Chapter V: Front Matter (5)

“Get up, you gillie over there.” She locked the parlour door. Kayleh went for the police. The police came. They arrested the captain. The gentlemen were witnesses. The captain was put in prison. She put off the tailor’s clothes then. They arrested the maid and put her in prison. They fell into their house and place again. They were then as they were ever. The report went out through the city that Kayleh and the king’s daughter were in their own house again. The king then made a dinner and invited them to it. They were eating and drinking for three nights and three days.

[10] Or “Spouse of Poverty.”

_SIMON AND MARGARET._

_Narrator, MICHAEL FAHERTY, Renvyle, co. Galway._

Long ago there was a king’s son called Simon, and he came in a ship from the east to Eire. In the place where he came to harbour he met with a woman whose name was Margaret, and she fell in love with him. And she asked him if he would take her with him in the ship. He said he would not take her, that he had no business with her, “for I am married already,” said he. But the day he was going to sea she followed him to the ship, and such a beautiful woman was she that he said to himself that he would not put her out of the ship; “but before I go farther I must get beef.” He returned back and got the beef. He took the woman and the beef in the ship, and he ordered the sailors to make everything ready that they might be sailing on the sea. They were not long from land when they saw a great bulk making towards them, and it seemed to them it was more like a serpent than anything else whatever. And it was not long till the serpent cried out, “Throw me the Irish person you have on board.”

“We have no Irish person in the ship,” said the king’s son, “for it is foreign people we are; but we have meat we took from Eire, and, if you wish, we will give you that.”

“Give it to me,” said the serpent, “and everything else you took from Eire.”

He threw out a quarter of the beef, and the serpent went away that day, and on the morrow morning she came again, and they threw out another quarter, and one every day till the meat was gone. And the next day the serpent came again and she cried out to the king’s son, “Throw the Irish flesh out to me.”

“I have no more flesh,” said the prince.

“If you have not flesh, you have an Irish person,” said the serpent, “and don’t be telling your lies to me any longer. I knew from the beginning that you had an Irish person in the ship, and unless you throw her out to me, and quickly, I will eat yourself and your men.”

Margaret came up, and no sooner did the serpent see her than she opened her mouth, and put on an appearance as if she were going to swallow the ship.

“I will not be guilty of the death of you all,” said Margaret; “get me a boat, and if I go far safe it is better; and if I do not go, I had rather I perished than the whole of us.”

“What shall we do to save you?” said Simon.

“You can do nothing better than put me in the boat,” said she, “and lower me on the sea, and leave me to the will of God.”

As soon as she got on the sea, no sooner did the serpent see her than she desired to swallow her, but before she reached as far as her, a billow of the sea rose between them, and left herself and the boat on dry land. She saw not a house in sight she could go to. “Now,” said she, “I am as unfortunate as ever I was. There is no place at all for me to get that I know of, and this is no place for me to be.” She arose and she began to walk, and after a long while she saw a house a good way from her. “I am not as unfortunate as I thought,” said she. “Perhaps I shall get lodging in that house to-night.” She went in, and there was no one in it but an old woman, who was getting her supper ready. “I am asking for lodging till morning.”

“I will give you no lodging,” said the old woman.

“Before I go farther, there is a boat there below, and it is better for you to take it into your hands.”

“Come in,” said the old woman, “and I will give you lodging for the night.”

The old woman was always praying by night and day. Margaret asked her, “Why are you always saying your prayers?”

“I and my mother were living a long while ago in the place they call the White Doon, and a giant came and killed my mother, and I had to come away for fear he would kill myself; and I am praying every night and every day that some one may come and kill the giant.”

The next morning there came a gentleman and a beautiful woman into the house, and he gave the old woman the full of a quart of money to say paters for them till morning. The old woman opened a chest and took out a handsome ring, and tried to place it on his finger, but it would not go on. “Perhaps it would fit you,” said she to the lady. But her finger was too big.

When they went out Margaret asked the old woman who were the man and woman. “That is the son of a king of the Eastern World, and the name that is on him is Stephen, and he and the woman are going to the White Doon to fight the giant, and I am afraid they will never come back; for the ring did not fit either of them; and it was told to the people that no one would kill the giant but he whom the ring would fit.”

The two of them remained during the night praying for him, for fear the giant should kill him; and early in the morning they went out to see what had happened to Stephen and the lady that was with him, and they found them dead near the White Doon.

