Chapter XIII: Part 13

Then he went back to the long house, and it was better there than the first night; the small chief had food and drink ready in plenty.

The combats continued for seven days in succession as on this day. On the eighth morning, when Dyeermud appeared, the king asked for a truce.

“I will grant it,” said Dyeermud, “if you give me a sight of Fin MacCool.”

“A sight of Fin MacCool you are not to have,” said the king, “till you bring the hound-whelp with the golden chain.”

“Where can I find that Whelp?” inquired Dyeermud.

“The world is wide,” said the king. “Follow your nose. It will lead you. If I were to say ’tis in the west the whelp is, maybe ’tis in the east he’d be; or in the north, maybe he’d be in the south. So here and now you cannot blame me if I say not where he is.”

“Well,” said Dyeermud, “as I am going for the whelp, I ask you to loose Fin MacCool from what bonds he is in, to place him in the best chamber of your castle, to give him the best food and drink, the best bed to lie on, and, besides, the amusements most pleasing to his mind.”

“What you ask shall be granted,” said the king, who thought to himself, “Your head and Fin’s will be mine in the end.”

Dyeermud went home to the long house, sat down in his chair, and gloomy was his face.

“O Dyeermud,” said the small chief, “you are not coming in with such looks, nor so bright in the face, as when you left here this morning. I’ll lay my head as a wager that you are sent to bring the hound-whelp with the golden chain.”

“True,” said Dyeermud, “and where to find him I know not.”

“Eat your supper, then sleep, and to-morrow I’ll show you where that whelp is. Indeed, it is the task you have on you; for many a good champion lost his head in striving to come at that whelp.”

Next morning Dyeermud and the small chief set out, and toward evening they came within sight of a grand, splendid castle.

“Now,” said the small chief, “this castle was built by the Red Gruagach Blind-on-One-Side; within is the hound-whelp with the golden chain; and now let me see what you’ll do.”

Dyeermud entered the castle, where he found a great chamber, and in it the gruagach asleep. The hound was tied to the gruagach’s bed with a golden chain. Untying the chain from the bed, Dyeermud carried whelp and chain with him under his arm, and hurried on homeward. When he had gone three miles of road, he turned to the small chief and said, “That was a mean act I did to the gruagach.”

“What’s on you now?” asked the small chief.

“It would be hard for a man to call me anything higher than a thief; for I have only stolen the man’s whelp and golden chain.” So Dyeermud went back to the gruagach, and put the hound-whelp and chain where he had found them. As the gruagach was sleeping, Dyeermud struck a slight blow on his face to rouse him.

“Oh,” said the gruagach, “I catch the foul smell of a man from Erin. He must be Dyeermud, who has destroyed the champions of our country.”

“I am the man that you mention,” said Dyeermud; “and I am not here to ask satisfaction of you or thanks, but to wear out my anger on your body and flesh, if you refuse what I want of you.”

“And what is it that you want of me?” asked the gruagach.

“The hound-whelp with the golden chain.”

“You will not get him from me, nor will another.”

“Be on your feet, then,” said Dyeermud. “The whelp is mine, or your head in place of him; if not, you’ll have my head.”

One champion put his back to the front wall, and the other to the rear wall; then the two went at each other wrestling, and were that way till the roof of the house was ready to fly from the walls, such was the strength in the hands of the combatants.

“Shame on you both!” cried the gruagach’s wife, running out. “Shame on two men like you to be tumbling the house on my children.”

“True,” said Dyeermud. And the two, without letting go the hold that they had, went through the roof with one bound, and came down on the field outside. The first wheel that Dyeermud knocked out of the gruagach, he put him in the hard ground to his ankles, the second to his hips, and the third to his neck.

“Suffer your head to be cut off, O gruagach.”

“Spare me, Dyeermud, and you’ll get the hound-whelp with the golden chain, and my good wish and desire.”

“If you had said that at first, you would not have gone through this hardship or kindled my anger,” said Dyeermud. With that he pulled out the gruagach, and spared his head.

The two spent that night as two brothers, eating and drinking of the best, and in the morning the gruagach gave Dyeermud the whelp with the golden chain.

Dyeermud went home with the small chief, and went to the castle next morning.

“Have you brought the hound-whelp with the golden chain?” asked the king.

“I have,” answered Dyeermud; “and I had no trouble in bringing them. Here they are before you.”

“Well, am I to have them now?” asked the king.

“You are not,” answered Dyeermud. “If I was bound to bring them, I was not bound to give them to you. The man who reared this whelp has a better right to him than you or I.”

Then Dyeermud went home to the long house, followed by the small chief; and the next morning he asked battle of the king.

“I am not ready for battle to-day,” said the king.

“Am I to get sight of Fin MacCool?” inquired Dyeermud.

“You are not,” said the king, “till you bring me an account of how the Rueful Knight Without-Laughter lost his eye and his laugh.”

“Where can I find that knight?” asked Dyeermud.

“The world is wide,” said the king; “and it is for you alone to make out where that man is.”

