Part 7

Thorgrim and his men did as they were told and crossed over, but when they were across they put their shields on their backs and fled to the ships. When Magnus saw them he shouted:

'Is it thus you run, you coward? I was a fool to send you instead of Sigurd, who would not thus desert me.'

Magnus fought like a lion, but soon he was pierced through the thigh by a spear. He pulled it out and snapped it beneath his feet, crying:

'Thus we, young warriors, break these twigs. Fight on bravely, my men, and fear no danger for me.'

His men prayed him to try to spare himself, but he said:

'Better for a people to have a brave king than an old king!'

And so saying, foremost in the battle, he met his death.

MANANNAN MAC Y LEIRR

Manannan Beg was son of Leirr, He was the first that e'er had Mann; But as it seemeth unto me, He himself was but a heathen.

'Twas not with his sword he kept her, Nor with his arrows, nor his bow; But when he would see ships sailing, He hid her right round with a fog.

He'd set a man upon a brow, You'd think there were a hundred there; And thus did wild Manannan guard That island with all its booty.

The rent each paid out of the land Was a bundle of green rushes; And that was on them for a tax Throughout the country each John's Eve.

Some went up with the rushes to The great mountain up at Barrule; Others would leave the grass below, With Manannan above Keamool.

In this way, then, they lived, I think Myself their tribute very small, Without care or anxiety, Or labour to cause weariness.

Old Ballad.

MANANNAN MAC Y LEIRR

Manannan Mac y Leirr, the Son of the Sea, was the first Ruler of Mann. He was a great Wizard, and he was so powerful that afterwards he was looked on as a god. He had a great stone fort on Peel Island, and he could make one man, standing on its battlements, seem to be a hundred. When he saw his enemies' ships sailing, he would cover the island round with a silver mist so that it could not be seen; and if, in spite of the mist, his enemies came near, he would throw chips into the water and change them into ships. He was out walking one day on Barrule, when he saw the warships of the Northmen were in the bay of Peel. And with that he made himself into the shape of three legs and rolled like a wheel down from the mountain top as fast as the wind. It was about low tide in the harbour, and there ran a stream of sparkling water out to sea. Now the banks of the stream were marshy, and by the river-side grew a quantity of sedge with broad, green leaves. So Manannan made little boats of the sedge, a good number of them, and sailed his boats in the stream. And when the little fleet floated out of the harbour, he caused them to look like great ships of war, well manned with fighting men. Then terror seized on the Northmen when they saw the Manx fleet, and they cut their cables, hoisted sails, and cleared away as fast as they could, and Manannan and his island were left in peace. Thus did he keep Mann, and not with his sword, or his bow and arrows.

In his fort he had a great banqueting-hall, where handsome boys made sweet music, and others played games and did great feats of strength. He had a horse called Enbarr of the Flowing Mane, who could travel like the wind over sea as well as land, swift hounds that could catch any wild beast, and a sword called The Answerer, whose wound was always fatal, besides his Magic Branch and his wonderful boat, Wave Sweeper.

He governed Mann well for long, long years. Manx people had the best of good treatment from him, and all the rent he wanted was that each one was to bring a bundle of green rushes to him on the Mountain of South Barrule on Midsummer Eve. The island was a happy place, full of sunshine and all pleasant things, and no person there was old or tired or sad.

Manx men have never forgotten Manannan, and this thousand years our fishermen have prayed to him the following prayer, as they have put out to sea. Even up to the days of our fathers it has been used:

Manannan Beg Mac y Leirr-- Little Manannan Son of the Sea, Who blessed our island, Bless us and our boat, going out well. Coming in better, with living and dead in our boat.

THE CORMORANT AND THE BAT

There was a time in the olden days when the cormorant and the bat took counsel together to do something for the poor, as they had compassion on them, and they went into the glens gathering wool to make clothing for them. When they had a quantity gathered they took a boat and put out to sea. It happened as they were sailing that a storm came on, and the waves were breaking over the vessel, insomuch that the poor bat had to leap from place to place to escape the water, and in the darkness he was cast out of the boat clinging to an oar. At daybreak he was near the shore and flew unto dry land. A seagull, standing near by, inquired:

'Och, lil bat vogh, what's there doin on thee that thou are all of a thriddle of thrimblin like this?' When he heard the bat's story, he said:

'As sure as can be, if he will happen on thee, he will take thy life.' They had given each other a promise that one would not leave the other until they had completed their task.

