned to his apartments. And that night, as he lay on his
couch, he kept his eyes fixed upon the window; but hours passed, and
there was no sign of anyone. At long last, and when he had given up all
hope of seeing her, he heard a tapping at the window, and he got up and
opened it, and the little woman came in.
"You failed again to-day," said she--"failed just at the very moment
when you were about to step on the green hills of Erin. I can give you
only one chance more. It will be your last. The queen will go hunting
in the morning. Join the hunt, and when you are separated from the rest
of the party in the wood throw your reins upon your horse's neck and he
will lead you to the edge of the lake. Then cast this golden bodkin into
the lake in the direction of the mainland, and a golden bridge will be
thrown across, over which you can pass safely to the fields of Erin;
but take care and do not draw your sword, for if you do your steed will
bear you back again to the Floating Island, and here you must remain
forever." Then handing the bodkin to the prince, and saying good-by,
the little woman disappeared.
The next morning the queen and the prince and all the court went out
to hunt, and a fleet white deer started out before them, and the royal
party pressed after him in pursuit. The prince's steed outstripped the
others, and when he was alone the prince flung the reins upon his
horse's neck, and before long he came to the edge of the lake.
Then the prince cast the bodkin on to the water, and a golden bridge was
thrown across to the mainland, and the horse galloped on to it, and when
the prince was more than halfway he saw riding towards him a champion
wearing a silver helmet, and carrying on his left arm a silver shield,
and holding in his right hand a gleaming sword. As he came nearer he
struck his shield with his sword and challenged the prince to battle.
The prince's sword almost leaped out of its scabbard at the martial
sound, and, like a true knight of Tara, he dashed against his foe, and
swinging his sword above his head, with one blow he clove the silver
helmet, and the strange warrior reeled from his horse and fell upon the
golden bridge. The prince, content with this achievement, spurred his
horse to pass the fallen champion, but the horse refused to stir, and
the bridge broke in two almost at his feet, and the part of it between
him and the mainland disappeared beneath the lake, carrying with it the
horse and the body of the champion, and before the prince could recover
from his surprise, his steed wheeled round and was galloping back, and
when he reached the land he rushed through the forest, and the prince
was not able to pull him up until he came to the palace door.
All that night the prince lay awake on his couch with his eyes fixed
upon the window, but no shadow fell upon the floor, and there was no
tapping at the pane, and with a heavy heart he joined the hunting party
in the morning. And day followed day, and his heart was sadder and
sadder, and found no pleasure in the joys and delights of fairyland. And
when all in the palace were at rest he used to roam through the forest,
always thinking of the Princess Ailinn, and hoping against hope that the
little woman would come again to him, but at last he began to despair of
ever seeing her. It chanced one night he rambled so far that he found
himself on the verge of the lake, at the very spot from which the golden
bridge had been thrown across the waters, and as he gazed wistfully upon
them a boat shot up and came swiftly to the bank, and who should he see
sitting in the stern but the little woman.
"Ah, Cuglas, Cuglas," she said, "I gave you three chances, and you
failed in all of them."
"I should have borne the pain inflicted by the monster's claw," said
Cuglas. "I should have borne the thirst on the sandy desert, and dashed
the crystal cup untasted from the fairy's hand; but I could never have
faced the nobles and chiefs of Erin if I had refused to meet the
challenge of the battle champion on the golden bridge."
"And you would have been no true knight of Erin, and you would not have
been worthy of the wee girl who loves you, the bonny Princess Ailinn, if
you had refused to meet it," said the little woman; "but for all that
you can never return to the fair hills of Erin. But cheer up, Cuglas,
there are mossy ways and forest paths and nestling bowers in fairyland.
Lonely they are, I know, in your eyes now," said the little woman; "but
maybe," she added, with a laugh as musical as the ripple on a streamlet
when summer is in the air, "maybe you won't always think them so
lonely."
"You think I'll forget Ailinn for the fairy queen," said Cuglas, with a
sigh.
"I don't think anything of the kind," said she.
"Then what do you mean?" said the prince.
"Oh, I mean what I mean," said the little woman. "But I can't stop here
all night talking to you: and, indeed, it is in your bed you ought to
be yourself. So now good-night; and I have no more to say, except that
perhaps, if you happen to be here this night week at this very hour,
when the moon will be on the waters, you will see---- But no matter what
you will see," said she; "I must be off."
And before the prince could say another word the boat sped away from the
bank, and he was alone. He went back to the palace, and he fell asleep
that night only to dream of the Princess Ailinn.
As for the princess, she was pining away in the palace of Tara, the
color had fled from her cheeks, and her eyes, which had been once so
bright they would have lighted darkness like a star, lost nearly all
their luster, and the king's leeches could do nothing for her, and at
last they gave up all hope, and the king and queen of Erin and the
ladies of the court watched her couch by night and by day sadly waiting
for her last hour.
