There were once two
widows who lived in two cottages which stood not very far from one
another. And each of those widows possessed a piece of land on which
she grazed a cow and a few sheep, and in this way she made her
living.
One of these poor widows had two sons, the other had one; and as
these three boys were always together, it was natural that they
should become great friends.
At last the time arrived when the eldest son of the widow who had
two sons, must leave home and go out into the world to seek his
fortune. And the night before he went away his mother told him to
take a can and go to the well and bring back some water, and she
would bake a cake for him to carry with him.
“But remember,” she added, “the size of the cake will depend on the
quantity of water that thou bringest back. If thou bringest much,
then will it be large; and, if thou bringest little, then will it be
small. But, big or little, it is all that I have to give thee.”
The lad took the can and went off to the well, and filled it with
water, and came home again. But he never noticed that the can had a
hole in it, and was running out; so that, by the time that he
arrived at home, there was very little water left. So his mother
could only bake him a very little cake.
But, small as it was, she asked him, as she gave it to him, to
choose one of two things. Either to take the half of it with her
blessing, or the whole of it with her malison. “For,” said she,
“thou canst not have both the whole cake and a blessing along with
it.”
The lad looked at the cake and hesitated. It would have been
pleasant to have left home with his mother’s blessing upon him; but
he had far to go, and the cake was little; the half of it would be a
mere mouthful, and he did not know when he would get any more food.
So at last he made up his mind to take the whole of it, even if he
had to bear his mother’s malison.
Then he took his younger brother aside, and gave him his
hunting-knife, saying, “Keep this by thee, and look at it every
morning. For as long as the blade remains clear and bright, thou
wilt know that it is well with me; but should it grow dim and rusty,
then know thou that some evil hath befallen me.”
After this he embraced them both and set out on his travels. He
journeyed all that day, and all the next, and on the afternoon of
the third day he came to where an old shepherd was sitting beside a
flock of sheep.
“I will ask the old man whose sheep they are,” he said to himself,
“for mayhap his master might engage me also as a shepherd.” So he
went up to the old man, and asked him to whom the sheep belonged.
And this was all the answer he got:
“The Red-Etin of Ireland
Ance lived in Ballygan,
And stole King Malcolm’s daughter,
The King of fair Scotland.
He beats her, he binds her,
He lays her on a band,
And every day he dings her
With a bright silver wand.
Like Julian the Roman,
He’s one that fears no man.
“It’s said there’s ane predestinate
To be his mortal foe,
But that man is yet unborn,
And lang may it be so.”
“That does not tell me much; but somehow I do not fancy this Red-Etin
for a master,” thought the youth, and he went on his way.
He had not gone very far, however, when he saw another old man, with
snow-white hair, herding a flock of swine; and as he wondered to
whom the swine belonged, and if there was any chance of him getting
a situation as a swineherd, he went up to the countryman, and asked
who was the owner of the animals.
He got the same answer from the swineherd that he had got from the
shepherd:
“The Red-Etin of Ireland
Ance lived in Ballygan,
And stole King Malcolm’s daughter,
The King of fair Scotland.
He beats her, he binds her,
He lays her on a band,
And every day he dings her
With a bright silver wand.
Like Julian the Roman,
He’s one that fears no man.
“It’s said there’s ane predestinate
To be his mortal foe,
But that man is yet unborn,
And lang may it be so.”
“Plague on this old Red-Etin; I wonder when I will get out of his
domains,” he muttered to himself; and he journeyed still further.
Presently he came to a very, very old man—so old, indeed, that he
was quite bent with age—and he was herding a flock of goats.
Once more the traveller asked to whom the animals belonged, and once
more he got the same answer:
“The Red-Etin of Ireland
Ance lived in Ballygan,
And stole King Malcolm’s daughter,
The King of fair Scotland.
He beats her, he binds her,
He lays her on a band,
And every day he dings her
With a bright silver wand.
