There was before now a king of Eirinn, and he went himself, and his people, and his warriors, and his nobles, and his great gentles, to the hill of hunting and game. They sat on a hillock coloured green colour, where the sun would rise early, and where she would set late. Said the one of swifter mouth than the rest:
“Who now in the four brown quarters of the universe would have the heart to put an affront and disgrace on the King of Eirinn, and he in the midst of the people, and the warriors, great gentles, and nobles, of his own realm.”
“Are ye not silly,” said the king; “he might come, one who should put an affront and disgrace on me, and that ye could not pluck the worst hair in his beard out of it.”
It was thus it was. They saw the shadow of a shower coming from the western airt, and going to the eastern airt [i.e., widershins]; and a rider of a black filly coming cheerily after it.
As it were a warrior on the mountain shore, As a star over sparklings, As a great sea over little pools, As a smith’s smithy coal Being quenched at the river side; So would seem the men and women of the world beside him, In figure, in shape, in form, and in visage.
Then he spoke to them in the understanding, quieting, truly wise words of real knowledge; and before there was any more talk between them, he put over the fist and he struck the king between the mouth and the nose, and he drove out three of his teeth, and he caught them in his fist, and he put them in his pouch, and he went away.
“Did not I say to you,” said the king, “that one might come who should put an afront and disgrace on me, and that you could not pluck the worst hair in his beard out of it!”
Then his big son, the Knight of the Cairn, swore that he wouldn’t eat meat, and that he wouldn’t drink draught, and that he would not hearken to music, until he should take off the warrior that struck the fist on the king, the head that designed to do it.
“Well,” said the Knight of the Sword, “the very same for me, until I take the hand that struck the fist on the king from off the shoulder.
There was one man with them there in the company, whose name was Mac an Earraich uaine ri Gaisge, The Son of the Green Spring by Valour. “The very same for me,” said he, “until I take out of the warrior who struck the fist on the king the heart that thought on doing it.”
“Thou nasty creature!” said the Knight of the Cairn, “what should bring thee with us? When we should go to valour, thou wouldst turn to weakness; thou wouldst find death in boggy moss, or in rifts of rock, or in a land of holes, or in the shadow of a wall, or in some place.”
“Be that as it will, but I will go,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
The king’s two sons went away. Glance that the Knight of the Cairn gave behind him, he sees the Son of the Green Spring by Valour following them.
“What,” said the Knight of the Cairn to the Knight of the Sword, “shall we do to him?”
“Do,” said the Knight of the Sword, “sweep his head off.”
“Well,” said the Knight of the Cairn, “we will not do that; but there is a great crag of stone up here, and we will bind him to it.”
“I am willing to do that same,” said the other.
They bound him to the crag of stone to leave him till he should die, and they went away. Glance that the Knight of the Cairn gave behind him again, he sees him coming and the crag upon him.
“Dost thou not see that one coming again, and the crag upon him!” said the Knight of the Cairn to the Knight of the Sword; “what shall we do to him?”
“It is to sweep the head off him, and not let him (come) further,” said the Knight of the Sword.
“We will not do that,” said the Knight of the Cairn; but we will turn back and loose the crag off him. It is but a sorry matter for two full heroes like us; though he should be with us, he will make a man to polish a shield, or blow a fire heap or something.”
They loosed him, and they let him come with them. Then they went down to the shore; then they got the ship, which was called The Speckled Barge.
They put her out, and they gave her prow to sea, and her stern to shore. They hoisted the speckled, flapping, bare-topped sails Up against the tall, tough, splintery masts. They had a pleasant little breeze as they might choose themselves, Would bring heather from the hill, leaf from grove, willow from its roots, Would put thatch of the houses in furrows of the ridges. The day that neither the son nor the father could do it, That same was neither little nor much for them, But using it and taking it as it might come, The sea plunging and surging, The red sea the blue sea lashing And striking hither and thither about her planks. The whorled dun whelk that was down on the ground of the ocean Would give a snag on her gunwale and crack on her floor, She would cut a slender oaten straw with the excellence of her going.
