diff options
Diffstat (limited to '2892-h/2892-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 2892-h/2892-h.htm | 11667 |
1 files changed, 11667 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/2892-h/2892-h.htm b/2892-h/2892-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c94f5a --- /dev/null +++ b/2892-h/2892-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11667 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html +PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> +<head> +<title> +Irish Fairy Tales, by James Stephens +</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 100%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Irish Fairy Tales, by James Stephens + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Irish Fairy Tales + +Author: James Stephens + +Release Date: December 31, 2008 [EBook #2892] +Last Updated: November 19, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH FAIRY TALES *** + + + + +Produced by A. Elizabeth Warren, and David Widger + + +</pre> + + +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/001m.jpg" alt="001m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/001.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> + + +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/010m.jpg" alt="010m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/010.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> + +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/013m.jpg" alt="013m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/013.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> + + +<p> +<br /><br /> +</p> +<h1> +IRISH FAIRY TALES +</h1> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<h2> +By James Stephens +</h2> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="toc"> +<big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0001"> <b>THE STORY OF TUAN MAC CAIRILL</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0013"> <b>THE BOYHOOD OF FIONN</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0012"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0013"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0014"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0015"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0016"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0017"> CHAPTER VI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0018"> CHAPTER VII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0019"> CHAPTER VIII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0020"> CHAPTER IX </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0021"> CHAPTER X </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XIII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XIV </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0029"> <b>THE BIRTH OF BRAN</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0026"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0027"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0028"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0029"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0030"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0035"> <b>OISIN’S MOTHER</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0031"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0032"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0033"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0034"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0035"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0036"> CHAPTER VI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0037"> CHAPTER VII </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0043"> <b>THE WOOING OF BECFOLA</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0038"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0039"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0040"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0041"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0042"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0049"> <b>THE LITTLE BRAWL AT ALLEN</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0043"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0044"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0045"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0053"> <b>THE CARL OF THE DRAB COAT</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0046"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0047"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0048"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0049"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0050"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0051"> CHAPTER VI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0052"> CHAPTER VII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0053"> CHAPTER VIII </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0062"> <b>THE ENCHANTED CAVE OF CESH CORRAN</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0054"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0055"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0056"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0057"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0058"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0059"> CHAPTER VI </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0069"> <b>BECUMA OF THE WHITE SKIN</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0060"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0061"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0062"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0063"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0064"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0065"> CHAPTER VI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0066"> CHAPTER VII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0067"> CHAPTER VIII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0068"> CHAPTER IX </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0069"> CHAPTER X </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2H_4_0080"> <b>MONGAN’S FRENZY</b> </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0070"> CHAPTER I </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0071"> CHAPTER II </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0072"> CHAPTER III </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0073"> CHAPTER IV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0074"> CHAPTER V </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0075"> CHAPTER VI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0076"> CHAPTER VII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0077"> CHAPTER VIII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0078"> CHAPTER IX </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0079"> CHAPTER X </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0080"> CHAPTER XI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0081"> CHAPTER XII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0082"> CHAPTER XIII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0083"> CHAPTER XIV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0084"> CHAPTER XV </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0085"> CHAPTER XVI </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0086"> CHAPTER XVII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0087"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0088"> CHAPTER XIX </a> +</p> +<p class="toc"> +<a href="#linklink2HCH0089"> CHAPTER XX </a> +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> +</p> +</blockquote> +<p> +<br /> <br /> +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +<br /> <br /> <a name="linklink2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<h2> +THE STORY OF TUAN MAC CAIRILL +</h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/023m.jpg" alt="023m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/023.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>innian, the Abbott of Moville, went southwards and eastwards in great +haste. News had come to him in Donegal that there were yet people in his +own province who believed in gods that he did not approve of, and the gods +that we do not approve of are treated scurvily, even by saintly men. +</p> +<p> +He was told of a powerful gentleman who observed neither Saint’s day nor +Sunday. +</p> +<p> +“A powerful person!” said Finnian. +</p> +<p> +“All that,” was the reply. +</p> +<p> +“We shall try this person’s power,” said Finnian. +</p> +<p> +“He is reputed to be a wise and hardy man,” said his informant. +</p> +<p> +“We shall test his wisdom and his hardihood.” + </p> +<p> +“He is,” that gossip whispered—“he is a magician.” + </p> +<p> +“I will magician him,” cried Finnian angrily. “Where does that man live?” + </p> +<p> +He was informed, and he proceeded to that direction without delay. +</p> +<p> +In no great time he came to the stronghold of the gentleman who followed +ancient ways, and he demanded admittance in order that he might preach and +prove the new God, and exorcise and terrify and banish even the memory of +the old one; for to a god grown old Time is as ruthless as to a beggarman +grown old. +</p> +<p> +But the Ulster gentleman refused Finnian admittance. He barricaded his +house, he shuttered his windows, and in a gloom of indignation and protest +he continued the practices of ten thousand years, and would not hearken to +Finnian calling at the window or to Time knocking at his door. +</p> +<p> +But of those adversaries it was the first he redoubted. +</p> +<p> +Finnian loomed on him as a portent and a terror; but he had no fear of +Time. Indeed he was the foster-brother of Time, and so disdainful of the +bitter god that he did not even disdain him; he leaped over the scythe, he +dodged under it, and the sole occasions on which Time laughs is when he +chances on Tuan, the son of Cairill, the son of Muredac Red-neck. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ow Finnian could not abide that any person should resist both the Gospel +and himself, and he proceeded to force the stronghold by peaceful but +powerful methods. He fasted on the gentleman, and he did so to such +purpose that he was admitted to the house; for to an hospitable heart the +idea that a stranger may expire on your doorstep from sheer famine cannot +be tolerated. The gentleman, however, did not give in without a struggle: +he thought that when Finnian had grown sufficiently hungry he would lift +the siege and take himself off to some place where he might get food. But +he did not know Finnian. The great abbot sat down on a spot just beyond +the door, and composed himself to all that might follow from his action. +He bent his gaze on the ground between his feet, and entered into a +meditation from which he would Only be released by admission or death. +</p> +<p> +The first day passed quietly. +</p> +<p> +Often the gentleman would send a servitor to spy if that deserter of the +gods was still before his door, and each time the servant replied that he +was still there. +</p> +<p> +“He will be gone in the morning,” said the hopeful master. +</p> +<p> +On the morrow the state of siege continued, and through that day the +servants were sent many times to observe through spy-holes. +</p> +<p> +“Go,” he would say, “and find out if the worshipper of new gods has taken +himself away.” + </p> +<p> +But the servants returned each time with the same information. +</p> +<p> +“The new druid is still there,” they said. +</p> +<p> +All through that day no one could leave the stronghold. And the enforced +seclusion wrought on the minds of the servants, while the cessation of all +work banded them together in small groups that whispered and discussed and +disputed. Then these groups would disperse to peep through the spy-hole at +the patient, immobile figure seated before the door, wrapped in a +meditation that was timeless and unconcerned. They took fright at the +spectacle, and once or twice a woman screamed hysterically, and was +bundled away with a companion’s hand clapped on her mouth, so that the ear +of their master should not be affronted. +</p> +<p> +“He has his own troubles,” they said. “It is a combat of the gods that is +taking place.” + </p> +<p> +So much for the women; but the men also were uneasy. They prowled up and +down, tramping from the spy-hole to the kitchen, and from the kitchen to +the turreted roof. And from the roof they would look down on the +motionless figure below, and speculate on many things, including the +staunchness of man, the qualities of their master, and even the +possibility that the new gods might be as powerful as the old. From these +peepings and discussions they would return languid and discouraged. +</p> +<p> +“If,” said one irritable guard, “if we buzzed a spear at the persistent +stranger, or if one slung at him with a jagged pebble!” + </p> +<p> +“What!” his master demanded wrathfully, “is a spear to be thrown at an +unarmed stranger? And from this house!” And he soundly cuffed that +indelicate servant. +</p> +<p> +“Be at peace all of you,” he said, “for hunger has a whip, and he will +drive the stranger away in the night.” + </p> +<p> +The household retired to wretched beds; but for the master of the house +there was no sleep. He marched his halls all night, going often to the +spy-hole to see if that shadow was still sitting in the shade, and pacing +thence, tormented, preoccupied, refusing even the nose of his favourite +dog as it pressed lovingly into his closed palm. +</p> +<p> +On the morrow he gave in. +</p> +<p> +The great door was swung wide, and two of his servants carried Finnian +into the house, for the saint could no longer walk or stand upright by +reason of the hunger and exposure to which he had submitted. But his frame +was tough as the unconquerable spirit that dwelt within it, and in no long +time he was ready for whatever might come of dispute or anathema. +</p> +<p> +Being quite re-established he undertook the conversion of the master of +the house, and the siege he laid against that notable intelligence was +long spoken of among those who are interested in such things. +</p> +<p> +He had beaten the disease of Mugain; he had beaten his own pupil the great +Colm Cille; he beat Tuan also, and just as the latter’s door had opened to +the persistent stranger, so his heart opened, and Finnian marched there to +do the will of God, and his own will. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ne day they were talking together about the majesty of God and His love, +for although Tuan had now received much instruction on this subject he yet +needed more, and he laid as close a siege on Finnian as Finnian had before +that laid on him. But man works outwardly and inwardly. After rest he has +energy, after energy he needs repose; so, when we have given instruction +for a time, we need instruction, and must receive it or the spirit faints +and wisdom herself grows bitter. +</p> +<p> +Therefore Finnian said: “Tell me now about yourself, dear heart.” + </p> +<p> +But Tuan was avid of information about the True God. “No, no,” he said, +“the past has nothing more of interest for me, and I do not wish anything +to come between my soul and its instruction; continue to teach me, dear +friend and saintly father.” + </p> +<p> +“I will do that,” Finnian replied, “but I must first meditate deeply on +you, and must know you well. Tell me your past, my beloved, for a man is +his past, and is to be known by it.” + </p> +<p> +But Tuan pleaded: “Let the past be content with itself, for man needs +forgetfulness as well as memory.” + </p> +<p> +“My son,” said Finnian, “all that has ever been done has been done for the +glory of God, and to confess our good and evil deeds is part of +instruction; for the soul must recall its acts and abide by them, or +renounce them by confession and penitence. Tell me your genealogy first, +and by what descent you occupy these lands and stronghold, and then I will +examine your acts and your conscience.” + </p> +<p> +Tuan replied obediently: “I am known as Tuan, son of Cairill, son of +Muredac Red-neck, and these are the hereditary lands of my father.” + </p> +<p> +The saint nodded. +</p> +<p> +“I am not as well acquainted with Ulster genealogies as I should be, yet I +know something of them. I am by blood a Leinsterman,” he continued. +</p> +<p> +“Mine is a long pedigree,” Tuan murmured. +</p> +<p> +Finnian received that information with respect and interest. +</p> +<p> +“I also,” he said, “have an honourable record.” + </p> +<p> +His host continued: “I am indeed Tuan, the son of Starn, the son of Sera, +who was brother to Partholon.” + </p> +<p> +“But,” said Finnian in bewilderment, “there is an error here, for you have +recited two different genealogies.” + </p> +<p> +“Different genealogies, indeed,” replied Tuan thoughtfully, “but they are +my genealogies.” + </p> +<p> +“I do not understand this,” Finnian declared roundly. +</p> +<p> +“I am now known as Tuan mac Cairill,” the other replied, “but in the days +of old I was known as Tuan mac Starn, mac Sera.” + </p> +<p> +“The brother of Partholon,” the saint gasped. +</p> +<p> +“That is my pedigree,” Tuan said. +</p> +<p> +“But,” Finnian objected in bewilderment, “Partholon came to Ireland not +long after the Flood.” + </p> +<p> +“I came with him,” said Tuan mildly. +</p> +<p> +The saint pushed his chair back hastily, and sat staring at his host, and +as he stared the blood grew chill in his veins, and his hair crept along +his scalp and stood on end. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut Finnian was not one who remained long in bewilderment. He thought on +the might of God and he became that might, and was tranquil. +</p> +<p> +He was one who loved God and Ireland, and to the person who could instruct +him in these great themes he gave all the interest of his mind and the +sympathy of his heart. +</p> +<p> +“It is a wonder you tell me, my beloved,” he said. “And now you must tell +me more.” + </p> +<p> +“What must I tell?” asked Tuan resignedly. +</p> +<p> +“Tell me of the beginning of time in Ireland, and of the bearing of +Partholon, the son of Noah’s son.” + </p> +<p> +“I have almost forgotten him,” said Tuan. “A greatly bearded, greatly +shouldered man he was. A man of sweet deeds and sweet ways.” + </p> +<p> +“Continue, my love,” said Finnian. +</p> +<p> +“He came to Ireland in a ship. Twenty-four men and twenty-four women came +with him. But before that time no man had come to Ireland, and in the +western parts of the world no human being lived or moved. As we drew on +Ireland from the sea the country seemed like an unending forest. Far as +the eye could reach, and in whatever direction, there were trees; and from +these there came the unceasing singing of birds. Over all that land the +sun shone warm and beautiful, so that to our sea-weary eyes, our +wind-tormented ears, it seemed as if we were driving on Paradise. +</p> +<p> +“We landed and we heard the rumble of water going gloomily through the +darkness of the forest. Following the water we came to a glade where the +sun shone and where the earth was warmed, and there Partholon rested with +his twenty-four couples, and made a city and a livelihood. +</p> +<p> +“There were fish in the rivers of Eire’, there were animals in her +coverts. Wild and shy and monstrous creatures ranged in her plains and +forests. Creatures that one could see through and walk through. Long we +lived in ease, and we saw new animals grow,—the bear, the wolf, the +badger, the deer, and the boar. +</p> +<p> +“Partholon’s people increased until from twenty-four couples there came +five thousand people, who lived in amity and contentment although they had +no wits.” + </p> +<p> +“They had no wits!” Finnian commented. +</p> +<p> +“They had no need of wits,” Tuan said. +</p> +<p> +“I have heard that the first-born were mindless,” said Finnian. “Continue +your story, my beloved.” + </p> +<p> +“Then, sudden as a rising wind, between one night and a morning, there +came a sickness that bloated the stomach and purpled the skin, and on the +seventh day all of the race of Partholon were dead, save one man only.” + “There always escapes one man,” said Finnian thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +“And I am that man,” his companion affirmed. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/035m.jpg" alt="035m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/035.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +Tuan shaded his brow with his hand, and he remembered backwards through +incredible ages to the beginning of the world and the first days of Eire’. +And Finnian, with his blood again running chill and his scalp crawling +uneasily, stared backwards with him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/038m.jpg" alt="038m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/038.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>ell on, my love,” Finnian murmured +</p> +<p> +“I was alone,” said Tuan. “I was so alone that my own shadow frightened +me. I was so alone that the sound of a bird in flight, or the creaking of +a dew-drenched bough, whipped me to cover as a rabbit is scared to his +burrow. +</p> +<p> +“The creatures of the forest scented me and knew I was alone. They stole +with silken pad behind my back and snarled when I faced them; the long, +grey wolves with hanging tongues and staring eyes chased me to my cleft +rock; there was no creature so weak but it might hunt me, there was no +creature so timid but it might outface me. And so I lived for two tens of +years and two years, until I knew all that a beast surmises and had +forgotten all that a man had known. +</p> +<p> +“I could pad as gently as any; I could run as tirelessly. I could be +invisible and patient as a wild cat crouching among leaves; I could smell +danger in my sleep and leap at it with wakeful claws; I could bark and +growl and clash with my teeth and tear with them.” + </p> +<p> +“Tell on, my beloved,” said Finnian, “you shall rest in God, dear heart.” + </p> +<p> +“At the end of that time,” said Tuan, “Nemed the son of Agnoman came to +Ireland with a fleet of thirty-four barques, and in each barque there were +thirty couples of people.” + </p> +<p> +“I have heard it,” said Finnian. +</p> +<p> +“My heart leaped for joy when I saw the great fleet rounding the land, and +I followed them along scarped cliffs, leaping from rock to rock like a +wild goat, while the ships tacked and swung seeking a harbour. There I +stooped to drink at a pool, and I saw myself in the chill water. +</p> +<p> +“I saw that I was hairy and tufty and bristled as a savage boar; that I +was lean as a stripped bush; that I was greyer than a badger; withered and +wrinkled like an empty sack; naked as a fish; wretched as a starving crow +in winter; and on my fingers and toes there were great curving claws, so +that I looked like nothing that was known, like nothing that was animal or +divine. And I sat by the pool weeping my loneliness and wildness and my +stern old age; and I could do no more than cry and lament between the +earth and the sky, while the beasts that tracked me listened from behind +the trees, or crouched among bushes to stare at me from their drowsy +covert. +</p> +<p> +“A storm arose, and when I looked again from my tall cliff I saw that +great fleet rolling as in a giant’s hand. At times they were pitched +against the sky and staggered aloft, spinning gustily there like +wind-blown leaves. Then they were hurled from these dizzy tops to the +flat, moaning gulf, to the glassy, inky horror that swirled and whirled +between ten waves. At times a wave leaped howling under a ship, and with a +buffet dashed it into air, and chased it upwards with thunder stroke on +stroke, and followed again, close as a chasing wolf, trying with hammering +on hammering to beat in the wide-wombed bottom and suck out the frightened +lives through one black gape. A wave fell on a ship and sunk it down with +a thrust, stern as though a whole sky had tumbled at it, and the barque +did not cease to go down until it crashed and sank in the sand at the +bottom of the sea. +</p> +<p> +“The night came, and with it a thousand darknesses fell from the +screeching sky. Not a round-eyed creature of the night might pierce an +inch of that multiplied gloom. Not a creature dared creep or stand. For a +great wind strode the world lashing its league-long whips in cracks of +thunder, and singing to itself, now in a world-wide yell, now in an +ear-dizzying hum and buzz; or with a long snarl and whine it hovered over +the world searching for life to destroy. +</p> +<p> +“And at times, from the moaning and yelping blackness of the sea, there +came a sound—thin-drawn as from millions of miles away, distinct as +though uttered in the ear like a whisper of confidence—and I knew +that a drowning man was calling on his God as he thrashed and was battered +into silence, and that a blue-lipped woman was calling on her man as her +hair whipped round her brows and she whirled about like a top. +</p> +<p> +“Around me the trees were dragged from earth with dying groans; they +leaped into the air and flew like birds. Great waves whizzed from the sea: +spinning across the cliffs and hurtling to the earth in monstrous clots of +foam; the very rocks came trundling and sidling and grinding among the +trees; and in that rage, and in that horror of blackness I fell asleep, or +I was beaten into slumber.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HERE I dreamed, and I saw myself changing into a stag in dream, and I +felt in dream the beating of a new heart within me, and in dream I arched +my neck and braced my powerful limbs. +</p> +<p> +“I awoke from the dream, and I was that which I had dreamed. +</p> +<p> +“I stood a while stamping upon a rock, with my bristling head swung high, +breathing through wide nostrils all the savour of the world. For I had +come marvellously from decrepitude to strength. I had writhed from the +bonds of age and was young again. I smelled the turf and knew for the +first time how sweet that smelled. And like lightning my moving nose +sniffed all things to my heart and separated them into knowledge. +</p> +<p> +“Long I stood there, ringing my iron hoof on stone, and learning all +things through my nose. Each breeze that came from the right hand or the +left brought me a tale. A wind carried me the tang of wolf, and against +that smell I stared and stamped. And on a wind there came the scent of my +own kind, and at that I belled. Oh, loud and clear and sweet was the voice +of the great stag. With what ease my lovely note went lilting. With what +joy I heard the answering call. With what delight I bounded, bounded, +bounded; light as a bird’s plume, powerful as a storm, untiring as the +sea. +</p> +<p> +“Here now was ease in ten-yard springings, with a swinging head, with the +rise and fall of a swallow, with the curve and flow and urge of an otter +of the sea. What a tingle dwelt about my heart! What a thrill spun to the +lofty points of my antlers! How the world was new! How the sun was new! +How the wind caressed me! +</p> +<p> +“With unswerving forehead and steady eye I met all that came. The old, +lone wolf leaped sideways, snarling, and slunk away. The lumbering bear +swung his head of hesitations and thought again; he trotted his small red +eye away with him to a near-by brake. The stags of my race fled from my +rocky forehead, or were pushed back and back until their legs broke under +them and I trampled them to death. I was the beloved, the well known, the +leader of the herds of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +“And at times I came back from my boundings about Eire’, for the strings +of my heart were drawn to Ulster; and, standing away, my wide nose took +the air, while I knew with joy, with terror, that men were blown on the +wind. A proud head hung to the turf then, and the tears of memory rolled +from a large, bright eye. +</p> +<p> +“At times I drew near, delicately, standing among thick leaves or crouched +in long grown grasses, and I stared and mourned as I looked on men. For +Nemed and four couples had been saved from that fierce storm, and I saw +them increase and multiply until four thousand couples lived and laughed +and were riotous in the sun, for the people of Nemed had small minds but +great activity. They were savage fighters and hunters. +</p> +<p> +“But one time I came, drawn by that intolerable anguish of memory, and all +of these people were gone: the place that knew them was silent: in the +land where they had moved there was nothing of them but their bones that +glinted in the sun. +</p> +<p> +“Old age came on me there. Among these bones weariness crept into my +limbs. My head grew heavy, my eyes dim, my knees jerked and trembled, and +there the wolves dared chase me. +</p> +<p> +“I went again to the cave that had been my home when I was an old man. +</p> +<p> +“One day I stole from the cave to snatch a mouthful of grass, for I was +closely besieged by wolves. They made their rush, and I barely escaped +from them. They sat beyond the cave staring at me. +</p> +<p> +“I knew their tongue. I knew all that they said to each other, and all +that they said to me. But there was yet a thud left in my forehead, a +deadly trample in my hoof. They did not dare come into the cave. +</p> +<p> +“‘To-morrow,’ they said, ‘we will tear out your throat, and gnaw on your +living haunch’.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hen my soul rose to the height of Doom, and I intended all that might +happen to me, and agreed to it. +</p> +<p> +“‘To-morrow,’ I said, ‘I will go out among ye, and I will die,’ and at +that the wolves howled joyfully, hungrily, impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“I slept, and I saw myself changing into a boar in dream, and I felt in +dream the beating of a new heart within me, and in dream I stretched my +powerful neck and braced my eager limbs. I awoke from my dream, and I was +that which I had dreamed. +</p> +<p> +“The night wore away, the darkness lifted, the day came; and from without +the cave the wolves called to me: “‘Come out, O Skinny Stag. Come out and +die.’ +</p> +<p> +“And I, with joyful heart, thrust a black bristle through the hole of the +cave, and when they saw that wriggling snout, those curving tusks, that +red fierce eye, the wolves fled yelping, tumbling over each other, frantic +with terror; and I behind them, a wild cat for leaping, a giant for +strength, a devil for ferocity; a madness and gladness of lusty, unsparing +life; a killer, a champion, a boar who could not be defied. +</p> +<p> +“I took the lordship of the boars of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +“Wherever I looked among my tribes I saw love and obedience: whenever I +appeared among the strangers they fled away. And the wolves feared me +then, and the great, grim bear went bounding on heavy paws. I charged him +at the head of my troop and rolled him over and over; but it is not easy +to kill the bear, so deeply is his life packed under that stinking pelt. +He picked himself up and ran, and was knocked down, and ran again blindly, +butting into trees and stones. Not a claw did the big bear flash, not a +tooth did he show, as he ran whimpering like a baby, or as he stood with +my nose rammed against his mouth, snarling up into his nostrils. +</p> +<p> +“I challenged all that moved. All creatures but one. For men had again +come to Ireland. Semion, the son of Stariath, with his people, from whom +the men of Domnann and the Fir Bolg and the Galiuin are descended. These I +did not chase, and when they chased me I fled. +</p> +<p> +“Often I would go, drawn by my memoried heart, to look at them as they +moved among their fields; and I spoke to my mind in bitterness: ‘When the +people of Partholon were gathered in counsel my voice was heard; it was +sweet to all who heard it, and the words I spoke were wise. The eyes of +women brightened and softened when they looked at me. They loved to hear +him when he sang who now wanders in the forest with a tusky herd.’” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>LD age again overtook me. Weariness stole into my limbs, and anguish +dozed into my mind. I went to my Ulster cave and dreamed my dream, and I +changed into a hawk. +</p> +<p> +“I left the ground. The sweet air was my kingdom, and my bright eye stared +on a hundred miles. I soared, I swooped; I hung, motionless as a living +stone, over the abyss; I lived in joy and slept in peace, and had my fill +of the sweetness of life. +</p> +<p> +“During that time Beothach, the son of Iarbonel the Prophet, came to +Ireland with his people, and there was a great battle between his men and +the children of Semion. Long I hung over that combat, seeing every spear +that hurtled, every stone that whizzed from a sling, every sword that +flashed up and down, and the endless glittering of the shields. And at the +end I saw that the victory was with Iarbonel. And from his people the +Tuatha De’ and the Ande’ came, although their origin is forgotten, and +learned people, because of their excellent wisdom and intelligence, say +that they came from heaven. +</p> +<p> +“These are the people of Faery. All these are the gods. +</p> +<p> +“For long, long years I was a hawk. I knew every hill and stream; every +field and glen of Ireland. I knew the shape of cliffs and coasts, and how +all places looked under the sun or moon. And I was still a hawk when the +sons of Mil drove the Tuatha De’ Danann under the ground, and held Ireland +against arms or wizardry; and this was the coming of men and the beginning +of genealogies. +</p> +<p> +“Then I grew old, and in my Ulster cave close to the sea I dreamed my +dream, and in it I became a salmon. The green tides of ocean rose over me +and my dream, so that I drowned in the sea and did not die, for I awoke in +deep waters, and I was that which I dreamed. I had been a man, a stag, a +boar, a bird, and now I was a fish. In all my changes I had joy and +fulness of life. But in the water joy lay deeper, life pulsed deeper. For +on land or air there is always something excessive and hindering; as arms +that swing at the sides of a man, and which the mind must remember. The +stag has legs to be tucked away for sleep, and untucked for movement; and +the bird has wings that must be folded and pecked and cared for. But the +fish has but one piece from his nose to his tail. He is complete, single +and unencumbered. He turns in one turn, and goes up and down and round in +one sole movement. +</p> +<p> +“How I flew through the soft element: how I joyed in the country where +there is no harshness: in the element which upholds and gives way; which +caresses and lets go, and will not let you fall. For man may stumble in a +furrow; the stag tumble from a cliff; the hawk, wing-weary and beaten, +with darkness around him and the storm behind, may dash his brains against +a tree. But the home of the salmon is his delight, and the sea guards all +her creatures.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> became the king of the salmon, and, with my multitudes, I ranged on the +tides of the world. Green and purple distances were under me: green and +gold the sunlit regions above. In these latitudes I moved through a world +of amber, myself amber and gold; in those others, in a sparkle of lucent +blue, I curved, lit like a living jewel: and in these again, through dusks +of ebony all mazed with silver, I shot and shone, the wonder of the sea. +</p> +<p> +“I saw the monsters of the uttermost ocean go heaving by; and the long +lithe brutes that are toothed to their tails: and below, where gloom +dipped down on gloom, vast, livid tangles that coiled and uncoiled, and +lapsed down steeps and hells of the sea where even the salmon could not +go. +</p> +<p> +“I knew the sea. I knew the secret caves where ocean roars to ocean; the +floods that are icy cold, from which the nose of a salmon leaps back as at +a sting; and the warm streams in which we rocked and dozed and were +carried forward without motion. I swam on the outermost rim of the great +world, where nothing was but the sea and the sky and the salmon; where +even the wind was silent, and the water was clear as clean grey rock. +</p> +<p> +“And then, far away in the sea, I remembered Ulster, and there came on me +an instant, uncontrollable anguish to be there. I turned, and through days +and nights I swam tirelessly, jubilantly; with terror wakening in me, too, +and a whisper through my being that I must reach Ireland or die. +</p> +<p> +“I fought my way to Ulster from the sea. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, how that end of the journey was hard! A sickness was racking in every +one of my bones, a languor and weariness creeping through my every fibre +and muscle. The waves held me back and held me back; the soft waters +seemed to have grown hard; and it was as though I were urging through a +rock as I strained towards Ulster from the sea. +</p> +<p> +“So tired I was! I could have loosened my frame and been swept away; I +could have slept and been drifted and wafted away; swinging on grey-green +billows that had turned from the land and were heaving and mounting and +surging to the far blue water. +</p> +<p> +“Only the unconquerable heart of the salmon could brave that end of toil. +The sound of the rivers of Ireland racing down to the sea came to me in +the last numb effort: the love of Ireland bore me up: the gods of the +rivers trod to me in the white-curled breakers, so that I left the sea at +long, long last; and I lay in sweet water in the curve of a crannied rock, +exhausted, three parts dead, triumphant.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>elight and strength came to me again, and now I explored all the inland +ways, the great lakes of Ireland, and her swift brown rivers. +</p> +<p> +“What a joy to lie under an inch of water basking in the sun, or beneath a +shady ledge to watch the small creatures that speed like lightning on the +rippling top. I saw the dragon-flies flash and dart and turn, with a +poise, with a speed that no other winged thing knows: I saw the hawk hover +and stare and swoop: he fell like a falling stone, but he could not catch +the king of the salmon: I saw the cold-eyed cat stretching along a bough +level with the water, eager to hook and lift the creatures of the river. +And I saw men. +</p> +<p> +“They saw me also. They came to know me and look for me. They lay in wait +at the waterfalls up which I leaped like a silver flash. They held out +nets for me; they hid traps under leaves; they made cords of the colour of +water, of the colour of weeds—but this salmon had a nose that knew +how a weed felt and how a string—they drifted meat on a sightless +string, but I knew of the hook; they thrust spears at me, and threw lances +which they drew back again with a cord. Many a wound I got from men, many +a sorrowful scar. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/053m.jpg" alt="053m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/053.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +“Every beast pursued me in the waters and along the banks; the barking, +black-skinned otter came after me in lust and gust and swirl; the wild cat +fished for me; the hawk and the steep-winged, spear-beaked birds dived +down on me, and men crept on me with nets the width of a river, so that I +got no rest. My life became a ceaseless scurry and wound and escape, a +burden and anguish of watchfulness—and then I was caught.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/055m.jpg" alt="055m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/055.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER XI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE fisherman of Cairill, the King of Ulster, took me in his net. Ah, +that was a happy man when he saw me! He shouted for joy when he saw the +great salmon in his net. +</p> +<p> +“I was still in the water as he hauled delicately. I was still in the +water as he pulled me to the bank. My nose touched air and spun from it as +from fire, and I dived with all my might against the bottom of the net, +holding yet to the water, loving it, mad with terror that I must quit that +loveliness. But the net held and I came up. +</p> +<p> +“‘Be quiet, King of the River,’ said the fisherman, ‘give in to Doom,’ +said he. +</p> +<p> +“I was in air, and it was as though I were in fire. The air pressed on me +like a fiery mountain. It beat on my scales and scorched them. It rushed +down my throat and scalded me. It weighed on me and squeezed me, so that +my eyes felt as though they must burst from my head, my head as though it +would leap from my body, and my body as though it would swell and expand +and fly in a thousand pieces. +</p> +<p> +“The light blinded me, the heat tormented me, the dry air made me shrivel +and gasp; and, as he lay on the grass, the great salmon whirled his +desperate nose once more to the river, and leaped, leaped, leaped, even +under the mountain of air. He could leap upwards, but not forwards, and +yet he leaped, for in each rise he could see the twinkling waves, the +rippling and curling waters. +</p> +<p> +“‘Be at ease, O King,’ said the fisherman. ‘Be at rest, my beloved. Let go +the stream. Let the oozy marge be forgotten, and the sandy bed where the +shades dance all in green and gloom, and the brown flood sings along.’ +</p> +<p> +“And as he carried me to the palace he sang a song of the river, and a +song of Doom, and a song in praise of the King of the Waters. +</p> +<p> +“When the king’s wife saw me she desired me. I was put over a fire and +roasted, and she ate me. And when time passed she gave birth to me, and I +was her son and the son of Cairill the king. I remember warmth and +darkness and movement and unseen sounds. All that happened I remember, +from the time I was on the gridiron until the time I was born. I forget +nothing of these things.” + </p> +<p> +“And now,” said Finnian, “you will be born again, for I shall baptize you +into the family of the Living God.” —— So far the story of +Tuan, the son of Cairill. +</p> +<p> +No man knows if he died in those distant ages when Finnian was Abbot of +Moville, or if he still keeps his fort in Ulster, watching all things, and +remembering them for the glory of God and the honour of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +THE BOYHOOD OF FIONN +</h2> +<p> +He was a king, a seer and a poet. He was a lord with a manifold and great +train. He was our magician, our knowledgable one, our soothsayer. All that +he did was sweet with him. And, however ye deem my testimony of Fionn +excessive, and, although ye hold my praising overstrained, nevertheless, +and by the King that is above me, he was three times better than all I +say.—Saint PATRICK. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/063m.jpg" alt="063m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/063.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ionn [pronounce Fewn to rhyme with “tune”] got his first training among +women. There is no wonder in that, for it is the pup’s mother teaches it +to fight, and women know that fighting is a necessary art although men +pretend there are others that are better. These were the women druids, +Bovmall and Lia Luachra. It will be wondered why his own mother did not +train him in the first natural savageries of existence, but she could not +do it. She could not keep him with her for dread of the clann-Morna. The +sons of Morna had been fighting and intriguing for a long time to oust her +husband, Uail, from the captaincy of the Fianna of Ireland, and they had +ousted him at last by killing him. It was the only way they could get rid +of such a man; but it was not an easy way, for what Fionn’s father did not +know in arms could not be taught to him even by Morna. Still, the hound +that can wait will catch a hare at last, and even Manana’nn sleeps. +Fionn’s mother was beautiful, long-haired Muirne: so she is always +referred to. She was the daughter of Teigue, the son of Nuada from Faery, +and her mother was Ethlinn. That is, her brother was Lugh of the Long Hand +himself, and with a god, and such a god, for brother we may marvel that +she could have been in dread of Morna or his sons, or of any one. But +women have strange loves, strange fears, and these are so bound up with +one another that the thing which is presented to us is not often the thing +that is to be seen. +</p> +<p> +However it may be, when Uall died Muirne got married again to the King of +Kerry. She gave the child to Bovmall and Lia Luachra to rear, and we may +be sure that she gave injunctions with him, and many of them. The +youngster was brought to the woods of Slieve Bloom and was nursed there in +secret. +</p> +<p> +It is likely the women were fond of him, for other than Fionn there was no +life about them. He would be their life; and their eyes may have seemed as +twin benedictions resting on the small fair head. He was fair-haired, and +it was for his fairness that he was afterwards called Fionn; but at this +period he was known as Deimne. They saw the food they put into his little +frame reproduce itself length-ways and sideways in tough inches, and in +springs and energies that crawled at first, and then toddled, and then +ran. He had birds for playmates, but all the creatures that live in a wood +must have been his comrades. There would have been for little Fionn long +hours of lonely sunshine, when the world seemed just sunshine and a sky. +There would have been hours as long, when existence passed like a shade +among shadows, in the multitudinous tappings of rain that dripped from +leaf to leaf in the wood, and slipped so to the ground. He would have +known little snaky paths, narrow enough to be filled by his own small +feet, or a goat’s; and he would have wondered where they went, and have +marvelled again to find that, wherever they went, they came at last, +through loops and twists of the branchy wood, to his own door. He may have +thought of his own door as the beginning and end of the world, whence all +things went, and whither all things came. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps he did not see the lark for a long time, but he would have heard +him, far out of sight in the endless sky, thrilling and thrilling until +the world seemed to have no other sound but that clear sweetness; and what +a world it was to make that sound! Whistles and chirps, coos and caws and +croaks, would have grown familiar to him. And he could at last have told +which brother of the great brotherhood was making the noise he heard at +any moment. The wind too: he would have listened to its thousand voices as +it moved in all seasons and in all moods. Perhaps a horse would stray into +the thick screen about his home, and would look as solemnly on Fionn as +Fionn did on it. Or, coming suddenly on him, the horse might stare, all +a-cock with eyes and ears and nose, one long-drawn facial extension, ere +he turned and bounded away with manes all over him and hoofs all under him +and tails all round him. A solemn-nosed, stern-eyed cow would amble and +stamp in his wood to find a flyless shadow; or a strayed sheep would poke +its gentle muzzle through leaves. +</p> +<p> +“A boy,” he might think, as he stared on a staring horse, “a boy cannot +wag his tail to keep the flies off,” and that lack may have saddened him. +He may have thought that a cow can snort and be dignified at the one +moment, and that timidity is comely in a sheep. He would have scolded the +jackdaw, and tried to out-whistle the throstle, and wondered why his pipe +got tired when the blackbird’s didn’t. There would be flies to be watched, +slender atoms in yellow gauze that flew, and filmy specks that flittered, +and sturdy, thick-ribbed brutes that pounced like cats and bit like dogs +and flew like lightning. He may have mourned for the spider in bad luck +who caught that fly. There would be much to see and remember and compare, +and there would be, always, his two guardians. The flies change from +second to second; one cannot tell if this bird is a visitor or an +inhabitant, and a sheep is just sister to a sheep; but the women were as +rooted as the house itself. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/069m.jpg" alt="069m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/069.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ere his nurses comely or harsh-looking? Fionn would not know. This was +the one who picked him up when he fell, and that was the one who patted +the bruise. This one said: “Mind you do not tumble in the well!” + </p> +<p> +And that one: “Mind the little knees among the nettles.” + </p> +<p> +But he did tumble and record that the only notable thing about a well is +that it is wet. And as for nettles, if they hit him he hit back. He +slashed into them with a stick and brought them low. There was nothing in +wells or nettles, only women dreaded them. One patronised women and +instructed them and comforted them, for they were afraid about one. +</p> +<p> +They thought that one should not climb a tree! +</p> +<p> +“Next week,” they said at last, “you may climb this one,” and “next week” + lived at the end of the world! +</p> +<p> +But the tree that was climbed was not worth while when it had been climbed +twice. There was a bigger one near by. There were trees that no one could +climb, with vast shadow on one side and vaster sunshine on the other. It +took a long time to walk round them, and you could not see their tops. +</p> +<p> +It was pleasant to stand on a branch that swayed and sprung, and it was +good to stare at an impenetrable roof of leaves and then climb into it. +How wonderful the loneliness was up there! When he looked down there was +an undulating floor of leaves, green and green and greener to a very +blackness of greeniness; and when he looked up there were leaves again, +green and less green and not green at all, up to a very snow and blindness +of greeniness; and above and below and around there was sway and motion, +the whisper of leaf on leaf, and the eternal silence to which one listened +and at which one tried to look. +</p> +<p> +When he was six years of age his mother, beautiful, long-haired Muirne, +came to see him. She came secretly, for she feared the sons of Morna, and +she had paced through lonely places in many counties before she reached +the hut in the wood, and the cot where he lay with his fists shut and +sleep gripped in them. +</p> +<p> +He awakened to be sure. He would have one ear that would catch an unusual +voice, one eye that would open, however sleepy the other one was. She took +him in her arms and kissed him, and she sang a sleepy song until the small +boy slept again. +</p> +<p> +We may be sure that the eye that could stay open stayed open that night as +long as it could, and that the one ear listened to the sleepy song until +the song got too low to be heard, until it was too tender to be felt +vibrating along those soft arms, until Fionn was asleep again, with a new +picture in his little head and a new notion to ponder on. +</p> +<p> +The mother of himself! His own mother! +</p> +<p> +But when he awakened she was gone. +</p> +<p> +She was going back secretly, in dread of the sons of Morna, slipping +through gloomy woods, keeping away from habitations, getting by desolate +and lonely ways to her lord in Kerry. