“Do you think you can win a maiden by stealing her shoe?” they jeered.
“No, but I’ll tell you this,” replied Duncan. “This shoe is of such a delicate shape and size that, if I find the foot that fits it, I shall find that beautiful maiden. When I do so, that maiden I shall marry.”
The young men were annoyed at this stranger’s presumption, for Loch Abar lay on the western side of the land of high-hilled Alba, while Dòrnach was on the eastern coast. They felt it an affront that the Prince of Loch Abar should come and claim a maiden at Dòrnach Fair, without the local young men being given a chance to pay court to her.
“If that be so,” one of them said, more boldly than the rest, “then you will have to fight us for her.”
“When I find her, I shall fight you, if that is your wish,” replied Duncan grimly, for he was not afraid of them. If the truth were known, he was the best swordsman from Ceann Donnchaidh in the north to Linne Salmhaigh in the south.
So the Prince of Loch Abar called his servants and, taking the shoe, they set off firstly to visit every household in Cataibh to find anyone, high-born or low-born, who might fit the shoe. After some weeks, the prince and his retinue came to the castle of the poor lord of Cataibh. The prince had left the castle until the last, as it was known that the poor Lord of Cataibh was not so wealthy that he could send one of his daughters to Dòrnach Fair in such finery as the mysterious princess had appeared in.
When Geal and Donn heard that he was coming they, of course, insisted they should try on the shoe, even though they knew that they were not the grand lady whom he was searching for.
“It matters not, for if the shoes fits, we shall wear it. We have a right to be married to a prince.”
So the Prince of Loch Abar came to the house and the shoe was tried on - first on Geal and then on Donn. But neither of them could squeeze the shoe on. Truth to tell, as it was made by a sìtheach or Otherworld dweller, the shoe would only accept the foot it was made for. But no mortal ever knew this.
The Prince of Loch Abar stood up with a glum face, perhaps even more disappointed than the faces of Geal and Donn.
“Well, I have tried the shoe on every woman in Cataibh and a month it has taken. I will have to travel the seven kingdoms from Baideanach to Athal and to Fiobh. I will not rest until I find the lady on whom the shoe fits.”
Then the poor Lord of Cataibh spoke up. He had barely spoken until that moment, for he usually allowed his two daughters, Geal and Donn, to dominate his life, while he retired into his library.
“Prince Duncan,” he said, “you have not tried the shoe on every woman in Cataibh.”
“Have I not? Who has not tried the shoe?”
“My third daughter, Critheanach.”
At that, Geal and Donn broke out into a peal of rude laughter. “She has no use, except for cleaning the ashes. As if the shoe could fit her. Anyway, she was never at Dòrnach Fair.”
Prince Duncan sighed. “Well, let her be sent for. It must not be said I did not act fairly to every woman in Cataibh.”
So Critheanach came from the kitchen in her poor clothes. Impatiently, the Prince of Loch Abar handed the shoe to one of his servants, for he only saw the poor clothes of a kitchen servant and would not demean himself by bending to her feet.
There was an astonished silence as the shoe slipped comfortably onto her foot.
Then Critheanach stood up and, lo and behold, in a blink of an eye her clothes and appearance were transformed. There stood the beautiful grand lady of the fair.
Prince Duncan fell to his knees and begged her forgiveness. “I have looked for you long and hard, lady. You are the maiden I want to make my wife.”
“You have first to meet with the young men of Dòrnach,” replied Critheanach quietly. She had heard the news of the challenge from her sisters. “If you return from that meeting, you will find me here.”
With joy in his heart, Duncan, Prince of Loch Abar, left the house of the lord of Cataibh and rode back to Dòrnach. In the square there, he stood and beat his sword hilt on his great shield in challenge.
“What does this stranger want to challenge the men of Dòrnach for?” asked one man.
“Ah, see it is the Prince of Loch Abar,” cried another.
“Did we not say he must fight us for the right to pay court to the strange grand lady who visited the fair?” cautioned a third.
“Does your challenge mean, Prince of Loch Abar, that you have found the lady?” queried a fourth.
“It does,” affirmed Prince Duncan. “Now I shall fight you for her.”
