Title: The Mabinogion Vol. 3 (of 3)
Author: Edwards, Owen Morgan, Sir, 1858-1920 [Editor]
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.


*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Mabinogion Vol. 3 (of 3)" ***


Transcribed from the 1912 T. Fisher Unwin edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org



THE MABINOGION


TRANSLATED FROM THE RED BOOK OF HERGEST BY LADY CHARLOTTE GUEST
VOL. III.  LONDON
T. FISHER UNWIN
11 PATERNOSTER
BUILDINGS MXCII

{The finding of Taliesin: p0.jpg}



INTRODUCTION.


{Picture: p11.jpg}

This third volume completes the series of Mabinogion and tales translated
by Lady Charlotte Guest.

As in the two preceding volumes, I have compared Lady Guest's transcript
with the original text in the Red Book of Hergest, and with Dr Gwenogvryn
Evans' scrupulously accurate diplomatic edition.  I have, as before,
revised the translation as carefully as I could.  I have not altered Lady
Guest's version in the slightest degree; but I have again put in the form
of foot-notes what seems to me to be a better or a more literal
translation.  The mistranslations are fairly few in number; but some of
them are quite important, such as the references to pagan baptism or to
the Irish Channel.  At the end of my revision I may say that I have been
struck by the comparative accuracy of the transcript of the Red Book
which Lady Guest used, and by the accurate thoroughness with which she
translated every one of the tales.

This volume contains the oldest of the Mabinogion--the four branches of
the Mabinogion proper--and the kindred tale of Lludd and Llevelys.  In
all these we are in a perfectly pagan atmosphere, neither the
introduction of Christianity nor the growth of chivalry having affected
them to any extent.

The Story of Taliesin is the only one in the series that is not found in
the Red Book of Hergest.  It is taken from very much later manuscripts,
and its Welsh is much more modern.  Its subject, however, is akin to that
of the Mabinogion proper; if, indeed, the contest between Elphin and the
bards is an echo of the contest between decaying Paganism and growing
Christianity.

OWEN EDWARDS.

LLANUWCHLLYN,
13_th_ _September_ 1902.



PWYLL PRINCE OF DYVED.


Pwyll, prince of Dyved, was lord of the seven Cantrevs of Dyved; and once
upon a time he was at Narberth his chief palace, and he was minded to go
and hunt, and the part of his dominions in which it pleased him to hunt
was Glyn Cuch.  So he set forth from Narberth that night, and went as far
as Llwyn Diarwyd. {11a}  And that night he tarried there, and early {11b}
on the morrow he rose and came to Glyn Cuch; when he let loose the dogs
in the wood, and sounded the horn, and began the chace.  And as he
followed the dogs, he lost his companions; and whilst he listened to the
hounds, he heard the cry of other hounds, a cry different from his own,
and coming in the opposite direction.

And he beheld a glade in the wood forming a level plain, and as his dogs
came to the edge of the glade, he saw a stag before the other dogs.  And
lo, as it reached the middle of the glade, the dogs that followed the
stag overtook it, and brought it down.  Then looked he at the colour of
the dogs, staying not to look at the stag, and of all the hounds that he
had seen in the world, he had never seen any that were like unto those.
For their hair was of a brilliant shining white, and their ears were red;
and as the whiteness of their bodies shone, so did the redness of their
ears glisten.  And he came towards the dogs, and drove away those that
had brought down the stag, and set his own dogs upon it.

{Picture: p13.jpg}

And as he was setting on his dogs, he saw a horseman coming towards him
upon a large light grey steed, with a hunting horn about his neck, and
clad in garments of grey woollen in the fashion of a hunting garb.  And
the horseman drew near and spoke unto him thus.  "Chieftain," said he, "I
know who thou art, and I greet thee not."  "Peradventure," said Pwyll,
"thou art of such dignity that thou shouldest not do so."  "Verily,"
answered he, "it is not my dignity that prevents me."  "What is it then,
O chieftain?" asked he.  "By Heaven, it is by reason of thine own
ignorance and want of courtesy."  "What discourtesy, Chieftain, hast thou
seen in me?"  "Greater discourtesy saw I never in man," said he, "than to
drive away the dogs that were killing the stag, and to set upon it thine
own.  This was discourteous, and though I may not be revenged upon thee,
yet I declare to Heaven that I will do thee more dishonour than the value
of an hundred stags."  "O chieftain," he replied, "if I have done ill I
will redeem thy friendship."  "How wilt thou redeem it?"  "According as
thy dignity may be, but I know not who thou art?"  "A crowned King am I
in the land whence I come."  "Lord," said he, "may the day prosper with
thee, and from what land comest thou?"  "From Annwvyn," answered he;
"Arawn, a King of Annwvyn, {13} am I."  "Lord," said he, "how may I gain
thy friendship?"  "After this manner mayest thou," he said.  "There is a
man whose dominions are opposite to mine, who is ever warring against me,
and he is Havgan, a King of Annwvyn, and by ridding me of this oppression
which thou canst easily do shalt thou gain my friendship."  "Gladly will
I do this," said he, "show me how I may."  "I will show thee.  Behold
thus it is thou mayest.  I will make firm friendship with thee; and this
will I do, I will send thee to Annwvyn in my stead, and I will give thee
the fairest lady thou didst ever behold, to be thy companion, and I will
put my form and semblance upon thee, so that not a page of the chamber,
nor an officer, nor any other man that has always followed me shall know
that it is not I.  And this shall be for the space of a year from
to-morrow, and then will we meet in this place."  "Yes," said he; "but
when I shall have been there for the space of a year, by what means shall
I discover him of whom thou speakest?"  "One year from this night," he
answered, "is the time fixed between him and me, that we should meet at
the Ford; be thou there in my likeness, and with one stroke that thou
givest him, he shall no longer live.  And if he ask thee to give him
another, give it not, how much soever he may entreat thee, for when I did
so, he fought with me next day as well as ever before."  "Verily," said
Pwyll, "what shall I do concerning my kingdom?"  Said Arawn, "I will
cause that no one in all thy dominions, neither man, nor woman, shall
know that I am not thou, and I will go there in thy stead."  "Gladly
then," said Pwyll, "will I set forward."  "Clear shall be thy path and
nothing shall detain thee, until thou come into my dominions, and I
myself will be thy guide!"

