them; they were that way all day, and when the sun was setting there was
not a man of the nine thousand that had his head on him.
In the evening he made piles of the bodies and heaps of the heads.
Then he went back to the long house, and it was better there than the
first night; the small chief had food and drink ready in plenty.
The combats continued for seven days in succession as on this day. On the
eighth morning, when Dyeermud appeared, the king asked for a truce.
“I will grant it,” said Dyeermud, “if you give me a sight of Fin
MacCool.”
“A sight of Fin MacCool you are not to have,” said the king, “till you
bring the hound-whelp with the golden chain.”
“Where can I find that Whelp?” inquired Dyeermud.
“The world is wide,” said the king. “Follow your nose. It will lead you.
If I were to say ’tis in the west the whelp is, maybe ’tis in the east
he’d be; or in the north, maybe he’d be in the south. So here and now you
cannot blame me if I say not where he is.”
“Well,” said Dyeermud, “as I am going for the whelp, I ask you to loose
Fin MacCool from what bonds he is in, to place him in the best chamber of
your castle, to give him the best food and drink, the best bed to lie on,
and, besides, the amusements most pleasing to his mind.”
“What you ask shall be granted,” said the king, who thought to himself,
“Your head and Fin’s will be mine in the end.”
Dyeermud went home to the long house, sat down in his chair, and gloomy
was his face.
“O Dyeermud,” said the small chief, “you are not coming in with such
looks, nor so bright in the face, as when you left here this morning.
I’ll lay my head as a wager that you are sent to bring the hound-whelp
with the golden chain.”
“True,” said Dyeermud, “and where to find him I know not.”
“Eat your supper, then sleep, and to-morrow I’ll show you where that
whelp is. Indeed, it is the task you have on you; for many a good
champion lost his head in striving to come at that whelp.”
Next morning Dyeermud and the small chief set out, and toward evening
they came within sight of a grand, splendid castle.
“Now,” said the small chief, “this castle was built by the Red Gruagach
Blind-on-One-Side; within is the hound-whelp with the golden chain; and
now let me see what you’ll do.”
Dyeermud entered the castle, where he found a great chamber, and in it
the gruagach asleep. The hound was tied to the gruagach’s bed with a
golden chain. Untying the chain from the bed, Dyeermud carried whelp and
chain with him under his arm, and hurried on homeward. When he had gone
three miles of road, he turned to the small chief and said, “That was a
mean act I did to the gruagach.”
“What’s on you now?” asked the small chief.
“It would be hard for a man to call me anything higher than a thief; for
I have only stolen the man’s whelp and golden chain.” So Dyeermud went
back to the gruagach, and put the hound-whelp and chain where he had
found them. As the gruagach was sleeping, Dyeermud struck a slight blow
on his face to rouse him.
“Oh,” said the gruagach, “I catch the foul smell of a man from Erin. He
must be Dyeermud, who has destroyed the champions of our country.”
“I am the man that you mention,” said Dyeermud; “and I am not here to ask
satisfaction of you or thanks, but to wear out my anger on your body and
flesh, if you refuse what I want of you.”
“And what is it that you want of me?” asked the gruagach.
“The hound-whelp with the golden chain.”
“You will not get him from me, nor will another.”
“Be on your feet, then,” said Dyeermud. “The whelp is mine, or your head
in place of him; if not, you’ll have my head.”
One champion put his back to the front wall, and the other to the rear
wall; then the two went at each other wrestling, and were that way till
the roof of the house was ready to fly from the walls, such was the
strength in the hands of the combatants.
“Shame on you both!” cried the gruagach’s wife, running out. “Shame on
two men like you to be tumbling the house on my children.”
“True,” said Dyeermud. And the two, without letting go the hold that they
had, went through the roof with one bound, and came down on the field
outside. The first wheel that Dyeermud knocked out of the gruagach, he
put him in the hard ground to his ankles, the second to his hips, and the
third to his neck.
“Suffer your head to be cut off, O gruagach.”
“Spare me, Dyeermud, and you’ll get the hound-whelp with the golden
chain, and my good wish and desire.”
“If you had said that at first, you would not have gone through this
hardship or kindled my anger,” said Dyeermud. With that he pulled out the
gruagach, and spared his head.
The two spent that night as two brothers, eating and drinking of the
best, and in the morning the gruagach gave Dyeermud the whelp with the
golden chain.
Dyeermud went home with the small chief, and went to the castle next
morning.
“Have you brought the hound-whelp with the golden chain?” asked the king.
