pulling out a purse. He had the purse rolled carefully in linen. (And he
did well, for the fairies cannot touch linen, and it is the best guard in
the world against them. Linen thread, too, is strong against the fairies.
A man might travel all the fairy forts of the world if he had a skein of
flax thread around his neck, and a steel knife with a black handle in his
pocket.) He took out the ring, and gave it to the king. The king sent for
the queen. She came. He put the ring in her hand and said, “Look at this,
and see do you know it.”
“I do indeed,” said she; “and how did you come by this ring?”
The king told the whole story that the men had brought.
“This is our daughter’s ring. It was on her finger when we buried her,”
said the queen.
“It was,” said the king, “and what the men say must be true.” He would
have killed them but for the ring.
On the following morning, the king and queen set out with horses, and
never stopped till they came to Tivorye (Mor’s house). The king knew the
cattle the moment he saw them above on the mountain, and then he was
sure of the rest. They were sorry to find the daughter in such a small
cabin, but glad that she was alive. The guide was sent to the house to
say the king and queen were coming.
“Your father and mother are coming,” said he to the king’s daughter.
She made ready, and was standing in the door before them. The father and
mother felt weak and faint when they looked at her; but she ran out,
took them by the hands, and said, “Have courage; I am alive and well, no
ghost, and ye ought to thank the man who brought me away from my enemies.”
“Bring him to us,” said they; “we wish to see him.”
“He is asleep, but I will wake him.”
“Wake him,” said the father, “for he is the man we wish to see now.”
The king’s daughter roused Mor’s son, and said, “My father and mother are
above in the kitchen. Go quickly, and welcome them.”
He welcomed them heartily, and he was ten times gladder to see them than
they were to see him. They inquired then how he got the daughter, and
she buried at home two months before. And he told the whole story from
first to last: How the herder from the sea had told him, and how he had
saved her at Cnoc na Hown. They had a joyful night in the cabin after the
long journey, and anything that would be in any king’s castle they had
in Mor’s house that night, for the king had plenty of everything with
him from the castle. Next morning the king and queen were for taking the
daughter home with them; but she refused firmly, and said,—
“I will never leave the man who saved me from such straits. I’ll never
marry any man but him, for I’m sure that he is the best hero ever reared
in Erin, after the courage that he has shown.”
“We will never carry you away, since you like him so well; and we will
send him twice as many cattle, and money besides.”
They brought in the priest of whatever religion was in it at the time (to
be sure, it was not Catholic priests were in Erin in those days), and
Mor’s son and the king’s daughter were married. The father and mother
left her behind in Tivorye, and enjoyed themselves on the way home, they
were that glad after finding the daughter alive.
When Mor’s son was strong and rich, he could not be satisfied till he
found his two brothers, who had left home years before, and were in the
kingdom of the White Strand, though he did not know it. He made up a fine
ship then, and got provisions for a day and a year, went into it, set
sail, and went on over the wide ocean till he came to the chief port of
the King of the White Strand. He was seven days on the water; and when he
came in on the strand, the king saw him, and thought that he must be a
brave man to come alone on a ship to that kingdom.
“That must be a great hero,” said he to his men. “Let some of the best of
you go down and knock a trial out of him before he comes to the castle.”
The king was so in dread of the stranger that out of all the men he
selected Mor’s two elder sons. They were the best and strongest men he
had, and he sent them to know what activity was in the new-comer. They
took two hurleys for themselves and one for the stranger, and a ball.
The second brother challenged the stranger to play. When the day was
closing, the stranger was getting the upper hand. They invited him to the
king’s castle for the night, and the elder brother challenged him to play
a game on the following day.
“How did the trial turn out?” asked the king of the elder brother.
“I sent my brother to try him, and it was the strange champion that got
the upper hand.”
Mor’s son remained at the castle that night, and found good welcome and
cheer. He ate breakfast next morning, and a good breakfast it was. They
took three hurleys then and a ball, and went to the strand. Said the
eldest brother to the second, “Stop here and look at us, and see what the
trial will be between us.”
They gave the stranger a choice of the hurleys, and the game began. It
couldn’t be told who was the better of the two brothers. The king was in
dread that the stranger would injure himself and his men. In the middle
of the day, when it could not be determined who was the better man, the
elder brother said, “We will try wrestling now, to know which of us can
win that way.”
