Part 13

The king had iron seats brought in, strong ones. There was no harm to Dyeermud and his company from that feast.

Away went the king to the henwife, and told how the seats had been broken. “What am I to do now?” asked he.

“Say that to get your daughter they must eat what food is in your castle at one meal.”

Next day Dyeermud went to the castle, and asked, “Am I to have your daughter now?”

“You are not,” said the king, “unless your company will eat what food is in my castle at one meal.”

“Very well,” said Dyeermud; “have the meal ready.”

The king gave command to bring out the hundred and fifty tons of provisions in the castle all prepared and ready for eating.

Dyeermud came with his men, and Sod-eater began; and it was as much as all the king’s servants could do to bring food as fast as he ate it, and he never stopped till there wasn’t a pound of the hundred and fifty tons left.

“Is this all you have to give me?” asked Sod-eater. “I could eat three times as much.”

“Oh, we have no more,” said the servants.

“Where is our dinner?” asked Dyeermud.

The king had nothing for the others, and he had nothing for himself. All had to go away hungry, and there was great dissatisfaction in the castle, and complaining.

The king had nothing to do now but to go to the henwife a third time for advice in his trouble.

“You have,” said she, “three hundred and fifty pipes of wine. If his company cannot drink every drop of the wine, don’t give him the daughter.”

Next day Dyeermud went to the castle. “Am I to have the daughter now?” asked he of the king.

“I will not give my daughter,” said the king, “unless you and your company will drink the three hundred and fifty pipes of wine that are in my castle.”

“Bring out the wine,” said Dyeermud; “we’ll come to-morrow, and do the best we can to drink it.”

Dyeermud and his men went next day to where the wine was. Gulping-a-River was the man for drinking, and they let him at it. After he got a taste, he was that anxious that he broke in the head of one pipe after another, and drank till there wasn’t a drop left in the three hundred and fifty pipes. All the wine did was to put thirst on Gulping-a-River; and he was that mad with thirst that he drank up the spring well at the castle, and all the springs in the neighborhood, and a loch three miles distant, so that in the evening there wasn’t a drop of water for man or beast in the whole place.

What did the king do but go to the henwife the fourth time.

“Oh,” said she, “there is no use in trying to get rid of him this way; you can make no hand of Dyeermud by eating or drinking. Do you send him now to the Eastern World to get the bottle of cure from the three sons of Sean [pronounced Shawn,—John] Mac Glinn, and to have it at the castle before noon to-morrow.”

“Am I to get the daughter now?” asked Dyeermud of the king.

“You’ll not get my daughter,” said the king, “unless you have for me here to-morrow the bottle of cure which the three sons of Sean Mac Glinn have in the Eastern World.”

Dyeermud went to his ship with the king’s answer.

“Let me go,” said Foot-on-Shoulder. “I will bring you the bottle in season.”

“You may go,” said Dyeermud.

Away went Foot-on-Shoulder, and was at the sea in a minute. He made a ship of his cap, a mast of his stick, a sail of his shirt, and away with him sailing over the sea, never stopping nor halting till he reached the Eastern World.

In five hours, he came to a castle where the walls of defence were sixty-six feet high and fifty-five feet thick. Sean Mac Glinn’s three sons were playing football on the top of the wall.

“Send down the bottle of cure to me,” said Foot-on-Shoulder, “or I’ll have your lives.”

“We will not give you the bottle of cure; and if you come up, it will be as hard to find your brains five minutes after as to find the clay of a cabin broken down a hundred years ago.”

Foot-on-Shoulder made one spring, and rose six feet above the wall. They were so frightened at the sight of what he did, and were so in dread of him that they cried, “You’ll get what you want, only spare us,—leave us our lives. You are the best man that we have ever seen coming from any part; you have done what no man could ever do before this. You’ll get the bottle of cure; but will you send it back again?”

“I will not promise that,” said Foot-on-Shoulder; “I may send it, and I may not.”