“I have,” answered Dyeermud; “and I had no trouble in bringing them. Here
they are before you.”
“Well, am I to have them now?” asked the king.
“You are not,” answered Dyeermud. “If I was bound to bring them, I was
not bound to give them to you. The man who reared this whelp has a better
right to him than you or I.”
Then Dyeermud went home to the long house, followed by the small chief;
and the next morning he asked battle of the king.
“I am not ready for battle to-day,” said the king.
“Am I to get sight of Fin MacCool?” inquired Dyeermud.
“You are not,” said the king, “till you bring me an account of how the
Rueful Knight Without-Laughter lost his eye and his laugh.”
“Where can I find that knight?” asked Dyeermud.
“The world is wide,” said the king; “and it is for you alone to make out
where that man is.”
Dyeermud went home to the long house, sat in his chair, dropped his head,
and was gloomy.
“O Dyeermud,” said the small chief, “something has gone wrong to-day, and
I’ll lay my head that you are sent to get knowledge of the Rueful Knight
Without-Laughter; but sit down and take supper, then sleep, and to-morrow
you’ll not go astray; I’ll lead you to where that man lives.”
Next morning the two set out together, that evening reached the
gruagach’s castle, where there was many a welcome before them, and not
like the first time. The whelp was returned to his owner; and that night
was spent in pleasure by the gruagach, Dyeermud, and the small chief.
The next morning Dyeermud went forward attended by his two friends,
and toward evening came in sight of a large splendid castle. Dyeermud
approached it, and when he went in, saw that he had never before set foot
in a grander building.
The Rueful Knight Without-Laughter was sitting alone in his parlor at a
great heavy table. His face, resting on the palm of one hand, was worn by
it; his elbow, placed on the table, had worn a deep trench in the table;
and there he sat, trusting to the one eye that was left him.
Dyeermud shook the sleeping man gently; and when he woke, the knight
welcomed Dyeermud as one of the Fenians of Erin. Dinner was made ready
for all; and when they sat down at the table, Dyeermud thrust his fork
in the meat as a sign of request. “Is there something you wish to know?”
asked the knight.
“There is,” answered Dyeermud.
“All in my power or possession is for you, except one thing,” said the
knight, “and ask not for that.”
“It is that thing that brought me,” said Dyeermud. “I’ll take no refusal.
I’ll have your head or that knowledge.”
“Well, Dyeermud, eat your dinner, and then I will tell you; though I have
never told any one yet, not even my own lawful wife.”
When the dinner was over, the knight told his story to Dyeermud, as
follows,—
“I was living once in this place here, both happy and well. I had twelve
sons of my own and my own wife. Each of my twelve sons had his pack of
hounds. I and my wife had one pack between us. On a May morning after
breakfast, I and my sons set out to hunt. We started a deer without
horns, and, rushing forward in chase of her, followed on swiftly all day.
Toward evening the deer disappeared in a cave. In we raced after her, and
found ourselves soon in the land of small men, but saw not a trace of the
deer.
“Going to a great lofty castle, we entered, and found many people inside.
The king of the small men bade us welcome, and asked had I men to prepare
us a dinner. I said that I had my own twelve sons. The small men then
brought in from a forest twelve wild boars. I put down twelve kettles
with water to scald and dress the game. When the water was boiling, it
was of no use to us; and we could not have softened with it one bristle
on the wild boars from that day to this. Then a small man, putting the
twelve boars in a row with the head of one near the tail of the other,
took from the hall-door a whistle, and, blowing first on one side of the
row and then on the other, made all the twelve white and clean; then he
dressed, cut, and cooked them, and we all ate to our own satisfaction.
“In the course of the evening, the king of the small men asked had I
anyone who could shorten the night by showing action. I said that I
had my own twelve sons. Twelve small men now rose, and drew out a long
weighty chain, holding one end in their hands. My sons caught the other
end, pulled against the twelve small men, and the small men against them;
but the small men soon threw a loop of the chain around the necks of my
twelve sons, and swept the heads off them; one of the small men came
then with a long knife, and, opening the breasts of my sons, took out
their twelve hearts, and put them all on a dish; then they pushed me to a
bench, and I had to sit with my twelve sons stretched dead there before
me. Now they brought the dish to make me eat the twelve hearts for my
supper. When I would not, they drove them down my throat, and gave me a
blow of a fist that knocked one eye out of me. They left me that way in
torment till morning; then they opened the door, and threw me out of the
castle.
