Fantasy fiction; Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Mythology, Celtic -- Fiction
A man, with thin brown hair and a pale face, half ran, half walked,
along the road that wound from the south to the town of Sligo. Many
called him Cumhal, the son of Cormac, and many called him the Swift,
Wild Horse; and he was a gleeman, and he wore a short parti-coloured
doublet, and had pointed shoes, and a bulging wallet. Also he was of the
blood of the Ernaans, and his birth-place was the Field of Gold; but
his eating and sleeping places where the four provinces of Eri, and his
abiding place was not upon the ridge of the earth. His eyes strayed from
the Abbey tower of the White Friars and the town battlements to a row
of crosses which stood out against the sky upon a hill a little to the
eastward of the town, and he clenched his fist, and shook it at the
crosses. He knew they were not empty, for the birds were fluttering
about them; and he thought how, as like as not, just such another
vagabond as himself was hanged on one of them; and he muttered: 'If it
were hanging or bowstringing, or stoning or beheading, it would be bad
enough. But to have the birds pecking your eyes and the wolves eating
your feet! I would that the red wind of the Druids had withered in
his cradle the soldier of Dathi, who brought the tree of death out of
barbarous lands, or that the lightning, when it smote Dathi at the foot
of the mountain, had smitten him also, or that his grave had been dug by
the green-haired and green-toothed merrows deep at the roots of the deep
sea.'
While he spoke, he shivered from head to foot, and the sweat came out
upon his face, and he knew not why, for he had looked upon many crosses.
He passed over two hills and under the battlemented gate, and then round
by a left-hand way to the door of the Abbey. It was studded with great
nails, and when he knocked at it, he roused the lay brother who was the
porter, and of him he asked a place in the guest-house. Then the lay
brother took a glowing turf on a shovel, and led the way to a big and
naked outhouse strewn with very dirty rushes; and lighted a rush-candle
fixed between two of the stones of the wall, and set the glowing turf
upon the hearth and gave him two unlighted sods and a wisp of straw,
and showed him a blanket hanging from a nail, and a shelf with a loaf
of bread and a jug of water, and a tub in a far corner. Then the lay
brother left him and went back to his place by the door. And Cumhal the
son of Cormac began to blow upon the glowing turf that he might light
the two sods and the wisp of straw; but the sods and the straw would not
light, for they were damp. So he took off his pointed shoes, and drew
the tub out of the corner with the thought of washing the dust of the
highway from his feet; but the water was so dirty that he could not see
the bottom. He was very hungry, for he had not eaten all that day; so he
did not waste much anger upon the tub, but took up the black loaf, and
bit into it, and then spat out the bite, for the bread was hard and
mouldy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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