The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (72 page)

He told the mare and the horse answered, “Well, you know what you must do. You saved the life of the King of the Fish.”

So they went to the seashore and N’oun Doaré raised his voice and cried aloud for the King of the Fish.

“What can I do for you, N’oun Doaré?” squeaked a voice. And there was the head of the sea-trout gazing at him from the waves.

“I need the key to the Castle of the Golden-Ram which the princess has thrown into the sea.”

“Never fear,” replied the fish. “You shall have it.”

At once, he called all the fish who rushed here and there. But none of them had seen the key to the castle. Finally, the King of the Fish called a lonely dolphin who came and presented him with
the key, a golden key inset with a priceless diamond.

N’oun Doaré and his mare went straight back to the King of Vannes and presented it to him.

The princess could no longer play for time, and was forced to name the day of the wedding.

“Ask her now,” whispered the mare, “to open up her castle door.”

N’oun Doaré did so.

The princess seemed reluctant but even Gwion started to press her, for he also wanted to gaze on the interior of the impressive structure.

“You have had it brought all the way here, to Vannes,” he said, “so it seems a shame that you will not even allow us to see inside it.”

The princess was forced to go with Gwion, with N’oun Doaré and his mare, and other members of the King of Vannes’ court. She opened the door with the golden key.

“Now, before you step inside,” whispered the mare, “ask her to formally invite all those present to do so.”

N’oun Doaré made the request.

The princess shook her head. “You may come in if you so wish – the choice is your own.”

“No. It is not etiquette,” insisted N’oun Doaré. “This your castle, princess, and the king and his retinue cannot come in without being formally
invited.”

Gwion nodded his agreement, for N’oun Doaré was only quoting the law of hospitality.

The princess sighed. “Then every one of you is formally invited to enter the castle.”

And they went inside.

To their surprise, there was a nauseating smell of decay and evil in the castle, unlike the sunny countenance of the princess. It was more like a dank dark stable in its interior than a
beautiful palace. Those following her stood back, all except the old mare.

The mare trotted forward to the centre of the dark room, where a stall stood, in which there was a small bundle of oats tied in a golden ribbon.

“Stop that horse!” cried the princess in terror. “I did not mean to invite it inside.”

But the old mare bent forward and ate the oats in two large mouthfuls.

No one knew what exactly happened next. They knew that the castle had suddenly vanished. They were all standing on the sun-drenched green hillside overlooking Vannes. And in their midst there
was a great chest of treasure, and each side of the treasure stood two beautiful women. One was the princess, whose features seemed to have softened and were more beautiful than before; while the
other woman could only be her twin. The only difference was that the princess had golden hair while her twin had red-copper hair.

Everyone gaped in amazement at them.

“Where is my mare?” demanded N’oun Doaré, gazing around angrily. “If she has been hurt, there will be blood to pay for this. My mare is very dear to me.”

The red-haired young woman came forward and laid a
slender hand on his arm. “I am here, N’oun Doaré,” she said in the husky voice, which he
recognized immediately. “I am still ready to serve you, for you are also dear to me.”

Gwion of Vannes stared at his princess, so warm and attractive that she appeared a new person, and he shook his head in wonder.

“What has happened?” he asked.

“An evil Druid placed us under a spell many years ago,” replied the princess. “We are sisters, you see, and our father angered this Druid. He had betrothed my sister Ruz-glaou
to a young prince instead of to the Druid’s son. And when the Druid then demanded my hand, my father said he would rather give me to a fabulous beast than allow me to marry him.

“The Druid slew my father and, ever vengeful, found the young prince, who was then five years old, and cast him into a far kingdom so that he would not know his name, his parents nor where
he came from. My sister was turned into an old mare and transported to Kernev. And I was made to be a prisoner of our castle, my character was changed, and I was compelled to collect fabulous
creatures in retaliation for my father’s threat to marry me to one. The castle became an evil-smelling stable, in which the fabulous beasts were housed, and over which I had no
control.”

“How were you freed?” demanded N’oun Doaré.

