Books: The King of Ireland\'s Son

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The Weasel gave Gilly the Crystal Egg. It was heavy and he carried it for a
while in his hand. They went on. After a while said Gilly of the Goatskin,
"The night's coming on and the fiver shows no sign of turning back. I wish
there was a nice place to shelter us." No sooner did he say the word than he
and the Weasel found them-selves standing before the open door of a nice
little house. They went in. A clear fire was burning on the hearth, an arm
chair was before it, and a bed was made at the other side of the fire. "This
is good," said Gilly, "and now I wish that we had something to eat." No sooner
did he say the words than a table appeared with bread and meat, fruit and wine
on it. "Where do these fine things come from, I wonder," said Gilly of the
Goatskin. "It's my belief," said the Weasel, "that all these things come to us
on account of the egg you have in your hand. It's a magic egg." Gilly of the
Goatskin put the egg on the table and wished that he might see himself as he
had seen himself in the river. Nothing appeared. Then he took the egg in his
hand and wished again. And then there was a looking glass on the wall before
him, and he saw himself in it better than he had seen himself in the river.
Gilly of the Goatskin knew that he had only to hold the Crystal Egg in his
hand and wish, to get all he could think of.

VIII

Gilly of the Goatskin wished for wide windows in his house and he got them. He
wished for a light within when there was darkness without, and he got a silver
lamp that burned until he wished to sleep. He wished for the songs of birds
and he had a blackbird singing upon his half-door, a lark over his chimney, a
goldfinch and a green linnet within his window, and a shy wren in the evening
singing from the top of his dresser. Then he wished to hear the conversation
of the beasts and all the creatures of the fields and the wood and the
mountain top came into his house.

The hare used to come in early in the morning. He was always the first visitor
and he never remained long, and always while he was there he kept running up
and down the house, and he generally ended his visit by jumping through the
open window. The martens, the beautiful wild cats of the wood, came in to see
Gilly once; they were very proud and told him nothing. The little black
rabbits were very much impressed by the martens, and all the time the martens
were there they stayed under the bed and the chairs. Two or three times the
King of the Wood himself--the Boar of the Bristles and the Long Tusks--came to
see Gilly; he used to push open the door and then stand in the middle of the
floor grunting and grunting. Once he brought his wife with him, and six or
seven of their little pigs that went running over the floor, with their ears
hanging over their eyes, came with them too. The hedgehogs used to come, but
they always made themselves disagreeable. They just lay down by the fire and
snored, and when they wakened up they quarrelled with each other. Everybody
said that the hedgehogs' children were very badly brought up and very badly
provided for. The squirrels who were so clean and careful, and so fond of
their children, thought the hedgehogs were very bad creatures indeed. "It is
just like them to have dirty sticky thorns around them instead of nice clean
fur," said the squirrel's wife. "But, my dear," said the squirrel, "every
animal can't have fur." "How well," said she, "the rabbits have fur, though
dear knows they're creatures of not much account. It's all just to let us see
that they're some relation of that horrible, horrible boar that goes crashing
and marching through the wood."

The deer never came into the house, and Gilly had a shed made for them
outside. They would come into it and stay there for many nights and days, and
Gilly used to go out and talk with them. They knew about far countries, and
strange paths and passes, but they did not know so much about men and about
the doings of other creatures as the Fox did.

The Fox used to come in the evening and stay until nearly morning whether
Gilly fell asleep or kept awake. The Fox was a very good talker. He used to
lie down at the hearth with his paws stretched out, and tell about this one
and that one, and what she said and what he did. If the Fox came to see you,
and if he was in good humor for talking, you would stay up all night to listen
to him. I know I should. It was the Fox who told Gilly what the Crow of Achill
did to Laheen the Eagle. She had stolen the Crystal Egg that Laheen was about
to hatch--the Crystal Egg that the Crane had left on a bare rock. It was the
Fox who told Gilly how the first cat came into the world. And it was the Fox
who told Gilly about the generations of the eel. All I say is that it is a
pity the Fox cannot be trusted, for a better one to talk and tell a story it
would be hard to find. He was always picking up and eating things that had
been left over--a potato roasting in the ashes, an apple left upon a plate, a
piece of meat under a cover. Gilly did not grudge these things to Rory the Fox
and he always left something in a bag for him to take home to the young foxes.

