The Orange Fairy Book (7 page)

'Of course I will go down, with the greatest pleasure,' answered the
fox, who had expected the wolf's reply.

'And be sure you don't eat all the cheese, or it will be the worse for
you,' continued the wolf. But the fox looked up at him with tears in
her eyes.

'Farewell, suspicious one!' she said sadly. And climbed into the
bucket.

In an instant she had reached the bottom of the well, and found that
the water was not deep enough to cover her legs.

'Why, it is larger and richer than I thought,' cried she, turning
towards the wolf, who was leaning over the wall of the well.

'Then be quick and bring it up,' commanded the wolf.

'How can I, when it weighs more than I do?' asked the fox.

'If it is so heavy bring it in two bits, of course,' said he.

'But I have no knife,' answered the fox. 'You will have to come down
yourself, and we will carry it up between us.'

'And how am I to come down?' inquired the wolf.

'Oh, you are really very stupid! Get into the other bucket that is
nearly over your head.'

The wolf looked up, and saw the bucket hanging there, and with some
difficulty he climbed into it. As he weighed at least four times as
much as the fox the bucket went down with a jerk, and the other bucket,
in which the fox was seated, came to the surface.

As soon as he understood what was happening, the wolf began to speak
like an angry wolf, but was a little comforted when he remembered that
the cheese still remained to him.

'But where is the cheese?' he asked of the fox, who in her turn was
leaning over the parapet watching his proceedings with a smile.

'The cheese?' answered the fox; 'why I am taking it home to my babies,
who are too young to get food for themselves.'

'Ah, traitor!' cried the wolf, howling with rage. But the fox was not
there to hear this insult, for she had gone off to a neighbouring
fowl-house, where she had noticed some fat young chickens the day
before.

'Perhaps I did treat him rather badly,' she said to herself. 'But it
seems getting cloudy, and if there should be heavy rain the other
bucket will fill and sink to the bottom, and his will go up—at least
it may!'

(From Cuentos Populares, por Antonio de Trueba.)

Long ago a king and queen ruled over the islands of the west, and they
had one son, whom they loved dearly. The boy grew up to be tall and
strong and handsome, and he could run and shoot, and swim and dive
better than any lad of his own age in the country. Besides, he knew
how to sail about, and sing songs to the harp, and during the winter
evenings, when everyone was gathered round the huge hall fire shaping
bows or weaving cloth, Ian Direach would tell them tales of the deeds
of his fathers.

So the time slipped by till Ian was almost a man, as they reckoned men
in those days, and then his mother the queen died. There was great
mourning throughout all the isles, and the boy and his father mourned
her bitterly also; but before the new year came the king had married
another wife, and seemed to have forgotten his old one. Only Ian
remembered.

On a morning when the leaves were yellow in the trees of the glen, Ian
slung his bow over his shoulder, and filling his quiver with arrows,
went on to the hill in search of game. But not a bird was to be seen
anywhere, till at length a blue falcon flew past him, and raising his
bow he took aim at her. His eye was straight and his hand steady, but
the falcon's flight was swift, and he only shot a feather from her
wing. As the sun was now low over the sea he put the feather in his
game bag, and set out homewards.

'Have you brought me much game to-day?' asked his stepmother as he
entered the hall.

'Nought save this,' he answered, handing her the feather of the blue
falcon, which she held by the tip and gazed at silently. Then she
turned to Ian and said:

'I am setting it on you as crosses and as spells, and as the fall of
the year! That you may always be cold, and wet and dirty, and that
your shoes may ever have pools in them, till you bring me hither the
blue falcon on which that feather grew.'

'If it is spells you are laying I can lay them too,' answered Ian
Direach; 'and you shall stand with one foot on the great house and
another on the castle, till I come back again, and your face shall be
to the wind, from wheresoever it shall blow.' Then he went away to
seek the bird, as his stepmother bade him; and, looking homewards from
the hill, he saw the queen standing with one foot on the great house,
and the other on the castle, and her face turned towards whatever
tempest should blow.

