Botanica Fabula

Meadow phantoms

Amanda Edmiston

Even before we reach the meadow, as we walk through the Sweet Chestnut trees (Castanea sativa) at the back of the castle, the scent of salicylates beckons. It has a faintly medicinal allure; part sweet notes, part antiseptic. As we reach the first dip down towards the river, the creamy clouds seem to blur the view of the bank, as if some ethereal creature were hiding behind them.

I step closer, brushing past the blooms, scattering petals as I seek to catch the thing, the creature, the being I think I've seen...but there's nothing there. The river ripples with the tremble of something silvery slipping away downstream. Eyes may be watching from the nearby wood, a young bullock grazes the Clover (Trifolium pratense) on the other side of the water, but there is no shimmering, regal figure.

My imagination has clearly been seduced by the Queen of the Meadows, flower-led into fantasising phantoms sitting on the shore. Or maybe I'm running a temperature? I check myself for fever, then add a few heads of the Meadowsweet (Filipendula ulmaria) to the flask of hot water I've brought on my walk.

As I sip, words shift places, the memory of a story whispers in my ear, the penny drops. I am in the presence of the Morrigan, a phantom queen, capable of transformation, a shapeshifter, one of the ethereal and rarely acknowledged feminine figures in Celtic mythology.

The story goes that the warrior Cú Chulainn was sent to Skye to learn the art of combat from the warrior maid, Sgathaich. In those days, it is said, only a man could teach a woman to fight and only a woman could teach a man. Cú Chulainn became enamoured with Sgathaich's daughter, Uathach, and the pair were betrothed. But his was a life of violence. He was a man of temper and, as a warrior, was frequently away at some battle or another. His heroic journeys, I sense, were littered with dubious encounters with women. I'm not sure his behaviour was admirable. Certainly, the story I was told, many years ago, suggested he was not an entirely innocent man when, during a battle at a ford, he encountered the mighty Morrigan. The phantom queen had taken the form of a beautiful young woman and she offered to help him in the battle, if he gave her his love.

Despite his reputation, he rebuffed Morrigan, claiming his heart belonged to Uathach. In response, she transformed into an eel, twisting round his ankles as he crossed the water. He reached down and wrenched her off, injuring her as he did so. But Morrigan was not to be so easily defeated. Shifting into the form of a huge, grey wolf, she terrified a herd of cattle, causing them to stampede at the warrior. Taking his slingshot, he hit her hard, wounding her badly in the leg. Finally, she became a white heifer, running at the front of the stampede, right towards Cú Chulainn. Taking a spear, he injured her one last time and she vanished, haar-like, into the river.

As the battle drew to an end, Cú Chulainn— weary, cut and bruised —made his way along the riverbank, praying that this would not be the night he met the Ban Sith washing his armour, predicting his death. Instead, he was startled to come across an old woman milking a deer. Her body was marked with familiar injuries— those he had inflicted on the eel, the wolf, and the heifer. Sore and thirsty, he stopped and asked her for a drink. With each cup she gave him, he blessed her. Each blessing saw her injuries heal as the words left his lips. By the third time, he realised who she was. She gave him Meadowsweet as a gift, a thank you. And, although some say he regretted healing her, he carried the herb on his belt from that day forth. As she had shown him, he relied on it to bathe in, to heal his wounds, to reduce his fevers, and to cool him when his temper flared. In gratitude, he gave the herb his name.

Now, as I sip the last of my tea, I feel sure it was the Morrigan I caught a glimpse of just now, on the riverbank. Giving a nod to the last of the mist that dissipates as the sun lifts a little higher in the early morning sky, I gather an armful of Meadowsweet and carry it home— to steep it in water, add honey, and turn it into a cordial fit for a queen.

This September, Amanda Edmiston will be delivering herbal storytelling workshops and creating a story feast with herbalist, forager, and chef Clare Holohan (West Highland Herbal) for the Scottish Wild Food Festival. For details and bookings, see https://scottishwildfoodfestival.simplybook.it/v2/#book/count/1/