or alive, I would not give one other sight on Terrible Valley!” cried he,
when he stepped out of the basket.
“Who will go now?” asked Lawn Dyarrig.
“Who will go but me?” answered Arthur.
Whatever length Ur went, Arthur didn’t go the half of it.
“By my father and the tooth of my father, I wouldn’t give another look at
Terrible Valley for all that’s in Erin dead or alive!”
“I will go now,” said Lawn Dyarrig, “and as I put no foul play on you, I
hope ye’ll not put foul play on me.”
“We will not, indeed,” said they.
Whatever length the other two went, Lawn Dyarrig didn’t go the half of
it till he stepped out of the basket and went down on his own feet. It
was not far he had travelled in Terrible Valley when he met seven hundred
heroes guarding the country.
“In what place here has the Green Knight his castle?” asked he of the
seven hundred.
“What sort of a sprisawn goat or sheep from Erin are you?” asked they.
“If we had a hold of you, that’s a question you would not put the second
time; but if we haven’t you, we’ll not be so long.”
They faced Lawn Dyarrig then and attacked him; but he went through them
like a hawk or a raven through small birds. He made a heap of their feet,
a heap of their heads, and a castle of their arms.
After that he went his way walking, and had not gone far when he came to
a spring. “I’ll have a drink before I go farther,” thought he. With that
he stooped down and took a drink of the water. When he had drunk he lay
on the ground and fell asleep.
Now there wasn’t a morning that the lady in the Green Knight’s castle
didn’t wash in the water of that spring, and she sent a maid for the
water each time. Whatever part of the day it was when Lawn Dyarrig fell
asleep, he was sleeping in the morning when the girl came. She thought it
was dead the man was, and she was so in dread of him that she would not
come near the spring for a long time. At last she saw he was asleep, and
then she took the water. Her mistress was complaining of her for being so
long.
“Do not blame me,” said the maid. “I am sure that if it was yourself that
was in my place you’d not come back so soon.”
“How so?” asked the lady.
“The finest hero that a woman ever laid eyes on is sleeping at the
spring.”
“That’s a thing that cannot be till Lawn Dyarrig comes to the age of a
hero. When that time comes he’ll be sleeping at the spring.”
“He is in it now,” said the girl.
The lady did not stay to get any drop of the water on herself, but ran
quickly from the castle. When she came to the spring she roused Lawn
Dyarrig. If she found him lying, she left him standing. She smothered
him with kisses, drowned him with tears, dried him with garments of
fine silk, and with her own hair. Herself and himself locked arms and
walked into the castle of the Green Knight. After that they were inviting
each other with the best food and entertainment till the middle of the
following day. Then the lady said,—
“When the Green Knight bore me away from my father and mother, he brought
me straight to this castle, but I put him under bonds not to marry me for
seven years and a day, and he cannot; still I must serve him. When he
goes fowling he spends three days away, and the next three days at home.
This is the day for him to come back, and for me to prepare his dinner.
There is no stir that you or I have made here to-day but that brass head
beyond there will tell of it.”
“It is equal to you what it tells,” said Lawn Dyarrig, “only make ready a
clean, long chamber for me.”
She did so, and he went back into it. Herself rose up then to prepare
dinner for the Green Knight. When he came she welcomed him as every day.
She left down his food before him, and he sat to take his dinner. He was
sitting with knife and fork in hand when the brass head spoke. “I thought
when I saw you taking food and drink with your wife that you had the
blood of a man in you. If you could see that sprisawn of a goat or sheep
out of Erin taking meat and drink with her all day, what would you do?”
“Oh, my suffering and sorrow!” cried the knight. “I’ll never take another
bite or sup till I eat some of his liver and heart. Let three hundred
heroes fresh and young go back and bring his heart to me, with the liver
and lights, till I eat them.”
The three hundred heroes went, and hardly were they behind in the chamber
when Lawn Dyarrig had them all dead in one heap.
“He must have some exercise to delay my men, they are so long away,” said
the knight. “Let three hundred more heroes go for his heart, with the
liver and lights, and bring them here to me.”
The second three hundred went, and as they were entering the chamber,
Lawn Dyarrig was making a heap of them, till the last one was inside,
where there were two heaps.
“He has some way of coaxing my men to delay,” said the knight. “Do you go
now, three hundred of my savage hirelings, and bring him.”
