Until the white moon went out in the sky; until the Secret People began
to whisper in the woods--so long did the King of Ireland’s Son remain in
the dry water-tank that night.
And then, when it was neither dark nor light, he saw a crane flying
towards him. It lighted on the edge of the tank. “Have you a message for
me?” said the King of Ireland’s Son. The crane tapped three times with
its beak. Then the King’s Son got out of the tank and prepared to follow
the bird-messenger.
This was the way the crane went. It would fly a little way and then
light on the ground until the Prince came up to it. Then it would fly
again. Over marshes and across little streams the crane led him. And all
the time the King of Ireland’s Son thought he was being brought to the
place where Fedelma was--to the place where he would get food and where
he could rest until just before the sun rose.
They went on and on till they came to an old tower. The crane lighted
upon it. The King’s Son saw there was an iron door in the tower and he
pulled a chain until it opened. Then he saw a little room lighted with
candles, and he saw a young woman looking at herself in the glass. Her
back was towards him and her hair was the same as Fedelma’s.
But when the young woman turned round he saw she was not Fedelma. She
was little, and she had a face that was brown and tight like a nut. She
made herself very friendly to the King of Ireland’s Son and went to him
and took his hands and smiled into his face.
“You are welcome here,” said she.
“Who are you?” he asked. “I am Gilveen,” said she, “the second and
the most loving of the three daughters of the Enchanter of the Black
Back-Lands.” She stroked his face and his hands when she spoke to him.
“And why did you send for me?”
“Because I know what great trouble you are in. My father is preparing a
task for you, and it will be a terrible one. You will never be able to
carry it out.”
“And what should you advise me to do, King’s daughter?”
“Let me help you. In this tower,” said she, “there are the wisest books
in the world. We’ll surely find in one of them a way for you to get from
this country. And then I’ll go back with you to your own land.”
“Why would you do that?” asked the King of Ire-land’s Son.
“Because I wish to be your wife,” Gilveen said.
“But,” said he, “if I live at all Fedelma is the one I’ll marry.”
When he said that Gilveen drew her lips together and her chin became
like a horn. Then she whistled through her teeth, and instantly
everything in the room began to attack the King’s Son. The looking glass
on the wall flung itself at him and hit him on the back of the head. The
leg of the table gave him a terrible blow at the back of the knees. He
saw the two candles hopping across the floor to burn his legs. He ran
out of the room, and when he got to the door it swung around and gave
him a blow that flung him away from the tower. The crane that was
waiting on the tower flew down, its neck and beak outstretched, and gave
him a blow on the back.
So the King of Ireland’s Son went back over the marshes and across the
little streams, and he was glad when he saw the gable-end of the house
again. Je went into the tank. He knew that he had not long to wait
before the sun would rise and the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands
would come to him and give him the third and the most difficult of the
three tasks. And he thought that Fedelma was surely shut away from him
and that she would not be able to help him that day.