Part 15
“I want nothing of you,” said Cahal, “but this: Send out my bride to me; you took her from her father, the King of Hathony, and she was to be my wife soon when you took her. Send her to me, and put no fog or enchantment on us while we are on the way home.”
“You ask more than I can give,” said Striker, “for Wet Mantle, the hero, took that maiden from me two months ago. When going, she put him under bonds not to molest her for two days and two years.”
“Where can I find Wet Mantle?”
“That is more than I can tell; but put your nose before you and follow it.”
“That’s a short answer, and I would take your life for three straws on account of it; but I’ll let some other man have his chance to take the head off you.”
Cahal mounted his mare then, and was travelling over seas and dry land,—travelling a long time till he came at last to Wet Mantle’s castle. He struck the pole of combat, and out came the messenger.
“Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Seven hundred at my right hand, seven hundred at my left, seven hundred behind me, and seven hundred before my face.”
“That’s more men than you can find in this place,” said the messenger. “Wet Mantle lives here in his own way, without forces or company; he keeps no man but me, and is very well satisfied.”
“Go then,” said Cahal, “and tell him to come out himself to me.”
Wet Mantle came out, and the two fought seven days and six nights. Wet Mantle called for a truce then and got it. The hero went to his castle, cured himself, and was as fresh the eighth morning as the first. They began to fight, and the struggle continued three days and two nights. Wet Mantle called for a truce, and received it the second time. On the eleventh morning he was well again, and ready for the struggle.
“Oh, then, it is foolish and simple you are, and small good in your travelling the world,” cried a goldfinch to Cahal. “Why are you out here in hunger and cold, and he cured and fresh in his castle? Give him no rest the next time, but fight till you tire him and take the mantle from him. He’ll be as weak as a common man then, for it is in the mantle his strength is.”
On the eleventh morning they began for the third time and fought fiercely all day. In the evening Wet Mantle called for a rest.
“No,” said Cahal, “you’ll get no rest. There is no rest for either of us. You must fight till you or I yield.”
They fought on till the following evening. Wet Mantle called for rest a second time.
“No rest till this battle is ended,” cried Cahal.
They held on all that night venomously, and were fighting at noon of the following day. Then Cahal closed on his enemy, and tore the mantle from his body.
The hero without his mantle had no more strength than a common man.
“You are the best champion that ever I have met,” said he to Cahal. “I will give you all that you ask, but don’t kill me.”
“I have no wish to kill or to hurt you, though good treatment is not what you deserve from me. You caused me great trouble and hardship searching and travelling, not knowing where to find you. I want nothing of you but my bride, and your promise not to put fog or magic on us or harm us until we reach Erin in safety.”
“That is more than I can promise,” said Wet Mantle.
“Why so?” asked Cahal.
“The gruagach, Long Sweeper, took that maiden from me, and she put him under bonds not to molest her, or come near her for three days and three years.”
“Where can I find Long Sweeper?”
“That is more than I can tell,” said Wet Mantle. “The world is wide, you have free passage through it, and you can be going this way and that till you find him; he lives in a very high castle, and he is a tall man himself; he has a very long broom, and when he likes he sweeps the sky with that broom three times in the morning, and the day that he sweeps, there is no man in the world that can contradict him or conquer him.”
Cahal went riding his pony from the north to the south, from the east to the west, and west to east, three years and two days. At daylight of the third day he saw a tall castle in the ocean before him. So tall was the castle that he could not tell the height of it, and a man on the summit twice as tall as the castle itself, and he with a broom sweeping the sky.
“Ah,” said Cahal to himself, “I have you at last.”
He rode forward then to the castle, and struck the pole of combat.
“What do you want?” asked the messenger.
“I want men to meet me in combat.”
“Well, that is what you’ll not get in this place. There is no man living on this island but Long Sweeper and myself. The Black Horseman came from the Western World three months ago, and killed every man, gave Long Sweeper great hardship and trouble, and after terrible fighting got the upper hand of him.”