The three hundred savage hirelings went, and Lawn Dyarrig let every
man of them enter before he raised a hand, then he caught the bulkiest
of them all by the two ankles and began to wallop the others with him,
and he walloped them till he drove the life out of the two hundred and
ninety-nine. The bulkiest one was worn to the shin bones that Lawn
Dyarrig held in his two hands. The Green Knight, who thought Lawn Dyarrig
was coaxing the men, called out then, “Come down, my men, and take
dinner!”
“I’ll be with you,” said Lawn Dyarrig, “and have the best food in the
house, and I’ll have the best bed in the house. God not be good to you
for it, either.”
He went down to the Green Knight and took the food from before him and
put it before himself. Then he took the lady, set her on his own knee,
and he and she went on eating. After dinner he put his finger under her
girdle, took her to the best chamber in the castle, and remained there
till morning. Before dawn the lady said to Lawn Dyarrig,—
“If the Green Knight strikes the pole of combat first, he’ll win the
day; if you strike first, you’ll win, if you do what I tell you. The
Green Knight has so much enchantment that if he sees it is going against
him the battle is, he’ll rise like a fog in the air, come down in the
same form, strike you, and make a green stone of you. When yourself and
himself are going out to fight in the morning, cut a sod a perch long in
the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; you’ll leave the sod on the
next little hillock you meet. When the Green Knight is coming down and is
ready to strike, give him a blow with the sod; you’ll make a green stone
of him.”
As early as the dawn Lawn Dyarrig rose and struck the pole of combat. The
blow that he gave did not leave calf, foal, lamb, kid, or child waiting
for birth, without turning them five times to the left and five times to
the right.
“What do you want?” asked the knight.
“All that’s in your kingdom to be against me the first quarter of the
day, and yourself the second quarter.”
“You have not left in the kingdom now but myself, and it is early enough
for you that I’ll be at you.”
The knight faced him, and they went at each other and fought till late in
the day. The battle was strong against Lawn Dyarrig when the lady stood
in the door of the castle.
“Increase on your blows and increase on your courage,” cried she. “There
is no woman here but myself to wail over you, or to stretch you before
burial.”
When the knight heard the voice, he rose in the air like a lump of fog.
As he was coming down, Lawn Dyarrig struck him with the sod on the right
side of his breast, and made a green stone of him.
The lady rushed out then, and whatever welcome she had for Lawn Dyarrig
the first time, she had twice as much now. Herself and himself went into
the castle and spent that night very comfortably. In the morning they
rose early, and collected all the gold, utensils, and treasures. Lawn
Dyarrig found the three teeth of his father in a pocket of the Green
Knight, and took them. He and the lady brought all the riches to where
the basket was. “If I send up this beautiful lady,” thought Lawn Dyarrig,
“she may be taken from me by my brothers; if I remain below with her, she
may be taken from me by people here.” He put her in the basket, and she
gave him a ring so that they might know each other if they met. He shook
the gad, and she rose in the basket.
When Ur saw the basket he thought, “What’s above let it be above, and
what’s below let it stay where it is.”
“I’ll have you as wife forever for myself,” said he to the lady.
“I put you under bonds,” said she, “not to lay a hand on me for a day and
three years.”
“That itself would not be long even if twice the time,” said Ur.
The two brothers started home with the lady; on the way Ur found the head
of an old horse with teeth in it and took them, saying, “These will be my
father’s three teeth.”
They travelled on, and reached home at last. Ur would not have left a
tooth in his father’s mouth, trying to put in the three that he had
brought; but the father stopped him.
Lawn Dyarrig, left in Terrible Valley, began to walk around for himself.
He had been walking but one day when whom should he meet but the lad
Shortclothes, and he saluted him. “By what way can I leave Terrible
Valley?” asked Lawn Dyarrig.
“If I had a grip on you that’s what you wouldn’t ask of me a second
time,” said Shortclothes.
“If you have not touched me you will before you are much older.”
“If I do, you will not treat me as you did all my people and my master.”
“I’ll do worse to you than I did to them,” said Lawn Dyarrig.
They caught each other then, one grip under the arm and one grip on
the shoulder. ’Tis not long they were wrestling when Lawn Dyarrig had
Shortclothes on the earth, and he gave him the five thin tyings dear and
tight.
“You are the best hero I have ever met,” said Shortclothes; “give me
quarter for my soul,—spare me. When I did not tell you of my own will, I
must tell in spite of myself.”
