their shields the seven spears sped flashing through the air. They all
struck the ground, shafts up, and it was seen that two were standing
side by side in advance of the rest, one belonged to Fergus, the other
to the great chief, Oscar. The contest for the prize then lay between
Oscar and Fergus, and when they stood in front of the king, holding
their spears aloft, every heart was throbbing with excitement. Once more
the heralds struck their shields, and, swifter than the lightning's
flash, forth went the spears, and when Fergus's spear was seen shivering
in the ground a full length ahead of the great chief Oscar's, the air was
shaken by a wild cheer that was heard far beyond the plains of Tara. And
as Fergus approached the high king to receive the prize the cheers were
renewed. But Fergus thought more of the winsome glance of the princess
than he did of the prize or the sounding cheers. And Princess Maureen
was almost sorry for her vow, for her heart was touched by the beauty
of the Fenian champion.
Other contests followed, and the day passed, and the night fell, and
while the Fenian warriors were reveling in their camps the heart of
Fergus, victor as he was, was sad and low. He escaped from his
companions, and stole away to his native forest, for--
"When the heart is sick and sorest,
There is balsam in the forest--
There is balsam in the forest
For its pain."
And as he lay under the spreading branches, watching the stars glancing
through the leaves, and listening to the slumb'rous murmur of the
waters, a strange peace came over him.
But in the camp which he had left, and in the vast multitude on the plains
of Tara, there was stir and revelry, and babbling speculation as to the
contest of to-morrow--the contest which was to decide whether the chief
bard of Erin was to hold his own against all comers, or yield the palm.
For rumor said that a great Skald had come from the northern lands to
compete with the Irish bard.
At last, over the Fenian camp, and over the great plain and the
multitude that thronged it, sleep fell, clothing them with a silence as
deep as that which dwelt in the forest, where, dreaming of the princess,
Fergus lay. He awoke at the first notes of the birds, but though he felt
he ought to go back to his companions and be witness of the contest
which might determine whether the princess was to be another's bride,
his great love and his utter despair of winning her so oppressed him
that he lay as motionless as a broken reed. He scarcely heard the music
of the birds, and paid no heed to the murmur of the brook rushing by his
feet. The crackling of branches near him barely disturbed him, but when
a shadow fell across his eyes he looked up gloomily, and saw, or thought
he saw, someone standing before him. He started up, and who should he see
but the little wizened old man who found shelter in his father's hut on
the stormy night.
"This is a nice place for a battle champion to be. This is a nice place
for _you_ to be on the day which is to decide who will be the successful
suitor of the princess."
"What is it to me," said Fergus, "who is to win her since I cannot?"
"I told you," said the little man, "the night you opened the door for
me, that the time might come when I might be able to do a good turn for
you and yours. The time has come. Take this harp, and my luck go with
you, and in the contest of the bards to-day you'll reap the reward of
the kindness you did when you opened your door to the poor old wayfarer
in the midnight storm."
The little man handed his harp to Fergus and disappeared as swiftly as
the wind that passes through the leaves.
Fergus, concealing the harp under his silken cloak, reached the camp
before his comrades had aroused themselves from sleep.
At length the hour arrived when the great contest was to take place.
The king gave the signal, and as the chief bard of Erin was seen
ascending the mound in front of the royal inclosures he was greeted with
a roar of cheers, but at the first note of his harp silence like that of
night fell on the mighty gathering.
As he moved his fingers softly over the strings every heart was hushed,
filled with a sense of balmy rest. The lark soaring and singing above
his head paused mute and motionless in the still air, and no sound was
heard over the spacious plain save the dreamy music. Then the bard
struck another key, and a gentle sorrow possessed the hearts of his
hearers, and unbidden tears gathered to their eyes. Then, with bolder
hand, he swept his fingers across his lyre, and all hearts were moved
to joy and pleasant laughter, and eyes that had been dimmed by tears
sparkled as brightly as running waters dancing in the sun. When the last
notes had died away a cheer arose, loud as the voice of the storm in the
glen when the live thunder is reveling on the mountain tops. As soon as
the bard had descended the mound the Skald from the northern lands took
his place, greeted by cries of welcome from a hundred thousand throats.