“I knew,” said the old woman, “this is what would happen to them. It is better for us to take them with us and bury them in the churchyard.” When they were buried, “Come home,” said the old woman, “and we’ll know who is the first person comes the same way again.”

About a month after a man came into the house, and no sooner was he inside the door than Margaret recognised him.

“How have you been ever since, Simon?”

“I am very well,” said he; “it can’t be that you are Margaret?”

“It is I,” said she.

“I thought that billow that rose after you, when you got into the boat, drowned you.”

“It only left me on dry land,” said Margaret.

“I went to the Eastern World, and my father said to me that he sent my brother to go and fight with the giant, who was doing great damage to the people near the White Doon, and that my wife went to carry his sword.”

“If that was your brother and your wife,” said Margaret, “the giant killed them.”

“I will go on the spot and kill the giant, if I am able.”

“Wait till I try the ring on your finger,” said the old woman.

“It is too small to go on my finger,” said he.

“It will go on mine,” said Margaret.

“It will fit you,” said the old woman.

Simon gave the full of a quart of money to the old woman, that she might pray for him till he came back. When he was about to go, Margaret said, “Will you let me go with you?”

“I will not,” said Simon, “for I don’t know that the giant won’t kill myself, and I think it too much that one of us should be in this danger.”

“I don’t care,” said Margaret. “In the place where you die, there am I content to die.”

“Come with me,” said he.

When they were on the way to the White Doon, a man came before them.

“Do you see that house near the castle?” said the man.

“I see,” said Simon.

“You must go into it and keep a candle lighted till morning in it.”

“Where is the giant?” said Simon.

“He will come to fight you there,” said the man.

They went in and kindled a light, and they were not long there when Margaret said to Simon,—

“Come, and let us see the giants.”

“I cannot,” said the king, “for the light will go out if I leave the house.”

“It will not go out,” said Margaret; “I will keep it lighted till we come back.”

And they went together and got into the castle, to the giant’s house, and they saw no one there but an old woman cooking; and it was not long till she opened an iron chest and took out the young giants and gave them boiled blood to eat.

“Come,” said Margaret, “and let us go to the house we left.”

They were not long in it when the king’s son was falling asleep.

Margaret said to him, “If you fall asleep, it will not be long till the giants come and kill us.”

“I cannot help it,” he said. “I am falling asleep in spite of me.”

He fell asleep, and it was not long till Margaret heard a noise approaching, and the giant cried from outside to the king’s son to come out to him.

“Fum, faw, faysogue! I feel the smell of a lying churl of an Irishman. You are too great for one bite and too little for two, and I don’t know whether it is better for me to send you into the Eastern World with a breath or put you under my feet in the puddle. Which would you rather have—striking with knives in your ribs or fighting on the grey stones?”

“Great, dirty giant, not with right or rule did I come in, but by rule and by right to cut your head off in spite of you, when my fine, silken feet go up and your big, dirty feet go down.”

They wrestled till they brought the wells of fresh water up through the grey stones with fighting and breaking of bones, till the night was all but gone. Margaret squeezed him, and the first squeeze she put him down to his knees, the second squeeze to his waist, and the third squeeze to his armpits.

“You are the best woman I have ever met. I will give you my court and my sword of light and the half of my estate for my life, and spare to slay me.”

“Where shall I try your sword of light?”

“Try it on the ugliest block in the wood.”

“I see no block at all that is uglier than your own great block.”

She struck him at the joining of the head and the neck, and cut the head off him.

In the morning when she wakened the king’s son, “Was not that a good proof I gave of myself last night?” said he to Margaret. “That is the head outside, and we shall try to bring it home.”

He went out, and was not able to stir it from the ground. He went in and told Margaret he could not take it with him, that there was a pound’s weight in the head. She went out and took the head with her.

“Come with me,” said he.

“Where are you going?”

“I will go to the Eastern World; and come with me till you see the place.”

When they got home Simon took Margaret with him to his father the king.

“What has happened to your brother and your wife?” said the king.

“They have both been killed by the giants. And it is Margaret, this woman here, who has killed them.”

The king gave Margaret a hundred thousand welcomes, and she and Simon were married,[11] and how they are since then I do not know.

[11] Simon’s wife, mentioned at the beginning of the story, has apparently been forgotten.

