a command given out that all people of the kingdom must come to the
wedding. Every one came; and the wedding lasted seven days and nights, to
the pleasure of all, and the greatest delight of the king. Cian remained
with the king; and after a time his wife had a son, the finest and
fairest child ever born in Spain, and he was increasing so that what of
him didn’t grow in the day grew in the night, and what did not grow in
the night grew in the day, and if the sun shone on any child, it shone on
that one. The boy was called Cormac after Cian’s father, Cormac Mac Art.
Cian remained with the King of Spain till Cormac’s age was a year and
a half. Then he remembered his promise to Elin Gow to bring back Glas
Gainach.
Cian put stores in the vessel in which he had come, and placed Glas
Gainach inside, firmly fettered. He gave then the stem of his ship to
the ocean, the stern to land, raised the limber sails; and there was the
work of a hundred men on each side, though Cian did the work all alone.
He sailed through the main ocean with safety till he came to Tramor,—the
best landing-place in Erin at that time. Glas Gainach was brought to
shore carefully, and Cian went on his way with her to go to Elin Gow’s
house at Cluainte.
There was no highway from Tramor but the one; and on that one were three
brothers, three robbers, the worst at that time in Erin. These men knew
all kinds of magic, and had a rod of enchantment. Cian had brought much
gold with him on the way, coming as a present to his father.
The three brothers stopped Cian, saluted him, and asked would he play a
game. He said that he would. They played, and toward evening the robbers
had the gold won; then they said to Cian, “Now bet the cow against the
gold you have lost, and we will put twice as much with it.” He laid the
cow as a wager, and lost her.
One of the three robber brothers struck Cian with the rod of enchantment,
and made a stone pillar of him, and made an earth mound of Glas Gainach
with another blow. The two remained there, the man and the cow, by the
roadside.
Cian’s son Cormac was growing to manhood in Spain, and heard his mother
and grandfather talk of his father, and he thought to himself, “There
was no man on earth that could fight with my father; and I promise now
to travel and be walking always till I find out the place where he is,
living or dead.”
As Cormac had heard that his father was from Erin, to Erin he faced,
first of all. The mother was grieved, and advised him not to go
wandering. “Your father must be dead, or on the promise he made me he’d
be here long ago.”
“There is no use in talking; the world will not stop me till I know what
has happened to my father,” said Cormac.
The mother could not stop him; she gave her consent. He turned then to
his grandfather. “Make ready for me the best vessel you have,” said he.
The vessel was soon ready with provisions for a day and a year, and gold
two thousand pieces. He embarked, and went through the main ocean faster
than his father had gone till he sailed into Tramor. He was on his way
walking till he came to the robbers about midday.
They saluted him kindly, thinking he had gold, and asked, “Will you play
a game with us?”
“I will,” said Cormac; “I have never refused.”
They played. The robbers gained, and let him gain; they were at him the
best of the day, till they won the last piece of gold of his two thousand
pieces.
When he had lost what he had, he was like a wild man, and knew not what
to do for a while. At last Cormac said to himself, “It is an old saying
never contradicted that strength will get the upper hand of enchantment.”
He jumped then, and caught two of the three robbers, one in each hand,
and set them under his two knees. The third was coming to help the two;
but Cormac caught that one with his hand and held the three, kept them
there, and said, “I will knock the heads off every man of you.”
“Do not do that,” begged the three. “Who are you? We will do what you ask
of us.”
“I am seeking my father, Cian Mac Cormac, who left Spain eighteen years
ago with Glas Gainach.”
“Spare us,” said the three brothers; “we will give back your gold and
raise up your father with Glas Gainach.”
“How can ye do that,” asked Cormac, “or where is my father?”
“He is that pillar there opposite.”
“And where is Glas Gainach?”
They showed him the earth mound.
“How can ye bring them back to their own shapes?” asked Cormac.
“We have a rod of enchantment,” said the brothers; and they told where
the rod was. When Cormac had a true account of the rod, what he did was
to draw out his sword and cut the heads off the three brothers, saying,
“Ye will never again rob any man who walks this way.” Cormac then found
the rod of enchantment, went to the pillar, gave it a blow, and his
father came forth as well and healthy as ever.
“Who are you?” asked Cian of Cormac.
“I am your son Cormac.”
“Oh, my dear son, how old are you?”
