Strong Fairy Tale Heroines #20: MAOL A CHLIOBAIN

This story, collected by JR Campbell in ‘Popular Tales of the West Highlands’(1860) and told in Gaelic by Ann MacGillvray of Islay, is a rougher, tougher Highland version of the better known Lowland Scots fairy tale ‘Mollie Whuppie'. The heroine’s name, Maol a Chliobain, is pronounced something like: ‘Muell uh chlee pin’ – the ch sounding soft as in ‘loch’ and the ‘p’ very soft too. The second part of the name seems to mean something soft and flabby, like a cow’s dewlap, so she may have started out as one of those vivid, ugly heroines who (like Tatterhood) take no prisoners and eventually transform into beauties.[1] Refreshingly, her looks aren't mentioned at all in this tale though. 

And Maol a Chliobain is a fiery, determined character. When she and her two sisters set out to seek their fortunes, their mother bakes them bannocks and offers each daughter a choice between a small half-bannock and a blessing or a large half and a curse. The two eldest take the large half of the bannock and their mother’s curse; Maol a Chliobain, the youngest, takes the small half and her mother’s blessing. The two eldest try forcibly to dissuade the youngest from coming with them, but she persists. They spend the night at a giant’s house, sleeping in the same bed as his daughters, and Maol a Chliobain saves herself and her sisters by swapping the string necklaces they all wear for the amber necklaces the giant’s daughters wear. (This is not a story in which you are supposed to feel sorry for giants and their families.) She makes a getaway, throws a magic bridge of hair over a river, returns to rob the giant of various treasures, orchestrates his death… 

I love the lengthening litany of challenge-and-answer between Maol a Chliobain and the giant. It not only serves to remind the listeners of all that has happened, it’s a drama in itself as the girl stands her ground and answers back, proudly owning her deeds: there was a convention that when dealing with a dangerous Otherworldly enemy, you should make sure always to have the last word. The story ends with Maol a Chliobain competently marrying her sisters and herself off to the sons of a rich farmer…

Or does it? JF Campbell has recorded another, slightly different telling of this story ‘very prettily told at Easter, 1859’ by ‘a young girl, a nursemaid to Mr Robertson, Chamberlain of Argyll, at Inveraray’. In this one the heroine drowns the giant. Towards the end of the telling, somebody asked, ‘And what became of Maol a Chliobain? Did she marry?’ 

‘Oh no,’ the girl replied, ‘she did not marry at all. There was something about a key hid under a stone, and a great deal more which I cannot remember. My father did not like my mother to be telling us such stories, but she knows plenty more –’ and the lassie departed from the parlour in great perturbation. 

A key hidden under a stone! A great deal more of the story! Did she marry or didn't she...? If we only knew what happened! But maybe we're free to imagine our own endings. The storyteller's words serve to remind us (if we needed reminding) that none of these tales are set in stone. Everyone who told them would change them a little - even I, for I've tweaked it a little to make it read better. JR Campbell's version has a few passages where it's clear small points have been missed.

Vocabulary: A bannock is a cake baked on a griddle. A glave is a sword. A gillie is a manservant.

 

Long ago there was a widow who had three daughters, and they said to her that they would go to seek their fortune. She baked three bannocks and said to the eldest, “Which wilt thou have, the little half and my blessing or the big half and my curse?” “I like best,” said she, “the big half and thy curse.” She said to the middle one, “Which wilt thou have, the little half and my blessing or the big half and my curse?” “I like best,” said she, “the big half and thy curse.” She said to the little one, “Which wilt thou have, the little half and my blessing or the big half and my curse?”

            “I like best the little half and thy blessing.” 

            This pleased her mother; she gave her the blessing and the two other halves as well.

