Part 4
He lived in the Isle of Man. Once he had been King of the Cats of Ireland and Britain, of Norway and Denmark, and the whole Northern and Western World. But after the Norsemen won in the wars the Cats of Norway and Britain swore by Thor and Odin that they would give him no more allegiance. So for a hundred years and a day he had got allegiance only from the Cats of the Western World; that is, from Ireland and the Islands beyond.
The tribute he received was still worth having. In May he was sent a boatful of herring. In August he was let have two boatfuls of mackerel. In November he was given five barrels of preserved mice. At other seasons he had for his tribute one out of every hundred birds that flew across the Island on their way to Ireland--tomtits, pee-wits, linnets, siskins, starlings, martins, wrens and tender young barn owls. He was also sent the following as marks of allegiance and respect: a salmon, to show his dominion over the rivers; the skin of a marten to show his dominion in the woods; a live cricket to show his dominion in the houses of men; the horn of a cow, to show his right to a portion of the milk produced in the Western World.
But the tribute from the Western World became smaller and smaller. One year the boat did not come with the herring. Mackerel was sent to him afterwards but he knew it was sent to him because so much was being taken out of the sea that the farmer-men were plowing their mackerel-catches into the land to make their crops grow. Then a year came when he got neither the salmon nor the marten skin, neither the live cricket nor the cow’s horn. Then he got righteously and royally indignant. He stood up on his four paws on the floor of his palace, and declared to his wife that he himself was going to Ireland to know what prevented the sending of his lawful tribute to him. He called for his Prime Minister then and said, “Prepare for Us our Speech from the Throne.”
The Prime Minister went to the Parliament House and wrote down “Oyez, Oyez, Oyez!” But he could not remember any more of the ancient language in which the speeches from the Throne were always written. He went home and hanged himself with a measure of tape and his wife buried the body under the hearth-stone.
“Speech or no speech,” said the King of the Cats, “I’m going to pay a royal visit to my subjects in Ireland.”
He went to the top of the cliff and he made a spring. He landed on the deck of a ship that was bringing the King of Norway’s daughter to be married to the King of Scotland’s son. The ship nearly sank with the crash of his body on it. He ran up the sails and placed himself on the mast of the ship. There he gathered his feet together and made another spring. This time he landed on a boat that was bringing oak-timber to build a King’s Palace in London. He stood where the timber was highest and made another spring. This time he landed on the Giant’s Causeway that runs from Ireland out into the sea. He picked his steps from boulder to boulder, and then walked royally and resolutely on the ground of Ireland. A man was riding on horseback with a woman seated on the saddle behind him. The King of the Cats waited until they came up.
“My good man,” said he very grandly, “when you go back to your house, tell the ash-covered cat in the corner that the King of the Cats has come to Ireland to see him.”
His manner was so grand that the man took off his hat and the woman made a courtesy. Then the King of the Cats sprang into the branch of a tree of the forest and slept till it was past the mid-day heat.
I nearly forgot to tell you that as he slept on the branch his whiskers stood around his face the breadth of a dinner-dish either way.
II
The next day the King’s Son rode abroad and where he went that day he saw no man nor woman nor living creature in the land around. But coming back he saw a falcon sailing in the air above. He rode on and the falcon sailed above, never rising high in the air, and never swooping down. The King’s Son fitted an arrow to his bow and shot at the falcon. Immediately it rose in the air and flew swiftly away, but a feather from it fell before him. The King’s Son picked the feather up. It was a blue feather. Then the King’s Son thought of Fedelma’s falcon--of the bird that flew above them when they rode across the Meadows of Brightness. It might be Fedelma’s falcon, the one he had shot at, and it might have come to show him the way to the Land of Mist. But the falcon was not to be seen now.
He did not go amongst the strangers in his father’s Castle that evening; but he stood with Art who was watching the herdsmen drive the cattle into the byres. And Art after a while said, “I will tell you more about the coming of the King of the Cats into King Connal’s Dominion. And as before I say
“To your father’s Son in all truth be it told “--
The King of the Cats waited on the branch of the tree until the moon was in the sky like a roast duck on a dish of gold, and still neither retainer, vassal nor subject came to do him service. He was vexed, I tell you, at the want of respect shown him.
