Celtic Myths

by Flame Tree Studio

  “I hope to God the old fairy wife does not get to you, lad, but it will be your own fault if she does,” whispered his mother as she disappeared into her room.

  And suddenly the warm red room took on a more sinister cast, and the shadows no longer told a story but taunted him, warning him, tempting him until he was a jumble of fear and confusion. And just as he steeled himself to dash to his warm box-bed, filled with golden slumberdust, a tiny brownie leapt from the chimney and landed on his foot.

  Now brownies were common in the days when Parcie lived in the stone cottage with his mother, and they came each day to every house that had the courtesy and the foresight to leave a bowl of cool, fresh cream by the doorstep. And if some foolish occupant forgot that cream one night, she would be sure to find a tumultuous mess the next day. For brownies came to tidy everything away, neat and clean, collecting specks of dust and laying things just so, so that in the morning the lucky household gleamed with shining surfaces and possessions all in order.

  But Parcie knew nothing of the magic that dropped through the chimney each night and he was surprised and rather pleased to see this tiny fairy. The brownie was not, however, so pleased to see Parcie, for he was an efficient wee brownie and he liked to have his work done quickly, in order to get to the lovely bowl of cool, fresh cream which awaited him by the doorstep.

  “What’s your name?” asked Parcie, grinning.

  “Ainsel (own self),” replied the brownie, smiling back despite himself. “And you?”

  “My Ainsel,” said Parcie, joining in the joke.

  And so Parcie and the brownie played a little together, and Parcie watched with interest while the brownie tidied and cleaned their cottage in a whirlwind of activity. And then, as he neared the grate to sweep away some dust that had come loose from the hearth, Parcie took an inopportune moment to poke the fire, and what should fly out upon the poor brownie but a red-hot ember which burnt him so badly that he howled with pain.

  And then, into the snuffling silence that followed, a deep frightening voice boomed down the chimney. It was the old fairy wife who Parcie’s mother had warned of, and she flew into a rage when she heard her dear brownie’s tears.

  “Tell me who hurt ye,” she shouted down the chimney, “I’ll get him, so I will.”

  And the brownie called out tearfully, “It was My Ainsel”. Parcie lost no time in hurling himself from the room and into his box-bed where the golden slumberdust did not cast its magic over the terrified boy, for he laid awake and shaking for a long time after his head touched his soft pillow.

  But the old fairy wife was not concerned about Parcie, for she called out, “What’s the fuss, if you did it yer ainsel” and muttering she thrust a long brown arm down the chimney and plucked the sniffling brownie from the fireside.

  Now what do you think Parcie’s mother thought the next morning when she found her cottage spic and span, but the bowl of cream still standing untouched, cool and fresh by the doorstep. How perplexed she was when the brownie stopped visiting her cottage, although she always left a bowl of cream to tempt him. But in the heart of the Border country, where the wind howls with cold, bad is almost always balanced by good, and so it was then when from that night onwards, Parcie’s mother never again had to say to him, “Parcie, it’s time for your bed,” for at the first sudden movement of the shadows, when the fire began to sink down into black-red embers, he was sound asleep in his tiny box-bed, deep in the sleep of the golden slumberdust.

  Gold-Tree and Silver-Tree

  Once upon a time there was a king who had a wife, whose name was Silver-tree, and a daughter, whose name was Gold-tree. One day, Gold-tree and Silver-tree went to a glen, where there was a well, and in it there was a trout.

  Said Silver-tree, “Troutie, bonny little fellow, am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?”

  “Oh! indeed you are not.”

  “Who then?”

  “Why, Gold-tree, your daughter.”

  Silver-tree went home, blind with rage. She lay down on the bed, and vowed she would never be well until she could get the heart and the liver of Gold-tree, her daughter, to eat.

  At nightfall the king came home, and it was told him that Silver-tree, his wife, was very ill. He went where she was, and asked her what was wrong with her.

  “Oh! only a thing – which you may heal if you like.”

  “Oh! indeed there is nothing at all which I could do for you that I would not do.”

  “If I get the heart and liver of Gold-tree, my daughter, to eat, I shall be well.”

  Now it happened about this time that the son of a great king had come from abroad to ask Gold-tree for marrying. The king now agreed to this, and they went abroad.

  The king then went and sent his lads to the hunting-hill for a he-goat, and he gave its heart and its liver to his wife to eat; and she rose well and healthy.