I had nearly forgotten to tell you about Gilly's friend, the brave Weasel. He
had made a home for himself under the roof. Sometimes he would go away for a
day or so and he would never tell Gilly where he had been. When he was at home
he made himself the door-keeper of Gilly's house. If any of the creatures made
themselves disagreeable by quarrelling amongst each other, or by being uncivil
to Gilly, the Weasel would just walk over to them and look them in the eyes.
Then that creature went away. Always he held his head up and if Gilly asked
him for advice he would say three words, "Have no fear; have no fear."

One day Gilly wanted to have a bunch of cherries with his dinner, and he went
to find the Crystal Egg so that he might wish for it. The Crystal Egg was not
in the place he had left it. He called the Weasel and the two of them searched
the house. The Crystal Egg was nowhere to be found. "One of the creatures has
stolen the Egg," said the Weasel, "but whoever stole it I will make bring it
back. I'll soon find out who did it." The Weasel walked up to every creature
that came in, looked him or her in the eye and said, "Did you steal the
Crystal Egg?" And every creature that came in said, "No, Little Lion, I didn't
steal it." Next day they had examined every creature except the Fox. The Fox
had not been in the night before nor the night before that again. He did not
come in the evening they missed the Crystal Egg nor the evening after that
evening. That night the Weasel said, "As sure as there are teeth in my head
the Fox stole the Crystal Egg. As soon as there is light we'll search for him
and make him give the Egg back to us."

IX

The Weasel was right; it was Rory the Fox who had stolen Gilly's Crystal Egg.
One night, just as he was leaving Gilly's house, the moon shone full upon the
Crystal Egg. In the turn of a hand Rory the Fox had made a little spring and
had taken the Egg in his mouth. Then he slipped out by the door as quick and
as quiet as a leaf blown in the wind.

He couldn't help himself stealing the Egg, when the chance came. He had had a
dream about it. He dreamt that the Egg had been hatched and that out of it had
come the most toothsome bird that a Fox had ever taken by the neck. He snapped
his teeth in his sleep when he dreamt of it. The Fox told his youngsters about
the bird he had dreamt of--a bird as big as a goose and so fat on the neck and
the breast that it could hardly stir from sitting. The youngsters had smacked
their lips and snapped their teeth. Every time he came home now they used to
say to him--"Father, have you brought us the Boobrie Bird?" No wonder that his
eyes used to turn to the Crystal Egg when he sat in Gilly's house. And then
because the moon shone on it just as he was leaving, and because he knew that
Gilly's back was turned, he could not keep himself from making a little spring
and taking the Crystal Egg softly in his mouth.

He went amongst the dark, dark trees with the soft and easy trot of a Fox. He
knew well what he should do with the Egg. He had dreamt that it had been
hatched by the Spae-Woman's old rheumatic goose. This goose was called Old
Mother Hatchie and the Fox had never carried her off because he knew she was
always hatching out goslings for his table. He went through the trees and
across the fields towards the Spae-Woman's house.

The Spae-Woman lived by telling people their fortunes and reading them their
dreams. That is why she was called the Spae-Woman. The people gave her goods
for telling them their dreams and fortunes and she left her land and stock to
whatever chanced. The fences of her fields were broken and rotted. Her hens
had been carried off by the Fox. Her goat had gone wild. She had neither ox
nor ass nor sheep nor pig. The Fox went through her fence now as lightning
would go through a gooseberry bush and he came out before her barn. There was
a hole in the barn-door and he went through that. And in the north-west comer
of the barn, he saw Old Mother Hatchie sitting on a nest of straw and he knew
that there was a clutch of eggs under her. She cackled when she saw the Fox on
the floor of the barn but she never stirred off the nest. Rory left what was
in his mouth on the ground. 0ld Mother Hatchie put her head on one side and
looked at the Egg that was clear in the full moonlight.

"This egg, Mistress Hatchie," said Rory the Fox, "is from the Hen-wife of the
Queen of Ireland. The Queen asked the Hen-wife to ask me to leave it with you.
She thinks there's no bird in the world but yourself that is worthy to hatch
it and to rear the gosling that comes out of it."

"That's right, that's right," said Mother Hatchie. "Put it here, put it here."
She lifted her wing and the Fox put the Crystal Egg into the brood-nest.

He went out of the barn, crossed the field again, and went amongst the dark,
dark trees. He went along slowly now for he began to think that Gilly might
find out who stole the Crystal Egg and be vexed with him. Then he thought of
the Weasel. The Fox began to think he might be sorry for himself if the Weasel
was set on his track.

