The Sea Maiden

There was once a poor old fisherman, and one year he was not getting much fish.

On a day of days, while he was fishing, there rose a sea maiden at the side of his boat,

and she asked him, “Are you getting much fish?”

The old man answered and said, “Not I.”

“What reward would you give me for sending plenty of fish to you?”

“Ach!” said the old man, “I have not much to spare.”

“Will you give me the first son you have?” said she.

“I would give ye that, were I to have a son,” said he.

“Then go home, and remember me when your son is twenty years of age, and you yourself will get plenty of fish after this.”

Everything happened as the sea-maiden said, and he himself got plenty of fish;

but when the end of the twenty years was nearing, the old man was growing more

and more sorrowful and heavy-hearted while he counted each day as it came.

He had rest neither day nor night. The son asked his father one day,

“Is anyone troubling you?”

The old man said, “Someone is, but that’s naught to do with you or anyone else.”

The lad said, “I must know what it is.”

His father told him at last how the matter was with him and the sea maiden.

“Let not that put you in any trouble,” said the son; “I will not oppose you.”

“You shall not; you shall not go, my son, though I never get fish any more.”

“If you will not let me go with you, go to the smithy, and let the smith make me a great strong sword, and I will go seek my fortune.”

His father went to the smithy, and the smith made a doughty sword for him.

His father came home with the sword. The lad grasped it and gave it a shake or two,

and it flew into a hundred splinters. He asked his father to go to the smithy and get him

another sword in which there should be twice as much weight, and so his father did,

and so likewise it happened to the next sword—it broke in two halves.

Back went the old man to the smithy, and the smith made a great sword; it’s like

he had never made before.

“There’s thy sword for thee,” said the smith, “and the fist must be good that plays this blade.”

The old man gave the sword to his son; he gave it a shake or two.

“This will do,” said he; “it’s high time now to travel on my way.”

On the next morning, he put a saddle on a black horse that his father had, and he took

the world for his pillow. When he went on a bit, he fell in with the carcass of a sheep

beside the road. And there were a great black dog, a falcon, and an otter, and they were

quarreling over the spoil. So they asked him to divide it for them.

He came down off the horse, and he divided the carcass amongst the three.

Three shares to the dog, two shares to the otter, and a share to the falcon.

“For this,” said the dog, “if swiftness of foot or sharpness of tooth will give thee aid, mind me, and I will be at thy side.”

Said the otter, “If the swimming of foot on the ground of a pool will loose thee, mind me, and I will be at thy side.”

Said the falcon, “If hardship comes on thee, where swiftness of wing or crook of the claw will do good, mind me, and I will be at thy side.”

On this, he went onward till he reached a king’s house, and he took service to be a herd,

and his wages were to be according to the milk of the cattle. He went away with

the cattle, and the grazing was but bare. In the evening, when he took them home,

they had not much milk, the place was so bare, and his meat and drink were but spare

that night. On the next day, he went on further with them; and at last, he came

to a place exceedingly grassy, in a green glen, of which he never saw the like.

But about the time when he should drive the cattle homewards, who should he see

coming but a great giant with a sword in his hand?

“Hi! Ho!! Ho-garach!!!” says the giant. “Those cattle are mine; they are on my land, and a dead man art thou.”

“I say not that,” says the herd; “there is no knowing, but that may be easier to say than to do.”

He drew the tremendous clean-sweeping sword, and he neared the giant.

The herd drew back his sword, and the head was off the giant in a twinkling.

He leaped on the black horse, and he went to look for the giant’s house. In went

the herd, and that’s the place where there was money in plenty, and dresses of each

kind in the wardrobe with gold and silver, and each thing finer than the other.

At the mouth of the night, he took himself to the king’s house, but he took not a thing

from the giant’s house. And when the cattle were milked this night, there was milk.

He got good feeding this night, meat and drink without stint, and the king was hugely

pleased that he had caught such a herd. He went on for a time in this way, but at last,

the glen grew bare of grass, and the grazing was not so good.

So he thought he would go a little further forward on the giant’s land, and he saw

a great park of grass. He returned for the cattle, and he put them into the park.

They were but a short time grazing in the park when a great wild giant came full of rage

and madness.

“Hi! Haw!! Hogaraich!!!” said the giant. “It is a drink of thy blood that will quench my thirst this night.”

“There is no knowing,” said the herd, “but that’s easier to say than to do.”

And at each other went the men. There was shaking of blades! At length and at last,

it seemed as if the giant would get the victory over the herd. Then he called on the dog,

and with one spring, the black dog caught the giant by the neck, and swiftly the herd

struck off his head.