  A year after this Silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the well in which there was the trout.

  “Troutie, bonny little fellow,” said she, “am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?”

  “Oh! indeed you are not.”

  “Who then?”

  “Why, Gold-tree, your daughter.”

  “Oh! well, it is long since she was living. It is a year since I ate her heart and liver.”

  “Oh! indeed she is not dead. She is married to a great prince abroad.”

  Silver-tree went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in order, and said, “I am going to see my dear Gold-tree, for it is so long since I saw her.” The long-ship was put in order, and they went away.

  It was Silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived.

  The prince was out hunting on the hills. Gold-tree knew the long-ship of her father coming.

  “Oh!” said she to the servants, “my mother is coming, and she will kill me.”

  “She shall not kill you at all; we will lock you in a room where she cannot get near you.”

  This is how it was done; and when Silver-tree came ashore, she began to cry out:

  “Come to meet your own mother, when she comes to see you,” Gold-tree said that she could not, that she was locked in the room, and that she could not get out of it.

  “Will you not put out,” said Silver-tree, “your little finger through the key-hole, so that your own mother may give a kiss to it?”

  She put out her little finger, and Silver-tree went and put a poisoned stab in it, and Gold-tree fell dead.

  When the prince came home, and found Gold-tree dead, he was in great sorrow, and when he saw how beautiful she was, he did not bury her at all, but he locked her in a room where nobody would get near her.

  In the course of time he married again, and the whole house was under the hand of this wife but one room, and he himself always kept the key of that room. On a certain day of the days he forgot to take the key with him, and the second wife got into the room. What did she see there but the most beautiful woman that she ever saw.

  She began to turn and try to wake her, and she noticed the poisoned stab in her finger. She took the stab out, and Gold-tree rose alive, as beautiful as she was ever.

  At the fall of night the prince came home from the hunting-hill, looking very downcast.

  “What gift,” said his wife, “would you give me that I could make you laugh?”

  “Oh! indeed, nothing could make me laugh, except Gold-tree were to come alive again.”

  “Well, you’ll find her alive down there in the room.”

  When the prince saw Gold-tree alive he made great rejoicings, and he began to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Said the second wife, “Since she is the first one you had it is better for you to stick to her, and I will go away.”

  “Oh! indeed you shall not go away, but I shall hav
e both of you.”

  At the end of the year, Silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the well, in which there was the trout.

  “Troutie, bonny little fellow,” said she, “am not I the most beautiful queen in the world?”

  “Oh! indeed you are not.”

  “Who then?”

  “Why, Gold-tree, your daughter.”

  “Oh! well, she is not alive. It is a year since I put the poisoned stab in her finger.”

  “Oh! indeed she is not dead at all, at all.”

  Silver-tree, went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in order, for that she was going to see her dear Gold-tree, as it was so long since she saw her. The long-ship was put in order, and they went away. It was Silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived.

  The prince was out hunting on the hills. Gold-tree knew her father’s ship coming.

  “Oh!” said she, “my mother is coming, and she will kill me.”

  “Not at all,” said the second wife; “we will go down to meet her.”

  Silver-tree came ashore. “Come down, Gold-tree, love,” said she, “for your own mother has come to you with a precious drink.”

  “It is a custom in this country,” said the second wife, “that the person who offers a drink takes a draught out of it first.”

  Silver-tree put her mouth to it, and the second wife went and struck it so that some of it went down her throat, and she fell dead. They had only to carry her home a dead corpse and bury her.

  The prince and his two wives lived long after this, pleased and peaceful.

  Munachar and Manachar

  There once lived a Munachar and a Manachar, a long time ago, and it is a long time since it was, and if they were alive now they would not be alive then. They went out together to pick raspberries, and as many as Munachar used to pick Manachar used to eat. Munachar said he must go look for a rod to make a gad to hang Manachar, who ate his raspberries every one; and he came to the rod. “What news the day?” said the rod. “It is my own news that I’m seeking. Going looking for a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get me,” said the rod, “until you get an axe to cut me.”

