The Young King of Easaidh Ruadh was collected from James Wilson, a blind fiddler from Islay, recorded by John Francis Campbell and published as the opening tale of Popular Tales of the West Highlands (1860). This is a classic maiden hero tale in which a woman with supernatural knowledge guides a man through challenging tasks, ultimately guiding him to success.
Cover art and all art by Hans Thoma
There was a young king of Easaidh Ruadh who, after he came into his inheritance, spent his days in merry making, looking about for whatever suited him and came into his humour. Near his dwelling lived a Gruagach, called the Brown Curly Long-Haired One, and the young king decided he would go and play a game with him.
He went first to the Seanagal, the soothsayer, and told him his intention. The Seanagal was not pleased. Art thou so bold, he said, that thou art going to play a game against the Gruagach? My advice is that thou change thy mind and stay away. But the king would not hear of it. Then at least, said the Seanagal, if thou win, ask for nothing but the cropped rough skinned girl who is behind the door, and be prepared that he will try many turns before he gives her to thee.
The king lay down that night, and if the day came early, he rose earlier still, and went to the Gruagach’s dwelling. They greeted one another and they played. The king won. When the Gruagach asked what prize he would take, the king said he would have the cropped rough skinned girl behind the door. The Gruagach protested that he had many fine women within, but the king said he would take none but that one. Cursing was given to the king’s teacher, but the prize was brought out. The Gruagach set twenty young girls before him, one coming out after another, each one saying she was the one he wanted and urging him to take her. But the king held to the Seanagal’s word and waited for the last one, and when she came he said simply, this one is mine.
He walked away with her, and before they had gone far her form changed, and she was the most beautiful woman on earth. The king went home full of joy.
He rested that night, but rose early again with the same idea in his head. I must go back and play with the Gruagach today, he told his wife. She looked at him steadily. That is my father, she said, and if thou goest again, take nothing for thy prize but the dun shaggy filly with the stick saddle on her back.
He went. The greeting between the two was no warmer than before. The Gruagach asked how his young bride had pleased him, and the king said she had pleased him fully. They played the game, and the king won again. He named the dun shaggy filly as his prize, and the Gruagach brought her out of the stable. The king put his leg over her and she was the swift heroine, and he rode home well pleased. His wife spread her arms to welcome him and they were merry together that night.
She told him she wished he would not go back to the Gruagach again, for if he won he would only be drawing more trouble on himself. He said he would go.
He went. And this time the Gruagach won.
The young king asked him to be not too heavy in his demand, for he was not sure he could bear it. The Gruagach said the stake of his winning was this: he laid it as crosses and spells upon the king, binding him with the full force of his word, that a creature more uncouth and unworthy than the king himself would take his head and his neck and his life if he did not bring back the Glaive of Light belonging to the King of the Oak Windows.
The king went home heavily and poorly and gloomily. His wife came to meet him and said, my pity, there is nothing with thee tonight. His heart was so weighed down that when he sat in a chair and tried to draw her to him, the chair broke under him. She asked what ailed him and he told her everything. She said, what should you fear, having the best wife in Erin and the second best horse? If thou takest my advice thou wilt come well out of all of this yet.
She rose before him in the morning and set everything in order for his journey. She dressed the dun shaggy filly with the stick saddle, and though it looked like plain wood it was full of sparklings of gold and silver. She kissed him and wished him victory of battlefields. She said there was no need for her to tell him anything, that he should take the advice of the filly herself, and she would tell him what to do. He set out, and it was not dreary to travel on such a horse. She caught the swift March wind that was before them and the swift March wind could not catch her from behind, and by the mouth of dusk and darkness they came to the court and castle of the King of the Oak Windows.
The filly spoke to him. The king is at his dinner now, she said, and the Glaive of Light is in his own chamber. There is a knob on its end. Go to the window where the sword hangs and draw it out softly and steadily. He went and caught the sword and drew it softly and steadily, and it came almost clean out before the tip gave a thin screech. They were moving before the sound had finished. I know the king has felt us, said the filly. Keep the sword in thy hand and ride.
When they had gone a little way she told him to look behind. He saw a swarm of brown horses coming in fury. We are still swifter than those, said the filly, and they rode on. When they had gone a good distance more she told him to look again. He saw a swarm of black horses and one white faced black horse ahead of them all, coming in madness with a man on his back. That is the best horse in Erin, said the filly. That is my own brother, who had three months more nursing than I, and he will come past me in a rush. When he does, the man on his back will turn to look at thee, and in that moment thou must take his head from his shoulders with the sword in thy hand, for there is no other sword in that court that can do it.
The white faced horse came past in a great rush and the man turned to look, and the king drew the sword and took the head from him, and the filly caught it in her mouth. This was the King of the Oak Windows himself. The filly told the king to leave the body where it lay and leap onto the black horse and ride home as fast as the horse would carry him, and she would follow as best she could after. He did this, and the black horse was a swift hero, and they reached home long before daylight. The queen had not slept. They raised music and they put down sorrow.
