Boys call me ‘The Crow’, but never to my face. Girls snigger when they see me coming and run when I wave my stick. ‘Keep away from that old witch, she might turn you into a pig or worse,’ the mothers say.
I had that knack once, not that it did me any good. Quite the reverse.
Aobh and I were sisters, daughters of Bodhbh Dearg, the Ard Rí [High King]. We had golden bells that tinkled in our curls and when we walked our hair was so long it dragged in the dew on the grass. Aobh was the elder. She had sea-blue eyes and her gowns were every shade of blue. My eyes were green and my clothes were the green of a hundred hues.
‘One day a marvellous young king will come and sweep me away and marry me.’
Aobh smiled into the bronze looking-glass as she spoke.
‘He might like me better,’ I said, grabbing the mirror from my sister’s hand.
‘Why would he?’ said Aobh.
‘I’m younger, and prettier,’ I said.
‘You’re covered in puppy fat.’
I stuck out my tongue and we both laughed. We had this argument many times, though both of us knew the way things were, neither of us would ever be a bride. My father gave us rare and expensive gifts, gold and silver cloak pins, circlets, and torques set with precious stones. He also kept us prisoners. We lived with our guards and Orla our old servant in a crannóg, on an island in the lake. We were never allowed to cross the water to the ráth where Bodhbh Dearg held court.
It wasn’t that we lacked suitors; kings and princes swarmed in from every corner of the country to woo us, but we were forbidden to meet any of them. None was ever considered suitable in my father’s eyes. One was too short, another too tall, a third too poor. We even heard of a prince who was rejected because the toes of his boots turned up.
When the right man comes, you’ll thank me for my caution,’ Bodhbh Dearg said.
‘Couldn’t we just have a peep at some of these fellows?’ Aobh asked.
‘Certainly not!’ Bodhbh Dearg flung his cloak over one shoulder to show he tolerated no further argument. ‘I’m not having my daughters running about, falling in love with any Dermot, Fintán or Brian that passes by.’
‘But we’re prisoners here,’ I said. ‘It’s cold and wet, the thatch on the roof leaks and we never meet anyone or have any fun.’
My father scowled. ‘At least you both are safe. I have many enemies and princesses not only need protection from the amadáin who might want to marry them, but also from murderers, kidnappers and those who’d gouge out your eyes.’
He pulled open the door and nodded to the boatman that he was ready to leave.
There was a storm that night. The water of the lake heaved and struggled in the darkness. The moon disappeared behind a black veil, the stars vanished and rain tumbled from the sky.
‘A dirty old night,’ one of the guards called to the other.
‘It is that,’ shouted his companion.
I snuggled down among the furs of my bed, glad I wasn’t outside. The deluge grew heavier. It made sloshing, slopping noises, sounding more like the sea than the rain.
In the light of the fire I could see water creeping through the rushes on the floor. Strings of rain poured through the thatches of the roof and hit my bed.
‘We’re being flooded.’ Aobh jumped up and I did the same. Orla went on snoring.
A surge of water hit the house, the door crashed open and the room was filled with the tang of salt and a faint bluish light. A young man stepped towards us. He was tall and fair as butter. His ringed hands moved about like pale birds and his tunic and cloak were woven in the colours of royalty. I had never seen anyone so beautiful.
Aobh gave a soft cooing noise, which made me think she felt the same. The guards stared at the astounding stranger, swords ready in their hands and gobs hanging open. They didn’t move.
‘Pardon, ladies, for my intrusion, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Lir, of the Ocean, at your service.’ He bowed.
Aobh and I dropped curtseys. I was embarrassed at being seen by this gorgeous man in my undergarments, though the manner in which Aobh let her shift fall from one shoulder made me feel she saw it as an advantage.
Lir smiled at Aobh and winked at me. ‘Like many men I am in search of a bride. I had heard of the exquisite sisters Aobh and Aiofe, so I came searching. Bodhbh Dearg is generous in his hospitality but he refused to consider me for a son-in-law or let me see his lovely daughters.
‘He refuses everyone,’ Aobh said.
‘Did my father say why you were unsuitable?’ I could feel myself blush as I spoke.