_THE SON OF THE KING OF PRUSSIA._

_Narrator, P. M’GRALE, Achill, co. Mayo._

There were giants at that time, and every seven years three daughters of kings were left to them to be eaten, unless some one were found to fight them. In this year the kings came together, and they cast lots to see which of them should give his children to the giants to be eaten. And the lot fell on the High King of Erin to give his three daughters to the giants. Then came the son of the King of Prussia to ask the king’s daughter in marriage, and the king said he could not give her to him unless he would fight the giants, and he said he would fight if he got good feeding.

And the king asked him, “What sort of food would you like best?”

Said he, “Marrow of deer and sinews of beeves.” And the king said he would give him that.

There were servants killing for him his sufficiency of food, and he rose out, the son of the King of Prussia, and he went among the work-people, and when he would strike one of them a blow of his fist and kill him the king would not say anything for fear of making him angry. Then, when he came within a month of the time, he went to the glen, and tools with him to make a hole in the glen, and he was at home every evening, and he dirty.

When it came within a week of the time, the son of the King of Scotland spoke to his father. Said he, “A good neighbour to you was the King of Erin ever.”

“Good he was, my son, and I to him likewise.”

“And he never put war nor battle on you.”

“Nor I on him, my son.”

“I am making one request of you, father.”

“Every request you make of me I will give you, except to go to fight in Erin.”

“Won’t you give me that, father?”

“I have fear of your getting married.”

“My hand and my word to you, father, that that woman I will not wed till I come back to you.”

“With that request, go, and I will give you my blessing.”

He went with himself, then, and he arrayed himself in his clothes, and the stars of the son of a king by a queen were on the breast of his coat, and a poor man’s suit outside, till he came to the sea, and took a great ship, till he came to Erin, and drew up his ship on the land, and put on her fastening for a day and a year, though he might chance to be there but an hour.

He went then to the house of the hen-wife, and asked for lodging; and he got lodging for the night; and the old woman asked him what was the news, and he said he had no news at all unless he would get it from her.

“I’d say,” said she, “that it was under a docking you came out, when you’ve heard nothing of the great gathering that’s to be here to-morrow. There are three giants to come, on three days, one after the other, and they are to get the three daughters of the King of Erin, and the son of the King of Prussia, is to fight for them; and, if he kills the giants, the first person to-morrow that brings the news the giant’s head is cut off, will get a shovel of gold.”

Then the poor man and the hen-wife spent the night pleasantly, and in the morning he got up and washed his hands and his face, and ate his breakfast, and went to the glen, and he sat down in a clump of ferns, brambles, and nettles, and there was he.

Then the king and his people went drawing to the glen, and when they were near it the son of the King of Prussia told them to go home, for fear the giant might come and kill some of them before he could stop him. The king and his people went home and left the son of the King of Prussia and the young girl in the glen, and she sat down on a stone chair, and the son of the King of Prussia was coming about her, thinking to make free with her, till he ran to his hole and left her there.

Then he saw the ship coming under sail, three lengths before she came near to land, and the giant cast anchor, and gave a step on the land, and he all but sank the ship after him; and the land, when he came on it, shook so greatly that the old castles fell, and the castles that were made last stooped; every (old) tree was broken, and the young tree was bent; and he left not foal with mare, nor calf with cow, nor lamb with sheep, nor hare in a bush, nor rabbit in hole, that didn’t go off in terror. And he came up to the girl and put the tip of his finger under the edge of her girdle, and threw her over the tip of his shoulder.

“My mischief and misfortune! Hadn’t your father a man, cow-boy nor sheep-boy, to-day to fight me? Or where is the son of the King of Prussia, who has been feeding for a year to fight me? Don’t think it’s on feather beds I’ll put you, nor up the stairs, when I bring you home; but you are big for one bite and small for two, and if I had a grain of salt I would eat you at one bite; and small is the morsel you are between myself and my two brothers.”

He went with her, drawing to the ship to get on board; and the son of the King of Scotland spoke to him, and said he should not get her like that without fighting. And the giant said that it wasn’t worth his while to let her out of his hands, but for him to come and prevent him taking her with him. But the other man said that was not right, that he should put the woman down on the land, and fight honourably. And then the giant asked him which he liked best, wrestling on the red flagstones, or green knives at the top of his ribs. He said that he liked best wrestling on the red flagstones, in the place where his noble white feet should be rising above the giant’s clumsy club feet. The two champions caught hold of each other in the grip of the close, keen wrestling. If you were to go seeking for sport from the west of the world to the world’s beginning, it is to that pair you would go. They made soft of the hard, and hard of the soft, till they drew the springs of fresh water under the red stones; till the son of the King of Scotland remembered that he came there without the King of Erin knowing, nor his daughters, that he was come; and also that his father was not pleased with his coming; and he gave the giant a squeeze, and put him down to his two knees in the ground, and the second squeeze to the waist of his trousers, and the third squeeze to the back of his neck.

