Lir is often recognized as the father of the children transformed into swans by their envious stepmother Aoife in the tale known as “The Children of Lir.” This narrative is one I share only on rare occasions, opting to refer to it as “Aoife’s Tale.”
In brief, the widely accepted version of this story goes as follows: Following the death of Aobh, the mother of four siblings, Lir marries her sister Aoife. Consumed by jealousy over Lir’s affection for the children, Aoife casts a spell turning them into swans. For nine centuries, the children drift across the waters between Ireland and Scotland in their new form. Eventually, they regain their human shapes, yet find themselves aged and near death. Fortunately, by this time, Ireland has embraced Christianity, allowing them to receive baptism and a proper burial.
Despite its capacity to enchant and move those who hear it, what concerns me is how certain retellings simplify the narrative, obscuring its deeper, more horrifying aspects. This saga encapsulates themes of profound dislocation and the dire choices thrust upon individuals by the ravages of war and existential threats. Although the Tuatha Dé Danaan are portrayed as magical beings, they are not exempt from suffering. Their arrogance led them to slay the first human to set foot in Ireland. This act of violence precipitated an invasion of Ireland, resulting in their defeat and massacre. The remaining members of their ranks, still grappling with their new reality, attempt to unite under a new ruler. However, their numbers are diminished and their unity compromised by suspicion and conspiracy. Among the influential leaders in this faction is Lir. To prevent civil strife, the current king Bodb Dearg suggests a compromise: Lir may marry one of his three foster daughters if he acknowledges Bodb Dearg as king. Lir weds Aobh, who gives birth to four children, before dying. Concerned that Lir’s sorrow might exacerbate divisions within the Tuatha Dé Danaan, Bodb Dearg proposes Aoife as a replacement. This, to me, highlights the core of the story: the lives and fates of women being treated as pawns in a power struggle.
In my retelling, Aoife and Lir fall deeply in love, and she cherishes her stepchildren as fiercely as Lir does. Yet, this love isn’t enough for her; feeling overshadowed by Aobh, Aoife yearns to form a relationship marked by even greater intensity. While her longing is relatable—perhaps even admirable—it becomes her tragic flaw; she believes she must bear a child to create a grander love. When she discovers she cannot conceive, her horror begins.
Aoife has notable parallels with Medea, the renowned Greek figure. Where Aoife aligns with Lir to avert a civil war, Medea binds herself to Jason in his quest for glory. Having committed an act of treason against her kin and homeland, Medea escapes with Jason, and they marry in Corinth. Unlike Aoife, Medea does bear children, giving her life a semblance of fulfillment. However, her world collapses when Jason, pressured by the king of Corinth, chooses to abandon her for his daughter. Both women, constrained by a patriarchal society, find their autonomy severely limited. For Medea, this realization transforms her love into a monstrous rage; she uses her children as instruments of her horrific revenge against Jason and his intended bride. Similarly, Aoife seeks vengeance by targeting her stepchildren, though she ultimately chooses to let them live—albeit facing centuries trapped in a form that separates them from their humanity.
While “The City Beneath the Waves” explores the complexities and beauty of everyday life, “The Children of Lir”/”Aoife’s Tale” is a lasting critique of war and patriarchal oppression. Although Aoife may be a mythical character, the truths woven into this narrative are powerful: the consequences of conflict and trauma persist long after the cessation of hostilities; the effects of violence resonate and linger within the supposed peace. This observation holds significance both in historical contexts and contemporary society.
Stay tuned for Rab’s concluding blog: Never-Ending Stories.
