but at last they caught him. It was his custom to hunt in Glen Ath, for
there were many deer and much game there in those days, and Fin was very
fond of hunting; but he shunned all their ambushes, till one evening when
they were lying in wait for him in the bushes by a path which he was
travelling for the first time. They leaped up when he was near, caught
him, and bound him.
“Take the head off me at one blow,” said he, “and be done with it.”
They put his head on a stone and cut it off with one blow. In this way
died Fin MacKinealy, the father of Balor’s grandson. This grandson was
a strong youth now. He was a young man, in fact, and his name was Lui
Lavada (Lui Longhand). He was called Lavada because his arms were so long
that he could tie his shoes without stooping. Lui did not know that he
was Balor’s grandson. He knew that his father had been killed by Balor’s
men, and he was waiting to avenge him.
A couple of years later there was a wedding on the mainland, and it was
the custom that no one was to begin to eat at a wedding till Maol and
Mullag should carve the first slices. They did not come this time in
season, and all the guests were impatient.
“I’ll carve the meat for you,” said Balor’s grandson. With that he carved
some slices, and all present began to eat and drink.
After a while Maol and Mullag came, and they were in a great rage because
the people were eating, drinking, and enjoying the wedding feast without
themselves.
When all had finished eating and drinking, and were ready to go home,
Maol said, “The bride will go with me.”
The bride began to cry when she heard that, and was in great distress.
Lui Lavada asked what trouble was on her, and the people told him, that
since Balor’s two deputies were ruling on the mainland it was their
custom at weddings that Maol, the first in authority, should keep company
with the bride the first evening, and Mullag the second evening.
“It’s time to put a stop to that,” said Lui Lavada, Balor’s grandson.
With that he walked up to the two and said, “Ye’ll go home out of this as
ye are.”
Maol answered with insult, and made an offer to strike him. Lui caught
Maol then and split his tongue; he cut a hole in each of his cheeks, and
putting one half of the tongue through the left cheek, and the other
through the right, he thrust a sliver of wood through the tips of each
half. He took Mullag then and treated him in like manner.
The people led the two down to the seashore after that. Lui put Maol
in one boat and Mullag in another, and let them go with the wind, which
carried them out in the ocean, and there is no account that any man saved
them.
Balor swore vengeance on the people for destroying his men, and
especially on Lui Lavada. He had an eye in the middle of his forehead
which he kept covered always with nine shields of thick leather, so that
he might not open his eye and turn it on anything, for no matter what
Balor looked at with the naked eye he burned it to ashes. He set out in a
rage then from Tory, and never stopped till he landed at Baile Nass and
went toward Gavidin’s forge. The grandson was there before him, and had a
spear ready and red hot.
When Balor had eight shields raised from the evil eye, and was just
raising the ninth, Lui Lavada sent the red spear into it. Balor pursued
his grandson, who retreated before him, going south, and never stopped
till he reached Dun Lui, near Errigal Mountain. There he sat on a rock,
wearied and exhausted. While he was sitting there, everything came to
his mind that he did since the time that his men stole Glas Gavlen from
Gavidin Gow. “I see it all now,” said he. “This is my grandson who has
given the mortal blow to me. He is the son of my daughter and Fin
MacKinealy. No one else could have given that spear cast but him.” With
that Balor called to the grandson and said, “Come near now. Take the
head off me and place it above on your own a few moments. You will know
everything in the world, and no one will be able to conquer you.”
Lui took the head off his grandfather, and, instead of putting it on his
own head, he put it on a rock. The next moment a drop came out of the
head, made a thousand pieces of the rock, and dug a hole in the earth
three times deeper than Loch Foyle,—the deepest lake in the world up to
that time,—and so long that in that hole are the waters of Gweedore Loch,
they have been there from that day to this.
* * * * *
The above tale I wrote down on the mainland, where I found also another
version, but inferior to this. On Tory itself I found two versions, both
incomplete. Though differing in particulars, the argument is the same
in all. Balor is represented as living on Tory to escape the doom which
threatens him through a coming grandson; he covets the cow Glas Gavlen,
and finally gains her through his agents.
The theft of the cow is the first act in a series which ends with the
death of Balor at Gweedore, and brings about the fulfilment of the
prophecy. In all the variants of the tale Balor is the same unrepentant,
unconquerable character,—the man whom nothing can bend, who tries to
avenge his own fate after his death by the destruction of his grandson.