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps it was he that was afraid of the sons of Morna, and perhaps she +loved him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE women Druids, his guardians, belonged to his father’s people. Bovmall +was Uail’s sister, and, consequently, Fionn’s aunt. Only such a blood-tie +could have bound them to the clann-Baiscne, for it is not easy, having +moved in the world of court and camp, to go hide with a baby in a wood; +and to live, as they must have lived, in terror. +</p> +<p> +What stories they would have told the child of the sons of Morna. Of Morna +himself, the huge-shouldered, stern-eyed, violent Connachtman; and of his +sons—young Goll Mor mac Morna in particular, as huge-shouldered as +his father, as fierce in the onset, but merry-eyed when the other was +grim, and bubbling with a laughter that made men forgive even his +butcheries. Of Cona’n Mael mac Morna his brother, gruff as a badger, +bearded like a boar, bald as a crow, and with a tongue that could manage +an insult where another man would not find even a stammer. His boast was +that when he saw an open door he went into it, and when he saw a closed +door he went into it. When he saw a peaceful man he insulted him, and when +he met a man who was not peaceful he insulted him. There was Garra Duv mac +Morna, and savage Art Og, who cared as little for their own skins as they +did for the next man’s, and Garra must have been rough indeed to have +earned in that clan the name of the Rough mac Morna. There were others: +wild Connachtmen all, as untameable, as unaccountable as their own +wonderful countryside. +</p> +<p> +Fionn would have heard much of them, and it is likely that he practised on +a nettle at taking the head off Goll, and that he hunted a sheep from +cover in the implacable manner he intended later on for Cona’n the +Swearer. +</p> +<p> +But it is of Uail mac Baiscne he would have heard most. With what a +dilation of spirit the ladies would have told tales of him, Fionn’s +father. How their voices would have become a chant as feat was added to +feat, glory piled on glory. The most famous of men and the most beautiful; +the hardest fighter; the easiest giver; the kingly champion; the chief of +the Fianna na h-Eirinn. Tales of how he had been way-laid and got free; of +how he had been generous and got free; of how he had been angry and went +marching with the speed of an eagle and the direct onfall of a storm; +while in front and at the sides, angled from the prow of his terrific +advance, were fleeing multitudes who did not dare to wait and scarce had +time to run. And of how at last, when the time came to quell him, nothing +less than the whole might of Ireland was sufficient for that great +downfall. +</p> +<p> +We may be sure that on these adventures Fionn was with his father, going +step for step with the long-striding hero, and heartening him mightily. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e was given good training by the women in running and leaping and +swimming. +</p> +<p> +One of them would take a thorn switch in her hand, and Fionn would take a +thorn switch in his hand, and each would try to strike the other running +round a tree. +</p> +<p> +You had to go fast to keep away from the switch behind, and a small boy +feels a switch. Fionn would run his best to get away from that prickly +stinger, but how he would run when it was his turn to deal the strokes! +</p> +<p> +With reason too, for his nurses had suddenly grown implacable. They +pursued him with a savagery which he could not distinguish from hatred, +and they swished him well whenever they got the chance. +</p> +<p> +Fionn learned to run. After a while he could buzz around a tree like a +maddened fly, and oh, the joy, when he felt himself drawing from the +switch and gaining from behind on its bearer! How he strained and panted +to catch on that pursuing person and pursue her and get his own switch +into action. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/079m.jpg" alt="079m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/079.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +He learned to jump by chasing hares in a bumpy field. Up went the hare and +up went Fionn, and away with the two of them, hopping and popping across +the field. If the hare turned while Fionn was after her it was switch for +Fionn; so that in a while it did not matter to Fionn which way the hare +jumped for he could jump that way too. Long-ways, sideways or baw-ways, +Fionn hopped where the hare hopped, and at last he was the owner of a hop +that any hare would give an ear for. +</p> +<p> +He was taught to swim, and it may be that his heart sank when he fronted +the lesson. The water was cold. It was deep. One could see the bottom, +leagues below, millions of miles below. A small boy might shiver as he +stared into that wink and blink and twink of brown pebbles and murder. And +these implacable women threw him in! +</p> +<p> +Perhaps he would not go in at first. He may have smiled at them, and +coaxed, and hung back. It was a leg and an arm gripped then; a swing for +Fionn, and out and away with him; plop and flop for him; down into chill +deep death for him, and up with a splutter; with a sob; with a grasp at +everything that caught nothing; with a wild flurry; with a raging despair; +with a bubble and snort as he was hauled again down, and down, and down, +and found as suddenly that he had been hauled out. +</p> +<p> +Fionn learned to swim until he could pop into the water like an otter and +slide through it like an eel. +</p> +<p> +He used to try to chase a fish the way he chased hares in the bumpy field—but +there are terrible spurts in a fish. It may be that a fish cannot hop, but +he gets there in a flash, and he isn’t there in another. Up or down, +sideways or endways, it is all one to a fish. He goes and is gone. He +twists this way and disappears the other way. He is over you when he ought +to be under you, and he is biting your toe when you thought you were +biting his tail. +</p> +<p> +You cannot catch a fish by swimming, but you can try, and Fionn tried. He +got a grudging commendation from the terrible women when he was able to +slip noiselessly in the tide, swim under water to where a wild duck was +floating and grip it by the leg. +</p> +<p> +“Qu—,” said the duck, and he disappeared before he had time to get +the “-ack” out of him. +</p> +<p> +So the time went, and Fionn grew long and straight and tough like a +sapling; limber as a willow, and with the flirt and spring of a young +bird. One of the ladies may have said, “He is shaping very well, my dear,” + and the other replied, as is the morose privilege of an aunt, “He will +never be as good as his father,” but their hearts must have overflowed in +the night, in the silence, in the darkness, when they thought of the +living swiftness they had fashioned, and that dear fair head. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>NE day his guardians were agitated: they held confabulations at which +Fionn was not permitted to assist. A man who passed by in the morning had +spoken to them. They fed the man, and during his feeding Fionn had been +shooed from the door as if he were a chicken. When the stranger took his +road the women went with him a short distance. As they passed the man +lifted a hand and bent a knee to Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“My soul to you, young master,” he said, and as he said it, Fionn knew +that he could have the man’s soul, or his boots, or his feet, or anything +that belonged to him. +</p> +<p> +When the women returned they were mysterious and whispery. They chased +Fionn into the house, and when they got him in they chased him out again. +They chased each other around the house for another whisper. They +calculated things by the shape of clouds, by lengths of shadows, by the +flight of birds, by two flies racing on a flat stone, by throwing bones +over their left shoulders, and by every kind of trick and game and chance +that you could put a mind to. +</p> +<p> +They told Fionn he must sleep in a tree that night, and they put him under +bonds not to sing or whistle or cough or sneeze until the morning. +</p> +<p> +Fionn did sneeze. He never sneezed so much in his life. He sat up in his +tree and nearly sneezed himself out of it. Flies got up his nose, two at a +time, one up each nose, and his head nearly fell off the way he sneezed. +</p> +<p> +“You are doing that on purpose,” said a savage whisper from the foot of +the tree. +</p> +<p> +But Fionn was not doing it on purpose. He tucked himself into a fork the +way he had been taught, and he passed the crawliest, tickliest night he +had ever known. After a while he did not want to sneeze, he wanted to +scream: and in particular he wanted to come down from the tree. But he did +not scream, nor did he leave the tree. His word was passed, and he stayed +in his tree as silent as a mouse and as watchful, until he fell out of it. +</p> +<p> +In the morning a band of travelling poets were passing, and the women +handed Fionn over to them. This time they could not prevent him +overhearing. +</p> +<p> +“The sons of Morna!” they said. +</p> +<p> +And Fionn’s heart might have swelled with rage, but that it was already +swollen with adventure. And also the expected was happening. Behind every +hour of their day and every moment of their lives lay the sons of Morna. +Fionn had run after them as deer: he jumped after them as hares: he dived +after them as fish. They lived in the house with him: they sat at the +table and ate his meat. One dreamed of them, and they were expected in the +morning as the sun is. They knew only too well that the son of Uail was +living, and they knew that their own sons would know no ease while that +son lived; for they believed in those days that like breeds like, and that +the son of Uail would be Uail with additions. +</p> +<p> +His guardians knew that their hiding-place must at last be discovered, and +that, when it was found, the sons of Morna would come. They had no doubt +of that, and every action of their lives was based on that certainty. For +no secret can remain secret. Some broken soldier tramping home to his +people will find it out; a herd seeking his strayed cattle or a band of +travelling musicians will get the wind of it. How many people will move +through even the remotest wood in a year! The crows will tell a secret if +no one else does; and under a bush, behind a clump of bracken, what eyes +may there not be! But if your secret is legged like a young goat! If it is +tongued like a wolf! One can hide a baby, but you cannot hide a boy. He +will rove unless you tie him to a post, and he will whistle then. +</p> +<p> +The sons of Morna came, but there were only two grim women living in a +lonely hut to greet them. We may be sure they were well greeted. One can +imagine Goll’s merry stare taking in all that could be seen; Cona’n’s grim +eye raking the women’s faces while his tongue raked them again; the Rough +mac Morna shouldering here and there in the house and about it, with maybe +a hatchet in his hand, and Art Og coursing further afield and vowing that +if the cub was there he would find him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut Fionn was gone. He was away, bound with his band of poets for the +Galtees. +</p> +<p> +It is likely they were junior poets come to the end of a year’s training, +and returning to their own province to see again the people at home, and +to be wondered at and exclaimed at as they exhibited bits of the knowledge +which they had brought from the great schools. They would know tags of +rhyme and tricks about learning which Fionn would hear of; and now and +again, as they rested in a glade or by the brink of a river, they might +try their lessons over. They might even refer to the ogham wands on which +the first words of their tasks and the opening lines of poems were cut; +and it is likely that, being new to these things, they would talk of them +to a youngster, and, thinking that his wits could be no better than their +own, they might have explained to him how ogham was written. But it is far +more likely that his women guardians had already started him at those +lessons. +</p> +<p> +Still this band of young bards would have been of infinite interest to +Fionn, not on account of what they had learned, but because of what they +knew. All the things that he should have known as by nature: the look, the +movement, the feeling of crowds; the shouldering and intercourse of man +with man; the clustering of houses and how people bore themselves in and +about them; the movement of armed men, and the homecoming look of wounds; +tales of births, and marriages and deaths; the chase with its multitudes +of men and dogs; all the noise, the dust, the excitement of mere living. +These, to Fionn, new come from leaves and shadows and the dipple and +dapple of a wood, would have seemed wonderful; and the tales they would +have told of their masters, their looks, fads, severities, sillinesses, +would have been wonderful also. +</p> +<p> +That band should have chattered like a rookery. +</p> +<p> +They must have been young, for one time a Leinsterman came on them, a +great robber named Fiacuil mac Cona, and he killed the poets. He chopped +them up and chopped them down. He did not leave one poeteen of them all. +He put them out of the world and out of life, so that they stopped being, +and no one could tell where they went or what had really happened to them; +and it is a wonder indeed that one can do that to anything let alone a +band. If they were not youngsters, the bold Fiacuil could not have managed +them all. Or, perhaps, he too had a band, although the record does not say +so; but kill them he did, and they died that way. +</p> +<p> +Fionn saw that deed, and his blood may have been cold enough as he watched +the great robber coursing the poets as a wild dog rages in a flock. And +when his turn came, when they were all dead, and the grim, red-handed man +trod at him, Fionn may have shivered, but he would have shown his teeth +and laid roundly on the monster with his hands. Perhaps he did that, and +perhaps for that he was spared. +</p> +<p> +“Who are you?” roared the staring black-mouth with the red tongue +squirming in it like a frisky fish. +</p> +<p> +“The son of Uail, son of Baiscne,” quoth hardy Fionn. And at that the +robber ceased to be a robber, the murderer disappeared, the black-rimmed +chasm packed with red fish and precipices changed to something else, and +the round eyes that had been popping out of their sockets and trying to +bite, changed also. There remained a laughing and crying and loving +servant who wanted to tie himself into knots if that would please the son +of his great captain. Fionn went home on the robber’s shoulder, and the +robber gave great snorts and made great jumps and behaved like a +first-rate horse. For this same Fiacuil was the husband of Bovmall, +Fionn’s aunt. He had taken to the wilds when clann-Baiscne was broken, and +he was at war with a world that had dared to kill his Chief. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> new life for Fionn in the robber’s den that was hidden in a vast cold +marsh. +</p> +<p> +A tricky place that would be, with sudden exits and even suddener +entrances, and with damp, winding, spidery places to hoard treasure in, or +to hide oneself in. +</p> +<p> +If the robber was a solitary he would, for lack of someone else, have +talked greatly to Fionn. He would have shown his weapons and demonstrated +how he used them, and with what slash he chipped his victim, and with what +slice he chopped him. He would have told why a slash was enough for this +man and why that man should be sliced. All men are masters when one is +young, and Fionn would have found knowledge here also. He would have seen +Fiacuil’s great spear that had thirty rivets of Arabian gold in its +socket, and that had to be kept wrapped up and tied down so that it would +not kill people out of mere spitefulness. It had come from Faery, out of +the Shi’ of Aillen mac Midna, and it would be brought back again later on +between the same man’s shoulder-blades. +</p> +<p> +What tales that man could tell a boy, and what questions a boy could ask +him. He would have known a thousand tricks, and because our instinct is to +teach, and because no man can keep a trick from a boy, he would show them +to Fionn. +</p> +<p> +There was the marsh too; a whole new life to be learned; a complicated, +mysterious, dank, slippery, reedy, treacherous life, but with its own +beauty and an allurement that could grow on one, so that you could forget +the solid world and love only that which quaked and gurgled. +</p> +<p> +In this place you may swim. By this sign and this you will know if it is +safe to do so, said Fiacuil mac Cona; but in this place, with this sign on +it and that, you must not venture a toe. +</p> +<p> +But where Fionn would venture his toes his ears would follow. +</p> +<p> +There are coiling weeds down there, the robber counselled him; there are +thin, tough, snaky binders that will trip you and grip you, that will pull +you and will not let you go again until you are drowned; until you are +swaying and swinging away below, with outstretched arms, with outstretched +legs, with a face all stares and smiles and jockeyings, gripped in those +leathery arms, until there is no more to be gripped of you even by them. +</p> +<p> +“Watch these and this and that,” Fionn would have been told, “and always +swim with a knife in your teeth.” + </p> +<p> +He lived there until his guardians found out where he was and came after +him. Fiacuil gave him up to them, and he was brought home again to the +woods of Slieve Bloom, but he had gathered great knowledge and new +supplenesses. +</p> +<p> +The sons of Morna left him alone for a long time. Having made their essay +they grew careless. +</p> +<p> +“Let him be,” they said. “He will come to us when the time comes.” + </p> +<p> +But it is likely too that they had had their own means of getting +information about him. How he shaped? what muscles he had? and did he +spring clean from the mark or had he to get off with a push? Fionn stayed +with his guardians and hunted for them. He could run a deer down and haul +it home by the reluctant skull. “Come on, Goll,” he would say to his stag, +or, lifting it over a tussock with a tough grip on the snout, “Are you +coming, bald Cona’n, or shall I kick you in the neck?” + </p> +<p> +The time must have been nigh when he would think of taking the world +itself by the nose, to haul it over tussocks and drag it into his pen; for +he was of the breed in whom mastery is born, and who are good masters. +</p> +<p> +But reports of his prowess were getting abroad. Clann-Morna began to +stretch itself uneasily, and, one day, his guardians sent him on his +travels. +</p> +<p> +“It is best for you to leave us now,” they said to the tall stripling, +“for the sons of Morna are watching again to kill you.” + </p> +<p> +The woods at that may have seemed haunted. A stone might sling at one from +a tree-top; but from which tree of a thousand trees did it come? An arrow +buzzing by one’s ear would slide into the ground and quiver there +silently, menacingly, hinting of the brothers it had left in the quiver +behind; to the right? to the left? how many brothers? in how many +quivers...? Fionn was a woodsman, but he had only two eyes to look with, +one set of feet to carry him in one sole direction. But when he was +looking to the front what, or how many whats, could be staring at him from +the back? He might face in this direction, away from, or towards a smile +on a hidden face and a finger on a string. A lance might slide at him from +this bush or from the one yonder.. In the night he might have fought them; +his ears against theirs; his noiseless feet against their lurking ones; +his knowledge of the wood against their legion: but during the day he had +no chance. +</p> +<p> +Fionn went to seek his fortune, to match himself against all that might +happen, and to carve a name for himself that will live while Time has an +ear and knows an Irishman. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ionn went away, and now he was alone. But he was as fitted for loneliness +as the crane is that haunts the solitudes and bleak wastes of the sea; for +the man with a thought has a comrade, and Fionn’s mind worked as featly as +his body did. To be alone was no trouble to him who, however surrounded, +was to be lonely his life long; for this will be said of Fionn when all is +said, that all that came to him went from him, and that happiness was +never his companion for more than a moment. +</p> +<p> +But he was not now looking for loneliness. He was seeking the instruction +of a crowd, and therefore when he met a crowd he went into it. His eyes +were skilled to observe in the moving dusk and dapple of green woods. They +were trained to pick out of shadows birds that were themselves +dun-coloured shades, and to see among trees the animals that are coloured +like the bark of trees. The hare crouching in the fronds was visible to +him, and the fish that swayed in-visibly in the sway and flicker of a +green bank. He would see all that was to be seen, and he would see all +that is passed by the eye that is half blind from use and wont. +</p> +<p> +At Moy Life’ he came on lads swimming in a pool; and, as he looked on them +sporting in the flush tide, he thought that the tricks they performed were +not hard for him, and that he could have shown them new ones. +</p> +<p> +Boys must know what another boy can do, and they will match themselves +against everything. They did their best under these observing eyes, and it +was not long until he was invited to compete with them and show his +mettle. Such an invitation is a challenge; it is almost, among boys, a +declaration of war. But Fionn was so far beyond them in swimming that even +the word master did not apply to that superiority. +</p> +<p> +While he was swimming one remarked: “He is fair and well shaped,” and +thereafter he was called “Fionn” or the Fair One. His name came from boys, +and will, perhaps, be preserved by them. +</p> +<p> +He stayed with these lads for some time, and it may be that they idolised +him at first, for it is the way with boys to be astounded and enraptured +by feats; but in the end, and that was inevitable, they grew jealous of +the stranger. Those who had been the champions before he came would +marshal each other, and, by social pressure, would muster all the others +against him; so that in the end not a friendly eye was turned on Fionn in +that assembly. For not only did he beat them at swimming, he beat their +best at running and jumping, and when the sport degenerated into violence, +as it was bound to, the roughness of Fionn would be ten times as rough as +the roughness of the roughest rough they could put forward. Bravery is +pride when one is young, and Fionn was proud. +</p> +<p> +There must have been anger in his mind as he went away leaving that lake +behind him, and those snarling and scowling boys, but there would have +been disappointment also, for his desire at this time should have been +towards friendliness. +</p> +<p> +He went thence to Lock Le’in and took service with the King of Finntraigh. +That kingdom may have been thus called from Fionn himself and would have +been known by another name when he arrived there. +</p> +<p> +He hunted for the King of Finntraigh, and it soon grew evident that there +was no hunter in his service to equal Fionn. More, there was no hunter of +them all who even distantly approached him in excellence. The others ran +after deer, using the speed of their legs, the noses of their dogs and a +thousand well-worn tricks to bring them within reach, and, often enough, +the animal escaped them. But the deer that Fionn got the track of did not +get away, and it seemed even that the animals sought him so many did he +catch. +</p> +<p> +The king marvelled at the stories that were told of this new hunter, but +as kings are greater than other people so they are more curious; and, +being on the plane of excellence, they must see all that is excellently +told of. +</p> +<p> +The king wished to see him, and Fionn must have wondered what the king +thought as that gracious lord looked on him. Whatever was thought, what +the king said was as direct in utterance as it was in observation. +</p> +<p> +“If Uail the son of Baiscne has a son,” said the king, “you would surely +be that son.” + </p> +<p> +We are not told if the King of Finntraigh said anything more, but we know +that Fionn left his service soon afterwards. +</p> +<p> +He went southwards and was next in the employment of the King of Kerry, +the same lord who had married his own mother. In that service he came to +such consideration that we hear of him as playing a match of chess with +the king, and by this game we know that he was still a boy in his mind +however mightily his limbs were spreading. Able as he was in sports and +huntings, he was yet too young to be politic, but he remained impolitic to +the end of his days, for whatever he was able to do he would do, no matter +who was offended thereat; and whatever he was not able to do he would do +also. That was Fionn. +</p> +<p> +Once, as they rested on a chase, a debate arose among the Fianna-Finn as +to what was the finest music in the world. +</p> +<p> +“Tell us that,” said Fionn turning to Oisi’n [pronounced Usheen] +</p> +<p> +“The cuckoo calling from the tree that is highest in the hedge,” cried his +merry son. +</p> +<p> +“A good sound,” said Fionn. “And you, Oscar,” he asked, “what is to your +mind the finest of music?” + </p> +<p> +“The top of music is the ring of a spear on a shield,” cried the stout +lad. +</p> +<p> +“It is a good sound,” said Fionn. And the other champions told their +delight; the belling of a stag across water, the baying of a tuneful pack +heard in the distance, the song of a lark, the laugh of a gleeful girl, or +the whisper of a moved one. +</p> +<p> +“They are good sounds all,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Tell us, chief,” one ventured, “what you think?” + </p> +<p> +“The music of what happens,” said great Fionn, “that is the finest music +in the world.” + </p> +<p> +He loved “what happened,” and would not evade it by the swerve of a hair; +so on this occasion what was occurring he would have occur, although a +king was his rival and his master. It may be that his mother was watching +the match and that he could not but exhibit his skill before her. He +committed the enormity of winning seven games in succession from the king +himself!!! +</p> +<p> +It is seldom indeed that a subject can beat a king at chess, and this +monarch was properly amazed. +</p> +<p> +“Who are you at all?” he cried, starting back from the chessboard and +staring on Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I am the son of a countryman of the Luigne of Tara,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +He may have blushed as he said it, for the king, possibly for the first +time, was really looking at him, and was looking back through twenty years +of time as he did so. The observation of a king is faultless—it is +proved a thousand times over in the tales, and this king’s equipment was +as royal as the next. +</p> +<p> +“You are no such son,” said the indignant monarch, “but you are the son +that Muirne my wife bore to Uall mac Balscne.” + </p> +<p> +And at that Fionn had no more to say; but his eyes may have flown to his +mother and stayed there. +</p> +<p> +“You cannot remain here,” his step-father continued. “I do not want you +killed under my protection,” he explained, or complained. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps it was on Fionn’s account he dreaded the sons of Morna, but no one +knows what Fionn thought of him for he never thereafter spoke of his +step-father. As for Muirne she must have loved her lord; or she may have +been terrified in truth of the sons of Morna and for Fionn; but it is so +also, that if a woman loves her second husband she can dislike all that +reminds her of the first one. Fionn went on his travels again. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ll desires save one are fleeting, but that one lasts for ever. Fionn, +with all desires, had the lasting one, for he would go anywhere and +forsake anything for wisdom; and it was in search of this that he went to +the place where Finegas lived on a bank of the Boyne Water. But for dread +of the clann-Morna he did not go as Fionn. He called himself Deimne on +that journey. +</p> +<p> +We get wise by asking questions, and even if these are not answered we get +wise, for a well-packed question carries its answer on its back as a snail +carries its shell. Fionn asked every question he could think of, and his +master, who was a poet, and so an honourable man, answered them all, not +to the limit of his patience, for it was limitless, but to the limit of +his ability. +</p> +<p> +“Why do you live on the bank of a river?” was one of these questions. +“Because a poem is a revelation, and it is by the brink of running water +that poetry is revealed to the mind.” + </p> +<p> +“How long have you been here?” was the next query. “Seven years,” the poet +answered. +</p> +<p> +“It is a long time,” said wondering Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I would wait twice as long for a poem,” said the inveterate bard. +</p> +<p> +“Have you caught good poems?” Fionn asked him. +</p> +<p> +“The poems I am fit for,” said the mild master. “No person can get more +than that, for a man’s readiness is his limit.” + </p> +<p> +“Would you have got as good poems by the Shannon or the Suir or by sweet +Ana Life’?” + </p> +<p> +“They are good rivers,” was the answer. “They all belong to good gods.” + </p> +<p> +“But why did you choose this river out of all the rivers?” + </p> +<p> +Finegas beamed on his pupil. +</p> +<p> +“I would tell you anything,” said he, “and I will tell you that.” + </p> +<p> +Fionn sat at the kindly man’s feet, his hands absent among tall grasses, +and listening with all his ears. “A prophecy was made to me,” Finegas +began. “A man of knowledge foretold that I should catch the Salmon of +Knowledge in the Boyne Water.” + </p> +<p> +“And then?” said Fionn eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“Then I would have All Knowledge.” + </p> +<p> +“And after that?” the boy insisted. +</p> +<p> +“What should there be after that?” the poet retorted. +</p> +<p> +“I mean, what would you do with All Knowledge?” + </p> +<p> +“A weighty question,” said Finegas smilingly. “I could answer it if I had +All Knowledge, but not until then. What would you do, my dear?” + </p> +<p> +“I would make a poem,” Fionn cried. +</p> +<p> +“I think too,” said the poet, “that that is what would be done.” + </p> +<p> +In return for instruction Fionn had taken over the service of his master’s +hut, and as he went about the household duties, drawing the water, +lighting the fire, and carrying rushes for the floor and the beds, he +thought over all the poet had taught him, and his mind dwelt on the rules +of metre, the cunningness of words, and the need for a clean, brave mind. +But in his thousand thoughts he yet remembered the Salmon of Knowledge as +eagerly as his master did. He already venerated Finegas for his great +learning, his poetic skill, for an hundred reasons; but, looking on him as +the ordained eater of the Salmon of Knowledge, he venerated him to the +edge of measure. Indeed, he loved as well as venerated this master because +of his unfailing kindness, his patience, his readiness to teach, and his +skill in teaching. +</p> +<p> +“I have learned much from you, dear master,” said Fionn gratefully. +</p> +<p> +“All that I have is yours if you can take it,” the poet answered, “for you +are entitled to all that you can take, but to no more than that. Take, so, +with both hands.” + </p> +<p> +“You may catch the salmon while I am with you,” the hopeful boy mused. +“Would not that be a great happening!” and he stared in ecstasy across the +grass at those visions which a boy’s mind knows. +</p> +<p> +“Let us pray for that,” said Finegas fervently. +</p> +<p> +“Here is a question,” Fionn continued. “How does this salmon get wisdom +into his flesh?” + </p> +<p> +“There is a hazel bush overhanging a secret pool in a secret place. The +Nuts of Knowledge drop from the Sacred Bush into the pool, and as they +float, a salmon takes them in his mouth and eats them.” + </p> +<p> +“It would be almost as easy,” the boy submitted, “if one were to set on +the track of the Sacred Hazel and eat the nuts straight from the bush.” + </p> +<p> +“That would not be very easy,” said the poet, “and yet it is not as easy +as that, for the bush can only be found by its own knowledge, and that +knowledge can only be got by eating the nuts, and the nuts can only be got +by eating the salmon.” + </p> +<p> +“We must wait for the salmon,” said Fionn in a rage of resignation. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ife continued for him in a round of timeless time, wherein days and +nights were uneventful and were yet filled with interest. As the day +packed its load of strength into his frame, so it added its store of +knowledge to his mind, and each night sealed the twain, for it is in the +night that we make secure what we have gathered in the day. +</p> +<p> +If he had told of these days he would have told of a succession of meals +and sleeps, and of an endless conversation, from which his mind would now +and again slip away to a solitude of its own, where, in large hazy +atmospheres, it swung and drifted and reposed. Then he would be back +again, and it was a pleasure for him to catch up on the thought that was +forward and re-create for it all the matter he had missed. But he could +not often make these sleepy sallies; his master was too experienced a +teacher to allow any such bright-faced, eager-eyed abstractions, and as +the druid women had switched his legs around a tree, so Finegas chased his +mind, demanding sense in his questions and understanding in his replies. +</p> +<p> +To ask questions can become the laziest and wobbliest occupation of a +mind, but when you must yourself answer the problem that you have posed, +you will meditate your question with care and frame it with precision. +Fionn’s mind learned to jump in a bumpier field than that in which he had +chased rabbits. And when he had asked his question, and given his own +answer to it, Finegas would take the matter up and make clear to him where +the query was badly formed or at what point the answer had begun to go +astray, so that Fionn came to understand by what successions a good +question grows at last to a good answer. +</p> +<p> +One day, not long after the conversation told of, Finegas came to the +place where Fionn was. The poet had a shallow osier basket on his arm, and +on his face there was a look that was at once triumphant and gloomy. He +was excited certainly, but he was sad also, and as he stood gazing on +Fionn his eyes were so kind that the boy was touched, and they were yet so +melancholy that it almost made Fionn weep. “What is it, my master?” said +the alarmed boy. +</p> +<p> +The poet placed his osier basket on the grass. +</p> +<p> +“Look in the basket, dear son,” he said. Fionn looked. +</p> +<p> +“There is a salmon in the basket.” + </p> +<p> +“It is The Salmon,” said Finegas with a great sigh. Fionn leaped for +delight. +</p> +<p> +“I am glad for you, master,” he cried. “Indeed I am glad for you.” + </p> +<p> +“And I am glad, my dear soul,” the master rejoined. +</p> +<p> +But, having said it, he bent his brow to his hand and for a long time he +was silent and gathered into himself. +</p> +<p> +“What should be done now?” Fionn demanded, as he stared on the beautiful +fish. +</p> +<p> +Finegas rose from where he sat by the osier basket. +</p> +<p> +“I will be back in a short time,” he said heavily. “While I am away you +may roast the salmon, so that it will be ready against my return.” + </p> +<p> +“I will roast it indeed,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +The poet gazed long and earnestly on him. +</p> +<p> +“You will not eat any of my salmon while I am away?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“I will not eat the littlest piece,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I am sure you will not,” the other murmured, as he turned and walked +slowly across the grass and behind the sheltering bushes on the ridge. +</p> +<p> +Fionn cooked the salmon. It was beautiful and tempting and savoury as it +smoked on a wooden platter among cool green leaves; and it looked all +these to Finegas when he came from behind the fringing bushes and sat in +the grass outside his door. He gazed on the fish with more than his eyes. +He looked on it with his heart, with his soul in his eyes, and when he +turned to look on Fionn the boy did not know whether the love that was in +his eyes was for the fish or for himself. Yet he did know that a great +moment had arrived for the poet. +</p> +<p> +“So,” said Finegas, “you did not eat it on me after all?” “Did I not +promise?” Fionn replied. +</p> +<p> +“And yet,” his master continued, “I went away so that you might eat the +fish if you felt you had to.” + </p> +<p> +“Why should I want another man’s fish?” said proud Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Because young people have strong desires. I thought you might have tasted +it, and then you would have eaten it on me.” + </p> +<p> +“I did taste it by chance,” Fionn laughed, “for while the fish was +roasting a great blister rose on its skin. I did not like the look of that +blister, and I pressed it down with my thumb. That burned my thumb, so I +popped it in my mouth to heal the smart. If your salmon tastes as nice as +my thumb did,” he laughed, “it will taste very nice.” + </p> +<p> +“What did you say your name was, dear heart?” the poet asked. +</p> +<p> +“I said my name was Deimne.” + </p> +<p> +“Your name is not Deimne,” said the mild man, “your name is Fionn.” + </p> +<p> +“That is true,” the boy answered, “but I do not know how you know it.” + </p> +<p> +“Even if I have not eaten the Salmon of Knowledge I have some small +science of my own.” + </p> +<p> +“It is very clever to know things as you know them,” Fionn replied +wonderingly. “What more do you know of me, dear master?” + </p> +<p> +“I know that I did not tell you the truth,” said the heavy-hearted man. +</p> +<p> +“What did you tell me instead of it?” + </p> +<p> +“I told you a lie.” + </p> +<p> +“It is not a good thing to do,” Fionn admitted. “What sort of a lie was +the lie, master?” “I told you that the Salmon of Knowledge was to be +caught by me, according to the prophecy.” + </p> +<p> +“Yes.” + </p> +<p> +“That was true indeed, and I have caught the fish. But I did not tell you +that the salmon was not to be eaten by me, although that also was in the +prophecy, and that omission was the lie.” + </p> +<p> +“It is not a great lie,” said Fionn soothingly. +</p> +<p> +“It must not become a greater one,” the poet replied sternly. +</p> +<p> +“Who was the fish given to?” his companion wondered. +</p> +<p> +“It was given to you,” Finegas answered. “It was given to Fionn, the son +of Uail, the son of Baiscne, and it will be given to him.” + </p> +<p> +“You shall have a half of the fish,” cried Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I will not eat a piece of its skin that is as small as the point of its +smallest bone,” said the resolute and trembling bard. “Let you now eat up +the fish, and I shall watch you and give praise to the gods of the +Underworld and of the Elements.” + </p> +<p> +Fionn then ate the Salmon of Knowledge, and when it had disappeared a +great jollity and tranquillity and exuberance returned to the poet. +</p> +<p> +“Ah,” said he, “I had a great combat with that fish.” + </p> +<p> +“Did it fight for its life?” Fionn inquired. +</p> +<p> +“It did, but that was not the fight I meant.” + </p> +<p> +“You shall eat a Salmon of Knowledge too,” Fionn assured him. +</p> +<p> +“You have eaten one,” cried the blithe poet, “and if you make such a +promise it will be because you know.” + </p> +<p> +“I promise it and know it,” said Fionn, “you shall eat a Salmon of +Knowledge yet.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e had received all that he could get from Finegas. His education was +finished and the time had come to test it, and to try all else that he had +of mind and body. He bade farewell to the gentle poet, and set out for +Tara of the Kings. +</p> +<p> +It was Samhain-tide, and the feast of Tara was being held, at which all +that was wise or skilful or well-born in Ireland were gathered together. +</p> +<p> +This is how Tara was when Tara was. There was the High King’s palace with +its fortification; without it was another fortification enclosing the four +minor palaces, each of which was maintained by one of the four provincial +kings; without that again was the great banqueting hall, and around it and +enclosing all of the sacred hill in its gigantic bound ran the main outer +ramparts of Tara. From it, the centre of Ireland, four great roads went, +north, south, east, and west, and along these roads, from the top and the +bottom and the two sides of Ireland, there moved for weeks before Samhain +an endless stream of passengers. +</p> +<p> +Here a gay band went carrying rich treasure to decorate the pavilion of a +Munster lord. On another road a vat of seasoned yew, monstrous as a house +on wheels and drawn by an hundred laborious oxen, came bumping and +joggling the ale that thirsty Connaught princes would drink. On a road +again the learned men of Leinster, each with an idea in his head that +would discomfit a northern ollav and make a southern one gape and fidget, +would be marching solemnly, each by a horse that was piled high on the +back and widely at the sides with clean-peeled willow or oaken wands, that +were carved from the top to the bottom with the ogham signs; the first +lines of poems (for it was an offence against wisdom to commit more than +initial lines to writing), the names and dates of kings, the procession of +laws of Tara and of the sub-kingdoms, the names of places and their +meanings. On the brown stallion ambling peacefully yonder there might go +the warring of the gods for two or ten thousand years; this mare with the +dainty pace and the vicious eye might be sidling under a load of oaken +odes in honour of her owner’s family, with a few bundles of tales of +wonder added in case they might be useful; and perhaps the restive piebald +was backing the history of Ireland into a ditch. +</p> +<p> +On such a journey all people spoke together, for all were friends, and no +person regarded the weapon in another man’s hand other than as an +implement to poke a reluctant cow with, or to pacify with loud wallops +some hoof-proud colt. +</p> +<p> +Into this teem and profusion of jolly humanity Fionn slipped, and if his +mood had been as bellicose as a wounded boar he would yet have found no +man to quarrel with, and if his eye had been as sharp as a jealous +husband’s he would have found no eye to meet it with calculation or menace +or fear; for the Peace of Ireland was in being, and for six weeks man was +neighbour to man, and the nation was the guest of the High King. Fionn +went in with the notables. +</p> +<p> +His arrival had been timed for the opening day and the great feast of +welcome. He may have marvelled, looking on the bright city, with its +pillars of gleaming bronze and the roofs that were painted in many +colours, so that each house seemed to be covered by the spreading wings of +some gigantic and gorgeous bird. And the palaces themselves, mellow with +red oak, polished within and without by the wear and the care of a +thousand years, and carved with the patient skill of unending generations +of the most famous artists of the most artistic country of the western +world, would have given him much to marvel at also. It must have seemed +like a city of dream, a city to catch the heart, when, coming over the +great plain, Fionn saw Tara of the Kings held on its hill as in a hand to +gather all the gold of the falling sun, and to restore a brightness as +mellow and tender as that universal largess. +</p> +<p> +In the great banqueting hall everything was in order for the feast. The +nobles of Ireland with their winsome consorts, the learned and artistic +professions represented by the pick of their time were in place. The +Ard-Ri, Corm of the Hundred Battles, had taken his place on the raised +dais which commanded the whole of that vast hall. At his Right hand his +son Art, to be afterwards as famous as his famous father, took his seat, +and on his left Goll mor mac Morna, chief of the Fianna of Ireland, had +the seat of honour. As the High King took his place he could see every +person who was noted in the land for any reason. He would know every one +who was present, for the fame of all men is sealed at Tara, and behind his +chair a herald stood to tell anything the king might not know or had +forgotten. +</p> +<p> +Conn gave the signal and his guests seated themselves. +</p> +<p> +The time had come for the squires to take their stations behind their +masters and mistresses. But, for the moment, the great room was seated, +and the doors were held to allow a moment of respect to pass before the +servers and squires came in. +</p> +<p> +Looking over his guests, Conn observed that a young man was yet standing. +</p> +<p> +“There is a gentleman,” he murmured, “for whom no seat has been found.” + </p> +<p> +We may be sure that the Master of the Banquet blushed at that. +</p> +<p> +“And,” the king continued, “I do not seem to know the young man.” + </p> +<p> +Nor did his herald, nor did the unfortunate Master, nor did anybody; for +the eyes of all were now turned where the king’s went. +</p> +<p> +“Give me my horn,” said the gracious monarch. +</p> +<p> +The horn of state was put to his hand. +</p> +<p> +“Young gentleman,” he called to the stranger, “I wish to drink to your +health and to welcome you to Tara.” + </p> +<p> +The young man came forward then, greater-shouldered than any mighty man of +that gathering, longer and cleaner limbed, with his fair curls dancing +about his beardless face. The king put the great horn into his hand. +</p> +<p> +“Tell me your name,” he commanded gently. +</p> +<p> +“I am Fionn, the son of Uail, the son of Baiscne,” said the youth. +</p> +<p> +And at that saying a touch as of lightning went through the gathering so +that each person quivered, and the son of the great, murdered captain +looked by the king’s shoulder into the twinkling eye of Goll. But no word +was uttered, no movement made except the movement and the utterance of the +Ard-Ri’. +</p> +<p> +“You are the son of a friend,” said the great-hearted monarch. “You shall +have the seat of a friend.” + </p> +<p> +He placed Fionn at the right hand of his own son Art. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is to be known that on the night of the Feast of Samhain the doors +separating this world and the next one are opened, and the inhabitants of +either world can leave their respective spheres and appear in the world of +the other beings. +</p> +<p> +Now there was a grandson to the Dagda Mor, the Lord of the Underworld, and +he was named Aillen mac Midna, out of Shi’ Finnachy, and this Aillen bore +an implacable enmity to Tara and the Ard-Ri’. +</p> +<p> +As well as being monarch of Ireland her High King was chief of the people +learned in magic, and it is possible that at some time Conn had adventured +into Tir na n-Og, the Land of the Young, and had done some deed or misdeed +in Aillen’s lordship or in his family. It must have been an ill deed in +truth, for it was in a very rage of revenge that Aillen came yearly at the +permitted time to ravage Tara. +</p> +<p> +Nine times he had come on this mission of revenge, but it is not to be +supposed that he could actually destroy the holy city: the Ard-Ri’ and +magicians could prevent that, but he could yet do a damage so considerable +that it was worth Conn’s while to take special extra precautions against +him, including the precaution of chance. +</p> +<p> +Therefore, when the feast was over and the banquet had commenced, the +Hundred Fighter stood from his throne and looked over his assembled +people. +</p> +<p> +The Chain of Silence was shaken by the attendant whose duty and honour was +the Silver Chain, and at that delicate chime the halt went silent, and a +general wonder ensued as to what matter the High King would submit to his +people. +</p> +<p> +“Friends and heroes,” said Conn, “Aillen, the son of Midna, will come +to-night from Slieve Fuaid with occult, terrible fire against our city. Is +there among you one who loves Tara and the king, and who will undertake +our defence against that being?” + </p> +<p> +He spoke in silence, and when he had finished he listened to the same +silence, but it was now deep, ominous, agonized. Each man glanced uneasily +on his neighbour and then stared at his wine-cup or his fingers. The +hearts of young men went hot for a gallant moment and were chilled in the +succeeding one, for they had all heard of Aillen out of Shl Finnachy in +the north. The lesser gentlemen looked under their brows at the greater +champions, and these peered furtively at the greatest of all. Art og mac +Morna of the Hard Strokes fell to biting his fingers, Cona’n the Swearer +and Garra mac Morna grumbled irritably to each other and at their +neighbours, even Caelte, the son of Rona’n, looked down into his own lap, +and Goll Mor sipped at his wine without any twinkle in his eye. A horrid +embarrassment came into the great hall, and as the High King stood in that +palpitating silence his noble face changed from kindly to grave and from +that to a terrible sternness. In another moment, to the undying shame of +every person present, he would have been compelled to lift his own +challenge and declare himself the champion of Tara for that night, but the +shame that was on the faces of his people would remain in the heart of +their king. Goll’s merry mind would help him to forget, but even his heart +would be wrung by a memory that he would not dare to face. It was at that +terrible moment that Fionn stood up. +</p> +<p> +“What,” said he, “will be given to the man who undertakes this defence?” + </p> +<p> +“All that can be rightly asked will be royally bestowed,” was the king’s +answer. +</p> +<p> +“Who are the sureties?” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“The kings of Ireland, and Red Cith with his magicians.” + </p> +<p> +“I will undertake the defence,” said Fionn. And on that, the kings and +magicians who were present bound themselves to the fulfilment of the +bargain. +</p> +<p> +Fionn marched from the banqueting hall, and as he went, all who were +present of nobles and retainers and servants acclaimed him and wished him +luck. But in their hearts they were bidding him good-bye, for all were +assured that the lad was marching to a death so unescapeable that he might +already be counted as a dead man. +</p> +<p> +It is likely that Fionn looked for help to the people of the Shi’ +themselves, for, through his mother, he belonged to the tribes of Dana, +although, on the father’s side, his blood was well compounded with mortal +clay. It may be, too, that he knew how events would turn, for he had eaten +the Salmon of Knowledge. Yet it is not recorded that on this occasion he +invoked any magical art as he did on other adventures. +</p> +<p> +Fionn’s way of discovering whatever was happening and hidden was always +the same and is many times referred to. A shallow, oblong dish of pure, +pale gold was brought to him. This dish was filled with clear water. Then +Fionn would bend his head and stare into the water, and as he stared he +would place his thumb in his mouth under his “Tooth of Knowledge,” his +“wisdom tooth.” + </p> +<p> +Knowledge, may it be said, is higher than magic and is more to be sought. +It is quite possible to see what is happening and yet not know what is +forward, for while seeing is believing it does not follow that either +seeing or believing is knowing. Many a person can see a thing and believe +a thing and know just as little about it as the person who does neither. +But Fionn would see and know, or he would under-stand a decent ratio of +his visions. That he was versed in magic is true, for he was ever known as +the Knowledgeable man, and later he had two magicians in his household +named Dirim and mac-Reith to do the rough work of knowledge for their busy +master. +</p> +<p> +It was not from the Shi’, however, that assistance came to Fionn. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e marched through the successive fortifications until he came to the +outer, great wall, the boundary of the city, and when he had passed this +he was on the wide plain of Tara. +</p> +<p> +Other than himself no person was abroad, for on the night of the Feast of +Samhain none but a madman would quit the shelter of a house even if it +were on fire; for whatever disasters might be within a house would be as +nothing to the calamities without it. +</p> +<p> +The noise of the banquet was not now audible to Fionn—it is +possible, however, that there was a shamefaced silence in the great hall—and +the lights of the city were hidden by the successive great ramparts. The +sky was over him; the earth under him; and than these there was nothing, +or there was but the darkness and the wind. +</p> +<p> +But darkness was not a thing to terrify him, bred in the nightness of a +wood and the very fosterling of gloom; nor could the wind afflict his ear +or his heart. There was no note in its orchestra that he had not brooded +on and become, which becoming is magic. The long-drawn moan of it; the +thrilling whisper and hush; the shrill, sweet whistle, so thin it can +scarcely be heard, and is taken more by the nerves than by the ear; the +screech, sudden as a devil’s yell and loud as ten thunders; the cry as of +one who flies with backward look to the shelter of leaves and darkness; +and the sob as of one stricken with an age-long misery, only at times +remembered, but remembered then with what a pang! His ear knew by what +successions they arrived, and by what stages they grew and diminished. +Listening in the dark to the bundle of noises which make a noise he could +disentangle them and assign a place and a reason to each gradation of +sound that formed the chorus: there was the patter of a rabbit, and there +the scurrying of a hare; a bush rustled yonder, but that brief rustle was +a bird; that pressure was a wolf, and this hesitation a fox; the scraping +yonder was but a rough leaf against bark, and the scratching beyond it was +a ferret’s claw. +</p> +<p> +Fear cannot be where knowledge is, and Fionn was not fearful. +</p> +<p> +His mind, quietly busy on all sides, picked up one sound and dwelt on it. +“A man,” said Fionn, and he listened in that direction, back towards the +city. +</p> +<p> +A man it was, almost as skilled in darkness as Fionn himself “This is no +enemy,” Fionn thought; “his walking is open.” + </p> +<p> +“Who comes?” he called. +</p> +<p> +“A friend,” said the newcomer. +</p> +<p> +“Give a friend’s name,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Fiacuil mac Cona,” was the answer. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, my pulse and heart!” cried Fionn, and he strode a few paces to meet +the great robber who had fostered him among the marshes. +</p> +<p> +“So you are not afraid,” he said joyfully. +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid in good truth,” Fiacuil whispered, “and the minute my +business with you is finished I will trot back as quick as legs will carry +me. May the gods protect my going as they protected my coming,” said the +robber piously. +</p> +<p> +“Amen,” said Fionn, “and now, tell me what you have come for?” + </p> +<p> +“Have you any plan against this lord of the Shl?” Fiacuil whispered. +</p> +<p> +“I will attack him,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“That is not a plan,” the other groaned, “we do not plan to deliver an +attack but to win a victory.” + </p> +<p> +“Is this a very terrible person?” Fionn asked. +</p> +<p> +“Terrible indeed. No one can get near him or away from him. He comes out +of the Shi’ playing sweet, low music on a timpan and a pipe, and all who +hear this music fall asleep.” + </p> +<p> +“I will not fall asleep,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“You will indeed, for everybody does.” + </p> +<p> +“What happens then?” Fionn asked. +</p> +<p> +“When all are asleep Aillen mac Midna blows a dart of fire out of his +mouth, and everything that is touched by that fire is destroyed, and he +can blow his fire to an incredible distance and to any direction.” + </p> +<p> +“You are very brave to come to help me,” Fionn murmured, “especially when +you are not able to help me at all.” + </p> +<p> +“I can help,” Fiacuil replied, “but I must be paid.” + </p> +<p> +“What payment?” + </p> +<p> +“A third of all you earn and a seat at your council.” + </p> +<p> +“I grant that,” said Fionn, “and now, tell me your plan?” + </p> +<p> +“You remember my spear with the thirty rivets of Arabian gold in its +socket?” + </p> +<p> +“The one,” Fionn queried, “that had its head wrapped in a blanket and was +stuck in a bucket of water and was chained to a wall as well—the +venomous Birgha?” “That one,” Fiacuil replied. +</p> +<p> +“It is Aillen mac Midna’s own spear,” he continued, “and it was taken out +of his Shi’ by your father.” + </p> +<p> +“Well?” said Fionn, wondering nevertheless where Fiacuil got the spear, +but too generous to ask. +</p> +<p> +“When you hear the great man of the Shi’ coming, take the wrappings off +the head of the spear and bend your face over it; the heat of the spear, +the stench of it, all its pernicious and acrid qualities will prevent you +from going to sleep.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you sure of that?” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“You couldn’t go to sleep close to that stench; nobody could,” Fiacuil +replied decidedly. +</p> +<p> +He continued: “Aillen mac Midna will be off his guard when he stops +playing and begins to blow his fire; he will think everybody is asleep; +then you can deliver the attack you were speaking of, and all good luck go +with it.” + </p> +<p> +“I will give him back his spear,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Here it is,” said Fiacuil, taking the Birgha from under his cloak. “But +be as careful of it, my pulse, be as frightened of it as you are of the +man of Dana.” + </p> +<p> +“I will be frightened of nothing,” said Fionn, “and the only person I will +be sorry for is that Aillen mac Midna, who is going to get his own spear +back.” + </p> +<p> +“I will go away now,” his companion whispered, “for it is growing darker +where you would have thought there was no more room for darkness, and +there is an eerie feeling abroad which I do not like. That man from the +Shi’ may come any minute, and if I catch one sound of his music I am done +for.” + </p> +<p> +The robber went away and again Fionn was alone. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e listened to the retreating footsteps until they could be heard no more, +and the one sound that came to his tense ears was the beating of his own +heart. +</p> +<p> +Even the wind had ceased, and there seemed to be nothing in the world but +the darkness and himself. In that gigantic blackness, in that unseen +quietude and vacancy, the mind could cease to be personal to itself. It +could be overwhelmed and merged in space, so that consciousness would be +transferred or dissipated, and one might sleep standing; for the mind +fears loneliness more than all else, and will escape to the moon rather +than be driven inwards on its own being. +</p> +<p> +But Fionn was not lonely, and he was not afraid when the son of Midna +came. +</p> +<p> +A long stretch of the silent night had gone by, minute following minute in +a slow sequence, wherein as there was no change there was no time; wherein +there was no past and no future, but a stupefying, endless present which +is almost the annihilation of consciousness. A change came then, for the +clouds had also been moving and the moon at last was sensed behind them—not +as a radiance, but as a percolation of light, a gleam that was strained +through matter after matter and was less than the very wraith or +remembrance of itself; a thing seen so narrowly, so sparsely, that the eye +could doubt if it was or was not seeing, and might conceive that its own +memory was re-creating that which was still absent. +</p> +<p> +But Fionn’s eye was the eye of a wild creature that spies on darkness and +moves there wittingly. He saw, then, not a thing but a movement; something +that was darker than the darkness it loomed on; not a being but a +presence, and, as it were, impending pressure. And in a little he heard +the deliberate pace of that great being. +</p> +<p> +Fionn bent to his spear and unloosed its coverings. +</p> +<p> +Then from the darkness there came another sound; a low, sweet sound; +thrillingly joyous, thrillingly low; so low the ear could scarcely note +it, so sweet the ear wished to catch nothing else and would strive to hear +it rather than all sounds that may be heard by man: the music of another +world! the unearthly, dear melody of the Shi’! So sweet it was that the +sense strained to it, and having reached must follow drowsily in its wake, +and would merge in it, and could not return again to its own place until +that strange harmony was finished and the ear restored to freedom. +</p> +<p> +But Fionn had taken the covering from his spear, and with his brow pressed +close to it he kept his mind and all his senses engaged on that sizzling, +murderous point. +</p> +<p> +The music ceased and Aillen hissed a fierce blue flame from his mouth, and +it was as though he hissed lightning. +</p> +<p> +Here it would seem that Fionn used magic, for spreading out his fringed +mantle he caught the flame. Rather he stopped it, for it slid from the +mantle and sped down into the earth to the depth of twenty-six spans; from +which that slope is still called the Glen of the Mantle, and the rise on +which Aillen stood is known as the Ard of Fire. +</p> +<p> +One can imagine the surprise of Aillen mac Midna, seeing his fire caught +and quenched by an invisible hand. And one can imagine that at this check +he might be frightened, for who would be more terrified than a magician +who sees his magic fail, and who, knowing of power, will guess at powers +of which he has no conception and may well dread. +</p> +<p> +Everything had been done by him as it should be done. His pipe had been +played and his timpan, all who heard that music should be asleep, and yet +his fire was caught in full course and was quenched. +</p> +<p> +Aillen, with all the terrific strength of which he was master, blew again, +and the great jet of blue flame came roaring and whistling from him and +was caught and disappeared. +</p> +<p> +Panic swirled into the man from Faery; he turned from that terrible spot +and fled, not knowing what might be behind, but dreading it as he had +never before dreaded anything, and the unknown pursued him; that terrible +defence became offence and hung to his heel as a wolf pads by the flank of +a bull. +</p> +<p> +And Aillen was not in his own world! He was in the world of men, where +movement is not easy and the very air a burden. In his own sphere, in his +own element, he might have outrun Fionn, but this was Fionn’s world, +Fionn’s element, and the flying god was not gross enough to outstrip him. +Yet what a race he gave, for it was but at the entrance to his own Shi’ +that the pursuer got close enough. Fionn put a finger into the thong of +the great spear, and at that cast night fell on Aillen mac Midna. His eyes +went black, his mind whirled and ceased, there came nothingness where he +had been, and as the Birgha whistled into his shoulder-blades he withered +away, he tumbled emptily and was dead. Fionn took his lovely head from its +shoulders and went back through the night to Tara. +</p> +<p> +Triumphant Fionn, who had dealt death to a god, and to whom death would be +dealt, and who is now dead! +</p> +<p> +He reached the palace at sunrise. +</p> +<p> +On that morning all were astir early. They wished to see what destruction +had been wrought by the great being, but it was young Fionn they saw and +that redoubtable head swinging by its hair. “What is your demand?” said +the Ard-Ri’. “The thing that it is right I should ask,” said Fionn: “the +command of the Fianna of Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“Make your choice,” said Conn to Goll Mor; “you will leave Ireland, or you +will place your hand in the hand of this champion and be his man.” + </p> +<p> +Goll could do a thing that would be hard for another person, and he could +do it so beautifully that he was not diminished by any action. +</p> +<p> +“Here is my hand,” said Goll. +</p> +<p> +And he twinkled at the stern, young eyes that gazed on him as he made his +submission. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +THE BIRTH OF BRAN +</h2> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/127m.jpg" alt="127m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/127.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here are people who do not like dogs a bit—they are usually women—but +in this story there is a man who did not like dogs. In fact, he hated +them. When he saw one he used to go black in the face, and he threw rocks +at it until it got out of sight. But the Power that protects all creatures +had put a squint into this man’s eye, so that he always threw crooked. +</p> +<p> +This gentleman’s name was Fergus Fionnliath, and his stronghold was near +the harbour of Galway. Whenever a dog barked he would leap out of his +seat, and he would throw everything that he owned out of the window in the +direction of the bark. He gave prizes to servants who disliked dogs, and +when he heard that a man had drowned a litter of pups he used to visit +that person and try to marry his daughter. +</p> +<p> +Now Fionn, the son of Uail, was the reverse of Fergus Fionnliath in this +matter, for he delighted in dogs, and he knew everything about them from +the setting of the first little white tooth to the rocking of the last +long yellow one. He knew the affections and antipathies which are proper +in a dog; the degree of obedience to which dogs may be trained without +losing their honourable qualities or becoming servile and suspicious; he +knew the hopes that animate them, the apprehensions which tingle in their +blood, and all that is to be demanded from, or forgiven in, a paw, an ear, +a nose, an eye, or a tooth; and he understood these things because he +loved dogs, for it is by love alone that we understand anything. +</p> +<p> +Among the three hundred dogs which Fionn owned there were two to whom he +gave an especial tenderness, and who were his daily and nightly +companions. These two were Bran and Sceo’lan, but if a person were to +guess for twenty years he would not find out why Fionn loved these two +dogs and why he would never be separated from them. +</p> +<p> +Fionn’s mother, Muirne, went to wide Allen of Leinster to visit her son, +and she brought her young sister Tuiren with her. The mother and aunt of +the great captain were well treated among the Fianna, first, because they +were parents to Fionn, and second, because they were beautiful and noble +women. +</p> +<p> +No words can describe how delightful Muirne was—she took the branch; +and as to Tuiren, a man could not look at her without becoming angry or +dejected. Her face was fresh as a spring morning; her voice more cheerful +than the cuckoo calling from the branch that is highest in the hedge; and +her form swayed like a reed and flowed like a river, so that each person +thought she would surely flow to him. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/131m.jpg" alt="131m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/131.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +Men who had wives of their own grew moody and downcast because they could +not hope to marry her, while the bachelors of the Fianna stared at each +other with truculent, bloodshot eyes, and then they gazed on Tuiren so +gently that she may have imagined she was being beamed on by the mild eyes +of the dawn. +</p> +<p> +It was to an Ulster gentleman, Iollan Eachtach, that she gave her love, +and this chief stated his rights and qualities and asked for her in +marriage. +</p> +<p> +Now Fionn did not dislike the man of Ulster, but either he did not know +them well or else he knew them too well, for he made a curious stipulation +before consenting to the marriage. He bound Iollan to return the lady if +there should be occasion to think her unhappy, and Iollan agreed to do so. +The sureties to this bargain were Caelte mac Ronan, Goll mac Morna, and +Lugaidh. Lugaidh himself gave the bride away, but it was not a pleasant +ceremony for him, because he also was in love with the lady, and he would +have preferred keeping her to giving her away. When she had gone he made a +poem about her, beginning: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“There is no more light in the sky—” + </pre> +<p> +And hundreds of sad people learned the poem by heart. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Iollan and Tuiren were married they went to Ulster, and they lived +together very happily. But the law of life is change; nothing continues in +the same way for any length of time; happiness must become unhappiness, +and will be succeeded again by the joy it had displaced. The past also +must be reckoned with; it is seldom as far behind us as we could wish: it +is more often in front, blocking the way, and the future trips over it +just when we think that the road is clear and joy our own. +</p> +<p> +Iollan had a past. He was not ashamed of it; he merely thought it was +finished, although in truth it was only beginning, for it is that +perpetual beginning of the past that we call the future. +</p> +<p> +Before he joined the Fianna he had been in love with a lady of the Shi’, +named Uct Dealv (Fair Breast), and they had been sweethearts for years. +How often he had visited his sweetheart in Faery! With what eagerness and +anticipation he had gone there; the lover’s whistle that he used to give +was known to every person in that Shi’, and he had been discussed by more +than one of the delicate sweet ladies of Faery. “That is your whistle, +Fair Breast,” her sister of the Shi’ would say. +</p> +<p> +And Uct Dealv would reply: “Yes, that is my mortal, my lover, my pulse, +and my one treasure.” + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/137m.jpg" alt="137m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/137.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +She laid her spinning aside, or her embroidery if she was at that, or if +she were baking a cake of fine wheaten bread mixed with honey she would +leave the cake to bake itself and fly to Iollan. Then they went hand in +hand in the country that smells of apple-blossom and honey, looking on +heavy-boughed trees and on dancing and beaming clouds. Or they stood +dreaming together, locked in a clasping of arms and eyes, gazing up and +down on each other, Iollan staring down into sweet grey wells that peeped +and flickered under thin brows, and Uct Dealv looking up into great black +ones that went dreamy and went hot in endless alternation. +</p> +<p> +Then Iollan would go back to the world of men, and Uct Dealv would return +to her occupations in the Land of the Ever Young. +</p> +<p> +“What did he say?” her sister of the Shi’ would ask. +</p> +<p> +“He said I was the Berry of the Mountain, the Star of Knowledge, and the +Blossom of the Raspberry.” + </p> +<p> +“They always say the same thing,” her sister pouted. +</p> +<p> +“But they look other things,” Uct Dealv insisted. “They feel other +things,” she murmured; and an endless conversation recommenced. +</p> +<p> +Then for some time Iollan did not come to Faery, and Uct Dealv marvelled +at that, while her sister made an hundred surmises, each one worse than +the last. +</p> +<p> +“He is not dead or he would be here,” she said. “He has forgotten you, my +darling.” + </p> +<p> +News was brought to Tlr na n-Og of the marriage of Iollan and Tuiren, and +when Uct Dealv heard that news her heart ceased to beat for a moment, and +she closed her eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Now!” said her sister of the Shi’. “That is how long the love of a mortal +lasts,” she added, in the voice of sad triumph which is proper to sisters. +</p> +<p> +But on Uct Dealv there came a rage of jealousy and despair such as no +person in the Shi’ had ever heard of, and from that moment she became +capable of every ill deed; for there are two things not easily controlled, +and they are hunger and jealousy. She determined that the woman who had +supplanted her in Iollan’s affections should rue the day she did it. She +pondered and brooded revenge in her heart, sitting in thoughtful solitude +and bitter collectedness until at last she had a plan. +</p> +<p> +She understood the arts of magic and shape-changing, so she changed her +shape into that of Fionn’s female runner, the best-known woman in Ireland; +then she set out from Faery and appeared in the world. She travelled in +the direction of Iollan’s stronghold. +</p> +<p> +Iollan knew the appearance of Fionn’s messenger, but he was surprised to +see her. +</p> +<p> +She saluted him. +</p> +<p> +“Health and long life, my master.”. +</p> +<p> +“Health and good days,” he replied. “What brings you here, dear heart?” + </p> +<p> +“I come from Fionn.” + </p> +<p> +“And your message?” said he. +</p> +<p> +“The royal captain intends to visit you.” + </p> +<p> +“He will be welcome,” said Iollan. “We shall give him an Ulster feast.” + </p> +<p> +“The world knows what that is,” said the messenger courteously. “And now,” + she continued, “I have messages for your queen.” + </p> +<p> +Tuiren then walked from the house with the messenger, but when they had +gone a short distance Uct Dealv drew a hazel rod from beneath her cloak +and struck it on the queen’s shoulder, and on the instant Tuiren’s figure +trembled and quivered, and it began to whirl inwards and downwards, and +she changed into the appearance of a hound. +</p> +<p> +It was sad to see the beautiful, slender dog standing shivering and +astonished, and sad to see the lovely eyes that looked out pitifully in +terror and amazement. But Uct Dealv did not feel sad. She clasped a chain +about the hound’s neck, and they set off westward towards the house of +Fergus Fionnliath, who was reputed to be the unfriendliest man in the +world to a dog. It was because of his reputation that Uct Dealv was +bringing the hound to him. She did not want a good home for this dog: she +wanted the worst home that could be found in the world, and she thought +that Fergus would revenge for her the rage and jealousy which she felt +towards Tuiren. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s they paced along Uct Dealv railed bitterly against the hound, and shook +and jerked her chain. Many a sharp cry the hound gave in that journey, +many a mild lament. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, supplanter! Ah, taker of another girl’s sweetheart!” said Uct Dealv +fiercely. “How would your lover take it if he could see you now? How would +he look if he saw your pointy ears, your long thin snout, your shivering, +skinny legs, and your long grey tail. He would not love you now, bad +girl!” + </p> +<p> +“Have you heard of Fergus Fionnliath,” she said again, “the man who does +not like dogs?” + </p> +<p> +Tuiren had indeed heard of him. +</p> +<p> +“It is to Fergus I shall bring you,” cried Uct Dealv. “He will throw +stones at you. You have never had a stone thrown at you. Ah, bad girl! You +do not know how a stone sounds as it nips the ear with a whirling buzz, +nor how jagged and heavy it feels as it thumps against a skinny leg. +Robber! Mortal! Bad girl! You have never been whipped, but you will be +whipped now. You shall hear the song of a lash as it curls forward and +bites inward and drags backward. You shall dig up old bones stealthily at +night, and chew them against famine. You shall whine and squeal at the +moon, and shiver in the cold, and you will never take another girl’s +sweetheart again.” + </p> +<p> +And it was in those terms and in that tone that she spoke to Tuiren as +they journeyed forward, so that the hound trembled and shrank, and whined +pitifully and in despair. +</p> +<p> +They came to Fergus Fionnliath’s stronghold, and Uct Dealv demanded +admittance. +</p> +<p> +“Leave that dog outside,” said the servant. +</p> +<p> +“I will not do so,” said the pretended messenger. +</p> +<p> +“You can come in without the dog, or you can stay out with the dog,” said +the surly guardian. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand,” cried Uct Dealv, “I will come in with this dog, or your +master shall answer for it to Fionn.” + </p> +<p> +At the name of Fionn the servant almost fell out of his standing. He flew +to acquaint his master, and Fergus himself came to the great door of the +stronghold. +</p> +<p> +“By my faith,” he cried in amazement, “it is a dog.” + </p> +<p> +“A dog it is,” growled the glum servant. +</p> +<p> +“Go you away,” said Fergus to Uct Dealv, “and when you have killed the dog +come back to me and I will give you a present.” + </p> +<p> +“Life and health, my good master, from Fionn, the son of Uail, the son of +Baiscne,” said she to Fergus. +</p> +<p> +“Life and health back to Fionn,” he replied. “Come into the house and give +your message, but leave the dog outside, for I don’t like dogs.” + </p> +<p> +“The dog comes in,” the messenger replied. +</p> +<p> +“How is that?” cried Fergus angrily. +</p> +<p> +“Fionn sends you this hound to take care of until he comes for her,” said +the messenger. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder at that,” Fergus growled, “for Fionn knows well that there is +not a man in the world has less of a liking for dogs than I have.” + </p> +<p> +“However that may be, master, I have given Fionn’s message, and here at my +heel is the dog. Do you take her or refuse her?” + </p> +<p> +“If I could refuse anything to Fionn it would be a dog,” said Fergus, “but +I could not refuse anything to Fionn, so give me the hound.” + </p> +<p> +Uct Dealv put the chain in his hand. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, bad dog!” said she. +</p> +<p> +And then she went away well satisfied with her revenge, and returned to +her own people in the Shi. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the following day Fergus called his servant. +</p> +<p> +“Has that dog stopped shivering yet?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“It has not, sir,” said the servant. +</p> +<p> +“Bring the beast here,” said his master, “for whoever else is dissatisfied +Fionn must be satisfied.” + </p> +<p> +The dog was brought, and he examined it with a jaundiced and bitter eye. +</p> +<p> +“It has the shivers indeed,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“The shivers it has,” said the servant. +</p> +<p> +“How do you cure the shivers?” his master demanded, for he thought that if +the animal’s legs dropped off Fionn would not be satisfied. +</p> +<p> +“There is a way,” said the servant doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“If there is a way, tell it to me,” cried his master angrily. +</p> +<p> +“If you were to take the beast up in your arms and hug it and kiss it, the +shivers would stop,” said the man. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean—?” his master thundered, and he stretched his hand for +a club. +</p> +<p> +“I heard that,” said the servant humbly. +</p> +<p> +“Take that dog up,” Fergus commanded, “and hug it and kiss it, and if I +find a single shiver left in the beast I’ll break your head.” + </p> +<p> +The man bent to the hound, but it snapped a piece out of his hand, and +nearly bit his nose off as well. +</p> +<p> +“That dog doesn’t like me,” said the man. +</p> +<p> +“Nor do I,” roared Fergus; “get out of my sight.” + </p> +<p> +The man went away and Fergus was left alone with the hound, but the poor +creature was so terrified that it began to tremble ten times worse than +before. +</p> +<p> +“Its legs will drop off,” said Fergus. “Fionn will blame me,” he cried in +despair. +</p> +<p> +He walked to the hound. +</p> +<p> +“If you snap at my nose, or if you put as much as the start of a tooth +into the beginning of a finger!” he growled. +</p> +<p> +He picked up the dog, but it did not snap, it only trembled. He held it +gingerly for a few moments. +</p> +<p> +“If it has to be hugged,” he said, “I’ll hug it. I’d do more than that for +Fionn.” + </p> +<p> +He tucked and tightened the animal into his breast, and marched moodily up +and down the room. The dog’s nose lay along his breast under his chin, and +as he gave it dutiful hugs, one hug to every five paces, the dog put out +its tongue and licked him timidly under the chin. +</p> +<p> +“Stop,” roared Fergus, “stop that forever,” and he grew very red in the +face, and stared truculently down along his nose. A soft brown eye looked +up at him and the shy tongue touched again on his chin. +</p> +<p> +“If it has to be kissed,” said Fergus gloomily, “I’ll kiss it; I’d do more +than that for Fionn,” he groaned. +</p> +<p> +He bent his head, shut his eyes, and brought the dog’s jaw against his +lips. And at that the dog gave little wriggles in his arms, and little +barks, and little licks, so that he could scarcely hold her. He put the +hound down at last. +</p> +<p> +“There is not a single shiver left in her,” he said. +</p> +<p> +And that was true. +</p> +<p> +Everywhere he walked the dog followed him, giving little prances and +little pats against him, and keeping her eyes fixed on his with such +eagerness and intelligence that he marvelled. +</p> +<p> +“That dog likes me,” he murmured in amazement. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand,” he cried next day, “I like that dog.” + </p> +<p> +The day after that he was calling her “My One Treasure, My Little Branch.” + And within a week he could not bear her to be out of his sight for an +instant. +</p> +<p> +He was tormented by the idea that some evil person might throw a stone at +the hound, so he assembled his servants and retainers and addressed them. +</p> +<p> +He told them that the hound was the Queen of Creatures, the Pulse of his +Heart, and the Apple of his Eye, and he warned them that the person who as +much as looked sideways on her, or knocked one shiver out of her, would +answer for the deed with pains and indignities. He recited a list of +calamities which would befall such a miscreant, and these woes began with +flaying and ended with dismemberment, and had inside bits of such +complicated and ingenious torment that the blood of the men who heard it +ran chill in their veins, and the women of the household fainted where +they stood. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n course of time the news came to Fionn that his mother’s sister was not +living with Iollan. He at once sent a messenger calling for fulfilment of +the pledge that had been given to the Fianna, and demanding the instant +return of Tuiren. Iollan was in a sad condition when this demand was made. +He guessed that Uct Dealv had a hand in the disappearance of his queen, +and he begged that time should be given him in which to find the lost +girl. He promised if he could not discover her within a certain period +that he would deliver his body into Fionn’s hands, and would abide by +whatever judgement Fionn might pronounce. The great captain agreed to +that. +</p> +<p> +“Tell the wife-loser that I will have the girl or I will have his head,” + said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +Iollan set out then for Faery. He knew the way, and in no great time he +came to the hill where Uct Dealv was. +</p> +<p> +It was hard to get Uct Dealv to meet him, but at last she consented, and +they met under the apple boughs of Faery. +</p> +<p> +“Well!” said Uct Dealv. “Ah! Breaker of Vows and Traitor to Love,” said +she. +</p> +<p> +“Hail and a blessing,” said Iollan humbly. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand,” she cried, “I will give you no blessing, for it was no +blessing you left with me when we parted.” + </p> +<p> +“I am in danger,” said Iollan. +</p> +<p> +“What is that to me?” she replied fiercely. +</p> +<p> +“Fionn may claim my head,” he murmured. +</p> +<p> +“Let him claim what he can take,” said she. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Iollan proudly, “he will claim what I can give.” + </p> +<p> +“Tell me your tale,” said she coldly. +</p> +<p> +Iollan told his story then, and, he concluded, “I am certain that you have +hidden the girl.” + </p> +<p> +“If I save your head from Fionn,” the woman of the Shi’ replied, “then +your head will belong to me.” + </p> +<p> +“That is true,” said Iollan. +</p> +<p> +“And if your head is mine, the body that goes under it is mine. Do you +agree to that?” + </p> +<p> +“I do,” said Iollan. +</p> +<p> +“Give me your pledge,” said Uct Dealv, “that if I save you from this +danger you will keep me as your sweetheart until the end of life and +time.” + </p> +<p> +“I give that pledge,” said Iollan. +</p> +<p> +Uct Dealv went then to the house of Fergus Fionnliath, and she broke the +enchantment that was on the hound, so that Tuiren’s own shape came back to +her; but in the matter of two small whelps, to which the hound had given +birth, the enchantment could not be broken, so they had to remain as they +were. These two whelps were Bran and Sceo’lan. They were sent to Fionn, +and he loved them for ever after, for they were loyal and affectionate, as +only dogs can be, and they were as intelligent as human beings. Besides +that, they were Fionn’s own cousins. +</p> +<p> +Tuiren was then asked in marriage by Lugaidh who had loved her so long. He +had to prove to her that he was not any other woman’s sweetheart, and when +he proved that they were married, and they lived happily ever after, which +is the proper way to live. He wrote a poem beginning: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Lovely the day. Dear is the eye of the dawn—” + </pre> +<p> +And a thousand merry people learned it after him. +</p> +<p> +But as to Fergus Fionnliath, he took to his bed, and he stayed there for a +year and a day suffering from blighted affection, and he would have died +in the bed only that Fionn sent him a special pup, and in a week that +young hound became the Star of Fortune and the very Pulse of his Heart, so +that he got well again, and he also lived happily ever after. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +OISIN’S MOTHER +</h2> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/153m.jpg" alt="153m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/153.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>VENING was drawing nigh, and the Fianna-Finn had decided to hunt no more +that day. The hounds were whistled to heel, and a sober, homeward march +began. For men will walk soberly in the evening, however they go in the +day, and dogs will take the mood from their masters. They were pacing so, +through the golden-shafted, tender-coloured eve, when a fawn leaped +suddenly from covert, and, with that leap, all quietness vanished: the men +shouted, the dogs gave tongue, and a furious chase commenced. +</p> +<p> +Fionn loved a chase at any hour, and, with Bran and Sceo’lan, he +outstripped the men and dogs of his troop, until nothing remained in the +limpid world but Fionn, the two hounds, and the nimble, beautiful fawn. +These, and the occasional boulders, round which they raced, or over which +they scrambled; the solitary tree which dozed aloof and beautiful in the +path, the occasional clump of trees that hived sweet shadow as a hive +hoards honey, and the rustling grass that stretched to infinity, and that +moved and crept and swung under the breeze in endless, rhythmic +billowings. +</p> +<p> +In his wildest moment Fionn was thoughtful, and now, although running +hard, he was thoughtful. There was no movement of his beloved hounds that +he did not know; not a twitch or fling of the head, not a cock of the ears +or tail that was not significant to him. But on this chase whatever signs +the dogs gave were not understood by their master. +</p> +<p> +He had never seen them in such eager flight. They were almost utterly +absorbed in it, but they did not whine with eagerness, nor did they cast +any glance towards him for the encouraging word which he never failed to +give when they sought it. +</p> +<p> +They did look at him, but it was a look which he could not comprehend. +There was a question and a statement in those deep eyes, and he could not +understand what that question might be, nor what it was they sought to +convey. Now and again one of the dogs turned a head in full flight, and +stared, not at Fionn, but distantly backwards, over the spreading and +swelling plain where their companions of the hunt had disappeared. “They +are looking for the other hounds,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“And yet they do not give tongue! Tongue it, a Vran!” he shouted, “Bell it +out, a Heo’lan!” + </p> +<p> +It was then they looked at him, the look which he could not understand and +had never seen on a chase. They did not tongue it, nor bell it, but they +added silence to silence and speed to speed, until the lean grey bodies +were one pucker and lashing of movement. +</p> +<p> +Fionn marvelled. “They do not want the other dogs to hear or to come on +this chase,” he murmured, and he wondered what might be passing within +those slender heads. +</p> +<p> +“The fawn runs well,” his thought continued. “What is it, a Vran, my +heart? After her, a Heo’lan! Hist and away, my loves!” + </p> +<p> +“There is going and to spare in that beast yet,” his mind went on. “She is +not stretched to the full, nor half stretched. She may outrun even Bran,” + he thought ragingly. +</p> +<p> +They were racing through a smooth valley in a steady, beautiful, speedy +flight when, suddenly, the fawn stopped and lay on the grass, and it lay +with the calm of an animal that has no fear, and the leisure of one that +is not pressed. +</p> +<p> +“Here is a change,” said Fionn, staring in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“She is not winded,” he said. “What is she lying down for?” But Bran and +Sceo’lan did not stop; they added another inch to their long-stretched +easy bodies, and came up on the fawn. +</p> +<p> +“It is an easy kill,” said Fionn regretfully. “They have her,” he cried. +</p> +<p> +But he was again astonished, for the dogs did not kill. They leaped and +played about the fawn, licking its face, and rubbing delighted noses +against its neck. +</p> +<p> +Fionn came up then. His long spear was lowered in his fist at the thrust, +and his sharp knife was in its sheath, but he did not use them, for the +fawn and the two hounds began to play round him, and the fawn was as +affectionate towards him as the hounds were; so that when a velvet nose +was thrust in his palm, it was as often a fawn’s muzzle as a hound’s. +</p> +<p> +In that joyous company he came to wide Allen of Leinster, where the people +were surprised to see the hounds and the fawn and the Chief and none other +of the hunters that had set out with them. +</p> +<p> +When the others reached home, the Chief told of his chase, and it was +agreed that such a fawn must not be killed, but that it should be kept and +well treated, and that it should be the pet fawn of the Fianna. But some +of those who remembered Brah’s parentage thought that as Bran herself had +come from the Shi so this fawn might have come out of the Shi also. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ate that night, when he was preparing for rest, the door of Fionn’s +chamber opened gently and a young woman came into the room. The captain +stared at her, as he well might, for he had never seen or imagined to see +a woman so beautiful as this was. Indeed, she was not a woman, but a young +girl, and her bearing was so gently noble, her look so modestly high, that +the champion dared scarcely look at her, although he could not by any +means have looked away. +</p> +<p> +As she stood within the doorway, smiling, and shy as a flower, beautifully +timid as a fawn, the Chief communed with his heart. +</p> +<p> +“She is the Sky-woman of the Dawn,” he said. “She is the light on the +foam. She is white and odorous as an apple-blossom. She smells of spice +and honey. She is my beloved beyond the women of the world. She shall +never be taken from me.” + </p> +<p> +And that thought was delight and anguish to him: delight because of such +sweet prospect, anguish because it was not yet realised, and might not be. +</p> +<p> +As the dogs had looked at him on the chase with a look that he did not +understand, so she looked at him, and in her regard there was a question +that baffled him and a statement which he could not follow. +</p> +<p> +He spoke to her then, mastering his heart to do it. +</p> +<p> +“I do not seem to know you,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“You do not know me indeed,” she replied. +</p> +<p> +“It is the more wonderful,” he continued gently, “for I should know every +person that is here. What do you require from me?” + </p> +<p> +“I beg your protection, royal captain.” + </p> +<p> +“I give that to all,” he answered. “Against whom do you desire +protection?” + </p> +<p> +“I am in terror of the Fear Doirche.” + </p> +<p> +“The Dark Man of the Shi?” + </p> +<p> +“He is my enemy,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“He is mine now,” said Fionn. “Tell me your story.” + </p> +<p> +“My name is Saeve, and I am a woman of Faery,” she commenced. “In the Shi’ +many men gave me their love, but I gave my love to no man of my country.” + </p> +<p> +“That was not reasonable,” the other chided with a blithe heart. +</p> +<p> +“I was contented,” she replied, “and what we do not want we do not lack. +But if my love went anywhere it went to a mortal, a man of the men of +Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“By my hand,” said Fionn in mortal distress, “I marvel who that man can +be!” + </p> +<p> +“He is known to you,” she murmured. “I lived thus in the peace of Faery, +hearing often of my mortal champion, for the rumour of his great deeds had +gone through the Shi’, until a day came when the Black Magician of the Men +of God put his eye on me, and, after that day, in whatever direction I +looked I saw his eye.” + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/161m.jpg" alt="161m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/161.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +She stopped at that, and the terror that was in her heart was on her face. +“He is everywhere,” she whispered. “He is in the bushes, and on the hill. +He looked up at me from the water, and he stared down on me from the sky. +His voice commands out of the spaces, and it demands secretly in the +heart. He is not here or there, he is in all places at all times. I cannot +escape from him,” she said, “and I am afraid,” and at that she wept +noiselessly and stared on Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“He is my enemy,” Fionn growled. “I name him as my enemy.” + </p> +<p> +“You will protect me,” she implored. +</p> +<p> +“Where I am let him not come,” said Fionn. “I also have knowledge. I am +Fionn, the son of Uail, the son of Baiscne, a man among men and a god +where the gods are.” + </p> +<p> +“He asked me in marriage,” she continued, “but my mind was full of my own +dear hero, and I refused the Dark Man.” + </p> +<p> +“That was your right, and I swear by my hand that if the man you desire is +alive and unmarried he shall marry you or he will answer to me for the +refusal.” + </p> +<p> +“He is not married,” said Saeve, “and you have small control over him.” + The Chief frowned thoughtfully. “Except the High King and the kings I have +authority in this land.” + </p> +<p> +“What man has authority over himself?” said Saeve. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean that I am the man you seek?” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“It is to yourself I gave my love,” she replied. “This is good news,” + Fionn cried joyfully, “for the moment you came through the door I loved +and desired you, and the thought that you wished for another man went into +my heart like a sword.” Indeed, Fionn loved Saeve as he had not loved a +woman before and would never love one again. He loved her as he had never +loved anything before. He could not bear to be away from her. When he saw +her he did not see the world, and when he saw the world without her it was +as though he saw nothing, or as if he looked on a prospect that was bleak +and depressing. The belling of a stag had been music to Fionn, but when +Saeve spoke that was sound enough for him. He had loved to hear the cuckoo +calling in the spring from the tree that is highest in the hedge, or the +blackbird’s jolly whistle in an autumn bush, or the thin, sweet +enchantment that comes to the mind when a lark thrills out of sight in the +air and the hushed fields listen to the song. But his wife’s voice was +sweeter to Fionn than the singing of a lark. She filled him with wonder +and surmise. There was magic in the tips of her fingers. Her thin palm +ravished him. Her slender foot set his heart beating; and whatever way her +head moved there came a new shape of beauty to her face. +</p> +<p> +“She is always new,” said Fionn. “She is always better than any other +woman; she is always better than herself.” + </p> +<p> +He attended no more to the Fianna. He ceased to hunt. He did not listen to +the songs of poets or the curious sayings of magicians, for all of these +were in his wife, and something that was beyond these was in her also. +</p> +<p> +“She is this world and the next one; she is completion,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t happened that the men of Lochlann came on an expedition against +Ireland. A monstrous fleet rounded the bluffs of Ben Edair, and the Danes +landed there, to prepare an attack which would render them masters of the +country. Fionn and the Fianna-Finn marched against them. He did not like +the men of Lochlann at any time, but this time he moved against them in +wrath, for not only were they attacking Ireland, but they had come between +him and the deepest joy his life had known. +</p> +<p> +It was a hard fight, but a short one. The Lochlannachs were driven back to +their ships, and within a week the only Danes remaining in Ireland were +those that had been buried there. +</p> +<p> +That finished, he left the victorious Fianna and returned swiftly to the +plain of Allen, for he could not bear to be one unnecessary day parted +from Saeve. +</p> +<p> +“You are not leaving us!” exclaimed Goll mac Morna. +</p> +<p> +“I must go,” Fionn replied. +</p> +<p> +“You will not desert the victory feast,” Conan reproached him. +</p> +<p> +“Stay with us, Chief,” Caelte begged. +</p> +<p> +“What is a feast without Fionn?” they complained. +</p> +<p> +But he would not stay. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand,” he cried, “I must go. She will be looking for me from the +window.” + </p> +<p> +“That will happen indeed,” Goll admitted. +</p> +<p> +“That will happen,” cried Fionn. “And when she sees me far out on the +plain, she will run through the great gate to meet me.” + </p> +<p> +“It would be the queer wife would neglect that run,” Cona’n growled. +</p> +<p> +“I shall hold her hand again,” Fionn entrusted to Caelte’s ear. +</p> +<p> +“You will do that, surely.” + </p> +<p> +“I shall look into her face,” his lord insisted. But he saw that not even +beloved Caelte understood the meaning of that, and he knew sadly and yet +proudly that what he meant could not be explained by any one and could not +be comprehended by any one. +</p> +<p> +“You are in love, dear heart,” said Caelte. +</p> +<p> +“In love he is,” Cona’n grumbled. “A cordial for women, a disease for men, +a state of wretchedness.” + </p> +<p> +“Wretched in truth,” the Chief murmured. “Love makes us poor We have not +eyes enough to see all that is to be seen, nor hands enough to seize the +tenth of all we want. When I look in her eyes I am tormented because I am +not looking at her lips, and when I see her lips my soul cries out, ‘Look +at her eyes, look at her eyes.’” + </p> +<p> +“That is how it happens,” said Goll rememberingly. +</p> +<p> +“That way and no other,” Caelte agreed. +</p> +<p> +And the champions looked backwards in time on these lips and those, and +knew their Chief would go. +</p> +<p> +When Fionn came in sight of the great keep his blood and his feet +quickened, and now and again he waved a spear in the air. +</p> +<p> +“She does not see me yet,” he thought mournfully. +</p> +<p> +“She cannot see me yet,” he amended, reproaching himself. +</p> +<p> +But his mind was troubled, for he thought also, or he felt without +thinking, that had the positions been changed he would have seen her at +twice the distance. +</p> +<p> +“She thinks I have been unable to get away from the battle, or that I was +forced to remain for the feast.” + </p> +<p> +And, without thinking it, he thought that had the positions been changed +he would have known that nothing could retain the one that was absent. +</p> +<p> +“Women,” he said, “are shamefaced, they do not like to appear eager when +others are observing them.” + </p> +<p> +But he knew that he would not have known if others were observing him, and +that he would not have cared about it if he had known. And he knew that +his Saeve would not have seen, and would not have cared for any eyes than +his. +</p> +<p> +He gripped his spear on that reflection, and ran as he had not run in his +life, so that it was a panting, dishevelled man that raced heavily through +the gates of the great Dun. +</p> +<p> +Within the Dun there was disorder. Servants were shouting to one another, +and women were running to and fro aimlessly, wringing their hands and +screaming; and, when they saw the Champion, those nearest to him ran away, +and there was a general effort on the part of every person to get behind +every other person. But Fionn caught the eye of his butler, Gariv Crona’n, +the Rough Buzzer, and held it. +</p> +<p> +“Come you here,” he said. +</p> +<p> +And the Rough Buzzer came to him without a single buzz in his body. +</p> +<p> +“Where is the Flower of Allen?” his master demanded. +</p> +<p> +“I do not know, master,” the terrified servant replied. +</p> +<p> +“You do not know!” said Fionn. “Tell what you do know.” + </p> +<p> +And the man told him this story. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<p> +“When you had been away for a day the guards were surprised. They were +looking from the heights of the Dun, and the Flower of Allen was with +them. She, for she had a quest’s eye, called out that the master of the +Fianna was coming over the ridges to the Dun, and she ran from the keep to +meet you.” + </p> +<p> +“It was not I,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“It bore your shape,” replied Gariv Cronan. “It had your armour and your +face, and the dogs, Bran and Sceo’lan, were with it.” + </p> +<p> +“They were with me,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“They seemed to be with it,” said the servant humbly +</p> +<p> +“Tell us this tale,” cried Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“We were distrustful,” the servant continued. “We had never known Fionn to +return from a combat before it had been fought, and we knew you could not +have reached Ben Edar or encountered the Lochlannachs. So we urged our +lady to let us go out to meet you, but to remain herself in the Dun.” + </p> +<p> +“It was good urging,” Fionn assented. +</p> +<p> +“She would not be advised,” the servant wailed. “She cried to us, ‘Let me +go to meet my love’.” + </p> +<p> +“Alas!” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“She cried on us, ‘Let me go to meet my husband, the father of the child +that is not born.’” + </p> +<p> +“Alas!” groaned deep-wounded Fionn. “She ran towards your appearance that +had your arms stretched out to her.” + </p> +<p> +At that wise Fionn put his hand before his eyes, seeing all that happened. +</p> +<p> +“Tell on your tale,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“She ran to those arms, and when she reached them the figure lifted its +hand. It touched her with a hazel rod, and, while we looked, she +disappeared, and where she had been there was a fawn standing and +shivering. The fawn turned and bounded towards the gate of the Dun, but +the hounds that were by flew after her.” + </p> +<p> +Fionn stared on him like a lost man. +</p> +<p> +“They took her by the throat—” the shivering servant whispered. +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” cried Fionn in a terrible voice. +</p> +<p> +“And they dragged her back to the figure that seemed to be Fionn. Three +times she broke away and came bounding to us, and three times the dogs +took her by the throat and dragged her back.” + </p> +<p> +“You stood to look!” the Chief snarled. +</p> +<p> +“No, master, we ran, but she vanished as we got to her; the great hounds +vanished away, and that being that seemed to be Fionn disappeared with +them. We were left in the rough grass, staring about us and at each other, +and listening to the moan of the wind and the terror of our hearts.” + </p> +<p> +“Forgive us, dear master,” the servant cried. But the great captain made +him no answer. He stood as though he were dumb and blind, and now and +again he beat terribly on his breast with his closed fist, as though he +would kill that within him which should be dead and could not die. He went +so, beating on his breast, to his inner room in the Dun, and he was not +seen again for the rest of that day, nor until the sun rose over Moy Life’ +in the morning. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or many years after that time, when he was not fighting against the +enemies of Ireland, Fionn was searching and hunting through the length and +breadth of the country in the hope that he might again chance on his +lovely lady from the Shi’. Through all that time he slept in misery each +night and he rose each day to grief. Whenever he hunted he brought only +the hounds that he trusted, Bran and Sceo’lan, Lomaire, Brod, and Lomlu; +for if a fawn was chased each of these five great dogs would know if that +was a fawn to be killed or one to be protected, and so there was small +danger to Saeve and a small hope of finding her. +</p> +<p> +Once, when seven years had passed in fruitless search, Fionn and the chief +nobles of the Fianna were hunting Ben Gulbain. All the hounds of the +Fianna were out, for Fionn had now given up hope of encountering the +Flower of Allen. As the hunt swept along the sides of the hill there arose +a great outcry of hounds from a narrow place high on the slope and, over +all that uproar there came the savage baying of Fionn’s own dogs. +</p> +<p> +“What is this for?” said Fionn, and with his companions he pressed to the +spot whence the noise came. +</p> +<p> +“They are fighting all the hounds of the Fianna,” cried a champion. +</p> +<p> +And they were. The five wise hounds were in a circle and were giving +battle to an hundred dogs at once. They were bristling and terrible, and +each bite from those great, keen jaws was woe to the beast that received +it. Nor did they fight in silence as was their custom and training, but +between each onslaught the great heads were uplifted, and they pealed +loudly, mournfully, urgently, for their master. +</p> +<p> +“They are calling on me,” he roared. +</p> +<p> +And with that he ran, as he had only once before run, and the men who were +nigh to him went racing as they would not have run for their lives. They +came to the narrow place on the slope of the mountain, and they saw the +five great hounds in a circle keeping off the other dogs, and in the +middle of the ring a little boy was standing. He had long, beautiful hair, +and he was naked. He was not daunted by the terrible combat and clamour of +the hounds. He did not look at the hounds, but he stared like a young +prince at Fionn and the champions as they rushed towards him scattering +the pack with the butts of their spears. When the fight was over, Bran and +Sceo’lan ran whining to the little boy and licked his hands. +</p> +<p> +“They do that to no one,” said a bystander. “What new master is this they +have found?” + </p> +<p> +Fionn bent to the boy. “Tell me, my little prince and pulse, what your +name is, and how you have come into the middle of a hunting-pack, and why +you are naked?” + </p> +<p> +But the boy did not understand the language of the men of Ireland. He put +his hand into Fionn’s, and the Chief felt as if that little hand had been +put into his heart. He lifted the lad to his great shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“We have caught something on this hunt,” said he to Caelte mac Rongn. “We +must bring this treasure home. You shall be one of the Fianna-Finn, my +darling,” he called upwards. +</p> +<p> +The boy looked down on him, and in the noble trust and fearlessness of +that regard Fionn’s heart melted away. +</p> +<p> +“My little fawn!” he said. +</p> +<p> +And he remembered that other fawn. He set the boy between his knees and +stared at him earnestly and long. +</p> +<p> +“There is surely the same look,” he said to his wakening heart; “that is +the very eye of Saeve.” + </p> +<p> +The grief flooded out of his heart as at a stroke, and joy foamed into it +in one great tide. He marched back singing to the encampment, and men saw +once more the merry Chief they had almost forgotten. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>ust as at one time he could not be parted from Saeve, so now he could not +be separated from this boy. He had a thousand names for him, each one more +tender than the last: “My Fawn, My Pulse, My Secret Little Treasure,” or +he would call him “My Music, My Blossoming Branch, My Store in the Heart, +My Soul.” And the dogs were as wild for the boy as Fionn was. He could sit +in safety among a pack that would have torn any man to pieces, and the +reason was that Bran and Sceo’lan, with their three whelps, followed him +about like shadows. When he was with the pack these five were with him, +and woeful indeed was the eye they turned on their comrades when these +pushed too closely or were not properly humble. They thrashed the pack +severally and collectively until every hound in Fionn’s kennels knew that +the little lad was their master, and that there was nothing in the world +so sacred as he was. +</p> +<p> +In no long time the five wise hounds could have given over their +guardianship, so complete was the recognition of their young lord. But +they did not so give over, for it was not love they gave the lad but +adoration. +</p> +<p> +Fionn even may have been embarrassed by their too close attendance. If he +had been able to do so he might have spoken harshly to his dogs, but he +could not; it was unthinkable that he should; and the boy might have +spoken harshly to him if he had dared to do it. For this was the order of +Fionn’s affection: first there was the boy; next, Bran and Sceo’lan with +their three whelps; then Caelte mac Rona’n, and from him down through the +champions. He loved them all, but it was along that precedence his +affections ran. The thorn that went into Bran’s foot ran into Fionn’s +also. The world knew it, and there was not a champion but admitted +sorrowfully that there was reason for his love. +</p> +<p> +Little by little the boy came to understand their speech and to speak it +himself, and at last he was able to tell his story to Fionn. +</p> +<p> +There were many blanks in the tale, for a young child does not remember +very well. Deeds grow old in a day and are buried in a night. New memories +come crowding on old ones, and one must learn to forget as well as to +remember. A whole new life had come on this boy, a life that was instant +and memorable, so that his present memories blended into and obscured the +past, and he could not be quite sure if that which he told of had happened +in this world or in the world he had left. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII +</h2> +<p> +“I used to live,” he said, “in a wide, beautiful place. There were hills +and valleys there, and woods and streams, but in whatever direction I went +I came always to a cliff, so tall it seemed to lean against the sky, and +so straight that even a goat would not have imagined to climb it.” + </p> +<p> +“I do not know of any such place,” Fionn mused. +</p> +<p> +“There is no such place in Ireland,” said Caelte, “but in the Shi’ there +is such a place.” + </p> +<p> +“There is in truth,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I used to eat fruits and roots in the summer,” the boy continued, “but in +the winter food was left for me in a cave.” + </p> +<p> +“Was there no one with you?” Fionn asked. +</p> +<p> +“No one but a deer that loved me, and that I loved.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah me!” cried Fionn in anguish, “tell me your tale, my son.” + </p> +<p> +“A dark stern man came often after us, and he used to speak with the deer. +Sometimes he talked gently and softly and coaxingly, but at times again he +would shout loudly and in a harsh, angry voice. But whatever way he talked +the deer would draw away from him in dread, and he always left her at last +furiously.” + </p> +<p> +“It is the Dark Magician of the Men of God,” cried Fionn despairingly. +</p> +<p> +“It is indeed, my soul,” said Caelte. +</p> +<p> +“The last time I saw the deer,” the child continued, “the dark man was +speaking to her. He spoke for a long time. He spoke gently and angrily, +and gently and angrily, so that I thought he would never stop talking, but +in the end he struck her with a hazel rod, so that she was forced to +follow him when he went away. She was looking back at me all the time and +she was crying so bitterly that any one would pity her. I tried to follow +her also, but I could not move, and I cried after her too, with rage and +grief, until I could see her no more and hear her no more. Then I fell on +the grass, my senses went away from me, and when I awoke I was on the hill +in the middle of the hounds where you found me.” + </p> +<p> +That was the boy whom the Fianna called Oisi’n, or the Little Fawn. He +grew to be a great fighter afterwards, and he was the chief maker of poems +in the world. But he was not yet finished with the Shi. He was to go back +into Faery when the time came, and to come thence again to tell these +tales, for it was by him these tales were told. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +THE WOOING OF BECFOLA +</h2> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/181m.jpg" alt="181m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/181.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e do not know where Becfola came from. Nor do we know for certain where +she went to. We do not even know her real name, for the name Becfola, +“Dowerless” or “Small-dowered,” was given to her as a nickname. This only +is certain, that she disappeared from the world we know of, and that she +went to a realm where even conjecture may not follow her. +</p> +<p> +It happened in the days when Dermod, son of the famous Ae of Slane, was +monarch of all Ireland. He was unmarried, but he had many foster-sons, +princes from the Four Provinces, who were sent by their fathers as tokens +of loyalty and affection to the Ard-Ri, and his duties as a foster-father +were righteously acquitted. Among the young princes of his household there +was one, Crimthann, son of Ae, King of Leinster, whom the High King +preferred to the others over whom he held fatherly sway. Nor was this +wonderful, for the lad loved him also, and was as eager and intelligent +and modest as becomes a prince. +</p> +<p> +The High King and Crimthann would often set out from Tara to hunt and +hawk, sometimes unaccompanied even by a servant; and on these excursions +the king imparted to his foster-son his own wide knowledge of forest +craft, and advised him generally as to the bearing and duties of a prince, +the conduct of a court, and the care of a people. +</p> +<p> +Dermod mac Ae delighted in these solitary adventures, and when he could +steal a day from policy and affairs he would send word privily to +Crimthann. The boy, having donned his hunting gear, would join the king at +a place arranged between them, and then they ranged abroad as chance might +direct. +</p> +<p> +On one of these adventures, as they searched a flooded river to find the +ford, they saw a solitary woman in a chariot driving from the west. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder what that means?” the king exclaimed thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Why should you wonder at a woman in a chariot?” his companion inquired, +for Crimthann loved and would have knowledge. +</p> +<p> +“Good, my Treasure,” Dermod answered, “our minds are astonished when we +see a woman able to drive a cow to pasture, for it has always seemed to us +that they do not drive well.” + </p> +<p> +Crimthann absorbed instruction like a sponge and digested it as rapidly. +</p> +<p> +“I think that is justly said,” he agreed. +</p> +<p> +“But,” Dermod continued, “when we see a woman driving a chariot of two +horses, then we are amazed indeed.” + </p> +<p> +When the machinery of anything is explained to us we grow interested, and +Crimthann became, by instruction, as astonished as the king was. +</p> +<p> +“In good truth,” said he, “the woman is driving two horses.” + </p> +<p> +“Had you not observed it before?” his master asked with kindly malice. +</p> +<p> +“I had observed but not noticed,” the young man admitted. +</p> +<p> +“Further,” said the king, “surmise is aroused in us when we discover a +woman far from a house; for you will have both observed and noticed that +women are home-dwellers, and that a house without a woman or a woman +without a house are imperfect objects, and although they be but half +observed, they are noticed on the double.” + </p> +<p> +“There is no doubting it,” the prince answered from a knitted and +thought-tormented brow. +</p> +<p> +“We shall ask this woman for information about herself,” said the king +decidedly. +</p> +<p> +“Let us do so,” his ward agreed +</p> +<p> +“The king’s majesty uses the words ‘we’ and ‘us’ when referring to the +king’s majesty,” said Dermod, “but princes who do not yet rule territories +must use another form of speech when referring to themselves.” + </p> +<p> +“I am very thoughtless,” said Crimthann humbly. +</p> +<p> +The king kissed him on both cheeks. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, my dear heart and my son, we are not scolding you, but you must +try not to look so terribly thoughtful when you think. It is part of the +art of a ruler.” + </p> +<p> +“I shall never master that hard art,” lamented his fosterling. +</p> +<p> +“We must all master it,” Dermod replied. “We may think with our minds and +with our tongues, but we should never think with our noses and with our +eyebrows.” + </p> +<p> +The woman in the chariot had drawn nigh to the ford by which they were +standing, and, without pause, she swung her steeds into the shallows and +came across the river in a tumult of foam and spray. +</p> +<p> +“Does she not drive well?” cried Crimthann admiringly. +</p> +<p> +“When you are older,” the king counselled him, “you will admire that which +is truly admirable, for although the driving is good the lady is better.” + </p> +<p> +He continued with enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +“She is in truth a wonder of the world and an endless delight to the eye.” + </p> +<p> +She was all that and more, and, as she took the horses through the river +and lifted them up the bank, her flying hair and parted lips and all the +young strength and grace of her body went into the king’s eye and could +not easily come out again. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, it was upon his ward that the lady’s gaze rested, and if the +king could scarcely look away from her, she could, but only with an equal +effort, look away from Crimthann. +</p> +<p> +“Halt there!” cried the king. +</p> +<p> +“Who should I halt for?” the lady demanded, halting all the same, as is +the manner of women, who rebel against command and yet receive it. +</p> +<p> +“Halt for Dermod!” + </p> +<p> +“There are Dermods and Dermods in this world,” she quoted. +</p> +<p> +“There is yet but one Ard-Ri’,” the monarch answered. +</p> +<p> +She then descended from the chariot and made her reverence. +</p> +<p> +“I wish to know your name?” said he. +</p> +<p> +But at this demand the lady frowned and answered decidedly: +</p> +<p> +“I do not wish to tell it.” + </p> +<p> +“I wish to know also where you come from and to what place you are going?” + </p> +<p> +“I do not wish to tell any of these things.” + </p> +<p> +“Not to the king!” + </p> +<p> +“I do not wish to tell them to any one.” + </p> +<p> +Crimthann was scandalised. +</p> +<p> +“Lady,” he pleaded, “you will surely not withhold information from the +Ard-Ri’?” + </p> +<p> +But the lady stared as royally on the High King as the High King did on +her, and, whatever it was he saw in those lovely eyes, the king did not +insist. +</p> +<p> +He drew Crimthann apart, for he withheld no instruction from that lad. +</p> +<p> +“My heart,” he said, “we must always try to act wisely, and we should only +insist on receiving answers to questions in which we are personally +concerned.” + </p> +<p> +Crimthann imbibed all the justice of that remark. +</p> +<p> +“Thus I do not really require to know this lady’s name, nor do I care from +what direction she comes.” + </p> +<p> +“You do not?” Crimthann asked. +</p> +<p> +“No, but what I do wish to know is, Will she marry me?” + </p> +<p> +“By my hand that is a notable question,” his companion stammered. +</p> +<p> +“It is a question that must be answered,” the king cried triumphantly. +“But,” he continued, “to learn what woman she is, or where she comes from, +might bring us torment as well as information. Who knows in what +adventures the past has engaged her!” + </p> +<p> +And he stared for a profound moment on disturbing, sinister horizons, and +Crimthann meditated there with him. +</p> +<p> +“The past is hers,” he concluded, “but the future is ours, and we shall +only demand that which is pertinent to the future.” + </p> +<p> +He returned to the lady. +</p> +<p> +“We wish you to be our wife,” he said. And he gazed on her benevolently +and firmly and carefully when he said that, so that her regard could not +stray otherwhere. Yet, even as he looked, a tear did well into those +lovely eyes, and behind her brow a thought moved of the beautiful boy who +was looking at her from the king’s side. +</p> +<p> +But when the High King of Ireland asks us to marry him we do not refuse, +for it is not a thing that we shall be asked to do every day in the week, +and there is no woman in the world but would love to rule it in Tara. +</p> +<p> +No second tear crept on the lady’s lashes, and, with her hand in the +king’s hand, they paced together towards the palace, while behind them, in +melancholy mood, Crimthann mac Ae led the horses and the chariot. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/187m.jpg" alt="187m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/187.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey were married in a haste which equalled the king’s desire; and as he +did not again ask her name, and as she did not volunteer to give it, and +as she brought no dowry to her husband and received none from him, she was +called Becfola, the Dowerless. +</p> +<p> +Time passed, and the king’s happiness was as great as his expectation of +it had promised. But on the part of Becfola no similar tidings can be +given. +</p> +<p> +There are those whose happiness lies in ambition and station, and to such +a one the fact of being queen to the High King of Ireland is a +satisfaction at which desire is sated. But the mind of Becfola was not of +this temperate quality, and, lacking Crimthann, it seemed to her that she +possessed nothing. +</p> +<p> +For to her mind he was the sunlight in the sun, the brightness in the +moonbeam; he was the savour in fruit and the taste in honey; and when she +looked from Crimthann to the king she could not but consider that the +right man was in the wrong place. She thought that crowned only with his +curls Crlmthann mac Ae was more nobly diademed than are the masters of the +world, and she told him so. +</p> +<p> +His terror on hearing this unexpected news was so great that he meditated +immediate flight from Tara; but when a thing has been uttered once it is +easier said the second time and on the third repetition it is patiently +listened to. +</p> +<p> +After no great delay Crimthann mac Ae agreed and arranged that he and +Becfola should fly from Tara, and it was part of their understanding that +they should live happily ever after. +</p> +<p> +One morning, when not even a bird was astir, the king felt that his dear +companion was rising. He looked with one eye at the light that stole +greyly through the window, and recognised that it could not in justice be +called light. +</p> +<p> +“There is not even a bird up,” he murmured. +</p> +<p> +And then to Becfola. +</p> +<p> +“What is the early rising for, dear heart?” + </p> +<p> +“An engagement I have,” she replied. +</p> +<p> +“This is not a time for engagements,” said the calm monarch. +</p> +<p> +“Let it be so,” she replied, and she dressed rapidly. +</p> +<p> +“And what is the engagement?” he pursued. +</p> +<p> +“Raiment that I left at a certain place and must have. Eight silken smocks +embroidered with gold, eight precious brooches of beaten gold, three +diadems of pure gold.” + </p> +<p> +“At this hour,” said the patient king, “the bed is better than the road.” + </p> +<p> +“Let it be so,” said she. +</p> +<p> +“And moreover,” he continued, “a Sunday journey brings bad luck.” + </p> +<p> +“Let the luck come that will come,” she answered. +</p> +<p> +“To keep a cat from cream or a woman from her gear is not work for a +king,” said the monarch severely. +</p> +<p> +The Ard-Ri’ could look on all things with composure, and regard all beings +with a tranquil eye; but it should be known that there was one deed +entirely hateful to him, and he would punish its commission with the very +last rigour—this was, a transgression of the Sunday. During six days +of the week all that could happen might happen, so far as Dermod was +concerned, but on the seventh day nothing should happen at all if the High +King could restrain it. Had it been possible he would have tethered the +birds to their own green branches on that day, and forbidden the clouds to +pack the upper world with stir and colour. These the king permitted, with +a tight lip, perhaps, but all else that came under his hand felt his +control. +</p> +<p> +It was his custom when he arose on the morn of Sunday to climb to the most +elevated point of Tara, and gaze thence on every side, so that he might +see if any fairies or people of the Shi’ were disporting themselves in his +lordship; for he absolutely prohibited the usage of the earth to these +beings on the Sunday, and woe’s worth was it for the sweet being he +discovered breaking his law. +</p> +<p> +We do not know what ill he could do to the fairies, but during Dermod’s +reign the world said its prayers on Sunday and the Shi’ folk stayed in +their hills. +</p> +<p> +It may be imagined, therefore, with what wrath he saw his wife’s +preparations for her journey, but, although a king can do everything, what +can a husband do...? He rearranged himself for slumber. +</p> +<p> +“I am no party to this untimely journey,” he said angrily. +</p> +<p> +“Let it be so,” said Becfola. +</p> +<p> +She left the palace with one maid, and as she crossed the doorway +something happened to her, but by what means it happened would be hard to +tell; for in the one pace she passed out of the palace and out of the +world, and the second step she trod was in Faery, but she did not know +this. +</p> +<p> +Her intention was to go to Cluain da chaillech to meet Crimthann, but when +she left the palace she did not remember Crimthann any more. +</p> +<p> +To her eye and to the eye of her maid the world was as it always had been, +and the landmarks they knew were about them. But the object for which they +were travelling was different, although unknown, and the people they +passed on the roads were unknown, and were yet people that they knew. +</p> +<p> +They set out southwards from Tara into the Duffry of Leinster, and after +some time they came into wild country and went astray. At last Becfola +halted, saying: +</p> +<p> +“I do not know where we are.” + </p> +<p> +The maid replied that she also did not know. +</p> +<p> +“Yet,” said Becfola, “if we continue to walk straight on we shall arrive +somewhere.” + </p> +<p> +They went on, and the maid watered the road with her tears. +</p> +<p> +Night drew on them; a grey chill, a grey silence, and they were enveloped +in that chill and silence; and they began to go in expectation and terror, +for they both knew and did not know that which they were bound for. +</p> +<p> +As they toiled desolately up the rustling and whispering side of a low +hill the maid chanced to look back, and when she looked back she screamed +and pointed, and clung to Becfola’s arm. Becfola followed the pointing +finger, and saw below a large black mass that moved jerkily forward. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/193m.jpg" alt="193m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/193.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +“Wolves!” cried the maid. “Run to the trees yonder,” her mistress ordered. +“We will climb them and sit among the branches.” + </p> +<p> +They ran then, the maid moaning and lamenting all the while. +</p> +<p> +“I cannot climb a tree,” she sobbed, “I shall be eaten by the wolves.” + </p> +<p> +And that was true. +</p> +<p> +But her mistress climbed a tree, and drew by a hand’s breadth from the rap +and snap and slaver of those steel jaws. Then, sitting on a branch, she +looked with angry woe at the straining and snarling horde below, seeing +many a white fang in those grinning jowls, and the smouldering, red blink +of those leaping and prowling eyes. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut after some time the moon arose and the wolves went away, for their +leader, a sagacious and crafty chief, declared that as long as they +remained where they were, the lady would remain where she was; and so, +with a hearty curse on trees, the troop departed. Becfola had pains in her +legs from the way she had wrapped them about the branch, but there was no +part of her that did not ache, for a lady does not sit with any ease upon +a tree. +</p> +<p> +For some time she did not care to come down from the branch. “Those wolves +may return,” she said, “for their chief is crafty and sagacious, and it is +certain, from the look I caught in his eye as he departed, that he would +rather taste of me than cat any woman he has met.” + </p> +<p> +She looked carefully in every direction to see if one might discover them +in hiding; she looked closely and lingeringly at the shadows under distant +trees to see if these shadows moved; and she listened on every wind to try +if she could distinguish a yap or a yawn or a sneeze. But she saw or heard +nothing; and little by little tranquillity crept into her mind, and she +began to consider that a danger which is past is a danger that may be +neglected. +</p> +<p> +Yet ere she descended she looked again on the world of jet and silver that +dozed about her, and she spied a red glimmer among distant trees. +</p> +<p> +“There is no danger where there is light,” she said, and she thereupon +came from the tree and ran in the direction that she had noted. +</p> +<p> +In a spot between three great oaks she came upon a man who was roasting a +wild boar over a fire. She saluted this youth and sat beside him. But +after the first glance and greeting he did not look at her again, nor did +he speak. +</p> +<p> +When the boar was cooked he ate of it and she had her share. Then he arose +from the fire and walked away among the trees. Becfola followed, feeling +ruefully that something new to her experience had arrived; “for,” she +thought, “it is usual that young men should not speak to me now that I am +the mate of a king, but it is very unusual that young men should not look +at me.” + </p> +<p> +But if the young man did not look at her she looked well at him, and what +she saw pleased her so much that she had no time for further cogitation. +For if Crimthann had been beautiful, this youth was ten times more +beautiful. The curls on Crimthann’s head had been indeed as a benediction +to the queen’s eye, so that she had eaten the better and slept the sounder +for seeing him. But the sight of this youth left her without the desire to +eat, and, as for sleep, she dreaded it, for if she closed an eye she would +be robbed of the one delight in time, which was to look at this young man, +and not to cease looking at him while her eye could peer or her head could +remain upright. +</p> +<p> +They came to an inlet of the sea all sweet and calm under the round, +silver-flooding moon, and the young man, with Becfola treading on his +heel, stepped into a boat and rowed to a high-jutting, pleasant island. +There they went inland towards a vast palace, in which there was no person +but themselves alone, and there the young man went to sleep, while Becfola +sat staring at him until the unavoidable peace pressed down her eyelids +and she too slumbered. +</p> +<p> +She was awakened in the morning by a great shout. +</p> +<p> +“Come out, Flann, come out, my heart!” + </p> +<p> +The young man leaped from his couch, girded on his harness, and strode +out. Three young men met him, each in battle harness, and these four +advanced to meet four other men who awaited them at a little distance on +the lawn. Then these two sets of four fought togethor with every warlike +courtesy but with every warlike severity, and at the end of that combat +there was but one man standing, and the other seven lay tossed in death. +</p> +<p> +Becfola spoke to the youth. +</p> +<p> +“Your combat has indeed been gallant,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“Alas,” he replied, “if it has been a gallant deed it has not been a good +one, for my three brothers are dead and my four nephews are dead.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah me!” cried Becfola, “why did you fight that fight?” + </p> +<p> +“For the lordship of this island, the Isle of Fedach, son of Dali.” + </p> +<p> +But, although Becfola was moved and horrified by this battle, it was in +another direction that her interest lay; therefore she soon asked the +question which lay next her heart: +</p> +<p> +“Why would you not speak to me or look at me?” + </p> +<p> +“Until I have won the kingship of this land from all claimants, I am no +match for the mate of the High King of Ireland,” he replied. +</p> +<p> +And that reply was llke balm to the heart of Becfola. +</p> +<p> +“What shall I do?” she inquired radiantly. “Return to your home,” he +counselled. “I will escort you there with your maid, for she is not really +dead, and when I have won my lordship I will go seek you in Tara.” + </p> +<p> +“You will surely come,” she insisted. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand,” quoth he, “I will come.” + </p> +<p> +These three returned then, and at the end of a day and night they saw far +off the mighty roofs of Tara massed in the morning haze. The young man +left them, and with many a backward look and with dragging, reluctant +feet, Becfola crossed the threshold of the palace, wondering what she +should say to Dermod and how she could account for an absence of three +days’ duration. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was so early that not even a bird was yet awake, and the dull grey +light that came from the atmosphere enlarged and made indistinct all that +one looked at, and swathed all things in a cold and livid gloom. +</p> +<p> +As she trod cautiously through dim corridors Becfola was glad that, saving +the guards, no creature was astir, and that for some time yet she need +account to no person for her movements. She was glad also of a respite +which would enable her to settle into her home and draw about her the +composure which women feel when they are surrounded by the walls of their +houses, and can see about them the possessions which, by the fact of +ownership, have become almost a part of their personality. Sundered from +her belongings, no woman is tranquil, her heart is not truly at ease, +however her mind may function, so that under the broad sky or in the house +of another she is not the competent, precise individual which she becomes +when she sees again her household in order and her domestic requirements +at her hand. +</p> +<p> +Becfola pushed the door of the king’s sleeping chamber and entered +noiselessly. Then she sat quietly in a seat gazing on the recumbent +monarch, and prepared to consider how she should advance to him when he +awakened, and with what information she might stay his inquiries or +reproaches. +</p> +<p> +“I will reproach him,” she thought. “I will call him a bad husband and +astonish him, and he will forget everything but his own alarm and +indignation.” + </p> +<p> +But at that moment the king lifted his head from the pillow and looked +kindly at her. Her heart gave a great throb, and she prepared to speak at +once and in great volume before he could formulate any question. But the +king spoke first, and what he said so astonished her that the explanation +and reproach with which her tongue was thrilling fled from it at a stroke, +and she could only sit staring and bewildered and tongue-tied. +</p> +<p> +“Well, my dear heart,” said the king, “have you decided not to keep that +engagement?” + </p> +<p> +“I—I—!” Becfola stammered. +</p> +<p> +“It is truly not an hour for engagements,” Dermod insisted, “for not a +bird of the birds has left his tree; and,” he continued maliciously, “the +light is such that you could not see an engagement even if you met one.” + </p> +<p> +“I,” Becfola gasped. “I—-!” + </p> +<p> +“A Sunday journey,” he went on, “is a notorious bad journey. No good can +come from it. You can get your smocks and diadems to-morrow. But at this +hour a wise person leaves engagements to the bats and the staring owls and +the round-eyed creatures that prowl and sniff in the dark. Come back to +the warm bed, sweet woman, and set on your journey in the morning.” + </p> +<p> +Such a load of apprehension was lifted from Becfola’s heart that she +instantly did as she had been commanded, and such a bewilderment had yet +possession of her faculties that she could not think or utter a word on +any subject. +</p> +<p> +Yet the thought did come into her head as she stretched in the warm gloom +that Crimthann the son of Ae must be now attending her at Cluain da +chaillech, and she thought of that young man as of something wonderful and +very ridiculous, and the fact that he was waiting for her troubled her no +more than if a sheep had been waiting for her or a roadside bush. +</p> +<p> +She fell asleep. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the morning as they sat at breakfast four clerics were announced, and +when they entered the king looked on them with stern disapproval. +</p> +<p> +“What is the meaning of this journey on Sunday?” he demanded. +</p> +<p> +A lank-jawed, thin-browed brother, with uneasy, intertwining fingers, and +a deep-set, venomous eye, was the spokesman of those four. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed,” he said, and the fingers of his right hand strangled and did to +death the fingers of his left hand, “indeed, we have transgressed by +order.” + </p> +<p> +“Explain that.” + </p> +<p> +“We have been sent to you hurriedly by our master, Molasius of Devenish.” + </p> +<p> +“A pious, a saintly man,” the king interrupted, “and one who does not +countenance transgressions of the Sunday.” + </p> +<p> +“We were ordered to tell you as follows,” said the grim cleric, and he +buried the fingers of his right hand in his left fist, so that one could +not hope to see them resurrected again. “It was the duty of one of the +Brothers of Devenish,” he continued, “to turn out the cattle this morning +before the dawn of day, and that Brother, while in his duty, saw eight +comely young men who fought together.” + </p> +<p> +“On the morning of Sunday,” Dermod exploded. +</p> +<p> +The cleric nodded with savage emphasis. +</p> +<p> +“On the morning of this self-same and instant sacred day.” + </p> +<p> +“Tell on,” said the king wrathfully. +</p> +<p> +But terror gripped with sudden fingers at Becfola’s heart. +</p> +<p> +“Do not tell horrid stories on the Sunday,” she pleaded. “No good can come +to any one from such a tale.” + </p> +<p> +“Nay, this must be told, sweet lady,” said the king. But the cleric stared +at her glumly, forbiddingly, and resumed his story at a gesture. +</p> +<p> +“Of these eight men, seven were killed.” + </p> +<p> +“They are in hell,” the king said gloomily. +</p> +<p> +“In hell they are,” the cleric replied with enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +“And the one that was not killed?” + </p> +<p> +“He is alive,” that cleric responded. +</p> +<p> +“He would be,” the monarch assented. “Tell your tale.” + </p> +<p> +“Molasius had those seven miscreants buried, and he took from their +unhallowed necks and from their lewd arms and from their unblessed weapons +the load of two men in gold and silver treasure.” + </p> +<p> +“Two men’s load!” said Dermod thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +“That much,” said the lean cleric. “No more, no less. And he has sent us +to find out what part of that hellish treasure belongs to the Brothers of +Devenish and how much is the property of the king.” + </p> +<p> +Becfola again broke in, speaking graciously, regally, hastily: “Let those +Brothers have the entire of the treasure, for it is Sunday treasure, and +as such it will bring no luck to any one.” + </p> +<p> +The cleric again looked at her coldly, with a harsh-lidded, small-set, +grey-eyed glare, and waited for the king’s reply. +</p> +<p> +Dermod pondered, shaking his head as to an argument on his left side, and +then nodding it again as to an argument on his right. +</p> +<p> +“It shall be done as this sweet queen advises. Let a reliquary be formed +with cunning workmanship of that gold and silver, dated with my date and +signed with my name, to be in memory of my grandmother who gave birth to a +lamb, to a salmon, and then to my father, the Ard-Ri’. And, as to the +treasure that remains over, a pastoral staff may be beaten from it in +honour of Molasius, the pious man.” + </p> +<p> +“The story is not ended,” said that glum, spike-chinned cleric. +</p> +<p> +The king moved with jovial impatience. +</p> +<p> +“If you continue it,” he said, “it will surely come to an end some time. A +stone on a stone makes a house, dear heart, and a word on a word tells a +tale.” + </p> +<p> +The cleric wrapped himself into himself, and became lean and menacing. He +whispered: “Besides the young man, named Flann, who was not slain, there +was another person present at the scene and the combat and the +transgression of Sunday.” + </p> +<p> +“Who was that person?” said the alarmed monarch. +</p> +<p> +The cleric spiked forward his chin, and then butted forward his brow. +</p> +<p> +“It was the wife of the king,” he shouted. “It was the woman called +Becfola. It was that woman,” he roared, and he extended a lean, +inflexible, unending first finger at the queen. +</p> +<p> +“Dog!” the king stammered, starting up. +</p> +<p> +“If that be in truth a woman,” the cleric screamed. +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” the king demanded in wrath and terror. +</p> +<p> +“Either she is a woman of this world to be punished, or she is a woman of +the Shi’ to be banished, but this holy morning she was in the Shi’, and +her arms were about the neck of Flann.” + </p> +<p> +The king sank back in his chair stupefied, gazing from one to the other, +and then turned an unseeing, fear-dimmed eye towards Becfola. +</p> +<p> +“Is this true, my pulse?” he murmured. +</p> +<p> +“It is true,” Becfola replied, and she became suddenly to the king’s eye a +whiteness and a stare. He pointed to the door. +</p> +<p> +“Go to your engagement,” he stammered. “Go to that Flann.” + </p> +<p> +“He is waiting for me,” said Becfola with proud shame, “and the thought +that he should wait wrings my heart.” + </p> +<p> +She went out from the palace then. She went away from Tara: and in all +Ireland and in the world of living men she was not seen again, and she was +never heard of again. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +THE LITTLE BRAWL AT ALLEN +</h2> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/209m.jpg" alt="209m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/209.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p> +“I think,” said Cairell Whiteskin, “that although judgement was given +against Fionn, it was Fionn had the rights of it.” + </p> +<p> +“He had eleven hundred killed,” said Cona’n amiably, “and you may call +that the rights of it if you like.” + </p> +<p> +“All the same—” Cairell began argumentatively. +</p> +<p> +“And it was you that commenced it,” Cona’n continued. +</p> +<p> +“Ho! Ho!” Cairell cried. “Why, you are as much to blame as I am.” + </p> +<p> +“No,” said Cona’n, “for you hit me first.” + </p> +<p> +“And if we had not been separated—” the other growled. +</p> +<p> +“Separated!” said Cona’n, with a grin that made his beard poke all around +his face. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, separated. If they had not come between us I still think—” + </p> +<p> +“Don’t think out loud, dear heart, for you and I are at peace by law.” + </p> +<p> +“That is true,” said Cairell, “and a man must stick by a judgement. Come +with me, my dear, and let us see how the youngsters are shaping in the +school. One of them has rather a way with him as a swordsman.” + </p> +<p> +“No youngster is any good with a sword,” Conan replied. +</p> +<p> +“You are right there,” said Cairell. “It takes a good ripe man for that +weapon.” + </p> +<p> +“Boys are good enough with slings,” Confro continued, “but except for +eating their fill and running away from a fight, you can’t count on boys.” + </p> +<p> +The two bulky men turned towards the school of the Fianna. +</p> +<p> +It happened that Fionn mac Uail had summoned the gentlemen of the Fianna +and their wives to a banquet. Everybody came, for a banquet given by Fionn +was not a thing to be missed. There was Goll mor mac Morna and his people; +Fionn’s son Oisi’n and his grandson Oscar. There was Dermod of the Gay +Face, Caelte mac Ronan—but indeed there were too many to be told of, +for all the pillars of war and battle-torches of the Gael were there. +</p> +<p> +The banquet began. +</p> +<p> +Fionn sat in the Chief Captain’s seat in the middle of the fort; and +facing him, in the place of honour, he placed the mirthful Goll mac Morna; +and from these, ranging on either side, the nobles of the Fianna took each +the place that fitted his degree and patrimony. +</p> +<p> +After good eating, good conversation; and after good conversation, sleep—that +is the order of a banquet: so when each person had been served with food +to the limit of desire the butlers carried in shining, and jewelled +drinking-horns, each having its tide of smooth, heady liquor. Then the +young heroes grew merry and audacious, the ladies became gentle and kind, +and the poets became wonders of knowledge and prophecy. Every eye beamed +in that assembly, and on Fionn every eye was turned continually in the +hope of a glance from the great, mild hero. +</p> +<p> +Goll spoke to him across the table enthusiastically. +</p> +<p> +“There is nothing wanting to this banquet, O Chief,” said he. +</p> +<p> +And Fionn smiled back into that eye which seemed a well of tenderness and +friendship. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing is wanting,” he replied, “but a well-shaped poem.” A crier stood +up then, holding in one hand a length of coarse iron links and in the +other a chain of delicate, antique silver. He shook the iron chain so that +the servants and followers of the household should be silent, and he shook +the silver one so that the nobles and poets should hearken also. +</p> +<p> +Fergus, called True-Lips, the poet of the Fianna-Finn, then sang of Fionn +and his ancestors and their deeds. When he had finished Fionn and Oisi’n +and Oscar and mac Lugac of the Terrible Hand gave him rare and costly +presents, so that every person wondered at their munificence, and even the +poet, accustomed to the liberality of kings and princes, was astonished at +his gifts. +</p> +<p> +Fergus then turned to the side of Goll mac Morna, and he sang of the +Forts, the Destructions, the Raids, and the Wooings of clann-Morna; and as +the poems succeeded each other, Goll grew more and more jovial and +contented. When the songs were finished Goll turned in his seat. +</p> +<p> +“Where is my runner?” he cried. +</p> +<p> +He had a woman runner, a marvel for swiftness and trust. She stepped +forward. +</p> +<p> +“I am here, royal captain.” + </p> +<p> +“Have you collected my tribute from Denmark?” + </p> +<p> +“It is here.” + </p> +<p> +And, with help, she laid beside him the load of three men of doubly +refined gold. Out of this treasure, and from the treasure of rings and +bracelets and torques that were with him, Goll mac Morna paid Fergus for +his songs, and, much as Fionn had given, Goll gave twice as much. +</p> +<p> +But, as the banquet proceeded, Goll gave, whether it was to harpers or +prophets or jugglers, more than any one else gave, so that Fionn became +displeased, and as the banquet proceeded he grew stern and silent. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p> +[This version of the death of Uail is not correct. Also Cnocha is not in +Lochlann but in Ireland.] +</p> +<p> +The wonderful gift-giving of Goll continued, and an uneasiness and +embarrassment began to creep through the great banqueting hall. +</p> +<p> +Gentlemen looked at each other questioningly, and then spoke again on +indifferent matters, but only with half of their minds. The singers, the +harpers, and jugglers submitted to that constraint, so that every person +felt awkward and no one knew what should be done or what would happen, and +from that doubt dulness came, with silence following on its heels. +</p> +<p> +There is nothing more terrible than silence. Shame grows in that blank, or +anger gathers there, and we must choose which of these is to be our +master. +</p> +<p> +That choice lay before Fionn, who never knew shame. +</p> +<p> +“Goll,” said he, “how long have you been taking tribute from the people of +Lochlann?” + </p> +<p> +“A long time now,” said Goll. +</p> +<p> +And he looked into an eye that was stern and unfriendly. +</p> +<p> +“I thought that my rent was the only one those people had to pay,” Fionn +continued. +</p> +<p> +“Your memory is at fault,” said Goll. +</p> +<p> +“Let it be so,” said Fionn. “How did your tribute arise?” + </p> +<p> +“Long ago, Fionn, in the days when your father forced war on me.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah!” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“When he raised the High King against me and banished me from Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“Continue,” said Fionn, and he held Goll’s eye under the great beetle of +his brow. +</p> +<p> +“I went into Britain,” said Goll, “and your father followed me there. I +went into White Lochlann (Norway) and took it. Your father banished me +thence also.” + </p> +<p> +“I know it,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I went into the land of the Saxons and your father chased me out of that +land. And then, in Lochlann, at the battle of Cnocha your father and I met +at last, foot to foot, eye to eye, and there, Fionn!” + </p> +<p> +“And there, Goll?” + </p> +<p> +“And there I killed your father.” + </p> +<p> +Fionn sat rigid and unmoving, his face stony and terrible as the face of a +monument carved on the side of a cliff. +</p> +<p> +“Tell all your tale,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“At that battle I beat the Lochlannachs. I penetrated to the hold of the +Danish king, and I took out of his dungeon the men who had lain there for +a year and were awaiting their deaths. I liberated fifteen prisoners, and +one of them was Fionn.” + </p> +<p> +“It is true,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +Goll’s anger fled at the word. +</p> +<p> +“Do not be jealous of me, dear heart, for if I had twice the tribute I +would give it to you and to Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +But at the word jealous the Chief’s anger revived. +</p> +<p> +“It is an impertinence,” he cried, “to boast at this table that you killed +my father.” + </p> +<p> +“By my hand,” Goll replied, “if Fionn were to treat me as his father did I +would treat Fionn the way I treated Fionn’s father.” + </p> +<p> +Fionn closed his eyes and beat away the anger that was rising within him. +He smiled grimly. +</p> +<p> +“If I were so minded, I would not let that last word go with you, Goll, +for I have here an hundred men for every man of yours.” + </p> +<p> +Goll laughed aloud. +</p> +<p> +“So had your father,” he said. +</p> +<p> +Fionn’s brother, Cairell Whiteskin, broke into the conversation with a +harsh laugh. +</p> +<p> +“How many of Fionn’s household has the wonderful Goll put down?” he cried. +</p> +<p> +But Goll’s brother, bald Cona’n the Swearer, turned a savage eye on +Cairell. +</p> +<p> +“By my weapons,” said he, “there were never less than an hundred-and-one +men with Goll, and the least of them could have put you down easily +enough.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah?” cried Cairell. “And are you one of the hundred-and-one, old +scaldhead?” + </p> +<p> +“One indeed, my thick-witted, thin-livered Cairell, and I undertake to +prove on your hide that what my brother said was true and that what your +brother said was false.” + </p> +<p> +“You undertake that,” growled Cairell, and on the word he loosed a furious +buffet at Con’an, which Cona’n returned with a fist so big that every part +of Cairell’s face was hit with the one blow. The two then fell into grips, +and went lurching and punching about the great hall. Two of Oscar’s sons +could not bear to see their uncle being worsted, and they leaped at +Cona’n, and two of Goll’s sons rushed at them. Then Oscar himself leaped +up, and with a hammer in either hand he went battering into the melee. +</p> +<p> +“I thank the gods,” said Cona’n, “for the chance of killing yourself, +Oscar.” + </p> +<p> +These two encountered then, and Oscar knocked a groan of distress out of +Cona’n. He looked appealingly at his brother Art og mac Morna, and that +powerful champion flew to his aid and wounded Oscar. Oisi’n, Oscar’s +father, could not abide that; he dashed in and quelled Art Og. Then Rough +Hair mac Morna wounded Oisin and was himself tumbled by mac Lugac, who was +again wounded by Gara mac Morna. +</p> +<p> +The banqueting hall was in tumult. In every part of it men were giving and +taking blows. Here two champions with their arms round each other’s necks +were stamping round and round in a slow, sad dance. Here were two +crouching against each other, looking for a soft place to hit. Yonder a +big-shouldered person lifted another man in his arms and threw him at a +small group that charged him. In a retired corner a gentleman stood in a +thoughtful attitude while he tried to pull out a tooth that had been +knocked loose. +</p> +<p> +“You can’t fight,” he mumbled, “with a loose shoe or a loose tooth.” + </p> +<p> +“Hurry up with that tooth,” the man in front of him grum-bled, “for I want +to knock out another one.” + </p> +<p> +Pressed against the wall was a bevy of ladies, some of whom were screaming +and some laughing and all of whom were calling on the men to go back to +their seats. +</p> +<p> +Only two people remained seated in the hall. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/219m.jpg" alt="219m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/219.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +Goll sat twisted round watching the progress of the brawl critically, and +Fionn, sitting opposite, watched Goll. +</p> +<p> +Just then Faelan, another of Fionn’s sons, stormed the hall with three +hundred of the Fianna, and by this force all Goll’s people were put out of +doors, where the fight continued. +</p> +<p> +Goll looked then calmly on Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Your people are using their weapons,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“Are they?” Fionn inquired as calmly, and as though addressing the air. +</p> +<p> +“In the matter of weapons—!” said Goll. +</p> +<p> +And the hard-fighting pillar of battle turned to where his arms hung on +the wall behind him. He took his solid, well-balanced sword in his fist, +over his left arm his ample, bossy shield, and, with another side-look at +Fionn, he left the hall and charged irresistibly into the fray. +</p> +<p> +Fionn then arose. He took his accoutrements from the wall also and strode +out. Then he raised the triumphant Fenian shout and went into the combat. +</p> +<p> +That was no place for a sick person to be. It was not the corner which a +slender-fingered woman would choose to do up her hair; nor was it the spot +an ancient man would select to think quietly in, for the tumult of sword +on sword, of axe on shield, the roar of the contending parties, the crying +of wounded men, and the screaming of frightened women destroyed peace, and +over all was the rallying cry of Goll mac Morna and the great shout of +Fionn. +</p> +<p> +Then Fergus True-Lips gathered about him all the poets of the Fianna, and +they surrounded the combatants. They began to chant and intone long, heavy +rhymes and incantations, until the rhythmic beating of their voices +covered even the noise of war, so that the men stopped hacking and hewing, +and let their weapons drop from their hands. These were picked up by the +poets and a reconciliation was effected between the two parties. +</p> +<p> +But Fionn affirmed that he would make no peace with clann-Morna until the +matter had been judged by the king, Cormac mac Art, and by his daughter +Ailve, and by his son Cairbre of Ana Life’ and by Fintan the chief poet. +Goll agreed that the affair should be submitted to that court, and a day +was appointed, a fortnight from that date, to meet at Tara of the Kings +for judgement. Then the hall was cleansed and the banquet recommenced. +</p> +<p> +Of Fionn’s people eleven hundred of men and women were dead, while of +Goll’s people eleven men and fifty women were dead. But it was through +fright the women died, for not one of them had a wound or a bruise or a +mark. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>T the end of a fortnight Fionn and Goll and the chief men of the Fianna +attended at Tara. The king, his son and daughter, with Flahri, Feehal, and +Fintan mac Bocna sat in the place of judgement, and Cormac called on the +witnesses for evidence. +</p> +<p> +Fionn stood up, but the moment he did so Goll mac Morna arose also. +</p> +<p> +“I object to Fionn giving evidence,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“Why so?” the king asked. +</p> +<p> +“Because in any matter that concerned me Fionn would turn a lie into truth +and the truth into a lie.” + </p> +<p> +“I do not think that is so,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“You see, he has already commenced it,” cried Goll. +</p> +<p> +“If you object to the testimony of the chief person present, in what way +are we to obtain evidence?” the king demanded. +</p> +<p> +“I,” said Goll, “will trust to the evidence of Fergus True-Lips. He is +Fionn’s poet, and will tell no lie against his master; he is a poet, and +will tell no lie against any one.” + </p> +<p> +“I agree to that,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I require, nevertheless,” Goll continued, “that Fergus should swear +before the Court, by his gods, that he will do justice between us.” + </p> +<p> +Fergus was accordingly sworn, and gave his evidence. He stated that +Fionn’s brother Cairell struck Cona’n mac Morna, that Goll’s two sons came +to help Cona’n, that Oscar went to help Cairell, and with that Fionn’s +people and the clann-Morna rose at each other, and what had started as a +brawl ended as a battle with eleven hundred of Fionn’s people and +sixty-one of Goll’s people dead. +</p> +<p> +“I marvel,” said the king in a discontented voice, “that, considering the +numbers against them, the losses of clann-Morna should be so small.” + </p> +<p> +Fionn blushed when he heard that. +</p> +<p> +Fergus replied: +</p> +<p> +“Goll mac Morna covered his people with his shield. All that slaughter was +done by him.” + </p> +<p> +“The press was too great,” Fionn grumbled. “I could not get at him in time +or—-” + </p> +<p> +“Or what?” said Goll with a great laugh. +</p> +<p> +Fionn shook his head sternly and said no more. +</p> +<p> +“What is your judgement?” Cormac demanded of his fellow-judges. +</p> +<p> +Flahri pronounced first. +</p> +<p> +“I give damages to clann-Morna.” + </p> +<p> +“Why?” said Cormac. +</p> +<p> +“Because they were attacked first.” + </p> +<p> +Cormac looked at him stubbornly. +</p> +<p> +“I do not agree with your judgement,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“What is there faulty in it?” Flahri asked. +</p> +<p> +“You have not considered,” the king replied, “that a soldier owes +obedience to his captain, and that, given the time and the place, Fionn +was the captain and Goll was only a simple soldier.” + </p> +<p> +Flahri considered the king’s suggestion. +</p> +<p> +“That,” he said, “would hold good for the white-striking or blows of +fists, but not for the red-striking or sword-strokes.” + </p> +<p> +“What is your judgement?” the king asked Feehal. Feehal then pronounced: +</p> +<p> +“I hold that clann-Morna were attacked first, and that they are to be free +from payment of damages.” + </p> +<p> +“And as regards Fionn?” said Cormac. +</p> +<p> +“I hold that on account of his great losses Fionn is to be exempt from +payment of damages, and that his losses are to be considered as damages.” + </p> +<p> +“I agree in that judgement,” said Fintan. +</p> +<p> +The king and his son also agreed, and the decision was imparted to the +Fianna. +</p> +<p> +“One must abide by a judgement,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Do you abide by it?” Goll demanded. +</p> +<p> +“I do,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +Goll and Fionn then kissed each other, and thus peace was made. For, +notwithstanding the endless bicker of these two heroes, they loved each +other well. +</p> +<p> +Yet, now that the years have gone by, I think the fault lay with Goll and +not with Fionn, and that the judgement given did not consider everything. +For at that table Goll should not have given greater gifts than his master +and host did. And it was not right of Goll to take by force the position +of greatest gift-giver of the Fianna, for there was never in the world one +greater at giving gifts, or giving battle, or making poems than Fionn was. +</p> +<p> +That side of the affair was not brought before the Court. But perhaps it +was suppressed out of delicacy for Fionn, for if Goll could be accused of +ostentation, Fionn was open to the uglier charge of jealousy. It was, +nevertheless, Goll’s forward and impish temper which commenced the brawl, +and the verdict of time must be to exonerate Fionn and to let the blame go +where it is merited. +</p> +<p> +There is, however, this to be added and remembered, that whenever Fionn +was in a tight corner it was Goll that plucked him out of it; and, later +on, when time did his worst on them all and the Fianna were sent to hell +as unbelievers, it was Goll mac Morna who assaulted hell, with a chain in +his great fist and three iron balls swinging from it, and it was he who +attacked the hosts of great devils and brought Fionn and the Fianna-Finn +out with him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +THE CARL OF THE DRAB COAT +</h2> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/229m.jpg" alt="229m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/229.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ne day something happened to Fionn, the son of Uail; that is, he departed +from the world of men, and was set wandering in great distress of mind +through Faery. He had days and nights there and adventures there, and was +able to bring back the memory of these. +</p> +<p> +That, by itself, is wonderful, for there are few people who remember that +they have been to Faery or aught of all that happened to them in that +state. +</p> +<p> +In truth we do not go to Faery, we become Faery, and in the beating of a +pulse we may live for a year or a thousand years. But when we return the +memory is quickly clouded, and we seem to have had a dream or seen a +vision, although we have verily been in Faery. +</p> +<p> +It was wonderful, then, that Fionn should have remembered all that +happened to him in that wide-spun moment, but in this tale there is yet +more to marvel at; for not only did Fionn go to Faery, but the great army +which he had marshalled to Ben Edair [The Hill of Howth] were translated +also, and neither he nor they were aware that they had departed from the +world until they came back to it. +</p> +<p> +Fourteen battles, seven of the reserve and seven of the regular Fianna, +had been taken by the Chief on a great march and manoeuvre. When they +reached Ben Edair it was decided to pitch camp so that the troops might +rest in view of the warlike plan which Fionn had imagined for the morrow. +The camp was chosen, and each squadron and company of the host were lodged +into an appropriate place, so there was no overcrowding and no halt or +interruption of the march; for where a company halted that was its place +of rest, and in that place it hindered no other company, and was at its +own ease. +</p> +<p> +When this was accomplished the leaders of battalions gathered on a level, +grassy plateau overlooking the sea, where a consultation began as to the +next day’s manoeuvres, and during this discussion they looked often on the +wide water that lay wrinkling and twinkling below them. +</p> +<p> +A roomy ship under great press of sall was bearing on Ben Edair from the +east. +</p> +<p> +Now and again, in a lull of the discussion, a champion would look and +remark on the hurrying vessel; and it may have been during one of these +moments that the adventure happened to Fionn and the Fianna. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder where that ship comes from?” said Cona’n idly. +</p> +<p> +But no person could surmise anything about it beyond that it was a vessel +well equipped for war. +</p> +<p> +As the ship drew by the shore the watchers observed a tall man swing from +the side by means of his spear shafts, and in a little while this +gentleman was announced to Fionn, and was brought into his presence. +</p> +<p> +A sturdy, bellicose, forthright personage he was indeed. He was equipped +in a wonderful solidity of armour, with a hard, carven helmet on his head, +a splendid red-bossed shield swinging on his shoulder, a wide-grooved, +straight sword clashing along his thigh. On his shoulders under the shield +he carried a splendid scarlet mantle; over his breast was a great brooch +of burnt gold, and in his fist he gripped a pair of thick-shafted, +unburnished spears. +</p> +<p> +Fionn and the champions looked on this gentleman, and they admired +exceedingly his bearing and equipment. +</p> +<p> +“Of what blood are you, young gentleman?” Fionn demanded, “and from which +of the four corners of the world do you come?” + </p> +<p> +“My name is Cael of the Iron,” the stranger answered, “and I am son to the +King of Thessaly.” + </p> +<p> +“What errand has brought you here?” + </p> +<p> +“I do not go on errands,” the man replied sternly, “but on the affairs +that please me.” + </p> +<p> +“Be it so. What is the pleasing affair which brings you to this land?” + </p> +<p> +“Since I left my own country I have not gone from a land or an island +until it paid tribute to me and acknowledged my lordship.” + </p> +<p> +“And you have come to this realm,” cried Fionn, doubting his ears. +</p> +<p> +“For tribute and sovereignty,” growled that other, and he struck the haft +of his spear violently on the ground. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand,” said Cona’n, “we have never heard of a warrior, however +great, but his peer was found in Ireland, and the funeral songs of all +such have been chanted by the women of this land.” + </p> +<p> +“By my hand and word,” said the harsh stranger, “your talk makes me think +of a small boy or of an idiot.” + </p> +<p> +“Take heed, sir,” said Fionn, “for the champions and great dragons of the +Gael are standing by you, and around us there are fourteen battles of the +Fianna of Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“If all the Fianna who have died in the last seven years were added to all +that are now here,” the stranger asserted, “I would treat all of these and +those grievously, and would curtail their limbs and their lives.” + </p> +<p> +“It is no small boast,” Cona’n murmured, staring at him. +</p> +<p> +“It is no boast at all,” said Cael, “and, to show my quality and standing, +I will propose a deed to you.” + </p> +<p> +“Give out your deed,” Fionn commanded. +</p> +<p> +“Thus,” said Cael with cold savagery. “If you can find a man among your +fourteen battalions who can outrun or outwrestle or outfight me, I will +take myself off to my own country, and will trouble you no more.” + </p> +<p> +And so harshly did he speak, and with such a belligerent eye did he stare, +that dismay began to seize on the champions, and even Fionn felt that his +breath had halted. +</p> +<p> +“It is spoken like a hero,” he admitted after a moment, “and if you cannot +be matched on those terms it will not be from a dearth of applicants.” + </p> +<p> +“In running alone,” Fionn continued thoughtfully, “we have a notable +champion, Caelte mac Rona’n.” + </p> +<p> +“This son of Rona’n will not long be notable,” the stranger asserted. +</p> +<p> +“He can outstrip the red deer,” said Cona’n. +</p> +<p> +“He can outrun the wind,” cried Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“He will not be asked to outrun the red deer or the wind,” the stranger +sneered. “He will be asked to outrun me,” he thundered. “Produce this +runner, and we shall discover if he keeps as great heart in his feet as he +has made you think.” + </p> +<p> +“He is not with us,” Cona’n lamented. +</p> +<p> +“These notable warriors are never with us when the call is made,” said the +grim stranger. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand,” cried Fionn, “he shall be here in no great time, for I will +fetch him myself.” + </p> +<p> +“Be it so,” said Cael. “And during my absence,” Fionn continued, “I leave +this as a compact, that you make friends with the Fianna here present, and +that you observe all the conditions and ceremonies of friendship.” + </p> +<p> +Cael agreed to that. +</p> +<p> +“I will not hurt any of these people until you return,” he said. +</p> +<p> +Fionn then set out towards Tara of the Kings, for he thought Caelte mac +Romin would surely be there; “and if he is not there,” said the champion +to himself, “then I shall find him at Cesh Corran of the Fianna.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e had not gone a great distance from Ben Edair when he came to an +intricate, gloomy wood, where the trees grew so thickly and the +undergrowth was such a sprout and tangle that one could scarcely pass +through it. He remembered that a path had once been hacked through the +wood, and he sought for this. It was a deeply scooped, hollow way, and it +ran or wriggled through the entire length of the wood. +</p> +<p> +Into this gloomy drain Fionn descended and made progress, but when he had +penetrated deeply in the dank forest he heard a sound of thumping and +squelching footsteps, and he saw coming towards him a horrible, +evil-visaged being; a wild, monstrous, yellow-skinned, big-boned giant, +dressed in nothing but an ill-made, mud-plastered, drab-coloured coat, +which swaggled and clapped against the calves of his big bare legs. On his +stamping feet there were great brogues of boots that were shaped like, but +were bigger than, a boat, and each time he put a foot down it squashed and +squirted a barrelful of mud from the sunk road. +</p> +<p> +Fionn had never seen the like of this vast person, and he stood gazing on +him, lost in a stare of astonishment. +</p> +<p> +The great man saluted him. +</p> +<p> +“All alone, Fionn?” he cried. “How does it happen that not one Fenian of +the Fianna is at the side of his captain?” At this inquiry Fionn got back +his wits. +</p> +<p> +“That is too long a story and it is too intricate and pressing to be told, +also I have no time to spare now.” + </p> +<p> +“Yet tell it now,” the monstrous man insisted. +</p> +<p> +Fionn, thus pressed, told of the coming of Cael of the Iron, of the +challenge the latter had issued, and that he, Fionn, was off to Tara of +the Kings to find Caelte mac Rona’n. +</p> +<p> +“I know that foreigner well,” the big man commented. +</p> +<p> +“Is he the champion he makes himself out to be?” Fionn inquired. +</p> +<p> +“He can do twice as much as he said he would do,” the monster replied. +</p> +<p> +“He won’t outrun Caelte mac Rona’n,” Fionn asserted. The big man jeered. +</p> +<p> +“Say that he won’t outrun a hedgehog, dear heart. This Cael will end the +course by the time your Caelte begins to think of starting.” + </p> +<p> +“Then,” said Fionn, “I no longer know where to turn, or how to protect the +honour of Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“I know how to do these things,” the other man commented with a slow nod +of the head. +</p> +<p> +“If you do,” Fionn pleaded, “tell it to me upon your honour.” + </p> +<p> +“I will do that,” the man replied. +</p> +<p> +“Do not look any further for the rusty-kneed, slow-trotting son of +Rona’n,” he continued, “but ask me to run your race, and, by this hand, I +will be first at the post.” + </p> +<p> +At this the Chief began to laugh. +</p> +<p> +“My good friend, you have work enough to carry the two tons of mud that +are plastered on each of your coat-tails, to say nothing of your weighty +boots.” + </p> +<p> +“By my hand,” the man cried, “there is no person in Ireland but myself can +win that race. I claim a chance.” + </p> +<p> +Fionn agreed then. “Be it so,” said he. “And now, tell me your name?” + </p> +<p> +“I am known as the Carl of the Drab Coat.” + </p> +<p> +“All names are names,” Fionn responded, “and that also is a name.” + </p> +<p> +They returned then to Ben Edair. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen they came among the host the men of Ireland gathered about the vast +stranger; and there were some who hid their faces in their mantles so that +they should not be seen to laugh, and there were some who rolled along the +ground in merriment, and there were others who could only hold their +mouths open and crook their knees and hang their arms and stare +dumbfoundedly upon the stranger, as though they were utterly dazed. +</p> +<p> +Cael of the Iron came also on the scene, and he examined the stranger with +close and particular attention. +</p> +<p> +“What in the name of the devil is this thing?” he asked of Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Dear heart,” said Fionn, “this is the champion I am putting against you +in the race.” + </p> +<p> +Cael of the Iron grew purple in the face, and he almost swallowed his +tongue through wrath. +</p> +<p> +“Until the end of eternity,” he roared, “and until the very last moment of +doom I will not move one foot in a race with this greasy, big-hoofed, +ill-assembled resemblance of a beggarman.” + </p> +<p> +But at this the Carl burst into a roar of laughter, so that the eardrums +of the warriors present almost burst inside of their heads. +</p> +<p> +“Be reassured, my darling, I am no beggarman, and my quality is not more +gross than is the blood of the most delicate prince in this assembly. You +will not evade your challenge in that way, my love, and you shall run with +me or you shall run to your ship with me behind you. What length of course +do you propose, dear heart?” + </p> +<p> +“I never run less than sixty miles,” Cael replied sullenly. +</p> +<p> +“It is a small run,” said the Carl, “but it will do. From this place to +the Hill of the Rushes, Slieve Luachra of Munster, is exactly sixty miles. +Will that suit you?” + </p> +<p> +“I don’t care how it is done,” Cael answered. +</p> +<p> +“Then,” said the Carl, “we may go off to Slieve Luachra now, and in the +morning we can start our race there to here.” + </p> +<p> +“Let it be done that way,” said Cael. +</p> +<p> +These two set out then for Munster, and as the sun was setting they +reached Slieve Luachra and prepared to spend the night there. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/239m.jpg" alt="239m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/239.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<p> +“Cael, my pulse,” said the Carl, “we had better build a house or a hut to +pass the night in.” + </p> +<p> +“I’Il build nothing,” Cael replied, looking on the Carl with great +disfavour. +</p> +<p> +“No!” + </p> +<p> +“I won’t build house or hut for the sake of passing one night here, for I +hope never to see this place again.” + </p> +<p> +“I’Il build a house myself,” said the Carl, “and the man who does not help +in the building can stay outside of the house.” + </p> +<p> +The Carl stumped to a near-by wood, and he never rested until he had +felled and tied together twenty-four couples of big timber. He thrust +these under one arm and under the other he tucked a bundle of rushes for +his bed, and with that one load he rushed up a house, well thatched and +snug, and with the timber that remained over he made a bonfire on the +floor of the house. +</p> +<p> +His companion sat at a distance regarding the work with rage and aversion. +</p> +<p> +“Now Cael, my darling,” said the Carl, “if you are a man help me to look +for something to eat, for there is game here.” + </p> +<p> +“Help yourself,” roared Cael, “for all that I want is not to be near you.” + </p> +<p> +“The tooth that does not help gets no helping,” the other replied. +</p> +<p> +In a short time the Carl returned with a wild boar which he had run down. +He cooked the beast over his bonfire and ate one half of it, leaving the +other half for his breakfast. Then he lay down on the rushes, and in two +turns he fell asleep. +</p> +<p> +But Cael lay out on the side of the hill, and if he went to sleep that +night he slept fasting. It was he, however, who awakened the Carl in the +morning. +</p> +<p> +“Get up, beggarman, if you are going to run against me.” + </p> +<p> +The Carl rubbed his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“I never get up until I have had my fill of sleep, and there is another +hour of it due to me. But if you are in a hurry, my delight, you can start +running now with a blessing. I will trot on your track when I waken up.” + </p> +<p> +Cael began to race then, and he was glad of the start, for his antagonist +made so little account of him that he did not know what to expect when the +Carl would begin to run. +</p> +<p> +“Yet,” said Cael to himself, “with an hour’s start the beggarman will have +to move his bones if he wants to catch on me,” and he settled down to a +good, pelting race. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/242m.jpg" alt="242m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/242.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t the end of an hour the Carl awoke. He ate the second half of the boar, +and he tied the unpicked bones in the tail of his coat. Then with a great +rattling of the boar’s bones he started. +</p> +<p> +It is hard to tell how he ran or at what speed he ran, but he went forward +in great two-legged jumps, and at times he moved in immense one-legged, +mud-spattering hops, and at times again, with wide-stretched, far-flung, +terrible-tramping, space-destroying legs he ran. +</p> +<p> +He left the swallows behind as if they were asleep. He caught up on a red +deer, jumped over it, and left it standing. The wind was always behind +him, for he outran it every time; and he caught up in jumps and bounces on +Cael of the Iron, although Cael was running well, with his fists up and +his head back and his two legs flying in and out so vigorously that you +could not see them because of that speedy movement. +</p> +<p> +Trotting by the side of Cael, the Carl thrust a hand into the tail of his +coat and pulled out a fistfull of red bones. +</p> +<p> +“Here, my heart, is a meaty bone,” said he, “for you fasted all night, +poor friend, and if you pick a bit off the bone your stomach will get a +rest.” + </p> +<p> +“Keep your filth, beggarman,” the other replied, “for I would rather be +hanged than gnaw on a bone that you have browsed.” + </p> +<p> +“Why don’t you run, my pulse?” said the Carl earnestly; “why don’t you try +to win the race?” + </p> +<p> +Cael then began to move his limbs as if they were the wings of a fly, or +the fins of a little fish, or as if they were the six legs of a terrified +spider. +</p> +<p> +“I am running,” he gasped. +</p> +<p> +“But try and run like this,” the Carl admonished, and he gave a wriggling +bound and a sudden outstretching and scurrying of shanks, and he +disappeared from Cael’s sight in one wild spatter of big boots. +</p> +<p> +Despair fell on Cael of the Iron, but he had a great heart. “I will run +until I burst,” he shrieked, “and when I burst, may I burst to a great +distance, and may I trip that beggar-man up with my burstings and make him +break his leg.” + </p> +<p> +He settled then to a determined, savage, implacable trot. He caught up on +the Carl at last, for the latter had stopped to eat blackberries from the +bushes on the road, and when he drew nigh, Cael began to jeer and sneer +angrily at the Carl. +</p> +<p> +“Who lost the tails of his coat?” he roared. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t ask riddles of a man that’s eating blackberries,” the Carl rebuked +him. +</p> +<p> +“The dog without a tall and the coat without a tail,” cried Cael. +</p> +<p> +“I give it up,” the Carl mumbled. +</p> +<p> +“It’s yourself, beggarman,” jeered Cael. +</p> +<p> +“I am myself,” the Carl gurgled through a mouthful of blackberries, “and +as I am myself, how can it be myself? That is a silly riddle,” he burbled. +</p> +<p> +“Look at your coat, tub of grease?” + </p> +<p> +The Carl did so. +</p> +<p> +“My faith,” said he, “where are the two tails of my coat?” “I could smell +one of them and it wrapped around a little tree thirty miles back,” said +Cael, “and the other one was dishonouring a bush ten miles behind that.” + </p> +<p> +“It is bad luck to be separated from the tails of your own coat,” the Carl +grumbled. “I’ll have to go back for them. Wait here, beloved, and eat +blackberries until I come back, and we’ll both start fair.” + </p> +<p> +“Not half a second will I wait,” Cael replied, and he began to run towards +Ben Edair as a lover runs to his maiden or as a bee flies to his hive. +</p> +<p> +“I haven’t had half my share of blackberries either,” the Carl lamented as +he started to run backwards for his coat-tails. +</p> +<p> +He ran determinedly on that backward journey, and as the path he had +travelled was beaten out as if it had been trampled by an hundred bulls +yoked neck to neck, he was able to find the two bushes and the two +coat-tails. He sewed them on his coat. +</p> +<p> +Then he sprang up, and he took to a fit and a vortex and an exasperation +of running for which no description may be found. The thumping of his big +boots grew as con-tinuous as the pattering of hailstones on a roof, and +the wind of his passage blew trees down. The beasts that were ranging +beside his path dropped dead from concussion, and the steam that snored +from his nose blew birds into bits and made great lumps of cloud fall out +of the sky. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/247m.jpg" alt="247m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/247.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +He again caught up on Cael, who was running with his head down and his +toes up. +</p> +<p> +“If you won’t try to run, my treasure,” said the Carl, “you will never get +your tribute.” + </p> +<p> +And with that he incensed and exploded himself into an eye-blinding, +continuous, waggle and complexity of boots that left Cael behind him in a +flash. +</p> +<p> +“I will run until I burst,” sobbed Cael, and he screwed agitation and +despair into his legs until he hummed and buzzed like a blue-bottle on a +window. +</p> +<p> +Five miles from Ben Edair the Carl stopped, for he had again come among +blackberries. +</p> +<p> +He ate of these until he was no more than a sack of juice, and when he +heard the humming and buzzing of Cael of the Iron he mourned and lamented +that he could not wait to eat his fill He took off his coat, stuffed it +full of blackberries, swung it on his shoulders, and went bounding stoutly +and nimbly for Ben Edair. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t would be hard to tell of the terror that was in Fionn’s breast and in +the hearts of the Fianna while they attended the conclusion of that race. +</p> +<p> +They discussed it unendingly, and at some moment of the day a man +upbraided Fionn because he had not found Caelte the son of Rona’n as had +been agreed on. +</p> +<p> +“There is no one can run like Caelte,” one man averred. +</p> +<p> +“He covers the ground,” said another. +</p> +<p> +“He is light as a feather.” + </p> +<p> +“Swift as a stag.” “Lunged like a bull.” + </p> +<p> +“Legged like a wolf.” + </p> +<p> +“He runs!” + </p> +<p> +These things were said to Fionn, and Fionn said these things to himself. +</p> +<p> +With every passing minute a drop of lead thumped down into every heart, +and a pang of despair stabbed up to every brain. +</p> +<p> +“Go,” said Fionn to a hawk-eyed man, “go to the top of this hill and watch +for the coming of the racers.” + </p> +<p> +And he sent lithe men with him so that they might run back in endless +succession with the news. +</p> +<p> +The messengers began to run through his tent at minute intervals calling +“nothing,” “nothing,” “nothing,” as they paused and darted away. +</p> +<p> +And the words, “nothing, nothing, nothing,” began to drowse into the +brains of every person present. +</p> +<p> +“What can we hope from that Carl?” a champion demanded savagely. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing,” cried a messenger who stood and sped. +</p> +<p> +“A clump!” cried a champion. +</p> +<p> +“A hog!” said another. +</p> +<p> +“A flat-footed.” + </p> +<p> +“Little-wlnded.” + </p> +<p> +“Big-bellied.” + </p> +<p> +“Lazy-boned.” + </p> +<p> +“Pork!” + </p> +<p> +“Did you think, Fionn, that a whale could swim on land, or what did you +imagine that lump could do?” + </p> +<p> +“Nothing,” cried a messenger, and was sped as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +Rage began to gnaw in Fionn’s soul, and a red haze danced and flickered +before his eyes. His hands began to twitch and a desire crept over him to +seize on champions by the neck, and to shake and worry and rage among them +like a wild dog raging among sheep. +</p> +<p> +He looked on one, and yet he seemed to look on all at once. +</p> +<p> +“Be silent,” he growled. “Let each man be silent as a dead man.” + </p> +<p> +And he sat forward, seeing all, seeing none, with his mouth drooping open, +and such a wildness and bristle lowering from that great glum brow that +the champions shivered as though already in the chill of death, and were +silent. +</p> +<p> +He rose and stalked to the tent-door. +</p> +<p> +“Where to, O Fionn?” said a champion humbly. +</p> +<p> +“To the hill-top,” said Fionn, and he stalked on. +</p> +<p> +They followed him, whispering among themselves, keeping their eyes on the +ground as they climbed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII +</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hat do you see?” Fionn demanded of the watcher. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing,” that man replied. +</p> +<p> +“Look again,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +The eagle-eyed man lifted a face, thin and sharp as though it had been +carven on the wind, and he stared forward with an immobile intentness. +</p> +<p> +“What do you see?” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing,” the man replied. +</p> +<p> +“I will look myself,” said Fionn, and his great brow bent forward and +gloomed afar. +</p> +<p> +The watcher stood beside, staring with his tense face and unwinking, +lidless eye. +</p> +<p> +“What can you see, O Fionn?” said the watcher. +</p> +<p> +“I can see nothing,” said Fionn, and he projected again his grim, gaunt +forehead. For it seemed as if the watcher stared with his whole face, aye, +and with his hands; but Fionn brooded weightedly on distance with his +puckered and crannied brow. +</p> +<p> +They looked again. +</p> +<p> +“What can you see?” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I see nothing,” said the watcher. +</p> +<p> +“I do not know if I see or if I surmise, but something moves,” said Fionn. +“There is a trample,” he said. +</p> +<p> +The watcher became then an eye, a rigidity, an intense out-thrusting and +ransacking of thin-spun distance. At last he spoke. +</p> +<p> +“There is a dust,” he said. +</p> +<p> +And at that the champions gazed also, straining hungrily afar, until their +eyes became filled with a blue darkness and they could no longer see even +the things that were close to them. +</p> +<p> +“I,” cried Cona’n triumphantly, “I see a dust.” + </p> +<p> +“And I,” cried another. +</p> +<p> +“And I.” + </p> +<p> +“I see a man,” said the eagle-eyed watcher. +</p> +<p> +And again they stared, until their straining eyes grew dim with tears and +winks, and they saw trees that stood up and sat down, and fields that +wobbled and spun round and round in a giddily swirling world. +</p> +<p> +“There is a man,” Cona’n roared. +</p> +<p> +“A man there is,” cried another. +</p> +<p> +“And he is carrying a man on his back,” said the watcher. +</p> +<p> +“It is Cael of the Iron carrying the Carl on his back,” he groaned. +</p> +<p> +“The great pork!” a man gritted. +</p> +<p> +“The no-good!” sobbed another. +</p> +<p> +“The lean-hearted.” + </p> +<p> +“Thick-thighed.” + </p> +<p> +“Ramshackle.” + </p> +<p> +“Muddle-headed.” + </p> +<p> +“Hog!” screamed a champion. +</p> +<p> +And he beat his fists angrily against a tree. +</p> +<p> +But the eagle-eyed watcher watched until his eyes narrowed and became +pin-points, and he ceased to be a man and became an optic. +</p> +<p> +“Wait,” he breathed, “wait until I screw into one other inch of sight.” + </p> +<p> +And they waited, looking no longer on that scarcely perceptible speck in +the distance, but straining upon the eye of the watcher as though they +would penetrate it and look through it. +</p> +<p> +“It is the Carl,” he said, “carrying something on his back, and behind him +again there is a dust.” + </p> +<p> +“Are you sure?” said Fionn in a voice that rumbled and vibrated like +thunder. +</p> +<p> +“It is the Carl,” said the watcher, “and the dust behind him is Cael of +the Iron trying to catch him up.” + </p> +<p> +Then the Fianna gave a roar of exultation, and each man seized his +neighbour and kissed him on both cheeks; and they gripped hands about +Fionn, and they danced round and round in a great circle, roaring with +laughter and relief, in the ecstasy which only comes where grisly fear has +been and whence that bony jowl has taken itself away. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Carl of the Drab Coat came bumping and stumping and clumping into the +camp, and was surrounded by a multitude that adored him and hailed him +with tears. +</p> +<p> +“Meal!” he bawled, “meal for the love of the stars!” + </p> +<p> +And he bawled, “Meal, meal!” until he bawled everybody into silence. +</p> +<p> +Fionn addressed him. +</p> +<p> +“What for the meal, dear heart?” + </p> +<p> +“For the inside of my mouth,” said the Carl, “for the recesses and +crannies and deep-down profundities of my stomach. Meal, meal!” he +lamented. +</p> +<p> +Meal was brought. +</p> +<p> +The Carl put his coat on the ground, opened it carefully, and revealed a +store of blackberries, squashed, crushed, mangled, democratic, +ill-looking. +</p> +<p> +“The meal!” he groaned, “the meal!” + </p> +<p> +It was given to him. +</p> +<p> +“What of the race, my pulse?” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Wait, wait,” cried the Carl. “I die, I die for meal and blackberries.” + </p> +<p> +Into the centre of the mess of blackberries he discharged a barrel of +meal, and be mixed the two up and through, and round and down, until the +pile of white-black, red-brown slibber-slobber reached up to his +shoulders. Then he commenced to paw and impel and project and cram the +mixture into his mouth, and between each mouthful he sighed a contented +sigh, and during every mouthful he gurgled an oozy gurgle. +</p> +<p> +But while Fionn and the Fianna stared like lost minds upon the Carl, there +came a sound of buzzing, as if a hornet or a queen of the wasps or a +savage, steep-winged griffin was hovering about them, and looking away +they saw Cael of the Iron charging on them with a monstrous extension and +scurry of his legs. He had a sword in his hand, and there was nothing in +his face but redness and ferocity. +</p> +<p> +Fear fell llke night around the Fianna, and they stood with slack knees +and hanging hands waiting for death. But the Carl lifted a pawful of his +oozy slop and discharged this at Cael with such a smash that the man’s +head spun off his shoulders and hopped along the ground. The Carl then +picked up the head and threw it at the body with such aim and force that +the neck part of the head jammed into the neck part of the body and stuck +there, as good a head as ever, you would have said, but that it bad got +twisted the wrong way round. The Carl then lashed his opponent hand and +foot. +</p> +<p> +“Now, dear heart, do you still claim tribute and lordship of Ireland?” + said he. +</p> +<p> +“Let me go home,” groaned Cael, “I want to go home.” + </p> +<p> +“Swear by the sun and moon, if I let you go home, that you will send to +Fionn, yearly and every year, the rent of the land of Thessaly.” + </p> +<p> +“I swear that,” said Cael, “and I would swear anything to get home.” + </p> +<p> +The Carl lifted him then and put him sitting into his ship. Then he raised +his big boot and gave the boat a kick that drove it seven leagues out into +the sea, and that was how the adventure of Cael of the Iron finished. +</p> +<p> +“Who are you, sir?” said Fionn to the Carl. +</p> +<p> +But before answering the Carl’s shape changed into one of splendour and +delight. +</p> +<p> +“I am ruler of the Shi’ of Rath Cruachan,” he said. +</p> +<p> +Then Fionn mac Uail made a feast and a banquet for the jovial god, and +with that the tale is ended of the King of Thessaly’s son and the Carl of +the Drab Coat. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +THE ENCHANTED CAVE OF CESH CORRAN +</h2> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/261m.jpg" alt="261m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/261.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>ionn mac Uail was the most prudent chief of an army in the world, but he +was not always prudent on his own account. Discipline sometimes irked him, +and he would then take any opportunity that presented for an adventure; +for he was not only a soldier, he was a poet also, that is, a man of +science, and whatever was strange or unusual had an irresistible +at-traction for him. Such a soldier was he that, single-handed, he could +take the Fianna out of any hole they got into, but such an inveterate poet +was he that all the Fianna together could scarcely retrieve him from the +abysses into which he tumbled. It took him to keep the Fianna safe, but it +took all the Fianna to keep their captain out of danger. They did not +complain of this, for they loved every hair of Fionn’s head more than they +loved their wives and children, and that was reasonable for there was +never in the world a person more worthy of love than Fionn was. +</p> +<p> +Goll mac Morna did not admit so much in words, but he admitted it in all +his actions, for although he never lost an opportunity of killing a member +of Fionn’s family (there was deadly feud between clann-Baiscne and +clann-Morna), yet a call from Fionn brought Goll raging to his assistance +like a lion that rages tenderly by his mate. Not even a call was +necessary, for Goll felt in his heart when Fionn was threatened, and he +would leave Fionn’s own brother only half-killed to fly where his arm was +wanted. He was never thanked, of course, for although Fionn loved Goll he +did not like him, and that was how Goll felt towards Fionn. +</p> +<p> +Fionn, with Cona’n the Swearer and the dogs Bran and Sceo’lan, was sitting +on the hunting-mound at the top of Cesh Corran. Below and around on every +side the Fianna were beating the coverts in Legney and Brefny, ranging the +fastnesses of Glen Dallan, creeping in the nut and beech forests of +Carbury, spying among the woods of Kyle Conor, and ranging the wide plain +of Moy Conal. +</p> +<p> +The great captain was happy: his eyes were resting on the sights he liked +best—the sunlight of a clear day, the waving trees, the pure sky, +and the lovely movement of the earth; and his ears were filled with +delectable sounds—the baying of eager dogs, the clear calling of +young men, the shrill whistling that came from every side, and each sound +of which told a definite thing about the hunt. There was also the plunge +and scurry of the deer, the yapping of badgers, and the whirr of birds +driven into reluctant flight. