Celtic Fairy Tales (21 page)

"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!"

Good heavens! who was calling him, and not a soul in sight? Look
around as he might, indoors and out, he could find no creature with
two legs or four, for his horse was gone.

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! tell me a story."

It was louder this time, and it was nearer. And then what a thing to
ask for! It was bad enough not to be let sit by the fire and dry
oneself, without being bothered for a story.

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!! Tell me a story, or it'll be the
worse for you."

My poor grandfather was so dumbfounded that he could only stand and
stare.

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! I told you it'd be the worse for
you."

And with that, out there bounced, from a cupboard that Andrew
Coffey had never noticed before,
a man
. And the man was in a
towering rage. But it wasn't that. And he carried as fine a
blackthorn as you'd wish to crack a man's head with. But it wasn't
that either. But when my grandfather clapped eyes on him, he knew
him for Patrick Rooney, and all the world knew
he'd
gone
overboard, fishing one night long years before.

Andrew Coffey would neither stop nor stay, but he took to his heels
and was out of the house as hard as he could. He ran and he ran
taking little thought of what was before till at last he ran up
against a big tree. And then he sat down to rest.

He hadn't sat for a moment when he heard voices.

"It's heavy he is, the vagabond." "Steady now, we'll rest when we
get under the big tree yonder." Now that happened to be the tree
under which Andrew Coffey was sitting. At least he thought so, for
seeing a branch handy he swung himself up by it and was soon snugly
hidden away. Better see than be seen, thought he.

The rain had stopped and the wind fallen. The night was blacker than
ever, but Andrew Coffey could see four men, and they were carrying
between them a long box. Under the tree they came, set the box down,
opened it, and who should they bring out but—Patrick Rooney. Never
a word did he say, and he looked as pale as old snow.

Well, one gathered brushwood, and another took out tinder and flint,
and soon they had a big fire roaring, and my grandfather could see
Patrick plainly enough. If he had kept still before, he kept stiller
now. Soon they had four poles up and a pole across, right over the
fire, for all the world like a spit, and on to the pole they slung
Patrick Rooney.

"He'll do well enough," said one; "but who's to mind him whilst
we're away, who'll turn the fire, who'll see that he doesn't burn?"

With that Patrick opened his lips: "Andrew Coffey," said he.

"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!"

"I'm much obliged to you, gentlemen," said Andrew Coffey, "but
indeed I know nothing about the business."

"You'd better come down, Andrew Coffey," said Patrick.

It was the second time he spoke, and Andrew Coffey decided he would
come down. The four men went off and he was left all alone with
Patrick.

Then he sat and he kept the fire even, and he kept the spit turning,
and all the while Patrick looked at him.

Poor Andrew Coffey couldn't make it all out at all, at all, and he
stared at Patrick and at the fire, and he thought of the little
house in the wood, till he felt quite dazed.

"Ah, but it's burning me ye are!" says Patrick, very short and
sharp.

"I'm sure I beg your pardon," said my grandfather "but might I ask
you a question?"

"If you want a crooked answer," said Patrick; "turn away or it'll be
the worse for you."

But my grandfather couldn't get it out of his head; hadn't
everybody, far and near, said Patrick had fallen overboard. There
was enough to think about, and my grandfather did think.

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY! IT'S BURNING ME YE ARE."

Sorry enough my grandfather was, and he vowed he wouldn't do so
again.

"You'd better not," said Patrick, and he gave him a cock of his eye,
and a grin of his teeth, that just sent a shiver down Andrew
Coffey's back. Well it was odd, that here he should be in a thick
wood he had never set eyes upon, turning Patrick Rooney upon a spit.
You can't wonder at my grandfather thinking and thinking and not
minding the fire.

"ANDREW COFFEY, ANDREW COFFEY, IT'S THE DEATH OF YOU I'LL BE."

And with that what did my grandfather see, but Patrick unslinging
himself from the spit and his eyes glared and his teeth glistened.

It was neither stop nor stay my grandfather made, but out he ran
into the night of the wood. It seemed to him there wasn't a stone
but was for his stumbling, not a branch but beat his face, not a
bramble but tore his skin. And wherever it was clear the rain pelted
down and the cold March wind howled along.

Glad he was to see a light, and a minute after he was kneeling,
dazed, drenched, and bedraggled by the hearth side. The brushwood
flamed, and the brushwood crackled, and soon my grandfather began to
feel a little warm and dry and easy in his mind.