They gave him the bottle, he went his way to his ship, and sailed home to Erin. Next morning the henwife dressed herself up as a piper, and, taking a rod of enchantment with her, went away, piping on a hill which Foot-on-Shoulder had to cross in coming to the castle. She thought he would stop to listen to the music she was making, and then she would strike him with the rod, and make a stone of him. She was piping away for herself on the hill like any poor piper making his living. Hearing Ear heard the music, and told Dyeermud. Fis Wacfis chewed his thumb at Dyeermud’s command, and found out that the piper was the king’s henwife, and discovered her plans.

“Oh,” said Fis Wacfis to Dyeermud, “unless you take her out of that, she will make trouble for us.”

“Greedy-of-Blowing, can you make away with that old woman on the hill?” asked Dyeermud.

“I can indeed,” said Greedy-of-Blowing.

With that, he ran to the foot of the hill; and with one blast from both nostrils, he sent the old hag up into the sky, and away she went sailing so that neither tale nor word of her ever came back.

Foot-on-Shoulder was at the ship outside the castle walls half an hour before noon, and gave the bottle of cure to Dyeermud. Dyeermud went that minute to the castle, and stood before the king.

“Here is the bottle of cure which I got from the three sons of Sean Mac Glinn in the Eastern World. Am I to get the daughter now?”

“I’ll send you my answer to the ship,” said the king.

Where should the king go now in his trouble but to find the henwife. She was not at home. He sent men to look for the old woman; no tidings of her that day. They waited till the next day; not a sight of her. The following morning the king sent servants and messengers to look for the henwife. They searched the whole neighborhood; could not find her. He sent all his warriors and forces. They looked up and down, searched the whole kingdom, searched for nine days and nights, but found no trace of the henwife.

The king consented at last to give the daughter to Dyeermud, and he had to consent, and no thanks to him, for he couldn’t help himself. The daughter was glad and willing; she loved Dyeermud from the first, but the father would not part with her.

The wedding lasted a day and a year, and when that time was over, Dyeermud went home on the ship to Kilcar, and there he paid all his men their wages, and they went each to his own place.

The red man stayed sometime in the neighborhood, and what should he do one day but seize Dyeermud’s wife, put her in the ship, and sail away with her. When going, she put him under injunction not to marry her for a day and a year.

Now Dyeermud, who was hunting when the red man stole his wife, was in great grief and misery, for he knew not where the red man lived nor where he should travel to find him. At last he sent a message of inquiry to the King of Spain; and the king’s answer was, “Only two persons in the whole world know where that man lives, Great Limper, King of Light, and Black Thorn of Darkness. I have written to these two, and told them to go to you.”

The two men came in their own ship through the air to Kilcar, to Dyeermud, and talked and took counsel.

“I do not know where the red man can be,” said Black Thorn, “unless in Kilchroti; let us go to that place.”

They sailed away in their ship, and it went straight to the place they wanted. They had more power than the red man, and could send their ship anywhere.

In five days and nights they were at Kilchroti. They went straight to the house, and no one in the world could see the red man’s house there but these two. Black Thorn struck the door, and it flew open. The red man, who was inside, took their hands, welcomed them heartily, and said, “I hope it is not to do me harm that ye are here.”

“It is not to harm you or any one that we are here,” replied they. “We are here only to get what is right and just, but without that, we will not go from this.”

“What is the right and just that ye are here for?” asked the red man.

“Dyeermud’s wife,” replied Black Thorn, “and it was wrong in you to take her; you must give her up.”

“I will fight rather than give her,” said the red man.

“Fighting will not serve you,” said Black Thorn, “it is better for you to give her to us.”

“Ye will not get her without seven tons of gold,” said the red man. “If ye bring me the gold, I will give her to you. If ye come without it, ye’ll get fight from me.”

“We will give you the gold,” said Great Limper, “within seven days.”

“Agreed,” said the red man.

“Come to the ship,” said Great Limper to Black Thorn.

They went on board, and sailed away.

“I was once on a ship which was wrecked on the coast of Spain with forty-five tons of gold. I know where that gold is; we will get it,” said Great Limper.

