The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (9 page)

So Brían returned to his dying brothers and they were laid down side by side. United, the sons of Tuirenn sighed together for the last time and their souls sped onwards by that breath
into the Otherworld.

Eithne stood with her father, hand in hand, and sang a doleful lament over the bodies of her brothers. Then both she and her father Tuirenn, overcome with grief, fell beside the bodies, and
departed this earth with them.

3 The Children of Lir

I
t happened after the Tuatha Dé Danaan, the gods and goddesses of Éireann, were defeated by the mortal sons of Míle Easpain.
No one can now recall the circumstances of the conflict, except that there was a great battle fought at Tailtiu, which is now called Telltown on the north bank of the River Blackwater, in Co.
Meath. A great fair was held there in ancient times and this fair was sacred to the goddess Tailtiu, who was foster-mother to the magnificent Lugh of the Long Hand. Blood stained the fields of
Tailtiu for many a year thereafter, for there was a great slaughter in that place. The mortals drove the Ever-Living Ones from the face of the earth so that, ever after, they went to live in the
sídhe
– the hills – and, being lost in people’s memories, they became “the people of the hills”, or simply fairies.

But this was some distance in the future from the time of the sad tale of Lir’s children.

It was soon after the devastation of Tailtiu that the remnants of the Tuatha Dé Danaan gathered and decided to choose a new king to rule them. The Dagda, the good god, who had ruled
before, had told them that, as he had brought about their downfall, he was not fit to continue to lead them. So they choose the Bodb Dearg, who was the son of The Dagda, and he dwelt in the
Sídh of Femen, which is now Slievenamon in Co. Tipperary. It fell to the Bodb Dearg to allocate the hills to the other gods and goddesses, and these were to become as their dwelling places.
To Lir, the god of the ocean, fell the Sídh Fionnachaidh, that is now Deadman’s Hill in Co. Armagh.

Now Lir thought he should have been chosen as ruler over all the Children of Danu, and was filled with anger and envy at the decision. He left the assembly of the gods and
goddesses so angry that he would talk to no one. He showed neither respect nor homage to the Bodb Dearg.

The gods and goddesses became angry with him and were all for raising a host and marching against him. But it was the Bodb Dearg himself who prevented them.

“We have shed enough blood against the Milesians,” he told them. “Let us not continue shedding blood among ourselves. Because Lir does not bow his knee to me, it does not make
me any the less your king. Let me go and reason with him.”

The gods and goddesses of Éireann were impressed by the compassion and wisdom of the Bodb Dearg and pleased that they had made him their ruler.

It was a while before the Bodb Dearg approached Lir, for he knew it best to let the anger die away first. Indeed, while he was waiting, it happened that Lir’s wife, the mother of his
magnificent son Manánnan Mac Lir, had died. Lir became lonely and bitter. More lonely was he because no other god nor goddess would visit him at his
sídh
, for they refused to
speak with him after he had walked out of the assembly.

After the appropriate period of mourning, the Bodb Dearg sent greetings to Lir.

“This is the time when one stands in need of friends and kind counsel,” Bodb Dearg told his fellows.

The message that the Bodb Dearg sent was to the effect that if Lir accepted him as king over the Children of Danu, he would arrange a marriage with one of his three foster-daughters – they
were Niamh, Aoife and Aobh, daughters of Aillil, king of the Islands of Aran. Indeed, it was known that Niamh, Aoife and Aobh were the most beautiful women in Éireann, and the most
intelligent and accomplished.

Lir was delighted, for he had grown weary of his isolation and the sadness of the loss of his dearest companion. So he set out with fifty chariots until they reached the palace of the Bodb
Dearg. There he embraced his king and acknowledged him in due fashion. There was a great banquet that night, and
the feasting lasted for several days. All the people of
Danú were happy to see Lir back in their company.

Eventually, the three foster daughters of the Bodb Dearg were brought forward.