“Well, if he has no men, let him come out himself, for I’ll never leave the spot till I knock satisfaction out of Long Sweeper for the trouble he gave me before I could find him.”
Long Sweeper came out, and they began to fight; they fought for seven days and six nights. Toward evening of the seventh day Long Sweeper called for rest and got it. He went into his high castle, ate, drank, healed himself in his caldron of cure, and slept well and soundly, while Cahal had to rest as best he was able on the ground beyond the wall. The eighth morning Long Sweeper went up on his castle and swept the sky back and forth three times, and got such strength that no man on earth could overcome him that day.
They fought three days and two nights, and fought all the time without rest. Long Sweeper called for rest then and got it, and was cured and refreshed as before. Next morning he mounted the castle, swept the sky three times with his broom, and was ready for combat.
Before Long Sweeper came, the goldfinch perched in front of Cahal and said, “Misfortune to you, son of King Conor in Erin; ’tis to a bad place you came with your life to lose it, and isn’t it foolish of you to give your enemy rest, while yourself has nothing to lie on but the earth, and nothing to put in your mouth but cold air? Give neither rest nor truce to your enemy. He will be losing strength till three days from now. If he gets no chance to sweep the sky, he’ll be no better than a common man.”
That evening Long Sweeper called for rest.
“No,” said Cahal, “you’ll get no rest from me. We must fight till either one or the other yields.”
“That’s not fair fighting.”
“It is not, indeed. I am ten days and nights without food, drink, or rest, while you have had them twice. We have not fought fairly so far, but we will hereafter. You must remain as you are now till one of us is conquered.”
They were fighting till noon, the thirteenth day. “I am beaten,” said Long Sweeper. “Whatever I have I am willing to give you, but spare my life, for if there is a good hero in the world you are he.”
“I want nothing of you,” said Cahal, “but to send out to me my bride, Bloom of Youth, daughter of the King of Hathony, the maiden you took from Wet Mantle. You have caused me great hardship and trouble, but I’ll let some one else take your life, or may you live as you are.”
“I cannot send out your bride,” said Long Sweeper, “for she is not in my castle. The Black Horseman took her from me three months ago.”
“Where am I to find that man?”
“I might tell you to put your nose before you and walk after it, but I will not; I will give you a guide. Here is a rod; whichever way the rod turns, follow it till you come to the Western World, where the Black Horseman lives.”
Cahal mounted his mare, made off with the rod in his hand, and rode straight to the Black Horseman’s castle. The messenger was in front of the castle before him.
“Tell your master to send out champions against me, or to come himself,” said Cahal.
That moment the Black Horseman himself was on the threshold. “I am here all alone,” said he to Cahal. “I have lost all my wealth, all my men, all my magic. I am now in a poor state, though I was living pleasantly and in greatness after the conflict in which I got the better of Long Sweeper. It’s rich and strong I was after parting with that man, and I was waiting here to marry when White Beard from the Western World came, made war on me, and continued it for a day and a year; then he left me poor and lonely, as I am at this moment.”
“Well,” said Cahal, “you have caused me great labor and hardship; but I ask nothing of you except to send out my bride, Bloom of Youth, to me, and not to bring fog or magic on her or on me till we reach home in safety.”
