Part 2

So the King’s son went on, and he had no knowledge what way to get to the Black Wood. And he was passing through a field, and a white _garran_ that was in the field spoke to him and said: ‘Get up now on my back, and I will bring you as far as the stile that leads into the Black Wood. But there is no one can go into it,’ he said, ‘because it is as dark as night; and there is no one can face the strength of the Queen that is in that wood.’

So the King’s son got up on the _garran_, and they went on till they came to the road that was outside the Black Wood, and there was an old man there was building a castle on a very large flagstone, and he asked the King’s son where was he going, and he said he was going to bring away his wife from the Queen of the Black Wood. ‘There is no one can do that,’ says the old man, ‘unless it is the man that will put this castle five yards off the flagstone, with one shove he will give it.’ So the King’s son went at it, and he gave it one shove, and if he did he put the castle eight yards from the flagstone. ‘Oh,’ says the old man when he saw that, ‘I know you must be my sister’s son, for there is no one in the whole world could do that unless my sister’s son.’ And he put his arms about him and kissed him. And then he bade him to move the flagstone and he did that, and there was a sword under it. ‘Take up that sword,’ says the old man, ‘and be shaking it this way and that way. And according as you will be shaking it, the strength will be going out of the Queen of the Black Wood, and you can go to her when she is left weak,’ he said.

So the King’s son did as he bade him, and by the time he came to the Queen, all he had to do was to whip the head off her.

So he brought Beswarragal out of the wood, and they went back safe and well again to the garden.

‘Is there any meaning in the name Beswarragal?’

‘Not a meaning; it was all the name ever she had, and it will be her name ever and always.’

The old wife of the man of a hundred years, who had fallen asleep listening, says to the old woman who was sitting on the doorstep. ‘Would you say was there any meaning in the name?’ And she says, ‘I suppose she was just an enchanted woman.’ ‘Ah,’ says the old man, ‘I’ll give you three words that will bring you to Heaven as easy as walking out into that street. And I will tell you now about the Seven Fishers.’

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THE SEVEN FISHERS

There were Seven Fishers went out one time from Galway, and a strange sort of a wind blew one of the seven a long way off out into the sea. And when the fisherman came back, he went up to the house and he called to his daughter and he said: ‘I have but the one fish, but let you clean it and bring it to the shop, and it will get us our supper.’

So she brought it out of the boat, and she was cleaning it and rubbing it, and while she was doing that it turned to be a tall fine man standing before her. And he stopped with her for a while, and when he was going away he said: ‘You will have two sons, and you will never know want, and your father will get fish every time he will go out. And here is a letter,’ he said, ‘and give it to the sons at whatever time they will ask tidings of their father.’

So all happened as he said, and she brought up the sons and reared them, and at the last she sent them to get learning in Dublin. And when they got there they saw ball-playing going on, and there was a dispute, and those that were disputing called out to the young men to settle it, and they gave their opinion. ‘Ah,’ said the ball-players then, ‘who are those that are giving a judgment? Scamps that don’t know who is their father.’

Then the young men looked one at another. ‘That is true,’ they said, ‘and we have no business here, but let us go home again.’ So they turned and went back, and when they came to Galway there was a hurling, and a gentleman that was at the head of one side came to them and said: ‘Two of my own men have failed me, and come you take their place at the hurling.’ ‘We never played it, and we know nothing of it,’ said they. ‘No matter,’ says he; ‘come and stand up now.’ So they stood up, and when the ball came near them, the one of them made a leap and struck it, and the other got the goal. And when they were leaving the field they heard the people saying to one another: ‘It is the Fish’s sons were the best.’

They looked at one another then, and they went home and asked the mother was she their own mother. ‘I am that,’ says she. Then they asked news of their father, and she gave them the letter he had left with her. And it gave directions to the eldest son to go to such a cliff, and he would find a flagstone with a keyhole and a key, and it bade him turn the key and take out what he would find in it.

