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There was ere now a poor old fisher, but on
this year he was not getting much fish. On a day of days, and he fishing,
there rose a sea-maiden at the side of his boat, and she asked him if he
was getting fish. The old man answered, and
he said that he was not. "What reward wouldst thou give me for
sending plenty of fish to thee?" "Ach!" said the old man,
"I have not much to spare." "Wilt thou give me the first
son thou hast?" said she. "It is I that would give thee that, if
I were to have a son; there was not, and there will not be a son of
mine," said he, "I and my wife are grown so old."
"Name all thou hast." "I have but an old mare of a horse,
an old dog, myself, and my wife. There’s for thee all the creatures of
the great world that are mine." "Here, then, are three grains
for thee that thou shalt give thy wife this very night, and three others
to the dog, and these three to the mare, and these three likewise thou
shalt plant behind thy house, and in their own time thy wife will have
three sons, the mare three foals, and the dog three puppies, and there
will grow three trees behind thy house, and the trees will be a sign, when
one of the sons dies, one of the trees will wither. Now, take thyself
home, and remember me when thy son is three years of age, and thou thyself
wilt get plenty of fish after this." Everything happened as the
sea-maiden said, and he himself was getting plenty of fish; but when the
end of the three years was nearing, the old man was growing sorrowful,
heavy-hearted, while he failed each day as it came. On the namesake of the
day, he went to fish as he used, but he did not take his son with him.
The sea-maiden rose at the
side of the boat, and asked, "Didst thou bring thy son with thee
hither to me?" "Och! I did not bring him. I forgot that this was
the day." "Yes! yes! then," said the sea-maiden; "thou
shalt get four other years of him, to try if it be easier for thee to part
from him. Here thou hast his like age," and she lifted up a big
bouncing baby. "Is thy son as fine as this one?" He went home
full of glee and delight, for that he had got four other years of his son,
and he kept on fishing and getting plenty of fish, but at the end of the
next four years sorrow and woe struck him, and he took not a meal, and he
did not a turn, and his wife could not think what was ailing him. This
time he did not know what to do, but he set it before him, that he would
not take his son with him this time either. He went to fish as at the
former times, and the sea-maiden rose at the side of the boat, and she
asked him, "Didst thou bring thy son hither to me?" "Och! I
forgot him this time too," said the old man. "Go home,
then," said the sea-maiden, "and at the end of seven years after
this thou art sure to remember me; but then it will not be the easier for
thee to part with him, but thou shalt get fish as thou used to do."
The old man went home full
of joy; he had got seven other years of his son, and before seven years
passed, the old man thought that he himself would be dead, and that he
would see the sea-maiden no more. But no matter, the end of those seven
years was nearing also, and if it was, the old man was not without care
and trouble. He had rest neither day nor night. The eldest son asked his
father one day if any one were troubling him. The old man said that some
one was, but that belonged neither to him nor to any one else. The lad
said he must know what it was. His father told him at last how the matter
was between him and the sea-maiden. "Let not that put you in any
trouble," said the son; "I will not oppose you." "Thou
shalt not; thou shalt not go, my son, though I should not get fish for
ever." "If you will not let me go with you, go to the smithy,
and let the smith make me a great strong sword, and I will go to the end
of fortune." His father went to the smithy, and the smith made a
doughty sword for him. His father came home with the sword. The lad grasped
it and gave it a shake or two, and it went in a hundred splinters. He
asked his father to go to the smithy and get him another sword, in which
there should be twice as much weight; and so did his father, and so
likewise it happened to the next sword—it broke in two halves. Back went
the old man to the smithy; and the smith made a great sword, its like he
never made before. "There’s thy sword for thee," said the
smith, "and the fist must be good that plays this blade." The
old man gave the sword to his son, he gave it a shake or two. "This
will do," said he; "it’s high time now to travel on my
way." On the next morning he put a saddle on the black horse that the
mare had, and he put the world under his head, and his black dog was by
his side. When he went on a bit, he fell in with the carcase of a sheep
beside the road. At the carrion were a great dog, a falcon, and an otter.
