Irish Folk Tales (71 page)

“I will not,” says she, “till you find my father that I have hidden a second time.”

So the place where she hid her father that time was in a duck’s bill, and she put the duck out swimming in the middle of a pond.

The young man went then to the stable and asked the Mule did he know where the King was hidden, and the Mule told him it was in the duck’s bill. “And look at my tail,” he said, “and see is there e’er a gray rib in it.”

So he looked, and there was a gray rib.

“Pull it out,” says the Mule, “and bring it to the pond where the duck is, and throw it out over the water, and however far the duck is, that rib will bring it back to the land. And catch a hold of it then, and threaten to cut the neck of it, and the King will cry out from its bill and ask you to spare him.”

So he did all that, and he spared the King, and then he went to the King’s daughter.

“Will you marry me this time?” says he.

“I will not,” says she, “till you find my father the third time.”

The place she hid him the third time was in a block of wood, and the Mule said to the young man: “Take a nail out from my shoe and drive it into the block of wood till you will split it.”

So he drew the nail, and he put it on the block of wood, and was going to split it, and the King called out for mercy, and he spared him.

After that he married the young lady, and himself and herself and the old King lived together, and there never were three people happier.

And the Mule said: “Where will I go now?”

“Go back,” says the Fool, “to your own place, for you know the way well to it. But come back here at the end of seven years,” he said, “till you’ll see how I am getting on.”

So at the end of the seven years the Mule came back, and he asked to be taken into service.

“I will never make a servant of you,” says the Fool, “when I remember all the things you did for me, and all you helped me.”

“If that is so,” says the Mule, “go and root up that little bush you see beyond, and give me three blows with the stump of it.”

So he did that, and with the three blows of the bush the enchantment went from the Mule, and who was he but the young man’s own father, the King that was thought to be dead.

So they all four lived together then and ever since, and the time I saw them myself they were well and happy and having great riches.

T
HE KING OF IRELAND’S SON

Once upon a time, and a very good time it was too, when the streets were paved with penny loaves and houses were whitewashed with buttermilk and the pigs ran round with knives and forks in their snouts shouting: “Eat me, eat me!” there lived a King of Ireland and he had three sons named Art, Neart and Ceart. Art is a man’s name simply, Neart means strength and Ceart means right or justice. Well, Art was his father’s favorite and the other two boys were very jealous of him. At one particular time, you could hear, all around the country, heavenly music coming from somewhere, and the King wanted to know where it was coming from. So he said to his three sons: “Go out and whichever of you finds out where the heavenly music is coming from, can have half my kingdom.”

So the three of them set off out until they came to a big hole and from this big hole they could hear the sound of the music coming. Neart and Ceart said to Art: “Will you go down? You’re the lightest and the youngest and we’ll let you down into this hole on a rope. You can see where the music is coming from and then we’ll pull you up again,” hoping never to see him again.

Art said: “Certainly, I will. I think that’s a good idea.”

Down on the end of a rope he was lowered and he went along a cave like a long tunnel, along and along and along until it got very dark. He walked for hours until it must have been night-time, for in the tunnel he couldn’t tell night from day. In the end and when his feet were falling off him, he saw a light. Over to the light he went and he met an old man and he said to the old man that was there: “Could you tell me where the heavenly music is coming from?”

“No, then,” said the old man, “I can’t. But I tell you what you can do. You can stop the night and tomorrow you can walk—it’s a day’s journey—on to my father’s place and he might be able to tell you.”

So the old man put him up for the night and gave him the best of food. They had rashers and eggs with black pudding and white pudding and a Cork drisheen, three Hafner’s sausages each, the best of homemade wholemeal bread, all washed down with lashings of strong tea, and after that they both went to bed, as well they might after such a feed.

The next morning Art woke up and started on his journey for another day’s traveling along the tunnel, until he came to another light and he went in and met an old, old man and he said to him: “Are you the father of the other old man that I saw back along there?”

“That’s not an old man,” said the second old man, “he’s only a hundred.”

“Well,” said Art, “I’d like to know where the heavenly music is coming from and he said you might be able to help me.”

“Well,” said the second old man, “that I can’t help you. But my father that lives further up might be able to. Come in anyway and I’ll feed you for the night and you can get up in the morning and go up and ask my father.”

So Art went in and the old, old man gave him a great meal. They had bowls of stirabout, followed by huge plates of the best Limerick ham with spring cabbage and lovely potatoes, that were like balls of flour melting in your mouth, and with all this they drank three pints each of the freshest buttermilk Art had ever tasted. I can tell you he slept soundly that night.

And the next morning he got up and after saying goodbye to the old, old man, he walked for another whole day along the tunnel until he came to another light and there was an old, old, old man. So Art said to him: “Are you the father of the old, old man back there along the tunnel?”

