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Authors: Alan Garner

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Until he reached the town

Of John, the South Earl.

He struck the latch. Said John, the South Earl, “Who's that in the door?”

“I am Dust, son of Dust,” said the Champion.

“Let in Dust of Dust,” said John, the South Earl. “No one must be in my door without entering.”

They let him in.

“What can you do, Dust of Dust?” said the South Earl.

“There was a time when I could play a juggle,” said the Champion.

“What is the trick you can do, Dust of Dust?” said the South Earl.

“Well,” said the Champion, “There was a time when I could put three straws on the back of my fist and blow them off.”

And he put three straws on the back of his fist, and blew them off.

“Well,” said the Earl's big son, “if that is a juggle, then I can do no worse than you.”

“Do so,” said the Champion.

And the big son of the South Earl put three straws on his fist, and the Champion blew them off, and the fist with them.

“You are sore, and you will be sore,” said the Earl. “My blessing on the hand that hurt you. And what is the next trick you can do, Dust of Dust?”

“I will do other juggles for you,” said the Champion. And he took hold of his own ear, and lifted it from his cheek, bobbed it on the ground and back again.

“I could do that,” said the middle son of the Earl.

“I shall do it for you,” said the Champion. And he gave a pull at the son's ear, and the head came
away with it.

“I see that the juggling of this night is with you,” said John, the South Earl.

Then the Champion went and set a great ladder against the moon, and in one part of it he put a hound and a hare, and in another part of it he put a man and a woman. And they are alive there till now.

“That is a great trick,” said the Earl.

“And I can not do that trick,” said the Earl's little son.

“It is a great trick and a juggle,” said the Champion, “and it is not you that can do it.”

“Then what will you do now?” said the Earl.

“I am going away,” said the Champion.

“You will not leave my set of sons,” said the Earl.

But the Champion leapt on the point of his pins, and he went over turret and top of court and town, till he met a man threshing in a barn.

“I will make you a free man for your life,” said the Champion. “There are two of your master's sons, one with his fist off, one with his head off. Go there and put them on again.”

“With what shall I bring them?” said the man.

“Take a tuft of grass, hold it in water, shake it on them, and you will heal them,” said the Champion. And he heard a loud voice in a bush.

“What is that?” said the man.

“I must go,” said the Champion, “to the King of the Stars, whose foot no doctor or leech has healed
in seven years.”

And 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

Until he reached the castle

Of the King of the Stars.

He struck palm on door. “Who is that?” said the porter.

“I am a doctor and a leech,” said the Champion.

“Many a doctor and a leech has come,” said the porter. “There is not a spike on the town without a doctor's head, but one: perhaps it is for your head it shall be.”

The Champion went in.

“Rise up, King of the Stars,” he said. “You are free from your wound.”

The King of the Stars rose up, and there was not a man swifter or stronger than he.

“Lie down, King of the Stars,” said the slim, swarthy Champion. “You are full of wounds.”

The King of the Stars lay down, and he was worse than he ever was.

“You did wrong,” he said, “to heal me then spoil me again.”

“I was showing that I could heal you,” said the Champion. “Now fetch all the doctors of the
earth.”

And word was sent by running-lads to all the doctors and leeches of the earth. And they came riding, that they would get pay. And when they came riding, the slim, swarthy Champion went out, and he said to them, “What made you spoil the leg of the King of the Stars?”

“Well, then,” they said, “if we were to earn the worth of our ointment and the worth of our trouble, we could not leave him with the worth of his leg in this world.”

“I will lay you a wager,” said the Champion, “the full of my cap in gold, to be set at the end of the dale. And there is none here that will be sooner at it than the King of the Stars.”

He set the cap full of gold at the end of the dale, and the doctors laid the wager that it could never be, and put their lives on it.

The Champion went in where the King of the Stars was, and he said to him, “Arise, whole, King of the Stars. I have laid a wager on you.”

The King of the Stars got up whole and healthy, and he went out, and in three springs he was at the cap of gold, leaving the doctors behind him.

Then the doctors and leeches asked that they might get their lives, and promise of that they did not get.

The Champion put his hat on his head, his holly in his fist, and he seized the grey adze that hung from his haunch, and he took under them, over
them, through and amongst them, and left no man to tell a tale or earn bad tidings.

When the King was healed, he sent word for the nobles and for the great gentles to the wedding of his daughter and the slim, swarthy Champion.

“What company is here?” said the Champion.

“The company of your own wedding, and they are gathering from each half and from each side of the golden great white speckled universe,” said the King to him.

“Be this from me!” said the Champion. And he went swifter out of the town than a year old hare.

He leapt on the point of his pins

And 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

Until he reached the shack

Of Rascally Tag.

“What young lad is this,” said Rascally Tag, “his two shoulders through his coat, his 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 has ended?”

“Have you need of a man?” said the Champion.

“And where are you from?” said Rascally Tag.

“From many a place,” said the Champion.

“What wages will you take?” said Rascally Tag.

“The wages I will take is that you shall not drink first before me until the end of a day and a year,” said the Champion.

“That is your wages,” said Rascally Tag. And he took the slim, swarthy Champion raiding.

The raiding was upon John, the South Earl, in the court and the city of Donald. And though the Champion had spared them before, he did not spare them twice.

He broke in the house wall, his holly in his fist, and he seized the grey adze that hung from his haunch, and he took under them, over them, through and amongst them, and left no man to tell a tale or earn bad tidings.

The Champion was hot, and went into the dairy, and saw Rascally Tag drinking a bucket of milk and water.