‘He didn’t fancy his daughter living far away and he believes the ocean is not a fitting home for a land princess.’
Lir shook his long hair and glimmering drops of water flew about.
‘I have little time,’ he said. ‘Any moment my absence from the banquet will be noticed and I may be pursued. They say your father threatens death to any man who finds his way to this crannóg. I caused the little storm as a diversion so I could get through the lake unobserved.
‘You can create storms?’ Aobh asked.
Lir flexed his shoulders and his multi-hued cloak swam with colour. ‘At sea, I can stir a tempest, make a tidal wave or sink a ship, but here on land my powers are few. I have used up what I have of storm magic tonight, so I need to hurry.’ He paused. ‘But it seems I face a dilemma as to which of you should receive my proposal. You girls are so desirable. I would be happy to invite either of you to be my wife.’
Aobh and I looked at each other. I knew we both wanted to be the chosen one.
‘Pick the elder,’ Aobh said.
‘The younger,’ I added.
‘No,’ Lir said. ‘I will seek marriage to the lady with the eyes that are nearest in colour to the blue of the ocean.’
‘That’s me,’ Aobh squealed. ‘Everyone says I have sea-blue eyes.’
There was no way I could deny it, though disappointment hit me like a cast stone. Aobh ran to Lir, caught one of his hands and looked at him intently. She was always rather forward but Lir didn’t seem to mind. He stared into her eyes and immediately got down on one knee and asked her to be his wife.
‘Yes, yes,’ bubbled Aobh, throwing her arms around his neck.
I started to cry for I knew Lir would take Aobh away. She would be Lir’s queen and I would be shut up here, lonely and sad. Aobh and I had laughed at our father’s worries that we might be murdered, kidnapped, ransomed, or have our eyes put out. But these things happened and were to be feared. The threats would be worse now, faced on my own.
Lir seemed to know my thoughts. Untangling himself from Aobh’s embrace, he advanced towards the fire. Stooping, he put his hand into the flames, as though oblivious to the heat. There was a loud sizzling noise and he withdrew a blackened stick.
‘There is no need to fear ever again.’ He handed me the stick. ‘I’m sorry you will miss your sister’s company but if you are ever in mortal danger, this wand will save you.’
‘How can an old burnt bit of wood do that?’ I sobbed.
‘Believe me,’ he said. ‘It’s magic. To make it work you must first stand on one leg and point it at anyone that’s about to harm you. To unleash the magic you must then say the words “Be gone!” Lir looked at me with serious eyes. ‘But remember, it is a very powerful spell. You must only use it when your life is threatened.’
As he spoke, a great clamour erupted outside. Angry shouts of ‘Quick!’ ‘This way!’ ‘He’s at the crannóg!’ could be heard coming from the ráth and the noise of running feet and barking dogs filled the night. I saw the bobbing lights of lanterns and heard the splash of oars as boats cast off. The guards at the door, who had been motionless with fear, now sprang forward waving swords at Lir.
‘Leave him be,’ cried Aobh.
Lir pushed the armed men aside as though they were small children. He gathered Aobh in his cloak and moved towards the door.
‘Stay safe, dear Aoife,’ Aobh
cried from over Lir’s shoulder.’
‘And don’t forget what I said about the magic stick,’ called the handsome young man.
I followed them both to say my goodbyes. Outside, by the wall of the crannóg, Lir and Aobh briefly hovered above the water before darkness swallowed them up.
Bodhbh Dearg was furious when he discovered what had happened.
‘My daughter, my beautiful daughter; stolen, by that watery lout,’ he cried. I didn’t think it prudent to say how willingly Aobh had gone.
My father roared and stamped and bellowed and swore. He cursed Lir from points north and south and east and west.
‘May the cat eat that thieving scum and the Darkness eat the cat!’ he shouted, shaking his fist at the lake and the sky.
The two crannóg guards were sent to work in the pigsty and replaced by four hulking warriors with great, fierce dogs. Orla was banished to the kitchens. In the way of things however, with the passing of time everything calmed and became much as before. Kings and princes still visited seeking my hand, and they were still refused. As the years rolled by, word of my father’s obstinacy must have got about for fewer suitors came knocking on the ráth’s great gates. It seemed I would live my whole life a lonely prisoner.
