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And then a flock of ravens came from the rocks, and flying straight at them
attacked Fedelma and the King of Ireland's Son. The King's Son sprang from the
steed and taking his sword in his hand he fought the ravens until he drove
them away. They rode on again. But now the ravens flew back and attacked them
again and the King of Ireland's Son fought them until his hands were wearied.
He mounted the steed again, and they rode swiftly on. And the ravens came the
third time and attacked them more fiercely than before. The King's Son fought
them until he had killed all but three and until he was covered with their
blood and feathers.

The three that had escaped flew away. "Oh, mount the Slight Red Steed and let
us ride fast," said Fedelma to the King's Son.

"I am filled with weariness," he said. "Bid the steed stay by the rock, lay my
sword at my side, and let me sleep with my head on your lap."

"I fear for us both if you slumber here," said Fedelma.

"I must sleep, and I pray that you let me lay my head on your lap."

"I know not what would awaken you if you slumber here."

"I will awaken," said the King's Son, "but now I must sleep, and I would
slumber with my head on your lap."

She got down from the Slight Red Steed and she bade it stay by a rock; she put
his sword by the place he would sleep and she took his head upon her lap. The
King's Son slept.

As she watched over him a great fear grew in Fedelma. Every hour she would say
to him, "Are you near waking, my dear, my dear?" But no flush of waking
appeared on the face of the King of Ireland's Son.

Then she saw a man coming across the nameless place, across the broken ground,
with its dead grass and black rocks and with its roots and stumps of trees.
The man who came near them was taller than any man she had seen before--he was
tall as a tree. Fedelma knew him from what she had heard told about him--she
knew him to be the King of the Land of Mist.

The King of the Land of Mist came straight to them. He stood before Fedelma
and he said, "I seek Fedelma, the daughter of the Enchanter of the Black Back-
Lands and the fairest woman within the seas of Eirinn."

"Then go to her father's house and seek Fedelma there," said she to him.

"I have sought her there," said the King of the Land of Mist, "but she left
her father's house to go with the King of Ireland's Son."

"Then seek her in the Castle of the King of Ireland," said Fedelma.

"That I will not. Fedelma is here, and Fedelma will come with me," said the
King of the Land of Mist.

"I will not leave him with whom I am plighted," said Fedelma.

Then the King of the Land of Mist took up the King of Ireland's Son. High he
held him--higher than a tree grows. "I will dash him down on the rocks and
break the life within him," said he.

"Do not so," said Fedelma. "Tell me. If I go with you what would win me back?"

"Nothing but the sword whose stroke would slay me--the Sword of Light," said
the King of the Land of Mist. He held up the King of Ireland's Son again, and
again he was about to dash him against the rocks. The blue falcon that was
overhead flew down and settled on the rock behind her. Fedelma knew that what
she and the King of the Land of Mist would say now would be carried some place
and told to someone. "Leave my love, the King's Son, to his rest," she said.

"If I do not break the life in him will you come with me, Fedelma?"

"I will go with you if you tell again what will win me back from you."

"The Sword of Light whose stroke will slay me."

"I will go with you if you swear by all your vows and promises not to make me
your wife nor your sweetheart for a year and a day."

"I swear by all my vows and promises not to make you my wife nor my sweetheart
for a year and a day."

"I will go with you if you let it be that I fall into a slumber that will last
for a year and a day."

"I will let that be, fairest maid within the seas of Eirinn."

"I will go with you if you will tell me what will take me out of that
slumber."

"If one cuts a tress of your hair with a stroke of the Sword of Light it will
take you out of that slumber."

The blue falcon that was behind heard what the King of the Land of Mist said.
She rose up and remained overhead with her wings outspread. Fedelma took the
ring off her own finger and put it on the finger of the King of Ireland's Son,
and she wrote upon the ground in Ogham letters, "The King of the Land of
Mist."

"If it be not you who wakens me, love," she said, "may it be that I never
waken."

"Come, daughter of the Enchanter," said the King of the Land of Mist.

"Pluck the branch of hawthorn and give it to me that I may fall into my
slumber here," said Fedelma.

The King of the Land of Mist plucked a flowering branch of hawthorn and gave
it to her. She held the flowers against her face and fell into slumber. For a
while she and the King of Ireland's Son were side by side in sleep.

