The Lad Of The Gad
The Lad Of The Gad
Alan Garner
The much-loved classic, finally in ebook.In 'The Lad of the Gad' Alan Garner has reworked five stories from the Gaelic layers of British folktale.Folk and fairy tales have not always been relegated to children, and older readers will appreciate Garner's ability to give these stories a new vitality for our time.
for Natasha
Contents
Cover (#u8efe6b52-33df-585f-9b03-e8f382e6d675)
Title Page (#u32b06e8c-5e8a-5c2a-abf3-2bbd21cbe081)
Dedication (#ulink_7cd3de1e-b8e4-5a5e-b190-05a067aca0ed)
INTRODUCTION (#ulink_f0a012f4-1181-501f-824f-7855629fb967)
UPRIGHT JOHN (#ulink_13288461-62ae-573a-a29f-5d9c2b1ec33c)
RASCALLY TAG (#ulink_3d597e7b-d1bb-5717-a531-8a9f1431cc9d)
OLIOLL OLOM (#litres_trial_promo)
THE LAD OF THE GAD (#litres_trial_promo)
LURGA LOM (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Praise (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Introduction (#ulink_c04b9bd0-9288-534e-b76d-809917779364)
The oral tradition of folktale no longer exists in the English language. Now, rather than human recollection shared through community of audience and the storyteller’s own belief, the source of every folktale is another book. Made written, folktale is treated as a juvenile branch of literature; but the two are different, and we should mark the differences. The word in the air is not the same word on the page.
We can say that, while folktale scarcely engages the intellect, fiction does not allow imagery to carry the weight. Both forms are valid metaphors of reality; but folktale speaks with the logic of dream; it is supple, changing in the mouth of the storyteller, always archaic, not a single creation, but a weaving of existing threads.
The folktale, when written, should still continue to be worked as it was when it was a spoken form, so that it stays relevant and vital; yet the body of British folktale is obsolete, a reductive continuity of Nineteenth Century texts, which reflect the attitudes of the period when the bulk of our traditional remains was set in print. Since that time, the British folktale has become, properly, a subject for scholarship, and, less properly, a vehicle for the moral instruction of the young. Shorn of its inherent music, mistakenly pursued for rational meaning, folktale has lost its force within the general culture.
Among societies where oral tradition has not been abused, folktale is no dull matter that anyone may touch, but more a collection of patterns to be translated with the skill, bias and authority of the craftsman, who, in serving his craft, allows that craft to serve the people. The contrast between intuitive mediation from within and externally applied precept is nice, and crucial. British folktale, in untutored and literary hands, has become infant homily or adult science. There remains no middle ground.
“The Lad of the Gad” is an attempt to recover a middle ground. I have tried to place my literate ear in the way of a preliterate voice, so that, although the word in the air is not the same word on the page, the force may be recreated and felt. My approach has been to give the stories something of the sequential structure of a controlled fiction while retaining an impression of the original dream.
The stories are taken from the Goidelic layers of British folktale. Another writer would choose differently, and I would choose differently myself at another time. But these are the stories now, because, in a way that I understand only after having listened to them as they were being worked, they offer compensatory images of the world that I cannot find in a more conventional prose today.
Upright John (#ulink_092cf501-d768-50ee-b789-995b5096f100)
There was a king and a queen, and between them was a son called Upright John. The queen died, and the king married another.
One day John was at the hunting hill, and he got no game at all. He saw a blue falcon and let an arrow at her, but he did no more than to drive a feather from her wing. He lifted the feather, put it in his bag and went home.
When he came home, his stepmother said to him, “Where is the game today?” He took out the feather and gave it to her.
She said, “I set it as crosses and as spells, and as the decay of the year on you, and as the seven fairy fetters of going and straying, that you shall not be without a pool in your shoe, and that you shall be wet, cold and soiled, until you get for me the bird from which that feather came.”
And John said to her, “I set it as crosses and as spells, and as the decay of the year on you, and as the seven fairy fetters of going and straying, that you shall stand with one foot on the castle, and the other on the hall, and that your face shall be to the tempest whatever wind blows, until I return.”
He went away to look for the falcon from which the feather came, and his stepmother the queen was standing with one foot on the castle and the other on the hall, her front to the face of the tempest, however long he might be away.
Upright John went, travelling the waste, but he could not see the falcon. He was by himself, and the night came blind and dark, and he crouched at the root of a briar.
A Foxy Lad appeared to him and said, “You are sad, Upright John. Bad is the night on which you have come. I myself have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, but they must do.”
They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king’s son, “The Blue Falcon is with the Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles, and I shall show you where he lives.
“And my advice to you,” said the Foxy Lad, “is for you to be his servant, nimble to do all that he asks of you, and each thing he entrusts to you, with exceeding care. Be very good to his birds, and he will let you feed the Blue Falcon. And when the giant is not at home, run away with her: but see that no part of her touches any one thing that is the giant’s, or your matter will not go well with you.”
“I shall do all these things,” said Upright John.
He went to the giant’s house. He struck at the door.
“Who is there?” said the giant.
“One coming to see if you need a lad,” said John.
“What can you do?” said the giant.
“I feed birds,” said john, “and swine; milk a cow, a goat or a sheep.”
“I want someone like you,” said the giant.
The giant came out and he settled wages with John, and John was nimble and took exceeding care of everything the giant had.
“My lad is so good,” said the giant, “that I begin to think he may be trusted to feed the Blue Falcon.”
So the giant gave the Blue Falcon to Upright John for him to feed her, and he took exceeding care of the falcon. And when the giant saw how well he was caring for her, he thought he would trust him altogether, so he gave the falcon to John for him to keep her, and John took exceeding care of the falcon.
The giant thought that each thing was going right, and he went from the house one day.
