Keredwen had grown to accept this custom, but it irritated her and so she had placed the books under a pile of clothes and failed to remind Koadalan where they were.
So, during the night, Anar-Zall entered their bedroom as they slept and seized the three books.
With the books safely in his possession, Anar-Zall woke the luckless Koadalan and ordered his servants to throw him down a bottomless well which led from the nether lands between this world and the Otherworld. Luckily, when Koadalan finally landed, it was in the middle of a great forest in this world. No longer was he dressed in fine clothes but returned to this world in the worn costume of a poor forester’s son.
Koadalan cursed himself for his stupidity. He had lost his wife and his child and he had also lost the three books of magic that had made his fortune. He wandered the forest for several days, barely sleeping and finding nothing to eat. On the third day, he found a path out of the forest and, lo and behold!, he saw a familiar plain on which was the very stone circle where he had bade farewell to Berc’hed.
He went immediately to the centre and called out: “Berc’hed! Berc’hed! Berc’hed!”
There was something like a breath of wind and a voice said softly: “Do you need my help, Koadalan?”
Koadalan swung round and there was the beautiful goddess standing behind him.
“I surely stand in need of help, if ever I did,” he said. “But whether you will wish to help me is another matter. For it is my fault, my grievous fault, that has brought this fate upon me.”
“I know all about it, Koadalan. If you do exactly as I tell you, you shall have your wife, your son and the three magic books back again.”
Then she held out her hand. “Touch my fingertips and close your eyes.”
He did so and felt a gigantic wind seize him and hurl him into the air.
“Open your eyes now,” said Berc’hed’s voice.
They stood before Anar-Zall’s golden castle.
“Everyone inside is asleep now, for it is rest time. I will show you Anar-Zall’s resting place. Go in and you’ll find him sleeping with the three red books. Yet he will not awaken. Take them and return to the castle gate. By that time, I will have found the Princess Keredwen and your son.”
So she showed him where Anar-Zall slept.
In the room, Koadalan tried to hide his distaste, for Anar-Zall, in repose, turned into a great blind worm, curled in circles like a snake.
Koadalan tiptoed forward and picked up the three red leather-bound books.
At the gate, the goddess Berc’hed was waiting with the Princess Keredwen and their son.
“Before we leave,” the goddess said, “how do you want me to punish Anar-Zall?”
Koadalan thought. Then he shrugged. “I have my wife and son back safely, and I have the three magic books. He has done me no further harm and I wish him no ill.”
Berc’hed looked on in appreciation. “That sentiment stands you in good stead, Koadalan. As repulsive as Anar-Zall, the blind worm, is to your eyes, yet you wish him no harm. Very well. Come and touch my fingertips.”
The wind came again and suddenly they were in the forest near the stone circle.
Berc’hed gazed sadly upon Koadalan. “Now I must bid you farewell, Koadalan, and farewell for ever in this world, for we shall never meet here again. Next time you see me, I shall be awaiting your arrival in the Otherworld.”
Then a white cloud came down and she vanished in a blaze of light.
“Who was that?” demanded Princess Keredwen.
Then it was, for the first time, that Koadalan told Keredwen the full story of his humble beginnings and how he had managed to gain wealth and power.
Keredwen sighed.
“It would not matter to me if you were still a poor forester’s son, Koadalan. It is the person you should love and not their clothes.”
So with renewed love in their hearts for each other, they decided to journey to see Koadalan’s real parents. Koadalan felt a great joy that now he would be able to repay them for all they had done for him. But to do this, Koadalan summoned forth the magic carriage again. And in fine style they came to the forest of Cranou.
Now Koadalan’s parents were overjoyed at seeing their son having made his way in the world. They were amazed that he had married a princess and had a young son. Koadalan told his parents that whatever they wanted was theirs for the asking. But they were a proud and independent couple and said that they would accept no charity from their son.
When Koadalan said he would raise a castle for them, they told him that they preferred to stay in their old thatched cottage in the forest. Likewise, they refused any gifts of money.
“You were raised in the forest, my son. You are Alan of the Woods. Yet you have forgotten your forest law.”
Koadalan frowned. “What have I forgotten, father?”
“Watch the animals of the forest. They own no debt, save to the seasons. Wealth is not their ambition, but to live and enjoy the luxury of what nature provides. The vixen and the dog-fox want no gratitude; they prefer to bear, to suckle, teach and then let their offspring run: not to demand repayment.”
Koadalan and Keredwen and their son stayed in the cottage and shared whatever Koadalan’s parents had. But Koadalan was not satisfied with old Alan’s dismissal of his wish to repay his parents.
He pored over his magic books in order to see what he could do. One evening, sitting in the clearing of the forest, by means of divination, the stars told him that three evil magicians were coming in search of him and his magic books. So Koadalan devised a plan to thwart these evil magicians and so raise money for his father and mother without them feeling that it was charity.
That same evening Koadalan’s father, old Alan, was having supper when his son said to him: “Tomorrow there is a fair at Quimerc’h, and you shall go there.”
