CELTIC TALES

Merlin and the Red Dragon of Wales 

Centuries ago in the time after the Romans had left Britain, the King of all Britain was called Vortigern (or Gwrtheyrn in Welsh). He was under attack from the Saxons, so he decided to build a fortress in Snowdonia. He chose a hill at the foot of Snowdon, but every time the fort walls were built they fell down.

The wise men were consulted, who said that it was the work of a bad spirit, and that a child without a father should be sacrificed and its blood poured on the foundations to keep the spirit happy. The castle could then be built in peace. And so men were sent in all directions to seek such a child.

Eventually Dafydd Goch came back with a boy who had no father - this boy was Myrddin Emrys or Merlin! Merlin questioned the wisdom of the wise men, saying that it was pointless sacrificing him. He said that two dragons (one white and one red) lived in a lake under the hill, and it was their fighting that was causing the walls to fall down. The white dragon represented the Saxons, and the red one the Welsh, and if they were released they could fight elsewhere so that the castle could be built explained Merlin. He also said that although the white dragon was winning, the red dragon would be the final victor.

The wise men insisted that Merlin was making this up to save his neck. To settle things the King decided to dig for the dragons. If they were not found, Merlin would be sacrificed. If they were found the wise men would be killed.

Merlin was proved right and the dragons were found. The red dragon is the one seen on the Welsh flag today. The fort when completed was given to Merlin and to this day is still called Dinas Emrys after him. The King found another site for his stronghold which is still named after him - Nant Gwrtheyrn (Vortigern's Valley) on the Llyn Peninsula (now the site of a Welsh language learning centre). Merlin of course went on to be very wise and helped King Arthur of the Britons, but the 'wise men' were buried at the foot of the hill!

The Children of Lir

There was once a king called Lir who had four beautiful children, a son, daughter and twin sons. Their mother who was the daughter of the High King of Ireland, died when the children were still young and needed loving care. King Lir loved his children so much and wanted them to have a mother again so he married his wife's sister, Aoife and gave the children into her charge.

Unfortunately, Aoife got very jealous when she saw the king playing with his children. She wanted him to herself and thought she would like the children out of the way. One night she secretly bargained with a Druid for the use of his magic wand and made her plans while the children were asleep.

The next day the children awoke to a beautiful morning and Aoife had her perfect chance. "Today I am going to take you to the lake. When the sun gets hot, you can all go into the cool water and have a swim," she said. At noon when the sun was at its highest point in the sky, Aoife saw a dark cloud coming. "Quickly - into the water all of you!" she said. Then, using the Druid's magic wand Aoife cast a spell on the four children, turning each of them into swans. The great dark cloud from the North turned black, shut out the sun, burst into thunder and with a scream Aoife disappeared into the cloud and was never seen again.

Aoife, with her Druid's wand, had not taken away the childrens' human voices. She told them they would be set free again from the spell in 900 years when St Patrick would come to Ireland and they would hear the sound of the first Christian church bells.

And so at the end of 300 years on Lake Darva, 300 years on the sea of Moyle and another 300 years on the lake isle of Glora in Mayo, the day came when they heard the distant sound of one of the first Christian church bells to ring in Ireland. They followed the sound until they came to the house of a Christian called Caomhog and told him what had happened to them all that time ago. They were lovingly cared for by the people of the house and people came from far and near to see the swans who could talk and sing. Then one day a princess sent her servants to steal the swans. Just as the servants laid hands on them, the time had come for the swans to become human again and the servants ran away terrified.

The Harp of the Dagda

This story concerns the most ancient Irish Celtic gods, the first generation of the Tuatha dé Danaan who had to fight off the giant races of the Firbolgs and the Formorians. Their history is found in the Lebor Gabála, ‘The Book of Invasions’.

When the fairy race of the Tuatha dé Danann arrived in Ireland, they came like a mist across the waters, bringing with them magical gifts. These were the lia fail – the coronation stone, the spear of Lugh, the sword of Nuada, and the great cauldron of the Dagda, which was said to be able to restore life.

The Dagda himself was known as the Good God and he was chief of the gods at this time. Besides his cauldron, he had a harp which was battle-scarred and made of oak. It was covered in rich decorations including a double-headed fish which ran up and down the curved pillar and had jewels for its eyes. Although he had a harper, Uaithne, he could also play it himself.