Then Upright John said, “It is time to go,” and he took the falcon. But when he opened the door and the falcon saw sunlight, she spread her wings to fly, and the point of one of the feathers on one of her wings touched one of the posts of the door, and the post let loose a screech.
The Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles came home running, and caught Upright John and took the falcon from him.
“I would not give you my Blue Falcon,” said the giant, “unless you could get for me the White Sword of Light that the Seven Big Women of Jura keep.”
And the giant sent Upright John away.
John went out again, travelling the waste, and the Foxy Lad met with him, and he said, “You are sad, Upright John. You did not, and you will not, as I told you. Bad is the night on which you have come. I have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, but they must do.”
They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king’s son, “I shall grow into a ship and take you over the sea to Jura.
“And my advice to you,” said the Foxy Lad, “is that you say to the Big Women that you will be their polishing-lad, and that you are good at brightening iron and steel, gold and silver, at burnishing and at making all things gleam. Be nimble. Do every job with exceeding care. Then, when they trust you with the White Sword of Light, run away with it: but see that the sheath touches no part that is of the inside of where the Big Women live, or your matter will not go well with you.”
“I shall do all those things,” said Upright John.
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and they sailed across and came to shore at the Rock of the Flea on the north side of Jura, and Upright John went to take service with the Seven Big Women there.
He struck at the door. The Seven Big Women came out and asked him what he wanted.
“I have come to find if you need a polishing-lad,” said John.
“What can you polish?” said they.
“I brighten, make clear shining, gold and silver, or iron, or steel,” said John.
They said, “We have a use for you,” and they set wages on him.
He was nimble for six weeks, and put everything in exceeding order; and the Big Women said to each other, “This is the best lad we have ever had.” Then they said, “We can trust him with the White Sword of Light.”
They gave the White Sword of Light to Upright John, and he took exceeding care of it until one day that the Seven Big Women of Jura were not in the house, and he thought that then was the time for him to run.
He put the White Sword of Light into the sheath, and lifted it on his shoulder; but when he went out of the door, the point touched the lintel, and the lintel let loose a screech.
The Seven Big Women of Jura came home running, and caught Upright John and took the White Sword of Light from him.
“We would not give you our White Sword of Light,” said the Big Women, “unless you could get for us the Yellow Horse of the King of Irrua.”
John went out again to the shore, and the Foxy Lad met with him, and he said, “You are sad, Upright John. You did not, and you will not, as I told you. Bad is the night on which you have come. I have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, but they must do.”
They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king’s son, “I shall grow into a ship and take you over the sea to Irrua.
“And my advice to you,” said the Foxy Lad, “is that you go to the house of the king and ask to be a stabling-lad to him. Be nimble. Do every job with exceeding care, and keep the horses and the harness in exceeding order, till the king trusts the Yellow Horse to you. And when there is the chance, run away: but take care that no morsel of the horse touches anything that is on the inner side of the gate but the hooves of its feet, or your matter will not go well with you.”
“I shall do all those things,” said Upright John.
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and they sailed across to Irrua.
John went to the king’s house. He struck at the door.
“Where are you going?” said the gatekeeper.
“To see if the king has need of a stabling-lad,” said John.
The king came out and said, “What can you do?”
“I clean and feed horses,” said John, “and I shine tackle.”
“I have a use for you,” said the king, and he set wages on him, and John went to the stable, and he put each thing in exceeding order and took exceeding care of the horses, and fed them, kept their hides clean and sleek, and he was nimble with the tackle.
The king said, “This is the best stabling-lad I have ever known. I can trust the Yellow Horse to him.”
The king gave the Yellow Horse to John for him to look after, and he looked after her until she was so sleek and slippery, and so swift, that she would leave the one wind and catch the other.
Then the king went hunting one day, and Upright John thought that was the time to steal the Yellow Horse. He set her with a bridle and saddle and all that belonged to her, and when he led her out of the stable and was taking her through the gate, she gave a switch of her tail, and a hair of it touched the post of the gate, and the gate let loose a screech.
The king came home running, and caught Upright John and took the Yellow Horse from him.
“I would not give you my Yellow Horse,” said the king, “unless you could get for me the Daughter of the King of the Frang.”
John went out again to the shore, and the Foxy Lad met with him, and he said, “You are sad, Upright John. You did not, and you will not, as I told you. Bad is the night on which you have come. I have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, but they must do.”
They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king’s son, “I shall grow into a ship and take you over the sea to the Frang.”
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and they sailed across to the Frang.
The Foxy Lad ran himself high up the face of a rock, on dry dried land, and he said to John, “Go to the king’s house and ask for help, and say that your steersman has been lost in a storm and the ship thrown on shore.”
John went to the king’s house. He struck at the door.
“What are you doing here?” said the king.
“A storm came upon me,” said Upright John, “and my steersman was lost, and the ship has been thrown on shore and is there now, driven up the face of a rock by the waves, and I have not the strength to get her down.”
The king and the queen, and the family together, went to see the ship. And when they looked at the ship, exceeding sweet music was heard in her.
There were tunes with wings,
Lullaby harps, gentle strings,
Songs between fiddles
That would set in sound lasting sleep
Wounded men and travailing women
Withering away for ever
With the piping of the music
The Foxy Lad did play.
And the Daughter of the King of the Frang went on the ship to watch the music, and Upright John went with her. And when they were in one part, the music was in another, and when they were in that other, it would be elsewhere, and when they were there, they heard it on the deck, and when they were on the deck, the ship was out on the ocean and making sea-hiding with the land.
The king’s daughter said, “Bad is the trick you have done me and bad the night on which you have come. Where will you take me now?”
“We are going,” said Upright John, “to give you as a wife to the King of Irrua; to get from him his Yellow Horse; to give that to the Seven Big Women of Jura; to get from them their White Sword of Light; to give that to the Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles; to get from him his Blue Falcon; to take her home to my stepmother, the Bad Straddling Queen, that I may be free from my crosses and my spells and the sick diseases of the year.”