Nine of the young champions of Dornach came forward, each with their swords and bucklers. For nine nights and nine days the combat lasted. Each day a champion stepped forward and, by the end of the day, his bloody body was carried from the field. At the end, Prince Duncan stood and claimed the right to pay his court to the youngest daughter of the lord of Cataibh.
When he returned, washed and was without his warlike accoutrements, he was brought into the presence of Critheanach. They spent a day in the garden and found they shared each other’s love. So a marriage feast was proclaimed and the feasting lasted for nine nights and nine days.
However, there were two at the feast who were angered at their sister’s happiness.
“She is the youngest,” observed Geal. “It is not right that she should be married first.”
“She was nothing but a kitchen servant,” agreed Donn. “Who will tend to the chores now?”
And the envy and anger grew into hatred and the hatred became an obsession.
Now it was agreed that, before the prince took his wife home to Loch Abar, they would spent some days recovering from the wedding feast at Goillspidh, on the coast north of Dòrnach. It was here that the Lord of Cataibh had a poor hunting lodge, but it was sufficient for the needs of Duncan and his wife, Critheanach, to rest quietly away from all the festivities of the marriage celebrations.
A plan was formulated by Geal and Donn to bring no good to their sister’s happiness. They offered to go with their sister to Goillspidh and act as her maids, pretending that they wanted to repay their young sister for all her kindnesses. In fact, they went to watch and wait for an opportunity to take vengeance on their sister.
We have already said that each of the three sisters was born within moments of each other and each, on first appearance, looked exactly like the others. This likeness was not remarked on, for each of the sisters tended to wear different clothing. If they were wearing the same clothes, not even their father could tell them apart.
One day, at the hunting lodge at Goillspidh, Donn was walking with her younger sister Critheanach in the garden. Her cloak caught on a thorn bush and was ripped. Now Critheanach had a warm and generous heart, unlike her sisters, and she promptly gave Donn her cloak to wear, for the wind was high and cold. Critheanach then turned to go into the hunting lodge to find out if the evening meal was ready, for Prince Duncan was returning from a day’s hunting fairly soon.
Donn walked on, along the cliff tops, grinding her teeth and wondering how she could enact vengeance on Critheanach, even to the point of killing her.
As she stood on the edge of the cliff, facing the sea, and wondering what plan of slaughter could be devised, along came Geal. Geal, with equal wickedness in her heart, thought she saw her sister, Critheanach, standing on the cliff edge, misled by the cloak Donn was wearing. She ran forward and thrust with all her might. Over the edge went Donn; her scream ripped from her, down to the rocks and a watery grave.
Satisfied with her work, Geal went into the lodge and found Critheanach and Duncan in each other’s arms. Her horror grew when she recognised that it was truly Critheanach and not Donn.
“Where is our sister, Donn?” asked Critheanach. “I left her a short time ago, walking along the cliff tops. I had to loan her my cloak, for she had torn her cloak on a thorn bush.”
Geal swallowed hard. “A messenger came and she had to return to our father at Cataibh,”
she said hastily. “He is feeling poorly and she has gone to see what is amiss.”
Now Critheanach was concerned, but Geal said it was not a serious matter and she expected Donn to return soon.
Now, instead of feeling guilty that she had brought about the death of Donn, Geal became more angry and her hatred of Critheanach grew deeper. But she bided her time.
The next morning, after breakfast, when Prince Duncan had gone hunting again, Geal and Critheanach were walking along the same cliff tops, looking out to sea. Critheanach was unsuspecting of her sister and bent to pick flowers on the cliff top. Geal seized her chance and gave her sister a quick shove.
Over the cliff top she went, spinning down went she to the raging sea below.
As fate would have – or perhaps at the intervention of the Baobh, who knows? – at that very moment, a great muc-mhara, the sea beast known as a whale, came swimming along and, looking up, he opened his great cavernous mouth. Critheanach landed on his soft great tongue and in a trice was swallowed into the cave of the whale’s stomach.
Geal went back to the hunting lodge, sneaking in, so that no servant saw her, and went into Critheanach’s chamber and changed into her clothes. As we have said, no one could really tell them apart now, for Critheanach was only a minute younger than Geal.