“White Beard took your bride from me, and he cannot marry her for four days and four years, for she put him under bond not to do so. I will tell you now how to find her. Do you see that broad river in front of us? It flows from the Northern to the Southern World, and there is no way to cross it unless a good hero does so by springing from one bank to the other. When White Beard took the maiden from me, they walked to the brink of the river; he placed the woman then on his shoulder and sprang over the river to the west. ‘Let me down, now,’ said the woman. ‘I will not,’ replied White Beard, ‘I have such regard for you that I will show you every place on the road.’ He did not let her down till he showed her everything between the river and the castle. ‘You may come down,’ said he, when they entered the castle (she could see everything from his shoulder, but nothing from the ground). When coming down she thrust a sleeping pin that she had in the head of the old man, and he fell fast asleep standing there. She has whatever she wishes to eat or to drink in the castle. All is in a mist of enchantment. She can see nothing outside the castle, but everything within. That was my home at one time. I was born and reared in that castle, and lived in it till White Beard drove me away with magic and violence. I came to this place and lived here a time without trouble, till I took Bloom of Youth from Long Sweeper. I was waiting to marry her, when White Beard came, destroyed all my forces, took away my enchantment, carried off Bloom of Youth, and left me here without strength or defence. But one thing is left me, and that I will give you. Here is a torch. When you cross the river, light it. You’ll find the road, and no one has found it since I was there. When you light the torch follow the road to an old cottage, at one side from the castle. In this cottage is a henwife, who has lived there since my childhood. She will show the way to the castle and back to her cottage. From there you may journey homeward in safety, by lighting the torch a second time, and keeping it till you ride out of the castle’s enchantment. This is all I have to tell you.”
Cahal rode briskly to the river, rode across, lighted his torch on the other side, saw a narrow bright road, but nothing on either side. The road was a long one, but he came to the end of it at the door of the henwife’s old cottage. Cahal greeted the henwife.
“A hundred thousand welcomes,” said the old woman. “You are here from my master, the Black Horseman, or you could not be in it. Can I help you in any way?”
“I want nothing of you but to show me the way to the castle of White Beard, where my bride is, and then bring me back to this place.”
“Follow me,” said the henwife, “and leave your horse here.”
She took Cahal by the hand and went forward till she came to the castle and entered it. There Cahal saw the finest woman that ever he had met in the world. “Well,” said he to himself, “I am not sorry, after all my troubles and hardships, if you are the woman I am to marry.”
“A greeting to you, young hero,” said the woman. “Who are you who have been able to come to this castle, and why are you here?”
“My name is Cahal, son of King Conor, in Erin. I am long travelling and fighting to find and to rescue my bride, Bloom of Youth, daughter of the King of Hathony. Who are you, fair lady?” asked Cahal.
“I am the daughter of the King of Hathony. The day before I was taken by Striker, son of the King of Tricks, my father told me that the son of King Conor, in Erin, was betrothed to me. You, I suppose, are that man?”
“I am,” said Cahal. “Come with me now, I will free you; but what are we to do with White Beard?”
“Leave him as he is. There is no knowing what he would do should we rouse him.”
The two went with the henwife to her cottage. Cahal lighted the torch a second time, mounted the mare, put Bloom of Youth in front, rode first to Hathony, and then home to Erin.
King Conor made a great feast of welcome for Cahal and his bride. There were seven hundred guests at the short table, eight hundred at the long table, nine hundred at the round table, and a thousand in the grand hall. I was there and heard the whole story, but got no present except shoes of paper and stockings of buttermilk, and these a herder stole from me in crossing the mountains.
COLDFEET AND THE QUEEN OF LONESOME ISLAND.
Once upon a time, and a long time ago it was, there lived an old woman in Erin. This old woman’s house was at the northeast corner of Mount Brandon. Of all the friends and relatives that ever she had in the world there was but one left, her only son, Sean,[3] nicknamed Fuarcosa (Coldfeet).
The reason that people called the boy Coldfeet was this: When a child he was growing always; what of him did not grow one hour grew another; what did not grow in the day grew in the night; what did not grow in the night grew in the day; and he grew that fast that when seven years old he could not find room enough in his mother’s house. When night came and he was sleeping, whatever corner of the house his head was in, it was out of doors that his feet were, and, of course, they were cold, especially in winter.
It was not long till his legs as well as his feet were out of the house, first to the knees, and then to the body. When fifteen years old it was all that he could do to put his head in, and he lived outdoors entirely. What the mother could gather in a year would not support the son for a day, he was that large and had such an appetite.
Coldfeet had to find his own food, and he had no means of living but to bring home sheep and bullocks from whatever place he met them.