Dyeermud went home to the long house, sat in his chair, dropped his head, and was gloomy.

“O Dyeermud,” said the small chief, “something has gone wrong to-day, and I’ll lay my head that you are sent to get knowledge of the Rueful Knight Without-Laughter; but sit down and take supper, then sleep, and to-morrow you’ll not go astray; I’ll lead you to where that man lives.”

Next morning the two set out together, that evening reached the gruagach’s castle, where there was many a welcome before them, and not like the first time. The whelp was returned to his owner; and that night was spent in pleasure by the gruagach, Dyeermud, and the small chief.

The next morning Dyeermud went forward attended by his two friends, and toward evening came in sight of a large splendid castle. Dyeermud approached it, and when he went in, saw that he had never before set foot in a grander building.

The Rueful Knight Without-Laughter was sitting alone in his parlor at a great heavy table. His face, resting on the palm of one hand, was worn by it; his elbow, placed on the table, had worn a deep trench in the table; and there he sat, trusting to the one eye that was left him.

Dyeermud shook the sleeping man gently; and when he woke, the knight welcomed Dyeermud as one of the Fenians of Erin. Dinner was made ready for all; and when they sat down at the table, Dyeermud thrust his fork in the meat as a sign of request. “Is there something you wish to know?” asked the knight.

“There is,” answered Dyeermud.

“All in my power or possession is for you, except one thing,” said the knight, “and ask not for that.”

“It is that thing that brought me,” said Dyeermud. “I’ll take no refusal. I’ll have your head or that knowledge.”

“Well, Dyeermud, eat your dinner, and then I will tell you; though I have never told any one yet, not even my own lawful wife.”

When the dinner was over, the knight told his story to Dyeermud, as follows,—

“I was living once in this place here, both happy and well. I had twelve sons of my own and my own wife. Each of my twelve sons had his pack of hounds. I and my wife had one pack between us. On a May morning after breakfast, I and my sons set out to hunt. We started a deer without horns, and, rushing forward in chase of her, followed on swiftly all day. Toward evening the deer disappeared in a cave. In we raced after her, and found ourselves soon in the land of small men, but saw not a trace of the deer.

“Going to a great lofty castle, we entered, and found many people inside. The king of the small men bade us welcome, and asked had I men to prepare us a dinner. I said that I had my own twelve sons. The small men then brought in from a forest twelve wild boars. I put down twelve kettles with water to scald and dress the game. When the water was boiling, it was of no use to us; and we could not have softened with it one bristle on the wild boars from that day to this. Then a small man, putting the twelve boars in a row with the head of one near the tail of the other, took from the hall-door a whistle, and, blowing first on one side of the row and then on the other, made all the twelve white and clean; then he dressed, cut, and cooked them, and we all ate to our own satisfaction.

“In the course of the evening, the king of the small men asked had I anyone who could shorten the night by showing action. I said that I had my own twelve sons. Twelve small men now rose, and drew out a long weighty chain, holding one end in their hands. My sons caught the other end, pulled against the twelve small men, and the small men against them; but the small men soon threw a loop of the chain around the necks of my twelve sons, and swept the heads off them; one of the small men came then with a long knife, and, opening the breasts of my sons, took out their twelve hearts, and put them all on a dish; then they pushed me to a bench, and I had to sit with my twelve sons stretched dead there before me. Now they brought the dish to make me eat the twelve hearts for my supper. When I would not, they drove them down my throat, and gave me a blow of a fist that knocked one eye out of me. They left me that way in torment till morning; then they opened the door, and threw me out of the castle.

“From that day to this I have not seen my children, nor a trace of them; and ’tis just twenty-one years, coming May-day, since I lost my twelve sons and my eye. There is not a May-day but the deer comes to this castle and shouts, ‘Here is the deer; but where are the hunters to follow?’ Now you have the knowledge, Dyeermud, of how I lost my eye and my laugh.”

“Well,” asked Dyeermud, “will May-day come soon in this country?”

“To-morrow, as early as you will rise.”

“Is there any chance that the deer will come in the morning?”

“There is,” said the knight; “and you’ll not have much of the morning behind you when she’ll give a call.”

Next morning the deer shouted, “Here is the deer; but where are the hunters to follow?” and made away swiftly.

Dyeermud, the small chief, the gruagach, and the knight hurried on in pursuit. Coming evening, the knight saw the cave, and called out to Dyeermud, “Have a care of that place; for ’tis there she will enter.”

When the deer reached the cave, Dyeermud gave a kick with his right foot, and struck off one half her hind-quarter.

Barely was this done, when out rushed a dreadful and ugly old hag, with every tooth in her upper jaw a yard long, and she screaming, “You hungry, scorched scoundrel from Erin, how dared you ruin the sport of the small men?”

The words were hardly out of her mouth, when Dyeermud made at her with his fist, and sent jaws and teeth down her throat. What the old hag did not swallow, went half a mile into the country behind her.

