When they had all returned to the castle, Murdo Òg came to her and said: “Fear not, Finnseang, I will save you, even though I am a cowherd. But I have been tending my herd and am tired so I must sleep until the monster comes. Do you awaken me by placing one of your pearl earrings in my ear.”
“Gladly,” replied the girl, “if it will wake you to fight the monster.”
Soon the dawn light came and the two-headed monster reared forth out of the loch.
As good as her word, Finnseang put her earring in his ear.
Murdo Òg awoke and sprang forward with his sword. Again, the fight was long, but he fought bravely and well and managed to sever a second head from the monster. This, too, he skewered on the willow branch, while the monster, screaming and threshing, returned back across the loch in a froth of blood.
“Home you go,” he told Finnseang, “but give me your oath that you will not tell anyone it was I who saved you.”
She promised and he went off to tend his herd while she returned to the castle.
When he returned to Campbell’s castle in the evening, he found the people in uproar.
“What is it now?” he demanded.
“A one-headed monster has appeared,” the dairymaid told him. “It demands that the chief’s daughter be taken to it as sacrifice. But have no fear, a third champion has now come forward to slay the monster. He is much braver than the others for it was he who took off the second head of the monster this morning.”
Murdo Òg was truly astonished that any warrior could make such a false claim.
“What does Finnseang say to that?”
“She neither confirms nor denies it. So Campbell, the chief, believes it to be so.”
Murdo Òg sighed. Finnseang had kept her word to him and not told anyone that it was he who had saved her.
The next morning, the new champion marched down to the shore, and the people gathered round to watch the combat. The one-headed monster reared out of the lake and the champion went forward. But as the monster drew near, his face went white and the sweat of fear stood out on his brow. He suddenly turned, threw aside his shield and sword and went running off as fast as a rabbit over the hills and was not seen again.
The monster came forward.
“Since you have no champion to defend Finnseang, let her be brought to the shore of the loch before dawn tomorrow and then I will come for her.”
It was truly a grief-stricken father who took his daughter to the loch shore and parted from her the next morning. No one else came, because they could not bear to see Finnseang being carried off by the monster.
But hardly had Finnseang been left when Murdo Òg appeared. “Fear not, Finnseang, for I am here and will defend you, even though I be but a herder of cows. But as I am such, I am tired and will sleep until the monster comes. Do you wake me by placing your second earring in my ear.”
“If that will wake you to fight the monster, I will do so gladly,” affirmed the girl.
He fell asleep. Just as dawn arrived, the one-headed monster reared out of the loch. The girl placed the second earring in his ear and Murdo Òg sprang forward, sword ready. The fight was fierce but finally Murdo Òg sliced off the third head from the monster, and this time it sank quietly into the bloody waters of the loch and never rose again.
Murdo Òg put the third head on the willow branch and placed it as a totem by the shores of the loch.
“Do not tell anyone it was I,” he said.
“But the danger is gone,” she protested. “Surely now I can tell my father that it was you who saved me?”
He shook his head sadly. “Your father will not accept that a cowherd can be a champion. Nor that a cowherd can love a chieftain’s daughter.”
She said nothing, for she knew that there was wisdom in his statement. She watched sadly as he went off to tend his cattle. She realised that she loved him and knew that she had to act. So when she returned to the castle, where great joy awaited her, she told her father that she would marry and only marry the man who could take the monster’s heads off the withy, or willow branch. Of course, with the monster dead, many came forward to try their luck, boasting their bravery. But they failed to remove the heads, for they seemed stuck tight on the willow branch. Finnseang herself knew that only the man who had put the heads on the branch could take them off.
Everyone was in despair, for it seemed no one in the castle was able to perform the deed.
Then Murdo Òg returned with his cows.
“Murdo Òg has not attempted the task yet,” Finnseang told her father.
Campbell laughed uproariously, and all the warriors echoed his laughter.
“He is only a cowherd, child,” rebuked Campbell.
“But he is a man,” she pointed out.
Reluctantly, Campbell called Murdo Òg forward and told him to remove the heads.
Murdo Òg wondered why he was called upon to do so, for he had not heard that Finnseang had promised to marry the man who did so; he reached forward and easily removed the monster-heads from the branch.
The champions of Campbell were no more astonished at this than Campbell himself.
“What does this mean?” breathed the chieftain suspiciously.
“I cannot mention the warrior who came and saved me three times from the monster,” replied Finnseang. “I am under oath not to do so. But I gave him my two earrings and my ring.”
Campbell realized that Murdo Òg was wearing the earrings of his daughter and on his finger was her ring.
He went forward and clasped the young man by the shoulders.
“You are the one who saved my daughter and the man she loves. You shall marry her and be as a son to me.”
Murdo Òg was well pleased and agreed.
There was a great feasting at the castle and Murdo Òg and Finnseang were wed. For three years they lived happily together.
Then a day came when the lovers were walking by the shores of the loch. Without warning, the waters boiled and the monster, with three new heads grown on it, was even more fearsome than before. It was seeking vengeance and it leapt out of the loch and seized Murdo Òg before he had time to draw his sword. The next instant, the monster had dragged the young man under the water.