“I’m well satisfied,” said Mor’s son.
They began to wrestle. The elder brother gave Mor’s son several knocks,
and he made several turns on the elder.
“Well, if I live,” said the elder, “you are my brother; for when we used
to wrestle at home, I had the knocks, and you had the turns. You are my
younger brother, for no man was able to wrestle with me when I was at
Tivorye but you.”
They knew each other then, and embraced. Each told his story.
“Come home with me now,” said the youngest brother, “and see our mother.
I am as rich as any king, and can give you good entertainment.”
The three went to the King of the White Strand, and told him everything.
The eldest and second brother asked leave of him to go home to see their
father and mother. The king gave them leave, and filled their vessel with
every kind of good food, and the two promised to come back.
The three brothers set sail then, and after seven days came in on the
strand near Tivorye. The two found their brother richer than any king
in any country. They were enjoying themselves at home for a long time,
having everything that their hearts could wish, when one day above
another they saw a vessel passing Dun Quin, and it drew up at the quay in
Daingean harbor. Next day people went to the ship; but if they did, not a
man went on board, for no man was allowed to go.
There was a green cat on deck. The cat was master of the vessel, and
would not let a soul come near it. A report went out through the town
that the green cat would allow no one to go near the ship, and for three
weeks this report was spreading. No one was seen on the vessel but the
cat, and he the size of a big man.
Mor’s sons heard of the ship and the green cat at Daingean, and they
said, “Let us have a day’s pleasure, and go to the ship and see the cat.”
Mor bade them stay at home. “Don’t mind the ship or the cat,” said she,
“and follow my advice.” But the sons would not follow her advice, nor be
said by her, and away they went, in spite of all she could do.
When the cat saw them coming, he knew very well who were in it. He jumped
out on the shore, stood on two legs, and shook hands with the three
brothers. He was as tall himself as the largest man, and as friendly as
he could be. The three brothers were glad to receive an honor which no
one else could get.
“Come down now to the cabin and have a trial of my cooking,” said the cat.
He brought them to the cabin, and the finest dinner was on the table
before them,—meat and drink as good as ever they tasted either in Tivorye
or the kingdom of the White Strand.
When the cat had them below in the cabin, and they eating and drinking
with great pleasure and delight, he went on deck, screwed down the
hatches, raised the sails, and away went the vessel sailing out of the
harbor; and before the three brothers knew where they were, the ship was
miles out on the ocean, and they thought they were eating dinner at the
side of the quay in Daingean.
“We’ll go up now,” said they when their dinner was eaten, “thank the cat,
and go on shore for ourselves.”
When on deck, they saw water on all sides, and did not know in the world
where they were. The cat never stopped till he sailed to his own kingdom,
which was the kingdom of the White Strand, for who should the cat be but
the King of the White Strand. He had come for the two brothers himself,
for he knew that they would never come of their own will, and he could
not trust another to go for them. The king needed them, for they were the
best men he had. In getting back the two, he took the third, and Mor was
left without any son.
Mor heard in the evening that the ship was gone, and her own three sons
inside in it.
“This is my misfortune,” cried she. “After rearing my three sons, they
are gone from me in this way.” She began to cry and lament then, and to
screech wonderfully.
Mor never knew who the cat was, or what became of her sons. The wife of
Mor’s youngest son went away to her father in Mayo, and everything she
had went with her. Mor’s husband, Lear, had died long before, and was
buried at Dunmore Head. His grave is there to this day. Mor became half
demented, and died soon after.
If women are scolding at the present time, it happens often that one says
to another, “May your children go from you as Mor’s sons went with the
enchanted cat!”
SAUDAN OG AND THE DAUGHTER OF THE KING OF SPAIN; YOUNG CONAL AND THE
YELLOW KING’S DAUGHTER.
Ri Na Durkach (the King of the Turks) lived many years in Erin, where he
had one son, Saudan Og. When this son grew up to be twenty years old, he
was a prince whose equal was hard to be found.
The old king was anxious to find a king’s daughter as wife for his son,
and began to inquire of all wayfarers, rich and poor, high and low, where
was there a king’s daughter fit for his son, but no one could tell him.
At last the king called his old druid. “Do you know,” asked he, “where to
find a king’s daughter for Saudan Og?”
