The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (31 page)

Almost in a blink of an eye they emerged on a dark storm-tossed shore.

Gilaspick was worried. “I do not recognise this place,” he muttered to himself.

It took him all his skills to manoeuvre the boat onto the wave-lashed beach.

“Look!” said the princess. “There is an old woman sitting there on that rock. She will tell us where we are.”

“Greetings, old woman,” cried Gilaspick, going up to the woman. He thought, for a moment, that he had seen her before, for she looked like the two old women he had seen on the island
of Fingal. But then he looked closer and found that her shawl was blue.

“No greeting here for you, Gilaspick Qualtrough,” replied the old woman. “No greeting for stealing Prince Imshee’s wife. You had best begone and soon.”

Gilaspick frowned. “I have done no such thing. For it is not stealing when someone comes willingly away.”

“Is that not the Princess Ballakissak yonder in your boat?”

“It is, but . . .”

“Then know that this is Ellan Imshee, the island of the prince. You have been blown here by his will.”

Now Gilaspick exclaimed in anger, for he wondered if the ocean god had played him a mean trick.

The old woman laughed sourly and spoke as if she had read his mind. “Blame not the ocean god. Prince Imshee is a great wizard. He had outwitted your Mannánan and see, here he
comes.”

Down came the ugly Prince Imshee, descending from the clouds. The old woman quickly scurried off.

“So, you thought that you could call on the ocean god to rescue you?” cried the evil dwarf. “Well, I merely turned the wind to bring you here and now I shall have my revenge on
you both!”

The princess began to sob in terror and this irritated Prince Imshee. He pointed a long crooked finger towards the Princess Ballakissak. “This sound offends me. You will not speak, unless
I tell you to.”

Straightaway, the princess was struck with a magical dumbness.

Prince Imshee roared with laughter at her attempts to cry out. It seemed to please his warped sense of humour. Then he remembered Gilaspick and took a step towards the fisherman.

“Oh, Mannánan Beg, Mac-y-Leirr!” cried Gilaspick in
desperation. “Are you deaf that you have ignored my entreaty? I am a son of Ellan Vannin, your
own jewel in the storm-tossed sea. Help me now!”

The crooked-backed Prince Imshee hesitated a moment but, when nothing happened immediately, he chuckled cruelly. “It seems that your ocean god has forsaken you, little
fisherman.”

Gilaspick was no coward, though he feared the magic of the little wizard, but he, unarmed, raised his fists and set to defend himself.

The little man stood, hands on hips, grinning scornfully. “You’ll need more than two fists to fend off my spells,” he sniggered.

“If the ocean god were not deaf,” breathed Gilaspick, “you would not dare harm a fisherman of Ellan Vannin.”

“Would I not?”

The little wizard pointed his long crooked finger at him and a bolt of lightning snaked out and sent Gilaspick flying backwards on the sand. His whole body seemed to be on fire.

“Oh, Mannánan Beg, Mac-y-Leirr!” groaned Gilaspick. “Have you no pity on the girl, if you have none for me? Help her!”

He was not sure what happened then, but there was a sudden burst of sound, like the angry tempest of the sea, and suddenly a great foamy chariot drew out of the waves. On it there stood a man
which Gilaspick was sure he had seen before.

The man grinned at him. “It is a difficulty that you have found yourself in, Gilaspick Qualtrough,” he remarked; his voice seemed to have a great roaring quality like the sea
breaking on the rocks.

“No thanks to you!” replied Gilaspick, realizing that this must be Mannánan Beg, Mac-y-Leirr, the ocean god himself. He wondered where he had seen the ocean god before.

“Is that a way to speak to me?” rebuked the god, still standing in his chariot, his white chargers like sea foam pawing the beach.

“You did not help me when I called out to you. I thought all the sons of Ellan Vannin were under your protection?”

“True enough. But do you not know that you must call my
name three times before I can reply? Three times and then I can only help you once. So take the princess now
and get to your boat and hoist your sail.”

Gilaspick glanced at the enraged Prince Imshee. “What of him?” he asked nervously.

“You may leave that little wizard to me. Quick, now, for in a moment this island will sink beneath the waves when I blow on it.”

