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

by Matt Clayton

  "Oh, Setanta," said his mother, "you should not go. You are too young, and there is no warrior to go with you to ensure your safety."

  "I do not need a warrior to protect me," said Setanta. "And I will not wait. I mean to go now, if you would but tell me the way."

  Setanta's mother reluctantly agreed, and so told him how to get to Emain Macha. The next day, Setanta set out for the court of Conchobor. He took with him his shield, his brass hurley, his silver ball, his javelin, and his toy spear, and with these things he amused himself on his long journey. First he used the hurley to hit the ball, driving it a long distance in front of him. Then he threw the hurley the same distance in the same direction, and then the javelin likewise, and then the spear. This done, he would run after all of these and pick up the ball, the hurley, and the javelin, and then catch the spear before it hit the ground.

  Soon enough, Setanta arrived at Emain Macha. There he found Conchobor's boy-troop at their sport. Three times fifty boys there were, all playing on a green field. Some were playing hurley, while others were learning warrior's craft with Conchobor's son, Follamain. Without speaking a word to any of them, Setanta dove into the hurley game. He caught the ball between his knees and held it there, and none of the boys could touch it. Holding the ball this way, he went down the field and then put the ball over the post for a goal. The boy-troop watched this in amazement.

  Follamain saw it also and cried out, "Who is this upstart who enters your game without first getting your guarantee of protection, as is your custom? All of you now, fall upon him and kill him, for he has no right to be here."

  The boy-troop immediately took their hurleys and threw them at Setanta's head, but he parried each and every one of them with his own hurley. Then the boys pelted Setanta with balls, but he kept these off with his hands and arms. When the boys flung their little spears at him, Setanta caught every spear with his shield, and so was unharmed. Then Setanta waded in among the boys and laid low fifty of them, and they the best and strongest and most skilled of the whole troop.

  As Conchobor sat playing fidchell with Fergus, five of the boys went speeding past, trying to escape Setanta's wrath, and Setanta himself close on their heels. Conchobor called out to Setanta.

  "Stop, there!" he said. "What game is this that you play with my boy-troop? Why do you use them so ill?"

  "That question you might ask of them as well," said Setanta, "for here I am come from a distant land, and no guest's welcome to meet me."

  "I see," said Conchobor. "Who are you, and who are your parents?"

  "I am Setanta, son of Sualdam and your sister, Deichtine, and I did not expect to be treated as an enemy here."

  "Did you not know that it is the custom of my boy-troop that all outsiders must beg their protection before joining them at their sport?" said Conchobor.

  "I did not," said Setanta, "otherwise this I would have done from the first."

  Conchobor therefore went to the boy-troop and said, "You shall now pledge to this lad your protection," and the troop agreed that they would do so.

  Then Conchobor said to Setanta, "What are you going to do now?"

  "I shall offer the boy-troop my protection."

  "Promise it to me, then," said Conchobor. "Swear it now."

  "I do swear," said Setanta.

  Then the boys returned to their play, and those that Setanta had knocked down were helped up and given care for their hurts.

  One day, when Setanta was six years old, Conchobor set out with some of his choicest warriors and Cathbad the druid to attend a feast at the home of Culann the Smith. According to his custom, Conchobor first went to the playing-field to see what the boys were doing and ask their blessing upon his journey. When he arrived, he watched the boys playing one game after another, the entire troop against Setanta, and in each game Setanta defeated the lot of them with ease. Conchobor was amazed by this, and invited Setanta to go to the feast with him.

  "I thank you," said Setanta, "but first I must finish my sport with the boy-troop. I will meet you there later."

  Conchobor went ahead to the feast with his warriors. When they arrived, Culann greeted them well and said, "Is this all the company? I ask this because I have a great hound that guards my livestock. He is cunning and vicious, and so strong that it takes three men holding his three chains to keep him back when he is roused. I am going to let him go after the gate is closed and you and your company are inside."

  "There are no others following after," said Conchobor, for he had forgotten that Setanta would be joining them when he was done with his play.

