"Tha mi a 'dol a dh'inns' a' sgialacd dhuibh a' seo" ("I'm going to tell you this story") Telling stories from Gaelic, in English, is like presenting you with a rudimentary forgery of the Mona Lisa as a way of demonstrating Davinci's talent. At the very least, subtleties of brush stroke, and colour will be lost, but the basic composition and choice of subject remain, and that would tell you something. Obviously, an original masterpiece is preferable, and to fully appreciate Gaelic stories, you should learn the language, and then hear the story. The story telling traditions of the Gaels go back further than recorded history. Irish monks first committed the epic saga, the Tain Bo Cuailnge to writing in the 7th century. From then on collections of Gaelic stories have been made. In Cape Breton, our tradition bearers passed the stories along to us. We are greatly indebted to those tradition bearers and collectors. Many of the stories we tell are from Joe Neil MacNeil's and John Shaw's book Sgeul gu Latha, and stories collected by Seumas Watson and published in the Am Braighe (published quarterly, 175 MacIntyre Road, Queensville, NS B9A 1S6 902-625-0600 www.ambraighe.ca), along with those taken from English translations of Irish and Scottish tales. When Alexander the Great asked his Celtic mercenaries what they feared, they responded, "we fear nothing, lest the sky should fall on us, the waters rise and submerge us, and the earth open up and swallow us". In the Tain Bo Cuailinge, when king Conocher is rudely awoken by cries of, "Men murdered, women stolen, cattle plundered", Conocher replies, "Why all this uproar? Isn't the sea in front of them still? The sky overhead ? The earth underfoot? I'll beat them in battle and bring back every cow to its byre, and every woman and child back home again" (Kinsella translation). Both stories share an important element of basic Celtic culture, linking the Celts of eastern Europe with the Celts of Ireland. Historians who uncovered stories of Conocher's Red Branch, and the Finneans duly recorded them as real historical figures. These heroes of fiction have a real place in Celtic culture. Finnean tales were common in Gaelic Scotland, and often illustrated in the chainmail shirts of the Gallowglasses. Finnian tales survive into the present generation of Cape Breton's oral tradition (see Am Braighe Vol.3 No.4). "Chulla mi siud roimh" ("This is something I heard") I heard this story from Sandy Cameron, a story teller from Mabou, a few years back. He told it in Gaelic first and then did a translation. It concerned a fellow who went to a dance, a very tall fellow. And there was a girl at the dance who caught his eye, very lovely, and a good dancer, but she was on the short side. Anyway, he asked her to dance, and I guess he wasn't bad looking, 'cause she said yes. Well, this was fine. They danced together all night, and when the dance was over he offered to walk her home. The moon was out so they could see well enough. There were some clouds and sometimes it grew too dark to see far. Anyhow, this girl lived up a long lane. I guess with the girl's company and his long legs it wasn't much of a hardship. Well, before they got to her house, the girl pulled the fellow into her father's shed for a kiss. Well, he was very tall, and she wasn't. It was kind of uncomfortable. Then the fellow saw an anvil in the shed, so he lifted the girl onto the anvil -- it evened things up nicely. So they were in the shed kissing, and the fellow heard a noise, and figured it must be the girl's father, so he took off. The clouds blew over and he couldn't see a thing, but he stopped to listen, and sure enough he heard heavy footsteps, so he ran a little further and waited. Again, he heard the heavy steps coming after him. So, he ran a little further and hid behind a tree and waited. And again he heard the footsteps. Just then the clouds blew away and in the moonlight he saw the girl running after him, carrying the anvil! "Fionn MacCumhal" The Finnian story cycles are dated to the 4th century AD, or at least that is when historians dated the Finnians, when they thought that they were actually historical persons, as opposed to characters from legend. When the Gaels of Ireland spread into Scotland, the legends of Fionn McCumhal and his troops came with them, and engaged in the same activities in new settings. The Finnians were a militia, whos job was to protect Irin from the men of Lachland. In practice they spent most of their time hunting and feasting, and battling with enchantments. Membership in the Finnians was limited to those who could demonstrate remarkable skill with all weapons: spear, lance, shield and Sword, display tremendous agility: able to leap an obstacle has high