The Orange Fairy Book (6 page)

In the morning Ian awoke, and hastened to the cave where the old hag
was sitting, and he struck her dead as she was, before she could cast
spells on him. Next he sprinkled the water over the heroes, who came
to life again, and together they all journeyed to the other side of the
island, and there the raven met them.

'At last you have followed the counsel that was given you,' said the
raven; 'and now, having learned wisdom, you may go home again to
Grianaig. There you will find that the knight's two eldest daughters
are to be wedded this day to your two brothers, and the youngest to the
chief of the men at the rock. But her gold cap you shall give to me
and, if you want it, you have only to think of me and I will bring it
to you. And one more warning I give you. If anyone asks you whence
you came, answer that you have come from behind you; and if anyone asks
you whither you are going, say that you are going before you.'

So Ian mounted the horse and set her face to the sea and her back to
the shore, and she was off, away and away till she reached the church
of Grianaig, and there, in a field of grass, beside a well of water, he
leaped down from his saddle.

'Now,' the horse said to him, 'draw your sword and cut off my head.'
But Ian answered:

'Poor thanks would that be for all the help I have had from you.'

'It is the only way that I can free myself from the spells that were
laid by the giants on me and the raven; for I was a girl and he was a
youth wooing me! So have no fears, but do as I have said.'

Then Ian drew his sword as she bade him, and cut off her head, and went
on his way without looking backwards. As he walked he saw a woman
standing at her house door. She asked him whence he had come, and he
answered as the raven had told him, that he came from behind. Next she
inquired whither he was going, and this time he made reply that he was
going on before him, but that he was thirsty and would like a drink.

'You are an impudent fellow,' said the woman; 'but you shall have a
drink.' And she gave him some milk, which was all she had till her
husband came home.

'Where is your husband?' asked Ian, and the woman answered him:

'He is at the knight's castle trying to fashion gold and silver into a
cap for the youngest daughter, like unto the caps that her sisters
wear, such as are not to be found in all this land. But, see, he is
returning; and now we shall hear how he has sped.'

At that the man entered the gate, and beholding a strange youth, he
said to him: 'What is your trade, boy?'

'I am a smith,' replied Ian. And the man answered:

'Good luck has befallen me, then, for you can help me to make a cap for
the knight's daughter.'

'You cannot make that cap, and you know it,' said Ian.

'Well, I must try,' replied the man, 'or I shall be hanged on a tree;
so it were a good deed to help me.'

'I will help you if I can,' said Ian; 'but keep the gold and silver for
yourself, and lock me into the smithy to-night, and I will work my
spells.' So the man, wondering to himself, locked him in.

As soon as the key was turned in the lock Ian wished for the raven, and
the raven came to him, carrying the cap in his mouth.

'Now take my head off,' said the raven. But Ian answered:

'Poor thanks were that for all the help you have given me.'

'It is the only thanks you can give me,' said the raven, 'for I was a
youth like yourself before spells were laid on me.'

Then Ian drew his sword and cut off the head of the raven, and shut his
eyes so that he might see nothing. After that he lay down and slept
till morning dawned, and the man came and unlocked the door and shook
the sleeper.

'Here is the cap,' said Ian drowsily, drawing it from under his pillow.
And he fell asleep again directly.

The sun was high in the heavens when he woke again, and this time he
beheld a tall, brown- haired youth standing by him.

'I am the raven,' said the youth, 'and the spells are broken. But now
get up and come with me.'

Then they two went together to the place where Ian had left the dead
horse; but no horse was there now, only a beautiful maiden.

'I am the horse,' she said, 'and the spells are broken'; and she and
the youth went away together.

In the meantime the smith had carried the cap to the castle, and bade a
servant belonging to the knight's youngest daughter bear it to her
mistress. But when the girl's eyes fell on it, she cried out:

'He speaks false; and if he does not bring me the man who really made
the cap I will hang him on the tree beside my window.'