“I had rather be as a wife to you,” said the Daughter of the King of the Frang.
When they came to shore in Irrua, the Foxy Lad put himself in the shape of the Daughter of the Sun, and he said to Upright John, “Leave the woman here till we come back, and I shall go with you to the King of Irrua; and I shall give him enough of a wifing.”
Upright John went with the Foxy Lad in the shape of the Daughter of the Sun, and when the king saw them he took out the Yellow Horse, put a golden saddle on her back, a silver bridle in her head, and gave her to John.
John rode the horse back to the Daughter of the King of the Frang, and they waited.
The King of Irrua and the Foxy Lad were married that same day, and when they went to their rest, the Foxy Lad gave a dark spring, and he did not leave a toothful of flesh between the back of the neck and the haunch of the King of Irrua that was not worried and wounded: and he ran to where Upright John and the Daughter of the King of the Frang were waiting.
“How did you get free?” said John.
“A man is kind to his life,” said the Foxy Lad.
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and he took them all to Jura.
They landed at the Rock of the Flea on the north side of Jura, and the Foxy Lad said to Upright John, “Leave the king’s daughter and the Yellow Horse here till we come back, and I shall go with you to the Big Women, and I shall give them enough of a horsing.”
The Foxy Lad went into the shape of a yellow horse, Upright John put the golden saddle on his back, and the silver bridle in his head, and they went to the house of the Seven Big Women of Jura.
When they saw John, the Big Women came to meet him, and they gave him the White Sword of Light.
John took the saddle off the back of the Foxy Lad and the bridle out of his head, and he left him with the Big Women and went away. The Big Women put a saddle on the Foxy Lad, and bridled his head, and one of them went up on his back to ride him. Another went on the back of that one, and another on the back of that one, and there was always room for another one there, till one after one the Seven Big Women of Jura went up on the back of the Foxy Lad, thinking that they had got the Yellow Horse of Irrua.
One of them gave a blow of a rod to the Foxy Lad: and if she gave, he ran.
He charged with them through the mountain moors, singing iolla, bounding high to the tops, moving his front to the crag, and he put his two forefeet to the crag, and he threw his rump end on high, and the Seven Big Women went into the air and over the Paps of Jura.
The Foxy Lad ran away laughing to where Upright John and the king’s daughter were waiting with the Yellow Horse and the White Sword of Light.
“How did you get free?” said John.
“A man is kind to his life,” said the Foxy Lad.
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and he took them all to the mainland.
When they had landed, the Foxy Lad said, “Leave the king’s daughter here with the Yellow Horse and the White Sword of Light, and take me to the giant, and I shall give him enough of a blading.”
The Foxy Lad put himself into the shape of a sword, and Upright John took him to the giant. And when the Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles saw them coming, he put the Blue Falcon in a basket and gave it to John.
John went back to the king’s daughter, and the Foxy Lad came running.
“How did you get free?” said John.
“Ho! Huth!” said the Foxy Lad. “A man is kind to his life, but I was in the giant’s hand when he began at fencing and slashing, and, ‘I shall cut this oak tree,’ said he, ‘at one blow, which my father cut two hundred years before now with the same sword.’ And he gripped me and swung me, and with the first blow he cut the tree all but a small bit of bark; and the second blow I bent on myself and swept the five heads the five humps and the five throttles off him. And there is not a tooth in the door of my mouth left unbroken for sake of that filth of a blue marvellous bird!”
“What shall be done to your teeth?” said John.
“There is no help for it,” said the Foxy Lad. “So put the saddle of gold on the Yellow Horse, and the silver bridle in her head, and go you yourself riding there, and take the Daughter of the King of the Frang behind you, and the White Sword of Light with its back against your nose. And if you do not go in that way, when your stepmother sees you, she has an eye so evil that you will fall a faggot of firewood. But if the back of the sword is against your nose, and its edge to the Bad Straddling Queen, she will split her glance and fall herself as sticks.”
Upright John did as the Foxy Lad told him. And when he came in sight of the castle, his stepmother, with one foot on the castle and the other on the hall, her front to the face of the tempest, looked at him with an evil eye. But she split her glance on the edge of the White Sword of Light, and she fell as sticks.
Upright John set fire to the sticks, burnt the Bad Straddling Queen, and was free of fear.
He said to the Foxy Lad, “I have got the best wife of the world; the horse that will leave the one wind and catch the other; the falcon that will fetch me game; the sword that will keep off each foe; and I am free of fear.
“And you, you Lad of March, have been my dearest friend since we were on the time of one trotter and a sheep’s cheek. Go now for ever through my ground. No arrow will be let at you. No trap will be set for you. Take any beast to take with you. Go now through my ground for ever.”
“Keep your herds and your flocks to yourself,” said the Foxy Lad. “There is many a one who has trotters and sheep as well as you. I shall get flesh without coming to put trouble here. Peace on you, and my blessing, blessing, blessing, Upright John.”
He went away. The tale was spent.
Rascally Tag (#ulink_f1a86ebb-8cd2-57c1-85ee-48ae4996c01d)
There was a king, and his name was Donald. And in the kingdom there was a poor fisherman, who had a son, and the son took school and learning.
The boy said to his father, “Father, it is time for me to be doing for myself to be a Champion.” So he picked sixteen apples from the garden and threw an apple out into the sea, and he gave a step on it. He threw the next one, and he gave a step on it. He threw one after one, until he came to the last, and the last apple brought him on land again.
When he was on land again he shook his ears, and he thought that it was in no sorry place he would stay.
So he moved as a wave from a wave
And marbles from marbles,
As a wild winter wind,
Sightly and swiftly singing
Right proudly,
Through glens and high tops
And made no stops
Till he came to the city
And court of Donald,
And gave three hops
Over turrets and tops
Of court and of city
Of Donald.