He went home very tired this night, but it’s a wonder if the king’s cattle had not been milked.

The whole family was delighted that they had got such a herd.

The next day he betakes himself to the castle. When he reached the door, a little

flattering Carlin met him standing at the door.

“All hail and good luck to thee, fisher’s son; ’tis I myself am pleased to see thee; great is the honor for this kingdom, for thy like to become into it—thy coming in is fame for this little bothy; go in first; honor to the gentles; go on, and take a breath.”

“In before me, thou crone; I like not flattery out of doors; go in and let’s hear thy speech.”

In went the crone, and when her back was to him, he drew his sword and whipped her

head off, but the sword flew out of his hand. And swiftly, the crone gripped her head

with both hands and put it on her neck as it was before. The dog sprang on the crone,

and she struck the generous dog with the club of magic, and there he lay. But the herd

struggled for a hold of the club of magic, and with one blow on the top of the head,

she was on earth in the twinkling of an eye. He went forward, up a little, and there was

spoil! Gold and silver, and each thing more precious than another, in the crone’s castle.

He went back to the king’s house, and there was rejoicing.

He followed herding in this way for a time, but one night after he came home, instead

of getting “All hail” and “good luck” from the dairymaid, all were crying and woe.

He asked what cause of woe there was that night.

The dairymaid said, “There is a great beast with three heads in the loch, and it must get someone every year, and the lot had come this year on the king’s daughter, and at midday tomorrow, she is to meet the Laidly Beast at the upper end of the loch, but there is a great suitor yonder who is going to rescue her.”

“What suitor is that?” said the herd.

“Oh, he is a great General of arms,” said the dairymaid, “and when he kills the beast, he will marry the king’s daughter, for the king has said that he who could save his daughter should get her to marry.”

But on the morrow, when the time grew near, the king’s daughter and this hero of arms

went to give a meeting to the beast, and they reached the black rock at the upper end

of the loch. They were, but a short time there when the beast stirred in the midst

of the loch, but when the General saw this terror of a beast with three heads, he took

fright, and he slunk away, and he hid himself. And the king’s daughter was in fear

and under trembling, with no one at all to save her.

Suddenly she sees a doughty handsome youth riding a black horse and coming

to where she was. He was marvelously arrayed and fully armed, and his black dog

moved after him.

“There is gloom on your face, girl,” said the youth; “what do you do here?”

“Oh! That’s no matter,” said the king’s daughter. “It’s not long before I’ll be here at all events.”

—”I say not that,” said he.

“A champion fled as likely as you and not long since,” said she.

“He is a champion who stands the war,” said the youth.

And to meet the beast, he went with his sword and his dog. But there was a spluttering

and a splashing between himself and the beast! The dog kept doing all he might,

and the king’s daughter was palsied by fear of the noise of the beast! One of them

would now be under and now above. But at last, he cut one of the heads off it.

It gave one roar, and the son of earth, the echo of the rocks, called to its screech,

and it drove the loch in spindrift from end to end, and in a twinkling, it went out of sight.

“Good luck and victory follow you, lad!” said the king’s daughter. “I am safe for one

night, but the beast will come again and again until the other two heads come off it.”

He caught the beast’s head, and he drew a knot through it, and he told her to bring it

with her there tomorrow. She gave him a gold ring and went home with the head

on her shoulder, and the herd betook himself to the cows. But she had not gone far

when this great General saw her, and he said to her, “I will kill you if you do not say

’twas I took the head off the beast.” “Oh!” says she,

“’tis I will say it; who else took the head off the beast but you!”

They reached the king’s house, and the head was on the General’s shoulder.

But here was rejoicing that she should come home alive and whole, and this great

captain with the beast’s head full of blood in hand. On the morrow, they went away,

and there was no question at all but that this hero would save the king’s daughter.

They reached the same place, and they were not long there when the fearful Laidly

Beast stirred in the midst of the loch, and the hero slunk away as he did yesterday,

but it was not long after this when the man of the black horse came with another

dress on. No matter; she knew that it was the very same lad.

“It is. I am pleased to see you,” said she. “I am in hopes you will handle your great sword today as you did yesterday. Come up and take a breath.”

But they were not long there when they saw the beast steaming in the midst

of the loch.

At once, he went to meet the beast, but there was Cloopersteich and Claperstich,

spluttering, splashing, raving, and roaring on the beast! They kept at it thus for a long

time, and about the mouth of the night, he cut another head off the beast. He put it on

the knot and gave it to her. She gave him one of her earrings, and he leaped on

the black horse, and he betook himself to the herding. The king’s daughter went home

with the heads. The General met her and took the heads from her, and he said to her

that she must tell that it was he who took the head off the beast this time also.

