Part 9

The next morning there came a gentleman and a beautiful woman into the house, and he gave the old woman the full of a quart of money to say paters for them till morning. The old woman opened a chest and took out a handsome ring, and tried to place it on his finger, but it would not go on. “Perhaps it would fit you,” said she to the lady. But her finger was too big.

When they went out Margaret asked the old woman who were the man and woman. “That is the son of a king of the Eastern World, and the name that is on him is Stephen, and he and the woman are going to the White Doon to fight the giant, and I am afraid they will never come back; for the ring did not fit either of them; and it was told to the people that no one would kill the giant but he whom the ring would fit.”

The two of them remained during the night praying for him, for fear the giant should kill him; and early in the morning they went out to see what had happened to Stephen and the lady that was with him, and they found them dead near the White Doon.

“I knew,” said the old woman, “this is what would happen to them. It is better for us to take them with us and bury them in the churchyard.” When they were buried, “Come home,” said the old woman, “and we’ll know who is the first person comes the same way again.”

About a month after a man came into the house, and no sooner was he inside the door than Margaret recognised him.

“How have you been ever since, Simon?”

“I am very well,” said he; “it can’t be that you are Margaret?”

“It is I,” said she.

“I thought that billow that rose after you, when you got into the boat, drowned you.”

“It only left me on dry land,” said Margaret.

“I went to the Eastern World, and my father said to me that he sent my brother to go and fight with the giant, who was doing great damage to the people near the White Doon, and that my wife went to carry his sword.”

“If that was your brother and your wife,” said Margaret, “the giant killed them.”

“I will go on the spot and kill the giant, if I am able.”

“Wait till I try the ring on your finger,” said the old woman.

“It is too small to go on my finger,” said he.

“It will go on mine,” said Margaret.

“It will fit you,” said the old woman.

Simon gave the full of a quart of money to the old woman, that she might pray for him till he came back. When he was about to go, Margaret said, “Will you let me go with you?”

“I will not,” said Simon, “for I don’t know that the giant won’t kill myself, and I think it too much that one of us should be in this danger.”

“I don’t care,” said Margaret. “In the place where you die, there am I content to die.”

“Come with me,” said he.

When they were on the way to the White Doon, a man came before them.

“Do you see that house near the castle?” said the man.

“I see,” said Simon.

“You must go into it and keep a candle lighted till morning in it.”

“Where is the giant?” said Simon.

“He will come to fight you there,” said the man.

They went in and kindled a light, and they were not long there when Margaret said to Simon,—

“Come, and let us see the giants.”

“I cannot,” said the king, “for the light will go out if I leave the house.”

“It will not go out,” said Margaret; “I will keep it lighted till we come back.”

And they went together and got into the castle, to the giant’s house, and they saw no one there but an old woman cooking; and it was not long till she opened an iron chest and took out the young giants and gave them boiled blood to eat.

“Come,” said Margaret, “and let us go to the house we left.”

They were not long in it when the king’s son was falling asleep.

Margaret said to him, “If you fall asleep, it will not be long till the giants come and kill us.”

“I cannot help it,” he said. “I am falling asleep in spite of me.”

He fell asleep, and it was not long till Margaret heard a noise approaching, and the giant cried from outside to the king’s son to come out to him.

“Fum, faw, faysogue! I feel the smell of a lying churl of an Irishman. You are too great for one bite and too little for two, and I don’t know whether it is better for me to send you into the Eastern World with a breath or put you under my feet in the puddle. Which would you rather have—striking with knives in your ribs or fighting on the grey stones?”

“Great, dirty giant, not with right or rule did I come in, but by rule and by right to cut your head off in spite of you, when my fine, silken feet go up and your big, dirty feet go down.”

They wrestled till they brought the wells of fresh water up through the grey stones with fighting and breaking of bones, till the night was all but gone. Margaret squeezed him, and the first squeeze she put him down to his knees, the second squeeze to his waist, and the third squeeze to his armpits.

“You are the best woman I have ever met. I will give you my court and my sword of light and the half of my estate for my life, and spare to slay me.”

“Where shall I try your sword of light?”

“Try it on the ugliest block in the wood.”

“I see no block at all that is uglier than your own great block.”

She struck him at the joining of the head and the neck, and cut the head off him.

In the morning when she wakened the king’s son, “Was not that a good proof I gave of myself last night?” said he to Margaret. “That is the head outside, and we shall try to bring it home.”

He went out, and was not able to stir it from the ground. He went in and told Margaret he could not take it with him, that there was a pound’s weight in the head. She went out and took the head with her.

“Come with me,” said he.

“Where are you going?”

“I will go to the Eastern World; and come with me till you see the place.”

When they got home Simon took Margaret with him to his father the king.

