Celtic Myths

by Flame Tree Studio

  After all this, the king caused Taliesin to be brought before him, and he asked him to recite concerning the creation of man from the beginning; and thereupon he made the poem which is now called ‘One of the Four Pillars of Song.’

  “The Almighty made,

  Down the Hebron vale,

  With his plastic hands,

  Adam’s fair form:

  And five hundred years,

  Void of any help,

  There he remained and lay

  Without a soul.

  He again did form,

  In calm paradise,

  From a left-side rib,

  Bliss-throbbing Eve.

  Seven hours they were

  The orchard keeping,

  Till Satan brought strife,

  With wiles from hell.

  Thence were they driven,

  Cold and shivering,

  To gain their living,

  Into this world.

  To bring forth with pain

  Their sons and daughters,

  To have possession

  Of Asia’s land.

  Twice five, ten and eight,

  She was self-bearing,

  The mixed burden

  Of man-woman.

  And once, not hidden,

  She brought forth Abel,

  And Cain the forlorn,

  The homicide.

  To him and his mate

  Was given a spade,

  To break up the soil,

  Thus to get bread.

  The wheat pure and white,

  Summer tilth to sow,

  Every man to feed,

  Till great yule feast.

  An angelic hand

  From the high Father,

  Brought seed for growing

  That Eve might sow;

  But she then did hide

  Of the gift a tenth,

  And all did not sow

  Of what was dug.

  Black rye then was found,

  And not pure wheat grain,

  To show the mischief

  Thus of thieving.

  For this thievish act,

  It is requisite,

  That all men should pay

  Tithe unto God.

  Of the ruddy wine,

  Planted on sunny days,

  And on new-moon nights;

  And the white wine.

  The wheat rich in grain

  And red flowing wine

  Christ’s pure body make,

  Son of Alpha.

  The wafer is flesh,

  The wine is spilt blood,

  The Trinity’s words

  Sanctify them.

  The concealed books

  From Emmanuel’s hand

  Were brought by Raphael

  As Adam’s gift,

  When in his old age,

  To his chin immersed

  In Jordan’s water,

  Keeping a fast,

  Moses did obtain

  In Jordan’s water,

  The aid of the three

  Most special rods.

  Solomon did obtain

  In Babel’s tower,

  All the sciences

  In Asia land.

  So did I obtain,

  In my bardic books,

  All the sciences

  Of Europe and Africa.

  Their course, their bearing,

  Their permitted way,

  And their fate I know,

  Unto the end.

  Oh! what misery,

  Through extreme of woe,

  Prophecy will show

  On Troia’s race!

  A coiling serpent

  Proud and merciless,

  On her golden wings,

  From Germany.

  She will overrun

  England and Scotland,

  From Lychlyn sea-shore

  To the Severn.

  Then will the Brython

  Be as prisoners,

  By strangers swayed,

  From Saxony.

  Their Lord they will praise,

  Their speech they will keep,

  Their land they will lose,

  Except wild Walia.

  Till some change shall come,

  After long penance,

  When equally rife

  The two crimes come.

  Britons then shall have

  Their land and their crown,

  And the stranger swarm

  Shall disappear.

  All the angel’s words,

  As to peace and war,

  Will be fulfilled

  To Britain’s race.”

  He further told the king various prophecies of things that should be in the world, in songs...

  The original manuscript breaks off at this point.

  Footnotes for The Tale of Taliesin

  1. ‘Taliesin’ means ‘radiant brow’.

  2. The mention of Gwyddno Garanhir instead of Elphin ab Gwyddno in this place is evidently an error of some transcriber of the MS.

  Tales of Witchcraft & Magic

  Introduction

  Witchcraft conspired to manipulate the lives of men and women, across the lands, and across the ages. The old woman in the village might have powers that not everyone could understand, and when something went wrong, when illness fell, someone had to be given blame for the misfortune. The witchlore of Scotland was spawned and accentuated under the reign of James VI and I, who had an overwhelming superstition of and belief in them. Ultimately, however, the belief in witches reflects a pagan fear of spirits and creatures of the unknown. Witches could cast spells that enchanted, calmed, killed and controlled, and for that they were dreaded and continually plotted against. All witches were eventually defeated, but until that time, it was only safe to keep charms against unusual knots, or black cats, or strange happenings on the sea, for who really knew their origin?

  The Brownie

  In Scotland there’s a creature that’s not a witch, or a warlock, or even really a fairy. He’s a brownie, and he’s ugly so he’s not often seen by mortal eyes. For brownies are small creatures, with great bulging eyes, and faces that are furred like the backside of a donkey. Their teeth are like battered stones, and when they smile they set fear in the hearts of all men. But a brownie is a helpful soul, and although they are not often wanted round about a house or a farm, they work a kind of magic, and help to clean and to tend the farm or run the mill, for just the price of a bowl of cream, and the odd bit of oatmeal.