On he journeyed, over hills, and through rivers till he reached a wide
plain, and never a glimpse did he catch of the falcon. Darker and
darker it grew, and the small birds were seeking their nests, and at
length Ian Direach could see no more, and he lay down under some bushes
and sleep came to him. And in his dream a soft nose touched him, and a
warm body curled up beside him, and a low voice whispered to him:

'Fortune is against you, Ian Direach; I have but the cheek and the hoof
of a sheep to give you, and with these you must be content.' With that
Ian Direach awoke, and beheld Gille Mairtean the fox.

Between them they kindled a fire, and ate their supper. Then Gille
Mairtean the fox bade Ian Direach lie down as before, and sleep till
morning. And in the morning, when he awoke, Gille Mairtean said:

'The falcon that you seek is in the keeping of the Giant of the Five
Heads, and the Five Necks, and the Five Humps. I will show you the way
to his house, and I counsel you to do his bidding, nimbly and
cheerfully, and, above all, to treat his birds kindly, for in this
manner he may give you his falcon to feed and care for. And when this
happens, wait till the giant is out of his house; then throw a cloth
over the falcon and bear her away with you. Only see that not one of
her feathers touches anything within the house, or evil will befall
you.'

'I thank you for your counsel,' spake Ian Direach, 'and I will be
careful to follow it.' Then he took the path to the giant's house.

'Who is there?' cried the giant, as someone knocked loudly on the door
of his house.

'One who seeks work as a servant,' answered Ian Direach.

'And what can you do?' asked the giant again.

'I can feed birds and tend pigs; I can feed and milk a cow, and also
goats and sheep, if you have any of these,' replied Ian Direach.

'Then enter, for I have great need of such a one,' said the giant.

So Ian Direach entered, and tended so well and carefully all the birds
and beasts, that the giant was better satisfied than ever he had been,
and at length he thought that he might even be trusted to feed the
falcon. And the heart of Ian was glad, and he tended the blue falcon
till his fathers shone like the sky, and the giant was well pleased;
and one day he said to him:

'For long my brothers on the other side of the mountain have besought
me to visit them, but never could I go for fear of my falcon. Now I
think I can leave her with you for one day, and before nightfall I
shall be back again.'

Scarcely was the giant out of sight next morning when Ian Direach
seized the falcon, and throwing a cloth over her head hastened with her
to the door. But the rays of the sun pierced through the thickness of
the cloth, and as they passed the doorpost she gave a spring, and the
tip of one of her feathers touched the post, which gave a scream, and
brought the giant back in three strides. Ian Direach trembled as he
saw him; but the giant only said:

'If you wish for my falcon you must first bring me the White Sword of
Light that is in the house of the Big Women of Dhiurradh.'

'And where do they live?' asked Ian. But the giant answered:

'Ah, that is for you to discover.' And Ian dared say no more, and
hastened down to the waste. There, as he hoped, he met his friend
Gille Mairtean the fox, who bade him eat his supper and lie down to
sleep. And when he had wakened next morning the fox said to him:

'Let us go down to the shore of the sea.' And to the shore of the sea
they went. And after they had reached the shore, and beheld the sea
stretching before them, and the isle of Dhiurradh in the midst of it,
the soul of Ian sank, and he turned to Gille Mairtean and asked why he
had brought him thither, for the giant, when he had sent him, had known
full well that without a boat he could never find the Big Women.

'Do not be cast down,' answered the fox, 'it is quite easy! I will
change myself into a boat, and you shall go on board me, and I will
carry you over the sea to the Seven Big Women of Dhiurradh. Tell them
that you are skilled in brightening silver and gold, and in the end
they will take you as servant, and if you are careful to please them
they will give you the White Sword of Light to make bright and shining.
But when you seek to steal it, take heed that its sheath touches
nothing inside the house, or ill will befall you.'

So Ian Direach did all things as the fox had told him, and the Seven
Big Women of Dhiurradh took him for their servant, and for six weeks he
worked so hard that his seven mistresses said to each other: 'Never has
a servant had the skill to make all bright and shining like this one.
Let us give him the White Sword of Light to polish like the rest.'

