“Conn-eda! Conn-eda! Son of the King of Cruachan, I know why you have
come and what you would have of me. Light down and lift the stone that
is close to the right forefoot of your steed. Under it you will find a
ball and a cup. Take them up, for you will have need of both of them.
The ball you must roll before you and follow wherever it leads you. It
will bring you to the place whither you would go. The cup you will need
later.”
Then the Bird of Wisdom closed its beak, and the light died out of its
eyes, and again it sat as still and gray as though there were no breath
of life in it.
Conn-eda lighted down and looked for the stone the bird had told him of,
and he could not miss it for the horse’s right fore hoof was against it.
He lifted it up and there he found a cup and ball. The cup he placed in
the bosom of his shirt, but the ball he threw before him, according to
the bird’s bidding, and on and on it rolled, up hill and down dale, over
bog and through briars, with Conn-eda on the shaggy steed following hard
after it.
After a while it led them to the edge of a lake so dark and deep you
might have thought there was no bottom to it, and into this lake the
ball bounded and so was lost to sight.
The Prince was in despair. “Now what are we to do?” cried he. “If we
follow the ball, we are like to be drowned in the deep waters of the
lough, and if we do not follow it, we will never win to the palace of
the Water King.”
But the shaggy steed bade him take heart. “We must indeed still follow
the ball,” said he, “but even so it is possible no harm may come to us.
And now sit tight, my master.” With that the horse plunged into the
lough, and down and down through the still cold waters.
Conn-eda sat close, as the steed bade him, and presently they came
through the water and out into a land of pleasant meadows and flowing
streams. The lake was above them like a sky, with the sun shining down
through it, and not a hair of either of them was wet, and the ball was
lying there at their feet.
“Now Conn-eda, light down,” said the steed “and reach your hand first
into one of my ears and then into the other. In the one you will find a
small wicker basket, and in the other a flask of heal-all water. We will
need them both, for now we are drawing near to the dangerous part of the
adventure.”
The Prince did as he was told and put his hand into the horse’s ears,
first into one and then into the other. In the one he found the wicker
basket and in the other the flask of water. Then he mounted again and
off he rode, and the ball that had been lying still all this time rolled
before them to show the way, and they followed close after it.
After a bit they came to the end of the meadow and there was a great
stretch of water with a causeway leading across it, and along the
causeway rolled the ball. But Conn-eda drew rein, and no wonder, for the
causeway was guarded by three great fiery serpents. They lay there
stretched across and across it, and the smoke rose up from their
breathing in three great columns, and as the Prince looked at them, his
heart melted within him like wax, for they were a fearful sight.
But the shaggy steed bade him take heart. “It’s the truth, Conn-eda,
that we must pass those fiery serpents,” he said. “Backward we cannot
go, so forward we must. Now open the basket, and you will find in it
three pieces of meat. As I leap over the serpents you must throw one
piece into the mouth of each of them. If you do this, we may pass safely
over them, and pray that your aim be good, for if you miss the mouth of
any of them, it will be death both for you and me.”
So Conn-eda opened the lid of the basket and found the pieces of meat
and took them out, and the steed set out along the causeway, straight
toward where the monsters lay.
As horse and rider came near them, the serpents reared up and opened
their fiery jaws, and made at Conn-eda and his steed as though to devour
them; but the Prince was ready, and as the steed leaped over them
Conn-eda threw a
[Illustration: The serpents reared up and opened their fiery jaws. _Page
128_]
piece of meat into each of the flaming mouths; not one of them did he
miss.
At once the serpents were satisfied, and their heads sank down, and they
lay as though asleep.
But the steed alighted on the causeway far beyond them, and Conn-eda’s
hands held lightly to the reins.
“Conn-eda, are you still astride of me?”
“I am,” answered the Prince, “and none the worse for the danger we
passed over.”
“Now it comes to me that you are a noble and heroic Prince,” said the
steed, “and I have high hopes that we may win through all our adventures
with great reward to both of us at the end of them.”
Then on they went, and on they went until they came to a flaming
mountain, and the heat of it was very great.
“Are you sitting firm on my back?” asked the shaggy black horse.
“I am sitting firm,” replied the Prince.
