The Battle Of The Birds

: Celtic Folk And Fairy Tales

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 fi
st 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 soles 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.



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 said her name was

Auburn Mary but 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 you will get the choice of my two

sisters to marry; but say that you will 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 Tethertown, 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 you will give me this pretty little one," says the king's son, "I

will take you at your 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, "a hundred cattle are stabled 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 only a drink of thy fresh, goodly, beautiful blood

that will quench my thirst this night."



He begins cleaning the byre, but he might just as well keep baling the

great ocean. After midday when sweat was blinding him, the giant's

youngest daughter came where he was, and she said to him:



"You are being punished, king's son."



"I am that," says the king's son.



"Come over," says Auburn Mary, "and lay down your 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 and raise no stain. In comes the giant, and he said:



"Hast thou cleaned the byre, king's son?"



"I have cleaned it," says he.



"Somebody cleaned it," says the giant.



"You did not clean it, at all events," said the king's son.



"Well, well!" 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,

from 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 midday who should come but

Auburn Mary.



"You are exhausting yourself, 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 your weariness on this pretty hillock," says

the giant's daughter.



"It's I am willing," said 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, Auburn Mary was gone. He thought he would go back to

the house, and he sees the byre thatched with feathers. When the giant

came home, he said:



"Hast thou thatched the byre, king's son?"



"I thatched it," says he.



"Somebody thatched it," says the giant.



"You did 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.



"You are losing the skin of your 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. "Now you

must kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, take all those bones

apart, and use them as steps for climbing the tree. When you are

climbing the tree, they will stick to the glass as if they had grown

out of it; but when you are coming down, and have put your foot on

each one, they will drop into your hand when you touch them. Be sure

and stand on each bone, leave none untouched; if you do, it will stay

behind. Put all my flesh into this clean cloth by the side of the

spring at the roots of the tree. When you come to the earth, arrange

my bones together, put the flesh over them, sprinkle it with water

from the spring, and I shall be alive before you. But don't forget a

bone of me on the tree."




byre.]



"How could I kill you," asked the king's son, "after what you have

done for me?"



"If you won't obey, you and I are done for," said Auburn Mary. "You

must climb the tree, or we are lost; and to climb the tree you must do

as I say."



The king's son obeyed. He killed Auburn Mary, cut the flesh from her

body, and unjointed the bones, as she had told him.



As he went up, the king's son put the bones of Auburn Mary's body

against the side of the tree, using them as steps, till he came under

the nest and stood on the last bone.



Then he took the eggs, and coming down, put his foot on every bone,

then took it with him, till he came to the last bone, which was so

near the ground that he failed to touch it with his foot.



He now placed all the bones of Auburn Mary in order again at the side

of the spring, put the flesh on them, sprinkled it with water from the

spring. She rose up before him, and said: "Didn't I tell you not to

leave a bone of my body without stepping on it? Now I am lame for

life! You left my little finger on the tree without touching it, and I

have but nine fingers."



"Now," says she, "go home with the eggs quickly, and you will get me

to marry to-night if you can 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 you will see a

hand without a little finger."



He gave the eggs to the giant.



"Yes, yes!" said the giant, "be making ready for your 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, 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; choose thy bride to take with

thee from amidst those."



She put out the hand off which the little finger was, and 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 you are a

dead man. We must fly quick, quick, or for certain my father will kill

you."



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?"



"Not yet," said the apple that was at the head of the bed.



At the end of a while he called again.



"Not yet," said the apple that was at the foot of the bed.



A while after this he called again: "Are you asleep?"



"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.



"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.



At the mouth of the day, the giant's daughter said that her father's

breath was burning her back.



"Put your hand, quick," said she, "in the ear of the grey filly, and

whatever you find in it, throw it behind us."



"There is a twig of sloe tree," said he.



"Throw it behind us," said she.



No sooner did he that, than there were twenty miles of blackthorn

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 thorns.



"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 blackthorn.



"I will leave the axe and the wood knife here till I return," says he.



"If you leave 'em, leave 'em," said a hoodie that was in a tree,

"we'll steal 'em, steal 'em."



"If you will do that," says the giant, "I must take them home." He

returned home and left them at the house.



At the heat of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breath

burning her back.



"Put your finger in the filly's ear, and throw behind whatever you

find 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 go.



"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 in 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 in making a road through

the rock.



"I will leave the tools here, and I will return no more."



"If you leave 'em, leave 'em," says the hoodie, "we will steal 'em,

steal 'em."



"Do that if you will; there is no time to go back."



At the time of breaking the watch, the giant's daughter said that she

felt 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 fresh-water 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," says she, "my father is drowned, and he won't

trouble us any more; but before we go further," says she, "go you to

your father's house, and tell that you have the likes of me; but let

neither man nor creature kiss you, for if you do, you will not

remember that you have ever seen me."



Every one he met gave 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 indoors, 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 that tree

all night. A shoemaker had a house near the well, and about midday 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 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 water.



"Where is the water, wife?" said the shoemaker.



"You shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, I have stayed

too long your water and wood thrall."



"I think, wife, that you have turned crazy. Go you, daughter, quickly,

and fetch a drink for your 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.



"You home-spun shoe carle, do you think I am fit to be your 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.



"Your seat is wavering, but your face is fair," said the shoemaker.

"Come down, for there is need of you 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.



One day, the shoemaker had shoes ready, for on that very day the

king's son 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 at the castle, and you shall 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 was in it, a flame went up out of the glass,

and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon sprang out of it. They were

flying about when three grains of barley fell on the floor. The silver

pigeon sprang, and ate that up.



Said the golden pigeon to him, "If you remembered when I cleared the

byre, you would not eat that without giving me a share."



Again there fell three other grains of barley, and the silver pigeon

sprang, and ate that up as before.



"If you remembered when I thatched the byre, you would not eat that

without giving me my share," says the golden pigeon.



Three other grains fall, and the silver pigeon sprang, and ate that

up.



"If you remembered when I harried the magpie's nest, you would 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 that was before him.



"Well," said the king's son to the guests at the feast, "when I was a

little younger than I am now, I lost the key of a casket that I had. I

had a new key made, but after it was brought to me I found the old

one. Now, I'll leave it to any one here to tell me what I am to do.

Which of the keys should I keep?"



"My advice to you," said one of the guests, "is to keep the old key,

for it fits the lock better, and you're more used to it."



Then the king's son stood up and said: "I thank you for a wise advice

and an honest word. This is my bride the daughter of the giant who

saved my life at the risk of her own. I'll have her and no other

woman."



So the king's son married Auburn Mary and the wedding lasted long and

all were happy. But all I got was butter on a live coal, porridge in a

basket, and paper shoes for my feet, and they sent me for water to the

stream, and the paper shoes came to an end.



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