Then the King of the Land of Mist took Fedelma in his arms and strode along
that nameless place, over the broken ground with its dead grass and its black
rocks and its stumps and roots of trees and the three ravens that had escaped
the sword of the King of Ire-land's Son followed where he went.

XV

Long, long after Fedelma had been taken by the King of the Land of Mist the
King of Ireland's Son came out of his slumber. He saw around him that nameless
place with its black rocks and bare roots of trees. He remembered he had come
to it with Fedelma. He sprang up and looked for her, but no one was near him.
"Fedelma, Fedelma!" He searched and he called, but it was as if no one had
ever been with him. He found his sword; be searched for his steed, but the
Slight Red Steed was gone too.

He thought that the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands had followed them and
had taken Fedelma from him. He turned to go towards the Enchanter's country
and then he found what Fedelma had written upon the ground in Ogham letters

____II_____________\/______//___
IIII /\

"The King of the Land of Mist"

He did not know what direction to take to get to the dominion of the King of
the Land of Mist. He crossed the broken ground and he found no trace of
Fedelma nor of him who had taken her. He found himself close to the Wood of
Shadows. He went through it. As he went on he saw scores and scores of
shadows. Nothing else was in the wood--no bird, no squirrel, no cricket. The
shadows had the whole wood to themselves. They ran swiftly from tree to tree,
and now and then one would stop at a tree and wait. Often the King of
Ireland's Son came close to a waiting shadow. One became like a small old man
with a beard. The King's Son saw this shadow again and again. What were they,
the shadows, he asked himself? Maybe they were wise creatures and could tell
him what he wanted to know.

He thought he heard them whispering together. Then one little shadow with
trailing legs went slowly from tree to tree. The King of Ireland's Son thought
he would catch and hold a shadow and make it tell him where he should go to
find the dominion of the King of the Land of Mist.

He went after one shadow and another and waited beside a tree for one to come.
Often he thought he saw the small old man with the beard and the little
creature with trailing legs. And then he began to see other shadows--men with
the heads of rooks and men with queer heavy swords upon their shoulders. He
followed them on and on through the wood and he heard their whispering
becoming louder and louder, and then he thought that as he went on the
shadows, instead of slipping before him, began to turn back and go past and
surround him. Then he heard a voice just under the ground at his feet say,
"Shout--shout out your own name, Son of King Connal!" Then the King's Son
shouted out his own name and the whispers ceased in the wood and the shadows
went backward and forward no more.

He went on and came to a stream within the wood and he went against its flow
all night as well as all day, hoping to meet some living thing that would tell
him how he might come to the dominion of the King of the Land of Mist. In the
forenoon of another day he came to where the wood grew thin and then he went
past the last trees.

He saw a horse grazing: he ran up to it and found that it was the Slight Red
Steed that had carried Fedelma and himself from the house of the Enchanter.
Then as he laid hold of the steed a hound ran up to him and a hawk flew down
and he saw that they were the hawk and the hound that used to be with him when
he rode abroad from his father's Castle.

He mounted and seeing his hound at his heel and his hawk circling above he
felt a longing to go back to his father's Castle which he knew to be near and
where he might find out where the King of the Land of Mist had his dominion.

So the King of Ireland's Son rode back to his father's Castle--

His hound at his heel,
His hawk on his wrist.

When the King of the Cats Came to King Connal's Dominion

I

The King of Ireland's Son was home again, but as he kept asking about a King
and a Kingdom no one had ever heard of, people thought he had lost his wits in
his search for the Enchanter of the Black Back-Lands. He rode abroad every day
to ask strangers if they knew where the King of the Land of Mist had his
dominion and he came back to his father's every night in the hope that one
would be at the Castle who could tell him where the place that he sought was.
Maravaun wanted to relate to him fables from "The Breastplate of Instruction"
but the King's Son did not hear a word that Maravaun said. After a while he
listened to the things that Art, the King's Steward, related to him, for it
was Art who had shown the King's Son the leaden ring that was on his finger.
He took it off, remembering the betrothal ring that the Little Sage had made,
and then he saw that it was not his, but Fedelma's ring that he wore. Then he
felt as if Fedelma had sent a message to him, and he was less wild in his
thoughts.

Afterwards, in the evenings, when he came back from his ridings, he would
cross the meadows with Art, the King's Steward, or would stand with him while
the herdsmen drove the cattle into the byres. Then he would listen to what Art
related to him. And one evening he heard Art say, "The most remarkable event
that happened was the coming into this land of the King of the Cats."