He came down off the horse, and he divided the carcase amongst the three.
Three third shares to the dog, two third shares to the otter, and a third
share to the falcon. "For this," said the dog, "if
swiftness of foot or sharpness of tooth will give thee aid, mind me, and I
will be at thy side." Said the otter, "If the swimming of foot
on the ground of a pool will loose thee, mind me, and I will be at thy
side." Said the falcon, "If hardship comes on thee, where
swiftness of wing or crook of a claw will do good, mind me, and I will be
at thy side." On this he went onward till he reached a king’s
house, and he took service to be a herd, and his wages were to be
according. to the milk of the cattle. He went away with the cattle, and
the grazing was but bare. In the evening, when he took them home, they had
not much milk, the place was so bare, and his meat and drink was but spare
this night.
On the next day he went on
further with them; and at last he came to a place exceedingly grassy, in a
green glen, of which he never saw the like.
But about the time when he
should go behind the cattle, for taking homewards, who is seen coming but
a great giant with his sword in his hand. "Hiu! HAu!! HOGARAICH!!!"
says the giant. "It is long since my teeth were rusted seeking thy
flesh. The cattle are mine; they are on my march; and a dead man art
thou." "I said not that," says the herd; "there is no
knowing, but that may be easier to say than to do."
To grips they go—himself
and the giant. He saw that he was far from his friend, and near his foe.
He drew the great clean-sweeping sword, and he neared the giant; and in
the play of the battle the black dog leaped on the giant’s back. The
herd drew back his sword, and the head was off the giant in a twinkling.
He leaped on the black horse, and he went to look for the giant’s house.
He reached a door, and in the haste that the giant made he had left each
gate and door open. In went the herd, and that’s the place where there
was magnificence and money in plenty, and dresses of each kind on the
wardrobe with gold and silver, and each thing finer than the other. At the
mouth of night he took himself to the king’s house, but he took not a
thing from the giant’s house. And when the cattle were milked this night
there was milk. He got good feeding this night, meat and drink without
stint, and the king was hugely pleased that he had caught such a herd. He
went for a time in this way, but at last the, glen grew bare of grass, and
the grazing was not so good.
But he thought he would go
a little further forward in on the giant’s land; and he sees a great
park of grass. He returned for the cattle, and he puts them into the
park.
They were but a short time
grazing in the park when a great wild giant came full of rage and madness.
"Hiu! Hau!! Hogaraich!!!" said the giant. "It is a drink of
thy blood that quenches my thirst this night." "There is no
knowing," said the herd, "but that’s easier to say than to
do." And at each other went the men. There was the shaking of blades!
At length and at last it seemed as if the giant would get the victory over
the herd. Then he called on his dog, and with one spring the black dog
caught the giant by the neck, and swiftly the herd struck off his head.
He went home very tired
this night, but it’s a wonder if the king’s cattle had not milk. The
whole family was delighted that they had got such a herd.
He followed herding in this
way for a time; but one night after he came home, instead of getting
"all hail" and "good luck" from the dairymaid, all
were at crying and woe.
He asked what cause of woe
there was that night. The dairymaid said that a great beast with three
heads was in the loch, and she was to get some one every year, and the
lots had come this year on the king’s daughter, "and in the middle
of the day to-morrow she is to meet the Uile Bheist at the upper end of
the loch, but there is a great suitor yonder who is going to rescue
her."
"What suitor is
that?" said the herd. "Oh, he is a great General of arms,"
said the dairymaid, "and when he kills the beast, he will marry the
king’s daughter, for the king has said that he who could save his
daughter should get her to marry."
