The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (76 page)

“How much for the stallion, old man?” asked the first.

“It’s a fine beast,” said the second.

“Indeed, it is,” agreed the third.

When old Alan asked for two thousand pieces of silver, the first one said: “It is a great deal of money.”

“But it is a fine stallion,” pointed out the second.

“We agree on the price,” agreed the third.

Now when the agreement was made and old Alan went to take the bridle off the stallion, they did not demur.

“There is an inn across the way,” pointed out the first.

“Before we conclude the deal, we can go in there and count out the money in comfort,” said the second.

“And we can have a drink there,” the third suggested.

So they went into the inn and called for cider, for the local cider of Rumengol is a potent brew. And before old Alan realized it, he had taken a drop too much. Indeed, he was so drunk that when
the three suggested that they needed the bridle, he let them have it without demur.

The three immediately took the horse, still with the bridle, and all three mounted it. Everyone looked at them in astonishment, for the people of Rumengol work on the land and have an empathy
with animals. They abhor people who maltreat them.

“What are those imbeciles doing?” demanded the village folk and the three rode off through the town, passing the sacred fountain where once King Gradlon built a chapel.

“You’ve less sense than your animal!” yelled one man.

“At least two of you should get down from the back of that poor beast!” cried another.

“Aren’t you ashamed?” demanded a third.

And as an angry crowd began to gather, the three strangers felt it prudent to get down.

It was the chance the stallion was waiting for. It leapt into the river and changed into an eel. The three strangers, in a rage, leapt after it, changing into three big fish and set off in
pursuit. The eel, realising them to be coming closer and closer, leapt from the water and assumed the shape of a dove. After it went the three fish, changing into sparrow-hawks. Across the sky they
sped, with the dove getting tired as it tried to elude the hunters.

It was passing over a palace at Roc Trévezel and saw a maidservant filling a bucket at the castle well. The dove turned into a bright golden ring and fell into the bucket. It startled the
maidservant, who took it from the bucket and stared at it in wonder. Cautiously, she slipped it on her finger, and then hurried inside the castle to continue her duties.

The three sparrow-hawks alighted before the castle. Now the castle at Roc Trévezel was owned by the Lord of Trévezel, a powerful noble, whose fortress dominated the whole of the
five kingdoms of Armorica, for it was built on the highest point. From the castle tower, one could see north to the Léon plateau where, in clear weather, the spires at St Pol-de-Léon
could be seen; to the west, one could see the waters of Rade de Brest and to the south, the line of the forest on the Menezioù Du or the Montagnes Noires. Lord Trévezel was a man to
be reckoned with.

So the three strangers, who you must have realized were the three magicians who had come in search of Koadalan and his red leather bound books, decided to change themselves into three musicians,
who each carried a
biniou
, which is a Breton bag-pipe. They went to the castle gate and asked if they could play to Lord Trévezel. He liked bag-pipe music and so he allowed them to
play. At the end, he was delighted by their music and offered them money.

“Thank you, my lord,” said the first, “but we do not seek money.”

“What is it you seek then?” demanded Lord Trévezel. “Name it and you shall have it.”

“A golden ring,” the second musician replied.

“It was dropped by a dove and fell into the bucket of water your maidservant was drawing at the castle well,” added the third.

Now Lord Trévezel was puzzled by the request and wondered how the three came to know of the ring’s whereabouts, but he had given his word.

“You shall have it,” he said. “Send for the maidservant.”

Now the maid had gone to her room to admire the ring and she was terrified when it suddenly vanished and in its place was Koadalan. For he had been the stallion, the eel, the dove and the
ring.

“Do not be afraid,” Koadalan told her. “I am trying to escape from three evil magicians. I was the golden ring on your finger and your master, Lord Trévezel, has sent to
ask you for it. Go to him. I shall turn myself back into the ring. You must not give him the ring, however, until he has promised to do what I am about to tell you.”

