The crowing of the black cock

Beannachd nan siubhal is nan imeachd. 'S e an-diugh Dihaoine, cha chluinn iad sinn. *

There was a man of Islay, named Big Martin (Martuinn Mòr, whose wife died in childbirth. He had the infant baptised Julia (Sìle) and all the neighbours thought that she, a poor motherless bairn, would die as well, but the child flourished. Every night, after all was quiet, the soft sound of a woman singing could be heard coming from the nursery and rumours flew that the house was haunted by the deceased wife and mother.

One night Big Martin hid himself in the nursery to watch and he saw his wife enter there, pick up their daughter and begin to feed her, singing softly and talking to her in the manner of mothers everywhere; taking care of her own child such as no mere spirit could manage. Big Martin waited until she had put the infant back to bed and then caught hold of her before she could slip away. He begged her to explain what had happened.

She had not died, she said, but the Faerie folk had stolen her away, leaving a stock of wood in her place. Every night, they allowed her to return for a brief time, to care for the infant, but when her time was done, she was compelled to return to the bruagh.

How could he rescue her, her husband begged to know.

He should obtain for himself a black cockerel born in the busy time of the year (coileach du màrt - the source of this story could not say whether it was seed-time, that is màrt cur an t-sìl, or harvest time, or màrt buain, but it was likely the latter) and carry it with him to a certain hillock on a specific night when the bruagh would be open. He must stick a piece of steel into one of the doorposts before he entered, then go within and hide himself.

This he did.

When morning came, the cockerel began to crow and the Faerie folk found, to their dismay, that the doors to the bruagh were stuck open. A search was made and Big Martin found. He told them that unless his wife and he were allowed to leave and left alone thereafter, the doors to the bruagh would remain forever frozen open, for all that he cared.

Hearing this, the Chief of the folk ordered that Big Martin be allowed to go, his wife and his cockerel along with him. Big Martin removed the steel from the doorpost after and and his wife were out and the doors closed behind them and all that was there to be seen was the hillside and nothing more.

* Blessing on their travels and their departures. Today is Friday, they can't hear us.