At length one day, when the sun was shining brightly over Tara's plain,
and its light, softened by the intervening curtains, was falling in the
sick chamber, the royal watchers noticed a sweet change coming over the
face of the princess; the bloom of love and youth were flushing on her
cheeks, and from her eyes shone out the old, soft, tender light, and
they began to hope she was about to be restored to them, when suddenly
the room was in darkness as if the night had swept across the sky, and
blotted out the sun. Then they heard the sound of fairy music, and over
the couch where the princess lay they beheld a gleam of golden light,
but only for a moment; and again there was perfect darkness, and the
fairy music ceased. Then, as suddenly as it came the darkness vanished,
the softened sunlight once more filled the chamber, and rested upon the
couch; but the couch was empty, and the royal watchers, looking at each
other, said in whispers: "The fairies have carried away the Princess
Ailinn to fairyland."
Well, that very day the prince roamed by himself through the forest,
counting the hours until the day would fade in the sky and the moon come
climbing up, and at last, when it was shining full above the waters, he
went down to the verge of the lake, and he looked out over the gleaming
surface watching for the vision promised by the little woman. But he
could see nothing, and was about to turn away when he heard the faint
sound of fairy music. He listened and listened, and the sound came
nearer and clearer, and away in the distance, like drops of glistening
water breaking the level of the lake, he saw a fleet of fairy boats, and
he thought it was the fairy queen sailing in the moonlight. And it was
the fairy queen, and soon he was able to recognize the royal shallop
leading the others, and as it came close to the bank he saw the little
woman sitting in the prow between the little harpers, and at the stern
was the fairy queen, and by her side the lady of his heart, the Princess
Ailinn. In a second the boat was against the bank, and the princess in
his arms. And he kissed her again and again.
"And have you never a kiss for me?" said the little woman, tapping his
hand with the little gold bodkin.
"A kiss and a dozen," said Cuglas, as he caught the little fairy up in
his arms.
"Oh, fie, Cuglas," said the queen.
"Oh, the princess isn't one bit jealous," said the little woman. "Are
you, Ailinn?"
"Indeed I am not," said Ailinn.
"And you should not be," said the fairy queen, "for never lady yet had
truer knight than Cuglas. I loved him, and I love him dearly. I lured
him here hoping that in the delights of fairyland he might forget you.
It was all in vain. I know now that there is one thing no fairy power
above or below the stars, or beneath the waters, can ever subdue, and
that is love. And here together forever shall you and Cuglas dwell,
where old age shall never come upon you, and where pain or sorrow or
sickness is unknown."
And Cuglas never returned to the fair hills of Erin, and ages passed
away since the morning he followed the hounds into the fatal cave, but
his story was remembered by the firesides, and sometimes, even yet,
the herdboy watching his cattle in the fields hears the tuneful cry of
hounds, and follows it till it leads him to a darksome cave, and as
fearfully he listens to the sound becoming fainter and fainter he hears
the clatter of hoofs over the stony floor, and to this day the cave
bears the name of the prince who entered it never to return.[A]
[Footnote A: _Uaimh Bealach Conglais_, the cave of the road of
Cuglas--now Baltinglass--in the County Wicklow.]
THE HUNTSMAN'S SON
A long, long time ago there lived in a little hut on the borders of a
great forest a huntsman and his wife and son. From his earliest years
the boy, whose name was Fergus, used to hunt with his father in the
forest, and he grew up strong and active, sure and swift-footed as a
deer, and as free and fearless as the wind. He was tall and handsome; as
supple as a mountain ash, his lips were as red as its berries; his eyes
were as blue as the skies in spring; and his hair fell down over his
shoulders like a shower of gold. His heart was as light as a bird's,
and no bird was fonder of green woods and waving branches. He had lived
since his birth in the hut in the forest, and had never wished to leave
it, until one winter night a wandering minstrel sought shelter there,
and paid for his night's lodging with songs of love and battle. Ever
since that night Fergus pined for another life. He no longer found joy
in the music of the hounds or in the cries of the huntsmen in forest
glades. He yearned for the chance of battle, and the clang of shields,
and the fierce shouts of fighting warriors, and he spent all his spare
hours practicing on the harp and learning the use of arms, for in those
days the bravest warriors were also bards. In this way the spring and
summer and autumn passed; and when the winter came again it chanced that
on a stormy night, when thunder was rattling through the forest, smiting
the huge oaks and hurling them crashing to the earth, Fergus lay awake
thinking of his present lot, and wondering what the future might have in
store for him. The lightning was playing around the hut, and every now
and then a flash brightened up the interior.
After a peal, louder than any which had preceded it, Fergus heard three
loud knocks at the door. He called out to his parents that someone was
knocking.
