Now it so happened that the very next evening was the start of the feasting which would bring in the New Year, marking the end of one pastoral year and the beginning of the next. This festival had been altered in Christian times. It had fallen on the evening of 31 October, which was renamed the eve of All Saints’ Day or All Hallows. More importantly, it was the time when spirits and ghosts could return from the Otherworld and set out to wreak vengeance on the living, on those who had wronged them in life. The fires of the village were extinguished that night and in the morning, when the sun rose in the sky, the fires would be rekindled from a ceremonial flame which would be lit by the Druids from the sun’s rays.
Maudez took little part in these ceremonies and, indeed, returned sorrowfully to his house before midnight. He went to bed but could not sleep. His mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of his dead brother, Primel.
It was as he lay in bed, thinking his sad thoughts, that he heard a footstep in the yard outside. He heard the door of the house open and a foot on the stair. He knew the footsteps well. The bedroom door swung open. He could not suppress the shiver that came over him as he saw the figure silhouetted in the doorway.
“Are you asleep, Maudez?” came the familiar voice.
Maudez let out a sigh.
“No, Primel. I am not asleep. I have been lying awake here, waiting for you.”
“We swore an oath, Maudez, that I would return. Get up now and come with me.”
Maudez arose and started to put on his clothes. Maudez saw that Primel was still clad as last he had seen him, in his shroud.
“Are there no fine clothes in the Otherworld, Primel?” he asked with interest.
“At this time, my brother, this shroud is all I possess and wear.”
“How do you find this Otherworld? Is it all that we have been told?”
“Alas,” said Primel, “there is a prohibition there. I am not allowed to tell you about it. But, I am allowed to show you. That is why I have come for you. I can let you see it for yourself . . . that is, if you freely agree to come with me.”
Maudez nodded eagerly. “We swore an oath. I am ready.”
Primel beckoned his brother to follow him and they went from the farm of their parents to the mill-pond at Goazwed. When they reached the still dark waters, Primel turned to his brother.
“Take off all your clothes and your boots, Maudez.”
“What for?” demanded Maudez, a little worried, for the night air was chill.
“You must come into the water with me.”
“But I can’t swim. The water of the mill-pond is deep.”
“You will not have to swim. There is no need to worry.”
Maudez thought a moment and then shrugged. “Very well. I am resolved to follow you, wherever you go. Lead on.”
Taking Maudez’s arm, Primel leapt into the dark waters and with him went his twin brother. They sank down into the black waters until their feet touched the bottom. Maudez was astonished to find that he could breathe under the water as easily as he had in the air. But the dark waters were cold, so cold that Maudez began to shiver, and his teeth chattered almost uncontrollably.
“What now?” he demanded, when Primel made no further move.
“We wait.”
After they had waited there in the black, cold waters for what seemed like hours, Maudez, feeling he could bear the chill no longer, said: “Do we have to stay here much longer?”
Primel smiled in the darkness. “Are you then in such a hurry to leave me?”
“No, not I,” replied Maudez. “You know very well that I am never happier than when we are together. But, Primel, I am still alive, and I am suffering more than I can tell, for it is so bitterly, bitterly cold.”
Then Primel’s voice grew harsh. “Then triple your suffering, Maudez, and you will begin to feel what I am suffering.”
Maudez was astonished. “Why are you suffering, Primel? We are told the Otherworld is full of light and happiness.”
His twin brother did not reply for a moment or two, but then he relented. “All I can tell you is that by sharing my time here, you are shortening it. By feeling my suffering, you are reducing it.”
Maudez felt great sorrow for his brother. “Then I shall stay with you for as long as it takes to relieve your suffering.”
Primel shook his head. “You will be free when you hear the morning cock crow.”
The time passed in that cold, stygian darkness: it passed so slowly that it seemed like days and months. Then, at last, Maudez heard the crowing of the morning cock. In a moment, he found himself at the edge of the mill-pond, dry and with his clothes on.
He heard his brother’s voice echoing from below: “Good-bye, Maudez. If you have the courage and the will to help me, you will see me tonight.”
“Willingly, brother,” exclaimed Maudez. “I will wait for you like I did last night.”
Maudez made his way slowly home, feeling cold and miserable. Nevertheless, he had sworn an oath to his brother. He ate heartily and slept and the discomfort of the night seemed to pass. But his mother noticed how pale, wan and cold he was and asked if she should bring the physician to see him. Maudez shook his head. He assured her that he was all right.
That night, around midnight, he found himself lying on his bed fully dressed.
His brother, Primel, appeared as on the previous night and conducted Maudez to the mill-pond and they went in as before. It seemed twice as cold and dank as before. The suffering of Maudez was truly great and he found that he could barely endure the endless hours of being in that black, ice-cold pond.
Yet, finally, came the crowing of the morning cock and weak, feeling ill and distraught, Maudez found himself at the edge of the pond.
Primel’s voice came from the depth. “Do you have courage for one more time? Just once more, and you will have eased my pain and set my soul at liberty.”