So he conducted him until he came in sight of the palace and its
dwellings.  "Behold," said he, "the Court and the kingdom in thy power.
Enter the Court, there is no one there who will know thee, and when thou
seest {15} what service is done there, thou wilt know the customs of the
Court."

So he went forward to the Court, and when he came there, he beheld
sleeping rooms, and halls, and chambers, and the most beautiful buildings
ever seen.  And he went into the hall to disarray, and there came youths
and pages and disarrayed him, and all as they entered saluted him.  And
two knights came and drew his hunting dress from about him, and clothed
him in a vesture of silk and gold.  And the hall was prepared, and behold
he saw the household and the host enter in, and the host was the most
comely and the best equipped that he had ever seen.  And with them came
in likewise the Queen, who was the fairest woman that he ever yet beheld.
And she had on a yellow robe of shining satin; and they washed and went
to the table, and they sat, the Queen upon one side of him, and one who
seemed to be an Earl on the other side.

And he began to speak with the Queen, and he thought from her speech,
that she was the seemliest, and most noble lady of converse and of cheer
that ever was.  And they partook of meat, and drink, with songs, and with
feasting; and of all the Courts upon the earth, behold this was the best
supplied with food and drink, and vessels of gold and royal jewels.

* * * * *

And the year he spent in hunting, and minstrelsy, and feasting, and
diversions, and discourse with his companions, until the night that was
fixed for the conflict.  And when that night came, it was remembered even
by those who lived in the farthest part of his dominions, and he went to
the meeting, and the nobles of the kingdom with him.  And when he came to
the Ford, a knight arose and spake thus, "Lords," said he, "listen well.
It is between two Kings that this meeting is, and between them only.  Each
claimeth of the other his land and territory, and do all of you stand
aside and leave the fight to be between them."

{Picture: p16.jpg}

Thereupon the two Kings approached each other in the middle of the Ford,
and encountered, and at the first thrust, the man who was in the stead of
Arawn struck Havgan on the centre of the boss of his shield, so that it
was cloven in twain, and his armour was broken, and Havgan himself was
borne to the ground an arm's and a spear's length over the crupper of his
horse, and he received a deadly blow.  "O Chieftain," said Havgan, "what
right hast thou to cause my death?  I was not injuring thee in any thing,
and I know not wherefore thou wouldest slay me.  But for the love of
Heaven, since thou hast begun to slay me, complete thy work."  "Ah,
Chieftain," he replied, "I may yet repent doing that unto thee.  Slay
thee who may, I will not do so." {17}  "My trusty Lords," said Havgan,
"bear me hence.  My death has come.  I shall be no more able to uphold
you."  "My Nobles," also said he who was in the semblance of Arawn, "take
counsel and know who ought to be my subjects."  "Lord," said the Nobles,
"all should be, for there is no King over the whole of Annwvyn but thee."
"Yes," he replied, "it is right that he who comes humbly should be
received graciously, but he that doth not come with obedience, shall be
compelled by the force of swords."  And thereupon he received the homage
of the men, and he began to conquer the country; and the next day by noon
the two kingdoms were in his power.  And thereupon he went to keep his
tryst, and came to Glyn Cuch.

And when he came there, the king of Annwvyn was there to meet him, and
each of them was rejoiced to see the other.  "Verily," said Arawn, "may
Heaven reward thee for thy friendship towards me, I have heard of it.
When thou comest thyself to thy dominions," said he, "thou wilt see that
which I have done for thee."  "Whatever thou hast done for me, may Heaven
repay it thee."

Then Arawn gave to Pwyll Prince of Dyved his proper form and semblance,
and he himself took his own; and Arawn set forth towards the Court of
Annwvyn; and he was rejoiced when he beheld his hosts, and his household,
whom he had not seen so long; but they had not known of his absence, and
wondered no more at his coming than usual.  And that day was spent in joy
and merriment; and he sat and conversed with his wife and his nobles.  And
when it was time for them rather to sleep than to carouse, they went to
rest.

* * * * *

Pwyll, Prince of Dyved, came likewise to his country and dominions, and
began to enquire of the nobles of the land, how his rule had been during
the past year, compared with what it had been before.  "Lord," said they,
"thy wisdom was never so great, and thou wert never so kind nor so free
in bestowing thy gifts, and thy justice was never more worthily seen than
in this year."  "By Heaven," said he, "for all the good you have enjoyed,
you should thank him who hath been with you; for behold, thus hath this
matter been."  And thereupon Pwyll related the whole unto them.  "Verily,
Lord," said they, "render thanks unto Heaven that thou hast such a
fellowship, and withhold not from us the rule which we have enjoyed for
this year past."  "I take Heaven to witness that I will not withhold it,"
answered Pwyll.

And thenceforth they made strong the friendship that was between them,
and each sent unto the other horses, and greyhounds, and hawks, and all
such jewels as they thought would be pleasing to each other.  And by
reason of his having dwelt that year in Annwvyn, and having ruled there
so prosperously, and united the two kingdoms in one day by his valour and
prowess, he lost the name of Pwyll Prince of Dyved, and was called Pwyll
Chief of Annwvyn from that time forward.

* * * * *

Once upon a time, Pwyll was at Narberth his chief palace, where a feast
had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of men.  And
after the first meal, Pwyll arose to walk, and he went to the top of a
mound that was above the palace, and was called Gorsedd Arberth.  "Lord,"
said one of the Court, "it is peculiar to the mound that whosoever sits
upon it cannot go thence, without either receiving wounds or blows, or
else seeing a wonder."  "I fear not to receive wounds and blows in the
midst of such a host as this, but as to the wonder, gladly would I see
it.  I will go therefore and sit upon the mound."

And upon the mound he sat.  And while he sat there, they saw a lady, on a
pure white horse of large size, with a garment of shining gold around
her, coming along the high way that led from the mound; and the horse
seemed to move at a slow and even pace, and to be coming up towards the
mound.  "My men," said Pwyll, "is there any among you who knows yonder
lady?"  "There is not, Lord," said they.  "Go one of you and meet her,
that we may know who she is."  And one of them arose, and as he came upon
the road to meet her, she passed by, and he followed as fast as he could,
being on foot; and the greater was his speed, the further was she from
him.  And when he saw that it profited him nothing to follow her, he
returned to Pwyll, and said unto him, "Lord, it is idle for any one in
the world to follow her on foot."  "Verily," said Pwyll, "go unto the
palace, and take the fleetest horse that thou seest, and go after her."