The two sailed to where the gold was, took seven tons of it, and on the sixth day they had it in Kilchroti, in front of the red man’s house. They weighed out the gold to him. They went then to find Dyeermud’s wife. She was behind nine doors; each door was nine planks in thickness, and bolted with nine bars of iron. The red man opened the doors; all went in, and looked at the chamber. The woman went out first, next the red man; and, seizing the door, he thought to close it on Great Limper and Black Thorn, but Black Thorn was too quick for him, and before the red man could close the door he shot him, first with a gold and then with a silver bullet.

The red man fell dead on the threshold.

“I knew he was preparing some treachery,” said Black Thorn. “When we weighed the gold to him, he let such a loud laugh of delight out of him.”

They took the woman and the gold to Dyeermud; they stayed nine days and nights with him in Kilcar, eating, drinking, and making merry. They drank to the King of Spain, to all Erin, to themselves, and to their well-wishers. You see, I had great work to keep up with them these nine days and nights. I hope they will do well hereafter.

CUD, CAD, AND MICAD, THREE SONS OF THE KING OF URHU.

There was a king once in Urhu, and he had three sons. The eldest was three, the second two, the youngest one year old. Their names were Cud, Cad, and Micad. The three brothers were playing one day near the castle, which was hard by the seashore; and Cud ran in to his father, and said, “I hope you will give me what I ask.”

“Anything you ask that I can give you will get,” said the father.

“’Tis all I ask,” said Cud, “that you will give me and my brothers one of your ships to sail in till evening.”

“I will give you that and welcome, but I think you and they are too weak to go on a ship.”

“Let us be as we are; we’ll never go younger,” said Cud.

The king gave the ship. Cud hurried out, and, catching Cad and Micad, one under each of his arms, went with one spring to the best ship in the roadstead. They raised the sails then, and the three brothers did as good work as the best and largest crew. They left the harbor with the fairest wind a ship ever had. The wind blew in a way that not a cable was left without stretching, an oar without breaking, nor a helm without cracking with all the speed the ship had. The water rose in three terrible ridges, so that the rough gravel of the bottom was brought to the top, and the froth of the top was driven down to the bottom of the sea. The sight of the kingdom of the world soon sank from the eyes of the brothers; and when they saw nothing but blue sea around them, a calm fell on the water.

Cud was going back and forth on the deck, sorry for what was done; and a good right he had to be sorry, but he was not sorry long. He saw a small currachan (boat) a mile away, and went with one spring from his ship to the currachan. The finest woman in the world was sleeping in the bottom of the boat. He put a finger under her girdle, and went back with a spring to the ship. When he touched his own deck, she woke.

“I put you under bonds and the misfortune of the world,” cried she, “to leave me where you saw me first, and to be going ever and always till you find me again.”

“What name am I to call you when I go in search of you?”

“The Cat of Fermalye, or the Swan of Endless Tales,” said the woman.

He took her with one spring to the little boat, and with another spring went back to his own ship. Whatever good wind they had coming, they had it twice better going home. In the evening the ship was anchored among the others again. The brothers went ashore in a boat. When Cud came in, his father put out a chair for him, and gave him great welcome. Cud sat down; but as he did, he broke three rungs in the chair, two ribs in himself, and a rafter in the roof of the castle.

“You were put under bonds to-day,” said the father.

“I was,” said Cud.

“What bonds?”

“To be going ever and always till I find the Cat of Fermalye, or the Swan of Endless Tales.”

Himself and his father spent that night together, and they were very sad and downhearted. As early as the dawn came, Cud rose and ate his breakfast.

“Stay with me; I’ll give you half my kingdom now, and all when I die,” said the father.

“I cannot stay under bonds; I must go,” replied Cud.

Cud took the ship he liked best, and put supplies for a day and seven years in her.

“Now,” said the father, “ask for something else; anything in the world I can give, I will give you.”

“I want nothing but my two brothers to go with me.”

“I care not where they go if yourself leaves me,” said the king.

The three brothers went aboard the ship; and if the wind was good the first day, it was better this time. They never stopped nor rested till they sailed to Fermalye. The three went on shore, and were walking the kingdom. They had walked only a short piece of it when they saw a grand castle. They went to the gate; Cud was just opening it when a cat came out. The cat looked at Cud, bowed to him, and went her way. They saw neither beast nor man in the castle, or near it; only a woman at the highest window, and she sewing.