  The company sat down to the feast Culann had made, and they were enjoying themselves well when they heard the baying of the hound outside. Then Conchobor blanched, for he remembered that Setanta was to follow them, and the hound was loose in the field. Conchobor ran to the window at the sound of the hound's baying, as did Culann and the rest of the company. With great dismay they watched little Setanta making his way across the field, amusing himself with his hurley and ball by striking the ball and then running to catch it before it hit the ground, and the great hound racing towards him with such speed that not even the fastest chariot could have caught him before he reached the lad.

  The hound made for Setanta, its maw wide open to swallow him at one gulp. But Setanta did not even flinch. Instead, he took his hurley and struck the ball mightily at the hound. He hit the ball with such force that it went straight down the hound's gullet and passed all the way through its body without stopping. Then Setanta grabbed the hound by its hind legs and dashed its back against a tree so hard that its limbs were forced right out of their sockets.

  Culann, Conchobor, and the warriors came running out to see what had become of Setanta, and found the boy standing there next to the remains of the hound. Culann lamented when he saw that the hound was dead. "O that I had never given this feast!" he said. "That hound was the best that ever was, and like part of my family. He guarded my household and my property, and never shall his like be seen again!"

  "Do not grieve," said Setanta, "for I myself will rear a pup to take his place, and he will do the same duty and more for you. And until that pup is ready, I myself will be your hound, guarding your household and your property, and all Murtheimne Plain besides."

  Culann accepted this as payment of Setanta's debt, and Conchobor also said that it was a fair offer. Then Cathbad the druid said, "Your name from henceforth shall be Cuchulainn, the Hound of Culann."

  Setanta pronounced himself well pleased with this, and he used that name to the end of his days.

  PART II

  Wales

  Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed

  This story, from the first branch of the Welsh Mabinogion, has many hallmarks of Celtic myth, especially in the fluid boundaries between the human world and the Otherworld. The first indication that the human Pwyll has stepped over that boundary is the color of the strange hunting pack: the hounds are white with red ears, a clear sign that they belong to an Otherworldly huntsman. The second half of the story also partakes of ancient Celtic ideas about the Otherworld: a perch on a perilous hill that allows one to see things that might not otherwise be seen; a mysterious horse and rider who cannot be chased down; and a miraculous child who shows precocious growth and prodigious strength.

  Readers of Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Prydain will recognize this story as the source of the names Arawn and Annuvin (spelled Annwfn in the Welsh original). In Alexander's telling, Arawn is an evil dark lord and Annuvin his fearsome realm. In this tale, however, Arawn is not drawn as a villain, and while the Annwfn of the Mabinogion definitely is in the Otherworld, it is not a dark or forbidding place at all. Alexander likewise altered the characters of Pwyll and Pryderi to suit his own stories which, although drawing on the Mabinogion, are not retellings of those ancient tales.

  Once there was a Prince of Dyfed, and his name was Pwyll. Pwyll liked nothing better than to go hunting, and so one morning he and his companions mounted their horses and took
their hounds out into the countryside, where they hoped to catch a fine stag. They had not been hunting long when Pwyll and his hounds became separated from his friends. As Pwyll looked about trying to find where the others had gone, he heard the cry of hounds, but it was not the cry of his own pack. Pwyll rode into a clearing, where he saw the other pack of hounds chasing a stag.

  Pwyll had never seen hounds like these before. Their coats were white as snow, but their ears were red as blood. Before Pwyll could call his own hounds to him, the other pack attacked the stag and brought it down. Pwyll chased away the strange dogs and allowed his own pack to eat of the carcass.

  While Pwyll's dogs were eating, a man rode up on a dapple-grey horse. He carried a hunting horn on a fine chain, and his clothes were all of a soft grey color. The rider said, "Sir, I recognize you, but I will not greet you."

  Pwyll said, "Perhaps you are of a rank that does not require you to greet me."

