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Authors: Alan Garner

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John went out again to the shore, and the Foxy Lad met with him, and he said, “You are sad, Upright John. You did not, and you will not, as I told you. Bad is the night on which you have come.
I have only a trotter and a sheep's cheek, but they must do.”

They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep's cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king's son, “I shall grow into a ship and take you over the sea to the Frang.”

The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and they sailed across to the Frang.

The Foxy Lad ran himself high up the face of a rock, on dry dried land, and he said to John, “Go to the king's house and ask for help, and say that your steersman has been lost in a storm and the ship thrown on shore.”

John went to the king's house. He struck at the door.

“What are you doing here?” said the king.

“A storm came upon me,” said Upright John, “and my steersman was lost, and the ship has been thrown on shore and is there now, driven up the face of a rock by the waves, and I have not the strength to get her down.”

The king and the queen, and the family together, went to see the ship. And when they looked at the ship, exceeding sweet music was heard in her.

There were tunes with wings,

Lullaby harps, gentle strings,

Songs between fiddles

That would set in sound lasting sleep

Wounded men and travailing women

Withering away for ever

With the piping of the music

The Foxy Lad did play.

And the Daughter of the King of the Frang went on the ship to watch the music, and Upright John went with her. And when they were in one part, the music was in another, and when they were in that other, it would be elsewhere, and when they were there, they heard it on the deck, and when they were on the deck, the ship was out on the ocean and making sea-hiding with the land.

The king's daughter said, “Bad is the trick you have done me and bad the night on which you have come. Where will you take me now?”

“We are going,” said Upright John, “to give you as a wife to the King of Irrua; to get from him his Yellow Horse; to give that to the Seven Big Women of Jura; to get from them their White Sword of Light; to give that to the Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles; to get from him his Blue Falcon; to take her home to my stepmother, the Bad Straddling Queen, that I may be free from my crosses and my spells and the sick diseases of the year.”

“I had rather be as a wife to you,” said the Daughter of the King of the Frang.

When they came to shore in Irrua, the Foxy Lad put himself in the shape of the Daughter of the Sun, and he said to Upright John, “Leave the woman here till we come back, and I shall go with you to
the King of Irrua; and I shall give him enough of a wifing.”

Upright John went with the Foxy Lad in the shape of the Daughter of the Sun, and when the king saw them he took out the Yellow Horse, put a golden saddle on her back, a silver bridle in her head, and gave her to John.

John rode the horse back to the Daughter of the King of the Frang, and they waited.

The King of Irrua and the Foxy Lad were married that same day, and when they went to their rest, the Foxy Lad gave a dark spring, and he did not leave a toothful of flesh between the back of the neck and the haunch of the King of Irrua that was not worried and wounded: and he ran to where Upright John and the Daughter of the King of the Frang were waiting.

“How did you get free?” said John.

“A man is kind to his life,” said the Foxy Lad.

The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and he took them all to Jura.

They landed at the Rock of the Flea on the north side of Jura, and the Foxy Lad said to Upright John, “Leave the king's daughter and the Yellow Horse here till we come back, and I shall go with you to the Big Women, and I shall give them enough of a horsing.”

The Foxy Lad went into the shape of a yellow horse, Upright John put the golden saddle on his back, and the silver bridle in his head, and they
went to the house of the Seven Big Women of Jura.

When they saw John, the Big Women came to meet him, and they gave him the White Sword of Light.

John took the saddle off the back of the Foxy Lad and the bridle out of his head, and he left him with the Big Women and went away. The Big Women put a saddle on the Foxy Lad, and bridled his head, and one of them went up on his back to ride him. Another went on the back of that one, and another on the back of that one, and there was always room for another one there, till one after one the Seven Big Women of Jura went up on the back of the Foxy Lad, thinking that they had got the Yellow Horse of Irrua.

One of them gave a blow of a rod to the Foxy Lad: and if she gave, he ran.

He charged with them through the mountain moors, singing iolla, bounding high to the tops, moving his front to the crag, and he put his two forefeet to the crag, and he threw his rump end on high, and the Seven Big Women went into the air and over the Paps of Jura.

The Foxy Lad ran away laughing to where Upright John and the king's daughter were waiting with the Yellow Horse and the White Sword of Light.

“How did you get free?” said John.

“A man is kind to his life,” said the Foxy Lad.

The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and he took them
all to the mainland.

When they had landed, the Foxy Lad said, “Leave the king's daughter here with the Yellow Horse and the White Sword of Light, and take me to the giant, and I shall give him enough of a blading.”

The Foxy Lad put himself into the shape of a sword, and Upright John took him to the giant. And when the Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles saw them coming, he put the Blue Falcon in a basket and gave it to John.

John went back to the king's daughter, and the Foxy Lad came running.

“How did you get free?” said John.

“Ho! Huth!” said the Foxy Lad. “A man is kind to his life, but I was in the giant's hand when he began at fencing and slashing, and, ‘I shall cut this oak tree,' said he, ‘at one blow, which my father cut two hundred years before now with the same sword.' And he gripped me and swung me, and with the first blow he cut the tree all but a small bit of bark; and the second blow I bent on myself and swept the five heads the five humps and the five throttles off him. And there is not a tooth in the door of my mouth left unbroken for sake of that filth of a blue marvellous bird!”

“What shall be done to your teeth?” said John.

“There is no help for it,” said the Foxy Lad. “So put the saddle of gold on the Yellow Horse, and the silver bridle in her head, and go you yourself riding
there, and take the Daughter of the King of the Frang behind you, and the White Sword of Light with its back against your nose. And if you do not go in that way, when your stepmother sees you, she has an eye so evil that you will fall a faggot of firewood. But if the back of the sword is against your nose, and its edge to the Bad Straddling Queen, she will split her glance and fall herself as sticks.”

