Chapter 9

He looked so bold and he spoke so bold that the robbers began to think he might have some reason for talking as he did. They left him and went off to their beds. Gilly slept again. At the broad noon they were all sitting at breakfast--Gilly and the six robbers. A farmer went past leading a goat to the fair.

“Could any of you steal that goat without doing any violence to the man who is driving it?” said Gilly.

“I couldn’t,” said one robber, and “I couldn’t,” said another robber, and “I’d be hardly able to do that myself,” said the Captain of the Robbers.

“I can do it,” said Gilly. “I’ll be back with the goat before you are through with your breakfast.” He went outside.

Gilly knew that country well and he ran through the wood until he was a bend of the road ahead of the farmer who was leading his goat to the fair. He took off one shoe and left it in the middle of the road. He ran on then until he was round another bend of the road. He took off the other shoe and left it down. Then he hid behind the hedge and waited.

The farmer came to where the first shoe was. “That’s not a bad shoe,” said he, “and if there was a comrade for it, it would be worth picking up.” He went on then and came to where the other shoe was lying. “Here is the comrade,” said he, “and it’s worth my while now to go back for the first.”

He tied the goat to the mile-stone and went back. As soon as the farmer had turned his back, Gilly took the collar off the goat, left it on the milestone and took the goat through a gap in the hedge. He brought it to the house before the robbers were through with their breakfast. They were all terribly surprised. The Captain began to bite at his nails.

The farmer, with the two shoes under his arm, came to where he had left the goat. The goat was gone and its collar was left on the milestone. He knew that a robber had taken his goat. “And I had promised Ann, my wife, to buy her a new shawl at the fair,” said he. “She’ll never stop scolding me if I go back to her now with one hand as long as the other. The best thing I can do is to take a sheep out of my field and sell that. Then when she is in good humor on account of getting the shawl I’ll tell her about the loss of my goat.” So the farmer went back to the field.

They were sitting down to a game of cards after breakfast--the six robbers and Gilly--when they saw the farmer going past with the sheep. “I’ll be bound that he’ll watch that sheep more closely than he watched the goat,” said one of the robbers. “Could any of you steal that sheep without doing him any violence?” said Gilly. “I couldn’t,” said one robber, and “I couldn’t,” said another robber. “I could hardly do that myself,” said the Captain of the Robbers. “I’ll bring the sheep here before you’re through with the game of cards,” said Gilly.

The farmer was just past the milestone when he saw a man hanging on a tree. “The saints between us and harm,” said he, “do they hang men along this road?” Now the man hanging from the tree was Gilly. He had fastened himself to a branch with his belt, putting it under his arm-pits. He slipped down from the branch and ran till he was ahead of the farmer. The farmer saw another man hanging from a tree. “The saints preserve us,” said he, “sure; it’s not possible that they hanged two men along this road?” Gilly slipped down from that tree too and ran on until he was ahead of the farmer again. The farmer saw a third man hanging from a tree. “Am I leaving my senses?” said he. “I’ll go back and see if the other men are hanging there as I thought they were.” He tied the sheep to a bush and went back. As soon as he turned, Gilly slipped down from the tree, took the sheep through a gap, and got back to the robbers before they were through with the game. All the robbers said it was a wonderful thing he had done. The Captain of the Robbers was left standing by himself scratching his head.

The farmer found no men hanging on trees and he thought he was out of his mind. He came back and he found his sheep gone. “What will I do now?” said he. “I daren’t let Ann know I lost a goat and a sheep until I put her into good humor by showing the shawl I bought her at the fair. There’s nothing to be done now, but take a bullock out of the field and sell it at the fair.” He went to the field then, took a bullock out of it, and passed the house just as the robbers were lighting their pipes. “If he watched the goat and the sheep closely he’ll watch the bullock nine times as closely,” said one of the robbers.

“Which of you could take the bullock without doing the man any violence?” said Gilly. “I couldn’t,” said one robber, and “I couldn’t,” said another robber. “If you could do it,” said the Captain of the Robbers to Gilly, “I’ll resign my command and give it to you.” “Done,” said Gilly, and he went out of the house again.