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ow the king of the Shi’ of Cesh Corran, Conaran, son of Imidel, was also +watching the hunt, but Fionn did not see him, for we cannot see the people +of Faery until we enter their realm, and Fionn was not thinking of Faery +at that moment. Conaran did not like Fionn, and, seeing that the great +champion was alone, save for Cona’n and the two hounds Bran and Sceo’lan, +he thought the time had come to get Fionn into his power. We do not know +what Fionn had done to Conaran, but it must have been bad enough, for the +king of the Shi’ of Cesh Cotran was filled with joy at the sight of Fionn +thus close to him, thus unprotected, thus unsuspicious. +</p> +<p> +This Conaran had four daughters. He was fond of them and proud of them, +but if one were to search the Shi’s of Ireland or the land of Ireland, the +equal of these four would not be found for ugliness and bad humour and +twisted temperaments. +</p> +<p> +Their hair was black as ink and tough as wire: it stuck up and poked out +and hung down about their heads in bushes and spikes and tangles. Their +eyes were bleary and red. Their mouths were black and twisted, and in each +of these mouths there was a hedge of curved yellow fangs. They had long +scraggy necks that could turn all the way round like the neck of a hen. +Their arms were long and skinny and muscular, and at the end of each +finger they had a spiked nail that was as hard as horn and as sharp as a +briar. Their bodies were covered with a bristle of hair and fur and fluff, +so that they looked like dogs in some parts and like cats in others, and +in other parts again they looked like chickens. They had moustaches poking +under their noses and woolly wads growing out of their ears, so that when +you looked at them the first time you never wanted to look at them again, +and if you had to look at them a second time you were likely to die of the +sight. +</p> +<p> +They were called Caevo’g, Cuillen, and Iaran. The fourth daughter, +Iarnach, was not present at that moment, so nothing need be said of her +yet. +</p> +<p> +Conaran called these three to him. +</p> +<p> +“Fionn is alone,” said he. “Fionn is alone, my treasures.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah!” said Caevo’g, and her jaw crunched upwards and stuck outwards, as +was usual with her when she was satisfied. +</p> +<p> +“When the chance comes take it,” Conaran continued, and he smiled a black, +beetle-browed, unbenevolent smile. +</p> +<p> +“It’s a good word,” quoth Cuillen, and she swung her jaw loose and made it +waggle up and down, for that was the way she smiled. +</p> +<p> +“And here is the chance,” her father added. +</p> +<p> +“The chance is here,” Iaran echoed, with a smile that was very like her +sister’s, only that it was worse, and the wen that grew on her nose +joggled to and fro and did not get its balance again for a long time. +</p> +<p> +Then they smiled a smile that was agreeable to their own eyes, but which +would have been a deadly thing for anybody else to see. +</p> +<p> +“But Fionn cannot see us,” Caevo’g objected, and her brow set downwards +and her chin set upwards and her mouth squeezed sidewards, so that her +face looked like a badly disappointed nut. +</p> +<p> +“And we are worth seeing,” Cuillen continued, and the disappointment that +was set in her sister’s face got carved and twisted into hers, but it was +worse in her case. +</p> +<p> +“That is the truth,” said Iaran in a voice of lamentation, and her face +took on a gnarl and a writhe and a solidity of ugly woe that beat the +other two and made even her father marvel. +</p> +<p> +“He cannot see us now,” Conaran replied, “but he will see us in a minute.” + </p> +<p> +“Won’t Fionn be glad when he sees us!” said the three sisters. +</p> +<p> +And then they joined hands and danced joyfully around their father, and +they sang a song, the first line of which is: +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +“Fionn thinks he is safe. But who knows when the sky will +fall?” + </pre> +<p> +Lots of the people in the Shi’ learned that song by heart, and they +applied it to every kind of circumstance. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>Y his arts Conaran changed the sight of Fionn’s eyes, and he did the same +for Cona’n. +</p> +<p> +In a few minutes Fionn stood up from his place on the mound. Everything +was about him as before, and he did not know that he had gone into Faery. +He walked for a minute up and down the hillock. Then, as by chance, he +stepped down the sloping end of the mound and stood with his mouth open, +staring. He cried out: +</p> +<p> +“Come down here, Cona’n, my darling.” + </p> +<p> +Cona’n stepped down to him. +</p> +<p> +“Am I dreaming?” Fionn demanded, and he stretched out his finger before +him. +</p> +<p> +“If you are dreaming,” said Congn, “I’m dreaming too. They weren’t here a +minute ago,” he stammered. +</p> +<p> +Fionn looked up at the sky and found that it was still there. He stared to +one side and saw the trees of Kyle Conor waving in the distance. He bent +his ear to the wind and heard the shouting of hunters, the yapping of +dogs, and the clear whistles, which told how the hunt was going. +</p> +<p> +“Well!” said Fionn to himself. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand!” quoth Cona’n to his own soul. +</p> +<p> +And the two men stared into the hillside as though what they were looking +at was too wonderful to be looked away from. +</p> +<p> +“Who are they?” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“What are they?” Cona’n gasped. And they stared again. +</p> +<p> +For there was a great hole like a doorway in the side of the mound, and in +that doorway the daughters of Conaran sat spinning. They had three crooked +sticks of holly set up before the cave, and they were reeling yarn off +these. But it was enchantment they were weaving. +</p> +<p> +“One could not call them handsome,” said Cona’n. +</p> +<p> +“One could,” Fionn replied, “but it would not be true.” + </p> +<p> +“I cannot see them properly,” Fionn complained. “They are hiding behind +the holly.” + </p> +<p> +“I would be contented if I could not see them at all,” his companion +grumbled. +</p> +<p> +But the Chief insisted. +</p> +<p> +“I want to make sure that it is whiskers they are wearing.” + </p> +<p> +“Let them wear whiskers or not wear them,” Cona’n counselled. “But let us +have nothing to do with them.” + </p> +<p> +“One must not be frightened of anything,” Fionn stated. +</p> +<p> +“I am not frightened,” Cona’n explained. “I only want to keep my good +opinion of women, and if the three yonder are women, then I feel sure I +shall begin to dislike females from this minute out.” + </p> +<p> +“Come on, my love,” said Fionn, “for I must find out if these whiskers are +true.” + </p> +<p> +He strode resolutely into the cave. He pushed the branches of holly aside +and marched up to Conaran’s daughters, with Cona’n behind him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he instant they passed the holly a strange weakness came over the heroes. +Their fists seemed to grow heavy as lead, and went dingle-dangle at the +ends of their arms; their legs became as light as straws and began to bend +in and out; their necks became too delicate to hold anything up, so that +their heads wibbled and wobbled from side to side. +</p> +<p> +“What’s wrong at all?” said Cona’n, as he tumbled to the ground. +</p> +<p> +“Everything is,” Fionn replied, and he tumbled beside him. +</p> +<p> +The three sisters then tied the heroes with every kind of loop and twist +and knot that could be thought of. +</p> +<p> +“Those are whiskers!” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“Alas!” said Conan. +</p> +<p> +“What a place you must hunt whiskers in?” he mumbled savagely. “Who wants +whiskers?” he groaned. +</p> +<p> +But Fionn was thinking of other things. +</p> +<p> +“If there was any way of warning the Fianna not to come here,” Fionn +murmured. +</p> +<p> +“There is no way, my darling,” said Caevo’g, and she smiled a smile that +would have killed Fionn, only that he shut his eyes in time. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/271m.jpg" alt="271m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/271.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +After a moment he murmured again: +</p> +<p> +“Conan, my dear love, give the warning whistle so that the Fianna will +keep out of this place.” + </p> +<p> +A little whoof, like the sound that would be made by a baby and it asleep, +came from Cona’n. +</p> +<p> +“Fionn,” said he, “there isn’t a whistle in me. We are done for,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“You are done for, indeed,” said Cuillen, and she smiled a hairy and +twisty and fangy smile that almost finished Cona’n. +</p> +<p> +By that time some of the Fianna had returned to the mound to see why Bran +and Sceo’lan were barking so outrageously. They saw the cave and went into +it, but no sooner had they passed the holly branches than their strength +went from them, and they were seized and bound by the vicious hags. Little +by little all the members of the Fianna returned to the hill, and each of +them was drawn into the cave, and each was bound by the sisters. +</p> +<p> +Oisi’n and Oscar and mac Lugac came, with the nobles of clann-Baiscne, and +with those of clann-Corcoran and clann-Smo’l; they all came, and they were +all bound. +</p> +<p> +It was a wonderful sight and a great deed this binding of the Fianna, and +the three sisters laughed with a joy that was terrible to hear and was +almost death to see. As the men were captured they were carried by the +hags into dark mysterious holes and black perplexing labyrinths. +</p> +<p> +“Here is another one,” cried Caevo’g as she bundled a trussed champion +along. +</p> +<p> +“This one is fat,” said Cuillen, and she rolled a bulky Fenian along like +a wheel. +</p> +<p> +“Here,” said Iaran, “is a love of a man. One could eat this kind of man,” + she murmured, and she licked a lip that had whiskers growing inside as +well as out. +</p> +<p> +And the corded champion whimpered in her arms, for he did not know but +eating might indeed be his fate, and he would have preferred to be +coffined anywhere in the world rather than to be coffined inside of that +face. So far for them. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ithin the cave there was silence except for the voices of the hags and +the scarcely audible moaning of the Fianna-Finn, but without there was a +dreadful uproar, for as each man returned from the chase his dogs came +with him, and although the men went into the cave the dogs did not. +</p> +<p> +They were too wise. +</p> +<p> +They stood outside, filled with savagery and terror, for they could scent +their masters and their masters’ danger, and perhaps they could get from +the cave smells till then unknown and full of alarm. +</p> +<p> +From the troop of dogs there arose a baying and barking, a snarling and +howling and growling, a yelping and squealing and bawling for which no +words can be found. Now and again a dog nosed among a thousand smells and +scented his master; the ruff of his neck stood up like a hog’s bristles +and a netty ridge prickled along his spine. Then with red eyes, with bared +fangs, with a hoarse, deep snort and growl he rushed at the cave, and then +he halted and sneaked back again with all his ruffles smoothed, his tail +between his legs, his eyes screwed sideways in miserable apology and +alarm, and a long thin whine of woe dribbling out of his nose. +</p> +<p> +The three sisters took their wide-channelled, hard-tempered swords in +their hands, and prepared to slay the Fianna, but before doing so they +gave one more look from the door of the cave to see if there might be a +straggler of the Fianna who was escaping death by straggling, and they saw +one coming towards them with Bran and Sceo’lan leaping beside him, while +all the other dogs began to burst their throats with barks and split their +noses with snorts and wag their tails off at sight of the tall, valiant, +white-toothed champion, Goll mor mac Morna. “We will kill that one first,” + said Caevo’g. +</p> +<p> +“There is only one of him,” said Cuillen. +</p> +<p> +“And each of us three is the match for an hundred,” said Iaran. +</p> +<p> +The uncanny, misbehaved, and outrageous harridans advanced then to meet +the son of Morna, and when he saw these three Goll whipped the sword from +his thigh, swung his buckler round, and got to them in ten great leaps. +</p> +<p> +Silence fell on the world during that conflict. The wind went down; the +clouds stood still; the old hill itself held its breath; the warriors +within ceased to be men and became each an ear; and the dogs sat in a vast +circle round the combatants, with their heads all to one side, their noses +poked forward, their mouths half open, and their tails forgotten. Now and +again a dog whined in a whisper and snapped a little snap on the air, but +except for that there was neither sound nor movement. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/279m.jpg" alt="279m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/279.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +It was a long fight. It was a hard and a tricky fight, and Goll won it by +bravery and strategy and great good luck; for with one shrewd slice of his +blade he carved two of these mighty termagants into equal halves, so that +there were noses and whiskers to his right hand and knees and toes to his +left: and that stroke was known afterwards as one of the three great +sword-strokes of Ireland. The third hag, however, had managed to get +behind Goll, and she leaped on to his back with the bound of a panther, +and hung here with the skilful, many-legged, tight-twisted clutching of a +spider. But the great champion gave a twist of his hips and a swing of his +shoulders that whirled her around him like a sack. He got her on the +ground and tied her hands with the straps of a shield, and he was going to +give her the last blow when she appealed to his honour and bravery. +</p> +<p> +“I put my life under your protection,” said she. “And if you let me go +free I will lift the enchantment from the Fianna-Finn and will give them +all back to you again.” + </p> +<p> +“I agree to that,” said Goll, and he untied her straps. The harridan did +as she had promised, and in a short time Fionn and Oisi’n and Oscar and +Cona’n were released, and after that all the Fianna were released. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s each man came out of the cave he gave a jump and a shout; the courage +of the world went into him and he felt that he could fight twenty. But +while they were talking over the adventure and explaining how it had +happened, a vast figure strode over the side of the hill and descended +among them. It was Conaran’s fourth daughter. +</p> +<p> +If the other three had been terrible to look on, this one was more +terrible than the three together. She was clad in iron plate, and she had +a wicked sword by her side and a knobby club in her hand She halted by the +bodies of her sisters, and bitter tears streamed down into her beard. +</p> +<p> +“Alas, my sweet ones,” said she, “I am too late.” + </p> +<p> +And then she stared fiercely at Fionn. +</p> +<p> +“I demand a combat,” she roared. +</p> +<p> +“It is your right,” said Fionn. He turned to his son. +</p> +<p> +“Oisi’n, my heart, kill me this honourable hag.” But for the only time in +his life Oisi’n shrank from a combat. +</p> +<p> +“I cannot do it,” he said, “I feel too weak.” + </p> +<p> +Fionn was astounded. “Oscar,” he said, “will you kill me this great hag?” + </p> +<p> +Oscar stammered miserably. “I would not be able to,” he said. +</p> +<p> +Cona’n also refused, and so did Caelte mac Rona’n and mac Lugac, for there +was no man there but was terrified by the sight of that mighty and valiant +harridan. +</p> +<p> +Fionn rose to his feet. “I will take this combat myself,” he said sternly. +</p> +<p> +And he swung his buckler forward and stretched his right hand to the +sword. But at that terrible sight Goll mae Morna blushed deeply and leaped +from the ground. +</p> +<p> +“No, no,” he cried; “no, my soul, Fionn, this would not be a proper combat +for you. I take this fight.” + </p> +<p> +“You have done your share, Goll,” said the captain. +</p> +<p> +“I should finish the fight I began,” Goll continued, “for it was I who +killed the two sisters of this valiant hag, and it is against me the feud +lies.” + </p> +<p> +“That will do for me,” said the horrible daughter of Conaran. “I will kill +Goll mor mac Morna first, and after that I will kill Fionn, and after that +I will kill every Fenian of the Fianna-Finn.” + </p> +<p> +“You may begin, Goll,” said Fionn, “and I give you my blessing.” + </p> +<p> +Goll then strode forward to the fight, and the hag moved against him with +equal alacrity. In a moment the heavens rang to the clash of swords on +bucklers. It was hard to with-stand the terrific blows of that mighty +female, for her sword played with the quickness of lightning and smote +like the heavy crashing of a storm. But into that din and encirclement +Goll pressed and ventured, steady as a rock in water, agile as a creature +of the sea, and when one of the combatants retreated it was the hag that +gave backwards. As her foot moved a great shout of joy rose from the +Fianna. A snarl went over the huge face of the monster and she leaped +forward again, but she met Goll’s point in the road; it went through her, +and in another moment Goll took her head from its shoulders and swung it +on high before Fionn. +</p> +<p> +As the Fianna turned homewards Fionn spoke to his great champion and +enemy. +</p> +<p> +“Goll,” he said, “I have a daughter.” + </p> +<p> +“A lovely girl, a blossom of the dawn,” said Goll. +</p> +<p> +“Would she please you as a wife?” the chief demanded. +</p> +<p> +“She would please me,” said Goll. +</p> +<p> +“She is your wife,” said Fionn. +</p> +<p> +But that did not prevent Goll from killing Fionn’s brother Cairell later +on, nor did it prevent Fionn from killing Goll later on again, and the +last did not prevent Goll from rescuing Fionn out of hell when the +Fianna-Finn were sent there under the new God. Nor is there any reason to +complain or to be astonished at these things, for it is a mutual world we +llve in, a give-and-take world, and there is no great harm in it. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +BECUMA OF THE WHITE SKIN +</h2> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/287m.jpg" alt="287m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/287.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here are more worlds than one, and in many ways they are unlike each +other. But joy and sorrow, or, in other words, good and evil, are not +absent in their degree from any of the worlds, for wherever there is life +there is action, and action is but the expression of one or other of these +qualities. +</p> +<p> +After this Earth there is the world of the Shi’. Beyond it again lies the +Many-Coloured Land. Next comes the Land of Wonder, and after that the Land +of Promise awaits us. You will cross clay to get into the Shi’; you will +cross water to attain the Many-Coloured Land; fire must be passed ere the +Land of Wonder is attained, but we do not know what will be crossed for +the fourth world. +</p> +<p> +This adventure of Conn the Hundred Fighter and his son Art was by the way +of water, and therefore he was more advanced in magic than Fionn was, all +of whose adventures were by the path of clay and into Faery only, but Conn +was the High King and so the arch-magician of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +A council had been called in the Many-Coloured Land to discuss the case of +a lady named Becuma Cneisgel, that is, Becuma of the White Skin, the +daughter of Eogan Inver. She had run away from her husband Labraid and had +taken refuge with Gadiar, one of the sons of Mananna’n mac Lir, the god of +the sea, and the ruler, therefore, of that sphere. +</p> +<p> +It seems, then, that there is marriage in two other spheres. In the Shi’ +matrimony is recorded as being parallel in every respect with +earth-marriage, and the desire which urges to it seems to be as violent +and inconstant as it is with us; but in the Many-Coloured Land marriage is +but a contemplation of beauty, a brooding and meditation wherein all +grosser desire is unknown and children are born to sinless parents. +</p> +<p> +In the Shi’ the crime of Becuma would have been lightly considered, and +would have received none or but a nominal punishment, but in the second +world a horrid gravity attaches to such a lapse, and the retribution meted +is implacable and grim. It may be dissolution by fire, and that can note a +destruction too final for the mind to contemplate; or it may be banishment +from that sphere to a lower and worse one. +</p> +<p> +This was the fate of Becuma of the White Skin. +</p> +<p> +One may wonder how, having attained to that sphere, she could have carried +with her so strong a memory of the earth. It is certain that she was not a +fit person to exist in the Many-Coloured Land, and it is to be feared that +she was organised too grossly even for life in the Shi’. +</p> +<p> +She was an earth-woman, and she was banished to the earth. +</p> +<p> +Word was sent to the Shi’s of Ireland that this lady should not be +permitted to enter any of them; from which it would seem that the +ordinances of the Shi come from the higher world, and, it might follow, +that the conduct of earth lies in the Shi’. +</p> +<p> +In that way, the gates of her own world and the innumerable doors of Faery +being closed against her, Becuma was forced to appear in the world of men. +</p> +<p> +It is pleasant, however, notwithstanding her terrible crime and her woeful +punishment, to think how courageous she was. When she was told her +sentence, nay, her doom, she made no outcry, nor did she waste any time in +sorrow. She went home and put on her nicest clothes. +</p> +<p> +She wore a red satin smock, and, over this, a cloak of green silk out of +which long fringes of gold swung and sparkled, and she had light sandals +of white bronze on her thin, shapely feet. She had long soft hair that was +yellow as gold, and soft as the curling foam of the sea. Her eyes were +wide and clear as water and were grey as a dove’s breast. Her teeth were +white as snow and of an evenness to marvel at. Her lips were thin and +beautifully curved: red lips in truth, red as winter berries and tempting +as the fruits of summer. The people who superintended her departure said +mournfully that when she was gone there would be no more beauty left in +their world. +</p> +<p> +She stepped into a coracle, it was pushed on the enchanted waters, and it +went forward, world within world, until land appeared, and her boat swung +in low tide against a rock at the foot of Ben Edair. +</p> +<p> +So far for her. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>onn the Hundred Fighter, Ard-Ri’ of Ireland, was in the lowest spirits +that can be imagined, for his wife was dead. He had been Ard-Ri for nine +years, and during his term the corn used to be reaped three times in each +year, and there was full and plenty of everything. There are few kings who +can boast of more kingly results than he can, but there was sore trouble +in store for him. +</p> +<p> +He had been married to Eithne, the daughter of Brisland Binn, King of +Norway, and, next to his subjects, he loved his wife more than all that +was lovable in the world. But the term of man and woman, of king or queen, +is set in the stars, and there is no escaping Doom for any one; so, when +her time came, Eithne died. +</p> +<p> +Now there were three great burying-places in Ireland—the Brugh of +the Boyne in Ulster, over which Angus Og is chief and god; the Shi’ mound +of Cruachan Ahi, where Ethal Anbual presides over the underworld of +Connacht, and Tailltin, in Royal Meath. It was in this last, the sacred +place of his own lordship, that Conn laid his wife to rest. +</p> +<p> +Her funeral games were played during nine days. Her keen was sung by poets +and harpers, and a cairn ten acres wide was heaved over her clay. Then the +keening ceased and the games drew to an end; the princes of the Five +Prov-inces returned by horse or by chariot to their own places; the +concourse of mourners melted away, and there was nothing left by the great +cairn but the sun that dozed upon it in the daytime, the heavy clouds that +brooded on it in the night, and the desolate, memoried king. +</p> +<p> +For the dead queen had been so lovely that Conn could not forget her; she +had been so kind at every moment that he could not but miss her at every +moment; but it was in the Council Chamber and the Judgement Hall that he +most pondered her memory. For she had also been wise, and lack-ing her +guidance, all grave affairs seemed graver, shadowing each day and going +with him to the pillow at night. +</p> +<p> +The trouble of the king becomes the trouble of the subject, for how shall +we live if judgement is withheld, or if faulty decisions are promulgated? +Therefore, with the sorrow of the king, all Ireland was in grief, and it +was the wish of every person that he should marry again. +</p> +<p> +Such an idea, however, did not occur to him, for he could not conceive how +any woman should fill the place his queen had vacated. He grew more and +more despondent, and less and less fitted to cope with affairs of state, +and one day he instructed his son Art to take the rule during his absence, +and he set out for Ben Edair. +</p> +<p> +For a great wish had come upon him to walk beside the sea; to listen to +the roll and boom of long, grey breakers; to gaze on an unfruitful, +desolate wilderness of waters; and to forget in those sights all that he +could forget, and if he could not forget then to remember all that he +should remember. +</p> +<p> +He was thus gazing and brooding when one day he observed a coracle drawing +to the shore. A young girl stepped from it and walked to him among black +boulders and patches of yellow sand. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/292m.jpg" alt="292m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/292.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>eing a king he had authority to ask questions. Conn asked her, therefore, +all the questions that he could think of, for it is not every day that a +lady drives from the sea, and she wearing a golden-fringed cloak of green +silk through which a red satin smock peeped at the openings. She replied +to his questions, but she did not tell him all the truth; for, indeed, she +could not afford to. +</p> +<p> +She knew who he was, for she retained some of the powers proper to the +worlds she had left, and as he looked on her soft yellow hair and on her +thin red lips, Conn recognised, as all men do, that one who is lovely must +also be good, and so he did not frame any inquiry on that count; for +everything is forgotten in the presence of a pretty woman, and a magician +can be bewitched also. +</p> +<p> +She told Conn that the fame of his son Art had reached even the +Many-Coloured Land, and that she had fallen in love with the boy. This did +not seem unreasonable to one who had himself ventured much in Faery, and +who had known so many of the people of that world leave their own land for +the love of a mortal. +</p> +<p> +“What is your name, my sweet lady?” said the king. +</p> +<p> +“I am called Delvcaem (Fair Shape) and I am the daughter of Morgan,” she +replied. +</p> +<p> +“I have heard much of Morgan,” said the king. “He is a very great +magician.” + </p> +<p> +During this conversation Conn had been regarding her with the minute +freedom which is right only in a king. At what precise instant he forgot +his dead consort we do not know, but it is certain that at this moment his +mind was no longer burdened with that dear and lovely memory. His voice +was melancholy when he spoke again. +</p> +<p> +“You love my son!” + </p> +<p> +“Who could avoid loving him?” she murmured. +</p> +<p> +“When a woman speaks to a man about the love she feels for another man she +is not liked. And,” he continued, “when she speaks to a man who has no +wife of his own about her love for another man then she is disliked.” + </p> +<p> +“I would not be disliked by you,” Becuma murmured. +</p> +<p> +“Nevertheless,” said he regally, “I will not come between a woman and her +choice.” + </p> +<p> +“I did not know you lacked a wife,” said Becuma, but indeed she did. +</p> +<p> +“You know it now,” the king replied sternly. +</p> +<p> +“What shall I do?” she inquired, “am I to wed you or your son?” + </p> +<p> +“You must choose,” Conn answered. +</p> +<p> +“If you allow me to choose it means that you do not want me very badly,” + said she with a smile. +</p> +<p> +“Then I will not allow you to choose,” cried the king, “and it is with +myself you shall marry.” + </p> +<p> +He took her hand in his and kissed it. +</p> +<p> +“Lovely is this pale thin hand. Lovely is the slender foot that I see in a +small bronze shoe,” said the king. +</p> +<p> +After a suitable time she continued: +</p> +<p> +“I should not like your son to be at Tara when I am there, or for a year +afterwards, for I do not wish to meet him until I have forgotten him and +have come to know you well.” + </p> +<p> +“I do not wish to banish my son,” the king protested. +</p> +<p> +“It would not really be a banishment,” she said. “A prince’s duty could be +set him, and in such an absence he would improve his knowledge both of +Ireland and of men. Further,” she continued with downcast eyes, “when you +remember the reason that brought me here you will see that his presence +would be an embarrassment to us both, and my presence would be unpleasant +to him if he remembers his mother.” + </p> +<p> +“Nevertheless,” said Conn stubbornly, “I do not wish to banish my son; it +is awkward and unnecessary.” + </p> +<p> +“For a year only,” she pleaded. +</p> +<p> +“It is yet,” he continued thoughtfully, “a reasonable reason that you give +and I will do what you ask, but by my hand and word I don’t like doing +it.” + </p> +<p> +They set out then briskly and joyfully on the homeward journey, and in due +time they reached Tara of the Kings. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0063" id="link2HCH0063"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is part of the education of a prince to be a good chess player, and to +continually exercise his mind in view of the judgements that he will be +called upon to give and the knotty, tortuous, and perplexing matters which +will obscure the issues which he must judge. Art, the son of Conn, was +sitting at chess with Cromdes, his father’s magician. +</p> +<p> +“Be very careful about the move you are going to make,” said Cromdes. +</p> +<p> +“CAN I be careful?” Art inquired. “Is the move that you are thinking of in +my power?” + </p> +<p> +“It is not,” the other admitted. +</p> +<p> +“Then I need not be more careful than usual,” Art replied, and he made his +move. +</p> +<p> +“It is a move of banishment,” said Cromdes. +</p> +<p> +“As I will not banish myself, I suppose my father will do it, but I do not +know why he should.” + </p> +<p> +“Your father will not banish you.” + </p> +<p> +“Who then?” “Your mother.” + </p> +<p> +“My mother is dead.” + </p> +<p> +“You have a new one,” said the magician. +</p> +<p> +“Here is news,” said Art. “I think I shall not love my new mother.” + </p> +<p> +“You will yet love her better than she loves you,” said Cromdes, meaning +thereby that they would hate each other. +</p> +<p> +While they spoke the king and Becuma entered the palace. +</p> +<p> +“I had better go to greet my father,” said the young man. +</p> +<p> +“You had better wait until he sends for you,” his companion advised, and +they returned to their game. +</p> +<p> +In due time a messenger came from the king directing Art to leave Tara +instantly, and to leave Ireland for one full year. +</p> +<p> +He left Tara that night, and for the space of a year he was not seen again +in Ireland. But during that period things did not go well with the king +nor with Ireland. Every year before that time three crops of corn used to +be lifted off the land, but during Art’s absence there was no corn in +Ireland and there was no milk. The whole land went hungry. +</p> +<p> +Lean people were in every house, lean cattle in every field; the bushes +did not swing out their timely berries or seasonable nuts; the bees went +abroad as busily as ever, but each night they returned languidly, with +empty pouches, and there was no honey in their hives when the honey season +came. People began to look at each other questioningly, meaningly, and +dark remarks passed between them, for they knew that a bad harvest means, +somehow, a bad king, and, although this belief can be combated, it is too +firmly rooted in wisdom to be dismissed. +</p> +<p> +The poets and magicians met to consider why this disaster should have +befallen the country and by their arts they discovered the truth about the +king’s wife, and that she was Becuma of the White Skin, and they +discovered also the cause of her banishment from the Many-Coloured Land +that is beyond the sea, which is beyond even the grave. +</p> +<p> +They told the truth to the king, but he could not bear to be parted from +that slender-handed, gold-haired, thin-lipped, blithe enchantress, and he +required them to discover some means whereby he might retain his wife and +his crown. There was a way and the magicians told him of it. +</p> +<p> +“If the son of a sinless couple can be found and if his blood be mixed +with the soll of Tara the blight and ruin will depart from Ireland,” said +the magicians. +</p> +<p> +“If there is such a boy I will find him,” cried the Hundred Fighter. +</p> +<p> +At the end of a year Art returned to Tara. His father delivered to him the +sceptre of Ireland, and he set out on a journey to find the son of a +sinless couple such as he had been told of. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0064" id="link2HCH0064"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/299m.jpg" alt="299m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/299.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he High King did not know where exactly he should look for such a +saviour, but he was well educated and knew how to look for whatever was +lacking. This knowledge will be useful to those upon whom a similar duty +should ever devolve. +</p> +<p> +He went to Ben Edair. He stepped into a coracle and pushed out to the +deep, and he permitted the coracle to go as the winds and the waves +directed it. +</p> +<p> +In such a way he voyaged among the small islands of the sea until he lost +all knowledge of his course and was adrift far out in ocean. He was under +the guidance of the stars and the great luminaries. +</p> +<p> +He saw black seals that stared and barked and dived dancingly, with the +round turn of a bow and the forward onset of an arrow. Great whales came +heaving from the green-hued void, blowing a wave of the sea high into the +air from their noses and smacking their wide flat tails thunder-ously on +the water. Porpoises went snorting past in bands and clans. Small fish +came sliding and flickering, and all the outlandish creatures of the deep +rose by his bobbing craft and swirled and sped away. +</p> +<p> +Wild storms howled by him so that the boat climbed painfully to the sky on +a mile-high wave, balanced for a tense moment on its level top, and sped +down the glassy side as a stone goes furiously from a sling. +</p> +<p> +Or, again, caught in the chop of a broken sea, it stayed shuddering and +backing, while above his head there was only a low sad sky, and around him +the lap and wash of grey waves that were never the same and were never +different. +</p> +<p> +After long staring on the hungry nothingness of air and water he would +stare on the skin-stretched fabric of his boat as on a strangeness, or he +would examine his hands and the texture of his skin and the stiff black +hairs that grew behind his knuckles and sprouted around his ring, and he +found in these things newness and wonder. +</p> +<p> +Then, when days of storm had passed, the low grey clouds shivered and +cracked in a thousand places, each grim islet went scudding to the horizon +as though terrified by some great breadth, and when they had passed he +stared into vast after vast of blue infinity, in the depths of which his +eyes stayed and could not pierce, and wherefrom they could scarcely be +withdrawn. A sun beamed thence that filled the air with sparkle and the +sea with a thousand lights, and looking on these he was reminded of his +home at Tara: of the columns of white and yellow bronze that blazed out +sunnily on the sun, and the red and white and yellow painted roofs that +beamed at and astonished the eye. +</p> +<p> +Sailing thus, lost in a succession of days and nights, of winds and calms, +he came at last to an island. +</p> +<p> +His back was turned to it, and long before he saw it he smelled it and +wondered; for he had been sitting as in a daze, musing on a change that +had seemed to come in his changeless world; and for a long time he could +not tell what that was which made a difference on the salt-whipped wind or +why he should be excited. For suddenly he had become excited and his heart +leaped in violent expectation. +</p> +<p> +“It is an October smell,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“It is apples that I smell.” + </p> +<p> +He turned then and saw the island, fragrant with apple trees, sweet with +wells of wine; and, hearkening towards the shore, his ears, dulled yet +with the unending rhythms of the sea, distinguished and were filled with +song; for the isle was, as it were, a nest of birds, and they sang +joyously, sweetly, triumphantly. +</p> +<p> +He landed on that lovely island, and went forward under the darting birds, +under the apple boughs, skirting fragrant lakes about which were woods of +the sacred hazel and into which the nuts of knowledge fell and swam; and +he blessed the gods of his people because of the ground that did not +shiver and because of the deeply rooted trees that could not gad or budge. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0065" id="link2HCH0065"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>aving gone some distance by these pleasant ways he saw a shapely house +dozing in the sunlight. +</p> +<p> +It was thatched with the wings of birds, blue wings and yellow and white +wings, and in the centre of the house there was a door of crystal set in +posts of bronze. +</p> +<p> +The queen of this island lived there, Rigru (Large-eyed), the daughter of +Lodan, and wife of Daire Degamra. She was seated on a crystal throne with +her son Segda by her side, and they welcomed the High King courteously. +</p> +<p> +There were no servants in this palace; nor was there need for them. The +High King found that his hands had washed themselves, and when later on he +noticed that food had been placed before him he noticed also that it had +come without the assistance of servile hands. A cloak was laid gently +about his shoulders, and he was glad of it, for his own was soiled by +exposure to sun and wind and water, and was not worthy of a lady’s eye. +</p> +<p> +Then he was invited to eat. +</p> +<p> +He noticed, however, that food had been set for no one but himself, and +this did not please him, for to eat alone was contrary to the hospitable +usage of a king, and was contrary also to his contract with the gods. +</p> +<p> +“Good, my hosts,” he remonstrated, “it is geasa (taboo) for me to eat +alone.” + </p> +<p> +“But we never eat together,” the queen replied. +</p> +<p> +“I cannot violate my geasa,” said the High King. +</p> +<p> +“I will eat with you,” said Segda (Sweet Speech), “and thus, while you are +our guest you will not do violence to your vows.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed,” said Conn, “that will be a great satisfaction, for I have +already all the trouble that I can cope with and have no wish to add to it +by offending the gods.” + </p> +<p> +“What is your trouble?” the gentle queen asked. “During a year,” Conn +replied, “there has been neither corn nor milk in Ireland. The land is +parched, the trees are withered, the birds do not sing in Ireland, and the +bees do not make honey.” + </p> +<p> +“You are certainly in trouble,” the queen assented. +</p> +<p> +“But,” she continued, “for what purpose have you come to our island?” + </p> +<p> +“I have come to ask for the loan of your son.” + </p> +<p> +“A loan of my son!” + </p> +<p> +“I have been informed,” Conn explained, “that if the son of a sinless +couple is brought to Tara and is bathed in the waters of Ireland the land +will be delivered from those ills.” + </p> +<p> +The king of this island, Daire, had not hitherto spoken, but he now did so +with astonishment and emphasis. +</p> +<p> +“We would not lend our son to any one, not even to gain the kingship of +the world,” said he. +</p> +<p> +But Segda, observing that the guest’s countenance was discomposed, broke +in: +</p> +<p> +“It is not kind to refuse a thing that the Ard-Ri’ of Ireland asks for, +and I will go with him.” + </p> +<p> +“Do not go, my pulse,” his father advised. +</p> +<p> +“Do not go, my one treasure,” his mother pleaded. +</p> +<p> +“I must go indeed,” the boy replied, “for it is to do good I am required, +and no person may shirk such a requirement.” + </p> +<p> +“Go then,” said his father, “but I will place you under the protection of +the High King and of the Four Provincial Kings of Ireland, and under the +protection of Art, the son of Conn, and of Fionn, the son of Uail, and +under the protection of the magicians and poets and the men of art in +Ireland.” And he thereupon bound these protections and safeguards on the +Ard-Ri’ with an oath. +</p> +<p> +“I will answer for these protections,” said Conn. +</p> +<p> +He departed then from the island with Segda and in three days they reached +Ireland, and in due time they arrived at Tara. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0066" id="link2HCH0066"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n reaching the palace Conn called his magicians and poets to a council +and informed them that he had found the boy they sought—the son of a +virgin. These learned people consulted together, and they stated that the +young man must be killed, and that his blood should be mixed with the +earth of Tara and sprinkled under the withered trees. +</p> +<p> +When Segda heard this he was astonished and defiant; then, seeing that he +was alone and without prospect of succour, he grew downcast and was in +great fear for his life. But remembering the safeguards under which he had +been placed, he enumerated these to the assembly, and called on the High +King to grant him the protections that were his due. +</p> +<p> +Conn was greatly perturbed, but, as in duty bound, he placed the boy under +the various protections that were in his oath, and, with the courage of +one who has no more to gain or lose, he placed Segda, furthermore, under +the protection of all the men of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +But the men of Ireland refused to accept that bond, saying that although +the Ard-Ri’ was acting justly towards the boy he was not acting justly +towards Ireland. +</p> +<p> +“We do not wish to slay this prince for our pleasure,” they argued, “but +for the safety of Ireland he must be killed.” + </p> +<p> +Angry parties were formed. Art, and Fionn the son of Uail, and the princes +of the land were outraged at the idea that one who had been placed under +their protection should be hurt by any hand. But the men of Ireland and +the magicians stated that the king had gone to Faery for a special +purpose, and that his acts outside or contrary to that purpose were +illegal, and committed no person to obedience. +</p> +<p> +There were debates in the Council Hall, in the market-place, in the +streets of Tara, some holding that national honour dissolved and absolved +all personal honour, and others protesting that no man had aught but his +personal honour, and that above it not the gods, not even Ireland, could +be placed—for it is to be known that Ireland is a god. +</p> +<p> +Such a debate was in course, and Segda, to whom both sides addressed +gentle and courteous arguments, grew more and more disconsolate. +</p> +<p> +“You shall die for Ireland, dear heart,” said one of them, and he gave +Segda three kisses on each cheek. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed,” said Segda, returning those kisses, “indeed I had not bargained +to die for Ireland, but only to bathe in her waters and to remove her +pestilence.” + </p> +<p> +“But dear child and prince,” said another, kissing him likewise, “if any +one of us could save Ireland by dying for her how cheerfully we would +die.” + </p> +<p> +And Segda, returning his three kisses, agreed that the death was noble, +but that it was not in his undertaking. +</p> +<p> +Then, observing the stricken countenances about him, and the faces of men +and women hewn thin by hunger, his resolution melted away, and he said: +</p> +<p> +“I think I must die for you,” and then he said: +</p> +<p> +“I will die for you.” + </p> +<p> +And when he had said that, all the people present touched his cheek with +their lips, and the love and peace of Ireland entered into his soul, so +that he was tranquil and proud and happy. +</p> +<p> +The executioner drew his wide, thin blade and all those present covered +their eyes with their cloaks, when a wailing voice called on the +executioner to delay yet a moment. The High King uncovered his eyes and +saw that a woman had approached driving a cow before her. +</p> +<p> +“Why are you killing the boy?” she demanded. +</p> +<p> +The reason for this slaying was explained to her. +</p> +<p> +“Are you sure,” she asked, “that the poets and magicians really know +everything?” + </p> +<p> +“Do they not?” the king inquired. +</p> +<p> +“Do they?” she insisted. +</p> +<p> +And then turning to the magicians: +</p> +<p> +“Let one magician of the magicians tell me what is hidden in the bags that +are lying across the back of my cow.” + </p> +<p> +But no magician could tell it, nor did they try to. +</p> +<p> +“Questions are not answered thus,” they said. “There is formulae, and the +calling up of spirits, and lengthy complicated preparations in our art.” + </p> +<p> +“I am not badly learned in these arts,” said the woman, “and I say that if +you slay this cow the effect will be the same as if you had killed the +boy.” + </p> +<p> +“We would prefer to kill a cow or a thousand cows rather than harm this +young prince,” said Conn, “but if we spare the boy will these evils +return?” + </p> +<p> +“They will not be banished until you have banished their cause.” + </p> +<p> +“And what is their cause?” + </p> +<p> +“Becuma is the cause, and she must be banished.” + </p> +<p> +“If you must tell me what to do,” said Conn, “tell me at least to do +something that I can do.” + </p> +<p> +“I will tell you certainly. You can keep Becuma and your ills as long as +you want to. It does not matter to me. Come, my son,” she said to Segda, +for it was Segda’s mother who had come to save him; and then that sinless +queen and her son went back to their home of enchantment, leaving the king +and Fionn and the magicians and nobles of Ireland astonished and ashamed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0067" id="link2HCH0067"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here are good and evil people in this and in every other world, and the +person who goes hence will go to the good or the evil that is native to +him, while those who return come as surely to their due. The trouble which +had fallen on Becuma did not leave her repentant, and the sweet lady began +to do wrong as instantly and innocently as a flower begins to grow. It was +she who was responsible for the ills which had come on Ireland, and we may +wonder why she brought these plagues and droughts to what was now her own +country. +</p> +<p> +Under all wrong-doing lies personal vanity or the feeling that we are +endowed and privileged beyond our fellows. It is probable that, however +courageously she had accepted fate, Becuma had been sharply stricken in +her pride; in the sense of personal strength, aloofness, and identity, in +which the mind likens itself to god and will resist every domination but +its own. She had been punished, that is, she had submitted to control, and +her sense of freedom, of privilege, of very being, was outraged. The mind +flinches even from the control of natural law, and how much more from the +despotism of its own separated likenesses, for if another can control me +that other has usurped me, has become me, and how terribly I seem +diminished by the seeming addition! +</p> +<p> +This sense of separateness is vanity, and is the bed of all wrong-doing. +For we are not freedom, we are control, and we must submit to our own +function ere we can exercise it. Even unconsciously we accept the rights +of others to all that we have, and if we will not share our good with +them, it is because we cannot, having none; but we will yet give what we +have, although that be evil. To insist on other people sharing in our +personal torment is the first step towards insisting that they shall share +in our joy, as we shall insist when we get it. +</p> +<p> +Becuma considered that if she must suffer all else she met should suffer +also. She raged, therefore, against Ireland, and in particular she raged +against young Art, her husband’s son, and she left undone nothing that +could afflict Ireland or the prince. She may have felt that she could not +make them suffer, and that is a maddening thought to any woman. Or perhaps +she had really desired the son instead of the father, and her thwarted +desire had perpetuated itself as hate. But it is true that Art regarded +his mother’s successor with intense dislike, and it is true that she +actively returned it. +</p> +<p> +One day Becuma came on the lawn before the palace, and seeing that Art was +at chess with Cromdes she walked to the table on which the match was being +played and for some time regarded the game. But the young prince did not +take any notice of her while she stood by the board, for he knew that this +girl was the enemy of Ireland, and he could not bring himself even to look +at her. +</p> +<p> +Becuma, looking down on his beautiful head, smiled as much in rage as in +disdain. +</p> +<p> +“O son of a king,” said she, “I demand a game with you for stakes.” + </p> +<p> +Art then raised his head and stood up courteously, but he did not look at +her. +</p> +<p> +“Whatever the queen demands I will do,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“Am I not your mother also?” she replied mockingly, as she took the seat +which the chief magician leaped from. +</p> +<p> +The game was set then, and her play was so skilful that Art was hard put +to counter her moves. But at a point of the game Becuma grew thoughtful, +and, as by a lapse of memory, she made a move which gave the victory to +her opponent. But she had intended that. She sat then, biting on her lip +with her white small teeth and staring angrily at Art. +</p> +<p> +“What do you demand from me?