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He sat down and ate and drank and he felt hopeful seeing Fedelma beside him.
When he had eaten Fedelma said, "My blue falcon will gather the birds and pull
the feathers off for you. Still, unless you gather them quickly there is
danger, for the roof must be thatched with feathers at the set of sun." She
whistled and her blue falcon came. He followed it across the moor. The blue
falcon flew up in the air and gave a bird-call. Birds gathered and she swooped
amongst them pulling feathers off their backs and out of their wings. Soon
there was a heap of feathers on the ground--pigeons' feathers and pie's
feathers, crane's and crow's, blackbird's and starling's. The King of
Ireland's Son quickly gathered them into his bag. The falcon flew to another
place and gave her bird-call again. The birds gathered, and she went amongst
them, plucking their feathers. The King's Son gathered them and the blue
falcon flew to another place. Over and over again the blue falcon called to
the birds and plucked out their feathers, and over and over again the King's
Son gathered them into his bag. When he thought he had feathers enough to
thatch the roof he ran back to the shelter. He began the thatching, binding
the feathers down with little willow rods. He had just finished when the sun
went down. The old Enchanter came up and when he saw what the King's Son had
done he was greatly surprised. "You surely learned from the wizard you were
apprenticed to," said he.. "But to-morrow I will try you with another task. Go
now and sleep in the place where you were last night." The King's Son, glad
that the head was still on his shoulders, went and lay down in the water-tank.

VI

Until the white moon went out in the sky; until the Secret People began to
whisper in the woods--so long did the King of Ireland's Son remain in the dry
water-tank that night.

And then, when it was neither dark nor light, he saw a crane flying towards
him. It lighted on the edge of the tank. "Have you a message for me?" said the
King of Ireland's Son. The crane tapped three times with its beak. Then the
King's Son got out of the tank and prepared to follow the bird-messenger.

This was the way the crane went. It would fly a little way and then light on
the ground until the Prince came up to it. Then it would fly again. Over
marshes and across little streams the crane led him. And all the time the King
of Ireland's Son thought he was being brought to the place where Fedelma was--
to the place where he would get food and where he could rest until just before
the sun rose.

They went on and on till they came to an old tower. The crane lighted upon it.
The King's Son saw there was an iron door in the tower and he pulled a chain
until it opened. Then he saw a little room lighted with candles, and he saw a
young woman looking at herself in the glass. Her back was towards him and her
hair was the same as Fedelma's.

But when the young woman turned round he saw she was not Fedelma. She was
little, and she had a face that was brown and tight like a nut. She made
herself very friendly to the King of Ireland's Son and went to him and took
his hands and smiled into his face.

"You are welcome here," said she.

"Who are you?" he asked. "I am Gilveen," said she, "the second and the most
loving of the three daughters of the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands." She
stroked his face and his hands when she spoke to him.

"And why did you send for me?"

"Because I know what great trouble you are in. My father is preparing a task
for you, and it will he a terrible one. You will never be able to carry it
out."

"And what should you advise me to do, King's daughter?"

"Let me help you. In this tower," said she, "there are the wisest books in the
world. We'll surely find in one of them a way for you to get from this
country. And then I'll go back with you to your own land."

"Why would you do that?" asked the King of Ire-land's Son.

"Because I wish to be your wife," Gilveen said.

"But," said he, "if I live at all Fedelma is the one I'll marry."

When he said that Gilveen drew her lips together and her chin became like a
horn. Then she whistled through her teeth, and instantly everything in the
room began to attack the King's Son. The looking glass on the wall flung
itself at him and hit him on the back of the head. The leg of the table gave
him a terrible blow at the back of the knees. He saw the two candles hopping
across the floor to burn his legs. He ran out of the room, and when he got to
the door it swung around and gave him a blow that flung him away from the
tower. The crane that was waiting on the tower flew down, its neck and beak
outstretched, and gave him a blow on the back.

So the King of Ireland's Son went back over the marshes and across the little
streams, and he was glad when he saw the gable-end of the house again. Je went
into the tank. He knew that he had not long to wait before the sun would rise
and the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands would come to him and give him the
third and the most difficult of the three tasks. And he thought that Fedelma
was surely shut away from him and that she would not be able to help him that
day.