Gilaspick grabbed the princess and leapt into his boat. It was already floating off-shore and he hoisted the sails. Immediately, the little vessel was speeding away across the sea and behind
there was a terrible roaring and crashing as the island of the wizard was engulfed by the seas that Mannánan had brought on it.

“Well,” sighed Gilaspick, “that’s that. Let us hope we have a fair path home.”

But she didn’t reply. She opened her mouth but no sounds would come and tears were in her eyes.

“It cannot be that the wizard’s spell is still working, while he rots beneath the waves?”

Princess Ballakissak nodded sadly. She reached forth a smooth white hand and laid it against his face. The tears lay on her cheeks and Gilaspick found himself tearful as well, for he could not
stand the sight of this beautiful maiden in this unhappy plight. He was about to call to the ocean god again for help, but he remembered that the ocean god could only help him once, and that time
had already passed.

So they sailed on in silence, with Gilaspick not knowing what to do.

Finally, he spied a temperate shore and a shingle beach and thought that he would land there, to see what help he could get. He saw an old woman seated there as he brought his boat ashore. For a
moment he thought it was the same old woman who had dogged his adventures at every step of the way, but he saw that her shawl was purple.

“Greetings, old woman,” he called as he helped the silent princess from the boat.

“I have been waiting for you, son of Ellan Vannin,” sniffed the old woman irritably.

“Waiting for me? How so?”

“Ask no questions. Bring the girl to my house.”

So Gilaspick and the Princess of Ballakissak followed her up the winding path to a white-washed old cottage on the cliff top and the sun was rising when they came to the door.

Three days they spent with the old woman and each day, at dawn, she prepared a strange potion and had the princess drink it down. Each time Gilaspick thought that there would be a cure, but each
time the girl was unable to answer him when he questioned her, and the tears poured from her eyes.

It was then that Gilaspick Qualtrough realised that he had fallen deeply in love with the Princess of Ballakissak. Ah, if only she could speak.

The old woman, on the morning of the third day, as the sun was rising, came in with a herb and stripped it of its leaves and cut its stalk until a thick white juice came out of it. Then she put
some water in a pot and laid the herb in and boiled the juice and gave it to the princess. A great sleep came over her and they had to carry her to her bed.

Gilaspick sat with her and, that evening, she awoke at last and looked up through the windows at the blue star-studded canopy. She yawned and stretched. Then she rubbed her eyes and said:
“Where am I?”

Gilaspick was filled with joy. “I do not know, Princess. I know we are in a cottage of an old woman and that you are cured of the curse of the wizard.”

Memory came to her and she jumped up with joy and gave Gilaspick a big hug and a kiss.

Gilaspick felt he would die with satisfaction and delight at her embrace.

The old woman came in and smiled knowingly. “Tomorrow you can continue on your journey to Ellan Vannin,” she said.

That night, they feasted in the old woman’s cottage and Gilaspick Qualtrough showered her with thanks.

“No thanks are required,” said the old woman, whose name was Airmed. “I am a healer. But if you are grateful for what I have done, when you return to Ellan Vannin, you
might meet an old woman selling herbs by the roadside. Do not pass her by with a curse but buy a cure from her.”

Gilaspick promised to do so.

So the next morning, they set out again, both talking away as if their lives depended on it. The Princess of Ballakissak declared her love for him and he declared his love for her. Happily, they
came to Gob ny Garvain and sailed into the rocky bay of Port Mooar below Booilushag.

The people of the village turned out to greet him.

“Twenty-seven days have you been gone,” cried one of the fishermen of Booilushag, “and we had given you up for lost.”

“So had I,” cried Gilaspick, quite recovering his old spirits. And he proceeded to tell them his adventures, but no one would believe him.

“It’s old Gilaspick Qualtrough telling his tall stories again,” they said to one another. “However, it is a fine wife he has brought back to Booilushag. Maybe he has
brought her from Onchan, or some other town in the south?”

No one quite knew where the princess could have come from, nor even that she was a princess, but as for the truth of it, well, they would not believe it.

For a few days, Gilaspick and Ballakissak were happy and then Gilaspick was reminded of his promise to go back to the Elfin Arms in Ramsey and meet the stranger. And the stranger had told him to
bring the Princess of Ballakissak to him. When he explained what was troubling him to the girl, she grew unhappy.

“We must go to the Elfin Glen just as you promised, Gilaspick, otherwise you will have lost everything.”

