THERE was once a time when every
creature and bird was gathering to battle. The son of the king of
Tethertown said that he would go to see the battle, and that he would
bring sure word home to his father the king, who would be king of the
creatures this year. The battle was over before he arrived all but one
fight, between a great black raven and a snake, and it seemed as if
the snake would get the victory over the raven. When the king’s son saw
this, he helped the raven, and with one blow he takes the head off the
snake. When the raven had taken breath, and saw that the snake was dead,
he said, "For thy kindness to me this day I will give thee a sight. Come
up now on the root of my two wings." The king’s son mounted upon the
raven, and, before he stopped, he took him over seven Bens, and seven
Glens, and seven Mountain Moors.
"Now," said the raven, "seest thou
that house yonder? Go now to it. It is a sister of mine that makes her
dwelling in it; and I will go bail that thou art welcome. And if she asks
thee, Wert thou at the battle of the birds? say thou that thou wert. And
if she asks, Didst thou see my likeness? say that thou sawest it. But be
sure that thou meetest me to-morrow morning here, in this place." The
king’s son got good and right good treatment this night. Meat of each
meat, drink of each drink, warm water to his feet, and a soft bed for his
On the next day the raven gave him the same sight
over seven Bens, and seven Glens, and seven Mountain Moors. They saw a
bothy far off, but, though far off, they were soon there. He got good
treatment this night, as before—plenty of meat and drink, and warm water
to his feet, and a soft bed to his limbs—and on the next day it was the
On the third morning, instead of seeing the raven as
at the other times, who should meet him but the handsomest lad he ever
saw, with a bundle in his hand. The king’s son asked this lad if he had
seen a big black raven. Said the lad to him, "Thou wilt never see the
raven again, for I am that raven. I was put under spells; it was meeting
thee that loosed me, and for that thou art getting this bundle. Now," said
the lad, "thou wilt turn back on the self-same steps, and thou wilt lie a
night in each house, as thou wert before; but thy lot is not to loose the
bundle which I gave thee, till thou art in the place where thou wouldst
most wish to dwell"
The king’s son turned his back to the lad, and his
face to his father’s house; and he got lodging from the raven's sisters,
just as he got it when going forward. When he was nearing his father’s
house he was going through a close wood. It seemed to him that the bundle
was growing heavy, and he thought he would look what was in it.
When he loosed the bundle, it was not without
astonishing himself. In a twinkling he sees the very grandest place he
ever saw. A great castle, and an orchard about the castle, in which was
every kind of fruit and herb. He stood full of wonder and regret for
having loosed the bundle—it was not in his power to put it back again—and
he would have wished this pretty place to be in the pretty little green
hollow that was opposite his father’s house; but, at one glance, he sees a
great giant coming towards him.
"Bad’s the place where thou hast
built thy house, king’s son," says the giant. "Yes, but it is not here I
would wish it to be, though it happened to be here by mishap," says the
king’s son. "What’s the reward thou wouldst give me for putting it back in
the bundle as it was before?" "What’s the reward thou wouldst ask?" says
the king’s son. "If thou wilt give me the first son thou hast when he is
seven years of age," says the giant. "Thou wilt get that if I have a son,"
said the king’s son.
In a twinkling the giant put each
garden, and orchard, and castle in the bundle as they were before. "Now,"
says the giant, "take thou thine own road, and I will take my road; but
mind thy promise, and though thou shouldst forget, I will remember."
The king’s son took to the road, and
at the end of a few days he reached the place he was fondest of. He loosed
the bundle, and the same place was just as it was before. And when he
opened the castle door he sees the handsomest maiden he ever cast eye
upon. "Advance, king’s son," said the pretty maid; "everything is in order
for the; if thou wilt marry me this very night" "It’s I am the man that is
willing," said the king’s son. And on the same night they married.
But at the end of a thy and seven
years, what great man is seen coming to the castle but the giant. The
king’s son minded his promise to the giant, and till now he had not told
his promise to the queen. "Leave thou the matter between me and the
giant," says the queen.