He went quickly through the wood, and when he came near where the farmer was he began to bleat like a goat. The farmer stopped and listened. Then Gilly began to baa like the sheep. “That sounds very like my goat and sheep,” said the farmer. “Maybe they weren’t taken at all, but just strayed off. If I can get them now, I needn’t make any excuses to Ann my wife.” He tied the bullock to a tree and went into the wood. As soon as he did, Gilly slipped out, took the bullock by the rope and hurried back to the house. The robbers were gathered at the door to watch for his coming back. When they saw him with the bullock they threw up their hats. “This man must be our Captain,” they said. The Captain was biting his lips and his nails. At last he took off his hat with the feathers in it and gave it to Gilly. “You’re our Captain now,” said the robbers.

Gilly ordered that the goat, the sheep and the bullock be put into the byre, that the door be locked and the key be given to him. All that was done. Then said he to all the robbers, “I demand to know what became of the Crystal Egg that was with the goose you stole from the Spae-Woman.” “The Crystal Egg,” said one of the robbers. “It hatched, and a queer bird came out of it.” “Where is that bird now?” said Gilly. “On the waves of the lake near at hand,” said the robbers. “We see it every day.” “Take me to the lake till I see the Bird out of the Crystal Egg,” said Gilly. They locked the door of the house behind them, and the seven, Gilly at their head, wearing the hat with feathers, marched down to the lake.

XVI

Then they showed him the bird that was on the waves of the lake--a swan she was and she floated proudly. The swan came towards them and as she drew nearer they could hear her voice. The sounds she made were not like any sound of birds, but like the sounds bards make chanting their verses. Words came on high notes and low notes, but they were like words in a strange language. And still the swan chanted as she drew near to the shore where Gilly and the six robbers stood.

She spread out her wings, and, raising her neck she curved it, while she stayed watching the men on the bank. “Hear the Swan of Endless Tales--the Swan of Endless Tales” she sang in words they knew. Then she raised herself out of the water, turned round in the air, and flew back to the middle of the lake.

“Time for us to be leaving the place when there is a bird on the lake that can speak like that,” said Mogue, who had been the Captain of the Robbers. “To-night I’m leaving this townland.”

“And I am leaving too,” said another robber. “And I too,” said another. “And I may be going away from this place,” said Gilly of the Goatskin.

The robbers went away from him and back to the house and Gilly sat by the edge of the lake waiting to see if the Swan of Endless Tales would come back and tell him something. She did not come. As Gilly sat there the farmer who had lost his goat, his sheep and his bullock came by. He was dragging one foot after the other and looking very downcast. “What is the matter with you, honest man?” said Gilly.

The farmer told him how he had lost his goat, his sheep and his bullock. He told him how he had thought he heard his goat bleating and his sheep ba’ing, and how he went through the wood to search for them, and how his bullock was gone when he came back to the road. “And what to say to my wife Ann I don’t know,” said he, “particularly as I have brought no shawl to put her in good humor. Heavy is the blame she’ll give me on account of my losing a goat, a sheep and a bullock.”

Gilly took a key out of his pocket. “Do you see this key?” said he. “Take it and open the byre door at such a place, and you’ll find in that byre your goat, your sheep and your bullock. There are robbers in that house, but if they try to prevent your taking your own tell them that all the threshers of the country are coming to beat them with flails.” The farmer took the key and went away very thankful to Gilly. The story says that he got back his goat, his sheep and his bullock and made it an excuse that he had seen three magpies on the road for not going to the fair to buy a shawl for his wife Ann. The robbers were very frightened when he told them about the threshers coming and they went away from that part of the country.

As for Gilly, he thought he would go back to the Old Woman of Beare for his name. He took the path by the edge of the lake. And as he journeyed along with his holly-stick in his hand he heard the Swan of Endless Tales chanting.