And Donald took much anger and rage that such an unseemly ill stripling should come into the town, with two shoulders through his coat, two ears through his hat, his two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of his sword sideways on the side of his haunch, after the scabbard had ended.
“I will not believe,” said the Champion, “but that you are taking anger and rage, King Donald.”
“Well, then, I am,” said Donald, “if I did but know at what I should be angry.”
“Good king,” said the Champion. “Coming in was no harder than going out would be.”
“You are not going out,” said Donald, “till you tell me where you came from, with two shoulders through your coat, two ears through your hat, two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of sword sideways on the side of your haunch, after the scabbard has ended.”
And the Champion said:
“I come from hurry and skurry,
From the end of endless Spring,
From the loved, swanny glen:
A night in Chester and a night in Man,
A night on cold watching cairns.
On the face of mountains
In the English land
Was I born.
A slim, swarthy Champion am I,
Though I happened upon this town.”
“What,” said Donald, “can you do, o Champion? Surely, with all the distance you have travelled, you can do something.”
“I was once,” said he, “that I could play a harp.”
“Well, then,” said Donald, “it is I myself that have got the best harpers in the five fifths of the world.”
“Let’s hear them playing,” said the Champion.
The harpers played.
They played tunes with wings,
Trampling things, tightened strings,
Warriors, heroes, and ghosts on their feet,
Goblins and spectres, sickness and fever,
They set in sound lasting sleep
The whole great world
With the sweetness of the calming tunes
That those harpers could play.
The music did not please the Champion. He caught the harps, and he crushed them under his feet, and he set them on the fire, and made himself a warming, and a sound warming, at them.
Donald took lofty rage that a man had come into his court who should do the like of this to the harps.
“My good man, Donald,” said the slim, swarthy Champion, “I will not believe but that you are taking anger.”
“Well, then, I am,” said Donald, “if I did but know at what I should be angry.”
“It was no harder for me to break your harps than to make them again,” said the Champion. And he seized the fill of his two palms of the ashes, and squeezed them, and made all the harpers their harps and a great harp for himself.
“Let us hear your music,” said Donald. The Champion began to play.
He could play tunes with wings,
Trampling things, tightened strings,
Warriors, heroes, and ghosts on their feet,
Goblins and spectres, sickness and fever,
That set in sound lasting sleep
The whole great world
With the sweetness of the calming tunes
That Champion could play.
“You are melodious, o Champion,” said the king. And he and his harpers took anger and rage that such an unseemly stripling, with two shoulders through his coat, two ears through his hat, two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of his sword sideways on the side of his haunch, after the scabbard was ended, should come to the town and play music as well as they.
“I am going,” said the Champion.
“If you should stir,” said the king, “I should make a sharp sour shrinking for you with this plough in my hand.”
The Champion leapt on the point of his pins, and he went over top and turret of court and city of Donald.
And Donald threw the plough that was in his hand, and he slew four and then twenty of his own people.
Well, what should the Champion meet but the tracking-lad of Donald, and he said to him, “Here’s a little grey weed for you. And go in and rub it on the mouths of the four and then the twenty that were killed by the plough, and bring them back alive again, and earn for yourself from King Donald twenty calving cows. And look behind you when you part from me.”
And when the tracking-lad did this, and looked, he saw the slim, swarthy Champion thirteen miles off on a hillside already.
He moved as a wave from a wave
And marbles from marbles,
As a wild winter wind,
Sightly and swiftly singing
Right proudly,
Through glens and high tops
And made no stops
Until he reached the town
Of John, the South Earl.
He struck the latch. Said John, the South Earl, “Who’s that in the door?”
“I am Dust, son of Dust,” said the Champion.
“Let in Dust of Dust,” said John, the South Earl. “No one must be in my door without entering.”
They let him in.
“What can you do, Dust of Dust?” said the South Earl.
“There was a time when I could play a juggle,” said the Champion.
“What is the trick you can do, Dust of Dust?” said the South Earl.
“Well,” said the Champion, “There was a time when I could put three straws on the back of my fist and blow them off.”
And he put three straws on the back of his fist, and blew them off.
“Well,” said the Earl’s big son, “if that is a juggle, then I can do no worse than you.”
“Do so,” said the Champion.
And the big son of the South Earl put three straws on his fist, and the Champion blew them off, and the fist with them.
“You are sore, and you will be sore,” said the Earl. “My blessing on the hand that hurt you. And what is the next trick you can do, Dust of Dust?”
“I will do other juggles for you,” said the Champion. And he took hold of his own ear, and lifted it from his cheek, bobbed it on the ground and back again.
“I could do that,” said the middle son of the Earl.
“I shall do it for you,” said the Champion. And he gave a pull at the son’s ear, and the head came away with it.
“I see that the juggling of this night is with you,” said John, the South Earl.
Then the Champion went and set a great ladder against the moon, and in one part of it he put a hound and a hare, and in another part of it he put a man and a woman. And they are alive there till now.
“That is a great trick,” said the Earl.
“And I can not do that trick,” said the Earl’s little son.
“It is a great trick and a juggle,” said the Champion, “and it is not you that can do it.”
“Then what will you do now?” said the Earl.
“I am going away,” said the Champion.
“You will not leave my set of sons,” said the Earl.
But the Champion leapt on the point of his pins, and he went over turret and top of court and town, till he met a man threshing in a barn.
“I will make you a free man for your life,” said the Champion. “There are two of your master’s sons, one with his fist off, one with his head off. Go there and put them on again.”
