Serpents and Werewolves (7 page)

Ceridwen's Potion

Welsh legend

Ceridwen was a powerful sorceress, skilled in many kinds of magic.

Her favourite magic was shape-shifting, because she loved to run and eat and sleep as many different animals. She loved the different view of the world she got with different eyes, and the different feel of the earth under hooves, or paws, or claws. She loved the challenge of hunting different prey. And she loved learning from different
animals,
while she lived with them for a day or a week or a month.

But she wanted a human life too, so she became pregnant, to have a human child of her own.

Ceridwen continued shape-shifting while she carried the child in her belly, spending nights as an owl or a badger or a bat, and days as a deer or a pigeon or an eel. The constant changes of shape and size may not have been good for her baby, because when he was born, he was crooked and crinkled, with odd patches of hair and misshapen feet.

But Ceridwen loved her baby. She called him Afagddu. She would change into a weasel and dance until he giggled, or change into a nightingale and sing until he slept.

Though Afagddu wasn't handsome or swift on his limbs, Ceridwen soon realised he was clever. He didn't have the looks to be a prince, nor the strength and balance to be a warrior, but perhaps he could gain respect as a wise man.

So she decided to use her magic to help her
son
become happy and successful. She started to brew a potion that would give Afagddu all the wisdom in the world.

It was a complex potion, requiring herbs from all over Wales, picked at very specific times: at midnight in a lightning storm, at sunrise on May Day, at noon on the summer solstice. Ceridwen would need a full year to gather all the ingredients and she could make this potion only once in her life.

She knew that the potion must simmer gently all the time she was collecting ingredients and that the potion must be guarded because the first person to taste it – and only the first person to taste it – would gain all the wisdom in the world.

Ceridwen employed a local boy, Gwion, to stir the potion and keep the fire burning under the pot.

She allowed Afagddu to limp after her as she gathered the herbs, and while they walked she talked to him about plants and their powers.

She gathered goldenrod and sage, dropped
them
in the pot and snapped at Gwion, “Keep stirring, boy, and don't let anyone steal a drop.”

She gathered meadowsweet and rosemary, dropped them in the pot and shouted at Gwion, “Keep stirring, boy, and don't let anyone taste it.”

She gathered wormwood and vervain, dropped them in the pot and yelled at Gwion, “Keep stirring, boy, and guard it with your life.”

The potion was almost complete. The final ingredient, to sweeten it, was dew from the white rose at the foot of the tallest mountain. As Ceridwen and Afagddu left early in the morning, she shouted, “Keep that fire bright, boy, and keep stirring!”

Gwion added wood to the fire, to make it burn bright, and he stirred. The potion boiled, bubbled, popped and spat.

One drop of potion flew out of the pot and landed on the back of Gwion's hand, scalding
him.
Gwion put his hand to his mouth and sucked, to cool the pain.

So Gwion was the first person to taste the potion.

Ceridwen returned, with Afagddu limping behind her and the white rose in her hands. She saw the light in Gwion's eyes and knew that his mind was alight with all the wisdom in the world.

She screamed, “
You stole my son's wisdom!
” And she leapt towards Gwion.

But Gwion was newly full of wisdom and knowledge and ideas, and he knew that Ceridwen meant to kill him in her anger. So, fast as a heartbeat, he changed into a hare.

The hare bounded off.

Ceridwen changed into a hound and chased the hare.

The hare's long legs were powerful, but the hound was just as fast, and unlike Gwion, Ceridwen was used to running as an animal. So the hound began to catch up and the hound's long teeth reached for the hare's spine.

The
hare reached the riverbank, then changed, fast as a heartbeat, into a silver salmon and leapt into the narrow river.

The salmon swam away.

The hound splashed into the river and changed into an otter.

The salmon's tail was powerful and its silver scales sped through the water, but the otter was bigger and started to catch up. The otter's sharp teeth reached for the salmon's tail.

The salmon leapt out of the water and changed, fast as a heartbeat, into a swift. The tiny bird flew up and away.

But the otter scrambled out of the river and changed into a falcon. The falcon flew high above the swift and hovered, then dived, hooked beak and talons ready to tear into the bird's neck and wings.

