in and took hold of the sword that was on the bed at his head. And the
sword thought to draw itself out of the hand of Morraha; but it failed.
And then it gave a cry, and it wakened Niall, and Niall said it was a
rude and rough thing to come into his house like that; and said Morraha
to him,—
“Leave your much talking, or I will cut the head off you. Tell me the
news of the death of Anshgayliacht.”
“Oh, you can have my head.”
“But your head is no good to me; tell me the story.”
“Oh,” said Niall’s wife, “you must get the story.”
“Oh” [said Morraha], “is the woman your wife?”
“Oh,” said the man, “it is not you who have the story.”
“Oh,” said she, “you will tell it to us.”
“Well,” said the man, “let us sit down together till I tell the story. I
thought no one would ever get it; but now it will be heard by all.”
THE STORY.
(_The Story is from the narrative of TERENCE DAVIS, of Renvyle, co.
Galway._)
When I was growing up, my mother taught me the language of the birds; and
when I got married, I used to be listening to their conversation; and I
would be laughing; and my wife would be asking me what was the reason of
my laughing, but I did not like to tell her, as women are always asking
questions. We went out walking one fine morning, and the birds were
arguing with one another. One of them said to another,—
“Why should you be making comparison with me, when there is not a king
nor knight that does not come to look at my tree?”
“Oh, what advantage has your tree over mine, on which there are three
rods of magic and mastery growing?”
When I heard them arguing, and knew that the rods were there, I began to
laugh.
“Oh,” asked my wife, “why are you always laughing? I believe it is at
myself you are jesting, and I’ll walk with you no more.”
“Oh, it is not about you I am laughing. It is because I understand the
language of the birds.”
Then I had to tell her what the birds were saying to one another; and she
was greatly delighted, and she asked me to go home, and she gave orders
to the cook to have breakfast ready at six o’clock in the morning. I did
not know why she was going out early, and breakfast was ready in the
morning at the hour she appointed. She asked me to go out walking. I went
with her. She went to the tree, and asked me to cut a rod for her.
“Oh, I will not cut it. Are we not better without it?”
“I will not leave this until I get the rod, to see if there is any good
in it.”
I cut the rod and gave it to her. She turned from me and struck a blow
on a stone, and changed it; and she struck a second blow on me, and made
of me a black raven, and she went home and left me after her. I thought
she would come back; she did not come, and I had to go into a tree
till morning. In the morning, at six o’clock, there was a bellman out,
proclaiming that every one who killed a raven would get a fourpenny bit.
At last you would not find man or boy without a gun, nor, if you were to
walk three miles, a raven that was not killed. I had to make a nest in
the top of the parlour chimney, and hide myself all day till night came,
and go out to pick up a bit to support me, till I spent a month. Here she
is herself (to say) if it is a lie I am telling.
“It is not,” said she.
Then I saw her out walking. I went up to her, and I thought she would
turn me back to my own shape, and she struck me with the rod and made
of me an old white horse, and she ordered me to be put to a cart with a
man, to draw stones from morning till night. I was worse off then. She
spread abroad a report that I had died suddenly in my bed, and prepared a
coffin, and waked and buried me. Then she had no trouble. But when I got
tired I began to kill every one who came near me, and I used to go into
the haggard every night and destroy the stacks of corn; and when a man
came near me in the morning I would follow him till I broke his bones.
Every one got afraid of me. When she saw I was doing mischief she came to
meet me, and I thought she would change me. And she did change me, and
made a fox of me. When I saw she was doing me every sort of damage I went
away from her. I knew there was a badger’s hole in the garden, and I went
there till night came, and I made great slaughter among the geese and
ducks. There she is herself to say if I am telling a lie.
“Oh! you are telling nothing but the truth, only less than the truth.”
When she had enough of my killing the fowl she came out into the garden,
for she knew I was in the badger’s hole. She came to me and made me a
wolf. I had to be off, and go to an island, where no one at all would
see me, and now and then I used to be killing sheep, for there were not
many of them, and I was afraid of being seen and hunted; and so I passed
a year, till a shepherd saw me among the sheep, and a pursuit was made
after me. And when the dogs came near me there was no place for me to
escape to from them; but I recognised the sign of the king among the men,
and I made for him, and the king cried out to stop the hounds. I took a
leap upon the front of the king’s saddle, and the woman behind cried
out, “My king and my lord, kill him, or he will kill you!”