The Dagda had this harp with him always – he even took it into battle. So it was, that after the second Battle of Mag Tuiread, or Moytura, the Dagda discovered that his harp, together with his harper, had been captured by the Formorians and taken with them in their flight. Angered beyond measure, he set out with his son Aengus Og to reclaim it.

Stealthily they approached the Formorian camp. Soon they could hear the sounds of the feasting hall in which Bres, the Formorian king, was dining. Approaching the doorway, they could just make out through the smoke and candle-flame the outline of the old harp hanging on the wall. Then the Dagda entered boldly and summoned his harp with this chant:

Come Daurdabla, apple-sweet murmurer

Come, Coir-cethair-chuir, four-angled frame of harmony,

Come summer, come winter,

Out of the mouths of harps and bags and pipes!

Immediately the old harp flew to his hand across the hall, killing nine men as it came. A shocked hush fell on the company. In the silence the Dagda laid his hands on the strings and unleashed the Three Noble Strains of Ireland that he had bound into his harp. First he played the goltrai, or strain of weeping, so that all present began to mourn and lament their defeat. Then he played the geantrai, the strain of merriment, so that the company turned to laughter and drunken foolery. Lastly he played the suantrai, or sleep-strain, whereupon the warriors fell into a profound slumber. After this the Dagda and Aengus Og left the camp as quietly as they had come, taking Uaithne and the harp with them.　

THE UGLY WIFE

This is a tale of King Arthur, the legendary king of Britain who ruled over the famous Knights of the Round Table. It is also about Sir Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur and the noblest of those who sat at the Round Table. It begins (as so many tales do) with a damsel in distress.

She came while the court was in Carlisle. Her hair was bedraggled, her clothes torn and her eyes wild with grief.

"Help me, King Arthur!" she cried. "My husband has been stolen from me and enslaved by the wicked knight of Tarn Wathelyne. Though I fought him – see how my clothes are torn – there was nothing I could do. My husband is gone! And so I turn to you, great king. Give him back to me. Slay the knight of Tarn Wathelyne."

When King Arthur heard this, he was shocked but pleased at the same time. The sight of the poor woman genuinely moved him, of course, but he secretly loved adventure and couldn’t help looking forward to this new challenge. The very same day he set out on his horse. He went alone, armed only with a spear and with Excalibur, his magic sword, and as he went he whistled. For King Arthur had never known fear-or if he had, he had never shown it.

But this time something very strange happened. As he rode further and further into the wood (which became steadily darker and darker), the whistle died on his lips. He passed a lake as black as blood on a moonless night and his whole body shivered. All the trees had lost their leaves. Their branches writhed like snakes in the wind and ragged crows hung above them, laughing in the horrible way crows do. King Arthur’s teeth began to chatter. At last, he saw the knight’s castle. It was vast, wider at the top than the bottom, with two dark windows high up and a solid black portcullis below. From a distance, you could have mistaken it for an enormous human skull. It was as much as King Arthur could do to point his horse towards the drawbridge. But when the portcullis opened with a loud metallic creaking and the knight of Tarn Wathelyne rode out, the last of his courage left him. With a groan, he fell to the ground, almost fainting with fear.

The knight, invisible in his black armour, dismounted from his horse and walked over to where Arthur knelt. The king could not find the strength to look up. He heard the crunch of footsteps on gravel and the clink of armour. Then came the sound of metal scraping against metal as the knight drew out his sword. There was a minute’s silence that seemed to drag on for an hour. Finally came a voice as cold as death itself.

"So this is the great King Arthur!" it whispered. "Tell me-king-why should I not lop off your head while you grovel before me?"

"You…are…the…devil!" King Arthur gasped.

"No!" the knight laughed. "My name is Gromer Somer Joure and I am the servant of Queen Morgana le Fay, your sworn enemy. But see – the lady is here with me."

With an effort, King Arthur raised his head and there, standing beside the knight was the woman who had sent him on the quest in the first place. But now she was smiling malevolently at him. Morgana had cleverly disguised herself and even in his fear, King Arthur trembled with anger at how easily he had been deceived.

"Have pity on me!" he cried.