as their head, dive under one as low as their knee, and pull a thorn from their foot, all without breaking stride, and posses the bardic skills; even to composing verse while engaged in mortal combat. They were sworn never to keep for themselves what was needed for another, to always come to the aid of women, and they renounced their honour price and any role in theirs family's feuds and vendettas. In spring, fall, and winter they lived out of doors, in winter they were billeted to the homes of the people. This was no burden, as the Finnians hunting skills ensured a full larder, and the singing of their songs filled the long winter nights. There was however one Finnian who did not meet these exacting standards. His name was Conan, and he is recorded in Scottish mythology as "the most contemptible of the Finnians". Conan was a bandit, and he took a particular delight in practicing his art as close to the underneath of the Finnian's nose as he could. For years he frustrated our noble heroes. One day, Fionn himself came to grips with Conan, in a long fight they broke each others weapons, neither gaining advantage. Wrestling, Conan grabbed a broken spear point, as Fionn threw his arms around Conan, pinning his hands close to his body, and lifted him into the air. Conan's weapon was now useless, as long as Fionn held him. Fionn called on Conan to surrender. Conan declined, pointing out that eventually Fionn must release him, at which point, not only will he be armed, but unlike Fionn, well rested. It was then that negotiations were held. Conan would give up banditry, accept amnesty for his previous crimes, and join the Finnians. One day, when Conan, Ossin and Oscar (Fionn's son and grandson) were in the hunting mountain they came upon a substantial house made of squared stones with a magnificent large door, which was ajar. "We are supposed to go in," announced Conan, as he pushed the door wide. Inside the house, beautiful linen tapestries hung on the dry stone walls, and a fire set burning in the hearth. Of course all Conan saw was a large table set for a feast, with joints of meat, wheels of cheese, flagons of wine, tankards of ale, and a whole pig on the spit. "This is for us", Conan said, and with no more ceremony he sat down, and proceeded to sample all the offerings simultaneously, raising the question of whether the pig was on the spit, or at the head of the table. Ossin and Oscar took their seats and began to eat, but they were not as comfortable as Conan. They thought it odd, that they had never seen this house before, odd that the hosts weren't there to greet them, indeed there weren't even servants about. Aside from the disgusting display Conan was making it was fine feast, and they began to relax and enjoy the food and drink. As the feast progressed Ossin noticed that the fine linen tapestries, weren't linen at all, but made of a very coarse cloth. Oscar began to see that the squared stones weren't dry or square at all, and they now appeared to be almost slimey. Ossin and Oscar looked at each other and then to the door, which was no longer large and fine but collapsing into a small hole. "It's a trap, quick get out," they yelled to each other and Conan. Ossin and Oscar dove from their chairs out the door in one movement. Their yells caused Conan to raise his eyes from his plate, but not to stop eating and drinking. Conan's response to the danger was, and it's hard to believe he could, but to eat and drink even faster than before, dispensing with chewing entirely. "Conan shift, come now or stay forever "Oscar yelled. At last Coann rose, now stuffing the remaining food into his cloths. But as he rose his chair rose with him and would not release him. Conans yell was stifled by his full mouth. Oscar and Ossin reached into the collapsing hole that had been a fine door and grabbed Conans arms and pulled with all their might as Conan came close to be buried alive. At last their strength overcame enchanment and Conan popped out just as the hill closed over, leaving no sign of a house behind. His mouth at last free of food Conan continued to scream loudly, for his backside had stayed in the chair, and he had lost the skin from it. There by the hill was a black sheep, that Oscar skinned, and Ossin bound the hide over Conan's wounds. The sheep skin fused with Conan's own, and over Conan's life time continued to grow. As the time of the Finnians drew to a close, Conan died. He had assumed that Fionns amnesty would hold sway in the afterworld, but as he stood by the gates of heaven the Devil came to him. "You won't be going in there", the Devil said, "you're coming to Hell with me". Conan recovered his composure, and said to the Devil, "well if it's bad for me, its no better for you!"