A man met her. He asked her what she would take for her burden. She
said it was not worth a great deal, that she would give it to him for
nothing. He said he would not take it, but would buy it. She said she
would only take sixpence. He gave her the sixpence. She threw the cabbage
towards him. He said that was not what he bought, but the burden she was
carrying. Who was there but the devil? She was troubled then. She went
home and she was weeping. It was a short time until her young son was
born. He was growing till he was eighteen years old. He was out one day
and fell, and never rose up till he died. When they were going to bury
him, they took him to the people’s house (_i.e._, the chapel). They left
him there till morning.
There was a man among the neighbours who had three daughters. He took out
a box of snuff to give (the men) a pinch. The last man to whom the box
went round left the box on the altar. They went home. When the man was
going to bed he went looking for his box. The box was not to be got. He
said he had left it behind him in the people’s house. He said he would
not sleep that night until he got a pinch. He asked one of his daughters
to go to the people’s house and bring him the box that was on the altar.
She said there was loneliness on her. He cried to the second woman,
would she go? She said she would not go; that she was lonely. He cried
to the third, would she go? And she said she would go; that there was no
loneliness on her in his presence (_i.e._, of the corpse).
She went to the people’s house. She found the box. She put it in her
pocket. When she was coming away she saw a ring at the end of the coffin.
She caught hold of it till it came to her. The end came from the coffin.
The man that was dead came out. He enjoined on her not to be afraid.
“Do you see that fire over yonder? If you are able, carry me to that
fire.”
“I am not able,” said she.
“Be dragging me with you as well as you can.”
She put him on her back. She dragged him till they came to the fire.
“Draw out the fire,” said he, “and put me lying in the midst of it; fix
up the fire over me. Anything of me that is not burnt put the fire on it
again.”
He was burning till he was all burnt. When the day was coming she was
troubled on account of what she had seen during the night. When the day
grew clear there came a young man, who began making fun with her.
“I have not much mind for fun on account of what I have seen during the
night.”
“Well, it was I who was there,” said the young man.
“I would go to heaven if I could get an angel made by you left in my
father’s room.”
Three quarters (of a year) from that night she dressed herself up as
if she was a poor woman. She went to his father’s house and asked for
lodging till morning. The woman of the house said that they were not
giving lodging to any poor person at all. She said she would not ask but
a seat by the fire. The man of the house told her to stay till morning.
She stopped. They went both to lie down. She sat by the fire. In the
course of the night she went into the room, and there she had a young
son. He, _i.e._, her husband, came in at the window in the shape of a
white dove. He dressed the child. The child began to cry. The woman of
the house heard the crying. She would wager the lady had left a baby
after her. She rose to get out of the bed. Her husband told her to lie
quiet and have patience. She got up in spite of him. The door of the
room was shut. She looked in through the keyhole. He was standing on the
floor. She perceived it was her son who was there. She cried to him, was
it he that was there? He said it was.
“One glance of your eye has sent me for seven years to hell.”
“I will go myself in your place,” said his mother.
She went then to go to hell. When she came to the gate, there came
out steam so that she was burnt and scalded. It was necessary for her
to return. “Well,” said the father, “I will go in your place.” It was
necessary for him to return. The young man began to weep. He said he must
go himself. The mother of the child said that she would go.
“Here is a ring for you,” said he. “When thirst comes on you, or hunger,
put the ring in your mouth; you will feel neither thirst nor hunger.
This is the work that will be on you—to keep down the souls; they are
stewing and burning in the boiler. Do not eat a bit of food there. There
is a barrel in the corner, and all the food that you get throw into the
barrel.”
She went to hell then. She was keeping down the souls in the boiler. They
were rising in leaps out of it. All the food she got she threw into the
barrel till the seven years were over. She was making ready to be going
then. The devil came to her. He said she could not go yet awhile till
she had paid for the food she had eaten. She said she had not eaten one
morsel of his share: “All that I got, it is in the barrel.” The devil
went to the barrel. All he had given her was there for him.
“How much will you take to stay seven years more?”
“Oh, I am long enough with you,” said she; “if you give me the all that I
can carry, I can stay with you.”
