Gods and Fighting Men by Lady I. A Gregory (portable ebook reader txt) 📕

CHAPTER IX. (MANANNAN AT PLAY)

And it was he went playing tricks through Ireland a long time after that

again, the time he got the name of O'Donnell's Kern. And it is the way

it happened, Aodh Dubh O'Donnell was holding a feast one time in

Bel-atha Senaig, and his people were boasting of the goodness of his

house and of his musicians.

 

And while they were talking, they saw a clown coming towards them, old

striped clothes he had, and puddle water splashing in his shoes, and his

sword sticking out naked behind him, and his ears through the old cloak

that was over his head, and in his hand he had three spears of hollywood

scorched and blackened.

 

He wished O'Donnell good health, and O'Donnell did the same to him, and

asked where did he come from. "It is where I am," he said, "I slept last

night at Dun Monaidhe, of the King of Alban; I am a day in Ile, a day in

Cionn-tire, a day in Rachlainn, a day in the Watchman's Seat in Slieve

Fuad; a pleasant, rambling, wandering man I am, and it is with yourself

I am now, O'Donnell," he said. "Let the gate-keeper be brought to me,"

said O'Donnell. And when the gate-keeper came, he asked was it he let in

this man, and the gate-keeper said he did not, and that he never saw him

before. "Let him off, O'Donnell," said the stranger, "for it was as easy

for me to come in, as it will be to me to go out again." There was

wonder on them all then, any man to have come into the house without

passing the gate.

 

The musicians began playing their music then, and all the best musicians

of the country were there at the time, and they played very sweet tunes

on their harps. But the strange man called out: "By my word, O'Donnell,

there was never a noise of hammers beating on iron in any bad place was

so bad to listen to as this noise your people are making."

 

With that he took a harp, and he made music that would put women in

their pains and wounded men after a battle into a sweet sleep, and it is

what O'Donnell said: "Since I first heard talk of the music of the Sidhe

that is played in the hills and under the earth below us, I never heard

better music than your own. And it is a very sweet player you are," he

said. "One day I am sweet, another day I am sour," said the clown.

 

Then O'Donnell bade his people to bring him up to sit near himself. "I

have no mind to do that," he said; "I would sooner be as I am, an ugly

clown, making sport for high-up people." Then O'Donnell sent him down

clothes, a hat and a striped shirt and a coat, but he would not have

them. "I have no mind," he said, "to let high-up people be making a

boast of giving them to me."

 

They were afraid then he might go from them, and they put twenty armed

horsemen and twenty men on foot to hold him back from leaving the house,

and as many more outside at the gate, for they knew him not to be a man

of this world. "What are these men for?" said he. "They are to keep you

here," said O'Donnell. "By my word, it is not with you I will be eating

my supper to-morrow," he said, "but at Cnoc Aine, where Seaghan, Son of

the Earl is, in Desmumain." "If I find you giving one stir out of

yourself, between this and morning, I will knock you into a round lump

there on the ground," said O'Donnell.

 

But at that the stranger took up the harp again, and he made the same

sweet music as before. And when they were all listening to him, he

called out to the men outside: "Here I am coming, and watch me well now

or you will lose me." When the men that were watching the gate heard

that, they lifted up their axes to strike at him, but in their haste it

was at one another they struck, till they were all lying stretched in

blood. Then the clown said to the gate-keeper: "Let you ask twenty cows

and a hundred of free land of O'Donnell as a fee for bringing his people

back to life. And take this herb," he said, "and rub it in the mouth of

each man of them, and he will rise up whole and well again." So the

gate-keeper did that, and he got the cows and the land from O'Donnell,

and he brought all the people to life again.

 

Now at that time Seaghan, Son of the Earl, was holding a gathering on

the green in front of his dun, and he saw the same man coming towards

him, and dressed in the same way, and the water splashing in his shoes.

But when he asked who was he, he gave himself the name of a very learned

man, Duartane O'Duartane, and he said it was by Ess Ruadh he was come,

and by Ceiscorainn and from that to Corrslieve, and to Magh Lorg of the

Dagda, and into the district of Hy'Conaill Gabhra, "till I came to

yourself," he said, "by Cruachan of Magh Ai." So they brought him into

the house, and gave him wine for drinking and water for washing his

feet, and he slept till the rising of the sun on the morrow. And at that

time Seaghan, Son of the Earl, came to visit him, and he said: "It is a

long sleep you had, and there is no wonder in that, and your journey so

long yesterday. But I often heard of your learning in books and of your

skill on the harp, and I would like to hear you this morning," he said.

