have another maiden chosen for you, and it is well for us to go to her
father’s, and settle the match.”
“I am willing,” said Miach Lay.
They went away together, and never stopped nor stayed till they reached
the house of the young lady’s father. They were welcomed there warmly,
and spent seven days and seven nights, and were better attended each day
than the day before.
“Well, my son,” asked the father, “how do you like this match?”
“Well, and very well,” said Miach Lay; “but I will not marry this lady
either. She is ten times better than the first; and if I had married the
first, I could not marry this one, and so I will not marry the second any
more than the first lady.”
“Oh, my shame!” said the father. “I can never show my face to these
people again.”
After another while the king told Miach Lay that he had a better lady
than ever selected, and asked him to go with him to arrange the marriage.
“I am willing,” answered the son.
The two went to the father of the maiden; they spent seven days and seven
nights at his house, and were fully satisfied with everything. They were
on the way home a third time. “Well,” said the king, “you have no reason
to refuse this time.”
“Well, and very well, do I like the match,” said Miach Lay; “but I will
not marry this lady. If I had married the first lady, I should have had
no chance of getting the second, and the second is ten times better than
the first; if I had married the second lady, I should have had no chance
of this one, and she is twenty times better than the second.”
“I have lost all patience with you,” said the king, “and I turn the back
of my hand to you from this out.”
“I’m fully satisfied,” said Miach Lay, so they came home, and passed
that night without conversation. The following morning, when Miach Lay
rose, he said to his father, “I am for leaving the house now; will you
prepare for me the best ship that you have, and put in it a good store of
provisions for a long voyage?”
The vessel was prepared, and fully provisioned for a day and a year. The
king’s son went on board, sailed out of the harbor, and off to sea. He
never stopped sailing till he entered a harbor in the kingdom of Greece.
There was a guard there on watch at the harbor with a keen eye on all
ships that were passing or coming. The King of Greece was at war in that
time with the King of Spain, and knew not what moment his kingdom would
be invaded.
The guard saw the vessel coming when she was so small to the eye that he
could not tell was it a bird or a vessel that he was looking at. He took
quick tidings to the castle; and the king ordered him to go a second time
and bring tidings. When he reached the sea, the ship was inside, in the
harbor.
“Oh,” said the king, when the guard ran to him a second time, “that is a
wonderful vessel that was so far away a few minutes ago as not to be told
from a bird, and is now sailing into harbor.”
“There is but one man to be seen on board,” said the guard.
In front of the king’s castle was the landing-place, the only one of
the harbor; and even there no one went beyond the shore without passing
through a gate where every man had to give an account of himself. There
was a chosen champion guarding the gate, who spoke to Miach Lay, and
asked, “Who are you, and from what country?”
“It is not the custom for a man of my people to answer a question like
that till he is told first what country he is in, and who asks the
question.”
“It was I asked the question,” said the champion; “and you must tell me
who you are, first of all.”
“I will not tell you,” said Miach Lay. With that, he drew his ship nearer
land till it grounded; then, taking an oar, he put the blade end in the
sand, and sprang to shore. He asked then the champion at the gate to let
him pass, but the champion refused. Miach Lay raised his hand, gave him
a blow on the ear, and sent him backward spinning like a top, till he
struck the pillar of the gate and broke his skull. As Miach Lay had no
thought to kill the man, he was grieved, and, delaying a short time, went
to the castle of the king, not knowing what country he was in or what
city.
When he came to the castle, he knelt down in front of it. The people in
the castle saw a young champion with bared head outside; the king came
out, and asked what trouble was on him. Miach Lay told of all that had
happened at the harbor, and how he had killed the champion at the gate
without wishing it.
“Never mind that,” said the king.
“I did not intend to kill or harm him at all,” said Miach Lay; “he wanted
to know who I was, and from what country. By the custom of my land, I
cannot tell that till I know where I am, and who are the people among
whom I am travelling.”
“Do you know now where you are?”
“I do not,” answered Miach Lay.
“You are in front of the castle of the King of Greece, and I am that
king.”
“I am the son of the King of Lochlinn from Erin,” said Miach Lay, “and
have come this way to seek my fortune.”
The King of Greece welcomed him then, took the young champion by the
hand, and did not stop till he brought him to where all the princes and
nobles were assembled; he was rejoiced at his coming, for, being at war,
he expected aid from this champion.