Lir gazed on them with awe, for each one was as beautiful as the other. Niamh, the eldest, was dark and pale; Aoife, the middle girl, was red-haired and cream-skinned; while Aobh, the youngest,
was fair-haired and bright. They combined the qualities of winter, autumn and spring. And when he spoke with them, Lir was amazed at their intelligence and wit.

The choice was difficult, but Lir finally chose Aobh, for she was young and fresh and had the beauty of spring and the promise of the future.

In the fullness of time, Aobh bore Lir children. In truth, she gave birth to two sets of twins. The first set was a boy and a girl whom she called Aodh and Fionnghuala (meaning
“fire” and “fair-shouldered”) and the second set were two boys whom she called Fiachra and Conn (meaning “battle king” and “wisdom”). Now, in the
bearing of these children, the gentle Aobh died and Lir’s sadness was great. Only his children gave him joy.

However, the Bodb Dearg came to him and said: “Choose another wife from Niamh and Aoife, that they may comfort you and help you raise Aobh’s children”. So Lir chose Aoife of
the autumn tresses and, for a while, they were happy. But Aoife grew jealous of her sister’s children, for she was not blessed with children herself. More and more did she resort into
confiding herself to Druids with magical powers, who taught her the secret arts. The barbs of jealousy tortured her soul and turned it to hatred for the children so that, in the end, she became
obsessed with her malice.

The obsession turned into an excessive illness and for a year and a day she lay in her chamber, not coming out, not even for her husband. Her sickness overwhelmed her, so that her mind became
unhinged. Then, after a year and a day, she rose from her bed and re-entered the world, professing herself cured.

Lir and his children were pleased to see her so apparently recovered.

She called the children to her and said that, as she was now so well, she was going to take them on a visit to the Bodb Dearg. Now the boys were delighted at this but
Fionnghuala, with a woman’s intuition, was suspicious about her stepmother. She had a dark foreboding dream that Aoife was intending them harm and that some terrible dead was lurking in her
mind.

Yet everyone seemed happy. Lir was delighted to see his wife risen from her sick bed and well. Also he was pleased that she was taking the children on a trip to see the Bodb Dearg. So
Fionnghuala kept her suspicions to herself, for fear that she would be scoffed at or be called an ungrateful brat.

Aoife’s fine carriage came to the gates and the children went with her, with Lir bidding them a fond farewell. The carriage set off, accompanied by a bodyguard and with Aoife’s
personal attendants. Off they went from Sídh Fionnachaidh. They had not journeyed many a mile when Aoife contrived to stop the carriage and drew aside her trusted manservant, Conan.

“How well do you love me, Conan?” she whispered, so that no one else would hear.

The old man was puzzled.

“Didn’t I come with you from your father’s court at Aran to the palace of the Bodb Dearg, when you were but a child?” he demanded. “Have I not watched over you and
seen you grow and never a hair of your head was allowed to come to harm?”

“Then you love me well. What would you do for me in that love?”

“There is nothing in this world, nor in the Otherworld, that I would not do,” affirmed the old man.

“If I were in danger or about to suffer a great loss, would you serve me well?”

“I would so, lady. I would remove the danger and restore whatever loss you encountered.”

“I am in danger of losing my husband’s love,” sighed Aoife.

Conan’s eyes blazed. “Tell me the name of she who would steal that love, and she will not live to the sunset.”

“It is no woman who has robbed me of Lir’s love, Conan.
See those children in my carriage? They are the cause of his neglect to me. They have destroyed my
happiness. If they were removed, all would be well.”

Conan realized what she was saying. His eyes widened in horror and he took a step backwards. “But they are your sister’s children, the children of your husband,” he gasped.
“As much as I nursed and looked after you, I have also looked after her.”

Aoife’s eyes were coalfires of hell as she saw his look of admonition. Hate and jealousy were so great within her that she saw it only as a personal betrayal. She turned in anger and
accosted more of her personal retainers and each one of them was as horrified as old Conan had been at what she was suggesting.

