‘Quick! quick!’ cried the horse, and the king scrambled hastily through the small window, and leapt into the saddle.
‘He has heard and he will follow,’ said the horse; ‘but we have a good start,’ And on they sped, on and on, leaving the winds behind them.
At length the horse slackened its pace. ‘Look and see who is behind you,’ it said; and the young man looked.
‘I see a swarm of brown horses racing madly after us,’ he answered.
‘We are swifter than those,’ said the horse, and flew on again.
‘Look again, O king! Is anyone coming now?’
‘A swarm of black horses, and one has a white face, and on that horse a man is seated. He is the king of the oak windows.’
‘That is my brother, and swifter still than I,’ said the horse, ‘and he will fly past me with a rush. Then you must have your sword ready, and take off the head of the man who sits on him, as he turns and looks at you. And there is no sword in the world that will cut off his head, save only that one.’
‘I will do it,’ replied the king; and he listened with all his might, till he judged that the white-faced horse was close to him. Then he sat up very straight and made ready.
The next moment there was a rushing noise as of a mighty tempest, and the young man caught a glimpse of a face turned towards him. Almost blindly he struck, not knowing whether he had killed or only wounded the rider. But the head rolled off, and was caught in the brown horse’s mouth.
‘Jump on my brother, the black horse, and go home as fast as you can, and I will follow as quickly as I may,’ cried the brown horse; and leaping forward the king alighted on the back of the black horse, but so near the tail that he almost fell off again. But he stretched out his arm and clutched wildly at the mane and pulled himself into the saddle.
Before the sky was streaked with red he was at home again, and the queen was sitting waiting till he arrived, for sleep was far from her eyes. Glad was she to see him enter, but she said little, only took her harp and sang softly the songs which he loved, till he went to bed, soothed and happy.
It was broad day when he woke, and he sprang up saying:
‘Now I must go to the Gruagach, to find out if the spells he laid on me are loose.’
‘Have a care,’ answered the queen, ‘for it is not with a smile as on the other days that he will greet you. Furiously he will meet you, and will ask you in his wrath if you have got the sword, and you will reply that you have got it. Next he will want to know how you got it, and to this you must say that but for the knob you had not got it at all. Then he will raise his head to look at the knob, and you must stab him in the mole which is on the right side of his neck; but take heed, for if you miss the mole with the point of the sword, then my death and your death are certain. He is brother to the king of the oak windows, and sure will he be that the king must be head, or the sword would not be in your hands.’ After that she kissed him, and bade him good speed.
‘Didst thou get the sword?’ asked the Gruagach, when they met in the usual place.
‘I got the sword.’
‘And how didst thou get it?’
‘If it had not had a knob on the top, then I had not got it,’ answered the king.
‘Give me the sword to look at,’ said the Gruagach, peering forward; but like a flash the king had drawn it from under his nose and pierced the mole, so that the Gruagach rolled over on the ground.
‘Now I shall be at peace,’ thought the king. But he was wrong, for when he reached home he found his servants tied together back to back with cloths bound round their mouths, so that they could not speak. He hastened to set them free, and he asked who had treated them in so evil a manner.
‘No sooner had you gone than a great giant came, and dealt with us as you see, and carried off your wife and your two horses,’ said the men.
‘Then my eyes will not close nor will my head lay itself down till I fetch my wife and horses home again,’ answered he, and he stopped and noted the tracks of the horses on the grass, and followed after them till he arrived at the wood, when the darkness fell.
‘I will sleep here,’ he said to himself, ‘but first I will make a fire,’ And he gathered together some twigs that were lying about, and then took two dry sticks and rubbed them together till the fire came, and he sat by it.
The twigs cracked and the flame blazed up, and a slim yellow dog pushed through the bushes and laid his head on the king’s knee, and the king stroked his head.
‘Wuf, wuf,’ said the dog. ‘Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when the giant drove them last night through the forest.’
‘That is why I have come,’ answered the king; and suddenly his heart seemed to fail him and he felt that he could not go on.
‘I cannot fight that giant,’ he cried, looking at the dog with a white face. ‘I am afraid, let me turn homewards.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ replied the dog. ‘Eat and sleep, and I will watch over you.’ So the king ate and lay down, and slept till the sun waked him.
‘It is time for you to start on your way,’ said the dog, ‘and if danger presses, call on me, and I will help you.’
‘Farewell, then,’ answered the king; ‘I will not forget that promise,’ and on he went, and on, and on, till he reached a tall cliff with many sticks lying about.
‘It is almost night,’ he thought; ‘I will make a fire and rest,’ and thus he did, and when the flames blazed up, the hoary hawk of the grey rock flew on to a bough above him.
‘Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when they passed here with the giant,’ said the hawk.
‘Never shall I find them,’ answered the king, ‘and nothing shall I get for all my trouble.’
‘Oh, take heart,’ replied the hawk; ‘things are never so bad but what they might be worse. Eat and sleep and I will watch thee,’ and the king did as he was bidden by the hawk, and by the morning he felt brave again.
‘Farewell,’ said the bird, ‘and if danger presses call to me, and I will help you.’
On he walked, and on and on, till as dusk was falling he came to a great river, and on the bank there were sticks lying about.
‘I will make myself a fire,’ he thought, and thus he did, and by and bye a smooth brown head peered at him from the water, and a long body followed it.
‘Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when they passed the river last night,’ said the otter.
‘I have sought them and not found them,’ answered the king, ‘and nought shall I get for my trouble.’
‘Be not so downcast,’ replied the otter; ‘before noon to-morrow thou shalt behold thy wife. But eat and sleep and I will watch over thee.’ So the king did as the otter bid him, and when the sun rose he woke and saw the otter lying on the bank.
‘Farewell,’ cried the otter as he jumped into the water, ‘and if danger presses, call to me and I will help you.’
For many hours the king walked, and at length he reached a high rock, which was rent into two by a great earthquake. Throwing himself on the ground he looked over the side, and right at the very bottom he saw his wife and his horses. His