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Celtic seasonal festivals - Part 2: Beltane

Part 1 ; Part 3 ; Part 4

Hello, my dear folks! The 1st of May finally has arrived, and as promised, we will continue with our examination of ancient Celtic festivals and their modern counterparts. This time, we will take a closer look at Beltane, which is probably the most famous Celtic festival aside from Samhain - and, contrary to popular belief, involved way less sexy times than one might imagine.

General/Etymology

Beltane (or Beltaine) is one of the four Celtic seasonal/"fire" festivals, taking place on May 1st. Also known as Cétshamhain in some older sources (meaning "first of summer"), it marked the beginning of the bright season, when the steadily increasing light of the sun would finally burn the last remnants of the dark winter season away. Aside from Samhain, Beltane was the most significant festival of the Celtic calendar, with the two of them lying exactly six months apart.

However, just like the other threshold festivals, Beltane didn't mark the meteorological beginning of summer, but rather the date when herdsmen would drive out their cattle to the summer pastures. It was also the time when snow and frost would finally decline in the higher reaches, and it was common for farmers to lead their herds to fresh summer grazings atop hills or mountainsides. From this, we can conclude that animal husbandry most likely played an important part in Celtic economy, a theory which receives its staggering confirmation in the numerous Irish myths and legends featuring livestock.

For Celtic farmers, cows were both a source of income and their own livelihood - the Kerry cattle (depicted above), a now rare breed native to Ireland, is believed to be one of the oldest European cattle breeds as well as the first to be bred primarily for milk production (Source)

As proven by Táin Bó Cúailnge, one of the most famous Irish tales, cows were seen as a symbol for wealth and status, since they gave a variety of products such as leather, meat, milk, cheese, and butter. In particular, cows were appreciated for the dairy products they yielded, as milk and butter were an essential part of the people's diet. These qualities are reflected in Glas Gaibhnenn, a mythical cow of bounty and fertility which belonged to the hero Cian mac Cáinte, only for the precious animal to be stolen by his adversary Balor.

In regard to etymology, the most wide-spread theory is that Beltane is derived from the Proto-Celtic belo-te(p)niâ, composed of the prefix belo- meaning "white/bright/shining", and tene/teine, the word for "fire". Thus, Beltane can be translated as "bright fire" - a fitting name considering the numerous bonfire rites associated with it.

Ancient origins and customs

There are numerous references to Beltane and its rites in early Irish literature, suggesting that the festival was a very integral, ancient part of Irish culture. Some medieval sources even mention an Irish god named Bel/Beil, in whose honor so-called "Bel's fires" (possibly the origin of the word "balefire") would be lit on May 1st. This makes for some interesting parallels with the Gaulish deity Belenus, a Celtic healing god who is believed to be the namesake of Beltane. Furthermore, in some ancient depictions of Belenus, he seems to be accompanied by a female goddess, which some scholars have identified as Belisama. Although these two deities share the same etymological root, their religious function is largely unclear. Due to the Roman identification with the sun god Apollo, Belenus was originally interpreted as a solar deity, his name being translated as "the bright/shining one"; consequentially, Belisama would mean "the very bright" (the suffix -isama denoting a superlative). However, different theories regarding the origin have also been proposed: It is suspected that belo- rather stems from the Gaulish word for "strong/powerful", while -nos was the term for "lord/master" - thus, Belenus and Belisama would translate to "Master of Power" and "the very powerful". A connection to the plant henbane (called belenuntia in ancient Gaul and known for its healing and hallucinogenic properties) and a derivation from the Indo-European root *gwelH- for "source"/"spring" have also been speculated. The Proto-Indo-European term *bʰleh₃ōs meaning "blossoming" seems like another possible option, although this does not seem to have been considered by scholars yet.

Viewed in the context of the few hints about Celtic religion that we do have, all of these interpretations seem valid: Symbolically, the sun not only stood for light and fire, but also the never-ending year cycle - as such, many solar deities also act as gods of nature and fertility. Another integral part of spiritual practices - especially during the threshold festivals - was divination, with henbane possibly being used during such rituals to put the oracle in ecstasy. Last but not least, bodies of water were believed to be the dwellings of gods and gateways to the Otherworld in ancient Celtic culture, so it's no surprise that Belenus and Belisama share various associations with water as well (also, as we learned in the article about Imbolc, fountains were believed to have healing properties as well, reaffirming Belenus' status as a healing god). Although we will most likely never know the exact ancient rituals of Beltane, we can put together the archaeological evidence, the accounts from medieval Irish authors, and surviving customs to get an idea what this celebration of fertility and new beginnings might have looked like.

Not much is known about Belenus and Belisama, but it is speculated they were a pair of ancient fertility deities (Source)

From the medieval Irish texts Sanas Cormaic and Tochmarc Emire, we learn part of the festival of Beltane was lighting two bonfires. On the eve of April 30th, the candles and hearth fires of all households would be extinguished; then, two druids would ascend to a mountain or hill, and ignite a fire by the means of friction between wood while chanting magic incantations. Afterwards, people would drive their cattle either past or between the two bonfires, occasionally also making it jump over the flames. This ritual was meant to cleanse away any harmful influences left over from winter, as well as protect their livestock against disease. Since it was believed to bring good luck, the people themselves would also run between or around the bonfires, with some especially brave jumping over the embers. In some regions, it was also considered important for the smoke to blow across the people and their cattle, since the ashes and smoke of the bonfire were also believed to have protective powers.