So he went to the cliff and he opened the flagstone, and under it he found a good suit and a horse, and he put on the suit and he got up on the horse. ‘How long will you stop on me?’ says the horse. ‘As long as the saddle is under me,’ says he. ‘That is not enough,’ says the horse. ‘Well, as long as the skin is left on you,’ says he. ‘That will do,’ says the horse. So he set out then till he came to the Court of the King of Munster, that had never spoken a word and never made a laugh for seven years.

The Fish’s son went in and he asked the King why was he seven years without speaking a word. ‘It is my daughter that was brought away from me,’ says he, ‘by Croagcill, that beat me in a battle, and that no man can beat; for he has the strength of a man in every rib of his hair.’ ‘I will go bring her back to you,’ says the Fish’s son.

So they made ready a cake for him, and away with him till he met with an old man, and he asked him did he know where was Croagcill living. ‘I never came to the place where he is living,’ said the old man, ‘and I have been walking for the last four hundred years.’

The Fish’s son went on then till he came to a wood and he met with a white hound, and she searching after food. ‘It is hungry you are,’ says the Fish’s son. ‘I am not,’ says the hound, ‘but the young ones I have are hungry.’ So he gave her then the half of the cake, and she was very thankful, and she said she would come to his help at any time he would be in need of her, and he to give a call for her, or a whistle. He went on then till he came to the strand, and he sat down to eat the half of the cake he had left, and there came a hawk and asked a share of it, and he gave her a share. ‘Can you give me any tidings of Croagcill and of where he is living?’ says he to the hawk. ‘I went as far as Croagcill once,’ says the hawk; ‘and I will give you a little canoe of a boat,’ says she, ‘will bring you to him. But it will be hard for you to kill him,’ says she, ‘for there is no one knows where his body is or where he has it hid. And call to me if I can give help to you,’ says she, ‘and any good anyone can do for you I’ll do it.’

So he went in the boat, and it had charms in it, that it brought him as far as Croagcill’s house. The King’s daughter saw him coming, and she ran out to meet him. ‘My thousand welcomes to you,’ says she, ‘for I thought I never would see one of Ireland’s men again.’ So he told her he had come to bring her back to her father in Munster. ‘Oh, what can I do with you now,’ says she; ‘for when Croagcill comes home he will kill you?’

She put him in hiding before evening in a box, and Croagcill came in, and having a heavy deer upon his shoulders. He drew it through the fire, and through the ashes, and through his long, cold teeth, and there was not one bit left but the bones. ‘Fru, fra, feasog,’ he says then; ‘I feel the smell of a sweet-voiced liar of an Irishman in some place that is not far off.’ ‘My dear and my love, and my man that is better than his father,’ says the King’s daughter, ‘it is that I myself was at the top of the house, and there came a little bird from Ireland and perched upon my hand.’ ‘Maybe so, maybe so,’ says he. ‘You to get your death,’ says the King’s daughter; ‘what at all would I do being left in this strange house?’ ‘Och,’ says he, ‘I will never get my death; for there is no one knows where the life of my body is hid.’ ‘Oh, and where is it?’ says the King’s daughter. ‘It is in the green plot that is outside the door,’ says he.

He went out in the morning, and the King’s daughter rose up and she took roses and posies and every sort that was pretty, and she put them out on the green plot. And she let the Fish’s son come out for the daytime, and she put him back in the box at night. When Croagcill drew to the house in the evening there was a big beast upon his shoulders, and he drew it through the fire, and through the ashes, and through his long, cold teeth, and there was not a bit left on it. ‘Fru, fra, feasog, I get the smell of the sweet-voiced, lying Irishman coming to my house to-night,’ says he. ‘My love and my secret, there is nothing at all but what is used to be in it,’ says she. ‘There is, and more,’ says he. ‘Oh, I was up at the top of the castle, and a little bird from Ireland came and perched on my head,’ says she. ‘Maybe so, maybe so,’ says Croagcill. He went out then. ‘What is the reason the green plot to be full of roses and posies?’ says he. ‘Didn’t I hear you say,’ says she, ‘that is the place your life is?’ ‘Och,’ says he, ‘you to know the place where my life is, it is likely you would have affection for it.’ ‘I would indeed be fond of it,’ says she. ‘Well,’ says he, ‘there is a green holly-bush beyond at the brink of the sea, and it is inside that tree my life is, and I will never get my death till the Fish’s son from Ireland will come and will cut down that tree with his sword, and that is a thing will not happen for ever.’