But on the morrow when the
time was nearing, the king’s daughter and this hero of arms went to give
a meeting to the beast, and they reached the black corrie at the upper end
of the loch. They were but a short time there when the beast stirred in
the midst of the loch; but on the General’s seeing this terror of a
beast with three heads, he took fright, and he slunk away, and he hid
himself. And the king’s daughter was under fear and under trembling with
no one at all to save her. At a glance, she sees a doughty handsome youth,
riding a black horse, and coming where she was. He was marvellously
arrayed, and full armed, and his black dog moving after him. "There
is gloom on thy fair face, girl," said the youth. "What dost
thou here?" "Oh! that’s no matter," said the king’s
daughter. "It’s not long I’ll be here at all events."
"I said not that," said he. "A worthy fled as likely as
thou, and not long since," said she. "He is a worthy who stands
the war," said the youth. He lay down beside her, and he said to her,
if he should fall asleep, she should rouse him when she should see the
beast making for shore. "What is rousing for thee?" said she.
"Rousing for me is to put the gold ring on thy finger on my little
finger." They were not long there when she saw the beast making for
the shore. She took a ring off her finger, and put it on the little finger
of the lad. He awoke, and to meet the beast he went with his sword and his
dog. But there was the spluttering and splashing between himself and the
beast! The dog was doing all he might, and the king’s daughter was
palsied by fear of the noise of the beast. They would now be under, and
now above. But at last he cut one of the heads off her. She gave one roar
RAIVIC, and the son of earth, MACTALLA of the rocks (echo), called to her
screech, and she drove the loch in spindrift from end to end, and in a
twinkling she went out of sight. "Good luck and victory that were
following thee, lad!" said the king’s daughter. "I am safe for
one night, but the beast will come again, and for ever, until the other
two heads come off her." He caught the beast’s head, and he drew a
withy through it, and he told her to bring it with her there to-morrow.
She went home with the head on her shoulder, and the herd betook himself
to the cows; but she had not gone far when this great General saw her, and
he said to her that he would kill her, if she would not say that ‘twas
he took the head off the beast. "Oh!" says she, 'tis I will say
it, Who else took the head off the beast but thou!" They reached the
king’s house, and the head was on the General’s shoulder. But here was
rejoicing, that she should come home alive and whole, and this great
captain with the beast’s head full of blood in his hand. On the morrow
they went away, and there was no question at all but that this hero would
save the king’s daughter.
They reached the same
place, and they were not long there when the fearful Uile Bheist stirred
in the midst of the loch, and the hero slunk away as he did on yesterday,
but it was not long after this when the man of the black horse came with
another dress on. No matter, she knew it was the very same lad. "It
is I am pleased to see thee," said she. "I am in hopes thou wilt
handle thy great sword to-day as thou didst yesterday. Come up and take
breath." But they were not long there when they saw the beast
steaming in the midst of the loch.
The lad lay down at the
side of the king’s daughter, and. he said to her, "If I sleep
before the beast comes, rouse me." "What is rousing for
thee?" "Rousing for me is to put the ear-ring that is in thine
ear in mine." He had not well fallen asleep when the king’s
daughter cried, "Rouse! rouse!" but wake he would not; but she
took the ear-ring out of her ear, and she put it in the ear of the lad. At
once he woke, and to meet the beast he went, but there was Tloopersteich
and Tiaperstich, rawceil s’tawcell, spluttering, splashing, raving, and
roaring on the beast! They kept on thus for a long time, and about the
mouth of night, he cut another head off the beast. He put it on the withy,
and he leaped on the black horse, and he betook himself to the herding.
The king’s daughter went home with the heads. The General met her, and
took the heads from her, and he said to her, that she must tell that it
was he who took the head off the beast this time also. "Who else took
the head off the beast but thou?" said she. They reached the king’s
house with the heads. Then there was joy and gladness. If the king was
hopeful the first night, he was now sure that this great hero would save
his daughter, and there was no question at all but that the other head
would be off the beast on the morrow.