They gave three days driving her thus. “Myself am growing tired of this,” said the Knight of the Cairn to the Knight of the Sword, “it seems to me time to get news from the mast.”
“Thou thyself are the most greatly beloved here, oh Knight of the Cairn, and shew that thou wilt have honour going up; and if thou goest not up, we will have the more sport with thee,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
Up went the Knight of the Cairn with a rush, and he fell down clatter in a faint on the deck of the ship.
“ It is ill thou hast done,” said the Knight of the Sword.
“Let us see if thyself be better ; and if thou be better, it will be shewn that thou wilt have more will to go on, or else we will have the more sport with thee,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
Up went the Knight of the Sword, and before he had reached but half the mast, he began squealing and squealing, and he could neither go up nor come down.
“Thou hast done as thou wert asked; and thou hast shewed that thou hadst the more respect for going up; and now thou canst not go up, neither canst thou come down! No warrior was I nor half a warrior, and the esteem of a warrior was not mine at the time of leaving; I was to find death in boggy moss, or in rifts of rock, or in the shade of a wall, or in some place; and it were no effort for me to bring news from the mast.”
“Thou great hero!” said the Knight of the Cairn, “try it.”
“A great hero am I this day, but not when leaving the town,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
He measured a spring from the ends of his spear to the points of his toes, and he was up in the cross-trees in a twinkling.
“What art thou seeing?” said the Knight of the Cairn.
“It is too big for a crow, and it is too little for land,” said he.
“Stay, as thou hast to try if thou canst know what it is,” said they to him; and he stayed so for a while.
“What art thou seeing now,” said they to him.
“It is an island and a hoop of fire about it, flaming at either end ; and I think that there is not one warrior in the great world that will go over the fire,” said he.
“Unless two heroes such as we go over it,” said they.
“I think that it was easier for you to bring news from the mast than to go in there,” said he.
“It is no reproach!” said the Knight of the Cairn.
“It is not; it is truth,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
They reached the windward side of the fire, and they went on shore; and they drew the speckled barge up her own seven lengths on grey grass, with her mouth under her, where the scholars of a big town could neither make ridicule, scoffing, or mockery of her. They blew up a fire heap, and they gave three days and three nights resting their weariness.
At the end of the three days they began at sharpening their arms. “I,” said the Knight of the Cairn, “am getting tired of this; it seems to me time to get news from the isle.”
“Thou art thyself the most greatly beloved here,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour, and go the first and try what is the best news that thou canst bring to us.”
The Knight of the Cairn went and he reached the fire; and he tried to leap over it, and down he went into it to his knees, and he turned back, and there was not a slender hair or skin between his knees and his ankles, that was not in a crumpled fold about the mouth of the shoes.
“He’s bad, he’s bad,” said the Knight of the Sword.
“Let us see if thou art better thyself,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour. “Show that thou wilt have the greater honour going on, or else we will have the more sport with thee.”
The Knight of the Sword went, and he reached the fire; and he tried to leap over it, and down he went into it to the thick end of the thigh ; and he turned back, and there was no slender hair or skin between the thick end of the thigh and the ankle that was not in a crumpled fold about the mouth of the shoes.
“Well,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour, “no warrior was I leaving the town, in your esteem ; and if I had my choice of arms and armour of all that there are in the great world, it were no effort for me to bring news from the isle.”
“If we had that thou shouldst have it,” said the Knight of the Cairn.
“Knight of the Cairn, thine own arms and armour are the second that I would rather be mine (of all) in the great world, although thou thyself art not the second best warrior in it,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
“It is my own arms and array that are easiest to get,” said the Knight of the Cairn, “and thou shalt have them; but I should like that thou wouldst be so good as to tell me what other arms or array are better than mine.”
