These Pagan Portals are all current works in progress, serialised here on the Pagan Collective blog with each chapter being open for comment. In due course the entire script will be published as a Pagan Portal book.

Chapter Two – The Healing Well

Later in the Cath Maige Tuired, after the tale of Miach’s murder, there is another reference to Airmid and her healing ability. This takes place in association with a magical well, a common motif in Irish – and more broadly Celtic – mythology.

Because Dian-cecht and his two sons, Octriull and Miach, and his daughter Airmed sang spells over the well named Slane. Now their mortally wounded men were cast into it as soon as they were slain. They were alive when they came out. Their mortally wounded became whole through the might of the incantation of the four leeches who were about the well.

(‘Leeches’ here refers to an old name for physicians, rather than the actual leeches sometimes used in medieval times for bloodletting, and so is referring to Airmid, her father and two brothers.)

This image of the healing well restoring dead or mortally wounded warriors back to life is similar to the Welsh tale of Bran and Branwen, in which a magical cauldron restores dead warriors to life. It is a motif also seen depicted on the Gundestrup Cauldron, an artifact dating from 1 CE and found in Denmark, at the time home to various European ‘Celtic’ tribes. This is clearly an ancient motif, as are healing wells and cauldrons more generally. I talk more about the well and cauldron motif specifically in the Brythonic Celtic world in my first book, Modron; Meeting the Celtic Mother Goddess, but here we will focus on the Irish tales.

The Well of Slane

The story of the magical well of Slane (which means ‘health’ or ‘healing’) continues, describing how the Fomorians, discovering how the well was being used, filled it in with stones.

The Formorians had a warrior named Ochtriallach, the son of the Formorian king Indech mac Dé Domnann. He suggested that every single man they had should bring a stone from the stones of the River Drowes to cast into the well Slaine in Achad Abla to the west of Mag Tuiread, to the east of Lough Arrow. They went, and every man put a stone into the well. For that reason the cairn is called Ochtraillach’s Cairn. But another name for that well is Loch Luibe, because Diancecht put into it every herb that grew in Ireland.

The location of the filled-in well is now said to be Heapstown Cairn in County Sligo, and in folk tradition it is also the burial site of Ailill, the brother of the famous Irish chieftain, Niall of the Nine Hostages. Another local tale states that the stones rained down in the middle of the night, and no-one knows why they came. The cairn is believed to be as ancient as three thousand years old and it once had a standing stone, inscribed with ogham, an ancient Irish script, at its summit. The standing stone was unfortunately largely removed in the nineteenth century for road-building.

It’s believed that the cairn may enclose a passage tomb, and as such it may be the remains of an important Neolithic site, much like the Neolithic tomb of Newgrange near the River Boyne. Heapstown itself is close to the River Unshin, where the stones may have come from, and the lake of Lough Arrow, as well as the Carrowkeel Megaliths.

It may seem strange to ascribe a specific place to a mythological battle, but In Ireland many place names have their roots in ancient myths and legends. Lusmagh, a civil parish in County Offaly, is believed to be the plain where Dian Cecht grew all of the healing herbs. In the eleventh century Dindshenchas, which is literally a glossary of place-names and their myths, we are told about Lusmagh (which is believed to mean literally ‘plain/field of the herbs’)

Know ye the reason for the name of Lusmag with its bright splendour? Before the battle of Mag Tuired yonder it was called Mag Muired Moncaide. From the battle of Mag Tuired in the north its name was Lusmag of warlike prowess: there blameless Diancecht applied a herb to every wound to heal it. He brayed each herb, clever device here by the spring of Slange: at bloody Achad Abla he succoured grateful kings.
Every warrior he laid under the water would rise up sleek and sound, without blemish, spot or hurt on visage or noble body. Thus arose of yore the name Lusmag of the voluble physicians; of the skill of Diancecht lord of spells under guidance it hath well learned a tale.

This story of the plain of herbs tended to by Dian Cecht seems somewhat at odds with the preceding story of Miach and Airmid and the scattering of the herbs, and so may represent a different mythical tradition. It may also be representative of the existence of the herb fields known as luibh gort, while the story of Airmid is an attempt to explain why herbal knowledge was not (and indeed may never be) complete. The different stories – and the jealousy of Dian Cecht at his children’s superior healing abilities – may also contain remembrances of competing healing traditions and sects. Irish myth, like Celtic myth in general, is often contradictory and may contain conflicting traditions; possibly capturing regional and oral variations or differing interpretations (or even inventions) on the part of the scribes.

Whatever the physical location given for these stories however, it is also clear that they are taking place in mythic time. Dian Cecht is a god of his magical people, not a mortal physician, and the location of the healing well is also given as Achad Abla, or ‘field of apples.’ Such place names, as well as apples and apple trees themselves, are usually associated with the Otherworld in Irish and Celtic myth. Emain Ablach is an otherworldly island in Irish myth that is associated with both paradise and with the sea god Manannan mac Lir. It is etymologically linked with a name for the Welsh Otherworld (and an Otherworldly king) Ynys Afallach, which later gave its name to the Arthurian Avalon, also an island of apples. In the tale Immram Brain (Voyage of Bran) an Otherworldly woman gives Bran a silver branch from the Otherworld, which is laden with apples and apple blossom. Manannan himself gives the Irish high king Cormac mac Airt a silver branch with three golden apples from the Land of Promise, in the tale Echtra Cormaic. This apple branch has healing powers, producing music that soothes both those who are injured and women in labour.