“Will you remain with me for a day and a year,” asked the king, “and
perform what service I ask of you?”
“I will,” said Miach Lay.
Manus, the second son of the King of Lochlinn, stopped going to school
when Miach Lay, his elder brother, left home, and, after a time, the
father wished him to marry. As the elder son had acted, so did the
second; he refused to marry each of the three maidens whom the king had
chosen, and left his father at last.
Manus was watching when his brother sailed away, and noticed the course
of the vessel, so now he sailed the same way.
Miach Lay was gaining favor continually; and just as the day and the year
of his service were out to a month, the king’s guard saw a vessel sailing
in swiftly. He ran with tidings to the king, and added, “There is only
one man on board.”
The king and the nobles said it was best not to let him land till he gave
an account of himself. Miach Lay was sent to the landing-place to get
account of him.
He was not long at the landing-place when the vessel came within hailing,
and Miach Lay asked the one man on board who was he and from what land he
came. The man would not tell, as it was not the custom in his country.
“But,” said he, “I want something to eat.”
“There is plenty here,” said Miach Lay; “but if there is, you will get
none of it,—you would better be sailing away.”
“I have enough of the sea; I’ll come in.”
He put down the blade of his oar, and sprang ashore. No sooner had he
touched land than he was grappled by Miach Lay. As neither man knew
the other, they were in hand grips all day. They were nearly equal in
strength, but at last Miach Lay was getting the worst of it. He asked
Manus for a truce.
“I will grant you that,” said Manus; “but you do not deserve it, for you
began the battle.”
They sat apart then, and Miach Lay asked, “How long can you hold out?”
“It is getting stronger and braver I am,” replied Manus.
“Not so with me. I could not hold out five minutes longer,” said Miach
Lay. “My bones were all falling asunder, and I thought the earth was
trembling beneath me. Till this day I thought to myself, ‘There is no
champion I cannot conquer.’ Now tell me your name and your country.”
“I am from Erin and a son of the King of Lochlinn,” said Manus.
“Oh,” said Miach Lay, “you are my brother.”
“Are you Miach Lay?” inquired Manus.
“I am.”
They embraced each other, and sat down then to eat. Miach Lay was so
tired that he could taste nothing, but Manus ate his fill. Then they went
arm in arm to the castle. The king and all the nobles of Greece had seen
the combat from the castle, and were surprised to see the men coming
toward them in such friendliness, and all went out to know the reason.
The king asked Miach Lay, “How is all this?”
“This man is my brother,” said Miach Lay. “I left him at home in Erin,
and did not know him at the harbor till after the combat.”
The king was well pleased that he had another champion. The following day
Manus saw the king’s daughter, and fell in love with her and she with
him. Then the daughter told the king if she did not get Manus as husband,
the life would leave her.
The king called Miach Lay to his presence, and asked, “Will you let your
brother marry my daughter?”
“If Manus wishes to marry her, I am willing and satisfied,” answered
Miach Lay. He asked his brother, and Manus said he would marry the king’s
daughter.
The marriage was celebrated without delay, and there was a wedding feast
for three days and three nights; and the third night, when they were
going to their own chamber, the king said, “This is the third husband
married to my daughter, and after the first night no tidings could be had
of the other two, and from that time to this no one knows where they are.”
Miach Lay was greatly enraged that the king had permitted the marriage
without mentioning this matter first.
“I will do to-night,” said the king, “what has never been done hitherto;
I will place sentries all around the grounds, and my daughter and Manus
will not lodge in the castle at all, but in one of the houses apart from
it.”
“I’ll watch myself,” said Miach Lay; “and if it is the devil that is
taking the husbands, I’ll not let him take my brother.”
Sentries were stationed in all parts; a house was prepared in the
courtyard. Miach Lay stood on guard at the entrance all the time. Soon
after midnight a gust of wind blew through the yard; it blew Miach Lay to
the ground, and he fainted. When he recovered, he rushed to search for
his brother, but he was not in his chamber. He then roused the king’s
daughter, and asked, “Where is my brother?”
“I cannot tell where he is,” said she: “it is you who were on guard; it
is you who should know where to find him.”
“I will have your head, wicked woman, unless you give tidings of my
brother.”
