The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (73 page)

Maudez made his way slowly home, feeling cold and miserable. Nevertheless, he had sworn an oath to his brother. He ate heartily and slept and the discomfort of the night seemed to pass. But his
mother noticed how pale, wan and cold he was and asked if she should bring the physician to see him. Maudez shook his head. He assured her that he was all right.

That night, around midnight, he found himself lying on his bed fully dressed.

His brother, Primel, appeared as on the previous night and conducted Maudez to the mill-pond and they went in as before. It seemed twice as cold and dank as before. The suffering of Maudez was
truly great and he found that he could barely endure the endless hours of being in that black, ice-cold pond.

Yet, finally, came the crowing of the morning cock and weak, feeling ill and distraught, Maudez found himself at the edge of the pond.

Primel’s voice came from the depth. “Do you have courage for one more time? Just once more, and you will have eased my pain and set my soul at liberty.”

“I swore an oath and will be faithful to the end, even if it kills me.”

Maudez went home. This time he was so pale, exhausted and shivering that he crawled into his bed without food in an effort to warm himself. He could not eat, even when his mother brought him hot
cakes and sausage. This time, she sent for the physician, who pronounced him gravely ill.

Now his mother had looked into his room on the previous night and saw that Maudez was not there.

“He must be getting this cold from spending the night watching at his poor brother’s grave,” she said to the physician.

Now the physician saw how ill Maudez was and said that he would keep a watch that night and prevent Maudez from going out to the burial ground.

That night the physician, who had been sleeping in a chair
in the parlour, was awakened by strange noises. He half opened his eyes and saw Maudez coming from his bedroom and
talking as if deep in conversation with someone. But there was no one about. So strange was Maudez’s behaviour that the physician hung back and did not intervene, but followed at a distance.
He followed Maudez to the mill pond and saw him strip off in the cold night air and leap into the pond.

He was about to give the alarm and rush forward when he suddenly noticed a second ripple on the water and now he heard a second voice. It is said by the ancients that water will reveal the
sounds of the Otherworld to those with ears to hear. The physician was not just a healer but came from many generations of Druids.

Using his knowledge, the physician approached the pond and saw a rowan tree growing nearby. He used the rowan to hide behind. As it had magical protection from the spirits of the Otherworld, he
was entirely safe.

From the waters, he heard the voices of the brothers, Maudez protesting that he could not last any longer and Primel urging him to hang on and be brave.

“I am weakening!” cried Maudez. “I will not last until the morning.”

“You must. Be strong, my brother! A little while longer and, thanks to you, I shall be delivered from this suffering. You will have opened the path for me into the Otherworld. You will
have halved my suffering.”

Through the long night, the physician sat there, hearing the cries of agony from Maudez and not daring to move, though he wanted to run from that spot. Finally, the sky began to grow light and
the morning cock crowed.

From the bottom of the pond came two cries.

“Primel!”

“Maudez!”

Then the physician saw a strange white smoke snake out of the waters and curl itself upwards into the bright morning sky.

When he looked back he saw Maudez, fully clothed, lying on the bank of the pond.

Maudez was ice-cold and deathly white. His breathing was
shallow. His body shivered uncontrollably. The physician threw him over his shoulder and carried him back to the
farm and placed him in his bed. He tried his best to bring warmth back into his racked body. It was too late, too late. By midnight, Maudez breathed his last.

And for several nights after that, the villagers of Botsorhel swear they heard unearthly screams coming from the old mill pond by Goazwed: terrible screams of anguish and pain and suffering.

If the truth were known, Maudez had halved the suffering of his brother Primel by taking that suffering on himself. Even so, the brothers had to spend three nights in Purgatory before Primel
could pass on into the light of the Otherworld. But when it came to Maudez’s turn, there was no one to come and share his suffering with him and three more endless lonely nights he had to
spend without comfort in that dank, dark place.