Rory did not go to Gilly's house the next night nor the night after. The third
night, as he was going home from a ramble, the Owl hooted at him. "Why do you
hoot at me, Big Moth?" said the Fox stopping in his trot. (He always called
the Owl "Big Moth" to pretend that he thought she wasn't a bird at all, but a
moth. He made this pretence because he was annoyed that he could never get an
owl to eat). "Why do you hoot at me, Big Moth?" said he. "The Weasel's going
to have your bones for his stepping-stones and your blood for his morning
dram," said the Owl balefully as she went amongst the dark, dark trees. The
Fox stopped long to consider. Then he went to his burrow and told his
youngsters they would have to move house. He had them stirring at the first
light. He gave them a frog each for their breakfast and took them across the
country. They came to a burrow that Old-Fellow Badger had just left and Rory
the Fox brought his youngsters into it and told them that it would be their
new house.

X

The evening after when Rory the Fox was taking his nap he heard one of his
youngsters give a sharp cry. They were playing outside the burrow, lie looked
out and he saw that his three youngsters were afraid of something that was
between them and the burrow. He looked again and saw the Weasel.

"Ahem," said Rory the Fox, "and how are we this morning?"

The Weasel had marked one of Rory's youngsters for attack. Although Rory
spoke, he never took his eyes off the youngster he had marked.

"My dear friend," said the Fox, "I was just going to say--if you are looking
for anything, perhaps I could tell you where it might be found."

"Crystal Egg," said the Weasel without ever taking away his blood-thirsty gaze
from Rory's youngster.

"Oh, the Crystal Egg," said Rory the Fox. "Yes, to be sure. I could bring you
at once to the place where the Crystal Egg is." He came out of the burrow and
saw Gilly standing on the bank behind.

"I think it is time for my children to go back to their burrow," said Rory the
Fox. "Please excuse them, my friends." The Weasel took his eyes off the
youngster he had marked and the three little foxes scampered into the burrow.

"This way, friends," said the Fox, and he started off towards the Spae-Woman's
house with the light and easy trot of a fox. Gilly and the Weasel went behind
him. They crossed a field of flax, a field of hemp and a field of barley. They
came to the broken fence before the Spae-Woman's house, and in front of the
house they saw the Spae-Woman herself and she was crying and crying.

The Fox hid behind the fence, the Weasel climbed up on the ditch and Gilly
himself went to the woman.

"What ails you at all?" said Gilly to her.

"My goose--the only fowl left to me has been taken by robbers."

"Ask her where the clutch of eggs is that the goose was hatching," said Rory
the Fox anxiously, putting his head over the fence.

"And where is the clutch of eggs, ma'am, that your goose was hatching?"

"The robbers took the nest with the goose and the eggs with the nest," said
the Spae-Woman.

"And the Crystal Egg was with the other eggs," said the Fox to Gilly. He said
no more. He made a quick turn and got clear away before the Weasel could
spring on him. He ran back to his burrow. He told the little foxes they must
change houses again. That night they lay in a wood and at the first light they
crossed water and went to live on an island where the Weasel never came.

"Where did the robbers go with the goose, the nest, and the eggs?" said Gilly
of the Goatskin.

"They went to the river," said the Spae-Woman. "I followed them every inch of
the way. They got into a boat and they hoisted their sails. They rowed and
they rowed, so that the hard gravel of the bottom was brought to the top, and
the froth of the top was driven down to the bottom of the river. And wherever
they are," said the Spae-Woman, "they are far from us now."

"Will you come with me?" said Gilly to the Weasel, "we will track them down
and take back the Crystal Egg."

"I engaged myself to be with you for a quarter of a year," said the Weasel,
"and the three months are up now, Gilly. Winter is coming on and I must see to
my own affairs."

"Then good-by, Weasel," said Gilly. "I will search for the Crystal Egg myself.
But first I must ask the woman to let me rest in the house and to give me some
provision for my journey." The Weasel looked up into Gilly's face and said
good-by to him. Then Gilly followed the Spae-Woman into her house. "Ocone,"
she was saying to herself, "my dream told me I was to lose my poor goose, and
still I never did anything to make it hard for the robbers to take her from
me."

XI

Well, in the Spae-Woman's house he stayed for three-quarters of a year. He
often went in search of the robbers who had taken the Crystal Egg with the
Spae-Woman's goose, but no trace of them nor their booty could he ever find.
He met birds and beasts who were his friends, but he could not have speech
with them without the Egg that let him have anything he wished. He did work
for the Spae-Woman--fixed her fences and repaired her barn and brought
_brosna_ for her fire every evening from the wood. At night, before he went to
sleep, the Spae-Woman used to tell him her dreams of the night before and tell
him about the people who had come to her house to have their fortunes told.

