St Bridget

[poliphilo]

The tower on top of Glastonbury Tor is all that remains of a late medieval church that fell down in an earthquake.  As is usually the case with these hill-top shrines, the dedication is to St Michael the Archangel. There are images of him on the tower- very badly worn- and this- not so badly worn- of St Bridget milking a cow. According to the researches of Dr John Goodchild, the Godfather of New Age Glastonbury (as reported in Patrick Benham's The Avalonians) Bridget- who is the same person as Bride of Ireland who is a Christanized version of the Great Goddess or Morrigan- was a one-time Glastonbury resident- and ran a women's college or convent at Beckery, just outside the town. One of the titles- or disguises- of the Morrigan is "the black-mained heifer"- and an old fragment of bardic poetry has her travelling the three provinces of Erin, giving milk to everyone. "She was sent to give food and comfort to all; and she gave it, but especially to poor people."

Comments

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

Yes, I too have always thought of the Morrigan as nothing more than a battle-Goddess, but Goodchild- something of a 19th century feminist- believed She'd been traduced and demonized by the Church. I've no idea whether his ideas stand up.

I'd like to read the story.

[endlessrarities.livejournal.com]

I like the idea of the battle-goddess! My story involved a bunch of hunt sabs who accidentally enlisted the help of the Morrigan by chucking a couple of coins into a spring when she was hanging out in the neighbourhood, feeling bored...

I'll post it some time, when I pluck up the courage! I don't usually do short stories - I find them far too much like hard work!

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

Sounds promising. I presume things didn't go too well with the hunt after that?

[endlessrarities.livejournal.com]

Er, no.

Although, I suppose this does depend on your perspective...

The germ of the idea was inspired years ago when I was seeing to my horse one cold winter's evening and I heard one of the servants calling on his horn to a lost hound. It was a misty night, and rather creepy...

Took me another 15 years to get the story down onto paper, mind...

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

The sound of a hunting horn in the mist- spooky!

So, come on, let's see it. :)