There was a very rich man once who lived near Brandon Bay, and his name was Breogan.

This Breogan had a deal of fine land, and was well liked by all people who knew him. One morning as he was walking on the strand for himself, he found, above the highest tide, a little colt, barely the size of a goat; and a very nice colt he was.

“Oh, what a beautiful little beast!” said Breogan; “he doesn’t belong to any one in this country. He is not mine; but still and all I’ll take him. If an owner comes the way, sure he can prove his claim, if he is able.”

Breogan carried the colt to the stable, and fed him as well as any beast that he had. The colt was thriving well; and when twelve months were passed, it was a pleasure to look at him. Breogan put him in a stable by himself after that, and kept him three years. At the end of the third year, it isn’t a little colt he was, but a grand, fiery steed. Breogan invited all his friends and neighbors to a feast and a great merrymaking. “This will be a good time,” thought he, “to find a man to ride the strange colt.”

There was a splendid race-course on the seashore. The appointed day came, and all the people were assembled. The horse was brought out, bridled and saddled, and led to the strand. The place was so crowded that a pin falling from the sky would not fall on any place but the head of some person old or young, some man, woman, or child that was there at the festival.

For three days the women of the village were cooking food for all that would come; there was enough ready, and to spare. Breogan strove to come at a man who would ride the horse; but not a man could he find. The horse was so fiery that all were in dread of him.

Not to spoil sport for the people, Breogan made up his mind to ride himself. As soon as the man mounted, and was firm in the saddle, the horse stood on his hind-legs, rose with a leap in the air, and away with him faster than any wind, first over the land, and then over the sea. The horse never stopped till he came down on his fore-feet in Breasil, which is a part of Tir nan Og (the Land of the Young).

Breogan found himself now in the finest country man could set eyes on. He rode forward, looking on all sides with delight and pleasure, till out before him he saw a grand castle, and a beautiful gate in front of it, and the gate partly open.

“Well,” thought he, “I’ll go in here for a bit, to know are there people living inside.” With that he tied the bridle to one of the bars of the gate, and left the horse, thinking to come back in a short time. He went to the door of the castle, and knocked on it. A woman came and opened the door to him.

“Oh, then, a hundred thousand welcomes to you, Breogan from Brandon,” said she.

He thanked her, and was greatly surprised when he heard her calling him by name. She brought him then to a parlor; and, though he had fine rooms in his own house, he hardly knew at first how to sit in this parlor, it was that grand and splendid. He wasn’t long sitting, when who should come in but a young woman, a beauty; the like of her he had never seen before in his life. She was first in every way, in good looks as well as in manners. She sat down at his side, and welcomed him.

Breogan remained in the castle a few hours, eating, drinking, talking, and enjoying himself. At long last he thought, “I must be going;” and then he said so.

The first woman laughed. “Well, now, my good friend,” said she, “of all the men that ever came to this place,—and it’s many a man that came here in my time,—there never was a worse man to care for his horse than what you are. Your poor beast is tied to a bar of the gate outside since you came, and you have never as much as thought that he was dry or hungry; and if I had not thought of him, it’s in a bad state he’d be now. How long do you think you are in this castle?”

“Oh, then, I am about seven hours in it.”

“You are in this country just seven years,” said the woman. “The beauty and comfort of this Land of the Young is so great that the life of twelve months seems the length of one hour in another place.”

“If I am here that long, I must be going this minute,” said Breogan.

“Well,” said the woman, “if you are going, I must ask you one question. There will be a child in this castle; and as you are the father, ’tis you that should name it. Now what will the name be?”

“If ’tis a son, you’ll call him Shawn, the son of Breogan, from Brandon in Erin. You’ll rear him for seven years. At the end of that time give him your blessing and the means of making a journey to Erin. Tell him who I am; and if he is anything of a hero, he’ll not fail to make me out.”

Breogan left his blessing with the women, went to the gate, and found his horse standing there, tied in the same way that he left him. He untied the beast, mounted, and away through the air with him, leaving Breasil behind, and never stopped nor halted till he came down about a mile from his own house, near Brandon, exactly seven years from the day that he left it. Seeing on the strand a great number of people, he wondered why they were in it, and what brought them together. A large, fine-looking man was passing the way, and Breogan called out to him: “What are these people all doing that I see on the strand?” asked he.