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“I bind you to eat no food in Ireland until you find the wand of Curoi, +son of Dare’.” + </p> +<p> +Becuma then put a cloak about her and she went from Tara northward and +eastward until she came to the dewy, sparkling Brugh of Angus mac an Og in +Ulster, but she was not admitted there. She went thence to the Shi’ ruled +over by Eogabal, and although this lord would not admit her, his daughter +Aine’, who was her foster-sister, let her into Faery. +</p> +<p> +She made inquiries and was informed where the dun of Curoi mac Dare’ was, +and when she had received this intelligence she set out for Sliev Mis. By +what arts she coaxed Curoi to give up his wand it matters not, enough that +she was able to return in triumph to Tara. When she handed the wand to +Art, she said: +</p> +<p> +“I claim my game of revenge.” + </p> +<p> +“It is due to you,” said Art, and they sat on the lawn before the palace +and played. +</p> +<p> +A hard game that was, and at times each of the combatants sat for an hour +staring on the board before the next move was made, and at times they +looked from the board and for hours stared on the sky seeking as though in +heaven for advice. But Becuma’s foster-sister, Aine’, came from the Shi’, +and, unseen by any, she interfered with Art’s play, so that, suddenly, +when he looked again on the board, his face went pale, for he saw that the +game was lost. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t move that piece,” said he sternly. +</p> +<p> +“Nor did I,” Becuma replied, and she called on the onlookers to confirm +that statement. +</p> +<p> +She was smiling to herself secretly, for she had seen what the mortal eyes +around could not see. +</p> +<p> +“I think the game is mine,” she insisted softly. +</p> +<p> +“I think that your friends in Faery have cheated,” he replied, “but the +game is yours if you are content to win it that way.” + </p> +<p> +“I bind you,” said Becuma, “to eat no food in Ireland until you have found +Delvcaem, the daughter of Morgan.” + </p> +<p> +“Where do I look for her?” said Art in despair. +</p> +<p> +“She is in one of the islands of the sea,” Becuma replied, “that is all I +will tell you,” and she looked at him maliciously, joyously, contentedly, +for she thought he would never return from that journey, and that Morgan +would see to it. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0068" id="link2HCH0068"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>rt, as his father had done before him, set out for the Many-Coloured +Land, but it was from Inver Colpa he embarked and not from Ben Edair. +</p> +<p> +At a certain time he passed from the rough green ridges of the sea to +enchanted waters, and he roamed from island to island asking all people +how he might come to Delvcaem, the daughter of Morgan. But he got no news +from any one, until he reached an island that was fragrant with wild +apples, gay with flowers, and joyous with the song of birds and the deep +mellow drumming of the bees. In this island he was met by a lady, Crede’, +the Truly Beautiful, and when they had exchanged kisses, he told her who +he was and on what errand he was bent. +</p> +<p> +“We have been expecting you,” said Crede’, “but alas, poor soul, it is a +hard, and a long, bad way that you must go; for there is sea and land, +danger and difficulty between you and the daughter of Morgan.” + </p> +<p> +“Yet I must go there,” he answered. +</p> +<p> +“There is a wild dark ocean to be crossed. There is a dense wood where +every thorn on every tree is sharp as a spear-point and is curved and +clutching. There is a deep gulf to be gone through,” she said, “a place of +silence and terror, full of dumb, venomous monsters. There is an immense +oak forest—dark, dense, thorny, a place to be strayed in, a place to +be utterly bewildered and lost in. There is a vast dark wilderness, and +therein is a dark house, lonely and full of echoes, and in it there are +seven gloomy hags, who are warned already of your coming and are waiting +to plunge you in a bath of molten lead.” + </p> +<p> +“It is not a choice journey,” said Art, “but I have no choice and must +go.” + </p> +<p> +“Should you pass those hags,” she continued, “and no one has yet passed +them, you must meet Ailill of the Black Teeth, the son of Mongan Tender +Blossom, and who could pass that gigantic and terrible fighter?” + </p> +<p> +“It is not easy to find the daughter of Morgan,” said Art in a melancholy +voice. +</p> +<p> +“It is not easy,” Crede’ replied eagerly, “and if you will take my advice—” + </p> +<p> +“Advise me,” he broke in, “for in truth there is no man standing in such +need of counsel as I do.” + </p> +<p> +“I would advise you,” said Crede’ in a low voice, “to seek no more for the +sweet daughter of Morgan, but to stay in this place where all that is +lovely is at your service.” + </p> +<p> +“But, but—” cried Art in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“Am I not as sweet as the daughter of Morgan?” she demanded, and she stood +before him queenly and pleadingly, and her eyes took his with imperious +tenderness. +</p> +<p> +“By my hand,” he answered, “you are sweeter and lovelier than any being +under the sun, but—” + </p> +<p> +“And with me,” she said, “you will forget Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“I am under bonds,” cried Art, “I have passed my word, and I would not +forget Ireland or cut myself from it for all the kingdoms of the +Many-Coloured Land.” + </p> +<p> +Crede’ urged no more at that time, but as they were parting she whispered, +“There are two girls, sisters of my own, in Morgan’s palace. They will +come to you with a cup in either hand; one cup will be filled with wine +and one with poison. Drink from the right-hand cup, O my dear.” + </p> +<p> +Art stepped into his coracle, and then, wringing her hands, she made yet +an attempt to dissuade him from that drear journey. +</p> +<p> +“Do not leave me,” she urged. “Do not affront these dangers. Around the +palace of Morgan there is a palisade of copper spikes, and on the top of +each spike the head of a man grins and shrivels. There is one spike only +which bears no head, and it is for your head that spike is waiting. Do not +go there, my love.” + </p> +<p> +“I must go indeed,” said. Art earnestly. +</p> +<p> +“There is yet a danger,” she called. “Beware of Delvcaem’s mother, Dog +Head, daughter of the King of the Dog Heads. Beware of her.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed,” said Art to himself, “there is so much to beware of that I will +beware of nothing. I will go about my business,” he said to the waves, +“and I will let those beings and monsters and the people of the Dog Heads +go about their business.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0069" id="link2HCH0069"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e went forward in his light bark, and at some moment found that he had +parted from those seas and was adrift on vaster and more turbulent +billows. From those dark-green surges there gaped at him monstrous and +cavernous jaws; and round, wicked, red-rimmed, bulging eyes stared fixedly +at the boat. A ridge of inky water rushed foaming mountainously on his +board, and behind that ridge came a vast warty head that gurgled and +groaned. But at these vile creatures he thrust with his lengthy spear or +stabbed at closer reach with a dagger. +</p> +<p> +He was not spared one of the terrors which had been foretold. Thus, in the +dark thick oak forest he slew the seven hags and buried them in the molten +lead which they had heated for him. He climbed an icy mountain, the cold +breath of which seemed to slip into his body and chip off inside of his +bones, and there, until he mastered the sort of climbing on ice, for each +step that he took upwards he slipped back ten steps. Almost his heart gave +way before he learned to climb that venomous hill. In a forked glen into +which he slipped at night-fall he was surrounded by giant toads, who spat +poison, and were icy as the land they lived in, and were cold and foul and +savage. At Sliav Saev he encountered the long-maned lions who lie in wait +for the beasts of the world, growling woefully as they squat above their +prey and crunch those terrified bones. He came on Ailill of the Black +Teeth sitting on the bridge that spanned a torrent, and the grim giant was +grinding his teeth on a pillar stone. Art drew nigh unobserved and brought +him low. +</p> +<p> +It was not for nothing that these difficulties and dangers were in his +path. These things and creatures were the invention of Dog Head, the wife +of Morgan, for it had become known to her that she would die on the day +her daughter was wooed. Therefore none of the dangers encountered by Art +were real, but were magical chimeras conjured against him by the great +witch. +</p> +<p> +Affronting all, conquering all, he came in time to Morgan’s dun, a place +so lovely that after the miseries through which he had struggled he almost +wept to see beauty again. +</p> +<p> +Delvcaem knew that he was coming. She was waiting for him, yearning for +him. To her mind Art was not only love, he was freedom, for the poor girl +was a captive in her father’s home. A great pillar an hundred feet high +had been built on the roof of Morgan’s palace, and on the top of this +pillar a tiny room had been constructed, and in this room Delvcaem was a +prisoner. +</p> +<p> +She was lovelier in shape than any other princess of the Many-Coloured +Land. She was wiser than all the other women of that land, and she was +skilful in music, embroidery, and chastity, and in all else that pertained +to the knowledge of a queen. +</p> +<p> +Although Delvcaem’s mother wished nothing but ill to Art, she yet treated +him with the courtesy proper in a queen on the one hand and fitting +towards the son of the King of Ireland on the other. Therefore, when Art +entered the palace he was met and kissed, and he was bathed and clothed +and fed. Two young girls came to him then, having a cup in each of their +hands, and presented him with the kingly drink, but, remembering the +warning which Credl had given him, he drank only from the right-hand cup +and escaped the poison. Next he was visited by Delvcaem’s mother, Dog +Head, daughter of the King of the Dog Heads, and Morgan’s queen. She was +dressed in full armour, and she challenged Art to fight with her. +</p> +<p> +It was a woeful combat, for there was no craft or sagacity unknown to her, +and Art would infallibly have perished by her hand but that her days were +numbered, her star was out, and her time had come. It was her head that +rolled on the ground when the combat was over, and it was her head that +grinned and shrivelled on the vacant spike which she had reserved for +Art’s. +</p> +<p> +Then Art liberated Delvcaem from her prison at the top of the pillar and +they were affianced together. But the ceremony had scarcely been completed +when the tread of a single man caused the palace to quake and seemed to +jar the world. +</p> +<p> +It was Morgan returning to the palace. +</p> +<p> +The gloomy king challenged him to combat also, and in his honour Art put +on the battle harness which he had brought from Ireland. He wore a +breastplate and helmet of gold, a mantle of blue satin swung from his +shoulders, his left hand was thrust into the grips of a purple shield, +deeply bossed with silver, and in the other hand he held the wide-grooved, +blue hilted sword which had rung so often into fights and combats, and +joyous feats and exercises. +</p> +<p> +Up to this time the trials through which he had passed had seemed so great +that they could not easily be added to. But if all those trials had been +gathered into one vast calamity they would not equal one half of the rage +and catastrophe of his war with Morgan. +</p> +<p> +For what he could not effect by arms Morgan would endeavour by guile, so +that while Art drove at him or parried a crafty blow, the shape of Morgan +changed before his eyes, and the monstrous king was having at him in +another form, and from a new direction. +</p> +<p> +It was well for the son of the Ard-Ri’ that he had been beloved by the +poets and magicians of his land, and that they had taught him all that was +known of shape-changing and words of power. +</p> +<p> +He had need of all these. +</p> +<p> +At times, for the weapon must change with the enemy, they fought with +their foreheads as two giant stags, and the crash of their monstrous +onslaught rolled and lingered on the air long after their skulls had +parted. Then as two lions, long-clawed, deep-mouthed, snarling, with rigid +mane, with red-eyed glare, with flashing, sharp-white fangs, they prowled +lithely about each other seeking for an opening. And then as two +green-ridged, white-topped, broad-swung, overwhelming, vehement billows of +the deep, they met and crashed and sunk into and rolled away from each +other; and the noise of these two waves was as the roar of all ocean when +the howl of the tempest is drowned in the league-long fury of the surge. +</p> +<p> +But when the wife’s time has come the husband is doomed. He is required +elsewhere by his beloved, and Morgan went to rejoin his queen in the world +that comes after the Many-Coloured Land, and his victor shore that +knowledgeable head away from its giant shoulders. +</p> +<p> +He did not tarry in the Many-Coloured Land, for he had nothing further to +seek there. He gathered the things which pleased him best from among the +treasures of its grisly king, and with Delvcaem by his side they stepped +into the coracle. +</p> +<p> +Then, setting their minds on Ireland, they went there as it were in a +flash. +</p> +<p> +The waves of all the world seemed to whirl past them in one huge, green +cataract. The sound of all these oceans boomed in their ears for one +eternal instant. Nothing was for that moment but a vast roar and pour of +waters. Thence they swung into a silence equally vast, and so sudden that +it was as thunderous in the comparison as was the elemental rage they +quitted. For a time they sat panting, staring at each other, holding each +other, lest not only their lives but their very souls should be swirled +away in the gusty passage of world within world; and then, looking abroad, +they saw the small bright waves creaming by the rocks of Ben Edair, and +they blessed the power that had guided and protected them, and they +blessed the comely land of Ir. +</p> +<p> +On reaching Tara, Delvcaem, who was more powerful in art and magic than +Becuma, ordered the latter to go away, and she did so. +</p> +<p> +She left the king’s side. She came from the midst of the counsellors and +magicians. She did not bid farewell to any one. She did not say good-bye +to the king as she set out for Ben Edair. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/323m.jpg" alt="323m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/323.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +Where she could go to no man knew, for she had been banished from the +Many-Coloured Land and could not return there. She was forbidden entry to +the Shi’ by Angus Og, and she could not remain in Ireland. She went to +Sasana and she became a queen in that country, and it was she who fostered +the rage against the Holy Land which has not ceased to this day. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +MONGAN’S FRENZY +</h2> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0070" id="link2HCH0070"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER I +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he abbot of the Monastery of Moville sent word to the story-tellers of +Ireland that when they were in his neighbourhood they should call at the +monastery, for he wished to collect and write down the stories which were +in danger of being forgotten. +</p> +<p> +“These things also must be told,” said he. +</p> +<p> +In particular he wished to gather tales which told of the deeds that had +been done before the Gospel came to Ireland. +</p> +<p> +“For,” said he, “there are very good tales among those ones, and it would +be a pity if the people who come after us should be ignorant of what +happened long ago, and of the deeds of their fathers.” + </p> +<p> +So, whenever a story-teller chanced in that neighbourhood he was directed +to the monastery, and there he received a welcome and his fill of all that +is good for man. +</p> +<p> +The abbot’s manuscript boxes began to fill up, and he used to regard that +growing store with pride and joy. In the evenings, when the days grew +short and the light went early, he would call for some one of these +manuscripts and have it read to him by candle-light, in order that he +might satisfy himself that it was as good as he had judged it to be on the +previous hearing. +</p> +<p> +One day a story-teller came to the monastery, and, like all the others, he +was heartily welcomed and given a great deal more than his need. +</p> +<p> +He said that his name was Cairide’, and that he had a story to tell which +could not be bettered among the stories of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +The abbot’s eyes glistened when he heard that. He rubbed his hands +together and smiled on his guest. +</p> +<p> +“What is the name of your story?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“It is called ‘Mongan’s Frenzy.’” + </p> +<p> +“I never heard of it before,” cried the abbot joyfully. +</p> +<p> +“I am the only man that knows it,” Cairide’ replied. +</p> +<p> +“But how does that come about?” the abbot inquired. +</p> +<p> +“Because it belongs to my family,” the story-teller answered. “There was a +Cairide’ of my nation with Mongan when he went into Faery. This Cairide’ +listened to the story when it was first told. Then he told it to his son, +and his son told it to his son, and that son’s great-great-grandson’s son +told it to his son’s son, and he told it to my father, and my father told +it to me.” + </p> +<p> +“And you shall tell it to me,” cried the abbot triumphantly. +</p> +<p> +“I will indeed,” said Cairide’. Vellum was then brought and quills. The +copyists sat at their tables. Ale was placed beside the story-teller, and +he told this tale to the abbot. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0071" id="link2HCH0071"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/331m.jpg" alt="331m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/331.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER II +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>aid Cairide’: +</p> +<p> +Mongan’s wife at that time was Bro’tiarna, the Flame Lady. She was +passionate and fierce, and because the blood would flood suddenly to her +cheek, so that she who had seemed a lily became, while you looked upon +her, a rose, she was called Flame Lady. She loved Mongan with ecstasy and +abandon, and for that also he called her Flame Lady. +</p> +<p> +But there may have been something of calculation even in her wildest +moment, for if she was delighted in her affection she was tormented in it +also, as are all those who love the great ones of life and strive to equal +themselves where equality is not possible. +</p> +<p> +For her husband was at once more than himself and less than himself. He +was less than himself because he was now Mongan. He was more than himself +because he was one who had long disappeared from the world of men. His +lament had been sung and his funeral games played many, many years before, +and Bro’tiarna sensed in him secrets, experiences, knowledges in which she +could have no part, and for which she was greedily envious. +</p> +<p> +So she was continually asking him little, simple questions a’ propos of +every kind of thing. +</p> +<p> +She weighed all that he said on whatever subject, and when he talked in +his sleep she listened to his dream. +</p> +<p> +The knowledge that she gleaned from those listenings tormented her far +more than it satisfied her, for the names of other women were continually +on his lips, sometimes in terms of dear affection, sometimes in accents of +anger or despair, and in his sleep he spoke familiarly of people whom the +story-tellers told of, but who had been dead for centuries. Therefore she +was perplexed, and became filled with a very rage of curiosity. +</p> +<p> +Among the names which her husband mentioned there was one which, because +of the frequency with which it appeared, and because of the tone of +anguish and love and longing in which it was uttered, she thought of +oftener than the others: this name was Duv Laca. Although she questioned +and cross-questioned Cairide’, her story-teller, she could discover +nothing about a lady who had been known as the Black Duck. But one night +when Mongan seemed to speak with Duv Laca he mentioned her father as +Fiachna Duv mac Demain, and the story-teller said that king had been dead +for a vast number of years. +</p> +<p> +She asked her husband then, boldly, to tell her the story of Duv Laca, and +under the influence of their mutual love he promised to tell it to her +some time, but each time she reminded him of his promise he became +confused, and said that he would tell it some other time. +</p> +<p> +As time went on the poor Flame Lady grew more and more jealous of Duv +Laca, and more and more certain that, if only she could know what had +happened, she would get some ease to her tormented heart and some +assuagement of her perfectly natural curiosity. Therefore she lost no +opportunity of reminding Mongan of his promise, and on each occasion he +renewed the promise and put it back to another time. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0072" id="link2HCH0072"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER III +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the year when Ciaran the son of the Carpenter died, the same year when +Tuathal Maelgariv was killed and the year when Diarmait the son of Cerrbel +became king of all Ireland, the year 538 of our era in short, it happened +that there was a great gathering of the men of Ireland at the Hill of +Uisneach in Royal Meath. +</p> +<p> +In addition to the Council which was being held, there were games and +tournaments and brilliant deployments of troops, and universal feastings +and enjoyments. The gathering lasted for a week, and on the last day of +the week Mongan was moving through the crowd with seven guards, his +story-teller Cairide’, and his wife. +</p> +<p> +It had been a beautiful day, with brilliant sunshine and great sport, but +suddenly clouds began to gather in the sky to the west, and others came +rushing blackly from the east. When these clouds met the world went dark +for a space, and there fell from the sky a shower of hailstones, so large +that each man wondered at their size, and so swift and heavy that the +women and young people of the host screamed from the pain of the blows +they received. +</p> +<p> +Mongan’s men made a roof of their shields, and the hailstones battered on +the shields so terribly that even under them they were afraid. They began +to move away from the host looking for shelter, and when they had gone +apart a little way they turned the edge of a small hill and a knoll of +trees, and in the twinkling of an eye they were in fair weather. +</p> +<p> +One minute they heard the clashing and bashing of the hailstones, the +howling of the venomous wind, the screams of women and the uproar of the +crowd on the Hill of Uisneach, and the next minute they heard nothing more +of those sounds and saw nothing more of these sights, for they had been +permitted to go at one step out of the world of men and into the world of +Faery. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0073" id="link2HCH0073"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here is a difference between this world and the world of Faery, but it is +not immediately perceptible. Everything that is here is there, but the +things that are there are better than those that are here. All things that +are bright are there brighter. There is more gold in the sun and more +silver in the moon of that land. There is more scent in the flowers, more +savour in the fruit. There is more comeliness in the men and more +tenderness in the women. Everything in Faery is better by this one +wonderful degree, and it is by this betterness you will know that you are +there if you should ever happen to get there. +</p> +<p> +Mongan and his companions stepped from the world of storm into sunshine +and a scented world. The instant they stepped they stood, bewildered, +looking at each other silently, questioningly, and then with one accord +they turned to look back whence they had come. +</p> +<p> +There was no storm behind them. The sunlight drowsed there as it did in +front, a peaceful flooding of living gold. They saw the shapes of the +country to which their eyes were accustomed, and recognised the well-known +landmarks, but it seemed that the distant hills were a trifle higher, and +the grass which clothed them and stretched between was greener, was more +velvety: that the trees were better clothed and had more of peace as they +hung over the quiet ground. +</p> +<p> +But Mongan knew what had happened, and he smiled with glee as he watched +his astonished companions, and he sniffed that balmy air as one whose +nostrils remembered it. +</p> +<p> +“You had better come with me,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Where are we?” his wife asked. “Why, we are here,” cried Mongan; “where +else should we be?” + </p> +<p> +He set off then, and the others followed, staring about them cautiously, +and each man keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword. +</p> +<p> +“Are we in Faery?” the Flame Lady asked. +</p> +<p> +“We are,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +When they had gone a little distance they came to a grove of ancient +trees. Mightily tail and well grown these trees were, and the trunk of +each could not have been spanned by ten broad men. As they went among +these quiet giants into the dappled obscurity and silence, their thoughts +became grave, and all the motions of their minds elevated as though they +must equal in greatness and dignity those ancient and glorious trees. When +they passed through the grove they saw a lovely house before them, built +of mellow wood and with a roof of bronze—it was like the dwelling of +a king, and over the windows of the Sunny Room there was a balcony. There +were ladies on this balcony, and when they saw the travellers approaching +they sent messengers to welcome them. +</p> +<p> +Mongan and his companions were then brought into the house, and all was +done for them that could be done for honoured guests. Everything within +the house was as excellent as all without, and it was inhabited by seven +men and seven women, and it was evident that Mongan and these people were +well acquainted. +</p> +<p> +In the evening a feast was prepared, and when they had eaten well there +was a banquet. There were seven vats of wine, and as Mongan loved wine he +was very happy, and he drank more on that occasion than any one had ever +noticed him to drink before. +</p> +<p> +It was while he was in this condition of glee and expansion that the Flame +Lady put her arms about his neck and begged he would tell her the story of +Duv Laca, and, being boisterous then and full of good spirits, he agreed +to her request, and he prepared to tell the tale. +</p> +<p> +The seven men and seven women of the Fairy Palace then took their places +about him in a half-circle; his own seven guards sat behind them; his +wife, the Flame Lady, sat by his side; and at the back of all Cairid, his +story-teller sat, listening with all his ears, and remembering every word +that was uttered. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0074" id="link2HCH0074"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER V +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>aid Mongan: +</p> +<p> +In the days of long ago and the times that have disappeared for ever, +there was one Fiachna Finn the son of Baltan, the son of Murchertach, the +son of Muredach, the son of Eogan, the son of Neill. He went from his own +country when he was young, for he wished to see the land of Lochlann, and +he knew that he would be welcomed by the king of that country, for +Fiachna’s father and Eolgarg’s father had done deeds in common and were +obliged to each other. +</p> +<p> +He was welcomed, and he stayed at the Court of Lochlann in great ease and +in the midst of pleasures. +</p> +<p> +It then happened that Eolgarg Mor fell sick and the doctors could not cure +him. They sent for other doctors, but they could not cure him, nor could +any one say what he was suffering from, beyond that he was wasting visibly +before their eyes, and would certainly become a shadow and disappear in +air unless he was healed and fattened and made visible. +</p> +<p> +They sent for more distant doctors, and then for others more distant +still, and at last they found a man who claimed that he could make a cure +if the king were supplied with the medicine which he would order. +</p> +<p> +“What medicine is that?” said they all. +</p> +<p> +“This is the medicine,” said the doctor. “Find a perfectly white cow with +red ears, and boil it down in the lump, and if the king drinks that +rendering he will recover.” + </p> +<p> +Before he had well said it messengers were going from the palace in all +directions looking for such a cow. They found lots of cows which were +nearly like what they wanted, but it was only by chance they came on the +cow which would do the work, and that beast belonged to the most notorious +and malicious and cantankerous female in Lochlann, the Black Hag. Now the +Black Hag was not only those things that have been said; she was also +whiskered and warty and one-eyed and obstreperous, and she was notorious +and ill-favoured in many other ways also. +</p> +<p> +They offered her a cow in the place of her own cow, but she refused to +give it. Then they offered a cow for each leg of her cow, but she would +not accept that offer unless Fiachna went bail for the payment. He agreed +to do so, and they drove the beast away. +</p> +<p> +On the return journey he was met by messengers who brought news from +Ireland. They said that the King of Ulster was dead, and that he, Fiachna +Finn, had been elected king in the dead king’s place. He at once took ship +for Ireland, and found that all he had been told was true, and he took up +the government of Ulster. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/343m.jpg" alt="343m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/343.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0075" id="link2HCH0075"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> year passed, and one day as he was sitting at judgement there came a +great noise from without, and this noise was so persistent that the people +and suitors were scandalised, and Fiachna at last ordered that the noisy +person should be brought before him to be judged. +</p> +<p> +It was done, and to his surprise the person turned out to be the Black +Hag. +</p> +<p> +She blamed him in the court before his people, and complained that he had +taken away her cow, and that she had not been paid the four cows he had +gone bail for, and she demanded judgement from him and justice. +</p> +<p> +“If you will consider it to be justice, I will give you twenty cows +myself,” said Fiachna. +</p> +<p> +“I would not take all the cows in Ulster,” she screamed. +</p> +<p> +“Pronounce judgement yourself,” said the king, “and if I can do what you +demand I will do it.” For he did not like to be in the wrong, and he did +not wish that any person should have an unsatisfied claim upon him. +</p> +<p> +The Black Hag then pronounced judgement, and the king had to fulfil it. +</p> +<p> +“I have come,” said she, “from the east to the west; you must come from +the west to the east and make war for me, and revenge me on the King of +Lochlann.” + </p> +<p> +Fiachna had to do as she demanded, and, although it was with a heavy +heart, he set out in three days’ time for Lochlann, and he brought with +him ten battalions. +</p> +<p> +He sent messengers before him to Big Eolgarg warning him of his coming, of +his intention, and of the number of troops he was bringing; and when he +landed Eolgarg met him with an equal force, and they fought together. +</p> +<p> +In the first battle three hundred of the men of Lochlann were killed, but +in the next battle Eolgarg Mor did not fight fair, for he let some +venomous sheep out of a tent, and these attacked the men of Ulster and +killed nine hundred of them. +</p> +<p> +So vast was the slaughter made by these sheep and so great the terror they +caused, that no one could stand before them, but by great good luck there +was a wood at hand, and the men of Ulster, warriors and princes and +charioteers, were forced to climb up the trees, and they roosted among the +branches like great birds, while the venomous sheep ranged below bleating +terribly and tearing up the ground. +</p> +<p> +Fiachna Fim was also sitting in a tree, very high up, and he was +disconsolate. +</p> +<p> +“We are disgraced,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“It is very lucky,” said the man in the branch below, “that a sheep cannot +climb a tree.” + </p> +<p> +“We are disgraced for ever,” said the King of Ulster. +</p> +<p> +“If those sheep learn how to climb, we are undone surely,” said the man +below. +</p> +<p> +“I will go down and fight the sheep,” said Fiachna. But the others would +not let the king go. +</p> +<p> +“It is not right,” they said, “that you should fight sheep.” + </p> +<p> +“Some one must fight them,” said Fiachna Finn, “but no more of my men +shall die until I fight myself; for if I am fated to die, I will die and I +cannot escape it, and if it is the sheep’s fate to die, then die they +will; for there is no man can avoid destiny, and there is no sheep can +dodge it either.” + </p> +<p> +“Praise be to god!” said the warrior that was higher up. +</p> +<p> +“Amen!” said the man who was higher than he, and the rest of the warriors +wished good luck to the king. +</p> +<p> +He started then to climb down the tree with a heavy heart, but while he +hung from the last branch and was about to let go, he noticed a tall +warrior walking towards him. The king pulled himself up on the branch +again and sat dangle-legged on it to see what the warrior would do. +</p> +<p> +The stranger was a very tall man, dressed in a green cloak with a silver +brooch at the shoulder. He had a golden band about his hair and golden +sandals on his feet, and he was laughing heartily at the plight of the men +of Ireland. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0076" id="link2HCH0076"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/348m.jpg" alt="348m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/348.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER VII +</h2> + +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is not nice of you to laugh at us,” said Fiachna Finn. +</p> +<p> +“Who could help laughing at a king hunkering on a branch and his army +roosting around him like hens?” said the stranger. +</p> +<p> +“Nevertheless,” the king replied, “it would be courteous of you not to +laugh at misfortune.” + </p> +<p> +“We laugh when we can,” commented the stranger, “and are thankful for the +chance.” + </p> +<p> +“You may come up into the tree,” said Fiachna, “for I perceive that you +are a mannerly person, and I see that some of the venomous sheep are +charging in this direction. I would rather protect you,” he continued, +“than see you killed; for,” said he lamentably, “I am getting down now to +fight the sheep.” + </p> +<p> +“They will not hurt me,” said the stranger. “Who are you?” the king asked. +</p> +<p> +“I am Mananna’n, the son of Lir.” + </p> +<p> +Fiachna knew then that the stranger could not be hurt. +</p> +<p> +“What will you give me if I deliver you from the sheep?” asked Mananna’n. +</p> +<p> +“I will give you anything you ask, if I have that thing.” + </p> +<p> +“I ask the rights of your crown and of your household for one day.” + </p> +<p> +Fiachna’s breath was taken away by that request, and he took a little time +to compose himself, then he said mildly: +</p> +<p> +“I will not have one man of Ireland killed if I can save him. All that I +have they give me, all that I have I give to them, and if I must give this +also, then I will give this, although it would be easier for me to give my +life.” “That is agreed,” said Mannana’n. +</p> +<p> +He had something wrapped in a fold of his cloak, and he unwrapped and +produced this thing. +</p> +<p> +It was a dog. +</p> +<p> +Now if the sheep were venomous, this dog was more venomous still, for it +was fearful to look at. In body it was not large, but its head was of a +great size, and the mouth that was shaped in that head was able to open +like the lid of a pot. It was not teeth which were in that head, but hooks +and fangs and prongs. Dreadful was that mouth to look at, terrible to look +into, woeful to think about; and from it, or from the broad, loose nose +that waggled above it, there came a sound which no word of man could +describe, for it was not a snarl, nor was it a howl, although it was both +of these. It was neither a growl nor a grunt, although it was both of +these; it was not a yowl nor a groan, although it was both of these: for +it was one sound made up of these sounds, and there was in it, too, a +whine and a yelp, and a long-drawn snoring noise, and a deep purring +noise, and a noise that was like the squeal of a rusty hinge, and there +were other noises in it also. +</p> +<p> +“The gods be praised!” said the man who was in the branch above the king. +</p> +<p> +“What for this time?” said the king. +</p> +<p> +“Because that dog cannot climb a tree,” said the man. +</p> +<p> +And the man on a branch yet above him groaned out “Amen!” + </p> +<p> +“There is nothing to frighten sheep like a dog,” said Mananna’n, “and +there is nothing to frighten these sheep like this dog.” + </p> +<p> +He put the dog on the ground then. +</p> +<p> +“Little dogeen, little treasure,” said he, “go and kill the sheep.” + </p> +<p> +And when he said that the dog put an addition and an addendum on to the +noise he had been making before, so that the men of Ireland stuck their +fingers into their ears and turned the whites of their eyes upwards, and +nearly fell off their branches with the fear and the fright which that +sound put into them. +</p> +<p> +It did not take the dog long to do what he had been ordered. He went +forward, at first, with a slow waddle, and as the venomous sheep came to +meet him in bounces, he then went to meet them in wriggles; so that in a +while he went so fast that you could see nothing of him but a head and a +wriggle. He dealt with the sheep in this way, a jump and a chop for each, +and he never missed his jump and he never missed his chop. When he got his +grip he swung round on it as if it was a hinge. The swing began with the +chop, and it ended with the bit loose and the sheep giving its last kick. +At the end of ten minutes all the sheep were lying on the ground, and the +same bit was out of every sheep, and every sheep was dead. +</p> +<p> +“You can come down now,” said Mananna’n. +</p> +<p> +“That dog can’t climb a tree,” said the man in the branch above the king +warningly. +</p> +<p> +“Praise be to the gods!” said the man who was above him. +</p> +<p> +“Amen!” said the warrior who was higher up than that. And the man in the +next tree said: +</p> +<p> +“Don’t move a hand or a foot until the dog chokes himself to death on the +dead meat.” + </p> +<p> +The dog, however, did not eat a bit of the meat. He trotted to his master, +and Mananna’n took him up and wrapped him in his cloak. +</p> +<p> +“Now you can come down,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“I wish that dog was dead!” said the king. +</p> +<p> +But he swung himself out of the tree all the same, for he did not wish to +seem frightened before Mananna’n. “You can go now and beat the men of +Lochlann,” said Mananna’n. “You will be King of Lochlann before +nightfall.” + </p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t mind that,” said the king. “It’s no threat,” said Mananna’n. +</p> +<p> +The son of Lir turned then and went away in the direction of Ireland to +take up his one-day rights, and Fiachna continued his battle with the +Lochlannachs. +</p> +<p> +He beat them before nightfall, and by that victory he became King of +Lochlann and King of the Saxons and the Britons. +</p> +<p> +He gave the Black Hag seven castles with their territories, and he gave +her one hundred of every sort of cattle that he had captured. She was +satisfied. +</p> +<p> +Then he went back to Ireland, and after he had been there for some time +his wife gave birth to a son. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0077" id="link2HCH0077"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER VIII +</h2> +<p> +“You have not told me one word about Duv Laca,” said the Flame Lady +reproachfully. +</p> +<p> +“I am coming to that,” replied Mongan. +</p> +<p> +He motioned towards one of the great vats, and wine was brought to him, of +which he drank so joyously and so deeply that all people wondered at his +thirst, his capacity, and his jovial spirits. +</p> +<p> +“Now, I will begin again.” + </p> +<p> +Said Mongan: There was an attendant in Fiachna Finn’s palace who was +called An Da’v, and the same night that Fiachna’s wife bore a son, the +wife of An Da’v gave birth to a son also. This latter child was called mac +an Da’v, but the son of Fiachna’s wife was named Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” murmured the Flame Lady. +</p> +<p> +The queen was angry. She said it was unjust and presumptuous that the +servant should get a child at the same time that she got one herself, but +there was no help for it, because the child was there and could not be +obliterated. +</p> +<p> +Now this also must be told. +</p> +<p> +There was a neighbouring prince called Fiachna Duv, and he was the ruler +of the Dal Fiatach. For a long time he had been at enmity and spiteful +warfare with Fiachna Finn; and to this Fiachna Duv there was born in the +same night a daughter, and this girl was named Duv Laca of the White Hand. +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” cried the Flame Lady. +</p> +<p> +“You see!” said Mongan, and he drank anew and joyously of the fairy wine. +</p> +<p> +In order to end the trouble between Fiachna Finn and Fiachna Duv the +babies were affianced to each other in the cradle on the day after they +were born, and the men of Ireland rejoiced at that deed and at that news. +But soon there came dismay and sorrow in the land, for when the little +Mongan was three days old his real father, Mananna’n the son of Lir, +appeared in the middle of the palace. He wrapped Mongan in his green cloak +and took him away to rear and train in the Land of Promise, which is +beyond the sea that is at the other side of the grave. +</p> +<p> +When Fiachna Duv heard that Mongan, who was affianced to his daughter Duv +Laca, had disappeared, he considered that his compact of peace was at an +end, and one day he came by surprise and attacked the palace. He killed +Fiachna Finn in that battle, and be crowned himself King of Ulster. +</p> +<p> +The men of Ulster disliked him, and they petitioned Mananna’n to bring +Mongan back, but Mananna’n would not do this until the boy was sixteen +years of age and well reared in the wisdom of the Land of Promise. Then he +did bring Mongan back, and by his means peace was made between Mongan and +Fiachna Duv, and Mongan was married to his cradle-bride, the young Duv +Laca. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0078" id="link2HCH0078"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER IX +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ne day Mongan and Duv Laca were playing chess in their palace. Mongan had +just made a move of skill, and he looked up from the board to see if Duv +Laca seemed as discontented as she had a right to be. He saw then over Duv +Laca’s shoulder a little black-faced, tufty-headed cleric leaning against +the door-post inside the room. +</p> +<p> +“What are you doing there?” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“What are you doing there yourself?” said the little black-faced cleric. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, I have a right to be in my own house,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed I do not agree with you,” said the cleric. +</p> +<p> +“Where ought I be, then?” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“You ought to be at Dun Fiathac avenging the murder of your father,” + replied the cleric, “and you ought to be ashamed of yourself for not +having done it long ago. You can play chess with your wife when you have +won the right to leisure.” + </p> +<p> +“But how can I kill my wife’s father?” Mongan exclaimed. “By starting +about it at once,” said the cleric. “Here is a way of talking!” said +Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“I know,” the cleric continued, “that Duv Laca will not agree with a word +I say on this subject, and that she will try to prevent you from doing +what you have a right to do, for that is a wife’s business, but a man’s +business is to do what I have just told you; so come with me now and do +not wait to think about it, and do not wait to play any more chess. +Fiachna Duv has only a small force with him at this moment, and we can +burn his palace as he burned your father’s palace, and kill himself as he +killed your father, and crown you King of Ulster rightfully the way he +crowned himself wrongfully as a king.” + </p> +<p> +“I begin to think that you own a lucky tongue, my black-faced friend,” + said Mongan, “and I will go with you.” + </p> +<p> +He collected his forces then, and he burned Fiachna Duv’s fortress, and he +killed Fiachna Duv, and he was crowned King of Ulster. +</p> +<p> +Then for the first time he felt secure and at liberty to play chess. But +he did not know until afterwards that the black-faced, tufty-headed person +was his father Mananna’n, although that was the fact. +</p> +<p> +There are some who say, however, that Fiachna the Black was killed in the +year 624 by the lord of the Scot’s Dal Riada, Condad Cerr, at the battle +of Ard Carainn; but the people who say this do not know what they are +talking about, and they do not care greatly what it is they say. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0079" id="link2HCH0079"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER X +</h2> +<p> +“There is nothing to marvel about in this Duv Laca,” said the Flame Lady +scornfully. “She has got married, and she has been beaten at chess. It has +happened before.” + </p> +<p> +“Let us keep to the story,” said Mongan, and, having taken some few dozen +deep draughts of the wine, he became even more jovial than before. Then he +recommenced his tale: +</p> +<p> +It happened on a day that Mongan had need of treasure. He had many +presents to make, and he had not as much gold and silver and cattle as was +proper for a king. He called his nobles together and discussed what was +the best thing to be done, and it was arranged that he should visit the +provincial kings and ask boons from them. +</p> +<p> +He set out at once on his round of visits, and the first province he went +to was Leinster. +</p> +<p> +The King of Leinster at that time was Branduv, the son of Echach. He +welcomed Mongan and treated him well, and that night Mongan slept in his +palace. +</p> +<p> +When he awoke in the morning he looked out of a lofty window, and he saw +on the sunny lawn before the palace a herd of cows. There were fifty cows +in all, for he counted them, and each cow had a calf beside her, and each +cow and calf was pure white in colour, and each of them had red ears. +</p> +<p> +When Mongan saw these cows, he fell in love with them as he had never +fallen in love with anything before. +</p> +<p> +He came down from the window and walked on the sunny lawn among the cows, +looking at each of them and speaking words of affection and endearment to +them all; and while he was thus walking and talking and looking and +loving, he noticed that some one was moving beside him. He looked from the +cows then, and saw that the King of Leinster was at his side. +</p> +<p> +“Are you in love with the cows?” Branduv asked him. +</p> +<p> +“I am,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Everybody is,” said the King of Leinster. +</p> +<p> +“I never saw anything like them,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Nobody has,” said the King of Leinster. +</p> +<p> +“I never saw anything I would rather have than these cows,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“These,” said the King of Leinster, “are the most beautiful cows in +Ireland, and,” he continued thoughtfully, “Duv Laca is the most beautiful +woman in Ireland.” + </p> +<p> +“There is no lie in what you say,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Is it not a queer thing,” said the King of Leinster, “that I should have +what you want with all your soul, and you should have what I want with all +my heart?” + </p> +<p> +“Queer indeed,” said Mongan, “but what is it that you do want?” + </p> +<p> +“Duv Laca, of course,” said the King of Leinster. +</p> +<p> +“Do you mean,” said Mongan, “that you would exchange this herd of fifty +pure white cows having red ears—” + </p> +<p> +“And their fifty calves,” said the King of Leinster— +</p> +<p> +“For Duv Laca, or for any woman in the world?” + </p> +<p> +“I would,” cried the King of Leinster, and he thumped his knee as he said +it. +</p> +<p> +“Done,” roared Mongan, and the two kings shook hands on the bargain. +</p> +<p> +Mongan then called some of his own people, and before any more words could +be said and before any alteration could be made, he set his men behind the +cows and marched home with them to Ulster. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0080" id="link2HCH0080"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uv Laca wanted to know where the cows came from, and Mongan told her that +the King of Leinster had given them to him. She fell in love with them as +Mongan had done, but there was nobody in the world could have avoided +loving those cows: such cows they were! such wonders! Mongan and Duv Laca +used to play chess together, and then they would go out together to look +at the cows, and then they would go in together and would talk to each +other about the cows. Everything they did they did together, for they +loved to be with each other. +</p> +<p> +However, a change came. +</p> +<p> +One morning a great noise of voices and trampling of horses and rattle of +armour came about the palace. Mongan looked from the window. +</p> +<p> +“Who is coming?” asked Duv Laca. +</p> +<p> +But he did not answer her. +</p> +<p> +“The noise must announce the visit of a king,” Duv Laca continued. +</p> +<p> +But Mongan did not say a word. Duv Laca then went to the window. +</p> +<p> +“Who is that king?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +And her husband replied to her then. +</p> +<p> +“That is the King of Leinster,” said he mournfully. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Duv Laca surprised, “is he not welcome?” + </p> +<p> +“He is welcome indeed,” said Mongan lamentably. +</p> +<p> +“Let us go out and welcome him properly,” Duv Laca suggested. +</p> +<p> +“Let us not go near him at all,” said Mongan, “for he is coming to +complete his bargain.” + </p> +<p> +“What bargain are you talking about?” Duv Laca asked. But Mongan would not +answer that. +</p> +<p> +“Let us go out,” said he, “for we must go out.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan and Duv Laca went out then and welcomed the King of Leinster. They +brought him and his chief men into the palace, and water was brought for +their baths, and rooms were appointed for them, and everything was done +that should be done for guests. +</p> +<p> +That night there was a feast, and after the feast there was a banquet, and +all through the feast and the banquet the King of Leinster stared at Duv +Laca with joy, and sometimes his breast was delivered of great sighs, and +at times he moved as though in perturbation of spirit and mental agony. +</p> +<p> +“There is something wrong with the King of Leinster,” Duv Laca whispered. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care if there is,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“You must ask what he wants.” + </p> +<p> +“But I don’t want to know it,” said Mongan. “Nevertheless, you musk ask +him,” she insisted. +</p> +<p> +So Mongan did ask him, and it was in a melancholy voice that he asked it. +</p> +<p> +“Do you want anything?” said he to the King of Leinster. +</p> +<p> +“I do indeed,” said Branduv. +</p> +<p> +“If it is in Ulster I will get it for you,” said Mongan mournfully. +</p> +<p> +“It is in Ulster,” said Branduv. +</p> +<p> +Mongan did not want to say anything more then, but the King of Leinster +was so intent and everybody else was listening and Duv Laca was nudging +his arm, so he said: “What is it that you do want?” “I want Duv Laca.” + </p> +<p> +“I want her too,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“You made your bargain,” said the King of Leinster, “my cows and their +calves for your Duv Laca, and the man that makes a bargain keeps a +bargain.” + </p> +<p> +“I never before heard,” said Mongan, “of a man giving away his own wife.” + </p> +<p> +“Even if you never heard of it before, you must do it now,” said Duv Laca, +“for honour is longer than life.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan became angry when Duv Laca said that. His face went red as a +sunset, and the veins swelled in his neck and his forehead. +</p> +<p> +“Do you say that?” he cried to Duv Laca. +</p> +<p> +“I do,” said Duv Laca. +</p> +<p> +“Let the King of Leinster take her,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0081" id="link2HCH0081"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uv Laca and the King of Leinster went apart then to speak together, and +the eye of the king seemed to be as big as a plate, so fevered was it and +so enlarged and inflamed by the look of Duv Laca. He was so confounded +with joy also that his words got mixed up with his teeth, and Duv Laca did +not know exactly what it was he was trying to say, and he did not seem to +know himself. But at last he did say something intelligible, and this is +what he said. +</p> +<p> +“I am a very happy man,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“And I,” said Duv Laca, “am the happiest woman in the world.” + </p> +<p> +“Why should you be happy?” the astonished king demanded. +</p> +<p> +“Listen to me,” she said. “If you tried to take me away from this place +against my own wish, one half of the men of Ulster would be dead before +you got me and the other half would be badly wounded in my defence.” + </p> +<p> +“A bargain is a bargain,” the King of Leinster began. +</p> +<p> +“But,” she continued, “they will not prevent my going away, for they all +know that I have been in love with you for ages.” + </p> +<p> +“What have you been in with me for ages?” said the amazed king. +</p> +<p> +“In love with you,” replied Duv Laca. +</p> +<p> +“This is news,” said the king, “and it is good news.” + </p> +<p> +“But, by my word,” said Duv Laca, “I will not go with you unless you grant +me a boon.” + </p> +<p> +“All that I have,” cried Branduv, “and all that every-body has.” + </p> +<p> +“And you must pass your word and pledge your word that you will do what I +ask.” + </p> +<p> +“I pass it and pledge it,” cried the joyful king. +</p> +<p> +“Then,” said Duv Laca, “this is what I bind on you.” + </p> +<p> +“Light the yolk!” he cried. +</p> +<p> +“Until one year is up and out you are not to pass the night in any house +that I am in.” + </p> +<p> +“By my head and hand!” Branduv stammered. +</p> +<p> +“And if you come into a house where I am during the time and term of that +year, you are not to sit down in the chair that I am sitting in.” + </p> +<p> +“Heavy is my doom!” he groaned. +</p> +<p> +“But,” said Duv Laca, “if I am sitting in a chair or a seat you are to sit +in a chair that is over against me and opposite to me and at a distance +from me.” + </p> +<p> +“Alas!” said the king, and he smote his hands together, and then he beat +them on his head, and then he looked at them and at everything about, and +he could not tell what anything was or where anything was, for his mind +was clouded and his wits had gone astray. +</p> +<p> +“Why do you bind these woes on me?” he pleaded. +</p> +<p> +“I wish to find out if you truly love me.” + </p> +<p> +“But I do,” said the king. “I love you madly and dearly, and with all my +faculties and members.” + </p> +<p> +“That is the way! love you,” said Duv Laca. “We shall have a notable year +of courtship and joy. And let us go now,” she continued, “for I am +impatient to be with you.” + </p> +<p> +“Alas!” said Branduv, as he followed her. “Alas, alas!” said the King of +Leinster. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0082" id="link2HCH0082"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIII +</h2> +<p> +“I think,” said the Flame Lady, “that whoever lost that woman had no +reason to be sad.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan took her chin in his hand and kissed her lips. +</p> +<p> +“All that you say is lovely, for you are lovely,” said he, “and you are my +delight and the joy of the world.” + </p> +<p> +Then the attendants brought him wine, and he drank so joyously of that and +so deeply, that those who observed him thought he would surely burst and +drown them. But he laughed loudly and with enormous delight, until the +vessels of gold and silver and bronze chimed mellowly to his peal and the +rafters of the house went creaking. +</p> +<p> +Said he: +</p> +<p> +Mongan loved Duv Laca of the White Hand better than he loved his life, +better than he loved his honour. The kingdoms of the world did not weigh +with him beside the string of her shoe. He would not look at a sunset if +he could see her. He would not listen to a harp if he could hear her +speak, for she was the delight of ages, the gem of time, and the wonder of +the world till Doom. +</p> +<p> +She went to Leinster with the king of that country, and when she had gone +Mongan fell grievously sick, so that it did not seem he could ever recover +again; and he began to waste and wither, and he began to look like a +skeleton, and a bony structure, and a misery. +</p> +<p> +Now this also must be known. +</p> +<p> +Duv Laca had a young attendant, who was her foster-sister as well as her +servant, and on the day that she got married to Mongan, her attendant was +married to mac an Da’v, who was servant and foster-brother to Mongan. When +Duv Laca went away with the King of Leinster, her servant, mac an Da’v’s +wife, went with her, so there were two wifeless men in Ulster at that +time, namely, Mongan the king and mac an Da’v his servant. +</p> +<p> +One day as Mongan sat in the sun, brooding lamentably on his fate, mac an +Da’v came to him. +</p> +<p> +“How are things with you, master?” asked Mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“Bad,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“It was a poor day brought you off with Mananna’n to the Land of Promise,” + said his servant. +</p> +<p> +“Why should you think that?” inquired Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Because,” said mac an Da’v, “you learned nothing in the Land of Promise +except how to eat a lot of food and how to do nothing in a deal of time.” + </p> +<p> +“What business is it of yours?” said Mongan angrily. +</p> +<p> +“It is my business surely,” said mac an Da’v, “for my wife has gone off to +Leinster with your wife, and she wouldn’t have gone if you hadn’t made a +bet and a bargain with that accursed king.” + </p> +<p> +Mac an Da’v began to weep then. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t make a bargain with any king,” said he, “and yet my wife has +gone away with one, and it’s all because of you.” + </p> +<p> +“There is no one sorrier for you than I am,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“There is indeed,” said mac an Da’v, “for I am sorrier myself.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan roused himself then. +</p> +<p> +“You have a claim on me truly,” said he, “and I will not have any one with +a claim on me that is not satisfied. Go,” he said to mac an Da’v, “to that +fairy place we both know of. You remember the baskets I left there with +the sod from Ireland in one and the sod from Scotland in the other; bring +me the baskets and sods.” + </p> +<p> +“Tell me the why of this?” said his servant. +</p> +<p> +“The King of Leinster will ask his wizards what I am doing, and this is +what I will be doing. I will get on your back with a foot in each of the +baskets, and when Branduv asks the wizards where I am they will tell him +that I have one leg in Ireland and one leg in Scotland, and as long as +they tell him that he will think he need not bother himself about me, and +we will go into Leinster that way.” + </p> +<p> +“No bad way either,” said mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +They set out then. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0083" id="link2HCH0083"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was a long, uneasy journey, for although mac an Da’v was of stout heart +and goodwill, yet no man can carry another on his back from Ulster to +Leinster and go quick. Still, if you keep on driving a pig or a story they +will get at last to where you wish them to go, and the man who continues +putting one foot in front of the other will leave his home behind, and +will come at last to the edge of the sea and the end of the world. +</p> +<p> +When they reached Leinster the feast of Moy Life’ was being held, and they +pushed on by forced marches and long stages so as to be in time, and thus +they came to the Moy of Cell Camain, and they mixed with the crowd that +were going to the feast. +</p> +<p> +A great and joyous concourse of people streamed about them. There were +young men and young girls, and when these were not holding each other’s +hands it was because their arms were round each other’s necks. There were +old, lusty women going by, and when these were not talking together it was +because their mouths were mutually filled with apples and meat-pies. There +were young warriors with mantles of green and purple and red flying behind +them on the breeze, and when these were not looking disdainfully on older +soldiers it was because the older soldiers happened at the moment to be +looking at them. There were old warriors with yard-long beards flying +behind their shoulders llke wisps of hay, and when these were not nursing +a broken arm or a cracked skull, it was because they were nursing wounds +in their stomachs or their legs. There were troops of young women who +giggled as long as their breaths lasted and beamed when it gave out. Bands +of boys who whispered mysteriously together and pointed with their fingers +in every direction at once, and would suddenly begin to run like a herd of +stampeded horses. There were men with carts full of roasted meats. Women +with little vats full of mead, and others carrying milk and beer. Folk of +both sorts with towers swaying on their heads, and they dripping with +honey. Children having baskets piled with red apples, and old women who +peddled shell-fish and boiled lobsters. There were people who sold twenty +kinds of bread, with butter thrown in. Sellers of onions and cheese, and +others who supplied spare bits of armour, odd scabbards, spear handles, +breastplate-laces. People who cut your hair or told your fortune or gave +you a hot bath in a pot. Others who put a shoe on your horse or a piece of +embroidery on your mantle; and others, again, who took stains off your +sword or dyed your finger-nails or sold you a hound. +</p> +<p> +It was a great and joyous gathering that was going to the feast. +</p> +<p> +Mongan and his servant sat against a grassy hedge by the roadside and +watched the multitude streaming past. +</p> +<p> +Just then Mongan glanced to the right whence the people were coming. Then +he pulled the hood of his cloak over his ears and over his brow. +</p> +<p> +“Alas!” said he in a deep and anguished voice. +</p> +<p> +Mac an Da’v turned to him. +</p> +<p> +“Is it a pain in your stomach, master?” + </p> +<p> +“It is not,” said Mongan. “Well, what made you make that brutal and +belching noise?” + </p> +<p> +“It was a sigh I gave,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Whatever it was,” said mac an Da’v, “what was it?” + </p> +<p> +“Look down the road on this side and tell me who is coming,” said his +master. +</p> +<p> +“It is a lord with his troop.” + </p> +<p> +“It is the King of Leinster,” said Mongan. “The man,” said mac an Da’v in +a tone of great pity, “the man that took away your wife! And,” he roared +in a voice of extraordinary savagery, “the man that took away my wife into +the bargain, and she not in the bargain.” + </p> +<p> +“Hush,” said Mongan, for a man who heard his shout stopped to tie a +sandie, or to listen. +</p> +<p> +“Master,” said mac an Da’v as the troop drew abreast and moved past. +</p> +<p> +“What is it, my good friend?” + </p> +<p> +“Let me throw a little small piece of a rock at the King of Leinster.” + </p> +<p> +“I will not.” + </p> +<p> +“A little bit only, a small bit about twice the size of my head.” + </p> +<p> +“I will not let you,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +When the king had gone by mac an Da’v groaned a deep and dejected groan. +</p> +<p> +“Oco’n!” said he. “Oco’n-i’o-go-deo’!” said he. +</p> +<p> +The man who had tied his sandal said then: “Are you in pain, honest man?” + </p> +<p> +“I am not in pain,” said mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what was it that knocked a howl out of you like the yelp of a sick +dog, honest man?” + </p> +<p> +“Go away,” said mac an Da’v, “go away, you flat-faced, nosey person.” + “There is no politeness left in this country,” said the stranger, and he +went away to a certain distance, and from thence he threw a stone at mac +an Da’v’s nose, and hit it. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0084" id="link2HCH0084"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/372m.jpg" alt="372m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/372.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER XV +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he road was now not so crowded as it had been. Minutes would pass and +only a few travellers would come, and minutes more would go when nobody +was in sight at all. +</p> +<p> +Then two men came down the road: they were clerics. +</p> +<p> +“I never saw that kind of uniform before,” said mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“Even if you didn’t,” said Mongan, “there are plenty of them about. They +are men that don’t believe in our gods,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“Do they not, indeed?” said mac an Da’v. “The rascals!” said he. “What, +what would Mananna’n say to that?” + </p> +<p> +“The one in front carrying the big book is Tibraide’. He is the priest of +Cell Camain, and he is the chief of those two.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed, and indeed!” said mac an Da’v. “The one behind must be his +servant, for he has a load on his back.” + </p> +<p> +The priests were reading their offices, and mac an Da’v marvelled at that. +</p> +<p> +“What is it they are doing?” said he. +</p> +<p> +“They are reading.” + </p> +<p> +“Indeed, and indeed they are,” said mac an Da’v. “I can’t make out a word +of the language except that the man behind says amen, amen, every time the +man in front puts a grunt out of him. And they don’t like our gods at +all!” said mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“They do not,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Play a trick on them, master,” said mac an Da’v. Mongan agreed to play a +trick on the priests. +</p> +<p> +He looked at them hard for a minute, and then he waved his hand at them. +</p> +<p> +The two priests stopped, and they stared straight in front of them, and +then they looked at each other, and then they looked at the sky. The clerk +began to bless himself, and then Tibraide’ began to bless himself, and +after that they didn’t know what to do. For where there had been a road +with hedges on each side and fields stretching beyond them, there was now +no road, no hedge, no field; but there was a great broad river sweeping +across their path; a mighty tumble of yellowy-brown waters, very swift, +very savage; churning and billowing and jockeying among rough boulders and +islands of stone. It was a water of villainous depth and of detestable +wetness; of ugly hurrying and of desolate cavernous sound. At a little to +their right there was a thin uncomely bridge that waggled across the +torrent. +</p> +<p> +Tibraide’ rubbed his eyes, and then he looked again. “Do you see what I +see?” said he to the clerk. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know what you see,” said the clerk, “but what I see I never did +see before, and I wish I did not see it now.” + </p> +<p> +“I was born in this place,” said Tibraide’, “my father was born here +before me, and my grandfather was born here before him, but until this day +and this minute I never saw a river here before, and I never heard of +one.” + </p> +<p> +“What will we do at all?” said the clerk. “What will we do at all?” + </p> +<p> +“We will be sensible,” said Tibraide’ sternly, “and we will go about our +business,” said he. “If rivers fall out of the sky what has that to do +with you, and if there is a river here, which there is, why, thank God, +there is a bridge over it too.” + </p> +<p> +“Would you put a toe on that bridge?” said the clerk. “What is the bridge +for?” said Tibraide’ Mongan and mac an Da’v followed them. +</p> +<p> +When they got to the middle of the bridge it broke under them, and they +were precipitated into that boiling yellow flood. +</p> +<p> +Mongan snatched at the book as it fell from Tibraide’s hand. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t you let them drown, master?” asked mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said Mongan, “I’ll send them a mile down the stream, and then they +can come to land.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan then took on himself the form of Tibraide’ and he turned mac an +Da’v into the shape of the clerk. +</p> +<p> +“My head has gone bald,” said the servant in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“That is part of it,” replied Mongan. “So long as we know,” said mac an +Da’v. +</p> +<p> +They went on then to meet the King of Leinster. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0085" id="link2HCH0085"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVI +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey met him near the place where the games were played. +</p> +<p> +“Good my soul, Tibraide’!” cried the King of Leinster, and he gave Mongan +a kiss. Mongan kissed him back again. +</p> +<p> +“Amen, amen,” said mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“What for?” said the King of Leinster. +</p> +<p> +And then mac an Da’v began to sneeze, for he didn’t know what for. +</p> +<p> +“It is a long time since I saw you, Tibraide’,” said the king, “but at +this minute I am in great haste and hurry. Go you on before me to the +fortress, and you can talk to the queen that you’ll find there, she that +used to be the King of Ulster’s wife. Kevin Cochlach, my charioteer, will +go with you, and I will follow you myself in a while.” + </p> +<p> +The King of Leinster went off then, and Mongan and his servant went with +the charioteer and the people. +</p> +<p> +Mongan read away out of the book, for he found it interesting, and he did +not want to talk to the charioteer, and mac an Da’v cried amen, amen, +every time that Mongan took his breath. The people who were going with +them said to one another that mac an Da’v was a queer kind of clerk, and +that they had never seen any one who had such a mouthful of amens. +</p> +<p> +But in a while they came to the fortress, and they got into it without any +trouble, for Kevin Cochlach, the king’s charioteer, brought them in. Then +they were led to the room where Duv Laca was, and as he went into that +room Mongan shut his eyes, for he did not want to look at Duv Laca while +other people might be looking at him. +</p> +<p> +“Let everybody leave this room, while I am talking to the queen,” said he; +and all the attendants left the room, except one, and she wouldn’t go, for +she wouldn’t leave her mistress. +</p> +<p> +Then Mongan opened his eyes and he saw Duv Laca, and he made a great bound +to her and took her in his arms, and mac an Da’v made a savage and vicious +and terrible jump at the attendant, and took her in his arms, and bit her +ear and kissed her neck and wept down into her back. +</p> +<p> +“Go away,” said the girl, “unhand me, villain,” said she. +</p> +<p> +“I will not,” said mac an Da’v, “for I’m your own husband, I’m your own +mac, your little mac, your macky-wac-wac.” Then the attendant gave a +little squeal, and she bit him on each ear and kissed his neck and wept +down into his back, and said that it wasn’t true and that it was. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0086" id="link2HCH0086"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/377m.jpg" alt="377m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/377.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>ut they were not alone, although they thought they were. The hag that +guarded the jewels was in the room. She sat hunched up against the wail, +and as she looked like a bundle of rags they did not notice her. She began +to speak then. +</p> +<p> +“Terrible are the things I see,” said she. “Terrible are the things I +see.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan and his servant gave a jump of surprise, and their two wives jumped +and squealed. Then Mongan puffed out his cheeks till his face looked like +a bladder, and he blew a magic breath at the hag, so that she seemed to be +surrounded by a fog, and when she looked through that breath everything +seemed to be different to what she had thought. Then she began to beg +everybody’s pardon. +</p> +<p> +“I had an evil vision,” said she, “I saw crossways. How sad it is that I +should begin to see the sort of things I thought I saw.” + </p> +<p> +“Sit in this chair, mother,” said Mongan, “and tell me what you thought +you saw,” and he slipped a spike under her, and mac an Da’v pushed her +into the seat, and she died on the spike. +</p> +<p> +Just then there came a knocking at the door. Mac an Da’v opened it, and +there was Tibraide, standing outside, and twenty-nine of his men were with +him, and they were all laughing. +</p> +<p> +“A mile was not half enough,” said mac an Da’v reproachfully. +</p> +<p> +The Chamberlain of the fortress pushed into the room and he stared from +one Tibraide’ to the other. +</p> +<p> +“This is a fine growing year,” said he. “There never was a year when +Tibraide’s were as plentiful as they are this year. There is a Tibraide’ +outside and a Tibraide’ inside, and who knows but there are some more of +them under the bed. The place is crawling with them,” said he. +</p> +<p> +Mongan pointed at Tibraide’. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you know who that is?” he cried. +</p> +<p> +“I know who he says he is,” said the Chamberlain. +</p> +<p> +“Well, he is Mongan,” said Mongan, “and these twenty-nine men are +twenty-nine of his nobles from Ulster.” + </p> +<p> +At that news the men of the household picked up clubs and cudgels and +every kind of thing that was near, and made a violent and woeful attack on +Tibraide’s men The King of Leinster came in then, and when he was told +Tibraide’ was Mongan he attacked them as well, and it was with difficulty +that Tibraide’ got away to Cell Camain with nine of his men and they all +wounded. +</p> +<p> +The King of Leinster came back then. He went to Duv Laca’s room. +</p> +<p> +“Where is Tibraide’?” said he. +</p> +<p> +“It wasn’t Tibraide was here,” said the hag who was still sitting on the +spike, and was not half dead, “it was Mongan.” + </p> +<p> +“Why did you let him near you?” said the king to Duv Laca. +</p> +<p> +“There is no one has a better right to be near me than Mongan has,” said +Duv Laca, “he is my own husband,” said she. +</p> +<p> +And then the king cried out in dismay: “I have beaten Tibraide’s people.” + He rushed from the room. +</p> +<p> +“Send for Tibraide’ till I apologise,” he cried. “Tell him it was all a +mistake. Tell him it was Mongan.” + </p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0087" id="link2HCH0087"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XVIII +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>ongan and his servant went home, and (for what pleasure is greater than +that of memory exercised in conversation?) for a time the feeling of an +adventure well accomplished kept him in some contentment. But at the end +of a time that pleasure was worn out, and Mongan grew at first dispirited +and then sullen, and after that as ill as he had been on the previous +occasion. For he could not forget Duv Laca of the White Hand, and he could +not remember her without longing and despair. +</p> +<p> +It was in the illness which comes from longing and despair that he sat one +day looking on a world that was black although the sun shone, and that was +lean and unwholesome although autumn fruits were heavy on the earth and +the joys of harvest were about him. +</p> +<p> +“Winter is in my heart,” quoth he, “and I am cold already.” + </p> +<p> +He thought too that some day he would die, and the thought was not +unpleasant, for one half of his life was away in the territories of the +King of Leinster, and the half that he kept in himself had no spice in it. +</p> +<p> +He was thinking in this way when mac an Da’v came towards him over the +lawn, and he noticed that mac an Da’v was walking like an old man. +</p> +<p> +He took little slow steps, and he did not loosen his knees when he walked, +so he went stiffly. One of his feet turned pitifully outwards, and the +other turned lamentably in. His chest was pulled inwards, and his head was +stuck outwards and hung down in the place where his chest should have +been, and his arms were crooked in front of him with the hands turned +wrongly, so that one palm was shown to the east of the world and the other +one was turned to the west. +</p> +<p> +“How goes it, mac an Da’v?” said the king. +</p> +<p> +“Bad,” said mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“Is that the sun I see shining, my friend?” the king asked. +</p> +<p> +“It may be the sun,” replied mac an Da’v, peering curiously at the golden +radiance that dozed about them, “but maybe it’s a yellow fog.” + </p> +<p> +“What is life at all?” said the king. +</p> +<p> +“It is a weariness and a tiredness,” said mac an Da’v. “It is a long yawn +without sleepiness. It is a bee, lost at midnight and buzzing on a pane. +It is the noise made by a tied-up dog. It is nothing worth dreaming about. +It is nothing at all.” + </p> +<p> +“How well you explain my feelings about Duv Laca,” said the king. +</p> +<p> +“I was thinking about my own lamb,” said mac an Da’v. “I was thinking +about my own treasure, my cup of cheeriness, and the pulse of my heart.” + And with that he burst into tears. +</p> +<p> +“Alas!” said the king. +</p> +<p> +“But,” sobbed mac an Da’v, “what right have I to complain? I am only the +servant, and although I didn’t make any bargain with the King of Leinster +or with any king of them all, yet my wife is gone away as if she was the +consort of a potentate the same as Duv Laca is.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan was sorry then for his servant, and he roused himself. +</p> +<p> +“I am going to send you to Duv Laca.” + </p> +<p> +“Where the one is the other will be,” cried mac an Da’v joyously. +</p> +<p> +“Go,” said Mongan, “to Rath Descirt of Bregia; you know that place?” + </p> +<p> +“As well as my tongue knows my teeth.” + </p> +<p> +“Duv Laca is there; see her, and ask her what she wants me to do.” + </p> +<p> +Mac an Da’v went there and returned. +</p> +<p> +“Duv Laca says that you are to come at once, for the King of Leinster is +journeying around his territory, and Kevin Cochlach, the charioteer, is +making bitter love to her and wants her to run away with him.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan set out, and in no great time, for they travelled day and night, +they came to Bregla, and gained admittance to the fortress, but just as he +got in he had to go out again, for the King of Leinster had been warned of +Mongan’s journey, and came back to his fortress in the nick of time. +</p> +<p> +When the men of Ulster saw the condition into which Mongan fell they were +in great distress, and they all got sick through compassion for their +king. The nobles suggested to him that they should march against Leinster +and kill that king and bring back Duv Laca, but Mongan would not consent +to this plan. +</p> +<p> +“For,” said he, “the thing I lost through my own folly I shall get back +through my own craft.” + </p> +<p> +And when he said that his spirits revived, and he called for mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“You know, my friend,” said Mongan, “that I can’t get Duv Laca back unless +the King of Leinster asks me to take her back, for a bargain is a +bargain.” + </p> +<p> +“That will happen when pigs fly,” said mac an Da’v, “and,” said he, “I did +not make any bargain with any king that is in the world.” + </p> +<p> +“I heard you say that before,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“I will say it till Doom,” cried his servant, “for my wife has gone away +with that pestilent king, and he has got the double of your bad bargain.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan and his servant then set out for Leinster. +</p> +<p> +When they neared that country they found a great crowd going on the road +with them, and they learned that the king was giving a feast in honour of +his marriage to Duv Laca, for the year of waiting was nearly out, and the +king had sworn he would delay no longer. +</p> +<p> +They went on, therefore, but in low spirits, and at last they saw the +walls of the king’s castle towering before them, and a noble company going +to and fro on the lawn. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0088" id="link2HCH0088"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XIX +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HEY sat in a place where they could watch the castle and compose +themselves after their journey. +</p> +<p> +“How are we going to get into the castle?” asked mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +For there were hatchetmen on guard in the big gateway, and there were +spearmen at short intervals around the walls, and men to throw hot +porridge off the roof were standing in the right places. +</p> +<p> +“If we cannot get in by hook, we will get in by crook,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“They are both good ways,” said Mac an Da’v, “and whichever of them you +decide on I’ll stick by.” + </p> +<p> +Just then they saw the Hag of the Mill coming out of the mill which was +down the road a little. +</p> +<p> +Now the Hag of the Mill was a bony, thin pole of a hag with odd feet. That +is, she had one foot that was too big for her, so that when she lifted it +up it pulled her over; and she had one foot that was too small for her, so +that when she lifted it up she didn’t know what to do with it. She was so +long that you thought you would never see the end of her, and she was so +thin that you thought you didn’t see her at all. One of her eyes was set +where her nose should be and there was an ear in its place, and her nose +itself was hanging out of her chin, and she had whiskers round it. She was +dressed in a red rag that was really a hole with a fringe on it, and she +was singing “Oh, hush thee, my one love” to a cat that was yelping on her +shoulder. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:65%;"> + +<img src="images/385m.jpg" alt="385m +" width="100%" /><br /></div><h4><a href="images/385.jpg"><i>Original Size</i></a></h4> +<p> +She had a tall skinny dog behind her called Brotar. It hadn’t a tooth in +its head except one, and it had the toothache in that tooth. Every few +steps it used to sit down on its hunkers and point its nose straight +upwards, and make a long, sad complaint about its tooth; and after that it +used to reach its hind leg round and try to scratch out its tooth; and +then it used to be pulled on again by the straw rope that was round its +neck, and which was tied at the other end to the hag’s heaviest foot. +</p> +<p> +There was an old, knock-kneed, raw-boned, one-eyed, little-winded, +heavy-headed mare with her also. Every time it put a front leg forward it +shivered all over the rest of its legs backwards, and when it put a hind +leg forward it shivered all over the rest of its legs frontwards, and it +used to give a great whistle through its nose when it was out of breath, +and a big, thin hen was sitting on its croup. Mongan looked on the Hag of +the Mill with delight and affection. +</p> +<p> +“This time,” said he to mac an Da’v, “I’ll get back my wife.” + </p> +<p> +“You will indeed,” said mac an Da’v heartily, “and you’ll get mine back +too.” + </p> +<p> +“Go over yonder,” said Mongan, “and tell the Hag of the Mill that I want +to talk to her.” + </p> +<p> +Mac an Da’v brought her over to him. +</p> +<p> +“Is it true what the servant man said?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“What did he say?” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“He said you wanted to talk to me.” + </p> +<p> +“It is true,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“This is a wonderful hour and a glorious minute,” said the hag, “for this +is the first time in sixty years that any one wanted to talk to me. Talk +on now,” said she, “and I’ll listen to you if I can remember how to do it. +Talk gently,” said she, “the way you won’t disturb the animals, for they +are all sick.” + </p> +<p> +“They are sick indeed,” said mac an Da’v pityingly. +</p> +<p> +“The cat has a sore tail,” said she, “by reason of sitting too close to a +part of the hob that was hot. The dog has a toothache, the horse has a +pain in her stomach, and the hen has the pip.” + </p> +<p> +“Ah, it’s a sad world,” said mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“There you are!” said the hag. +</p> +<p> +“Tell me,” Mongan commenced, “if you got a wish, what it is you would wish +for?” + </p> +<p> +The hag took the cat off her shoulder and gave it to mac an Da’v. +</p> +<p> +“Hold that for me while I think,” said she. +</p> +<p> +“Would you like to be a lovely young girl?” asked Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“I’d sooner be that than a skinned eel,” said she. +</p> +<p> +“And would you like to marry me or the King of Leinster?” “I’d like to +marry either of you, or both of you, or whichever of you came first.” + </p> +<p> +“Very well,” said Mongan, “you shall have your wish.” + </p> +<p> +He touched her with his finger, and the instant he touched her all +dilapidation and wryness and age went from her, and she became so +beautiful that one dared scarcely look on her, and so young that she +seemed but sixteen years of age. +</p> +<p> +“You are not the Hag of the Mill any longer,” said Mongan, “you are Ivell +of the Shining Cheeks, daughter of the King of Munster.” + </p> +<p> +He touched the dog too, and it became a little silky lapdog that could +nestle in your palm. Then he changed the old mare into a brisk, piebald +palfrey. Then he changed himself so that he became the living image of Ae, +the son of the King of Connaught, who had just been married to Ivell of +the Shining Cheeks, and then he changed mac an Da’v into the likeness of +Ae’s attendant, and then they all set off towards the fortress, singing +the song that begins: My wife is nicer than any one’s wife, Any one’s +wife, any one’s wife, My wife is nicer than any one’s wife, Which nobody +can deny. +</p> +<p> +<a name="linklink2HCH0089" id="link2HCH0089"> +<!-- H2 anchor --> </a> +</p> +<div style="height: 4em;"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +<h2> +CHAPTER XX +</h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he doorkeeper brought word to the King of Leinster that the son of the +King of Connaught, Ae the Beautiful, and his wife, Ivell of the Shining +Cheeks, were at the door, that they had been banished from Connaught by +Ae’s father, and they were seeking the protection of the King of Leinster. +</p> +<p> +Branduv came to the door himself to welcome them, and the minute he looked +on Ivell of the Shining Cheeks it was plain that he liked looking at her. +</p> +<p> +It was now drawing towards evening, and a feast was prepared for the +guests with a banquet to follow it. At the feast Duv Laca sat beside the +King of Leinster, but Mongan sat opposite him with Ivell, and Mongan put +more and more magic into the hag, so that her cheeks shone and her eyes +gleamed, and she was utterly bewitching to the eye; and when Branduv +looked at her she seemed to grow more and more lovely and more and more +desirable, and at last there was not a bone in his body as big as an inch +that was not filled with love and longing for the girl. +</p> +<p> +Every few minutes he gave a great sigh as if he had eaten too much, and +when Duv Laca asked him if he had eaten too much he said he had but that +he had not drunk enough, and by that he meant that he had not drunk enough +from the eyes of the girl before him. +</p> +<p> +At the banquet which was then held he looked at her again, and every time +he took a drink he toasted Ivell across the brim of his goblet, and in a +little while she began to toast him back across the rim of her cup, for he +was drinking ale, but she was drinking mead. Then he sent a messenger to +her to say that it was a far better thing to be the wife of the King of +Leinster than to be the wife of the son of the King of Connaught, for a +king is better than a prince, and Ivell thought that this was as wise a +thing as anybody had ever said. And then he sent a message to say that he +loved her so much that he would certainly burst of love if it did not +stop. +</p> +<p> +Mongan heard the whispering, and he told the hag that if she did what he +advised she would certainly get either himself or the King of Leinster for +a husband. +</p> +<p> +“Either of you will be welcome,” said the hag. +</p> +<p> +“When the king says he loves you, ask him to prove it by gifts; ask for +his drinking-horn first.” + </p> +<p> +She asked for that, and he sent it to her filled with good liquor; then +she asked for his girdle, and he sent her that. +</p> +<p> +His people argued with him and said it was not right that he should give +away the treasures of Leinster to the wife of the King of Connaught’s son; +but he said that it did not matter, for when he got the girl he would get +his treasures with her. But every time he sent anything to the hag, mac an +Da’v snatched it out of her lap and put it in his pocket. +</p> +<p> +“Now,” said Mongan to the hag, “tell the servant to say that you would not +leave your own husband for all the wealth of the world.” + </p> +<p> +She told the servant that, and the servant told it to the king. When +Branduv heard it he nearly went mad with love and longing and jealousy, +and with rage also, because of the treasure he had given her and might not +get back. He called Mongan over to him, and spoke to him very +threateningly and ragingly. +</p> +<p> +“I am not one who takes a thing without giving a thing,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“Nobody could say you were,” agreed Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Do you see this woman sitting beside me?” he continued, pointing to Duv +Laca. +</p> +<p> +“I do indeed,” said Mongan. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Branduv, “this woman is Duv Laca of the White Hand that I +took away from Mongan; she is just going to marry me, but if you will make +an exchange, you can marry this Duv Laca here, and I will marry that Ivell +of the Shining Cheeks yonder.” + </p> +<p> +Mongan pretended to be very angry then. +</p> +<p> +“If I had come here with horses and treasure you would be in your right to +take these from me, but you have no right to ask for what you are now +asking.” + </p> +<p> +“I do ask for it,” said Branduv menacingly, “and you must not refuse a +lord.” + </p> +<p> +“Very well,” said Mongan reluctantly, and as if in great fear; “if you +will make the exchange I will make it, although it breaks my heart.” + </p> +<p> +He brought Ivell over to the king then and gave her three kisses. +</p> +<p> +“The king would suspect something if I did not kiss you,” said he, and +then he gave the hag over to the king. After that they all got drunk and +merry, and soon there was a great snoring and snorting, and very soon all +the servants fell asleep also, so that Mongan could not get anything to +drink. Mac an Da’v said it was a great shame, and he kicked some of the +servants, but they did not budge, and then he slipped out to the stables +and saddled two mares. He got on one with his wife behind him and Mongan +got on the other with Duv Laca behind him, and they rode away towards +Ulster like the wind, singing this song: The King of Leinster was married +to-day, Married to-day, married to-day, The King of Leinster was married +to-day, And every one wishes him joy. +</p> +<p> +In the morning the servants came to waken the King of Leinster, and when +they saw the face of the hag lying on the pillow beside the king, and her +nose all covered with whiskers, and her big foot and little foot sticking +away out at the end of the bed, they began to laugh, and poke one another +in the stomachs and thump one another on the shoulders, so that the noise +awakened the king, and he asked what was the matter with them at all. It +was then he saw the hag lying beside him, and he gave a great screech and +jumped out of the bed. +</p> +<p> +“Aren’t you the Hag of the Mill?” said he. +</p> +<p> +“I am indeed,” she replied, “and I love you dearly.” + </p> +<p> +“I wish I didn’t see you,” said Branduv. +</p> +<p> +That was the end of the story, and when he had told it Mongan began to +laugh uproariously and called for more wine. He drank this deeply, as +though he was full of thirst and despair and a wild jollity, but when the +Flame Lady began to weep he took her in his arms and caressed her, and +said that she was the love of his heart and the one treasure of the world. +</p> +<p> +After that they feasted in great contentment, and at the end of the +feasting they went away from Faery and returned to the world of men. +</p> +<p> +They came to Mongan’s palace at Moy Linney, and it was not until they +reached the palace that they found they had been away one whole year, for +they had thought they were only away one night. They lived then peacefully +and lovingly together, and that ends the story, but Bro’tiarna did not +know that Mongan was Fionn. +</p> +<p> +The abbot leaned forward. +</p> +<p> +“Was Mongan Fionn?” he asked in a whisper. +</p> +<p> +“He was,” replied Cairide’. +</p> +<p> +“Indeed, indeed!” said the abbot. +</p> +<p> +After a while he continued: “There is only one part of your story that I +do not like.” + </p> +<p> +“What part is that?” asked Cairide’. +</p> +<p> +“It is the part where the holy man Tibraide’ was ill treated by that rap—by +that—by Mongan.” + </p> +<p> +Cairide’ agreed that it was ill done, but to himself he said gleefully +that whenever he was asked to tell the story of how he told the story of +Mongan he would remember what the abbot said. +</p> +<p> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Irish Fairy Tales, by James Stephens + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH FAIRY TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 2892-h.htm or 2892-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/9/2892/ + +Produced by A. Elizabeth Warren, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from +the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method +you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is +owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he +has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments +must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you +prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax +returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and +sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the +address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to +the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies +you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he +does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License. You must require such a user to return or +destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium +and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of +Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any +money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the +electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days +of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free +distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: +Dr. Gregory B. Newby +Chief Executive and Director +gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> +</body> +</html> |