The grandson does not know whom he is about to kill. He slays Balor to
avenge his father, Fin MacKinealy, according to the vendetta of the time.
BALOR OF THE EVIL EYE AND LUI LAVADA HIS GRANDSON.
Long ago there were people in Erin called Firbolgs; and they lived
undisturbed many years, till a king called Balor Beiman came from Lochlin
with great forces, made war on the Firbolgs, killed their king, and drove
themselves out of Erin.
The Firbolgs went to Spain; and there they were looking for means of
support, but could find none, unless what they got for work in carrying
mortar.
They carried mortar, and lived that way till at long last the Spaniards
said, “These people are too many in number; let us drive them out of the
country.” So the Spaniards drove out the Firbolgs, and they came back to
Erin. In Erin they attacked Balor and his Lochlin men, but were defeated
with loss a second time. When they left Erin again, the Firbolgs went to
the lands of Gallowna, and there they lived undisturbed and unharmed.
When the Firbolgs were driven out of Erin the second time, Balor Beiman
summoned his chief men, and said to them, “I will go back to Lochlin now
and live there in quiet. I am too old to fight with new enemies. I will
leave my sons here with you to rule in place of myself; and do ye obey
them, and be as brave under them as ye were under me.”
With that Balor left Erin, sailed away, and never stopped till he reached
home in Lochlin.
At that time there was a smith in Erin named Gaivnin Gow, and he had a
cow called Glas Gownach. The smith had a magic halter with which he used
to tie the cow every night.
Glas Gownach travelled three provinces of Erin every day, and came home
in the evening; the halter had power over her, and she went always to the
halter in the evening if left to herself.
The cow gave milk to every one on her journey each day,—no matter how
large the vessels were that people brought, or how many, she filled them;
there was no lack of milk in Erin while that cow was in it. She was sent
to give food and comfort to all, and she gave it, but especially to poor
people.
Balor Beiman had his eye on the cow, and, when going back to Lochlin from
Erin, he watched his chance and stole the halter. Gaivnin Gow saw the
theft, but too late to prevent it. Balor escaped with the halter, and
made off to Lochlin.
Gaivnin Gow ran quickly to Glas Gownach, caught her by the tail, and held
her that way till evening, when he drove her home carefully, and shut her
up in the forge behind the bellows, where he milked her.
Gaivnin Gow stopped work in his forge now, and did nothing but mind the
cow. He went out in the morning, followed her through every place, and
brought her back in the evening. He held her tail all the day, and never
let go his hold of her till he had her fastened behind the bellows.
The people got milk as before from Glas Gownach wherever she went through
the country; but the smith got no milk till he had the cow enclosed in
the forge.
The widow of the king of the Firbolgs took a new husband in the land of
Gallowna, and had seven sons there. When the eldest, Geali Dianvir, had
grown up, she said to him, “I will give you ships now, and go you to Erin
with warriors and good champions to know can we get satisfaction of those
people who hunted us out of our country like hares or foxes.”
The son took the ships, and sailed away with champions and heroes, and
never stopped till he sailed into Caola Beag (Killybegs, in Donegal). He
landed in that place, left his ships safely fastened, and went forward
travelling. He never stopped on his way nor halted till he came to a
place called Blan Ri. He halted in that place, for before him were three
armies fighting.
When they saw the new forces coming, the armies stopped fighting.
“Why are ye fighting here with three armies?” asked Dianvir; “what is the
cause of your struggle?”
The leader of one army said, “We are brothers; our father died not long
since; he was king of three provinces, and I think it my right to be king
in his place.”
The leader of the second army, the middle brother, said, “I have as much
right to be king after my father as he has.”
The third brother said, “I have as much right to be king as either of
them.”
Neither of the three was willing to yield his claim, or obey one of the
others; but they were all ready to fight while their strength lasted.
“Your trouble can be settled easily,” said Dianvir; “if ye are willing.”
“Settle it, and do us a service,” said the eldest brother.
“I will; but ye must take my judgment and obey it.”
“We will,” said all the brothers. “We will accept your decision, and do
what you tell us.”
“Listen, then,” said Dianvir: “you, the eldest, will be king for this
year. You, the second, will be king in his place the second year; and
you, the youngest brother, will be king the third year. The fourth year,
you, the eldest brother, will be king again for a year; and so it will go
on, and you and your two brothers will be spending time happily all your
lives.”