His father laughed sourly. “Why should I go to the fair? I’ve nothing to sell there, neither horse, cow nor pig. Nor do I have money to buy anything.”
“You shall have something to sell, father. You have refused offers of great wealth because you do not want to accept my charity. However, I can pay you back for the bull you had to sell to educate me. That is surely no gift which you can refuse? The return of a bull?”
Old Alan thought and admitted that if his son returned a bull in exchange for the bull he had sold to educate Koadalan, it would not be accepting his son’s charity. He agreed.
“Tomorrow morning, you shall go to your outbuilding and find a superb bull there,” Koadalan told him. “Take it to the fair tomorrow and ask for a thousand silver pieces for it. But do not give the rope with the steer, otherwise great harm will befall me.”
Now old Alan thought his son was joking but agreed. And the next morning, the old man was astonished to find a magnificent bull in his outhouse. It was the finest that he had ever seen. There was a rope around its neck and, remembering what his son has said, he took it and went to Quimerc’h fair.
When he appeared at Quimerc’h fair, the local people crowded round to admire the bull.
“We heard that you had strangers staying with you, Alan. Fine, rich strangers. Did they give you that fine bull?”
“They did,” said the old man.
“Well, it is a fine beast, indeed. What do you want for him?”
“A thousand pieces of silver.”
“Gabell!” cried a villager, which means, in the Breton language, something like “the devil!” and is an expression of surprise. “It is a fine beast, but we cannot afford to buy it.”
And, indeed, no one locally could afford to offer such a sum.
Then three strangers approached him. They were tall, dark men, clad from head to toe in black.
“A fine beast is that bull,” observed the first.
“Fine indeed,” commented the second.
“How much for him?” asked the third.
“A thousand pieces of silver,” replied old Alan.
“It is not cheap,” s
aid the first.
“But a fine beast,” commented the second.
“So we are agreed on a deal. Here is the payment,” summed up the third.
Old Alan put the money in his pocket and took off the rope.
“The bull is yours,” he said.
“Give us the rope then, old man,” said the first.
“Otherwise, we cannot lead the beast,” commented the second.
“We need the rope,” summed up the third.
“I didn’t sell you the rope. I sold you the animal.”
“But the rope always goes with a cow or bull,” said the first.
“We’ll buy the rope,” added the second.
“Indeed, we will,” said the third.
“The rope is not for sale,” said Alan stubbornly, adhering to what his son had said.
“We’ll give you another thousand,” said all three in unison.
“Not for ten thousand!” replied Alan, making sure the rope was firmly in his pocket.
Then the three strangers mounted the back of the bull, which straightaway began to bellow and run about as if it were crazy. It threw the three strangers to the ground. Then it abruptly turned into a great dog and bounded home towards the forest of Cranou. But the three strangers had changed into wolves and chased it. But it reached the door of the forester, Alan, and leapt over the doorstep. Immediately it became a man – indeed, it was none other than Koadalan himself. The three wolves had to halt at the door and changed back into human form.
Koadalan smiled at them. “You are a little late, my friends.”
“We almost had you,” said the first.
“It doesn’t matter,” commented the second.
“We’ll get you by the scruff of your neck yet,” warned the third.
“You’ll have to be quicker,” laughed Koadalan.
They disappeared, muttering in anger.
A little while later, Alan himself returned home.
“Well, father, did you do well at the fair?” asked Koadalan.
“I did so,” agreed the father. “I sold the bull for a thousand pieces of silver but held on to the rope. Here it is. I could have sold the rope for another thousand.”
“Just as well that you were not tempted,” smiled Koadalan.
“I was not, for the sale of the bull has given us enough to buy cows and a bull now.”
Koadalan smiled. Then he said:
“But you sold a stallion for me. It is no charity to return it.”
Old Alan agreed that it was not.
“There is another fair tomorrow, at Rumengol,” Koadalan said. “It is a very good fair and you should go there.”
“And with what should I go? I have no livestock to take there.” protested old Alan.
“In the morning, you will find a stallion in your stable. It is the best horse you will have ever seen. You must ask two thousand pieces of silver for it. But when you sell it, be sure not to give the bridle away. Keep it and return here with it.”
So, the next morning, old Alan went to the stable and found a magnificent stallion there. So he took it to the great fair at Rumengol. At the sight of the stallion, many gathered around and demanded to know how much old Alan wanted. But when he said two thousand pieces of silver, they felt it too much and drifted away.
Then along came the three strangers, clad in black from head to toe.
“How much for the stallion, old man?” asked the first.
“It’s a fine beast,” said the second.
“Indeed, it is,” agreed the third.
When old Alan asked for two thousand pieces of silver, the first one said: “It is a great deal of money.”
“But it is a fine stallion,” pointed out the second.
“We agree on the price,” agreed the third.
Now when the agreement was made and old Alan went to take the bridle off the stallion, they did not demur.
“There is an inn across the way,” pointed out the first.
“Before we conclude the deal, we can go in there and count out the money in comfort,” said the second.
“And we can have a drink there,” the third suggested.