The servant was filled with fear at her words, and hastened and told
the smith, who ran as fast as he could to seek for Ian. And when he
found him and brought him into the castle, the girl was first struck
dumb with joy; then she declared that she would marry nobody else. At
this some one fetched to her the knight of Grianaig, and when Ian had
told his tale, he vowed that the maiden was right, and that his elder
daughters should never wed with men who had not only taken glory to
themselves which did not belong to them, but had left the real doer of
the deeds to his fate.

And the wedding guests said that the knight had spoken well; and the
two elder brothers were fain to leave the country, for no one would
converse with them.

(From Tales of the West Highlands.)

At the foot of some high mountains there was, once upon a time, a small
village, and a little way off two roads met, one of them going to the
east and the other to the west. The villagers were quiet, hard-working
folk, who toiled in the fields all day, and in the evening set out for
home when the bell began to ring in the little church. In the summer
mornings they led out their flocks to pasture, and were happy and
contented from sunrise to sunset.

One summer night, when a round full moon shone down upon the white
road, a great wolf came trotting round the corner.

'I positively must get a good meal before I go back to my den,' he said
to himself; 'it is nearly a week since I have tasted anything but
scraps, though perhaps no one would think it to look at my figure! Of
course there are plenty of rabbits and hares in the mountains; but
indeed one needs to be a greyhound to catch them, and I am not so young
as I was! If I could only dine off that fox I saw a fortnight ago,
curled up into a delicious hairy ball, I should ask nothing better; I
would have eaten her then, but unluckily her husband was lying beside
her, and one knows that foxes, great and small, run like the wind.
Really it seems as if there was not a living creature left for me to
prey upon but a wolf, and, as the proverb says: "One wolf does not bite
another." However, let us see what this village can produce. I am as
hungry as a schoolmaster.'

Now, while these thoughts were running through the mind of the wolf,
the very fox he had been thinking of was galloping along the other road.

'The whole of this day I have listened to those village hens clucking
till I could bear it no longer,' murmured she as she bounded along,
hardly seeming to touch the ground. 'When you are fond of fowls and
eggs it is the sweetest of all music. As sure as there is a sun in
heaven I will have some of them this night, for I have grown so thin
that my very bones rattle, and my poor babies are crying for food.'
And as she spoke she reached a little plot of grass, where the two
roads joined, and flung herself under a tree to take a little rest, and
to settle her plans. At this moment the wolf came up.

At the sight of the fox lying within his grasp his mouth began to
water, but his joy was somewhat checked when he noticed how thin she
was. The fox's quick ears heard the sound of his paws, though they
were soft as velvet, and turning her head she said politely:

'Is that you, neighbour? What a strange place to meet in! I hope you
are quite well?'

'Quite well as regards my health,' answered the wolf, whose eye
glistened greedily, 'at least, as well as one can be when one is very
hungry. But what is the matter with you? A fortnight ago you were as
plump as heart could wish!'

'I have been ill—very ill,' replied the fox, 'and what you say is
quite true. A worm is fat in comparison with me.'

'He is. Still, you are good enough for me; for "to the hungry no bread
is hard."'

'Oh, you are always joking! I'm sure you are not half as hungry as I!'

'That we shall soon see,' cried the wolf, opening his huge mouth and
crouching for a spring.

'What are you doing?' exclaimed the fox, stepping backwards.

'What am I doing? What I am going to do is to make my supper off you,
in less time than a cock takes to crow.'

'Well, I suppose you must have your joke,' answered the fox lightly,
but never removing her eye from the wolf, who replied with a snarl
which showed all his teeth:

'I don't want to joke, but to eat!'

'But surely a person of your talents must perceive that you might eat
me to the very last morsel and never know that you had swallowed
anything at all!'

'In this world the cleverest people are always the hungriest,' replied
the wolf.

