Guleesh pitied the lovely lady when he heard all this, and he was heart-broken to think she would have to marry a man she didn’t like, or take a nasty land-fairy for a husband. And though he said nothing aloud, he could not help cursing his bad luck, to be helping the fairies capture her and snatch her away from her family.
He was watching her when the king’s son came up and asked her for a kiss, but she turned her head away from him. Guleesh was doubly sorry for her then, watching the lad take her by the soft white hand, and drawing her out to the dance. He watched them go through the motions of the dance, and he could plainly see the tears in her eyes.
When the dancing was over, the old king, her father, and her mother the queen, came up and said that now was the time for the marriage ceremony, that the bishops were ready, and it was time to put the wedding-ring on her finger and give her to her husband.
The king took the youth by the hand, and the queen took her daughter, and they went up together to the altar, with the lords and great people following them.
When they approached within about four yards of the altar, the little maneen stretched out his foot to trip the princess, and she fell. Before she had got up again, he threw something over her, said a couple of words, and in an instant the girl was gone from amongst them. Nobody could see her, for those words had made her invisible. The little maneen seized her and out with them all post-haste from the door of the great hall went the princess of France.
Well – the crying, and the hunting, and the searching, when the princess disappeared before the eyes of the whole court, and without any of them seeing what did it. Out of the front door of the palace rushed the fairy host, Without let or hindrance, for nobody saw them go, and ‘My horse, my bridle, and saddle!’ cries every maneen of them. ‘My horse, my bridle, and saddle!’ cries Guleesh; and there was his horse standing ready before him.
‘Now, jump up, Guleesh,’ said the little man, ‘and put the young lady behind you, and we will be going out of here, for morning is not far off now.’
Guleesh raised her up behind him on the horse’s back, and, ‘Giddy-up, horse,’ said he; and his horse, and all the fairy horses with him, went at a great gallop until they came to the sea.
‘Up we go!’ cried every man of them.
‘Up we go!’ cried Guleesh; and all at once the horse rose under him, and cut a leap in the clouds, and came down in Erin.
They did not stop there, but raced on to Guleesh’s house beside the ruined fort in the county Mayo. And when they got there, Guleesh turned and caught the young girl in his two arms, and leapt off the horse with her.
‘I call and cross you to myself, in the name of God!’ said he. And on the spot, before another word was out of his mouth, his horse fell to earth, and there was nothing left on the ground but a plough handle; and so it was with the fairy horses too. Some of the little people had been riding old broomsticks, and others were hanging on to hemlock stems or thistle stalks.
The little people called out together when they heard what Guleesh had said: ‘Oh Guleesh, you clown, you thief, may you come to grief for playing that trick on us!’
But they had lost their power over the girl, after Guleesh had consecrated her to himself.
‘Oh Guleesh! That’s a nice turn you did us, and we so kind to you! What good have we now out of our trip to France? Never mind, you clown, you’ll pay us for this yet! Believe us, you’ll repent this.’
‘He’ll get no good out of that young girl,’ said the little man that had been talking to him in the palace earlier, and as he spoke he moved towards her and struck her a slap on the side of the head. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘she’ll be without speech; now, Guleesh, what use is a dumb woman to you? Think about that – and remember us, Guleesh!’
With that, he stretched out his two arms, and before Guleesh could answer, he and the rest of the fairies were away into the ruins of the fort, and Guleesh saw them no more.
Then Guleesh turned to the young woman and said to her: ‘Thanks be to God, they’re gone. You’re a lot safer with me than with them.’ The girl made no answer. ‘There’s shock and grief on her yet,’ thought Guleesh, and he addressed her again: ‘I’m afraid you must spend this night in my father’s house, but if there’s anything you need, you have only to ask, and I’ll be your servant.’
The beautiful girl remained silent, but there were tears in her eyes, and her expression was distressed.
‘Lady,’ said Guleesh, ‘tell me what you would like me to do now. I did not belong to that troop of fairies who carried you off with them. I am the son of an honest farmer, and I went with them without knowing what they were up to. If I can work out how to send you back to your father, I’ll do it, and I hope you will tell me what you want.’
He looked into her face, and he saw the mouth moving as if she were trying to speak, but no words came.
‘It cannot be,’ said Guleesh, ‘that you are dumb. Did I not hear you speak to the king’s son in the palace tonight? Or has that fairy-devil really made you dumb, with that nasty blow to your jaw?’
The girl raised her smooth white hand, and laid her finger on her tongue, to show him that she had indeed lost her speech, and the tears ran out of her eyes like two streams, and Guleesh’s own eyes were not dry, for he had a soft heart and hated to see the girl so unhappy.
He began wondering what he ought to do, whether to bring her home to his father’s house, knowing that they would not believe him when he told them that he had been to France and brought back with him the king of France’s daughter, and he was afraid they might mock the young lady or insult her.
While he was wondering what to do, he remembered the priest. ‘Glory to God,’ he thought, ‘I know what I’ll do; I’ll bring her to the priest’s house, and he’ll look after her for me.’ He explained his plan to the lady, and she bent her head to show that she was ready to follow him. So they went together to the priest’s house, just as the sun was rising in the sky. Guleesh beat hard on the door, and although it was early, the priest was up and about, and soon opened up the house. He wondered when he saw Guleesh and the girl, and reckoned they wanted him to marry them.