“Who else took the head off the beast but you?” said she.

They reached the king’s house with the heads. Then there was joy and gladness.

About the same time on the morrow, the two went away. The officer hid as he usually

did. The king’s daughter betook herself to the bank of the loch. The hero of the black

horse came, and if roaring and raving were on the beast on the days that passed,

this day was horrible. But no matter; he took the third head off the beast, drew

it through the knot, and gave it to her. She gave him her other earring, and then

she went home with the heads. When they reached the king’s house, all were full

of smiles, and the General was to marry the king’s daughter the next day. The wedding

was going on, and everyone about the castle longed till the priest should come.

But when the priest came, she would marry only the one who could take the heads off

the knot without cutting it.

“Who should take the heads off the knot but the man that put the heads on?” 

said the king.

The General tried them, but he could not lose them, and at last, there was no one

about the house but had tried to take the heads off the knot, but they could not.

The king asked if there were anyone else about the house that would try to take

the heads of the knot. They said that the herd had not tried them yet.

Word went for the herd, and he was not long throwing them hither and thither.

“But stop a bit, my lad,” said the king’s daughter; “the man that took the heads off the beast, he has my ring and my two earrings.”

The herd put his hand in his pocket, and he threw them on the board.

“Thou art my man,” said the king’s daughter.

The king was not so pleased when he saw that it was a herd who was to marry

his daughter, but he ordered that he should be put in a better dress, but his daughter

spoke, and she said that he had a dress as fine as any that ever was in his castle;

and thus, it happened. The herd put on the giant’s golden dress, and they married

that same day.

They were now married, and everything went on well. But one day, it was

the namesake of the day when his father had promised him to the sea maiden;

they were sauntering by the side of the loch, and lo and behold! she came and took

him away to the loch without leaving or asking.

The king’s daughter was now mournful, tearful, blind-sorrowful for her married man;

she was always with her eye on the loch. An old soothsayer met her, and she told

how it had befallen her married mate. Then he told her the thing to do to save her mate,

and that she did.

She took her harp to the sea shore and sat and played, and the sea maiden came

up to listen, for sea-maidens are fonder of music than all other creatures. But when

the wife saw the sea maiden, she stopped.

The sea-maiden said, “Play on!”

but the princess said, “No, not till I see my man again.”

So the sea-maiden put up his head out of the loch. Then the princess played again

and stopped till the sea-maiden put him up to the waist. Then the princess played

and stopped again, and this time the sea-maiden put him all out of the loch,

and he called on the falcon and became one and flew on shore. But the sea-maiden

took the princess, his wife.

Sorrowful was each one that was in the town on this night. Her man was mournful,

tearful, wandering down and up about the banks of the loch by day and night.

The old soothsayer met him. The soothsayer told him that there was no way of killing

the sea-maiden but the one way, and this is it—”In the island that is in the midst

of the loch are the white-footed hind of the slenderest legs and the swiftest step,

and though she is caught, there will spring a hoodie out of her, and though the hoodie

should be caught, there will spring a trout out of her, but there is an egg in the mouth

of the trout, and the soul of the sea maiden is in the egg, and if the egg breaks,

she is dead.”

Now, there was no way of getting to this island, for the sea-maiden would sink each

boat and raft that would go on the loch. He thought he would try to leap the strait

with the black horse, and even so, he did. The black horse leaped the strait.

He saw the hind, and he let the black dog after her, but when he was on one side

of the island, the hind would be on the other side. “Oh! would the black dog

of the carcass of flesh be here!” No sooner spoke he the word than the grateful dog

was at his side, and after the hind, he went, and they were not long in bringing

her to earth. But he no sooner caught her than a hoodie sprang out of her.

“Would that the falcon grey, of the sharpest eye and swiftest wing, were here!”

No sooner said he this than the falcon was after the hoodie, and she was not long

putting her to earth, and as the hoodie fell on the bank of the loch, out of her jumps

the trout.

“Oh! That thou were by me now, oh otter!” No sooner said than the otter was at his side,

and out on the loch, she leaped and brought the trout from the midst of the loch,

but no sooner was the otter on shore with the trout than the egg came from his mouth;

He sprang, and he put his foot on it. ‘Twas then the sea-maiden appeared, 

and she said,

“Break not the egg, and you shall get all you ask.”

“Deliver to me, my wife!” In the wink of an eye, she was by his side.

When he got hold of her hand in both his hands, he let his foot down on the egg,

and the sea-maiden died.

The End