Читать книгу Hero-Tales of Ireland - Jeremiah Curtin - Страница 5

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Once King Under the Wave went on a visit to the King of Spain, for the two were great friends. The King of Spain was complaining, and very sorry that he had not butter enough. He had a great herd of cows; but for all that, he had not what butter he wanted. He said that he’d be the richest man in the world if he had butter in plenty for himself and his people.

“Do not trouble your mind,” said King Under the Wave. “I will give you Glas Gainach,—a cow that is better than a thousand cows, and her milk is nearly all butter.”

The King of Spain thanked his guest for the promise, and was very glad. King Under the Wave kept his word; he sent Glas Gainach, and a messenger with instructions how to care for the cow, and said that if she was angered in any way she would not stay out at pasture. So the king took great care of her; and the report went through all nations that the King of Spain had the cow called Glas Gainach.

The King of Spain had an only daughter, and he was to give the cow with the daughter; and the cow was a great fortune, the best dower in the world at that time. The king said that the man who would do what he put on him would get the daughter and the cow.

Champions came from every part of the world, each man to try his fortune. In a short time hundreds and thousands of men lost their heads in combat. The king agreed then that any man who would serve seven years, and bring the cow safe and sound every day of that time to the castle, would have her.

In minding the cow, the man had to follow her always, never go before her, or stop her, or hold her. If he did, she would run home to the castle. The man must stop with her when she wanted to get a bite or a drink. She never travelled less than sixty miles a day, eating a good bite here and a good bite there, and going hither and over.

The King of Spain never told men how to mind the cow; he wanted them to lose their heads, for then he got their work without wages.

One man would mind her for a day; another would follow her to the castle for two days; a third might go with her for a week, and sometimes a man could not come home with her the first day. The man should be loose and swift to keep up with Glas Gainach. The day she walked least she walked sixty miles; some days she walked much more.

It was known in Erin that there was such a cow, and there was a smith in Cluainte above here, three miles north of Fintra, and his name was Elin Gow. He was the best man in Erin to make a sword or any weapon of combat. From all parts of Erin, and from other lands also, young princes who were going to seek their fortunes came to him to have him make swords for them. Now what should happen but this? It came to him in a dream three nights in succession that he was to go for Glas Gainach, the wonderful cow. At last he said, “I will go and knock a trial out of her; I will go toward her.”

He went to Tramor, where there were some vessels. It was to the King of Munster that he went, and asked would he lend him a vessel. Elin Gow had made many swords for the king. The king said that he would lend the vessel with willingness, and that if he could do more for him he would do it. Elin Gow got the vessel, and put stores in it for a day and a year. He turned its prow then to sea and its stern to land, and was ploughing the main ocean till he steered into the kingdom of Spain as well as if he had had three pilots, and there was no one but himself in it. He let the wind guide the ship, and she came into the very harbor of the province where the king’s castle was.

When Elin Gow came in, he cast two anchors at the ocean side and one at the shore side, and settled the ship in such a way that there was not a wave to strike her, nor a wind to rock her, nor a crow to drop on her; and he left her so that nothing would disturb her, and a fine, smooth strand before her: he left her fixed for a day and a year, though he might not be absent an hour.

He left the vessel about midday, and went his way walking, not knowing where was he or in what kingdom. He met no man or beast in the place. Late in the evening he saw, on a broad green field at a distance, a beautiful castle, the grandest he had ever set eyes on.

When he drew near the castle, the first house he found was a cottage at the wayside; and when he was passing, who should see him but a very old man inside in the cottage. The old man rose up, and putting his two hands on the jambs of the door, reached out his head and hailed him. Elin Gow turned on his heel; then the old man beckoned to him to enter.

There were four men in front of the castle, champions of valor, practising feats of arms. Flashes of light came from their swords. These men were so trained that they would not let a sword-stroke touch any part of their bodies.

“Come in,” said the old man; “maybe you would like to have dinner. You have eaten nothing on the way.”

“That was a mistake of my own,” said Elin Gow; “for in my ship are provisions of all kinds in plenty.”