“From that day to this I have not seen my children, nor a trace of them;
and ’tis just twenty-one years, coming May-day, since I lost my twelve
sons and my eye. There is not a May-day but the deer comes to this castle
and shouts, ‘Here is the deer; but where are the hunters to follow?’ Now
you have the knowledge, Dyeermud, of how I lost my eye and my laugh.”
“Well,” asked Dyeermud, “will May-day come soon in this country?”
“To-morrow, as early as you will rise.”
“Is there any chance that the deer will come in the morning?”
“There is,” said the knight; “and you’ll not have much of the morning
behind you when she’ll give a call.”
Next morning the deer shouted, “Here is the deer; but where are the
hunters to follow?” and made away swiftly.
Dyeermud, the small chief, the gruagach, and the knight hurried on in
pursuit. Coming evening, the knight saw the cave, and called out to
Dyeermud, “Have a care of that place; for ’tis there she will enter.”
When the deer reached the cave, Dyeermud gave a kick with his right foot,
and struck off one half her hind-quarter.
Barely was this done, when out rushed a dreadful and ugly old hag, with
every tooth in her upper jaw a yard long, and she screaming, “You hungry,
scorched scoundrel from Erin, how dared you ruin the sport of the small
men?”
The words were hardly out of her mouth, when Dyeermud made at her with
his fist, and sent jaws and teeth down her throat. What the old hag did
not swallow, went half a mile into the country behind her.
The hag raced on through the land of the small men, and Dyeermud with his
forces made after her. When they came to the castle, the king let a loud
laugh out of him.
“Why do you give such a laugh?” inquired Dyeermud.
“I thought that the knight had enough the first time he came to this
castle.”
“This proves to you that he had not,” said Dyeermud; “or he would not be
in it the second time.”
“Well,” asked the king of the knight, “have you any man now to cook
dinner?”
“He has,” said Dyeermud; “and it’s long since you or he had the like of
him. I’ll cook your dinner, and we’ll find the food.”
Out they went to a forest, and brought in twelve wild boars. Dyeermud
skinned the game with his sword, dressed, cut, and cooked it. All ate to
satisfaction.
Later on in the evening, the king asked the knight, “Have you any man to
show action?”
“He has,” said Dyeermud, “if you will put out the same twelve men as you
did the first evening.”
The king put them out; and Dyeermud took the end of the chain to pull
against them. He pulled till he sank in the floor to his ankles; then he
made a whirl of the chain, and swept their twelve heads off the small
men. He opened the twelve, put their hearts on a plate, and made the king
eat them. “You forced the knight to swallow the hearts of his own sons,”
said Dyeermud.
“Walk out of the castle, and punish us no more,” cried the king. “I’ll
let out to the knight his sons, with their horses and hounds, and his own
horse and hounds, if you will not come to this kingdom again.”
“We will go if you do that,” said Dyeermud; “but you are not to offend
the knight or his people; if you do, I am a better guide to find you a
second time than I was the first.”
The king took his rod of enchantment, went out to twelve stones, struck
the first, out came the first son on horseback, and a pack of hounds
after him. The king struck stone after stone till he put the twelve sons
in front of the castle, with their horses and hounds; then he struck the
thirteenth stone, and the horse and hounds of the knight appeared.
The knight looked around, and saw his eye in the hole of the chimney, and
as much soot on it as would manure land under two stone of seed-potatoes.
“Look at my eye,” said the knight.
Dyeermud looked. Then the king put the eye in the head of the knight, who
could see with it better than when he had it before.
Out they went now from the king, safe and sound, and never stopped till
they reached the knight’s castle for dinner. When dinner was over,
Dyeermud, the gruagach, and the small chief hastened on to the gruagach’s
castle, and slept there.
Next day Dyeermud and the small chief went home. On the following
morning, Dyeermud went to the king, told him the Rueful Knight’s story,
and said, “Now I must have battle, or a sight of Fin MacCool.”
“Battle I’ll not give you,” said the king; “and a sight of Fin MacCool
you’ll not have till you tell me what happened to the Lad of True Tales.”
“I am sorry,” said Dyeermud, “that this was not said by you sooner. It
is late for me now to be tearing my shoes on strange roads, and tiring
my feet in a foreign land.” With that he sprang at the king, brought him
down by the throat from the window to the ground, and there broke every
bone in his body. Then he put the castle foundation upward, looking for
Fin, and destroying all that he met, but could not find Fin till he met
the old little woman.
“O Dyeermud,” said she, “spare my head. I am more than a hundred years
old. I have been faithful to Fin since he came here. I have never refused
to do what he asked of me.”