I kept the magic stick in my pocket and often pulled it out to dream of Lir. I would kiss the bronze mirror and pretend I was kissing him. It was silly, of course. There was no way I would ever meet the ocean king again. And all the while, the years rolled by, the colour of my hair dimmed and smile-lines deepened into wrinkles on my face.
Early one summer morning, I opened the door of the crannóg to view the dawn. The four guards and two dogs lay asleep in an untidy heap on the doorstep. I stepped over men and dogs and none moved.
Bobbing on the lake, close to the island, was a coracle. The little boat lacked mooring ropes yet, as I watched, it remained in one place. This was my chance to escape. Although the coracle had no oars, I climbed in, hunkered down and the boat began to move. It seemed water magic was at work and the only person I knew with this power was Lir. Was my love for him finally going to be rewarded?
The craft skittered across the lake, surged down a river between the wheat fields until it reached the sea. There, despite the pounding waves, the coracle kept going. I have no idea how long we travelled. The journey may have taken a day, or a year,
When, at last, I raised my head, we’d reached a beach with a great castle of rocks at one end. A silver stream led from the castle to the sea. The coracle moved up the stream and into a large cave. Waterfalls sprang from the walls, which were covered with glittering fragments like the scales of a million fish. Trees of coral were hung with glistening pearls and pools winked with sea anemones and jewelled stones. In the middle of all this brilliance sat Lir.
I was so excited to see him again that I jumped from the little coracle and splashed towards him but as I drew close I could see that he was weeping.
‘Welcome Lady Aoife, I was expecting you.’ He stood up and wiped his tears with the back of one hand. ‘It does my heart good to see you at this sad time.’
‘Sad?’ I said.
‘Your sister, my beautiful queen Aobh, died in childbirth. She sacrificed her life giving me sons Fiachra, Aodh and Conn. She also gave me my princess Fionnuala.
I was upset to hear of my sister’s death but delighted that Lir had sent for me. He said I comforted him because I looked like Aobh. I was in love with him and within a short time we married. I tried not to notice how he constantly talked of Aobh and how much he had adored her. It made me feel as though I was second best. Although I was happy at first, things slowly changed. So slowly that at the beginning I didn’t notice how Lir was spending more and more time with his children and less and less with me. Lir doted on the four and wouldn’t hear a word against them though they resented me for not being their mother.
‘You’re not our mother. You can’t tell us what to do,’ Fionnuala shouted.
‘Aoife’s old and ugly as a rotten apple. She looks like this.’ Aodh pulled a terrible face.
The twin boys, Fiachra and Conn, stuffed crab shells down the back of my gown and put a dead seagull in my side of the bed. When I fell asleep on the beach they buried me in sand and I almost died from want of air.
It was useless complaining to Lir. He was blind to their hatred of me. ‘What endearing little rogues they are,’ he’d say and smile.
One afternoon while walking barefoot in the shallows of the sea, I heard the children whispering behind some rocks. I went to put my foot into one of my shoes when a flame-like pain flared up my toes to my ankle and then into my leg: the sting of a jellyfish had been pushed into my shoe. I screamed.
The royal children came towards me, pointing and laughing. Hurt and anger made me desperate. I could take no more of the name calling and bullying. Barely capable of thought beyond a desire for the torment to end, I pulled the magic stick from my pocket and stood on my good leg. ‘Be Gone!’ I shouted.
A dark, greenish ripple ran over the waves and onto the edge of the beach. A snorting sound and a hail of sparks erupted from the stick. The children were lifted into the air and thrown back on the sand.
Lir came running from the rock castle, clutching his sword.
‘You great fool woman!’ he shouted. ‘See what you’ve done!’
I bent over each child and put my cheek close to their lips. There was no warm, reassuring breath.
‘Can’t you see they’re dead?’ roared Lir. ‘And you killed them.’
‘I didn’t mean any harm,’ I cried. ‘I only wanted to give them a fright, to make them go away.’