"Turn out thy son," says the giant; "mind your
promise." "Thou wilt get that," says the king, "when his mother puts him
in order for his journey." The queen arrayed the cook’s son, and she gave
him to the giant by the hand. The giant went away with him; but he had not
gone far when he put a rod in the hand of the little laddie. The giant
asked him, "If thy father had that rod, what would he do with it?" "If my
father had that rod he would beat the dogs and the cats, if they would be
going near the king’s meat," said the little laddie. "Thou’rt the cook’s
son," said the giant. He catches him by the two small ankles and knocks
him—" Sgleog"—against the stone that was beside him. The giant turned back
to the castle in rage and madness, and he said that if they did not turn
out the king’s son to him, the highest stone of the castle would be the
lowest. Said the queen to the king, "We’ll try it yet if the butler’s son
is of the same age as our son." She arrayed the butler’s son, and she
gives him to the giant by the hand. The giant had not gone far when he put
the rod in his hand. "If thy father had that rod," said the giant, "what
would he do with it?" "He would beat the dogs and cats when they would be
coming near the king’s bottles and glasses." "Thou art the son of the
butler," says the giant, and dashed his brains out too. The giant return
in very great rage and anger. The earth shook under the soles of his feet,
and the castle shook and all that was in it. "OUT HERE THY SON," says the
giant, "or in a twinkling the stone that is highest in the dwelling will
be the lowest." So needs must they had to give the king’s son to the
The giant took him to his own house, and he reared
him as his own son. On a day of days when the giant was from home, the lad
heard the sweetest music he ever heard in a room at the top of the giant’s
house. At a glance he saw the finest face he had ever seen. She beckoned
to him to come a bit nearer to her, and she told him to go this time, but
to be sure to be at the same place about that dead midnight.
And as he promised he did. The
giant’s daughter was at his side in a twinkling, and she said, "To-morrow
thou wilt get the choice of my two sisters to marry; but say thou that
thou wilt not take either, but me. My father wants me to marry the son of
the king of the Green City, but I don’t like him." On the morrow the giant
took out his three daughters, and he said, "Now, son of the king of
Tether-town, thou hast not lost by living with me so long. Thou wilt get
to wife one of the two eldest of my daughters, and with her leave to go
home with her the day after the wedding." "If thou wilt give me this
pretty little one," says the king’s son, "I will take thee at thy word."
The giant’s wrath kindled, and he
said, "Before thou gett’st her thou must do the three things that I ask
thee to do." "Say on," says the king’s son. The giant took him to the
byre. "Now," says the giant, "the dung of a hundred cattle is here, and it
has not been cleansed for seven years. I am going from home to-day, and if
this byre is not cleaned before night comes, so clean that a golden apple
will run from end to end of it, not only thou shalt not get my daughter,
but ‘tis a drink of thy blood that will quench my thirst this night" He
begins cleaning the byre, but it was just as well to keep baling the great
ocean. After mid-day, when sweat was blinding him, the giant’s young
daughter came where he was, and she said to him, "Thou art being punished,
king’s son." "I am that," says the king’s son. "Come over," says she, "and
lay down thy weariness." "I will do that," says he, "there is but death
awaiting me, at any rate." He sat down near her. He was so tired that he
fell asleep beside her. When he awoke, the giant’s daughter was not to be
seen, but the byre was so well cleaned that a golden apple would run from
end to end of it. In comes the giant, and he said, "Thou hast cleaned the
byre, king’s son?" "I have cleaned it," says he. "Somebody cleaned it,"
says the giant. "Thou didst not clean it, at all events," said the king’s
son. "Yes, yes," says the giant, "since thou wert so active to-day, thou
wilt get to this time to-morrow to thatch this byre with birds’ down—birds
with no two feathers of one colour." The king’s son was on foot before the
sun; he caught up his bow and his quiver of arrows to kill the birds. He
took to the moors, but if he did, the birds were not so easy to take. He
was running after them till the sweat was blinding him. About mid-day who
should come but the giant’s daughter. "Thou art exhausting thyself; king’s
son," says she. "I am," said he. "There fell but these two
blackbirds and both of one colour." "Come over and lay down thy weariness
on this pretty hillock," says the giant’s daughter. "It’s I am willing,"
says he. He thought she would aid him this time, too, and he sat down near
her, and he was not long there till he fell asleep.
When he awoke, the giant’s daughter was gone. He
thought he would go back to the house and he sees the byre thatched with
the feathers. When the giant came home, he said, "Thou hast thatched the
byre, king’s son?" "I thatched it," says he. "Somebody thatched it," says
the giant. "Thou didst not thatch it," says the king’s son. "Yes, yes!"
says the giant. "Now," says the giant, "there is a fir-tree beside that
loch down there, and there is a magpie’s nest in its top. The eggs thou
wilt find in the nest. I must have them for my first meal. Not one must be
burst or broken, and there are five in the nest." Early in the morning the
king’s son went where the tree was, and that tree was not hard to hit
upon. Its match was not in the whole wood. From the foot to the first
branch was five hundred feet The king’s son was going all round the tree.
She came who was always bringing help to him; "Thou art losing the skin of
thy hands and feet." "Ach! I am," says he "I am no sooner up than down."
"This is no time for stopping," says the giant’s daughter. She thrust
finger after finger into the tree, till she made a ladder for the king’s
son to go up to the magpie’s nest. When he was at the nest, she said,
"Make haste now with the eggs, for my father’s breath is burning my back."