And he took a horse and went forward.  And he came to an open level
plain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged his horse, the
further was she from him.  Yet she held the same pace as at first.  And
his horse began to fail; and when his horse's feet failed him, he
returned to the place where Pwyll was.  "Lord," said he, "it will avail
nothing for any one to follow yonder lady.  I know of no horse in these
realms swifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her."  "Of a
truth," said Pwyll, "there must be some illusion here.  Let us go towards
the palace."  So to the palace they went, and they spent that day.  And
the next day they arose, and that also they spent until it was time to go
to meat.  And after the first meal, "Verily," said Pwyll, "we will go the
same party as yesterday to the top of the mound.  And do thou," said he
to one of his young men, "take the swiftest horse that thou knowest in
the field."  And thus did the young man.  And they went towards the
mound, taking the horse with them.  And as they were sitting down they
beheld the lady on the same horse, and in the same apparel, coming along
the same road.  "Behold," said Pwyll, "here is the lady of yesterday.
Make ready, youth, to learn who she is."  "My Lord," said he, "that will
I gladly do."  And thereupon the lady came opposite to them.  So the
youth mounted his horse; and before he had settled himself in his saddle,
she passed by, and there was a clear space between them.  But her speed
was no greater than it had been the day before.  Then he put his horse
into an amble, and thought that notwithstanding the gentle pace at which
his horse went, he should soon overtake her.  But this availed him not;
so he gave his horse the reins.  And still he came no nearer to her than
when he went at a foot's pace.  And the more he urged his horse, the
further was she from him.  Yet she rode not faster than before.  When he
saw that it availed not to follow her, he returned to the place where
Pwyll was.  "Lord," said he, "the horse can no more than thou hast seen."
"I see indeed that it avails not that any one should follow her.  And by
Heaven," said he, "she must needs have an errand to some one in this
plain, if her haste would allow her to declare it.  Let us go back to the
palace."  And to the palace they went, and they spent that night in songs
and feasting, as it pleased them.

And the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meat.
And when meat was ended, Pwyll said, "Where are the hosts that went
yesterday and the day before to the top of the mound?"  "Behold, Lord, we
are here," said they.  "Let us go," said he, "to the mound, to sit there.
And do thou," said he to the page who tended his horse, "saddle my horse
well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring also my spurs with
thee."  And the youth did thus.  And they went and sat upon the mound;
and ere they had been there but a short time, they beheld the lady coming
by the same road, and in the same manner, and at the same pace.  "Young
man," said Pwyll, "I see the lady coming; give me my horse."  And no
sooner had he mounted his horse than she passed him.  And he turned after
her and followed her.  And he let his horse go bounding playfully, and
thought that at the second step or the third he should come up with her.
But he came no nearer to her than at first.  Then he urged his horse to
his utmost speed, yet he found that it availed nothing to follow her.
Then said Pwyll, "O maiden, for the sake of him whom thou best lovest,
stay for me."  "I will stay gladly," said she, "and it were better for
thy horse hadst thou asked it long since."  So the maiden stopped, and
she threw back that part of her head dress which covered her face.  And
she fixed her eyes upon him, and began to talk with him.  "Lady," asked
he, "whence comest thou, and whereunto dost thou journey?"  "I journey on
mine own errand," said she, "and right glad am I to see thee."  "My
greeting be unto thee," said he.  Then he thought that the beauty of all
the maidens, and all the ladies that he had ever seen, was as nothing
compared to her beauty.  "Lady," he said, "wilt thou tell me aught
concerning thy purpose?"  "I will tell thee," said she.  "My chief quest
was to seek thee."  "Behold," said Pwyll, "this is to me the most
pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come; and wilt thou tell me who
thou art?"  "I will tell thee, Lord," said she, "I am Rhiannon, the
daughter of Heveydd Hen, and they sought to give me to a husband against
my will.  But no husband would I have, and that because of my love for
thee, neither will I yet have one unless thou reject me.  And hither have
I come to hear thy answer."  "By Heaven," said Pwyll, "behold this is my
answer.  If I might choose among all the ladies and damsels in the world,
thee would I choose."  "Verily," said she, "If thou art thus minded, make
a pledge to meet me ere I am given to another."  "The sooner I may do so,
the more pleasing will it be unto me," said Pwyll, "and wheresoever thou
wilt, there will I meet with thee."  "I will that thou meet me this day
twelvemonth at the palace of Heveydd.  And I will cause a feast to be
prepared, so that it be ready against thou come."  "Gladly," said he,
"will I keep this tryst."  "Lord," said she, "remain in health, and be
mindful that thou keep thy promise; and now will I go hence."  So they
parted, and he went back to his hosts and to them of his household.  And
whatsoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, he always
turned the discourse upon other matters.  And when a year from that time
was gone, he caused a hundred knights to equip themselves and to go with
him to the palace of Heveydd Hen.  And he came to the palace, and there
was great joy concerning him, with much concourse of people and great
rejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming.  And the whole court was
placed under his orders.