He said he would give it. She stopped. She was keeping down the souls
during seven years. She was shortening the time as well as she could till
the seven years were ended. Then she was going. When the souls saw she
was going they rose up with one cry, lest one of them should be left.
They went clinging to her; they were hanging to her hair all that were
in the boiler. She moved on with her burden. She had not gone far when a
lady in a carriage met her.
“Oh! great is your burden,” said the lady; “will you give it to me?”
“Who are you?” said she.
“I am the Virgin Mary.”
“I will not give it to you.”
She moved on with herself. She had not gone far when a gentleman met her.
“Great is your burden, my poor woman; will you give it to me?”
“Who are you?” said she.
“I am God,” said he.
“I will not give my burden to you.”
She went on with herself another while. Another gentlemen met her.
“Great is the burden you have,” said the gentleman; “will you give it to
me?”
“Who are you?” said she.
“I am the King of Sunday,” said he.
“I will give my burden to you,” said she. “No rest had I ever in hell
except on Sunday.”
“Well, it is a good woman you are; the first lady you met it was the
devil was there; the second person you met it was the devil was there,
trying if they could get your burden from you back. Now,” said God, “the
man for whom you have done all this is going to be married to-morrow. He
thought you were lost since you were in that place so long. You will not
know till you are at home.”
She did not know till she was at home. The house was full of drinking and
music. She went to the fire. Her own son came up to her.
She was making him wonder she was so worn and wasted. She told the child
to go to his father and get a glass of whisky for her to drink. The child
went crying to look for his father. He asked his father to give him a
glass of whisky. His father gave it. He came down where she was by the
fire. He gave her the glass. She drank it, there was so much thirst on
her. The ring that her husband gave her she put in the glass.
“Put your hand over the mouth of the glass; give it to no one at all till
you hand it to your father.”
The lad went to his father. He gave him the glass. The father looked into
it, and saw the ring. He recognised the ring.
“Who has given you this?” said he.
“A poor woman by the fire,” said the lad.
The father raised the child on his shoulders that he might point out to
him the woman who had given him the ring. The child came to the poor
woman.
“That is the woman,” said he, “who gave me the ring.”
The man recognised her then. He said that hardly did he know her when she
came so worn and wasted. He said to all the people that he would never
marry any woman but this one; that she had done everything for him; that
his mother sold him to the devil, and the woman had earned him back; that
she had spent fourteen years in hell, and now she had returned.
This is a true story. They are all lies but this one.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE KING WHO HAD TWELVE SONS._
_Narrator, JOHN MCGINTY, Valley, Achill Island._
He went down to the river every day and killed a salmon for each one of
them. He saw a duck on the river and twelve (young) birds with her; and
she was beating the twelfth away from her. He went to the old druid and
asked what was the cause why the duck was beating away the twelfth bird
from her.
“It was this,” said the old druid; “she gave the bird to God and the
Djachwi.”
“Well, I have twelve sons,” said the king; “I will give one of them to
God and to the Djachwi, as the duck is giving one of her birds to God and
the Djachwi. The twelve are going to school, and you must tell me which
of them it is best for me to give away.”
“Whichever of them is last at the gate in the evening, that is the man
you will give away; and whatever money you have left out to give him
throw it to him over the gate, and tell him he must go and seek his own
fortune.”
The younger children were running on first to the house, being hungry,
and the eldest was coming, reading a book, after them. The father was
standing at the gate on the inside, and he threw him a purse of money,
and told him he must go seek his fortune, that he gave him to God and to
the Djachwi.
He went and spent that night with the old druid. He rose in the morning
and washed his face, and prayed to God to put him in luck again until
evening. He gave a good heap of the gold to the old druid. The old druid
gave him a card and a bridle, and told him that any beast he would rub
the card to, if his skin was full of disease, would be cured.[14] He went
away that morning and he met with a king upon the road. The king asked
him,—
“What are you seeking?”
“I am seeking a master,” said he.
“Your like is what I am wanting,” said the king. “I have three hundred
horses and there is not one of them fit to put to my carriage, they are
so full of lumps in their skin.”
“I am able to cure them,” said the other.
“How much do you ask till the end of a day and a year?”