            The three daughters went away, but the two eldest didn’t want the youngest to be with them, and they tied her to a stone and left her; but her mother’s blessing came and freed her, and when they looked back they saw her coming with the rock on top of her! They let her alone a while, but coming to a peat stack they tied her to the peat stack and went on. But her mother’s blessing came and freed her. And when they looked back what did they see but her coming, and the peat stack on the top of her. They let her alone a turn of a while, till they reached a tree and tied her to the tree, but her mother’s blessing came and freed her, and what did they see but their sister coming with the tree on top of her! So they saw it was no good, and loosed her, and let her come with them. 

            On they went until nightfall. They saw a light a long way from them, but they made such speed they were not long in coming to it. When they knocked, what was this but a giant’s house! A carlin old woman opened the door: she was the giant’s mother. They asked to stay the night, she said they might, and they were put to bed with the giant’s three daughters, with a golden cloth spread over them. There were twists of knobs of amber about the necks of the giant’s daughters, and nothing but strings of horse-hair about their own necks. They all slept, but Maol a Chliobain did not sleep.

            In the night, a great thirst came upon the giant. He called to his bald, rough-skinned gillie with the glave of light to bring him water, and the rough-skinned gillie said there was not a drop of water to be had. “Kill,” said the giant, “one of the strange girls and bring me her blood to drink.”  

“In the dark, how will I know them?” said the bald, rough-skinned gillie. 

            “There are twists of knobs of amber around the necks of my daughters, and nothing but twists of horsehair about the necks of the rest.”

            Maol a Chliobain heard the giant, and quickly she put  the horsehair strings about the necks of the giant’s three daughters, and the twist of amber knobs she put about her own neck and her sisters, and she lay down again so quietly. And the bald, rough-skinned gillie came and killed one of the giant’s daughters with the glave of light and took the blood to him. He drank it and asked for ‘MORE’, and the next one was killed. Again he asked for ‘MORE’, and the gillie killed the third one.

            Maol a Chliobain woke her sisters and said there was need to be going; she took them on her back, and she took with her also the golden cloth that lay on the bed. The golden cloth cried out! The giant woke; he saw Maol a Chliobain leaving with her sisters, and he ran after her. So close was he, the sparks of fire she was putting out of the stones with her heels leapt up and struck the giant’s chin, while the sparks of fire the giant was bringing out of the stones with the points of his feet, they were striking Maol a Chliobain in the back of the head. And so they ran till they reached a river, and Maol a Chliobain plucked a hair from her head and flung it over the river to make a bridge, and she ran across the bridge and the giant could not follow.

             “There thou art, Maol a Chliobain!”

            “I am, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou didst kill my three bald brown daughters!”

“I killed them, though it is hard for thee.”

“When wilt thou come again?”

“I will come when my business brings me.”

They went on till they reached the house of a farmer, who had three sons. When they told what had happened to them, the farmer said to Maol a Chliobain, “I will give my eldest son to thy eldest sister, if thou wilt get for me the fine comb of gold and the coarse comb of silver that the giant has.”

“It will cost thee no more,” said Maol a Chliobain.

She went, she reached the giant’s house, she got in unseen, she took with her the combs and out she went. Loud cried the gold comb, loud cried the silver comb! The giant perceived her, and after her he went until they reached the river. She leaped the river, but the giant could not leap.

“Thou art over there, Maol a Chliobain!”

“I am, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou didst kill my three bald brown daughters!”

“I killed them, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou hast stolen my fine comb of gold and my coarse comb of silver!”

            “I stole them, though it is hard for thee.”

“When wilt thou come again?”

“I will come when my business brings me.”

She gave the combs to the farmer, and her big sister and the farmer’s big son married. “I will give my middle son to thy middle sister, if you will get me the giant’s glave of light.”

            “It will cost thee no more,” said Maol a Chliobain. Off went she, and when she reached the giant’s house, she climbed to the top of a tree that grew about the giant’s well.  In the night the giant grew thirsty, and along came the bald, rough-skinned gillie with the glave of light to draw water from the well. When he bent to haul up the water, Maol a Chliobain came down. She pushed him into the well and drowned him, and she took with her the glave of light.