He was going on in this way, faring rather ill than well, when one day above another he said, “I think I must go into the great world, mother. I am half starving in this place. I can do little good for myself as I am, and no good at all for you.”
He rose early next morning, washed his face and hands, asked assistance and protection of God, and if he did not, may we. He left good health with his mother at parting, and away he went, crossing high hills, passing low dales, and kept on his way without halt or rest, the clear day going and the dark night coming, taking lodgings each evening wherever he found them, till at last he came to a high roomy castle.
He entered the castle without delaying outside, and when he went in, the owner asked was he a servant in search of a master.
“I am in search of a master,” said Coldfeet.
He engaged to herd cows for small hire and his keeping, and the time of his service was a day and a year.
Next morning, when Coldfeet was driving the cattle to pasture, his master was outside in the field before him, and said, “You must take good care of yourself, for of all the herders who took service with me never a man but was killed by one or another of four giants who live next to my pastures. One of these giants has four, the next six, the third eight, and the fourth twelve heads on him.”
“By my hand!” said Coldfeet, “I did not come here to be killed by the like of them. They will not hurt me, never fear.”
Coldfeet went on with the cattle, and when he came to the boundary he put them on the land of the giants. The cows were not long grazing when one of the giants at his castle caught the odor of the strange herder and rushed out. When coming at a distance he shouted, “I smell the blood of a man from Erin; his liver and lights for my supper to-night, his blood for my morning dram, his jawbones for stepping-stones, his shins for hurleys!”
When the giant came up he cried, “Ah, that is you, Coldfeet, and wasn’t it the impudence in you to come here from the butt of Brandon Mountain and put cattle on my land to annoy me?”
“It isn’t to give satisfaction to you that I am here, but to knock satisfaction out of your bones,” said Coldfeet.
With that the giant faced the herder, and the two went at each other and fought till near evening. They broke old trees and bent young ones; they made hard places soft and soft places hard; they made high places low and low places high; they made spring wells dry, and brought water through hard, gray rocks till near sunset, when Coldfeet took the heads off the giant and put the four skulls in muddy gaps to make a dry, solid road for the cows.
Coldfeet drove out his master’s cattle on a second, third, and fourth morning; each day he killed a giant, each day the battle was fiercer, but on the fourth evening the fourth giant was dead.
On the fifth day Coldfeet was not long on the land of the dead giants when a dreadful enchanted old hag came out against him, and she raging with anger. She had nails of steel on her fingers and toes, each nail of them weighing seven pounds.
“Oh, you insolent, bloodthirsty villain,” screamed she, “to come all the way from Brandon Mountain to kill my young sons, and, poor boys, only that timber is dear in this country it’s in their cradles they’d be to-day instead of being murdered by you.”
“It isn’t to give satisfaction to you that I’m here, you old witch, but to knock it out of your wicked old bones,” said Coldfeet.
“Glad would I be to tear you to pieces,” said the hag; “but ’tis better to get some good of you first. I put you under spells of heavy enchantment that you cannot escape, not to eat two meals off the one table nor to sleep two nights in the one house till you go to the Queen of Lonesome Island, and bring the sword of light that never fails, the loaf of bread that is never eaten, and the bottle of water that is never drained.”
“Where is Lonesome Island?” asked Coldfeet.
“Follow your nose, and make out the place with your own wit,” said the hag.
Coldfeet drove the cows home in the evening, and said to his master, “The giants will never harm you again; all their heads are in the muddy gaps from this to the end of the pasture, and there are good roads now for your cattle. I have been with you only five days, but another would not do my work in a day and a year; pay me my wages. You’ll never have trouble again in finding men to mind cattle.”
The man paid Coldfeet his wages, gave him a good suit of clothes for the journey, and his blessing.
Away went Coldfeet now on the long road, and by my word it was a strange road to him. He went across high hills and low dales, passing each night where he found it, till the evening of the third day, when he came to a house where a little old man was living. The old man had lived in that house without leaving it for seven hundred years, and had not seen a living soul in that time.