“There are the arms and array of the Great Son of the sons of the universe, who struck the fist on thy father,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
The Knight of the Cairn put off his arms and array; and the Son of the Green Spring by Valour went into his arms and his array.
He went into his harness of battle and hard combat, As was a shirt of smooth yellow silk and gauze stretched on his breast; His coat, his kindly coat, above the kindly covering; His boss covered; hindering sharp-pointed shield on his left hand, His head-dress a helm of hard combat, To cover his crown and his head top, To go in the front of the fray and the fray long lasting; His heroes’ hard slasher in his right hand, A sharp surety knife against his waist.
He raised himself up to the top of the shore; and there was no turf he would cast behind his heels that was not as deep as a turf that the bread-covering tree [i.e., a plough] would cast when deepest it would be ploughing. He reached the circle of fire; he leaped from the points of his spear to the points of his toes over the fire.
Then there was the very finest isle that ever was seen from the beginning of the universe to the end of eternity; he went up about the island, and he saw a yellow bare hill in the midst. He raised himself up against the hill; there was a treasure of a woman sitting on the hill, and a great youth with his head on her knee, and asleep. He spoke to her in instructed, eloquent, true, wise, soft maiden words of true knowledge. She answered in like words; and if they were no better, they wore not a whit worse, for the time.
“A man of thy seeming is a treasure for me; and if I had a right to thee, thou shouldst not leave the island,” said the little treasure.
“If a man of my seeming were a treasure for thee, thou wouldst tell me what were waking for that youth,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
“It is to take off the point of his little finger,” said she.
He laid a hand on the sharp surety knife that was against his waist, and he took the little finger off him from the root. That made the youth neither shrink nor stir.
“Tell me what is waking for the youth, or else there are two off whom I will take the heads, thyself and the youth,” said the Son of the Green Spring by Valour.
“Waking for him,” said she, “is a thing that thou canst not do, nor any one warrior in the great world, but the warrior of the red shield, of whom it was in the prophecies that he should come to this island, and strike yonder crag of stone on this man in the rock of his chest; and he is unbaptized till he does that.”
He heard this that such was in the prophecy for him, and he unnamed. A fist upon manhood, a fist upon strengthening, and a fist upon power went into him. He raised the crag in his two hands, and he struck it on the youth in the rock of his chest. The one who was asleep gave a slow stare of his two eyes and he looked at him.
“Aha!” said the one who was asleep, “hast thou come, Warrior of the Red Shield? It is this day that thou hast the name; thou wilt not stand long to me.”
“Two thirds of thy fear be on thyself, and one on me,” said the Warrior of the Red Shield; “thou wilt not stand long to me.”
In each other’s grips they went, and they were hard belabouring each other till the mouth of dusk and lateness was. The Warrior of the Red Shield thought that he was far from his friends and near his foe; he gave him that little light lift, and he struck him against the earth; the thumb of his foot gave a warning to the root of his ear, and he swept the head off him.
“Though it be I who have done this, it was not I who promised it,” said he.
He took the hand off him from the shoulder, and he took the heart from his chest, and he took the head off the neck; he put his hand in the dead warrior’s pouch, and he found three teeth of an old horse in it, and with the hurry took them for the king’s teeth, and he took them with him; and he went to a tuft of wood, and he gathered a withy, and he tied on it the hand and the heart and the head.
“Whether wouldst thou rather stay here on this island by thyself, or go with me?” said he to the little treasure.
“I would rather go with thee thyself than with all the men of earth’s mould together,” said the little treasure.
He raised her with him on the shower top of his shoulders, and on the burden (bearing) part of his back, and he went to the fire. He sprang over with the little treasure upon him. He sees the Knight of the Cairn and the Knight of the Sword coming to meet him; rage and fury in their eyes.
“What great warrior,” said they, “was that after thee there, and returned when he saw two heroes like us?”