The hag raced on through the land of the small men, and Dyeermud with his forces made after her. When they came to the castle, the king let a loud laugh out of him.

“Why do you give such a laugh?” inquired Dyeermud.

“I thought that the knight had enough the first time he came to this castle.”

“This proves to you that he had not,” said Dyeermud; “or he would not be in it the second time.”

“Well,” asked the king of the knight, “have you any man now to cook dinner?”

“He has,” said Dyeermud; “and it’s long since you or he had the like of him. I’ll cook your dinner, and we’ll find the food.”

Out they went to a forest, and brought in twelve wild boars. Dyeermud skinned the game with his sword, dressed, cut, and cooked it. All ate to satisfaction.

Later on in the evening, the king asked the knight, “Have you any man to show action?”

“He has,” said Dyeermud, “if you will put out the same twelve men as you did the first evening.”

The king put them out; and Dyeermud took the end of the chain to pull against them. He pulled till he sank in the floor to his ankles; then he made a whirl of the chain, and swept their twelve heads off the small men. He opened the twelve, put their hearts on a plate, and made the king eat them. “You forced the knight to swallow the hearts of his own sons,” said Dyeermud.

“Walk out of the castle, and punish us no more,” cried the king. “I’ll let out to the knight his sons, with their horses and hounds, and his own horse and hounds, if you will not come to this kingdom again.”

“We will go if you do that,” said Dyeermud; “but you are not to offend the knight or his people; if you do, I am a better guide to find you a second time than I was the first.”

The king took his rod of enchantment, went out to twelve stones, struck the first, out came the first son on horseback, and a pack of hounds after him. The king struck stone after stone till he put the twelve sons in front of the castle, with their horses and hounds; then he struck the thirteenth stone, and the horse and hounds of the knight appeared.

The knight looked around, and saw his eye in the hole of the chimney, and as much soot on it as would manure land under two stone of seed-potatoes.

“Look at my eye,” said the knight.

Dyeermud looked. Then the king put the eye in the head of the knight, who could see with it better than when he had it before.

Out they went now from the king, safe and sound, and never stopped till they reached the knight’s castle for dinner. When dinner was over, Dyeermud, the gruagach, and the small chief hastened on to the gruagach’s castle, and slept there.

Next day Dyeermud and the small chief went home. On the following morning, Dyeermud went to the king, told him the Rueful Knight’s story, and said, “Now I must have battle, or a sight of Fin MacCool.”

“Battle I’ll not give you,” said the king; “and a sight of Fin MacCool you’ll not have till you tell me what happened to the Lad of True Tales.”

“I am sorry,” said Dyeermud, “that this was not said by you sooner. It is late for me now to be tearing my shoes on strange roads, and tiring my feet in a foreign land.” With that he sprang at the king, brought him down by the throat from the window to the ground, and there broke every bone in his body. Then he put the castle foundation upward, looking for Fin, and destroying all that he met, but could not find Fin till he met the old little woman.

“O Dyeermud,” said she, “spare my head. I am more than a hundred years old. I have been faithful to Fin since he came here. I have never refused to do what he asked of me.”

“Your head shall be spared,” replied Dyeermud, “though old life is as dear to you as it is to young people; and take me now to where Fin is.”

Dyeermud went with the old little woman to the door of Fin’s chamber, and knocked. Fin knew the knock, and cried out, “Reach me your sword.”

“Take it,” said Dyeermud.

Fin’s strength was trebled at sight of Dyeermud; and when he grasped the sword, he swore by it, saying, “I will cut off your head if you come a foot nearer.”

“You are not in your mind to speak thus to the man who has gone through so much for you.”

“I am in my mind,” said Fin; “but if we were to close our arms embracing each other in friendship, we could not open them for seven days and nights. Now, the woman who brought me from Ard na Conye, the bay which we love most in Erin, save Fintra, will be here soon. Though there was nothing on earth to please the King of the White Nation more than my head, there is another good man in the world, and the king wishes his head as greatly as mine. The daughter has gone, and is using her highest endeavor to bring that head to her father; so hasten on to the boat, Dyeermud, I will follow. If you find food, take it with you.”

Dyeermud hurried off. In passing through the king’s meadow he saw two fat bullocks grazing. He caught them, and, clapping one under each arm, ran off to the boat. When Fin came, he found both bullocks skinned and dressed there before him.

They weighed anchor now and raised sails for Erin, ploughing the weighty sea before them night and day. Once Fin said to Dyeermud, “Look behind.” Dyeermud looked, but saw nothing.

Three hours later, Fin said, “Look behind, and look keenly.”

Dyeermud looked, and cried, “I see behind us in the sky some bird like an eagle, and flashes of fire blazing out from her beak.”

“Oh, we are caught at last, and it’s a bad place we are in on the sea; we cannot fight here.”

The bird was coming nearer, and gaining; but the wind favored, filled every sail, and sent them bounding along till they were within five leagues of land; then they made one spring, and came down in Ferriter’s Cove.