The three brothers agreed, and were glad. The eldest was king that first
year. Dianvir went his way; but he had hardly gone out of their sight
when the youngest of the three brothers said, “That man will make trouble
for us yet; my advice is to follow him, and put an end to himself and his
men before they can harm us.”
“Oh,” said the eldest, “sure ye would not kill the man who gave us good
counsel and settled our difficulty?”
“No matter what he did,” said the youngest; “he will give you trouble yet
if ye let him go. Follow him, put an end to him, or he will put an end to
us.”
They sent men after Dianvir. As Dianvir was a stranger in Erin he had no
knowledge of the roads: when a lake was before him he was long going
around it; when he came to a deep river he was long finding a ford.
Dianvir’s men were cut off, most of them fell, and he himself fell with
others. A small number escaped to the ships, took one of them, and sailed
to the land of Gallowna. They told the queen the whole story, told how
they had been treated with treachery.
“I will have satisfaction for my son,” said the mother. “I will have it
without waiting long.” With that she had ships and boats prepared, and
went herself with her other sons, and strong forces, to take vengeance on
the brothers. The queen and her forces were six weeks sailing hither and
over, driven by strong winds, when one morning a sailor at the topmast
cried, “I see land!”
“Is it more or less of it that you see?” asked the queen.
“I see land, the size of a pig’s back,” said the sailor, “and a black
back it is.”
They sailed three days and nights longer, and on the fourth morning they
were near shore, and landed in Bantry (White Strand). The queen fixed
her house at Ardneevy, and prepared for action; but instead of the three
brothers it was the sons of Balor she had against her.
War began, and the Lochlin men were getting the upper hand the first
days. At some distance from their camp was a well of venom, and into this
well they dipped their swords and spears before going to battle, and the
man of the enemy who was barely grazed by a weapon dipped in the well
was as badly off as the man whose head was taken from him. There was no
chance now for the queen’s forces, so she called her sons and said to
them, “We’ll be destroyed to the last one unless we find help against
this venom. Go to the Old Blind Sage, and ask advice of him.”
The sons went to the sage, and the advice they got was this,—
“There is a well of venom not far from the camp of the Lochlin men.
Before going to battle they dip their swords and spears in that water,
and the enemy who is touched by those weapons that day is killed as
surely as if the head had been swept from him. Ye are to get twenty
measures of the milk of Glas Gownach, and pour it into that well in the
night-time; the milk will be going down in the well and the poison will
be rising and going out till it flows away and is lost altogether. Take,
then, a hundred swords and spears to Gaivnin Gow, the smith, to put
temper on their points and edges. He will do this if ye follow the cow
all day for him and bring her home safely in the evening.”
The queen’s sons did what the sage advised. The venom went from the well
when the cow’s milk was poured into it. From that night out the weapons
of the Lochlin men were common swords and spears.
When the queen’s sons went with the swords and spears to Gaivnin Gow,
he said, “I cannot work for you. I am minding this cow, Glas Gownach,
that travels three provinces of Erin every day; I must go with her
wherever she goes, bring her home, and put her behind the bellows in the
forge every night. If the cow goes from me I am lost, with my wife and
children. We have no means of support but her milk.”
“I am as good a man as you,” said the best of the brothers; “I will mind
the cow, and bring her back in the evening.”
The smith let the cow go with him at last, and went to work at the swords
and spears. The young man followed the cow faithfully, all day, brought
her back in the evening, left her outside the forge, and went in himself.
The smith had the swords and spears tempered.
“Where is the cow Glas Gownach?” asked Gaivnin Gow.
“Outside at the door.”
“Bad luck to you, she is gone from me now, gone forever!”
They went out. Not a trace of Glas Gownach. She had gone to Balor Beiman
in Lochlin, for he had the halter.
There was a great battle on the following day, the queen fell and her
sons, except two. Balor’s sons were all killed, and the Lochlin men
driven away.
Balor rose up in anger when the news came to Lochlin. “I’ll have
satisfaction for my sons,” said he. “I will burn all Erin!”
Besides his two eyes Balor had a third one, an evil eye, in the middle
of his forehead, with the power to burn everything in the world that it
looked upon. Over this eye he kept seven steel shields, and a lock on
each one of them.
“I will destroy Erin, and no man can stop me,” said Balor; “for no man
can kill me but the son of my daughter. She has no son, and if she had
itself, he could kill me only with the red spear made by Gaivnin Gow, and
it cast into my eye the moment I raise the last shield from it, when I am
standing on Muin Duv[4] [Black Back] to burn Erin.”
