The Black Horse

There was once a king with three sons, and when he died, the two elder sons gave the youngest nothing at all but a lame old white garron, a scrawny pony. “If this is all I get,” said he, “I had better make the best of it.” Off he went with it, sometimes walking and sometimes riding.

When he had been riding a good while, he thought the garron needed a rest and something to eat, so he got down. Then he saw a rider coming towards him out of the west, riding high and well.

“Hail, my lad,” said the king’s son.

“Hail, king’s son,” said the rider.

“What’s your news?”

“Only this,” said the stranger. “I’ve broken my heart riding this donkey of a horse. Will you give me the lame white garron for him?”

“No,” said the prince. “That would be a bad bargain for me.”

“You needn’t be afraid. You may make better use of him than I can. He has one great value: there is no place you can think of in the four quarters of the world that this black horse will not carry you to.”

So the king’s son took the black horse and gave up the lame garron. Where should he think of going when he mounted but the Realm Underwaves, and before sunrise the next morning he was there. He found the son of the King Underwaves holding court, with the people of the realm gathered to see whether anyone would undertake to fetch the daughter of the King of the Greeks to be the prince’s wife. No one came forward until the rider of the black horse arrived.

“You, rider of the black horse,” said the prince, “I lay you under crosses and spells to bring the daughter of the King of the Greeks here before the sun rises tomorrow.”

The lad went out to his horse, leaned his elbow on its mane and sighed.

“That is the sigh of a king’s son under spells,” said the horse. “But don’t worry. We shall do what has been set for you. When we come near the great town of the Greeks, you will see that no horse has ever set foot in it. The king’s daughter will see me from a window at the top of the castle, and she will not be content until she has had a ride on me. Tell her she may, but that the horse will let no man but you ride in front of a woman on his back.”

They came near the town, and the lad began to show off his horsemanship. The princess saw the horse from the window, was delighted, and came out. “Give me a ride on the horse,” she said.

“You shall have one, but he will let no man but me ride in front of a lady.”

“I have a horseman of my own.”

“Then put him in front.” But when her horseman tried to mount, the horse lifted its legs and kicked him off.

“Then come yourself and sit in front of me,” said she. “I won’t give up now.” He mounted with the princess behind him, and before she could look round, she was nearer the sky than the earth. He had her in the Realm Underwaves before sunrise.

“You have come,” said the Prince Underwaves.

“I have.”

“There you are, my hero. You are a king’s son, but I am a son of success. Now we’ll have no delay but a wedding.”

“Gently,” said the princess. “Your wedding is not as close as you think. I will not marry until I have the silver cup my grandmother had at her wedding, and my mother too. I must have it at mine.”

“Rider of the black horse,” said the prince, “I lay you under spells and crosses to have that silver cup here before dawn tomorrow.”

The lad went out to the horse, leaned on his mane and sighed. “Mount, and you shall have the cup,” said the horse. “The people of that realm are gathered round the king tonight, because he has missed his daughter. When we reach the palace, leave me outside and go in. The cup will be going round the company. Sit down among them, say nothing, and behave as if you belonged there. When the cup comes to you, tuck it under your arm and come out to me, and we’ll be off.” They went to Greece, and the lad did just as the horse said, and before sunrise he was back in the Realm Underwaves with the cup.

“We had better marry now,” said the prince to the Greek princess.

“Slowly and softly,” said she. “I won’t marry till I have the silver ring my grandmother and my mother wore at their weddings.”

“Rider of the black horse, see to that,” said the prince. “Have the ring here by sunrise tomorrow.”

The lad told the horse. “This is the hardest thing ever set before me,” said the horse, “but there’s no help for it. Mount. Between us and that ring lie a mountain of snow, a mountain of ice and a mountain of fire, and they are very hard to pass.”

A mile from the snow mountain they were suffering badly from the cold. As they came near it, the lad struck the horse, and with one bound it was on top of the snow mountain, with the next on top of the ice mountain, and with the third it went through the mountain of fire. When they were past the mountains, the lad was clinging to the horse’s neck as if he were about to faint. They went on to a town below.

“Go down to a smithy,” said the black horse, “and have an iron spike made for every bone end in me.” The lad had the spikes made and brought them back. “Now drive them into me, a spike into every bone end I have.” He did it. “There is a loch here four miles long and four miles wide,” said the horse, “and when I go into it, it will catch fire and blaze. If you see the Loch of Fire go out before sunrise, wait for me. If not, go your way.”

Out went the black horse into the loch, and the whole loch burst into flame. For a long time the lad paced along its shore, wringing his hands and crying out. Day came, and still the loch burned. But just as the sun was rising out of the water, the fire went out, and the black horse rose in the middle of the loch with a single spike left in him and the ring on the end of it. He came to the shore and fell down beside the water.

The lad took the ring and dragged the horse to the shelter of a hillside, and he held him in his arms to warm him. As the sun rose higher, the horse grew better and better, until about midday he got to his feet. “Mount,” said he, “and let’s be gone.” They leaped from the fire mountain to the ice mountain and from the ice mountain to the snow mountain, and by morning they were in the Realm Underwaves.