“You must be a stranger,” said the man, “not to know what these people are here for.”

“I am no stranger,” said Breogan; “but I went out of the country a few years before this, and while I was gone there were changes.”

“If a man leaves his own country for a short time itself,” said the other, “he will find things changed when he comes again to it. I will tell you why these people are here. We had in this place a fine master, and it’s good and kind he was to us. He went out to the strand one day, walking, and found a little colt above the high tide. He took the colt home, reared and fed him three years. Then this man gathered the people to give them a feast, and to know could he find some one to ride the horse. When no one would venture, he mounted himself; and all saw how the horse rose in the air, made a leap over the harbor, and then away out of sight. We think that he fell, and was drowned in the sea; for neither Breogan nor the horse was seen ever after. We are sorry for the man, because he was kind to us; but ’tis equal what became of the horse. After waiting seven years, Breogan’s wife is to be married this evening to some great man from the North. We don’t know what kind is he. He may destroy us, or drive us out of our houses.”

Breogan thanked the man for his words, and hurried on toward his own house. The servants saw him coming, knew him, and cried, “Here comes the master!” and there was a great stir up and down in the house. Next minute the wife heard the news; and out she ran to meet her husband. Any man would think she was glad to see Breogan. “Why are all the people here to-day?” asked he of the wife.

“And was not it this day seven years that you put the country behind you, wherever you went? You left dinner here ready; and the dinner is in the same state it was the day you went away from me. I thought it better to send for the people again, and eat the dinner in memory of you that prepared it.”

The husband said nothing. The people ate the dinner; and every man, woman, and child went home satisfied.

At the end of another seven years, Breogan made a great dinner again. All was ready; a great crowd of people were present. The day being fine, you could see far in every direction.

“Look, now,” said Breogan, to one of his men who had very good eyesight. “Look out toward the water, to know can you see any one coming. Seven years ago to-day, I came home from Breasil, in the Land of the Young; and my son, if I have one, is to be here to-day. He ought to be coming by this time.”

The man looked out as well as he could. “I see a boat with one mast coming toward us,” said he; “and it’s sailing faster than any boat I have ever set eyes on. In the boat I can see only one young man; and very young he is too.”

“Oh, that is he,” said Breogan.

The boat came in at full sail; and it wasn’t long till the youth was standing before his father. “Who are you?” asked Breogan.

“My name is Shawn MacBreogan.”

“If that is your name, sit down here at dinner; for you are my son.”

When the feast was over, the people went home. When Breogan’s wife found out who the boy was, she wouldn’t give the breadth of a ha’penny piece of his body for a fortune, she was that fond of him.

Things went on well till one day when Breogan and his son were out hunting. The day being warm, they sat down to rest; and the son said to the father, “Since I came to you in Erin, you seem vexed in yourself. I have not asked what trouble is on you, or is there anything amiss with you.”

“All things are well with me but one thing,” said Breogan. “There is some understanding between my wife and a man in the north of Erin. I’m in dread of my life; for while I was in Breasil she saw this man, and the day I came home they were going to be married. Since then I have not slept soundly in bed; for messages are passing between them.”

“Very well, father, I’ll put an end to that soon,” said Shawn. He rose on the following morning, caught his hurley in his right hand, and his ball in the left. He threw up the ball, then struck it with the hurley, and was driving it that way before him till he reached the north of Erin, and never let his ball touch the ground even one time. He inquired for his father’s opponent. When he found out the house, he knocked at the door. “Is your master inside?” asked he.

“He is,” said the servant.

“Go,” said Shawn, “and tell him that I want him, and not to delay, as I must be at dinner in Brandon this evening.”

The master of the house came out, and, seeing a boy there before him, thought it strange that he should speak rudely to a man like himself. “If you don’t beg my pardon this minute, I’ll take the head off you,” said the man.

“Well,” said Shawn, “I am not here to beg pardon of you nor of any man; but I came to have satisfaction for the trouble you put on my father, and I far away from him.”

