once changed himself into a hawk, and flew up after it. The dove now turned into a gold ring, and fell into a girl’s lap. The hawk now turned into a man, and offered the girl a great sum of money for the gold ring, but she would not part with it, seeing that it had fallen down to her, as it were, from Heaven. However, the wizard kept on offering her more and more for it, until at last the gold ring grew frightened, and changed itself into a grain of barley, which fell on the ground. The man then turned into a hen, and began to search for the grain of barley, but this again changed itself to a pole-cat, and took off the hen’s head with a single snap.
The wizard was now dead, the pole-cat put on human shape, and the youth afterwards married the girl, and from that time forward let all his magic arts alone.
The King of Waterfalls
When the young king of Easaidh Ruadh came into his kingdom, the first thing he thought of was how he could amuse himself best. The sports that all his life had pleased him best suddenly seemed to have grown dull, and he wanted to do something he had never done before. At last his face brightened.
‘I know!’ he said. ‘I will go and play a game with the Gruagach.’ Now the Gruagach was a kind of wicked fairy, with long curly brown hair, and his house was not very far from the king’s house.
But though the king was young and eager, he was also prudent, and his father had told him on his deathbed to be very careful in his dealings with the ‘good people,’ as the fairies were called. Therefore before going to the Gruagach the king sought out a wise man of the countryside.
‘I am wanting to play a game with the curly-haired Gruagach,’ said he.
‘Are you, indeed?’ replied the wizard. ‘If you will take my counsel, you will play with someone else.’
‘No; I will play with the Gruagach,’ persisted the king.
‘Well, if you must, you must, I suppose,’ answered the wizard; ‘but if you win that game, ask as a prize the ugly crop-headed girl that stands behind the door.’
‘I will,’ said the king.
So before the sun rose he got up and went to the house of the Gruagach, who was sitting outside.
‘O king, what has brought you here to-day?’ asked the Gruagach. ‘But right welcome you are, and more welcome will you be still if you will play a game with me.’
‘That is just what I want,’ said the king, and they played; and sometimes it seemed as if one would win, and sometimes the other, but in the end it was the king who was the winner.
‘And what is the prize that you will choose?’ inquired the Gruagach.
‘The ugly crop-headed girl that stands behind the door,’ replied the king.
‘Why, there are twenty others in the house, and each fairer than she!’ exclaimed the Gruagach.
‘Fairer they may be, but it is she whom I wish for my wife, and none other,’ and the Gruagach saw that the king’s mind was set upon her, so he entered his house, and bade all the maidens in it come out one by one, and pass before the king.
One by one they came; tall and short, dark and fair, plump and thin, and each said ‘I am she whom you want. You will be foolish indeed if you do not take me.’
But he took none of them, neither short nor tall, dark nor fair, plump nor thin, till at the last the crop-headed girl came out.
‘This is mine,’ said the king, though she was so ugly that most men would have turned from her. ‘We will be married at once, and I will carry you home.’ And married they were, and they set forth across a meadow to the king’s house. As they went, the bride stooped and picked a sprig of shamrock, which grew amongst the grass, and when she stood upright again her ugliness had all gone, and the most beautiful woman that ever was seen stood by the king’s side.
The next day, before the sun rose, the king sprang from his bed, and told his wife he must have another game with the Gruagach.
‘If my father loses that game, and you win it,’ said she, ‘accept nothing for your prize but the shaggy young horse with the stick saddle.’
‘I will do that,’ answered the king, and he went.
‘Does your bride please you?’ asked the Gruagach, who was standing at his own door.
‘Ah! does she not!’ answered the king quickly. ‘Otherwise I should be hard indeed to please. But will you play a game today?’
‘I will,’ replied the Gruagach, and they played, and sometimes it seemed as if one would win, and sometimes the other, but in the end the king was the winner.
‘What is the prize that you will choose?’ asked the Gruagach.
‘The shaggy young horse with the stick saddle,’ answered the king, but he noticed that the Gruagach held his peace, and his brow was dark as he led out the horse from the stable. Rough was its mane and dull was its skin, but the king cared nothing for that, and throwing his leg over the stick saddle, rode away like the wind.
On the third morning the king got up as usual before dawn, and as soon as he had eaten food he prepared to go out, when his wife stopped him. ‘I would rather,’ she said, ‘that you did not go to play with the Gruagach, for though twice you have won yet some day he will win, and then he will put trouble upon you.’
‘Oh! I must have one more game,’ cried the king; ‘just this one.’ And he went off to the house of the Gruagach.
Joy filled the heart of the Gruagach when he saw him coming, and without waiting to talk they played their game. Somehow or other, the king’s strength and skill had departed from him, and soon the Gruagach was the victor.
‘Choose your prize,’ said the king, when the game was ended, ‘but do not be too hard on me, or ask what I cannot give.’
‘The prize I choose,’ answered the Gruagach, ‘is that the crop-headed creature should take thy head and thy neck, if thou dost not get for me the Sword of Light that hangs in the house of the king of the oak windows.’
‘I will get it,’ replied the young man bravely; but as soon as he was out of sight of the Gruagach he pretended no more, and his face grew dark and his steps lagging.
‘You have brought nothing with you to-night,’ said the queen, who was standing on the steps awaiting him. She was so beautiful that the king was fain to smile when he looked at her, but then he remembered what had happened, and his heart grew heavy again.
‘What is it? What is the matter? Tell me thy sorrow that I may bear it with thee, or, it may be, help thee!’ Then the king told her everything that had befallen him, and she stroked his hair the while.
‘That is nothing to grieve about,’ she said when the tale was finished. ‘You have the best wife in Erin, and the best horse in Erin. Only do as I bid you, and all will go well.’ And the king suffered himself to be comforted.
He was still sleeping when the queen rose and dressed herself, to make everything ready for her husband’s journey; and the first place she went to was the stable, where she fed and watered the shaggy brown horse and put the saddle on it. Most people thought this saddle was of wood, and did not see the little sparkles of gold and silver that were hidden in it. She strapped it lightly on the horse’s back, and then led it down before the house, where the king waited.
‘Good luck to you, and victories in all your battles,’ she said, as she kissed him before he mounted. ‘I need not be telling you anything. Take the advice of the horse, and see you obey it.’
So he waved his hand and set out on his journey, and the wind was not swifter than the brown horse–no, not even the March wind which raced it and could not catch it. But the horse never stopped nor looked behind, till in the dark of the night he reached the castle of the king of the oak windows.
‘We are at the end of the journey,’ said the horse, ‘and you will find the Sword of Light in the king’s own chamber. If it comes to you without scrape or sound, the token is a good one. At this hour the king is eating his supper, and the