Like Julian the Roman,
He’s one that fears no man.
“It’s said there’s ane predestinate
To be his mortal foe,
But that man is yet unborn,
And lang may it be so.”
But this ancient goatherd added a piece of advice at the end of his
rhyme. “Beware, stranger,” he said, “of the next herd of beasts that
ye shall meet. Sheep, and swine, and goats will harm nobody; but the
creatures ye shall now encounter are of a sort that ye have never
met before, and they are not harmless."
The young man thanked him for his counsel, and went on his way, and
he had not gone very far before he met a herd of very dreadful
creatures, unlike anything that he had ever dreamed of in all his
life.
For each of them had three heads, and on each of its three heads it
had four horns; and when he saw them he was so frightened that he
turned and ran away from them as fast as he could.
Up hill and down dale he ran, until he was well-nigh exhausted; and,
just when he was beginning to feel that his legs would not carry him
any further, he saw a great Castle in front of him, the door of
which was standing wide open.
He was so tired that he went straight in, and after wandering
through some magnificent halls, which appeared to be quite deserted,
he reached the kitchen, where an old woman was sitting by the fire.
He asked her if he might have a night's lodging, as he had come a
long and weary journey, and would be glad of somewhere to rest.
“You ean rest here, and welcome, for me," said the old Dame, “but
for your own sake I warn you that this is an ill house to bide in;
for it is the Castle of the Red-Etin, who is a fierce and terrible
Monster with three heads, and he spareth neither man nor woman, if
he can get hold of them."
Tired as he was, the young man would have made an effort to escape
from such a dangerous abode had he not remembered the strange and
awful beasts from which he had just been fleeing, and he was afraid
that, as it was growing dark, if he set out again he might chance to
walk right into their midst. So he begged the old woman to hide him
in some dark corner, and not to tell the Red-Etin that he was in the
Castle.
“For,” thought he, “if I can only get shelter until the morning, I
will then be able to avoid these terrible creatures and go on my way
in peace."
So the old Dame hid him in a press under the back stairs, and, as
there was plenty of room in it, he settled down quite comfortably
for the night.
But just as he was going off to sleep he heard an awful roaring and
trampling overhead. The Red-Etin had come home, and it was plain
that he was searching for something.
And the terrified youth soon found out what the “Something" was, for
very soon the horrible Monster came into the kitchen, crying out in
a voice like thunder:
“Seek but, and seek ben,
I smell the smell of an earthly man!
Be he living, or be he dead,
His heart this night
I shall eat with my bread.”
And it was not very long before he discovered the poor young man’s
hiding-place and pulled him roughly out of it.
Of course, the lad begged that his life might be spared, but the
Monster only laughed at him.
“It will be spared if thou canst answer three questions," he said;
“if not, it is forfeited."
The first of these three questions was, “Whether Ireland or Scotland
was first inhabited?"
The second, “How old was the world when Adam was made?"
And the third, “Whether men or beasts were created first?"
The lad was not skilled in such matters, having had but little
book-learning, and he could not answer the questions. So the Monster
struck him on the head with a queer little hammer which he carried,
and turned him into a piece of stone.
Now every morning since he had left home his younger brother had
done as he had promised, and had carefully examined his
hunting-knife.
On the first two mornings it was bright and clear, but on the third
morning he was very much distressed to find that it was dull and
rusty. He looked at it for a few moments in great dismay; then he
ran straight to his mother, and held it out to her.
“By this token I know that some mischief hath befallen my brother,"
he said, “so I must set out at once to see what evil hath come upon
him."
“First must thou go to the well and fetch me some water,” said his
mother, “that I may bake thee a cake to carry with thee, as I baked
a cake for him who is gone. And I will say to thee what I said to
him. That the cake will be large or small according as thou bringest
much or little water back with thee."