The girl’s fear vanished although she was still astonished by what was happening.

“Tell Lord Trévezel that he can have the ring to give to the musicians, but first he must have a great fire lit in the castle courtyard. Then he must throw the ring into the flames
and tell the musicians that they must retrieve it when the fire is at its hottest.”

The maidservant promised to do this.

Koadalan changed back again.

The servants came and took the girl to Lord Trévezel who asked for the ring.

“Here it is, my lord,” said the maidservant, raising her hand to show it on her finger.

“Hand it to me, then, for I have promised to give it to these musicians.”

“My Lord, I have been told not to do so until you agree to this demand . . .” And the girl told Lord Trévezel what he had to do.

Now Lord Trévezel, as we have said, was suspicious of the three musicians and their glib demand for the ring. He was therefore not against the girl’s request. He ordered a fire to
be
lit and asked to be told when the fire was at its hottest. Then he took the three musicians into the courtyard and stood before the fire.

“It is at its hottest now, my lord,” cried one of his servants, tending the fire.

So Lord Trévezel turned to the maid, who took the ring from her finger. She handed it to him and he threw it into the heart of the flames.

Lord Trévezel said to the musicians: “You may fetch it! Then you may keep it.”

The three did not wait but turned themselves into three ghastly little fire-imps and hurled themselves into the flames.

“
Va Doue Benniget
!” exclaimed Lord Trévezel. This means, in Breton, “Good Lord!”

What those looking on did not see was that the golden ring had turned into a charred grain of wheat which was blown by the eddies of the fire away from it and, ascending on the spiralling smoke,
eventually came to rest in a pile of wheat in the castle granary. The three wily magicians had seen it, though.

After it went the three imps, who turned themselves into three cock birds, which started to peck at the grain to find which was Koadalan. But the grain suddenly turned into a fox and, before the
cock birds could do anything, they were set upon and killed by the fox.

So, eventually, Koadalan made his way back to the forest of Cranou.

After a while, seeing that his father and mother now had a more comfortable life, even though they refused the great riches which he could have brought them, Koadalan, Keredwen and his son
returned to the castle of King Bertele.

Time passed. Old King Bertele died and Koadalan and Keredwen became king and queen in his stead. Then came news from the Forest of Cranou that old Alan and his wife had also passed on to the
Otherworld. Koadalan was, however, happy with Keredwen and his son, and had possession of the three red leather-bound books, which made him the greatest magician in all the land.

However, a day came when Koadalan was away hunting,
and he learnt that Keredwen and her son had perished in a terrible plague.

Koadalan blamed himself that he had not been there to cure them. He became a changed man and grew reclusive and bitter. He buried himself more and more in his three books of magic, seeking the
ultimate spell which is the achievement of immortality, placing himself on a level with the gods and goddesses of the Otherworld.

He finally grew old and achieved many things in his life. But the older he grew, the more he feared death, and the more he studied his books to wrest from them the secret of immortality.

Finally, he decided that he would perform the ultimate
sakrilach
, for that is what Breton people call it when one tries to make oneself the equal to the gods.

He called his servants together.

“You must all obey me, no matter what I tell you to do, do you understand? No matter what I ask, you must carry it out. If you do, you shall be rewarded with as much gold and silver as you
could wish for.”

They all thought that this seemed a good proposition.

He turned to a female servant who had just had her firstborn child and had plenty of mother’s milk.

“You have a great role in this, woman,” Koadalan said.

“I will do as you ask,” she replied.

Then he called to his manservant.

“You are to put me to death. Then you will chop up my body into sausage meat. You must ensure that all the pieces and the blood are placed in a large earthenware pot, which you must cover
with a cloth. Take the pot into the garden and bury it under a heap of hot manure.”

They looked at him as if he were mad, and who is to say that he was not? But he had offered them money and so it was not their concern.

He turned back to the female servant.