“Then stir not. Look neither to the right nor left, nor up nor down, for
I am going to leap over the mountain, and if my leap is broken by so
much as a hairbreadth, we will both fall into the flames, and that will
be the end of us.”
When Conn-eda heard this, fear seemed to clutch at the very heart of
him, but he settled himself in the saddle, and when the horse leaped, he
kept in mind what had been said to him, and looked neither to the right
hand nor the left, nor up nor down, nor stirred so much as a hairbreadth
in his seat.
The good steed carried him over, but they were not so high above the
mountain but what the flames came up and licked Conn-eda’s feet and his
clothing.
“Are you still alive, Conn-eda?” asked the steed, when they alighted
upon the other side of it.
“I am just alive, and no more,” replied Conn-eda, “for I am greatly
scorched.”
“That is both well and ill,” said the horse. “Well that you are still
alive, and ill that you are so sore burned. Take the flask and rub some
of the heal-all that is in it on your burns, and they will pass away.”
This Conn-eda did, and at once his burns disappeared as though they had
never been there, and his flesh and skin were all well and sound again.
“The worst of our dangers are over now,” said the shaggy black horse,
“but other things are still to be done that you may find hard in the
doing. Now mount and ride again, and I can tell you we are not far from
the palace of the Water King, whither we would be going.”
Conn-eda mounted again, and on they rode and fast they went, and then
they came within sight of a castle, with shining domes and turrets, and
great golden gateways.
Here the shaggy steed bade the Prince again light down.
“Now, Conn-eda, listen well and answer truly,” said the steed, “for on
what happens next hangs both your fate and my own. So now tell me of a
truth, have I served you well?”
“None could have served better,” replied the Prince.
“Have I saved your life, or have I risked it?”
“You have saved it, and except for you I would have lost it far back on
the road.”
“And now the time has come to prove whether or no you are grateful. Put
your hand in my ear and take out the dagger you will find there. Fear
not and shrink not, but drive it into my heart, for thus and thus only
can you reward me for what I have done for you.”
When the Prince heard these words from the steed, he was filled with
horror. “Never, never will I do such a cruel and wicked thing,” he
cried. “Rather would I drive the dagger into my own heart than into
yours.”
“If you will not, you will not,” said the shaggy black horse, “but this
I tell you plainly; except you do this thing, both you and I must
perish.”
Well, the steed talked on and on, and at last Conn-eda consented to do
as he was asked, though it seemed to him his hand must wither in the
doing.
“That is well,” cried the steed, as soon as he had consented. “And now I
will tell you what further you must do. As soon as you have driven the
dagger into me, strip off my hide, and get into it yourself. You will
then be free to go in and out of the castle as you please, though
otherwise you would be slain by the people there the moment you
entered. Go through the golden gateway in the center, and the first
thing you will see is a leaping silver fountain. Fill the cup you found
beneath the stone with this water and bring it back and sprinkle the
water over me. Then all will be well. But oh, Conn-eda, haste in your
going and coming, for as soon as you have left me, the birds of prey
will gather about me, and if they tear me to pieces, there will be no
further help for me.”
Conn-eda promised to do in all things as the steed bade him, and he then
put his hand in its ear and found the dagger it had told him about. But
he trembled so that he had scarce strength to even so much as point the
dagger at the steed, let alone strike him. But this was all that was
needed, for as soon as the dagger was turned toward him, it flew
forward, carrying Conn-eda’s hand with it, and buried itself to the hilt
in the steed’s heart, so that he fell dead.
Then the Prince wept bitter tears over his dead companion. After awhile
he arose and took the dagger to strip off the hide as he had promised;
but there was no need of cutting, for no sooner did he catch hold of the
hide than it came off like a loose glove from the hand within it, and
the hide was as soft and fine as though it had been tanned by the king
of tanners.
Conn-eda got into the hide, and then he did not stay nor tarry but
hastened away to the castle, as the steed had bidden him, and in through
the golden gateway.
There within was a great hall with many people moving about in it, and
warders at the door, but no one spoke to him nor stayed him. In the
center of the hall was the leaping silver fountain of which the steed
had told him, and to this the Prince hastened and he filled his cup with
its water, and then back he ran the way he had come, to where the steed
was lying.
But swift as had been his going and coming, he was only just in time,
for already the birds of prey were gathering, and he had to fight them
with his sword before he could drive them away.