Loud cried the glave of light! The giant ran after her till she reached the river; she leaped the river and the giant could not cross. 

“Thou art over there, Maol a Chliobain!”

“I am, if it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou didst kill my three bald brown daughters!”

“I killed them, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou hast stolen my fine comb of gold and my coarse comb of silver!”

            “I stole, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou hast killed my bald, rough-skinned gillie!”

            “I killed, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou hast stolen my glave of light!”

            “I stole, though it is hard for thee.”

“When wilt thou come again?”

“I will come when my business brings me.”

She reached the house of the farmer, with the glave of light, and her middle sister and the middle son of the farmer married. “To thyself, I will give my youngest son,” said the farmer, “if you will bring me a silver buck the giant has.”

“It will cost thee no more,” said Maol a Chliobain. Off she went and she reached the house of the giant, but the giant was lying in wait, and when she laid hold of the silver buck, the giant caught her. 

“What,” said the giant, “wouldst thou do to me, if I had done as much harm to thee as thou hast done to me?”

Maol a Chliobain said, “If thou hadst done as much harm to me as I have done to thee, I would make thee burst thyself eating milk porridge! I would then put thee in a sack. I would hang the sack from the rooftree and and set a fire under it, and I would belabour thee with clubs till thou shouldst fall to floor like a bundle of sticks.” 

            The giant made milk porridge and made her drink it. She smeared the milk porridge over her mouth and face and laid herself over is as if she were dead.  The giant put her in a sack, and hung it from the rooftree, and then he went away, he and his men, to fetch wood from the forest. 

The giant’s carlin mother was within the house. When the giant was gone, Maol a Chliobain began – “Ah, the wonders I can see! ’Tis I that am in the light! ’Tis I that am in the city of gold. Ah, the wonders!”

“Let me in, let me see them!” said the carlin. 

“I will not let you see them.”

“Let me in, let me see them!” The old woman let down the sack, Maol a Chliobain crept out and the carlin crept in. Maol a Chliobain hooked up the sack to the rooftree, took the silver buck and went away. 

When the giant came back, he and his men lit the fire under the sack and set about belabouring it with their clubs. The carlin was calling, “’Tis myself that’s in it!” “I know ‘tis thyself that’s in it,” the giant kept saying as he laid on the blows. Down came the sack like a bunde of sticks and what was inside it but his own mother? When the giant saw how it was, he took after Maol a Chliobain; he followed her till she reached the river. Maol a Chliobain leaped the river, but the giant could not leap it.

“Thou art over there, Maol a Chliobain!”

“I am, if it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou didst kill my three bald brown daughters!”

“I killed them, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou hast stolen my fine comb of gold and my coarse comb of silver!”

            “I stole, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou hast killed my bald, rough-skinned gillie!”

            “I killed, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou hast stolen my glave of light!”

            “I stole, though it is hard for thee.”

            “Thou hast killed my mother!”

“I killed, though it is hard for thee.”

“Thou hast stolen my silver buck!”

“I stole, though it is hard for thee.”

“When wilt thou come again?”

“I will come when my business brings me.”

“If thou wert over here, and I over yonder,” said the giant, “what wouldst thou do to follow me?”

“I would stick myself down,” said Maol a Chliobain, “and I would drink and drink, and I would drink the river dry.”

The giant stuck himself down and he drank and drank until he burst. Then Maol a Chliobain and the farmer’s youngest son were married.

---

[1] (I owe the information on the pronunciation and meaning of 'Maol a Chliobain' to my Scottish friend and fellow writer Gillian Philip.)


Picture Credits:
 
Maol a Chliobain is not a story which has been much illustrated, so the two illustrations to this post are from Errol le Cain's version of the story's Lowland counterpart 'Mollie Whuppie' - which is similar in plot but different in detail.