“I do not,” said the druid; “but do you order your guards to stop all
people passing your castle, and inquire of them where such a woman may
be.”
As the druid advised, the king commanded; but no man made him a bit the
wiser.
A year later, an old ship captain walked the way, and the guards brought
him to the king.
“Do you know where a fitting wife for my son might be found?” asked the
king.
“I do,” said the captain; “but my advice to you, and it may be a good
one, is to seek a wife for your son in the land where he was born, and
not go abroad for her. You can find plenty of good women in Erin.”
“Well,” said the king, “tell me first who is the woman you have in mind.”
“If you must know,” said the old captain, “the daughter of the King of
Spain is the woman.”
Straightway the king had a notice put up on the high-road to bring no
more tidings to the castle, as he had no need of them.
When Saudan Og saw this notice, he knew that his father had the tidings,
but would not give them. Next morning he went to the father and begged
him to tell. “I know,” said he, “that the old captain told you.”
The king would say nothing for he feared that his son might fall into
trouble.
“I will start to-morrow,” said Saudan Og at last, “in search of the
woman; and if I do not find her, I will never come back to you, so it is
better to tell me at once.”
“The daughter of the King of Spain is the woman,” said the father; “but
if you take my advice, you’ll stay at home.”
On the following day, Saudan Og dressed himself splendidly, mounted a
white steed, and rode away, overtaking the wind before him; but the wind
behind could not overtake him. He travelled all that was dry of Erin, and
came to the seashore; so he had nowhere else to travel on land, unless he
went back to his father. He turned toward a wood then, and saw a great
ash-tree: he grasped the tree, and tore it out with its roots; and,
stripping the earth from the roots, he threw the great ash into the sea.
Leaving the steed behind him, he sat on the tree, and never stopped nor
stayed till he came to Spain. When he landed, he sent word to the king
that Saudan Og wished to see him.
The answer that Saudan got was not to come till the king had his castle
prepared to receive such a great champion.
When the castle was ready, the King of Spain sent a bellman to give
notice that every man, woman, or child found asleep within seven days
and nights would lose their heads, for all must sing, dance, and enjoy
themselves in honor of the high guest.
The king feasted Saudan Og for seven days and nights, and never asked
him where was he going or what was his business. On the evening of the
seventh day, Saudan said to the king, “You do not ask me what brought me
this way, or what is my business.”
“Were you to stay twenty years I would not ask. I’m not surprised that a
prince of your blood and in full youthful beauty should travel the world
to see what is in it.”
“It was not to see the world that I came,” said Saudan Og, “but hearing
that you have a beautiful daughter, I wished her for wife; and if I do
not get her with your consent, I will take her in spite of you.”
“You would get my daughter with a hundred thousand welcomes,” said the
king; “but as you have boasted, you must show action.”
The king then sent a messenger to three kings—to Ri Fohin, Ri Laian,
and Conal Gulban—to help him. “If you will not come,” said he, “I am
destroyed, for Saudan Og will take my daughter in spite of me.”
The kings made ready to sail for Spain. When Conal Gulban was going, he
called up his three sons and said, “Stay here and care for the kingdom
while I am gone.”
“I will not stay,” said the eldest son. “You are old and feeble: I am
young and strong; let me go in place of you.”
The second son gave a like answer. The youngest had his father’s name,
Conal, and the king said to him, “Stay here at home and care for the
kingdom while I am gone, since your brothers will not obey me.”
“I will do what you bid me,” said Conal.
“Now I am going,” said the old king; “and if I and your brothers never
return, be not bribed by the rich to injure the poor. Do justice to all,
so that rich and poor may love you as they loved your father before you.”
He left young Conal twelve advisers, and said, “If we do not return in
a day and a year, be sure that we are killed; you may then do as you
like in the kingdom. If your twelve advisers tell you to marry a king’s
daughter of wealth and high rank, it will be of help to you in defending
the kingdom. You will be two powers instead of one.”
The day and the year passed, and no tidings came of Conal’s two brothers
and father. At the end of the day and the year, the twelve told him they
had chosen a king’s daughter for him, a very beautiful maiden. When the
twelve spoke of marriage, Conal let three screeches out of him, that
drove stones from the walls of old buildings for miles around the castle.