He touched his harp, and in the perfect silence was heard the strain of
the mermaid's song, and through it the pleasant ripple of summer waters
on the pebbly beach. Then the theme was changed, and on the air was
borne the measured sweep of countless oars and the swish of waters
around the prows of contending galleys, and the breezy voices of the
sailors and the sea-bird's cry. Then his theme was changed to the mirth
and laughter of the banquet-hall, the clang of meeting drinking-horns,
and songs of battle. When the last strain ended, from the mighty host a
great shout went up, loud as the roar of winter billows breaking in the
hollows of the shore; and men knew not whom to declare the victor, the
chief bard of Erin or the Skald of the northern lands.
In the height of the debate the cry arose that another competitor had
ascended the mound, and there standing in view of all was Fergus, the
huntsman's son. All eyes were fastened upon him, but no one looked so
eagerly as the princess.
He touched his harp with gentle fingers, and a sound low and soft as
a faint summer breeze passing through forest trees stole out, and then
was heard the rustle of birds through the branches, and the dreamy
murmur of waters lost in deepest woods, and all the fairy echoes
whispering when the leaves are motionless in the noonday heat; then
followed notes cool and soft as the drip of summer showers on the
parched grass, and then the song of the blackbird, sounding as clearly
as it sounds in long silent spaces of the evening, and then in one sweet
jocund burst the multitudinous voices that hail the breaking of the
morn. And the lark, singing and soaring above the minstrel, sank mute
and motionless upon his shoulder, and from all the leafy woods the birds
came thronging out and formed a fluttering canopy above his head.
When the bard ceased playing no shout arose from the mighty multitude,
for the strains of his harp, long after its chords were stilled, held
their hearts spellbound.
And when he had passed away from the mound of contest all knew there was
no need to declare the victor.[9] And all were glad the comely Fenian
champion had maintained the supremacy of the bards of Erin. But there
was one heart sad, the heart of the princess; and now she wished more
than ever that she had never made her hateful vow.
Other contests went on, but Fergus took no interest in them; and once
more he stole away to the forest glade. His heart was sorrowful, for he
thought of the great race of the morning, and he knew that he could not
hope to compete with the rider of the white steed of the plains. And as
he lay beneath the spreading branches during the whole night long his
thoughts were not of the victory he had won, but of the princess, who
was as far away from him as ever. He passed the night without sleep, and
when the morning came he rose and walked aimlessly through the woods.
A deer starting from a thicket reminded him of the happy days of his
boyhood, and once more the wish came back to him that he had never left
his forest home. As his eyes followed the deer wistfully, suddenly he
started in amazement. The deer vanished from view, and in his stead was
the wild horse of the mountains.
"I told you I'd do you a good turn," said the Pooka, "for the kindness
you and yours did me on that wild winter's night. The day is passing.
You have no time to lose. The white steed of the plains is coming to the
starting-post. Jump on my back, and remember, 'Faint heart never won
fair lady.'"
In half a second Fergus was bestride the Pooka, whose coat of shaggy
hair became at once as glossy as silk, and just at the very moment
when the king was about to declare there was no steed to compete with
the white steed of the plains, the Pooka, with Fergus upon his back,
galloped up in front of the royal inclosure. When the people saw the
champion a thunderous shout rose up that startled the birds in the
skies, and sent them flying to the groves.
And in the ladies' inclosure was a rustle of many-colored scarves waving
in the air. At the striking of the shields the contending steeds rushed
from the post with the swiftness of a swallow's flight. But before the
white steed of the plains had gone halfway round, Fergus and the wild
horse of the mountains had passed the winning post, greeted by such
cheers as had never before been heard on the plains of Tara.
Fergus heard the cheers, but scarcely heeded them, for his heart went
out through his eyes that were fastened on the princess, and a wild hope
stirred him that his glance was not ungrateful to the loveliest lady of
the land.
And the princess was sad and sorry for her vow, for she believed that it
was beyond the power of Fergus to bring her a robe of all the colors of
the rainbow, so subtly woven as to fit in the palm of her soft, white
hand.
