One day a story-teller came to the monastery, and, like all the others, he was heartily welcomed and given a great deal more than his need.
He said that his name was Cairidè, and that he had a story to tell which could not be bettered among the stories of Ireland.
The abbot's eyes glistened when he heard that. He rubbed his hands together and smiled on his guest.
"What is the name of your story?" he asked.
"It is called 'Mongan's Frenzy.'"
"I never heard of it before," cried the abbot joyfully.
"I am the only man that knows it," Cairidè replied.
"But how does that come about?" the abbot inquired.
"Because it belongs to my family," the story-teller answered. "There was a Cairidè of my nation with Mongan when he went into Faery. This Cairidè listened to the story when it was first told. Then he told it to his son, and his son told it to his son, and that son's great-great-grandson's son told it to his son's son, and he told it to my father, and my father told it to me."
"And you shall tell it to me," cried the abbot triumphantly.
"I will indeed," said Cairidè.
Vellum was then brought and quills. The copyists sat at their tables. Ale was placed beside the story-teller, and he told this tale to the abbot.