Coldfeet gave good health to the old man, and received a hundred thousand welcomes in return.
“Will you give me a night’s lodging?” asked Coldfeet.
“I will indeed,” said the old man, “and is it any harm to ask, where are you going?”
“What harm in a plain question? I am going to Lonesome Island if I can find it.”
“You will travel to-morrow, and if you are loose and lively on the road you’ll come at night to a house, and inside in it an old man like myself, only older. He will give you lodgings, and tell where to go the day after.”
Coldfeet rose very early next morning, ate his breakfast, asked aid of God, and if he didn’t he let it alone. He left good health with the old man, and received his blessing. Away with him then over high hills and low dales, and if any one wished to see a great walker Coldfeet was the man to look at. He overtook the hare in the wind that was before him, and the hare in the wind behind could not overtake him; he went at that gait without halt or rest till he came in the heel of the evening to a small house, and went in. Inside in the house was a little old man sitting by the fire.
Coldfeet gave good health to the old man, and got a hundred thousand welcomes with a night’s lodging.
“Why did you come, and where are you going?” asked the old man. “Fourteen hundred years am I in this house alone, and not a living soul came in to see me till yourself came this evening.”
“I am going to Lonesome Island, if I can find it.”
“I have no knowledge of that place, but if you are a swift walker you will come to-morrow evening to an old man like myself, only older; he will tell you all that you need, and show you the way to the island.”
Next morning early Coldfeet went away after breakfast, leaving good health behind him and taking good wishes for the road. He travelled this day as on the other two days, only more swiftly, and at nightfall gave a greeting to the third old man.
“A hundred thousand welcomes,” said the old man. “I am living alone in this house twenty-one hundred years, and not a living soul walked the way in that time. You are the first man I see in this house. Is it to stay with me that you are here?”
“It is not,” said Coldfeet, “for I must be moving. I cannot spend two nights in the one house till I go to Lonesome Island, and I have no knowledge of where that place is.”
“Oh, then, it’s the long road between this and Lonesome Island, but I’ll tell where the place is, and how you are to go, if you go there. The road lies straight from my door to the sea. From the shore to the island no man has gone unless the queen brought him, but you may go if the strength and the courage are in you. I will give you this staff; it may help you. When you reach the sea throw the staff in the water, and you’ll have a boat that will take you without sail or oar straight to the island. When you touch shore pull up the boat on the strand; it will turn into a staff and be again what it now is. The queen’s castle goes whirling around always. It has only one door, and that on the roof of it. If you lean on the staff you can rise with one spring to the roof, go in at the door, and to the queen’s chamber.
“The queen sleeps but one day in each year, and she will be sleeping to-morrow. The sword of light will be hanging at the head of her bed, the loaf and the bottle of water on the table near by. Seize the sword with the loaf and the bottle, and away with you, for the journey must be made in a day, and you must be on this side of those hills before nightfall. Do you think you can do that?”
“I will do it, or die in the trial,” said Coldfeet.
“If you make that journey you will do what no man has done yet,” said the old man. “Before I came to live in this house champions and hundreds of king’s sons tried to go to Lonesome Island, but not a man of them had the strength and the swiftness to go as far as the seashore, and that is but one part of the journey. All perished, and if their skulls are not crumbled, you’ll see them to-morrow. The country is open and safe in the daytime, but when night falls the Queen of Lonesome Island sends her wild beasts to destroy every man they can find until daybreak. You must be in Lonesome Island to-morrow before noon, leave the place very soon after midday, and be on this side of those hills before nightfall, or perish.”
Next morning Coldfeet rose early, ate his breakfast, and started at daybreak. Away he went swiftly over hills, dales, and level places, through a land where the wind never blows and the cock never crows, and though he went quickly the day before, he went five times more quickly that day, for the staff added speed to whatever man had it.