king cormac had faults. they were not what would be faults in you or me, but they were faults in a king. in the first place, he beli*d *ry tale that was told him. in the second place, he would give anything he had for anything that was brought to him. and in the third place, he governed his men of lore1 and learning so slackly that they neither did things nor explained things. the first of his faults led to the spread of lying among his people. the second led to the people seeking after new things instead of getting to like the things they had already. and the third fault led to the spread of light-mindedness and want of sense among the people. so now you know king cormac's faults.but he was a good king, and in those days people knew whether they had or whether they hadn't a good king over them. if they had, wheat grew heavily in the ear, acorns2 fell thickly in the forest, nuts grew plentifully3 in the dells, milk poured into the pails, and bees filled their hives with honey. and if they hadn't a good king, they lacked much wheat, acorns, nuts, milk, and honey. in cormac's day, people had full benefit of field and forest, of dell, dairy and hive. and he was as fine a figure of a king as you would see in a year and a day's traveling. he stood six feet tall; he had clear gray eyes and a golden beard worn in the fashion that the kings of ireland wore their beards.
well, there stood cormac, son of art, looking over the ramparts of tara on a day of may. so clear and quiet was that first of may that although he was listening to a person who was telling him about the blue men of africa he could have heard the bees humming in the clover-bloom only for the way that his men of lore and learning were arguing with each other and complaining of the ways others had treated them.
cormac should have worn a royal mantle4 of crimson5 fringed with gold, but he had given it to someone in exchange for the mantle he had on now -- one of green fringed with silver. on his body was a tunic6 embroidered7 with gold, and on his feet were sandals of bronze laced with golden thongs8, and on his head was his golden crown. under that crown were the twists and pleats and tassels9 of his golden beard, and so anyone would know that he was not only a king of ireland, but the high king of ireland, and had a right to be standing10 there and looking over the ramparts of tara on that may-day.
he saw one coming across the plain who wore the garb11 and carried the bag of a juggler12. and when this one came to the rampart he saluted13 the king and the men of lore and learning, and then, by the king's favor, opened his bag. he took out, not the balls they were expecting him to toss up and catch, but a silver branch on which were golden apples. he held it up; it was lovely to look at. he shook it. the golden apples made a peal14, and in that peal there was such music that it seemed to cormac that all he *r longed for was beside him. the men of lore and learning ceased asking riddles15 and answering them and they listened, *ry man of them entranced. the king cried out "no!" when the juggler was about to put the silver branch back into his bag. "the bell-branch must remain with me," he said. "anything you ask as payment for leaving it shall be given you -- it will be all that a king can give."
"i shall ask for three things in exchange," said the juggler, "and i shall ask for the first of them when you see me again." he took up his bag; none were able to tell what direction he took when he left the ramparts of tara; he was gone when they came out of their enchantment16.
the king had the bell-branch. when he shook it *ryone who heard the peal that was made, no matter what misery17 they were in before, felt happy with a happiness that they n*r thought they could have. and if anyone in tara were wounded or troubled with disease, the king had only to shake the bell-branch and he or she would fall into an untroubled sleep, and would be sound and well again upon awakening18. and so it was in king cormac's court from may-day to may-day.
and on a may-day he was standing on the ramparts and looking over the plain that stretches from tara when he saw the juggler coming towards him. he carried no bag, but he wore a very full cloak. the king stepped down to meet him and said, "a payment is due to you on account of the bell-branch you left me, and this day it shall be given you."
then said the juggler, "three boons20 are due me, and i shall ask for one of them today -- ailbe, your fair young daughter."
king cormac sighed a heavy sigh when he heard this. "a promise is a promise," he said, and he sent for ailbe. and when she came upon the ramparts he put her hand into the juggler's hand. he with a sweep of his arm, put his cloak around her, and in a minute the girl and the stranger were gone from the rampart; none of the king's guards knew in what direction they had gone.
when the heavy-hearted king told his wife what had befallen she raised a wail21, and then the women knew what the wail was for, they began too, and there was wailing22 all over tara. cormac shook the bell-branch and the wailing ceased; *ryone, *n ailbe's mother, hearing the music of the peal, felt that loss was far from them and happiness beside them. when the music ceased, such was their entrancement, the loss of ailbe was hardly remembered.
may-day came again, and king cormac, looking over the rampart, saw the juggler coming across the plain of tara, and knew that the second of the boons would be claimed by him. he said, "what would you have from me now?"
the juggler answered, "your son, cairbre."
"a promise is a promise," said king cormac, "and *n this one must be kept." he sent for his son, and when the brave youth stepped to the rampart, cormac put his hand into the other's hand. then the juggler flung his cloak about the king's son, and in a minute the pair were gone, and the guards did not know in what direction.
cormac was heavy-hearted; he told his wife what had befallen and she raised a wail, and when they knew what she was wailing for the women of tara wailed23 too, and there was wailing in hall and chamber24. but when the bell-branch was shaken they all became untroubled; all happiness seemed to be beside them, and the loss of cairbre, like the loss of ailbe, became a far-away memory. and cormac himself lost his sadness in his entrancement.
now although his fair young daughter and his brave young son were taken from him, king cormac's life in tara was as it had been before. men came to him and gave him outlandish stories and he beli*d them; people showed him things and he gave away what he had so that he might gain them; new men of lore and learning came to his court and he, instead of setting them to do things or explain things, let them join the others who did nothing but ask riddles and answer riddles and dis* and complain. and when anyone too sorrowfully remembered the loss of ailbe and cairbre, or when he remembered their loss himself, the king shook the silver branch and mournfulness left them and left him and happiness was beside them again. and this was the way in tara until another may-day came around.
the king saw the juggler coming towards where he stood looking over the ramparts, and mournfulness came upon him, for he remembered that the third of the boons promised had still to be given him. and when the juggler came and stood beside him at the rampart, cormac said, "ask for your boon19 and it shall be given you, for a promise is a promise."
"a promise is a promise," said the juggler, "and i have come to get the third boon promised me. i ask you to let me have eithne, your wife."