No sooner had they landed, than the bird perched on the boat, turned it over, stood on the bottom, and from that saw Fin and Dyeermud on land. She made for them; and the moment she touched shore became a woman.

She rushed to Fin, caught him in her arms most lovingly, and said, turning to Dyeermud, “You are the wicked man who put words between me and my husband and parted us.”

Then, turning to Fin, she said, “Now, my darling, come home with me. You will be King of the White Nation, and I, your loving wife.”

“Right and true for you,” said Dyeermud. “It’s the good wife and friend you were to this man; and now I ask how long must he be your husband?”

“Till a shovel puts seven of its fulls of earth on his head.”

Dyeermud drew his sword, and struck a champion’s blow on a ridge of land that was near him; he was so enraged that he made a deep glen with that blow; then he caught Fin, and, stretching him in the glen, thrust his sword in the earth, and, throwing it as with a shovel on Fin, counted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. “Your time is up with Fin,” said he to the king’s daughter; “he is in his own country, and you are a stranger. Take him a second time if you can, and I pledge you the faith of a champion that I will not put words between you.”

The woman stooped down to put away the seven shovels of earth, and said to Fin while she was working, “We’ll both be happy this time.”

With that Dyeermud gave her one blow of his fist on the left ear, and sent her spinning through the air. She never stopped till she fell at the edge of the ocean, and became Fail Mahisht; and not another cliff in Erin has so many limpets and periwinkles on it as that one.

So the daughter of the King of the White Nation gives much food to people in Erin from that day to this.

FIN MACCOOL, THE THREE GIANTS, AND THE SMALL MEN.

On a day of the days when Fin MacCool was living at Rahin, he went out to walk near Fintra. He had many cows and sheep at that time, and was going among his cattle, when all at once he saw a big man coming in from the sea.

At first he saw the man’s head and shoulders, then half his body, and at last his whole body. When the big man stood on the strand, he saluted Fin. Fin returned the salute, and asked, “Who are you, and what brought you to Erin?”

“I have come from the King of the Big Men; and I want to see Fin MacCool.”

“Fin MacCool is not at home now,” said Fin. “Are you here with a message?”

“I am,” said the big man.

“I will give the message to Fin MacCool when he comes home; there is no one he trusts more than me.”

“My master, the King of the Big Men, has heard much of Fin MacCool, and invites him to come to his castle. The king lost two children. Some one came in the night and stole them. Though guarded with wonderful strictness, the children were carried away. The king fears to lose a third child soon, unless Fin MacCool comes to advise and assist him.”

“I will give that message to Fin MacCool,” said Fin.

The big man left good health with Fin, then turned and went forward, going deeper till his head disappeared under water.

A few days later Fin was walking in the same place where he had met the messenger from the King of the Big Men, and he saw some very small men playing hurley on the strand. He went to them, and spoke. They answered, and called him King of the Fenians.

“You seem to know me,” said Fin.

“We do indeed, and we know you very well,” said the small men.

“Who are you?” asked Fin, “or what can you do?”

“Oh, we have many virtues,” replied they.

“What virtue have you?” asked Fin, turning to the biggest of the small men.

“Well, whenever I sit down in any place I stay in it as long as I like; no man can lift me; no power can take me out of it.”

“What is your name?” asked Fin.

“Lazy Back,” said the little fellow. “No man can stir me when I sit down.”

“How am I to know that you have that virtue?” asked Fin.

“You are a strong man yourself,” answered Lazy Back; “give me a trial.”

The little man sat down. Fin caught him with one hand, and tried to raise him; but not a stir could he take out of Lazy Back.

“Try with both hands now,” said Lazy Back.

Fin tried with both hands, tried with all the strength that was in him, but could not move the little man.

“What is your virtue?” asked Fin, turning to the second man; “and who are you?”

“My name is Hearing Ear.”

“What can you hear?”

“I can hear a whisper in the Eastern World, and I sitting in this place.”

“What is your name?” asked Fin of the third player.

“My name is Far Feeler.”

“What can you feel?” asked Fin.

“I can feel an ivy-leaf falling at the Eastern World, and I playing here at Fintra.”

“What is your name?” asked Fin, turning to the fourth player.

“My name is Knowing Man.”

“What do you know?”

“I know all that will happen in every part of the world.”

“What power have you, and who are you?” asked Fin of the fifth man.

“I am called Always Taking; I steal.”

“What can you steal?”

“Whatever I set my mind on. I can steal the eggs from a snipe, and she sitting on them; and the snipe is the wariest bird in existence.”

“What can you do?” asked Fin, looking at the sixth man.

“My name is Climber. I can climb the highest castle in the world, though its sides were as slippery as glass.”

“Who are you?” asked he of the seventh stranger.

“I am called Bowman.”

“What can you do?”

“I can hit any midge out of a cloud of midges dancing in the air.”

“You have good eyesight,” said Fin, “and good aim as well.

“Who are you?” asked Fin of the eighth.

“I am called Three Sticks. I understand woodwork.”

“What can you do?” asked Fin.

“I can make anything I please out of wood.”