That night also Fergus went to the forest, not too sad, because there
was a vague hope in his heart that had never been there before. He lay
down under the branches, with his feet towards the rustling waters, and
the smiles of the princess gilded his slumbers, as the rays of the
rising sun gild the glades of the forest; and when the morning came he
was scarcely surprised when before him appeared the little old woman
with the shuttle he had welcomed on the winter's night.
"You think you have won her already," said the little woman. "And so you
have, too; her heart is all your own, and I'm half inclined to think
that my trouble will be thrown away, for if you had never a wedding robe
to give her, she'd rather have you this minute than all the kings of
Erin, or than all the other princes and kings and chieftains in the
whole world. But you and your father and mother were kind to me on a
wild winter's night, and I'd never see your mother's son without a
wedding robe fit for the greatest princess that ever set nations to
battle for her beauty. So go and pluck me a handful of wild forest
flowers, and I'll weave out of them a wedding robe with all the colors
of the rainbow, and one that will be as sweet and as fragrant as the
ripe, red lips of the princess herself."
Fergus, with joyous heart, culled the flowers, and brought them to the
little old woman.
In the twinkling of an eye she wove with her little shuttle a wedding
robe, with all the colors of the rainbow, as light as the fairy dew, as
soft as the hand of the princess, as fragrant as her little red mouth,
and so small that it would pass through the eye of a needle.
"Go now, Fergus," said she, "and may luck go with you; but, in the days
of your greatness and of the glory which will come to you when you are
wedded to the princess, be as kind, and have as open a heart and as open
a door for the poor as you had when you were only a poor huntsman's son."
Fergus took the robe and went towards Tara. It was the last day of the
fair, and all the contests were over, and the bards were about to chant
the farewell strains to the memory of the great queen. But before the
chief bard could ascend the mound, Fergus, attended by a troop of Fenian
warriors on their steeds, galloped into the inclosure, and rode up in
front of the queen's pavilion. Holding up the glancing and many-colored
robe, he said:
"O Queen and King of Erin! I claim the princess for my bride. You,
O king, have decided that I have won the prize in the contest of the
bards; that I have won the prize in the race against the white steed of
the plains; it is for the princess to say if the robe which I give her
will fit in the hollow of her small white hand."
"Yes," said the king. "You are victor in the contests; let the princess
declare if you have fulfilled the last condition."
The princess took the robe from Fergus, closed her fingers over it, so
that no vestige of it was seen.
"Yes, O king!" said she, "he has fulfilled the last condition; but
before ever he had fulfilled a single one of them, my heart went out to
the comely champion of the Feni. I was willing then, I am ready now, to
become the bride of the huntsman's son."
THE FAIRY TREE OF DOOROS[10]
Once upon a time the fairies of the west, going home from a
hurling-match with the fairies of the lakes, rested in Dooros Wood for
three days and three nights. They spent the days feasting and the nights
dancing in the light of the moon, and they danced so hard that they wore
the shoes off their feet, and for a whole week after the leprechauns,
the fairies' shoemakers, were working night and day making new ones, and
the rip, rap, tap, tap of their little hammers were heard in all the
hedgerows.
The food on which the fairies feasted was little red berries, which were
so like those that grow on the rowan tree that if you only looked at
them you might mistake one for the other; but the fairy berries grow
only in fairyland, and are sweeter than any fruit that grows here in
this world, and if an old man, bent and gray, ate one of them, he became
young and active and strong again; and if an old woman, withered and
wrinkled, ate one of them, she became young and bright and fair; and if
a little maiden who was not handsome ate of them, she became lovelier
than the flower of beauty.
The fairies guarded the berries as carefully as a miser guards his gold,
and whenever they were about to leave fairyland they had to promise in
the presence of the king and queen that they would not give a single
berry to mortal man, nor allow one to fall upon the earth; for if a
single berry fell upon the earth a slender tree of many branches,
bearing clusters of berries, would at once spring up, and mortal men
might eat of them.
But it chanced that this time they were in Dooros Wood they kept up the
feasting and dancing so long, and were so full of joy because of their
victory over the lake fairies, that one little, weeny fairy, not much
bigger than my finger, lost his head, and dropped a berry in the wood.