“Never mind,” said the old man; “you will not need them in this place;” and going to a chest, he took out a cloth which he spread on a table, and that moment there came on it food for a king or a champion. Elin Gow had never seen a better dinner in Erin.

“What is your name and from what place are you?” asked the old man of his guest.

“From Erin,” said he, “and my name is Elin Gow. What country is this, and what castle is that out before us?”

“Have you ever heard talk of the kingdom of Spain?” asked the old man.

“I have, and ’tis to find it that I left home.”

“Well, this is the kingdom of Spain, and that building beyond is the castle of the king.”

“And is it here that Glas Gainach is?”

“It is,” said the old man. “And is it for her that you left Erin?”

“It is then,” said Elin Gow.

“I pity you,” said the old man; “it would be fitter for you to stop at home and mind something else than to come hither for that cow. ’Tis not hundreds but thousands of men that have lost their heads for her, and I am in dread that you’ll meet the same luck.”

“Well, I will try my fortune,” said Elin Gow. “’Tis through dreams that I came.”

“I pity you,” said the old man, “and moreover because you are from Erin. I am half of your country, for my mother was from Erin. Do you know now how this cow will be got?”

“I do not,” said Elin Gow; “I know nothing in the world about it.”

“You will not be long,” said the old man, “without knowledge. I’ll tell you about her, and what conditions will be put on you by the king. He will bind you for the term of seven years to bring the cow home safe and sound to his castle every evening. If you fail to bring her, your head will be cut off that same evening. That is one way by which many kings’ sons and champions that came from every part of the world were destroyed. There are spikes all around behind the castle, and a head on each spike of them. You will see for yourself to-morrow when you go to the castle, and a dreadful sight it is, for you will not be able to count the heads that are there on the spikes. I will give you now an advice that I have never given any man before this, but I have heard of you from my mother. You would be a loss to the country you came from. You are a great man to make swords and all kinds of weapons for champions.

“The king will not tell you what to do, but I’ll tell you: you’ll be as swift as you can when you go with the cow; keep up with her always. The day she moves least she will travel thirty miles going and thirty miles coming, and you will have rest only while she’ll be feeding, and she will take only a few minutes here and a few minutes there; wherever she sees the best place she’ll take a bite; and do not disturb her wherever she turns or walks, and do not go before her or drive her. If you do what I say, there will be no fear of you, if you can be so swift as to keep up with the cow.”

“I am not in dread of falling back,” said Elin Gow.

“Then there will be no fear of you at all,” said the old man.

Elin Gow remained in the cottage that night. In the morning the old man spread his cloth on the table; food and drink for a king or a champion were on it that moment. Elin Gow ate and drank heartily, left good health with the old man, and went to the castle. The king had a man called the Tongue-speaker, who met and announced every stranger. “Who are you or why do you come to the castle?” asked this man of Elin Gow.

“I wish to speak to the king about Glas Gainach.”

“Oh,” said the speaker, “you are badly wanted, for it is three days since the last man that was after her lost his head. Come, and I will show it to you on the spike, and I am in dread your own head will be in a like place.”

“Never mind,” said Elin Gow; “misfortune cannot be avoided. We will do our best.”

The Tongue-speaker went to the king then, and said, “There is a man outside who has come for Glas Gainach.”

The king went out, and asked Elin Gow what he wanted or what brought him. He told him, as he told the speaker, that it was for the cow he had come.

“And is it in combat or in peace that you want to get her?”

“’Tis in peace,” said Elin Gow.

“You can try with swords or with herding, whichever you wish.”

“We will choose the herding,” said Elin Gow.

“Well,” said the king, “this is how we will bind ourselves. You are to bring Glas Gainach here to me every evening safe and sound during seven years, and, if you fail, ’tis your head that you will lose. Do you see those heads on the spikes there behind? ’Tis on account of Glas Gainach they are there. If you come home with the cow every night, she will be yours when seven years are spent,—I bind myself to that,” said the king.

“Well,” said Elin Gow, “I am satisfied with the conditions.”