“What has happened to your brother and your wife?” said the king.

“They have both been killed by the giants. And it is Margaret, this woman here, who has killed them.”

The king gave Margaret a hundred thousand welcomes, and she and Simon were married,[11] and how they are since then I do not know.

[11] Simon’s wife, mentioned at the beginning of the story, has apparently been forgotten.

_THE SON OF THE KING OF PRUSSIA._

_Narrator, P. M’GRALE, Achill, co. Mayo._

There were giants at that time, and every seven years three daughters of kings were left to them to be eaten, unless some one were found to fight them. In this year the kings came together, and they cast lots to see which of them should give his children to the giants to be eaten. And the lot fell on the High King of Erin to give his three daughters to the giants. Then came the son of the King of Prussia to ask the king’s daughter in marriage, and the king said he could not give her to him unless he would fight the giants, and he said he would fight if he got good feeding.

And the king asked him, “What sort of food would you like best?”

Said he, “Marrow of deer and sinews of beeves.” And the king said he would give him that.

There were servants killing for him his sufficiency of food, and he rose out, the son of the King of Prussia, and he went among the work-people, and when he would strike one of them a blow of his fist and kill him the king would not say anything for fear of making him angry. Then, when he came within a month of the time, he went to the glen, and tools with him to make a hole in the glen, and he was at home every evening, and he dirty.

When it came within a week of the time, the son of the King of Scotland spoke to his father. Said he, “A good neighbour to you was the King of Erin ever.”

“Good he was, my son, and I to him likewise.”

“And he never put war nor battle on you.”

“Nor I on him, my son.”

“I am making one request of you, father.”

“Every request you make of me I will give you, except to go to fight in Erin.”

“Won’t you give me that, father?”

“I have fear of your getting married.”

“My hand and my word to you, father, that that woman I will not wed till I come back to you.”

“With that request, go, and I will give you my blessing.”

He went with himself, then, and he arrayed himself in his clothes, and the stars of the son of a king by a queen were on the breast of his coat, and a poor man’s suit outside, till he came to the sea, and took a great ship, till he came to Erin, and drew up his ship on the land, and put on her fastening for a day and a year, though he might chance to be there but an hour.

He went then to the house of the hen-wife, and asked for lodging; and he got lodging for the night; and the old woman asked him what was the news, and he said he had no news at all unless he would get it from her.

“I’d say,” said she, “that it was under a docking you came out, when you’ve heard nothing of the great gathering that’s to be here to-morrow. There are three giants to come, on three days, one after the other, and they are to get the three daughters of the King of Erin, and the son of the King of Prussia, is to fight for them; and, if he kills the giants, the first person to-morrow that brings the news the giant’s head is cut off, will get a shovel of gold.”

Then the poor man and the hen-wife spent the night pleasantly, and in the morning he got up and washed his hands and his face, and ate his breakfast, and went to the glen, and he sat down in a clump of ferns, brambles, and nettles, and there was he.

Then the king and his people went drawing to the glen, and when they were near it the son of the King of Prussia told them to go home, for fear the giant might come and kill some of them before he could stop him. The king and his people went home and left the son of the King of Prussia and the young girl in the glen, and she sat down on a stone chair, and the son of the King of Prussia was coming about her, thinking to make free with her, till he ran to his hole and left her there.

Then he saw the ship coming under sail, three lengths before she came near to land, and the giant cast anchor, and gave a step on the land, and he all but sank the ship after him; and the land, when he came on it, shook so greatly that the old castles fell, and the castles that were made last stooped; every (old) tree was broken, and the young tree was bent; and he left not foal with mare, nor calf with cow, nor lamb with sheep, nor hare in a bush, nor rabbit in hole, that didn’t go off in terror. And he came up to the girl and put the tip of his finger under the edge of her girdle, and threw her over the tip of his shoulder.

“My mischief and misfortune! Hadn’t your father a man, cow-boy nor sheep-boy, to-day to fight me? Or where is the son of the King of Prussia, who has been feeding for a year to fight me? Don’t think it’s on feather beds I’ll put you, nor up the stairs, when I bring you home; but you are big for one bite and small for two, and if I had a grain of salt I would eat you at one bite; and small is the morsel you are between myself and my two brothers.”

