More Mac Criomthann Tales

By G. R. Grove

Many are the tales which were once told of the Druid called Mac Criomthann and the adventures which befell him in the years he wandered Ireland. This is a second collection of those tales.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G. R. Grove
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005794279

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MAC CRIOMTHANN TALES

Being a second collection of tales

concerning an ancient druid

G. R. Grove

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2022 by G. R. Grove. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9781005794279

To the ancient wise —

may they share with us their wisdom,

and may we use it well.

CONTENTS

Introduction

How Mac Criomthann First Came to Ériu

Mac Criomthann and Mount Airecal

Mac Criomthann and the Need for Light

Mac Criomthann and the Words that Kill

Mac Criomthann and the Men who Disappeared

Afterword

Introduction

Many are the tales which were once told of the Druid called Mac Criomthann and the adventures which befell him in the years he wandered Ireland. For it was not a man of Ériu that he was, but a Briton, and how he came by his name and his nature in that great island I have told elsewhere. Most of his tales are lost now, or attributed to other heroes and magicians, but these few I have salvaged. I heard them once from an ancient Storyteller, long ago in a distant land. Now I share them with you here…

How Mac Criomthann

First Came to Ériu

Some say that the youth who was later called Mac Criomthann came alone to Ériu in a trader’s ship which called at the island of Limni, off the Brega coast, while others tell that he came sailing up the Boyne with a few companions and landed near the Hill of Óengus. However that may have been, true it is that he made his way by some means or other to Temair of the Kings, where Eochaid Finn was ruling. Now an unknown outlander had no status among the Irish in those days; any free man could do with him as he willed. But the fact that Mac Criomthann spoke the Irish tongue, if perhaps with an odd accent, and claimed to be of the Druid kind gave those who first met him there pause. So they took his knife, and bound his wrists behind him, and brought him to Dáire Dubh, the King’s Druid.

Dáire saw before him a youngster, dark and thin and beardless, and barely of man’s years, yet with a look in his face of one who has already seen and suffered much, and in his gray eyes no little wisdom. So he asked, Where do you come from, lad? Where were you begotten, and where trained?

I come from Eryri, the land of the Ordovices, said Mac Criomthann. I got my begetting there, and my teaching, from those who were Druids on Ynys Mon before the Romans laid it waste.

Ah, said Dáire. I remember that tale. And is it a Druid that you are yourself, then?

Say rather, a student, and a seeker of knowledge, said Mac Criomthann, and smiled. I hope to gain much learning here in Ériu’s land.

Easy words to say, said Dáire. Yet not all those who wish learning may receive it. Why should I believe that you are what you claim?

What proof would satisfy you? asked Mac Criomthann. I could chant prayers and invocations, recite charms and spells and tales of lore, and maybe work small feats of magic for you. Do you wish more?

Perhaps, said Dáire. What is that rod you carry thrust through your belt? It has the smell of magic to me.

Mac Criomthann looked down at the thing in question—a plain white length of hazel wood, as long as his forearm and as thick as his thumb. A tool, he said evenly, "and an unfinished one, which I got