up, and do one's heart good." And then he would reproach the simple
young fellow, vowing that in his young days he had always been able to
afford a cup of sake for himself and his friends.
Grieved at heart, the young man would work harder than ever and think
to himself: "How shall I earn some more money? How shall I get a
little sake for my poor father, who really needs it in his weakness
and old age?"
He was thinking in this way to himself one day as he was at work on
the wooded hills, when the sound of rushing water caught his ear. He
had often worked in the same spot before, and could not remember that
there was any torrent or waterfall near. So, feeling rather surprised,
he followed the sound, which got louder and louder until at last he
came upon a beautiful little cascade.
The water looked so clear and cool that he stooped down where it was
flowing away in a quiet stream, and, using his hand as a cup, drank a
little of it. What was his amazement to find that instead of water it
was the most excellent sake!
Overjoyed at this discovery, he quickly filled the gourd which was
hanging at his girdle, and made the best of his way home, rejoicing
that now at last he had something good to bring back to his poor old
father. The old man was so delighted with the sake that he drank cup
after cup. A neighbour happened to drop in, the story was told to him,
and a cup of sake offered and drunk with many words of astonishment
and gratitude.
Soon the news spread through the village, and before night there was
hardly a man in the place who had not paid his visit of curiosity,
been told the tale of the magic fountain, and smelt the gourd, which,
alas! was now empty.
Next morning the young wood-cutter set off to work earlier even than
usual, not forgetting to carry with him a large gourd, for of course
the enchanted waterfall was to be visited again.
What was the surprise of the young man when he came to the spot, to
find several of his neighbours already there, and all armed with
buckets, jars, pitchers, anything that would carry a good supply of
the coveted sake. Each man had come secretly, believing that he alone
had found his way to the magic waterfall.
The young wood-cutter was amused to see the looks of disappointment
and anger upon the faces of those who already stood near the water, as
they saw fresh arrivals every moment. Each one looked abashed and
uncomfortable in the presence of his neighbours; but, at last, one
bolder than the others broke the grim silence with a laugh, which soon
the others were fain to join in.
"Here we are," said he, "all bent on the same errand. Let us fill our
jars and gourds and go home. But first--just one taste of the magic
sake." He stooped down and, filling his gourd, put it to his lips.
Once and yet again did he drink, with a face of astonishment which
soon gave place to anger.
"Water!" he shouted in a rage; "nothing but cold water! We have been
tricked and deceived by a parcel of made-up stories--where is that
young fellow? Let us duck him in his fine waterfall!"
But the young man had been wise enough to slip behind a big rock when
he saw the turn things were taking, and was nowhere to be found.
First one and then another tasted of the stream. It was but too true;
no sake, but clear, cold water was there. Crestfallen and out of
temper, the covetous band returned to their homes.
When they were fairly gone the good young wood-cutter crept from his
hiding-place. "Could this be true," he thought, "or was it all a
dream? At any rate," said he, "I must taste once more for myself." He
filled the gourd and drank. Sure enough, there was the same
fine-flavoured sake he had tasted yesterday. And so it remained. To
the good, dutiful son the cascade flowed with the finest sake, while
to all others it yielded only cold water.
The emperor, hearing this wonderful story, sent for the good young
wood-cutter, rewarded him for his kindness to his father, and even
changed the name of the year in his honour as an encouragement to
children in all future time to honour and obey their parents.
_The Amadan of the Dough_
There was a king, once on a time, that had a son that was an
Amadan.[7] The Amadan's mother died, and the king married again.
[Footnote 7: Simpleton.]
The Amadan's stepmother was always afraid of his beating her children,
he was growing so big and strong. So to keep him from growing and to
weaken him, she had him fed on dough made of raw meal and water, and
for that he was called "The Amadan of the Dough." But instead of
getting weaker, it was getting stronger the Amadan was on this fare,
and he was able to thrash all of his stepbrothers together.
At length his stepmother told his father that he would have to drive
the Amadan away. The father consented to put him away; but the Amadan
refused to go till his father would give him a sword so sharp that it
would cut a pack of wool falling on it.
After a great deal of time and trouble the father got such a sword and
gave it to the Amadan; and when the Amadan had tried it and found it
what he wanted, he bade them all good-bye and set off.
