Prevod

Long ago there was a man named Páidín O’Ceallaigh living near Tuam in County Galway. One morning he rose early, though he did not yet know what time it was, for the moon was shining brightly. He had to go to the fair at Cathair-na-Mart to sell a worn-out donkey.

He had travelled no more than three miles along the road when a great darkness came over him and heavy rain began to fall. He saw a large house among some trees, about five hundred yards from the road, and said to himself, “I’ll go to that house until the shower is over.” When he reached it, the door stood open, and in he went. He saw a large room on his left, with a fine fire burning in the hearth. He sat on a stool beside the wall, and before long he was beginning to doze when he saw a large weasel coming towards the fire. It laid a gold coin on the hearthstone and went away. Soon it returned with another coin, laid that on the hearthstone, and went away again. It kept coming and going until there was a great heap of gold. He had not gone far when he heard the weasel coming after him, shrieking as loudly as a set of pipes. It ran ahead of Páidín along the road, writhing this way and that and trying to get a grip on his throat. Páidín had a good oak stick and kept it off until two men came along. One of them had a good dog, which chased it into a hole in the wall.

Páidín went on to the fair, and instead of coming home with the money he got for his old donkey, as he had expected that morning, he bought a horse with some of the money he had taken from the weasel, and rode home. When he reached the place where the dog had driven the weasel into the hole, it sprang out before him, leaped up, and caught the horse by the throat. The horse began to run, and Páidín could not stop it until it jumped into a great ditch full of water and mud. It was rapidly drowning and choking when some men coming from the fair arrived and drove the weasel away.

Páidín brought the horse home, put it in the cow-house, and went to sleep. Early the next morning he rose and went out to give the horse water and hay. As he went out, he saw the weasel coming from the cow-house, covered in blood. “If you don’t leave me alone,” said the hag, “I am suffering from a deadly disease, and unless you go away at once you will catch it from me.”

While Páidín and the hag were talking, the dog kept edging in, until at last it sprang up and caught the hag by the throat. She screamed and said, “Take your dog off me, Páidín O’Ceallaigh, and I will make you a rich man.”

Páidín made the dog let go of her and said, “Tell me who you are, and why you killed my horse and my cows.”

“And why did you carry off the gold I had spent five hundred years gathering among the hills and valleys of the world?” “I thought you were a weasel,” said Páidín, “or I would not have touched your gold. Besides, if you have been in this world for five hundred years, it is time you went to your rest.”

“I committed a great crime in my youth, and I shall be released from my suffering if you can pay six pounds for a hundred and sixty Masses to be said for me.”

“Where is the money?” asked Páidín. “Go and dig beneath the hawthorn over the little well in the corner of that field outside, and you will find a pot full of gold. Pay the six pounds for the Masses, and keep the rest for yourself. When you lift the flagstone off the pot, you will see a great black dog coming out, but do not be afraid: he is my son. When you have the gold, buy the house where you first saw me. You will get it cheaply, for it has the name of being haunted. My son will still be there in the cellar. He will do you no harm, but will be a good friend to you. I shall be dead a month from today, and when you find me dead, set fire to the hut and burn it. Tell no living soul anything about me, and good fortune will be yours.”

“What is your name?” asked Páidín. “Máire Ní Chiardháin,” said the hag. Páidín went home, and when night fell he took a spade and went to the hawthorn in the corner of the field and began to dig. Before long he found the pot, and when he lifted the flagstone from it, the great black dog sprang out and raced away, with Páidín’s dog after him.

Páidín brought the gold home and hid it in the cow-house. About a month later he went to a fair in Galway and bought a pair of cows and a horse. People wondered where he had got the money. Some said he had dealings with the fairies.

One day Páidín dressed himself and went to the gentleman who owned the big house, and asked him to sell him the house and the land around it. “You may have the house rent-free, but it is haunted, and I would not like you to live there without telling you. As for the land, I would not part with it for a hundred pounds more than you have to offer me.”

“Perhaps I have as much as you have yourself,” said Páidín. “I’ll be here tomorrow with the money, if you are ready to give me possession.”

“I shall be ready,” said the gentleman. Páidín went home and told his wife that he had bought a big house and a great deal of land.

“Where did you get the money?” asked his wife. “What does that matter to you?” said Páidín. The next day he went to the gentleman, gave him a hundred pounds, and took possession of the house and land. The gentleman threw the furniture into the bargain.

Páidín stayed in the house that night, and when darkness fell he went down into the cellar, where he saw a little man sitting cross-legged on a barrel.

“God bless you, good man,” said the little fellow. “And you likewise,” said Páidín. “Have no fear of me,” said the little man. “I shall be a good friend to you, if you can keep a secret.”

“Indeed I can. I kept your mother’s secret, and I shall keep yours as well.” “Perhaps you are thirsty,” said the little man.

“I am not altogether free of thirst,” said Páidín. The little man put a hand into his breast, drew out a golden goblet, and gave it to Páidín, saying, “Draw yourself a drink from that barrel beneath me.”

