Heroes of the dawn/The Coming of the Carle
THE COMING OF THE CARLE
Early in the autumn following the fight at the House of the Phantoms Fionn went to Ben Edar—which, you remember, is now called Howth—and there he gathered round him many hundreds of the Fianna, for he wished to discuss with them the plans he had made for their disposal during the coming winter.
They had been a few days at Ben Edar when Fionn, with some of his chief captains in attendance, one morning walked across the hill to the edge of the cliff and looked over the eastern sea. As they gazed, there came into sight a fine big ship, with full-set sails that gleamed like a sea-gull's wings as it flies in the sunlight. Swiftly it sailed along, and when it drew near to the shore a handsome young man appeared on deck. A shining tunic of white metal covered him from the neck to the knees, and on his left shoulder was slung a round shield of red yew, studded and encircled with bronze. A straight keen-edged sword hung by his side, and in his hands were two tall slender spears; resting these on the deck before him he took a high, wide leap, and landed on the sandy shore.
"What youth is this who comes so daringly into the presence of the Fian chiefs?" Conan asked Fionn.
"He has probably heard of your warlike deeds, Conan, and has come to challenge you to battle," Fionn replied.
"Indeed he has not," said Conan. "Oisin and Oscur, place your broad shoulders together, so that I may stand unobserved at the back of you. I am not inclined to fight just now."
The Fians laughed heartily at this; and hearing the sound the warrior on the beach looked up, then made his way by a narrow path up the rugged cliff until he stood before Fionn.
"I seek a man called Fionn," the stranger said, addressing himself to the great hero-chief. "Do you know in what part of this land he at present abides?"
"Your search ends here," Fionn answered; "I am the man you seek. But tell me who you are and what country you come from, and for what reason you have sought me? Do you need my help, or that of my noble Fians, for any adventurous quest you are bound on?"
"My name is Cael, and I am son of the King of Thessaly. Well I know you by name, O Fionn, and have heard of you as a very brave and valiant fighter; but I have not come to seek aid from you or any of your men—I have come to subdue you and place you under tribute. Many countries I have visited since I first took arms, and not one have I left without first placing it under terror of my sword and exacting from it a yearly tribute. Now I have come to do likewise to Ireland and the Fianna, and the sooner the combat is arranged the better pleased I shall be."
Conan mac Morna, hiding still behind Oisin and Oscur, could not restrain his tongue when he heard Gael's speech.
"Undoubtedly you have heard of us—who has not?" he proudly asked. "But in all our forays and wanderings we have never heard any man speak of you, nor do I, for one, believe a word of what you have said. The warrior has not yet lived who would not be easily conquered by even the youngest and most inexperienced of the Fians. I think too, young man, it will be better for your health if you remove yourself from this place immediately, and cease tempting the Fians with your idle and boasting words."
"There is only one man among the Fianna who would speak in such a foolish manner," Cael responded, "and that is Conan the Bald. But I tell you, Conan, that could all those Fians who have died during the past seven years come to life again, and be added to those who still live, between the rising of the sun and its setting I would make you all feel the pain and sorrow of death, so that not one Fian would be left alive to enjoy either battle or feast again." Then he turned to Fionn: "Perhaps it would be easier for you, Fionn, if we chose a more peaceful method of deciding who is the best man among us, and if you can find among your Fians one who can get the better of me in running, or in single fight, or in wrestling, then I will return to my own country and never trouble you again."
"I assure you that we are not at all troubled by your presence," said Fionn, "and if, of the three things you mention, you prefer to run a race, I will fetch Caeilté mac Ronan, whose running is swift as the movement of a star when it falls from its place in the heavens. Do you abide here in friendliness with my Fians until I return with Caeilté, whom I shall probably find at Tara; if not there, he will surely be with some of his kindred at Keshcorran in the north."