[Illustration: IT IS IN THAT FOX CROAGCILL’S LIFE WAS.]

In the morning Croagcill went out to the wood, and the Fish’s son took his sword and began to cut the holly-tree. And when he had it near cut through, the red fox ran out from the roots, and it is in that fox Croagcill’s life was. Then the Fish’s son gave a call and a whistle, and the white hound from the wood came and followed after the fox, and they were going up and down and there and hither in every part, and at the last the hound got a grip of the fox. But with that it changed into a bird and went flying up high over the tide. ‘Oh, where is now the grey hawk of the dark earth?’ says the Fish’s son. So the hawk was there on the minute, and she made a dart at the bird in the air, and caught it in her claws and killed it that it dropped into the sea, and at that minute Croagcill dropped dead where he was, and there was an end of him.

They gathered all he had of riches, and they went back to the King of Munster’s house. The King was very glad to see them coming home. ‘You can take my daughter now,’ says the King, ‘and you can join and be married to one another.’ So they married and wedded together, and there was a wedding feast for a year and a day for them, and it was as good the last day as at the first.

SHAWNEEN

There was a King one time was very much put out because he had no son, and he went at last to consult his Chief Adviser. And the Chief Adviser said: ‘It is easy enough managed if you do as I tell you. Let you send some one,’ says he, ‘to such a place to catch a fish. And when the fish is brought in, give it to the Queen, your wife, to eat.’

So the King sent as he was bade, and the fish was caught and brought in, and he gave it to the cook, and bade her put it before the fire, but to be careful with it, and not to let any blob or blister rise on it. But it is impossible to cook a fish before the fire without the skin of it rising in some place or other, and so there came a blob on the skin, and the cook put her finger on it to smooth it down, and then she put her finger into her mouth to cool it, and so she got a taste of the fish. And then it was sent up to the Queen, and she ate it, and what was left of it was thrown out into the yard, and there was a mare in the yard, and a greyhound, and they ate the bits that were thrown out.

And before a year was out the Queen had a young son, and the cook had a young son, and the mare had two foals, and the greyhound had two pups.

And the two young men were sent off for a while to some place to be cared, and when they came back they were so much like one another no person could say which was the Queen’s son and which was the cook’s. And the Queen was vexed at that, and she went to the Chief Adviser and said: ‘Tell me some way that I can know which is my own son, for I don’t like to be giving the same eating and drinking to the cook’s son as to my own.’ ‘It is easy to know that,’ said the Chief Adviser, ‘if you will do as I tell you. Go you outside, and stand at the door they will be coming in by, and when they see you, your own son will bow his head, but the cook’s son will only laugh.’

So she did that, and when her own son bowed his head her servants put a mark on him, that she would know him again. And when they were all sitting at their dinner after that, she said to Shawneen, that was the cook’s son: ‘It is time for you to go away out of this, for you are not my son.’ And her own son, that we will call Shamus, said: ‘Do not send him away; are we not brothers?’ But Shawneen said: ‘I would have been long ago out of this house if I knew it was not my own father and mother owned it.’ And for all Shamus could say to him, he would not stop. But before he went they were by the well that was in the garden, and he said to Shamus: ‘If harm ever happens to me, that water on the top of the well will be blood, and the water below will be honey.’

[Illustration: A GENTLEMAN’S DEMESNE AND WALLS ABOUT IT.]