And the hall was garnished and they went to meat, and thus did they sit;
Heveydd Hen was on one side of Pwyll, and Rhiannon on the other.  And all
the rest according to their rank.  And they eat and feasted and talked
one with another, and at the beginning of the carousal after the meat,
there entered a tall auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing, clothed in a
garment of satin.  And when he came into the hall, he saluted Pwyll and
his companions.  "The greeting of Heaven be unto thee, my soul," said
Pwyll, "come thou and sit down."  "Nay," said he, "a suitor am I, and I
will do mine errand."  "Do so willingly," said Pwyll.  "Lord," said he,
"my errand is unto thee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that I come."
"What boon soever thou mayest ask of me, as far as I am able, thou shall
have."  "Ah," said Rhiannon, "Wherefore didst thou give that answer?"
"Has he not given it before the presence of these nobles?" asked the
youth.  "My soul," said Pwyll, "what is the boon thou askest?"  "The lady
whom best I love is to be thy bride this night; I come to ask her of
thee, with the feast and the banquet that are in this place."  And Pwyll
was silent because of the answer which he had given.  "Be silent as long
as thou wilt," said Rhiannon.  "Never did man make worse use of his wits
than thou hast done."  "Lady," said he, "I knew not who he was."  "Behold,
this is the man to whom they would have given me against my will," said
she.  "And he is Gwawl the son of Clud, a man of great power and wealth,
and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me upon him lest shame
befall thee."  "Lady," said he, "I understand not thine answer.  Never
can I do as thou sayest."  "Bestow me upon him," said she, "and I will
cause that I shall never be his."  "By what means will that be?" asked
Pwyll.  "In thy hand will I give thee a small bag," said she.  "See that
thou keep it well, and he will ask of thee the banquet, and the feast,
and the preparations which are not in thy power.  Unto the hosts and the
household will I give the feast.  And such will be thy answer respecting
this.  And as concerns myself, I will engage to become his bride this
night twelvemonth.  And at the end of the year be thou here," said she,
"and bring this bag with thee, and let thy hundred knights be in the
orchard up yonder.  And when he is in the midst of joy and feasting, come
thou in by thyself, clad in ragged garments, and holding thy bag in thy
hand, and ask nothing but a bagfull of food, and I will cause that if all
the meat and liquor that are in these seven Cantrevs were put into it, it
would be no fuller than before.  And after a great deal has been put
therein, he will ask thee, whether thy bag will ever be full.  Say thou
then that it never will, until a man of noble birth and of great wealth
arise and press the food in the bag, with both his feet saying, 'Enough
has been put therein;' and I will cause him to go and tread down the food
in the bag, and when he does so, turn thou the bag, so that he shall be
up over his head in it, and then slip a knot upon the thongs of the bag.
Let there be also a good bugle horn about thy neck, and as soon as thou
hast bound him in the bag, wind thy horn, and let it be a signal between
thee and thy knights.  And when they hear the sound of the horn, let them
come down upon the palace."  "Lord," said Gwawl, "it is meet that I have
an answer to my request."  "As much of that thou hast asked as it is in
my power to give, thou shalt have," replied Pwyll.  "My soul," said
Rhiannon unto him, "as for the feast and the banquet that are here, I
have bestowed them upon the men of Dyved, and the household, and the
warriors that are with us.  These can I not suffer to be given to any.  In
a year from to-night a banquet shall be prepared for thee in this palace,
that I may become thy bride."

So Gwawl went forth to his possessions, and Pwyll went also back to
Dyved.  And they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast
at the palace of Heveydd Hen.  Then Gwawl the son of Clud set out to the
feast that was prepared for him, and he came to the palace, and was
received there with rejoicing.  Pwyll, also, the chief of Annwn came to
the orchard with his hundred knights, as Rhiannon had commanded him,
having the bag with him.  And Pwyll was clad in coarse and ragged
garments, and wore large clumsy old shoes upon his feet.  And when he
knew that the carousal after the meat had begun, he went towards the
hall, and when he came into the hall, he saluted Gwawl the son of Clud,
and his company, both men and women.  "Heaven prosper thee," said Gwawl,
"and the greeting of Heaven be unto thee."  "Lord," said he, "May Heaven
reward thee, I have an errand unto thee."  "Welcome be thine errand, and
if thou ask of me that which is just, thou shalt have it gladly."  "It is
fitting," answered he. {26}  "I crave but from want, and the boon that I
ask is to have this small bag that thou seest filled with meat."  "A
request within reason is this," said he, "and gladly shalt thou have it.
Bring him food."  A great number of attendants arose and begun to fill
the bag, but for all that they put into it, it was no fuller than at
first.  "My soul," said Gwawl, "will thy bag be ever full?"  "It will
not, I declare to Heaven," said he, "for all that may be put into it,
unless one possessed of lands, and domains, and treasure, shall arise and
tread down with both his feet the food that is within the bag, and shall
say, 'Enough has been put herein.'"  Then said Rhiannon unto Gwawl the
son of Clud, "Rise up quickly."  "I will willingly arise," said he.  So
he rose up, and put his two feet into the bag.  And Pwyll turned up the
sides of the bag, so that Gwawl was over his head in it.  And he shut it
up quickly and slipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn.  And
thereupon behold his household came down upon the palace.  And they
seized all the host that had come with Gwawl, and cast them into his own
prison.  And Pwyll threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and his
tattered array; and as they came in, every one of Pwyll's knights struck
a blow upon the bag, and asked, "What is here?"  "A Badger," said they.
And in this manner they played, each of them striking the bag, either
with his foot or with a staff.  And thus played they with the bag.  Every
one as he came in asked, "What game are you playing at thus?"  "The game
of Badger in the Bag," said they.  And then was the game of Badger in the
Bag first played.

"Lord," said the man in the bag, "If thou wouldest but hear me, I merit
not to be slain in a bag."  Said Heveydd Hen, "Lord, he speaks truth.  It
were fitting that thou listen to him, for he deserves not this."
"Verily," said Pwyll, "I will do thy counsel concerning him."  "Behold
this is my counsel then," said Rhiannon; "Thou art now in a position in
which it behoves thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels, let him give unto
them in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will never seek to
revenge that which has been done to him.  And this will be punishment
enough."  "I will do this gladly," said the man in the bag.  "And gladly
will I accept it," said Pwyll, "since it is the counsel of Heveydd and
Rhiannon."  "Such then is our counsel," answered they.  "I accept it,"
said Pwyll.  "Seek thyself sureties."  "We will be for him," said
Heveydd, "until his men be free to answer for him."  And upon this he was
let out of the bag, and his liegemen were liberated.  "Demand now of
Gwawl his sureties," said Heveydd, "we know which should be taken for
him."  And Heveydd numbered the sureties.  Said Gwawl, "Do thou thyself
draw up the covenant."  "It will suffice me that it be as Rhiannon said,"
answered Pwyll.  So unto that covenant were the sureties pledged.
"Verily, Lord," said Gwawl, "I am greatly hurt, and I have many bruises.
I have need to be anointed, with thy leave I will go forth.  I will leave
nobles in my stead, to answer for me in all that thou shall require."
"Willingly," said Pwyll, "mayest thou do thus."  So Gwawl went towards
his own possessions.

