Celtic Fairy Tales (22 page)

The giant took him to his own house, and he reared him as his own
son. On a day of days when the giant was from home, the lad heard
the sweetest music he ever heard in a room at the top of the giant's
house. At a glance he saw the finest face he had ever seen. She
beckoned to him to come a bit nearer to her, and she said her name
was Auburn Mary but she told him to go this time, but to be sure to
be at the same place about that dead midnight.

And as he promised he did. The giant's daughter was at his side in a
twinkling, and she said, "To-morrow you will get the choice of my
two sisters to marry; but say that you will not take either, but me.
My father wants me to marry the son of the king of the Green City,
but I don't like him." On the morrow the giant took out his three
daughters, and he said:

"Now, son of the king of Tethertown, thou hast not lost by living
with me so long. Thou wilt get to wife one of the two eldest of my
daughters, and with her leave to go home with her the day after the
wedding."

"If you will give me this pretty little one," says the king's son,
"I will take you at your word."

The giant's wrath kindled, and he said: "Before thou gett'st her
thou must do the three things that I ask thee to do."

"Say on," says the king's son.

The giant took him to the byre.

"Now," says the giant, "a hundred cattle are stabled here, and it has
not been cleansed for seven years. I am going from home to-day, and
if this byre is not cleaned before night comes, so clean that a
golden apple will run from end to end of it, not only thou shalt not
get my daughter, but 'tis only a drink of thy fresh, goodly,
beautiful blood that will quench my thirst this night."

He begins cleaning the byre, but he might just as well to keep
baling the great ocean. After midday when sweat was blinding him,
the giant's youngest daughter came where he was, and she said to
him:

"You are being punished, king's son."

"I am that," says the king's son.

"Come over," says Auburn Mary, "and lay down your weariness."

"I will do that," says he, "there is but death awaiting me, at any
rate." He sat down near her. He was so tired that he fell asleep
beside her. When he awoke, the giant's daughter was not to be seen,
but the byre was so well cleaned that a golden apple would run from
end to end of it and raise no stain. In comes the giant, and he
said:

"Hast thou cleaned the byre, king's son?"

"I have cleaned it," says he.

"Somebody cleaned it," says the giant.

"You did not clean it, at all events," said the king's son.

"Well, well!" says the giant, "since thou wert so active to-day,
thou wilt get to this time to-morrow to thatch this byre with birds'
down, from birds with no two feathers of one colour."

The king's son was on foot before the sun; he caught up his bow and
his quiver of arrows to kill the birds. He took to the moors, but if
he did, the birds were not so easy to take. He was running after
them till the sweat was blinding him. About mid-day who should come
but Auburn Mary.

"You are exhausting yourself, king's son," says she.

"I am," said he.

"There fell but these two blackbirds, and both of one colour."

"Come over and lay down your weariness on this pretty hillock," says
the giant's daughter.

"It's I am willing," said he.

He thought she would aid him this time, too, and he sat down near
her, and he was not long there till he fell asleep.

When he awoke, Auburn Mary was gone. He thought he would go back to
the house, and he sees the byre thatched with feathers. When the
giant came home, he said:

"Hast thou thatched the byre, king's son?"

"I thatched it," says he.

"Somebody thatched it," says the giant.

"You did not thatch it," says the king's son.

"Yes, yes!" says the giant. "Now," says the giant, "there is a fir
tree beside that loch down there, and there is a magpie's nest in
its top. The eggs thou wilt find in the nest. I must have them for
my first meal. Not one must be burst or broken, and there are five
in the nest."

Early in the morning the king's son went where the tree was, and
that tree was not hard to hit upon. Its match was not in the whole
wood. From the foot to the first branch was five hundred feet. The
king's son was going all round the tree. She came who was always
bringing help to him.

"You are losing the skin of your hands and feet."

"Ach! I am," says he. "I am no sooner up than down."

