Away they went and they got to Greece, and he went in to the palace and did as the black horse bade. He took the cup and came out and mounted, and before sunrise he was in the Realm Underwaves.
“You are come,” said Prince Underwaves.
“I am come,” said he.
“We had better get married now,” said the prince to the Greek princess.
“Slowly and softly,” said she. “I will not marry till I get the silver ring that my grandmother and my mother wore when they were wedded.”
“You, rider of the black horse,” said the Prince Underwaves, “do that. Let’s have that ring here tomorrow at sunrise.”
The lad went to the black horse and put his elbow on his crest and told him how it was.
“There never was a matter set before me harder than this matter which has now been set in front of me,” said the horse, “but there is no help for it at any rate. Mount me. There is a snow mountain and an ice mountain and a mountain of fire between us and the winning of that ring. It is right hard for us to pass them.”
Thus they went as they were, and about a mile from the snow mountain they were in a bad case with cold. As they came near it he struck the horse, and with the bound he gave the black horse was on the top of the snow mountain; at the next bound he was on the top of the ice mountain; at the third bound he went through the mountain of fire. When he had passed the mountains he was dragging at the horse’s neck, as though he were about to lose himself. He went on before him down to a town below.
“Go down,” said the black horse, “to a smithy; make an iron spike for every bone end in me.”
Down he went as the horse desired, and he got the spikes made, and back he came with them.
“Stick them into me,” said the horse, “every spike of them in every bone end that I have.”
That he did; he stuck the spikes into the horse.
“There is a loch here,” said the horse, “four miles long and four miles wide, and when I go out into it the loch will take fire and blaze. If you see the Loch of Fire going out before the sun rises, expect me, and if not, go your way.”
Out went the black horse into the lake, and the lake became flame. Long was he stretched about the lake, beating his palms and roaring. Day came, and the loch did not go out.
But at the hour when the sun was rising out of the water the lake went out.
And the black horse rose in the middle of the water with one single spike in him, and the ring upon its end.
He came on shore, and down he fell beside the loch.
Then down went the rider. He got the ring, and he dragged the horse down to the side of a hill. He fell to sheltering him with his arms about him, and as the sun was rising he got better and better, till about midday, when he rose on his feet.
“Mount,” said the horse, “and let us begone.”
He mounted on the black horse, and away they went.
He reached the mountains, and he leaped the horse at the fire mountain and was on the top. From the mountain of fire he leaped to the mountain of ice, and from the mountain of ice to the mountain of snow. He put the mountains past him, and by morning he was in realm under the waves.
“You are come,” said the prince.
“I am,” said he.
“That’s true,” said Prince Underwaves. “A king’s son are you, but a son of success am I. We shall have no more mistakes and delays, but a wedding this time.”
“Go easy,” said the Princess of the Greeks. “Your wedding is not so near as you think yet. Till you make a castle, I won’t marry you. Not to your father’s castle nor to your mother’s will I go to dwell; but make me a castle for which your father’s castle will not make washing water.”
“You, rider of the black horse, make that,” said Prince Underwaves, “before the morrow’s sun rises.”
The lad went out to the horse and leaned his elbow on his neck and sighed, thinking that this castle never could be made for ever.
“There never came a turn in my road yet that is easier for me to pass than this,” said the black horse.
Glance that the lad gave from him he saw all that there were, and ever so many wrights and stone masons at work, and the castle was ready before the sun rose.
He shouted at the Prince Underwaves, and he saw the castle. He tried to pluck out his eye, thinking that it was a false sight.
“Son of King Underwaves,” said the rider of the black horse, “don’t think that you have a false sight; this is a true sight.”
“That’s true,” said the prince. “You are a son of success, but I am a son of success too. There will be no more mistakes and delays, but a wedding now.”
“No,” said she. “The time is come. Should we not go to look at the castle? There’s time enough to get married before the night comes.”
They went to the castle and the castle was without a ‘but’ –
“I see one,” said the prince. “One want at least to be made good. A well to be made inside, so that water may not be far to fetch when there is a feast or a wedding in the castle.”
“That won’t be long undone,” said the rider of the black horse.
The well was made, and it was seven fathoms deep and two or three fathoms wide, and they looked at the well on the way to the wedding.
“It is very well made,” said she, “but for one little fault yonder.”
“Where is it?” said Prince Underwaves.
“There,” said she.
He bent him down to look. She came out, and she put her two hands at his back, and cast him in.
“Be thou there,” said she. “If I go to be married, thou art not the man; but the man who did each exploit that has been done, and, if he chooses, him will I have.”
Away she went with the rider of the little black horse to the wedding.
And at the end of three years after that so it was that he first remembered the black horse or where he left him.
He got up and went out, and he was very sorry for his neglect of the black horse. He found him just where he left him.
“Good luck to you, gentleman,” said the horse. “You seem as if you had got something that you like better than me.”
“I have not got that, and I won’t; but it came over me to forget you,” said he.
“I don’t mind,” said the horse, “it will make no difference. Raise your sword and smite off my head.”
“Fortune will now allow that I should do that,” said he.