“Do not take my head; it would not serve you. I have no account of what
happened to your brother.”
Miach Lay then refrained from touching her, and waited till morning. The
king came in the morning to see was Manus well; and when Miach Lay saw
him, he ran at him to destroy him, but the king fled away. After a while,
when the household was roused, the king’s daughter was brought in and
asked where was her husband, or could she give any account of him.
“I cannot tell,” replied she; “but one day before I was married the first
time, something came to my chamber window in the form of a black bee,
and asked would I let it in. I said that I would not. The bee remained
outside all the day, watching to see could it enter my chamber. I did not
let it come in; before going away in the evening, the black bee said,
‘Well, I will worry the heart in you yet.’”
The king’s old druid, who was present, slapped his knee with his hand,
and said,“I know the story now; that was Ri Doracha (the Dark King). He
is a mighty magician, and it is he who has taken the husbands.”
“I will travel the world till I find my lost brother,” said Miach Lay.
“I will go with you, and take all my forces,” said Red Bow, the son of
the King of Greece.
“I need no assistance,” said Miach Lay. “If I myself cannot find him, I
think that no man can; but if you wish to come, you are welcome.”
Miach Lay went to his vessel; and Red Bow chose the best ship from all
that his father had, and went on board of it. The two ships sailed away
together. In time they neared land; and on reaching the mouth of the
harbor, they saw a third ship sailing toward them as swiftly as the wind
blew, and it was not long till it came alongside. There was only one man
on board; he hailed Miach Lay, and asked, “Where are you going?”
“It would not be the custom of my country for me to tell you what you ask
till you tell me who you are yourself, and where your own journey lies.”
“I know myself,” said the warrior, “where you are going; you are in
search of the Dark King, and I myself would like to see him.”
With that, he took a bundle of branches he had on deck, and blew them
overboard. Then every rod and twig of the bundle became an enormous log
of wood, so that the harbor was covered with one raft of timber, and then
he sailed away without waiting.
After much struggling with the logs, shoving them hither and over, Miach
Lay was able by pushing with oars to make room for his vessel, and at
last came to land. Red Bow and his men were cast into deep sleep by the
man on the vessel that had sailed away.
After Miach Lay landed, he passed through a great stretch of wild
country, and, drawing near a large forest, saw rising up a small, slender
smoke far in among trees. He made for the place where the smoke was, and
there he discovered a large, splendid castle in the depth of the forest,
but could find no sign of an entrance.
When Miach Lay had stood outside some time, a young woman looked through
the window, hailed him, and said, “You are a stranger, and will find no
lodgings in these parts; but if I could at all, I would let you come in
here.”
“Open the window if you are able,” said Miach Lay.
The window had hinges, and she opened it in the middle; he stepped
backward nine yards, and went in at one bound to the chamber.
“You are welcome,” said she, and soon she had dinner prepared for him.
When he had eaten, she inquired who was he, from what place had he come,
and what brought him that way.
He told her all that had happened to him from the first; and when he had
finished, he said, “I know not where to find my brother.”
“You are not far from him now,” said she; “’tis in this country he is
living, and the land he is in bounds our land.”
When they had talked long, she said, “You are tired and need rest, so
sleep in this chamber.” She went then to her own place. The following
morning his breakfast was ready before him; and after he had eaten, the
young woman said, “I suppose you will be thankful if I tell you where to
find the castle of the Dark King.”
“I shall, indeed,” said he. Then she gave him full directions how to
go. He took his sword then, and sprang out as he had sprung in, in the
evening, and went in the direction which she told him to take. About
midday he met a man, who hailed him, and asked, “Who are you, and from
what country?”
“’Tis not the custom for a man of my country to answer that question till
told where he is, and to whom he is speaking.”
“I know who you are and whither you are going. You are going to the
castle of the Dark King, and here he is before you; now show your daring.”
They made at each other; and if they did, they made soft ground hard and
hard ground soft, they made high places low and low places high, they
brought cold spring water through dry, gravelly places, and if any one
were to come from the Eastern to the Western World, it is to look at
these two he should come.
They were this way till evening, and neither had the better of the other.