“But what if I lose you? The stranger told me that I am to hand you over to him as proof, or he would take everything I owned on this island, including my reputation.”

“I will not love this stranger better than I loved the evil wizard, Prince Imshee. But your word has been given and there is an end to it.”

With heavy steps they set out from Booilushag up the path to Ballajora, to Dreesmjerry and when they were passing Sleiau Lewaigue they saw an old woman by the side of the road. At first,
Gilaspick thought it was Airmed, or one of the
other old women he had met on his travels, but her shawl was of parti-coloured cloth and bright.

“Buy a cure, sir,” she called.

Gilaspick sighed and was about to curse her. Then he shrugged. “There is no cure for the troubles that are on my shoulders,” he replied.

He was about to pass by when he remembered he had given his word to Airmed, the old healer, that he would buy a cure from an old woman he met by the side of the road. So he pulled out a coin and
handed it to her. “You may give me what cure you like, for nothing I know will cure a heavy heart.”

The old woman gave him a bag. “That will do it. Keep it safe in your pocket until you need it.”

Then he and the Princess of Ballakissak walked on slowly until they came to the Elfin Glen.

The first person he spied was the stranger, sitting on a stone outside the inn with folded arms and a smile on his face. He was so familiar that Gilaspick wondered where he had seen him
before.

“So you have returned?”

“I have,” agreed Gilaspick.

“Did you go to Fingal?”

“I did. But I had no time to cast my net into the waters.”

“That I know. But, importantly, did you bring me the Blessed Belle of Ballakissak?”

Gilaspick, with a heavy heart, drew the princess to his side. He said no word.

“Well,” said the stranger, “it seems that you are reluctant to part from her? Tell me why.”

“We love one another,” Gilaspick was forced to reply. “Though I promised you that I would bring her forth for you, though you force me to dishonour my pledge, I will fight you
for her.”

The stranger laughed good-naturedly.

“Fight me? No. I will take compensation though.”

Gilaspick groaned. “I am a poor fisherman.”

“Well, then, give me a bag of dried
barragyn buighey
and we will call it quits.”

Now
barragyn buighey
was sea poppy and Gilaspick had as much chance of obtaining some as becoming a rich man.

His face fell.

It was the Princess of Ballakissak who said: “Good sir, we have only a cure, a bag of herbs; perhaps you will accept this.”

She held out her hand to Gilaspick and he drew out the bag he had purchased from the old woman. They opened the bag and in it were the dried leaves of
barragyn buighey.

“There, now, a bargain is a bargain,” smiled the stranger. “I will take this and be on my way. I am glad I picked you for this venture, Gilaspick Qualtrough.”

Gilaspick stared at him.

“
Picked me?
” he demanded. “What do you mean?”

But the stranger’s visage had suddenly changed and it was clear that he was a noble prince of the Otherworld and he was mounting into a great foaming chariot, drawn by white horses the
colour of foam-capped waves. Without another glance, the stranger had raced away, heading straight into the sea.

Gilaspick and the princess tripped home very happily and lived together in Booilushag for many a long year. I do hear that their descendants might still be living there to this day, although I
am told that no one believes the fabulous story that Gilaspick Qualtrough told about how he brought his beautiful wife to the shores of Ellan Vannin.

Scotland (Alba)

Scotland: Preface

I
have always considered that James MacPherson (1736–96) of Kingussie has been unfairly treated in popular perception. He was a graduate of
Aberdeen and Edinburgh universities and, in 1760, he produced his famous
Fragments of Ancient Poetry Collected in the Highlands of Scotland
, which was followed by
Fingal
(1762) and
then by
Temora
(1763). These were finally put together in a single volume as
The Poems of Ossian
in 1773.

Ossian
made a tremendous impact on European literature and reawoke an interest in Celtic myth, legend and folklore. Translations were immediately made into German, French, Italian,
Danish, Swedish, Polish and Russian. William Blake, Lord Byron and Lord Tennyson praised the work. The German poet, playwright and novelist, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, admired it, as did Napoleon
Bonaparte, who carried a copy of it with him on his military campaigns and took it with him into his final exile on St Helena. The English poet, Thomas Gray, was moved to comment:
“Imagination dwelt many hundred years ago on the cold and barren mountains of Scotland.”