"If that is so," said his father, "open at once; this is no night to
keep a poor wanderer outside our door."
Fergus did as he was bidden, and as he opened the door a flash of
lightning showed him, standing at the threshold, a little wizened old
man with a small harp under his arm.
"Come in, and welcome," said Fergus, and the little man stepped into
the room.
"It is a wild night, neighbors," said he.
"It is, indeed, a wild night," said the huntsman and his wife, who had
got up and dressed themselves; "and sorry we are we have no better
shelter or better fare to offer you, but we give you the best we have."
"A king cannot do more than his best," said the little man.
The huntsman's wife lit the fire, and soon the pine logs flashed up into
a blaze, and made the hut bright and warm. She then brought forth a
peggin of milk and a cake of barley-bread.
"You must be hungry, sir," she said.
"Hungry I am," said he; "but I wouldn't ask for better fare than this if
I were in the king's palace."
"Thank you kindly, sir," said she, "and I hope you will eat enough, and
that it will do you good."
"And while you are eating your supper," said the huntsman, "I'll make
you a bed of fresh rushes."
"Don't put yourself to that trouble," said the little man. "When I have
done my supper I'll lie down here by the fire, if it is pleasing to you,
and I'll sleep like a top until morning. And now go back to your beds
and leave me to myself, and maybe some time when you won't be expecting
it I'll do a good turn for your kindness to the poor wayfarer."
"Oh, it's no kindness at all," said the huntsman's wife. "It would be
a queer thing if an Irish cabin would not give shelter and welcome in
a wild night like this. So good night, now, and we hope you will sleep
well."
"Good night," said the little man, "and may you and yours never sup
sorrow until your dying day."
The huntsman and his wife and Fergus then went back to their beds, and
the little man, having finished his supper, curled himself up by the
fire, and was soon fast asleep.
About an hour after a loud clap of thunder awakened Fergus, and before
it had died away he heard three knocks at the door. He aroused his parents
and told them.
"Get up at once," said his mother, "this is no night to keep a stranger
outside our door."
Fergus rose and opened the door, and a flash of lightning showed him a
little old woman, with a shuttle in her hand, standing outside.
"Come in, and welcome," said he, and the little old woman stepped into
the room.
"Blessings be on them who give welcome to a wanderer on a wild night
like this," said the old woman.
"And who wouldn't give welcome on a night like this?" said the
huntsman's wife, coming forward with a peggin of milk and a barley cake
in her hand, "and sorry we are we have not better fare to offer you."
"Enough is as good as a feast," said the little woman, "and now go back
to your beds and leave me to myself."
"Not till I shake down a bed of rushes for you," said the huntsman's
wife.
"Don't mind the rushes," said the little woman; "go back to your beds.
I'll sleep here by the fire."
[Illustration: "Fergus knew it was the Pooka, the wild horse of the
mountains"]
The huntsman's wife went to bed, and the little old woman, having eaten
her supper, lay down by the fire, and was soon fast asleep.
About an hour later another clap of thunder startled Fergus. Again he
heard three knocks at the door. He roused his parents, but he did not
wait for orders from them. He opened the door, and a flash of lightning
showed him outside the threshold a low-sized, shaggy, wild-looking
horse. And Fergus knew it was the Pooka, the wild horse of the
mountains. Bold as Fergus was, his heart beat quickly as he saw fire
issuing from the Pooka's nostrils. But, banishing fear, he cried out:
"Come in, and welcome."
"Welcome you are," said the huntsman, "and sorry we are that we have not
better shelter or fare to offer you."
"I couldn't wish a better welcome," said the Pooka, as he came over near
the fire and sat down on his haunches.
"Maybe you would like a little bit of this, Master Pooka," said the
huntsman's wife, as she offered him a barley cake.
"I never tasted anything sweeter in my life," said the Pooka, crunching
it between his teeth, "and now if you can give me a sup of milk, I'll
want for nothing."
The huntsman's wife brought him a peggin of milk. When he had drunk it,
"Now," says the Pooka, "go back to your beds, and I'll curl myself up by
the fire and sleep like a top till morning."
And soon everybody in the hut was fast asleep.
When the morning came the storm had gone, and the sun was shining
through the windows of the hut. At the song of the lark Fergus got up,
and no one in the world was ever more surprised than he when he saw no
sign of the little old man, or the little old woman, or the wild horse
of the mountains. His parents were also surprised, and they all thought
that they must have been dreaming until they saw the empty peggins
around the fire and some pieces of broken bread; and they did not know
what to think of it all.
From that day forward the desire grew stronger in the heart of Fergus
for a change of life; and one day he told his parents that he was
resolved to seek his fortune. He said he wished to be a soldier, and that
he would set out for the king's palace, and try to join the ranks of the
Feni.