Then they brought forth the White Sword of Light from the iron closet
where it hung, and bade him rub it till he could see his face in the
shining blade; and he did so. But one day, when the Seven Big Women
were out of the way, he bethought him that the moment had come for him
to carry off the sword, and, replacing it in its sheath, he hoisted it
on his shoulder. But just as he was passing through the door the tip
of the sheath touched it, and the door gave a loud shriek. And the Big
Women heard it, and came running back, and took the sword from him, and
said:

'If it is our sword you want, you must first bring us the bay colt of
the King of Erin.'

Humbled and ashamed, Ian Direach left the house, and sat by the side of
the sea, and soon Gille Mairtean the fox came to him.

'Plainly I see that you have taken no heed to my words, Ian Direach,'
spoke the fox. 'But eat first, and yet once more will I help you.'

At these words the heart returned again to Ian Direach, and he gathered
sticks and made a fire and ate with Gille Mairtean the fox, and slept
on the sand. At dawn next morning Gille Mairtean said to Ian Direach:

'I will change myself into a ship, and will bear you across the seas to
Erin, to the land where dwells the king. And you shall offer yourself
to serve in his stable, and to tend his horses, till at length so well
content is he, that he gives you the bay colt to wash and brush. But
when you run away with her see that nought except the soles of her
hoofs touch anything within the palace gates, or it will go ill with
you.'

After he had thus counselled Ian Direach, the fox changed himself into
a ship, and set sail for Erin. And the king of that country gave into
Ian Direach's hands the care of his horses, and never before did their
skins shine so brightly or was their pace so swift. And the king was
well pleased, and at the end of a month he sent for Ian and said to him:

'You have given me faithful service, and now I will entrust you with
the most precious thing that my kingdom holds.' And when he had
spoken, he led Ian Direach to the stable where stood the bay colt. And
Ian rubbed her and fed her, and galloped with her all round the
country, till he could leave one wind behind him and catch the other
which was in front.

'I am going away to hunt,' said the king one morning while he was
watching Ian tend the bay colt in her stable. 'The deer have come down
from the hill, and it is time for me to give them chase.' Then he went
away; and when he was no longer in sight, Ian Direach led the bay colt
out of the stable, and sprang on her back. But as they rode through
the gate, which stood between the palace and the outer world, the colt
swished her tail against the post, which shrieked loudly. In a moment
the king came running up, and he seized the colt's bridle.

'If you want my bay colt, you must first bring me the daughter of the
king of the Franks.'

With slow steps went Ian Direach down to the shore where Gille Mairtean
the fox awaited him.

'Plainly I see that you have not done as I bid you, nor will you ever
do it,' spoke Gille Mairtean the fox; 'but I will help you yet again.
for a third time I will change myself into a ship, and we will sail to
France.'

And to France they sailed, and, as he was the ship, the Gille Mairtean
sailed where he would, and ran himself into the cleft of a rock, high
on to the land. Then, he commanded Ian Direach to go up to the king's
palace, saying that he had been wrecked, that his ship was made fast in
a rock, and that none had been saved but himself only.

Ian Direach listened to the words of the fox, and he told a tale so
pitiful, that the king and queen, and the princess their daughter, all
came out to hear it. And when they had heard, nought would please them
except to go down to the shore and visit the ship, which by now was
floating, for the tide was up. Torn and battered was she, as if she
had passed through many dangers, yet music of a wondrous sweetness
poured forth from within.

'Bring hither a boat,' cried the princess, 'that I may go and see for
myself the harp that gives forth such music.' And a boat was brought,
and Ian Direach stepped in to row it to the side of the ship.

To the further side he rowed, so that none could see, and when he
helped the princess on board he gave a push to the boat, so that she
could not get back to it again. And the music sounded always sweeter,
though they could never see whence it came, and sought it from one part
of the vessel to another. When at last they reached the deck and
looked around them, nought of land could they see, or anything save the
rushing waters.