“Do it instantly, or I will do it to you,” said the horse.
So the lad drew his sword and smote off the horse’s head; then he lifted his two palms and uttered a doleful cry.
What should he hear behind him but “All hail, my brother-in-law.”
He looked behind him, and there was the finest man he ever set eyes upon.
“What set you weeping for the black horse?” said he.
“This,” said the lad, “that there never was born of man or beast a creature in this world that I was fonder of.”
“Would you take me for him?” said the stranger.
“If I could think you the horse, I would; but if not, I would rather the horse,” said the rider.
“I am the black horse,” said the lad, “and if I were not, how should you have all these things that you went to seek in my father’s house. Since I went under spells, many a man have I ran at before you met me. They had but one word amongst them: they could not keep me, nor manage me, and they never kept me a couple of days. But when I fell in with you, you kept me till the time ran out that was to come from the spells. And now you shall go home with me, and we will make a wedding in my father’s house.”
The Legend of Knockgrafton
There was once a poor man who lived in the fertile glen of Aherlow, at the foot of the gloomy Galtee mountains, and he had a great hu
mp on his back: he looked just as if his body had been rolled up and placed upon his shoulders; and his head was pressed down with the weight so much that his chin, when he was sitting, used to rest upon his knees for support. The country people were rather shy of meeting him in any lonesome place, for though, poor creature, he was as harmless and as inoffensive as a new-born infant, yet his deformity was so great that he scarcely appeared to be a human creature, and some ill-minded persons had set strange stories about him afloat. He was said to have a great knowledge of herbs and charms; but certain it was that he had a mighty skilful hand in plaiting straw and rushes into hats and baskets, which was the way he made his livelihood.
Lusmore, for that was the nickname put upon him by reason of his always wearing a sprig of the fairy cap, or lusmore (the foxglove), in his little straw hat, would ever get a higher penny for his plaited work than any one else, and perhaps that was the reason why some one, out of envy, had circulated the strange stories about him. Be that as it may, it happened that he was returning one evening from the pretty town of Cahir towards Cappagh, and as little Lusmore walked very slowly, on account of the great hump upon his back, it was quite dark when he came to the old moat of Knockgrafton, which stood on the right-hand side of his road. Tired and weary was he, and noways comfortable in his own mind at thinking how much farther he had to travel, and that he should be walking all the night; so he sat down under the moat to rest himself, and began looking mournfully enough upon the moon.
Presently there rose a wild strain of unearthly melody upon the ear of little Lusmore; he listened, and he thought that he had never heard such ravishing music before. It was like the sound of many voices, each mingling and blending with the other so strangely that they seemed to be one, though all singing different strains, and the words of the song were these:
Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort;
when there would be a moment’s pause, and then the round of melody went on again.
Lusmore listened attentively, scarcely drawing his breath lest he might lose the slightest note. He now plainly perceived that the singing was within the moat; and though at first it had charmed him so much, he began to get tired of hearing the same round sung over and over so often without any change; so availing himself of the pause when the Da Luan, Da Mort, had been sung three times, he took up the tune, and raised it with the words augus Da Cadine, and then went on singing with the voices inside of the moat, Da Luan, Da Mort, finishing the melody, when the pause again came, with augus Da Cadine.
The fairies within Knockgrafton, for the song was a fairy melody, when they heard this addition to the tune, were so much delighted that, with instant resolve, it was determined to bring the mortal among them, whose musical skill so far exceeded theirs, and little Lusmore was conveyed into their company with the eddying speed of a whirlwind.
Glorious to behold was the sight that burst upon him as he came down through the moat, twirling round and round, with the lightness of a straw, to the sweetest music that kept time to his motion. The greatest honour was then paid him, for he was put above all the musicians, and he had servants tending upon him, and everything to his heart’s content, and a hearty welcome to all; and, in short, he was made as much of as if he had been the first man in the land.
Presently Lusmore saw a great consultation going forward among the fairies, and, notwithstanding all their civility, he felt very much frightened, until one stepping out from the rest came up to him and said:
“Lusmore! Lusmore!
Doubt not, nor deplore,
For the hump which you bore
On your back is no more;
Look down on the floor,
And view it, Lusmore!”
When these words were said, poor little Lusmore felt himself so light, and so happy, that he thought he could have bounded at one jump over the moon, like the cow in the history of the cat and the fiddle; and he saw, with inexpressible pleasure, his hump tumble down upon the ground from his shoulders. He then tried to lift up his head, and he did so with becoming caution, fearing that he might knock it against the ceiling of the grand hall, where he was; he looked round and round again with greatest wonder and delight upon everything, which appeared more and more beautiful; and, overpowered at beholding such a resplendent scene, his head grew dizzy, and his eyesight became dim. At last he fell into a sound sleep, and when he awoke he found that it was broad daylight, the sun shining brightly, and the birds singing sweetly; and that he was lying just at the foot of the moat of Knockgrafton, with the cows and sheep grazing peacefully round about him. The first thing Lusmore did, after saying his prayers, was to put his hand behind to feel for his hump, but no sign of one was there on his back, and he looked at himself with great pride, for he had now become a well-shaped dapper little fellow, and more than that, found himself in a full suit of new clothes, which he concluded the fairies had made for him.