'Ah! how true that is; but—'

'I can't stop to listen to your "buts" and "yets,"' broke in the wolf
rudely; 'let us get to the point, and the point is that I want to eat
you and not talk to you.'

'Have you no pity for a poor mother?' asked the fox, putting her tail
to her eyes, but peeping slily out of them all the same.

'I am dying of hunger,' answered the wolf, doggedly; 'and you know,' he
added with a grin, 'that charity begins at home.'

'Quite so,' replied the fox; 'it would be unreasonable of me to object
to your satisfying your appetite at my expense. But if the fox resigns
herself to the sacrifice, the mother offers you one last request.'

'Then be quick and don't waste my time, for I can't wait much longer.
What is it you want?'

'You must know,' said the fox, 'that in this village there is a rich
man who makes in the summer enough cheeses to last him for the whole
year, and keeps them in an old well, now dry, in his courtyard. By the
well hang two buckets on a pole that were used, in former days, to draw
up water. For many nights I have crept down to the palace, and have
lowered myself in the bucket, bringing home with me enough cheese to
feed the children. All I beg of you is to come with me, and, instead
of hunting chickens and such things, I will make a good meal off cheese
before I die.'

'But the cheeses may be all finished by now?'

'If you were only to see the quantities of them!' laughed the fox.
'And even if they were finished, there would always be ME to eat.'

'Well, I will come. Lead the way, but I warn you that if you try to
escape or play any tricks you are reckoning without your host— that is
to say, without my legs, which are as long as yours!'

All was silent in the village, and not a light was to be seen but that
of the moon, which shone bright and clear in the sky. The wolf and the
fox crept softly along, when suddenly they stopped and looked at each
other; a savoury smell of frying bacon reached their noses, and reached
the noses of the sleeping dogs, who began to bark greedily.

'Is it safe to go on, think you?' asked the wolf in a whisper. And the
fox shook her head.

'Not while the dogs are barking,' said she; 'someone might come out to
see if anything was the matter.' And she signed to the wolf to curl
himself up in the shadow beside her.

In about half an hour the dogs grew tired of barking, or perhaps the
bacon was eaten up and there was no smell to excite them. Then the
wolf and the fox jumped up, and hastened to the foot of the wall.

'I am lighter than he is,' thought the fox to herself, 'and perhaps if
I make haste I can get a start, and jump over the wall on the other
side before he manages to spring over this one.' And she quickened her
pace. But if the wolf could not run he could jump, and with one bound
he was beside his companion.

'What were you going to do, comrade?'

'Oh, nothing,' replied the fox, much vexed at the failure of her plan.

'I think if I were to take a bit out of your haunch you would jump
better,' said the wolf, giving a snap at her as he spoke. The fox drew
back uneasily.

'Be careful, or I shall scream,' she snarled. And the wolf,
understanding all that might happen if the fox carried out her threat,
gave a signal to his companion to leap on the wall, where he
immediately followed her.

Once on the top they crouched down and looked about them. Not a
creature was to be seen in the courtyard, and in the furthest corner
from the house stood the well, with its two buckets suspended from a
pole, just as the fox had described it. The two thieves dragged
themselves noiselessly along the wall till they were opposite the well,
and by stretching out her neck as far as it would go the fox was able
to make out that there was only very little water in the bottom, but
just enough to reflect the moon, big, and round and yellow.

'How lucky!' cried she to the wolf. 'There is a huge cheese about the
size of a mill wheel. Look! look! did you ever see anything so
beautiful!'

'Never!' answered the wolf, peering over in his turn, his eyes
glistening greedily, for he imagined that the moon's reflection in the
water was really a cheese.

'And now, unbeliever, what have you to say?' and the fox laughed gently.

'That you are a woman—I mean a fox—of your word,' replied the wolf.

'Well, then, go down in that bucket and eat your fill,' said the fox.

'Oh, is that your game?' asked the wolf, with a grin. 'No! no! The
person who goes down in the bucket will be you! And if you don't go
down your head will go without you!'