And the hall was set in order for Pwyll and the men of his host, and for
them also of the palace, and they went to the tables and sat down.  And
as they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat they that night.  And they
eat, and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and tranquillity.  And the
time came that they should sleep, and Pwyll and Rhiannon went to their
chamber.

And next morning at the break of day, "My Lord," said Rhiannon, "arise
and begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels.  Refuse no one to-day
that may claim thy bounty."  "Thus shall it be gladly," said Pwyll, "both
to-day and every day while the feast shall last."  So Pwyll arose, and he
caused silence to be proclaimed, and desired all the suitors and the
minstrels to show and to point out what gifts were to their wish and
desire. {28}  And this being done the feast went on, and he denied no one
while it lasted.  And when the feast was ended, Pwyll said unto Heveydd,
"My Lord, with thy permission I will set out for Dyved to-morrow."
"Certainly," said Heveydd, "may Heaven prosper thee.  Fix also a time
when Rhiannon may follow thee."  "By Heaven," said Pwyll, "we will go
hence together."  "Wiliest thou this, Lord?" said Heveydd.  "Yes, by
Heaven," answered Pwyll.

And the next day, they set forward towards Dyved, and journeyed to the
palace of Narberth, where a feast was made ready for them.  And there
came to them great numbers of the chief men and the most noble ladies of
the land, and of these there were none to whom Rhiannon did not give some
rich gift, either a bracelet, or a ring, or a precious stone.  And they
ruled the land prosperously both that year and the next.

And in the third year the nobles of the land began to be sorrowful at
seeing a man whom they loved so much, and who was moreover their lord and
their foster-brother, without an heir.  And they came to him. {29}  And
the place where they met was Preseleu, in Dyved.  "Lord," said they, "we
know that thou art not so young as some of the men of this country, and
we fear that thou mayest not have an heir of the wife whom thou hast
taken.  Take therefore another wife of whom thou mayest have heirs.  Thou
canst not always continue with us, and though thou desire to remain as
thou art, we will not suffer thee."  "Truly," said Pwyll, "we have not
long been joined together, and many things may yet befall.  Grant me a
year from this time, and for the space of a year we will abide together,
and after that I will do according to your wishes."  So they granted it.
And before the end of a year a son was born unto him.  And in Narberth
was he born; and on the night that he was born, women were brought to
watch the mother and the boy.  And the women slept, as did also Rhiannon,
the mother of the boy.  And the number of the women that were brought
into the chamber, was six.  And they watched for a good portion of the
night, and before midnight every one of them fell asleep, and towards
break of day they awoke; and when they awoke, they looked where they had
put the boy, and behold he was not there.  "Oh," said one of the women,
"the boy is lost!"  "Yes," said another, "and it will be small vengeance
if we are burnt or put to death because of the child."  Said one of the
women, "Is there any counsel for us in the world in this matter?"  "There
is," answered another, "I offer you good counsel."  "What is that?" asked
they.  "There is here a stag-hound bitch, and she has a litter of whelps.
Let us kill some of the cubs, and rub the blood on the face and hands of
Rhiannon, and lay the bones before her, and assert that she herself had
devoured her son, and she alone will not be able to gainsay us six."  And
according to this counsel it wast settled.  And towards morning Rhiannon
awoke, and she said, "Women, where is my son?"  "Lady," said they, "ask
us not concerning thy son, we have nought but the blows and the bruises
we got by struggling with thee, and of a truth we never saw any woman so
violent as thou, for it was of no avail to contend with thee.  Hast thou
not thyself devoured thy son?  Claim him not therefore of us."  "For
pity's sake," said Rhiannon; "The Lord God knows all things.  Charge me
not falsely. {30}  If you tell me this from fear, I assert before Heaven
that I will defend you."  "Truly," said they, "we would not bring evil on
ourselves for any one in the world."  "For pity's sake," said Rhiannon;
"you will receive no evil by telling the truth."  But for all her words,
whether fair or harsh, {31a} she received but the same answer from the
women.

And Pwyll the chief of Annwvyn arose, and his household, and his hosts.
And this occurrence could not be concealed, but the story went forth
throughout the land, and all the nobles heard it.  Then the nobles came
to Pwyll, and besought him to put away his wife, because of the great
{31b} crime which she had done.  But Pwyll answered them, that they had
no cause wherefore they might ask him to put away his wife, save for her
having no children.  "But children has she now had, therefore will I not
put her away, if she has done wrong, let her do penance for it."

So Rhiannon sent for the teachers and the wise men, and as she preferred
doing penance to contending with the women, she took upon her a penance.
And the penance that was imposed upon her was, that she should remain in
that palace of Narberth until the end of seven years, and that she should
sit every day near unto a horse-block that was without the gate.  And
that she should relate the story to all who should come there, whom she
might suppose not to know it already; and that she should offer the
guests and strangers, if they would permit her, to carry them upon her
back into the palace.  But it rarely happened that any would permit.  And
thus did she spend part of the year.

Now at that time Teirnyon Twryv Vliant was Lord of Gwent Is Coed, and he
was the best man in the world.  And unto his house there belonged a mare,
than which neither mare nor horse in the kingdom was more beautiful.  And
on the night of every first of May she foaled, and no one ever knew what
became of the colt.  And one night Teirnyon talked with his wife; "Wife,"
said he, "it is very simple of us that our mare should foal every year,
and that we should have none of her colts."  "What can be done in the
matter?" said she.  "This is the night of the first of May," said he.
"The vengeance of Heaven be upon me, if I learn not what it is that takes
away the colts."  So he caused the mare to be brought into a house, and
he armed himself, and began to watch that night.  And in the beginning of
the night, the mare foaled a large and beautiful colt.  And it was
standing up in the place.  And Teirnyon rose up and looked at the size of
the colt, and as he did so he heard a great tumult, and after the tumult
behold a claw came through the window into the house, and it seized the
colt by the mane.  Then Teirnyon drew his sword, and struck off the arm
at the elbow, so that portion of the arm together with the colt was in
the house with him.  And then did he hear a tumult and wailing, both at
once.  And he opened the door, and rushed out in the direction of the
noise, and he could not see the cause of the tumult, because of the
darkness of the night; but he rushed after it and followed it.  Then he
remembered that he had left the door open, and he returned.  And at the
door behold there was an infant boy in swaddling clothes, wrapped around
in a mantle of satin.  And he took up the boy, and behold he was very
strong for the age that he was of.