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Alan Garner
The much-loved classic, finally in ebook.In 'The Lad of the Gad' Alan Garner has reworked five stories from the Gaelic layers of British folktale.Folk and fairy tales have not always been relegated to children, and older readers will appreciate Garner's ability to give these stories a new vitality for our time.
for Natasha
Contents
Cover (#u8efe6b52-33df-585f-9b03-e8f382e6d675)
Title Page (#u32b06e8c-5e8a-5c2a-abf3-2bbd21cbe081)
Dedication (#ulink_7cd3de1e-b8e4-5a5e-b190-05a067aca0ed)
INTRODUCTION (#ulink_f0a012f4-1181-501f-824f-7855629fb967)
UPRIGHT JOHN (#ulink_13288461-62ae-573a-a29f-5d9c2b1ec33c)
RASCALLY TAG (#ulink_3d597e7b-d1bb-5717-a531-8a9f1431cc9d)
OLIOLL OLOM (#litres_trial_promo)
THE LAD OF THE GAD (#litres_trial_promo)
LURGA LOM (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Praise (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Introduction (#ulink_c04b9bd0-9288-534e-b76d-809917779364)
The oral tradition of folktale no longer exists in the English language. Now, rather than human recollection shared through community of audience and the storyteller’s own belief, the source of every folktale is another book. Made written, folktale is treated as a juvenile branch of literature; but the two are different, and we should mark the differences. The word in the air is not the same word on the page.
We can say that, while folktale scarcely engages the intellect, fiction does not allow imagery to carry the weight. Both forms are valid metaphors of reality; but folktale speaks with the logic of dream; it is supple, changing in the mouth of the storyteller, always archaic, not a single creation, but a weaving of existing threads.
The folktale, when written, should still continue to be worked as it was when it was a spoken form, so that it stays relevant and vital; yet the body of British folktale is obsolete, a reductive continuity of Nineteenth Century texts, which reflect the attitudes of the period when the bulk of our traditional remains was set in print. Since that time, the British folktale has become, properly, a subject for scholarship, and, less properly, a vehicle for the moral instruction of the young. Shorn of its inherent music, mistakenly pursued for rational meaning, folktale has lost its force within the general culture.
Among societies where oral tradition has not been abused, folktale is no dull matter that anyone may touch, but more a collection of patterns to be translated with the skill, bias and authority of the craftsman, who, in serving his craft, allows that craft to serve the people. The contrast between intuitive mediation from within and externally applied precept is nice, and crucial. British folktale, in untutored and literary hands, has become infant homily or adult science. There remains no middle ground.
“The Lad of the Gad” is an attempt to recover a middle ground. I have tried to place my literate ear in the way of a preliterate voice, so that, although the word in the air is not the same word on the page, the force may be recreated and felt. My approach has been to give the stories something of the sequential structure of a controlled fiction while retaining an impression of the original dream.
The stories are taken from the Goidelic layers of British folktale. Another writer would choose differently, and I would choose differently myself at another time. But these are the stories now, because, in a way that I understand only after having listened to them as they were being worked, they offer compensatory images of the world that I cannot find in a more conventional prose today.
Upright John (#ulink_092cf501-d768-50ee-b789-995b5096f100)
There was a king and a queen, and between them was a son called Upright John. The queen died, and the king married another.
One day John was at the hunting hill, and he got no game at all. He saw a blue falcon and let an arrow at her, but he did no more than to drive a feather from her wing. He lifted the feather, put it in his bag and went home.
When he came home, his stepmother said to him, “Where is the game today?” He took out the feather and gave it to her.
She said, “I set it as crosses and as spells, and as the decay of the year on you, and as the seven fairy fetters of going and straying, that you shall not be without a pool in your shoe, and that you shall be wet, cold and soiled, until you get for me the bird from which that feather came.”
And John said to her, “I set it as crosses and as spells, and as the decay of the year on you, and as the seven fairy fetters of going and straying, that you shall stand with one foot on the castle, and the other on the hall, and that your face shall be to the tempest whatever wind blows, until I return.”
He went away to look for the falcon from which the feather came, and his stepmother the queen was standing with one foot on the castle and the other on the hall, her front to the face of the tempest, however long he might be away.
Upright John went, travelling the waste, but he could not see the falcon. He was by himself, and the night came blind and dark, and he crouched at the root of a briar.
A Foxy Lad appeared to him and said, “You are sad, Upright John. Bad is the night on which you have come. I myself have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, but they must do.”
They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king’s son, “The Blue Falcon is with the Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles, and I shall show you where he lives.
“And my advice to you,” said the Foxy Lad, “is for you to be his servant, nimble to do all that he asks of you, and each thing he entrusts to you, with exceeding care. Be very good to his birds, and he will let you feed the Blue Falcon. And when the giant is not at home, run away with her: but see that no part of her touches any one thing that is the giant’s, or your matter will not go well with you.”
“I shall do all these things,” said Upright John.
He went to the giant’s house. He struck at the door.
“Who is there?” said the giant.
“One coming to see if you need a lad,” said John.
“What can you do?” said the giant.
“I feed birds,” said john, “and swine; milk a cow, a goat or a sheep.”
“I want someone like you,” said the giant.
The giant came out and he settled wages with John, and John was nimble and took exceeding care of everything the giant had.
“My lad is so good,” said the giant, “that I begin to think he may be trusted to feed the Blue Falcon.”
So the giant gave the Blue Falcon to Upright John for him to feed her, and he took exceeding care of the falcon. And when the giant saw how well he was caring for her, he thought he would trust him altogether, so he gave the falcon to John for him to keep her, and John took exceeding care of the falcon.
The giant thought that each thing was going right, and he went from the house one day.
Then Upright John said, “It is time to go,” and he took the falcon. But when he opened the door and the falcon saw sunlight, she spread her wings to fly, and the point of one of the feathers on one of her wings touched one of the posts of the door, and the post let loose a screech.
The Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles came home running, and caught Upright John and took the falcon from him.
“I would not give you my Blue Falcon,” said the giant, “unless you could get for me the White Sword of Light that the Seven Big Women of Jura keep.”