So they went into the inn and called for cider, for the local cider of Rumengol is a potent brew. And before old Alan realized it, he had taken a drop too much. Indeed, he was so drunk that when the three suggested that they needed the bridle, he let them have it without demur.
The three immediately took the horse, still with the bridle, and all three mounted it. Everyone looked at them in astonishment, for the people of Rumengol work on the land and have an empathy with animals. They abhor people who maltreat them.
“What are those imbeciles doing?” demanded the village folk and the three rode off through the town, passing the sacred fountain where once King Gradlon built a chapel.
“You’ve less sense than your animal!” yelled one man.
“At least two of you should get down from the back of that poor beast!” cried another.
“Aren’t you ashamed?” demanded a third.
And as an angry crowd began to gather, the three strangers felt it prudent to get down.
It was the chance the stallion was waiting for. It leapt into the river and changed into an eel. The three strangers, in a rage, leapt after it, changing into three big fish and set off in pursuit. The eel, realising them to be coming closer and closer, leapt from the water and assumed the shape of a dove. After it went the three fish, changing into sparrow-hawks. Across the sky they sped, with the dove getting tired as it tried to elude the hunters.
It was passing over a palace at Roc Trévezel and saw a maidservant filling a bucket at the castle well. The dove turned into a bright golden ring and fell into the bucket. It startled the maidservant, who took it from the bucket and stared at it in wonder. Cautiously, she slipped it on her finger, and then hurried inside the castle to continue her duties.
The three sparrow-hawks alighted before the castle. Now the castle at Roc Trévezel was owned by the Lord of Trévezel, a powerful noble, whose fortress dominated the whole of the five kingdoms of Armorica, for it was built on the highest point. From the castle tower, one could see north to the Léon plateau where, in clear weather, the spires at St Pol-de-Léon could be seen; to the west, one could see the waters of Rade de Brest and to the south, the line of the forest on the Menezioù Du or the Montagnes Noires. Lord Trévezel was a man to be reckoned with.
So the three strangers, who you must have realized were the three magicians who had come in search of Koadalan and his red leather bound books, decided to change themselves into three musicians, who each carried a biniou, which is a Breton bag-pipe. They went to the castle gate and asked if they could play to Lord Trévezel. He liked bag-pipe music and so he allowed them to play. At the end, he was delighted by their music and offered them money.
“Thank you, my lord,” said the first, “but we do not seek money.”
“What is it you seek then?” demanded Lord Trévezel. “Name it and you shall have it.”
“A golden ring,” the second musician replied.
“It was dropped by a dove and fell into the bucket of water your maidservant was drawing at the castle well,” added the third.
Now Lord Trévezel was puzzled by the request and wondered how the three came to know of the ring’s whereabouts, but he had given his word.
“You shall have it,” he said. “Send for the maidservant.”
Now the maid had gone to her room to admire the ring and she was terrified when it suddenly vanished and in its place was Koadalan. For he had been the stallion, the eel, the dove and the ring.
“Do not be afraid,” Koadalan told her. “I am trying to escape from three evil magicians. I was the golden ring on your finger and your master, Lord Trévezel, has sent to ask you for it. Go to him. I shall turn myself back into the ring. You must not give him the ring, however, until he has promised to do what I am about to tell you.”
The girl’s fear vanished although she
was still astonished by what was happening.
“Tell Lord Trévezel that he can have the ring to give to the musicians, but first he must have a great fire lit in the castle courtyard. Then he must throw the ring into the flames and tell the musicians that they must retrieve it when the fire is at its hottest.”
The maidservant promised to do this.
Koadalan changed back again.
The servants came and took the girl to Lord Trévezel who asked for the ring.
“Here it is, my lord,” said the maidservant, raising her hand to show it on her finger.
“Hand it to me, then, for I have promised to give it to these musicians.”
“My Lord, I have been told not to do so until you agree to this demand . . .” And the girl told Lord Trévezel what he had to do.
Now Lord Trévezel, as we have said, was suspicious of the three musicians and their glib demand for the ring. He was therefore not against the girl’s request. He ordered a fire to be lit and asked to be told when the fire was at its hottest. Then he took the three musicians into the courtyard and stood before the fire.
“It is at its hottest now, my lord,” cried one of his servants, tending the fire.
So Lord Trévezel turned to the maid, who took the ring from her finger. She handed it to him and he threw it into the heart of the flames.
Lord Trévezel said to the musicians: “You may fetch it! Then you may keep it.”
The three did not wait but turned themselves into three ghastly little fire-imps and hurled themselves into the flames.
“Va Doue Benniget!” exclaimed Lord Trévezel. This means, in Breton, “Good Lord!”
What those looking on did not see was that the golden ring had turned into a charred grain of wheat which was blown by the eddies of the fire away from it and, ascending on the spiralling smoke, eventually came to rest in a pile of wheat in the castle granary. The three wily magicians had seen it, though.
After it went the three imps, who turned themselves into three cock birds, which started to peck at the grain to find which was Koadalan. But the grain suddenly turned into a fox and, before the cock birds could do anything, they were set upon and killed by the fox.
The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends Page 58