  There once was a brownie who lived round about a house on a farm in Wester Ross in Kintail. The house on the farm was empty, so the brownie had made himself a happy home there. In this same village, near the house on the farm, lived a young miller, who shared a house with his mother. Now his mother was a greedy woman, and she dabbled in magic of all sorts, not all of it white to be sure, and she had set her sights on the young lassie at the big house on the hill, to be the wife of her young miller son.

  The lassie was pretty, and her nature was kind, but the young miller was already in love with another, a servant girl who went by the name of Katie. Now Katie was as fair as the morning sky, and her cheeks were flushed with roses. She was a bonnie lass, and she would work hard with her husband to tend a mill and to make him into something grand.

  Now the young miller’s mother would have nothing of it: “Look, ye must marry this farmer’s daughter, with a big farm and everything, and it would be yours because her father’s getting on.”

  But the miller was stubborn, and he cared only for Katie.

  “I can’t help it mother, I love Katie, and I am gonna marry her,” he
said firmly, to which his mother replied, “You’re not gonna marry Katie, because Katie is gonna die.”

  But the miller’s will was stronger than his love for his mother, and he married Katie in secret and took her to live in a deserted house on a farm. Now there were stories told in those parts about the brownie who had made his home there, but the miller was a friendly sort, and not easily scared, and so he convinced young Katie that it would be safe and together they went to meet with the brownie. Katie was a fair lass, and she could see that an appearance did not make a man, and although the brownie frightened her, she could sense his good nature and agreed to live there.

  They settled in happily, in the house on the farm, and the brownie was made a fine bed of straw and bracken, and fed all the best bit of oatmeal and cream. For that he tended their mill, and each day new sacks of grain were laid neatly against the mill walls. He interfered not at all in their lives, but they came to love his quiet presence, his charming ways. For he would slip down the chimney as they slept and lay things just right, so that when they woke, the wee house gleamed from every corner.

  As is wont to happen, especially with those who are young and in love, the young lady of the house became heavy with child, and as she grew more and more tired, the brownie would work harder, until he spent many a day in the house of the miller and Katie. He became a friend to Katie, and she became accustomed to his horrible face, warmed by his quiet presence, his charming ways. And when the baby was due to come, it was the brownie who she called to fetch her husband the miller, and he scampered with glee down the path to the mill.

  Now the miller too had grown fond of the brownie, but he was more traditional than wee Katie, and he felt that the presence of his mother was necessary for that bairn to be born. And so he left Katie with the brownie, who mopped her brow as she called out with pain, and who stroked her face with his own furred hand. But as soon as the footfall of the miller’s mother was heard on the path, he leapt up the chimney and disappeared from the room. For brownies are magic beings themselves and they know the dangers of a witch, especially those who dabble in magic that is not all white.

  The miller’s mother was friendly and calm, and in her pain and distress, Katie could not help but trust her. She allowed her mother-in-law to braid her hair, and to set her back against pillows that were freshly stuffed. A tiny black kitten was set by her side to keep company with her and the new baby. Then, turning the lassie’s bed towards the door, she bid her farewell and left.

  Now Katie was soothed by the presence of the witch, but when she left the pains began again in earnest and she moaned and writhed for two whole days before the miller was forced to go for help. He went first to his mother, but she feigned an illness and said she could not come back with him. And so he returned to the farm where he found poor Katie sick with exhaustion and great pain.

  “I’ll go for the howdie woman,” he said, for the howdie woman delivered most of the babies in the village, having the gift for midwifery. But Katie would not hear of it, so frightened she had become.

  “Don’t leave me here,” she sobbed. “Send the brownie.” And that thought stopped them short, for many folk were frightened to visit them at their home because of that same brownie, and they wondered now if the howdie woman would fear to come as well.

  But Katie’s pain was dragging her deeper into a dreadful state, and the roses had disappeared from her cheeks. There was no sight of the bairn and there was nothing for it but to call the brownie to help.

  The brownie was only too glad to help, and in the cover of darkness, with a great cloak wrapped across his hideous face, he rode off across the hills to fetch the howdie woman. And she came at once, for her calling was stronger than her fear, and she sat herself behind the brownie and wrapped her arms about him for warmth and for safety. And she whispered in his ear as they rode, “Katie will be well again, no doubt, but I hope I don’t see that brownie. I am terrified of that brownie!”

  But the brownie said, “No, don’t worry, I can assure you for certain that you’ll not see anything worse than what you’re cuddling now.” And he drove the howdie woman to the door of the house and made off with the horse, into the darkness.