Then he sprinkled the water from the cup upon the body of the steed, and
no sooner had he done this than a strange thing happened, for at once
the steed was gone, and there in its place stood a young and handsome
prince, and he was so tall and so noble in his air that Conn-eda had
never seen the like of him.
The young man came over to Conn-eda and took him in his arms, and his
face was streaming with tears, but they were tears of joy.
“Conn-eda,” said he, “you have saved me from a hard and cruel fate, and
little did I think I would ever come back into my own shape again and
live as other men do. I am own brother to the Water King, and it was
because of a cruel enchantment that I was obliged to go about in the
shape of a shaggy little black horse.
“The enchantment held me fast, and only if one would ride me back to the
castle and through true love would slay me and sprinkle me with water
from the fountain, could the spell be broken.
“This you have done for me, Conn-eda, and never will I forget what I owe
you. And now come with me back to the castle of my brother, that he may
make you welcome.”
So Conn-eda and his companion went back to the castle, and there the joy
was so great that it was beyond all telling, because the enchantment
had been broken, and the young Prince had come back to his own again.
The Water King made Conn-eda welcome and gladly promised him the golden
apples, the grand black steed and the magic hound Samur. Nothing would
he have refused Conn-eda because he had saved his brother from his
enchantment.
A great feast was prepared, and there was shouting and rejoicing, and
the Water King begged of Conn-eda that he would stay there till the time
given him for his searching was near an end.
To this the Prince gladly agreed, and he lingered there with the Water
King and his brother until a year and a day had almost passed, and then
he set off for his father’s kingdom. He rode the grand black steed, and
in his bosom he bore the golden apples, and the magic hound Samur ran
beside him. So he rode; and now the way was clear with nothing to stop
nor stay him. Thus he came again to his home, and there, on the high
tower, the wicked queen was still sitting, feeding on red wheat, that
she took up on the point of her bodkin.
But though the living was lean, her heart rejoiced within her, for she
made no doubt but what the Prince Conn-eda was dead, and her own son
would reign in the kingdom. And then, on the last day of her forfeit,
she looked out from the tower where she was sitting, and there came
Conn-eda riding the black steed, and with the hound beside him, and she
guessed well that he had also the apples with him.
Then her rage and fear were so great that she threw herself down from
the tower and so perished miserably.
But Conn-eda sent for the hen-wife, who was a Princess, and when he saw
her she was so handsome and so stately, and withal so tender, that his
heart went out to her, and he wished for nothing so much as to have her
for a wife.
To this she consented, and they were married with great magnificence.
The Water King and his brother came to the wedding, and the third
Prince, who had been living near her, was given a high position in the
court, and so they all lived in great love and happiness forever.
THE BLUE BELT
A NORSE TALE
A beggar woman and her son were walking along through the country, and
they came to a crossroad, and there, right in the dust of the road, lay
a handsome belt of blue leather.
The lad asked his mother’s leave to pick it up and wear it.
“Let it alone,” said the woman crossly. “For all we know, there may be
some magic about it. Indeed, I am almost sure there is, for I don’t like
the looks of it.”
The lad begged and pleaded to be allowed to pick it up, but the old
woman would not hear to it, and so in the end he was obliged to go on
without it. But all the same, as they trudged along, he kept thinking
and thinking about the belt, and the farther they went the more he
wished he had it.
After a while they came to where the road led through a forest, and the
lad made some excuse to step aside for a moment. He slipped along from
one tree to another until he was out of his mother’s sight; and then he
ran back to where the blue belt was lying. He picked it up and buckled
it around him under his shirt where it could not be seen.
No sooner had he done this, than he felt as though the strength of ten
men had passed into him. It seemed to him as though he could tear up
trees by the roots if he chose, or carry a mountain on his shoulders and
think nothing of it.
When he came back, his mother was in a fine rage. “I ought to beat you
for keeping me waiting all this time,” she cried, “and I would do it,
too, if I were not so tired. Wherever we’re to sleep I’m sure I don’t
know, for it’s too late now to get on to the next village.”
The boy answered nothing, but he trudged along at his mother’s side, and
all the while he was feeling stronger and stronger.
After a while the old woman said she was tired, and she would have to
sit down and rest a bit.