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!"

It's hard for a man to jump when he has been through all my
grandfather had, but jump he did. And when he looked around, where
should he find himself but in the very cabin he had first met
Patrick in.

"Andrew Coffey, Andrew Coffey, tell me a story."

"Is it a story you want?" said my grandfather as bold as may be, for
he was just tired of being frightened. "Well if you can tell me the
rights of this one, I'll be thankful."

And he told the tale of what had befallen him from first to last
that night. The tale was long, and may be Andrew Coffey was weary.
It's asleep he must have fallen, for when he awoke he lay on the
hill-side under the open heavens, and his horse grazed at his side.

I will tell you a story about the wren. There was once a farmer who
was seeking a servant, and the wren met him and said: "What are you
seeking?"

"I am seeking a servant," said the farmer to the wren.

"Will you take me?" said the wren.

"You, you poor creature, what good would you do?"

"Try me," said the wren.

So he engaged him, and the first work he set him to do was threshing
in the barn. The wren threshed (what did he thresh with? Why a flail
to be sure), and he knocked off one grain. A mouse came out and she
eats that.

"I'll trouble you not to do that again," said the wren.

He struck again, and he struck off two grains. Out came the mouse
and she eats them. So they arranged a contest to see who was
strongest, and the wren brings his twelve birds, and the mouse her
tribe.

"You have your tribe with you," said the wren.

"As well as yourself," said the mouse, and she struck out her leg
proudly. But the wren broke it with his flail, and there was a
pitched battle on a set day.

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.
The snake was twined about the raven's neck, and the raven held the
snake's throat in his beak, 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 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 put his hands about
the raven before his wings, and, before he stopped, he took him over
nine Bens, and nine Glens, and nine Mountain Moors.

"Now," said the raven, "see you 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 you are welcome. And if she asks you, Were you at the
battle of the birds? say you were. And if she asks, 'Did you see any
one like me,' say you did, but be sure that you meet me to-morrow
morning here, in this place." The king's son got good and right good
treatment that night. Meat of each meat, drink of each drink, warm
water to his feet, and a soft bed for his limbs.

On the next day the raven gave him the same sight over six Bens, and
six Glens, and six 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
same thing, over three Bens and three Glens, and three Mountain
Moors.

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
gold rings in his hair, 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, "You will never see the raven again, for I am
that raven. I was put under spells by a bad druid; it was meeting
you that loosed me, and for that you shall get this bundle. Now,"
said the lad, "you must turn back on the self-same steps, and lie a
night in each house as before; but you must not loose the bundle
which I gave ye, till in the place where you would 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 he was astonished. 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—for 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 he looked up and saw a great giant
coming towards him.

"Bad's the place where you have built the house, king's son," says
the giant.

"Yes, but it is not here I would wish it to be, though it happens to
be here by mishap," says the king's son.

"What's the reward for putting it back in the bundle as it was
before?"

"What's the reward you would ask?" says the king's son.

"That you will give me the first son you have when he is seven years
of age," says the giant.

"If I have a son you shall have him," 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 your own road, and I will take mine;
but mind your promise, and if you 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
castle 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 you, if you will marry me this very day."

"It's I that am willing," said the king's son. And on the same day
they married.

But at the end of a day and seven years, who should be seen coming
to the castle but the giant. The king's son was reminded of his
promise to the giant, and till now he had not told his promise to
the queen.

"Leave the matter between me and the giant," says the queen.

"Turn out your son," says the giant; "mind your promise."

"You shall have him," says the king, "when his mother puts him in
order for his journey."

The queen dressed up 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, so
that they shouldn't 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 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 send 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; the butler's son is
of the same age as our son."

She dressed up 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," says the giant, "what would he do with
it?"

"He would beat the dogs and the 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 returned in a very great rage and anger.
The earth shook under the sole of his feet, and the castle shook and
all that was in it.

"OUT HERE WITH THY SON," says the giant, "or in a twinkling the
stone that is highest in the dwelling will be the lowest." So they
had to give the king's son to the giant.

When they were gone a little bit from the earth, the giant showed
him the rod that was in his hand and said: "What would thy father do
with this rod if he had it?"

The king's son said: "My father has a braver rod than that."

And the giant asked him, "Where is thy father when he has that brave
rod?"

And the king's son said: "He will be sitting in his kingly chair."

Then the giant understood that he had the right one.