Finally, they set off again, and came to the shores of Loch Dairbhreach, which is now the lake of Derravarragh in Co. Westmeath. There they encamped the night. And, that night, Aoife herself
took a sword in her hand and went to the sleeping children. She was fully determined to kill them herself, but a strange emotion stayed her hand. She stood, sword raised, while her sister’s
blood fought with her own and she found that she could not do the deed.

But the evil in her was not to be thwarted. She went back into her own tent and came out with a magical wand which an evil wizard had given to her. The next morning, before breakfast, she
suggested to the children that they go and bathe in the waters of the loch. In their joy, they cast off their clothes and ran into the waters. As they did so, Aoife touched them with her wand and
sang out a cruel magical chant which turned all four into swans, with snowy white feathers.

At first, the children struggled against their new forms, bewildered and frightened. But there was no escape. Finally, they settled down and swam close to the shore where Aoife was chuckling
with evil joy. But her evil spell had not worked entirely, for each of the children still possessed the power of human speech.

Fionnghuala called out:“Oh, step-mother, what have we done to you, that you should repay us with this terrible deed?”

Aoife sneered at them.“Pests! You stole the love of your father from me.”

Fionnghuala lowered her swan neck in sadness. “His love for us was not the same as his love for you. Surely you know the difference between love for one’s children and love for
one’s partner?”

Aoife stamped her foot in rage. “You will cackle with the birds on Derravarragh’s shore until you die.”

“Oh, Aoife, step-mother, what you have done will cry out for vengeance, as long as that vengeance takes to reach you. Foolish woman. Your punishment will be greater than our plight. One
thing you may do, in virtue of the common blood we share! Tell us when this misery will end?”

Aoife smiled thinly. Her face was ugly. “It is a wiser thing not to have the answer to that question. However, as it will add to your suffering and misery, here is the answer: you will
spend three hundred years on Loch Dairbhreach; three hundred more years on Sruth na Maoile, between Éireann and high-hilled Alba; and then three hundred more years off Iorras Domhnann. No
power in this world, nor the Otherworld, will free you until that time is passed. Not until a Prince of Connacht marries a Princess of Mumhan. Because my spell was incomplete, you are left with the
ability to make human speech and you have the gift to make sweet music which calms and soothes all who hear it. That is your only gift.”

Then the evil Aoife turned and ordered her carriage to be made ready. She left with her retinue, and behind her were the four swans swimming on the lonely lake behind her. The children of Lir
huddled together and raised their heads in a lament, not for themselves, but for their father.

Now when Aoife and her entourage arrived at the palace of the Bodb Dearg, there was great rejoicing at her recovery from her illness. A great feast had been
prepared. After the Bodb Dearg had welcomed her, he peered around with curiosity.

“I thought you were bringing your sister’s children with you? Where are they, your own foster-children, the children of Lir?”

Now Aoife blushed in shame, but she had a story ready. “They are not with me because Lir refused to let me bring them. He has turned against me. Likewise, he says he is no friend to you,
for you usurped the love of the Dé Danaan and the title of king which should rightfully be his. He does not want his children placed in your safe-keeping, for you will surely harm
them.”

Now the Bodb Dearg was truly astonished when he heard these words from Aoife. “This surely cannot be? Lir knows how much I love those children, as if they were my own. How can he turn
against me in this fashion?”

The Bodb Dearg was no fool and some suspicion of mischief formed in his mind. He sent a messenger immediately to Lir, telling him that Aoife had arrived alone and was saying that Lir had refused
to allow the children to come with her.

Immediately he received this word, Lir mounted his fastest chariot and was away to the palace of the Bodb Dearg. In the meantime, the Bodb Dearg grew more uneasy for, when he questioned Aoife
more closely, he found many discrepancies in her answers and so he summoned her servants and began to question them.

Meanwhile, Lir and his escort had decided to encamp the night on the shores of Loch Dairbhreach.

The four children of Lir, in their guise as swans, saw their father and his warriors approaching and they swam to the shallows, raising their voices in a sad song.

Lir heard the song and came racing to the shore and listened to the swans crying in human voices. Then he recognized the voice of his daughter, Fionnghuala.