The Children of Lir

Retold by Collette

Foreword
Many traditional tales include a wicked step-mother and so it is with the sad story of what happened to King Lir’s children. Even though the story is a sad one it was one of my favorites as a child. I guess because it is about four siblings, it reminds me of the bond I have with my three sisters and sticking together through the thick and thin times of life.

Once long ago in a time of myth and magic, there lived a king who was called Lir, Lord of the Sea. He was blessed with four beautiful children: a daughter and three sons, including twins. Their names were Finola, who was eight years old, and her three younger brothers were Aodh, Fiacre, and little Conn. The king and queen cherished their young children, but unfortunately, shortly after the birth of Conn, Queen Eva died. 

The Queen’s sister, Aoife (Eefa), helped look after the children and when King Lir’s spirits were low she cheered him with her beautiful harp playing. In time, King Lir fell under Aoife’s spell and soon they married. At first, Aoife treated the children kindly, but secretly she was jealous of them because everyone in the kingdom loved the children for their kindness. She hated the way in which the king showed his pride in them. Her jealousy led Aoife to plot to rid herself of the king’s children. She vowed to use her magic spells to place an enchantment upon the children. She wanted the king’s love and attention for herself alone.

One day, while the king was meeting with his knights, Aoife invited the children for a ride in her chariot. Soon they arrived at Lake Derragvaragh in County Westmeath and since it was a lovely day, she suggested the children go for a swim in the lake. The sounds of their laughter and enjoyment filled the air which Aoife could not bear to hear. As the children were coming out of the water, she touched each one with a rod of enchantment and turned them into four white swans.

“Swim as wild swans on the lake,” she said, “live here for three hundred years and when that time is ended, swim for another three hundred years on the narrow sea of the Moyle, and when that time is ended, swim another three hundred years on the Western Sea that has no bounds but the sky. The spell will end when a holy man comes over the sea and you hear the sound of a bell calling people to prayer.”

The four white swans made a sorrowful lament at the catastrophe that had fallen on them, but Aoife ignored them and returned to the castle. When King Lir learned what had happened to his children, he flew into a terrible rage and banished Aoife from his kingdom. He hastened down to the lake and called his children to him. “The grief of all griefs has come upon us!” cried the king and a heavy sorrow settled on him. He blessed and kissed his cherished children, but he could not break the powerful spell. Each day he visited them until one day he did not come; the children knew their father had died of a broken heart.

For three hundred years the swans flew over Lake Darva and swam in its waters. When their time was ended there, they spread their wings and flew far away until they reached the Sea of Moyle that flows between Ireland and Scotland. A cold, lonely sea it was with storm winds that often blew them away from each other, After another three hundred years, they stretched their wings to fly and seek the Western Sea. This sea was wilder, colder and more terrible than the Moyle. The only comfort they had was singing to each other, and there were small islands where they could rest their wings and their feet when the weather turned icy. When passing sailors heard them singing, they thought they were listening to mermaids. 

At last, the nine hundred years of exile came to an end and the four swans flew homeward. Flying over the island of Inish Glora, they saw a holy man building a small round hut of stones. He was attaching something shiny to the top of the hut. It was a bell. The wind blew and the bell began to ring. Immediately, the swans began to change and felt the need to land on the small island. The feathers fell away from them. The webs fell from their feet. They looked at each other and discovered they were no longer children for they had grown very, very old. The holy man had heard the story of the children of Lir and realised he had witnessed the breaking of the spell that had held them for such a long time. 

“We are very tired for we have lived long hard lives,” they told the holy man, “We just want to rest for ever.” The holy man christened the four children and they lay down on the soft green grass of Inish Glora to sleep forever. The holy man told the story to all he met, and people grew so fond of it that a law was made that no one should hurt a swan, and when they saw a swan in flight they would look up and say, “My blessing with you for the sake of King Lir’s children.”