“A green sod over you, churl!”

“Stay, stay! best of champions that ever I saw. I am but a third of the world, and my brother is the half of the world, and the other is as strong as the world; and if you spare me, I and my brothers will be your helpers, and we will conquer the world.”

“That’s not what I will do,” said the son of the King of Scotland; “but I will cut the head off you.”

And he caught hold of his sword and cut the head off the giant. And the young girl all the time was watching the young champion; and she ran to him and kissed him, and asked him if he would come home with her, and he said he would not come. She took a pair of scissors and cut away a piece of the champion’s suit that was on him.

He went with himself then, and came to the hen-wife, and told her that the giant’s head was cut off; and she asked him if any one was before her to the king with the news. And she ran to the king and told him the giant’s head was cut off, and he gave her a shovel of gold as the reward of her trouble.

When the son of the King of Scotland was gone, the son of the King of Prussia arose out of his hole, and he took with him a book and a knife, and he swore that unless she said it was he had done the action, he would cut the head off her father and every one of them. He took his sword and he cut a piece from the giant’s head, and took it home in proof that he killed the giant.

The king came and his hosts before him, and they raised him on their shoulders and carried him home. And there was great joy on the king and his people that the giant was killed; and the two other sisters were cheerful; but there was dissatisfaction and sorrow and trouble on the third sister, and she spoke not a word to them except to say, “You will have it yet.”

The king spent the night cheerfully, till the whiteness of the day came upon the morrow.

The next day the second sister went out, and the son of the King of Scotland fought for her, and when he would not go home with her, she cut off a lock of his hair; but the son of the King of Prussia said it was he killed the giant. And the next day the third sister went out, and the son of the King of Scotland killed the third giant. The girl asked him would he go home with her, and he said he would not, and she took with her one of his shoes.

And when the son of the King of Prussia went home, and the third giant killed by the son of the King of Scotland, proclamation was made of the marriage of the son of the King of Prussia, and the daughter of the King of Erin. And when they ate their supper, word was sent to the priest of the pattens and the clerk of the table, (to come) to marry them. And the hen-wife came and the champion to the wedding; and they arose that the pair might be married. The priest asked the girl if she would marry that man, and she said she would not. And he struck her a box with his fist, and said, “How do you know that you are my choice? Haven’t I my choice of the family to get?” And the king said he had.

Then came the second daughter, and the priest asked her, would she marry him? and she said she would not. And he struck her a blow of his fist, and he said, “How do you know that you are my choice? Haven’t I my choice of you to get?” And the king said he had.

Then came the third girl, and the priest asked her, would she marry him? and she said she would not. And the son of the King of Prussia gave her a blow of his fist, and he said, “How do you know that you are my choice? Haven’t I my choice of you to get?” And the king said he had.

Then the Scotchman got up and he gave the son of the King of Prussia a blow with the tip of his boot and knocked him down. And the king offered a reward of five pounds to whoever would tell who struck the champion. And, as there were bad people present, he was told it was the old man down there who had struck him. He was caught, and he was bound, and when the daughters saw him they knew him, and they threw themselves on their knees before their father and begged he would grant them one request; and he said he would, but that one of them must marry the man.

“It is not for that man we are asking, but for this one, who saved us.”

He put the three daughters in three rooms, and he called the eldest, and she came to him and told him that he was the man who saved her. She put her hand in her pocket and she took out the piece she cut from his champion’s suit, and it answered to the coat. Then the king called the second daughter, and she said likewise, and showed the lock of hair, and her father was satisfied. He called the third daughter, and she showed the shoe, and she said she had no fear of him, that he it was who saved her.

The Scotchman got up standing, and he bound the son of the King of Prussia, and they were going to put him to death. Then the daughters asked the son of the King of Scotland if he would marry any of them, and he said that to one of them he was bound; but that when he knew what the son of the King of Prussia was going to do he came without[12] his father’s leave to Erin to save them, “and I cannot marry a woman till I go to my father and then I will come back to you.”

And the daughter said, “Marry one of us and then go to your father, and then you can come back.”