Finnseang wailed and lamented and, as she did so, an old man passing by asked her what had happened. When she told him, he advised her to lay out all her best jewels on the shore of the loch and call the monster to come and look at them.
This she did. The beast surfaced suddenly and examined the fine jewels laid out on the shore.
“I’ll give you any of these that you wish, if only you will give me a sight of my husband, Murdo Òg,” she pleaded.
The monster’s eyes glinted. It turned and dived back into the loch and soon returned with Murdo Òg, as whole and as alive as anyone.
“I will give you all my jewels if you return him to me,” pleaded Finnseang.
The monster considered the request and finally agreed to the bargain.
All went well for three years until, one day, the young couple were walking by the loch shore again. This time the monster rose out and it was Finnseang who was dragged under the waters before Murdo Òg had a chance to defend her.
Murdo Òg was wailing and lamenting his lost bride when an old man walking by asked him what was wrong.
Murdo Òg told him and the old man said: “I will tell you how you can rescue your wife and destroy the monster for ever. In the centre of the loch is an island. On the island is a white-footed hind, slender and swift. If you catch the hind, a black crow will spring out of her mouth and if the black crow were caught, a trout would fall out of her beak, and in the mouth of the trout would be an egg. Now in the egg is the soul of that monster. If you crush the egg, the monster will die.”
Murdo Òg was astonished, but he decided that he must try this means of rescuing his wife or do nothing at all.
There was no easy way to reach the island in the centre of the loch. Anyway, the monster was swimming the loc
h and any boat that passed over it would be seized. So Murdo Òg mounted his fine black horse, the first-born horse of his father’s old mare, and with his black dog beside him, the first-born dog of his father’s old bitch, he rode hard towards the loch shore and made a leap towards the island. Such was the power of that leap that they landed on the shore of the island.
Murdo Òg hunted the white-footed hind and finally cornered her but could not reach her. “I wish I had a great hunting dog,” he thought. “Just like the dog I saw all those years ago.”
No sooner had he wished it than the great dog with whom he had shared meat suddenly appeared and, between them, they captured the hind. But as they did so, it opened its mouth and a black crow sprang out and flew off.
“Ah, if only I had the help of a falcon,” thought Murdo Òg, “like the falcon I saw all those years ago.”
No sooner had he thought that, than the falcon he had shared meat with also appeared and chased the crow. As it caught her, a trout fell from her mouth into the loch and swam furiously away.
“Ah, if only I had the help of an otter,” he thought, “like the one I saw all those years ago, then it could capture the trout.”
No sooner had he thought that than the otter with whom he had shared meat appeared and was after the trout in a flash, caught it and brought it to the shore of the island where Murdo Òg waited.
The young man took the egg from the trout’s mouth and put it on the ground, raising his foot ready to stamp on it.
At that moment, the great monster rose from the loch and pleaded with him not to damage the egg.
“Give me back my wife,” demanded Murdo Òg.
At once, Finnseang appeared on the shore by his side.
Without hesitating, Murdo Òg brought his foot down on the egg and the monster gave one shriek and collapsed dead into the waters of the loch.
Murdo Òg and Finnseang went back to Castle Campbell to the great joy of everyone. Murdo Òg had truly become a great chieftain in the land. He and Finnseang lived happily together.
But one day, after three years had passed, when they were riding around the loch, Murdo Òg noticed a dark castle, set among the gloomy black forest, which he had never seen before.
“Who dwells there, Finnseang?” he demanded.
“Leave well alone. It is forbidden to go near it. No one has ever come back who has entered there.”
Murdo Òg said nothing and they continued on their way. But if Murdo Òg had a fault, it was a great curiosity. That evening, pretending to go out hunting, he rode back towards the gloomy castle.
At the door of the castle sat a crone, a little old woman, who greeted him pleasantly enough.
“Who lives here?” he demanded.
“Why, someone you’ll be happy to meet, young sir,” replied the crone. “Come away inside.”
Murdo Òg climbed down off his horse and went inside.
No sooner had he entered the castle than she came up behind him and struck him on the head with a club.
He fell to the ground.
At the house of Murdo Sean, the fisherman of Inverary, the old man was looking out on his garden.
“Save us!” he cried. For he saw one of his three oak trees suddenly wither and die. “That can only mean my first-born son, Murdo Òg, is dead.”
“How can that be, father?” demanded Lachlan, who was his second-born son.
Murdo Sean pointed to the withered tree
“The sea-maid said it would be a sign. Whenever one of the trees withers, it means one of my sons has died. Since you and your brother are here, it can only mean Murdo Òg is dead.”
“I will go in search of him and discover the truth of it,” Lachlan announced, for he was as brave as his brother.
He saddled the second-born horse of his father’s old mare and took the second-born dog of his father’s old bitch dog and he set out. Finally he came to Campbell’s castle and found it in mourning. On telling Finnseang who he was, she told him all she knew, and about the terrible dark castle in the woods. She warned him, as did her father, Campbell, but Lachlan was as warlike as his name and rode forth to the castle. Nothing would prevent him from going there. He had to see whether his brother was dead or not.