THE TOWN OF THE RED CASTLE

I

Flann was the name that the Old Woman of Beare gave to Gilly of the Goatskin when he came back to tell her that the Swan of Endless Tales had been hatched out of the Crystal Egg. He went from her house then and came to where the King of Ireland’s Son waited for him. The two comrades went along a well-traveled road. As they went on they fell in with men driving herds of ponies, men carrying packs on their backs, men with tools for working gold and silver, bronze and iron. Every man whom they asked said, “We are going to the Town of the Red Castle, and to the great fair that will be held there.” The King’s Son and Flann thought they should go to the Town of the Red Castle too, for where so many people would be, there was a chance of hearing what went before and what came after the Unique Tale. So they went on.

And when they had come to a well that was under a great rock those whom they were with halted. They said it was the custom for the merchants and sellers to wait there for a day and to go into the Town of the Red Castle the day following. “On this day,” they said, “the people of the Town celebrate the Festival of Midsummer, and they do not like a great company of people to go into their Town until the Festival is over.”

The King of Ireland’s Son and Flann went on, and they were let into the town. The people had lighted great fires in their market-place and they were driving their cattle through the fires: “If there be evil on you, may it burn, may it burn,” they were crying. They were afraid that witches and enchanters might come into the town with the merchants and the sellers, and that was the reason they did not permit a great company to enter.

The fires in all their houses had been quenched that day, and they might not be lighted except from the fires the cattle had gone through. The fires were left blazing high and the King’s Son and Flann spent hours watching them, and watching the crowds that were around.

Then the time came to take fire to the houses. They who came for fire were all young maidens. Each came into the light of one of the great fires, took coals from a fire that had burnt low, placed them in a new earthen vessel and went away. Flann thought that all the maidens were beautiful and wonderful, although the King’s Son told him that some were black-faced, and some crop-headed and some hunchbacked. Then a maiden came, who was so high above the rest that Flann had no words to speak of her.

She had silver on her head and silver on her arms, and the people around the fires all bowed to her. She had black, black hair and she had a smiling face--not happily smiling, but proudly smiling. Flann thought that a star had bent down with her. And when she had taken the fire and had gone away, Flann said, “She is surely the King’s daughter!”

“She is,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. “The people here have spoken her name.” “What is her name?” asked Flann. “It is Lassarina,” said the King’s Son, “Flame-of-Wine.”

“Shall we see her again?” said Flann.

“That I do not know,” said the King’s Son. “Come now, and let us ask the people here if they have knowledge of the Unique Tale.”

“Wait,” said Flann, “they are talking about Princess Flame-of-Wine.” He did not move, but listened to what was said. All said that the King’s daughter was proud. Some said she was beautiful, but others answered that her lips were thin, and her eyes were mocking. No other maidens came for fire. Flann stood before the one that still blazed, and thought and thought. The King’s Son asked many if they had knowledge of the Unique Tale, but no one had heard of it. Some told him that there would be merchants and sellers from many parts of the world at the fair that would be held on the morrow, and that there would be a chance of meeting one who had knowledge of it. Then the King’s Son went with one who brought him to a Brufir’s--that is, to a House of Hospitality maintained by the King for strangers. As for Flann, he sat looking into the fire until it died down, and then he slept before it.

II

Flann was wakened by a gander and his flock of geese that stood round him; shook their wings and set up their goose-gabble. It was day then, although there was still a star in the sky. He threw furze-roots where there was a glow, and made a fire blaze up again. Then the dogs of the town came down to look at him, and then stole away.

Horns were blown outside, and the watchman opened the gates. Flann shook himself and stood up to see the folk that were coming in. First came the men who drove the mountain ponies that had lately fed with the deer in wild places. Then came men in leathern jerkins who led wide-horned bulls--a black bull and a white bull, and a white bull and a black bull, one after the other. Then there were men who brought in high, swift hounds, three to each leash they held. Women in brown cloaks carried cages of birds. Men carried on their shoulders and in their belts tools for working gold and silver, bronze and iron. And there were calves and sheep, and great horses and weighty chariots, and colored cloths, and things closed in packs that merchants carried on their shoulders. The famous bards, and story-tellers and harpists would not come until noon-time when the business of the fair would have abated, but with the crowd of beggars came ballad-singers, and the tellers of the stories that were called “Go-by-the-Market-Stake,” because they were told around the stake in the market place and were very common.