“I swore an oath and will be faithful to the end, even if it kills me.”
Maudez went home. This time he was so pale, exhausted and shivering that he crawled into his bed without food in an effort to warm himself. He could not eat, even when his mother brought him hot cakes and sausage. This time, she sent for the physician, who pronounced him gravely ill.
Now his mother had looked into his room on the previous night and saw that Maudez was not there.
“He must be getting this cold from spending the night watching at his poor brother’s grave,” she said to the physician.
Now the physician saw how ill Maudez was and said that he would keep a watch that night and prevent Maudez from going out to the burial ground.
That night the physician, who had been sleeping in a chair in the parlour, was awakened by strange noises. He half opened his eyes and saw Maudez coming from his bedroom and talking as if deep in conversation with someone. But there was no one about. So strange was Maudez’s behaviour that the physician hung back and did not intervene, but followed at a distance. He followed Maudez to the mill pond and saw him strip off in the cold night air and leap into the pond.
He was about to give the alarm and rush forward when he suddenly noticed a second ripple on the water and now he heard a second voice. It is said by the ancients that water will reveal the sounds of the Otherworld to those with ears to hear. The physician was not just a healer but came from many generations of Druids.
Using his knowledge, the physician approached the pond and saw a rowan tree growing nearby. He used the rowan to hide behind. As it had magical protection from the spirits of the Otherworld, he was entirely safe.
From the waters, he heard the voices of the brothers, Maudez protesting that he could not last any longer and Primel urging him to hang on and be brave.
“I am weakening!” cried Maudez. “I will not last until the morning.”
“You must. Be strong, my brother! A little while longer and, thanks to you, I shall be delivered from this suffering. You will have opened the path for me into the Otherworld. You will have halved
my suffering.”
Through the long night, the physician sat there, hearing the cries of agony from Maudez and not daring to move, though he wanted to run from that spot. Finally, the sky began to grow light and the morning cock crowed.
From the bottom of the pond came two cries.
“Primel!”
“Maudez!”
Then the physician saw a strange white smoke snake out of the waters and curl itself upwards into the bright morning sky.
When he looked back he saw Maudez, fully clothed, lying on the bank of the pond.
Maudez was ice-cold and deathly white. His breathing was shallow. His body shivered uncontrollably. The physician threw him over his shoulder and carried him back to the farm and placed him in his bed. He tried his best to bring warmth back into his racked body. It was too late, too late. By midnight, Maudez breathed his last.
And for several nights after that, the villagers of Botsorhel swear they heard unearthly screams coming from the old mill pond by Goazwed: terrible screams of anguish and pain and suffering.
If the truth were known, Maudez had halved the suffering of his brother Primel by taking that suffering on himself. Even so, the brothers had to spend three nights in Purgatory before Primel could pass on into the light of the Otherworld. But when it came to Maudez’s turn, there was no one to come and share his suffering with him and three more endless lonely nights he had to spend without comfort in that dank, dark place.
The locals of Botsorhel will tell you that the old mill-pond is a place to be avoided in the darkness of the night for in it dwell the anaon which, in Breton, means the spirits of the dead. One or two of the villagers remarked that the cries seemed to cease after an old, lame beggar passed by the old mill pond by Goazwed. But then, country people are always looking for symbols.
35 Koadalan
There was once a male child born to a forester and his wife who dwelt in the Forest of Cranou, a land of hills studded with great oaks and beeches. The forest nestles under the Mountains of Arrée, the highest hills of Brittany. The couple were not wealthy but they had enough to make them happy and were content with their life and, when their son was born, they felt their happiness complete. They felt that the child put them in complete harmony with their lives and their surroundings. That was why they decided to name him Koadalan, for koad means “wood”, symbolising the wood in which they lived, and alan means “harmony”.
The boy grew and the forester, whose name was Alan, and his wife, taught him all they knew about the woods and forest lore. He was an exceptionally bright boy and he learnt quickly. And as he grew, he realized that he lacked a schooling; he wanted to learn to read and write. His parents, being only foresters, could do neither. When he asked his parents if they would send him to school, they shook their heads.
“The school is a long way from here in Rumengol and it costs much money,” they told him.
“But you have enough. You have a fine bull and a stallion. You could sell those, and that would pay for my schooling.”
It took some convincing them but eventually, because of the boy’s insistence, they finally sold their fine bull and their horse, and sent the boy to school. Three years passed by, during which time the boy learnt a great deal and his teachers were very proud of him. They swore that he had more knowledge than most boys of his age.
At the age of maturity, that is at seventeen, Koadalan returned to his parents. They, having sold their fine bull and their stallion, were now extremely poor. They had a hard time simply to wrest a livelihood from the forest. They were not unhappy, but they were practical folk.
“We can only keep ourselves with great difficulty, Koadalan,” they told him. “You will have to set off to seek your fortune in life, for we cannot afford to support you as well.”
The young man felt some sorrow for his parents and swore to himself that if he made a fortune, he would pay his parents back and give his parents anything they desired in life.