And the giant sent Upright John away.
John went out again, travelling the waste, and the Foxy Lad met with him, and he said, “You are sad, Upright John. You did not, and you will not, as I told you. Bad is the night on which you have come. I have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, but they must do.”
They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king’s son, “I shall grow into a ship and take you over the sea to Jura.
“And my advice to you,” said the Foxy Lad, “is that you say to the Big Women that you will be their polishing-lad, and that you are good at brightening iron and steel, gold and silver, at burnishing and at making all things gleam. Be nimble. Do every job with exceeding care. Then, when they trust you with the White Sword of Light, run away with it: but see that the sheath touches no part that is of the inside of where the Big Women live, or your matter will not go well with you.”
“I shall do all those things,” said Upright John.
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and they sailed across and came to shore at the Rock of the Flea on the north side of Jura, and Upright John went to take service with the Seven Big Women there.
He struck at the door. The Seven Big Women came out and asked him what he wanted.
“I have come to find if you need a polishing-lad,” said John.
“What can you polish?” said they.
“I brighten, make clear shining, gold and silver, or iron, or steel,” said John.
They said, “We have a use for you,” and they set wages on him.
He was nimble for six weeks, and put everything in exceeding order; and the Big Women said to each other, “This is the best lad we have ever had.” Then they said, “We can trust him with the White Sword of Light.”
They gave the White Sword of Light to Upright John, and he took exceeding care of it until one day that the Seven Big Women of Jura were not in the house, and he thought that then was the time for him to run.
He put the White Sword of Light into the sheath, and lifted it on his shoulder; but when he went out of the door, the point touched the lintel, and the lintel let loose a screech.
The Seven Big Women of Jura came home running, and caught Upright John and took the White Sword of Light from him.
“We would not give you our White Sword of Light,” said the Big Women, “unless you could get for us the Yellow Horse of the King of Irrua.”
John went out again to the shore, and the Foxy Lad met with him, and he said, “You are sad, Upright John. You did not, and you will not, as I told you. Bad is the night on which you have come. I have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, but they must do.”
They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king’s son, “I shall grow into a ship and take you over the sea to Irrua.
“And my advice to you,” said the Foxy Lad, “is that you go to the house of the king and ask to be a stabling-lad to him. Be nimble. Do every job with exceeding care, and keep the horses and the harness in exceeding order, till the king trusts the Yellow Horse to you. And when there is the chance, run away: but take care that no morsel of the horse touches anything that is on the inner side of the gate but the hooves of its feet, or your matter will not go well with you.”
“I shall do all those things,” said Upright John.
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and they sailed across to Irrua.
John went to the king’s house. He struck at the door.
“Where are you going?” said the gatekeeper.
“To see if the king has need of a stabling-lad,” said John.
The king came out and said, “What can you do?”
“I clean and feed horses,” said John, “and I shine tackle.”
“I have a use for you,” said the king, and he set wages on him, and John went to the stable, and he put each thing in exceeding order and took exceeding care of the horses, and fed them, kept their hides clean and sleek, and he was nimble with the tackle.
The king said, “This is the best stabling-lad I have ever known. I can trust the Yellow Horse to him.”
The king gave the Yellow Horse to John for him to look after, and he looked after her until she was so sleek and slippery, and so swift, that she would leave the one wind and catch the other.
Then the king went hunting one day, and Upright John thought that was the time to steal the Yellow Horse. He set her with a bridle and saddle and all that belonged to her, and when he led her out of the stable and was taking her through the gate, she gave a switch of her tail, and a hair of it touched the post of the gate, and the gate let loose a screech.
The king came home running, and caught Upright John and took the Yellow Horse from him.
“I would not give you my Yellow Horse,” said the king, “unless you could get for me the Daughter of the King of the Frang.”
John went out again to the shore, and the Foxy Lad met with him, and he said, “You are sad, Upright John. You did not, and you will not, as I told you. Bad is the night on which you have come. I have only a trotter and a sheep’s cheek, but they must do.”
They blew a fire heap, and they roasted flesh and ate the trotter and the sheep’s cheek. And the next morning the Foxy Lad said to the king’s son, “I shall grow into a ship and take you over the sea to the Frang.”
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and they sailed across to the Frang.
The Foxy Lad ran himself high up the face of a rock, on dry dried land, and he said to John, “Go to the king’s house and ask for help, and say that your steersman has been lost in a storm and the ship thrown on shore.”
John went to the king’s house. He struck at the door.
“What are you doing here?” said the king.
“A storm came upon me,” said Upright John, “and my steersman was lost, and the ship has been thrown on shore and is there now, driven up the face of a rock by the waves, and I have not the strength to get her down.”
The king and the queen, and the family together, went to see the ship. And when they looked at the ship, exceeding sweet music was heard in her.
There were tunes with wings,
Lullaby harps, gentle strings,
Songs between fiddles
That would set in sound lasting sleep
Wounded men and travailing women
Withering away for ever
With the piping of the music
The Foxy Lad did play.
And the Daughter of the King of the Frang went on the ship to watch the music, and Upright John went with her. And when they were in one part, the music was in another, and when they were in that other, it would be elsewhere, and when they were there, they heard it on the deck, and when they were on the deck, the ship was out on the ocean and making sea-hiding with the land.
The king’s daughter said, “Bad is the trick you have done me and bad the night on which you have come. Where will you take me now?”
“We are going,” said Upright John, “to give you as a wife to the King of Irrua; to get from him his Yellow Horse; to give that to the Seven Big Women of Jura; to get from them their White Sword of Light; to give that to the Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles; to get from him his Blue Falcon; to take her home to my stepmother, the Bad Straddling Queen, that I may be free from my crosses and my spells and the sick diseases of the year.”
“I had rather be as a wife to you,” said the Daughter of the King of the Frang.