“Can you make a ship?”

“I can.”

“How long would it take you to make one?”

“While you would be turning on your heel.”

He took a chip of wood then from the shore, and asked Fin to turn on his heel. While Fin was turning, Three Sticks flung the piece of wood out on the sea, and there it became a beautiful ship.

“Well, have you the ship made?” asked Fin, looking on the strand.

“There it is,” said Three Sticks, “floating outside.”

Fin looked, and saw the finest vessel that ever sailed on the deep sea; the butt of no feather was in, nor the tip of one out, except one brown-backed red feather that stood at the top of the mast, and that making music and sport to encourage whatever champion would come on board.

“Will you all take service with me?” asked Fin, looking at the eight small strangers. “I wish to go to the kingdom of the Big Men. Will you guide me on the journey, and help me?”

“We are willing to serve you,” answered they. “There is no part of the world to which we cannot guide you.”

“What are your wages?” asked Fin.

“Five gold-pieces to each man of us for a day and a year.”

“How much time do we need for the journey to the kingdom of the Big Men?”

“Not many days,” said Knowing Man.

Stores and provisions were put on the ship. Fin and the small men went on board, and set sail; before many days they arrived at the kingdom of the Big Men, and drew up their ship high and dry. They set out then for the castle of the king; and no greater wonder was ever seen in that place than Fin and his eight little men.

The king invited Fin and his company to a great feast. At the end of the feast, the king said, “My third son was born to-day. My first son was taken away on the night after his birth, and so was my second. I am full sure that this one will be taken from me to-night.”

“I will guard the child,” said Fin; “and if I let your son go with any one, I will give you my head.”

The king was satisfied. Fin asked for a strong chamber and two nurses. The strongest chamber in the castle was made ready; then Fin and his men, with the child and two nurses, took their places inside.

“Do you know what will happen to-night?” asked Knowing Man.

“I do not,” replied Fin; “and I do not like to chew my thumb.[5] You can tell me.”

“You gave your head in pledge,” said Knowing Man, “for the safety of the child; and you were a strange man to do so, for the child will be taken from this to-night.”

“Do you say that?” asked Fin.

“I do. And do you know who will do it?”

“I do not.”

“I will tell you. In the Eastern World lives a sister of this king, a savage hag and a terrible witch. This hag went to the Eastern World because she had a dispute with her brother. She is ungrateful, and full of malice; she comes now and steals away her brother’s children to leave him without heirs to his kingdom. When she finds this room closed on every side, and sees no other way of reaching the child, she will climb to the roof, and stretch her arm down to catch the king’s little son, and take him away with her.”

Lazy Back sat down near the hearth, and swore a great oath that if the hag thrust her hand down, he would hold her or keep the hand.

A little after midnight, Hearing Ear said, “I hear the hag; she is making ready to leave her castle in the Eastern World, and giving strict orders to guard the two children while she is gone.”

“Well,” said Far Feeler, “now I feel her going up through her own castle; now I feel her going out through the door on the roof. Her castle has no entrance except an opening in the roof, and the walls of it are as slippery as glass.”

“You will warn me when she is coming,” said Fin to Hearing Ear.

“Oh, I will,” said Hearing Ear; “I will not forget that.”

In a little while the hag was at the castle, and going around it trying to enter. Although the castle was surrounded by sentries, not one of them saw her; for she was invisible, through power of enchantment.

“She has come,” said Hearing Ear; “she is walking around the castle. Now is the time to watch her well.”

A few moments later, she thrust her arm down the chimney; and no sooner was it down than Lazy Back caught her hand. When she felt her hand caught, she struggled greatly; but Lazy Back kept the hold that he had, and nothing could stir him. At last the arm left the shoulder of the hag. Lazy Back drew the arm down the chimney. All looked at it with amazement; and while the nurses were wondering at the arm, and Fin measuring its length and its thickness, they forgot the child. The hag thrust her other arm down then, caught the child, and hurried away home with it. When the nurses saw that the child was gone, they screamed; and Fin said,—

“It would be better for us to hurry to our vessel, and leave the country before the king is up in the morning; he will destroy us all for losing his son.”

“We will not do that,” said the little men. “Late as it is, we will follow the hag, and bring back the child.”

They set out that moment; and since Fin could not keep up with the little men, Lazy Back took him on his shoulder: and, in the twinkle of an eye, they reached the ship, and set sail for the Eastern World.

Indeed, they were not long on the journey; for they were enchanted. When they came to land near the hag’s castle, Fin, Bowman, and two others remained on the vessel. Climber, Thief, and the rest went for the child.

“Where are you, Climber?” asked Thief, when they were at the wall.

“Here,” said Climber.

“Take me to the top of the castle.”

Climber took Thief on his back, and climbed like a butterfly to the top of the building; then Thief crept down into the castle, and returned quickly with the youngest of the children.

“Take this one down to our comrades, and hurry back to me.”