The well of Slane, the mythical Well of Healing, is thus located not just in the literal landscape of Ireland but also in the Otherworld. Wells that originate in the Otherworld are also a common Otherworldly motif. The Dindshenchas also tells the story of Connla’s Well, the Otherworldly source of the River Shannon. From this well flows seven streams, one of which becomes the river. The well is home to the Salmon of Wisdom, who feeds on hazelnuts from the nine trees which hang over it. Both salmon and hazelnuts show up as associated with wisdom across the mythological cycles, and it is interesting to note that Dian Cecht himself also has a folkloric association with hazelnuts. As well as Airmid, in the Traveller version of her tale, supplying a broth which soothes sore throats, Dian Cecht is reputed in Dublin folklore to have a porridge which does the same, and which contains hazelnuts as well as various herbs.

Healing Wells

The well of Slane in this story becomes a blueprint for a wider tradition of healing wells across Ireland, and the ‘holy well’ is still a prominent feature in Irish folklore and folk tradition today. Many of these wells are now associated with Catholic saints, some of whom, such as Saint Brigid, have clear links to the older gods of the Tuatha de Danann. The goddess Brigid is also present in the Cath Maige Tuired, and is listed as a goddess of healing in Cormac’s Glossary. There are many holy wells dedicated to her across Ireland and Britain, and many of these are or have been associated with healing and even miraculous cures. One of the most famous is her well at Kildare, which is still visited by hundreds if not thousands of pilgrims every year, particularly on her feast day of 1st February (Imbolc in the Irish agricultural festival cycle and neopagan Wheel of the Year.)

Visiting healing or holy wells in search of a ‘cure’ or as part of a pilgrimage is still a prominent part of the Irish psyche, whether this is undertaken by Catholics, neopagans or anyone else. There are an estimated 3000 of these wells surviving in Ireland according to recent atlases, whether elaborate sites such as St. Brigid’s well at Kildare or simple springs in the earth, and at least some of them may have been sites of veneration well before the advent of Christianity in these lands. It’s generally believed that the early Irish Church, rather than trying to stamp out pagan activity at the sites, simply consecrated them in the name of Christ or one of the early saints. According to Patrick Logan in his book on Irish holy wells:

…when Christianity was displacing paganism in Ireland the conflict between the old and the new may have been fought out near the sacred wells…the victory of the saint was that he blessed the well and used the water to baptise the new Christians.

Water sources have long been viewed as sacred across the world; hardly surprising when we consider that they are necessary for survival. Many deities, including Celtic deities, have associations with certain rivers, springs or wells and indeed may have their origins in local ‘spirits of place’ or genus loci. Many of Ireland’s holy wells, now dedicated to various saints, may have been such places, considered sacred to or occupied by a local spirit. The early Celtic and British church seems to have decided that it was easier to absorb the well traditions than to attempt to stamp them out, even though practices of well worship were denounced as early as 452 at the Synod of Arles and again in 567 at the Council of Tours. Pope St. Gregory gave an edict that sacred pagan sources should be instead dedicated to Christ, and thus the tradition of the ‘holy well’ was born out of the pagan veneration of sacred springs.

A long standing tradition to affect a cure at a healing well is to tie a rag or ‘clootie’ to a nearby tree, after saying a prayer or charm at the well itself. Sometimes this may take the form of saying a particular saint’s prayer while walking clockwise around the well a certain number of times (often three or nine.) As the rag rots away over time, so the ailment or affliction will leave the body. Clootie trees, with rags and charms adorning their branches can be seen at the sites of various wells in Ireland and also across Britain. Some wells were associated with healing particular ailments or body parts; many were specifically known for healing eye complaints, skin diseases, or in aiding with fertility and childbirth (particularly those dedicated to St. Brigid.)

In her study of the continuing tradition of the ‘healing cure’ in rural Ireland, Cecily Gilligan documented various holy wells and the experiences of those visiting them. She describes how the Christian and pre-Christian seem to meet and blend at these sites, and how an air of peace and tranquility seems to settle around many of them. At Tobar Mhuire (Well of Mary) in Leitrim, people from far and near visit to pray or petition for healing and a nearby stone shrine is adorned with statues, plants, sweets, mobility aids (presumably from people who have been helped.) The sycamore tree next to the well is adorned with handkerchiefs, hair ties and ribbons. This all sounds vaguely pagan, or at least more reminiscent of folk tradition than religious orthodoxy; yet a formal Mass is said at the well every year on the 15th August.