This custom is also attested in a source from the 17th century, where Geoffrey Keating claims that two bonfires were lit in every district of Ireland and livestock driven between them to ward off disease. Keating also describes a great gathering at the hill of Uisneach on May 1st, during which sacrifices to the god Beil were made. While is event is nowhere mentioned in the Irish annals, there is a legend recorded in the Dindsenchas of a hero lighting a fire at Uisneach which burned for seven years. These might be faint remnants of an annual Beltane tradition being held there, a theory which may be supported by archaeological evidence found in the 20th century: Due to traces of large fires and charred bones being excavated there, scholars assume that Uisneach was a sanctuary site since ancient times, acting as a place for animal sacrifices and hosting a perpetually burning fire.

These gatherings were usually accompanied by a feast, with food being cooked at the bonfire and some of it being offered to the aos sí, the spirits and fairies of Irish folklore (which are generally believed to have evolved from ancient nature gods). For example, in the Scottish Highlands, a lamb would be sacrificed, after which people would consume the remaining parts to figuratively feast alongside the gods. In Perthshire, another region of Scotland, a caudle consisting of eggs, butter, oatmeal and milk would be made, some of which was poured onto the ground as a libation to the spirits. Baking an oatmeal cake, called bannoch Bealltainn ("Beltane bannock") was also a common ritual, and after every of the guests had taken their own piece of it, they would offer bits of it to the spirits for protection of their livestock (one dedicated to the horses, another one for the sheep, etc.). Furthermore, the predators that might prey on their cattle also had to be appeased, and to show respect to them, each would be offered a small piece of the cake as well (one for the fox, one for the eagle, and so forth). Once all the pieces had been properly distributed, people would drink of the caudle that had been cooked over the fire.

Another ritual involving oatmeal cake is also documented: First, the cake would be cut into multiple slices, one of them being marked with charcoal. Then, all of them would be put into a bonnet (a traditional type of headdress) and each of the guest would pull out one while blindfolded. Whoever got the marked piece would have to leap through the flames three times, or the other attendees would pretend to throw them into the bonfire in a kind of mock ritual. Following the feast's conclusion, everyone would act like the "sacrificed" person was dead for a period of time. It has been suggested that this is a remnant of ancient human sacrifice (which we do know the Celts practiced) that morphed into more of a symbolic custom over the centuries.

Once the bonfire had died down, people would daub themselves in the ashes, as well as take some of it with them to sprinkle it over their crops and livestock. In addition, people would light torches at the bonfire and bring them home, carrying them around the borders of the farmstead and through their house to bless the place. Finally, the torches would be used to reignite all hearth fires - a ritual which most likely not only represented the changing of seasons, but also the waxing light of the sun, invoking a plentiful supply of sunlight for people, animals, and plants to grow.

Another Beltane custom typical of Ireland was the May Bush (also called May Bough), a small tree or branch decorated with various adornments. Usually, the bush would be hawthorn, rowan, holly, or sycamore, and thorn trees in particular were seen as special trees associated with the aos sí. (In fact, the tradition of decorating trees in springtime might be a remnant of ancient tree worship, a ritual meant to bestow the tree spirit's blessing onto each house and village.) On the morning of Beltane Eve, children or youths would go out into the countryside looking for a suitable bush, while also collecting brightly-colored wild flowers along the way. These flowers would then be used to decorate the bush for the festive occasion, in addition to ribbons, painted seashells, candles, and rushlights.

Sometimes, the tree would be decorated where it stood, while other times the youths would cut off branches from it to bring them home. (In Ireland, damaging a thorn/"fairy" tree was widely believed to bring great misfortune, so Beltane might have been the only occasion where it was actually allowed.) The May Bush branches would be fastened above doors and windows, to the roof or barns. Traditionally, the smaller branches would be decorated as well - a task which was normally the duty of the oldest household member - and would remain up until May 31st.

In cities such as Dublin and Belfast, May Bushes from the countryside would be brought into town and decorated by the whole community. Since each neighborhood competed for the most handsome tree, people had to be wary of residents of other towns trying to steal their May Bush. Occasionally, the bush would be paraded around the community, accompanied by a procession of children who would sing, dance, and ask people for a humble donation of money, sweets, or candles for the tree. Dancing and singing around the May Bush were also very commonplace, with the men and women usually forming a circle and intertwining their hands, weaving in and out under their arms and gathering other dancers to follow them - a practice which possibly represented the movements of the sun. Furthermore, ceremonial sport events were a popular Beltane tradition, and in certain regions of southern Ireland, silver and gold hurling balls (known as "May Balls") were part of the tree's decoration, which would later be gifted to children or the winners of a hurling match. At the conclusion of the festivities, the May Bush might sometimes be burnt in the ritual bonfire as well.

Believed to be a remnant of ancient tree worship, the May Bush was essential to ensure the luck of the household and the whole community (Source)

It was not only the May Bushes that were decorated, though: Doors, windows, byres, and even livestock would be adorned be with yellow or white May flowers, such as primrose, rowan, hawthorn, gorse, hazel, daisies, and buttercups. (It's likely that these bright-colored blooms were meant to evoke fire, and as such encourage growth.) Either loose blossoms would be strewn in front of doors and on windowsills, or they would be arranged into bouquets, garlands, or crosses and fastened to them. Often, children would also place wreaths of flowers in front of their neighbor's doorstep, as a gesture of goodwill. Not only the horns of cows, but also utensils for milking and butter making were adorned with flowers, ensuring a plentiful supply of milk in the coming year.

However, these flowery adornments not only served the purpose to bring good luck, but also were meant as protection: Just like at Samhain, fairies and other supernatural creatures were believed to be especially active during the time of Beltane, and most rituals were focused on warding them off or appeasing them. According to folk belief, fairies and Cailleachs - old hags with magical powers - were particularly prone to stealing dairy products, so there were various practices to prevent them from doing so. Aside from tying May Bush branches to milk pails, the tails of cattle or hanging them in the barn, placing three black coals under a butter churn was supposed to prevent the butter from being snatched by mischievous fairies (alternatively, people might light a candle inside the churn or put herbs into it). It was common to leave food and pour some milk in front of the doorstep as an offering to the aos sí, which would also be done in other places associated with them, including the "fairy trees".

