Celtic Mythology: Captivating Celtic Myths of Celtic Gods, Goddesses, Heroes and Legendary Creatures

by Matt Clayton

  "For that you shall have to ask your foster daughter, Aoife," said Lir, "for she has turned them into swans and bound them to the shores of Loch Dairbhreach."

  At first Bodb would not believe Lir's tale, but finally he turned to Aoife and said, "Is this true?"

  And she had to admit that it was. Bodb said to Aoife, "Which shape is the most abhorrent to you, were you put into it?"

  Aoife said, "That of a demon of the air."

  So Bodb took his own druid's wand and turned Aoife into a demon of the air. She flew three times around Bodb Derg's hall and then out an open window. She was never seen again in the shape of a woman, and for all anyone knows she flies about as a demon of the air still.

  Then Bodb Derg summoned his retinue, and they went with Lir and his companions to live on the shore of Loch Dairbhreach where they might see the swan-children and listen to their song. After a time, more of the Tuatha De Danann came and made their homes there, as did the people of the Sons of Mil, for listening to the children's music was very sweet, and conversing with them was like speaking with human beings, but for them having the shape of swans. And so three hundred years passed at Loch Dairbhreach.

  At the end of that three hundred years, Fionnula and her brothers went before their father and Bodb Derg and said, "Tomorrow we must fly away from here and go to Sruth na Maoile, for thus is the course of our enchantment."

  Lir and Bodb Derg were greatly grieved by this and wept many tears, and the children sorrowed as well, for they did not wish to leave their father and grandfather behind. Finally they could tarry no longer. The swan-children spread their wings and took flight, and they did not stop until they arrived at Sruth na Maoile. And there the suffering of the children increased tenfold, for they were bound to stay on the waters of the cold, deep sea.

  One evening as the sun was setting, Fionnula looked at the sky and saw that a storm was coming. She was afraid, for she could see that the storm was a strong one and likely she and her brothers would be lost to one another forever before it was over. She therefore said to them, "If the storm drives us apart, go when you can to Carraig na Ron, the Rock of the Seals. That is a place we all know, and we can meet there should the waves and wind divide us."

  The boys agreed this was a wise plan. That night, the storm came upon them with waves as tall as houses and a rushing wind that howled and raged above the waters. As Fionnula had foreseen, she and her brothers were driven apart. When morning came, Fionnula struggled her way to Carraig na Ron, where she perched atop the rock and looked this way and that for sign of her brothers. Soon enough, they came to the rock themselves, all of them trembling and bedraggled from the ragings of the wind and sea. So Fionnula took Fiachra and Conn each under her wings, and Aodh under the feathers of her breast, and soon they were all dry and warm together.

  And there they stayed, on the rock in the middle of the sea, until one night a deep frost came, with snow in it, and in the morning the swan-children found that the ice and frost had bound their feet to the rock and part of their wing feathers with them. With great effort they pried themselves loose, but the skin of their feet was left behind on the rock, as well as many of their feathers, and they were in great pain from their wounds. Slowly the swan-children made flight to shore, where they stayed during the day so that their hurts might be healed, but every night they returned to the waters of the strait, as they were bound by their stepmother's curse to do. And so a hundred years and more passed for them in this wise, in the daytime sometimes standing on Carraig na Ron, sometimes coming to the shores of Ireland or of Alba, but always spending the night on the tossing waves of the Sruth na Maoile.

  One day the swan-children made their way to the mouth of the River Bann, and they saw coming towards them a company of horsemen. The men were warriors all, clad in bright cloaks with jeweled clasps and girt with swords, all of them astride horses as white as the swans' own feathers. The children waited until the horsemen were close enough, and then called out to them, for they thought that perhaps the riders were of the Tuatha De and so could give them news of their father and grandfather.

  Upon hearing the voices of the swan-children, the men reined in their horses. Two of them dismounted and went over to where the swans were gathered.

  "Greetings," they said. "Strange it is to hear swans speaking with our language, and we would know who you are."