The lad asked leave to go to the top of a cliff close by, so as to look
about and see whether he could not see a house somewhere near.
“Go if you choose,” said his mother, “but if you stay away as you did
before, I’ll give you a good beating when you get back, however tired I
am.”
The lad ran quickly to the top of the cliff and looked about him, and
there, sure enough, off toward the North, he saw the light of a house,
and it was not so very far away, either.
He ran down and told his mother what he had seen. “Mother, let us go
there and ask for a bite to eat, for if we don’t, we’ll have to go
hungry till to-morrow,” he cried. “And maybe the people who live there
will let us spend the night there, too.”
The mother began to groan and lament. “Never in the world could I climb
up that cliff and over,” said she. “I’m so tired I can scarce put one
foot before the other, and that’s the truth of the matter.”
“Never bemoan yourself about that,” cried the lad, “for I’ll carry you
over”; and so saying, he caught her up as though she weighed no more
than a feather, and ran up the cliff and over, and down on the other
side with her; and when he put her down he was not even breathing fast
from carrying her.
“You’ve grown to be a strong, stout lad, and there’s no doubt about
that,” said his mother.
After that they went along again until they came to the house with the
light in it, and when they got up close to it, the mother began to shake
and tremble.
“Come away! Come away!” said she. “This is a Troll’s house, and it would
be a bad thing for us if he were to get hold of us.”
But the lad was not one whit afraid. He knocked at the door, and then,
before any one could answer the knock, he opened the door and stepped
inside, dragging his mother with him.
There, on a great settle by the fire, sat a man at least twenty feet
high, and it was easy enough to tell by the look of him that he was a
Troll.
The mother almost fainted with terror, but the lad spoke up as bold as
bold could be, for he felt the strength inside of him and feared nobody.
He told the Troll that he and his mother were footsore and weary, and he
asked whether they might come in and rest a bit.
The Troll told him he and his mother were welcome, and then he made the
lad sit down and they talked of one thing and another, but the woman was
so frightened she just crept into a corner and groaned every time the
Troll looked at her.
After a while the lad asked the Troll whether he could not give him and
his mother a bite of supper, for they were hungry as well as weary.
Yes, the Troll could do that, too.
He went outside and came back with a whole load of wood in his arms, as
much as two horses could haul. This he threw upon the fire and stirred
it up into a blaze.
And now the woman began to shake and shiver as though she would fall to
pieces, for she thought for sure the Troll was making ready to cook her
and her son for supper; but instead he brought in a whole ox and put it
over the fire to roast. When it was done, he took out a great silver
platter from the cupboard, and the platter was so large that when he put
the ox on it, not any part of the ox hung over the edge. He also set out
on the table knives and forks, each six feet long, and a great hogshead
for a drinking cup.
When all this was done, he said to the lad, “Draw up and eat and drink
as you are able.”
The lad bade his mother come, too, but she would not, so he took up the
knife and fork with no trouble at all to himself and cut a slice from
the ox and carried it to her. After she had eaten, he lifted the
hogshead down from the table, and then he carried her over to it and
lowered her down into it so she could drink.
He himself, after he had eaten, climbed to the edge of the hogshead and
hung himself over into it head downward, and drank till he was
satisfied. After a while the Troll said he might as well have a bite of
supper himself. So he went to the table and ate all that was left of the
ox--the meat and the bones and the horns and hoofs of it--and drained
off all that was in the hogshead at one draught.
Not long afterward it was time to go to bed, and the Troll did not know
how to manage that.
“There’s only the bed I sleep in, and a cradle,” said the Troll.
But when the lad came to look at the cradle, it was as long and wide as
any bed he had ever seen.
“This will do for me,” said he.
So it was settled that he should sleep in the cradle and his mother in
the bed, though it was so enormous that she shook and shivered at the
very thought of getting into it, and if she had had her choice, she
would have stayed all night in the corner.
After they were all settled, the lad thought to himself, “I’d best stay
awake and listen how things go on through the night, for there’s no
knowing what this Troll may intend to do to us before morning.” But he
lay there very quiet and kept his eyes shut, and now and then he snored
a bit, so the Troll thought he was asleep.
Presently the Troll began to talk to the woman. “Do you think that lad
of yours is asleep?” he asked of her.