“Oh! he will not kill me. He knew me; he must be pardoned.”
And the king took me home with him, and gave orders I should be well
cared for. I was so wise, when I got food, I would not eat one morsel
until I got a knife and fork. The man told the king, and the king came to
see if it was true, and I got a knife and fork, and I took the knife in
one paw and the fork in the other, and I bowed to the king. The king gave
orders to bring him drink, and it came; and the king filled a glass of
wine and gave it to me.
I took hold of it in my paw and drank it, and thanked the king.
“Oh, on my honour, it is some king or other has lost him, when he came on
the island; and I will keep him, as he is trained; and perhaps he will
serve us yet.”
And this is the sort of king he was,—a king who had not a child living.
Eight sons were born to him and three daughters, and they were stolen the
same night they were born. No matter what guard was placed over them,
the child would be gone in the morning. The queen was now carrying the
twelfth child, and when she was lying in the king took me with him to
watch the baby. The women were not satisfied with me.
“Oh,” said the king, “what was all your watching ever? One that was born
to me I have not; and I will leave this one in the dog’s care, and he
will not let it go.”
A coupling was put between me and the cradle, and when every one went to
sleep I was watching till the person woke who attended in the daytime;
but I was there only two nights, when it was near the day, I saw the
hand coming down through the chimney, and the hand was so big that it
took round the child altogether, and thought to take him away. I caught
hold of the hand above the wrist, and as I was fastened to the cradle, I
did not let go my hold till I cut the hand from the wrist, and there was
a howl from the person without. I laid the hand in the cradle with the
child, and as I was tired I fell asleep; and when I awoke, I had neither
child nor hand; and I began to howl, and the king heard me, and he cried
out that something was wrong with me, and he sent servants to see what
was the matter with me, and when the messenger came, he saw me covered
with blood, and he could not see the child; and he went to the king and
told him the child was not to be got. The king came and saw the cradle
coloured with the blood, and he cried out “where was the child gone?” and
every one said it was the dog had eaten it.
The king said: “It is not: loose him, and he will get the pursuit
himself.”
When I was loosed, I found the scent of the blood till I came to a door
of the room in which the child was. I went to the king and took hold of
him, and went back again and began to tear at the door. The king followed
me and asked for the key. The servant said it was in the room of the
stranger woman. The king caused search to be made for her, and she was
not to be found. “I will break the door,” said the king, “as I can’t get
the key.” The king broke the door, and I went in, and went to the trunk,
and the king asked for a key to unlock it. He got no key, and he broke
the lock. When he opened the trunk, the child and the hand were stretched
side by side, and the child was asleep. The king took the hand and
ordered a woman to come for the child, and he showed the hand to every
one in the house. But the stranger woman was gone, and she did not see
the king; and here she is herself (to say) if I am telling lies of her.
“Oh, it’s nothing but the truth you have!”
The king did not allow me to be tied any more. He said there was nothing
so much to wonder at as that I cut the hand off, and I tied.
The child was growing till he was a year old. And he was beginning to
walk, and there was no one caring for him more than I was. He was
growing till he was three, and he was running out every minute; so the
king ordered a silver chain to be put between me and the child, so that
he might not go away from me. I was out with him in the garden every day,
and the king was as proud as the world of the child. He would be watching
him every place we went, till the child grew so wise that he would loose
the chain and get off. But one day that he loosed it I failed to find
him; and I ran into the house and searched the house, but there was no
getting him for me. The king cried to go out and find the child, that he
had got loose from the dog. They went searching for him, but they could
not find him. When they failed altogether to find him, there remained no
more favour with the king towards me, and every one disliked me, and I
grew weak, for I did not get a morsel to eat half the time. When summer
came, I said I would try and go home to my own country. I went away one
fine morning, and I went swimming, and God helped me till I came home. I
went into the garden, for I knew there was a place in the garden where I
could hide myself, for fear she should see me. In the morning I saw my
wife out walking, and my child with her, held by the hand. I pushed out
to see the child, and as he was looking about him everywhere, he saw me
and called out, “I see my shaggy papa. Oh!” said he; “oh, my heart’s
love, my shaggy papa, come here till I see you!”