About a week afterwards he took leave of his parents, and having
received their blessing he struck out for the road that led to the
palace of the High King of Erin. He arrived there just at the time when
the great captain of the Fenian host was recruiting his battalions,
which had been thinned in recent battle.
The manly figure of Fergus, his gallant bearing, and handsome face, all
told in his favor. But before he could be received into the Fenian ranks
he had to prove that he could play the harp like a bard, that he could
contend with staff and shield against nine Fenian warriors, that he
could run with plaited hair through the tangled forest without loosening
a single hair, and that in his course he could jump over trees as high
as his head, and stoop under trees as low as his knee, and that he could
run so lightly that the rotten twigs should not break under his feet.
Fergus proved equal to all the tests, thanks to the wandering minstrel
who taught him the use of the harp, to his own brave heart, and to his
forest training. He was enrolled in the second battalion of the Feni,
and before long he was its bravest and ablest champion.
At that very time it happened that the niece of the High King of
Erin was staying with the king and queen in their palace at Tara. The
princess was the loveliest lady in all the land. She was as proud as
she was beautiful. The princes and chieftains of Erin in vain sought her
hand in marriage. From Alba and Spain, and the far-off isles of Greece,
kings came to woo her. From the northern lands came vikings in stately
galleys with brazen prows, whose oarsmen tore the white foam from the
emerald seas as they swept towards the Irish coasts. But the lady had
vowed she would wed with no one except a battle champion who could excel
in music the chief bard of the High King of Erin; who could outstrip on
his steed in the great race of Tara the white steed of the plains; and
who could give her as a wedding robe a garment of all the colors of the
rainbow, so finely spun that when folded up it would fit in the palm of
her small white hand. To fulfill these three conditions was impossible
for all her suitors, and it seemed as if the loveliest lady of the land
would go unmarried to her grave.
It chanced that once, on a day when the Fenian battalions were engaged
in a hurling-match, Fergus beheld the lady watching the match from her
sunny bower. He no sooner saw her than he fell over head and ears in
love with her, and he thought of her by night, and he thought of her by
day, and believing that his love was hopeless, he often wished he had
never left his forest-home.
The great fair of Tara[8] was coming on, and all the Feni were busy from
morning till night practicing feats of arms and games, in order to take
part in the contests to be held during the fair. And Fergus, knowing
that the princess would be present, determined to do his best to win the
prizes which were to be contended for before the ladies' eyes.
The fair began on the 1st of August, but for a whole week before the
five great roads of Erin were thronged with people of all sorts. Princes
and warriors on their steeds, battle champions in their chariots,
harpers in hundreds, smiths with gleaming spears and shields and
harness for battle steeds and chariots; troops of men and boys leading
racehorses; jewelers with gold drinking-horns, and brooches, and pins,
and earrings, and costly gems of all kinds, and chessboards of silver
and gold, and golden and silver chessmen in bags of woven brass; dyers
with their many-colored fabrics; bands of jugglers; drovers goading on
herds of cattle; shepherds driving their sheep; huntsmen with spoils
of the chase; dwellers in the lakes or by the fish-abounding rivers
with salmon and speckled trout; and countless numbers of peasants on
horseback and on foot, all wending their way to the great meeting-place
by the mound, which a thousand years before had been raised over the
grave of the great queen. For there the fair was to be held.
On the opening day the High King, attended by the four kings of Erin,
set out from the palace, and with them went the queen and the ladies of
the court in sparkling chariots. The princess rode in the chariot with
the High Queen, under an awning made of the wings of birds, to protect
them from the rays of the sun. Following the queen were the court ladies
in other chariots, under awnings of purple or of yellow silk. Then came
the brehons, the great judges of the land, and the chief bards of the
high court of Tara, and the Druids, crowned with oak leaves, and
carrying wands of divination in their hands.
When the royal party reached the ground it took its place in inclosures
right up against the monumental mound. The High King sat with the four
kings of Erin, all wearing their golden helmets, for they wore their
diadems in battle only. In an inclosure next the king's sat the queen
and the princess and all the ladies of the court. At either side of the
royal pavilions were others for the dames and ladies and nobles and
chiefs of different degrees, forming part of a circle on the plain, and
the stands and benches for the people were so arranged as to complete
the circle, and in the round green space within it, so that all might
hear and see, the contests were to take place.
At a signal from the king, who was greeted with a thunderous cheer, the
heralds rode round the circle, and having struck their sounding shields
three times with their swords, they made a solemn proclamation of peace.
Then was sung by all the assembled bards, to the accompaniment of their
harps, the chant in honor of the mighty dead. When this was ended, again
the heralds struck their shields, and the contests began. The first
contest was the contest of spear-throwing between the champions of the
seven battalions of the Feni. When the seven champions took their places
in front of the royal inclosure, everyone, even the proud princess, was
struck by the manly beauty and noble bearing of Fergus.