VII

At the rising of the sun the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands came to where
the King of Ireland's Son was huddled and said, "I am now going to set you the
third and last task. Rise up now and come with me."

The King's Son came out of the water-tank and fol-lowed the Enchanter. They
went to where there was a well. The King's Son looked down and he could not
see the bottom, so deep the well was. "At the bottom," said the Enchanter "is
the Ring of Youth. You must get it and bring it to me, or else you must lose
your head at the setting of that sun." That was all he said. He turned then
and went away.

The King's Son looked into the well and he saw no way of getting down its deep
smooth sides. He walked back towards the Castle. On his way he met Fedelma,
and she looked at him with deep dread in her eyes. "What task did my father
set you to-day?" said she. "He bids me go down into a well," said the King's
Son. "A well!" said Fedelma, and she became all dread. "I have to take the
Ring of Youth from the bot-tom and bring it to him," said the King's Son.
"Oh," said Fedelma,'"he has set you the task I dreaded."

Then she said, "You will lose your life if the Ring of Youth is not taken out
of the well. And if you lose yours I shall lose my life too. There is one way
to get down the sides of the well. You must kill me. Take my bones and make
them as steps while you go down the sides. Then, when you have taken the Ring
of Youth out of the water, put my bones as they were before, and put the Ring
above my heart. I shall be alive again. But you must be careful that you leave
every bone as it was."

The King's Son fell into a deeper dread than Fedelma when he heard what she
said. "This can never be," he cried. "It must be," said she, "and by all your
vows and promises I command that you do it. Kill me now and do as I have
bidden you. If it be done I shall live. If it be not done you will lose your
life and I will never regain mine."

He killed her. He took the bones as she had bidden him, and he made steps down
the sides of the well. He searched at the bottom, and he found the Ring of
Youth. He brought the bones together again. Down on his knees he went, and his
heart did not beat nor did his breath come or go until he had fixed them in
their places. Over the heart he placed the Ring. Life came back to Fedelma.

"You have done well," she said. "One thing only is not in its place--the joint
of my little finger." She held up her hand and he saw that her little finger
was bent.

"I have helped you in everything," said Fedelma, "and in the last task I could
not have helped you if you had not been true to me when Aefa and Gilveen
brought you to them. Now the three tasks are done, and you can ask my father
for one of his daughters in marriage. When you bring him the Ring of Youth he
will ask you to make a choice. I pray that the one chosen will be myself."

"None other will I have but you, Fedelma, love of my heart," said the King of
Ireland's Son.

VIII

The King of Ireland's Son went into the house before the setting of the sun.
The Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands was seated on his chair of gold. "Have
you brought me the Ring of Youth?" he asked.

"I have brought it," said the King's Son.

"Give it to me then," said the Enchanter.

"I will not," said the King's Son, "until you give what you promised me at the
end of my tasks--one of your three daughters for my wife."

The Enchanter brought him to a closed door. "My three daughters are within
that room," said he. "Put your hand through the hole in the door, and the one
whose hand you hold when I open it--it is she you will have to marry."

Then wasn't the mind of the King's Son greatly troubled? If he held the hand
of Aefa or Gilveen he would lose his love Fedelma. He stood without putting
out his hand. "Put your hand through the hole of the door or go away from my
house altogether," said the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands.

The King of Ireland's Son ventured to put his hand through the hole in the
door. The hands of the maidens inside were all held in a bunch. But no sooner
did he touch them than he found that one had a broken finger. This he knew was
Fedelma's hand, and this was the hand he held.

"You may open the door now," said he to the Enchanter. He opened the door and
the King of Ireland's Son drew Fedelma to him. "This is the maiden I choose,"
said he, "and now give her her dowry."

"The dowry that should go with me," said Fedelma, "is the Slight Red Steed."
"What dowry do you want with her, young man?" said the Enchanter.

"No other dowry but the Slight Red Steed."

"Go round to the stable then and get it. And I hope no well-trained wizard
like you will come this way again."

"No well-trained wizard am I, but the King of Ire-land's Son. And I have found
your dwelling-place within a year and a day. And now I pluck the three hairs
out of your heard, Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands."

The beard of the Enchanter bristled like spikes on a hedgehog, and the balls
of his eyes stuck out of his head. The King's Son plucked the three hairs of
his beard before he could lift a hand or say a word. "Mount the Slight Red
Steed and be off, the two of you," said the Enchanter.

