Archie and the North Wind (13 page)

The young man said, ‘Certainly.’

When the monster had eaten her own share of the cake and the cock, she said to him, ‘I know full well why you are here, but for now go back home. Come back here, however, in a year and a day, and the ship will be ready for you then.’

And so it happened. At the end of a year and a day, the widow’s youngest son went and he found that the monster had the ship floating on the big river, all fully equipped. He sailed away then with the ship, accompanied by a leash of gentlemen, as great as were in the kingdom, who all joined the voyage so as to try and marry the daughters of the king.

They were but a short time sailing when they saw a man drinking a river that was there. The youngest son asked him, ‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘I am drinking up this river,’ the man replied.

‘Well, you’d better come with me,’ the youngest son said, ‘and I will give you food and wages, and far better work than that.’

‘I’ll certainly do that,’ the man said.

They had not gone far forward when they saw a man eating an ox in a park.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ the youngest son asked.

’I am here going to eat all the oxen in this park,’ the man said.

‘Well, you’d better come with me,’ the youngest son said, ‘and you’ll get work, and wages far better than raw flesh.’

‘I’ll certainly do that,’ the man said.

They went but a short distance when they saw another man with his ear to the earth.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ the youngest son asked him.

‘I am here listening to the grass coming through the earth.’

‘Come with me, and you’ll get food, and better wages than to be here with your ear to the earth.’

They were thus sailing backwards and forwards when the man who was listening to the grass said, ‘This is the place where the king’s three daughters and giants went through the earth.’

The widow’s son and the man who had been drinking the river and the man who had been eating the ox and the man who had been listening to the earth were let down inside a creel into a great hole which was there. Down at the bottom of that big hole they reached the house of the big giant.

‘Ha! Ha!’ shouted the giant. ‘I know very well what you’re seeking here. You are looking for the king’s daughter, but you’ll not get her unless you can find a man who can drink all the waters of the world like I can.’

So the widow’s youngest son set the man who had been drinking the river to hold a drinking contest with the giant, and before he was half-satisfied, the giant burst.

Then they went where the second giant was.

‘Ho! Hoth! Ha! Hath!’ said the giant. ‘I know very well why you’ve come here. You are looking for the king’s daughter, but you’ll never get her unless you have with you a man who can eat as much flesh as I can.’

So the widow’s youngest son set the man who’d been eating the oxen to hold an eating contest with the giant. But before he was half-satisfied, the giant burst.

Then he went where the third giant was.

‘Haoi!’ said the giant. ‘I know full well why you’re here, but you’ll not get the king’s daughter unless you first of all stay here with me as my slave for a day and a year.’

‘I’ll certainly do that,’ replied the widow’s youngest son, and he sent the basket away back up with the three men and the king’s three daughters. The three men then went with the three daughters to the king and told him that they had personally done all the daring deeds that were within their powers, which had freed his daughters.

When the end of a day and a year had come, the widow’s youngest son, who had slaved for him all that time, said, ‘Well, it’s time I was going.’

The giant said ‘Sure – now I have an eagle that will fly you up to the top of the hole and will give you your freedom there.’

So the giant set the eagle away with him, and gave the eagle fifteen pigs to eat while he was flying upwards, but the eagle had not reached halfway up the hole when she had eaten all the pigs and she returned back down to the bottom again. Then the giant said to the youngest son, ‘You’ll therefore need to remain with me another year and a day, and then I will release you.’

When the end of that year came he sent the eagle away with him, but this time giving him thirty pigs to eat on the way. Certainly this time they reached further than before, but three-quarters of the way up the eagle had eaten all the pigs and whirled back down to the bottom of the cave.

‘You must,’ said the giant, ‘stay with me another year, and then I will send you away.’

The end of that year came, and the giant sent them away, with sixty pigs for the eagle’s meat, and when they were at the very mouth of the hole the pigs were all eaten and she was going to turn back, but he tore a steak out of his own thigh and gave that to the eagle, and with one spring she was on the surface of the earth.

At the time of parting, the eagle gave him a whistle and she said to him, ‘If you ever get into any difficulties, whistle and I will be at your side.’

He did not allow his foot to stop, or empty a puddle out of his shoe, till he reached the king’s big town. He went where there was a smith who was in the town and he asked the smith if he was in want of a gillie to blow the bellows. The smith said that he was.

He was but a short time with the smith when the king’s big daughter sent word for the smith.

‘I am hearing,’ said she, ‘that you are the best smith in the town, but if you will not make me a golden crown, like the golden crown I had when I was with the giant, your head shall be cut off.’

The smith came home sorrowfully, full of lament, and his wife asked him his news from the king’s house.

‘There is but poor news,’ said the smith. ‘The king’s daughter is asking that a golden crown shall be made for her, like the crown that she had when she was under the earth with the giant. But what do I know about that crown. Nothing! How can I make something out of nothing?’

The bellows-blowing gillie spoke up. ‘Don’t you worry about that. If you get me enough gold, I won’t be long making the crown.’

The smith got the gold as he asked, with the king’s order. The gillie went into the smithy, and he shut the door; and he began to splinter the gold asunder, and to throw it out of the window. Everyone who passed by gathered up a fragment of the gold which the gillie was flinging out the smithy window. He then blew his whistle and in the twinkling of an eye the eagle appeared.

‘Go,’ he said to the eagle, ‘and bring here the golden crown which is above the big giant’s door.’

The eagle went, and soon returned with the crown between her claws. The gillie gave the crown to the smith, who went so merrily, cheerily with the crown to where the king’s daughter was.

