Part 5

The King of the Cats was annoyed by the uproar the birds were making and he was angered by the raven’s stroke, but he did not want to enter into a battle with the birds. He was on his way to the house of the Hag of the Wood who was then known as the Hag of the Ashes. Now as this is the first time you have heard of the Hag of the Ashes, I’ll have to tell you how the King of the Cats had heard of her and how he knew where her house was in the wood.

V

The next day the King’s Son put a bridle on the Slight Red Steed and rode towards the East again. He saw the blue falcon and he followed where it flew. Over benns, and through glens and across mountains and moors the blue falcon went and the Slight Red Steed neither swerved nor stumbled but went as the bird flew. The falcon lighted on a pine tree that grew alone. The King’s Son rode up and put his hands to the tree to climb and put his head against it, and as he did he heard speech from the tree. “The stroke of the Sword of Light will slay the King of the Land of Mist and the stroke of the Sword of Light that will cut a tress of her hair will awaken Fedelma.” There was no more speech from the tree and the falcon rose from its branches and flew high up in the air. Then the King of Ireland’s Son rode back towards his father’s Castle.

He went to the meadow and stood with Art and listened to what Art had to tell him. And as before the King’s Steward began--

“To your father’s Son in all truth be it told”--

Quick-to-Grab had said to the King of the Cats, “If ever you need the counsel of a human being, go to no one else but the Hag of the Ashes who was once called the Hag of the Wood. In the very centre of the wood four ash trees are drawn together at the tops, wattles are woven round these ash trees, and in the little house made in this way the Hag of the Ashes lives, with no one near her since her nine daughters went away, but her goat that’s her only friend.” The King of the Cats was now in the centre of the wood. He saw four ash trees drawn together at the tops and he jumped to them.

Now the Hag of the Ashes had a bad neighbor. This was a crane that had built her nest across the roof of the little house. The nest prevented the smoke from coming out at the top and the house below was filled with it. The Hag could hardly keep alive on account of the smoke and she could neither take away the nest nor banish the bird.

The crane was there when the King of the Cats sprang on the roof. She was sitting with her two legs stretched out, and when the King of the Cats came down beside her she slipped away and sailed over the trees. “Time for me to be going,” said the crane. And from that day to this she never came back to the house of the Hag of the Ashes.

“Oh, thanks to you, good creature,” said the Hag of the Ashes, coming out of the house. “Tear down her nest now and let the smoke rise up through the roof.”

The King of the Cats tore up the sticks and wool that the crane’s nest was made of, and the smoke came up through the top of the house. “Oh, thanks to you, good creature, that has destroyed the cross crane’s nest. Come down on my floor now and I’ll do everything that will serve you.”

The King of the Cats jumped down on the floor of the Hag’s house and saw the Hag of the Ashes sitting in a corner, She was a little, little woman in a gray cloak. All over the floor there were ashes in heaps, for she used to light a fire in one corner and when it was burnt out light another beside the ashes of the first. The smoke had never gone through the hole in the roof since the crane had built her nest on the top of the house. Her face was yellow with the smoke and her eyes were half closed on account of it.

“Do you know who I am, Hag of the Ashes?” said the King of the Cats when he stood on the floor.

“You are a cat, honey,” said the Hag of the Ashes. “I am the King of the Cats.”

“The King of the Cats you are indeed. And it was you who let the smoke out of the top of my little house by destroying the nest the cross crane had built on it.”

“It was I who did that.”

“Welcome to you then, King of the Cats. And what service can the Hag of the Ashes do for you in return?”

“I would go to where the Eagle-Emperor is. You must show me the way.”

“By my cloak I will do that. The Eagle-Emperor lives on the top of the Hill of Horns.”

“And how can I get to the top of the Hill of Horns?”

“I don’t know how you can get there at all. All over the Hill is bare starvation. No four-footed thing can reach the top--no four-footed thing, I mean, but my goat that’s tied to the hawthorn bush outside.”

“I will ride on the back of your goat to the top of the Hill of Horns.”

“No, no, good King of the Cats. I have only my goat for company and how could I bear to be parted from him?”

“Lend me your goat, and when I come back from the Hill of Horns I will plate his horns with gold and shoe his hooves with silver.”

“No, no, good King of the Cats. How could I bear my goat to be away from me, and I having no other company?”

