“No. He’ll make you serve him,” said the byre-maid.
“He will make you help to build his wall. Crom Duv goes out every morning to bring his cattle to pasture on the plain. And when he comes back he builds the wall round his house. He’ll make you mix mortar and carry it to him, for I heard him say he wants a servant to do that.”
“I’ll escape from this,” said Flann, “and I’ll bring you with me.”
“Hush,” said Morag, and she pointed to seven yellow cats that were standing at Crom Duv’s door, watching them. “The cats,” said she, “are Crom Duv’s watchers here and the Bull of the Mound is his watcher out-side.”
“And is this Little Red Hen a watcher too?” said Flann, for the Little Red Hen was watching them sideways. “The Little Red Hen is my friend and adviser,” Morag, and she went into the house with two vessels of milk.
Crom Duv wakened up. He untied Flann and left him free. “You must mix mortar for me now,” he said. He went into the byre and came out with a great vessel of milk. He left it down near the mixing-pan. He went to the side of the house and came back with a trough of blood.
“What are these for, Crom Duv?” said Flann. “To mix the mortar with, gilly,” said the Giant. “Bullock’s blood and new milk is what I mix my mortar with, so that nothing can break down the walls that I’m building round the Fairy Rowan Tree. Every day I kill a bullock and every day my byre-maid fills a vessel of milk to mix with my mortar. Set to now, and mix the mortar for me.”
Flann brought lime and sand to the mixing-pan and he mixed them in bullock’s blood and new milk. He carried stones to Crom Duv. And so he worked until it was dark. Then Crom Duv got down from where he was building and told Flann to go into the house.
The yellow cats were there and Flann counted sixteen of them. Eight more were outside, in the branches or around the stem of the Rowan Tree. Morag came in, bringing a great dish of porridge. Crom Duv took up a wooden spoon and ate porridge out of vessel after vessel of milk. Then he shouted for his beer and Morag brought him vessel after vessel of beer. Crom Duv emptied one after the other..Then he shouted for his knife and when Morag brought it he began to sharpen it, singing a queer song to himself.