Miach Lay was equal to the Dark King; but the Dark King, having magic,
blew a gust of wind at Miach Lay which knocked him flat on the earth,
and left him half dead. Then the Dark King took Miach Lay’s sword, and
went away. When he recovered, Miach Lay regretted his sword more than all
else, and went back to the castle where he had spent the night before. He
was barely able to go in at the window.
“How have you fared this day?” asked the young woman.
He told her of all that had happened.
“Be not grieved; you will meet him another time,” said the young woman.
“What is the use? I have no sword now.”
“If ’tis a sword you need, I will bring you a blade far better than the
one which the Dark King took from you.”
After breakfast next morning she brought him her father’s sword, which
he grasped in his hand, and shook. Miach Lay bade farewell to the young
woman, and sprang out through the window. Knowing the way better this
time, he hastened forward, and met the Dark King just where he met him
before.
“Did not yesterday tire you?” asked the king.
“No,” said Miach Lay.
“Your journey is useless,” said the king.
“We shall see,” answered Miach Lay, and they made at each other; and
terrible as the battle was on the first day, it was more terrible on the
second; but when the Dark King thought it time to go home, he blew a gust
of wind which threw Miach Lay to the earth, and left him senseless. The
Dark King did not take the sword this time.
After the Dark King had gone, another man came the way, who was called
Sprisawn Wooden Leg.[2]
“Well, my good man, you are nearly dead,” said the Sprisawn.
“I am,” said Miach Lay, rousing up.
“You are his equal but for the magic. I watched the combat these two
days, and you would have overcome him but for his magic; he will finish
you to-night if he finds you. He has three magic tricksters who are
leaving his house at this moment. They have a spear which the rear man of
the three hurls forward, the trickster in front catches the spear in the
heel of his foot, and in turn hurls it with all his force forward; those
behind rush ahead of the front man, and in turn catch the spear in their
heels. No matter how far nor how often the spear is thrown forward, there
is always a man there before it to catch it. They are rushing hither a
long distance apart.”
The Sprisawn saw the tricksters approach, and told Miach Lay that they
were coming. When they came within a spear-cast, one of them hurled the
spear at Miach Lay; it went through his heart, passed out through his
body, and killed him.
When the Sprisawn saw Miach Lay lying dead, he fell to weeping and
wailing; and so loud was his wail that every one heard it throughout the
whole kingdom. Red Bow was sleeping yet in the harbor; but so loud was
the wail of the mourning Sprisawn that it roused him from the slumber
which the Dark King had put on him. He landed at once with his forces,
and made on toward the wailing. When they came to the place, and saw
Miach Lay lying dead, they themselves began to wail; they asked the
Sprisawn then, “Are there any means by which we might raise him to life?”
“There are,” replied the Sprisawn. “The Dark King is rejoicing now in his
castle with the King of Mangling, and the Gruagach of Shields. They are
drinking each other’s health from a horn, and the Dark King is telling
the other two that Miach Lay was the best man that ever stood in front of
him; and if he could drink from that horn, he would rise up as well as he
ever was.”
“I with my men will go for that horn,” said Red Bow.
“Not you nor all the men like you living on earth could bring that horn
from the castle of the Dark King,” replied the Sprisawn. “That castle
is surrounded by three walls. Each wall is four feet in thickness and
twenty feet high. Each wall has a gate as high and as thick as the wall
is itself. How could you pass through those walls? Remain here and watch
over this body; I will bring the horn hither myself.”
Off went the Sprisawn, and he had more control over magic than even the
Dark King. When he arrived at the castle, he struck the gate with the
heel of his wooden foot and it opened before him; the second and third
gate opened too, in like manner, when he struck them. In he went to the
room where the king and his two friends were drinking. There he found
them raising toasts to each other. He was himself invisible. As soon as
they rested the horn on the table, he snatched it and made off for the
place where Miach Lay was lying dead. Then Red Bow and his men raised up
the dead man, and poured down his throat some of the wine or whatever
liquor was held in the horn.
After a time Miach Lay opened his eyes, and yawned. They were all so
delighted that they raised three shouts of joy.
“Come on with me now,” said the Sprisawn, “to the castle of the Dark
King. We will have a trial of strength with him. I will take the Dark
King in hand myself. Do you, Miach Lay, take the King of Mangling, and
you, Red Bow, take the Gruagach of Shields.”