“Who is your father?”

“My father is Breogan of Brandon.”

Out the man went; and the two stood on a fine green plain, and began to fight with swords, cutting each other’s flesh. They were not long at the swords when Shawn said, “It is getting late, and I must be at home before dinner to-day, as I promised; there is no use in delaying.” With that he rose out of his body, and gave the man a blow between the head and shoulders that put the head a mile from the body. Shawn caught the head before it touched earth; then, grasping it by the hair, he left the body where it fell, took his hurley in his right hand, threw his ball in the air, and drove it far to the south with the hurley; and he drove it across Erin in that way, the ball never touching ground from the far north of Erin to Brandon. Holding the ball and hurley in his hand, he went into the house, and laid the head at his father’s feet.

“Now, my dear father,” said he, “here is the head of your enemy; he’ll trouble you no more from this out.”

When Breogan’s wife saw the head, she was cut to the heart and troubled; though she would not let any man know it. One day when the father and son came home from killing ducks, she was groaning, and said she was ready to die.

“Is there any cure for you here or there in the world?” asked Shawn.

“There is no getting the cure that would heal me; there is no cure but three apples from the white orchard in the White Nation.”

“Well,” said the boy, “I promise you not to eat the third meal at the one table, nor sleep the second night in the one bed, till I get three apples from the White Nation.”

The father was very angry when they came out of the bed-room. “Sure,” said he, “it would be enough for you to risk your life for your own mother.”

“Well, I must go now,” said Shawn; “the promise is given; I’ll not break my word.” So away with him on the following morning; and on that day’s journey he came to a glen, and in it a house. In the house there was no living creature but a white mare with nine eyes.

“A hundred thousand welcomes to you, Shawn MacBreogan from Brandon. You must be tired and hungry after the day’s journey,” cried the mare. “Go in now to the next room, and take supper, and strengthen yourself.”

He went to the next room, and inside in it was a table, and on the table was everything that the best king could wish for. He ate, drank, and went then and gave a hundred thousand thanks for the supper. He stood near the fire for a while; then the mare said, “Come here, and lie under my head; wonder at nothing you see, and let no word out of you.”

He did as the mare said. About dusk three seals came in, and went to the supper-room. They threw off their sealskins, and became three as fine young men as one could look at.

“I wish Shawn MacBreogan from Brandon were here to-night. I’d be glad to see him, and give him a present, and have his good company,” said one of the three.

“I’d be glad to see him, too,” said the second; “and I’d give him a present.”

“So would I,” said the third.

“Go to them now,” said the mare; “enjoy their company. In the morning you’ll ask for the presents.”

He went out among them.

“A hundred thousand welcomes to you, Shawn MacBreogan,” cried the young men; “and ’tis glad we are to see you.”

They drank wine then, sang songs, and told tales, and never slept a wink all the night. Before sunrise they went as seals; and when going Shawn said,“I hope you will not forget the presents you promised last evening.”

“We will not,” said the eldest. “Here is a cloak for you. While it is on you, you’ll be the finest man in the world to look at.”

“Here is a ball,” said the second. “If you throw it in the air, and wish for anything you like, you will have it before the ball comes to the ground.”

The third gave a whistle: “When you blow this,” said he, “every enemy that hears it will lie down asleep, and be powerless; and, besides, you’re to have the white mare to ride.”

He took the gifts.

“Give me a feed of grain before we start,” said the mare. “No man has sat on me without being turned into froth and blown away, or else thrown and killed. This will not happen to you; still I must throw you three times: but I’ll take you to a soft place where you’ll not be killed.”

Shawn mounted her then, and she tossed him. She threw him very far the first time. He was badly shocked, but recovered. The second and third times it was easier. The fourth time he mounted for the journey. It was not long till he came to the seashore. On the third day he was in sight of land in the White Nation. The mare ran over the water and swiftly, without trouble; no bird ever went with such speed.

When Shawn came near the castle, he stopped before a house at the edge of the town, and asked a lodging of the owner, an old man.

“I’ll give you that,” said the old man, “and welcome, and a place for your horse.” After supper Shawn told his errand.