One Monday morning she said to him, "I have had an inlook, son of my heart,
and I know that my gossip, the Churl of the Townland of Mischance, is going to
come and take you into his service."

"And what sort of a man is your gossip, the Churl of the Townland of
Mischance?" Gilly asked.

"An unkind man. Two youths who served me he took away, one after the other,
and miserable are they made by what he did to them. I'm in dread of your being
brought to the Townland of Mischance."

"Why are you in dread of it, Spae-Woman?" said Gilly. "Sure, I'll be glad
enough to see the world."

"That's what the other two youths said," said the Spae-Woman. "Now I'll tell
you what my gossip the Churl of the Townland of Mischance does: he makes a
bargain with the youth that goes into his service, telling him he will give
him a guinea, a groat and a tester for his three months' service. And he tells
the youth that if he says he is sorry for the bargain he must lose his wages
and part with a strip of his skin, an inch wide. He rode on a bob-tailed, big-
headed, spavined and spotted horse, from his neck to his heel. Oh, he is an
unkind man, my gossip, the Churl of the Townland of Mischance."

"And is there no way to get the better of him?" asked Gilly.

"There is, but it is a hard way," said the Spae-Woman. "If one could make him
say that he, the master, is sorry for the bargain, the Churl himself would
lose a strip of his skin an inch wide from his neck to his heel, and would
have to pay full wages no matter how short a time the youth served him."

"It's a bargain anyway," said Gilly, "and if he comes I'll take service with
the Churl of the Townland of Mischance."

The first wet day that came brought the Churl of the Townland of Mischance. He
rode on a bob-tailed, big-headed, spavined and spotted horse. He carried an
ash-plant in his hand to flog the horse and to strike at the dogs that crossed
his way. He had blue lips, eyes looking crossways and eyebrows like a furze
bush. He had a bag before him filled with boiled pigs' feet. Now when he rode
up to the house, he had a pig's foot to his mouth and was eating. He got down
off the bob-tailed, big-headed, spavined and spotted horse, and came in.

"I heard there was a young fellow at your house and I want him to take service
with me," said he to the Spae-Woman.

"If the bargain is a good one I'll take service with you," said Gilly.

"All right, my lad," said the Churl. "Here is the bargain, and it's as fair as
fair can be. I'll give you a guinea, a groat and a tester for your three
months' work with me."

"I believe it's good wages," said Gilly.

"It is. Howsoever, if you ever say you are sorry you made the bargain you will
lose your wages, and besides that you will lose a strip of your skin an inch
wide from your neck to your heel. I have to put that in or I'd never get work
done for me at all. The serving boys are always saying 'I can't do that,' and
'I'm sorry I made the bargain with you.'"

"And if you say you're sorry you made the bargain?"

"Oh, then I'll have to lose a strip of my skin an inch wide from my neck to my
heel, and besides that I'll have to give you full wages no matter how short a
time you served me."

"Well, if that suits you it will suit me," said Gilly of the Goatskin.

"Then walk beside my horse and we'll get back to the Townland of Mischance to-
night," said the Churl. Then he swished his ash-plant towards Gilly and
ordered him to get ready. The Spae-Woman wiped the tears from her face with
her apron, gave Gilly a cake with her blessing, and he started off with the
Churl for the Townland of Mischance.

XII

What did Gilly of the Goatskin do in the Townland of Mischance? He got up
early and went to bed late; he was kept digging, delving and ditching until he
was so tired that he could go to sleep in a furze bush; he ate a breakfast
that left him hungry five hours before dinner-time, and he ate a dinner that
made it seem long until supper-time. If he complained the Churl would say,
"Well, then you are sorry for your bargain," and Gilly would say "No," rather
than lose the wages he had earned and a strip of his skin into the bargain.