He said he could not do that, that he would go to his father first. Said she,—

“If you do not marry one of us, I will put you for a year under disesteem and bad esteem; every one will be spitting on you and cursing you; whoever is meanest you shall be under his curses; and till you marry one of us, or get cause for laughter, your mouth to be at the back of your head.”

And when he saw that, “If I were going this hour to marry you, I would not marry you now.”

The disfigurement came on him. He turned to the door and opened his hand, and all that were between him and the door he killed. He went on from place to place in hopes of getting a cure for himself, and he left not a doctor in the place that he was not getting the water of healing and every sort of drugs from them.

He was going till a man met him who was giving food and work to every one, and he went to him and asked him for work. The man said he would give it if the workmen would take him. He had eighteen men, six of them each in different places he had, and he went up to one set of six and said to them, “Here is a helper I am bringing you; I don’t think he’ll increase our work, and I myself will give him enough to eat.”

They spat upon him and said they would not have him.

Then they came to another six, and they would not take him; and they came to another, and they took him. And when the master went away, Crooked-mouth said he was sleepy, and asked for leave to sleep that day. And they gave him leave; and in the night he told them not to go out to work in the morning until he came in to his breakfast, and when he came in to his breakfast the work of a week was done. And those six were walking about and not doing a turn.

At that time a gentleman sent an invitation to dinner to the man (who had the workmen) and for his men to come with him. And they went drawing that way, and a robber met them on the road and bound every one of them and took his money from the master. And he told his men to bind Crooked-mouth, and Crooked-mouth said that not one should bind him but the robber himself.

“Come up to me and I’ll bind you. You won’t be having your stories to make of me.”

When he went to bind him, Crooked-mouth laid hold of him, and turned him round, and threw him on the ground, and told him to hand out his master’s money quickly, or he would kill him. So he gave him the money back and loosed the men.

“Master,” said he, “here are twelve others for him, and I will do their work.”

“Oh!” said the master, “I will not ask one turn of you, except one meal and one drink for ever.”

So he gave over to the robber the twelve other men, who had refused to let him work with them. And before he parted with the robber he put him under obligations.

“I will not kill you,” said he, “this is O’Daly, and I am Gerald O’Daly, and anything at all that’s ever asked of you by the honour of O’Daly, do that.”

Then they went on with themselves to the house, and there was a feast ready for them; and they took their meal, and while they were eating, the twelve others he gave over to the robber came. One of them asked the robber to let them go their way by the honour of O’Daly, and he told them to go and a hundred welcomes, and if it were a greater thing (he would grant it).

When Crooked-mouth ate his supper, he stretched himself under the table, and when the others ate their supper, (the gentleman) put them out to sleep in the barn, and when he came in he heard snoring, and he gave the man a kick, and asked him why he wasn’t with the others, and he said he would not leave the house that night; and the man of the house said that he must leave; that no one slept in the house for a year, and that he should not sleep in it that night. But the other said he would sleep in it, and find out about everything in the house. He took the man of the house and put him in a basket, and put him in the chimney to smother him; and he asked him, “Let me down, and I will tell you.” He let him down, but he would not tell him; and he put him back three times one after another, and the third time he came down he told him.

“I was one day standing at the gable of my house, and I saw a ship coming under full sail into the harbour, and a man and a woman jumped out (on the shore) and ran; and I saw a great monster in the sea coming the same way, and the monster ran after them; and the man put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out something, and flung it at the monster; and the monster sent out such a spout of blood that the two were drowned in it. I took them with me and washed them, and I put herbs of the hill on them, and I have had them for two years, and there is not a night since that I don’t burn a penny candle looking at their beauty.”

He opened a room and showed them to Crooked-mouth, and he took the water of healing and sprinkled some of it on them, and they arose alive again. And his mouth came as it was at first, and the disfigurement went from him, and he asked his brother what it was took him that way. And his brother said,—

“When you were gone a day and a year I went to the sea, hoping to see a ship or boat that would give me tidings of you, or to see if I would see a board that I would recognise; and one day I met a pretty bird-serpent, and a stone with him, and it was written on the stone that that was the stone that would kill the bird; and I took the stone and the bird home with me, and I put the bird into a cage, and kept it there for a week, and it became so big I had to put it into the stable; and it went on growing bigger and bigger till I had to make a place for it in the wood, and to tie the brambles round it, and I had four men killing beef and giving it food. And one day I was walking round near it, and it made a lunge at me to eat me, and I said it would do that at last. I went and took a ship, and went to sea, and I was sailing three days when my sister rose up to me, and I did not know she was on board the ship. We were sailing till we came to the harbour, and the serpent was following us, and I went up on the land, and the serpent followed; and, as God was helping me, I had my waistcoat on that day, and the stone was in the pocket, and I flung the stone at her, and she spouted so much blood that I and my sister were drowned. I don’t know what happened to us since then.”