“If you do not let me ride on your goat to the top of the Hill of Horns I will leave a sign on your house that will bring the cross crane to build her nest on the top of it again.”

“Then take my goat, King of the Cats, take my goat but let him come back to me soon.”

“I will. Come with me now and bid him take me to the top of the Hill of Horns.”

The King of the Cats marched out of the house and the Hag of the Ashes hobbled after him. The goat was lying under the hawthorn bush. He put his horns to the ground when they came up to him.

“Will you go to the Hill of Horns?” said the Hag of the Ashes.

“Indeed, that I will not do,” said the goat.

“Oh, the soft tops of the hedges on the way to the Hill of Horns--sweet in the mouth of a goat they should be,” said the Hag of the Ashes. “But my own poor goat wants to stay here and eat the tops of the burnt-up thistles.”

“Why didn’t you tell me of the hedges on the way to the Hill of Horns before?” said the goat, rising to his feet. “To the Hill of Horns I’ll go.”

“And will you let a cat ride on your back to the Hill of Horns?”

“Indeed, I will not do that.”

“Then, my poor goat, I’ll not untie the rope that’s round your neck, for you can’t go to the Hill of Horns without this cat riding on your back.”

“Let him sit on my back then and hold my horns, and I’ll take no notice of him.”

The Hag of the Ashes untied the rope that was round his neck, the King of the Cats jumped up on the goat’s back, and they started off on the path through the wood. “Oh, how I’ll miss my goat, until he comes back to me with gold on his horns and silver on his hooves,” the Hag of the Ashes cried after them.

VI

The King of Ireland’s Son did not leave the Castle the next day, but stayed to question those who came to it about the Sword of Light. And some had heard of the Sword of Light and some had not heard of it. In the afternoon he was in the chambers of the Castle and he watched his two foster-brothers, Dermott and Downal, the sons of Caintigern, the Queen, playing chess. They played the game upon his board and with his figures. And when he went up to them and told them they had permission to use the board and the figures, they said, “We had forgotten that you owned these things.” The King’s Son saw that everything in the Castle was coming into the possession of his foster-brothers.

He found another board with other chess-men and he played a game with the King’s Steward. And Art 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 “--

What should a goat do but ramble down laneways, wander across fields, stray along hedges and stay to rest under shady trees? All this the Hag’s goat did. But at last he brought the King of the Cats to the foot of the Hill of Horns.

And what was the Hill of Horns like, asks my kind foster-child. It was hills of stones on the top of a hill of stones. Only a goat could foot it from pebble to stone, from stone to boulder, from boulder Ko crag, and from crag to mountain-shoulder. It was well and not ill what the Hag’s goat did. But then thunder sounded; lightning struck fire out of the stones, the wind mixed itself with the rain and the tempest pelted cat and goat. The goat stood on a mountain-shoulder. The wind rushed up from the bottom and carried the companions to the top of the Hill of Horns. Down sprang the cat. But the goat stood on his hind-legs to butt back at the wind. The wind caught him between the beard and the under-quarters and swept him from the top and down the other side of the hill (and what happened to the Hag’s goat after this I never heard). The King of the Cats put his claws into the crevices of a standing stone and held to it with great tenacity. And then, when the wind abated and he looked across his shoulder, he found that he was standing beside the nest of the Eagle-Emperor.

It was a hollow edged with rocks, and round that hollow were scattered the horns of the deer and goats that the Eagle-Emperor had carried off. And in the hollow there was a calf and a hare and a salmon. The King of the Cats sprang into the Eagle-Emperor’s nest. First he ate the salmon. Then he stretched himself between the hare and the calf and waited for the Eagle-Emperor.

At last he appeared. Down he came to the nest making circles in the air. He lighted on the rocky rim. The King of the Cats rose with body bent for the spring, and if the Eagle-Emperor was not astonished at his appearance it was because an Eagle can never be astonished.

A brave man would be glad if he could have seen the Eagle-Emperor as he crouched there on the rock rim of his nest. He spread down his wings till they were great strong shields. He bent down his outspread tail. He bent down his neck so that his eyes might look into the creature that faced him. And his cruel, curved, heavy beak was ready for the stroke.

But the King of the Cats sprang into the air. The Eagle lifted himself up but the Cat came down on his broad back. The Eagle-Emperor screamed his war-scream and flew off the hill. He struck at the King of the Cats with the backs of his broad wings. Then he plunged down. On the stones below he would tear his enemy with beak and claws.