Climber went down, and hastened up again. Thief had another of the children at the top of the castle before him. Climber took that down, with orders from Thief to carry the two children to the vessel. Then he returned a third time, and Thief had the third child.

“Take this one, and come for me,” said Thief.

The little men at the foot of the castle ran off to the ship with the last child. Nimble as Thief was, he could not have taken the children at another time. All the servants were busied with the hag, who was suffering terribly from the loss of her arm. They forgot the children for a short time.

Climber took Thief to the ground, and they started at full speed toward the ship. When they came, Fin set sail for the kingdom of the Big Men.

“We shall be pursued right away,” said Knowing Man. “If the hag comes up with the ship, she will destroy every man of us.”

“She will not,” said Bowman. “If I get one glimpse of that hag, I will put an end to her life; and do you listen, Hearing Ear, to know is she coming, and tell me when you hear her.”

“I hear her now,” said Hearing Ear. “She is raging, and she is cursing those who were minding the children, and let them be taken. Now she is leaving the castle; now she is racing on after us.”

“Tell us, Far Feeler, when she is coming near,” said Fin.

“She is making a terrible uproar,” said Hearing Ear.

“She is coming toward us. She is very near,” said Far Feeler.

Bowman saw her, rested his bow on the shoulder of another, aimed, and sent an arrow through the one eye in the middle of the hag’s forehead. She fell flat on the sea, and lay dead there. Fin and his small men moved forward swiftly to the castle. They arrived one hour before the end of night, and from that time till daybreak there was joy in the chamber. The small men and the two children of the king were playing together and enjoying themselves. Just before day, the king sent a servant to know what had happened in the chamber where his son was. The man could not enter, for they would not let him; but he looked through the keyhole. He went back then, and said to the king,—

“They seem to be very merry inside; and there are two lads in the room bigger than any of the small men.”

The king knew they would not be merry unless the child was there. What he did was to throw on his mantle, and go himself to see. He knocked at the door.

“Who is there?” asked Fin.

“I,—the king.”

The door was thrown open, and in walked the king. He saw the child in the cradle; but what was his wonder when he saw the other two. Without saying a word, he seized Fin’s hand and shook it; and then he thanked him.

“There are your other two children,” said Fin; “and do you know who stole them?”

“I do not.”

“I will tell you,” said Fin. “Have you a sister?”

“I had,” answered the king, “but we became enemies; and I know not where she is at this moment.”

Then Fin told everything that had happened in the night. “And now you have your three sons,” said he to the king.

The king made a feast, which lasted seven days and seven nights. Never had there been such a feast in the kingdom of the Big Men as that; and sure why not, for wasn’t it a great thing for the king to have his three sons home with him? When the feast was over, the king sent his men to carry all kinds of riches and treasures to Fin’s ship; and for three days they were carrying them. At parting, the king said to Fin, “If ever you need my assistance, you have only to send for it.”

Fin and his men sailed homeward then swiftly; and it was not long till they reached Fintra. The ship was unloaded; and Fin was glad, looking at his treasures, and thinking of his adventures in the land of the Big Men.

Some time after Fin had come from the land of the Big Men, he sent warriors to the chief ports of Erin to guard against enemies. One day his face was anxious and gloomy.

“You seem to be grieving,” said Dyeermud; “you would better tell us what trouble is on you.”

“Some trouble is near me,” said Fin.

“By my hand,” said Oscar, “if you do not tell me your trouble, I will not eat one morsel to-day.”

“Trouble is near me; but I know not yet what it is.”

“Chew your thumb then,” said Oscar.

Fin chewed his thumb from the flesh to the bone, from the bone to the marrow, from the marrow to the quick, and found out that there were three giants in the Eastern World who were coming to attack himself and his forces, drive them into the sea like sheep, and leave not a man of them living.

Fin knew not what to do; and he was in great grief that there should be three men who could invade all Erin, and destroy its defenders.

“Chew your thumb a second time,” said Oscar, “to know is there any way to conquer them. We have travelled the world, and no people have the upper hand of us so far. There must be arms against these three.”

Fin chewed his thumb the second time; and the knowledge he got was this, that fire would not burn, water would not drown, swords would not cut either of the three giants. There was nothing to kill them but three things which their father had at home in the Eastern World; and if they saw those three things, they would fall dead, and dissolve into three heaps of jelly. What the three things were, was not told. “Go now,” said Fin to Dyeermud, “and find the forces, and I will watch myself for the enemy.”

Next morning Fin took his sword under his arm, went to Fintra, and began to herd bullocks. He did this for some time, till one day above another he saw three giants coming in toward him, the water not past their hips. He wasn’t long waiting when they came near the cliff where he was; and he saw their hearts, their mouths were stretched open so widely, laughing at the boy herding the cattle.

“Where is Fin MacCool and his forces?” asked one of the giants.

“Well,” said Fin, “it is not for me to tell you where Fin MacCool is; I am only his herder. But is there anything in the world to kill you? It must be there is not, and ye to have the courage to face Fin MacCool and his forces; for no people in the world have ever yet beaten them in battle.”