Towards Cappagh he went, stepping out as lightly, and springing up at every step as if he had been all his life a dancing-master. Not a creature who met Lusmore knew him without his hump, and he had a great work to persuade every one that he was the same man – in truth he was not, so far as outward appearance went.
Of course it was not long before the story of Lusmore’s hump got about, and a great wonder was made of it. Through the country, for miles round, it was the talk of every one, high and low.
One morning, as Lusmore was sitting contented enough, at his cabin door, up came an old woman to him, and asked him if he could direct her to Cappagh.
“I need give you no directions, my good woman,” said Lusmore, “for this is Cappagh; and whom may you want here?”
“I have come,” said the woman, “out of Decie’s country, in the county of Waterford looking after one Lusmore, who, I have heard tell, had his hump taken off by the fairies; for there is a son of a gossip of mine who has got a hump on him that will be his death; and maybe if he could use the same charm as Lusmore, the hump may be taken off him. And now I have told you the reason of my coming so far: ’tis to find out about this charm, if I can.”
Lusmore, who was ever a good-natured little fellow, told the woman all the particulars, how he had raised the tune for the fairies at Knockgrafton, how his hump had been removed from his shoulders, and how he had got a new suit of clothes into the bargain.
The woman thanked him very much, and then went away quite happy and easy in her own mind. When she came back to her gossip’s house, in the county of Waterford, she told her everything that Lusmore had said, and they put the little hump-backed man, who was a peevish and cunning creature from his birth, upon a car, and took him all the way across the country. It was a long journey, but they did not care for that, so the hump was taken from off him; and they brought him, just at nightfall, and left him under the old moat of Knockgrafton.
Jack Madden, for that was the humpy man’s name, had not been sitting there long when he heard the tune going on within the moat much sweeter than before; for the fairies were singing it the way Lusmore had settled their music for them, and the song was going on; Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, augus Da Cadine, without ever stopping. Jack Madden, who was in a great hurry to get quit of his hump, never thought of waiting until the fairies had done, or watching for a fit opportunity to raise the tune higher again than Lusmore had; so having heard them sing it over seven times without stopping, out he bawls, never minding the time or the humour of the tune, or how he could bring his words in properly, augus Da Cadine, augus Da Hena, thinking that if one day was good, two were better; and that if Lusmore had one new suit of clothes given him, he should have two.
No sooner had the words passed his lips than he was taken up and whisked into the moat with prodigious force; and the fairies came crowding round about him with great anger, screeching, and screaming, and roaring out, “Who spoiled our tune? who spoiled our tune?” and one stepped up to him,
above all the rest and said:
“Jack Madden! Jack Madden!
Your words came so bad in
The tune we felt glad in; –
This castle you’re had in,
That your life we may sadden;
Here’s two humps for Jack Madden!”
And twenty of the strongest fairies brought Lusmore’s hump and put it down upon poor Jack’s back, over his own, where it became fixed as firmly as if it was nailed on with twelve-penny nails, by the best carpenter that ever drove one. Out of their castle they then kicked him; and, in the morning, when Jack Madden’s mother and her gossip came to look after their little man, they found him half dead, lying at the foot of the moat, with the other hump upon his back. Well to be sure, how they did look at each other! but they were afraid to say anything, lest a hump might be put upon their own shoulders. Home they brought the unlucky Jack Madden with them, as downcast in their hearts and their looks as ever two gossips were; and what through the weight of his other hump, and the long journey, he died soon after, leaving they say his heavy curse to any one who would go to listen to fairy tunes again.
Elidore
In the days of Henry Beauclerc of England there was a little lad named Elidore, who was being brought up to be a cleric. Day after day he would trudge from his mother’s house, and she was a widow, up to the monks’ Scriptorium. There he would learn his A B C, to read it and to write it. But he was a lazy little rogue was this Elidore, and as fast as he learned to write one letter, he forgot another; so it was very little progress he was making. Now when the good monks saw this they remembered the saying of the Book: ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child,’ and whenever Elidore forgot a letter they tried to make him remember it with the rod. At first they used it seldom and lightly, but Elidore was not a boy to be driven, and the more they thwacked him the less he learned: so the thwackings became more frequent and more severe, till Elidore could not stand them any longer. So one day when he was twelve years old he upped with him and offed with him into the great forest near St. David’s. There for two long days and two long nights he wandered about eating nothing but hips and haws. At last he found himself at the mouth of a cave, at the side of a river, and there he sank down, all tired and exhausted. Suddenly two little pigmies appeared to him and said: “Come with us, and we will lead you into a land full of games and sports:” so Elidore raised himself and went with these two; at first through an underground passage all in the dark, but soon they came out into a most beautiful country, with rivers and meadows, woods and plains, as pleasant as can be; only this there was curious about it, that the sun never shone and clouds were always over the sky, so that neither sun was seen by day, nor moon and stars at night.
Celtic Myths Page 66