  He came to the axe. “What news today?” said the axe. “It’s my own news

  I’m seeking. Going looking for an axe, an axe to cut a rod, a rod to

  make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get me,” said the axe, “until you get a flag to edge me.” He came to the flag. “What news today?” says the flag. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get me,” says the flag, “till you get water to wet me.” He came to the water. “What news today?” says the water. “It’s my own news that I’m seeking. Going looking for water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get me,” said the water, “until you get a deer who will swim me.” He came to the deer. “What news today?” says the deer. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get me,” said the deer, “until you get a hound who will hunt me.” He came to the hound. “What news today?” says the hound. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get me,” said the hound, “until you get a bit of butter to put in my claw.” He came to the butter. “What news today?” says the butter. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get me,” said the butter, “until you get a cat who shall scrape me.” He came to the cat. “What news today?” said the cat. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get me,” said the cat, “until you will get milk which you will give me.” He came to the cow. “What news today?” said the cow. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a cow, cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get any milk from me,” said the cow, “until you bring me a whisp of straw from those threshers yonder.” He came to the threshers. “What news today?” said the threshers. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for a whisp of straw from ye to give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get any whisp of straw from us,” said the threshers, “until you bring us the makings of a cake from the miller over yonder.” He came to the miller. “What news today?” said the miller. “It’s my own news I’m seeking. Going looking for the makings of a cake which I will give to the threshers, the threshers to give me a whisp of straw, the whisp of straw I will give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk I will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang Manachar, who ate my raspberries every one.”

  “You will not get any makings of a cake from me,” said the miller, “till you bring me the full of that sieve of water from the river over there.”

  He took the sieve in his hand and went over to the river, but as often as ever he would stoop and fill it with water, the moment he raised it the water would run out of it again, and sure, if he had been there from that day till this, he never could have filled it. A crow went flying by him, over his head. “Daub! daub!” said the crow.

  “My blessings on ye, then,” said Munachar, “but it’s the good advice you have,” and he took the red clay and the daub that was by the brink, and he rubbed it to the bottom of the sieve, until all the holes were filled, and then the sieve held the water, and he brought the water to the miller, and the miller gave him the makings of a cake, and he gave the makings of the cake to the threshers, and the threshers gave him a whisp of straw, and he gave the whisp of straw to the cow, and the cow gave him milk, the milk he gave to the cat, the cat scraped the butter, the butter went into the claw of the hound, the hound hunted the deer, the deer swam the water, the water wet the flag, the flag sharpened the axe, the axe cut the rod, and the rod made a gad, and when he had it ready to hang Manachar he found that Manachar had BURST.

  Jack and His Comrades

  Once there was a poor widow, as often there has been, and she had one son. A very scarce summer came, and they didn’t know how they’d live till the new potatoes would be fit for eating. So Jack said to his mother one evening, “Mother, bake my cake, and kill my hen, till I go seek my fortune; and if I meet it, never fear but I’ll soon be back to s
hare it with you.”

  So she did as he asked her, and he set out at break of day on his journey. His mother came along with him to the yard gate, and says she, “Jack, which would you rather have, half the cake and half the hen with my blessing, or the whole of ’em with my curse?”

  “O musha, mother,” says Jack, “why do you ax me that question? sure you know I wouldn’t have your curse and Damer’s estate along with it.”

  “Well, then, Jack,” says she, “here’s the whole lot of ’em with my thousand blessings along with them.” So she stood on the yard fence and blessed him as far as her eyes could see him.

  Well, he went along and along till he was tired, and ne’er a farmer’s house he went into wanted a boy. At last his road led by the side of a bog, and there was a poor ass up to his shoulders near a big bunch of grass he was striving to come at.

  “Ah, then, Jack asthore,” says he, “help me out or I’ll be drowned.”

  “Never say’t twice,” says Jack, and he pitched in big stones and sods into the slob, till the ass got good ground under him.

  “Thank you, Jack,” says he, when he was out on the hard road; “I’ll do as much for you another time. Where are you going?”

  “Faith, I’m going to seek my fortune till harvest comes in, God bless it!”

  “And if you like,” says the ass, “I’ll go along with you; who knows what luck we may have!”

  “With all my heart, it’s getting late, let us be jogging.”

  Well, they were going through a village, and a whole army of gossoons were hunting a poor dog with a kettle tied to his tail. He ran up to Jack for protection, and the ass let such a roar out of him, that the little thieves took to their heels as if the ould boy was after them.

  “More power to you, Jack,” says the dog.

  “I’m much obleeged to you: where is the baste and yourself going?”