Páidín drew a brimming goblet and offered it to the little man. “Drink yourself first,” he said. Páidín drank, drew another goblet, and gave it to the little man, who drank it.

“Fill up and drink again,” said the little man. “I want to be merry tonight.” The two drank until they were half drunk. Then the little man jumped down onto the floor and said to Páidín, “Are you fond of music?”

“Indeed I am,” said Páidín, “and I am a good dancer.” “Lift the big flagstone in the corner over there, and you will find my pipes beneath it.”

Páidín lifted the flagstone, found the pipes, and gave them to the little man. He strapped them on and began to play sweet music. Páidín danced until he was tired. Then they had another drink, and the little man said:

“Do as my mother told you, and I shall show you great riches. You may bring your wife here, but do not tell her I am here, and she will not see me. Whenever you want ale or wine, come down here and draw it. Farewell for now. Go to bed, and come to me again.” Páidín went to bed, and before long he was asleep.

The next morning Páidín went home and brought his wife and children to the big house, and they were happy there. That night he went down into the cellar. The little man welcomed him and asked whether he felt like dancing.

“Not until I have a drink,” said Páidín. “Drink your fill,” said the little man. “That barrel will never be empty as long as you live.” Páidín drank a gobletful and gave the little man a drink. Then the little man said, “I am going to Dún-na-Sí tonight to play music for the fairies, and if you come with me you will see fine sport. I shall give you a horse the like of which you have never seen.”

“I’ll gladly go,” said Páidín, “but what excuse shall I make to my wife?” “Go to bed beside her, and I shall take you away from her side without her knowing, and bring you back in the same way,” said the little man.

“Very well,” said Páidín. “I’ll have another drink before I leave you.” He drank one draught after another until he was half drunk, and then went to bed beside his wife.

When he awoke, he found himself riding a broom near Dún-na-Sí, with the little man riding another broom beside him. When they reached the green hill of the fort, the little man spoke a few words that Páidín did not understand, and the green hill opened. Páidín had never seen such a gathering as there was inside the fort. The place was full of little people, men and women, old and young. They gave a thousand welcomes to Domhnall and Páidín O’Ceallaigh. Domhnall was the little piper’s name. The fairy king and queen came before them and said:

“We are all going to Cnoc Meadha tonight, to visit the high king and queen of our people.” They all rose and went outside. Each had a horse ready, and the Silent Coach stood waiting for the king and queen. They got into the coach. Everyone sprang onto his own horse, and Páidín was certainly not the last. The piper went out before them and began to play, and away they raced. Before long they reached Cnoc Meadha. The hill opened, and the fairy host went inside.

Finbheara and Nuala were there, the high king and queen of the fairy host of Connacht, with thousands of little people. Finbheara came forward and said:

“We are going to play a hurling match against the fairy host of Munster tonight, and unless we beat them our good name is gone forever. The match is to be played on Magh Tuireadh, beneath Sliabh Belgadáin.”

“We are all ready,” said the fairy host of Connacht, “and we have no doubt that we shall beat them.” “Out with you all,” said the high king. “The men of Cnoc Néifin will be on the field before us.”

They all went out, with little Domhnall and twelve other pipers before them, playing sweet music. When they reached Magh Tuireadh, the fairy host of Munster and the men of Cnoc Néifin were there ahead of them. Now, the fairy host must have a living man with them whenever they fight or play hurling, and that was why little Domhnall had brought Páidín O’Ceallaigh along. A man called the Scangaire Buí, from Ennis in County Clare, was with the fairy host of Munster.

The two hosts soon took sides, the ball was thrown up, and the sport began in earnest. They hurled while the pipers played, until Páidín O’Ceallaigh saw that the Munster host was getting the upper hand, and began to help the fairy host of Connacht. The Scangaire came forward and attacked Páidín O’Ceallaigh, but before long Páidín had sent the Scangaire Buí sprawling. From hurling, the two hosts fell to fighting, but the Connacht host soon defeated the other. Then the Munster host turned themselves into beetles and began to eat every green thing they came upon. They were laying waste to the countryside as they went, until they reached Cong, where thousands of doves rose from a great hole and swallowed the beetles. To this day the hole has no other name than Poll-na-gColm, the Hole of the Doves.

When the Connacht host had won the battle, they returned to Cnoc Meadha in great delight. King Finbheara gave Páidín O’Ceallaigh a purse of gold, and the little piper brought him home and put him to bed beside his wife.

A month passed, and nothing happened worth telling. But one night Páidín went down into the cellar, and the little man said to him, “My mother is dead. Burn the hut over her.”

“You are right,” said Páidín. “She said she had only a month to remain in this world, and that month is up now.” The next morning Páidín went to the hut and found the hag dead. He set fire to the hut and burned it. Then he came home and told the little man that the hut was burned. The little man gave him a purse and said, “That purse will never be empty as long as you live. Farewell now. You will see me no more, but remember the weasel kindly. She was the beginning and the chief cause of your riches.”

Páidín and his wife lived for many years after that in the big house, and when he died he left great wealth behind him, and a large family to enjoy it.

There is my story for you now, from beginning to end, as I heard it from my grandmother.