I was afraid the woman would see me, as she was asking the child where he
saw me, and he said I was up in a tree; and the more the child called me,
the more I hid myself. The woman took the child home with her, but I knew
he would be up early in the morning.
I went to the parlour window, and the child was within, and he playing.
When he saw me he cried out, “Oh! my heart’s love, come here till I see
you, shaggy papa.” I broke the window and went in, and he began to kiss
me. I saw the rod in front of the chimney, and I jumped up at the rod and
knocked it down. “Oh! my heart’s love, no one would give me the pretty
rod.” I thought he would strike me with the rod, but he did not. When I
saw the time was short I raised my paw, and I gave him a scratch below
the knee. “Oh! you naughty, dirty, shaggy papa, you have hurt me so much,
I’ll give yourself a blow of the rod.” He struck me a light blow, and
as there was no one sin on him, I came back to my own shape again. When
he saw a man standing before him he gave a cry, and I took him up in my
arms. The servants heard the child. A maid came in to see what was the
matter with him. When she saw me she gave a cry out of her, and she said,
“Oh, my soul to God, if the master isn’t come to life again!”
Another came in, and said it was he really. And when the mistress heard
of it, she came to see with her own eyes, for she would not believe I was
there; and when she saw me she said she’d drown herself. And I said to
her, “If you yourself will keep the secret, no living man will ever get
the story from me until I lose my head.”
Many’s the man has come asking for the story, and I never let one return;
but now every one will know it, but she is as much to blame as I. I gave
you my head on the spot, and a thousand welcomes, and she cannot say I
have been telling anything but the truth.
“Oh! surely; nor are you now.”
When I saw I was in a man’s shape, I said I would take the child back
to his father and mother, as I knew the grief they were in after him. I
got a ship, and took the child with me; and when I was journeying I came
to land on an island, and I saw not a living soul on it, only a court
dark and gloomy. I went in to see was there any one in it. There was no
one but an old hag, tall and frightful, and she asked me, “What sort of
person are you?” I heard some one groaning in another room, and I said I
was a doctor, and I asked her what ailed the person who was groaning.
“Oh,” said she, “it is my son, whose hand has been bitten from his wrist
by a dog.”
I knew then it was the boy who was taking the child from me, and I said I
would cure him if I got a good reward.
“I have nothing; but there are eight young lads and three young women, as
handsome as any one ever laid eyes on, and if you cure him I will give
you them.”
“But tell me in what place his hand was cut from him?”
“Oh, it was out in another country, twelve years ago.”
“Show me the way, that I may see him.”
She brought me into a room, so that I saw him, and his arm was swelled up
to the shoulder. He asked if I would cure him; and I said I would cure
him if he would give me the reward his mother promised.
“Oh, I will give it; but cure me.”
“Well, bring them out to me.”
The hag brought them out of the room. I said I should burn the flesh that
was on his arm. When I looked on him he was howling with pain. I said
that I would not leave him in pain long. The thief had only one eye in
his forehead. I took a bar of iron, and put it in the fire till it was
red, and I said to the hag, “He will be howling at first, but will fall
asleep presently, and do not wake him till he has slept as much as he
wants. I will close the door when I am going out.” I took the bar with
me, and I stood over him, and I turned it across through his eye as far
as I could. He began to bellow, and tried to catch me, but I was out and
away, having closed the door. The hag asked me, “Why is he bellowing?”
“Oh, he will be quiet presently, and will sleep for a good while, and
I’ll come again to have a look at him; but bring me out the young men and
the young women.”
I took them with me, and I said to her, “Tell me where you got them.”
“Oh, my son brought them with him, and they are all the offspring of the
one king.”
I was well satisfied, and I had no liking for delay to get myself free
from the hag, and I took them on board the ship, and the child I had
myself. I thought the king might leave me the child I nursed myself;
but when I came to land, and all those young people with me, the king
and queen were out walking. The king was very aged, and the queen aged
likewise. When I came to converse with them, and the twelve with me, the
king and queen began to cry. I asked, “Why are you crying?”
“Oh, it is for good cause I am crying. As many children as these I should
have, and now I am withered, grey, at the end of my life, and I have not
one at all.”
“Oh, belike you will yet have plenty.”