This was the reason why none of his subjects came to him for such a long time: The man and woman he had spoken to went into their house and did not say a word about the King of the Cats until they had eaten their supper. Then when the man had smoked his second pipe, he said to the woman: “That was a wonderful thing that happened to us to-day. A cat to walk up to two Christians and say to them, ‘Tell the ashy pet in your chimney corner at home that the King of the Cats has come to see him.’”
No sooner were the words said than the lean, gray, ash-covered cat that lay on the hearthstone sprang on the back of the man’s chair.
“I will say this,” said the man; “it’s a bad time when two Christians like ourselves are stopped on their way back from the market and ordered--ordered, no less--to give a message to one’s own cat lying on one’s own hearthstone.”
“By my fur and daws, you’re a long time coming to his message,” said the cat on the back of the chair; “what was it, anyway?”
“The King of the Cats has come to Ireland to see you,” said the man, very much surprised.
“It’s a wonder you told it at all,” said the cat, going to the door. “And where did you see His Majesty?”
“You shouldn’t have spoken,” said the man’s wife.
“And how did I know a cat could understand?” said the man.
“When you have done talking amongst yourselves,” said the cat, “would you tell me where you met His Majesty?”
“Nothing will I tell you,” said the man, “until I hear your own name from you.”
“My name,” said the cat, “is Quick-to-Grab, and well you should know it.”
“Not a word will we tell you,” said the woman, “until we hear what the King of the Cats is doing in Ireland. Is he bringing wars and rebellions into the country?”
“Wars and rebellions,--no, ma’am,” said Quick-to-Grab, “but deliverance from oppression. Why are the cats of the country lean and lazy and covered with ashes? It is because the cat that goes outside the house in the sunlight, to hunt or to play, is made to suffer with the loss of an eye.”
“And who makes them suffer with the loss of an eye?” said the woman. “One whose reign is nearly over now,” said Quick-to-Grab. “But tell me where you saw His Majesty?”
“No,” said the man. “No,” said the woman, “for we don’t like your impertinence. Back with you to the hearthstone, and watch the mouse-hole for us.”
Quick-to-Grab walked straight out of the door.
“May no prosperity come to this house,” said he, “for denying me when I asked where the King of the Cats was pleased to speak to you.”
But he put his ear to the door when he went outside and he heard the woman say,--
“The horse will tell him that we saw the King of the Cats a mile this side of the Giant’s Causeway.” (That was a mistake. The horse could not have told it at all, because horses never know the language that is spoken in houses--only cats know it fully and dogs know a little of it.)
Quick-to-Grab now knew where the King of the Cats might be found. He went creeping by hedges, loping across fields, bounding through woods, until he came under the branch in the forest where the King of the Cats rested, his whiskers standing round his face the breadth of a dinner-dish.
When he came-under the branch Quick-to-Grab mewed a little in Egyptian, which is the ceremonial language of the Cats. The King of the Cats came to the end of the branch.
“Who are you, vassal?” said he in Phoenician.
“A humble retainer of my lord,” said Quick-to-Grab in High-Pictish (this is a language very suitable to cats but it is only their historians who now use it).
They continued their conversation in Irish.
“What sign shall I show the others that will make them know you are the King of the Cats?” said Quick-to-Grab.
The King of the Cats chased up the tree and pulled down heavy branches. “There is a sign of my royal prowess,” said he.
“It’s a good sign,” said Quick-to-Grab. They were about to talk again when Quick-to-Grab put down his tail and ran up another tree greatly frightened.
“What ails you?” said the King of the Cats. “Can you not stay still while you are speaking to your lord and master?”
“Old-fellow Badger is coming this way,” said Quick-to-Grab, “and when he puts his teeth in one he never lets go.”
Without saying a word the King of the Cats jumped down from the tree. Old-fellow Badger was coming through the glade. When he saw the King of the Cats crouching there he stopped and bared his terrible teeth. The King of the Cats bent himself to spring. Then Old-fellow Badger turned round and went lumbering back.
“Oh, by my claws and fur,” said Quick-to-Grab, “you are the real King of the Cats. Let me be your Councillor. Let me advise your Majesty in the times that will be so difficult for your subjects and yourself. Know that the Cats of Ireland are impoverished and oppressed. They are under a terrible tyranny.”
“Who oppresses my vassals, retainers and subjects?” said the King of the Cats.
“The Eagle-Emperor. He has made a law that no cat may leave a man’s house as long as the birds (he makes an exception in the case of owls) have any business abroad.”
“I will tear him to pieces,” said the King of the Cats. “How can I reach him?”