"I will listen to what you tell me about it," said the King's Son. "Then,"
said Art, the King's Steward, "to your father's Son in all truth be it told"--

The King of the Cats stood up. He was a grand creature. His body was brown and
striped across as if one had burned on wood with a hot poker. Like all the
race of the Royal Cats of the Isle of Man he was without a tail. But he had
extraordinarily fine whiskers. They went each side of his face to the length
of a dinner-dish. He had such eyes that when he turned one of them upward the
bird that was flying across dropped from the sky. And when he turned the other
one down he could make a hole in the floor.

He lived in the Isle of Man. Once he had been King of the Cats of Ireland and
Britain, of Norway and Denmark, and the whole Northern and Western World. But
after the Norsemen won in the wars the Cats of Norway and Britain swore by
Thor and Odin that they would give him no more allegiance. So for a hundred
years and a day he had got allegiance only from the Cats of the Western World;
that is, from Ireland and the Islands beyond.

The tribute he received was still worth having. In May he was sent a boatful
of herring. In August he was let have two boatfuls of mackerel. In November he
was given five barrels of preserved mice. At other seasons he had for his
tribute one out of every hundred birds that flew across the Island on their
way to Ireland--tomtits, pee-wits, linnets, siskins, starlings, martins, wrens
and tender young barn owls. He was also sent the following as marks of
allegiance and respect: a salmon, to show his dominion over the rivers; the
skin of a marten to show his dominion in the woods; a live cricket to show his
dominion in the houses of men; the horn of a cow, to show his right to a
portion of the milk produced in the Western World.

But the tribute from the Western World became smaller and smaller. One year
the boat did not come with the herring. Mackerel was sent to him afterwards
but he knew it was sent to him because so much was being taken out of the sea
that the farmer-men were plowing their mackerel-catches into the land to make
their crops grow. Then a year came when he got neither the salmon nor the
marten skin, neither the live cricket nor the cow's horn. Then he got
righteously and royally indignant. He stood up on his four paws on the floor
of his palace, and declared to his wife that he himself was going to Ireland
to know what prevented the sending of his lawful tribute to him. He called for
his Prime Minister then and said, "Prepare for Us our Speech from the Throne."

The Prime Minister went to the Parliament House and wrote down "Oyez, Oyez,
Oyez!" But he could not remember any more of the ancient language in which the
speeches from the Throne were always written. He went home and hanged himself
with a measure of tape and his wife buried the body under the hearth-stone.

"Speech or no speech," said the King of the Cats, "I'm going to pay a royal
visit to my subjects in Ireland."

He went to the top of the cliff and he made a spring. He landed on the deck of
a ship that was bringing the King of Norway's daughter to be married to the
King of Scotland's son. The ship nearly sank with the crash of his body on it.
He ran up the sails and placed himself on the mast of the ship. There he
gathered his feet together and made another spring. This time he landed on a
boat that was bringing oak-timber to build a King's Palace in London. He stood
where the timber was highest and made another spring. This time he landed on
the Giant's Causeway that runs from Ireland out into the sea. He picked his
steps from boulder to boulder, and then walked royally and resolutely on the
ground of Ireland. A man was riding on horseback with a woman seated on the
saddle behind him. The King of the Cats waited until they came up.

"My good man," said he very grandly, "when you go back to your house, tell the
ash-covered cat in the comer that the King of the Cats has come to Ireland to
see him."

His manner was so grand that the man took off his hat and the woman made a
courtesy. Then the King of the Cats sprang into the branch of a tree of the
forest and slept till it was past the mid-day heat.

I nearly forgot to tell you that as he slept on the branch his whiskers stood
around his face the breadth of a dinner-dish either way.

II

The next day the King's Son rode abroad and where he went that day he saw no
man nor woman nor living creature in the land around;. But coming back he saw
a falcon sailing in the air above. He rode on and the falcon sailed above,
never rising high in the air, and never swooping down. The King's Son fitted
an arrow to his bow and shot at the falcon. Immediately it rose in the air and
flew swiftly away, but a feather from it fell before him. The King's Son
picked the feather up. It was a blue feather. Then the King's Son thought of
Fedelma's falcon--of the bird that flew above them when they rode across the
Meadows of Brightness. It might be Fedelma's falcon, the one he had shot at,
and it might have come to show him the way to the Land of Mist. But the falcon
was not to be seen now.