‘Well,’ said she, ‘if I did not know that such is impossible, I would think that this is actually the crown I had when I was with the giant.’

The king’s middle daughter said to the smith, ‘Well, you will still lose your head if you won’t make for me a silver crown just like the one I had when I was with the giant.’

The smith took himself home in misery. His wife rushed out to meet him, expecting great news of praise, but all she heard was this new tragic news. But the gillie again came to the rescue, saying that he would make a silver crown if he got enough of silver. The smith got plenty of silver with the king’s order. The gillie went and did as he did before. He whistled; the eagle came. ‘Go,’ said he, ‘and bring here to me the silver crown which the king’s middle daughter wore while she was with the giant.’

The eagle went, and she was not long returning with the silver crown. The smith went merrily, cheerily with the silver crown to the king’s daughter.

‘Well then,’ said she, ‘it is marvellously like the crown I had when I was with the giant.’

The king’s young daughter said to the smith that he should make a copper crown for her, like the copper crown she had when she was with the giant. The smith now was taking courage, and he went home much more pleasantly this time. The gillie began to splinter the copper and to throw it out of each door and window, and all the poor people from throughout the district gathered to collect the copper as they had already gathered the gold and silver.

Once again he blew the whistle and the eagle was instantly at his side.

‘Go back,’ he said ‘and bring here to me the copper crown which the king’s youngest daughter wore when she was with the giant.’

The eagle went and was not long returning. The eagle gave the copper crown to the gillie, who gave it to the smith. The smith went merrily, cheerily and he gave it to the king’s youngest daughter.

‘Well then,’ said she, ‘I would not believe that this was not the very crown that I had when I was with the giant underground, if there was a way of getting it.’

The king said to the smith that he must tell him where he had learned such crown-making, ‘for I did not know that such a man as skilful as you lived within my kingdom.’

‘Well then,’ said the smith, ‘by your leave, oh king, it was not I who made the crowns, but the gillie I have blowing the bellows.’

‘I must see this gillie,’ said the king, ‘so that he can make a crown for myself.’

So the king ordered four horses and a coach, that they should go and seek the smith’s gillie. And when the coach came to the smithy, the smith’s gillie was smutty and dirty, blowing the bellows. The king’s horsemen came and asked for the man who was going to look on the king.

The smith said, ‘That’s him over there, blowing the bellows.’

‘Look at the sight of him,’ they said, and they went over and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him head-first into the coach, like a dog.

They weren’t far on their journey when he blew his whistle. The eagle was instantly at his side.

‘Get me out of here and fill it with stones instead,’ he said to the eagle, and the eagle did just that.

The king was outside his castle, waiting for the coach to arrive, and when he opened the door of the coach, he was almost killed by the quantity of stones that fell out on top of him. He ordered that the horsemen be caught and hanged for the offence.

But the king sent other horsemen with a coach and when they reached the smithy, the had the same attitude.

‘Goodness,’ they said, ‘is this the black dirty thing the king sent us to get?’

They grabbed him and flung him into the coach as if they had hold of a turf peat. But they hadn’t travelled far when he blew the whistle and the eagle was at his side and he said to her, ‘Take me out of here and fill it instead with every dirt you can get.’

When the coach reached the king’s palace, the king went to open the door. All the dirt and rubbish in the kingdom fell about the king’s head. Then the king was in a great rage, and he ordered the new horsemen to be hanged immediately.

Then the king sent his own confidential servant away to bring the smith’s gillie to the palace, and when he reached the smithy he gently took the blackened, bellows-blowing gillie by the hand. ‘The king,’ said he, ‘sent me to seek thee. Thou hadst better clean a little of the coal off thy face.’

The gillie did this. He cleaned himself well. Extremely well. And the king’s servant took him by the hand and put him into the coach. They were but a short time travelling when he blew the whistle again. The eagle came, and he asked her to bring the gold and silver cloak that was by the big giant to him without delay, and in an instant the eagle had returned with the cloak. The gillie arrayed himself with the giant’s gorgeous cloak.

And when they came to the king’s palace, the king came out, and he opened the door of the coach, and there was the finest man the king ever saw. The king took him in, and he then told the king how everything had happened to him from first to last.

The three great men who were going to marry the king’s daughters were hanged, and the king’s oldest daughter was given to him to marry. And they made them a wedding the length of twenty nights and twenty days; and the storyteller left them there dancing, adding that – as far as he knew – they might still very well be dancing on ‘till the end of today’, as he put it.

How beautiful to have your own eagle. And what a fabulous challenge: to build a ship that would sail on both land and sea! Wasn’t that what Gobhlachan had done all his life? Made things out of next to nothing; materials which could transform themselves according to circumstance. Grass which became beds; stones which became houses; flotsam which became furniture. Carts which doubled as hen-houses; ploughs which then served as gates and bridges; horse-shoes which also protected from all evil. All was alchemy. Words of course into stories, and stories which bent and altered time and history. He had a tale for every occasion, though it may just have been the other way round: that, like a modern spin-doctor or ancient houngan, every occasion generated its myth.

By the time Archie had told himself this story, they were near their destination, having sailed through the heat of Panama and up through the eye of a hurricane between Puerto Rica and the Bahamas. They were in that beautiful segment of the North Atlantic which stretches from Florida right up to the Gulf of St Lawrence, passing all the great cities of the world on its way, from Jacksonville in the Deep South to New York itself with its great statue proclaiming all the liberty of the new stories.