“We have come to Erin,” said the giants, “to find Fin MacCool; and we will drive him and his forces into the sea, like sheep from the side of a mountain. Fire cannot burn us; swords do not cut us; and water will not drown us. Nothing in the world can cause our death but our own three caps; and where they are, neither you nor Fin will ever know.”

“How am I to know,” asked the herdsman, “that fire will not burn you, or water drown you, or swords cut you? Let me give you a blow; and I’ll know will swords cut you.”

“Oh, little man,” said one of the giants, “how could you reach us with a sword?”

“I will show you a place,” said Fin, “where I may be strong enough to give a blow ye would remember.”

He led the giants to a narrow place between two cliffs, and stood himself on the top of one cliff. He gave then a terrible blow of his sword to the head of one giant, but left not a sign of blood on him.

“By my hand!” said the giant, “if every warrior in Fin MacCool’s forces is as good at the sword as you, he need not be in dread of any men but us.”

Fin gave the second giant a terrible blow, and staggered him.

“Oh!” said the giant, “no man ever gave me the like of that.”

He struck the third giant a blow, and knocked him to his knees; but not a drop of blood came.

“Such a blow as that,” said the giant, “I never got from any man before. Now, how are you to know that water will not drown us?”

“There is a place which I will show you,” said Fin. “If ye sleep in it to-night, and rise up in the morning before me, I shall know that water does not drown you.”

Fin showed a place where the water was twenty fathoms deep. The three lay down together under the water to stay till next morning. Fin hurried home then, gathered the Fenians together, and said,—

“I am in dread that these are the right giants. I knocked one trial out of them; swords will not cut them. They are sleeping to-night under twenty fathoms of water; but I am full sure that they will rise from it healthy and sound in the morning. Now, be ready, all of you, to scatter and go here and there throughout Erin. To-morrow, I am to try will fire burn them; when I know that, I will tell you what to do.”

The following morning, Fin went to where the giants had spent the night, and whistled. The three rose up to him at once, and came to land.

“Now,” said the eldest, as he looked around and saw the cattle, “a bite to eat would not harm us.”

With that he faced one of the bullocks, and caught the beast by one horn.

“Leave him,” said Fin; “you have no call to that bullock.”

Fin caught the bullock by the other horn. The giant pulled, and Fin held his own. One pulled, the other pulled, till between them they split the bullock from his muzzle to the tip of his tail, and made two equal parts of him.

“’Tis a deal for me to have this much itself,” said Fin. “I have saved half of my master’s property. If ye want food, ye will get it at Fin’s house. I will show the way; but first let me see will fire burn you.”

“Very well; we will make a great fire, and go into it; we’ll stay in the fire till the wood is burned down, and then rise out of it as well as ever.”

There were many trees in the country at that time. The giants and Fin were not long making a great pile of dry limbs and logs. When the pile was finished, the giants sat on the top of it, and Fin brought fire. The flames rose as high as the tree-tops.

“’Tis too hot here for me,” said Fin.

“This is pleasant for us,” said the giants; and they laughed as Fin went from the heat.

Fin could not come within ten perches of the fire. It burned all day, and the blaze of it was seen all the following night. In the afternoon of the next day, the pile had burned down, and the three giants were sitting at their ease on the hot coals.

“Fire does not harm us; you see that,” said the giants.

“I do, indeed,” said Fin; “and now ye may go to Fin’s house for refreshment.”

Fin showed them a long road, hurried home himself by a short one, and gave command to the Fenians to scatter through Erin, and escape. Then, turning to his mother, he said, “Make three cakes for the giants, put iron griddles in the middle of them, and bake them a little in the ashes. You will give these to the giants to eat. You will say that they are soft, not well baked; that we complain when the bread is not hard. I will lie down in the dark corner, in that big box there. Do you bind my head and face with a cloth, and say, when the giants are eating, ‘This poor child is sick; I think his teeth are coming.’”

The old woman put three cakes in the ashes, and the griddles inside in them. When the giants came, the cakes were ready, and the old woman was sitting near the cradle.

“Is this Fin MacCool’s house?” asked the giants.

“It is,” said the old woman.

“And is Fin himself in the house?”

“He is not then,” said the old woman; “and it is seldom he is in it.”

“Have you any food to give us?”

“I have nothing but three loaves of bread; ye may have these, and welcome.”

“Give us the bread,” said the giants.

The old woman put the cakes on the table. One took a bite, another took a bite, then the third took a bite; and they all looked at one another.

“I know ye think the bread too soft,” said Fin’s mother. “The Fenians always blame me for making it too soft; and these cakes are not baked very well. They are softer than the usual bread of the Fenians.”

From shame, the giants ate the cakes, griddles and all. “Well,” muttered they, “to say that men would eat the like of that bread, and call it too soft! It is no wonder that they walked the world without finding their equals.”

“What exercise do the Fenians have after meals?” asked the giants.

“There is a stone outside,” said the old woman, “which they throw over the house. They throw the stone, run in one door, run out the door opposite, and catch the stone before it comes to the earth.”