So the lad, took the can, as his brother had done, and went off to
the well, and it seemed as if some evil spirit directed him to
follow his example in all things, for he brought home little water,
and he chose the whole cake and his mother's malison, instead of the
half and her blessing, and he set out and met the shepherd, and the
swineherd, and the goatherd, and they all gave the same answers to
him which they had given to his brother.
And he also encountered the same fierce beasts, and ran from them in
terror, and took shelter from them in the Castle; and the old woman
hid him, and the Red-Etin found him, and, because he could not
answer the three questions, he, too, was turned into a pillar of
stone.
And no more would ever have been heard of these two youths had not a
kind Fairy, who had seen all that had happened, appeared to the
other widow and her son, as they were sitting at supper one night in
the gloaming, and told them the whole story, and how their two poor
young neighbours had been turned into pillars of stone by a cruel
enchanter called Red-Etin.
Now the third young man was both brave and strong, and he determined
to set out to see if he could in anywise help his two friends. And,
from the very first moment that he had made up his mind to do so,
things went differently with him than they had with them. I think,
perhaps, that this was because he was much more loving and
thoughtful than they were.
For, when his mother sent him to fetch water from the well so that
she might bake a cake for him, just as the other mother had done for
her sons, a raven, flying above his head, croaked out that his can
was leaking, and he, wishing to please his mother by bringing her a
good supply of water, patched up the hole with clay, and so came
home with the can quite full.
Then, when his mother had baked a big bannock for him, and giving
him his choice between the whole cake and her malison, or half of it
and her blessing, he chose the latter, “for,” said he, throwing his
arms round her neck, “I may light on other cakes to eat, but I will
never light on another blessing such as thine.”
And the curious thing was, that, after he had said this, the half
cake which he had chosen seemed to spread itself out, and widen, and
broaden, till it was bigger by far than it had been at first. •
Then he started on his journey, and, after he had gone a good way he
began to feel hungry. So he pulled it out of his pocket and began to
eat it.
Just then he met an old woman, who seemed to be very poor, for her
clothing was thin, and worn, and old, and she stopped and spoke to
him.
“Of thy charity, kind Master,” she said, stretching out one of her
withered hands, “spare me a bit of the cake that thou art eating.”
Now the youth was very hungry, and he could have eaten it all
himself, but his kind heart was touched by the woman's pinched face,
so he broke it in two, and gave her half of it.
Instantly she was changed into the Fairy who had appeared to his
mother and himself as they had sat at supper the night before, and
she smiled graciously at the generous lad, and held out a little
wand to him.
“Though thou knowest it not, thy mother’s blessing and thy kindness
to an old and poor woman hath gained thee many blessings, brave
boy,” she said. “Keep that as thy reward; thou wilt need it ere thy
errand be done.” Then, bidding him sit down on the grass beside her,
she told him all the dangers that he would meet on his travels, and
the way in which he could overcome them, and then, in a moment,
before he could thank her, she vanished out of his sight.
But with the little wand, and all the instructions that she had
given him, he felt that he could face fearlessly any danger that he
might be called on to meet, so he rose from the grass and went his
way, full of a cheerful courage.
After he had walked for many miles further, he came, as each of his
friends had done, to the old shepherd herding his sheep. And, like
them, he asked to whom the sheep belonged. And this time the old man
answered :
“The Red-Etin of Ireland
Ance lived in Ballygan,
And stole King Malcolm’s daughter,
The King of fair Scotland.
He beats her, he binds her,
He lays her on a band,
And every day he dings her
With a bright silver wand.
Like Julian the Roman,
He’s one that fears no man.
“But now I fear his end is near,
And destiny at hand;
And you’re to be, I plainly see,
The heir of all his land.”
Then the young man went on, and he came to the swineherd, and to the
goatherd; and each of them in turn repeated the same words to him.
And, when he came to where the droves of monstrous beasts were, he
was not afraid of them, and when one came running up to him with its
mouth wide open to devour him, he just struck it with his wand, and
it dropped down dead at his feet.