I told him all I went through, and I gave him the child in his hand, and
“These are your other children who were stolen from you, whom I am giving
to you safe. They are gently reared.”
When the king heard who they were he smothered them with kisses and
drowned them with tears, and dried them with fine cloths silken and the
hair of his own head, and so also did their mother, and great was his
welcome for me, as it was I who found them all. And the king said to me,
“I will give you your own child, as it is you who have earned him best;
but you must come to my court every year, and the child with you, and I
will share with you my possessions.”
“Oh, I have enough of my own, and after my death I will leave it to the
child.”
I spent a time, till my visit was over, and I told the king all the
troubles I went through, only I said nothing about my wife. And now you
have the story.
[_The remainder is from P. MCGRALE’S Achill version._]
And now when you go home, and the slender red champion asks you for news
of the death of Anshgayliacht and for the sword of light, tell him the
way in which his brother was killed, and say you have the sword; and he
will ask the sword from you; and say you to him, “If I promised to bring
it to you, I did not promise to bring it for you;” and then throw the
sword into the air and it will come back to me.
He went home, and he told the story of the death of Anshgayliacht to
the slender red champion, “And here,” said he, “is the sword.” And the
slender red champion asked for the sword, and he said, “If I promised to
bring it to you, I did not promise to bring it for you;” and he threw it
into the air and it returned to Blue Niall.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE GHOST AND HIS WIVES._
_Narrator, MICHAEL FAHERTY, Renvyle, co. Galway._
There was a man coming from a funeral, and it chanced as he was coming
along by the churchyard he fell in with the head of a man. “It is good
and right,” said he to himself, “to take that with me and put it in
a safe place.” He took up the head and laid it in the churchyard. He
went on along the road home, and he met a man with the appearance of a
gentleman.
“Where were you?” said the gentleman.
“I was at a funeral, and I found the head of a man on the road.”
“What did you do with it?” said the gentleman.
“I took it with me, and left it in the churchyard.”
“It was well for you,” said the gentleman.
“Why so?” said the man.
“That is my head,” said he, “and if you did anything out of the way to
it, assuredly I would be even with you.”
“And how did you lose your head?” said the man.
“I did not lose it at all, but I left it in the place where you found it
to see what you would do with it.”
“I believe you are a good person” (_i.e._ a fairy), said the man; “and,
if so, it would be better for me to be in any other place than in your
company.”
“Don’t be afraid, I won’t touch you. I would rather do you a good turn
than a bad one.”
“I would like that,” said the man. “Come home with me till we get our
dinner.”
They went home together. “Get up,” said the man to his wife, “and make
our dinner ready for us.” The woman got up and made dinner ready for
them. When they ate their dinner, “Come,” said the man, “till we play a
game of cards.”
They were playing cards that evening, and he (the gentleman) slept that
night in the house; and on the morning of the morrow they ate their
breakfast together. When two hours were spent,—
“Come with me,” said the gentleman.
“What business have you with me?” said the man.
“That you may see the place I have at home.”
They got up and walked together till they came to the churchyard. “Lift
the tombstone,” said the gentleman. He raised the tombstone and they went
in. “Go down the stairs,” said the gentleman. They went down together
till they came to the door; and it was opened, and they went into the
kitchen. There were two old women sitting by the fire. “Rise,” said the
gentleman to one of them, “and get dinner ready for us.” She rose and
took some small potatoes.
“Have you nothing for us for dinner but that sort?” said the gentleman.
“I have not,” said the woman.
“As you have not, keep them.”
“Rise you,” said he to the second woman, “and get ready dinner for us.”
She rose and took some meal and husks.
“Have you nothing for us but that sort?”
“I have not,” said she.
“As you have not, keep them.”
He went up the stairs and knocked at a door. There came out a beautiful
woman in a silk dress, and it ornamented with gold from the sole of her
foot to the crown of her head. She asked him what he wanted. He asked her
if she could get dinner for himself and the stranger. She said she could.
She laid a dinner before them fit for a king. And when they had eaten and
drunk plenty, the gentleman asked if he knew the reason why she was able
to give them such a dinner.
“I don’t know,” said the man; “but tell me if it is your pleasure.”