  "We are the Children of Lir," said Fionnula. "It is I, Fionnula, and my brothers Aodh and Fiachra and Conn, who were enchanted into the shape of swans by our stepmother, Aoife. Tell us now who you are, and who your people might be, for we hope you might have news for us of our father and grandfather."

  "I am Aodh," said the first man, "and this is my brother, Fergus. We are the sons of Bodb Derg. We rejoice to have found you, for none has known what became of you after you left Loch Dairbhreach. We have sought for you for a long time."

  "Glad we are as well," said Fionnula. "Tell us, if you will, how do our father and grandfather?"

  "They are both well and residing in your father's house together," said Aodh Aithfhiosach, "and they are happy enough, save that they have wished sorely for news of you."

  Then Fionnula and her brothers told Aodh and Fergus all they had suffered in their time on Sruth na Maoile, and it was grief indeed to the sons of Bodb Derg to hear this tale. They promised the swan-children to tell Lir and Bodb Derg their whole story, and to bring them their greetings. Lir and Bodb Derg rejoiced to hear that the children were yet living, although they had great sorrow for their sufferings, and again they wished heartily that there was something they could do to break the enchantment and bring the children home, but there was nothing to be done.

  And so the rest of the three hundred years on Sruth na Maoile passed, until it came time for the swan-children to go to Irrus Domnann and Inis Gluaire. There they went in their swan-shapes, and there passed the next three hundred years, where they fared but a little better than they had on Sruth na Maoile.

  At the end of that three hundred years, the swan-children were no longer bound to Irrus Domnann and Inis Gluaire, so they took flight for their father's home at Sidhe Fionnachaidh. All the way there the hearts of Fionnula and her brothers were glad and hopeful, for they heartily wished to see Lir again, and also Bodb Derg, and to be among their own people. But when they arrived, they knew not what to do, for Sidhe Fionnachaidh was abandoned and empty. The fields were overgrown with briars. The roofless house was abandoned to the wind and rain and the stones of the walls tumbling down into the turf. Fionnula and her brothers lamented together at the sight and sang a song so full of sorrow that had even the most hardened warrior heard it he would have died of a broken heart from the very pain of it. And so the swan-children passed that night in the ruins of their father's house, and in the morning returned to Inis Gluaire.

  The swan-children stayed at times in Inis Gluaire, and at times flew to other places, but always they were in their swan-forms, and always they lamented the loss of their father and grandfather and of their people, the Tuatha De Danann. And in this wise they lived until after the coming of the Blessed St. Patrick to Ireland and St. Mochaomhog had built his church at Inis Gluaire.

  One night, when they were at Inis Gluaire, they heard the ringing of a bell.

  "What is that sound?" said Fiachra.

  "That is the bell of Mochaomhog," said Fionnula. "Come, let us go and seek out that priest, for perhaps he has a way of ending our curse."

  Mochaomhog's bell rang out until the end of Matins, and when it was done the swan-children began to sing the song of the Sidhe. Mochaomhog in his church heard their song and prayed to God that he might know whence it came. In a dream, he saw the swan-children gliding on the lake nearby, and so in the morning he went there to seek them. When he arrived at the lake, he saw the swan-children there, as they had been in his dream.

  "Are you the Children of Lir?" said Mochaomhog, and the swan-children told him they were.

  "Come with me," said the priest, "and be in
my care, for it is given to me to see that all be made well for you."

  The swan-children went with him then back to his church, and they lived with him. Every day, Mochaomhog said Holy Mass, which the swan-children reverently attended. Mochaomhog also had silver collars fashioned for them, with a chain between each pair of collars. Fionnula was linked with Aodh, her twin, and Fiachra and Conn were linked likewise. The swan-children lived in peace and great contentment with Mochaomhog, and he cared for them well.

  Now, at that time there was a king in Connacht, and his name was Lairgnen and his wife was named Deoch. And their marriage was the fulfillment of Aoife's condition that the Lord of the North be wed to the Lady of the South. Word that the Children of Lir were living at Mochaomhog's church came to the ears of Deoch, and she wished to have them brought to her. Lairgnen then sent messengers to Mochaomhog, asking him to send the birds to the queen, but the priest refused. This angered the king greatly, so he went to Inis Gluaire himself to take the birds from Mochaomhog, by force if need be.