“You have broken your promise,” said the Champion.

“That bucket is no better than another bucket,” said Rascally Tag.

“That selfsame bucket did you promise to me,” said the Champion.

And he took anger and wrath at Rascally Tag, and went away thirsty back to the King of the Stars. And the daughter of the King of the Stars picked sixteen green apples from the sea and made the slim, swarthy Champion a drink from the juice of them.
And the drink from that juice choked him.

So the daughter of the King of the Stars married Rascally Tag, and their wedding feast lasted a day and a year, and the last day was as good as the first.

And if there were better, there were. And if not, let them be.

Olioll Olom

T
here was a king, and he was king over England. He had three sons, and they went to the Frang to get themselves school and learning. And when they came back they said, “We shall see what there is since we went away.”

The first place that they came to was a house of a man of the king, and the man's name was Conal Crovi.

Conal Crovi had every food that was better than another waiting for them; meat of each meat, draught of each drink. And when they had finished, the king's big son said, “Your wife must wait on me; your maid on my middle brother; and your daughter on my little brother.”

This did not please Conal Crovi at all, but he said, “I'll go out and tell them.”

And out he went. And he locked the door, and said to his servant, “Get ready the three best horses.”

Then he put his daughter behind the servant on one horse, his maid behind his son on the second horse, and his wife behind himself on the third, and
they rode to tell the King of England what an insult that set of sons had given to Conal Crovi.

The king's watching-lad saw them and said, “There are three double-riders on the road.”

“It is Conal Crovi,” said the king, “with my sons as prisoners. Well, if they are, I shall not be!”

So the king barred his door to Conal Crovi and would not hear him.

Conal Crovi said, “I shall make this kingdom worse than it is,” and he went away and began robbing and spoiling everywhere.

“Catch me Conal Crovi,” said the king.

“If I can get a day and a year,” said the king's riding-lad, “I shall find out the place he is in.”

“You have a day and a year,” said the king.

The riding-lad took a day and a year, but he saw no sight of Conal Crovi. He set off back to the king, and, on his way, he rested on a pretty yellow hill, and there was a thin smoke rising out of the wood below him.

Conal Crovi had a watching-lad, and the watching-lad said, “There is a rider coming down alone from the yellow hill into the wood.”

“The poor man,” said Conal Crovi: “he is an outlaw as I am myself.”

Then Conal Crovi had his two hands spread in welcome for the rider, and meat of each meat and draught of each drink, and water for his feet, and a bed.

The king's riding-lad ate, drank, washed and laid
himself down.

Conal Crovi said, “Are you sleeping, rider?”

“I am not,” said he.

At the end of a while, Conal Crovi said, “Are you sleeping, rider?”

“I am not,” said he.

A third time, “Are you sleeping, rider?” said Conal Crovi.

“I am not,” said he.

“On your soles!” Conal Crovi said to his men. “This is no crouching time! The host is upon us!”

And there was a great company riding. But Conal Crovi had for arms one black rusty sword.

He began at them, and he did not leave a man there alive but the king's three sons. He tied them and took them in, straitly and painfully, and he threw them down in the peat corner, under the thatch drip.

“I shall do a work tonight,” said Conal Crovi, “that was never done before.”

“What work?” said his wife.

“The lifting of the heads from the king's three sons,” said Conal Crovi.

He brought up the big one and set his head on the block.

“Don't, don't,” said the king's big son, “and I shall take your part in right and unright for ever.”

Conal Crovi raised the middle son.

“Don't, don't,” said the middle son, “and I shall take your part in right and unright for ever.”

He raised the little son, and the little son said, “Don't, don't, and I shall take your part in right and unright for ever.”

Then Conal Crovi went, himself and the three sons, where the King of England was.

“It is Conal Crovi,” said the king, “with my sons as prisoners. Well, if they are, I shall not be!”

And the king gave orders for Conal Crovi to be hanged at the next day.

There Conal Crovi was, about to be hanged, but the king's big son said, “I will go in his place.”

“I will go in his place,” said the middle son.

“I will go in his place,” said the little son.

And the king took contempt for his set of sons.

“We'll put the world for our pillow,” said Conal Crovi to the sons, “and make a ship to go to steal the three black white-faced stallions of Olioll Olom, and the kingdom will be as rich as ever it was, and your father's contempt will be lifted.”

So they made the ship, and when she was ready they took the good and the ill of it on themselves and set their pith to her and put her out.

Prow to the sea and

Stern to the land

Helm to the stern and

Sail to the prow,

Chequered flapping sail

On the tall tough mast.

Plunge of the eel,

Scream of the gull,

The big beast eating the beast that is least

And the beast that is least doing best as it may:

The bent brown buckie at the bottom of the sea

Plays haig on its mouth and glagid on the floor:

No yard not bent, no sail not torn,

Ploochanach, plachanach,

Blue clouds of Lochlanach,

All the way to Ireland.

Conal Crovi and the three sons drew the ship up her own seven lengths on dry dried land, where no wind could stain or sun could scorch, and they came to the hall of Olioll Olom, King of Ireland.

They went to the stable, and Conal Crovi put his hand on the black white-faced stallions, but they let loose a screech, and, “Be out, lads!” said Olioll Olom. “Someone is at the stallions!”

His lads went out, and they tried down and up, but they saw no man.

“We have tried down and up,” said the lads to Olioll Olom, “but it is a fearful night with heaven; fire and thunder.”

BOOK: The Lad of the Gad
13.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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