“I took you with me, and cleansed you, and put herbs of the hill round about you, and there is not a night for two years I don’t burn a penny candle looking on you, and I believe that it is I should get her in marriage.”

The four spent the night pleasantly, telling one another everything; and in the morning when they arose, and the people who were at supper the night before were gathered together, the master did not recognise that Crooked-mouth was with him. But when Crooked-mouth told him that it was he was there, O’Daly bade him come with him, but he would not. He went with his brother and his sister and the other man to Scotland. And when they came to his father’s court, his father was banished by Faugauns and Blue-men; and he and the other people who were taking possession of his father’s court began; and he and they spent three nights and three days killing one another, and on the third day he had killed and banished them all. But when he and the cat met, the cat killed him and he killed the cat; and his brother was going everywhere that he killed, and at last he found him and the cat dead. And he searched his pocket and found in it the bottle of healing-water, and as he was drawing the cork from the bottle, some of the water fell on the dead man, and he arose alive again.

He went then with his sister and the other man who was in the place of husband to his sister; and they cleansed the king’s castle, and he brought his father and mother and their people home to the castle, and they were well from that out. Then he gave his sister in marriage to the man, who found himself and her on the day when the serpent drowned them. There came the priest of the pattens and the clerk of the table, and the pair were wedded.

He himself then went back to Erin, and married the daughter of the King of Erin, who was to be eaten by the giants, and the son of the King of Prussia was to save her.

[12] This contradicts what is stated on page 140.

_BEAUTY OF THE WORLD._

_Narrator, P. MINAHAN, Malinmore, Glencolumkille, co. Donegal._

There was a king then, and he had but one son. He was out hunting. He was going past the churchyard. There were four men in the churchyard and a corpse. There was debt on the corpse. The king’s son went in. He asked what was the matter. Said one of the men:

“The dead man is in our debt. I am not willing to bury the body, till the two sons who are here, promise to pay the debts.”

“We are not able to pay,” said one of them.

“I have five pounds,” said the king’s son; “I will give them to you to bury the body.”

He gave the five pounds. The body was buried. The king’s son went hunting. He went home in the evening. In the morning of the morrow there was snow. He went out hunting in the snow. He killed a black raven. He stood over it and looked at it. He said in his own mind he would never marry a woman whose head was not as black as the bird’s wing, and her skin as white as the snow, and her cheeks as red as the blood on the snow.

He went home. On the morning of the morrow, when he rose, he washed himself, and he went away to find the woman. When he was going for a time, he met with a red-haired young man. The young man saluted him. He asked him where he was going. The king’s son told him he was going to get one sight of that woman.

“It is better for you to hire me,” said the young man.

“What wages do you be asking?”

“Half of all we gain, to the end of a year and a day.”

The two went on with themselves till the evening came. Said the red man:

“There is a man related to me living in this wood below. Do you wait here till I go down to him.”

The red man went down to the house of the giant. The giant was sitting on a chair by the fire.

“Uncle, dear,” said the red man, “is it like this you are?”

“Yes, kinsman mine: what is coming to me?”

Said the red man: “The King of the prodigious Eastern World is coming up to kill you. Get out of the way as quick as you can.”

“I have an iron house outside there. Lock me into it.”

He locked the man in. He went to his master. He took his master up to the house of the giant. He got ready their supper. They went to rest. This was the giant’s cry in the morning. “Let them open.” The red man went to him. He asked him what was the matter.

“I am ready to perish with hunger. Let me out of this quickly.”

“I will not let you out,” said the red man, “till you tell me where the dark cloak is.”

“That is what I will never tell any one.”

“Well, if you like better not to tell, you will be there till you die.”

“Sooner than be here any longer, it is hanging in such a room.”

“I know where it is,” said the red man. “Be here as long as you like.”

When the giant heard that he would not get out, he took a jump out between two bars of the iron house. Two halves were made of him. Half fell outside and half inside. The red man went to the giant’s house. He got ready the breakfast. He and his master breakfasted. He took with them plenty of gold and silver, two horses and two saddles. They went till evening was there, and they went into another wood.