He came to the castle and saw the crone sitting by the gate.
“Who lives here, old woman?” he demanded
“Someone you’ll be pleased to meet with, young sir,” wheezed the old crone. “Come away in.”
Lachlan entered the gate and, no sooner had he done so, than the crone slunk up behind and fetched him a hefty blow with her cudgel. He fell to the floor.
In Murdo Sean’s garden, a second tree suddenly withered.
“Ah, ah,” cried old Murdo Sean, “I played the sea-maid a grievous trick and now she punishes me. My second-born son, Lachlan, is dead.”
“How do you know this, father?” demanded Aonghus, his third and youngest boy.
His father told him.
“Well, I must go in search of them and see for myself,” he declared, for he was as brave as his brothers.
In spite of his old father’s pleading, Aonghus saddled the third-born horse of his father’s old mare and took the third-born dog of his father’s old bitch dog and set forth. Eventually he came to the castle of Campbell, where he found great mourning and lamentation. When he told them who he was, Finnseang told him what had befallen her husband and his brother: that they had disappeared into the evil castle of gloom and had not returned.
Aonghus immediately set forth, in spite of all their pleadings for him not to chance his own life.
He reached the gates of the castle and saw the crone seated outside.
“Whose castle is this, old woman?” he demanded.
“Someone you’ll be pleased to meet with, young sir. Come away in.”
“I will do so, but you will proceed me,” said Aonghus, who was a careful boy.
The old woman turned and began to hobble forward. Then the third-born dog sprang at her, but she had her cudgel in her hand and clubbed its head so that it fell at her feet.
Aonghus drew his sword and, with one swift cut, he took off the old crone’s head. But she turned and seized it as it fell, so that it did not touch the ground. Then she stuck it back on her head.
But before she had recovered, the third-born horse reared up and struck out with flaying hooves and one hoof kicked the cudgel from her hand. It spun through the air and landed in the hand of Aonghus who, no sooner had he felt its magical properties, than he thrashed out with it, and hit her over the head. She fell onto the ground.
He began to search the castle and in the stables he found his brother’s two black horses and two black dogs. Not long after, he discovered his brother Lachlan lying dead in one room and his brother Murdo Òg lying dead in another. He went to each of them and touched them with the cudgel. Whereupon they awoke, as if from a deep sleep, and were delighted to see each other once more.
They began to explore the castle and found an old man there.
“Do not harm me, sires,” he cried.
“I recognise you,” cried Murdo Òg. “You are the old man who told me how I could kill the three-headed monster of the loch. And you must be the same who told Finnseang how to save me from the monster.”
“I am, sir. I am.”
“Then what are you doing in this castle?”
“I am only the unwilling prisoner of its owner. I am her servant and have had to serve her unwillingly for many a long century.”
“The crone with the cudgel?” demanded Murdo Òg.
“None other than the sea-maid,” replied the old man.
“The sea-maid?” cried the brothers, astounded.
The old man took them to where the crone lay on the floor. When they examined the corpse of the old woman, they found that she was none other than the sea-maid. This was her gloomy sea-shore castle. Further, the old man told them that the mean giants whom Murdo Òg had killed, Athach and Famhair, had been the sea-maid’s foster sons,
the two children that she had taken below the depths to nurture instead of Murdo Òg, when his father had pretended that he had forgotten the day on which he was to be handed over.
Finally, the three-headed loch monster was the sea-maid’s special pet.
Each time she had sought to take revenge on Murdo Òg, because his father had not handed him over to her when he was a boy, Murdo Òg had been able to thwart her. Eventually she had overcome him as well as his second brother but three, being a pure number, had bested her in the end.
There was great rejoicing at Campbell’s castle. No more rejoicing was there anywhere than between Murdo Òg and his wife Finnseang.
Lachlan and Aonghus were given high positions at the castle, becoming the foremost champions of the chief, Campbell “Crooked Mouth”. Their father, Murdo Sean, and his wife and his animals were brought there and lived their lives in peace and prosperity.
When Campbell “Crooked Mouth” finally died, the derbhfhine of his family took the unusual step of acclaiming Murdo Òg as The Campbell, chieftain of the glens of Argyll, which means “the seaboard of the Gael” – Airer-Ghàidheal.
Beware, then, of the sea-maid, and make sure that you know the difference between a sea-maid and a mermaid, for they are dissimilar. A sea-maid may put you to the test, as she did Murdo Sean and his sons. So beware; at least they were found worthy. But not everyone may be so lucky.
17 Conall Cròg Buidhe
There was once a warrior who lived on Airer Ghàidheal, “the seaboard of the Gael”, which some now call Argyll. His name was Conall Cròg Buidhe, which means “Conall of the Large Yellow Hand”. Conall was not only a warrior of some renown, but he was known to be one of the best storytellers of the Feans, the warrior élite of the kingdom of high-hilled Alba.
Conall had three sons, who had just reached the age of choice. But they were unruly lads and needed more discipline than Conall had ever given them for Conall, it may be said, was often away at sea or engaged in wars. So his sons were sometimes lacking in sobriety and were impetuous of spirit: too fond of feasting and drinking.
The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends Page 28