These traditions are particularly popular in rural Ireland, as well as among Irish Travellers. There is a Traveller tale about the healing wells which both acts as a cautionary tale and is reminiscent of the well of Slane being filled in by stones. In this story, a Traveller byor (woman) is healed of her disability at a well in Dunmore and is able to dance again. Delighted, she tells her tale to others, and more and more people visit the well to ask for cures. Each person throws a stone into the well. Over time however, so the story goes, people become greedy and start to ask the well for too much and for things that are not needed. Eventually the well becomes choked up with stones and can no longer heal or grant wishes. Here’s a version of the story as I heard it:

One morning, when the dew was still fresh enough on the flowers to wash your face in, a young byor and her new husband went to the Wishing Well to ask for blessings on their marriage. And her husband had another wish, a secret wish that he didn’t tell her about. He cast it in silence and threw a stone in the well, and petitioned the gree-og (fairy) and the saint of the well and anyone else who might be listening, for good measure. Because his new wife, although she never complained and always tried to smile, had a gammy leg, and so they hadn’t been able to dance together at their wedding party.

“Let her dance again,” he whispered in his mind as he threw the stone, “not for me, but for her. Just one time, to make her happy.”

And because of the selflessness of his wish, the gree-og and the saint, who were both listening (because they were great friends, no matter what the priest said about how gree-ogs and saints should never mix) both put their heads together so that the wish was as powerful as possible.

When the young byor woke up the next morning, she stretched her limbs and squealed with surprise to find that her bad leg was nearly-but-not-quite-straight (because wishing can only do so much) and the pain was much better, and she woke her husband up with excitement. “Johnny, I want you to take me dancing!”

And that should have been the end of the story.

Except it wasn’t.

Mary was so excited that they had found a real live Wishing Well that every town they passed through after that, she would dance for people and tell them their story. Soon the story spread and people came from near and far to visit the well, and to make their own wishes for the healing and happiness of their loved ones.

And soon the wishes began to change. People were no longer asking for happiness and health but for riches, or to return lost items that didn’t really matter anyway, or for fame, and even to curse people they didn’t like. And the stones piled up and up and up. The people stopped saying thank you, but just wanted more and more.

Until one day there was no more well, but only a pile of stones, that piled up and up and up and up. The saint faded away altogether, and the gree-og went to the hills with the others of its kind, and cursed humans from that day forward.

The tale is told as an explanation for why ‘wishing wells’ do not always work, or as a cautionary tale against greed, but it is also representative of the reciprocal balance between humans and the land that I mentioned briefly in the first chapter, and which Kavanagh and Ni Cassaithe described as the indigenous injunction to ‘only take what is needed.’ An injunction found not just in Traveller tales but in indigenous and folk wisdom across the world. This fits in well with the interpretation of the Battle of Moytura being largely about balance, and indeed, as Mark Williams discusses, part of the wider theme of the tale may be about learning good agricultural practices and stewardship of the land. Because of the similarities of the story with Classical and even Vedic myth, scholars often suggest a shared Indo-European root. Williams says (although he is not himself entirely convinced of the idea) that it may represent;

The acquisition by the gods…of the secrets of cultivation, forced out of a race of more primitive beings who are connected with the earth’s fertility.

The relationship between humans and both nature and the Otherworld is a theme that comes up again and again in Celtic myth more generally, and although I am speculating here, it is tempting to wonder if there was once a similar meaning to the filling in of the well of Slane. In the Welsh tale of Bran’s cauldron, the resurrection of the fallen soldiers leads to ruin and tragedy. Do Dian Cecht and his children overplay their hand by seeking to cheat death and upend the natural cycles? In these tales, even the gods can die (although admittedly they usually turn back up in some form or another.) In some versions of the tale, it indeed ends with a prophecy of doom and even of the end of the world. While this may well be a Celtic Christian allegory of Revelation, it is notable that part of the prophecy speaks of nature and seasonal cycles being disrupted; a summer without flowers and cattle without milk.

Even in the tradition of the Catholic saints however, holy wells could sometimes confer immortality or resurrection from the dead, and so this is not necessarily seen as an evil in this tale as it is in the tale of Bran. In the Schools Collection, a collection of folklore collected from the Irish people in the 1930s by the Irish Folklore Commission, one tale describes how at a well in Fertagh, St Kiaran sent his maid to the well to fetch water. When she didn’t return, he went to find her only to discover she had been killed by a wild animal. Kiaran gathered the bones and prayed over them, and his maid was brought back to life. Thereafter the well was a site of healing cures and dedicated to the saint .

Airmid’s role in the overall story of Moytura may be slight, but as we can see it is far from insignificant. As the ‘woman-physician’ who takes over the role of herbal healing from her father, and the only female spellworker at the well of Slane, Airmid has a pivotal role in both the unfolding of the story and as patroness of the healing modalities she represents. The story of the well of Slane describes Airmid and her family both chanting over the well and putting ‘every herb’ into it. Dian Cecht, who manages the herb plain, is also described as ‘lord of spells.’ This indicates that herbal healing, which we may think of today as a thoroughly practical and even scientific method of medicine, was not considered to be separate from magical healing. Indeed, it seems to be both a combination of the incantations uttered and the herbs used, that produces the magical healing powers of the well of Slane. Airmid is both herbalist and spellworker. Medicinal and magical. This world and the Otherworld. As we will see in the next chapter, the combination of herbal and faith/magical healing has a long history in Irish folk medicine.

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