Irish Tales / Ирландские сказки. Книга для чтения на английском языке
Ferchar Mae Ro and his three sons went on their journey, and reached the tower where Naois was dwelling by the side of Loch Etive. The sons of Uisnech gave a cordial kindly welcome to Ferchar Mae Ro and his three sons, and asked of him the news of Erin.
‘The best news that I have for you,’ said the hardy hero, ‘is that Connachar, king of Ulster, is setting forth a great sumptuous feast to his friends and kinspeople throughout the wide extent of Erin all, and he has vowed by the earth beneath him, by the high heaven above him, and by the sun that wends to the west, that he will have no rest by day nor sleep by night if the sons of Uisnech, the sons of his own father’s brother, will not come back to the land of their home and the soil of their nativity, and to the feast likewise, and he has sent us on embassy to invite you.’
‘We will go with you,’ said Naois.
‘We will,’ said his brothers.
But Deirdre did not wish to go with Ferchar Mae Ro, and she tried every prayer to turn Naois from going with him – she said, ‘I saw a vision, Naois, and do you interpret it to me,’ said Deirdre – then she sang:
‘O Naois, son of Uisnech, hearWhat was shown in a dream to me.‘There came three white doves out of the southFlying over the sea,‘And drops of honey were in their mouthFrom the hive of the honeybee.‘O Naois, son of Uisnech, hear,What was shown in a dream to me.‘I saw three grey hawks out of the southCome flying over the sea,And the red red drops they bare in their mouthThey were dearer than life to me.’Said Naois:
‘It is nought but the fear of woman’s heart,And a dream of the night, Deirdre.The day that Connachar sent the invitation to his feast will be unlucky for us if we don’t go, O Deirdre.’
‘You will go there,’ said Ferchar Mae Ro; ‘and if Connachar show kindness to you, show ye kindness to him; and if he will display wrath towards you, display ye wrath towards him, and I and my three sons will be with you.’
‘We will,’ said Daring Drop.
‘We will,’ said Hardy Holly.
‘We will,’ said Fiallan the Fair.
‘I have three sons, and they are three heroes, and in any harm or danger that may befall you, they will be with you, and I myself will be along with them.’ And Ferchar Mae Ro gave his vow and his word in presence of his arms that, in any harm or danger that came in the way of the sons of Uisnech, he and his three sons would not leave head on live body in Erin, despite sword or helmet, spear or shield, blade or mail, be they ever so good.
Deirdre was unwilling to leave Alba, but she went with Naois. Deirdre wept tears in showers and she sang:
‘Dear is the land, the land over there,Alba full of woods and lakes;Bitter to my heart is leaving thee,But I go away with Naois.’Ferchar Mae Ro did not stop till he got the sons of Uisnech away with him, despite the suspicion of Deirdre.
The coracle was put to sea,The sail was hoisted to it;And the second morrow they arrivedOn the white shores of Erin.As soon as the sons of Uisnech landed in Erin, Ferchar Mae Ro sent word to Connachar, king of Ulster, that the men whom he wanted were come, and let him now show kindness to them.
‘Well,’ said Connachar, ‘I did not expect that the sons of Uisnech would come, though I sent for them, and I am not quite ready to receive them. But there is a house down yonder where I keep strangers, and let them go down to it today, and my house will be ready before them tomorrow.’
But he that was up in the palace felt it long that he was not getting word as to how matters were going on for those down in the house of the strangers.
‘Go you, Gelban Grednach, son of Lochlin’s king, go you down and bring me information as to whether her former hue and complexion are on Deirdre. If they be, I will take her out with edge of blade and point of sword, and if not, let Naois, son of Uisnech, have her for himself,’ said Connachar.
Gelban, the cheering and charming son of Lochlin’s king, went down to the place of the strangers, where the sons of Uisnech and Deirdre were staying. He looked in through the bicker-hole on the floor-leaf. Now she that he gazed upon used to go into a crimson blaze of blushes when anyone looked at her. Naois looked at Deirdre and knew that someone was looking at her from the back of the door-leaf. He seized one of the dice on the table before him and fired it through the bicker-hole, and knocked the eye out of Gelban Grednach the cheerful and charming, right through the back of his head. Gelban returned back to the palace of King Connachar.
‘You were cheerful, charming, going away, but you are cheerless, charmless, returning. What has happened to you, Gelban? But have you seen her, and are Deirdre’s hue and complexion as before?’ said Con-nachar.