"This is no time for stopping," says the giant's daughter. "Now you
must kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, take all those bones
apart, and use them as steps for climbing the tree. When you are
climbing the tree, they will stick to the glass as if they had grown
out of it; but when you are coming down, and have put your foot on
each one, they will drop into your hand when you touch them. Be sure
and stand on each bone, leave none untouched; if you do, it will
stay behind. Put all my flesh into this clean cloth by the side of
the spring at the roots of the tree. When you come to the earth,
arrange my bones together, put the flesh over them, sprinkle it with
water from the spring, and I shall be alive before you. But don't
forget a bone of me on the tree."

"How could I kill you," asked the king's son, "after what you have
done for me?"

"If you won't obey, you and I are done for," said Auburn Mary. "You
must climb the tree, or we are lost; and to climb the tree you must
do as I say." The king's son obeyed. He killed Auburn Mary, cut the
flesh from her body, and unjointed the bones, as she had told him.

As he went up, the king's son put the bones of Auburn Mary's body
against the side of the tree, using them as steps, till he came
under the nest and stood on the last bone.

Then he took the eggs, and coming down, put his foot on every bone,
then took it with him, till he came to the last bone, which was so
near the ground that he failed to touch it with his foot.

He now placed all the bones of Auburn Mary in order again at the
side of the spring, put the flesh on them, sprinkled it with water
from the spring. She rose up before him, and said: "Didn't I tell
you not to leave a bone of my body without stepping on it? Now I am
lame for life! You left my little finger on the tree without
touching it, and I have but nine fingers."

"Now," says she, "go home with the eggs quickly, and you will get
me to marry to-night if you can know me. I and my two sisters will
be arrayed in the same garments, and made like each other, but look
at me when my father says, 'Go to thy wife, king's son;' and you
will see a hand without a little finger."

He gave the eggs to the giant.

"Yes, yes!" says the giant, "be making ready for your marriage."

Then, indeed, there was a wedding, and it
was
a wedding!
Giants and gentlemen, and the son of the king of the Green City was
in the midst of them. They were married, and the dancing began, that
was a dance! The giant's house was shaking from top to bottom.

But bed time came, and the giant said, "It is time for thee to go to
rest, son of the king of Tethertown; choose thy bride to take with
thee from amidst those."

She put out the hand off which the little finger was, and he caught
her by the hand.

"Thou hast aimed well this time too; but there is no knowing but we
may meet thee another way," said the giant.

But to rest they went. "Now," says she, "sleep not, or else you are
a dead man. We must fly quick, quick, or for certain my father will
kill you."

Out they went, and on the blue grey filly in the stable they
mounted. "Stop a while," says she, "and I will play a trick to the
old hero." She jumped in, and cut an apple into nine shares, and she
put two shares at the head of the bed, and two shares at the foot of
the bed, and two shares at the door of the kitchen, and two shares
at the big door, and one outside the house.

The giant awoke and called, "Are you asleep?"

"Not yet," said the apple that was at the head of the bed.

At the end of a while he called again.

"Not yet," said the apple that was at the foot of the bed.

A while after this he called again: "Are your asleep?"

"Not yet," said the apple at the kitchen door.

The giant called again.

The apple that was at the big door answered.

"You are now going far from me," says the giant.

"Not yet," says the apple that was outside the house.

"You are flying," says the giant. The giant jumped on his feet, and
to the bed he went, but it was cold—empty.

"My own daughter's tricks are trying me," said the giant. "Here's
after them," says he.

At the mouth of day, the giant's daughter said that her father's
breath was burning her back.

"Put your hand, quick," said she, "in the ear of the grey filly, and
whatever you find in it, throw it behind us."

"There is a twig of sloe tree," said he.

"Throw it behind us," said she.

No sooner did he that, than there were twenty miles of blackthorn
wood, so thick that scarce a weasel could go through it.

The giant came headlong, and there he is fleecing his head and neck
in the thorns.