The locals of Botsorhel will tell you that the old mill-pond is a place to be avoided in the darkness of the night for in it dwell the
anaon
which, in Breton, means the spirits of the
dead. One or two of the villagers remarked that the cries seemed to cease after an old, lame beggar passed by the old mill pond by Goazwed. But then, country people are always looking for
symbols.

35 Koadalan

T
here was once a male child born to a forester and his wife who dwelt in the Forest of Cranou, a land of hills studded with great oaks and beeches.
The forest nestles under the Mountains of Arrée, the highest hills of Brittany. The couple were not wealthy but they had enough to make them happy and were content with their life and, when
their son was born, they felt their happiness complete. They felt that the child put them in complete harmony with their lives and their surroundings. That was why they decided to name him
Koadalan, for
koad
means “wood”, symbolising the wood in which they lived, and
alan
means “harmony”.

The boy grew and the forester, whose name was Alan, and his wife, taught him all they knew about the woods and forest lore. He was an exceptionally bright boy and he learnt quickly. And as he
grew, he realized that he lacked a schooling; he wanted to learn to read and write. His parents, being only foresters, could do neither. When he asked his parents if they would send him to school,
they shook their heads.

“The school is a long way from here in Rumengol and it costs much money,” they told him.

“But you have enough. You have a fine bull and a stallion. You could sell those, and that would pay for my schooling.”

It took some convincing them but eventually, because of the boy’s insistence, they finally sold their fine bull and their horse, and sent the boy to school. Three years passed by, during
which time the boy learnt a great deal and his teachers
were very proud of him. They swore that he had more knowledge than most boys of his age.

At the age of maturity, that is at seventeen, Koadalan returned to his parents. They, having sold their fine bull and their stallion, were now extremely poor. They had a hard time simply to
wrest a livelihood from the forest. They were not unhappy, but they were practical folk.

“We can only keep ourselves with great difficulty, Koadalan,” they told him. “You will have to set off to seek your fortune in life, for we cannot afford to support you as
well.”

The young man felt some sorrow for his parents and swore to himself that if he made a fortune, he would pay his parents back and give his parents anything they desired in life.

So he set off, going south to the kingdom of Cornouaille, which in Breton is called Kernev.

Nearing the town of Quimper, he met a sorrowful-looking youth sitting by the road.

“What troubles you?” he demanded.

The youth looked up.

“I have no money and I am looking for work,” he replied.

Koadalan smiled thinly. “Well, I am in the same position. You have to make the best of it. You cannot brood about it.”

“I know,” sighed the youth. “But I was offered a job with a nobleman only a moment ago, and I lost it by telling a lie.”

“Oh? How so?”

“He stopped me just down the road there and asked if I would like a job. So I said that I would. ‘Good,’ he said, ‘can you read?’ Now I can’t, but I wanted
the job, so I said that I could. Well, that I could a little,” he added defensively.

“So he found out that you couldn’t?” inquired Koadalan.

“No. That’s the stupidity of it. The great lord said to me, if you can read then you are not the one I am looking for. I have no job for you.”

“Curious,” agreed Koadalan. “What does this noble look like?”

“Oh, he is dressed from head to toe in black, with a silver buckle and a brooch to fasten his cloak. He rides a night-black stallion with a black-and-silver harness.”

Koadalan rose from his perch beside the doleful youth. “Well, I am sorry that you didn’t get the job.”

He bade farewell and went on his way into Quimper. He made his way to the market square and the first person he should see, sitting outside a tavern drinking a glass of mead, was the
distinguished-looking noble clad all in black. Next to him was tethered his night-black stallion.

Now Koadalan, as we have said before, was an intelligent youth. So he went over to the noble and greeted him politely. “
Devezgh-mat!
” he said. “Forgive me, sir, for
being so forward, but I am thirsty and without money, for no one will give me work. Could you spare a copper for me to buy a drink?”

The noble frowned and, turning to him, he examined Koadalan speculatively. “Would you be willing to work for me?” he asked, after a while.

“Of course, if you have work for me to do.”

“That I have. But can you read?”