“Well, I am,” said the old, old, old man, “but that fellow’s not as old as he makes out; he’s only a hundred and fifty and he eats all them newfangled foods, as you probably found out.”

“Well,” said Art, “he did me very well. But what I wanted to know was if you can tell me where the heavenly music comes from?”

“Well, now,” said the old, old, old man, “we’ll talk about that in the morning. Come on in now and have a bit to eat and rest yourself. You must be famished after that day’s walking.”

So in Art went and the old, old, old man got some food ready. They started off with two great bowls of yellow buck porridge each and after that, they had four crubeens apiece with fresh soda bread and homemade butter and they had three pints of the creamiest porter Art had ever drunk to go with it all.

The next morning, he got up and he said to the old man: “Now can you tell me where the heavenly music is coming from?”

“Well, no,” said the old, old, old man, “but I know that there’s nobody else living at the end of this tunnel except a terrible fierce man, a giant, and,” he said, “I wouldn’t go near him if I were you. But if you do decide to go up to him, he lives a terrible far distance away at the very end. You’ll find, however,” he said, “a little stallion when you go a couple of miles up the road there and, if you get up on him, he’ll carry you to where the heavenly music comes from. But,” he said, “you’ll want to be very wary of that giant.”

Art went along and he came up to where, sure enough, there was a stallion and there was light with more light further on. So the stallion said to him: “Do you want a lift?”

“I do,” said Art, “but I’m going up to where the heavenly music is.”

“Well, that’s all right,” said the stallion, “no offense given and no offense taken. Jump up there on me back and I’ll take you.”

So up on the stallion’s back he jumped and the stallion galloped away for nearly a whole day, until he came to one of the most beautiful gardens Art had ever seen. “This,” said the stallion, “is the nearest I can take you to where the heavenly music comes from.”

Art went up through the garden, wondering at every more marvelous thing that he saw. Nearer and nearer came the heavenly music and at last Art came to a house and the music was coming from there. Into the house Art went and there was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And she was singing and making the heavenly music.

“Good morning,” said Art and then he said quickly, “don’t let me interrupt your song which is the loveliest I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh!” she answered him, “I’m glad you’ve interrupted it. I have to make music here for an old giant that captured me. I’m the King of Greece’s daughter,” she said, “and I’ve been here for a year and a day and I can’t get away from this old fellow until someone comes to rescue me. But,” she said, “I’d sooner you went away for he’s a very big man and very very fierce.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” said Art, “what can he do?”

“Well,” she said, “he’ll ask you a number of riddles. He has to hide for three nights and you have to hide for three nights …”

Before she could finish, or before Art could say whether he was going to stay or go, he heard a deep voice saying: “Who is this I see in here?” In comes this huge giant and caught poor Art by the throat. “What are you doing here?” he roared.

“I came to find the heavenly music,” said Art.

“Well, now you’ve found it,” said the giant, “and much good may it do you. And I’ll tell you something,” he said, “I’m going to hide for three days and, if you don’t find me before the three days are up, I’ll cut your head off, skin you, cook you and eat you. And after that,” he roared, “if you have found me, you’ll hide for three days and if I find you, I’ll still kill, skin, cook and eat you.”

So poor Art didn’t know what to say but, “Well, I’d like to go back and see to my little stallion.”

“Right,” said the giant, “but we’ll start in the morning.”

“This is an awful thing,” said Art to the stallion when he got back, “what am I going to do—how do I know where he’s going to hide?”

“That’s all right,” said the stallion, “it’s getting late at night so we’ll want to eat something for, honest to God, my belly thinks my throat is cut. Sit down there now,” said the stallion, “and put your left hand into my right
ear and you’ll find a tablecloth. Spread out the tablecloth,” he said, and Art did as he was told. “Now,” said the stallion, “put your right hand into my left ear and take out what you’ll find there.” Art did that and took out the best of fine food and the finest of old drink. “Now,” said the stallion, “you take that for yourself and stick your right hand into my left ear again.” So Art did that and pulled out a bucket of water and a truss of hay. And Art ate the best of fine food and the finest of old drink and the stallion had the hay and the water. “Now,” said the stallion when they were finshed, “spread yourself out under my legs and we’ll go to sleep for the night.” So they went to sleep for the night.

The next morning when they woke up, they could hear the giant shouting: “Now come and find me if you can.”

“I can tell you where he is,” the little stallion said to Art, “he’s at the top of the tree.” So Art climbed to the top of the tree and there, right enough, was the giant who comes down very highly annoyed. “Aah!” he roared, “you found me today, but you won’t find me tomorrow.”