“Your head shall be spared,” replied Dyeermud, “though old life is as
dear to you as it is to young people; and take me now to where Fin is.”
Dyeermud went with the old little woman to the door of Fin’s chamber, and
knocked. Fin knew the knock, and cried out, “Reach me your sword.”
“Take it,” said Dyeermud.
Fin’s strength was trebled at sight of Dyeermud; and when he grasped the
sword, he swore by it, saying, “I will cut off your head if you come a
foot nearer.”
“You are not in your mind to speak thus to the man who has gone through
so much for you.”
“I am in my mind,” said Fin; “but if we were to close our arms embracing
each other in friendship, we could not open them for seven days and
nights. Now, the woman who brought me from Ard na Conye, the bay which
we love most in Erin, save Fintra, will be here soon. Though there was
nothing on earth to please the King of the White Nation more than my
head, there is another good man in the world, and the king wishes his
head as greatly as mine. The daughter has gone, and is using her highest
endeavor to bring that head to her father; so hasten on to the boat,
Dyeermud, I will follow. If you find food, take it with you.”
Dyeermud hurried off. In passing through the king’s meadow he saw two
fat bullocks grazing. He caught them, and, clapping one under each arm,
ran off to the boat. When Fin came, he found both bullocks skinned and
dressed there before him.
They weighed anchor now and raised sails for Erin, ploughing the weighty
sea before them night and day. Once Fin said to Dyeermud, “Look behind.”
Dyeermud looked, but saw nothing.
Three hours later, Fin said, “Look behind, and look keenly.”
Dyeermud looked, and cried, “I see behind us in the sky some bird like an
eagle, and flashes of fire blazing out from her beak.”
“Oh, we are caught at last, and it’s a bad place we are in on the sea; we
cannot fight here.”
The bird was coming nearer, and gaining; but the wind favored, filled
every sail, and sent them bounding along till they were within five
leagues of land; then they made one spring, and came down in Ferriter’s
Cove.
No sooner had they landed, than the bird perched on the boat, turned it
over, stood on the bottom, and from that saw Fin and Dyeermud on land.
She made for them; and the moment she touched shore became a woman.
She rushed to Fin, caught him in her arms most lovingly, and said,
turning to Dyeermud, “You are the wicked man who put words between me and
my husband and parted us.”
Then, turning to Fin, she said, “Now, my darling, come home with me. You
will be King of the White Nation, and I, your loving wife.”
“Right and true for you,” said Dyeermud. “It’s the good wife and friend
you were to this man; and now I ask how long must he be your husband?”
“Till a shovel puts seven of its fulls of earth on his head.”
Dyeermud drew his sword, and struck a champion’s blow on a ridge of land
that was near him; he was so enraged that he made a deep glen with that
blow; then he caught Fin, and, stretching him in the glen, thrust his
sword in the earth, and, throwing it as with a shovel on Fin, counted
one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. “Your time is up with Fin,”
said he to the king’s daughter; “he is in his own country, and you are a
stranger. Take him a second time if you can, and I pledge you the faith
of a champion that I will not put words between you.”
The woman stooped down to put away the seven shovels of earth, and said
to Fin while she was working, “We’ll both be happy this time.”
With that Dyeermud gave her one blow of his fist on the left ear, and
sent her spinning through the air. She never stopped till she fell at the
edge of the ocean, and became Fail Mahisht; and not another cliff in Erin
has so many limpets and periwinkles on it as that one.
So the daughter of the King of the White Nation gives much food to people
in Erin from that day to this.
FIN MACCOOL, THE THREE GIANTS, AND THE SMALL MEN.
On a day of the days when Fin MacCool was living at Rahin, he went out to
walk near Fintra. He had many cows and sheep at that time, and was going
among his cattle, when all at once he saw a big man coming in from the
sea.
At first he saw the man’s head and shoulders, then half his body, and at
last his whole body. When the big man stood on the strand, he saluted
Fin. Fin returned the salute, and asked, “Who are you, and what brought
you to Erin?”
“I have come from the King of the Big Men; and I want to see Fin MacCool.”
“Fin MacCool is not at home now,” said Fin. “Are you here with a message?”
“I am,” said the big man.
“I will give the message to Fin MacCool when he comes home; there is no
one he trusts more than me.”
“My master, the King of the Big Men, has heard much of Fin MacCool, and
invites him to come to his castle. The king lost two children. Some
one came in the night and stole them. Though guarded with wonderful
strictness, the children were carried away. The king fears to lose a
third child soon, unless Fin MacCool comes to advise and assist him.”