Cael agreed to this, and soon after noonday Fionn commenced his journey. He had not gone very far when the sun disappeared behind a bank of dark clouds, and the rain descended in torrents, but he still walked on, and the miles slipped away under his quick feet. Soon he came to a dark and gloomy valley, with hills covered by thick woods rising on either side, and the boughs of the trees met and formed an archway over the road he was travelling. Now he began to consider how much truth there might be in what Cael had said of himself. Fionn had never heard of Cael before, but if he had placed so many countries and people under tribute as he claimed to have done, then he must possess some great magical power unknown to Fionn, and there was small hope that Ireland and the Fianna would escape, unconquered as they had hitherto been.
It was unusual for Fionn to feel despondent, or to have doubts as to the result of anything in which he and his Fians might engage; but with each step that he took along the gloomy road he felt an increasing certainty that Cael would overcome Caeilté in the forthcoming contest of speed, unless some one or something unforeseen came to the aid of the Fians. Then a strange thumping sound in the distance attracted his attention, and raising his head he saw a man of most extraordinary appearance striding along the road towards him. Never before, in all his wanderings and adventures, Fionn thought to himself, had he seen such a terrifying ugly fellow. The Gilla Decair was bad-looking enough, but he was beautiful compared to this strange being, who was gigantic in size.
The nearer he came the more astonished Fionn was that a giant of such surpassing ugliness should be in the country without his knowledge. For the skin of the giant's face was the colour of yellow leather; his legs were as thick as the trunks of big pine-trees, but not straight as they are; and on his huge misshapen feet were shoes as big as curraghs. A tunic of a dirty grey-brown colour covered him to the middle of his legs, and the tails of this were ornamented up to his waist with a thick layer of mud. As he moved these tails knocked and flapped against his legs with such force that the noise they made could be heard fully half-a-mile away, and with each step that he took Fionn could hear the mud and water squelching in his shoes, and could see how it squirted up and over him. Yet in the midst of all this mass of ugliness and dirt Fionn was surprised to observe, as the giant drew nearer, how beautiful were his eyes, which shone like two clear, deep-blue stars in his yellow face.
Soon they came opposite each other, but Fionn, being in a hurry to find Caeilté, was passing on his way without speaking, when the giant hailed him.
"Is it you, Fionn mac Cumall, that I see walking along the road without either Fians or hounds to attend you? Is there any trouble or anxiety on you, that you wander about the country by yourself?"
"I am indeed troubled," Fionn answered; "but even did I tell you the cause of my perplexity it would not bring me one bit nearer to getting rid of it."
"Do not be certain of that, Fionn. This I know, that unless you confide in me, and tell me exactly what the matter is that perplexes and annoys you, you will regret it for the rest of your life."
"If that be so," said Fionn, "I will tell you, though I have no knowledge of who or what you are. Know then, that this morning there came to me at Ben Edar a young man, who said he was Cael, the King of Thessaly's son; and that he would conquer and put under tribute the whole of Ireland—as he had other countries—unless I found some one who, at running or wrestling or fighting, was better than himself."
"I have some acquaintance with Cael," said the big man, "and I assure you he is not boasting. There will be desolation and grief among the Fianna unless you find some one to overcome him. What do you intend doing?"
"I have said that Caeilté shall run a race with him, and I go now to search for Caeilté, who is either at Tara or Keshcorran."
The big man laughed scornfully. "Indeed if Caeilté is the only man among the Fianna on whom you rely, you are already conquered; for although Caeilté has the swiftness of a frightened deer, Cael is twice as quick."
"May I die before I see Ireland paying tribute to the foreigner!" exclaimed Fionn vehemently. "I will invoke the aid of the hidden gods and the folk of the hills; they have never yet failed me in my need, and they will not now refuse their help," and he began to hurry along the forest road.
The giant made a couple of strides after him and held him by the shoulder. "Curb your hastiness, Fionn, and listen to me. I offer myself as the champion of Ireland and the opponent of Cael in the race, and I will wager you anything you like that I shall win."
