II.
It was not long before the vessel arrived in a small harbor, which Finn recognized as the port of the White Nation. This was not very encouraging to him, because in a battle not long before he had defeated the king of that nation. He began to suspect that he was under enchantment for some purpose. Still he must go with the woman because he had pledged his word.
When the ship stopped the woman got out and bade him follow her. On the shore she paused, and pointing to a broad road bordered with tall trees, said,
“As you are a great champion in your country it is not fitting for you to follow me into the city as a servant. You will walk up the road to the palace while I take a shorter one and prepare a welcome for you.”
Finn did as he was told. He was puzzled and anxious. He could not but feel that there was something wrong with this plan. The woman had put him under bonds to come as a servant, and now she made it appear that this was not what she wished. Finn wished that he had been able to keep his sword, but that the woman would not allow. Only one thought cheered him. Dermot was watching and listening, ready to come to his assistance at any time.
Soon he came to the gates of the palace. A great crowd of people rushed out as though to welcome him. The welcome was a deceit. The men pushed against him on all sides and shoved him from one to another until he was bruised and bleeding. Finn was the match for many ordinary men in strength. Still, without his swords, he could not stand off a multitude.
Thus pushing and jostling him the crowd bore him into the courtyard into the presence of the ruler of the nation. The king sat upon a raised platform and by his side, in the robes of a princess, was the woman who had brought Finn to the country under sentence.
When the king saw Finn he laughed long and loudly.
“What ho, Finn MacCool!” roared he. “Methinks this is a fine manner for the arrival of a champion of Erin.”
Finn hung his head in shame.
“My daughter asked me to name the thing I most desired in all the world,” went on the king. “I told her the one thing necessary to my happiness was the head of Finn MacCool. She promised to bring you here that I might take it myself.”
Finn’s heart sank. He felt that the hour of his death was very near. The king stepped down from his platform, sword in hand, and swung the weapon back and forth.
“You would not dare do that if you would let me have a sword,” said Finn, looking him squarely in the eye.
The king drew back and bowed his head in thought. Probably he had hoped to have Finn beg for his life.
“No,” he said at length, “I will let you think over the fact that you are in my power. It will be pleasant for you to lie and wonder how long I will let you live.”
He gave orders that Finn’s legs and arms be firmly tied with seven knots on each rope so that escape would be impossible. Then he had his captive placed in a dark dungeon. Each day he was to receive an ounce of bread and a pint of water, no more under any consideration. For a big strong man like Finn this was very little food. But being tied and lying in a black hole was even more likely to take the spirit out of him.
Each day an old woman came with his food and water, but his arms and legs were never loosened. On the eighth day Finn said to the woman,
“Tell the king that I beg leave to walk in the garden for an hour. I do not ask for my head, but if he does not give me a little freedom I shall not be able to live. For the king to take the head of a dead man would be small glory.”
The king yielded to this request and ordered Finn an hour of freedom. He took no chances, however. The walk was to occur in a walled garden and thirty armed men were to be with him every moment.
Finn was happy over the privilege. It was not the fear of death that had made him ask for the walk. No, he had a far better reason, as you shall see. After he had walked a few minutes he said,
“I am very fond of music. Have you any musical instruments with you?”
Now the chief was very sorry to see such a mighty man a prisoner without a chance for his life. He would gladly have had the music played, but was obliged to confess that none of his men had instruments with them at the time.
Then Finn took from under his clothes a queerly shaped horn. He turned it over and over in his hands and looked at it as though it was very dear to him. Finally he spoke.
“When I was at home and in charge of my men I used to play for them quite often. I really enjoy music very much. I wonder—perhaps you and your men might like to hear a tune?” he finished, as though the idea had just come to him.
“I should be very glad to hear you play,” answered the chief.
So Finn placed the horn to his lips and played a tune of the Fenians. At the end of the air he blew a blast that echoed from hill to hill and made the listeners involuntarily put their hands to their ears. Then Finn put the horn away and was willing to be tied up again. The chief thought he had heard some wild Irish music. He little dreamed that the call had gone out for help.