And at the tail of the comers whom did Flann see but Mogue, the Captain of the Robbers!

Mogue wore a hare-skin cap, his left eye protruded as usual, and he walked limpingly. He had a pack on his back, and he led a small, swift looking horse of a reddish color. Flann called to him as he passed and Mogue gave a great start. He grinned when he saw it was Flann and walked up to him.

“Mogue,” said Flann, “what are you doing in the Town of the Red Castle?”

“I’m here to sell a few things,” said Mogue, “this little horse,” said he, “and a few things I have in my pack.”

“And where are your friends?” asked Flann. “My band, do you mean?” said Mogue. “Sure, they all left me when you proved you were the better robber. What are you doing here?”

“I have no business at all,” said Flann.

“By the Hazel! that’s what I like to hear you say. Join me then. You and me would do well together.”

“I won’t join you,” said Flann.

“I’d rather have you with me than the whole of the band. What were they anyway? Cabbage-heads!” Mogue winked with his protruding eye. “Wait till you see me again,” said he. “I’ve the grandest things in my pack.” He went on leading the little horse. Then Flann set out to look for the King’s Son.

He found him at the door of the Brufir’s, and they drank bowls of milk and ate oaten bread together, and then went to the gate of the town to watch the notable people who were coming in.

And with the bards and harpers and Kings’ envoys who came in, the King’s Son saw his two half-brothers, Dermott and Downal. He hailed them and they knew him and came up to him gladly. The King’s Son made Flann known to them, saying that he too was the son of a King.

They looked fine youths, Downal and Dermott, in their red cloaks, with their heads held high, and a brag in their walk and their words. They left their horses with the grooms and walked with Flann and the King’s Son. They were tall and ruddy; the King’s Son was more brown in the hair and more hawk-like in the face: the three were different from the dark-haired, dark-eyed, red-lipped lad to whom the Old Woman of Beare had given the name of Flann.

No one had seen the King who lived in the Red Castle, Dermott and Downal told the other two. He was called the Wry-faced King, and, on account of his disfigurement, he let no one but his Councilors see him.

“We are to go to his Castle to-day,” said Dermott and Downal. “You come too, brother,” said he to the King’s Son.

“And you too, comrade,” said Downal to Flann. “Why should we not all go? By Ogma! Are we not all sons of Kings?”

Flann wondered if he would see the King’s daughter, Flame-of-Wine. He would surely go to the Castle.

They drank ale, played chess and talked until it was afternoon. Then the grooms who were with Downal and Dermott brought the four youths new red cloaks. They put them on and went towards the King’s Castle.

“Brother,” said Dermott to the King’s Son, “I want to tell you that we are not going back to our father’s Castle nor to his Kingdom. We have taken the world for our pillow. We are going to leave the grooms asleep one fine morning, and go as the salmon goes down the river.”

“Why do you want to leave our father’s Kingdom?”

“Because we don’t want to rule nor to learn to rule. We’ll let you, brother, do all that. We’re going to learn the trade of a sword-smith. We would make fine swords. And with the King of Senlabor there is a famous sword-smith, and we are going to learn the trade from him.”

The four went to the Red Castle, and they were brought in and they went and sat on the benches to wait for the King’s Steward who would receive them. And while they waited they watched the play of a pet fox in the courtyard. Flann was wondering all the time if the Princess Flame-of-Wine would pass through the court-yard or come into the hall where they waited.

Then he saw her come up the courtyard. She saw the youths in the hall and she turned round to watch the pet fox for a while. Then she came into the chamber and stood near the door.

She wore a mask across her face, but her brow and mouth and chin were shown. The youths saluted her, and she bent her head to them. One of the women who had brought birds to the Fair followed her, bringing a cage. Flame-of-Wine talked to this woman in a strange language.