Then he shut the door, and went unto the chamber where his wife was.
"Lady," said he, "art thou sleeping?"  "No, Lord," said she, "I was
asleep, but as thou camest in I did awake."  "Behold here is a boy for
thee if thou wilt," said he, "since thou hast never had one."  "My Lord,"
said she, "What adventure is this?"  "It was thus," said Teirnyon; and he
told her how it all befell.  "Verily, Lord," said she, "What sort of
garments are there upon the boy?"  "A mantle of satin," said he.  "He is
then a boy of gentle lineage," she replied.  "My Lord," she said, "if
thou wilt, I shall have great diversion and mirth.  I will call my women
unto me, and tell them that I have been pregnant."  "I will readily grant
thee to do this," he answered.  And thus did they, and they caused the
boy to be baptized, and the ceremony was performed there; {33} and the
name which they gave unto him, was Gwri Wallt Euryn, because what hair
was upon his head was as yellow as gold.  And they had the boy nursed in
the court until he was a year old.  And before the year was over, he
could walk stoutly.  And he was larger than a boy of three years old,
even one of great growth and size.  And the boy was nursed the second
year, and then he was as large as a child six years old.  And before the
end of the fourth year, he would bribe the grooms to allow him to take
the horses to water.  "My Lord," said his wife unto Teirnyon, "Where is
the colt which thou didst save on the night that thou foundest the boy?"
"I have commanded the grooms of the horses," said he, "that they take
care of him."  "Would it not be well, Lord," said she, "if thou wert to
cause him to be broken in, and given to the boy, seeing that on the same
night that thou didst find the boy, the colt was foaled and thou didst
save him."  "I will not oppose thee in this matter," said Teirnyon.  "I
will allow thee to give him the colt."  "Lord," said she, "may Heaven
reward thee; I will give it him."  So the horse was given to the boy.
Then she went to the grooms and those who tended the horses, and
commanded them to be careful of the horse, so that he might be broken in
by the time that the boy could ride him.

And while these things were going forward, they heard tidings of Rhiannon
and her punishment.  And Teirnyon Twryv Vliant, by reason of the pity
that he felt on hearing this story of Rhiannon, and her punishment,
enquired closely concerning it, until he had heard from many of those who
came to his court.  Then did Teirnyon, often lamenting the sad history,
ponder within himself, and he looked steadfastly on the boy, and as he
looked upon him, it seemed to him that he had never beheld so great a
likeness between father and son, as between the boy and Pwyll, the chief
of Annwvyn.  Now the semblance of Pwyll was well known to him, for he had
of yore been one of his followers.  And thereupon he became grieved for
the wrong that he did, in keeping with him a boy whom he knew to be the
son of another man.  And the first time that he was alone with his wife,
he told her, that it was not right that they should keep the boy with
them, and suffer so excellent a lady as Rhiannon to be punished so
greatly on his account, whereas the boy was the son of Pwyll, the chief
of Annwvyn.  And Teirnyon's wife agreed with him, that they should send
the boy to Pwyll.  "And three things, Lord," said she, "shall we gain
thereby.  Thanks and gifts for releasing Rhiannon from her punishment;
and thanks from Pwyll, for nursing his son, and restoring him unto him;
and thirdly, if the boy is of gentle nature, he will be our foster-son,
and he will do for us all the good in his power."  So it was settled
according to this counsel.

And no later than the next day was Teirnyon equipped, and two other
knights with him.  And the boy, as a fourth in their company, went with
them upon the horse which Teirnyon had given him.  And they journeyed
towards Narberth, and it was not long before they reached that place.  And
as they drew near to the palace, they beheld Rhiannon sitting beside the
horse block.  And when they were opposite to her.  "Chieftain," said she,
"go not further thus, I will bear every one of you into the palace, and
this is my penance for slaying my own son and devouring him."   "Oh fair
lady," said Teirnyon, "think not that I will be one to be carried upon
thy back."  "Neither will I," said the boy.  "Truly, my soul," said
Teirnyon, "we will not go." {35}  So they went forward to the palace, and
there was great joy at their coming.  And at the palace a feast was
prepared, because Pwyll was come back from the confines of Dyved.  And
they went into the hall and washed, and Pwyll rejoiced to see Teirnyon.
And in this order they sat.  Teirnyon between Pwyll and Rhiannon, and
Teirnyon's two companions on the other side of Pwyll, with the boy
between them.  And after meat they began to carouse and to discourse.  And
Teirnyon's discourse was concerning the adventure of the mare and the
boy, and how he and his wife had nursed and reared the child as their
own.  "And behold here is thy son, lady," said Teirnyon.  "And whosoever
told that lie concerning thee, has done wrong.  And when I heard of thy
sorrow, I was troubled and grieved.  And I believe that there is none of
this host, who will not perceive that the boy is the son of Pwyll," said
Teirnyon.  "There is none," said they all, "who is not certain thereof."
"I declare to Heaven," said Rhiannon, "that if this be true, there indeed
is an end to my trouble." {36a}  "Lady," said Pendaran Dyved, "well hast
thou named thy son Pryderi, and well becomes him the name of Pryderi, son
of Pwyll, chief of Annwvyn."  "Look you," said Rhiannon, "will not his
own name become him better?"  "What name has he?" asked Pendaran Dyved.
"Gwri Wallt Euryn, is the name that we gave him."  "Pryderi," said
Pendaran, "shall his name be."  "It were more proper," said Pwyll, "that
the boy should take his name from the word his mother spoke when she
received the joyful tidings of him."  And thus was it arranged.