"You have said that Cael is almost unconquerable," said Fionn, "so why should you seek to endanger your life in my affairs? Though indeed I think that, between the weight of your coat and those ill-fitting brogues, you must find it difficult enough to walk, and running would be an impossible feat."
"You are unwise, Fionn, to judge a person by his outward appearance. I tell you now that in the whole of Ireland there is no man but myself can outrace Cael."
"If that be so," replied Fionn, "let us straightway return to Ben Edar, and if you deliver Ireland and the Fianna from the burden Cael would impose upon us, I, for one, will swear to render you service any time you demand it—even my life shall be yours if you ask it. And now tell me by what name you are known."
"For the present you can call me 'The Carle of the Brown Coat,'" the stranger replied.
So Fionn turned his face and steps again in the direction of Ben Edar, but as he walked along the dark road, under the arching trees, he looked wonderingly at the big uncouth man who strode silently along at his side; for now and then Fionn caught the gleam of little many-coloured flames which flitted and danced around the stranger, and heard a sweet, clear ringing in the air about him, like the chiming of those silver bells which make music in Manannan's Isle of Promise.
It was night-time at Ben Edar, and the Fians, though they treated Cael quite courteously, were beginning to hate him intensely, for he moved among them and spoke to them as though he had already proved himself to be the conqueror of both them and their land. They did not pay much attention to his speeches, however, but occupied themselves in preparing supper, and the hillsides and hollows of Ben Edar were cheerful with the light of many fires and torches, the laughter of men, and impatient barking of hounds—who scented their supper—when Fionn and the big man unexpectedly appeared in their midst. In a minute the Fians had all gathered round the stranger, for never before, in the length or breadth of Ireland, had they seen his like. Hearing the commotion Gael strolled up also, and seeing Fionn inquired:
"Well, Fionn, have you brought Caeilté to compete with me?"
"I have not," said Fionn curtly; "but I have brought another man, who is known as the 'Carle of the Brown Coat,' and he will try his skill in running against yours."
Cael looked at the Carle, and observing his ugliness and dirty condition with deep disgust and contempt, said:
"If that is the only man you can find, Fionn, you may take him away and leave him in the place you got him from, for never, though I lived to all eternity, would I run with the like of that. Moreover, Fionn, I regard it as a great indignity that you should bring into my presence such an object as that, and when you are under my commands I will not forget this insult you have placed on me."
The Carle gave a sudden burst of laughter, which, like the flapping of his coat-tails, could have been heard half a mile away; then he turned to Cael and said, in a quiet voice:
"You may not like my appearance, young man, but perhaps I have more attainments than you imagine. And as I have come here solely for the purpose of competing in speed with you, it will seem very like cowardice on your part if you refuse to do that which you yourself suggested. So tell me now what length of course you are accustomed to run, and if I fail to run the distance you name then you may consider yourself better than any man in Ireland."
"It is not my habit," Cael retorted scornfully, "to attempt any course measuring less than sixty miles; and I imagine, great as your size is, you are quite unequal for that distance."
"The end of the race will tell," said the Carle. "I think the best course for us will be that from Slieve Luachra, in Munster, back here to Ben Edar. It may be a trifle over the sixty miles you insist on, but that will not matter to the champion you are. To-morrow we will walk sociably together to Slieve Luachra, and the day afterwards begin our little race back."
"Very well," Cael muttered, and turning his back contemptuously on the Carle, marched away.
The next day Gael and the Carle set out together to walk to Slieve Luachra, and it could not have been a very pleasant journey thither for the Carle, because, though he was friendly enough, Cael treated him with the utmost scorn on account of his appearance. Towards sunset they reached their destination, and then the Carle said:
"I'm thinking, Cael, it would be wise to put up some kind of covering to shelter us this night."
"You can do as you like," Cael replied, "but don't imagine for a minute that I'm going to help you build either house or hut on Slieve Luachra for the one night I intend to be here, especially as I have no intention of ever coming here again."
"Now don't give yourself any annoyance, Cael. I can easily manage to put up a little hut myself. But don't imagine either that you are going to share it when it is built; you just keep a far distance outside it."