One day the two brothers were talking, and Cian, the youngest son of the
queen of the Firbolgs, said to his only living brother, “We have done
great harm to Gaivnin Gow. It is by us that the cow went from him, and we
should bring her back.”
“That is more than we can do,” said the second brother, “unless we get
help from Bark an Tra, the druid.”
The two brothers went to Bark an Tra, and Cian told their story.
“The work is a hard one; I don’t know can you do it,” said the druid;
“but you can try; I will help you. The cow is with Balor Beiman, in
Lochlin. He stole her halter when he went from Erin; and she followed it
the day your brother left her outside the forge. No man can bring the cow
with him unless he has the halter, and it is hard to get that.
“Balor Beiman can be killed only by the son of his daughter; he has
her behind seven locked doors. No living person sees the daughter but
himself. He sees her every day, takes food and drink to her. To bring
back the cow you must make the acquaintance of Balor’s daughter. I will
give you a cloak of darkness; put it over you, and make your way to
Lochlin. When Balor goes to see his daughter, you go with him. He opens
one door, goes in and locks it, opens the second, goes in and locks
that, and so on. When he is inside in his daughter’s chamber the seven
doors are locked behind him.”
Cian put on the cloak of darkness, and no man could see him; he went to
Lochlin then, and followed Balor to his daughter’s chamber. He waited
till the night when she was sleeping, went then to her bedside, and put
his hand on her heavily.
She screamed, saying, “Some one is in the chamber.”
Balor came, very angry and with an evil face, to see who was in it. He
searched the chamber through, searched many times, found no one. Failing
to find any one, he returned to his own place and went to bed. Cian came
again and put a heavier hand on Balor’s daughter. She roared out that
some one was in the chamber. Balor came, searched, and looked several
times, and went away. The third time the young man put a still heavier
hand on the maiden, and she screamed louder. Balor searched this time
more carefully, found no man, and said, “Oh, you are a torment; it’s
dreaming you are. You are hoping for some one to be in the world to
destroy me, but that is what never will be. If I hear another scream here
I will take the head off you surely.”
No sooner was Balor gone this time, and the seven doors locked, than the
young man came again, and put a heavier hand than ever on the maiden. She
did not scream then; she was in dread of her father, but said slowly,
“Are you a living man or a ghost?”
“I am so and so,” said Cian, “the best champion in the world, and I have
come here to win you.” He talked on till he pleased her, they agreed
then. He spent three days in her company. On the fourth day he followed
Balor out of the chamber, and away with him back to Erin. He went to Bark
an Tra, the druid.
“Were you in Lochlin with Balor?”
“I was.”
“How did you behave?”
“So and so,” said Cian.
“You must be there again at the right time.”
Cian was back in Lochlin at the right time, unseen in his cloak of
darkness, and brought away a child with him to Erin. The child was not
thriving for three years, hardly lived, and was puny.
“The child is not doing well,” said Cian to the druid.
“The child will do well yet,” answered Bark an Tra. “Take him now to
Lochlin as far as Balor; the child will not thrive till his grandfather
calls him by name.”
Cian went to Balor. “Well,” said Balor, “who are you and what journey are
you on?”
“I am a poor man looking for service.”
“What child is that you have with you?”
“My own child,” said Cian; “my wife is dead.”
“What can you do?” asked Balor.
“I am the best gardener in the world.”
“I have a better gardener than you,” said Balor.
“You have not. What can your gardener do?”
“The tree that he plants on Monday morning has the finest ripe apples in
the world on Saturday night.”
“That’s nothing. The tree that I plant in the morning I’ll pluck from it
in the evening the finest ripe apples you have ever set eyes on.”
“I do not like to have any child near my castle,” said Balor; “but I will
keep you for a time, even with the child, if your wages are not too great
for me.”
“I will work a day and a year for the cow.”
Balor agreed to the terms, and took Cian. Balor spoke no word to the
child, good or bad, and the boy was not thriving. One day Cian was
bringing to Balor a lot of fine apples from one of his trees; he stumbled
on the threshold, and the apples fell to the floor. All the people
present ran to gather the apples, the child better than others. He worked
so nimbly that he picked up two-thirds of all that had fallen, though a
whole crowd was picking as well as himself.