Although she talked to the woman, Flann saw that she watched his three companions. Him she did not notice, because the bench on which he sat was behind the others. Flame-of-Wine looked at the King’s Son first, and then turned her eyes from him. She bent her head to listen to what Downal and Dermott were saying. Flann she did not look at at all, and he became sick at heart of the Red Castle.

The King’s Steward came into the Hall and when he announced who the youths were--three sons of the King of Ireland traveling with their foster-brother--Flame-of-Wine went over and spoke to them. “May we see you to-morrow, Kings’ Sons,” she said. “To-morrow is our feast of the Gathering of Apples. It might be pleasant for you to hear music in the King’s garden.”

She smiled on Downal and Dermott and on the King’s Son and went out of the Chamber. The King’s Steward feasted the four youths and afterwards made them presents. But Flann did not heed what he ate nor what he heard said, nor what present was given him.

III

The four youths left the Castle and Downal and Dermott took their own way when they came to the foot-bridge that was across the river. Then when they were crossing it the King’s Son and Flann saw two figures--a middle-aged, sturdy man and an old, broken-looking woman--meet before the Bull’s Field. “It is the Gobaun Saor,” said the King’s Son. “It is the Spae-Woman,” said Flann. They went to them, each wishing to greet his friend and helper.

There they saw a sturdy, middle-aged man and a broken-looking old woman. But the woman looking on the man saw one who had full wisdom to plan and full strength to build, whose wisdom and whose strength could neither grow nor diminish. And the man looking on the woman saw one whose brow had all quiet, whose heart had all benignity. “Hail, Gobaun, Builder for the Gods,” said the woman. “Hail, Grania Oi, Reconciler for the Gods,” said the man.

Then the two youths came swiftly up to them, and the King’s Son greeted the middle-aged man, and Flann kissed the hands of the old woman.

“What of your search, King’s Son?” said the Gobaun Saor.

“I have found the Unique Tale, but not what went before nor what comes after it,” said the King’s Son.

“I will clear the Sword of Light of its stain when you bring me the whole of the Unique Tale,” said the Gobaun Saor.

“I would search the whole world for it,” said the King’s Son. “But now the time is becoming short for me.” “Be quick and active,” said the Gobaun Saor. “I have set up my forge,” said he, “outside the town between two high stones. When you bring the whole of the Tale to me I shall clear your sword.”

“Will you not tell him, Gobaun Saor,” said the Spae-Woman, “where he may find the one who will tell him the rest of the story?”

“If he sees one he knows in this town,” said the Gobaun Saor, “let him mount a horse he has mounted before and pursue that one and force him to tell what went before and what comes after the Unique Tale.”

Saying this the Gobaun Saor turned away and walked along the road that went out of the town.

The Spae-Woman had brought besoms to the town to sell. She showed the two youths the little house she lived in while she was there. It was filled with the heather-stalks which she bound together for besoms.

They left the Spae-Woman and went through the town, the King of Ireland’s Son searching every place for a man he knew or a horse he had mounted before, while Flann thought about the Princess Flame-of-Wine, and how little she considered him beside the King’s Son and Dermott and Downal. They came to where a crowd was standing before a conjurer’s booth. They halted and stood waiting for the conjurer to appear. He came out and put a ladder standing upright with nothing to lean against and began climbing up. Up, up, up, he went, and the ladder grew higher and higher as he climbed. Flann thought he would climb into the sky. Then the ladder got smaller and smaller and Flann saw the conjurer coming down on the other side. “He has come here to take that horse,” said a voice behind the King of Ireland’s Son.

The King’s Son looked round, and on the outskirts of the crowd he saw a man with a hare-skin cap and a protruding eye who was holding a reddish horse, while he watched the conjuror. The King of Ireland’s Son knew the horse--it was the Slight Red Steed that had carried him and Fedelma from the Enchanter’s house and had brought him to the Cave where he had found the Sword of Light. He looked at the conjuror again and he saw he was no other than the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands. Then it crossed his mind what the Gobaun Saor had said to him.

He had seen a man he knew and a horse he had mounted before. He was to mount that horse, follow the man, and force him to tell the rest of the Unique Tale.