At last he arrived at the Red-Etin’s Castle, and he knocked boldly
at the door. The old woman answered his knock, and, when he had told
her his errand, warned him gravely not to enter.
“Thy two friends came here before thee,” she said, “and they are now
turned into two pillars of stone; what advantage is it to thee to
lose thy life also?”
But the young man only laughed. "I have knowledge of an art of which
they knew nothing,” he said. “And methinks I can fight the Red-Etin
with his own weapons.”
So, much against her will, the old woman let him in, and hid him
where she had hid his friends.
It was not long before the Monster arrived, and, as on former
occasions, he came into the kitchen in a furious rage, crying:
“Seek but, and seek ben,
I smell the smell of an earthly man!
Be he living, or be he dead,
His heart this night
I shall eat with my bread."
Then he peered into the young man’s hiding-place, and called to him
to come out. And after he had come out, he put to him the three
questions, never dreaming that he could answer them; but the Fairy
had told the youth what to say, and he gave the answers as pat as
any book.
Then the Red-^tin’s heart sank within him for fear, for he knew that
someone had betrayed him, and that his power was gone.
And gone in very
truth it was. For when the youth took an axe and began to fight with
him, he had no strength to resist, and, before he knew where he was,
his heads were cut off. And that was the end of the Red-Etin.
As soon as he saw that his enemy was really dead, the young man
asked the old woman if what the shepherd, and the swineherd, and the
goatherd had told him were true, and if King Malcolm’s daughter were
really a prisoner in the Castle.
The old woman nodded. “ Even with the Monster lying dead at my feet,
I am almost afraid to speak of it,” she said. “ But come with me, my
gallant gentleman, and thou wilt see what dule and misery the Red-Etin
hath caused to many a home.”
She took a huge bunch of keys, and led him up a long flight of
stairs, which ended in a passage with a great many doors on each
side of it. She unlocked these doors with her keys, and, as she
opened them, she put her head into every room and said, “Ye have
naught to fear now, Madam, the Predestinated Deliverer hath come,
and the Red-Etin is dead.”
And behold, with a cry of joy, out of every room came a beautiful
lady who had been stolen from her home, and shut up there, by the
Red-Etin.
Among them was one who was more beautiful and stately than the rest,
and all the others bowed down to her and treated her with, such
great reverence that it was clear to see that she was the Royal
Princess, King Malcolm’s daughter.
And when the youth stepped forward and did reverence to her also,
she spoke so sweetly to him, and greeted him so gladly, and called
him her Deliverer, in such a low, clear voice, that his heart was
taken captive at once.
But, for all that, he did not forget his friends. He asked the old
woman where they were, and she took him into a room at the end of
the passage, which was so dark that one could scarcely see in it,
and so low that one could scarcely stand upright.
In this dismal chamber stood two blocks of stone.
“One can unlock doors, young Master,” said the old woman, shaking
her head forebodingly, “but ’tis hard work to try to turn cauld
stane back to flesh and blood.”
“Nevertheless, I will do it,” said the youth, and, lifting his
little wand, he touched each of the stone pillars lightly on the
top.
Instantly the hard stone seemed to soften and melt away, and the two
brothers started into life and form again. Their gratitude to their
friend, who had risked so much to save them, knew no bounds, while
he, on his part, was delighted to think that his efforts had been
successful.
The next thing to do was to convey the Princess and the other ladies
(who were all noblemen’s daughters) back to the King’s Court, and
this they did next day.
King Malcolm was so overjoyed to see his dearly loved daughter, whom
he had given up for dead, safe and sound, and so grateful to her
deliverer, that he said that he should become his son-in-law and
marry the Princess, and come and live with them at Court. Which all
came to pass in due time; while as for the two other young men, they
married noblemen’s daughters, and the two old mothers came to live
near their sons, and everyone was as happy as they could possibly
be.
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