In his hurry she left her little finger in the top of the tree "Now," says
she, "thou wilt go home with the eggs quickly, and thou wilt get me to
marry to-night if thou canst know me I and my two sisters will be arrayed
in the same garments, and made like each other, but look at me when my
father says, "Go to thy wife, king’s son; and thou wilt see a hand without
a little finger." He gave the eggs to the giant "Yes, yes !" says the
giant, "be making ready for thy marriage."
Then indeed there was a wedding, and
it was a
wedding! Giants and gentlemen, and the son of the king of the Green City
was in the midst of them. They were married, and the dancing began, and
that was a dance! The giant’s house was shaking from top to bottom. But
bed-time came, and the giant said, "It is time for thee to go to rest, son
of the king of Tethertown; take thy bride with thee from amidst those."
She put out the hand off which the little finger
was, an he caught her by the hand.
"Thou hast aimed well this time too; but there is no
knowing but we may meet thee another way," said the giant.
But to rest they went "Now," says she, "sleep not,
or else thou diest. We must fly quick, quick, or for certain my father
will kill thee."
Out they went, and on the blue grey filly in the
stable they mounted. "Stop a while," says she, "and I will play a trick to
the old hero." She jumped in, and cut an apple into nine shares, and she
put two shares at the head of the bed, and two shares at the foot of the
bed, and two shares at the door of the kitchen, and two shares at the big
door and one outside the house.
The giant awoke and called, "Are you asleep?" "We
are not yet," said the apple that was at the head of the bed. At the end
of a while he called again. "We are not yet" said the apple that was at
the foot of the bed. A while after this he called again. "We are not yet,"
said the apple at the kitchen door. The giant called again. The apple that
was at the big door answered. "You are now going far from me," says the
giant. "We are not yet," says the apple that was outside the house. "You
are flying," says the giant The giant jumped on his feet, and to the bed
he went, but it was cold—empty.
"My own daughter’s tricks are trying me," said the
giant "Here’s after them," says he.
In the mouth of day, the giant’s daughter said that
her father’s breath was burning her back. "Put thy hand quick," said she,
"in the ear of the grey filly, and whatever thou findest in it, throw it
behind thee." "Theire is twig of sloe tree," said he, "Throw it behind
thee," said she.
No sooner did he that than there were twenty miles
of black-thorn wood, so thick that scarce a weasel could go through it.
The giant came headlong, and there he is fleecing his head and neck in the
"My own daughter’s tricks are here as before," said
the giant; "but if I had my own big axe and wood knife here, I would not
be long making a way through this." He went home for the big axe and the
wood knife, and sure he was not long on his journey, and he was the boy
behind the big axe. He was not long making a way through the black thorn.
"I will leave the axe and the wood knife here till I return," says he. "If
thou leave them," said a hoodie that was in a tree, "we will steal them."
"You will do that same," says the giant, "but I will
set them home." He returned and left them at the house. At the heat of day
the giant’s daughter felt her father’s breath burning her back.
"Put thy finger in the filly’s ear, and throw behind
thee whatever thou findest in it" He got a splinter of grey stone, and in
a twinkling there were twenty miles, by breadth and height, of great grey
rock behind them. The giant came full pelt, but past the rock he could not
"The tricks of my own daughter are the hardest
things that ever met me," says the giant; "but if I had my lever and my
mighty mattock, I would not be long making my way through this rock also."
There was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he was the
boy to split the stones. He was not long making a road through the rock.
"I will leave the tools here, and I will return no more." "If thou leave
them," said the hoodie, "we will steal them." "Do that if thou wilt; there
is no time to go back." At the time of breaking the watch, the giant’s
daughter said that she was feeling her father’s breath burning her back.
"Look in the filly’s ear, king’s
son, or else we are lost." He did so, and it was a bladder of water that
was in her ear this time. He threw it behind him and there was a
freshwater loch, twenty miles in length and breadth, behind them.
The giant came on, but with the
speed he had on him, he was in the middle of the loch, and he went under,
and he rose no more.
On the next day the young companions
were come in sight of his father’s house. "Now," said she, "my father is
drowned, and he won’t trouble us any more; but before we go any further,"
says she, "go thou to thy father’s house, and tell that thou hast the like
of me; but this is thy lot, let neither man nor creature kiss thee, for if
thou dost thou wilt not remember that thou hast ever seen me." Every one
he met was giving him welcome and luck, and he charged his father and
mother not to kiss him; but as mishap was to be, an old greyhound was in
and she knew him, and jumped up to his mouth, and after that he did not
remember the giant’s daughter.