For seven days and seven nights he travelled away before him without
meeting anything wonderful, but on the seventh night he came up to a
great castle. He went in and found no one there, but he found a great
dinner spread on the table in the hall. So to be making the most of
his time, down the Amadan sat at the table and whacked away.
When he had finished with his dinner, up to the castle came three
young princes, stout, strong, able fellows, but very, very tired, and
bleeding from wounds all over them.
They struck the castle with a flint, and all at once the whole castle
shone as if it were on fire.
The Amadan sprang at the three of them to kill them. He said, "What
do you mean by putting the castle on fire?"
"O Amadan!" they said, "don't interfere with us, for we are nearly
killed as it is. The castle isn't on fire. Every day we have to go out
to fight three giants--Slat Mor, Slat Marr, and Slat Beag. We fight
them all day long, and just as night is falling we have them killed.
But however it comes, in the night they always come to life again, and
if they didn't see this castle lit up, they'd come in on top of us and
murder us while we slept. So every night when we come back from the
fight, we light up the castle. Then we can sleep in peace until
morning, and in the morning go off and fight the giants again."
When the Amadan heard this, he wondered; and he said he would like
very much to help them kill the giants. They said they would be very
glad to have such a fine fellow's help; and so it was agreed that the
Amadan should go with them to the fight next day.
Then the three princes washed themselves and took their supper, and
they and the Amadan went to bed.
In the morning all four of them set off, and travelled to the Glen of
the Echoes, where they met the three giants.
"Now," says the Amadan, "if you three will engage the two smaller
giants, Slat Marr and Slat Beag, I'll engage Slat Mor myself and kill
him."
They agreed to this.
Now the smallest of the giants was far bigger and more terrible than
anything ever the Amadan had seen or heard of in his life before, so
you can fancy what Slat Mor must have been like.
But the Amadan was little concerned at this. He went to meet Slat Mor,
and the two of them fell to the fight, and a great, great fight they
had. They made the hard ground into soft, and the soft into spring
wells; they made the rocks into pebbles, and the pebbles into gravel,
and the gravel fell over the country like hailstones. All the birds of
the air from the lower end of the world to the upper end of the
world, and all the wild beasts and tame from the four ends of the
earth, came flocking to see the fight; and in the end the Amadan ran
Slat Mor through with his sword and laid him down dead.
Then he turned to help the three princes, and very soon he laid the
other two giants down dead for them also.
Then the three princes said they would all go home. The Amadan told
them to go, but warned them not to light up the castle this night, and
said he would sit by the giants' corpses and watch if they came to
life again.
The three princes begged of him not to do this, for the three giants
would come to life, and then he, having no help, would be killed.
The Amadan was angry with them, and ordered them off instantly. Then
he sat down by the giants' corpses to watch. But he was so tired from
his great day's fighting that by and by he fell asleep.
About twelve o'clock at night, when the Amadan was sleeping soundly,
up comes a _cailliach_ [old hag] and four _badachs_ [unwieldy big
fellows], and the cailliach carried with her a feather and a bottle of
_iocshlainte_ [ointment of health], with which she began to rub the
giants' wounds.
Two of the giants were already alive when the Amadan awoke, and the
third was just opening his eyes. Up sprang the Amadan, and at him
leaped they all--Slat Mor, Slat Marr, Slat Beag, the cailliach, and
the four badachs.
If the Amadan had had a hard fight during the day, this one was surely
ten times harder. But a brave and a bold fellow he was, and not to be
daunted by numbers of showers of blows. They fought for long and long.
They made the hard ground into soft, and the soft into spring wells;
they made the rocks into pebbles, and the pebbles into gravel, and the
gravel fell over the country like hailstones. All the birds of the air
from the lower end of the world to the upper end of of the world, and
all the wild beasts and tame from the four ends of the earth, came
flocking to see the fight; and one after the other of them the Amadan
ran his sword through, until he had every man of them stretched on the
ground, dying or dead.
And when the old cailliach was dying, she called the Amadan to her and
put him under _geasa_ [an obligation that he could not shirk] to lose
the power of his feet, of his strength, of his sight, and of his
memory, if he did not go to meet and fight the Black Bull of the Brown
Wood.