“I can neither read nor write,” lied Koadalan, “for my parents were too poor to send me for schooling.”

The noble smiled in satisfaction.

“Excellent!” he said. “You are just the person that I am looking for. What is your name?”

“Koadalan, sire. And what is your noble name?”

“I am Lord Huddour,” the man replied. “And now, it is not far to my castle, so you may mount behind me. We will be there in a trice.”

The dark lord mounted his black horse and reached down and swung Koadalan up behind him as if he had been a featherweight. Then he heeled his horse and it sprang forward. Koadalan blinked and,
in that blinking, he found that Quimper was far behind, indeed, far behind were the mountains of Cornouaille and the Pointe du Raz, and they were away across the sea beyond the lie de Sein.
Koadalan hung on for dear life to the black flapping coat of the dark lord.

Barely a moment passed before they alighted in a great avenue of yew trees on a glorious-looking island in front of a towering but splendid-looking castle. They rode up to the gates. The first
thing that Koadalan noticed above the door
was a scroll carved in the stone which read: “He who enters here will never leave.”

Koadalan was nervous and tried not to show that he had read and understood the scroll.

“Is this your castle, sir?” he asked nervously.

“It is,” replied the man who called himself Lord Huddour. “Come in.”

He led the way in and Koadalan could find no excuse but to follow him through those grim portals. However, the castle was pleasant enough inside, bright and cheerfully decorated. A meal, the
like of which Koadalan had never seen before, was laid out, and he dined like a king. And after supper, he was conducted to a pleasant bedroom, where he slept on a goose feather bed. Never had the
son of the forester known such luxury. The one thing he did notice, however, was that there were no servants at all in the castle and yet everything appeared to be cleaned and food was served, as
if by unseen hands.

Next morning, when a sumptuous breakfast had been eaten, Lord Huddour addressed him.

“Now, we shall talk about the work which you are expected to do.”

Koadalan was suddenly nervous. He remembered the grim notice outside.

“You will live in this castle for a year and a day and you will lack nothing. Anything you want, you have but to say.”

“But to whom should I speak?” demanded Koadalan. “I have seen no one here.”

Lord Huddour took out a square of linen.

“Here is a
lien
,” (which is the Breton word for a napkin). “Whenever you want to eat or drink, you only have to say, to it, ‘
Lien
,
lien
do your task,
bring me this or that’ and straight away what you’ve asked for will appear. Now I must be away on a journey. In my absence, you must perform certain daily tasks.”

Koadalan began to appear happy. It seemed to him that there was a pleasant prospect to being in the castle.

Lord Huddour conducted him to the kitchen of the castle. There was a fire over which a large cauldron hung on an iron hook. It was steaming away. Lord Huddour pointed to it.
“Each day, you must place two bundles of wood on that fire under the cauldron.”

“Easy enough,” replied Koadalan.

“You must do this, no matter what you hear. Don’t take any notice but keep the fire going all the time.”

Koadalan was surprised.

“What should I hear by keeping the fire going under the cauldron?” he demanded.

Lord Huddour ignored him. “You must promise.”

Koadalan shrugged. “I promise.”

“There is another task. Come with me.”

And Lord Huddour took Koadalan to the castle stables. “Here you see a mare.”

Indeed, there was a very thin mare in the stall to which Lord Huddour pointed. In front of the mare was a spiny faggot, which had been placed in her feeding trough.

“This mare is called Berc’hed. The faggot is for her food and there is a holly stick with which you must beat her each day until you draw sweat. Take the stick now and show me that
you know how to give a good beating.”

Koadalan was reluctant but, observing the look in Lord Huddour’s eye, he took the stick and beat the poor animal as hard as he could.

Lord Huddour rubbed his chin.

“That is good. You are not bad in the way you handle the stick. Not bad at all.”

He pointed across the stable to another stall where a young foal stood.

“Now see this young foal? Well, this foal has to be given as much clover and oats as it wants.”

“Very well,” acknowledged Koadalan.