The bat was so frightened that he hid himself in an old ruin until the darkness came on; and from that time until now he will only venture out under covering of the night.

The cormorant held on to the boat until she filled with water and sank to the bottom of the sea. At last he flew to a rock, and there sat for hours together, day after day, looking out for the bat. At other times he would go for a season into the glens; and in this way they continue from that storm to the present time--the one hides himself, and the other seeks him.

CAILLAGH-NY-FAASHAGH, OR THE PROPHET WIZARD

In the old days when there were wizards and witches in the Isle of Mann, the greatest Wizard of all was Caillagh-ny-Faashagh. He did not live above ground, but in a quarry, in a hole under the rock on the lonely mountain side, and that is why the people called him the Prophet Wizard of the Wilderness. At dark he would roam over the mountains, and people walking there, when night was drawing on, would hear him crying 'Hoa, hoa, hoa!' like the bellow of a goat, in a voice so terrible and strong that the earth, and all who heard it, trembled with fear. He could change himself into any shape he liked; sometimes he would be a goat with big, fiery eyes; at other times a tall, tall man. Once, when he was a goat, he followed a man that was walking along the mountain road, and that time he had eyes in him as big as two dishes. The man was carrying a lantern, and as he shifted it from one hand to the other the goat followed it from side to side. The man was terrified and began to run. As soon as he left the mountain road the beast roared after him: 'Hoa, hoa, hoa!'

Another time, in the shape of a tall, tall man, as tall as two men, he followed a woman who struck across the mountain at Garey mooar, and he had great, big, burning eyes, as big as two plates, in his head. The woman ran with all her might, for life or death, and he ran roaring after her: 'Hoa, hoa, hoa!' But when she turned down from the mountain he came no further.

He was a great soothsayer, but he would not foretell what was to happen unless some person asked him. It seems that he must have lived for hundreds of years, for he foretold a battle that was fought in 1098. This was the Battle of Santwat, 'Sand Ford,' between the north and south Manx. He said:

The river Neb shall run red from Glen Crew to the sea, And gulls shall sip their full of the blood of Manninee.

It all came true. The north men sailed into Peel and ran their flat-bottomed boats up to Glenfaba Ford, where the south men met them to keep them from landing. They fought up the stream to Glen Crew where there was a great slaughter, and the bodies of the slain dammed the stream and turned the little glen into a pool. The waters of the Neb were reddened by Manx blood when they ran into Peel Bay. The south side women had followed the men and were watching the battle from a little distance, but when they saw that the north people were winning they rushed down, and into the heart of the fight, with bratfuls of stones and with hacks, and won the day for the south. And a law was made that henceforth the widows in the south of the island should get half of their husband's estate; but the north side women, who stayed at home, were to get only one-third.

The Prophet Wizard foretold, too, the finding of Foxdale lead mines. A man came to him and asked:

'How will I get rich, O Caillagh-ny-Faashagh?'

And the Wizard answered:

There's a butt in Ballafesson worth the whole of Balladoole. But the riches of the Isle of Mann lie hid behind Barrule.

He also gave this prophecy to old Juan the weaver, who asked him for one:

At the foot of Barrule there will be a market town, Mullin-y-Cleigh with blood for twenty-four hours will turn roun'.

Now the village of Foxdale stands at the foot of Barrule, and it is said that in the old times a great battle between the Manx and the Irish was fought by the stream above Mullin-y-Cleigh, the Mill-by-the-Hedge.

To a Peel man he foretold:

'There will be a battle between the Irish and the Manx at Creg Malin.' And the old fishermen say that that battle took place two hundred years ago. It was a Sunday when the Irishmen came in the bay, and they found no place to beach their boats, so they turned the Manx boats adrift, and thought they had the place for themselves. But they soon found their masters. The Manx men came after their boats, and there was the battle--red blood running like water! And the battle was not over that day, but they fought round into Douglas, and finished at last in Derby Haven, so the old fishermen say.