About the same time on the
morrow the two went away. The officer hid himself as he usually did. The
king’s daughter betook herself to the bank of the loch. The hero of the
black horse came, and he lay at her side. She woke the lad, and put
another ear-ring in his other ear; and at the beast he went. But if
rawceil and toiceil, roaring and raving, were on the beast on the days
that were passed, this day she was horrible. But no matter, he took the
third head off the beast; and if he did, it was not without a struggle. He
drew it through the withy, and she went home with the heads. When they
reached the king’s house, all were full of smiles, and the General was
to marry the king’s daughter the next day. The wedding was going on, and
every one about the castle longing till the priest should come. But when
the priest came, she would marry but the one who could take the heads off
the withy without cutting the withy. "Who should take the heads off
the withy but the man that put the heads on?" said the king.
The General tried them, but
he could not loose them; and at last there was no one about the house but
had tried to take the heads off the withy, but they could not. The king
asked if there were any one else about the house that would try to take
the heads off the withy? They said that the herd had not tried them yet.
Word went for the herd; and he was not long throwing them hither and
thither. "But stop a bit, my lad," said the king’s daughter;
"the man that took the heads off the beast, he has my ring and my two
ear-rings." The herd put his hand in his pocket, and he threw them on
the board. "Thou art my man," said the king’s daughter. The
king was not so pleased when he saw that it was a herd who was to marry
his daughter, but he ordered that he should be put in a better dress; but
his daughter spoke, and she said that he had a dress as fine as any that
ever was in his castle; and thus it happened. The herd put on the giant’s
golden dress, and they married that same night.
They were now married, and
everything going on well. They were one day sauntering by the side of the
loch, and there came a beast more wonderfully terrible than the other, and
takes him away to the loch without fear, or asking. The king’s daughter
was now mournful, tearful, blind-sorrowful for her married man; she was
always with her eye on the loch. An old smith met her, and she told how it
had befallen her married mate. The smith advised her to spread everything
that was finer than another in the very same place where the beast took
away her man; and so she did. The beast put up her nose, and she said,
"Fine is thy jewellery, king’s daughter." "Finer than
that is the jewel that thou tookest from me," said she. "Give me
one sight of my man, and thou shalt get any one thing of all these thou
seest." The beast brought him up. "Deliver him to me, and thou
shalt get all thou seest," said she. The beast did as she said. She
threw him alive and whole on the bank of the loch.
A short time after this,
when they were walking at the side of the loch, the same beast took away
the king’s daughter. Sorrowful was each one that was in the town on this
night. Her man was mournful, tearful, wandering down and up about the
banks of the loch, by day and night. The old smith met him. The smith told
him that there was no way of killing the Uile Bheist but the one way, and
this is it—" In the island that is in the midst of the loch is
Eillid Chaisfhion—the white-footed hind, of the slenderest legs, and the
swiftest step, and though she should be caught, there would spring a
hoodie out of her, and though the hoodie should be caught, there would
spring a trout out of her, but there is an egg in the mouth of the trout,
and the soul of the beast is in the egg, and if the egg breaks, the beast
is dead."
Now there was no way of
getting to this island, for the beast would sink each boat and raft that
would go on the loch. He thought he would try to leap the strait with the
black horse, and even so he did. The black horse leaped the strait, and
the black dog with one bound after him. He saw the Eillid, and he let the
black dog after her, but when the black dog would be on one side of the
island, the Eillid would be on the other side. "Oh! good were now the
great dog of the carcase of flesh here!" No sooner spoke he the word
than the generous dog was at his side; and after the Eillid he took, and
the worthies were not long in bringing her to earth. But he no sooner
caught her than a hoodie sprang out of her. "Tis now were good the
falcon grey, of sharpest eye and swiftest wing!" No sooner said he
this than the falcon was after the hoodie, and she was not long putting
her to earth; and as the hoodie fell on the bank of the loch, out of her
jumps the trout. "Oh, that thou wert by me now, oh otter!" No
sooner said than the otter was at his side, and out on the loch she
leaped, and brings the trout from the midst of the loch; but no sooner was
the otter on shore with the trout than the egg came from his mouth. He
sprang and he put his foot on it. ‘Twas then the beast let out a roar,
and she said, "Break not the egg, and thou gettest all thou askest."