“I pity you,” said the man. “I am in dread you’ll lose your life; but I’ll do what I can for you. No man has ever been able to get one of those apples; and if a stranger is caught making up to them, the king takes his head without mercy or pardon. There is no kind of savage beast in the world but is guarding the apples; and there is not a minute in the night or the day when some of the beasts are not watching.”

“Do you know what virtue is in the apples?” asked Shawn.

“I do well,” said the old man; “and it’s I that would like to have one of them. If a man is sick, and eats even one bite of an apple, he’ll be well; if old, he’ll grow young again, and never know grief from that out; he will always be happy and healthy. I’ll give you a pigeon to let loose in the orchard; she will go flying from one tree to another till she goes to the last one. All the beasts will follow her; and while they are hunting the pigeon, you will take what you can of the apples: but I hope you will not think it too much to give one to me.”

“Never fear,” said Shawn, “if I get one apple, you’ll have the half of it; if two, you’ll have one of them.”

The old man was glad. Next morning at daybreak Shawn took the pigeon, mounted the mare, and away with him then to the orchard. When the pigeon flew in, and was going from tree to tree with a flutter, the beasts started after her. Shawn sprang in on the back of the mare, left her, and went to climb the first tree that he met for the apples; but the king’s men were at him before he could touch a single apple, or go back to the mare. They caught him, and took him to the king. The mare sprang over the wall, and ran to the house of the old man. Shawn told the king his whole story, said that his father was Breogan of Brandon, and his mother the Princess of Breasil in the Land of the Young.

“Oh,” said the king, “you are the hero that I am waiting for this long time. A fine part of my kingdom is that island beyond; but ’tis taken by a giant who holds it with an army of hirelings. Clear that island of the giant and his men, bring me his head, and you’ll have the apples.”

Shawn went to the old man, then to the mare, and told her.

“You can do that without trouble,” said she; “you have the power needed to do it.”

Shawn took his breakfast, then sat on the mare, and rode toward the island. Just before the mare touched the land, Shawn sounded the whistle; and every one who heard it was asleep the next instant. Shawn took his sword then, swept the head off the giant, and before evening there wasn’t a man alive on the island except Shawn himself. He tied the giant’s head to the saddle-bow, mounted the mare, and was ready to start, when she spoke to him: “Be careful not to look back toward the island till you come down from my back.” With that she swept on, and soon they were nearing the castle. While crossing the yard, Shawn thought, “I have the island cleared; the head is safe on me; and the apples are mine.” With that he forgot the mare’s words, and turned to look back at the island; but as he did, he fell from the saddle, and where should he fall but down on a dust-heap. A son of the comb woman, a youth who fed dogs and small animals, was lying there at the time, and he sickly and full of sores. Shawn’s cloak slipped from his shoulders, and fell on this dirty, foul fellow; that moment he sprang up the finest-looking man in the kingdom. He fastened the cloak on his shoulders, mounted the white mare, and rode to the castle. The king was that glad when he looked at the head of the giant that he didn’t know where to put the counterfeit hero who brought it.

“How did you clear the island?” asked the king; “and was it a hard task to take the head off the giant?”

“Oh, then,” said the dog-feeder, “there was never such a battle in the world as the battle to-day on that island between myself and the giant with his forces; and ’tis well I earned what will come to me.”

“You’ll get good pay,” said the king; “I promised you apples from my white orchard; but I’ll give you more, I’ll give you my youngest daughter in marriage, and that island for her portion. My daughter will not be of age to marry for a year and a day. Till that time is out, you’ll live with me here in the castle.”

Believe me, the dog-feeder was a great man in his own mind that evening.

There was one woman in the yard who saw the deception, and that was the henwife. She knew well what the dog-feeder was, and ’tis often she said, “He’s the greatest liar on earth, and kind mother for him.” She drew Shawn into her own house, and he sick and full of sores, just like the dog-feeder, not a man in the world would have known him. She nursed and tended Shawn. On the sixth day he was able to speak; but he lay in great weakness, and covered with sores.

“How am I to be cured?” asked he of the henwife.