When they came to shore in Irrua, the Foxy Lad put himself in the shape of the Daughter of the Sun, and he said to Upright John, “Leave the woman here till we come back, and I shall go with you to the King of Irrua; and I shall give him enough of a wifing.”
Upright John went with the Foxy Lad in the shape of the Daughter of the Sun, and when the king saw them he took out the Yellow Horse, put a golden saddle on her back, a silver bridle in her head, and gave her to John.
John rode the horse back to the Daughter of the King of the Frang, and they waited.
The King of Irrua and the Foxy Lad were married that same day, and when they went to their rest, the Foxy Lad gave a dark spring, and he did not leave a toothful of flesh between the back of the neck and the haunch of the King of Irrua that was not worried and wounded: and he ran to where Upright John and the Daughter of the King of the Frang were waiting.
“How did you get free?” said John.
“A man is kind to his life,” said the Foxy Lad.
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and he took them all to Jura.
They landed at the Rock of the Flea on the north side of Jura, and the Foxy Lad said to Upright John, “Leave the king’s daughter and the Yellow Horse here till we come back, and I shall go with you to the Big Women, and I shall give them enough of a horsing.”
The Foxy Lad went into the shape of a yellow horse, Upright John put the golden saddle on his back, and the silver bridle in his head, and they went to the house of the Seven Big Women of Jura.
When they saw John, the Big Women came to meet him, and they gave him the White Sword of Light.
John took the saddle off the back of the Foxy Lad and the bridle out of his head, and he left him with the Big Women and went away. The Big Women put a saddle on the Foxy Lad, and bridled his head, and one of them went up on his back to ride him. Another went on the back of that one, and another on the back of that one, and there was always room for another one there, till one after one the Seven Big Women of Jura went up on the back of the Foxy Lad, thinking that they had got the Yellow Horse of Irrua.
One of them gave a blow of a rod to the Foxy Lad: and if she gave, he ran.
He charged with them through the mountain moors, singing iolla, bounding high to the tops, moving his front to the crag, and he put his two forefeet to the crag, and he threw his rump end on high, and the Seven Big Women went into the air and over the Paps of Jura.
The Foxy Lad ran away laughing to where Upright John and the king’s daughter were waiting with the Yellow Horse and the White Sword of Light.
“How did you get free?” said John.
“A man is kind to his life,” said the Foxy Lad.
The Foxy Lad grew into a ship, and he took them all to the mainland.
When they had landed, the Foxy Lad said, “Leave the king’s daughter here with the Yellow Horse and the White Sword of Light, and take me to the giant, and I shall give him enough of a blading.”
The Foxy Lad put himself into the shape of a sword, and Upright John took him to the giant. And when the Giant of the Five Heads, the Five Humps and the Five Throttles saw them coming, he put the Blue Falcon in a basket and gave it to John.
John went back to the king’s daughter, and the Foxy Lad came running.
“How did you get free?” said John.
“Ho! Huth!” said the Foxy Lad. “A man is kind to his life, but I was in the giant’s hand when he began at fencing and slashing, and, ‘I shall cut this oak tree,’ said he, ‘at one blow, which my father cut two hundred years before now with the same sword.’ And he gripped me and swung me, and with the first blow he cut the tree all but a small bit of bark; and the second blow I bent on myself and swept the five heads the five humps and the five throttles off him. And there is not a tooth in the door of my mouth left unbroken for sake of that filth of a blue marvellous bird!”
“What shall be done to your teeth?” said John.
“There is no help for it,” said the Foxy Lad. “So put the saddle of gold on the Yellow Horse, and the silver bridle in her head, and go you yourself riding there, and take the Daughter of the King of the Frang behind you, and the White Sword of Light with its back against your nose. And if you do not go in that way, when your stepmother sees you, she has an eye so evil that you will fall a faggot of firewood. But if the back of the sword is against your nose, and its edge to the Bad Straddling Queen, she will split her glance and fall herself as sticks.”
Upright John did as the Foxy Lad told him. And when he came in sight of the castle, his stepmother, with one foot on the castle and the other on the hall, her front to the face of the tempest, looked at him with an evil eye. But she split her glance on the edge of the White Sword of Light, and she fell as sticks.
Upright John set fire to the sticks, burnt the Bad Straddling Queen, and was free of fear.
He said to the Foxy Lad, “I have got the best wife of the world; the horse that will leave the one wind and catch the other; the falcon that will fetch me game; the sword that will keep off each foe; and I am free of fear.
“And you, you Lad of March, have been my dearest friend since we were on the time of one trotter and a sheep’s cheek. Go now for ever through my ground. No arrow will be let at you. No trap will be set for you. Take any beast to take with you. Go now through my ground for ever.”
“Keep your herds and your flocks to yourself,” said the Foxy Lad. “There is many a one who has trotters and sheep as well as you. I shall get flesh without coming to put trouble here. Peace on you, and my blessing, blessing, blessing, Upright John.”
He went away. The tale was spent.
Rascally Tag (#ulink_f1a86ebb-8cd2-57c1-85ee-48ae4996c01d)
There was a king, and his name was Donald. And in the kingdom there was a poor fisherman, who had a son, and the son took school and learning.
The boy said to his father, “Father, it is time for me to be doing for myself to be a Champion.” So he picked sixteen apples from the garden and threw an apple out into the sea, and he gave a step on it. He threw the next one, and he gave a step on it. He threw one after one, until he came to the last, and the last apple brought him on land again.
When he was on land again he shook his ears, and he thought that it was in no sorry place he would stay.
So he moved as a wave from a wave
And marbles from marbles,
As a wild winter wind,
Sightly and swiftly singing
Right proudly,
Through glens and high tops
And made no stops
Till he came to the city
And court of Donald,
And gave three hops
Over turrets and tops
Of court and of city
Of Donald.