Then he took one of the pups, and one of the two horses that was foaled after the mare eating the fish, and the wind that was after him could not catch him, and he caught the wind that was before him. And he went on till he came to a cooper’s house, and he asked did he want a servant. ‘Well,’ says the cooper, ‘I have thirteen goats—twelve goats and a puck—and let you bring them out and be minding them to-morrow.’ ‘I will do that for you,’ says Shawneen. So the cooper engaged him, and on the morrow he brought out the goats to the place he was bade, that was the top of a mountain. And there was a gentleman’s demesne, and walls about it, and he looked in at the gate and he saw grass growing up as high as the trees. ‘Why wouldn’t my poor goats go in there,’ says he, ‘and be grazing in it, and not to be out on that red mountain where there is not a rib of grass, and what they are eating is clay?’ So he drove in the goats through the gate, and they were eating the grass, and he heard some person coming, and he went up in a tree. He saw a giant coming into the field. The giant looked at him. ‘I see where you are in the tree,’ says he. ‘And I think you too big for one mouthful,’ says he; ‘and I think you too small for two mouthfuls, and I don’t know what will I do with you unless I will grind you up and make snuff for my nose.’ ‘As you are strong be merciful,’ says Shawneen up in the tree. ‘Come down out of that, you little dwarf,’ says the giant, ‘or I’ll tear you and the tree asunder.’ So Shawneen came down. ‘Would you sooner be driving red-hot knives into one another’s hearts,’ says the giant, ‘or would you sooner be fighting one another on red-hot flags?’ ‘Fighting on red-hot flags is what I’m used to at home,’ says Shawneen; ‘and your dirty feet will be sinking in them and my feet will be rising.’ So then they began the fight. The ground that was hard they made soft, and the ground that was soft they made hard, and they made spring-wells come up through the green flags. They were like that all through the day, no one getting the upper hand of the other; and at last a little bird came and sat on the bush and said to Shawneen: ‘If you won’t make an end of him by sunset, he’ll make an end of you.’ Then Shawneen put out his strength, and he brought the giant down on his knees. ‘Give me my life,’ says the giant, ‘and I’ll give you the best gift I have.’ ‘What gift is that?’ says Shawneen. ‘A Sword that nothing can stand against,’ says the giant. ‘Where is it to be found?’ says Shawneen. ‘In that red door you see there in the hill.’ So Shawneen went and got it out. ‘Where will I try the Sword?’ says he. ‘Try it on that ugly black stump of a tree,’ says the giant. ‘I see nothing blacker or uglier than your own head,’ says Shawneen. And with that he made one stroke, and cut off the giant’s head that it went into the air, and he caught it on the Sword as it was coming down, and made two halves of it. ‘It is well for you I did not join to the body again,’ says the head, ‘or you would never have been able to strike it off again.’ ‘I did not give you the chance of that,’ says Shawneen. And he brought away the great Sword with him.

So he brought the goats home at evening, and everybody wondered at all the milk they gave that night. And when the cooper was eating his supper he said: ‘I think I only hear two roars from beyond to-night, in place of three.’

The next morning Shawneen went out again with the goats, and he saw another demesne with good grass in it, and he brought in the goats. All happened the same as the first day, but the giant that came this time had two heads, and they fought together, and the little bird came and spoke to Shawneen as before. And when the giant was brought down by Shawneen he said: ‘Give me my life and I will give you the best thing I have.’ ‘What thing is that?’ says Shawneen. ‘It is a Cloak of Darkness you can put on, and you will see everyone but no one can see you.’ ‘Where is it?’ says Shawneen. ‘It’s inside that little red door at the side of the hill.’ So Shawneen went and brought out the Cloak. And then he cut off the giant’s two heads, and caught them coming down, and made four halves of them. And they said it was well for him he had not given them time to join the body.

That night when the goats came home all the vessels that could be found were filled up with milk.

The next morning Shawneen went out again, and all happened as before, and the giant this time had four heads, and Shawneen made eight halves of them. And the giant told him to go to a little blue door in the side of the hill, and there he got a pair of Shoes of Swiftness, that when you put them on would make you run faster than the wind.

That night the goats gave so much milk there was no place to hold it. ‘Oh, what can we do for vessels to hold the milk?’ says the cooper, and they were milking the poor goats on the ground, and it was given to poor people and men passing the road. I was passing that way myself, and I got a drink of it. ‘Why is it,’ says the cooper, ‘the goats are giving so much milk these days? Are you bringing them to any other grass?’ ‘I am not,’ says Shawneen, ‘but I have a good stick, and whenever they would stop still or lie down I give them blows of it, that they jump over walls and stones and ditches; that’s the way to make them give plenty of milk.’ And that night at supper the cooper said: ‘I hear no roars at all.’