“No cat has thought of reaching him,” said Quick-to-Grab, “they only think of keeping out of his way. Now let me advise your Majesty. None of our enemies must know that you have come into this country. You must appear as a common cat.”
“What, me?” said the King of the Cats.
“Yes, your Majesty, for the sake of the deliverance of your subjects you will have to appear as a common cat.”
“And be submissive and eat scraps?”
“That will be only in the daytime,” said Quick-to-Grab, “in the night-time you will have your court and your feasts.”
“At least, let the place I stay in be no hovel,” said the King of the Cats. “I shall refuse to go into a house where there are washing days--damp clothes before a fire and all that.”
“I shall use my best diplomacy to safeguard your comfort and dignity,” said Quick-to-Grab, “please invest me as your Prime Minister.”
The King of the Cats invested Quick-to-Grab by biting the fur round his neck. Then the King and his Prime Minister parted. The King of the Cats took up quarters for a day or two in a round tower. Quick-to-Grab made a journey through the country-side. He went into every house and whispered a word to every cat that was there, and whether the cat was watching a mouse-hole, or chasing crickets, or playing with kittens, when he or she heard that word they sat up and considered.
III
Early, early, next day the King of Ireland’s Son rode out in search of the blue falcon, but although he rode from the ring of day to the gathering of the dark clouds he saw no sign of it on rock or tree or in the air. Very wearily he rode back, and after his horse was stabled he stood with Art in the meadows watching the cattle being driven by. And Art, the King’s Steward, said: “The Coming of the King of the Cats into King Connal’s dominion is a story still to be told. To your father’s Son in all truth be it told”--
Quick-to-Grab, in consultation with the Seven Elders of the Cat-Kin decided that the Blacksmith’s forge would be a fit residence for the King of the Cats. It was clean and commodious. But the best reason of all for his going there was this: people and beasts from all parts came into the forge and the King of the Cats might learn from their discussions where the Eagle-Emperor was and how he might be destroyed.
His Majesty found that the Forge was not a bad residence for a King living unbeknownst. It was dry and warm. He liked the look of the flames that mounted up with the blowing of the bellows. He used to sit on a heap of old saddles on the floor and watch the horses being shod or waiting to be shod. He listened to the talk of the men. The people in the Forge treated him respectfully and often referred to his size, his appearance and his fine manners.
Every night he went out to a feast that the cats had prepared for him. Quick-to-Grab always walked back to the Forge with him to give a Prime Minister’s advice. He warned His Majesty not to let the human beings know that he understood and could converse in their language--(all cats know men’s language, but men do not know that the cats know). He told him not to be too haughty (as a King might be inclined to be) to any creature in the Forge.
The King of the Cats took this advice. He used even to twitch his ears as a mark of respect to Mahon, the hound whose kennel was just outside the forge, and to the hounds that Mahon had to visit him. He even made advances to the Cock who walked up and down outside.
This Cock made himself very annoying to the King of the Cats. He used to strut up and down saying to himself over and over again, “I’m Cock-o’-the-Walk, I’m Cock-o’-the-Walk.” Sometimes he would come into the Forge and say it to the horses. The King of the Cats wondered how the human beings could put up with a creature who was so stupid and so vain. He had a red comb that fell over one eye. He had purple feathers on his tail. He had great spurs on his heels. He used to put his head on one side and yawn when the King of the Cats appeared.
Cock-o’-the-Walk used to come into the Forge at night and sleep on the bellows. And when the King of the Cats came back from the feasts he used to waken up and say to himself, “I’m Cock-o’-the-Walk, I’m Cock-o’-the-Walk. The Cats are not a respectable people.”
One noonday there were men in the Forge. They were talking to the Smith. Said one, “Could you tell us, Smith, where iron came from?” The King of the Cats knew but he said nothing. Cock-o’-the-Walk came to the door and held his head as if he were listening.
“I can’t tell where iron came from,” said the Smith, “but if that Cock could talk he could tell you. The world knows that the Cock is the wisest and the most ancient of creatures.”
“I’m Cock-o’-the-Walk,” said the Cock to a rusty ass’s shoe.
“Yes, the Cock is a wonderful creature,” said the man who had asked the question.
“Not wonderful at all,” said the King of the Cats, “and if you had asked me I could have told you where iron came from.”
“And where did iron come from?” said the Smith.
“From the Mountains of the Moon,” said the King of the Cats.