She was sitting at the well’s side
as he left her, but the king’s son was not coming. In the mouth of night
she climbed up into a tree of oak that was beside the well, and she lay in
the fork of the tree all that night A shoemaker had a house near the well,
and about mid-day on the morrow the shoemaker asked his wife to go for a
drink for him out of the well. When the shoemaker’s wife reached the well,
and when she saw the shadow of her that was in the tree, thinking of it
that it was her own shadow—and she never thought till now that she was so
handsome—she gave a cast to the dish that was in her hand, and it was
broken on the ground, and she took herself to the house without vessel or
"Where is the water, wife?" said the shoemaker.
"Thou shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, I have stayed too
long thy water and wood thrall." "I am thinking, wife, that thou hast
turned crazy. Go thou, daughter, quickly, and fetch a drink for thy
father." His daughter went, and in the same way so it happened to her. She
never thought till now that she was so lovable, and she took herself home.
"Up with the drink," said her father. "Thou home-spun shoe carle dost thou
think that I am fit to be thy thrall." The poor shoemaker thought that
they had taken a turn in their understandings, and he went himself to the
well. He saw the shadow of the maiden in the well, and he looked up to the
tree, and he sees the finest woman he ever saw. "Thy seat is wavering, but
thy face is fair," said the shoemaker. "Come down, for there is need of
thee for a short while at my house." The shoemaker understood that this
was the shadow that had driven his people mad. The shoemaker took her to
his house, and he said that he had but a poor bothy, but that she should
get a share of all that was in it. At the end of a day or two came a leash
of gentlemen lads to the shoemaker’s house for shoes to be made for them,
for the king had come home, and he was going to marry. The glance the lads
gave they saw the giant’s daughter, and if they saw her, they never saw
one so pretty as she. "Tis thou hast the pretty daughter here," said the
lads to the shoemaker. "She is pretty, indeed," says the shoemaker, "but
she is no daughter of mine." "St Nail!" said one of them, "I would give a
hundred pounds to marry her." The two others said the very same. The poor
shoemaker said that he had nothing to do with her. "But," said they, "ask
her to-night, and send us word to-morrow." When the gentles went away, she
asked the shoemaker, "What’s that they were saying about me?" The
shoemaker told her. "Go thou after them," said she; "I will marry one of
them, and let him bring his purse with him." The youth returned, and he
gave the shoemaker a hundred pounds for tocher. They went to rest, and
when she had laid down, she asked the lad for a drink of water from a
tumbler that was on the board on the further side of the chamber. He went;
but out of that he could not come, as he held the vessel of water the
length of the night. "Thou lad," said she, "why wilt thou not lie down?"
but out of that he could not drag till the bright morrow’s day was. The
shoemaker came to the door of the chamber, and she asked him to take away
that lubberly boy. This wooer went and betook himself to his home, but he
did not tell the other two how it happened to him. Next came the second
chap, and in the same way, when she had gone to rest, "Look," she said,
"if the latch is on the door." The latch laid hold of his hands, and out
of that he could not come the length of the night, and out of that he did
not come till the morrow's day was bright. He went, under shame and
disgrace. No matter, he did not tell the other chap how it happened, and
on the third night he came. As it happened to the two others, so it
happened to him. One foot stuck to the floor; he could neither come nor
go, but so he was the length of the night. On the morrow, he took his
soles out of that, and he was not seen looking behind him. "Now," said the
girl to the shoemaker, "thine is the sporran of gold; I have no need of
it. It will better thee, and I am no worse for thy kindness to me." The
shoemaker had the shoes ready, and on that very day the king was to be
married. The shoemaker was going to the castle with the shoes of the young
people, and the girl said to the shoemaker, "I would like to get a sight
of the king’s son before he marries." "Come with me," says the shoemaker.
"I am well acquainted with the servants of the castle, and thou shalt get
a sight of the king’s son and all the company." And when the gentles saw
the pretty woman that was here they took her to the wedding-room, and they
filled for her a glass of wine. When she was going to drink what is in it;
a flame went up out of the glass, and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon
sprung out of it. They were flying about when three grains of barley fell
on the floor. The silver pigeon sprang, and he eats that. Said the golden
pigeon to him, "If thou hadst mind when I cleared the byre, thou wouldst
not eat that without giving me a share." Again fell three other grains of
barley, and the silver pigeon sprang, and he eats that, as before. "If
thou hadst mind when I thatched the byre, thou wouldst not eat that
without giving me my share," says the golden pigeon. Three other grains
fall, and the silver pigeon sprang, and he eats that "If thou hadst mind
when I harried the magpie’s nest, thou wouldst not eat that without giving
me my share," says the golden pigeon; "I lost my little finger bringing it
down, and I want it still." The king’s son minded, and he knew who it was
he had got. He sprang where she was, and kissed her from hand to mouth.
And when the priest came they married a second time. And there I left