  "No," said the rider, "it is not rank that prevents me, but your own grave discourtesy."

  "What discourtesy have I done?" said Pwyll.

  "Why, nothing more than chasing away the pack that brought down the stag, only to feed your own hounds upon it," said the rider. "However, I do not mean to take revenge on you for it. Rather I will sound your shame throughout the whole land, even to the value of one hundred stags."

  Pwyll said, "If I have done discourtesy to you, then I shall make it right. This I shall do according to your station, but first I must know your name and where is your country."

  "In my country, I am a king," said the rider.

  "My lord, I greet you and wish you good day," said Pwyll. "What is the name of your country?"

  "I come from Annwfn," said the rider, "and my name is Arawn, king of Annwfn."

  "My lord," said Pwyll, "how shall I make it right between us?"

  "I shall tell you," said the rider. "There is another king in Annwfn, and his name is Hafgan. He continually fights with me. I wish him to harry me no more. If you want to earn my friendship, you must rid me of him."

  "That I will gladly do," said Pwyll, "if you tell me how to go about it."

  Arawn said, "You will come to my palace in Annwfn, and for the space of a year you shall wear my face and form so that none of my courtiers will be able to tell the difference between us. You shall share a bed with my own wife, and neither shall she know that you are not me. This you shall do for the space of one year, and at the end of that time we will meet again in this place."

  "I do not understand how this will put an end to your enemy," said Pwyll. "Also I do not know this Hafgan; how will I find him so that I may rid you of him?"

  "I have an agreement to meet him at the ford a year from tonight. If you go there in my place, in my shape, you shall give him one blow. He will die of it. But you must not give him more than one, no matter how much he asks you to do so. Because every other time I have faced him, it did not matter how many times I struck him, he was always as strong as before."

  "I shall do as you ask," said Pwyll, "but what will become of my own lands while I am gone?"

  "I shall assume your form in the same way you shall assume mine, and none in your lands will know the difference," said Arawn.

  "I accept these terms gladly," said Pwyll. "You have but to show me the way to your court."

  Arawn then told him the way to his palace. He told Pwyll to go straight to the court, and to behave as though he belonged there, for none of the people would be able to tell he was not Arawn.

  When Pwyll arrived, he saw that Arawn's court was indeed a fine place. The palace was made of well-hewn stone, and the halls and chambers were lined with tapestries and carved wood. Pwyll was greeted warmly by many servants, who helped him change his clothes to ready him for the banquet. Then Pwyll went into the hall, and marveled at the many warriors gathered there, each one of them obviously a champion.

  Pwyll took his seat at table, with the queen on his right and a man he supposed was an earl on his left. The queen was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and after but a little speech with her Pwyll saw that she was the most gracious as well. The evening passed with much enjoyment, and soon it was time for bed. The queen and Pwyll went up to their chamber together, and when they climbed into bed Pwyll turned his back to her and said not another word until the morning, and in this wise they slept together for the space of a year.

  For the whole of that year, Pwyll spent his time happily in hunting and feasting with his new companions, until it came time for him to go to the ford for the meeting he had promised to attend. He went to the ford accompanied by a band of his noblemen. They arrived to find Hafgan there before them, with his own retinue of picked warriors, and just as it was at the court of Annwfn, none could tell that Pwyll was not Arawn.

  One of Arawn's noblemen came forward and said, "This is a dispute between kings, over lands and domains. The dispute is between them and them alone. No one is to interfere in their fight."

  Then Hafgan and Pwyll took up their swords and shields. They mounted their chargers and advanced into the ford. At the very first clash of arms, Pwyll clove Hafgan's shield in two with a blow so mighty it shattered Hafgan's armor and sent him reeling back over his horse's crupper and into the river, and Hafgan knew that he had received his death-blow.

  Hafgan got to his knees and said, "My lord, by what right do you deal me a death-blow? I claimed nothing from you: you started this dispute to take lands from me. I do not know why you think I must die here in the ford, but since you have started down that path you may as well finish it. Kill me now!"