“It is as easy for me to loosen you as to tie you,” said Lawn Dyarrig,
and he freed him. The moment he was free, Shortclothes said,—
“I put you under bonds, and the misfortune of the year to be walking and
going always till you go to the northeast point of the world, and get
the heart and liver of the serpent which is seven years asleep and seven
years awake.”
Lawn Dyarrig went away then, and never stopped till he was in the
northeast of the world, where he found the serpent asleep.
“I will not go unawares on you while you are asleep,” said Lawn Dyarrig,
and he turned to go. When he was going, the serpent drew him down her
throat with one breath.
Inside he found three men playing cards in her belly. Each laughed when
he looked at Lawn Dyarrig.
“What reason have you for laughing?” asked he.
“We are laughing with glee to have another partner to fill out our
number.”
Lawn Dyarrig did not sit down to play. He drew his sword, and was
searching and looking till he found the heart and liver of the serpent.
He took a part of each, and cut out a way for himself between two ribs.
The three card-players followed when they saw the chance of escape.
Lawn Dyarrig, free of the serpent, never stopped till he came to
Shortclothes, and he was a day and three years on the journey, and doing
the work.
“Since you are not dead now,” said Shortclothes, “there is no death
allotted to you. I’ll find a way for you to leave Terrible Valley. Go and
take that old bridle hanging there beyond and shake it; whatever beast
comes and puts its head into the bridle will carry you.”
Lawn Dyarrig shook the bridle, and a dirty, shaggy little foal came and
put head in the bridle. Lawn Dyarrig mounted, dropped the reins on the
foal’s neck, and let him take his own choice of roads. The foal brought
Lawn Dyarrig out by another way to the upper world, and took him to
Erin. Lawn Dyarrig stopped some distance from his father’s castle, and
knocked at the house of an old weaver.
“Who are you?” asked the old man.
“I am a weaver,” said Lawn Dyarrig.
“What can you do?”
“I can spin for twelve and twist for twelve.”
“This is a very good man,” said the old weaver to his sons. “Let us try
him.”
The work they would be doing for a year he had done in one hour. When
dinner was over the old man began to wash and shave, and his two sons
began to do the same.
“Why is this?” asked Lawn Dyarrig.
“Haven’t you heard that Ur, son of the king, is to marry to-night the
woman that he took from the Green Knight of Terrible Valley?”
“I have not,” said Lawn Dyarrig; “but as all are going to the wedding, I
suppose I may go without offence.”
“Oh, you may,” said the weaver. “There will be a hundred thousand
welcomes before you.”
“Are there any linen sheets within?”
“There are,” said the weaver.
“It is well to have bags ready for yourself and two sons.”
The weaver made bags for the three very quickly. They went to the
wedding. Lawn Dyarrig put what dinner was on the first table into the
weaver’s bag, and sent the old man home with it. The food of the second
table he put in the eldest son’s bag, filled the second son’s bag from
the third table, and sent the two home.
The complaint went to Ur that an impudent stranger was taking all the
food.
“It is not right to turn any man away,” said the bridegroom; “but if that
stranger does not mind he will be thrown out of the castle.”
“Let me look at the face of the disturber,” said the bride.
“Go and bring the fellow who is troubling the guests,” said Ur, to the
servants.
Lawn Dyarrig was brought right away, and stood before the bride, who
filled a glass with wine and gave it to him. Lawn Dyarrig drank half the
wine, and dropped in the ring which the lady had given him in Terrible
Valley.
When the bride took the glass again the ring went of itself with one leap
to her finger. She knew then who was standing before her.
“This is the man who conquered the Green Knight, and saved me from
Terrible Valley,” said she to the King of Erin; “this is Lawn Dyarrig,
your son.”
Lawn Dyarrig took out the three teeth, and put them in his father’s
mouth. They fitted there perfectly, and grew into their old place. The
king was satisfied; and as the lady would marry no man but Lawn Dyarrig
he was the bridegroom.
“I must give you a present,” said the bride to the queen. “Here is a
beautiful scarf which you are to wear as a girdle this evening.”
The queen put the scarf around her waist.
“Tell me now,” said the bride to the queen, “who was Ur’s father?”
“What father could he have but his own father, the King of Erin?”
“Tighten, scarf,” said the bride.
That moment the queen thought that her head was in the sky, and the lower
half of her body down deep in the earth.
“Oh, my grief and my woe!” cried the queen.
“Answer my question in truth, and the scarf will stop squeezing you. Who
was Ur’s father?”
“The gardener,” said the queen.