Furthermore, farmers would not let their cattle out on the pastures before noon, since they feared that the fairies would steal the herd otherwise. To prevent this, herdsmen would follow their livestock and pick up the clay their cows had walked over, presumably to cover their trail. It was also believed that the Cailleachs were able to siphon the future year's profit of milk from the cows by making use of Beltane dew, and to retain the profits and protect them from disease, people would drive their cattle onto the fields with a hazel stick (the hazel tree was associated with wisdom and sacred knowledge in Celtic mythology). To gain divine protection for their herds, some Irish farmers would also bring them to so-called "fairy forts", remains of stone circles, ringforts, and hillforts from the prehistoric age of Ireland. There, they would collect a small amount of blood from their livestock which then would be poured into the earth, accompanied by prayers for the herd's safety; occasionally, the blood was also dried and ritually burned.

Additionally, it was common for farmers to lead a procession around the borders of their farmstead. While doing so, they would carry with them seeds of grain, agricultural utensils, the herbs vervain or rowan, and the first well water of Beltane. They would stop at each of the four cardinal points, beginning in the east, and performing rituals in each direction, which were meant to drive off harmful spirits as well as pray for fertility and a productive year.

In concert with the origin of Beltane's patrons as water deities, visiting holy wells was an often practiced ritual at Beltane. Just like at Imbolc and Lughnasadh, visitors would pray for health while walking sunwise around the well, after which they would leave coins and piece of cloth ("clooties") as offerings. The first water drawn from a well on Beltane was also thought to be especially potent, having great curative and protective effects and being good for the complexion. Since it was believed to bring good luck, the water was also used to bless property and animals. Herbs gathered on May 1st were also considered to have more restorative powers, and kidney vetch that was picked on Beltane was stored throughout the year as a cure for various animal diseases.

In addition, Beltane dew was believed to bestow good fortune, beauty, and health: Early at dawn, young maidens would roll in the fresh dew on the meadows, or gather it to wash their faces; sometimes, it would be collected in a jar, left to stand in the sunlight, and then filtered before it was used. Leaving their dew-wet faces to dry in the air was supposed to increase sexual attractiveness, maintain youthfulness, and protect the skin from sun damage, freckles, and other ailments in the year to come. Furthermore, it was said that a man who washed his face with soap and water on Beltane would grow a long mustache, which - judging by ancient sources about the Gauls - was probably seen as a male beau idéal in Celtic culture.

However, there were also things you should avoid doing at Beltane and that would bring you misfortune if you didn't pay attention: For example, no one should light a fire on the morning of 1st May until they saw smoke rising from their neighbor's chimney, so the household fires typically wouldn't be kindled before midday. If you were to enter someone else's dwelling on Beltane, it was said that you always should put your right foot first.

Parting with clothes, ashes, coal, or salt was further believed to bring bad luck, as giving away any resources on Beltane meant you were giving them away for the year. Farmers were especially protective of their dairy products, some of them staying up all night to guard their cows from potential thieves who would try to milk them and thus steal their profits for the following year. On a similar note, if you cut your finger with a stone on Beltane, it was said that the wound would never heal.

Also, spending the night outside was considered to be a very bad idea, as there was nothing to protect you from being captured by the aos sí. If a family owned a white horse, they were advised to keep it in the stable all day, as white animals were said to be especially prone to be stolen by fairies. Meanwhile, all other horses would have a red rag tied to their tail as protection from the gaze of harmful spirits.

Generally, any large undertaking, be it house building, marriage, or anything else, was believed to be ill-fated if it occurred on Beltane. The same went for births, as any foal born on that day was fated to cause someone's death, and any cow that calved on May 1st would soon perish.

Similar to Samhain, Beltane Night was also believed to be the time when the ghosts of Irish ancestors who died abroad would return to their homes, and all of the deceased would return from the Otherworld to visit their old friends. As a gesture of hospitality, people would often leave their door unlocked, as well as putting a cake and a jug of milk on the table for them.

As with the other Celtic seasonal festivals, there were also various animal superstitions surrounding Beltane: If a girl saw a white snail on the morning of May 1st, it meant that she would have good luck and find a good husband, but if a black snail crossed her way, it was considered a harbinger of death. Seeing a white lamb from the left was also thought to be a good sign, but hearing the call of a cuckoo was supposed to bring misfortune. (The cuckoo was seen as a herald of summer in Ireland, as the migratory bird would typically return to its breeding grounds mid-April or even as early as April 2nd; thus, it was unusually late for the cuckoo to arrive in late April/early May, which was seen as a sign of a bad summer.) If a robin flew into the house on Beltane, it was believed to be an especially bad sign, prophesizing the future death of a household member. (According to Irish folklore, the Robin murdered its father the Wren, the Oak King and old sun, thus gaining its blood-red chest and becoming the new sun.)

Beltane, Easter, and the origin of the May Queen

As early as the 5th century, the population of Ireland slowly started converting to Christianity. However, in contrast to other nations where conversation was usually accompanied by violent struggles and/or active repression of the previous pagan religion, the old Irish traditions and Catholic faith peacefully assimilated with each other, creating a unique, Celtic subbranch of Christianity. Due to this and the date of Beltane not really coinciding with any major Christian holiday in spring - Easter, Ascension Day, and Pentecost - the pagan rituals and Christian traditions more or less co-existed alongside each other for several centuries, with some conventions also influencing each other: For example, left-over eggshells from Easter Sunday were a popular decoration for May Bushes, and making the sign of the cross with milk on May Day was generally believed to bring good luck.