“The Druid placed magic oats in the stall in the castle which, if my sister was ever able to get into the castle and eat them, would undo the spell. As the years passed, my sister, in the
guise of a mare, was purchased by a learned Druid in Kernev. He advised her of the way in which she could remove the spell. He told her that she would be aided by the pure sword of Govan the
Smith-God, cast in the days of primordial chaos.”

“This one?” demanded N’oun Doaré, reaching to the bright sword at his belt.

But the sword was gone. The scabbard was empty.

“It has served its purpose,” observed Ruz-glaou. “It has returned back to its owner, who gave it to you.”

“So the spell has been lifted?” Gwion observed. “Then all is well. We have all played our parts.”

“Will you set out to find this nameless prince that was cast away without memory?” asked N’oun Doaré sadly of the red-haired princess.

Ruz-glaou smiled. “What is your name?”

“N’oun Doaré,” replied the puzzled young man. “You know that well enough.”

“And what does it mean?”

“I don’t know.”

Ruz-glaou chuckled. “I have found my prince already,” she said solemnly. “Do you want to know who you really are and where you came from?”

N’oun Doaré thought for a moment or two and then he shook his head with a smile. “I have two good parents now who have raised me. My home is in Léon. If you are content
with me as I am, I am also content.”

Both princesses, Aour and Ruz-glaou, were pleased with the men who declared their love for them, and they reciprocated that love. On the next day, a great double wedding was held in Vannes, and
Gwion and his princess remained there while N’oun Doaré returned to his adopted parents, with his princess, where they lived in Coat-Squiriou happily for many years. In time,
N’oun Doaré became the king of Léon and he was contented knowing who he was, rather than who he might have been.

34 The Anaon

T
here were two brothers who dwelt in Botsorhel. Their names, for the sake of our story, were Maudez and Primel. They were twins and very close to
each other. Even as youngsters, they had never been known to argue over their toys and they shared everything, the hardships as well as the good things of life.

They shared only one bad secret, and that was when they were youths, they found an old lame beggar on the road and thought it would be amusing to steal his stick for sport. But it was no sport
at all and the poor man cursed the two boys heartily, calling down the wrath of the Ankou, the spirit of the dead, on them. They finally desisted and felt ashamed of what they had done.

Thereafter, they grew up as fine young men. They even forgot the incident. That was the one bad thing that they ever did in their lives.

When they grew into manhood, everyone who knew them remarked how inseparable they were.

“Why,” agreed their mother, “only death will separate those two.”

“If that happens,” remarked Primel to his brother, on hearing what his mother said, “let us swear an oath.”

“What oath?” demanded Maudez.

“Why, whoever is the first of us to die, we must return from the Otherworld and tell the other of what has befallen us there.”

“Very well,” agreed Maudez.

“And we will also swear that if either one of us is made to suffer, the other will share the suffering.”

So the two brothers swore this oath.

It happened sooner than expected. A malignancy struck the area and the Ankou himself, the great Death personified, walked the village of Botsorhel, choosing his victims. And it was Primel who
was struck with the fever and he being scarcely twenty and five years of age. His family sent for healers but the fever gripped him and, at last, the Ankou was victorious and claimed Primel’s
soul to take with him to the Otherworld.

Now, during all this time, Maudez had never left Primel’s bedside. He nursed and watched over his brother with such attentiveness that it broke everyone’s heart to see his distress
when his brother was taken by the Ankou. Nor did Maudez leave the side of the body of his brother, until the bier was taken to the burial ground; nor did he leave the graveside, until the grave
digger had finished levelling the earth on top of the grave; nor did he leave the burial ground, until the bier was ritually smashed to pieces against the great oak tree that grew there. This was
to prevent the evil spirits from carrying the corpse away on the bier and turning it into an Un-Dead creature which would haunt the living.