He went with her, drawing to the ship to get on board; and the son of the King of Scotland spoke to him, and said he should not get her like that without fighting. And the giant said that it wasn’t worth his while to let her out of his hands, but for him to come and prevent him taking her with him. But the other man said that was not right, that he should put the woman down on the land, and fight honourably. And then the giant asked him which he liked best, wrestling on the red flagstones, or green knives at the top of his ribs. He said that he liked best wrestling on the red flagstones, in the place where his noble white feet should be rising above the giant’s clumsy club feet. The two champions caught hold of each other in the grip of the close, keen wrestling. If you were to go seeking for sport from the west of the world to the world’s beginning, it is to that pair you would go. They made soft of the hard, and hard of the soft, till they drew the springs of fresh water under the red stones; till the son of the King of Scotland remembered that he came there without the King of Erin knowing, nor his daughters, that he was come; and also that his father was not pleased with his coming; and he gave the giant a squeeze, and put him down to his two knees in the ground, and the second squeeze to the waist of his trousers, and the third squeeze to the back of his neck.

“A green sod over you, churl!”

“Stay, stay! best of champions that ever I saw. I am but a third of the world, and my brother is the half of the world, and the other is as strong as the world; and if you spare me, I and my brothers will be your helpers, and we will conquer the world.”

“That’s not what I will do,” said the son of the King of Scotland; “but I will cut the head off you.”

And he caught hold of his sword and cut the head off the giant. And the young girl all the time was watching the young champion; and she ran to him and kissed him, and asked him if he would come home with her, and he said he would not come. She took a pair of scissors and cut away a piece of the champion’s suit that was on him.

He went with himself then, and came to the hen-wife, and told her that the giant’s head was cut off; and she asked him if any one was before her to the king with the news. And she ran to the king and told him the giant’s head was cut off, and he gave her a shovel of gold as the reward of her trouble.

When the son of the King of Scotland was gone, the son of the King of Prussia arose out of his hole, and he took with him a book and a knife, and he swore that unless she said it was he had done the action, he would cut the head off her father and every one of them. He took his sword and he cut a piece from the giant’s head, and took it home in proof that he killed the giant.

The king came and his hosts before him, and they raised him on their shoulders and carried him home. And there was great joy on the king and his people that the giant was killed; and the two other sisters were cheerful; but there was dissatisfaction and sorrow and trouble on the third sister, and she spoke not a word to them except to say, “You will have it yet.”

The king spent the night cheerfully, till the whiteness of the day came upon the morrow.

The next day the second sister went out, and the son of the King of Scotland fought for her, and when he would not go home with her, she cut off a lock of his hair; but the son of the King of Prussia said it was he killed the giant. And the next day the third sister went out, and the son of the King of Scotland killed the third giant. The girl asked him would he go home with her, and he said he would not, and she took with her one of his shoes.

And when the son of the King of Prussia went home, and the third giant killed by the son of the King of Scotland, proclamation was made of the marriage of the son of the King of Prussia, and the daughter of the King of Erin. And when they ate their supper, word was sent to the priest of the pattens and the clerk of the table, (to come) to marry them. And the hen-wife came and the champion to the wedding; and they arose that the pair might be married. The priest asked the girl if she would marry that man, and she said she would not. And he struck her a box with his fist, and said, “How do you know that you are my choice? Haven’t I my choice of the family to get?” And the king said he had.

Then came the second daughter, and the priest asked her, would she marry him? and she said she would not. And he struck her a blow of his fist, and he said, “How do you know that you are my choice? Haven’t I my choice of you to get?” And the king said he had.

Then came the third girl, and the priest asked her, would she marry him? and she said she would not. And the son of the King of Prussia gave her a blow of his fist, and he said, “How do you know that you are my choice? Haven’t I my choice of you to get?” And the king said he had.

Then the Scotchman got up and he gave the son of the King of Prussia a blow with the tip of his boot and knocked him down. And the king offered a reward of five pounds to whoever would tell who struck the champion. And, as there were bad people present, he was told it was the old man down there who had struck him. He was caught, and he was bound, and when the daughters saw him they knew him, and they threw themselves on their knees before their father and begged he would grant them one request; and he said he would, but that one of them must marry the man.

“It is not for that man we are asking, but for this one, who saved us.”

He put the three daughters in three rooms, and he called the eldest, and she came to him and told him that he was the man who saved her. She put her hand in her pocket and she took out the piece she cut from his champion’s suit, and it answered to the coat. Then the king called the second daughter, and she said likewise, and showed the lock of hair, and her father was satisfied. He called the third daughter, and she showed the shoe, and she said she had no fear of him, that he it was who saved her.

The Scotchman got up standing, and he bound the son of the King of Prussia, and they were going to put him to death. Then the daughters asked the son of the King of Scotland if he would marry any of them, and he said that to one of them he was bound; but that when he knew what the son of the King of Prussia was going to do he came without[12] his father’s leave to Erin to save them, “and I cannot marry a woman till I go to my father and then I will come back to you.”

And the daughter said, “Marry one of us and then go to your father, and then you can come back.”