Next morning Glas Gainach was let out, and both went together all day, she and Elin Gow. She went so swiftly that he threw his cap from him; he could not carry it half the day. All the rest he had was while she was feeding in any place. He was after her then till she came home, and he brought her back as safe and sound as in the morning. The king came out and welcomed him, saying, “You’ve taken good care of her; many a man went after her that did not bring her home the first day.”

“Life is sweet,” said Elin Gow; “I did the best hand I could. I know what I have to get if I fail to bring her.”

The king gave Elin Gow good food and drink, so that he was more improving than failing in strength, and made his way and brought the cow every day till he had the seven years spent; then he said to the king, “My time is up; will I get the cow?”

“Oh, why not?” said the king. “You will: you have earned her well; you have done more than any man who walked the way before. See now how many have lost their heads; count them. You are better than any of them. I would not deny or break my word or agreement. You were bound to bring her, and I am bound to give her. Now she is yours and not mine, but if she comes back here again, don’t have any eye after her; you’ll not get her.”

“That will do,” said Elin Gow. “I will take good care not to let her come to you. I minded her the last seven years.”

“Well,” said the king, “I don’t doubt you.”

They gave the cow food that morning inside; did not let her out at all. Elin Gow bound the cow in every way he wished, to bring her to the vessel. He used all his strength, raised the two anchors on the ocean side, pulled in the vessel to put the cow on board. When Elin Gow was on board, he turned the stem of the ship toward the sea, and the stern toward land. He was sailing across the wide ocean till he came to Tramor, the port in Erin from which he had started when going to Spain. Elin Gow brought Glas Gainach on shore, took her to Cluainte, and was minding her as carefully as when he was with the King of Spain.

Elin Gow was the best man in Erin to make swords and all weapons for champions; his name was in all lands. The King of Munster had four sons, and the third from the oldest was Cian. He was neither dreaming nor thinking of anything night or day but feats of valor; his grandfather, Art Mac Cuin, had been a great champion, and was very fond of Cian. He used to say, “Kind father and grandfather for him; he is not like his three brothers.”

When twenty years old, Cian said,“I will go to try my fortune. My father has heirs enough. I would try other kingdoms if I had a sword.”

“You may have my sword,” said the father.

Cian gave the sword a trial, and at the first turn he broke it. “No sword will please me,” said Cian, “unless, while grasping the hilt with the blade pointed forward, I can bend the blade till its point touches my elbow on the upper side, then let it spring back and bend it again till the point touches my elbow on the under side.”

“There is not a man in Erin who could make a sword like that,” said the father, “but Elin Gow, and I am full sure that he will not make it at this time, for he is minding Glas Gainach. He earned her well, and he will guard her; seven years did he travel bareheaded without hat or cap,—a thing which no man could do before him. It would be useless to go to him, for he has never worked a stroke in the forge since he brought Glas Gainach to Erin, and he would not let her go. He would make the sword but for that. It’s many a sword he made for me.”

“Well, I will try him,” said Cian. “I will ask him to make the sword.”

Cian started, and never stopped till he stood before Elin Gow at Cluainte, and told him who he was.

Elin Gow welcomed the son of the king, and said, “Your father and I were good friends in our young years. It was often I made swords and other weapons for him. And what is it that brought you to-day?”

“It is a sword I want. I wish to go and seek my fortune in some foreign land. I want a good sword, and my father says you are the best man in Erin to make one.”

“I was,” said Elin Gow; “and I am sorry that I cannot make you one now. I am engaged in minding Glas Gainach; and I would not trust any one after her but myself, and I have enough to do to mind her.”

Cian told how the sword was to be made.

“Oh,” said Elin Gow, “I would make it in any way you like but for the cow, and I would not wish to let your father’s son go away without a sword. I will direct you to five or six smiths that are making swords now, in place of me since I went for Glas Gainach.”

He gave the names, and the king’s son went away.

None of them could make the sword in the way Cian wanted. He came back to Elin Gow.

“You have your round made?” said Elin Gow.

“I have,” said Cian, “but in vain; for none of them would make the sword in the way asked of him.”

“Well, I do not wish to let you go. I will take the risk.”

“Very well,” said Cian; “I will go after Glas Gainach to-morrow, while you are making the sword, and if I don’t bring her, you may have my head in the evening.”