“You have come,” said the prince. “Well, you are a king’s son, but I am a son of success. No more delays this time, but a wedding.”

“Go easy,” said the Princess of the Greeks. “Your wedding is not so near as you think. I won’t marry you till you build me a castle. I won’t live in your father’s castle or your mother’s. Make me a castle that would put your father’s castle to shame.”

“Rider of the black horse, build that before tomorrow’s sunrise,” said the prince.

The lad went out, leaned on the horse’s neck and sighed, sure that such a castle could never be made. “There never was a turn in my road easier for me than this,” said the horse. The lad looked round and saw crowds of carpenters and stonemasons at work, and the castle was finished before the sun rose. He called to the Prince Underwaves, who saw the castle and rubbed his eyes as if to pluck them out, thinking it was a trick of sight.

“Son of the King Underwaves,” said the rider of the black horse, “don’t think your eyes deceive you. This is a true sight.”

“That’s true. You are a son of success, but so am I. There will be no more delays now, but a wedding.”

“No,” said the princess. “The time has come. But shouldn’t we go and look at the castle? There’s time enough to marry before night.”

They went to look at the castle, and there was nothing wanting in it. “I see one thing,” said the prince. “There should be a well inside, so that water is close at hand when there’s a feast or a wedding.”

“That won’t be long undone,” said the rider of the black horse, and a well was made, seven fathoms deep and two or three fathoms wide. They stopped to look at it on the way to the wedding.

“It is very well made,” said the princess, “except for one little fault over there.”

“Where?” asked the Prince Underwaves.

“There.” He bent down to look, and she came up behind him, put her two hands on his back and pushed him in. “Stay there,” said she. “If I go to be married, you are not the man. The man is he who did every deed that has been done, and if he wishes it, he is the one I will have.” Away she went to the wedding with the rider of the little black horse.

Three years went by, and only then did it come into the lad’s head to think of the black horse and where he had left him. He got up and went out, very sorry for having neglected him, and he found the horse just where he had left him.

“Good luck to you, sir,” said the horse. “You look as if you had found something you like better than me.”

“I have not, and I never will. It came over me to forget you.”

“I don’t mind,” said the horse. “It makes no difference. Raise your sword and cut off my head.”

“Heaven forbid that I should do that.”

“Do it at once, or I will do it to you.” So the lad drew his sword and struck off the horse’s head, and then he raised his hands and gave a sorrowful cry.

What should he hear behind him but “Hail, my brother-in-law!” He turned, and there stood the finest man he had ever seen. “Why were you weeping for the black horse?” asked the man.

“Because there was never a creature born, man or beast, that I loved more.”

“Would you take me in his place?”

“If I could believe you were the horse, I would. If not, I would rather have the horse.”

“I am the black horse,” said the man, “and if I were not, how would you have got all those things you went to fetch from my father’s house? Ever since I was put under spells, many a man had me, but they were all alike: they could not keep me or manage me, and none of them kept me for more than a couple of days. You kept me until the time of the spells ran out. Now you shall come home with me, and we will hold a wedding in my father’s house.”

About this telling

Jacobs says “The Black Horse” comes from J. F. Campbell’s manuscript collection in the Advocates’ Library in Edinburgh. It was written down in Gaelic on February 14, 1862, by Hector MacLean from Roderick MacNeill of the island of Menglay, who had learned it around 1840 from a man from Barra. Jacobs left out one of the horse’s trips to Greece but otherwise changed nothing.

Campbell himself was struck by the princess pushing the prince into the well. He noticed that a scene from a popular novel of his day, Lady Audley’s Secret, was already in the mind of a Barra countryman around 1840.

Read the original: Joseph Jacobs, More Celtic Fairy Tales (Project Gutenberg #34453, The Black Horse)

Suggested for older readers within ages 9–12 with an adult: includes abduction, iron spikes driven into a horse, a prince pushed into a well and a magical beheading.

Who earns the claim to success?

The Prince Underwaves calls himself successful while someone else performs every task. The rider, in turn, relies on the horse’s knowledge and suffering. The Greek princess resists the imposed marriage through delays, although her eventual choice does not erase the rider’s part in abducting her. His three-year neglect of the horse also complicates a simple moral about loyalty.

Assign the work

For the cup, ring and castle, record who demands, plans and performs the task. Compare that list with who claims credit. Where does the rider actually offer care, and where does he fail to remember it?

Questions to ask

• What made the black horse so special?
• How did the Greek princess keep putting off her wedding to the Prince Underwaves?
• Why did the black horse ask the lad to cut off his head, and what happened when he did?

Related stories

• Morraha — another tale with a magic horse that carries its rider over fire and sea
• The Greek Princess and the Young Gardener — another Gaelic tale with a princess from Greece
• The Battle of the Birds — a tale where a creature under spells helps a king’s son