And Donald took much anger and rage that such an unseemly ill stripling should come into the town, with two shoulders through his coat, two ears through his hat, his two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of his sword sideways on the side of his haunch, after the scabbard had ended.
“I will not believe,” said the Champion, “but that you are taking anger and rage, King Donald.”
“Well, then, I am,” said Donald, “if I did but know at what I should be angry.”
“Good king,” said the Champion. “Coming in was no harder than going out would be.”
“You are not going out,” said Donald, “till you tell me where you came from, with two shoulders through your coat, two ears through your hat, two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of sword sideways on the side of your haunch, after the scabbard has ended.”
And the Champion said:
“I come from hurry and skurry,
From the end of endless Spring,
From the loved, swanny glen:
A night in Chester and a night in Man,
A night on cold watching cairns.
On the face of mountains
In the English land
Was I born.
A slim, swarthy Champion am I,
Though I happened upon this town.”
“What,” said Donald, “can you do, o Champion? Surely, with all the distance you have travelled, you can do something.”
“I was once,” said he, “that I could play a harp.”
“Well, then,” said Donald, “it is I myself that have got the best harpers in the five fifths of the world.”
“Let’s hear them playing,” said the Champion.
The harpers played.
They played tunes with wings,
Trampling things, tightened strings,
Warriors, heroes, and ghosts on their feet,
Goblins and spectres, sickness and fever,
They set in sound lasting sleep
The whole great world
With the sweetness of the calming tunes
That those harpers could play.
The music did not please the Champion. He caught the harps, and he crushed them under his feet, and he set them on the fire, and made himself a warming, and a sound warming, at them.
Donald took lofty rage that a man had come into his court who should do the like of this to the harps.
“My good man, Donald,” said the slim, swarthy Champion, “I will not believe but that you are taking anger.”
“Well, then, I am,” said Donald, “if I did but know at what I should be angry.”
“It was no harder for me to break your harps than to make them again,” said the Champion. And he seized the fill of his two palms of the ashes, and squeezed them, and made all the harpers their harps and a great harp for himself.
“Let us hear your music,” said Donald. The Champion began to play.
He could play tunes with wings,
Trampling things, tightened strings,
Warriors, heroes, and ghosts on their feet,
Goblins and spectres, sickness and fever,
That set in sound lasting sleep
The whole great world
With the sweetness of the calming tunes
That Champion could play.
“You are melodious, o Champion,” said the king. And he and his harpers took anger and rage that such an unseemly stripling, with two shoulders through his coat, two ears through his hat, two squat kickering tattery shoes full of cold roadwayish water, three feet of his sword sideways on the side of his haunch, after the scabbard was ended, should come to the town and play music as well as they.
“I am going,” said the Champion.
“If you should stir,” said the king, “I should make a sharp sour shrinking for you with this plough in my hand.”
The Champion leapt on the point of his pins, and he went over top and turret of court and city of Donald.
And Donald threw the plough that was in his hand, and he slew four and then twenty of his own people.
Well, what should the Champion meet but the tracking-lad of Donald, and he said to him, “Here’s a little grey weed for you. And go in and rub it on the mouths of the four and then the twenty that were killed by the plough, and bring them back alive again, and earn for yourself from King Donald twenty calving cows. And look behind you when you part from me.”
And when the tracking-lad did this, and looked, he saw the slim, swarthy Champion thirteen miles off on a hillside already.
He moved as a wave from a wave
And marbles from marbles,
As a wild winter wind,
Sightly and swiftly singing
Right proudly,
Through glens and high tops
And made no stops
Until he reached the town
Of John, the South Earl.
He struck the latch. Said John, the South Earl, “Who’s that in the door?”
“I am Dust, son of Dust,” said the Champion.
“Let in Dust of Dust,” said John, the South Earl. “No one must be in my door without entering.”
They let him in.
“What can you do, Dust of Dust?” said the South Earl.
“There was a time when I could play a juggle,” said the Champion.
“What is the trick you can do, Dust of Dust?” said the South Earl.
“Well,” said the Champion, “There was a time when I could put three straws on the back of my fist and blow them off.”
And he put three straws on the back of his fist, and blew them off.
“Well,” said the Earl’s big son, “if that is a juggle, then I can do no worse than you.”
“Do so,” said the Champion.
And the big son of the South Earl put three straws on his fist, and the Champion blew them off, and the fist with them.
“You are sore, and you will be sore,” said the Earl. “My blessing on the hand that hurt you. And what is the next trick you can do, Dust of Dust?”
“I will do other juggles for you,” said the Champion. And he took hold of his own ear, and lifted it from his cheek, bobbed it on the ground and back again.
“I could do that,” said the middle son of the Earl.
“I shall do it for you,” said the Champion. And he gave a pull at the son’s ear, and the head came away with it.
“I see that the juggling of this night is with you,” said John, the South Earl.
Then the Champion went and set a great ladder against the moon, and in one part of it he put a hound and a hare, and in another part of it he put a man and a woman. And they are alive there till now.
“That is a great trick,” said the Earl.
“And I can not do that trick,” said the Earl’s little son.
“It is a great trick and a juggle,” said the Champion, “and it is not you that can do it.”
“Then what will you do now?” said the Earl.
“I am going away,” said the Champion.
“You will not leave my set of sons,” said the Earl.
But the Champion leapt on the point of his pins, and he went over turret and top of court and town, till he met a man threshing in a barn.
“I will make you a free man for your life,” said the Champion. “There are two of your master’s sons, one with his fist off, one with his head off. Go there and put them on again.”
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Alan Garner
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Детская фантастика
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The much-loved classic, finally in ebook.In ′The Lad of the Gad′ Alan Garner has reworked five stories from the Gaelic layers of British folktale.Folk and fairy tales have not always been relegated to children, and older readers will appreciate Garner′s ability to give these stories a new vitality for our time.