“The earthenware pot will remain under the manure for six months. During that period, you will come to the manure heap twice a day, both at midday and at three o’clock in the
morning. You will sprinkle some of your milk over the
manure, above the earthenware pot, for half an hour each time. Take care that while you are performing this deed, you do
not fall asleep.”

The woman also thought Koadalan was mad, but neglected to say as much. After all, he was paying her to perform this deed.

When she agreed Koadalan went on.

“After six months, you will see me come forth from the earthenware pot in one piece, full of life and in the best of health, stronger and more handsome than I have ever been in my life. I
shall then live forever.”

The servants made no comment.

If the master was mad, it was no business of his servants, so long as they were paid and no blame attached to them as to what he told them.

So it happened as Koadalan said.

They killed him and he felt a momentary stab of discomfort before, it seemed, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Then he awoke.

But he was not emerging from the earthenware pot. Instead, he stood on a long, low, sandy shore which stretched in both directions, with the blue sea lapping at it. Then he saw a line of people
– he saw Keredwen and his son, her father Bertele, old Alan and his mother, and many other people he had known but whom he thought were dead. They were lined up along the shore staring
sorrowfully at him.

Then he saw a familiar and beautiful woman walking towards him.

“Berc’hed!” he exclaimed. “What does this mean?”

She, too, regarded him with sadness. “Remember what I told you many years ago? I promised you that the next time that you saw me would be at a certain time.”

Koadalan frowned as he sought memory.

“You said that the next time that you saw me would be when I entered the Otherworld, but . . .”

Then the realization hit him.

He had entered the Otherworld. If that were so, then he was surely dead!

Berc’hed nodded, as if reading his thoughts.

On earth, the woman servant had gone twice a day to the earthenware pot and sprinkled her milk on the manure heap. But there were three days to go before the six months were
ended when she could not overcome the drowsiness she felt, and she fell asleep as she was sprinkling her milk.

When Koadalan’s servants dug up the earthenware pot after the prescribed time, they found Koadalan’s body entire. It almost seemed as if he were about to spring forth. Perhaps he
might have succeeded after three days, but the wise ones will tell you that it would have been impossible. No one who dares the final sacrilege of attempting to place themselves on a level with the
gods may remain unpunished.

How was Koadalan punished?

Well, when he died, the three red leather-bound books vanished. They were lost to the knowledge of humankind, so that there have been no other great wizards nor magicians after Koadalan. The
wise ones will tell you that it was the gods and goddesses themselves who hid the books. But, for his impiety, Koadalan is forced to return from the Otherworld, once every year. He returns on the
very night that the Otherworld becomes visible to this world, when souls can travel back to wreak their vengeance on the living. Then it is that Koadalan comes back to search for his three magic
books, wailing, cursing and lamenting his sacrilege.

That night, my friends, is called the eve of Gouel an Anaon, All Souls’ Day, which is known in other parts of the world as Hallowe’en. So if you have any red leather-bound books, on
that dark evening, do not be surprised to see them spin in the air and then fall to the ground, nor start at the sound of a wailing cry. It is just Koadalan, searching for his lost magic books,
which he is now doomed to do for ever and a day.

36 The King of Bro Arc’hant

O
nce there was a Breton lord named Avoez, who dwelt in a large and splendid castle on the coast. He was lord of all Breizh Izel. No one could say
for sure how Avoez became lord of Breizh Izel. It was remarked that his predecessors had been kind, generous and cared for the welfare of their people and the beauty of the country.

Then Avoez had become their lord and he ruled with a harshness that made everyone dread him. He was also a man who wanted to acquire wealth, and this became an obsession to the exclusion of all
else.

The once beautiful gardens of his castle at Lanaskol were ploughed up to plant crops, to grow apple trees to make sweet cider. Where once rhododendrons and camellias grew, there grew instead
lawns of artichokes and green peas and crops of grain. He would have no flowers within or without his castle.

His whole estate was managed by his sister, Moravik, who was just as avaricious and acquisitive as her brother.