That evening, when Prince Duncan came in from the hunting, she greeted him with a kiss.
“Where is your sister, Geal?” he asked, looking round.
“Another messenger came from our father. He is worsened and needs her as well.”
“That sounds bad. Should we not go to visit him ourselves?”
Geal shook her head violently. “Oh no, my prince. It gives us an opportunity to stay here alone. My sisters can take care of my father in his illness.”
Now Duncan truly loved Critheanach, and he knew that it was a strange thing for her to say. He knew that she loved her father and, being of a generous spirit, would have been the first to go to see her father in his illness. There were other things which did not seem right about his wife. He could not put a finger on it. She just did not seem the same maiden that he had married.
That night when they went to bed, the feeling that all was not well made Prince Duncan pause. He was truly in doubt. So he took his sword and laid it in the bed between them.
“Why do you do that, Prince Duncan?” demanded Geal.
“If you are my true love, then this sword will grow warm between us. If not, it will remain cold.”
That night the sword was cold.
Early in the morning, Dìon, Prince Duncan’s shield-bearer, was walking by the shore when he came on an old woman. Now the old woman was none other but Baobh, the sìtheach.
“Dìon, do you truly love your mistress, the princess Critheanach?” she asked.
The young shield-bearer nodded eagerly. He was a faithful servant to his lord and had helped Prince Duncan find the beautiful maiden whose foot fitted the shoe.
“Then, when you return to the hunting lodge, call forth Duncan and tell him that Geal pushed her sister Critheanach into the sea yesterday. She fell into the maw of a great whale, the muc-mhara. She is there now and alive under enchantment. Today, at midday, the whale swims along the shoreline. Your prince must put out in a sgoth, a small skiff, with his javelin. There is a red spot under the breast fin of the whale and he must strike there. Only then can she be released from its stomach.”
Now Dìon was amazed but hurried to find Prince Duncan and pass on this news.
A scowl enveloped Duncan’s features. “I can believe this story, as fantastic as it is, for I had a feeling last night that the woman who claimed to be my wife was not her. Fetch me my hunting javelin and find a skiff, that we may go and do battle with the muc-mhara.”
They waited until midday and Prince Duncan saw the dark shape of the whale swimming along. Dìon helped him launch the skiff into the waters and they rowed with all their might. The whale, observing their approach, turned to the attack, swimming quickly towards them. Prince Duncan stood in the prow of the skiff with his javelin poised. Nearer and nearer came the great whale, rising from the water to crash down on the small boat. As it rose, the small spot became visible under the breast fin.
Straight and true, Prince Duncan launched his javelin and it went home. The whale leapt with the pain of it, turning from the boat and threshing in the sea so that the water became red with blood. Then it opened its mouth to roar with pain and as it did so it threw out Critheanach straight into the skiff.
Dìon turned the small boat and raced for the shore, while Prince Duncan sought to revive his wife. She was unharmed, for the spell of Baobh of the sìtheach had protected her from harm.
They found Geal trying on Critheanach’s clothes. She knew there would be no pity for her as she gazed from Critheanach’s sorrowful but determined face to Duncan’s angry countenance. They made her a prisoner and rode straight back to the house of the Lord of Cataibh.
There was already a suspicion between them that he would not be found ill but was hale and hearty, and that Donn would not be there nursing him. Geal confessed all before her father.
Sorrowing, the Lord of Cataibh blamed himself for his daughters’ folly. Yet Prince Duncan pointed out that, in spite of all that Geal and Donn had done, Critheanach was also his daughter and he should be proud of her.
So judgment was passed on Geal. She was cast out to sea on an offshore tide in a small rowing boat, but without oars. She was given enough food and water for a night and a day and left to the fortunes of Manánnan the great sea god. It is said by some that she was dragged beneath the waves and became a slave to the Kelpie. Others said that she managed to reach the shore of Lochlann and married a king’s son there and made him unhappy ever afterwards.
As for the Lord of Cataibh, his fortunes began to prosper and he married a fine, handsome woman, who made him very happy.