“I’m in my twentieth year,” said Cormac. “I heard my mother and
grandfather talk of your bravery, and I made up my mind to go in search
of you, and be walking always till I found you. I said I’d face Erin
first, for ’twas there you went with Glas Gainach. I landed this morning,
met these three robbers; they won all my gold. I was like a wild man. I
caught them, and swore I would kill them. They asked who was I; I told
them. They said you were the stone pillar; that they had a rod that would
raise you up with Glas Gainach. They told where the rod was. I took the
heads off them, and raised you with the rod.”
Now Cormac struck the earth mound, and Glas Gainach rose up as well as
before. Everything was now in its own place, and they were glad. Cian
would not stop till he brought Glas Gainach to Elin Gow, so he was
walking night and day till he came here behind to Cluainte, where Elin
Gow was living. He screeched out Elin Gow’s name, told him to come. He
came out; and when he saw Cian and Glas Gainach he came near fainting
from joy. Cian put Glas Gainach’s horn in his hand, and said, “I wished
to keep the promise I made when you spared my head; and it was gentle of
you to spare it, for great was the loss that I caused you;” and he told
all that had happened,—how he had won and lost Glas Gainach, and lost her
through the robbers.
“Who is this brave youthful champion with you?” asked Elin Gow.
“This is my son, and but for him I’d be forever where the three robbers
put me. I was eighteen years where they left me; but for that, the cow
would have been with you long ago. What were you doing all this time?”
asked Cian of Elin Gow.
“Making swords and weapons, but I could not have lived without the
support of your father.”
“He promised me that,” said Cian, “before I left Erin. I knew that he
would help you.”
“Oh, he did!” said Elin Gow.
The father and son left good health with Elin Gow, and never stopped nor
stayed till they reached the castle of Cian’s father. The old king had
thought that Cian was dead, as he had received no account of him for so
many years. Great was his joy and gladness, and great was the feast that
he made.
Cian remained for a month, and then went to the house of the robbers,
took out all its treasures, locked up the place in the way that no man
could open it; then he gave one-half his wealth to his father. He took
the rest to Spain with his son, and lived there.
Elin Gow had grown old, and he was in dread that he had not the strength
to follow Glas Gainach, and sent a message to Caol na Crua, the fleetest
champion in Kerry. Caol came. Elin Gow agreed to pay him his price for
minding the cow, and was glad to get him. He told Caol carefully how to
herd the cow. She travelled as before, and was always at home before
nightfall.
Glas Gainach had milk for all; and when any one came to milk her she
would stop, and there never was a vessel that she did not fill. One
woman heard this; and once when Glas Gainach was near a river, the woman
brought a sieve and began to milk. She milked a long time. At last the
cow saw the river white with milk; then she raised her leg, gave the
woman a kick on the forehead, and killed her.
Caol na Crua was doing well, minding the cow all the time, till one
evening Glas Gainach walked between the two pillars where she used to
scratch herself; when she was full, her sides would touch both pillars.
This evening she bellowed, and Elin Gow heard her. Instead of going home
then, she went down to a place northwest of Cluainte, near a ruin; she
used to drink there at times, but not often. Caol na Crua did not know
this. He thought she was going into the sea, and caught her tail to hold
her back. With that, instead of drinking, she went straight toward the
water. Caol tried to hold her. She swept him along and went through the
ocean, he keeping the grip he had, and she going with such swiftness that
he was lying flat on the sea behind her; and she took him with her to
Spain and went to the king, and very joyful was the king, for they were
in great distress for butter while Glas Gainach was gone.
MOR’S SONS AND THE HERDER FROM UNDER THE SEA.
In old times, there was a great woman in the southwest of Erin, and she
was called Mor. This woman lived at Dun Quin; and when she came to that
place the first time with her husband Lear, she was very poor. People say
that it was by the water she came to Dun Quin. Whatever road she took,
all she had came by the sea, and went the same way.
She built a small house, and their property was increasing little by
little. After a while she had three sons, and these grew to be very fine
boys and then strong young men.
The two elder sons set out to try their fortunes; they got a vessel,
sailed away on the sea, and never stopped nor halted till they came to
the Kingdom of the White Strand, in the eastern world. There they stayed
for seven years, goaling and sporting with the people.
The king of that country wished to keep them forever, because they were
strong men, and had risen to be great champions.