The swift changed, fast as a heartbeat, into a grain of wheat. The grain fell into a farmyard and lay hidden amongst all the
other
grains of wheat.

The falcon swooped down and changed into a white hen. The hen began to peck and swallow all the grains of wheat she could see.

The hen ate the grain that was Gwion. Then the hen became a woman again.

Ceridwen laughed. “That will teach you to steal my magic, my son's future and wisdom you had no right to. That will be the end of you, Gwion.” And she returned to the useless potion and her crooked son.

But it wasn't the end of Gwion. Because it was soon clear to Ceridwen that she was carrying another child in her belly, a child with a fast strong heartbeat.

Nine months later, she gave birth to a baby boy, with the light of wisdom still shining in his eyes, and she knew this was Gwion.

She lifted the baby high above her head, intending to throw him to the ground and take her revenge properly this time.

But she couldn't. She'd carried this baby for nine months, just as she'd carried her beloved Afagddu, and she couldn't hurt him.

However
her anger at Afagddu's loss meant she couldn't love this new baby. So she wrapped the tiny baby in a blanket, laid him gently in a coracle and pushed the small boat into the river. The boat was found by a fisherman, who brought the beautiful shining boy up as his own, calling him Taliesin.

Taliesin became a famous wise man, a bard and a wizard, respected at all the courts of Europe. Many years later, Taliesin taught all his wisdom to a young magician called Merlin.

Afagddu became a respected healer, using the wisdom he had learnt when he followed his mother as she gathered herbs.

Because there is more than one way to gain wisdom.

The Gold Sea

Canadian tribal tale

The people of the tribes did not know greed. They knew that wealth was only valuable when it was shared among neighbours.

Then a few local men went to work in the gold mines, learning the greed and speed of the white man's gold rush. When one of the men returned to his village on the bay, he brought greed back with him.

He brought a bag of gold dust and gold
nuggets.
He kept the gold to himself. He didn't spend the gold on gifts to give his family. He didn't spend the gold on a feast to feed his neighbours. He boasted of the gold, and slept with it every night, curled round it, letting the cold of the gold reach his heart.

Then one night, as he curled up round the cold gold, he became a serpent. A huge curled serpent, with cold black scales.

The elders said to him, “If you want to become a man again, let go of the gold.”

But he hissed at them and wouldn't let go of the gold.

The serpent grew bigger and scalier, and soon he couldn't fit in the house or the village. Soon he was so big and so scaly that he had to slither into the bay.

The serpent lay in the water, curled up round his gold, blocking the entrance to the bay. The people couldn't row their boats out to sea, to fish or to trade.

The elders asked him once more to let go of his gold and come back to his people.

He hissed again, a huge hiss which rocked
the
sea into tall waves, and he stayed curled up round his gold.

The elders decided that to save the village and release the man from his greed, someone would have to kill the serpent.

But who would do this sad and difficult task?

The people chose the best young man in the village. A careful, polite young man, who shared his fish and furs, and helped his mother keep their house clean.

The young man sharpened his knife, washed himself thoroughly, walked to the clifftop in the first light of dawn, stripped off his clothes and dived into the sea.

He swam up to the serpent and tried to stab his knife into the serpent's flesh. But the serpent's scales were as hard as the rock in a goldmine and the knife just slid off.

All day he swam up and down and round the serpent's body looking for a way between the scales. But there was no gap.

At sunset, he realised he didn't have the energy to swim and search and stab all night.
So
as the dying sunlight hit the water, flat and bright from the edge of the sky, the young man shouted to the serpent, “Look, more gold, shining on the tips of the waves!”

The serpent lifted his head to see the sunlight glinting on the waves, to search for more gold to curl up around.

When the serpent moved his head, the young man saw a soft place at his throat, dived towards it and stabbed his knife in.

The serpent died with gold sunlight in his eyes. His body shrank back to the size of a man and floated away on the shining water.

So the young man opened up the bay for boats and released the serpent from his greed. Then the young man swam home, leaving the serpent's gold lying at the bottom of the sea.