With that the Carle sauntered away to where a wood clothed the mountain-side, and began to fell a number of young pine-trees, and cut a quantity of rushes. When he had finished he gathered them all together in one vast load, and carrying them down the mountain to where Cael still stood, scornfully watching his proceedings, he soon built himself a house, and had a warm, bright fire blazing in the centre of it. Then he turned to Cael again and said:
"Though you have no desire for a roof to cover your head, perhaps you want some supper. It may be more to your liking to come into the wood yonder with me and hunt the deer or wild boar before the darkness——"
"Whatever I want or don't want," interrupted Gael angrily, "it's not with the like of you I'd be seen hunting."
"Indeed you're more foolish than I thought any man could be," said the Carle, and laughed loudly as Gael walked sulkily away.
So the Carle again went up the hillside into the wood, and after a little time he roused an enormous wild boar. Up and down the wood it ran, seeking a hiding-place in the brambles and dense undergrowth, and the Carle steadily followed it. Finally it tried to escape through the thick heather which grew higher up the mountain, but here the Carle overtook it and with a stout, sharp stake pinned it to the ground. Then slinging it across his shoulders he brought it back to his house, and when he had prepared it placed it on spits before the fire to roast.
"It's very certain now," said the Carle to himself, "that I'll have to beg, borrow, or steal some drink from somebody."
He considered for a moment, then thought of a house about thirty miles away, where a rich man lived, and where there would surely be plenty of ale and wine. He put more logs on the fire and gave the boar a turn, and remarking to himself that he would be back by the time it was cooked, hurried away. Indeed it was fortunate for Cael's peace of mind that he did not see the way the big man travelled over hills and bogs and rivers; if he had, he would not have given much for his own chance of winning the race.
At length the Carle reached the house he was thinking about, but it was in utter darkness. Not a single person was to be seen; not even a dog barked. Then, being a very sociable individual, and not having any one else to speak to, he began to talk to himself.
"Having come all this way I'm certainly not going back with empty hands," he said. "I'll have to break into the store-house, and obtain a little sup of wine and a bite of bread, at least."
He walked about and investigated the different offices and out-buildings, and at last found the store-house. Entering it he took two barrels of wine, a heap of newly-baked bread that was placed ready for the morrow's use, some dishes, a table and a chair, and putting them all together in one load returned to his own place.
He found the boar roasted exactly as he liked it, crisp on the outside and juicy within, so cutting it in two he placed half on the table for his supper and saved the other portion for his breakfast next morning. Half the bread he put on the table also, and rolling a barrel of wine to his side he sat down comfortably to his meal. Then, having eaten the half boar and bread, and taken a barrel of wine, he began to feel drowsy, and spreading out some rushes on the floor he lay down and was soon wrapped in a deep slumber.
In the morning the sun had been shining brilliantly for some time when Gael, who had been on the mountain-side the whole night without food or drink, and consequently was in a fearful rage, came down to the Carle's house and shouted through the doorway:
"Well I know you are big and ugly, now I find you are lazy also. Rise at once and let us commence our journey."
"Considering your small size you've a terrible big tongue on you," said the Carle, turning round on his rushes and sleepily rubbing his eyes. "If you are so anxious to take to the road start now, by all means, and leave me in peace to finish my sleep. I shall, no doubt, catch you up somewhere between here and Ben Edar."
When Cael heard the Carle speak so confidently he began to have some misgivings as to whether the race would belong to him after all, and took to the road at once. But the Carle turned round on his couch again and slept for another while; when his sleep was ended he leisurely rose and washed himself, then sat down to the table and breakfasted off the remaining half of the boar and pile of bread, and drank the other barrel of wine.
"I'd better take these bones with me; they may happen in handy," he said to himself, as his glance rested on the pig's rib and leg bones, so he packed them up in the tails of his coat before starting on his journey. Then away he went, with the speed of an arrow flying from the bow, or a swallow skimming through the clear air; and though Cael had two or three hours' start it was not long till the Carle overtook him, and unfastening his coat-tails pitched the bones on the road before him.