“I have an uncle,” said the red man, “living here. We shall get lodging to-night. Stay you here, till I go up.”

The red men went in to the giant’s house.

“Uncle, dear, is it here you are resting?”

“Yes, kinsman, dear: what is coming on me?”

“The King of the prodigious East is coming to kill you. Hide yourself as quick as you can.”

“I have an iron house here outside. Lock me into it.”

He locked him in. He brought his master. They made ready their supper. This was the giant’s cry in the morning, “Let them open.”

“I will not open,” said the red man, “till you tell me where are the slippery shoes.”

“They are under the bed.”

“I know myself where they are,” said the red man. “Stop there as long as you like.”

When the giant saw he was not to get out, he took a leap between two bars of the iron house. Two halves were made of him. Half fell inside, and half out.

The red man and his master went on travelling till evening. They came to another wood. There was a giant in the wood. The red man did to him as to the other giants. He took from him the sword of light, and plenty of gold and silver.

“Now,” said the red man to his master, “we shall be going home. We have got enough: go forward no farther. The woman you are approaching,—there is not a tree in the wood on which a man’s head is not hung, except one tree that is waiting for your head. We’ll return home.”

“I will never go home,” said the king’s son, “till I get one sight of that woman.”

They went forward till they came to the king’s house. The king made great welcome for them. They took their dinner. They spent the night in drinking and sport. When they were sitting to their supper she came down from the top of the house. Her head was as black as the bird’s wing, her skin as white as the snow, and her cheeks as red as the blood. She came to them, to the place where they were eating. She threw him a comb. Said she, “If you have not that comb to give me to-morrow, I will cut your head from you.”

He took hold of the comb. He put it down in his pocket. When they were going to bed the red man said, “See if you have the comb.” He put his fingers in his pocket. He had not the comb. His tears fell.

“It’s a pity I did not take your advice when you told me to return home.”

“Perhaps we shall get the better of her entirely,” said the red man. He was comforting him till he got him to bed. When he got him to bed he put on the dark cloak. He took with him the slippery shoes and the sword of light. He went out and stood in the back yard. She came out. She made down to the sea. She came to the sea. She threw a shell from her pocket. She made a boat of it. She went into the boat. She began rowing with two paddles, till she came in on an island that was in the sea. There was a great giant on the shore. “Have you got anything for me to-night?”

“I have not,” said she; “but I’ll have it to-morrow night. The son of the King of Erin is with me to-night. I shall have him for you to-morrow night.”

They went to the house. “Here is the comb I gave him to-night: it is yours.”

The giant opened a chest. He left the comb in the bottom of the chest. The red man was standing by the chest. When the giant left the comb in it, the red man took it and put it in his pocket. The house was full of goats. She went to milk the goats, till she milked one part of milk, and one part of blood. She got the supper ready. That was the stuff they took. The giant drew out an iron harrow and the skin of a white mare. They lay upon that till morning. When the day came she arose and went away drawing to the sea. The red man followed her. When she came to the boat she put it in the water. She went into it. The red man followed her on the sea. He was dashing water on her with the sword. She did not know what was delaying her. When they got home the red man went to his master. He asked him was he asleep. The king’s son said he was not.

“I have saved your head to-night. Here is the comb. Put it in your pocket.”

He put it in his pocket. The red man went to bed. When breakfast was ready in the morning the bell rang. They rose and they washed. When they were taking their breakfast she came down from the top of the house.

“Have you got the comb I gave you yesterday?”

He put his finger in his pocket. He threw the comb to her. When she saw he had the comb to get she went by with one sweep. She broke the half of what was on the table. “I have a third of your daughter won,” said the son of the King of Ireland.

“You have,” said the king; “you are the best champion ever came into my house.”

They went hunting that day. When they came home they were making fun together till supper-time. When they were taking their supper, the beautiful woman came to them. She threw a pair of scissors to him: “Unless you have them for me to-morrow, I will have your head.”

He took the scissors. He put them in his pocket. When they were going to bed said the red man to his master, “Look and see if you have the scissors.”

“I have not,” said his master.

“It’s bad for you to lose them.”

He went lamenting. The red man was comforting him till he got him to bed. When he slept, the red man went out. He put on the dark cloak and the slippery shoes, and took the sword of light. He stood outside the door. It was not long till she came out. She went down to the sea. She took a shell out of her pocket. She threw it on the sea and made a boat of it. She went to the island. The giant was on the shore.