“Well,” said Elin Gow, “I am afraid to trust you, for many a champion lost his head on account of her before; but I’ll run the risk. I must make the sword for you.”

The king’s son stopped that night with Elin Gow, who gave him the best food and drink he had, and let out Glas Gainach before him next morning, and told him not to come in front of her in any place where she might want to feed or drink. He advised him in every way how to take care of her. Away went Cian with the cow, and he was doing the right thing all day. She moved on always, and went as far as Caorha, southwest of Tralee, the best spot of land in Kerry for grass. When she had eaten enough, she turned toward home, and Cian was at her tail all the day. When he and Glas Gainach were five miles this side of Tralee, near the water at Derrymor, where she used to drink, Cian saw her going close to deep water; he came before her, and turned her back; and what did she do but jump through the air like a bird, and then she went out through the sea and left him. He walked home sad and mournful, and came to Elin Gow’s house. The smith asked him had he the cow, and he said, “I have not. I was doing well till I came to Derrymor, and she went so near deep water that I was afraid she would go from me. I stopped her, and what did she do but fly away like a bird, and go out through the sea.”

“God help us,” said Elin Gow, “but the misfortune cannot be helped.”

“I am the cause,” said Cian; “you may have my head.”

“What is done, is done. I would never take the head off you, but she is a great loss to me.”

“I am willing and satisfied to give you my head,” said Cian. “Have you the sword made?”

“I have,” said Elin Gow.

Cian took the blade, tested it in every way, and found that he had the sword he wanted.

He swore an oath then to Elin Gow that he would not delay day or night, nor rest anywhere, till he had lost his head or brought back Glas Gainach.

“I am afraid your labor will be useless,” said Elin Gow, “and that you will never be able to bring her back. I could not have brought her myself but for the advice of an old man that I met before I saw the King of Spain.”

Cian went home to his father’s castle. The king saw him coming with the sword. “I see that Elin Gow did not refuse you.”

“He did not,” said Cian. “He made the sword, and it is a sore piece of work for him. He has parted with Glas Gainach. I promised to give my head if I did not bring her home to him in safety while he was making the sword. I minded her well all day till she came to a place where she used to drink water. I did not know that; but it was my duty to know it, for he directed me in every way needful how to mind her. I was bringing her home in safety till I brought her to Derrymor River; and I went before her to turn her back,—and that was foolish, for he told me not to turn her while I was with her,—and she did nothing but spring like a bird and out to sea and away. I promised Elin Gow in the morning if I did not bring the cow to give him my head; and I offered it when I came, as I had not the cow, but he said, ‘I will never take the head off a son of your father, even for a greater loss.’ And for this reason I will never rest nor delay till I go for Glas Gainach and bring her back to Elin Gow, or lose my head; so make ready your best ship.”

“The best ship,” said the king, “is the one that Elin Gow took.”

The king’s son put provisions for a day and a year in the vessel. He set sail alone and away with him through the main ocean, and he never stopped till he reached the same place to which Elin Gow had sailed before. He cast two anchors on the ocean side, and one next the shore, and left the ship where there was no wind to blow on her, no waves of the ocean to touch her, no crows of the air to drop on her. He went his way then, and was walking always till evening, when he saw at a distance the finest castle he had ever set eyes on. He went toward it; and when he was near, he saw four champions at exercise near the castle. He was going on the very same road that Elin Gow had taken, and was passing the same cottage, when the old man saw him and hailed him. He turned toward the cottage.

“Come to my house and rest,” said the old man. “From what country are you, and what brought you?”

“I am a son of the King of Munster in Erin; and now will you tell me what place is this?”

“You are in Spain, and the building beyond there is the king’s castle.”

“Very well and good. It was to see the king that I left Erin,” said Cian.

“It is for Glas Gainach that you are here, I suppose,” said the old man. “It is useless for you to try; you never can bring her from the king. It was a hundred times easier when Elin Gow brought her; it is not that way now, but by force and bravery she is to be taken. It is a pity to have you lose your head, like so many kings and champions.”