The King of Ireland's Son and Fedelma mounted the Slight Red Steed and rode
off, and the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands, and his two daughters, Aefa
and Gilveen, in a rage watched them ride away.

IX

They crossed the River of the Ox, and went over the Mountain of the Fox and
were in the Glen of the Badger before the sun rose. And there, at the foot of
the Hill of Horns, they found an old man gathering dew from the grass.

"Could you tell us where we might find the Little Sage of the Mountain?"
Fedelma asked the old man.

"I am the Little Sage of the Mountain," said he, "and what is it you want of
me?"

"To betroth us for marriage," said Fedelma.

"I will do that. Come to my house, the pair of you. And as you are both young
and better able to walk than I am it would be fitting to let me ride on your
horse."

The King's Son and Fedelma got off and the Little Sage of the Mountain got on
the Slight Red Steed. They took the path that went round the Hill of Horns.
And at the other side of the hill they found a hut thatched with one great
wing of a bird. The Little Sage got off the Slight Red Steed. "Now," said he,
"you're both young, and I'm an old man and it would be fitting for you to do
my day's work before you call upon me to do anything for you. Now would you,"
said he to the King of Ireland's Son, "take this spade in your hand and go
into the garden and dig my potatoes for me? And would you," said he to
Fedelma, "sit down at the quern-stone and grind the wheat for me?"

The King of Ireland's Son went into the garden and Fedelma sat at the quern-
stone that was just outside the door; he dug and she ground while the Little
Sage sat at the fire looking into a big book. And when Fedelma and the King's
Son were tired with their labor he gave them a drink of buttermilk.

She made cakes out of the wheat she had ground and the King's Son washed the
potatoes and the Little Sage boiled them and so they made their supper. Then
the Little Sage of the Mountain melted lead and made two rings; and one ring
he gave to Fedelma to give to the King's Son and one he gave to the King's Son
to give to Fedelma. And when the rings were given he said, "You are betrothed
for your marriage now."

They stayed with the Little Sage of the Mountain that night, and when the sun
rose they left the house that was thatched with the great wing of a bird and
they turned towards the Meadow of Brightness and the Wood of Shadows that were
between them and the King of Ireland's domain. They rode on the Slight Red
Steed, and the Little Sage of the Mountain went with them a part of the way.
He seemed downcast and when they asked him the reason he said, "I see dividing
ways and far journeys for you both." "But how can that be," said the King's
Son, "when, in a little while we will win to my father's domain?" "It may be I
am wrong," said the Little Sage, "and if I am not, remember that devotion
brings together dividing ways and that high hearts win to the end of every
journey." He bade them good-by then, and turned back to his hut that was
thatched with the great wing of a bird.

They rode across the Meadow of Brightness and Fedelma's blue falcon sailed
above them. "Yonder is a field of white flowers," said she, "and while we are
crossing it you must tell me a story."

"I know by heart," said the King's Son, "only the stories that Maravaun, my
father's Councillor, has put into the book he is composing--the book that is
called 'The Breastplate of Instruction.'"

"Then," said Fedelma, "tell me a story from 'The Breastplate of Instruction,'
while we are crossing this field of white flowers."

"I will tell you the first story that is in it," said the King's Son. Then
while they were crossing the field of white flowers the King's Son told
Fedelma the story of

The Ass and the Seal

X

A seal that had spent a curious fore-noon paddling around the island of Ilaun-
Beg drew itself up on a rock the better to carry on its investigations. It was
now within five yards of the actual island. On the little beach there were
three curraghs in which the island-men went over the sea; they were turned
bottom up and heavy stones were placed upon them to prevent their being
carried away by the high winds. The seal noted them as he rested upon the flat
rock. He noted too a little ass that was standing beyond the curraghs,
sheltering himself where the cliffs hollowed in.

Now this ass was as curious as the seal, and when he saw the smooth creature
that was moving its head about with such intelligence he came down to the
water's edge. Two of his legs were spancelled with a piece of straw rope, but
being used to such impediment he came over without any awkwardness. He looked
inquiringly at the seal.

The gray-headed crow of the cliff lighted on a spar of rock and made herself
an interpreter between the two. "Shaggy beast of the Island," said the seal,
"friend and follower of men, tell me about their fabulous existence."