"Killing you now would be too easy," the knight replied. "So instead I will send you on a quest. Swear to me that you will return here, on your own, exactly one year from now. But when you come back, you must answer me this question. What is it that women want most in the world? If you can give me the correct answer, I will spare your miserable life. But if you are wrong, then, King Arthur, you will die. You will die slowly – and your bones will decorate my castle walls."

The knight laughed. The lady laughed. Then they moved away. The portcullis came crashing down and King Arthur was left alone.The Answer

"It was sorcery, my lord," Gawain cried when he heard this story. "It was black magic. That was what caused your fear. This is what made you cry for pity. By your leave, I will ride out to the castle and…"

"No, my dear Gawain."King Arthur stopped him. "I have been sent on a quest. I am honour-bound. What is it that women most desire in this world? I have a year to find out."

"Then I will come with you," Gawain said. "Maybe together we’ll have more luck."

So together they rode out across the country, stopping every woman they met in an attempt to find the answer to the knight’s question. But they soon found themselves with more answers than they knew what to do with. Some said that women most desired jewels and fine clothes; others said a good husband and loving children. Luxury, loyalty, immortality, independence…these were just some of the answers they received. There was one old lunatic who insisted that all women really wanted was strawberry jam. The answers ranged from the bizarre to the banal – but not one of them seemed entirely convincing.

Time passed quickly. A week turned into a month. Another month passed, then two, then six…Soon King Arthur and Sir Gawain found themselves on the way back to the enchanted castle. They had a whole catalogue of answers in their saddlebags, but both knew in their hearts that they had failed.

It was on the day before they were due to part company, perhaps for ever, that they met an old woman. They had stopped in a clearing to rest their horses when Gawain saw her, sitting beside a stream, reading a book. His first thought was that she was beautifully dressed, for she wore the finest materials and her whole body was covered with jewels. Then she turned her head and he realised that she was without doubt the ugliest woman he had ever seen.

She really was incredibly ugly. Her two lips, like those of a chimpanzee, met several inches in front of her nose and when she smiled (seeing Gawain, she did indeed smile) her teeth stuck out, yellow and uneven. Her skin was the colour and texture of rice pudding and her hair would have looked better on a camel. Her nose had been pushed into her face until it had almost disappeared and she had such a bad squint that she seemed to be trying to look up her own nostrils. Finally, she was horrendously fat – so fat, in fact, that her hands and feet appeared to sprout out from her body without the benefit of arms and legs.

But she was a woman and, seeing her, King Arthur decided to have one last crack at the question. He approached her, bowing courteously, but before he could speak, she addressed him in a weird, cackling voice.

"I know the question you wish to ask," she screeched, "and I also know the answer. But I will give it to you on one condition only."

"And what is that?" King Arthur demanded.

The horrible woman grinned at Gawain and ran a wet tongue over her lips.

"That knight," she said giggling. "He is young and handsome. What lovely fair hair! What delicate blue eyes! I rather think I fancy him as my husband. That is my condition. If you will give him to me in marriage, I will save your life."

At this, Gawain went pale. He was indeed young and good-looking. All his friends expected him to come home one day with a beautiful wife. What would they say if he were coupled with this monster…? But even as these thoughts rushed into his mind, second, nobler thoughts prevailed. He had a duty – to his uncle, and to the king.

"My lord," he said. "If this woman can save your life…?"

"I can! I can!" the ugly woman crooned.

"…then gladly I will marry her."

"My dear nephew," King Arthur cried, "I couldn’t let you do that."

"You cannot stop me," Gawain replied. He fell onto one knee. "Lady," he exclaimed. "I pledge you my word as a Knight of the Round Table that I will marry you if you can save the king. Tell him what it is that women most desire – and what you desire you will have."

And so it was that the next morning King Arthur rode – alone as he had promised – to the castle of tarn Wathelyne. Once again the sense of evil surrounded him like a great darkness, but this time he was able to ride forward with confidence, as though the answer he carried were a blazing beacon. For a second time the great portcullis ground open and the black knight rode out, his sword already unsheathed.

"Well – king?" he growled. "Tell me the answer to my question. What is it that women most desire in this world?"

King Arthur replied boldly and clearly, repeating what the ugly woman had said to him. "It is this," he said, "that they should have their will and that they should rule over men."

For a moment the black knight was silent. Then he dropped his sword and, to Arthur’s astonishment, fell to his knees.