“Here’s for you,” said he, “this little treasure of a woman, and the three teeth of your father; and the head, and hand, and heart of the one who struck the fist on him. Make a little stay and I will return, and I will not leave a shred of a tale in the island.”
He went away back; and at the end of a while he cast an eye behind him, and he sees them and the speckled barge playing him ocean hiding.
“Death wrappings upon yourselves!” said he, “a tempest of blood about your eyes, the ghost of your hanging be upon you! to leave me in an island by myself, without the seed of Adam in it, and that I should not know this night what I shall do.”
He went forward about the island, and was seeing neither house nor tower in any place, low or high. At last he saw an old castle in the lower ground of the island, and he took (his way) towards it. He saw three youths coming heavily, wearily, tired to the castle. He spoke to them in instructed, eloquent, true, wise words of true wisdom. They spoke in return in like words.
They came in words of the olden time on each other; and who were here but his three true foster brothers. They went in right good pleasure of mind to the big town.
They raised up music and laid down woe; There were soft drunken draughts And harsh, stammering drinks, Tranquil, easy toasts Between himself and his foster brethren, Music between fiddles, with which would sleep Wounded men and travailing women Withering away for ever; with the sound of that music Which was ever continuing sweetly that night.
They went to lie down. In the morning of the morrow he arose right well pleased, and he took his meat. What should he hear but the gliogarsaich, clashing of arms and men going into their array. Who were these but his foster brethren.
Where are you going?” said he to them.
We are from the end of a day and a year in this island,” said they, “holding battle against MacDorcha MacDoilleir, the Son of Darkness Son of Dimness, and a hundred of his people: and every one we kill to-day they will be alive to-morrow. Spells are on us that we may not leave this for ever until we kill them.”
“I will go with you this day; you will be the better for me,” said he.
“Spells are on us,” said they, “that no man may go with us unless he goes there alone.”
“Stay you within this day, and I will go there by myself,” said he.
He went away, and he bit upon the people of the Son of Darkness Son of Dimness, and he did not leave a head on a trunk of theirs.
He hit upon MacDorcha MacDoilleir himself, and MacDorcha MacDoilleir said to him, “Art thou here, Warrior of the Red Shield.?
“I am,” said the Warrior of the Red Shield.
Well then,” said MacDorcha MacDoilleir, “thou wilt not stand long for me.”
In each other’s grips they went, and were hard belabouring each other till the mouth of dusk and lateness was. At last the Knight of the Red Shield gave that cheery little light lift to the Son of Darkness Son of Dimness, and he put him under, and he cast the head off him.
Now there was MacDorcha MacDoilleir dead, and his thirteen sons; and the battle of a hundred on the hand of each one of them.
Then he was spoilt and torn so much that he could not leave the battle-field; and he did but let himself down, laid amongst the dead the length of the day. There was a great strand under him down below; and what should he hear but the sea coming as a blazing brand of fire, as a destroying serpent, as a bellowing bull; he looked from him, and what saw he coming on shore on the midst of the strand, but a great toothy carlin, whose like was never seen. There was the tooth that was longer than a staff in her fist, and the one that was shorter than a stocking wire in her lap. She came up to the battle-field, and there were two between her and him. She put her finger in their mouths, and she brought them alive; and they rose up whole as best they ever were. She reached him and she put her finger in his mouth, and he snapped it off her from the joint. She struck him a blow of the point of her foot, and she cast him over seven ridges.
“Thou pert little wretch,” said she, “thou art the last I will next-live in the battle field.”
The carlin went over another, and he was above her; he did not know how he should put an end to the carlin; he thought of throwing the short spear that her son had at her, and if the head should fall off her that was well. He threw the spear, and he drove the head off the carlin. Then he was stretched on the battle-field, blood and sinews and flesh in pain, but that he had whole bones. What should he see but a musical harper about the field.
“What art thou seeking.” said he to the harper.