When the old hag died outright, the Amadan rubbed some of the
iocshlainte to his wounds with the feather, and at once he was as hale
and as fresh as when the fight began. Then he took the feather and the
bottle of iocshlainte, buckled on his sword, and started away before
him to fulfil his geasa.
He travelled for the length of that lee-long day, and when night was
falling, he came to a little hut on the edge of a wood; and the hut
had no shelter inside or out but one feather over it, and there was a
rough, red woman standing in the door.
"You're welcome!" says she, "Amadan of the Dough, the king of
Ireland's son. What have you been doing and where are you going?"
"Last night," says the Amadan, "I fought a great fight, and killed
Slat Mor, Slat Marr, Slat Beag, the Cailliach of the Rocks, and four
badachs. Now I'm under geasa to meet and to fight the Black Bull of
the Brown Wood. Can you tell me where to find him?"
"I can that," says she, "but it's now night. Come in and eat and
sleep."
So she spread for the Amadan a fine supper, and made a soft bed, and
he ate heartily and slept heartily that night.
In the morning she called him early, and she directed him on his way
to meet the Black Bull of the Brown Wood. "But, my poor Amadan," she
said, "no one has ever yet met that bull and come back alive."
She told him that when he reached the place of meeting, the bull would
come tearing down the hill like a hurricane.
"Here's a cloak," says she, "to throw upon the rock that is standing
there. You hide yourself behind the rock, and when the bull comes
tearing down, he will dash at the cloak, and blind himself with the
crash against the rock. Then you jump on the bull's back and fight for
life. If, after the fight, you are living, come back and see me; and
if you are dead, I'll go and see you."
The Amadan took the cloak, thanked her and set off, and travelled on
and on until he came to the place of meeting.
When the Amadan came there, he saw the Bull of the Brown Wood come
tearing down the hill like a hurricane, and he threw the cloak on the
rock and hid behind it, and with the fury of his dash against the
cloak the bull blinded himself, and the roar of his fury split the
rock.
The Amadan lost no time jumping on his back, and with his sword began
hacking and slashing him; but he was no easy bull to conquer, and a
great fight the Amadan had. They made the hard ground into soft, and
the soft into spring wells; they made the rocks into pebbles, and the
pebbles into gravel, and the gravel fell over the country like
hailstones. All the birds of the air from the lower end of the world
to the upper end of the world, and all the wild beasts and tame from
the four ends of the earth, came flocking to see the fight; at length,
after a long time, the Amadan ran his sword right through the bull's
heart, and the bull fell down dead. But before he died he put the
Amadan under geasa to meet and to fight the White Wether of the Hill
of the Waterfalls.
Then the Amadan rubbed his own wounds with the iocshlainte, and he was
as fresh and hale as when he went into the fight. Then he set out and
travelled back again to the little hut that had no shelter without or
within, only one feather over it, and the rough, red woman was
standing in the door: and she welcomed the Amadan and asked him the
news.
He told her all about the fight, and that the Black Bull of the Woods
had put him under geasa to meet and to fight the White Wether of the
Hill of the Waterfalls.
"I'm sorry for you, my poor Amadan," says she, "for no one ever met
before that White Wether and came back alive. But come in and eat and
rest, anyhow, for you must be both hungry and sleepy."
So she spread him a hearty meal and made him a soft bed, and the
Amadan ate and slept heartily; and in the morning she directed him to
where he would meet the White Wether of the Hill of the Waterfalls.
And she told him that no steel was tougher than the hide of the White
Wether, that a sword was never yet made that could go through it, and
that there was only one place--a little white spot just over the
wether's heart--where he could be killed or sword could cut through.
And she told the Amadan that his only chance was to hit this spot.
The Amadan thanked her, and set out. He travelled away and away before
him until he came to the Hill of the Waterfalls, and as soon as he
reached it he saw the White Wether coming tearing toward him in a
furious rage, and the earth he was throwing up with his horns was
shutting out the sun.
And when the wether came up and asked the Amadan what great feats he
had done that made him impudent enough to dare to come there, the
Amadan said: "With this sword I have killed Slat Mor, Slatt Marr,
Slatt Beag, the Cailliach of the Rocks and her four badachs, and
likewise the Black Bull of the Brown Wood."