Now an old druid that his father had twenty years before heard the three
screeches, and said, “Young Conal is in great trouble. I will go to him
to know can I help him.”
The druid cleared a mountain at a leap, a valley at a hop, twelve miles
at a running leap, so that he passed hills, dales, and valleys; and in
the evening of the same day, he struck his back against the kitchen door
of Conal’s castle just as the sun was setting.
When the druid came to the castle, young Conal was out in the garden
thinking to himself, “My father and brothers are in Spain; perhaps they
are killed.” The dew was beginning to fall, so he turned to go, and
saw the old man at the door. The druid was the first to speak; but not
knowing Conal, he said,—
“Who are you coming here to trouble the child? It would be fitter for you
to stay in your own place than to be trying to wake young Conal with your
screeches.”
“Are you,” asked Conal, “the druid that my father had here years ago?”
“I am that old druid; but are you little Conal?”
“I am,” said Conal, and he gave the druid a hundred thousand welcomes.
“I was in the north of Erin,” said the druid, “when I heard the three
screeches, and I knew that some one was troubling you, and your father
in a foreign land. My heart was grieved, and I came hither in haste. I
hear that your twelve advisers have chosen a princess, and that you are
to marry to-morrow. Put out of your head the thought of that princess;
she is not your equal in rank or power. Be advised by me, as your father
was. The right wife for you is the daughter of the Yellow King, Haughty
and Strong. If the king will not give her, take her by force, as your
fathers before you took their queens.”
Conal was roused on the following morning by his advisers, who said,
“Make ready and go with us to the king’s daughter we have chosen.”
He mounted his steed, and rode away with the twelve till they came to
a cross-road. The twelve wished to turn to one side; and when Conal
saw this, he put spurs to his horse, took the straight road, and never
stopped till he put seven miles between himself and the twelve. Then he
turned, hurried back to the cross-road, came up to the adviser whom he
liked best, and, giving him the keys of the castle, said,—
“Go back and rule till I or my father or brothers return. I give you the
advice that I myself got: Never let the poor blame you for taking bribes
from the rich; live justly, and do good to the poor, that the rich and
the poor may like you. If you twelve had not advised me to marry, I might
be going around with a ball and a hurley, as befits my age; but now I
will go out in the world and seek my own fortune.”
He took farewell of them then, and set his face toward the Yellow King’s
castle. A long time before it was prophesied that young Conal, son of
Gulban, would cut the head off the Yellow King, so seven great walls
had been built around the castle, and a gate to each wall. At the first
gate, there were seven hundred blind men to obstruct the entrance; at the
second, seven hundred deaf men; at the third, seven hundred cripples; at
the fourth, seven hundred sensible women; at the fifth, seven hundred
idiots; at the sixth, seven hundred people of small account; at the
seventh, the seven hundred best champions that the Yellow King had in his
service.
All these walls and defenders were there to prevent any man from taking
the Yellow King’s daughter; for it had been predicted that the man who
would marry the daughter would take the king’s head, and that this man
would be Conal, son of Conal Gulban.
The only sleep that the guards at the seven gates had was half an hour
before sunrise and half an hour after sunset. During these two half
hours, a plover stood on the top of each gate; and if any one came, the
bird would scream, and wake all the people in one instant.
The Yellow King’s daughter was in the highest story of the castle, and
twelve waiting-maids serving her. She was so closely confined that she
looked on herself as a prisoner; so one morning early she said to the
twelve maids, “I am confined here as a criminal,—I am never free even
to walk in the garden; and I wish in my heart that some powerful young
king’s son would come the way to me. I would fly off with him, and no
blood would be shed for me.”
It was about this time that young Conal came, and, seeing all asleep,
put spurs to his steed, and cleared the walls at a bound. If the birds
called out, he had the gates cleared and was in before the champions were
roused; and when he was inside, they did not attack him.
He let his horse out to graze near the castle, where he saw three poles,
and on each one of two of them a skull.
“These are the heads of two king’s sons who came to win the Yellow King’s
daughter,” thought Conal, “and I suppose mine will be the third head; but
if I die, I shall have company.”
At this time the twelve waiting-maids cast lots to know who was to walk
in the yard, and see if a champion had come who was worthy of the
princess. The maid on whom the lot fell came back in a hurry, saying, “I
have seen the finest man that I ever laid eyes on. He is beautiful, but
slender and young yet. If there is a man born for you, it is that one.”