And as for Prince Duncan of Loch Abar and his wife, Critheanach, they never had a day’s unhappiness in the rest of their long lives, and their children and their children’s children continued to rule Loch Abar for as long as the descendants of Scota and Gàidheal Ghlas, the progenitors of the Gael, prospered there.
Wales (Cymru)
Wales: Preface
This selection of Welsh myths and legends starts with the story of Bran and Branwen, the children of Llyr. This appears in the Second Branch of the Pedair Cainc y Mabinogi (The Four Branches of the Mabinogi). The term Mabinogi originally meant a “tale of youth” and has since become simply “a tale”. The stories of the Mabinogi were first made known to the English-speaking world in translation by Lady Charlotte Guest (1812–1895) as Mabinogion in three volumes in 1846. Her translations have been open to question for, although she learnt Welsh, she relied on the help of John Jones and Thomas Price in that field, and her task was merely to render the stories into good English. She was actually born in Uffington in Lincolnshire and became interested in Welsh matters after her marriage to Sir Josiah John Guest (1785–1852) of Dowlais, Glamorgan.
Both the Mabinogi and Lady Guest’s work have, of course, been the subject of countless scholastic studies. The texts come from the Llyfr Gwyn Rhydderch (The White Book of Rhydderch, c. 1300–1325) and Llyfr Coch Hergest (The Red Book of Hergest, c. 1375–1425) together with the fragmentary texts in the Peniarth Manuscript 6, (c. 1225–35). Some scholars believe that the texts were copies from an earlier manuscript source, possibly set down about 1060, according to the scholar Sir Ifor Williams. Professor Proinsias Mac Cana and Dr Patrick Sims-Williams have argued about this dating.
A recent study, Medieval Welsh Literature by Andrew Breeze (Four Courts Press, Dublin, 1997), argues that four of the eleven tales which comprise the Mabinogi, “Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed”, “Branwen, Daughter of Llyr”, “Manawydan, son of Llyr” and “Math, son of Mathonwy” were all apparently written between 1120 and 1136 by an author identified as Gwenllian (d. 1136) of Gwynedd and Dyfed. Gwenllian’s father was Gruffudd ap Cynan (1055–
1137), king of Gwynedd, and her husband was a prince of Dyfed. However, as intriguing as Dr Breeze’s arguments are, the evidence is admittedly circumstantial. Certainly the themes and motifs of the stories are older and it is obvious that, even if Gwenllian is the author, she was merely retelling the stories.
If Gwenllian was the author of these stories, it does make a fitting image of a rather intriguing woman. When the Anglo-Normans attacked her husband’s territory, while her husband Gruffydd ap Rhys was away, Gwenllian raised an army and led a counter-attack which drove the Anglo-Normans back to Cydwedi (Kidwelly) castle. Under the command of Maurice of London, the Anglo-Normans fortified themselves in the castle. Gwenllian led an attack on the castle but her men were driven off. She was killed fighting a rearguard action at the fort of Maes Gwenllian (Gwenllian’s Field) in 1136/37. She had managed to drive off the initial Anglo-Norman invasion and gave her husband time to prepare his forces.
Branwen uerch Llyr (Branwen, daughter of Llyr), which she is said to have retold, is the main basis of our first tale, which is found in the Second Branch. By the time this story was written, as with the others, Christian scribes had tended to censor the fact that they were talking about the ancient gods. Bran is often referred to as Benedigeidfan in Welsh sources and this comes from the adjective bendigaid – blessed, which identifies him as a deity.
Bran of Wales seems cognate with Bran of Ireland, who journeys to the Otherworld in search of adventure. He also appears to be the source of the medieval French romance of “Bron, the Fisher King”.
For the story of “Math fab Mathonwy” we also go to the Mabinogi and specifically to the Fourth Branch of the Mabinogi. The story not only tells of Math and the war with Pryderi but of the birth of Gwydion’s son, Lleu Llaw Gyffes, and of his faithless wife, Blodeuedd. This is one of the most powerful stories in Welsh myth and, among retellings and works based on its themes, Saunders Lewis made it into one of his most memorable plays, entitled Blodeuwedd (1948). This appeared in an English translation by Joseph Clancy as “The Woman made of Flowers” (1985).
The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends Page 33