“I’ll be asking of you nothing at all but the beast that comes and puts
the head in this bridle mine.”
“Very well,” said the king.
He was a good serving-boy, and he minded the horses. He was not two days
with his master when two of them were cured, fit to go with the carriage.
He went every evening to an old couple, and he used to get news in plenty
from them.
“Did you hear the great news there is to-night?”
“I did not hear. What is the news?”
“The daughter of the King of the great Wren is to be devoured to-morrow
by a piast.”[15]
“I did not hear it,” said he.
“Was it in a wood or a hole in the ground you’ve been that you didn’t
hear it? Gentle and simple of the three islands are to be there to-morrow
to look at the piast swallowing her—at twelve o’clock to-morrow.”
(The next day) when he found that every one was gone to the place where
the piast was to come on land, he called out for his second best suit of
clothes, and it came to him with a leap; and he shook the bridle, and the
ugliest pony in the stables came to him and put her head into the bridle.
“Be up riding on me with a jump” (said the pony) lowering himself on his
two knees. He gave his face to the way and he would overtake the wind of
March that was before him, and the wind of March that was after would
not overtake him. When he came in sight of the place where the gathering
was, the piast was coming till she was half upon the land; and he and the
piast went fighting, till he tore her with his mouth and feet.
He came back and gave his face to the way, and he ran so near to the
place where the king’s daughter was to be swallowed that she caught the
boot from the foot of the man who was riding on the pony. He came home
and attended to his horses, and no one knew who was the man who was
mounted on the pony that killed the piast. She proclaimed a gathering of
all the men in the three islands, that she might see who the man was whom
the shoe fitted. There was not a man at all coming whom the shoe would
fit, and she was not going to marry any man but the one whom the shoe
fitted. The old man said it was right for him to go to her to see if the
shoe would fit him. He called for the suit of clothes that he wore on
the day when the pony killed the piast, and he went to her (the king’s
daughter). She knew him at once. The shoe was in her hand, and it leaped
from her hand till it went on his foot.
“You are the man that was on the pony on the day that he killed the
piast, and you are the man whom I will marry.”
He was seven nights and seven days at feast and festival, and they were
married on the eighth day. They spent that night part in talking and part
in story-telling; till the early day came and the clear brightness on the
morrow morning.
He said to her that he would be riding in the morning on the pony; and
he was going, and he came on an apple of gold upon the strand, and the
pony told him not to take up the apple or it would give him abundance of
trouble.
“Whatever trouble it may give me I will take it up!”
He went home and the pearl of gold with him. In the morning he went to
the old druid, and the old druid told him that it was the daughter of a
king of the eastern world, who lost it from her hair;—that there was a
pearl of gold on every rib of hair upon her head, and that she and her
twelve attendant women were bathing in such a place the day she lost it.
“I will never stop,” said he, “till I see the woman who lost it.”
The pony told him she was hard to see.
“There are seven miles of hill on fire to cross before you come to where
she is, and there are seven miles of steel thistles, and seven miles of
sea for you to go over. I told you to have nothing to do with the apple.
All the same it is as good for you to go riding on me till we try to go
to her place.”
He went on his two knees, and he went riding on him, till he crossed
the seven miles of hill on fire, and the seven miles of steel thistles,
and the seven miles of sea. When they came to the castle in which she
was, there was a great dinner that day with her, and a great gathering
of company. There were three-and-twenty feet of moat to cross before
the pony could get in. He rose with a high leap and crossed the
three-and-twenty feet. He came down on the inside of the moat, and a
report went in (to the castle) that such and such a stranger was there;
and she heard it and sent one of her servants to him. He told the servant
he could not go in till he got leave to put the pony in the stable. She
herself came out to him, with a golden goblet in her hand full of wine,
and she offered it to him; but he said he would be obliged to her if she
would drink of it first. She drank some of the wine first, and then held
it out to him; and what he did was to leap again upon the pony, and throw
his arm round her waist, and lift her up beside him on the pommel; and
the pony gave his head towards the gates and crossed out beyond them, and
made no stop till he came to their own castle with the lady.