He did not go amongst the strangers in his father's Castle that evening; but
he stood with Art who was watching the herdsmen drive the cattle into the
byres. And Art after a while said, "I will tell you more about the coming of
the King of the Cats into King Connal's Dominion. And as before I say

"To your father's Son in all truth be it told "--

The King of the Cats waited on the branch of the tree until the moon was in
the sky like a roast duck on a dish of gold, and still neither retainer,
vassal nor subject came to do him service. He was vexed, I tell you, at the
want of respect shown him.

This was the reason why none of his subjects came to him for such a long time:
The man and woman he had spoken to went into their house and did not say a
word about the King of the Cats until they had eaten their supper. Then when
the man had smoked his second pipe, he said to the woman: "That was a
wonderful thing that happened to us to-day. A cat to walk up to two Christians
and say to them, 'Tell the ashy pet in your chimney corner at home that the
King of the Cats has come to see him.'"

No sooner were the words said than the lean, gray, ash-covered cat that lay on
the hearthstone sprang on the back of the man's chair.

"I will say this," said the man; "it's a bad time when two Christians like
ourselves are stopped on their way back from the market and ordered--ordered,
no less--to give a message to one's own cat lying on one's own hearthstone."

"By my fur and daws, you're a long time coming to his message," said the cat
on the back of the chair; "what was it, anyway?"

"The King of the Cats has come to Ireland to see you," said the man, very much
surprised.

"It's a wonder you told it at all," said the cat, going to the door. "And
where did you see His Majesty?"

"You shouldn't have spoken," said the man's wife.

"And how did I know a cat could understand?" said the man.

"When you have done talking amongst yourselves," said the cat, "would you tell
me where you met His Majesty?"

"Nothing will I tell you," said the man, "until I hear your own name from
you."

"My name," said the cat, "is Quick-to-Grab, and well you should know it."

"Not a word will we tell you," said the woman, "until we hear what the King of
the Cats is doing in Ireland. Is he bringing wars and rebellions into the
country?"

"Wars and rebellions,--no, ma'am," said Quick-to-Grab, "but deliverance from
oppression. Why are the cats of the country lean and lazy and covered with
ashes? It is because the cat that goes outside the house in the sunlight, to
hunt or to play, is made to suffer with the loss of an eye."

"And who makes them suffer with the loss of an eye?" said the woman. "One
whose reign is nearly over now," said Quick- to-Grab. "But tell me where you
saw His Majesty?"

"No," said the man. "No," said the woman, "for we don't like your
impertinence. Back with you to the hearthstone, and watch the mouse-hole for
us."

Quick-to-Grab walked straight out of the door.

"May no prosperity come to this house," said he, "for denying me when I asked
where the King of the Cats was pleased to speak to you."

But he put his ear to the door when he went outside and he heard the woman
say,--

"The horse will tell him that we saw the King of the Cats a mile this side of
the Giant's Causeway." (That was a mistake. The horse could not have told it
at all, because horses never know the language that is spoken in houses--only
cats know it fully and dogs know a little of it.

Quick-to-Grab now knew where the King of the Cats might be found. He went
creeping by hedges, loping across fields, bounding through woods, until he
came under the branch in the forest where the King of the Cats rested, his
whiskers standing round his face the breadth of a dinner-dish.

When he came-under the branch Quick-to-Grab mewed a little in Egyptian, which
is the ceremonial language of the Cats. The King of the Cats came to the end
of the branch.

"Who are you, vassal?" said he in Phoenician.

"A humble retainer of my lord," said Quick-to-Grab in High-Pictish (this is a
language very suitable to cats but it is only their historians who now use
it).

They continued their conversation in Irish.

"What sign shall I show the others that will make them know you are the King
of the Cats?" said Quick-to-Grab.

The King of the Cats chased up the tree and pulled down heavy branches. "There
is a sign of my royal prowess," said he.

"It's a good sign," said Quick-to-Grab. They were about to talk again when
Quick-to-Grab put down his tail and ran up another tree greatly frightened.

"What ails you?" said the King of the Cats. "Can you not stay still while you
are speaking to your lord and master?"

"Old-fellow Badger is coming this way," said Quick-to-Grab, "and when he puts
his teeth in one he never lets go."