“Whose son is Arthur?”
“The king’s son.”
“Tighten, scarf,” said the bride.
If the queen suffered before, she suffered twice as much this time, and
screamed for help.
“Answer me truly, and you’ll be without pain; if not, death will be on
you this minute. Whose son is Arthur?”
“The swine-herd’s.”
“Who is the king’s son?”
“The king has no son but Lawn Dyarrig.”
“Tighten, scarf.”
The scarf did not tighten, and if the bride had been commanding it for a
day and a year it would not have tightened, for the queen told the truth
that time. When the wedding was over, the king gave Lawn Dyarrig half his
kingdom, and made Ur and Arthur his servants.
BALOR ON TORY ISLAND.
Long ago Ri Balor lived on Tory Island, and he lived there because it was
prophesied that he was never to die unless he’d be killed by the son of
his only daughter.
Balor, to put the daughter in the way that she’d never have a son, went
to live on Tory, and built a castle on Tor Mor, a cliff jutting into the
ocean. He put twelve women to guard the daughter, and all around the
castle he had cords fixed, and every one of them tied to bells, so that
no man could come in secret. If any man touched a cord all the bells
would ring and give notice, and Balor would seize him.
Balor lived that way, well satisfied. He was full sure that his life was
out of danger.
Opposite on the mainland, at Druim na Teine (hill of fire), lived a
smith, Gavidin, who had his forge there. The smith owned a cow called
Glas Gavlen, and she was his enchanted step-sister.
This cow was called Gavlen because she was giving milk, and she the fifth
year without a calf. Glas Gavlen was very choice of food; she would eat
no grass but the best. But if the cow ate much good grass there was no
measuring the milk she gave; she filled every vessel, and the milk was
sweet and rich.
The smith set great value on Glas Gavlen, and no wonder, for she was the
first cow that came to Erin, and at that time the only one.
The smith took care of the cow himself, and never let her out of his
sight except when working in his forge, and then he had a careful man
minding her.
Balor had an eye on Glas Gavlen, and wanted to bring her to Tory for his
own use, so he told two agents of his, Maol and Mullag, who were living
near Druim na Teine, to get the cow for him. The smith would not part
with Glas Gavlen for any price, so there was no way left but to steal
her. There was no chance for stealing till one time when three brothers,
named Duv, Donn, and Fin, sons of Ceanfaeligh (Kinealy), went to the
forge to have three swords made.
“Each man of you is to mind the cow while I am working,” said the smith,
“and if he loses her I’ll take the head off him.”
“We will agree to that,” said the brothers.
Duv and Donn went with Glas Gavlen on the first day and the second,
and brought her back to the smith safely. When his turn came Fin took
the cow out on the third day, but when some distance from the forge he
bethought himself and ran back to tell the smith not to make his sword
so heavy as those of his brothers. The moment he was inside in the forge
Maol and Mullag, Balor’s men, stole the cow, and away they went quickly,
driving her toward Baile Nass. When they came to the brow of the slope,
where the sand begins, they drew her down to the water’s edge by the
tail, and put her into a boat which they had there prepared and ready.
They sailed toward Tory, but stopped at Inis Bofin (island of the white
cow) and put the cow out on land. She drank from a well there, which is
called since that time Tobar na Glaise (well of the gray cow). After that
they sailed on, and landed the same day at Port na Glaise, on Tory Island.
When Fin came out of the forge he saw nothing of Glas Gavlen,—neither
trace nor sign of her. He ran back then with the evil tidings to the
smith.
“If you fail to bring her back to me within three days,” said Gavidin,
“I’ll take the head off you, according to our bargain. I made the sword
to oblige you, and you promised to bring the cow or give your head.”
Away with Fin then, travelling and lamenting, looking for Glas Gavlen. He
went toward Baile Nass and came to a place on the strand where a party of
men were playing ball. He inquired of them about the cow, but they began
to make game of him, he looked so queer in himself, and was so sad. At
last one of the players, whose name was Gial Duv (Black Jaw), came up to
Fin and spoke to him: “Stand aside till the game is over, and I’ll talk
to you. This is a party of players that you should not interfere with;
they are lucht sidhe [people of the mounds, fairies]. I know what your
trouble is. I will go with you, and do my best to bring the cow. I know
where she is, and if I cannot bring her, no one can.”
They searched down as far as Maheroerty, and went then to Minlara, where
a boat was found. They sailed away in the boat, and reached Tory that
night a few hours after Maol and Mullag.