‘Well, I have seen Deirdre, and I saw her also truly, and while I was looking at her through the bicker-hole on the door, Naois, son of Uisnech, knocked out my eye with one of the dice in his hand. But of a truth and verity[15], although he put out even my eye, it were my desire still to remain looking at her with the other eye, were it not for the hurry you told me to be in,’ said Gelban.
‘That is true,’ said Connachar. ‘Let three hundred brave heroes go down to the abode of the strangers, and let them bring hither to me Deirdre, and kill the rest.’
Connachar ordered three hundred active heroes to go down to the abode of the strangers and to take Deirdre up with them and kill the rest.
‘The pursuit is coming,’ said Deirdre.
‘Yes, but I will myself go out and stop the pursuit,’ said Naois.
‘It is not you, but we that will go,’ said Daring Drop, and Hardy Holly and Fiallan the Fair; ‘it is to us that our father entrusted your defence from harm and danger when he himself left for home.’ And the gallant youths, full noble, full manly, full handsome, with beauteous brown locks, went forth girt with battle arms fit for fierce fight and clothed with combat dress for fierce contest fit, which was burnished, bright, brilliant, bladed, blazing, on which were many pictures of beasts and birds and creeping things, lions and lithe-limbed tigers, brown eagle and harrying hawk and adder fierce; and the young heroes laid low[16] three-thirds of the company.
Connachar came out in haste and cried with wrath, ‘Who is there on the floor of fight, slaughtering my men?’
‘We, the three sons of Ferchar Mae Ro.’
‘Well,’ said the king, ‘I will give a free bridge to your grandfather, a free bridge to your father, and a free bridge each to you three brothers, if you come over to my side tonight.’
‘Well, Connachar, we will not accept that offer from you nor thank you for it. Greater by far do we prefer to go home to our father and tell the deeds of heroism we have done, than accept anything on these terms from you. Naois, son of Uisnech, and Allen and Arden are as nearly related to yourself as they are to us, though you are so keen to shed their blood, and you would shed our blood also, Connachar.’ And the noble, manly, handsome youths with beauteous, brown locks returned inside. ‘We are now,’ said they, ‘going home to tell our father that you are now safe from the hands of the king.’ And the youths all fresh and tall and lithe and beautiful, went home to their father to tell that the sons of Uisnech were safe. This happened at the parting of the day and night[17] in the morning twilight time, and Naois said they must go away, leave that house, and return to Alba.
Naois and Deirdre, Allan and Arden started to return to Alba. Word came to the king that the company he was in pursuit of were gone. The king then sent for Duanan Gacha Druid, the best magician he had, and he spoke to him as follows. ‘Much wealth have I expended on you, Duanan Gacha Druid, to give schooling and learning and magic mystery to you, if these people get away from me today without care, without consideration or regard for me, without chance of overtaking them, and without power to stop them.’
‘Well, I will stop them,’ said the magician, ‘until the company you send in pursuit return.’ And the magician placed a wood before them through which no man could go, but the sons of Uisnech marched through the wood without halt or hesitation, and Deirdre held on to Naois’s hand.
‘What is the good of that? That will not do yet,’ said Connachar, ‘they are off without bending of their feet or stopping of their step, without heed or respect to me, and I am without power to keep up to them or opportunity to turn them back this night.’
‘I will try another plan on them,’ said the druid; and he placed before them a grey sea instead of a green plain. The three heroes stripped and tied their clothes behind their heads, and Naois placed Deirdre on the top of his shoulder.
They stretched their sides to the stream,And sea and land were to them the same,The rough grey ocean was the sameAs meadow-land green and plain.‘Though that be good, O Duanan, it will not make the heroes return,’ said Connachar. ‘They are gone without regard for me, and without honour to me, and without power on my part to pursue them or to force them to return this night.’
‘We shall try another method on them, since yon one did not stop them,’ said the druid. And the druid froze the grey ridged sea into hard rocky knobs, the sharpness of sword being on the one edge and the poison power of adders on the other. Then Arden cried that he was getting tired, and nearly giving over.
‘Come you, Arden, and sit on my right shoulder,’ said Naois. Arden came and sat on Naois’s shoulder.
Arden was long in this posture when he died; but though he was dead Naois would not let him go. Allen then cried out that he was getting faint and nigh-well giving up[18]. When Naois heard his prayer, he gave forth the piercing sigh of death, and asked Allen to lay hold of him and he would bring him to land. Allen was not long when the weakness of death came on him and his hold failed. Naois looked around, and when he saw his two well-beloved brothers dead, he cared not whether he lived or died, and he gave forth the bitter sigh of death, and his heart burst.