Without saying a word the King of the Cats jumped down from the tree. Old-
fellow Badger was coming through the glade. When he saw the King of the Cats
crouching there he stopped and bared his terrible teeth. The King of the Cats
bent himself to spring. Then Old-fellow Badger turned round and went lumbering
back.

"Oh, by my claws and fur," said Quick-to-Grab, "you are the real King of the
Cats. Let me be your Councillor. Let me advise your Majesty in the times that
will be so difficult for your subjects and yourself. Know that the Cats of
Ireland are impoverished and oppressed. They are under a terrible tyranny."

"Who oppresses my vassals, retainers and subjects?" said the King of the Cats.

"The Eagle-Emperor. He has made a law that no cat may leave a man's house as
long as the birds (he makes an exception in the case of owls) have any
business abroad."

"I will tear him to pieces," said the King of the Cats. "How can I reach him?"

"No cat has thought of reaching him," said Quick-to-Grab, "they only think of
keeping out of his way. Now let me advise your Majesty. None of our enemies
must know that you have come into this country. You must appear as a common
cat."

"What, me?" said the King of the Cats.

"Yes, your Majesty, for the sake of the deliverance of your subjects you will
have to appear as a common cat."

"And be submissive and eat scraps?"

"That will be only in the daytime," said Quick-to-Grab, "in the night-time you
will have your court and your feasts."

"At least, let the place I stay in be no hovel," said the King of the Cats. "I
shall refuse to go into a house where there are washing days--damp clothes
before a fire and all that."

"I shall use my best diplomacy to safeguard your comfort and dignity," said
Quick-to-Grab, "please invest me as your Prime Minister."

The King of the Cats invested Quick-to-Grab by biting the fur round his neck.
Then the King and his Prime Minister parted. The King of the Cats took up
quarters for a day or two in a round tower. Quick-to-Grab made a journey
through the country-side. He went into every house and whispered a word to
every cat that was there, and whether the cat was watching a mouse-hole, or
chasing crickets, or playing with kittens, when he or she heard that word they
sat up and considered.

III

Early, early, next day the King of Ireland's Son rode out in search of the
blue falcon, but although he rode from the ring of day to the gathering of the
dark clouds he saw no sign of it on rock or tree or in the air. Very wearily
he rode back, and after his horse was stabled he stood with Art in the meadows
watching the cattle being driven by. And Art, the King's Steward, said: "The
Coming of the King of the Cats into King Connal's dominion is a story still to
be told. "To your father's Son in all truth be it told"--

Quick-to-Grab, in consultation with the Seven Elders of the Cat-Kin decided
that the Blacksmith's forge would be a fit residence for the King of the Cats.
It was clean and commodious. But the best reason of all for his going there
was this: people and beasts from all parts came into the forge and the King of
the Cats might learn from their discussions where the Eagle-Emperor was and
how he might be destroyed.

His Majesty found that the Forge was not a bad residence for a King living
unbeknownst. It was dry and warm. He liked the look of the flames that mounted
up with the blowing of the bellows. He used to sit on a heap of old saddles on
the floor and watch the horses being shod or waiting to be shod. He listened
to the talk of the men. The people in the Forge treated him respectfully and
often referred to his size, his appearance and his fine manners.

Every night he went out to a feast that the cats had prepared for him. Quick-
to-Grab always walked back to the Forge with him to give a Prime Minister's
advice. He warned His Majesty not to let the human beings know that he
understood and could converse in their language--(all cats know men's
language, but men do not know that the cats know). He told him not to be too
haughty (as a King might be inclined to be) to any creature in the Forge.

The King of the Cats took this advice. He used even to twitch his ears as a
mark of respect to Mahon, the hound whose kennel was just outside the forge,
and to the hounds that Mahon had to visit him. He even made advances to the
Cock who walked up and down outside.

This Cock made himself very annoying to the King of the Cats. He used to strut
up and down saying to himself over and over again, "I'm Cock-o'-the-Walk, I'm
Cock-o'-the-Walk." Sometimes he would come into the Forge and say it to the
horses. The King of the Cats wondered how the human beings could put up with a
creature who was so stupid and so vain. He had a red comb that fell over one
eye. He had purple feathers on his tail. He had great spurs on his heels. He
used to put his head on one side and yawn when the King of the Cats appeared.

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