“Go again,” said the Yellow King’s daughter, “and face him. Do not speak
to him for your life till he speaks to you; say then that I sent you, and
that he is to come under my window.”
The maid went and crossed Conal’s path three times, but he spoke not; she
crossed a fourth time, and he said, “I suppose it is not for good that
you cross my path so early?”
(It is thought unlucky to meet a woman first in the morning.)
“My mistress wishes you to go under her window.”
Conal went under the window; and the king’s daughter, looking down, fell
deeply in love with him. “I am too high, and you are too low,” said the
Yellow King’s daughter. “If we speak, people will hear us all over the
castle; but I’ll take some golden cord, and try can I draw you up to me,
that we may speak a few words to each other.”
“It would be a poor case for me,” said young Conal, “to wait till you
could tie strings together to raise me.” He stuck his sword in the earth
then, and, making one bound, went in at the window. The princess embraced
him and kissed him; she knew not what to give him to eat or to drink, or
what would please him most.
“Have you seen the people at the seven gates?” asked the Yellow King’s
daughter.
“I have,” answered Conal.
“They are all awake now, and I will go down and walk through the gates
with you; seeing me, the guards will not stop us.”
“I will not do that. It will never be said of young Conal of Erin that he
stole his wife from her father. I will win you with strength, or not have
you.”
“I’m afraid there is too much against you,” said the Yellow King’s
daughter.
These words enraged Conal, and, making one bound through the window, he
went to the pole of combat, and struck a blow that roused the old hag in
the eastern world, and shook the castle with all the land around it. The
Yellow King was sleeping at the time; the shake that he got threw him out
of his bed. He fell to the floor with such force that a great lump came
out on his forehead; he was so frightened that he said to the old druid
who ran in to help him, “Many a year have I lived without hearing the
like of that blow. There must be a great champion outside the castle.”
The guard was sent to see if any one was left alive near the castle.
“For,” said the king, “such a champion must have killed all the people at
the gates.” The guard went, saw no one dead, but every one living, and a
champion walking around, sword in hand.
The guard hurried back, and said to the king, “There is a champion in
front of the castle, handsome, but slender and young.”
“Go to him,” said the king, “and ask how many men does he want for the
combat.” The guard went out and asked.
“I want seven hundred at my right hand, seven hundred at my left, seven
hundred behind me, and as many as all these out in front of me. Let them
come four deep through the gates: do you take no part in this battle; if
I am victorious, I will see you rewarded.”
The guard told the king how many men the champion demanded. Before the
king opened the gates for his men, he said to the chief of them, “This
youth must be mad, or a very great champion. Before I let my men out, I
must see him.”
The king walked out to young Conal, and saluted him. Conal returned the
salute. “Are you the champion who ordered out all these men of mine?”
asked the king.
“I am,” said young Conal.
“There is not one among them who would not kill a dozen like you,” said
the king. “Your bones are soft and young. It is better for you to go out
as you came in.”
“You need not mind what will happen me,” answered Conal. “Let out the
men; the more the men, the quicker the work. If one man would kill me in
a short time, many will do it in less time.”
The men were let out, and Conal went through them as a hawk goes through
a flock of birds; and when one man fell before him, he knocked the next
man, and had his head off. At sunset every head was cut from its body.
Next he made a heap of the bodies, a heap of the heads, and a heap of
the weapons. Young Conal then stretched himself on the grass, cut and
bruised, his clothes in small pieces from the blows that had struck him.
“It is a hard thing,” said Conal, “for me to have fought such a battle,
and to lie here dying without one glimpse of the woman I love; could I
see her even once, I would be satisfied.”
Crawling on his hands and knees, he dragged himself to the window to tell
her it was for her he was dying. The princess saw him, and told him to
lie there till she could draw him up to her and care for him.
“It is a hard thing if I have to wait here till strings and cords are
fastened together to raise me,” said he, and, making one bound from where
he was lying on the flat of his back, he went up to her window; she
snatched at him, and pulled him into the chamber.
There was a magic well in the castle; the Yellow King’s daughter bathed
him in the water of it, and he was made whole and sound as before he went
to battle. “Now,” said she, “you must fly with me from this castle.”