However, as with the other seasonal festivals, we can also see some attempts to Christianize the original meaning behind Beltane: Legend has it that Saint Patrick was also the first one to ignite an Easter fire in Ireland, back in the year 433. In one of the earliest tales about him, recorded by the monk Muirchú in the Vita sancti Patricii ("The Life of Saint Patrick") some time in the 7th century, Saint Patrick intends to light a Paschal fire on the Hill of Slane to commemorate the Easter Vigil, as is Christian tradition. However, just on the same date, an important pagan celebration (which may be identical with Beltane) also took place, and according to the law, no one else was to ignite a bonfire before the High King's Fire was lit by his druids on the Hill of Tara, or else they would be punished with death. St. Patrick, however, defied this taboo, setting up a large fire in honor of the Lord which was visible from miles away. This challenge of authority did not go unnoticed, as the bewildered druids soon spotted the bonfire from the king's residence at Tara, about 10 miles away from the Hill of Slane. The druids soon informed their king that someone had dared to violate their sacred customs, anxiously telling him about visions that they saw of "an eternal kingdom that triumphed over all others" and "that would bring about their pagan kingdom's fall" - also, if they did not extinguish the rival's fire this night, "it would keep growing and eventually outshine all others, spreading to all of Ireland, and the one who lit it would become the new ruler of the country". The enraged king and his great band of warriors made his way to the Hill of Slane with their chariots, nine in total, ready to slay the person who was behind the fire. When they arrived there, the king sent messengers to speak to St. Patrick first, but upon hearing the latter's words, some of them promptly converted to Christianity. In another version, the messengers tried to put out St. Patrick's fire but failed, believing it to be some kind of superior magic and taking St. Patrick for a very powerful sorcerer. Eventually, St. Patrick was invited to a meeting with the king himself on the following Easter Sunday. Clad entirely in white, St. Patrick appeared at the High King's court with his companions, explaining the cornerstones of the Christian doctrine to all those present. The attendees were enamored by his zealous devotion, and even the king was so impressed that even though he didn't convert, he gave St. Patrick permission to preach the Gospel to the Irish people, granting him and his religion his royal protection - and thus, "the light of Christ" conquered the entire nation of Ireland. On the Hill of Slane, at the same spot where St. Patrick's bonfire once burned, ruins of a Christian monastery can still be seen.

According to legend, Saint Patrick was the first one to light an Easter fire in Ireland, although his bonfire has obvious similarities to those of Beltane (Source)

It's pretty clear from the wording alone that this tale is a classical metaphor for "pagan religion gets ousted by superior Christian faith" - but contrary to what the story tells us, it seems that Easter fires were not part of the Catholic liturgy at all until the 8th century: There is a correspondence between Pope Zachary and Saint Boniface preserved from 751, which mentions so-called "ignis pachalis" (paschal fires) and raises the question of how to deal with them. This strongly suggests that Easter fires were previously unknown in the Roman Catholic Church - so either, the chronicler incorporated a tradition from his time into the 5th century legend, or Easter fires were a custom specific to Ireland. This would support the theory that Easter fires were a custom of pagan origin (either Celtic or Germanic) that has been Christianized over the centuries. In medieval times, the association of the Easter fires with God and Jesus was introduced for the first time. From this, the ritual to ignite an open-air fire on Easter Night developed, around which the whole community would gather while the priests lighted a candle at the consecrated fire. This candle would then be carried through the darkness to the church, lighting the way for the followers to the Mass. The candle came to be seen as a symbol of Christ, "the light of the world", and just like the Israelites followed the fiery column through the desert during their Exodus from Egypt, the believers would follow the light of Jesus on his way from death to life. As such, the Easter fire became firmly associated with the resurrection of Christ - a symbolism that is undoubtedly very similar to the revival of summer represented by pagan bonfires.

Aside from this, there is the Christian rite - particularly in Roman Catholic countries - of crowning an icon of the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus, as "the Queen of the May" as part of various celebrations in her honor taking place during the same month, which may be connected to other May Queen traditions. Ever since the Middle Ages, the May Day custom of crowning a May Queen is attested in Germany, although it seems to have started out more as an auction for potential future brides (which probably originated from the fact that girls were mostly treated as commodities on a legal level). In England, however, the character of the May Queen possessed traits of the personification of May and summer, which at least go back to the High Middle Ages. In Tudor and Stuart times, choosing a Lord and Lady to preside over each festival was very popular, which also may have influenced the selection of a May King and Queen during the May Day festivities.

In the 18th century, due to the many holidays in May dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the Roman Jesuits declared the whole month as a time of veneration for her, and as the practice spread from Italy to other Catholic countries, the ritual of a crowning of Mary also developed over time. Although crowing images of Mary goes as far back as the 5th century, it was usually done with a golden crown, while in parishes and private communities of the 19th century, it would be a flower crown that adorned the head of Mary's icon - a custom which, somewhat coincidentally, became more widespread at almost the same time when the tradition of crowning a May Queen experienced a revival due to Alfred Tennyson's poem "The May Queen".

A crowning of Mary, also known as May Crowning, could take place at any time during May - although May 1st was a common date, some parishes might prefer to do it on Mother's Day, and sometimes, it would even take place after Pentecost. Traditionally, the ceremony would take place during Mass, when a procession of young girls carrying hawthorn flowers would make their way to the statue of Mary. The flowers would then be used to adorn the statue or laid at its feet, while the oldest girl of the procession - who was typically also the May Queen - would take a crown of flowers and place it on Mary's head. Afterwards, various prayers and hymns to Mary would be recited, praising her as the "Queen of Heaven", "Mother of God", and "Queen of May".