"Then," said the White Wether, "you'll never kill any other." And at
the Amadan he sprang.
The Amadan struck at him with his sword, and the sword glanced off as
it might off steel. Both of them fell to the fight with all their
hearts, and such a fight never was before or since. They made the hard
ground into soft, and the soft into spring wells; they made the rocks
into pebbles, and the pebbles into gravel, and the gravel fell over
the country like hailstones. All the birds of the air from the lower
end of the world to the upper end of the world, and all the wild
beasts and tame from the four ends of the earth, came flocking to see
the fight. But at length and at last, after a long and terrible fight,
the Amadan, seeing the little spot above the heart that the red woman
had told him of, struck for it and hit it, and drove his sword through
the White Wether's heart, and he fell down. And when he was dying, he
called the Amadan and put him under a geasa to meet and fight the
Beggarman of the King of Sweden.
The Amadan took out his bottle of iocshlainte and rubbed himself with
the iocshlainte, and he was as fresh and hale as when he began the
fight. Then he set out again, and when night was falling, he reached
the hut that had no shelter within or without, only one feather over
it, and the rough, red woman was standing in the door.
Right glad she was to see the Amadan coming back alive, and she
welcomed him heartily and asked him the news.
He told her of the wonderful fight he had had, and that he was now
under geasa to meet and fight the Beggarman of the King of Sweden.
She made him come in and eat and sleep, for he was tired and hungry.
And heartily the Amadan ate and heartily he slept; and in the morning
she called him early, and directed him on his way to meet the
Beggarman of the King of Sweden.
She told him that when he reached a certain hill, the beggarman would
come down from the sky in a cloud; and that he would see the whole
world between the beggarman's legs and nothing above his head. "If
ever he finds himself beaten," she said, "he goes up into the sky in a
mist and stays there to refresh himself. You may let him go up once;
but if you let him go up the second time, he will surely kill you when
he comes down. Remember that. If you are alive when the fight is over,
come to see me. If you are dead, I will go to see you."
The Amadan thanked her, parted with her, and travelled away and away
before him until he reached the hill which she had told him of. And
when he came there, he saw a great cloud that shot out of the sky,
descending on the hill, and when it came down on the hill and melted
away, there it left the Beggarman of the King of Sweden standing, and
between his legs the Amadan saw the whole world and nothing over his
head.
And with a roar and a run the beggarman made for the Amadan, and the
roar of him rattled the stars in the sky. He asked the Amadan who he
was, and what he had done to have the impudence to come there and meet
him.
The Amadan said: "They call me the Amadan of the Dough, and I have
killed Slat Mor, Slat Marr, Slat Beag, the Cailliach of the Rocks and
her four badachs, the Black Bull of the Brown Wood, and the White
Wether of the Hill of the Waterfalls, and before night I'll have
killed the Beggarman of the King of Sweden."
"That you never will, you miserable object," says the beggarman.
"You're going to die now, and I'll give you your choice to die either
by a hard squeeze of wrestling, or a stroke of the sword."
"Well," says the Amadan, "if I have to die, I'd sooner die by a stroke
of the sword."
"All right," says the beggarman, and drew his sword.
But the Amadan drew his sword at the same time, and both went at it.
And if his fights before had been hard, this one was harder and
greater and more terrible than the others put together. They made the
hard ground into soft, and the soft into spring wells; they made the
rocks into pebbles, and the pebbles into gravel, and the gravel fell
over the country like hailstones. All the birds of the air from the
lower end of the world to the upper end of the world, and all the wild
beasts and tame from the four ends of the earth, came flocking to see
the fight. And at length the fight was putting so hard upon the
beggarman, and he was getting so weak, that he whistled, and the mist
came around him, and he went up into the sky before the Amadan knew.
He remained there until he refreshed himself, and then came down
again, and at it again he went for the Amadan, and fought harder and
harder than before, and again it was putting too hard upon him, and he
whistled as before for the mist to come down and take him up.
But the Amadan remembered what the red woman had warned him; he gave
one leap into the air, and coming down, drove his sword through the
beggarman's heart, and the beggarman fell dead. But before he died he
put geasa on the Amadan to meet and fight the Silver Cat of the Seven
Glens.