  But when Lairgnen demanded the swans, Mochaomhog said, "I shall not give them to you, though you be king of all the world."

  At that the king rose up in anger and went to where the swan-children were hiding in the church. Lairgnen took them in his hands, thinking to carry them home to his wife, but as soon as he touched them their swan-forms fell away. Lairgnen found himself grasping the arms of a woman and three men, all white-haired and withered with great age. This frightened Lairgnen so greatly that he ran out of the church and straight back to his home without once looking back.

  Then Fionnula called out to Mochaomhog, "Come to us, quickly, for our death is upon us. Listen to my last request, and do what I ask for love of myself and my brothers. Bury us all together, with Conn at my left and Fiachra at my right, and my brother Aodh in my arms. And do you now baptize all of us in the name of your God that we might be with him in paradise."

  And so all this was done. Mochaomhog baptized the four that very day. They passed soon afterwards, and were buried together in the manner Fionnula asked, with stone placed above them having their names carved into it in ogham. Mochaomhog and the people of his parish mourned the death of the swan-children, whose souls were taken into paradise after their long lives of suffering.

  And that is all that is known of the Children of Lir.

  The Birth of Cuchulainn

  As befits a Celtic hero, Cuchulainn is born not once but three times, a mystical number that denotes Otherworldly origins. His first birth is of Otherworldly parents, his second of the god Lug, and his third of a human father. We know that the first family is of the Otherworld first because of the flock of birds that lead Conchobor and Deichtine to them, and also by the birthplace at Brugh na Boinne, home to an important series of ancient pagan tombs that were considered to be passages to the Otherworld.

  Tales such as these often contain hints about ancient Irish culture, such as the practice of noble families sending their children out to foster. Taking in the child of another noble family was seen as both a right and a privilege and could confer status on the foster family.

  The people of Ulster once were beset by a large flock of birds. The birds came to the plain of Emain, and wherever they came to rest on the ground they ate whatever grew there. The crops were being ruined, and the people of Ulster were angry and afraid.

  Conchobor went with his nobles in nine chariots to chase after the flock and make them go away if they could. Deichtine, the sister of Conchobor, went with them, driving the chariot for her brother. Conall and Laegire and Bricriu, the finest of the warriors of Ulster, accompanied Conchobor and Deichtine as well.

  Conchobor and his company chased the birds across Sliab Fuait. They chased them across Edmonn and Breg Plain. Nine score birds there were, flying always before them, singing a graceful song. As the chariots drew closer, the warriors could see that the birds wore silver collars, and that pairs of the birds were linked together with chains of silver. The day wore on, and Conchobor and his company could come no closer to them. As the sun set, they watched three of the birds separate from the flock and fly away.

  The men of Ulster chased the birds as far as Brugh na Boinne, but then night fell and they had to stop. Conchobor told his company to loose the horses from their traces, and to look for someplace they might shelter for the night. While the others looked after the horses, Conall and Bricriu went to find shelter. They found a house standing by itself in a lonely place. In the house was a man and his wife, and the wife was with child. They told Conall and Bricriu that their company would be made most welcome.

  Conall and Bricriu returned and told Conchobor what they had found, and soon the whole company was lodged in the tiny house that stood alone on the plain. There was food and drink in plenty, and the Ulstermen enjoyed themselves well. While they were at table, the man came to Conchobor and said, "Please help us. My wife is in her pains."

  Deichtine left the company and went to help the woman. Soon the woman was delivered of a fine baby boy. There was also a mare at the house, who gave birth to two foals. This happened exactly when the woman gave birth to her son. Deichtine nursed the boy, and the warriors gave him the foals as a gift.