Whether the similarities to old pagan customs are mere coincidence or not, it is clear that the figures of Jesus Christ - the God who died and rose again - and the Virgin Mary - the Holy, life-giving Mother - possess a high recognition value. This, however, gives rise to an interesting question: Just what is it that makes these archetypes so identifiable for so many people across different countries?

The beginning of May as a time for fertility rites is widely believed to go back to the ancient Romans' worship of the spring goddess Flora, whose festivities took place during late April and early May. People would adorn themselves with flowers, women wore colorful, normally indecent clothes, and many games and plays would be held to celebrate Flora's reunion with Favonius (also called Zephyrus, like his Greek counterpart), the god of the favorable west winds who would finally return to her at the advent of springtime after months of separation. (It's noteworthy that "west" is also the cardinal direction of death, as west is where the sun sets).

However, the motifs behind this myth appear to be way older, and can be seen in the Phrygian goddess Cybele, the Great Mother, and Attis, the shepherd god that was her consort. Their cult originated in Anatolia in the 7th century BC, eventually spreading to Greece, Thrace, and the Roman Empire. According to the version of Pausanias, both of them were born from Agdistis, a hermaphroditic being, and fell deeply in love with one another due to their shared origin. However, since Attis was supposed to marry the daughter of the King of Pessinus, Cybele appeared at his wedding and furiously voiced her protests. She cursed all of the attendees with madness, including Attis, who ran into the wilderness and castrated himself in front of a pine tree, dying in the process. Thus, his spirit passed into the pine, with Cybele asking Zeus that Attis' body - the evergreen tree - would never wither. From this, the tradition of the Roman festival Hilaria from March 15th to 28th developed, during which a pine tree would be ceremoniously cut down, mourned, and buried. Afterwards, a day of joyous festivities and merriment followed, to celebrate Cybele's reunion with Attis after his resurrection.

A divine couple consisting of a mother/fertility goddess and a periodically rising-and-dying god can also be observed in other religions, such as Aphrodite and Adonis from Greek lore and Isis and Osiris from the Egyptian myths, whose festivals would always take place some time in spring or summer in accordance with the growth of vegetation. However, although the figure of a god who dies and is revived again has been argued to be more typical of Near Eastern religions and the cults that developed from them, it is still possible that the concept influenced other European beliefs. After all, the Ancient Celts maintained flourishing trade relationships with Greece and Rome, and in addition to the exchange of goods and technological achievements, there might also have been an exchange of religious ideas. Also, aside from a few similarities between Celtic and Mediterranean spiritual practices that we've been seeing - such as sanctuaries with perpetually burning fires (a characteristic of Vesta and Hestia's cults) and the worship of the three "Matronae", or triple goddesses (represented by the Moirai in Greek mythology) - the cycle of death and rebirth is a very prominent theme in Celtic myths. So, perhaps what Flora and Favonius were to the Romans and what Cybele and Attis were to the Phrygians might have been Belenus and Belisama for the Celts. Either way, the notion of a pair of fertility deities uniting at the advent of the growing season and bringing about the budding of nature seems to be a notion so deeply rooted in our collective mind that even centuries of religious revolution and reinterpretation were unable to wipe it away.

Modern May Day traditions

Throughout most countries, Beltane and May Day have been replaced by International Workers' Day nowadays. Unfortunately, the old Beltane traditions of Ireland and Scotland mostly died out during the course of the 19th century, which may have been amplified by legal prohibitions. In Scotland, the May Day festival was officially outlawed as early as 1555, and in the 18th century, the May Bush was formally prohibited in Ireland by the Victorian government due to the competition for the most beautiful tree being deemed a hazard to public order. However, although they are no longer widespread, bonfire customs still survive in some regions of Ireland such as Limerick and Clare, and even in the Dublin suburb Ringsend. Scottish Beltane traditions had largely declined for a time, but have experienced a revival in the late 20th century. Since then, Glasgow and Edinburgh organize annual Beltane festivals and rallies, with the Beltane Fire Festival in Edinburh lasting from May Eve till the early hours of May Day morning - and even today, it is said that young women from Edinburgh who climb Arthur's Seat and wash their face with the morning dew will gain lifelong beauty.

Meanwhile, in Wales, May Day is known under the name Calan Mai, literally meaning "the first of May" (alternate terms include Calan Hâf, "first of summer", and Cyntefin). Although they differ in name, the Welsh celebrations on May Day share numerous similarities with Beltane: According to folklore, Calan Mai is one of the "spirit nights" of the year, when spirits were out and about and divination was possible. Traditionally, bonfires were lit by the means of friction between wood, sometimes two of them side by side - until the 19th century, a calf or sheep would also be sacrificed to the fire, to prevent disease from befalling the whole flock. Round cakes of oatmeal and brown-meal were also baked, and whoever pulled a brown-meal slice out of a bag would have to leap over the flames or run between the bonfires three times, which was supposed to ensure a good harvest. On May Eve, villagers would go out to gather hawthorn branches and flowers to decorate the outside of their houses and celebrate growth and fertility. At the dawn of May Day, they would be woken up by groups of young musicians going around and reciting bawdy May or summer carols, expressing wishes of good luck and a fruitful summer in a custom commonly known as "singing under the wall" - if their performance was worthy, they would be rewarded with food and drink by the people. From mid-14th century Wales, we have the first account of a Maypole in all of the British Isles, a large post fashioned out of birchwood and adorned with ribbons, which would be set up for people to dance around it. As part of the festivities, a mock battle between seasons would also take place, with two warriors representing winter and summer going up against each other: The warrior of winter carried a hawthorn stick and a shield with wool pieces symbolizing snow, while the warrior of summer was bedecked with garlands of flowers and ribbons and wielding a willow-wand which had bands of spring flowers tied to it. Winter would combat summer by throwing straw and dry underbrush at it, which Summer countered with birch branches, willow rods, and young ferns. Eventually, Summer would win, a King and Queen of the May would be crowned, and dancing, games, feasting and drinking would take place until the morn of the next day. Although these traditions are old, some of them are still practiced in modern-day Wales.