So he set off, going south to the kingdom of Cornouaille, which in Breton is called Kernev.
Nearing the town of Quimper, he met a sorrowful-looking youth sitting by the road.
“What troubles you?” he demanded.
The youth looked up.
“I have no money and I am looking for work,” he replied.
Koadalan smiled thinly. “Well, I am in the same position. You have to make the best of it. You cannot brood about it.”
“I know,” sighed the youth. “But I was offered a job with a nobleman only a moment ago, and I lost it by telling a lie.”
“Oh? How so?”
“He stopped me just down the road there and asked if I would like a job. So I said that I would. ‘Good,’ he said, ‘can you read?’ Now I can’t, but I wanted the job, so I said that I could. Well, that I could a little,” he added defensively.
“So he found out that you couldn’t?” inquired Koadalan.
“No. That’s the stupidity of it. The great lord said to me, if you can read then you are not the one I am looking for. I have no job for you.”
“Curious,” agreed Koadalan. “What does this noble look like?”
“Oh, he is dressed from head to toe in black, with a silver buckle and a brooch to fasten his cloak. He rides a night-black stallion with a black-and-silver harness.”
Koadalan rose from his perch beside the doleful youth. “Well, I am sorry that you didn’t get the job.”
He bade farewell and went on his way into Quimper. He made his way to the market square and the first person he should see, sitting outside a tavern drinking a glass of mead, was the distinguished-looking noble clad all in black. Next to him was tethered his night-black stallion.
Now Koadalan, as we have said before, was an intelligent youth. So he went over to the noble and greeted him politely. “Devezgh-mat!” he said. “Forgive me, sir, for being so forward, but I am thirsty and without money, for no one will give me work. Could you spare a copper for me to buy a drink?”
The noble frowned and, turning to him, he examined Koadalan speculatively. “Would you be willing to work for me?” he asked, after a while.
“Of course, if you have work for me to do.”
“That I have. But can you read?”
“I can neither read nor write,” lied Koadalan, “for my parents were too poor to send me for schooling.”
The noble smiled in satisfaction.
“Excellent!” he said. “You are just the person that I am looking for. What is your name?”
“Koadalan, sire. And what is your noble name?”
“I am Lord Huddour,” the man replied. “And now, it is not far to my castle, so you may mount behind me. We will be there in a trice.”
The dark lord mounted his black horse and reached down and swung Koadalan up behind him as if he had been a featherweight. Then he heeled his horse and it sprang forward. Koadalan blinked and, in that blinking, he found that Quimper was far behind, indeed, far behind were the mountains of Cornouaille and the Pointe du Raz, and they were away across the sea beyond the lie de Sein. Koadalan hung on for dear life to the black flapping coat of the dark lord.
Barely a moment passed before they alighted in a great avenue of yew trees on a glorious-looking island in front of a towering but splendid-looking castle. They rode up to the gates. The first thing that Koadalan noticed above the door was a scroll carved in the stone which read: “He who enters here will never leave.”
Koadalan was nervous and tried not to show that he had read and understood the scroll.
“Is this your castle, sir?” he asked nervously.
“It is,” replied the man who called himself Lord Huddour. “Come in.”
He led the way in and Koadalan could find no excuse but to follow him through those grim portals. However, the castle was pleasant enough inside, bright and cheerfully decorated. A meal, the like of which Koadalan had never seen before, was laid out, and he dined like a king. And after supper, he was conducted to a pleasant bedroom, where h
e slept on a goose feather bed. Never had the son of the forester known such luxury. The one thing he did notice, however, was that there were no servants at all in the castle and yet everything appeared to be cleaned and food was served, as if by unseen hands.
Next morning, when a sumptuous breakfast had been eaten, Lord Huddour addressed him.
“Now, we shall talk about the work which you are expected to do.”
Koadalan was suddenly nervous. He remembered the grim notice outside.
“You will live in this castle for a year and a day and you will lack nothing. Anything you want, you have but to say.”
“But to whom should I speak?” demanded Koadalan. “I have seen no one here.”
Lord Huddour took out a square of linen.
“Here is a lien,” (which is the Breton word for a napkin). “Whenever you want to eat or drink, you only have to say, to it, ‘Lien, lien do your task, bring me this or that’ and straight away what you’ve asked for will appear. Now I must be away on a journey. In my absence, you must perform certain daily tasks.”
Koadalan began to appear happy. It seemed to him that there was a pleasant prospect to being in the castle.
Lord Huddour conducted him to the kitchen of the castle. There was a fire over which a large cauldron hung on an iron hook. It was steaming away. Lord Huddour pointed to it. “Each day, you must place two bundles of wood on that fire under the cauldron.”
“Easy enough,” replied Koadalan.
“You must do this, no matter what you hear. Don’t take any notice but keep the fire going all the time.”
Koadalan was surprised.
“What should I hear by keeping the fire going under the cauldron?” he demanded.
The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends Page 56