"Do you mean the hay-getters?" said the ass.

"You know well whom he means," said the gray-headed crow viciously. "Answer
him now."

"You gravell me entirely when you ask about men," said the ass. "I don't know
much about them. They live to themselves and I live to myself. Their houses
are full of smoke and it blinds my eyes to go in. There used to be green
fields here and high grass that became hay, but there's nothing like that now.
I think men have given up eating what grows out of the ground. I see nothing,
I smell nothing, but fish, fish, fish."

The gray-headed crow had a vicious eye fixed on the ass all the time he was
speaking. "You're saying all that," said she, "because they let the little
horse stay all night in the house and beat you out of it."

"My friend," said the seal, "it is evident that men deceive you by
appearances. I know men. I have followed their boats and have listened to the
wonderful sounds they make with their voices and with instruments. Do they not
draw fish out of the depths by enchantments? Do they not build their
habitations with music? Do they not draw the moon out of the sea and set it
for a light in their houses? And is it not known that the fairest daughters of
the sea have loved men?"

"When I'm awake long o' moonlit nights I feel like that myself," said the ass.
Then the recollections of these long, frosty nights made him yawn. Then he
brayed.

"What it is to live near men," said the seal in admiration. "What wonderful
sounds!"

"I'd cross the water and rub noses with you," said the ass, "only I'm afraid
of crocodiles."

"Crocodiles?" said the gray-headed crow.

"Yes," said the ass. "It's because I'm of a very old family, you know. They
were Egyptians. My people never liked to cross water in their own country.
There were crocodiles there."

"I don't want to waste any more time listening to nonsense," said the gray-
headed crow. She flew to the ass's back and plucked out some of the felt.
"I'll take this for my own habitation," she said, and flew back to the cliff.

The ass would have kicked up his heels only two of his legs were fastened with
the straw rope. He turned away, and without a word of farewell to the seal
went scrambling up the bank of the island.

The seal stayed for a while moving his head about intelligently. Then he
slipped into the water and paddled off. "One feels their lives in music," he
said; "great tones vibrate round the island where men live. It is very
wonderful."

"That," said the King's Son, "is the first story in 'The Breastplate of
Instruction,'--'The Ass and the Seal.' And now you must tell me a story while
we are crossing the field of blue flowers."

"Then it will be a very little story," said Fedelma. They crossed a little
field of blue flowers, and Fedelma told

The Sending of the Crystal Egg

XI

The Kings of Murias heard that King Atlas had to bear
The world upon his back, so they sent him then and there
The Crystal Egg that would be the Swan of Endless Tales
That his burthen for a while might lie on his shoulder-scales
Fair-balanced while he heard the Tales the Swan poured forth--
North-world Tales for the while he watched the Star of the North;
And East-world Tales he would hear in the morning swart and cool,
When the Lions Nimrod had spared came up from the drinking pool;
West-world Tales for the King when he turned him with the sun;
Then whispers of magic Tales from Africa, his own.

But the Kings of Murias made the Crane their messenger--
The fitful Crane whose thoughts are always frightening her
She slipped from Islet to Isle, she sloped from Foreland to Coast;
She passed through cracks in the mountains and came over trees like a ghost;
And then fled back in dismay when she saw on the hollow plains
The final battle between the Pigmies and the Cranes.

Where is the Crystal Egg that was sent King Atlas then?
Hatched it will be one day and the Tales will be told to men:
That is if it be not laid in some King's old Treasury: That is if the fitful
Crane did not lose it threading the Sea!

They were not long going through the little field of blue flowers, and when
they went through it they came to another field of white flowers. Fedelma
asked the King's Son to tell her another story, and thereupon he told her the
second story in "The Breastplate of Instruction."

The Story of the Young Cuckoo

XII

The young cuckoo made desperate attempts to get himself through the narrow
opening in the hollow tree. He screamed when he failed to get through.

His foster-parents had remained so long beside him that they were wasted and
sad while the other birds, their broods reared, were vigorous and joyful. They
heard the one that had been reared in their nest, the young cuckoo, scream,
but this time they did not fly towards him. The young cuckoo screamed again,
but there was something in that scream that reminded the foster-parents of
hawks. They flew away. They were miserable in their flight, these birds, for
they knew they were committing a treason.