"You have answered correctly sire," he said, and by doing so have broken the spell which that evil witch Morgana le Fay had cast over me. She forced me to send you on a quest. I was her unwilling slave. But now her magic is ended, I beg you, sire, let me come and serve you at the Round Table. For beneath this foul black armour I am a good man and I will prove myself worthy of you."

"You are welcome," King Arthur said, and as he spoke the dread castle of Tarn Wathelyne cracked and crumbled and suddenly there was a rushing wind as the bricks and ironwork shimmered in the darkness. Then the sunlight broke through the clouds. The castle shattered, the ground beneath it heaving as if to be finally rid of it. A moment later it had vanished, and once again the birds were singing.

"Let us ride together," King Arthur said, and together they turned back to the court. But although the adventure had ended well for him, his heart was heavy. He had a wedding to attend, a nephew to see married. He would have given his kingdom for it to be otherwise.The Wedding

The marriage of Sir Gawain was an event that nobody would ever forget. The ugly woman giggled during the service and ate so grotesquely at the feast afterwards that almost as much food went down her dress as into her mouth. She called King Arthur ‘Warty’ and forgot everyone’s names. Of course, this being the age of chivalry, everybody managed to be tremendously polite. When Sir Gawain’s new wife got drunk and fell over, they rushed forward to help her up as if she had merely stumbled. When she made impossibly rude jokes, they laughed and applauded. And they all congratulated Sir Gawain on his good fortune with as much sincerity as they could muster.

Poor Gawain was the politest of them all. Not once did he let on that he had married the ghastly woman because he had been forced to. He called her ‘my lady’ and held her arm on the way to the table. When she emptied (or knocked over) her wine goblet, he refilled it for her. And although he was rather more silent than he was wont to be, and although he was somewhat pale, he continued to behave as if nothing was wrong.

But at the end of the evening, when he found himself alone in the bedchamber with his ugly wife and watched her powdering her nose and all three of her chins, it all proved too much for him. He clutched his sword. He clutched his hair. Then he burst into tears.

"What is it my little plum?" the lady asked. "What has so upset you on our wedding night?"

"Lady," Gawain replied, "I cannot conceal my thoughts from you. You forced me to be your husband. In truth, I would rather not."

"And why not?" the lady demanded.

"I cannot say."

"Tell me!"

"Very well." Gawain took a deep breath. "I do not want to offend you my lady, but you are old, ugly and evidently of low birth. Forgive me. I speak only what I feel."

"But what’s so wrong? The woman gurgled. "With age comes wisdom and discretion. Are these not good things for a wife to possess? Maybe I am ugly. But if so, you may never need fear rivals while you are married to me. Is this not a good thing? Finally, you accuse me of being of low birth. Are you really such a snob Gawain? Do you think that nobility comes just because you are born into a good family? Surely it depends on the character of a person! Can you not teach me to be noble like you?"

Gawain thought for a moment. Despite his innermost feelings, he could not help but agree that the old woman had a point. At the same time, he felt ashamed. Whatever he thought of her, she had saved the life of his uncle. He had behaved badly towards her. He had not behaved like a Knight of the Round Table. "My lady," he said. "You are right in everything you say. I have spoken discourteously towards you and I apologise."

"Then come to bed," she said. But even as she spoke, Gawain detected something different in her voice and when he turned round, he saw to his amazement that she had changed. It was no fat and ugly woman that lay on his bed but a young, beautiful girl with fair skin and soft brown eyes.

"Gawain," she said, smiling at him. "Let me explain. "Gromer Somer Joure, or the black knight, as you knew him, is my brother. Both of us were enslaved by the wicked Queen Morgana le Fay. I helped the king to release my brother from her spell but only the kindness and understanding of a noble spirit could save me from my horrible enchantment. That is what you have given me, dear Gawain, and now, at last, you see me as I really am. I am your wife – if you will have me. But this time, the choice is really yours."

Gawain gazed at her speechless. Then he took her hand in his own and held it close to his cheek.

The next morning the court was astounded to see what had happened and the king ordered a second wedding feast so that this time everyone could really enjoy themselves. Gawain and his lady lived happily together for many years and, although nobody ever told the story when either of them was present (for fear of embarrassing them), on many a winter’s night, the knights and their pages would gather round the crackling fire to hear once again, the strange tale of the ugly wife.

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