“I must try,” said Cian; “for it was through me that Elin Gow lost Glas Gainach. I wanted a sword to try my fortune, and there was not a smith in Erin who could make it as I wanted except Elin Gow; he refused. I told him that I would give my head if I did not bring the cow home to him in safety. I followed her well till, on the way home, she went to drink near the sea, and I went before her; that moment she sprang away like a bird, and went out through the water.”

“I am afraid,” said the old man, “that to get her is more than you can do. You see those four men? You must fight and conquer them before you get Glas Gainach.”

The old man spread out the table-cloth, and they ate.

“I care not,” said the king’s son, “what comes. I am willing to lose my head unless I can bring back the cow.”

“Well,” said the old man, “you can try.”

Next morning breakfast was ready for Cian; he rose, washed his hands and face, prayed for mercy and strength, ate, and going to the pole of combat gave the greatest blow ever given before on it.

“Run out,” said the king to the Tongue-speaker; “see who is abroad.”

“What do you want?” asked the Tongue-speaker of Cian.

“The king’s daughter and Glas Gainach,” said Cian.

The speaker hurried in and told the king. The king went out and asked, “Are you the man who wants my daughter and Glas Gainach?”

“I am,” answered Cian.

“You will get them if you earn them,” said the king.

“If I do not earn them, I want neither the daughter nor the cow,” replied Cian.

The king ordered out then the four knights of valor to kill Cian. He was as well trained as they, for he had been practising from his twelfth year, and he was more active. They were at him all day, and he at them: he did not let one blow from them touch his body; and if a man were to go from the Eastern to the Western World to see champions, ’tis at them he would have to look. At last, when Cian was hungry, and late evening near, he sprang with the strength of his limbs out of the joints of his bones, and rose above them, and swept the heads off the four before he touched ground.

The young champion was tired after the day, and went to the old man. The old man asked, “What have you done?”

“I have knocked the heads off the four champions of valor.”

The old man was delighted that the first day had thriven in that way with Cian. He looked at the sword. “Oh, there is no danger,” cried he; “you have the best sword I have ever seen, and you’ll need it, for you’ll have more forces against you to-morrow.”

The old man and Cian spent the night in three parts,—the first part in eating and drinking, the second in telling tales and singing songs, the third in sound sleep.

The old man told how he had been the champion of Spain, and at last when he grew old the king gave him that house.

Next morning Cian washed his face and hands, prayed for help and mercy, ate breakfast with the old man, went to the pole of combat, and gave a greater blow still than before.

“What do you want this day?” asked the Tongue-speaker.

“I want three hundred men on my right hand, three hundred on my left, three hundred after my poll, three hundred out in front of me.” The king sent the men out four deep through four gates. Cian went at them, and as they came he struck the heads off them; and though they fought bravely, in the evening he had the heads off the twelve hundred. Cian then left the field, and went to the old man.

“What have you done after the day?” asked the old man.

“I have stretched the king’s forces.”

“You’ll do well,” said the old man.

The old champion put the cloth on the table, and there was food for a king or a champion. They made three parts of that night,—the first for eating and drinking, the second for telling tales and singing songs, the third for sleep and sound rest.

Next morning, Cian gave such a blow on the pole of combat that the king in his chamber was frightened.

“What do you want this time?” asked the Tongue-speaker.

“I want the same number of men as yesterday.”

The king sent the men out; and the same fate befell them as the other twelve hundred, and Cian went home to the old man untouched. Next morning Cian made small bits of the king’s pole of combat.

“Well, what do you want?” asked the Tongue-speaker.

“Whatever I want, I don’t want to be losing time. Let out all your forces against me at once.”

The king sent out all the forces he wished that morning. The battle was more terrible than all the others put together; but Cian went through the king’s forces, and at sunset not a man of them was living, and he let no one nearer than the point of his sword.

“How did the day thrive with you?” asked the old man when Cian came in.

“I have killed all the king’s champions.”

