# West Irish folk-tales and romances/12

GRIG.
Narrator, Jack Gillespie, Glen, Glencolumkille, co. Donegal.
MORROCHA heard that Grig would live for ever, until he was killed without sin. He left home to put Grig to death; and he and his boy went one day on the hill, and there came on them rain and mist, and they went astray till night came; and the boy said to Morrocha, “We shall be out this night.”
“Oh, we shall not be,” said Morrocha. And he went and looked through the mist. “I think I see a turf stack: it is not possible we are near a house?” They went on for another bit, and Morrocha stood: “I think,” said he, “I hear the lowing of a cow.”
“We are near a house,” said the boy, “and we'll get into the byre.”
Morrocha stood up, and he felt the breath of a man, and he came to him. “Bless you,” said Morrocha.
​“My blessing to you,” said the man; “for if you did not bless me, I would have your head or you would have mine.”
“The death-bands on you,” said Morrocha; “sorry I am I came to ask shelter of you.”
Said Theegerje, “I have no shelter to give you. There is not a house nearer to you than the house of Grig, and that is seven miles away; and if you go there don't tell that you have seen me. I am his servant boy, and Grig is lying on the one bed for seven years, and if you go there tell him you are the best doctor ever stepped.”
Morrocha went on then, and when he came to Grig's house, said Grig, “If it were not that you are a good doctor, I would cut the head from you.”
“The death-bands on you,” said Morrocha; “sorry I am I came to cure you, above and beyond the report I heard about you at home and abroad.”
“And,” said Grig, “if I had Njuclas Croanj and my wife she would not be on your side.”
She was sleeping at Grig's back in the bed, and he told her to get up, and she did not stir, and Grig lifted his hand and struck her on the jawbone and put it out of joint, and she awoke and she said, “What made you do that to me?”
“Be silent, woman; don't you see the Irish doctor that's come to cure me, and to see me hale and whole and as good as ever I was?”
​“Musha, it's a poor place he's come to. There isn't a wisp dry or wet that isn't under your side, and we haven't a stool better than the floor, or a chair better than a lump of clay, and we haven't as much fire as would cook the wing of a butterfly.”
“Be silent, woman,” said Grig, “and take my old great coat and fix it under me.”
She did that; and Theegerje came, and a load of faggots with him, and he put down a good fire, and Morrocha got food to eat, and when he warmed himself at the fire he was weary-wet, and he was falling asleep.
“The death-bands on you,” said Grig; “you're not like a doctor, for you've never asked what kind of sickness is on me.”
“It is not that,” said Morrocha; “but there are numbers of people, and their blood runs all together when they see strangers.”
“I am of them,” said Grig.
“I was not going to feel your pulse until you got quiet.”
When he became quiet Morrocha arose and felt his pulse.
“And great is the pity,” said he, “that a fine man like you should be lying in that place on one bed, and I will cure you. If you got potatoes and butter, and ate the full of your fist, you would not be long sick.”
​“That's true,” said Grig, “and if Njuclas Croanj gave me that I wouldn't be lying here.”
Morrocha asked if they had any food in the house, and Njuclas Croanj said they had,—that Theegerje was just after coming from the mill, and that he had three pecks of oatmeal. And Morrocha bade them give him a peck of meal, and she gave him that. And he asked if there was any butter in the house, and she said there was. “Bring me down a crock of fresh butter,” said he. And she brought that to him, and Morrocha mixed the meal and the butter up together, and he asked for a spoon, and he thrust the spoon into the dish.
“Do you see that?” said he.
“I see,” said Grig.
“You won't get it,” said Morrocha, “till you tell me what was the horde of people from whom you came.”
“I will tell you that,” said Grig. “I am Grig, son of Stubborn, son of Very-evil, Shanrach, son of Canrain, son of the Soldier, who made people loathe him greatly.”
“The death-bands on you,” said Morrocha. “Weren't they ugly names they had?”
“The death-bands on you,” said Grig. “Isn't it you that are ugly? They were prosperous, blessed.”
“I give in that they were,” said Morrocha.
​“It was ignorance made me say that. But what sort was that one, the son of the Soldier?”
“This,” said Grig, “was one of the fathers who came before me; and the snout of a pig was on his forehead; and he had two daughters, whose names were Maywa, the big, Molloy's daughter, and the other's Sahwa, the big, daughter of Cricheen, and they went to Cornelius (?) the tailor, and they gathered the clippings the tailors threw away, and they made up two lying books of them, and they failed to make the books agree upon one story; and they struck one another, and the father came, and they struck their father and cut him; and he went, and he in his blood, and the pig's snout on his forehead, and there is not one that saw him, but they would flee from him in thousands. And at last they got the two books to agree upon one story, and when the clergy heard they had the books, they desired to possess them, and they would not give them. And they banished them; and if they banished them we will not leave the night supperless.”
“And now,” said Morrocha, “I will give you supper.” And he went and gave the dish to Grig, and he ate the peck of meal and the butter mixed together. “Now,” said the other, “thirst will come on you; the butter was saltish, but do not drink a drop until I gather herbs that will help your sickness.” He went and the boy, and Njuclas ​Croanj and Theegerje with them, and they put down a big pot full of water before they went, and Morrocha gathered the full of a basket of hellebore (?) and he gathered tormentil, and he went into the house with Njuclas Croanj and Theegerje, and he bade them put the herbs into the pot and boil them, and when he grew thirsty to give him some of the liquor to drink, and, if he wished, some of the stalks to eat, “and I will gather more, and will come in to see if he is getting better.”
And Grig took a great thirst, and he set to drinking what was in the pot, and he drank it all; and when Njuclas Croanj went in, Morrocha and his boy went away; and when Grig drank the last of what was in the pot, he burst as he lay on the bed; and when Njuclas Croanj saw he was dead, she followed Morrocha; but since the Lord was with Morrocha, he escaped.