It was the Cat that reached the ground. As the Eagle went to strike at him he sprang again and tore the Eagle’s breast. Then the Eagle-Emperor caught the King of the Cats in his claws and flew up again, screaming his battle-scream. Drops of blood from both fell on the ground. The Eagle had not a conqueror’s grip on his enemy and the King of the Cats was able to tear at him.

It happened that Curoi, King of the Munster Fairies, was marching at the head of his troop to play a game of hurling with the Fianna of Ireland, captained by Fergus, and for the hand of Aine’, the daughter of Mananaun, the Lord of the Sea. Just when the ball was about to be thrown in the air the Eagle-Emperor and the King of the Cats were seen mixed together in their struggle. One troop took the side of the Eagle and the other took the side of the Cat. The men of the country came up and took sides too. Then the men began to fight amongst themselves and some were left dead on the ground. And this went on until there were hosts of the men of Ireland fighting each other on account of the Eagle-Emperor and the King of the Cats. The King of the Fairies and the Chief of the Fianna marched their men away to a hill top where they might watch the battle in the air and the battles on the ground. “If this should go on,” said Curoi, “our troops will join in and men and Fairies will be slaughtered. We must end the combat in the air.” Saying this he took up the hurling-ball and flung it at the Cat and Eagle. Both came down on the ground. The Cat was about to spring, the Eagle was about to pounce, when Curoi darted between them and struck both with his spear. Eagle and Cat became figures of stone. And there they are now, a Stone Eagle with his wings outspread and a Stone Cat with his teeth bared and his paws raised. And the Eagle-Emperor and the King of the Cats will remain like that until Curoi strikes them again with his fairy-spear.

When the Cat and the Eagle were turned into stone the men of the country wondered for a while and then they went away. And the Fairies of Munster and the Fianna of Ireland played the hurling match for the hand of Aine’ the daughter of Mananaun who is Lord of the Sea, and what the result of that hurling match was is told in another book.

And that ends my history of the coming into Ire-land of the King of the Cats.

The King of Ireland’s Son left Art and went into an unused room in the Castle to search for a little bell that he might put upon the Slight Red Steed. He found the little bell, but it fell out of his hand and slipped through a crack in the floor. He went and looked through the crack. He saw below a room and in it was Caintigern, the Queen, and beside her were two women in the cloaks of enchantresses. And when he looked again he knew the two of them--they were Aefa and Gilveen, the daughters of the enchanter of the Black Back-Lands and Fedelma’s sisters. “And will my two sons come to rule over their father’s dominion?” he heard Caintigern ask.

“The Prince who gains the Sword of Light will rule over his father’s dominion,” Aefa said.

“Then one of my sons must get the Sword of Light,” Caintigern said. “Tell me where they must go to get knowledge of where it is.”

“Only the Gobaun Saor knows where the Sword of Light is,” said Aefa.

“The Gobaun Saor! Can he be seen by men?” said Caintigern.

“He can be seen,” said Aefa. “And there is one--the Little Sage of the Mountain--who can tell what road to go to find the Gobaun Saor.”

“Then,” said Caintigern, “my two sons, Dermott and Downal, will ride out to-morrow to find the Little Sage of the Mountain, and the Gobaun Saor, so that one of them may find the Sword of Light and come to rule over his father’s dominion.”

When the King of Ireland’s Son heard that, he went to the stable where the Slight Red Steed was, and put the bridle upon him and rode towards the Hill of Horns, on one side of which was the house thatched with the one great wing of a bird, where the Little Sage of the Mountain lived.

THE SWORD OF LIGHT

AND THE UNIQUE TALE WITH AS MUCH OF THE ADVENTURES OF GILLY OF THE GOATSKIN AS IS GIVEN IN “THE CRANESKIN BOOK”

I

He came to the house that was thatched with the one great wing of a bird, and, as before, the Little Sage of the Mountain asked him to do a day’s work. The King’s Son reaped the corn for the Little Sage, and as he was reaping it his two foster-brothers, Dermott and Downal, rode by on their fine horses. They did not know who the young fellow was who was reaping in the field and they shouted for the Little Sage of the Mountain to come out of the house and speak to them. “We want to know where to find the Gobaun Saor who is to give us the Sword of Light,” said Dermott.