“Now,” said the pony, “strike a blow with your rod of druidism upon me,
and make of me a rock of stone, and whatever time at all you are in need
of me, you have nothing to do but strike another blow on me, and I am up
as I was before.”
The woman was with him then; and the young queen he first married did not
know there was such a person in the castle till the hen-wife told her.
“Well!” said the hen-wife, “do you know what to do? He has no regard for
you beside the other. There is an apple of gold on every rib of hair upon
her head. You and he will be (playing cards) together to-night, and you
will win the first game, and you will put him under bonds to go and bring
you the black horse of the bank.”
The two went playing that night. She won the first game, and he was to
bring her the black horse of the bank. He went to the pony and struck a
blow with his rod of druidism on him, and told her the news, that she put
him under bonds to bring her the black horse of the bank. “I told you the
first day,” said the pony, “to leave the pearl alone, or it would give
you abundance of trouble; you must go now and cover me with leather all
over, and put pitch and tar on the outside of the leather. I will then go
down to the cliff to fight with the black horse of the bank, till I see
if I’ll be able to bring him to you. There is not a bit that he takes
out of me that he will not get the full of his mouth of leather and pitch
and tar, to my ribs.”
He went down, and he and the horse were fighting till he brought him down
from the cliff to him, and he brought him home to his wife. She went then
again to the hen-wife, to get more information from her. The hen-wife
told her that unless she could win another game on him, and put him under
bonds to bring her the skin of the wild pig from the eastern world, he
and this young queen would put her to death. The two went playing that
night, and he won the first game from her, and she said to him, “Give
your judgment now.” “I perceive,” said he, “that if it was you who had to
give the first judgment, you would give a brief judgment on me. But now
I put you under bonds to go, and not to sleep a wink, but for one night
only in the one house, till you bring me the heads of the three black
ravens that are in the eastern world.”
She arose in the morning and went to the hen-wife, and told her: and the
hen-wife said, “She had plenty of trouble before her ere she got the
three black ravens from the eastern world. But now I have three brothers
who are three giants, and to-night you will be with the first of them. I
will give you a ring that will take you on your way swiftly to the king,
and when you come to him you will give him the ring, and he will know
who gave it to you. And great will be the welcome he will have for you,
and he will give you every knowledge as far as the next brother.”
She gave her the ring, and she was with him that night, and he told her
that “he himself was as much as third of the world, that his second
brother was two-thirds of the world, and the third brother three-thirds,
and that all the birds of the air were under high tribute to him.”
She arose in the morning and washed her face and hands, and prayed to
God, to put her in luck; and that night she was with the second brother;
and the third night she was with the third brother. She gave him the ring
and he recognised it, and said he had not seen his sister for a hundred
years. She told him the journey she was going.[16] “To-morrow,” said he,
“they are coming with their high tribute, and unless I can get tidings
from them I cannot give you tidings.” Then in the morning came all the
birds of the air and paid to him their tribute, all except the eagle:
“And great is my wonder,” said he, “that the eagle is last to-day, and
no tidings are there with any other bird, unless it is with the eagle.”
He blew a whistle, and it was not long till he saw a black lump coming
in the sky, and who was it but the eagle! He told the eagle he would
remit to him the tribute of the seven years, if he could give him tidings
of the three black ravens that are in the eastern world. “Well!” said
he, “it is a year and a day since I saw them, and I’ll take another year
and a day before I can come to you with account of them.” “You must wait
here” (said he to the woman) “to the end of a year and a day till the
eagle comes back to me with news, and you will have nothing to do but sit
down.”
When the day and the year were ended, the eagle came back and the three
black ravens with him, and he gave them to the giant, and the giant took
them from him. “And now” (said he) “when you go home he will ask you if
you have them, and you will say you have not; and he will say he believes
you never went at all to look for them, and you will take them with you
then, and show them to him and let them out of your hand, and they will
not stop till they come to me here.”
When she came home her husband said to her,—“Have you the three ravens?”
“If I promised to bring them to you, I did not promise to give them to
you.” And she let them away.