"Teirnyon," said Pwyll, "Heaven reward thee that thou hast reared the boy
up to this time, and, being of gentle lineage, {36b} it were fitting that
he repay thee for it."  "My Lord," said Teirnyon, "It was my wife who
nursed him, and there is no one in the world so afflicted as she at
parting with him.  It were well that he should bear in mind what I and my
wife have done for him."  "I call Heaven to witness," said Pwyll, "that
while I live I will support thee and thy possessions, as long as I am
able to preserve my own.  And when he shall have power, he will more
fitly maintain them than I. {37a}  And if this counsel be pleasing unto
thee, and to my nobles, it shall be that, as thou hast reared him up to
the present time, I will give him to be brought up by Pendaran Dyved,
from henceforth.  And you shall be companions and shall both be foster-
fathers unto him."  "This is good counsel," said they all.  So the boy
was given to Pendaran Dyved, and the nobles of the land were sent with
him.  And Teirnyon Twryv Vliant, and his companions, set out for his
country, and his possessions, with love and gladness.  And he went not
without being offered the fairest jewels and the fairest horses and the
choicest dogs; but he would take none of them.

Thereupon they all remained in their own dominions.  And Pryderi, the son
of Pwyll the chief of Annwvyn, was brought up carefully as was fit, so
that he became the fairest youth, and the most comely, and the best
skilled in all good games, of any in the kingdom.  And thus passed years
and years, until the end of Pwyll the chief of Annwvyn's life came, and
he died.

And Pryderi ruled the seven Cantrevs of Dyved prosperously, and he was
beloved by his people, and by all around him.  And at length {37b} he
added unto them the three Cantrevs of Ystrad Tywi and the four Cantrevs
of Cardigan; and these were called the Seven Cantrevs of Seissyllwch.  And
when he made this addition, Pryderi the son of Pwyll the chief of
Annwvyn, desired to take a wife.  And the wife he chose was Kicva, the
daughter of Gwynn Gohoyw, the son of Gloyw Wlallt {38} Lydan, the son of
Prince Casnar, one of the nobles of this island.

And thus ends this portion of the Mabinogion.

{Picture: p38.jpg}



BRANWEN THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR.


{Picture: p39.jpg}

Bendigeid Vran, the son of Llyr was the crowned king of this Island, and
he was exalted from the crown of London. {39a}  And one afternoon he was
at Harlech in Ardudwy, at his court, and he sat upon the rock of Harlech,
looking over the sea. {39b}  And with him were his brother Manawyddan the
son of Llyr, and his brothers by the mother's side, Nissyen and
Evnissyen, and many nobles likewise, as was fitting to see around a king.
His two brothers by the mother's side were the sons of Eurosswydd, by his
mother, Penardun, {40} the daughter of Beli son of Manogan.  And one of
these youths was a good youth and of gentle nature, and would make peace
between his kindred and cause his family to be friends when their wrath
was at the highest; and this one was Nissyen; but the other would cause
strife between his two brothers when they were most at peace.  And as
they sat thus, they beheld thirteen ships coming from the South of
Ireland, and making towards them, and they came with a swift motion, the
wind being behind them, and they neared them rapidly.  "I see ships
afar," said the king, "coming swiftly towards the land.  Command the men
of the court that they equip themselves, and go and learn their intent."
So the men equipped themselves and went down towards them.  And when they
saw the ships near, certain were they that they had never seen ships
better furnished.  Beautiful flags of satin were upon them.  And behold
one of the ships outstripped the others, and they saw a shield lifted up
above the side of the ship, and the point of the shield was upwards, in
token of peace.  And the men drew near that they might hold converse.
Then they put out boats and came towards the land.  And they saluted the
king.  Now the king could hear them from the place where he was, upon the
rock above their heads.  "Heaven prosper you," said he, "and be ye
welcome.  To whom do these ships belong and who is the chief amongst
you?"  "Lord," said they, "Matholwch king of Ireland is here and these
ships belong to him."  "Wherefore comes he?" asked the king, "and will he
come to the land?"  "He is a suitor unto thee, lord," said they, "and he
will not land unless he have his boon."  "And what may that be?" enquired
the king.  "He desires to ally himself with thee, lord," said they, "and
he comes to ask Branwen the daughter of Llyr, that, if it seem well to
thee, the Island of the Mighty may be leagued with Ireland and both
become more powerful."  "Verily," said he, "let him come to land, and we
will take counsel thereupon."  And this answer was brought to Matholwch.
"I will go willingly," said he.  So he landed, and they received him
joyfully; and great was the throng in the palace that night, between his
hosts and those of the court; and next day they took counsel, and they
resolved to bestow Branwen upon Matholwch.  Now she was one of the three
chief ladies of this Island, and she was the fairest damsel in the world.

And they fixed upon Aberffraw, as the place where she should become his
bride.  And they went thence, and towards Aberffraw the hosts proceeded;
Matholwch and his host in their ships; Bendigeid Vran and his host by
land, until they came to Aberffraw.  And at Aberffraw they began the
feast and sat down.  And thus sat they.  The King of the Island of the
Mighty and Manawyddan the son of Llyr, on one side, and Matholwch on the
other side, and Branwen the daughter of Llyr beside him.  And they were
not within a house, but under tents.  No house could ever contain
Bendigeid Vran.  And they began the banquet and caroused and discoursed.
And when it was more pleasing to them to sleep than to carouse they went
to rest, and that night Branwen became Matholwch's bride.

And next day they arose, and all they of the court, and the officers
began to equip and to range the horses and the attendants, and they
ranged them in order as far as the sea.

And behold one day, Evnissyen, the quarrelsome man of whom it is spoken
above, came by chance into the place, where the horses of Matholwch were,
and asked whose horses they might be.  "They are the horses of Matholwch
king of Ireland, who is married to Branwen, thy sister; his horses are
they."  "And is it thus they have done with a maiden such as she, and
moreover my sister, bestowing her without my consent?  They could have
offered no greater insult to me than this," said he.  And thereupon he
rushed under the horses and cut off their lips at the teeth, and their
ears close to their heads, and their tails {42} close to their backs, and
wherever he could clutch their eyelids, he cut them to the very bone, and
he disfigured the horses and rendered them useless.

And they came with these tidings unto Matholwch, saying that the horses
were disfigured, and injured so that not one of them could ever be of any
use again.  "Verily, lord," said one, "it was an insult unto thee, and as
such was it meant."  "Of a truth, it is a marvel to me, that if they
desire to insult me, they should have given me a maiden of such high rank
and so much beloved of her kindred, as they have done."  "Lord," said
another, "thou seest that thus it is, and there is nothing for thee to do
but to go to thy ships."  And thereupon towards his ships he set out.