“We’ll not stop till we go as far as the woman,” said Cud.

The woman welcomed them when they came to her, put out a gold chair to Cud and a wooden chair to each of his brothers.

“’Tis strange,” said Micad, “to show so much greater respect to one than the other two.”

“No cause for wonder in that,” said the woman. “I show respect to this one, for he is my brother-in-law.”

“We do not wonder now, but where is his wife?”

“She went out a cat when ye came in.”

“Oh, was that she?” cried Cud.

They spent the night with good cheer and plenty of food, the taste of honey in every bit they ate, and no bit dry. As early as the day dawned, the three rose, and the sister-in-law had their breakfast before them.

“Grief and sorrow, I’m in dread ’tis bad cooking ye have on the ship. Take me with you; you’ll have better food.”

“Welcome,” said Cud. “Come with us.”

Each of the others welcomed her more than Cud. The four went on board; the brothers raised sails, and were five days going when they saw a ship shining like gold and coming from Western waters.

“That ship has no good appearance,” said Cud. “We must keep out of danger;” and he took another course. Whatever course he took, the other ship was before him always, and crossing him.

“Isn’t it narrow the ocean is, that you must be crossing me always?” shouted Cud.

“Do not wonder,” cried a man from the other ship; “we heard that the three sons of the King of Urhu were sailing on the sea, and if we find them, it’s not long they’ll be before us.”

The three strangers were the three sons of the King of Hadone.

“If it is for these you are looking,” said Cud, “you need go no farther.”

“It is to find you that we are here,” said the man on the shining ship, “to take you on a visit to our own kingdom for a day and seven years. After that, we will go for the same length of time to your kingdom.”

“You will get that and welcome,” said Cud.

“Come on board my ship,” said the eldest son of the King of Hadone: “we’ll make one company; your ship is not much to look at.”

“Of the food that our father gave us,” said Cud, “there is no bit dry, and we have plenty on board. If it is dry food that you have in that big ship, leave it and come to us.”

The sons of the King of Hadone went to the small ship, and let the big one go with the wind. When Cud saw that they let their own ship go, he made great friends of them.

“Have you been on sea ever before?” asked he of the eldest of the strangers.

“I am on sea since I was of an age to walk by myself,” replied he.

“This is my first voyage,” said Cud. “Now as we are brothers and friends, and as you are taking us to visit your kingdom, I’ll give you command of my ship.”

The king’s son took this from Cud willingly, and steered home in a straight course.

When the sons of the King of Hadone were leaving home, they commanded all in the kingdom, big and little, small and great, weak and strong, to be at the port before them when they came back with the sons of the King of Urhu. “These,” said they, “must never be let out alive on the shore.”

In the first harbor the ship entered, the shore was black and white with people.

“Why are all those people assembled?” asked Cud.

“I have no knowledge of that,” said the king’s son; “but if you’ll let your two brothers go with me and my brothers, we’ll find out the reason.”

They anchored the ship, put down a long-boat, and Cad and Micad went into it with the three sons of the King of Hadone. Cud and his sister-in-law stayed behind on the ship. Cud never took his eyes off his brothers as they sat in the boat. He watched them when near the shore, and saw them both killed. With one bound he sprang from the bowsprit to land, and went through all there as a hawk through small birds. Two hours had not passed when the head was off every man in the kingdom. Whatever trouble he had in taking the heads, he had twice as much in finding his brothers. When he had the brothers found, it failed him to know how to bury them. At last he saw on the beach an old ship with three masts. He pulled out the masts, drew the ship further on land, and said to himself, “I will have my brothers under this ship turned bottom upward, and come back to take them whenever I can.”

He put the bodies on the ground, turned the ship over them, and went his way.

The woman saw all the slaughter. “Never am I to see Cud alive,” thought she, and fell dead from sorrow.

Cud took the woman to shore, and put her under the ship with his brothers. He went to his ship then, sailed away alone, and never stopped till he came to the kingdom where lived Mucan Mor Mac Ri na Sorach. Cud went ashore, and while walking and looking for himself, he came to a castle. He was wondering at the pole of combat, such a terribly big one, and he gave a small blow to it. The messenger came out, and looked up and down to know could he find the man who gave the blow. Not a soul could he see but a white-haired young child standing near the pole. He went into the castle again.