"I am good in those arts indeed," said the stranger. So they brought him

a book, but he could not read a word of it, and then they brought him a

harp, and he could not play any tune. "It is likely your reading and

your music are gone from you," said Seaghan; and he made a little rann

on him, saying it was a strange thing Duartane O'Duartane that had such

a great name not to be able to read a line of a book, or even to

remember one. But when the stranger heard how he was being mocked at, he

took up the book, and read from the top to the bottom of the page very

well and in a sweet-sounding voice. And after that he took the harp and

played and sang the same way he did at O'Donnell's house the day before.

"It is a very sweet man of learning you are," said Seaghan. "One day I

am sweet, another day I am sour," said the stranger.

 

They walked out together then on Cnoc Aine, but while they were talking

there, the stranger was gone all of a minute, and Seaghan, Son of the

Earl, could not see where he went.

 

And after that he went on, and he reached Sligach just at the time

O'Conchubar was setting out with the men of Connacht to avenge the

Connacht hag's basket on the hag of Munster. And this time he gave

himself the name of the Gilla Decair, the Bad Servant. And he joined

with the men of Connacht, and they went over the Sionnan westward into

Munster, and there they hunted and drove every creature that could be

made travel, cattle and horses and flocks, into one place, till they got

the hornless bull of the Munster hag and her two speckled cows, and

O'Conchubar brought them away to give to the Connacht hag in

satisfaction for her basket.

 

But the men of Munster made an attack on them as they were going back;

and the Gilla Decair asked O'Conchubar would he sooner have the cows

driven, or have the Munster men checked, and he said he would sooner

have the Munster men checked. So the Gilla Decair turned on them, and

with his bow and twenty-four arrows he kept them back till O'Conchubar

and his people were safe out of their reach in Connacht.

 

But he took some offence then, on account of O'Conchubar taking the

first drink himself when they came to his house, and not giving it to

him, that had done so much, and he took his leave and went from them on

the moment.

 

After that he went to where Tadg O'Cealaigh was, and having his old

striped clothes and his old shoes as before. And when they asked him

what art he had, he said: "I am good at tricks. And if you will give me

five marks I will show you a trick," he said. "I will give that," said

Tadg.

 

With that the stranger put three rushes on the palm of his hand. "I will

blow away the middle rush now," he said, "and the other two will stop as

they are." So they told him to do that, and he put the tops of two of

his fingers on the two outside rushes, and blew the middle one away.

"There is a trick now for you, Tadg O'Cealaigh," he said then. "By my

word, that is not a bad trick," said O'Cealaigh. But one of his men

said: "That there may be no good luck with him that did it. And give me

the half of that money now, Tadg," he said, "and I will do the same

trick for you myself." "I will give you the half of what I got if you

will do it," said the stranger. So the other put the rushes on his hand,

but if he did, when he tried to do the trick, his two finger-tips went

through the palm of his hand. "Ob-Ob-Ob!" said the stranger, "that is

not the way I did the trick. But as you have lost the money," he said,

"I will heal you again."

 

"I could do another trick for you," he said; "I could wag the ear on

one side of my head and the ear on the other side would stay still." "Do

it then," said O'Cealaigh. So the man of tricks took hold of one of his

ears and wagged it up and down. "That is a good trick indeed," said

O'Cealaigh. "I will show you another one now," he said.

 

With that he took from his bag a thread of silk, and gave a cast of it

up into the air, that it was made fast to a cloud. And then he took a

hare out of the same bag, and it ran up the thread; and then took out a

little dog and laid it on after the hare, and it followed yelping on its

track; and after that again he brought out a little serving-boy and bade

him to follow dog and hare up the thread. Then out of another bag he had

with him he brought out a beautiful, well-dressed young woman, and bade

her to follow after the hound and the boy, and to take care and not let

the hare be torn by the dog. She went up then quickly after them, and it

was a delight to Tadg O'Cealaigh to be looking at them and to be

listening to the sound of the hunt going on in the air.

 

All was quiet then for a long time, and then the man of tricks said: "I

am afraid there is some bad work going on up there." "What is that?"

said O'Cealaigh. "I am thinking," said he, "the hound might be eating

the hare, and the serving-boy courting the girl." "It is likely enough

they are," said O'Cealaigh. With that the stranger drew in the thread,

and it is what he found, the boy making love to the girl and the hound

chewing the bones of the hare. There was great anger on the