They had built their nest in a hollow tree that had a little opening. A cuckoo
laid her egg on the ground and, carrying it in her beak, had placed it in the
nest. Their own young had been pushed out. They had worn themselves to get
provision for the terrible and fascinating creature who had remained in their
nest.

When the time came for him to make his flight he could not get his body
through the little opening. Yesterday he had begun to try. The two foster-
parents flew to him again and again with food. But now their own nesting place
had become strange to them. They would never go near it again. The young
cuckoo was forsaken.

A woodpecker ran round the tree. He looked into the hollow and saw the big
bird crumpled up.

"Hello," said the woodpecker. "How did you get here?"

"Born here," said the young cuckoo sulkily.

"Oh, were you?" said the woodpecker and he ran round the tree again.

When he came back to the opening the young cuckoo was standing up with his
mouth open.

"Feed me," said he.

"I've to rush round frightfully to get something for myself," said the
woodpecker.

"At least, someone ought to bring me food," said the young cuckoo.

"How is that?" said the woodpecker.

"Well, oughtn't they to?" said the young cuckoo.

"I wouldn't say so," said the woodpecker, "you have the use of your wits,
haven't you?" He ran round the trunk of the tree again and devoured a lean
grub. The young cuckoo struggled at the opening and screamed again.

"Don't be drawing too much attention to yourself," advised the woodpecker when
he came to the opening again. "They might take you for a young hawk, you
know."

"Who might?" said the cuckoo. "The neighbors. They would pull a young hawk to
pieces."

"What am I to do?" said the young cuckoo.

"What's in your nature to do?"

"My nature?" said the young cuckoo. "It's my nature to swing myself on
branches high up in a tree. It's my nature to spread out my wings and fly over
pleasant places. It is my nature to be alone. But not alone as here. Alone
with the sound of my own voice." Suddenly he cried, "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!"

"I know you now," said the woodpecker. "There's going to be a storm," he said;
"trust a woodpecker to know that."

The young cuckoo strove towards the big sky again, and he screamed so
viciously that a rat that had just come out of the ditch fastened his eyes on
him. That creature looked bad to the young cuckoo. Rain plopped on the leaves.
Thunder crashed. A bolt struck the tree, and the part above the opening was
torn away.

The young cuckoo flung himself out on the grass and went awkwardly amongst the
blue bells. "What a world," said he. "All this wet and fire and noise to get
me out of the nest. What a world!" The young cuckoo was free, and these were
the first words he said when he went into the world.

That was the last story the King's Son told from Maravaun's book, "The
Breastplate of Instruction." They had another little field of blue flowers to
cross, and as they went across it Fedelma told the King's Son

The Story of the Cloud-Woman

XIII

The Cloud-woman, Mor, was the daughter
Of Griann, the Sun,--well, and she
Made a marriage to equal that grandeur,
For her Goodman was Lir, the Sea.

The Cloud-woman Mor, she had seven
Strong sons, and the story-books say
Their inches grew in the night-time,
And grew over again in the day.

The Cloud-woman Mor,--as they grew in
Their bone, she grew in her pride,
Till her haughtiness turned away, men say,
Her goodman Lir from her side;

Then she lived in Mor's Home and she watched
With pride her sons and her crop,
Till one day the wish in her grew
To view from the mountain-top
All, all that she owned, so she
Traveled without any stop.

And what did she see? A thousand

Fields and her own fields small, small!
"What a fine and wide place is Eirinn," said she,
"I am Mor, but not great after all."

Then a herdsman came, and he told her
That her sons had stolen away:
They had left the calves in the hollow,
With the goose-flock they would not stay:

They had seen three ships on the sea
And nothing would do them but go:
Mor wept and wept when she heard it,
And her tears made runnels below.

Then her shining splendor departed:
She went, and she left no trace,
And the Cloud-woman, Mor, was never
Beheld again in that place.

The proud woman, Mor, who was daughter
Of Griann, the Sun, and who made
A marriage to equal that grandeur,
Passed away as a shade.

XIV

And that was the last story that Fedelma told, for they had crossed the
Meadows of Brightness and had come to a nameless place--a stretch of broken
ground where there were black rocks and dead grass and bare roots of trees
with here and there a hawthorn tree in blossom. "I fear this place. We must
not halt here," Fedelma said.

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