  "My lord," said Pwyll, "I may yet regret what I have done to you. But I will not kill you. You must find someone else to do that deed."

  Hafgan turned to his nobles and said, "Take me away from here. I soon shall die. I will not be your king any longer."

  Pwyll said to Hafgan's nobles, "I give you time to take counsel to see which of you must now owe fealty to me."

  Hafgan's nobles replied that all of them now were vassals of Arawn, and that Arawn was now the sole king in Annwfn. Pwyll then received their fealty and set about the work of ordering the realm of Annwfn.

  After this was done, Pwyll set out for the place where he was to meet Arawn, and he found Arawn there before him. The two men greeted each other well.

  Arawn said, "May God bless you well for all you have done, for I have heard all about it."

  Then Arawn returned himself to his own form, and did the same for Pwyll. Then the two men bade farewell to one another and went to their own homes.

  When Arawn arrived back at his own court, he greeted everyone very warmly, for he had missed them while he was away. Everyone remarked on how friendly Arawn was being, for they did not know that he had been elsewhere. That night there was a great banquet, and when it came time to go to bed Arawn was very affectionate with his wife, and he made joyful love to her. She wondered what had happened to change his mood so much, since he had not touched her for an entire year.

  She thought long about this. When Arawn woke up, he spoke to her, but she did not answer. He did this many times, but each time his wife remained silent.

  "Wife," said Arawn, "why will you not speak to me?"

  "It is because for a full year you have said not one word to me when we have been in this bed."

  "But we have always talked together here," said Arawn.

  "Husband, I tell you that for the space of a whole year you have said not one word to me when we have been together in bed, neither have you touched me nor so much as looked at me."

  Arawn thought how steadfast and faithful Pwyll had been to him, and was grateful. Then he turned to his wife and said, "My lady, I do not blame you for your anger. But I must tell you that for the space of that year it was not I who shared this bed with you." And then he told her the whole story, and she also marveled at how faithful Pwyll had been.

  Now, as Arawn was enjoying his homecoming, Pwyll also returned to his own realm. He asked his nobles how we
ll they thought he had ruled them for the past year, and to a man they agreed they had never seen the realm so well ordered. Then Pwyll told them the whole story, saying that they owed thanks to Arawn for his diligence. The nobles agreed that Arawn had proved a stout friend to Pwyll. But then they said, "Surely you will continue to rule in the same wise as Arawn had done?" And Pwyll swore that he would do so.

  Pwyll and Arawn continued to be friends. They paid visits to each other's courts and went hunting together, and from time to time would exchange gifts of hounds or horses or weapons, or of other things they found that they thought might make a fine present for the other to enjoy. And because Pwyll had ruled so faithfully in Arawn's stead, he was no longer styled Prince of Dyfed, but rather Pwyll Pen Annwfn.

  There came a time when Pwyll went to visit his court at Arberth. The court held a great banquet in his honor, and after he had eaten and drunk Pwyll went to stretch his legs. He headed for a mound that was situated near the court, and this place was called Gorsedd Arberth. One of his nobles saw which way he was going and said, "My lord, I do not counsel you to walk upon that mound, for it is said that if a nobleman ascends it he will not come down again save he has been wounded or else seen some marvel."

  "I do not fear being wounded," said Pwyll, "for surely I am safe here among a retinue of so many champions, and the sight of a marvel would be most welcome."

  Pwyll ascended the mound, and some of his noblemen came with him. When they got to the top, they sat down. Soon enough, they saw a maiden approaching. She was dressed in the finest silk embroidered with golden thread, and she was riding a milk-white horse.

  "Does anyone recognize that woman?" said Pwyll.

  The nobles all said that they did not know her.

  "Someone must go and find out who she is," said Pwyll.

  One of the nobles ran down the hill, but the woman had already ridden past, and no matter how fast the man ran, he could not catch up with her. The noble returned to Pwyll and said, "My lord, no one will be able to catch her on foot."