“Who struck the pole?” asked Mucan Mor.

“I saw no one but a small child with white hair; there is no danger from him.”

Cud gave a harder blow.

“That blow is harder,” said Mucan Mor, “than any child can give. Go and see who is in it.”

The man searched high and low, and it failed him to find any one but the child.

“It would be a wonder if you are the one, you little child, that struck the blow.”

“What harm,” said the little child, “if I gave the pole a touch?”

“Mucan Mor is going to dinner soon,” said the messenger; “and if you vex him again, ’tis yourself that he’ll eat in place of the dinner.”

“Is dinner ready?” asked Cud.

“It is going to be left down,” was the answer he got.

When the man went in, Cud gave the pole a hard blow, and didn’t leave calf, foal, lamb, kid, or child awaiting its birth, or a bag of poor oats or rye, that didn’t turn five times to the left, and five to the right with the fright that it got. He made such a noise and crash that dishes were broken, knives hurled around, and the castle shaken to its bottom stone. Mucan Mor himself was turned five times to the left and five to the right before he could put the soles of his feet under him. When he went out, and saw the small child, he asked, “Was it you that struck the pole?”

“I gave it a little tip,” said Cud.

“You are a child of no sense to be lying so, and it is yourself that I’ll eat for my supper.”

He thought he had only to take Cud into the castle, and roast him on the spit. He went to catch the child; but if he did, the child faced him, and soon they were fighting like two bulls in high grass. When it was very late in the day, Mucan Mor rose up in a lump of fog, and Cud didn’t know where he had gone.

All Cud had to do was to go to the forest, and gather twigs for a fire to keep himself warm until morning. It wasn’t many twigs he had gathered when twelve swans came near him.

“Love me!” said he. “I believe ye are the blessed birds that came from my father’s kingdom to be food to relieve me in need.”

“Sorry am I that I have ever looked on you or you on me,” said one of the swans; and the twelve rose and flew away.

Cud gathered the twigs for the fire, and dried the blood in his wounds. In the morning, Mucan Mor struck his own pole of combat. He and Cud faced each other, and fought till late in the day, when Mucan Mor rose as a lump of fog in the air. Cud went to the forest as before to gather twigs. It was few he had gathered when the twelve swans came again.

“Are ye the blessed birds from my own kingdom?” asked he.

“No,” said one of the swans; “but I put you under bonds not to turn me away as you did last night.”

“As you put me under bonds,” said Cud, “I will not turn you away.”

The twelve began to gather twigs, and it wasn’t long till they had a great fire made. One of the twelve sat at the fire then with Cud, and said, “There is nothing in the world to kill Mucan Mor but a certain apple. For the last three days I have been looking for that apple. I found it to-day, and have it here for you. To-morrow you’ll be getting the upper hand of Mucan Mor earlier than other days. He has no power to rise as a fog until a given hour. When the time comes, he’ll raise his two hands and be striving to go in the air. If you strike him then in the right side in the ribs with the apple, you’ll make a green stone of him. If you do not, he’ll come down and make a green stone of you.”

Cud took the apple, and had great thanks for the swan. She left down the best food then before him. She had the food with her always. Glad was he, for he was greatly in want of it after the fast of two days. She put her own wing and head over his head and sheltered him till day break. There wasn’t a wound on him next morning that wasn’t cured. As early as the day dawned she roused him.

“Be up now,” said she, “and have the soles of your feet under you.”

He went first to the pole and struck a blow that took three turns out of the stomach of Mucan Mor and three more out of his brain, before he could stand on the soles of his feet, so great was the dread that came on him.

They fought the third day, and it wasn’t very late when Cud was getting the upper hand. Mucan Mor raised his two arms toward the sky, striving to escape in a fog from his enemy. Cud struck him then with the apple, and made a green stone of him. Hardly had he Mucan Mor killed when he saw an old hag racing up; she took one hill at a step and two at a leap.

“Your face and your health to you,” said the hag, when she stood before Cud. “I am looking at you for three days, fighting without food or drink. I hope that you’ll come with me now.”