One giant caught the stone, but did not throw it. “What is that?” said the other, running up and lifting the stone. To show his power, he threw it over the house, ran through both doors, and caught it coming down. The same giant threw the stone back again, and left it in its old place. Each of the others then did the same as the first. The life came near leaving Fin when he heard the giants throwing the stone, and racing to catch it. He was in dread they’d make bits of the house, and kill his old mother and himself.

“Oh, then,” said the giants, when they left the stone, “it is no wonder that other people get no hand of the Fenians.”

“Well, old woman,” said the eldest giant, “what is that you have there in the dark corner?”

“My grandson, and it is sick and peevish he is.”

“I suppose the child is getting his teeth?” said the giant.

“Indeed, then, I don’t know,” said the old woman; “but maybe it is the teeth that are troubling him.”

With that the eldest giant walked up to the cradle, and put his finger in the child’s mouth; but if he did, Fin took two joints off his finger with a bite.

“Oh!” said the giant, “if the child grows like that till he is a man, he will be the greatest champion in the world. To say that a child could take the finger off me, and he in the cradle!”

Away went the giants; and when they were gone, Fin called his eight small men, and hurried to the ship. They hoisted sails, and went. They raised gravel from the bottom of the sea, and put the foam of the waves in the place of the gravel; and with every bound the ship made, she went forward ten leagues. Never before did a ship cross the water so swiftly; and Fin never stopped till he anchored in the Eastern World. He put the fastenings of a day and a year on the ship, though he might not be absent one hour, and went away with his men. They were going on and travelling, and where did they come at last but to the castle of the old King of the Eastern World, the father of the three giants. The old king laughed when he saw Fin and the eight small men with him.

“In what part of the world do such people live, and where are you going?” asked the king. “You would better stay with me till my three sons come home.”

“Where are your sons?” asked Fin.

“They are in Erin. They went to that country to bring me the head of Fin MacCool, and to drown all his forces in the deep ocean.”

“They must be great men,” said Fin, “to go against Fin MacCool, and to think of drowning his forces, and bringing Fin’s head to you. Do you know that no man ever got the better of Fin, or made any hand of the Fenians of Erin?”

“My sons are not like others,” said the king; “but will you stay with me?”

“I will,” said Fin, “and why not?”

The old king was very fond of amusement; and after a while Fin told what a wonderful archer one of his little boys was. The king appointed a day for a trial of skill in archery. All the greatest marksmen in the Eastern World were invited.

“Where does the king keep his sons’ three caps?” asked Fin of Knowing Man.

“There is a secret chamber in the castle; no one here but the king knows where it is. In that chamber are the caps. The king always keeps the key of that chamber in his pocket.”

“You must show the chamber to Thief, to-morrow,” said Fin.

Next day, while the king was looking at the archery, and wondering at the skill of Bowman, who sent an arrow through the two eyes of a bird on the wing, Thief stole the key, and Knowing Man showed the secret chamber.

Thief stole the three caps, and gave them to Fin. Lazy Back ran for Bowman; and all were soon on the ship sailing for Erin as swiftly as they had come.

When the ship was near land in Erin, what should Fin see but all the Fenians coming down from the hilltops, and the three giants behind, driving them toward the water? He went to the top of the mast then, and raised the three caps on three sticks.

The giants looked at the vessel sailing in, and saw their own caps. That moment there was neither strength nor life left in them. They fell to the ground, and turned into three heaps of jelly. Fin had come just in season to rescue his forces; in another half hour, he would not have found a man of the Fenians alive in Erin.

“Oh, but you are here in time!” said Oscar.

“I am,” said Fin; “and it is well for you that I was able to come.”

Fin and the Fenians had a great feast in Rahin, and a joyful night of it; and no wonder, for life is sweet.

Next day the time of the small men was out; and Fin went to the strand with them.

“I will pay you your wages to-day,” said Fin. “To each man five gold-pieces. I am willing and glad to give more; for ye were the good servants to me.”

“We want nothing but our wages,” said the small men.

Fin paid each five gold-pieces. He wanted the ship in which he had sailed to the Eastern World, and kept his eye on it.

“Oh,” said Three Sticks, “don’t mind that ship; look at the one beyond.”

Fin turned in the other direction, and saw nothing but water.

“There is no ship there,” said he, turning to Three Sticks.

But Three Sticks and all his comrades were gone. Fin looked out on the water; the ship was gone too. He was sorry for the ship, and sorry for the small men; he would rather have them than all the Fenians of Erin.

FIN MACCOOL, CEADACH OG, AND THE FISH-HAG.

On a time Fin MacCool and the Fenians were living at Rahonain, a mile distant from Fintra. While Fin and his men were near Fintra, a champion called Ceadach Og, son of the King of Sorach, came to them to learn feats of skill. They received Ceadach with gladness; and after a time he learned all their feats, and departed. Fin and the Fenians were pleased with his company; and Ceadach was grateful to Fin and the Fenians.