He went that night to the old druid he had himself, and he told him the
thing she said to him. And the old druid told him that unless he could
succeed in banishing the hen-wife from the castle she would bring utter
destruction on himself and the queen. “Go now, and there is not any way
to banish her but the way I tell you. Send her word this night, and
invite her to play cards with you; and when you win the first game tell
her she must go to the Gruagach of the Apple and bring to you the sword
of light that is with the King of Rye, and then she has not a single
chance of returning. The queen will have no one to tell her anything
without the hen-wife, and you yourself and the other queen will be quiet
and untroubled together then.”
He sent her word that night and she came, and he asked her would she play
a game of cards? She said she would play: that great was the practice
she learned in the house of her father and mother when she was young,
and that she was very proud that he paid her a compliment so great as
to invite her. He drew out a table and a pack of cards, and the two sat
down beside the table, and it was five hundreds they had in the game. He
succeeded until she put out the five hundreds.
“Now,” said the hen-wife, “give your judgment on me.”
“I put you under bonds and under curse of a year to go to the eastern
world and to bring the sword of light belonging to the King of Rye from
the eastern world, and not to sleep a wink, but one night only, in the
one house before you come back again.”
She went with herself, and stopped not till she came to the castle of the
King of Rye in the eastern world, and knocked at the Cuillë Coric, and
the King of Rye came out and asked her what she was seeking.
“I am seeking,” said she, “your sword of light and the divided stone of
your druidism.”
“Well, do you not see on the hill yonder all the heads of the champions
who came to seek them from me, and never went man of them back to tell
the story? and you are come, a woman, to seek!”
“Well,” said she, “it was not under protection of your shield I came at
all, but under the protection of my own shield and blade.”
She and the King of Rye then went at one another, and the King of Rye was
getting the better of her, and she asked him to give her quarter for her
life till morning.
“Hold out your hand till I cut off the tips of your little finger that I
may be able to recognise you, and you will not get quarter for your life
but this turn, (not) if you come to-morrow.”
She went with herself and stopped that night at the smith’s house; and
the smith said to her,—
“It’s a bad journey you’ve come on your two feet. Many’s the good
champion I’ve seen crossing yonder bridge, and a man of them to tell the
story came back never. Unless you do the thing I tell you, you will get
the like death. Go to-night,” said he, “and rise in the morning, and I
will give you a sword if you pay me for my service; and I will cut off
the tip of the little finger on your other hand, and you will go to the
hall-door at the time when he is at his breakfast, and he will ask you,
‘Haven’t you a sudden desire to die that you come to me so early?’”
She went in the morning to the hall-door of the King of Rye, and he said
to her,—
“Sudden is your desire to die since you come to me so early, and haven’t
given me leave to eat my breakfast; but that is the thing that will make
your own life shorter. Stretch out your hand that I may see if it was you
were here yesterday.”
She stretched out her two hands and he found the tips of her two little
fingers were cut off, and he said she must have got advice from the smith
when she did that. She took up from the ground the sword the smith gave
her. When he saw the sword he begged for quarter for his life, for he
knew the sword was equal to half the world, and that it was no good for
him to fight against it. He said he would give her all he ever saw upon
the earth, but would not face that sword she had.
“I am asking nothing of you except your sword of light and the divided
stone of your druidism.”
“Those are the two things that it is worst for me to part from.”
He went in and brought them out to her, and she went with herself to the
smith, and she spent that night at the smith’s house, and gave him a good
hansel of gold for the sword he gave her. “Now,” said the smith, “though
he put you under bonds to bring the sword to him, you did not promise
more than to bring it to him. When you come to him and the things with
you, and you take them up in your two hands and show them to him, you
will say, though you promised to bring them to him, you did not promise
to bring them for him and you will let them go, and they will be with me
here in the winking of your eye. Unless they come back to me, the King of
Rye will put me to death, as he knows I gave you my sword; and there will
be peace made between him and me, and the quarrel between us will be at
an end.”[17]
* * * * *
And when the first wife saw the second wife with her own eyes, she could
esteem herself no longer, and she died of a broken heart.
[14] It must be supposed that the druid gave him further directions for
his conduct as appears by the sequel.
[15] Piast is a Gaelic monster, not exactly equivalent to either serpent
or dragon.
[16] _i.e._, the cause of her journey.