Now it so happened that the very next evening was the start of the feasting which would bring in the New Year, marking the end of one pastoral year and the beginning of the next. This festival
had been altered in Christian times. It had fallen on the evening of 31 October, which was renamed the eve of All Saints’ Day or All Hallows. More importantly, it was the time when spirits
and ghosts could return from the Otherworld and set out to wreak vengeance on the living, on those who had wronged them in life. The fires of the village were extinguished that night and in the
morning, when the sun rose in the sky, the fires would be rekindled from a ceremonial flame which would be lit by the Druids from the sun’s rays.

Maudez took little part in these ceremonies and, indeed, returned sorrowfully to his house before midnight. He went to bed but could not sleep. His mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of his
dead brother, Primel.

It was as he lay in bed, thinking his sad thoughts, that he heard a footstep in the yard outside. He heard the door of the house open and a foot on the stair. He knew the
footsteps well. The bedroom door swung open. He could not suppress the shiver that came over him as he saw the figure silhouetted in the doorway.

“Are you asleep, Maudez?” came the familiar voice.

Maudez let out a sigh.

“No, Primel. I am not asleep. I have been lying awake here, waiting for you.”

“We swore an oath, Maudez, that I would return. Get up now and come with me.”

Maudez arose and started to put on his clothes. Maudez saw that Primel was still clad as last he had seen him, in his shroud.

“Are there no fine clothes in the Otherworld, Primel?” he asked with interest.

“At this time, my brother, this shroud is all I possess and wear.”

“How do you find this Otherworld? Is it all that we have been told?”

“Alas,” said Primel, “there is a prohibition there. I am not allowed to tell you about it. But, I am allowed to show you. That is why I have come for you. I can let you see it
for yourself . . . that is, if you freely agree to come with me.”

Maudez nodded eagerly. “We swore an oath. I am ready.”

Primel beckoned his brother to follow him and they went from the farm of their parents to the mill-pond at Goazwed. When they reached the still dark waters, Primel turned to his brother.

“Take off all your clothes and your boots, Maudez.”

“What for?” demanded Maudez, a little worried, for the night air was chill.

“You must come into the water with me.”

“But I can’t swim. The water of the mill-pond is deep.”

“You will not have to swim. There is no need to worry.”

Maudez thought a moment and then shrugged. “Very well. I am resolved to follow you, wherever you go. Lead on.”

Taking Maudez’s arm, Primel leapt into the dark waters
and with him went his twin brother. They sank down into the black waters until their feet touched the bottom.
Maudez was astonished to find that he could breathe under the water as easily as he had in the air. But the dark waters were cold, so cold that Maudez began to shiver, and his teeth chattered
almost uncontrollably.

“What now?” he demanded, when Primel made no further move.

“We wait.”

After they had waited there in the black, cold waters for what seemed like hours, Maudez, feeling he could bear the chill no longer, said: “Do we have to stay here much longer?”

Primel smiled in the darkness. “Are you then in such a hurry to leave me?”

“No, not I,” replied Maudez. “You know very well that I am never happier than when we are together. But, Primel, I am still alive, and I am suffering more than I can tell, for
it is so bitterly, bitterly cold.”

Then Primel’s voice grew harsh. “Then triple your suffering, Maudez, and you will begin to feel what I am suffering.”

Maudez was astonished. “Why are you suffering, Primel? We are told the Otherworld is full of light and happiness.”

His twin brother did not reply for a moment or two, but then he relented. “All I can tell you is that by sharing my time here, you are shortening it. By feeling my suffering, you are
reducing it.”

Maudez felt great sorrow for his brother. “Then I shall stay with you for as long as it takes to relieve your suffering.”

Primel shook his head. “You will be free when you hear the morning cock crow.”

The time passed in that cold, stygian darkness: it passed so slowly that it seemed like days and months. Then, at last, Maudez heard the crowing of the morning cock. In a moment, he found
himself at the edge of the mill-pond, dry and with his clothes on.

He heard his brother’s voice echoing from below: “Good-bye, Maudez. If you have the courage and the will to help me, you will see me tonight.”

“Willingly, brother,” exclaimed Maudez. “I will wait for you like I did last night.”