‘They are gone,’ said Duanan Gacha Druid to the king, ‘and I have done what you desired me. The sons of Uisnech are dead and they will trouble you no more; and you have your wife hale and whole to yourself.’
‘Blessings for that upon you and may the good results accrue to me, Duanan. I count it no loss what I spent in the schooling and teaching of you. Now dry up the flood, and let me see if I can behold Deirdre,’ said Connachar.
And Duanan Gacha Druid dried up the flood from the plain and the three sons of Uisnech were lying together dead, without breath of life, side by side on the green meadow plain and Deirdre bending above showering down her tears.
Then Deirdre said this lament. ‘Fair one, loved one, flower of beauty; beloved upright and strong; beloved noble and modest warrior. Fair one, blue-eyed, beloved of thy wife; lovely to me at the trysting-place came thy clear voice through the woods of Ireland. I cannot eat or smile henceforth. Break not today, my heart: soon enough shall lie within my grave. Strong are the waves of sorrow, but stronger is sorrow’s self, Connachar.’
The people then gathered round the heroes’ bodies and asked Connachar what was to be done with the bodies. The order that he gave was that they should dig a pit and put the three brothers in it side by side.
Deirdre kept sitting on the brink of the grave, constantly asking the grave-diggers to dig the pit wide and free. When the bodies of the brothers were put in the grave, Deirdre said: ‘Come over hither, Naois, my love, Let Arden close to Allen lie;
If the dead had any sense to feel, Ye would have made a place for Deirdre.’
The men did as she told them. She jumped into the grave and lay down by Naois, and she was dead by his side.
The king ordered the body to be raised from out the grave and to be buried on the other side of the loch. It was done as the king bade, and the pit closed. Thereupon a fir shoot grew out of the grave of Deirdre and a fir shoot from the grave of Naois, and the two shoots united in a knot above the loch. The king ordered the shoots to be cut down, and this was done twice, until, at the third time, the wife whom the king had married caused him to stop this work of evil and his vengeance on the remains of the dead.
KIng O’Toole and His Goose
Och, I thought all the world, far and near, had heerd o’ King O’Toole – well, well, but the darkness of mankind is untellible! Well, sir, you must know, as you didn’t hear it afore, that there was a king, called King O’Toole, who was a fine old king in the old ancient times, long ago; and it was he that owned the churches in the early days. The king, you see, was the right sort; he was the real boy, and loved sport as he loved his life, and hunting in particular; and from the rising o’ the sun, up he got, and away he went over the mountains after the deer; and fine times they were.
Well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king had his health; but, you see, in course of time the king grew old, by raison[19] he was stiff in his limbs, and when he got stricken in years, his heart failed him, and he was lost entirely for want o’ diversion, because he couldn’t go a-hunting no longer; and, by dad, the poor king was obliged at last to get a goose to divert him. Oh, you may laugh, if you like, but it’s truth I’m telling you; and the way the goose diverted him was this-away: You see, the goose used to swim across the lake, and go diving for trout, and catch fish on a Friday for the king, and flew every other day round about the lake, diverting the poor king. All went on mighty well until, by dad, the goose got stricken in years like her master, and couldn’t divert him no longer, and then it was that the poor king was lost entirely. The king was walkin’ one mornin’ by the edge of the lake, lamentin’ his cruel fate[20], and thinking of drowning himself, that could get no diversion in life, when all of a sudden, turning round the corner, who should he meet but a mighty decent young man coming up to him.
‘God save you,’ says the king to the young man.
‘God save you kindly, King O’Toole,’ says the young man.
‘True for you,’ says the king. ‘I am King O’Toole,’ says he, ‘prince and plennypennytinchery of these parts,’ says he; ‘but how came ye to know that?’ says he.
‘Oh, never mind,’ says St. Kavin.
You see it was St. Kavin, sure enough – the saint himself in disguise, and nobody else. ‘Oh, never mind,’ says he, ‘I know more than that. May I make bold to ask how is your goose, King O’Toole?’ says he.
‘Blur-an-agers, how came ye to know about my goose?’ says the king.
‘Oh, no matter; I was given to understand it,’ says St. Kavin.
After some more talk the king says, ‘What are you?’
‘I’m an honest man,’ says St. Kavin.
‘Well, honest man,’ says the king, ‘and how is it you make your money so aisy?’
‘By makin’ old things as good as new,’ says St. Ka-vin.
‘Is it a tinker you are?’ says the king.