“I think,” said the old man, “that you have the last of his forces down now; but what you have done is nothing to what is before you. The king will come out and say to-morrow that you will not get the daughter with Glas Gainach till you eat on one biscuit what butter there is in his storehouses, and they are all full; you are to do this in the space of four hours. He will give you the biscuit. Take this biscuit from me, and do you hide the one that he will give you,—never mind it; put as much as you will eat on this, and there’ll be no tidings of what butter there is in the king’s stores within one hour,—it will vanish and disappear.”

Cian was very glad when the old man told him what to do. They spent that night as they had the nights before. Next morning Cian breakfasted, and went to the castle. The king saw him coming, and was out before him.

“What do you want this morning?” asked the king.

“I want your daughter and Glas Gainach,” said Cian.

“Well,” said the king, “you will not get my daughter and Glas Gainach unless within four hours you eat on this biscuit what butter there is in all my storehouses in Spain; and if you do not eat the butter, your head will be on a spike this evening.”

The king gave him the biscuit. Cian went to the first storehouse, dropped the king’s biscuit into his pocket, took out the one the old man had given him, buttered it, and began to eat. He went his way then, and in one hour there was neither sign nor trace of butter in any storehouse the king had.

That night Cian and the old man passed the time in three parts as usual. “You will have hard work to-morrow,” said the old man, “but I will tell you how to do it. The king will say that you cannot have his daughter and Glas Gainach unless within four hours you tan all the hides in Spain, dry and green, and tan them as well as a hand’s breadth of leather that he will give you. Here is a piece of leather like the piece the king will give. Clap this on the first hide you come to; and all the hides in Spain will be tanned in one hour, and be as soft and smooth as the king’s piece.”

Next morning the king saw Cian coming, and was out before him. “What do you want now?” asked the king.

“Your daughter and Glas Gainach,” said Cian.

“You are not to get my daughter and Glas Gainach unless within four hours you tan all the dry and green hides in Spain to be as soft and smooth as this piece; and if you do not tan them, your head will be on one of the spikes there behind my castle this evening.”

Cian took the leather, dropped it into his pocket, and, taking the old man’s piece, placed it on the first hide that he touched. In one hour all the hides in Spain were tanned, and they were as soft and fine as the piece which the king gave to Cian.

The old man and Cian spent this night as they had the others.

“You will have the hardest task of all to-morrow,” said the old man.

“What is that?” asked the young champion.

“The king’s daughter will come to a window in the highest chamber of the castle with a ball in her hand: she will throw the ball through the window, and you must catch it on your hurley, and keep it up during two hours and a half; never let it touch the ground. There will be a hundred champions striving to take the ball from you, but follow my advice. The champions, not knowing where the ball will come down when the king’s daughter throws it, will gather near the front of the castle; and if either of them should get the ball, he might keep it and spoil you. Do you stand far outside; you will have the best chance. I don’t know, though, what you are to do, as you have no hurley, but wait. In my youth I was great to play at hurley, and I never met a man that could match me. The hurley I had then must be in this house somewhere.”

The old man searched the house through, and where did he find the hurley but up in the loft, and it full of dust; he brought it down. Cian swung it, knocked the dust from the hurley, and it was as clean as when made.

“It is glad I am to find this, for any other hurley in the kingdom would not do you, but only this very one. This hurley has the virtue in it, and only for that it would not do.”

Both were very glad, and made three parts of that night, as they had of the nights before. Next morning Cian rose, washed his hands and face, and begged mercy and help of God for that day.

After breakfast he went to the king’s castle, and soon many champions came around him. The king was outside before him, and asked what he wanted that day.

“I want your daughter and Glas Gainach.”

“You will not get my daughter and Glas Gainach till you do the work I’ll give, and I’ll give you the toughest task ever put before you. At midday, my daughter will throw out a ball through the window, and you must keep that ball in the air for two hours and a half: it must never touch ground in that time, and when the two hours and a half are spent, you must drive it in through the same window through which it went out; if not, I will have your head on a spike this evening.”

“God help us!” said Cian.

All the champions were together to see which man would get the ball first; but Cian, thinking of the old man’s advice, stood outside them all. At midday the king’s daughter sent out the ball through the highest window; and to whom should it go but to Cian, and he had the luck of getting it first. He drove the ball with his hurley, and for two hours and a half he kept it in the air, and did not let another man touch it. Then he gave it a directing blow, and sent it in through the window to the king’s daughter.