When the feast was ended the fairies went back to fairyland, and were at
home for more than a week before they knew of the little fellow's fault,
and this is how they came to know of it.
A great wedding was about to come off, and the queen of the fairies sent
six of her pages to Dooros Wood to catch fifty butterflies with golden
spots on their purple wings, and fifty white without speck or spot, and
fifty golden, yellow as the cowslip, to make a dress for herself, and a
hundred white, without speck or spot, to make dresses for the bride and
bridesmaids.
When the pages came near the wood they heard the most wonderful music,
and the sky above them became quite dark, as if a cloud had shut out
the sun. They looked up, and saw that the cloud was formed of bees, who
in a great swarm were flying towards the wood and humming as they flew.
Seeing this they were sore afraid until they saw the bees settling on a
single tree, and on looking closely at the tree they saw it was covered
with fairy berries.
The bees took no notice of the fairies, and so they were no longer
afraid, and they hunted the butterflies until they had captured the full
number of various colors. Then they returned to fairyland, and they told
the queen about the bees and the berries, and the queen told the king.
The king was very angry, and he sent his heralds to the four corners of
fairyland to summon all his subjects to his presence that he might find
out without delay who was the culprit.
They all came except the little weeny fellow who dropped the berry, and
of course everyone said that it was fear that kept him away, and that he
must be guilty.
The heralds were at once sent in search of him, and after a while they
found him hiding in a cluster of ferns, and brought him before the king.
The poor little fellow was so frightened that at first he could scarcely
speak a word, but after a time he told how he never missed the berry
until he had returned to fairyland, and that he was afraid to say
anything to anyone about it.
The king, who would hear of no excuse, sentenced the little culprit to
be banished into the land of giants beyond the mountains, to stay there
for ever and a day unless he could find a giant willing to go to Dooros
Wood and guard the fairy tree. When the king had pronounced sentence
everyone was very sorry, because the little fellow was a favorite with
them all. No fairy harper upon his harp, or piper upon his pipe, or
fiddler upon his fiddle, could play half so sweetly as he could play
upon an ivy leaf; and when they remembered all the pleasant moonlit
nights on which they had danced to his music, and thought that they
should never hear or dance to it any more, their little hearts were
filled with sorrow. The queen was as sad as any of her subjects, but
the king's word should be obeyed.
When the time came for the little fellow to set out into exile the queen
sent her head page to him with a handful of berries. These the queen
said he was to offer to the giants, and say at the same time that the
giant who was willing to guard the tree could feast on berries just as
sweet from morn till night.
As the little fellow went on his way nearly all the fairies followed him
to the borders of the land, and when they saw him go up the mountain
towards the land of the giants, they all took off their little red caps
and waved them until he was out of sight.
On he went walking all day and night, and when the sun rose on the
morrow he was on the top of the mountain, and he could see the land of
the giants in the valley stretched far below him. Before beginning his
descent he turned round for a last glimpse of fairyland; but he could
see nothing, for a thick, dark cloud shut it out from view. He was
very sad, and tired, and footsore, and as he struggled down the rough
mountain side, he could not help thinking of the soft, green woods and
mossy pathways of the pleasant land he had left behind him.
[Illustration: "He was very sad, and tired"]
When he awoke the ground was trembling, and a noise that sounded like
thunder fell on his ears. He looked up and saw coming towards him a
terrible giant, with one eye that burned like a live coal in the middle
of his forehead; his mouth stretched from ear to ear, his teeth were
long and crooked, the skin of his face was as black as night, and his
arms and chest were all covered with black, shaggy hair; round his body
was an iron band, and hanging from this by a chain was a great club with
iron spikes. With one blow of this club he could break a rock into
splinters, and fire could not burn him, and water could not drown him,
and weapons could not wound him, and there was no way to kill him but
by giving him three blows of his own club. And he was so bad-tempered
that the other giants called him Sharvan the Surly. When the giant spied
the red cap of the little fairy he gave the shout that sounded like
thunder. The poor fairy was shaking from head to foot.
"What brought you here?" said the giant.
"Please, Mr. Giant," said the fairy, "the king of the fairies banished
me here, and here I must stay for ever and a day, unless you come and
guard the fairy tree in Dooros Wood."