"Here you are, Cael," he said cheerfully. "Maybe you'll find a good picking on these bones, for sure you must be weak and starving after passing the whole night on the mountainside, without food or drink or shelter."
"May the sun cease to shine, and the whole world change to ice, before I touch the bones—or anything else—your gluttonous teeth have gone over," Cael angrily replied.
"Just as you choose," said the Carle with a laugh; "but in any case, whether you eat or don't eat, I should advise you to put on a better gait of going than you have yet done," and before Cael could make any answer the big man moved on at a tremendous speed, and was soon out of sight.
Thirty or forty miles he went without stopping, until he came to a road edged with high blackberry bushes, and here and there clumps of tall pink foxgloves growing in the hollows. The wild bees were busy gathering honey from the blooms, and for some time the Carle, smiling gently to himself, stood watching them as they crawled in and out of the hooded flowers, and observed how their little legs were heavy with balls of the golden honey-dust. Then he picked a huge heap of blackberries, warm with the sun, and sat down on a grassy bank to eat them. He was still eating when Cael came along and said to him:
"That mud-covered coat of yours is tailless now, Carle. Twenty or thirty miles back I noticed one piece tangled in a bush, and some miles beyond that again I saw another piece hanging from an oak-branch."
"Is it my coat-tails gone?" the Carle inquired, jumping up and examining his coat. "Now surely I must go back to find them; it would not be decent for me to enter Fionn's presence with only half a coat on. The proper and just thing for you to do in this case will be to wait here for me until I return with them. You will still find a few blackberries left, I believe."
"You must think me very foolish indeed if you imagine I will do anything of the kind," Cael replied, with the utmost scorn. "Let me tell you, Carle, that it wasn't in the last shower of rain I came down," and he continued his journey.
The Carle hurriedly retraced his steps along the road, and at length found his coat-tails—one here and one there, as Cael had said. Then sitting down on a fallen tree he took his coat off, and pulling out a needle and thread stitched the tails neatly on in their proper places again. "Now I'll make another start," he said, putting his coat on, and quicker than the wind blows in March, when gales sweep in from the sea and over high mountain-peaks, he flashed down the road.
In a little while he overtook Cael for the second time, and said to him:
"Is it only this far you have reached? I tell you again, Cael, if you desire to win this race and carry off treasure from Ireland and the Fians, your gait of going will have to be considerably better than it has hitherto been, for, whatever happens, I shall turn back no more."
With that the Carle commenced running again as though some demon possessed him, and never slackened speed until he came to a hill a few miles from Ben Edar. Then, feeling hot and thirsty, he plucked and ate blackberries until his thirst was assuaged. Afterwards he took off his coat once more, and producing his needle and thread again, sat down and began to stitch it together in such a manner that it formed a deep, wide bag, which he filled with big juicy berries. Slinging this over his shoulder he began to stroll slowly towards Ben Edar.
In the meantime Fionn and the Fianna were waiting in great anxiety at Ben Edar, fearing lest Cael should reach there before the stranger, who had so unexpectedly offered himself as their champion. As the evening wore on Fionn sent one of his men to the hilltop to watch for the approach of either Cael or Carle, and he soon returned with the news that Cael was walking unconcernedly along the road, with what appeared to be the dead body of the Carle slung upon his shoulders.
"Worse tidings than that it would be impossible to hear," cried Fionn. "To any one who will bring me better news I will give the most perfect spear and sword that can be made by our armourers, and a shield that will resist the strongest blows."
Another Fian hurried away to the hill-top, and soon recognized the approaching figure as that of the Carle. The Fians hailed his arrival with shouts and exclamations of relief and delight, asking for news of Gael, but the Carle placed his load of blackberries on the ground and sat down beside it, saying:
"Whatever information I possess I will impart to you when I have satisfied my hunger. Coming along the road I picked a quantity of bramble-berries, and now I should like a good-sized pot of porridge so that I may mix the two together, and have a plentiful supper."