The king watched the ball closely; and when it went in, he ran to Cian, shook his hand warmly, and never stopped till he took him to his daughter’s high chamber. She kissed him with joy and great gladness. He had done a thing that no other had ever done.

“I have won the daughter and Glas Gainach from you now,” said Cian.

“You have,” said the king; “and they are both yours. I give them with all my heart. You have earned them well, and done what no other man could do. I will give you one-half of the kingdom till my death, and all of it from that out.”

Cian and the king’s daughter were married. A great feast was made, and a command given out that all people of the kingdom must come to the wedding. Every one came; and the wedding lasted seven days and nights, to the pleasure of all, and the greatest delight of the king. Cian remained with the king; and after a time his wife had a son, the finest and fairest child ever born in Spain, and he was increasing so that what of him didn’t grow in the day grew in the night, and what did not grow in the night grew in the day, and if the sun shone on any child, it shone on that one. The boy was called Cormac after Cian’s father, Cormac Mac Art.

Cian remained with the King of Spain till Cormac’s age was a year and a half. Then he remembered his promise to Elin Gow to bring back Glas Gainach.

Cian put stores in the vessel in which he had come, and placed Glas Gainach inside, firmly fettered. He gave then the stem of his ship to the ocean, the stern to land, raised the limber sails; and there was the work of a hundred men on each side, though Cian did the work all alone. He sailed through the main ocean with safety till he came to Tramor,—the best landing-place in Erin at that time. Glas Gainach was brought to shore carefully, and Cian went on his way with her to go to Elin Gow’s house at Cluainte.

There was no highway from Tramor but the one; and on that one were three brothers, three robbers, the worst at that time in Erin. These men knew all kinds of magic, and had a rod of enchantment. Cian had brought much gold with him on the way, coming as a present to his father.

The three brothers stopped Cian, saluted him, and asked would he play a game. He said that he would. They played, and toward evening the robbers had the gold won; then they said to Cian, “Now bet the cow against the gold you have lost, and we will put twice as much with it.” He laid the cow as a wager, and lost her.

One of the three robber brothers struck Cian with the rod of enchantment, and made a stone pillar of him, and made an earth mound of Glas Gainach with another blow. The two remained there, the man and the cow, by the roadside.

Cian’s son Cormac was growing to manhood in Spain, and heard his mother and grandfather talk of his father, and he thought to himself, “There was no man on earth that could fight with my father; and I promise now to travel and be walking always till I find out the place where he is, living or dead.”

As Cormac had heard that his father was from Erin, to Erin he faced, first of all. The mother was grieved, and advised him not to go wandering. “Your father must be dead, or on the promise he made me he’d be here long ago.”

“There is no use in talking; the world will not stop me till I know what has happened to my father,” said Cormac.

The mother could not stop him; she gave her consent. He turned then to his grandfather. “Make ready for me the best vessel you have,” said he. The vessel was soon ready with provisions for a day and a year, and gold two thousand pieces. He embarked, and went through the main ocean faster than his father had gone till he sailed into Tramor. He was on his way walking till he came to the robbers about midday.

They saluted him kindly, thinking he had gold, and asked, “Will you play a game with us?”

“I will,” said Cormac; “I have never refused.”

They played. The robbers gained, and let him gain; they were at him the best of the day, till they won the last piece of gold of his two thousand pieces.

When he had lost what he had, he was like a wild man, and knew not what to do for a while. At last Cormac said to himself, “It is an old saying never contradicted that strength will get the upper hand of enchantment.” He jumped then, and caught two of the three robbers, one in each hand, and set them under his two knees. The third was coming to help the two; but Cormac caught that one with his hand and held the three, kept them there, and said, “I will knock the heads off every man of you.”

“Do not do that,” begged the three. “Who are you? We will do what you ask of us.”

“I am seeking my father, Cian Mac Cormac, who left Spain eighteen years ago with Glas Gainach.”

“Spare us,” said the three brothers; “we will give back your gold and raise up your father with Glas Gainach.”