“This will be very good for us to keep,” said Red Bow, when he saw the
virtue of the horn.
“No,” said the Sprisawn; “it is good for the man who owns it, and I will
return it.”
The Sprisawn, who could travel as swiftly as his own thought, vanished
with the horn, placed it on the table from which he had snatched it, and
came back to the others. No one had missed the horn; when they turned
to use it, it was there on the table before them, in the chamber of the
Dark King. Miach Lay and his friends went on together, and never stopped
till they stood in the chamber where the Dark King was sitting with his
friends. The gates had remained open since the Sprisawn opened them. When
the Dark King saw the dead man alive, standing in his chamber before him,
he said, “Never a welcome to you, you miserable creature with the wooden
foot. What brought you hither, or how did you come?”
“I have come to you with combat,” said the Sprisawn; “and now do you
choose the manner of fighting.”
In the castle were three chambers, in each chamber a cross-beam as high
from the floor as a man’s throat; in the middle of each cross-beam was a
hole, through this hole passed a chain, at each end of the chain was an
iron loop; above the hole and lengthwise with the beam was a sword with
a keen edge on it. Each pair of champions was to take one room of the
three, and each man of them was to place a loop on his own neck; each
then was to pull the other to the hole if he could, and then pull till
the sword cut his head off.
The Sprisawn and the Dark King took one room, Miach Lay and the King of
Mangling another, Red Bow and the Gruagach of Shields took the third.
The first pair were not long at each other, as the Sprisawn was greatly
anxious for the other two, and with the second pull that he gave he had
the head off the Dark King. He ran then to see how it fared with Miach
Lay. Miach Lay was tired and nearly beaten.
“Come out of that for me,” said the Sprisawn. “What playing is it you
have with him?”
“Fully satisfied am I to give this place to you,” said Miach Lay, raising
the loop; and the Sprisawn put it quickly on his own neck.
With the first pull the Sprisawn gave he had the head off the King of
Mangling. They ran then to Red Bow, whose head was within two feet of the
sword.
“Go on out of this,” said the Sprisawn, putting the loop on his own neck.
The Gruagach, by reason of having Red Bow so near the beam, was himself
at a distance, but at the first pull which the Sprisawn gave he drew the
Gruagach within a foot of the beam. Fearing that if he killed the third
man there would be no one to give an account of those carried off by the
Dark King, the Sprisawn offered the Gruagach his life if he told him
where Manus and the other two husbands of the king’s daughter were.
“If I tell you that,” said the Gruagach, “the Dark King will knock the
head off me.”
“If you saw the head of the Dark King would you tell me?”
“I would.”
The Sprisawn sent Miach Lay for the head of the Dark King; he brought it.
“Is that his head?” asked the Sprisawn.
“It is,” said the Gruagach.
“Well, tell me now.”
“Were I to tell you,” said the Gruagach, “the King of Mangling would
knock the head off me.”
“If you saw his head would you tell me?”
“I would.”
The head of the King of Mangling was brought.
“Is this the head?”
“It is.”
“Well, tell me, or you’ll lose your own head.”
“Near this castle is a lake,” said the Gruagach, “and under its water is
an enchanted steel tower, with high walls three feet in thickness; around
that tower on the outside a long serpent has wound herself closely from
the bottom to the top. This serpent is called the Worm of Nine Eyes.
Inside in the tower are the three men.”
“And how can we come at them?” asked the Sprisawn.
“Whoever wants to free them,” said the Gruagach, “must stand on the shore
of the lake and shout to the serpent, calling her the Worm of Nine Eyes.
Hearing this, the serpent will unwind, and with lashing will drive all
the water of the lake in showers through the country and flood the whole
land. The basin of the lake will be dry then, and the serpent will rush
at the man who uttered the insult and try to devour him. The serpent must
be killed, and the champion must run to the tower; if he can break in, he
will rescue the three men.”
“Is that all?” asked the Sprisawn.
“It is,” said the Gruagach. “I have no further account of the matter;
that is all I know.”
“Then you’ll lose your head, too,” said the Sprisawn; and with one pull
of the chain he swept the head off the Gruagach. The three champions went
to the lake then. Miach Lay and Red Bow wished to help the Sprisawn, but
he forced them to remain behind, saying that they would be swept away by
the waters if they went.