“I know,” answered she; “I spoke to a wise woman to-day, and got the right cure for you.” With that the henwife went down to a spring that belonged to the king’s youngest daughter, and pulled up nine rushes growing near it. Three of these she threw away, and kept six of them. She cut the white from the green parts, crushed them in water, gave Shawn some of the water to drink, and rubbed the rest on his body. A week was not gone, when he was as sound and well as ever.

Shawn heard now the whole story of the dog-feeder’s lies and prosperity. He took service himself in the castle; and a few days after that the king gave a hunt, and invited all the guests in the castle to go with him. Shawn had to go as a basket-boy, and carry provisions like any servant. Toward evening, when the company were on a wild moor twenty miles from the castle, a thick mist fell, and all were afraid that their lives would be gone from them.

“I can take you to a castle,” said Shawn.

“Take us,” said the king.

“I will if you will give me your daughter to marry.”

“She is promised to another,” said the king.

“I have the best right to her,” said Shawn. “It was I cleared the island.”

“I don’t believe you,” said the king.

“We’ll be lost, every man of us,” said the chief hunter; “give him the promise, he may be dead before the day of the wedding.”

The king gave his promise. The basket-boy stepped behind a great rock, threw up the ball, and wished for the finest castle on earth. Before the ball touched the ground the king, the guests, and attendants were in a castle far finer than any they had looked on in daylight or seen in a dream. The best food and drink of all kinds were in it, shining chambers and beds of silk and gold. When all had eaten and drunk their fill, they fell asleep to sweet music, and slept soundly till morning. At daybreak each man woke up, and found himself lying on the wild moor, a tuft of rushes under his head, and the gray sky above him. Glad to see light, they rose and went home.

Now the henwife told the king’s daughter the story of Shawn, who had cleared out the island, and the comb-woman’s son, the deceiver. When the year was ended, and the day came for the marriage, the king’s daughter said she would marry no man but the man who would ride the white mare with nine eyes (the mare could either kill or make froth of a man). The comb-woman’s son was the first man to mount; but the cloak fell from him, and he vanished in froth blown away by the wind, and no one saw sight of him from that day to this. Sixteen king’s sons tried to ride the white mare, and were killed every man of them; but their bodies were found. Shawn, who had taken the cloak, sat on the mare, and rode three times past the castle. At the door the mare knelt for him to come down.

The king’s daughter would have jumped through her window, and killed herself, if her maids had not held her. She rushed down the stairs, kissed Shawn, and embraced him. The wedding began then. It lasted for a day and a year, and the last was the best day of all.

When the wedding was over, Shawn remembered the mare, and went to the stable. She had not been fed, and a white skin was all that was left of her. When Shawn came to the mare’s place, three young men and two women were playing chess in it.

“Oh, I forgot the mare from the first day of the wedding till this moment,” said Shawn; and he began to cry.

“Why are you crying?” asked the elder of the two women.

He told the reason.

“You needn’t cry,” said the woman; “I can revive her.” With that she took the skin, put it on herself; and that minute she was the white mare. “Would you rather see me a white mare as I am now, or the woman that I was a minute ago?”

“The woman,” said Shawn.

She took off the skin, and was a woman again. She told him then how the king, her father, made three seals of her brothers and a white mare of herself, to be in those forms till a hero should come who could clear out the island. “You cleared the island,” said she; “and we are all free again.”

The king gave the island to his son-in-law, and as many apples from the orchard as he wished. The first thing that Shawn did was to take an apple to the old man who gave him lodgings when he came to the White Nation. At the first bite he swallowed, the old man was twenty-one years of age, young and hearty, and so happy that it would do any man good to have one look at him.

Shawn and his young wife lived another day and a year with her father, and then they went to visit his father in Brandon. From pretending to be sick, Breogan’s wife became sick in earnest, and died. Breogan himself was now old and dissatisfied.

“The least I can do,” thought Shawn, “is to give him an apple.” He gave him the apple. Breogan ate it, was twenty-one years of age; and if ever a man was glad in Erin, ’twas he was.

Shawn left the father young and happy at Brandon, and went back himself with his wife to the island.