He said he could not do that, that he would go to his father first. Said she,—

“If you do not marry one of us, I will put you for a year under disesteem and bad esteem; every one will be spitting on you and cursing you; whoever is meanest you shall be under his curses; and till you marry one of us, or get cause for laughter, your mouth to be at the back of your head.”

And when he saw that, “If I were going this hour to marry you, I would not marry you now.”

The disfigurement came on him. He turned to the door and opened his hand, and all that were between him and the door he killed. He went on from place to place in hopes of getting a cure for himself, and he left not a doctor in the place that he was not getting the water of healing and every sort of drugs from them.

He was going till a man met him who was giving food and work to every one, and he went to him and asked him for work. The man said he would give it if the workmen would take him. He had eighteen men, six of them each in different places he had, and he went up to one set of six and said to them, “Here is a helper I am bringing you; I don’t think he’ll increase our work, and I myself will give him enough to eat.”

They spat upon him and said they would not have him.

Then they came to another six, and they would not take him; and they came to another, and they took him. And when the master went away, Crooked-mouth said he was sleepy, and asked for leave to sleep that day. And they gave him leave; and in the night he told them not to go out to work in the morning until he came in to his breakfast, and when he came in to his breakfast the work of a week was done. And those six were walking about and not doing a turn.

At that time a gentleman sent an invitation to dinner to the man (who had the workmen) and for his men to come with him. And they went drawing that way, and a robber met them on the road and bound every one of them and took his money from the master. And he told his men to bind Crooked-mouth, and Crooked-mouth said that not one should bind him but the robber himself.

“Come up to me and I’ll bind you. You won’t be having your stories to make of me.”

When he went to bind him, Crooked-mouth laid hold of him, and turned him round, and threw him on the ground, and told him to hand out his master’s money quickly, or he would kill him. So he gave him the money back and loosed the men.

“Master,” said he, “here are twelve others for him, and I will do their work.”

“Oh!” said the master, “I will not ask one turn of you, except one meal and one drink for ever.”

So he gave over to the robber the twelve other men, who had refused to let him work with them. And before he parted with the robber he put him under obligations.

“I will not kill you,” said he, “this is O’Daly, and I am Gerald O’Daly, and anything at all that’s ever asked of you by the honour of O’Daly, do that.”

Then they went on with themselves to the house, and there was a feast ready for them; and they took their meal, and while they were eating, the twelve others he gave over to the robber came. One of them asked the robber to let them go their way by the honour of O’Daly, and he told them to go and a hundred welcomes, and if it were a greater thing (he would grant it).

When Crooked-mouth ate his supper, he stretched himself under the table, and when the others ate their supper, (the gentleman) put them out to sleep in the barn, and when he came in he heard snoring, and he gave the man a kick, and asked him why he wasn’t with the others, and he said he would not leave the house that night; and the man of the house said that he must leave; that no one slept in the house for a year, and that he should not sleep in it that night. But the other said he would sleep in it, and find out about everything in the house. He took the man of the house and put him in a basket, and put him in the chimney to smother him; and he asked him, “Let me down, and I will tell you.” He let him down, but he would not tell him; and he put him back three times one after another, and the third time he came down he told him.

“I was one day standing at the gable of my house, and I saw a ship coming under full sail into the harbour, and a man and a woman jumped out (on the shore) and ran; and I saw a great monster in the sea coming the same way, and the monster ran after them; and the man put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out something, and flung it at the monster; and the monster sent out such a spout of blood that the two were drowned in it. I took them with me and washed them, and I put herbs of the hill on them, and I have had them for two years, and there is not a night since that I don’t burn a penny candle looking at their beauty.”

He opened a room and showed them to Crooked-mouth, and he took the water of healing and sprinkled some of it on them, and they arose alive again. And his mouth came as it was at first, and the disfigurement went from him, and he asked his brother what it was took him that way. And his brother said,—

“When you were gone a day and a year I went to the sea, hoping to see a ship or boat that would give me tidings of you, or to see if I would see a board that I would recognise; and one day I met a pretty bird-serpent, and a stone with him, and it was written on the stone that that was the stone that would kill the bird; and I took the stone and the bird home with me, and I put the bird into a cage, and kept it there for a week, and it became so big I had to put it into the stable; and it went on growing bigger and bigger till I had to make a place for it in the wood, and to tie the brambles round it, and I had four men killing beef and giving it food. And one day I was walking round near it, and it made a lunge at me to eat me, and I said it would do that at last. I went and took a ship, and went to sea, and I was sailing three days when my sister rose up to me, and I did not know she was on board the ship. We were sailing till we came to the harbour, and the serpent was following us, and I went up on the land, and the serpent followed; and, as God was helping me, I had my waistcoat on that day, and the stone was in the pocket, and I flung the stone at her, and she spouted so much blood that I and my sister were drowned. I don’t know what happened to us since then.”