“I am sure thou art wearied,” said the harper; “come up and set thy head on this little hillock and sleep.”
He went up and he laid down; he drew a snore, pretending that he was asleep, and on his soles he was brisk, swift, and active.
“Thou art dreaming,” said the harper.
I am,” said he.
“What sawest thou,” said the harper.
A musical harper,” he said, “drawing a rusty old sword to take off my head.”
Then he seized the harper, and he drove the brain in fiery shivers through the back of his head.
Then he was under spells that he should not kill a musical harper for ever, but with his own harp.
Then he heard weeping about the field. “Who is that?” said he.
“Here are tby three true foster brothers, seeking thee from place to place to-day,” said they.
“I am stretched here,” said he, “blood and sinews, and bones in torture.”
“If we had the little vessel of balsam that the great carlin has, the mother of MacDorcha MacDoilleir, we would not be long in healing thee,” said they.
“She is dead herself up there,” said he, “and she has nothing that ye may not get.”
“We are out of her spells forever,” said they.
They brought down the little vessel of balsam, and they washed and bathed him with the thing that was in the vessel; then he arose up as whole and healthy as he ever was. He went home with them, and they passed the night in great pleasure.
They went out the next day in great pleasure to play at shinty. He went against the three, and he would drive a half hail down, and a half hail up, in against them.
They perceived the Great Son of the Sons of the World coming to the town; that was their true foster brother also.
They went out where he was, and they said to him:
“Man of my love, avoid us and the town this day.”
“What is the cause?” said he.
The Knight of the Red Shield is within, and it is thou he is seeking,” said they.
“Go you home, and say to him to go away and to flee, or else that I will take the head off him,” said the Great Son of the Sons of the Universe.
Though this was in secret, the Knight of the Red Shield perceived it; and he went out on the other side of the house, and he struck a shield blow, and a fight kindling.
The great warrior went out after him, and they began at each other.
There was no trick that is done by shield man or skiff man, Or with cheater’s dice box, Or with organ of the monks, That the heroes could not do; As was the trick of cleiteam, trick of oigeam, The apple of the juggler throwing it and catching it Into each other’s laps Frightfully, furiously, Bloodily, groaning, hurtfully. Mind’s desire! umpire’s choice! They would drive three red sparks of fire from their armour, Driving from the shield wall, and flesh Of their breasts and tender bodies, As they hardly belaboured each other.
“Art thou not silly, Warrior of the Red Shield, when thou art holding wrestling and had battle against me?” said Macabh Mhacaibh an Domhain.
“How is this? “ said the hero of the Red Shield.
“It is, that there is no warrior in the great world that will kill me till I am struck above the covering of the trews,” said Macabh Mor.
“The victory blessing of that be thine, telling it to me! If thou hadst told me that a long time ago, it is long since I had swept the head off thee,” said the Warrior of the Red Shield.
“There is in that more than thou canst do; the king’s three teeth are in my pouch, and try if it be that thou will take them out,” said Macabh Mor.
When the Warrior of the Red Shield heard where the death of Macabh Mor was, he had two blows given for the blow, two thrusts for the thrust, two stabs for the stab; and the third was into the earth, till he had dug a hole; then he sprung backwards. The great warrior sprung towards him, and he did not notice the hole, and he went down into it to the covering of the trews. Then he reached him, and he cast off his head. He put his hand in his pouch, and he found the king’s three teeth in it, and he took them with him and he reached the castle.
“Make a way for me for leaving this island,” said he to his foster brethren, “as soon as you can.”
“ We have no way,” said they, “by which thou canst leave it; but stay with us forever, and thou shalt not want for ineat or drink.”
“The matter shall not be so; but unless you make a way for letting me go, I will take the heads and necks out of you,” said he.
“A coracle that thy foster mother and thy foster father had, is here; and we will send it with thee till thou goest on shore in Eirinn. The side that thou settest her prow she will go with thee, and she will return back again by herself; here are three pigeons for thee, and they will keep company with thee on the way,” said his foster brothers to him.