‘No,’ says the saint; ‘I’m no tinker by trade, King O’Toole; I’ve a better trade than a tinker,’ says he. ‘What would you say,’ says he, ‘if I made your old goose as good as new?’
My dear, at the word of making his goose as good as new, you’d think the poor old king’s eyes were ready to jump out of his head. With that the king whistled, and down came the poor goose, just like a hound, waddling up to the poor cripple, her master, and as like him as two peas. The minute the saint clapped his eyes on the goose, ‘I’ll do the job for you,’ says he, ‘King O’Toole.’
‘By Jaminee?’ says King O’Toole. ‘If you do, I’ll say you’re the cleverest fellow in the seven parishes.’
‘Oh, by dad,’ says St. Kavin, ‘you must say more nor that – my horn’s not so soft all out,’ says he, ‘as to repair your old goose for nothing; what’ll you gi’ me if I do the job for you? – that’s the chat,’ says St. Kavin.
‘I’ll give you whatever you ask,’ says the king; ‘isn’t that fair?’
‘Divil a fairer,’ says the saint; ‘That’s the way to do business. Now,’ says he, ‘this is the bargain I’ll make with you, King O’Toole: will you gi’ me all the ground the goose flies over, the first offer, after I make her as good as new?’
‘I will,’ says the king.
‘You won’t go back o’ your word?’ says St. Kavin. ‘Honour bright!’ says King O’Toole, holding out his fist.
‘Honour bright!’ says St. Kavin, back agin, ‘it’s a bargain. Come here!’ says he to the poor old goose, ‘come here, you unfortunate ould cripple, and it’s I that’ll make you the sporting bird.’ With that, my dear, he took up the goose by the two wings – ‘Criss o’ my cross an you,’ says he, markin’ her to grace with the blessed sign at the same minute – and throwing her up in the air. ‘Whew,’ says he, jist givin’ her a blast to help her; and with that, my jewel, she took to her heels[21], flyin’ like one o’ the eagles themselves, and cutting as many capers as a swallow before a shower of rain.
Well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king standing with his mouth open, looking at his poor old goose flying as light as a lark, and better than ever she was: and when she lit at his feet, patted her on the head, and ‘Ma vourneen,’ says he, ‘but you are the darlint o’ the world.’
‘And what do you say to me,’ says St. Kavin, ‘for making her the like?’
‘By Jabers,’ says the king, ‘I say nothing beats the art o’ man, barring the bees.’
‘And do you say no more nor that?’ says St. Kavin.
‘And that I’m beholden to you,’ says the king.
‘But will you gi’e all the ground the goose flew over?’ says St. Kavin.
‘I will,’ says King O’Toole, ‘and you’re welcome to it,’ says he. ‘Though it’s the last acre I have to give.’
‘But you’ll keep your word true?’ says the saint.
‘As true as the sun,’ says the king.
‘It’s well for you, King O’Toole, that you said that word,’ says he; ‘for if you didn’t say that word, the devil the bit o’ your goose would ever fly agin.’
When the king was as good as his word, St. Kavin was pleased with him, and then it was that he made himself known to the king. ‘And,’ says he, ‘King O’Toole, you’re a decent man, for I only came here to try you. You don’t know me,’ says he, ‘because I’m disguised.’
‘Musha! Then,’ says the king, ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m St. Kavin,’ said the saint, blessing himself.
‘Oh, queen of heaven!’ says the king, making the sign of the cross between his eyes, and falling down on his knees before the saint. ‘Is it the great St. Kavin,’ says he, ‘that I’ve been discoursing all this time without knowing it,’ says he, ‘all as one as if he was a lump of a gossoon? – and so you’re a saint?’ says the king.
‘I am,’ says St. Kavin.
‘By Jabers, I thought I was only talking to a dacent boy,’ says the king.
‘Well, you know the difference now,’ says the saint. ‘I’m St. Kavin,’ says he, ‘the greatest of all the saints.’
And so the king had his goose as good as new, to divert him as long as he lived and the saint supported him after he came into his property, as I told you, until the day of his death – and that was soon after; for the poor goose thought he was catching a trout one Friday; but, my jewel, it was a mistake he made – and instead of a trout, it was a thieving horse-eel; and instead of the goose killing a trout for the king’s supper – by dad, the eel killed the king’s goose – and small blame to him[22]; but he didn’t ate her, because he darn’t ate what St. Kavin had laid his blessed hands on.