‘Guleesh, surely you don’t want me to be marrying you and your sweetheart at this ungodly hour of the morning. And who is she anyway?’ said he, suddenly, looking again at the young girl, ‘where did you come from?’
‘Father,’ said Guleesh, ‘all we want of you is a lodging for this young lady.’
The priest looked at him as if he had ten heads on him; but asking no further questions, he showed the pair of them in, sat them down, shut the door behind them, and waited.
‘Now, Guleesh,’ said he, ‘I’m a busy man, and I want the facts of the matter, and I’ve no time for jokes.’
‘I’m not telling you a word of a lie, nor joking,’ said Guleesh seriously, ‘but it was from the palace of the king of France I brought this lady, and she is the daughter of the king of France.’
And so Guleesh told the whole story to the priest, who was so surprised that he couldn’t help exclaiming aloud from time to time, and clapping his hands in amazement.
When Guleesh said it was obvious the girl was unhappy about being married off, there came a red blush into the girl’s cheek, and he was more certain than ever that she had rather be stranded with him in Ireland than married off to a man she disliked. When Guleesh said he would be grateful to the priest for looking after her, the kind man said he’d be happy to give her a roof as long as she needed one, but that he would have to think about what to do with her in the longer term, because they had no means of sending her back to her father again.
Guleesh answered that he was worried about the same thing, and that he saw nothing for it but to keep the matter quiet until they had worked something out. They then decided between themselves that the priest should let on that it was his niece who was visiting him from the north, and that he should tell his neighbours she was dumb, and keep her out of the way of nosy folk. The girl showed w
ith her eyes that she was grateful to them.
Guleesh went home then, and told his people that he had slept the night in a neighbour’s barn.
There was much comment among the priest’s neighbours at the girl who came so suddenly to his house without anyone knowing for sure where she was from, or what business she had there. Some of the people said that everything was not as it should be, and others commented that Guleesh was never out of the priest’s house all of a sudden, which was not a bit like him.
And it was true that seldom a day went by but Guleesh would go to the priest’s house, and talk to him, and hope to hear news of the young lady’s recovery; but, alas! she remained dumb and silent, without relief or cure. Since she had no other means of talking, she carried on a sort of conversation with Guleesh by moving her hands and fingers, winking her eyes, nodding and shaking her head, laughing or smiling, and a thousand other signs, so that it was not long before they understood each other very well. Sometimes Guleesh still wondered how to send her back safely to her father; but there was no one to take her, and he himself didn’t know the road, for he had never been out of the county Mayo before the night he rode out with the little people. Nor had the priest any better knowledge than he; but when Guleesh asked him, he wrote three or four letters to the king of France, and gave them to merchants who were travelling over the seas; but never a word came back to Ireland.
So things went on for many months, and Guleesh fell deeper and deeper in love with the girl, and it was plain to himself and the priest that she too liked him. At last the boy became fearful lest the king should indeed find where his daughter was, and take her away from him, so he asked the priest to write no more, but to leave the matter to God.
After a year of this, there came a day when Guleesh was lying by himself on the grassy bank, thinking over in his mind of all that had happened to him since the night when he rode out with the fairy folk across the sea. Then suddenly he remembered that it was on Hallowe’en night that he had been standing at the gable of the house, when the whirlwind came, and the fairy folk in it, and he said to himself: ‘Hallowe’en night comes round again tonight. I must stand in the same place as I stood last year, and see if the good people come again. Perhaps I might learn something that would be useful to me, and help me bring back her speech to Mary’ – which was the name himself and the priest now called the king’s daughter, for neither of them knew her right name. Guleesh explained his intentions to the priest, and the priest gave him his blessing.
That night after dark, Guleesh went to the old ruined fort, and stood leaning on an old grey flagstone, waiting for the witching hour. The moon rose slowly in the sky, and it was like a knob of fire at his back; and a white fog lay over the flat fields of grass and all the damp places, through the coolness of the night after a hot day. The night was calm as a lake without a breath of wind to ruffle its surface, and there was no sound to be heard but the cricking of insects going by from time to time, or the sudden hoarse scream of the wild geese as they passed from lake to lake, half a mile up in the air over his head; or the sharp whistle of the golden and green plover, rising and lying, lying and rising, as they do on a calm night. A thousand bright stars shone over his head, and a light frost left the grass white and crisp under his foot.
An hour he stood there, two hours, three hours, and the frost increasing all the time, so that he heard the crispness under his foot as often as he moved. At last, he decided the fairy folk were not going to appear that night, when he heard a far-off sound coming towards him, and he recognised what it was at once. The sound increased, and at first it was like the beating of waves on a pebbly shore, and then it was like the falling of a great waterfall, and at last it was like a loud storm in the tops of the trees, and then the whirlwind burst into the ruins, and the little folk were in it.