Then there was an old maid that had a cressad (a melting pot), and she went from house to house making lead spoons. She was a bit queer; she would not smoke a mould on a sunny day, nor a misty day, nor a wet day, nor a windy day; she must have a day to fit herself. She met the Caillagh when he was in the shape of a goat, and she asked him to foretell when would be the end of the world. He said that before the last:

'The Mountains of Mann will be cut over with roads, and iron horses will gallop over them, and there will be an inn on the top of Snaefell.'

That has all come true; trains rush over the island and, for sure, there is the inn on the top of our highest mountain. He said, too:

'Mann and Scotland will come so close that two women, one standing in Mann and another in Scotland, will be able to wring a blanket between them.' But that has not come true yet, though the sandy Point of Ayre is stretching further and further towards the Mull of Galloway.

And another of his prophecies has not come to pass yet:

'The Chief Rulers of Mann will be compelled to flee.'

But it will all be before the end.

THE CITY UNDER SEA

Now where Langness runs its long nose into the sea, and on a place now always covered by the waves, there was once a fine city with many towers and gilded domes. Great ships went sailing from its port to all parts of the world, and round it were well-grassed lands with cattle and sheep. Even now sailors sometimes see it through the clear, deep waters, and hear dimly the bleating of sheep, the barking of dogs, and the muffled chiming of bells--'Nane, jees, three, kiare, queig.' But no man can walk its streets.

For once upon a time, in the days when there were giants in the Isle of Mann, Finn Mac Cool had his home near this city. He lived at the Sound to keep his eye on Erinn, and to watch the sea. But he was very seldom in Mann, and wherever he was he was always doing some mischief, so that his enemies were many. One day he was in such a hurry to reach his home that he jumped from Erinn and landed in the island on the rocks above the Sound. He came down with such force that he left his footmarks in the hard stone, and the place has been called ever since, Slieu ynnyd ny Cassyn, or the Mountain of the place of the Feet. His first act when he reached home was to get in a red rage with the people of the city close by; his next act was to turn them all into blocks of granite. In his passion he struck the ground so hard with his club that he made a great dent in it--the waves rushed into the deep hollow and the roaring sea drowned the din of the city. Its towers and domes were covered by the green water; its streets and market-place, its harbour and its crowded quays, disappeared from sight. And there it lies to this day.

But there is a strange story told of a man that went down to it more than two hundred years ago. A ship was searching for sunken treasure in those parts and this man was let down to the bottom of the sea in a kind of ancient diving bell. He was to pull the rope when he wished to be let down further. He pulled and pulled till the men on the ship knew that he was as deep down in the sea as the moon is high up in the sky; then there was no more rope and they had to draw him up again. When he was on deck he told them that if he could have gone further he would have made the most wonderful discoveries. They begged him to tell them what he had seen, and when he had drunk a cup of wine he told his story.

First he had passed through the waters in which the fishes live; then he came into the clear and peaceful region where storms never come, and saw the bottom of the World-under-Sea shining with coral and bright pebbles. When the diving bell rested on the ground he looked through its little windows and saw great streets decorated with pillars of crystal glittering like diamonds, and beautiful buildings made of mother-of-pearl, with shells of every colour set in it. He longed to go into one of these fine houses, but he could not leave his diving bell, or he would have been drowned. He managed to move it close to the entrance of a great hall, with a floor of pearls and rubies and all sorts of precious stones, and with a table and chair of amber. The walls were of jasper, and strings of lovely jewels were hanging on them. The man wished to carry some away with him, but he could not reach them--the rope was at an end. As he rose up again towards the air he met many handsome Mermen and beautiful Mermaids, but they were afraid of him, and swam away as fast as they could.

That was the end of the man's story. After that he grew so sad with longing to go back to the World-under-Sea and stay there for ever, that he cared for nothing on earth, and soon died of grief.

AN ANCIENT CHARM AGAINST THE FAIRIES

Peace of God and peace of man, Peace of God on Columb-Killey, On each window and each door, On every hole admitting moonlight, On the four corners of the house, On the place of my rest, And peace of God on myself.

THE END

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