"My own daughter's tricks are here as before," said the giant; "but
if I had my own big axe and wood knife here, I would not be long
making a way through this."

He went home for the big axe and the wood knife, and sure he was not
long on his journey, and he was the boy behind the big axe. He was
not long making a way through the blackthorn.

"I will leave the axe and the wood knife here till I return," says
he.

"If you leave 'em, leave 'em," said a hoodie that was in a tree,
"we'll steal 'em, steal 'em."

"If you will do that," says the giant, "I must take them home." He
returned home and left them at the house.

At the heat of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breath
burning her back.

"Put your finger in the filly's ear, and throw behind whatever you
find in it."

He got a splinter of grey stone, and in a twinkling there were
twenty miles, by breadth and height, of great grey rock behind them.

The giant came full pelt, but past the rock he could not go.

"The tricks of my own daughter are the hardest things that ever met
me," says the giant; "but if I had my lever and my mighty mattock, I
would not be long in making my way through this rock also."

There was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he was
the boy to split the stones. He was not long in making a road
through the rock.

"I will leave the tools here, and I will return no more."

"If you leave 'em, leave 'em," says the hoodie, "we will steal 'em,
steal 'em."

"Do that if you will; there is no time to go back."

At the time of breaking the watch, the giant's daughter said that
she felt her father's breath burning her back.

"Look in the filly's ear, king's son, or else we are lost."

He did so, and it was a bladder of water that was in her ear this
time. He threw it behind him and there was a fresh-water loch,
twenty miles in length and breadth, behind them.

The giant came on, but with the speed he had on him, he was in the
middle of the loch, and he went under, and he rose no more.

On the next day the young companions were come in sight of his
father's house. "Now," says she, "my father is drowned, and he won't
trouble us any more; but before we go further," says she, "go you to
your father's house, and tell that you have the likes of me; but let
neither man nor creature kiss you, for if you do, you will not
remember that you have ever seen me."

Every one he met gave him welcome and luck, and he charged his
father and mother not to kiss him; but as mishap was to be, an old
greyhound was indoors, and she knew him, and jumped up to his mouth,
and after that he did not remember the giant's daughter.

She was sitting at the well's side as he left her, but the king's
son was not coming. In the mouth of night she climbed up into a tree
of oak that was beside the well, and she lay in the fork of that
tree all night. A shoemaker had a house near the well, and about
mid-day on the morrow, the shoemaker asked his wife to go for a
drink for him out of the well. When the shoemaker's wife reached the
well, and when she saw the shadow of her that was in the tree,
thinking it was her own shadow—and she never thought till now that
she was so handsome—she gave a cast to the dish that was in her
hand, and it was broken on the ground, and she took herself to the
house without vessel or water.

"Where is the water, wife?" said the shoemaker.

"You shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, I have stayed
too long your water and wood thrall."

"I think, wife, that you have turned crazy. Go you, daughter,
quickly, and fetch a drink for your father."

His daughter went, and in the same way so it happened to her. She
never thought till now that she was so lovable, and she took herself
home.

"Up with the drink," said her father.

"You home-spun shoe carle, do you think I am fit to be your thrall?"

The poor shoemaker thought that they had taken a turn in their
understandings, and he went himself to the well. He saw the shadow
of the maiden in the well, and he looked up to the tree, and he sees
the finest woman he ever saw.

"Your seat is wavering, but your face is fair," said the shoemaker.
"Come down, for there is need of you for a short while at my house."

The shoemaker understood that this was the shadow that had driven
his people mad. The shoemaker took her to his house, and he said
that he had but a poor bothy, but that she should get a share of all
that was in it.

One day, the shoemaker had shoes ready, for on that very day the
king's son was to be married. The shoemaker was going to the castle
with the shoes of the young people, and the girl said to the
shoemaker, "I would like to get a sight of the king's son before he
marries."