"Unless what?" roared the giant, and he gave the fairy a touch of his
foot that sent the little fellow rolling down head over heels.
The poor fairy lay as if he were dead, and then the giant, feeling sorry
for what he had done, took him up gently between his finger and thumb.
"Don't be frightened, little man," said he, "and now, tell me all about
the tree."
"It is the tree of the fairy berry that grows in the Wood of Dooros,"
said the fairy, "and I have some of the berries with me."
"Oh, you have, have you?" said the giant. "Let me see them."
The fairy took three berries from the pocket of his little green coat,
and gave them to the giant.
The giant looked at them for a second. He then swallowed the three
together, and when he had done so, he felt so happy that he began to
shout and dance for joy.
"More, you little thief!" said he. "More, you little----what's your
name?" said the giant.
"Pinkeen, please, Mr. Giant," said the fairy, as he gave up all the
berries.
The giant shouted louder than before, and his shouts were heard by all
the other giants, who came running towards him.
When Sharvan saw them coming, he caught up Pinkeen, and put him in his
pocket, that they shouldn't see him.
"What were you shouting for?" said the giants.
"Because," said Sharvan, "that rock there fell down on my big toe."
"You did not shout like a man that was hurt," said they.
"What is it to you what way I shouted?" said he.
"You might give a civil answer to a civil question," said they; "but
sure you were always Sharvan the Surly;" and they went away.
When the giants were out of sight, Sharvan took Pinkeen out of his
wallet.
"Some more berries, you little thief--I mean little Pinkeen," said he.
"I have not any more," said Pinkeen; "but if you will guard the tree in
Dooros Wood you can feast on them from morn till night."
"I'll guard every tree in the wood, if I may do that," said the giant.
"You'll have to guard only one," said Pinkeen.
"How am I to get to it?" said Sharvan.
"You must first come with me towards fairyland," said the fairy.
"Very well," said Sharvan; "let us go." And he took up the fairy and put
him into his wallet, and before very long they were on the top of the
mountain. Then the giant looked around towards the giants' land; but
a black cloud shut it out from view, while the sun was shining on the
valley that lay before him, and he could see away in the distance the
green woods and shining waters of fairyland.
It was not long until he reached its borders, but when he tried to cross
them his feet stuck to the ground and he could not move a step. Sharvan
gave three loud shouts that were heard all over fairyland, and made the
trees in the woods tremble, as if the wind of a storm was sweeping over
them.
"Oh, please, Mr. Giant, let me out," said Pinkeen. Sharvan took out the
little fellow, who, as soon as he saw he was on the borders of fairyland
ran as fast as his legs could carry him, and before he had gone very far
he met all the little fairies who, hearing the shouts of the giant, came
trooping out from the ferns to see what was the matter. Pinkeen told
them it was the giant who was to guard the tree, shouting because he
was stuck fast on the borders, and they need have no fear of him. The
fairies were so delighted to have Pinkeen back again, that they took
him up on their shoulders and carried him to the king's palace, and all
the harpers and pipers and fiddlers marched before him playing the most
jocund music that was ever heard. The king and queen were on the lawn
in front of the palace when the gay procession came up and halted before
them. The queen's eyes glistened with pleasure when she saw the little
favorite, and the king was also glad at heart, but he looked very grave
as he said:
"Why have you returned, sirrah?"
Then Pinkeen told his majesty that he had brought with him a giant who
was willing to guard the fairy tree.
"And who is he and where is he?" asked the king.
"The other giants called him Sharvan the Surly," said Pinkeen, "and he
is stuck fast outside the borders of fairyland."
"It is well," said the king, "you are pardoned."
When the fairies heard this they tossed their little red caps in the
air, and cheered so loudly that a bee who was clinging to a rose-bud
fell senseless to the ground.
Then the king ordered one of his pages to take a handful of berries,
and to go to Sharvan and show him the way to Dooros Wood. The page,
taking the berries with him, went off to Sharvan, whose roaring nearly
frightened the poor little fellow to death. But as soon as the giant
tasted the berries he got into good humor, and he asked the page if he
could remove the spell of enchantment from him.