“Come in,” said the Sage, “and help me with my day’s work, and I’ll search in my book for some direction.”

“We can’t do such an unprincely thing as take service with you,” said Downal. “Tell us now where we must go to find the Gobaun Saor.”

“I think you have made a mistake,” said the Little Sage. “I’m an ignorant man, and I can’t answer such a question without study.”

“Ride on, brother,” said Downal, “he can tell us nothing.” Dermott and Downal rode off on their fine horses, the silver bells on their bridles ringing.

That night, when he had eaten his supper, the Little Sage told the King’s Son where to go. It is forbidden to tell where the King of Ireland’s Son found the Builder and Shaper for the Gods. In a certain place he came to where the Gobaun Saor had set up his forge and planted his anvil, and he saw the Gobaun Saor beating on a shape of iron.

“You want to find the Sword of Light,” said the Gobaun, his eyes as straight as the line of a sword-blade, “but show me first your will, your mind and your purpose.”

“How can I do that?” said the King of Ireland’s Son.

“Guard my anvil for a few nights,” said the Gobaun Saor. “A Fua comes out of the river sometimes and tries to carry it off.”

The Gobaun Saor had to make a journey to look at trees that were growing in the forest, and the King’s Son guarded his anvil. And at night a Fua came out of the river and flung great stones, striving to drive him away from the anvil. He ran down to the river bank to drive it away, but the creature caught him in its long arms and tried to drown him in the deep water. The King of Ireland’s Son was near his death, but he broke away from the Fua, and when the creature caught him again, he dragged it up the bank and held it against a tree. “I will give you the mastery of all arts because you have mastered me,” said the Fua. “I do not want the mastery of arts, but maybe you can tell me where to find the Sword of Light.” “You want to know that--do you?” said the Fua, and then it twisted from him and went into the river.

The Fua came the next night and flung stones as before, and the King’s Son wrestled with it in the very middle of the river, and held him so that he could not get to the other bank. “I will give you heaps of wealth because you have mastered me,” said the creature with the big eyes and the long arms. “Not wealth, but the knowledge of where to come on the Sword of Light is what I want from you,” said the King of Ireland’s Son. But the Fua twisted from him and ran away again.

The next night the Fua came again, and the King’s Son wrestled with him in the middle of the river and followed him up the other bank, and held him against a tree. “I will give you the craft that will make you the greatest of Kings, because you have mastered me.” “Not craft, but knowledge of where the Sword of Light is, I want from you,” said the King’s Son. “Only one of the People of Light can tell you that,” said the Fua. It became a small, empty sort of creature and lay on the ground like a shadow.

The Gobaun Saor came back to his forge and his anvil. “You have guarded my anvil for me,” he said, “and I will tell you where to go for the Sword of Light. It is in the Palace of the Ancient Ones under the Lake. You have an enchanted steed that can go to that Lake. I shall turn his head, and he shall go straight to it. When you come to the edge of the Lake pull the branches of the Fountain Tree and give the Slight Red Steed the leaves to eat. Mount now and go.”

The King of Ireland’s Son mounted the Slight Red Steed and went traveling again.

II

From all its branches, high and low, water was falling in little streams. This was the Fountain Tree indeed. He did not dismount, the King of Ireland’s Son, but pulled the branches and he gave them to the Slight Red Steed to eat.

He ate no more than three mouthfuls. Then he stamped on the ground with his hooves, lifted his head high and neighed three times. With that he plunged into the water of the Lake and swam and swam as if he had the strength of a dragon. He swam while there was light on the water and he swam while there was night on the water, and when the sun of the next day was a hand’s breadth above the lake he came to the Black Island.

All on that Island was black and burnt, and there were black ashes up to the horse’s knees. And no sooner had the Slight Red Steed put his hooves on the Island than he galloped straight to the middle of it. He galloped through an opening in the black rock and went through a hundred passages, each going lower than the other, and at last he came into the wide space of a hall.

The hall was lighted. When the King’s Son looked to see where the light came from he saw a sword hanging from the roof. And the brightness of the Sword was such that the hall was well lighted. The King of Ireland’s Son galloped the Slight Red Steed forward and made it rear up. His hand grasped the hilt of the Sword. As he pulled it down the Sword screeched in his hand.