The men in the Forge put their hands on their knees and looked down at him. Mahon the hound came into the Forge with other hounds at his tail, and seeing the men looking at the King of the Cats, Mahon put his nose to him. Cock-o’-the-Walk flapped his wings insolently. The King of the Cats struck at the red hanging comb with his paw. The Cock flew up in the air. The King of the Cats sprang out of the window, and as he did, Mahon and the other hounds sprang after him--
IV
The King of Ireland’s Son rode towards the East the next day, and in the first hour’s journey he saw the blue falcon sailing above. He followed where it went and the falcon never lifted nor stooped, but sailed steadily on, only now and again beating the air with its wings. Over benns and through glens and across moors the blue falcon flew and the King of Ireland’s Son followed. Then his horse stumbled; he could not go any further, and he lost sight of the blue falcon.
Black night was falling down on the ground when he came back to the King’s Castle. Art, the King’s Steward, was waiting for him and he walked beside his limping horse. And Art said when they were a little way together, “The Coming of the King of the Cats is a story still to be told.
“To your father’s Son in all truth be it told “--
By the magic powers they possessed it was made known to all the cats in the country that their King was being pursued by the hounds. Then on every hearthstone a cat howled. Cats sprang to the doors, overturning cradles upon children. They stood upon the thresholds and they all made the same curse--“That ye may break your backs, that ye may break your backs before ye catch the King of the Cats.”
When he heard the howls of his vassals, retainers and subjects, the King of the Cats turned over on his back and clawed at the first hound that came after him. He stood up then. So firmly did he set himself on his four legs that those that dashed at him did not overthrow him. He humped up his body and lifted his forepaws. The hounds held back. A horn sounded and that gave them an excuse to get away from the claws and the teeth, the power and the animosity of the King of the Cats.
Then, even though it might cost each and every one of them the loss of an eye, the cats that had sight of him came running up. “We will go with you, my lord, we will help you, my lord,” they cried all together.
“Go back to the hearthstones,” said the King of the Cats. “Go back and be civil and quiet again in the houses. You will hear of my deeds. I go to find the tracks of our enemy, the Eagle-Emperor.”
When they heard that announcement the cats lamented, and the noise of their lamentation was so dreadful that horses broke their harnesses where they were yoked; men and women lost the color of their faces thinking some dreadful visitation was coming on the land; every bag of oats and rye turned five times to the right and five times to the left with the fright it got; dishes were broken, knives were hurled round, and the King’s Castle was shaken to the bottom stone.
“It is not the time to seek the tracks of the Eagle-Emperor,” said Quick-to-Grab. “Stay for a while longer in men’s houses.”
“Never,” said the King of the Cats. “Never will I stay by the hearthstone and submit to be abused by cocks and hounds and men. I will range the world openly now and seek out the enemy of the Cat-Kind, the Eagle-Emperor.”
Without once turning his back he went towards the wood that was filled with his enemies, the birds. The cats, when they saw their petitions were no use, went everyone back to the house where he or she stayed. Each one sat before a mouse-hole and pretended to be watching. But though mice stirred all round them the cats of Ireland never turned a head that night.
It was the wren, the smallest of birds, that saw him and knew him for the King of the Cats. The wren flew through the wood to summon the Hawk-Clan. But it was towards sunset now and the hawks had taken up their stations at the edge of the wood to watch that they might pick up the farmers’ chickens. They wouldn’t turn an eye when the wren told them that a cat was in the wood during the time forbidden to cats to be outside the houses of men. “It is the King of the Cats,” said the wren. None of the hawks lifted a wing. They were waiting for the chickens that would stray about the moment after sunset.
But if the wren couldn’t rouse the Hawk-Clan she was able to rouse the other bird-tribes. “A cat, a cat, on your lives a cat,” she called out as she flew through the wood. The rooks that were going home now rose above the trees, cawing threats. The blackbirds, thrushes and jays screamed as they flew before the King of the Cats. The woodpeckers, hedge-sparrows, tom-tits, robins and linnets chattered as they flew behind him. Sometimes the young rooks made a great show of attacking him. They flew down from the flock. “He is here, here, here,” they cawed and flew up again. The rooks kept telling themselves and the other birds in the wood what they were going to do with the King of the Cats. But a single raven did more against him than the thousand rooks that made so much noise. This raven was in a hole in the tree. She struck the King of the Cats on the head with her beak as he went past.