The King of the Land of Mist

I

THE King of Ireland's Son came to the place where the river that he followed takes the name of the River of the Broken Towers. It is called by that name because the men of the old days tried to build towers across its course. The towers were built a little way across the river that at this place was tremendously wide.

"The Glashan will carry you across the River of the Broken Towers to the shore of the Land of Mist," the Gobaun Saor had said to the King of Ireland's Son. And now he was at the River of the Broken Towers but the Glashan-creature was not to be seen.

Then he saw the Glashan. He was leaning his back against one of the Towers and smoking a short pipe. The water of the river was up to his knees. He was covered with hair and had a big head with horse's ears. And the Glashan twitched his horse's ears as he smoked in great contentment.

"Glashan, come here," said the King of Ireland's Son.

But the Glashan gave him no heed at all.

"I want you to carry me across the River of the Broken Towers," shouted the King of Ireland's Son.

The Glashan went on smoking and twisting his ears. And the King of Ireland's Son might have known that the whole clan of the Gruagachs and Glashans are fond of their own ease and will do nothing if they can help it. He twitched his ears more sharply when the King's Son threw a pebble at him. Then after about three hours he came slowly across the river. From his big knees down he had horse's feet.

"Take me on your big shoulders, Glashan," said the King of Ireland's Son, "and carry me across to the shore of the Land of Mist."

"Not carrying any more across," said the Glashan.

The King of Ireland's Son drew the Sword of Light and flashed it.

"Oh, if you have that, you'll have to be carried across," said the Glashan. "But wait until I rest myself."

"What did you do that you should rest?" said the King of Ireland's Son. "Take me on your shoulders and start off."

"Musha," said the Glashan, "aren't you very anxious to lose your life?"

"Take me on your shoulders."

"Well, come then. You're not the first living dead man I carried across." The Glashan put his pipe into his ear. The King of Ireland's Son mounted his shoulders and laid hold of his thick mane. Then the Glashan put his horse's legs into the water and started to cross the River of the Broken Towers.