One day the Churl said to him, "Go into the town for salt for my supper, take
the short way across the pasture-field, and be sure not to let the grass grow
under your feet." "All right, master," said Gilly. "Maybe you would bring me
my coat out of the house so that I needn't make two journeys." The Churl went
into the house for Gilly's coat. When he came back he found Gilly standing in
the nice grass of the pasture-field lighting a wisp of hay. "What are you
doing that for?" said the Churl to him. "To burn the grass on the pasture-
field," said Gilly. "To burn the grass on my pasture-field, you villain--the
grass that is for my good race-horse's feeding! What do you mean, at all?"
"Sure, you told me not to let the grass grow under my feet," said Gilly.
"Doesn't the world know that the grass is growing every minute, and how will I
prevent it from growing under my feet if I don't burn it?" With that he
stooped down to put the lighted hay to the grass of the pasture-field. "Stop,
stop," said the Churl, "I meant that you were to go to the town, without
loitering on the way." "Well, it's a pity you didn't speak more clearly," said
Gilly, "for now the grass is a-fire." The Churl bad to stamp on the grass to
put the fire out. He burnt his shins, and that made him very angry. "0 you
fool," said he to Gilly, "I'm sorry--" "Are you sorry for the bargain you made
with me, Master?" "No. I was going to say I was sorry I hadn't made my meaning
clear to you. Go now to the town and bring me back salt for my supper as
quickly as you can."

After that the Churl was very careful when he gave Gilly an order to speak to
him very exactly. This became a great trouble to him, for the people in the
Townland of Mischance used always to say, "Don't let the grass grow under your
feet," when they meant "Make haste," and "Don't be there until you're back,"
when they meant "Go quickly" and "Come with horses' legs" when they meant
"come with great speed." He became tired of speaking to Gilly by the letter,
so he made up his mind to give him an order that could not be carried out, so
that he might have a chance of sending him away without the wages he had
earned.

One Monday morning he called Gilly to the door of the house and said to him,
"Take this sheep-skin to the market and bring me back the price of it and the
skin." "Very well, Master," said Gilly. He put the skin across his arm and
went towards the town. The people on the road said to him, "What do you want
for the sheep-skin, young fellow?" "I want the skin and the price of it,"
Gilly said. The people laughed at him and said, "You're going to give yourself
a long journey, young fellow."

He went through the market asking for the skin and the price of it. Everyone
joked about him. He went into the market-house and came to a woman who was
buying things that no one else would buy. "What do you want, youth?" said she.
"The price of the skin and the skin itself," said Gilly. She took the skin
from him and plucked the wool out of it. She put the wool in her bag and put
the skin back on the board. "There's the skin," said she, "and here's the
price of it." She left three groats and a tester on top of the skin.

The Churl had finished his supper when Gilly came into the house. "Well,
Master, I've come back to you," said Gilly. "Did you bring me the price of it
and the skin itself?" said the Churl. "There is the skin," said Gilly, putting
on the table the sheep-skin with the wool plucked out of it. "And here's the
price of it--three groats and a tester," said he, leaving the money on top of
the skin.

After that the Churl of the Townland of Mischance began to be afraid that
Gilly of the Goatskin would be too wise for him, and would get away at the end
of the three months with his wages, a guinea, a groat and a tester, in his
fist. This thought made the Churl very downcast, because, for many months now,
he had got hard labor out of his serving-boys, without giving them a single
cross for wages.

XIII

The day after Christmas the Churl said to Gilly, "This is Saint Stephen's Day.
I'm going to such a man's barn to see the mummers perform a play. Foolish
people give these idle fellows money for playing, but I won't do any such
thing as that. I'll see something of what they are doing, drink a few glasses
and get away before they start collecting money from the people that are
watching them. They call this collection their dues, no less."

"And what can I do for you, Master?" said Gilly. "Run into the barn at
midnight and shout out, 'Master, Master, your mill is on fire.' That will give
me an excuse for running out. Do you understand now what I want you to do?"

"I understand, Master."

The Churl put on his coat and took his stick in his hand. "Mind what I've said
to you," said he. "Don't be a minute later than midnight. Be sure to come in
with a great rash--come in with horse's legs--do you understand me?"

"I understand you, Master," said Gilly.

The mummers were dancing before they began the play when the Churl came into
the barn. "That's a rich man," said one of them to another. "We must see that
he puts a good handful into our bag." The Churl sat on the bench with the
farmer who had a score of cows, with the blacksmith who shod the King's
horses, and with the merchant who had been in foreign parts and who wore big
silver rings in his ears. Half the people who were there I could not tell you,
but there were there--
Biddie Early
Tatter-Jack Walsh
Aunt Jug
Lundy Foot
Matt the Thresher
Nora Criona
Conan Maol, and
Shaun the Omadhaun.
Some said that the King of Ireland's Son was there too. The play was
"The Unicorn from the Stars."
The mummers did it very well although they had no one to take the part of the
Unicorn.

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