Scarcely had they all gathered into the ruins till they all began shouting, and screaming, and talking amongst themselves; and then each one of them cried out: ‘My horse, my bridle, and saddle! My horse, my bridle, and saddle!’ So Guleesh took his courage in his hands, and called out as loudly as any of them: ‘My horse, my bridle, and saddle! My horse, my bridle, and saddle!’ But before the words were well out of his mouth, another little man cried out: ‘Oh ho! Guleesh, my boy, are you among us again? How are you getting on with your woman? Don’t you be calling for your horse tonight! You’ll not play that trick on us a second time! It was a good trick the first time, no doubt!’
‘Not bad at all,’ said another little man, ‘but he won’t do that again.’
‘Isn’t he a fine lad, the same boy! to take a woman with him that can’t say as much as “How do you do?” since this time last year!’ said a third little man.
‘Perhaps he likes to be looking at her,’ said another voice.
‘And if the fool only knew there’s a herb growing beside his own door, and if he were to boil it up and give it to her, she’d be well,’ said another voice.
‘That’s true enough.’
‘He is a fool.’
‘Don’t bother your head with him; let’s go.’
‘Leave the goblin standing there.’
And with that they rose up into the air, and away with them with one hullabaloo just as they’d come; and they left poor Guleesh standing where they’d found him, his two eyes almost jumping out of his head, looking after them and wondering …
He didn’t stand long till he returned home, thinking over all he had seen and heard, wondering whether there really was a herb at his door which could give Mary back her speech. ‘It can’t be,’ says he to himself, ‘that they wanted me to overhear all that; perhaps it just slipped out by mistake. But I’ll search for that plant as soon as the sun rises.’
Guleesh got up as soon as the sun was up, and went out and searched through the grass round about the house, trying to find the strange herb. And indeed, he was not long searching till he noticed a large funny-looking herb growing up beside the gable of the house.
He went over to it and examined it carefully, and saw that there were seven little branches coming from the stalk, and seven leaves growing on every brancheen of them, and that there was a white sap in the leaves. ‘Isn’t that amazing,’ said he to himself, ‘I never noticed this plant before. If herbs have any powers at all, surely this strange plant will do something for us.’
He drew out his knife, cut the plant, and carried it into his house; stripped the leaves off it and cut up the stalk; and there came a thick white juice out of it, as comes out of the sow thistle when it is bruised, except that this juice was more like oil.
He put it in a little pot of water, and boiled it over the fire, and then he took a cup half-filled with the juice and put it to his own mouth. It occurred to him that it might be poisonous, and that the good people were trying to do away with him, or make him put the girl to death by accident. He put the cup down again, dipped the tip of his finger in the liquid, and put it to his mouth. It was not bitter, and indeed it had a sweet, agreeable taste. Guleesh grew bolder then, and drank a thimbleful of the liquid, and then as much again, and soon he had half the cup drunk. He fell asleep after that, and did not wake till it was night, and there was great hunger and thirst on him.
He had to wait then till daybreak; but he determined, as soon as possible, to go to the king’s daughter and give her a drink of the juice of the herb.
Next morning, he went straight to the priest’s house with the drink in his hand, and he never felt himself so bold and valiant and light-hearted as that day, and he was quite certain that it was the herbal drink which made him feel so good.
When he came to the house, he found the priest and the young lady within, and they were wondering greatly why he had not visited them for two days.
He told them all his news, and said that he was certain there was great power in the herb, and that it would do the lady no harm, for he himself had tested it and got good from it, and then he let her taste it, assuring her that there was no danger in it.
Guleesh handed her the cup, and she drank half of it, and then she fell back on her bed and a heavy sleep came on her, and she never woke out of that sleep till the following afternoon.
Guleesh and the priest sat up with her the entire time, waiting till she should wake, half hoping and half fearing what might become of her.
She awoke at last after the sun had gone half its way through the heavens. She rubbed her eyes and looked like a person who did not know where she was. She was like one astonished when she saw Guleesh and the priest beside her, and she sat up doing her best to collect her thoughts.
The two men were in great anxiety waiting to see would she speak, or not speak, and after a couple of minutes of silence, the priest said gently to her: ‘Did you sleep well, Mary?’
And she answered him: ‘I slept, thank you.’
No sooner did Guleesh hear her talking than he let out a shout of joy, and ran over to her, and fell on his knees, and said: ‘A thousand thanks to God, who has given you back your speech; lady of my heart, speak again to me.’
The lady answered that she understood that it was he who had got her that drink; that she was obliged to him from her heart for all the kindness he had shown her since the day she first came to Ireland, and that he might be certain that she would never forget it. Guleesh was ready to die with satisfaction and delight. Then they brought her food, and she ate with a good appetite, and was merry and joyous, and never left off talking with them while she was eating.
After that, Guleesh went home to his house, and stretched himself on his bed and fell asleep again, for the power of the herb was not all spent, and he passed another day and a night sleeping. When he woke up he went back to the priest’s house, and found that the young lady had also been asleep almost since the time he had left her.
He went into her room with the priest, and they watched her till she woke again and spoke as well as ever, and Guleesh was greatly delighted. And so their friendship increased.
Irish Folk and Fairy Tales Page 4