The youngest son remained at home all the time, growing to be as good
a man as his brothers. One day he went out to look at a large field of
wheat which his mother had, and found it much injured.
“Well, mother,” said he when he came in, “all our field is destroyed by
something. I don’t know for the world what is it. Something comes in,
tramples the grain and eats it.”
“Watch the field to-night, my son, and see what is devouring our grain.”
“Well, mother, boil something for me to eat to give me strength and good
luck for the night.”
Mor baked a loaf, and boiled some meat for her son, and told him to watch
well till the hour of night, when perhaps the cattle would be before him.
He was watching and looking there, till all at once, a little after
midnight, he saw the field full of cattle of different colors,—beautiful
colors, blue, and red, and white. He was looking at them for a long time,
they were so beautiful. The young man wanted to drive the beasts home
with him, to show his mother the cattle that were spoiling the grain. He
had them out of the field on the road when a herder stood before him, and
said, “Leave the cattle behind you.”
“I will not,” said Mor’s son; “I will drive them home to my mother.”
“I will not let them with you,” said the herder.
“I’ll carry them in spite of you,” replied Mor’s son.
He had a good strong green stick, and so had the herder; the two faced
each other, and began to fight. The herder was too strong for Mor’s son,
and he drove off the cattle into the sea.
“Oh,” said the herder, as he was going, “your mother did not boil your
meat or bake your loaf rightly last night; she gave too much fire to the
loaf and the meat, took the strength out of them. You might do something
if your mother knew how to cook.”
When Mor’s son went home, his mother asked, “Did you see any cattle, my
son?”
“I did, mother; the field was full of them. And when I was bringing the
herd home with me to show you, a man stood there on the road to take the
beasts from me; we fought, and when he beat me and was driving the cattle
into the sea, what did he say but that you boiled the meat and baked the
loaf too much last night. To-night, when you boil my meat, do not give it
half the fire; leave all the strength in the meat and the loaf.”
“I will,” said the mother.
When night came, the dinner was ready. The young man ate twice as much
of the meat and the loaf as the evening before. About the same hour,
just after midnight, he went to the field, for he knew now what time the
cattle would be in it. The field was full of the same cattle of beautiful
colors.
Mor’s son drove the beasts out, and was going to drive them home, when
the herder, who was not visible hitherto, came before him and said, “I
will not let the cattle with you.”
“I will take them in spite of you,” replied Mor’s son.
The two began to fight, and Mor’s son was stronger this time.
“Why do you not keep your cattle out of my wheat?” asked he of the herder.
“Because I know very well that you are not able to take them with you.”
“If I am not able to take the cattle, you may have them and the wheat as
well,” said Mor’s son.
The herder was driving the cattle one way, and Mor’s son was driving them
the opposite way; and after they had done that for a while, they faced
each other and began to fight again.
Mor’s son was doubly angry at the herder this night for the short
answers that he gave. They fought two hours; then the herder got the
upper hand. Mor’s son was sorry; and the herder, as he drove the cattle
to the sea, called out, “Your mother gave too much fire to the meat and
the loaf; still you are stronger to-night than you were last night.”
Mor’s son went home.
“Well, my son,” asked the mother, “have you any news of the cattle and
the herder?”
“I have seen them, mother.”
“And what did the herder do?”
“He was too strong for me a second time, and drove the cattle into the
sea.”
“What are we to do now?” asked the mother. “If he keeps on in this way,
we’ll soon be poor, and must leave the country altogether.”
“The herder said, as he drove the cattle away, ‘Your mother gave too much
fire to the meat and the loaf; still you are stronger to-night than you
were last night.’ Well, mother, if you gave too much fire to my dinner
last night, give but little to-night, and I will leave my life outside or
have the cattle home with me this time. If I do not beat him, he may have
the wheat as well as the cattle after to-night.”
Mor prepared the dinner; and this time she barely let the water on the
meat begin to bubble, and to the bread she gave but one roast.
He ate and drank twice as much as the day before. The dinner gave him
such strength that he said, “I’ll bring the cattle to-night.”
He went to the field, and soon after midnight it was full of cattle of
the same beautiful colors; the grain was spoiled altogether. He drove
the cattle to the road, and thought he had them. He got no sight of the
herder till every beast was outside the field, and he ready to drive them
home to his mother. Then the herder stood before him, and began to drive
the cattle toward the sea.