Jack and His Comrades
Once there was a poor widow, as often there has been, and she had one son. A very scarce summer[23] came, and they didn’t know how they’d live till the new potatoes would be fit for eating. So Jack said to his mother one evening, ‘Mother, bake my cake, and kill my hen, till I go seek my fortune; and if I meet it, never fear but I’ll soon be back to share it with you.’
So she did as he asked her, and he set out at break of day on his journey. His mother came along with him to the yard gate, and says she, ‘Jack, which would you rather have, half the cake and half the hen with my blessing, or the whole of ’em with my curse?’
‘O Musha, mother,’ says Jack, ‘why do you ax me that question? Sure you know I wouldn’t have your curse and Damer’s estate along with it.’
‘Well, then, Jack,’ says she, ‘here’s the whole lot of ’em, with my thousand blessings along with them.’ So she stood on the yard fence and blessed him as far as her eyes could see him.
Well, he went along and along till he was tired, and ne’er a farmer’s house he went into wanted a boy. At last his road led by the side of a bog, and there was a poor ass up to his shoulders near a big bunch of grass he was striving to come at.
‘Ah, then, Jack asthore,’ says he, ‘help me out or I’ll be drowned.’
‘Never say’t twice[24],’ says Jack, and he pitched in big stones and sods into the slob, till the ass got good ground under him.
‘Thank you, Jack,’ says he, when he was out on the hard road; ‘I’ll do as much for you another time. Where are you going?’
‘Faith, I’m going to seek my fortune till harvest comes in, God bless it!’
‘And if you like,’ says the ass, ‘I’ll go along with you; who knows what luck we may have!’
‘With all my heart, it’s getting late, let us be jogging.’
Well, they were going through a village, and a whole army of gossoons were hunting a poor dog with a kettle tied to his tail. He ran up to Jack for protection, and the ass let such a roar out of him, that the little thieves took to their heels as if the ould boy was after them[25].
‘More power to you, Jack,’ says the dog. ‘I’m much obleeged to you; where is the baste and yourself going?’
‘We’re going to seek our fortune till harvest comes in.’
‘And wouldn’t I be proud to go with you!’ says the dog. ‘And get rid of them ill-conducted boys; purshuin’ to ’em.’
‘Well, well, throw your tail over your arm, and come along.’
They got outside the town, and sat down under an old wall, and Jack pulled out his bread and meat, and shared with the dog; and the ass made his dinner on a bunch of thistles. While they were eating and chatting, what should come by but a poor half-starved cat, and the moll-row he gave out of him would make your heart ache.
‘You look as if you saw the tops of nine houses since breakfast[26],’ says Jack; ‘here’s a bone and something on it.’
‘May your child never know a hungry belly!’ says Tom. ‘It’s myself that’s in need of your kindness. May I be so bold as to ask where yez are all going?’
‘We’re going to seek out fortune till the harvest comes in, and you may join us if you like.’
‘And that I’ll do with a heart and a half,’ says the cat, ‘and thank’ee for asking me.’
Off they set again, and just as the shadows of the trees were three times as long as themselves, they heard a great cackling in a field inside the road, and out over the ditch jumped a fox with a fine black cock in his mouth.
‘Oh, you anointed villain!’ says the ass, roaring like thunder.
‘At him, good dog!’ says Jack, and the word wasn’t out of his mouth when Coley was in full sweep after the Red Dog. Reynard dropped his prize like a hot potato, and was off like shot, and the poor cock came back fluttering and trembling to Jack and his comrades.
‘O Musha, naybours!’ says he. ‘Wasn’t it the heigth o’ luck that threw you in my way! Maybe I won’t remember your kindness if ever I find you in hardship; and where in the world are you all going?’
‘We’re going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in; you may join our party if you like, and sit on Neddy’s crupper when your legs and wings are tired.’
Well, the march began again, and just as the sun was gone down they looked around, and there was neither cabin nor farm house in sight.
‘Well, well,’ says Jack, ‘the worse luck now the better another time[27], and it’s only a summer night after all. We’ll go into the wood, and make our bed on the long grass.’
No sooner said than done.[28] Jack stretched himself on a bunch of dry grass, the ass lay near him, the dog and cat lay in the ass’s warm lap, and the cock went to roost in the next tree.
Well, the soundness of deep sleep was over them all, when the cock took a notion of crowing.
‘Bother you, Black Cock!’ says the ass. ‘You disturbed me from as nice a wisp of hay as ever I tasted. What’s the matter?’
‘It’s daybreak that’s the matter: don’t you see light yonder?’