  When all this was done, the company lay down to sleep. But when morning came, they awoke to find that the house had vanished, along with the man and the woman and the mare. In the folds of Conchobor's cloak lay the baby, and with their own horses stood the two foals. The men looked about and found that the flock of birds also had vanished. At that, they harnessed their horses and returned to Emain, where Deichtine tended the baby as though he were her own. The baby grew well under Deichtine's care, but one day he took sick and died, and Deichtine's grief was very great.

  One time after this, Deichtine became thirsty. She took a drink of water but did not notice that a small creature was in the cup. She swallowed the creature along with the water. That night, Deichtine had a dream. In the dream, a man came to her. He was handsome and well-built, obviously a mighty warrior. The man said to her, "I it was who brought you and your company to Brugh na Boinne. My son it was that you cared for as your own. My name is Lug mac Ethnenn. I give you another son this night, and you shall name him Setanta. You shall raise him with the foals who were also born at Brugh na Boinne."

  Soon afterwards, Deichtine found herself with child. But she was not wed, so the people of Ulster whispered among themselves that maybe Conchobor had lain with his own sister one night, when he was drunk. This brought shame on Conchobor, so he wed her to Sualdam mac Roich.

  On her wedding night, Deichtine did not want to lie with her husband while she was with child. She fell ill, and she vomited. When she vomited, the creature she had swallowed came out of her body. Having thus purified herself, she went to her new husband and lay with him. She was made with child by him, and when her time came, she bore a son. She named the boy Setanta.

  When Deichtine's son was born, the nobles of Conchobor's court argued about who was to take him in to foster. Each of them boasted about his wealth and skills, and about how he would be the best choice to raise the boy. Then Conchobor said, "Let us not argue in this fashion. My sister Finnchaem will care for the boy until we return to Emain, and there we will ask judgement of Morann, who is wise and judges fairly."

  It was done as Conchobor said. They all returned to Emain, and Finnchaem cared for Setanta. They went to Morann and told him the issue that needed to be decided. Morann said, "Conchobor should be his foster father because he is Setanta's kinsman. The rest of you also shall foster him and teach him the things you know. This boy will be a hero and the defender of Ulster, and all of you shall help him reach his destiny."

  The men of Ulster thought this a very fair judgement, so Setanta was given first to Finnchaem and Amergin in their house at Imrith Fort on the Plain of Murtheimne until such time as he was old enough to learn what the others had to teach.

  How Cuchulainn Got His Name

  Like many heroes, Cuchulainn—whose bo
yhood name was Setanta, as we have seen—is possessed of prodigious strength and skill from an early age. In this story, we learn how he got the name Cuchulainn, which means "Hound of Culann." The translation of the Irish word cu as "hound" is important because it refers to a particular kind of dog, a noble animal and a hunter—or, as in this tale, a fierce watchdog—while the word gadhar refers to a more ordinary dog.

  Hurling, which is played by Cuchulainn and Conchobor's boy-troop, is an ancient Irish sport that is still played today. Players use "hurleys," which are something like hockey sticks with rounded heads, to hit or carry a small ball. Hands and feet also can be used to move the ball. Points are scored by hitting the ball over the opponent's goalposts or into a net that is guarded by the opponent's goalkeeper.

  Fidchell, the game played by Conchobor in this tale, is likewise very ancient. Sometimes the word fidchell is translated as "chess," but while we know that fidchell was some kind of board game played by two opponents having an equal number of pieces, no boards, pieces, or rules for fidchell have survived, so it is unclear exactly how closely it might have matched the game of chess as we know it today.

  Thrice-born Setanta grew to boyhood in a great house on the plain of Muirthemne. One day, when Setanta was five years old, tales of the boy-troop of Emain Macha came to his ears. He heard that King Conchobor liked to divide his day into three parts: one part was for watching the boy-troop at their games, of which hurling was chiefest; one was for playing fidchell; and the third was for eating and drinking and listening to the music of minstrels until he felt sleepy and retired to his chamber.

  Setanta went to his mother and said, "Mother, I should like to go to Emain Macha. I should like to meet the boy-troop of Conchobor and see whether I can best them at their sports."