“When I was alive I was married three times, and the first wife I had
never gave anything to a poor man except little potatoes; and she must
live on them herself till the day of judgment. The second wife, whenever
any one asked alms of her, never gave anything but meal and husks; and
she will be no better off herself, nor any one else who asks of her, till
the day of judgment. The third wife, who got the dinner for us—she could
give us everything from the first.”
“Why is that?” said the man.
“Because she never spared of anything she had, but would give it to a
poor man; and she will have of that kind till the day of judgment.”
“Come with me till you see my dwelling,” said the gentleman. There were
outhouses and stables and woods around the house; and, to speak the
truth, he was in the prettiest place ever I saw with my eyes. “Come
inside with me,” said he to the man; and I was not long within when there
came a piper, and he told him to play, and he was not long playing when
the house was filled with men and women. They began dancing. When part of
the night was spent, I thought I would go and sleep. I arose and went to
sleep; and when I awoke in the morning I could see nothing of the house
or anything in the place.
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF BIOULTACH, SON OF THE HIGH KING OF ERIN._
_Narrator, TERENCE DAVIS, Renvyle, co. Galway._
There was a king in Erin long ago, and long ago it was. He had a pair of
sons, Bioultach and Maunus. Bioultach was the elder. His father took him
from school. The son said to him, “Will you give me no more schooling?”
“I will not give. I think you have enough learning, and I am but poor.”
“I give you the quarters of the heaven, of the sea, and of the land,
against my body and my soul, that a second meal I will not eat at the one
table, that a second night I will not sleep in the one bed, till I go to
seek my fortune.”
“Oh, my son! evil is the oath you have taken, and it were better for you
to watch over Erin. I think it were worth your while to stay at home, for
when you go some other nation will come and cut it off.”
“Oh! it is one to me.”
He rose exceeding bright on the morning of the morrow. He rubbed palm to
poll and palm to forehead, to make it be seen that he was the best in
beauty and in courage. He struck down to the sea. He struck a plank on
this side and a plank on that till he made a ship spacious and capacious.
He struck on board the ship, and spent four nights and four days, till he
landed in Spain without permission.
The King of Spain was out of doors, and he saw the ship coming in without
permission. He sent a messenger down to ask who was the champion.
The messenger came back and said to the king, “There is but one man on
board, and handsomest of all men that ever I saw is he.”
“Oh! give him an invitation to the court.”
The messenger went and gave the invitation. Bioultach spent a day and a
year at the court.
“Well,” said the king, “you are at my court for a year, and I have never
asked who you are.”
“If you asked me I would have told you. Bioultach am I, son of the High
King of Erin, who left my father’s court and pleasant home, since I
thought little of the learning he was giving me; and I think I will stay
here no longer.”
“I don’t know,” said the king, “where you will go; but I believe there is
not a place in the world better than Greece, for there is no champion at
all, who is a good man, that it is not in Greece he is, in company with
the king.”
Bioultach took leave of the king, and raised his ship with him, and
stopped not till he came to Greece. The King of Greece was on a height
(above the sea), and with him a pair of champions—his own son, Splendour,
and Splendour-of-the-Sun, son of the King of the Castle of the Stream.
“Go down,” said the king to Splendour-of-the-Sun, “and bring me word who
is the champion that has come in without permission.”
He went down at the command of the king, and saluted the man in the ship.
Said he, “The king has sent me to get word who you are.”
“Well, I never took from my ship word to give you, unless you get it from
me by force.”
“I would get it if I had you here.”
“I will be there now, but I must secure my ship, that neither storm nor
sun may hurt her.”
Bioultach went out, and he and the man on shore took hold of each other.
Bioultach threw him and tied him tightly, and he fastened the five knots
together, and threw him behind him. The king was looking on.
“Go down, Splendour, son of the King of Greece,” said he, “and bring me
word who is the champion that has tied the other man.”
The son of the King of Greece went down, and he and Bioultach took hold
of each other, and Bioultach threw him and tied him more tightly than
the other, and laid him along with him. The king had nothing for it but
to send a messenger down with a branch of green yew. When Bioultach saw
the yew coming, he loosed the men, and the messengers bade him come with
them to the palace. Bioultach went with them, and he spent a day and a
year with the King of Greece, learning everything the king could teach
him, and the king never asked who he was or whence he came. But at the
end of a year the king asked,—