"Deliver to me my wife!" In the wink of an eye she was by his
side. When he got hold of her hand in both his hands he let his foot down
on the egg, and the beast died.
The beast was dead now, and
now was the sight to be seen. She was horrible to look upon. The three
heads were off her doubtless, but if they were, there were heads under and
heads over head on her, and eyes, and five hundred feet. But no matter,
they left her there, and they went home, and there was delight and smiling
in the king’s house that night. And till now he had not told the king
how he killed the giants. The king put great honour on him, and he was a
great man with the king.
Himself and his wife were
walking one day, when he noticed a little castle beside the loch in a
wood; he asked his wife who was dwelling in it? She said that no one would
be going near that castle, for that no one had yet come back to tell the
tale who had gone there.
"The matter must not
be so," said he; "this very night I will see who is dwelling in
it." "Go not, go not," said she; "there never went man
to this castle that returned." "Be that as it pleases,"
says he. He went; he betakes himself to the castle. When he reached the
door, a little flattering crone met him, standing in the door. "All
hail and good luck to thee, fisher’s son; ‘tis I myself am pleased to
see thee; great is the honour for this kingdom, thy like to be come into
it—thy coming in is fame for this little bothy; go in first; honour to
the gentles; go on, and take breath." In he went, but as he was going
up, she drew the Slachdan druidhach on him, on the back of his head, and
at once—there he fell.
On this night there was woe
in the king’s castle, and on the morrow there was a wail in the fisher’s
house. The tree is seen withering, and the fisher’s middle son said that
his brother was dead, and he made a vow and oath that he would go, and
that he would know where the corpse of his brother was lying. He put
saddle on a black horse, and rode after his black dog (for the three sons
of the fisher had a black horse and a black dog); and without going hither
or thither he followed on his brother’s step till he reached the king’s
house.
This one was so like his
elder brother, that the king’s daughter thought it was her own man. He
stayed in the castle. They told him how it befell his brother; and to the
little castle of the crone go he must—happen hard or soft as it might.
To the castle he went; and just as befell the eldest brother, so in each
way it befell the middle son, and with one blow of the Slachdan druidhach
the crone felled him stretched beside his brother.
On seeing the second tree
withering, the fisher’s youngest son said that now his two brothers were
dead, and that he must know what death had come on them. On the black
horse he went, and he followed the dog as his brothers did, and he hit the
king’s house before he stopped. ‘Twas the king who was pleased to see
him; but to the black castle (for that was its name) they would not let
him go. But to the castle he must go; and so he reached the castle.—"
All hail and good luck to thyself, fisher’s son; ‘tis I am pleased to
see thee; go in and take breath," said the crone. "In before me,
thou crone; I don’t like flattery out of doors; go in and let’s hear
thy speech." In went the crone, and when her back was to him he drew
his sword and whips her head off; but the sword flew out of his hand. And
swift the crone gripped her head with both hands, and puts it on her neck
as it was before. The dog sprung on the crone, and she struck the generous
dog with the club of magic; and there he lay. But this went not to make
the youth more sluggish. To grips with the crone he goes; he got a hold of
the Slachdan druidhach, and with one blow on the top of the head, she was
on earth in the wink of an eye. He went forward, up a little, and he sees
his two brothers lying side by side. He gave a blow to each one with the
Slachdan druidhach, and on foot they were, and there was the spoil! Gold
and silver, and each thing more precious than another, in the crone’s
castle, They came back to the king’s house, and then there was
rejoicing! The king was growing old. The eldest son of the fisherman was
crowned king, and the pair of brothers stayed a day and a year in the king’s
house, and then the two went on their journey home, with the gold and
silver of the crone, and each other grand thing which the king gave them;
and if they have not died since then, they are alive to this very day.
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