“Have you got anything for me to-night?”

“I have not,” she said; “but I shall have the son of the King of Erin to-morrow night.” They went to the house. “Here are the scissors I gave him to-night. They are yours.”

The giant opened a chest. He put the scissors in the bottom of the chest. The red man was standing by. When the giant put the scissors in the chest, the red man took them and put them in his pocket.

They took their supper. The giant pulled out the harrow and the skin of the white mare. They lay upon that till morning. In the morning she went to the sea. The red man followed her. She put her boat on the water. She went into it. The red man followed her. He dashed in water on her with the sword. When they got home, the red man went to his master. He asked him was he asleep? The king’s son said he was not.

“I have saved your head this night. Here are the scissors for you.”

In the morning, when breakfast was ready, she came down from the top of the house. She was wet and dripping. She asked him had he the scissors to give her. He put his hand in his pocket. He threw her the scissors. She gave one sweep. She did not leave a bit of delf on the table she did not break in her rage. The king’s son said to the king he had two-thirds of his daughter won.

“You have,” said the king; “and I hope you will win her altogether. I am tired of her.”

They went hunting that day till night came. When supper was ready, she came down with a flight.

“Unless you have the last lips I shall kiss this night, I’ll have your head.”

“It’s hard for me,” said the king’s son, “to know what are the last lips you kiss.”

He was so troubled he did not know what to do. The red man was comforting him till he got him to bed. Then he went out. She came out. She went to the island. When she got in on the island the giant was bellowing on the shore.

“Have you anything for me?” said the giant.

“I will never give you anything more. You let the comb go; you let the scissors go: he had the two to give me in the morning. To-night I put on him obligations for something he won’t have to give me: that is, the last lips I shall kiss this night—and those are your lips.”

She went to milk the goats. She mixed a part of blood, and a part of milk. She made ready the supper. They ate and drank enough. He got the iron harrow and the skin of the white mare. They lay upon that till morning. When the day came upon the morrow she kissed him three times.

“Those are the last lips I shall kiss. He won’t have them to give me to-morrow.”

She rose and she went. When she went out the red man whisked the head off the giant. He put a knot in the ear. He threw it over his shoulder. He was on the shore as soon as she was. She went into the boat. She was drawing to home. He went out after her. Much as he drenched her the nights before, twice as much did he drench her this night. They went home. The red man came to his master in bed.

“Are you asleep, master?”

“I am not now,” said the king’s son.

“Here are the last lips she kissed last night, and, by my faith, they were ugly lips for a lady to be kissing.”

He took the head and threw it under the bed. When breakfast was ready in the morning she came down with a flight. She asked him,—

“Where are the last lips that I kissed last night?”

He put his hand under the bed. He took hold of the giant’s head. He threw it over at her feet. When she saw the giant was dead she gave one sweep, and she left not a chair or a table, nor anything on the table, she did not make smash of, so great was her anger.

“I have your daughter all won now,” said the king’s son.

“You have; and you are the best champion that came under my roof ever.”

“Well, we’ll go hunting to-day,” said the red man. They went hunting. The red man cut three bundles of rods. He made three flails. When they came home, “Now,” said he, “bring your daughter out here.”

The king brought her out. “Tie her hands and feet,” said the red man, “and leave her lying there.” The king left her lying. The red man gave one flail to the king, and one to his master.

“Strike you the first blow.”

The king struck the first blow. The three were striking her for a long time. A blaze of fire came out of her mouth. “Strike ye more. There is more in her.”

They struck till another lump of fire came out of her mouth. “Strike,” said the red man, “there is one more in her.”

They struck till the third came. “Now,” said the red man, “strike her no more. Those were three devils that came out of her. Loose her now; she is as quiet as any woman in the world.”

They loosed her and put her to bed. She was tired after the beating.

The priest of the pattens and the clerk of the bells came. The pair were married. The red man stayed with them a year and a day. A young son was born to them. When the day and the year were up the red man said it was time for him to be going.

“I don’t know what I’ll do after you,” said the kings son.

“Oh, make no delay,” said the red man; “the hire is just.”

“It is just,” said the king’s son.

He made two halves of all he gained since he hired him. “I will give you my child all,” said he; “I think it a pity to go to cut him in two.”

“I will not take him all,” said the red man; “I will not take but my bargain.”