Across the rest of Great Britain, traditional May Day customs include the crowning of a May Queen, Morris dancing, and festivities involving a Maypole, usually with dancers circling around it while holding ribbons. In the Isle of Ely, the Maypole tradition remains alive even in the 21st century, while in other regions, the old May Day customs have been revived. Kingsbury Episcopi has reintroduced a modern version of the festival several years ago, while more traditional festivals are held in Hastings, Whitstable, and Rochester (Kent), often featuring a figure called Jack in the Green, a human dressed up as a tree or bush who is accompanied by musicians during a procession.

Although Maypole customs regionally differ, they are usually young birch trees adorned with colorful ribbons and garlands (Source)

However, folk customs resembling those of Beltane also can be observed in other European countries, such as south-western Germany and Switzerland, which once formed the core of the Celtic territories in ancient times. On Walpurgis Night, as the May Eve is called in Germany, a Maypole is erected in many places, and in earlier times, folk dances would often take place around it. Communities have a competition for the tallest and prettiest Maypole, and in Bavaria, Maypoles actively need to be defended from being stolen by rivaling towns - if the competitors manage to steal your tree anyway, you have to pay a considerable amount of beer to the "captors" as ransom. In Bavaria, Baden-Württemberg, and the Rhineland, "private" Maypoles are also very common: Young men put a birch sapling in front of their sweetheart's door, colorfully adorned and usually bearing an inscription hinting at their identity - however, they have to pay attention to put it in a well-hidden place, or else other suitors might discover it and take it away or exchange it with their own until dawn. In leap years, it's the women's turn to place a Maypole in front of their lovers' houses. In some regions, such as Baden-Württemberg, Rhineland-Palatine, and the Saarland, it's also typical for youths to play tricks: For example, all objects which could be found in the neighbors' front yards would be taken and thrown onto a pile on the village square, where the rightful owners would have to retrieve them. Young children will also go through the neighborhood ding-dong-ditching, as well as smearing door handles with shoe polish - tricks that seem quite reminiscent of the mischievous fairies of old. In the Swiss Cantons of Fribourg, Geneva, and Ticino, there is also the tradition of the so-called "May singing", where children go from house to house and recite songs in front of the doors, for which they are rewarded with sweets and coins. (It is noted that May singing was also formerly practiced in other regions of Switzerland, Austria, Germany, France, Northern Italy, and German-speaking areas of the Czech Republic - all of which once were among the Celtic regions of continental Europe.)

Singing is also an integral part of the festival of Calendimaggio in Northern Italy (also known as Cantar maggio) which is still very alive today, primarily in the regions of Piedmont, Linguria, Lombardy, Emilia-Romagna, Tuscany, and Umbra. In a tradition that somewhat resembles a magical propitiation ritual, singers known as the Maggi (or maggerini) adorn themselves with flowers and plants of spring, such as violets, roses, golden rain, and alder - the alder in particular is considered a symbol of life, as the trees start blooming along many rivers during spring. Dressed up like this, the Maggi go from house to house chanting auspicious verses, typically romantic love songs to celebrate the arrival of spring. Historically, Calendimaggio has been observed as a mystical character in Tuscany who shares many attributes of the god Belenus, and the Maggi's auspicious role is also clearly of pagan origin. As such, Calendimaggio is a festival strongly influenced by the cycle of nature, going back to the traditions of the Celts, Etruscans, and Lingurians alike, for whom the arrival of summer was of great importance.

Some May Day customs even made their way over to America: Irish emigrants brought the tradition of decorating a May Bush with flowers, ribbons, garlands, and bright shells to Newfoundland, and the custom is also part of some Easter traditions on the American East Coast. Until the mid-20th century, it was also very common to make a May Basket in America. At the end of April, people would collect flowers, candies, and other goodies to put them in a basket which they would hang on the doors of their neighbors, friends, and loved one once dusk fell. Furthermore, it was also seen as an opportunity to express romantic interest, with young boys and girls gifting May Baskets to their crushes - a story which seems very reminiscent of German Maypole traditions.

Beltane may be surrounded by a lot of rumors, mysteries, and fantastical perceptions, in no small part thanks to modern popular culture. Nevertheless, the risen interest in pagan religions is proof that more and more people begin thinking back to their origins. However you wish to celebrate it, Beltane is a festival of new beginnings, when you can finally shed yourself of old burdens and look forward to what the future might bring. So, use this opportunity to clear your mind, embrace positivity, and good luck in all that's coming for you!

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And that's it for Beltane! I must say, this was the hardest one for me so far since separating truth from fiction when it comes to Beltane can be quite difficult. xD Nevertheless, it was an enlightening experience, and I hope you enjoyed this article as well. If you did, please stay tuned for the next issue on August 1st, when we will take a look at the festival of Lughnasadh. See you then! :-)

#beltane #beltaine #paganism #celtic paganism #belenus #belisama #st patrick #easter #may queen #may day

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dreamlandreader · 4 months

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Foolish Fire Chapter Two - A Bump in the Night

Hello friends, I'm so happy that Foolish Fire is out in the world and that it has had such a lovely reception so far. @popjunkie42-blog here is chapter two of your gift for the @acotargiftexchange ❤️

Things really get going this chapter so I hope you are all ready because it is about to get angsty!