The Amadan rubbed his wounds with the iocshlainte, and he was as fresh
and hale as when he began the fight; and then he set out, and when
night was falling, he reached the hut that had no shelter within or
without, only one feather over it, and the rough, red woman was
standing in the door.
Right glad she was to see the Amadan coming back alive, and she
welcomed him right heartily, and asked him the news.
He told her that he had killed the beggarman, and said he was now
under geasa to meet and fight the Silver Cat of the Seven Glens.
"Well," she said, "I'm sorry for you, for no one ever before went to
meet the Silver Cat and came back alive. But," she says, "you're both
tired and hungry; come in and rest and sleep."
So in the Amadan went, and had a hearty supper and a soft bed; and in
the morning she called him up early, and she gave him directions where
to meet the cat and how to find it, and she told him there was only
one vital spot on that cat, and it was a black speck on the bottom of
the cat's stomach, and unless he could happen to run his sword right
through this, the cat would surely kill him. She said:
"My poor Amadan, I'm very much afraid you'll not come back alive. I
cannot go to help you myself, or I would; but there is a well in my
garden, and by watching that well I will know how the fight goes with
you. While there is honey on top of the well, I will know you are
getting the better of the cat; but if the blood comes on top, then the
cat is getting the better of you; and if the blood stays there, I will
know, my poor Amadan, that you are dead."
The Amadan bade her good-bye, and set out to travel to where the Seven
Glens met at the sea. Here there was a precipice, and under the
precipice a cave. In this cave the Silver Cat lived, and once a day
she came out to sun herself on the rocks.
The Amadan let himself down over the precipice by a rope, and he
waited until the cat came out to sun herself.
When the cat came out at twelve o'clock and saw the Amadan, she let a
roar out of her that drove the waters back of the sea and piled them
up a quarter of a mile high, and she asked him who he was and how he
had the impudence to come there to meet her.
The Amadan said: "They call me the Amadan of the Dough, and I have
killed Slat Mor, Slat Man, Slat Beag, the Cailliach of the Rocks and
her four badachs, the Black Bull of the Brown Woods, the White Wether
of the Hill of the Waterfalls, and the Beggarman of the King of
Sweden, and before night I will have killed the Silver Cat of the
Seven Glens."
"That you never will," says she, "for a dead man you will be
yourself." And at him she sprang.
But the Amadan raised his sword and struck at her, and both of them
fell to the fight, and a great, great fight they had. They made the
hard ground into soft, and the soft into spring wells; they made the
rocks into pebbles, and the pebbles into gravel, and the gravel fell
over the country like hailstones. All the birds of the air from the
lower end of the world to the upper end of the world, and all the wild
beasts and tame from the four ends of the earth, came flocking to see
the fight; and if the fights that the Amadan had had on the other days
were great and terrible, this one was far greater and far more
terrible than all the others put together, and the poor Amadan sorely
feared that before night fell he would be a dead man.
The red woman was watching at the well in her garden, and she was
sorely distressed, for though at one time the honey was uppermost, at
another time it was all blood, and again the blood and the honey would
be mixed; so she felt bad for the poor Amadan.
At length the blood and the honey got mixed again, and it remained
that way until night; so she cried, for she believed the Amadan
himself was dead, as well as the Silver Cat.
And so he was. For when the fight had gone on for long and long, the
cat, with a great long nail which she had in the end of her tail, tore
him open from his mouth to his toes; and as she tore the Amadan open
and he was about to fall, she opened her mouth so wide that the Amadan
saw down to the very bottom of her stomach, and there he saw the black
speck that the red woman had told him of. And just before he dropped
he drove his sword through this spot, and the Silver Cat, too, fell
over dead.
It was not long now till the red woman arrived at the place and found
both the Amadan and the cat lying side by side, dead. At this the poor
woman was frantic with sorrow, but suddenly she saw by the Amadan's
side the bottle of iocshlainte and the feather. She took them up and
rubbed the Amadan with the iocshlainte, and he jumped to his feet,
alive and well, and fresh as when he began the fight.
He smothered her with kisses and drowned her with tears. He took the
red woman with him, and set out on his journey back, and travelled and
travelled on and on till he came to the Castle of Fire.