Brendan's father's mythical tale...

Brendan is going to hear a recording of his father telling this story in a pub. A student from the new university at Coleraine has brought his recorder and it is a clean telling. He has more to tell, but he becomes too drunk to be coherent. I worked on this on the flight home. Late, as usual.

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There is a tale about how harpies came to live in the Cliffs of Moher.

Back in a time before the wondrous few went to the earth and the world still held the power of magic, the Tuatha de Danaan came to the land and brought to us the beginning of our times. Appearing from the purest of mists on the shores of the west, they were tall and fair, like angels pure and fine, and so advanced in their abilities, those who lived here thought them gods. 

He who led them was the Dagda, and his figure was perfection among men, with shoulders broad and strength beyond compare, his face well-formed, eyes the color of the sky, and his chin offering a beard that put the sun to shame. They said his parents were the wind and the sea, and none would dispute it. 

His mate was Morriggan, whose beauty was the greatest ever beheld. Hair flaming bright as a sunset, eyes as green as grass, and skin like fresh milk, her mastery of the world’s mystical ways was without compare. It was said all she had to do was think of where she wanted to be and she would materialize there.

Tara was their home, built with beauty and grace, and three daughters did that union bring forth. Each as lovely as their mother, and each happy to follow in her mystical ways. To witness the five of them together was to know none better could exist. 

Of those who first existed on the land, the clan Ui Briuin was the best. For millennia, they had lived in their compounds and toiled in their fields, growing the finest barley. Their hunters were beyond compare, and never in winter were they left with little food or mead to drink. 

They were led by Larne Ui Briuin in ways generous and honorable, and his son, Caoughin was being well trained to follow. He was himself a fine young man...sturdy and strong and well-thought of as a hunter. 

Now there was a day when the Dagda approached the Ui Briuin compound to seek shelter from a storm. Good manners demanded his request be honored, so he was offered a room to himself, with a fire blazing and more than enough food and drink. Had he been satisfied with that, all would have been well. But the Dagda being a man, his eye roamed over the lovely lass who was attending him. 

Her name was Caera. Hair as black as a raven’s wing. Skin soft and pure. Lips like red berries on the vine. And a manner quite joyous. She was betrothed to Caoughin and propriety dictated she remain unsullied. But the Dagda worked his charm on her and brought her to his bed. Some say willingly; some say not. Whichever way it was, Caera wound up with child.

This was a major breech of etiquette and the Dagda was banned from their compound. Then Caoughin, his pride severely embarrassed, spurned poor Caera.

What is more, when Morriggan learned of the liaison, she lost herself in anger. To have the Dagda mingle with a common girl of the earth was insult enough to her, but to learn she would also be birthing his child was unacceptable. Using her mystical ways and with the help of her daughters, she found and killed the lass. Her intent was to also kill the child within her, but the boy had already been born.

Infuriated, the Ui Briuins demanded retribution so as to avoid war. The Dagda, shamed by his part in the travesty, ended his companionship with Morriggan and washed his sins away in the waters beneath the Cliffs of Moher. His promise? To add greatness to the son he’d sired.

But Morriggan was not to be put aside so easily. Through their magic, she and her daughters formed the Dagda’s sins into seven harpies and sent them out to kill the child. The beasts ravaged the land, feasting on any male youth they found, so great battles occurred between the clan and those monsters.

Year after year the fighting raged, with Caoughan at the fore, throughout, and one harpy after another was destroyed until three were left. But it was at the cost of many widows.

Morriggan finally realized the horror she had unleashed and relented from her anger. She could not stop the harpies, but was able to convince them to rein in their terror so they might survive. They agreed to shelter in the caves of the Cliffs of Moher and come out only during storms to feed on fish in the sea. In exchange, once each hundred years a lad of the Dagda’s bloodline would be sacrificed for them to feast upon.

To seal the bond, the first to be sacrificed was Caoughan Ui Briuin. At Darian’s Point on Inish Ciuin. Willingly he went, destroyed by his guilt over how he had treated Caera.

And so it has been for thousands of years, even till this day. Go to the Cliffs in the midst of a storm. Go well into the night, and you will catch glimpses of them dancing in the rain and mist.

They will show you what true horrors are possible in this world, and you will not come away from them unchanged.

And pray that your bloodline not be that of the Ui Briuin, for the time of the next sacrifice is soon approaching.