Read Chapter One HERE or head to the Masterlist HERE

If you prefer to read on AO3 that can be found HERE Content Warning: Large bodies of water, violence, injury, discussions of blood, angst, MC not in control of their own mind.

Word Count - Approximately 2200 Words

Feyre was lost. Lost, as her physical body ran and ran, following the shimmering creature before her. Lost, in her own mind, as the rational side of her brain was snuffed out by the reverie clouding her head. Lost to her mate, who distantly screamed her name, only for his cries to go unheard.

Feyre could think of nothing but the butterfly and her desperate desire to follow wherever it led. Her friends and family, even her mate, were a distant memory, so far away that they barely registered as a speck of dust on the horizon.

Rhysand’s voice rang out, over and over and over, but still, Feyre ran, unflinching, with her eyes fixed on the glittering wings flapping ceaselessly in the breeze.

If only Feyre had been more alert to her senses rather than becoming consumed by such an unbridled trance. Then, she might have heard the waves lapping against the wooden dock or scented the salt in the air. Perhaps she would have even noticed the icy water numbing her feet, her legs and then her waist. But Feyre did not notice. She just continued forward, still following the floating light, directly towards the centre of one of Prythian’s greatest lakes.

Rhysand ran panic-stricken through the darkened woods, scanning every inch the shadows would allow him to for his mate. He was utterly lost. Every turn he took led to miles and miles of endless and unidentifiable trees. No landmarks, no signposting, nothing to tell him if he was going in the right direction or merely chasing his own tail.

“Feyre!” Rhysand cried, pure fear permeating his every breath.

Try as he might to find his mate through the bond or talk to her with his daemati skills, Feyre’s shields were up so high and wrapped in so many thorns that even he could not penetrate them or even rap against her walls to let her know he was there, and that he would find her.

“Feyre, please!” He begged once more.

Silence screamed back in response, and Rhysand’s heart ached unbearably in his chest, sending a wave of sorrow, fear and desperation barrelling towards his wife, who unbeknownst to him, was almost a mile away, now shoulders deep in Belisama Lake, being watched by a beady-eyed creature lurking just below the surface of the water.

Feyre’s chestnut hair pooled around her shoulders as she waded deeper into the bitterly cold waters. Pond scum and debris brushed against her legs, but her feet remained planted firmly on the bottom of the lake as she kept walking forward.

Suddenly, agony hit Feyre full force. The sort of pain not caused by physical injury but by unrelenting emotional torment. Devastating panic wrapped its evil hands around Feyre’s throat and began to squeeze, and sadness hollowed her chest enough to stop her in her tracks. Closing her eyes to steady herself, Feyre saw a golden thread reaching out to her, begging her to reach back, tug on its sparkling strands, and follow it home. Home. Home, where her beautiful baby boy played, her sisters shared stories, and her friends laughed. Home, where her mate waited. Where they danced, where they made memories, and loved each other to the ends of the universe. Her cunning, handsome, infuriatingly perfect mate. Her Rhysand.

“Rhysand!” Feyre’s eyes shot open as she woke from her dreamlike state. The spell broken, the glimmering butterfly vanished into thin air, and Feyre’s mind started spinning. She could not remember much of her journey to the lake, only little pieces here and there remained amongst the fog. She had ran, twigs breaking beneath her feet. Somewhere along the way, she had lost her shoes, but with her mind elsewhere, the brutal forest floor didn’t cause her any pain. She just ran and ran, even as her feet bled, even as her mate called out for her to return to him.

Plunged back into reality, the icy water began to sting at Feyre’s skin, and she froze on the spot as the panic slowly started to creep in. Feyre tugged at the bond, but Rhysand’s end of the thread had become devastatingly limp. She did not have time however to fear what had happened to her mate, because as dread began to rise from the pit of Feyre’s stomach, a horrifying noise bellowed around the lake, and a colossal beast emerged from the water, setting it’s sights on the female before it.

“Feyre!” Rhys screamed, voice hoarse with heartbreak.

“Rhysand!” Feyre’s beautiful voice rang out, cutting through Rhysand’s panic like a soothing melody.

“Feyre,” Rhys whispered to himself as he stopped running and let his fae hearing locate the direction of her voice.

“Rhys!” Feyre sang out once more.

“Darling, I’m coming. Stay where you are!” Rhys replied, relief bleeding out into his voice as he ran towards his mate.

Rhys whipped around trees and darted through the darkness to find her. Turning one last corner and slowing down, he saw her, Feyre, uninjured and safe, perfect as the moment he lost her.

Feyre stood in a clearing, the gentle autumn breeze billowing through her hair, with a small smile gracing her face. Rhysand was struck by how calm she appeared. The tranquil energy that surrounded Feyre was not that of relief but pure serenity, as though she had just been taking a relaxing evening stroll along the Sidra. Perhaps she is still under the wisp’s enchantment, Rhys thought, as he approached her cautiously.

“Feyre, are you okay? You don’t seem yourself,” Rhys inquired, ever so slowly moving towards her.

“Of course I’m okay, Rhys. I’m with you again, aren’t I?” Feyre responded, with an odd amount of emotionless precision.

Rhysand narrowed his eyes at his wife, giving her another once over to ensure he didn’t miss any injuries she may have incurred. Suddenly, he noticed something he missed before. A gap had formed between Feyre’s sock and the hem of her leggings, revealing a sliver of what should have been skin, but was instead shining copper metal.

Rhys’s heart sank. This was not his wife. This was the empusa.

The empusa was a beast birthed by a dark and powerful witch many centuries ago. She was a shapeshifter, identifiable only by her singular copper leg that she could never entirely hide. She was notorious for attacking lone bystanders, draining them of their blood and then consuming whatever was left.