Upright John did as the Foxy Lad told him. And when he came in sight of the castle, his stepmother, with one foot on the castle and the other on the hall, her front to the face of the tempest, looked at him with an evil eye. But she split her glance on the edge of the White Sword of Light, and she fell as sticks.

Upright John set fire to the sticks, burnt the Bad Straddling Queen, and was free of fear.

He said to the Foxy Lad, “I have got the best wife of the world; the horse that will leave the one wind and catch the other; the falcon that will fetch me game; the sword that will keep off each foe; and I am free of fear.

“And you, you Lad of March, have been my dearest friend since we were on the time of one trotter and a sheep's cheek. Go now for ever through my ground. No arrow will be let at you. No trap will be set for you. Take any beast to take with you. Go now through my ground for ever.”

“Keep your herds and your flocks to yourself,” said the Foxy Lad. “There is many a one who has
trotters and sheep as well as you. I shall get flesh without coming to put trouble here. Peace on you, and my blessing, blessing, blessing, Upright John.”

He went away. The tale was spent.

Rascally Tag

T
here was a king, and his name was Donald. And in the kingdom there was a poor fisherman, who had a son, and the son took school and learning.

The boy said to his father, “Father, it is time for me to be doing for myself to be a Champion.” So he picked sixteen apples from the garden and threw an apple out into the sea, and he gave a step on it. He threw the next one, and he gave a step on it. He threw one after one, until he came to the last, and the last apple brought him on land again.

When he was on land again he shook his ears, and he thought that it was in no sorry place he would stay.

So he moved as a wave from a wave

And marbles from marbles,

As a wild winter wind,

Sightly and swiftly singing

Right proudly,

Through glens and high tops

And made no stops

Till he came to the city

And court of Donald,

And gave three hops

Over turrets and tops

Of court and of city

Of Donald.

And Donald took much anger and rage that such an unseemly ill stripling should come into the town, with two shoulders through his coat, two ears through his hat, his two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of his sword sideways on the side of his haunch, after the scabbard had ended.

“I will not believe,” said the Champion, “but that you are taking anger and rage, King Donald.”

“Well, then, I am,” said Donald, “if I did but know at what I should be angry.”

“Good king,” said the Champion. “Coming in was no harder than going out would be.”

“You are not going out,” said Donald, “till you tell me where you came from, with two shoulders through your coat, two ears through your hat, two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of sword sideways on the side of your haunch, after the scabbard has ended.”

And the Champion said:

“I come from hurry and skurry,

From the end of endless Spring,

From the loved, swanny glen:

A night in Chester and a night in Man,

A night on cold watching cairns.

On the face of mountains

In the English land

Was I born.

A slim, swarthy Champion am I,

Though I happened upon this town.”

“What,” said Donald, “can you do, o Champion? Surely, with all the distance you have travelled, you can do something.”

“I was once,” said he, “that I could play a harp.”

“Well, then,” said Donald, “it is I myself that have got the best harpers in the five fifths of the world.”

“Let's hear them playing,” said the Champion.

The harpers played.

They played tunes with wings,

Trampling things, tightened strings,

Warriors, heroes, and ghosts on their feet,

Goblins and spectres, sickness and fever,

They set in sound lasting sleep

The whole great world

With the sweetness of the calming tunes

That those harpers could play.

The music did not please the Champion. He caught the harps, and he crushed them under his feet, and he set them on the fire, and made himself a warming, and a sound warming, at them.

Donald took lofty rage that a man had come into his court who should do the like of this to the harps.

“My good man, Donald,” said the slim, swarthy Champion, “I will not believe but that you are
taking anger.”

“Well, then, I am,” said Donald, “if I did but know at what I should be angry.”

“It was no harder for me to break your harps than to make them again,” said the Champion. And he seized the fill of his two palms of the ashes, and squeezed them, and made all the harpers their harps and a great harp for himself.

“Let us hear your music,” said Donald. The Champion began to play.

He could play tunes with wings,

Trampling things, tightened strings,

Warriors, heroes, and ghosts on their feet,

Goblins and spectres, sickness and fever,

That set in sound lasting sleep

The whole great world

With the sweetness of the calming tunes

That Champion could play.

“You are melodious, o Champion,” said the king. And he and his harpers took anger and rage that such an unseemly stripling, with two shoulders through his coat, two ears through his hat, two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of his sword sideways on the side of his haunch, after the scabbard was ended, should come to the town and play music as well as they.

“I am going,” said the Champion.

“If you should stir,” said the king, “I should make a sharp sour shrinking for you with this
plough in my hand.”

The Champion leapt on the point of his pins, and he went over top and turret of court and city of Donald.

And Donald threw the plough that was in his hand, and he slew four and then twenty of his own people.

Well, what should the Champion meet but the tracking-lad of Donald, and he said to him, “Here's a little grey weed for you. And go in and rub it on the mouths of the four and then the twenty that were killed by the plough, and bring them back alive again, and earn for yourself from King Donald twenty calving cows. And look behind you when you part from me.”

And when the tracking-lad did this, and looked, he saw the slim, swarthy Champion thirteen miles off on a hillside already.

He moved as a wave from a wave

And marbles from marbles,

As a wild winter wind,

Sightly and swiftly singing

Right proudly,

Through glens and high tops

And made no stops

BOOK: The Lad of the Gad
10.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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