“Tog leat Lui Lavada [Take away with you Little Long Hand],” cried Balor.
“Oh, he has the name now,” said Cian.
Cian worked his time out then, and said, “I will take my pay another day.”
“You may take it when you like,” said Balor.
Cian took his son to Erin; the child grew wonderfully after that, and was
soon of full strength.
Cian went to the druid.
“The time is near,” said the druid, “when Balor will stand on Muin Duv.
He’ll raise his eye-shields; and if the red spear is not put in his eye
when the last shield is raised, all Erin will be burned in one flash. Go
now and ask Balor Beiman for your wages; say that you want the cow Glas
Gownach, for we want her and must have her. He will refuse, dispute, and
quarrel, give bad names. You will say that he must pay you, must give the
cow or go to judgment. He will go to judgment rather than give the cow;
and do you choose his daughter as judge; she will give the cow to you.”
“I will go to judgment,” said Balor, when Cian insisted on getting the
cow. “What judgment will you have?”
“My case is a true one,” said Cian. “I ask no judge but the one yourself
will take. I ask no judge but your own daughter.”
“Let her be the judge,” said Balor.
Cian put on his cloak of darkness, and, going to the daughter, explained
his case to her. Next day Balor went in and told her all the story of the
cow Glas Gownach.
“I must have nine days to think the matter over,” said Balor’s daughter.
She got the time, then she asked three days more. On the thirteenth
morning Balor went to her and said, “The judgment must be made to-day.”
“Well,” said the daughter, “go out now and stand before the window, you
and the gardener, and to whomever the halter comes from me he’ll have the
cow.”
When they stood in front of the window, she threw the halter to Cian.
“How could you do that?” cried out Balor.
“Oh, father, they say there is always a crooked cast in a woman’s hand. I
threw toward you; but it’s to the gardener the halter went.”
Balor let the cow go. He was very angry, but could not help himself.
“You have Glas Gownach; but I’ll have satisfaction in my own time,” cried
he, as Cian went away.
“We have troubled you greatly with our work,” said Cian to Gaivnin Gow;
“but here is the cow for you, and with her the halter. You can stay at
home now and rest; you need follow her no longer.”
Cian went that night to the druid, and said, “I have the cow back in
Erin.”
“It is well that you have,” answered the druid. “In five days from
this Balor will be here to burn Up Erin. He will stand on Muin Duv at
daybreak. He will raise all the shields from his eye; and unless a spear
made by Gaivnin Gow is hurled into his eye by his grandson that instant,
he will have all Erin in flames. You must bring Gaivnin Gow and the forge
with you to Muin Duv, have the spear made, and all things prepared there;
and your son must be ready to throw the red spear at the right moment.”
Gaivnin Gow came. They brought the forge, the spear, and all that was
needed, put them behind a rock on the side of Muin Duv. On the fifth
morning, at daylight, Balor was on the top of Muin Duv; and the instant
the last shield reached his upper eyelid Lui Lavada struck him with the
spear, and Balor fell dead.
ART, THE KING’S SON, AND BALOR BEIMENACH, TWO SONS-IN-LAW OF KING UNDER
THE WAVE.
The King of Leinster was at war for twenty years, and conquered all
before him. He had a son named Art; and, when the wars were over, this
son was troubled because he could find no right bride for himself. No
princess could suit him or his father; for they wanted an only daughter.
In this trouble they went to the old druid.
“Wait,” said the druid, “till I read my book of enchantment; and then I
will tell you where to find such a woman.”
He read his book, but could find no account of an only daughter of the
right age and station. At last the druid said to the king, “Proclaim over
all Erin that if any man knows of such a princess he is to come to this
castle and tell you.”
The king did as the druid advised. At long last a sailor walked the way,
and went to the king. “I know,” said he, “of the woman you wish.”
“Who is she?” asked the king.
“The only daughter of the King of Greece, and she is beautiful. But it is
better to keep your son at home than to send him abroad; for there is no
man who could not find a good wife in Erin.”
Art would not listen to this advice, but said, “I will go and get that
one.”
Next morning he made ready, took farewell of his father, and away he
went on his journey. He rode a fine steed to the seashore; there he took
a ship, and nothing more is told of him till he touched land in Greece.
The King of Greece received Art with great welcome, gave a feast of seven
days in his honor, and sent heralds through the city declaring that any
man who would fall asleep till the end of the seven days would have the
head swept off his body.