She was not of one court; instead, she chose to wander, to follow her prey where it went. The High Lords had been trying to capture and imprison her for centuries, as had the those who came before them, but she was a devious creature and hid well. If Rhysand wasn’t careful, he was about to become her dinner.

Pretending he truly believed this monster was Feyre was not difficult for Rhysand. After all, he had worn many masks in his time. No, what was difficult was hiding his anguish that Feyre was still out there somewhere, and he could do nothing to help her except keep himself alive.

“Come here, Rhysand. I’m terribly cold,” the empusa asked, reaching out to the male.

He knew he would have to be careful and take it slow. Trick her into thinking she had won, and then use his powers to kill her. It was the only way he would come out of this alive. The only way he could help Feyre.

“I’m coming, Darling,” he purred, closing the distance between himself and the beast, opening his arms for a hug. He needed to be quick, to take the opportunity to delve into his magic and mist her before she knew what was coming, before she could strike.

Wrapping his arms around the creature, he began to dip into his well of power, when he was distracted by a firm and panicked tug on the bond. Feyre. Rhys reached out towards the thread that connected him to his mate, and he was mere millimetres away when-

Sudden pain, sharp and breathtaking, engulfed Rhysand’s entire being. The beast had stabbed him in the back whilst he was distracted by reaching out to Feyre. Untangling himself from the empusa’s embrace, Rhys fell to the floor, fury haemorrhaging from his veins along with the blood that spilled from the wound behind him. Desperately, he tried and failed to draw from that pool of power within him, to destroy the empusa where she stood, but it was empty. Not a single drop of magic remained.

“Faebane,” Rhys laughed through excruciating pain, gasping to catch his breath. “If you are going to fight me, at least fight fair, you bitch,” he snarled.

Smirking down at Rhysand, the empusa gave him a swift smack across the face, causing his teeth to clash together. The gleaming ring that graced his wife’s hand split his lip open upon impact, but Rhys did not let out a sound, just glared up at the creature.

“Is that any way to speak to your mate?” the empusa seethed, contorting his wife’s beautiful mouth into a vicious sneer.

“You are not my mate,” Rhys retorted, spitting blood at her feet.

“No, perhaps I am not,” she smiled, “But, I will enjoy tearing you apart piece by wicked piece, High Lord, and then hunting your little pet down for dessert.”

Feyre had been so focused on the hovering golden light that reflected over the Belisama, that she hadn’t sensed the monster circling the waters around her as she wandered into the lake. She noticed it now, though, as it bared its rotting teeth and prowled close enough for her to make out every individual spine on its algae-covered back.

The beast was at least 10 feet long, with a short, plump torso, a long, thick neck, and a tail that could likely knock down a tree with one strike. There was no way Feyre could outswim it; there was not a chance in hell.

Taking a breath, head still swirling like the silver spinning top she’d bought Nyx last Solstice, she realised she needed to think her way out of this situation. She could have kicked herself when she realised the solution was right there the entire time.

The low rumble of the monster’s growl rang out once more. It was only metres away now, so without giving it a second thought, Feyre winnowed herself to the shore, sank to her knees in exhaustion and shivered uncontrollably, as she watched the fearsome creature rage over its lost meal.

“Stupid, gods damned idiot!” Feyre yelled to herself, furious that she had become so overwhelmed by confusion and shock that she had forgotten the simplest of solutions. She could hear what Rhys would say. Darling, it’s not your fault. Your brain was swamped with magic, and you were disorientated when you escaped its grasp. It is not your fault, my love. But Rhys wasn’t here, and no matter how hard she tugged on their bond or screamed his name, she got nothing in return.

Looking straight into the scaled beast’s dark and soulless eyes as it sank down below the surface of the murky water, Feyre felt a warm fire in her belly as she stood and began to walk on her bare and bloody feet. She was not going to die tonight, and neither was her mate. No matter what lurked in these woods.

A howl of agony echoed around the shadowed forest as Feyre, still soaked to the bone with rancid lake water, stalked through the trees with the grim determination to find her mate. A shiver ran down Feyre’s spine, which had nothing to do with her damp and heavy clothes, as she heard the love of her life yell out in pain.

“Rhys?” Feyre screamed.

A faint reply sounded out.

“Feyre,”

He can’t be far, she thought.

Moving in the direction of the weak voice, Feyre quickly stumbled across a scene which cleaved her heart in two.

Her strong and powerful mate was sprawled on the forest floor, the scent of his blood permeating the air. He was teetering on the brink of consciousness and had clearly taken some quite significant blows to his face. Leaning over him leered a female, not just any female, but a clone of Feyre herself, who crouched on all fours, only inches from ripping out Rhys’s throat with her teeth.

“Step away from my mate before I split open your chest with my bare hands and pluck out your heart,” Feyre threatened, lurching forward, rage taking over from all rational thought.

A gust of Feyre’s power whipped through the clearing at such speed that it knocked the empusa clean off her feet, sending her flying onto her back with a sickening crack. Looking at Rhysand from a closer angle, Feyre could see the damage the creature had inflicted on her husband. He was bleeding heavily from his left shoulder blade, his beautiful face contorting in pain. Rhys’s fae healing was nowhere to be seen. Faebane, she guessed. Feyre couldn’t stand watching Rhys writhe in pain, couldn’t cope with the agony that played out across his features. As he slowly slipped into unconsciousness, and the creature on the floor began to stir, Feyre decided the monster before her had just signed her own death warrant.

Don't forget to check out the fact file here for more info about the creatures referenced in this fic.

#acotar #feysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #acotar fanfiction #acotarsecretsanta #feyre cursebreaker #feyre darling

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