“I will give that message to Fin MacCool,” said Fin.
The big man left good health with Fin, then turned and went forward,
going deeper till his head disappeared under water.
A few days later Fin was walking in the same place where he had met the
messenger from the King of the Big Men, and he saw some very small men
playing hurley on the strand. He went to them, and spoke. They answered,
and called him King of the Fenians.
“You seem to know me,” said Fin.
“We do indeed, and we know you very well,” said the small men.
“Who are you?” asked Fin, “or what can you do?”
“Oh, we have many virtues,” replied they.
“What virtue have you?” asked Fin, turning to the biggest of the small
men.
“Well, whenever I sit down in any place I stay in it as long as I like;
no man can lift me; no power can take me out of it.”
“What is your name?” asked Fin.
“Lazy Back,” said the little fellow. “No man can stir me when I sit down.”
“How am I to know that you have that virtue?” asked Fin.
“You are a strong man yourself,” answered Lazy Back; “give me a trial.”
The little man sat down. Fin caught him with one hand, and tried to raise
him; but not a stir could he take out of Lazy Back.
“Try with both hands now,” said Lazy Back.
Fin tried with both hands, tried with all the strength that was in him,
but could not move the little man.
“What is your virtue?” asked Fin, turning to the second man; “and who are
you?”
“My name is Hearing Ear.”
“What can you hear?”
“I can hear a whisper in the Eastern World, and I sitting in this place.”
“What is your name?” asked Fin of the third player.
“My name is Far Feeler.”
“What can you feel?” asked Fin.
“I can feel an ivy-leaf falling at the Eastern World, and I playing here
at Fintra.”
“What is your name?” asked Fin, turning to the fourth player.
“My name is Knowing Man.”
“What do you know?”
“I know all that will happen in every part of the world.”
“What power have you, and who are you?” asked Fin of the fifth man.
“I am called Always Taking; I steal.”
“What can you steal?”
“Whatever I set my mind on. I can steal the eggs from a snipe, and she
sitting on them; and the snipe is the wariest bird in existence.”
“What can you do?” asked Fin, looking at the sixth man.
“My name is Climber. I can climb the highest castle in the world, though
its sides were as slippery as glass.”
“Who are you?” asked he of the seventh stranger.
“I am called Bowman.”
“What can you do?”
“I can hit any midge out of a cloud of midges dancing in the air.”
“You have good eyesight,” said Fin, “and good aim as well.
“Who are you?” asked Fin of the eighth.
“I am called Three Sticks. I understand woodwork.”
“What can you do?” asked Fin.
“I can make anything I please out of wood.”
“Can you make a ship?”
“I can.”
“How long would it take you to make one?”
“While you would be turning on your heel.”
He took a chip of wood then from the shore, and asked Fin to turn on his
heel. While Fin was turning, Three Sticks flung the piece of wood out on
the sea, and there it became a beautiful ship.
“Well, have you the ship made?” asked Fin, looking on the strand.
“There it is,” said Three Sticks, “floating outside.”
Fin looked, and saw the finest vessel that ever sailed on the deep
sea; the butt of no feather was in, nor the tip of one out, except one
brown-backed red feather that stood at the top of the mast, and that
making music and sport to encourage whatever champion would come on board.
“Will you all take service with me?” asked Fin, looking at the eight
small strangers. “I wish to go to the kingdom of the Big Men. Will you
guide me on the journey, and help me?”
“We are willing to serve you,” answered they. “There is no part of the
world to which we cannot guide you.”
“What are your wages?” asked Fin.
“Five gold-pieces to each man of us for a day and a year.”
“How much time do we need for the journey to the kingdom of the Big Men?”
“Not many days,” said Knowing Man.
Stores and provisions were put on the ship. Fin and the small men went
on board, and set sail; before many days they arrived at the kingdom of
the Big Men, and drew up their ship high and dry. They set out then for
the castle of the king; and no greater wonder was ever seen in that place
than Fin and his eight little men.
The king invited Fin and his company to a great feast. At the end of the
feast, the king said, “My third son was born to-day. My first son was
taken away on the night after his birth, and so was my second. I am full
sure that this one will be taken from me to-night.”
“I will guard the child,” said Fin; “and if I let your son go with any
one, I will give you my head.”
The king was satisfied. Fin asked for a strong chamber and two nurses.
The strongest chamber in the castle was made ready; then Fin and his men,
with the child and two nurses, took their places inside.
“Do you know what will happen to-night?” asked Knowing Man.