In the morning she told him what to do next, and this was the hardest part. He had to go to the Gruagach and face him with the sword. The Gruagach, she said, would be wild and furious, knowing his brother was dead, knowing the sword was taken, knowing that the king had done it. He would ask how the sword was got. The king must answer only this: if it were not for the knob on its end, I had not got it. The Gruagach would ask again and the king must say the same thing again. Then the Gruagach would lift his head to look at the sword. On the right side of his neck there is a mole. Drive the point of the sword into the mole and do not miss it, for there is no other death for him. The death of both brothers is in that sword, but it is the only sword that can reach them.
She kissed him and called for victory of battlefields to go with him, and he went.
The Gruagach met him in the same place as before. He was furious and wild. Did thou get the sword? I got the sword. How did thou get it? If it were not for the knob on its end I got it not. Let me see it. It was not laid on me to let thee see it. How did thou get the sword? If it were not for the knob on its end I got it not. The Gruagach lifted his head to look at what knob was on the sword, and the king saw the mole on the right side of his neck, and he drove the point in, and the Gruagach fell down dead.
He went home. But when he reached home his keepers and watchers were tied back to back, and there was no wife, no horse, no one dear to him anywhere to be seen. When he freed the watchers they told him that a great giant had come while he was away and taken everything. Sleep will not come on my eyes nor rest on my head, said the king, until I have them back. He followed the tracks of the horses into the country.
Dusk was coming on him when he reached the edge of a green wood. He saw the remains of a fire and built it up again and sat down to warm himself. Before long the Cu Seang, the slim dog of the greenwood, came to him, and they blessed each other. The dog said that his wife and horses had passed that way in the giant’s grip the night before and had fared badly. The king said there was no help for that. The dog brought meat from the wood and they ate together. The king said he was thinking he might turn home, that he could not go near a giant like that. Do not do that, said the dog. There is no fear for thee. Thy matter will grow with thee as thou go. But thou must sleep. The king said fear would not let him sleep without someone to watch over him. Sleep then, said the dog. I will warrant thee. The king lay down by the fire and slept. In the morning the dog fed him again and told him that if hardship or difficulty came upon him on the road he had only to call, and help would come in an instant. They left a blessing with each other.
By nightfall the king had reached a great rocky cliff, and again he made a fire, and again a creature came to him out of the wild: the hoary hawk of the grey rock. She told him his wife and horses had been there the night before, and fared poorly. She brought him three ducks and eight blackcocks and they made a meal. She watched over him while he slept, and in the morning sent him on his way with the same promise: call on me if thou hast need.
The next night he reached a great river and made a fire on its bank, and the brown otter of the river came to him, and told him his wife had been there the night before, and that before noon of the next day he would see her again. The otter brought three salmon from the river and they ate. She watched over him while he slept, and in the morning told him what he would find, and promised him her help whenever he needed it.
He went on until he came to a great rock with a deep chasm in it, and looking down he saw his wife and his two horses far below. He found a way round and came in at the foot of the rock and walked in, and when his wife saw him she began to cry. He said gently that this was a poor welcome after all the trouble he had taken to find her. The horses spoke and said to put him in front of them, and while he was there no harm would come to him.
She made a meal for him and set things in order, and when the giant returned that evening the horses were placed in front of the king so the giant would not see him. The giant said he smelled a stranger within. She told him it was nothing but the smell of the horses’ litter. After a while the giant went to feed the horses and they set upon him so badly he could barely drag himself away. She said to him in a soft voice that they were like to kill him. If I had my soul to keep, he said, they would have killed me long ago. Where is thy soul, she asked, and she told him she would keep it safe with all her care. He said it was in the Bonnach stone.
She dressed the Bonnach stone beautifully the next day. When the giant came home and saw it he asked why she had done this. Because thy soul is in it, she said. He looked at her and said that if she really knew where his soul was she would give it great care. She would indeed, she said. But it is not there, he said.
The next evening she told him the soul was in the threshold of the door and had set the threshold in beautiful order. He said again that if she truly knew she would take care of it. She said she would. It is not there, he said.
And on the third evening he told her the truth. Under the threshold is a great flagstone. Under the flagstone is a wether. Inside the wether is a duck. Inside the duck is an egg. Inside the egg is his soul.
When he left the next morning they lifted the flagstone and the wether ran out. She called for the slim dog of the greenwood, and he came and brought the wether back in his mouth. They opened the wether and the duck flew up into the air among all the other ducks of the sky. She called for the hoary hawk of the grey rock, and she came and brought the duck back in her mouth. They opened the duck for the egg, and the egg fell and sank into the deep ocean. She called for the brown otter of the river, and the otter dove and came back with the egg in her mouth, and the queen took it in both hands and crushed it between them.
That evening the giant came home and fell down dead, and he never moved again from that.
They took his gold and silver with them. They spent a night with the brown otter of the river, a night with the hoary hawk of the grey rock, and a night with the slim dog of the greenwood. Then they went home, and set in order a hearty hero’s feast, and they were lucky and well pleased after that.