What is the Crane Bag?

Three rejoicings followed by sorrow: a wooer's, a thief's, a talebearer's.

Irish triad

The Story of How the Crane Bag Came to Be

Aoife, daughter of Dealbhaoth, was one of the most beautiful young ladies in the land. She had hair that shone like pure gold in the sun, eyes as blue as the sea and skin as pale as fresh milk. Upon her face there was no blemish, and upon her lips no unkind word was ever spoken. She was tall and strong, graceful and generous.

Iuchra, daughter of Abhartach, was also very beautiful. She had long dark hair like a raven's wing, and lips as red as cherries. Her eyes were the green of leaves in the flush of first spring, her form willowy and light, and her laughter was like a stream tumbling over water. But her laughter grew less and less, as she came to know Aoife, and a jealousy grew in her heart. Lovely though Iuchra was, she thought that she was lessened when compared to Aoife's beauty. And so a dark seed was born within her heart.

One day, as the young women went down to the meadows to collect herbs and flowers, they came across a young man upon a red roan mare who had lost his way. His name was Ilbhreac, and his dark hair curled about his forehead, his smile lit up the sky. As he approached the two women, they both could not help but fall in love with his beauty. His voice was as sweet as honey, and his face bore no ill will or deceit. He shone with a radiance of pure honesty.

'Tell me, fair maidens, the name of the nearest village? I fear that I have lost my way,' he said.

'You are very near to Maith Geal,' said Iuchra, looking at him from beneath her long lashes. ''Tis but half a mile to the south,' she said, extending her arm in the direction of the village. She smiled her best smile at him. 'You're most welcome to come by for refreshment,' she said, in the hopes that she herself could bear him a cup of their sweetest mead.

But Ilbhreac had only eyes for Aoife, who smiled and patted the neck of his horse as the mare nuzzled against her shoulder. 'And are you both from that village?' Ilbhreac asked Aoife.

'Yes,' Aoife replied. 'You look like you have travelled a long way, and we can also provide refreshment for your horse.'

'Thank you, that would be most kind,' the young man said. 'I am with the Fianna, and have been sent out to get to know the lay of the land, having recently joined their band of warriors and protectors.' At the mention of the famed band of heroes that kept the land free from raiders, the eyes of both maidens widened. Here was a man of courage and daring. Ilbhreac smiled at them once again, and disembarked from his mount, walking on foot with the two women back towards the village.

He was received with the traditional hospitality, and spent the night within the village rath. Songs and stories were told around the fire, and Iuchra managed to sit at Ilbhreac's right hand, to fill his cup with mead and hopefully garner his affection. Still Ilbhreac only had eyes for Aoife, however, and when she was asked to sing his heart was lost completely. Iuchra saw this, and a hatred for the fair maiden grew within her breast until it flamed upon her cheeks and set her eyes alight. She knew what she would do.

The next day, as Ilbhreac left them, promising to return within the fortnight, Iuchra turned to Aoife. 'Let us go down to the waters,' she smiled sweetly, her honeyed words hiding the bitterness inside. 'It is warm enough to bathe by the lake today,' she said.

'Oh, yes, let's do that!' Aoife said, clapping her hands together and smiling her beautiful smile. She hugged Iuchra and grabbed her hand, running with her down to the shore of the lake. 'Last one in has to milk the kicking cow!' she said, laughing as she stripped off her clothes and dived into the lake.

Iuchra watched as Aoife dove beneath the water, and then she raised her hands above her head. 'By the power of sun and moon, by the power of water and wave, by the power of blood and bone, by the power of wind and rain, may Aoife be turned into a crane!'

Aoife surfaced from the water, and looked questioningly towards the shore. 'Why are you not coming into the water?' she asked Iuchra.

Iuchra stood in her place and finished her chant. 'By the power of stone and sea, by the power of lightning and storm, by the power of these things I name, may Aoife be turned into a crane!'

Suddenly the clouds darkened overhead, and lightning flashed into the distance. 'Iuchra,' said Aoife softly. 'What have you done?'

But Iuchra did not answer. Instead, a flash of lightning hit the water where Aoife stood, half immersed in the cool, clear lake. Iuchra shielded her eyes from the blast, and when she turned back to see what had happened, a crane stood where Aoife had once stood, its long legs in the water, its pale wings flapping in surprise.

'Iuchra,' said the crane, its voice slowly changing from the melodious tone of Aoife to the harsh chittering and croak of the bird, 'how long must I remain in this form?'

'Two hundred years must you remain in bird form,' Iuchra shouted out her rage, 'and on to the lands of Manannan must you dwell, never to return here again!'

Aoife tried to call out to Iuchra, but her throat would no longer give her human voice, and she could do nothing but chitter and cackle like a crane. She spread her wings in great sorrow, and flew out towards the sea, banished from her home by the power of Iuchra's spell.

For two hundred years, Aoife circled the lands of the sea god, Manannan. She wept inwardly at her plight, and stood vigil every sunset in the hopes that the spell might be broken. She often kept Manannan company in her bird form as he came to watch the golden disc sink down into his kingdom beneath the waves. He grew fond of her company, and often would reach out and stroke the long, graceful neck of the bird.

For two hundred years they kept each other company each day as the sun set, casting its light upon the water. As the sun set beneath the waves and two hundred years had passed, Manannan reached out to stroke the gentle bird's neck like he always did. But his hand reached out only to empty air. He turned to look to see what had befallen his friend, and there upon the shore laid a young woman, the fairest maiden he had ever seen. Her long golden hair lay across the rocks like a last ray of sunlight, and her alabaster skin shone in the last of the setting sun. His heart broke for her, and even as he watched she turned into an old woman, and then died as the last ray of sunlight touched her face before it sank beneath the waves.

'A dreadful magic has been enacted here,' Manannan said, picking up the body of Aoife. 'But from this beautiful companion shall arise that which can contain all the treasures of these lands. Long she bore her fate, long was her enchantment. Large was her heart to endure, so...