“Go now,” said Gial Duv to Fin, “and ask Balor what would release the
cow, and what can you do to earn her. I’ll stay here till you come back
to me.”
Fin went to Balor and asked the question.
“To get the cow,” said Balor, “you must eat seven green hides while one
inch of a rush-light is burning, and I’ll light it myself.”
Fin returned and told Gial Duv. “Go,” said Gial, “and tell him you will
try to do that. He will put you in a room apart with the hides and take
the rush himself. Cut the hides quickly, and if you can cut them I’ll
make away with them. I’ll be there with you, invisible.”
All this was done. Fin cut the hides and Gial Duv put them away. The
moment the rush-light was burned Balor came in, and there wasn’t a hand’s
breadth of the hides left.
“I have the seven hides eaten,” said Fin.
“Come to me to-morrow. My daughter will throw the cow’s halter. If she
throws it to you the cow will be yours.”
Fin was let out of the room then.
“Now,” said Gial Duv, “I’ll take you to Balor’s daughter. There is a
wall between the castle and the rest of the island, and I’ll take you
over it. There are cords along the wall everywhere, and whoever tries to
pass over will touch them and sound all the bells in the place. I will
raise you above them all and take you in without noise. You will go first
to Balor’s daughter; she will be pleased with you and like you. After
that you will see all the other women, and do you be as intimate with
them as with Balor’s daughter, so that they will not tell that you were
in it, and be sure to tell the daughter to throw you the cow’s halter
to-morrow.”
Fin was taken into the castle by Gial Duv without noise, and he did all
that Gial directed. Next day Fin went to Balor and asked for the cow.
“Well, come with me. Let my daughter throw the halter. If she throws it
to you the cow will be yours.”
They went. She threw the halter at Fin, and Balor was very angry. “Oh,
daughter,” cried he, “what have you done?”
“Don’t you know,” said she, “that there is a false cast in every woman’s
hand? There is a crooked vein in my arm, and I could not help it; that’s
what gave the halter to Fin.”
Balor had to give the cow and forgive the daughter. Fin took Glas Gavlen
to the mainland that day and gave her to the smith.
Before the year was out Gial Duv went to Fin and said, “Make ready and
come with me to Tory; if you don’t Balor will find out what happened when
you were on the island, and kill his own daughter, with the twelve women
and all the children.”
The two went to Tory that evening, and when the children were born the
women gave twelve of them to Fin in a blanket, and one, Balor’s grandson,
by himself in a separate cloth. Fin took his place in the boat with the
twelve on his back, and one at his breast. The blanket was fastened
at his throat with a dealg (thorn); the thorn broke (there was a great
stress on it, for the weather was rough), and the twelve children fell in
the water at Sruth Deilg and became seals.
“Oh!” cried Gial, “the children are lost. Have you Balor’s grandson?”
“I have,” answered Fin.
“That is well. We don’t care for the others while we have him.”
They brought the child to the mainland, where a nurse was found, but the
child was not thriving with her.
“Let us return to Tory with the boy,” said Gial Duv. “There is nothing
that Balor wishes for so much as trees. He has tried often to make trees
grow on the island, but it was no use for him. Do you promise that you’ll
make a grand forest on Tory if he’ll let some of the women nurse the
child. Tell him that your wife died not long ago. Balor will say, ‘How
could we find a nurse here when there is no woman on the island who has
a child of her own?’ You will say that ’tis a power this child has that
whatever woman touches him has her breast full of milk. I will put you in
with the women in the evening, and do you tell them what is wanted. The
mother is to take the child first when you go in to-morrow, and she will
hand him quickly to another and that one to a third, and so on before any
can be stopped.”
Fin gave the child to Balor’s daughter before her father could come near
her; she gave him to one of the women, and he was passed on till all
twelve had had him. It was found that all had milk, and Balor consented
to let the child be nursed.
Gial Duv made a large fine forest of various trees. For two years Balor
was delighted; he was the gladdest man, for all he wanted was trees and
shelter on Tory Island.
The child was in good hands now with his mother and the twelve women,
and when able to walk, Fin used to bring him out in the daytime. Once he
kept him and went to the mainland. The next day a terrible wind rose, and
it didn’t leave a tree standing on Tory. Balor knew now that the forest
was all enchantment and deceit, and said that he would destroy Fin and
all his clan for playing such a trick on him. Balor sent his agents and
servants to watch Fin and kill him.