“You’ll not take them this time,” said Mor’s son.
“I will,” said the herder.
They began to fight, caught each other, dragged, and struggled long, and
in the heel of the battle Mor’s son was getting the better of the herder.
“I think that you’ll have the upper hand of me this time,” said the
herder; “and ’tis my own advice I blame for it. You’ll take the cattle
to-night in spite of me. Let me go now, and take them away with you.”
“I will,” said Mor’s son. “I will take them to the house, and please my
mother.”
He drove the cattle home, and said to his mother, “I have the cattle here
now for you, and do whatever you wish with them.”
The herder followed Mor’s son to the house.
“Why did you destroy all my grain with your cattle?” asked Mor.
“Let the cattle go with me now, and I promise that after to-night your
field of wheat will be the best in the country.”
“What are we to do?” asked Mor of the son. “Is it to let the cattle go
with him for the promise he gives?”
“I will do what you say, mother.”
“We will give him the cattle,” said Mor.
“Well,” said the son to the herder, “my mother is going to give you the
cattle for the promise that our grain will be the best in the country
when ’tis reaped. We ought to be friends after the fighting; and now take
your cattle home with you, though you vexed and hurt me badly.”
“I am very grateful to you,” said the herder to Mor’s son, “and for your
kindness you will have plenty of cattle and plenty of wheat before you
die, and seeing that you are such a good man I will give you a chance
before I leave you. The King of Mayo has an only daughter; the fairies
will take her from him to-morrow. They will bring her through Daingean,
on the shoulders of four men, to the fairy fort at Cnoc na Hown. Be at
the cross-roads about two o’clock to-morrow night. Jump up quickly, put
your shoulder under the coffin, the four men will disappear and leave the
coffin on the road; do you bring what’s in the coffin home with you.”
Mor’s son followed the herder’s directions. He went toward Daingean in
the night, for he knew the road very well. After midnight, he was at
the cross-roads, waiting and hidden. Soon he saw the coffin coming out
against him, and the four men carrying it on their shoulders.
The young man put his shoulder under the coffin; the four dropped it that
minute, and disappeared. Mor’s son took the lid off the coffin; and what
did he find lying inside but a beautiful woman, warm and ruddy, sleeping
as if at home in her bed. He took out the young woman, knowing well that
she was alive, and placing her on his back, left the coffin behind at the
wayside.
The woman could neither walk nor speak, and he brought her home to his
mother. Mor opened the door, and he put the young woman down in the
corner.
“What’s this you brought me? What do I want with the like of her in the
house?”
“Never mind, mother; it may be our luck that will come with her.”
They gave her every kind of drink and nourishing food, for she was very
weak; when daylight came, she was growing stronger, and could speak. The
first words she said were, “I am no good to you in the way that I am now;
but if you are a brave man, you will meet with your luck to-morrow night.
All the fairies will be gathered at a feast in the fort at Cnoc na Hown;
there will be a horn of drink on the table. If you bring that horn, and I
get three sips from it (if you have the heart of a brave man you will go
to the fort, seize the horn, and bring it here), I shall be as well and
strong as ever, and you will be as rich yourself as any king in Erin.”
“I have stood in great danger before from the like of them,” replied
Mor’s son. “I will make a trial of this work, too.”
“Between one and two o’clock in the night you must go to the fort,” said
the young woman, “and you must carry a stick of green rowan wood in your
hand.”
The young man went to the fairy fort, keeping the stick carefully and
firmly in his hand. At parting, the young woman warned him, saying, “They
can do you no harm in the world while you have the stick, but without the
stick there is no telling what they might do.”
When Mor’s son came to Cnoc na Hown, and went in through the gate of the
fairy fort, he saw a house and saw many lights flashing in different
places. In the kitchen was a great table with all sorts of food and
drink, and around it a crowd of small men. When he was making toward the
table, he heard one of the men say,—
“Very little good will the girl be to Mor’s son. He may keep her in the
corner by his mother. There will be neither health nor strength in her;
but if she had three drinks out of this horn on the table here, she would
be as well as ever.”
He faced them then, and, catching the horn, said, “She will not be long
without the drink!”