  The howdie woman had seen no birth like this, and for four more days she sat with Katie, who was expiring quickly now, torn by pains that wracked her thin frame, and struggling to keep sane as they plunged her into a burning hell with every contraction.

  The miller sat brooding in a chair, helpless against this pain he could not understand, and suddenly he sat up and snapped his fingers. “I’ll bet a shilling,” he said then, “that this is the work of my mother.”

  So he rode straight to the house of his mother and shouted at her, “Take that spell off my Katie. I know you’ve done something.”

  And his mother shook her head, and said, “I will not. I told you she is gonna die, and you are gonna marry the farmer’s daughter.” She stood firm then and would not help his poor Katie.

  So poor Katie seemed destined to die in agony, and he ran away then into the night, straight to the wee brownie, for he had no one else to whom he could turn. And the brownie thought for a while, and said, “I’ll tell you what you can do. Take me down to your mother.”

  “Oh, no,” said the miller, “that wouldn’t help us at all. God himself couldn’t help me against my mother.”

  “Ah,” said the brownie, “but you take me down because I can become invisible, and if you were to rush in and tell your mother, “Oh, mother, mother, you’ve got a beautiful grandson!” and then run off again, I will stay behind to see what happens. And I’ll be invisible.”

  And so it was decided that the brownie would come along, and when they reached the house of his mother, the miller ran in and cried, “Mother, you have got a beautiful grandson.”

  And she said, “What?” her face a mask of alarm and fury.

  “Oh yes,” shouted the miller, “But I can’t stop, I must see Katie.” And with that he ran back over the hills to wait for the brownie.

  And as he went out the door, the woman stamped her feet and pulled at her hair, cursing all the time, “Who told him about the witches’ knots in Katie’s hair? How did he know about the black cat? Who told him about the raven’s feathers in those great white pillows? And who told them that I’d turned her feet to the door?”

  And then the brownie skipped away, as fast as his legs would carry him, over the hills to greet the miller, and together they ran back to the house on the farm where Katie lay with the howdie woman.

  Now the howdie woman had only to set eyes on the grinning brownie when she was up and out the door in a flash, but the brownie set himself to work, stroking the poor lass’s cheek and mopping her brow, warming her with his quiet presence and his charming ways. He untied her head, and brushed it down around her shoulders, crooning softly in her ears. Then he took those great new pillows and set them aflame in the hearth until only dust remained of those evil black feathers. And then, with one angry twist, he took the head from the kitten and burnt her too, out of sight, of course, of poor Katie. And so it was, when the brownie moved the bed round, so that her feet faced the door no longer, that the cry of an infant was heard in that house on the farm. Katie slept then, and when she woke, her baby was cleaned and swaddled, and the roses returned to her cheeks once more.

  But the brownie had gone, for brownies often do that, just disappear, never to be seen again. They missed the wee man’s quiet presence and his charming ways, but he had milled enough grain for twenty odd years, and they lived on that house on the farm with their new baby in comfort and in good fortune.

  The Three Knots

  There once was a family on the island of Heisker in Ulst. They were farm people and worked hard all the year, but when the harvest was over, and the grain tucked safely away for the frosty months ahead, they took it upon themselves to plan a little trip to Lewis, to visit some friends there.<
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  It was the same every year, they crossed the sea and got to Lewis where they had a grand time of it, and then they went home again, to cosy themselves away for the long frosty months. And so it was this time, that they gathered an able crew and set off.

  At Lewis things seemed much the same as they ever had. The man of the family went to greet the woman of the house they were visiting, and they talked for many hours, of days of old, and of good friends and family. And just as he made preparations to get off to bed, a tall lithe woman entered the room, with hair as black as a raven’s back. Her eyes were cool and dark, and she whispered something to the woman of the house, and then she left, stopping only to stroke the woman’s hair.

  “Who’s that ugly black thing,” asked the man, curious about the familiarity between the two women.

  And the woman sighed and replied, “Is that what you say? Ugly, is she? Woe betide you, man, but you’ll be lost in love with her before you leave Lewis; if you can, of course.” And with that she rose and went off to bed.

  Now the man scowled with the thought of it, for he had three great strong bairns and a lovely wife, as fair and pink and white as this thing was black. “Indeed,” he muttered to himself, “I won’t fall in love with her.” He spat a bit of the old tobacco into the iron sink and prepared to retire himself.

  Now he rose in the morning and the first thing that ate at his mind was the thought of that tall lithe girl, with hair as black as a raven’s back, and he went downstairs, stormy as the North Sea waters. That night the girl came again to the house, though she’d not been out of his mind since her last visit, and he hated her even more, all tall and lithe and black, with those cool dark eyes. But when she left he longed for her like he’d longed for no other, and he grew black himself with rage and with desire.