Lir began to howl. Foam poured from his mouth and his eyes flashed red. He grabbed a piece of driftwood and ran in circles, mumbling strange words. A whirlwind of sand began to grow round him. It got bigger, swelling each time he repeated the circle until the whole beach was covered by a seething, murky storm. Helpless, I stumbled about. It seemed magic was happening. ‘Please,’ I wished. ‘Let the children live.’
At last, Lir fell exhausted onto the beach, the wind dropped and the air cleared. The children had gone. There was no sound but the wings of four white swans circling overhead.
‘It’s them,’ Lir peered up. His face was crumpled by agony.
‘But why? Why did this happen?’
‘I told you my land magic was weak. I brought my little ones back to life, but I could do no more.’ Tears slid down Lir’s cheeks. ‘My children have become swans. Swans, who will be condemned to live for hundreds and hundreds of years on Irish lakes.’
‘Can’t you transform them back into children?’
‘If only I could,’ he wailed. ‘But no one can alter the magic once it is done. We are all cursed.’
And so it was that I was exiled from Lir’s kingdom, condemned to wander forever. Hundreds of years have passed and I have grown very old and tired but I have been denied the peace of death.
Lir followed his swan children to the lakes where they had been forced to live. He died watching his cursed darlings flying over the water singing songs of my cruelty and his heartbreak. I’m told his beautiful palace is now a ruin.
But there is hope. A new wizard has come to Ireland. A man called Patrick who tells strange tales and brings powerful magic. People say Patrick can break spells and save people who are cursed. I’m going to find this wizard and tell him that I made a terrible mistake and I am truly sorry. Folk say Patrick is a kind, good man: if he is, he’ll understand. Maybe, just maybe, his new magic will free us all.
Mythological Context: The Children of Lir
Despite the weighty name associated with him (Manannan mac Lir), the mythological figure Lir turns up relatively infrequently in the old Irish literature. In those narratives where he does appear, he’s most often referred to as ‘Lir of Sídh Fionnachaidh’, Sídh Fionnachaidh being a cairn on Deadman’s hill (halfway between Armagh and Newry) associated with the Otherworld.
Lir is most famous for his as
sociation with the fifteenth century Oidheadh Chlainne Lir (The Tragic Fate of the Children of Lir) which tells of his vexation when a competitor – Bodhbh Dearg – is chosen as leader of the Tuath Dé Danann. Lir is appeased only when the latter offers him one of his foster daughters, Aobh, in marriage.
After their union, Aobh bears Lir two sets of twins (first, Aodh and Fionnghuala, then Fiachra and Conn). Unfortunately, while giving birth to the second set of twins, Aodh dies. Bereft and grieving, Lir seeks solace by taking Bodhbh Dearg’s second daughter, Aoife, as his new wife.
Although she loves the children at first, Aoife grows to hate them and eventually strikes them at Loch Dairbhreach (in Westmeath) with a magic wand, transforming them into swans. Learning of their fate, Lir transforms Aoife into a demon and curses her to wander the earth forever.
The Children of Lir remain at Loch Dairbhreach for three hundred years, then another three hundred at the Sea of Moyle. After spending a third three hundred years off the coast of Erris in County Mayo, they return to their father’s palace at Sídh Fionnachaidh only to find it deserted and in ruins.
At this stage, Oidheadh Chlainne Lir states that they return to Inishglory where a Christian missionary Saint Mochaomhóg discovers them and cares for them until the curse runs its course and they’re transformed back to human beings. Now withered old men and women, Saint Mochaomhóg baptises them before they die.
The ‘Children of Lir’ is one of the three great ‘tragedy’ narratives of ancient Ireland, the other two being ‘The Fate of the Sons of Tuirenn’ and ‘Deirdre of the Sorrows’. It’s a tale that pretty much everyone in Ireland is familiar with, primarily from school texts. Because of its popularity in the past, it was relatively common for storytellers to enhance the story by linking the tale to locations their audiences were familiar with. This is why, for example, we also find versions of the tale where the final resting place for the Children of Lir lies beneath a stone near Allihies village on the Beara Peninsula (growing up down there, this was something I assumed to be true throughout my childhood). The role of Saint Mochaomhóg was often replaced by Saint Patrick – depending on who was telling the story.
The Celtic Mythology Collection 2016 Page 4