He was in the midst of the meal when Cael appeared, charging furiously along the hill-road, his sword bare in his hand and his eyes blazing-red, like the eyes of an angry dog.
"Surely he will do some one a damage if he comes nearer," said the Carle, and seizing a mass of the mixed corn and berries in his enormous hands quickly kneaded it up into a hard ball, and threw it with such precision of aim that it struck Cael on the head, hitting him with so great a force that his head was twisted sideways on his body, and he could not straighten it again.
"Now, Cael," said the Carle, "was it not a great mistake for you to come here, thinking that you would be allowed to tax Ireland and the Fianna in any manner you chose, and that none would be able to stand against you? The Fianna would be within their rights in putting you to death, but neither Fionn nor the Fians would have it said that they were so unchivalrous as to bring death on a man who had adventured solitary among them. If you will swear by the three powers of sun and moon and wind to send tribute every year from your country to the Fianna, as long as you live, you will be allowed to return to your own land in the condition you are now in."
Cael's spirit was broken by his defeat and the humiliation of his twisted neck, but he was glad enough to escape with his life, when he fully expected death would be his portion. So he solemnly vowed by the three powers that every year, as long as he remained alive, tribute should come from his kingdom to Fionn. "And it is my grief," he said, "that ever I came to Ireland, for now I am as a tree blasted and distorted by lightning; henceforth I shall be the mock and scorn of people wherever I go."
"I think, Gael, it will be better for you to board your ship and cease lamenting over the trouble you have brought on yourself," the Carle said, taking Cael by the arm, and beginning to lead him to the shore. Then he turned round to Fionn, and continued: "Let neither you nor your men come with me, Fionn: I will return in a little while."
He walked over the hill-top and down the winding path to the shore with Cael, and wading into deep water placed Cael on the deck. Then a little wind blew from the land, the vessel began to move and the sails filled out, gleaming like dim silver in the gathering twilight. The Carle watched it until it disappeared in the darkness, then he sighed a little, as one sighs over the foolishness or ignorance of others—and sometimes over one's own—and turned away from the shore.
During the Carle's absence the Fians made
ON THE HILL-TOP A STRANGE AND WONDERFUL MAN APPEARED
preparations for a great banquet, to celebrate his victory over the Prince of Thessaly. Their arrangements were almost completed when the sound of a sweet, far-off music came floating over the hill-top towards them. So entrancing was the melody that the Fians ceased their occupations; ceased, too, their laughter and conversation, and gazed at the hillside, wondering if the folk of the Tuatha de Danann who had chosen it for a home in ancient days were coming forth again.
The music drew nearer, and still they listened, while the deer and wild boar roasted untended by the fires. Then on the hill-top a strange and wonderful man appeared, with many-coloured lights shining around him, and over his head two waving rays of light, like the wings of a golden bird. In his hand he held a branch covered with blossoms like silver bells, and as he moved these swayed and touched each other, filling the air with a sweet, delicate music, and, so it seemed to the Fians, with singing also.
Nearer and nearer the man came, moving steadily towards them through the darkness, until at last he stood within a few paces of the silent Fians. For a moment or two he looked at them with a tender smile on his face, then he said:
"Did I not speak truly, O Fian-chief, when I said there was no man in Ireland but myself who could vanquish Cael? From my home in Rath Croghan I foresaw your need, and came hither to help you in your trouble; now my service is ended I must leave you again."
He shook the branch of bell-blossoms, and a sleepy music issued from it which caused the Fians' eyes to close. When they opened them again there was nothing unusual to be seen or heard, except a distant sound like the lingering echo of some wonderfully beautiful music; but Fionn and his warriors knew then that he who had been among them in the guise of the Carle was none other than Midir the Sun-Bright, the Ever-Living, one of the greatest chiefs of the Tuatha de Danann.