He set the coracle out, and he sat in her, and he made no stop, no stay, till he went on shore in Eirinn. He turned her prow outwards ; and if she was swift coming, she was swifter returning. He let away the three pigeons, as he left the strange country; and he was sorry that he had let them away, so beautiful was the music that they had.
There was a great river between him and the king’s house. When he reached the river, he saw a hoary man coming with all his might, and shouting, “Oh, gentleman, stay yonder until I take you over on my back, in case you should wet yourself.”
“Poor man, it seems as if thou wert a porter on the river,” said he.
“It is (so),” said the hoary old man.
“And what set thee there?” said he.
“I will tell you that,” said the hoary old man; “a big warrior struck a fist on the King of Eirinn, and he drove out three of his teeth, and his two sons went to take out vengeance; there went with them a foolish little young boy that was son to me; and when they went to manhood, he went to faintness. It was but sorry vengeance for them to set me as porter on the river for it.”
“Poor man,” said he, “that is no reproach; before I leave the town thou wilt be well.”
He seized him, and he lifted him with him: and he set him sitting in the chair against the king’s shoulder.
“Thou art but a saucy man that came to the town; thou hast set that old carl sitting at my father’s shoulder; and thou shalt not get it with thee,” said the Knight of the Cairn, as he rose and seized him.
“By my hand, and by my two hands’ redemption, it were as well for thee to seize Cnoe Leothaid as to seize me,” said the Warrior of the Red Shield to him, as he threw him down against the earth.
He laid on him the binding of the three smalls, straitly and painfully. He struck him a blow of the point of his foot, and he cast him over the seven highest spars that were in the court, under the drippings of the lamps, and under the feet of the big dogs; and he did the very same to the Knight of the Sword; and the little treasure gave a laugh.
“Death wrappings be upon thyself,” said the king to her. “Thou art from a year’s end meat companion and drink companion for me, and I never saw smile or laugh being made by thee, until my two sons are being disgraced.”
“Oh, king,” said she, “I have knowledge of my own reason.”
“What, oh king, is the screeching and screaming that I am hearing since I came to the town? I never got time to ask till now,” said the hero of the Red Shield.
“My sons have three horses’ teeth, driving them into my head, since the beginning of a year, with a hammer, until my head has gone through other with heartbreak and torment, and pain,” said the king.
“What wouldst thou give to a man that would put thy own teeth into thy head, without hurt, without pain,” said he.
“Half my state so long as I may be alive, and my state altogether when I may go,” said the king.
He asked for a can of water, and he put the teeth into the water.
“Drink a draught,” said he to the king.
The king drank a draught, and his own teeth went into his head, firmly and strongly, quite as well as they ever were, and every one in her own place.
“Aha! “said the king, “I am at rest. It is thou that didst the valiant deeds; and it was not my set of sons!”
“ It is he,” said the little treasure to the king, “that could do the valiant deeds; and it was not thy set of shambling sons, that would be stretched as seaweed seekers when he was gone to heroism.”
“I will not cat meat, and I will not drink draught,” said the king, “until I see my two sons being burnt to-morrow. I will send some to seek faggots of grey oak for burning them.”
On the morning of the morrow, who was earliest on his knee at the king’s bed, but the Warrior of the Red Shield.
“Rise from that, warrior; what single thing mightest thou be asking that thou shouldst not get,” said the king.
“The thing I am asking is, that thy two sons should be let go; I cannot be in any one place where I may see them spoiled,” said he. “It were better to do bird and fool clipping to them, and to let them go.”
The king was pleased to do that. Bird and fool clipping was done to them. They were put out of their place, and dogs and big town vagabonds after them.
The little treasure and the Warrior of the Red Shield married, and agreed. A great wedding was made, that lasted a day and a year; and the last day of it was as good as the first day.