“How can ye do that,” asked Cormac, “or where is my father?”

“He is that pillar there opposite.”

“And where is Glas Gainach?”

They showed him the earth mound.

“How can ye bring them back to their own shapes?” asked Cormac.

“We have a rod of enchantment,” said the brothers; and they told where the rod was. When Cormac had a true account of the rod, what he did was to draw out his sword and cut the heads off the three brothers, saying, “Ye will never again rob any man who walks this way.” Cormac then found the rod of enchantment, went to the pillar, gave it a blow, and his father came forth as well and healthy as ever.

“Who are you?” asked Cian of Cormac.

“I am your son Cormac.”

“Oh, my dear son, how old are you?”

“I’m in my twentieth year,” said Cormac. “I heard my mother and grandfather talk of your bravery, and I made up my mind to go in search of you, and be walking always till I found you. I said I’d face Erin first, for ’twas there you went with Glas Gainach. I landed this morning, met these three robbers; they won all my gold. I was like a wild man. I caught them, and swore I would kill them. They asked who was I; I told them. They said you were the stone pillar; that they had a rod that would raise you up with Glas Gainach. They told where the rod was. I took the heads off them, and raised you with the rod.”

Now Cormac struck the earth mound, and Glas Gainach rose up as well as before. Everything was now in its own place, and they were glad. Cian would not stop till he brought Glas Gainach to Elin Gow, so he was walking night and day till he came here behind to Cluainte, where Elin Gow was living. He screeched out Elin Gow’s name, told him to come. He came out; and when he saw Cian and Glas Gainach he came near fainting from joy. Cian put Glas Gainach’s horn in his hand, and said, “I wished to keep the promise I made when you spared my head; and it was gentle of you to spare it, for great was the loss that I caused you;” and he told all that had happened,—how he had won and lost Glas Gainach, and lost her through the robbers.

“Who is this brave youthful champion with you?” asked Elin Gow.

“This is my son, and but for him I’d be forever where the three robbers put me. I was eighteen years where they left me; but for that, the cow would have been with you long ago. What were you doing all this time?” asked Cian of Elin Gow.

“Making swords and weapons, but I could not have lived without the support of your father.”

“He promised me that,” said Cian, “before I left Erin. I knew that he would help you.”

“Oh, he did!” said Elin Gow.

The father and son left good health with Elin Gow, and never stopped nor stayed till they reached the castle of Cian’s father. The old king had thought that Cian was dead, as he had received no account of him for so many years. Great was his joy and gladness, and great was the feast that he made.

Cian remained for a month, and then went to the house of the robbers, took out all its treasures, locked up the place in the way that no man could open it; then he gave one-half his wealth to his father. He took the rest to Spain with his son, and lived there.

Elin Gow had grown old, and he was in dread that he had not the strength to follow Glas Gainach, and sent a message to Caol na Crua, the fleetest champion in Kerry. Caol came. Elin Gow agreed to pay him his price for minding the cow, and was glad to get him. He told Caol carefully how to herd the cow. She travelled as before, and was always at home before nightfall.

Glas Gainach had milk for all; and when any one came to milk her she would stop, and there never was a vessel that she did not fill. One woman heard this; and once when Glas Gainach was near a river, the woman brought a sieve and began to milk. She milked a long time. At last the cow saw the river white with milk; then she raised her leg, gave the woman a kick on the forehead, and killed her.

Caol na Crua was doing well, minding the cow all the time, till one evening Glas Gainach walked between the two pillars where she used to scratch herself; when she was full, her sides would touch both pillars. This evening she bellowed, and Elin Gow heard her. Instead of going home then, she went down to a place northwest of Cluainte, near a ruin; she used to drink there at times, but not often. Caol na Crua did not know this. He thought she was going into the sea, and caught her tail to hold her back. With that, instead of drinking, she went straight toward the water. Caol tried to hold her. She swept him along and went through the ocean, he keeping the grip he had, and she going with such swiftness that he was lying flat on the sea behind her; and she took him with her to Spain and went to the king, and very joyful was the king, for they were in great distress for butter while Glas Gainach was gone.