“He must be from the way he’s snoring,” she answered.
“Then, listen,” said the Troll. “It has come into my head that you and I
could live here very happily together if we could only get rid of him,
for to tell you the truth I have no liking for the way he goes about
things.”
“I’m sure I don’t know how you can do anything with him,” said the
woman, “for he seems to have grown very strong all of a sudden.”
Oh, the Troll had a plan that would do for the lad. The next morning he
would ask the woman and her son to stay there with him for a day or so,
and she was to agree. Then sometime in the morning he would take the lad
out to the quarry with him to get out some cornerstones, and once there,
it would be easy enough in one way or another to send him down to the
bottom of the quarry, and then roll a rock down on him and crush him.
To this plan the woman consented, and all the while they talked the boy
lay there and listened, though he breathed with his mouth open as though
he were still sleeping.
The next day the woman got up early and cooked breakfast for them, and
after they had all eaten, the Troll said, wouldn’t she stay there and
keep house for him for a day or so.
“There’s nothing to take me elsewhere,” answered the woman.
Not long after, the Troll took up a crowbar that he kept over in a
corner.
“I’ll just go over to the quarry and get out a few cornerstones while
you are cooking the dinner,” said he. He then asked the lad whether he
would go along with him.
“Yes, and gladly,” answered the lad; so the two set out together.
They worked for awhile at the top of the quarry, and then the Troll told
the lad to go down to the bottom of it and see whether there were any
loose stones lying around down there.
The lad was willing to do that, too. He went on down toward the bottom
of the quarry. No sooner was he gone than the Troll set to work with his
crowbar. He worked so hard that he groaned and sweated, and presently he
loosened a whole crag and sent it rolling down on the boy.
But the lad saw it coming and was ready for it. He put out his hands and
stopped it until he could get out of the way, and then he let it roll on
to the bottom. After that he went back to where the Troll was.
“I couldn’t find any loose rocks down there so now do you go down and
look for some,” he said.
The Troll was frightened when he saw the lad had come back to the top of
the quarry unharmed. He thought he would certainly have been crushed
under the crag that had rolled down on him. Neither did the Troll want
to go down there below, but he had to.
Then the lad took up the crowbar and pried out another crag, and it
rolled down on the Troll and hurt him so that he could not move, but lay
where he was groaning. The boy had to go down and roll the crag off him
and pick him up and carry him back to the house, and all the while the
Troll kept on groaning most terribly. When they got home, the lad put
the Troll to bed and he was hurt so badly he had to lie there.
That night the lad stayed awake again and listened, and presently the
Troll and the woman began to talk things over again.
“I tell you he’s a dangerous one,” said the woman, “and I’m sure I don’t
see how you’re ever to get rid of him.”
“I have a brother,” said the Troll, “and he has a walled-in garden, and
in the garden are twelve fierce lions. If we could find some excuse for
getting the lad there, they would very quickly tear him to pieces.”
“Then I will find the excuse,” said the woman. “To-morrow I will say
that I am very poorly, and that nothing in the world will cure me except
a few drops of lions’ milk. Then you must tell about the lions in your
brother’s garden, and I’ll beg and entreat him until he’ll agree to go
off there to get some for me.”
This plan pleased the Troll, and it was settled between them that as she
said so they would do.
The next morning the woman did not get up to cook the breakfast, but lay
in bed, moaning.
“What ails you, mother?” asked the lad.
“Oh I’m ill. I’m very ill,” replied the woman.
“I’m sorry for that,” said her son, “but I’m sure I don’t know what
would make you better.”
“If I had but a few drops of lions’ milk, that would cure me,” groaned
the woman.
“That’s a hard thing to get,” replied the lad; “and if that’s the only
thing to cure you, I fear you’ll be ailing a long time.”
Then the Troll spoke up and said he knew where such milk was to be had.
“But it takes a brave heart and a strong arm to get it, and that’s the
truth,” said the Troll. He then told about his brother’s walled-in
garden and the lions that were in it, and he said that if any one had
the courage to go for it, ’twas there the milk was to be had.
The woman at once began to beg and entreat the lad to go and get it for
her. He did not say no. “Though,” said he, “I think it is but little
good the milk will do you, and that’s the truth.”