All the little men looked at one another as he hurried through the door
and disappeared. He had the stick, and they could not help themselves;
but all began to scold one another for not having the courage to seize
him and take the horn from him.
Mor’s son reached home with the horn. “Well, mother,” said he, “we have
the cure now;” and he didn’t put the horn down till the young woman had
taken three drinks out of it, and then she said,—
“You are the best champion ever born in Erin, and now take the horn back
to Cnoc na Hown; I am as well and hearty as ever.”
He took the horn back to the fairy fort, placed it on the table, and
hurried home. The fairies looked at one another, but not a thing could
they do, for the stick was in his hand yet.
“The woman is as well as ever now,” said one of the fairies when Mor’s
son had gone, “and we have lost her;” and they began to scold one another
for letting the horn go with him. But that was all the good it did them;
the young woman was cured.
Next day the young woman said to Mor’s son, “I am well now, and I will
give you a token to take to my father and mother in Mayo.”
“I will not take the token,” said he; “I will go and seek out your
father, and bring back some token to you first.”
He went away, searched and inquired till he made out the king’s castle;
and when he was there, he went around all the cattle and went away home
to his mother at Tivorye with every four-footed beast that belonged to
the king.
“Well, mother,” said he, “it is the luck we have now; and we’ll have the
whole parish under stock from this out.”
The young woman was not satisfied yet, and said, “You must go and carry a
token to my father and mother.”
“Wait awhile, and be quiet,” answered Mor’s son. “Your father will send
herders to hunt for the stock, and these men will have token enough when
they come.”
Well, sure enough, the king’s men hunted over hills and valleys, found
that the cattle had been one day in such a place and another day in
another place; and they followed on till at length and at last they came
near Mor’s house, and there they saw the cattle grazing above on the
mountain.
There was no house in Dun Quin at that time but Mor’s house, and there
was not another in it for many a year after.
“We will send a man down to that house,” said the herders, “to know can
we get any account of what great champion it was that brought the cattle
all this distance.”
What did the man see when he came near the house but his own king’s
daughter. He knew the young woman, and was struck dumb when he saw her,
and she buried two months before at her father’s castle in Mayo. He had
no power to say a word, he forgot where he was, or why he was sent. At
last he turned, ran up to the men above on the mountain, and said, “The
king’s daughter is living below in that house.”
The herders would not believe a word he said, but at last three other men
went down to see for themselves. They knew the king’s daughter, and were
frightened; but they had more courage, and after a while asked, “Where is
the man that brought the cattle?”
“He is sleeping,” said the king’s daughter. “He is tired after the long
journey; if you wish, I will wake him.”
She woke Mor’s son, and he came out.
“What brought you here?” asked he of the men.
“We came looking for our master’s cattle; they are above on the mountain,
driven to this place by you, as it seems. We have travelled hither and
over till we found them.”
“Go and tell your master,” said Mor’s son, “that I brought the cattle;
that Lear is my father, and Mor is my mother, and that I have his
daughter here with me.”
“There is no use in sending them with that message,” said the young
woman; “my father would not believe them.”
“Tell your master,” said Mor’s son, “that it is I who brought the cattle,
and that I have his daughter here in good health, and ’tis by my bravery
that I saved her.”
“If they go to my father with that message, he will kill them. I will
give them a token for him.”
“What token will you give?”
“I will give them this ring with my name and my father’s name and my
mother’s name written inside on it. Do not give the ring,” said she to
the men, “till ye tell my father all ye have seen; if he will not believe
you, then give the ring.”
Away went the men, and not a foot of the cattle did they take; and if all
the men in Mayo had come, Mor’s son would not have let the cattle go with
them, for he had risen to be the best champion in Erin. The men went home
by the straightest roads; and they were not half the time going to the
king’s castle that they were in finding the cattle.
On the way home, one man said to the others, “It is a great story we have
and good news to tell; the king will make rich men of us for the tidings
we are taking him.”
When they reached the king’s castle, there was a welcome before them.
“Have ye any news for me after the long journey?” asked the king.
“We found your daughter with a man in Tivorye in the southwest of Erin,
and all your cattle are with the same man.”
“Ye may have found my cattle, but ye could not get a sight of my
daughter.”
“If you do not believe us in this way, you will, in another. We may as
well tell you all.”
“Ye may as well keep silent. I’ll not believe a word of what ye say about
my daughter.”