And tidings came to Bendigeid Vran that Matholwch was quitting the court
without asking leave, and messengers were sent to enquire of him
wherefore he did so.  And the messengers that went, were Iddic the son of
Anarawd, and Heveydd Hir.  And these overtook him and asked of him what
he designed to do, and wherefore he went forth.  "Of a truth," said he,
"if I had known I had not come hither.  I have been altogether insulted,
no one had ever worse treatment than I have had here.  But one thing
surprises me above all."  "What is that?" asked they.  "That Branwen the
daughter of Llyr, one of the three chief ladies of this Island, and the
daughter of the King of the Island of the Mighty, should have been given
me as my bride, and that after that I should have been insulted; and I
marvel that the insult was not done me before they had bestowed upon me a
maiden so exalted as she."  "Truly, lord, it was not the will of any that
are of the court," said they, "nor of any that are of the council that
thou shouldest have received this insult, and as thou hast been insulted,
the dishonour is greater unto Bendigeid Vran than unto thee."  "Verily,"
said he, "I think so.  Nevertheless he cannot recall the insult."  These
men returned with that answer to the place where Bendigeid Vran was, and
they told him what reply Matholwch had given them.  "Truly," said he,
"there are no means by which we may prevent his going away at enmity with
us, that we will not take."  "Well, lord," said they, "send after him
another embassy."  "I will do so," said he.  "Arise Manawyddan son of
Llyr, and Heveydd Hir, and Unic Glew Ysgwyd, and go after him, and tell
him that he shall have a sound horse for every one that has been injured.
And beside that, as an atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff of
silver, as large and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold of the
breadth of his face.  And show unto him who it was that did this, and
that it was done against my will; but that he who did it is my brother,
by the mother's side, and therefore it would be hard for me to put him to
death.  And let him come and meet me," said he, "and we will make peace
in any way he may desire."

The embassy went after Matholwch, and told him all these sayings in a
friendly manner, and he listened thereunto.  "Men," said he, "I will take
counsel."  So to the council he went.  And in the council they considered
that if they should refuse this, they were likely to have more shame
rather than to obtain so great an atonement.  They resolved therefore to
accept it, and they returned to the court in peace.

Then the pavilions and the tents were set in order after the fashion of a
hall; and they went to meat, and as they had sat at the beginning of the
feast, so sat they there.  And Matholwch and Bendigeid Vran began to
discourse; and behold it seemed to Bendigeid Vran, while they talked,
that Matholwch was not so cheerful as he had been before.  And he thought
that the chieftain might be sad because of the smallness of the atonement
which he had, for the wrong that had been done him.  "Oh man," said
Bendigeid Vran, "thou dost not discourse to-night so cheerfully as thou
wert wont.  And if it be because of the smallness of the atonement, thou
shalt add thereunto whatsoever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow I will
pay thee the horses."  "Lord," said he, "Heaven reward thee."  "And I
will enhance the atonement," said Bendigeid Vran, "for I will give unto
thee a cauldron, the property of which is, that if one of thy men be
slain to-day, and be cast therein, to-morrow he will be as well as ever
he was at the best, except that he will not regain his speech."  And
thereupon he gave him great thanks, and very joyful was he for that
cause.

And the next morning they paid Matholwch the horses as long as the
trained horses lasted.  And then they journeyed into another commot,
where they paid him with colts until the whole had been paid, and from
thenceforth that commot was called Talebolion.

{Picture: p46.jpg}

And a second night sat they together.  "My lord," said Matholwch, "whence
hadst thou the cauldron which thou hast given me?"  "I had it of a man
who had been in thy land," said he, "and I would not give it except to
one from there." {45}  "Who was it?" asked he.  "Llassar Llaesgyvnewid;
he came here from Ireland, with Kymideu Kymeinvoll, his wife, who escaped
from the Iron House in Ireland, when it was made red hot around them, and
fled hither.  And it is a marvel to me that thou shouldst know nothing
concerning the matter."  "Something I do know," said he, "and as much as
I know I will tell thee.  One day I was hunting in Ireland, and I came to
the mound at the head of the lake, which is called the Lake of the
Cauldron.  And I beheld a huge yellow-haired man coming from the lake
with a cauldron upon his back.  And he was a man of vast size, and of
horrid aspect, and a woman followed after him.  And if the man was tall,
twice as large as he was the woman, and they came towards me and greeted
me.  'Verily,' asked I, 'wherefore are you journeying?'  'Behold this,'
said he to me, 'is the cause that we journey.  At the end of a month and
a fortnight this woman will have a son; and the child that will be born
at the end of the month and the fortnight will be a warrior fully armed.'
So I took them with me, and maintained them.  And they were with me for a
year.  And that year I had them with me not grudgingly.  But thenceforth
was there murmuring, because that they were with me.  For from the
beginning of the fourth month they had begun to make themselves hated and
to be disorderly in the land; committing outrages, and molesting and
harassing the nobles and ladies; and thenceforward my people rose up and
besought me to part with them, and they bade me to choose between them
and my dominions.  And I applied to the council of my country to know
what should be done concerning them; for of their own free will they
would not go, neither could they be compelled against their will, through
fighting.  And [the people of the country,] being in this strait, they
caused a chamber to be made all of iron.  Now when the chamber was ready,
there came there every smith that was in Ireland, and every one who owned
tongs and hammer.  And they caused coals to be piled up as high as the
top of the chamber.  And they had the man, and the woman, and the
children, served with plenty of meat and drink; but when it was known
that they were drunk, they began to put fire to the coals about the
chamber, and they blew it with bellows until the house was red hot all
around them.  Then was there a council held in the centre of the floor of
the chamber.  And the man tarried until the plates of iron were all of a
white heat; and then, by reason of the great heat, the man dashed against
the plates with his shoulder and struck them out, and his wife followed
him; but except him and his wife none escaped thence.  And then I
suppose, lord," said Matholwch unto Bendigeid Vran, "that he came over
unto thee."  "Doubtless he came here," said he, "and gave unto me the
cauldron."  "In what manner didst thou receive them?"  "I dispersed them
through every part of my dominions, and they have become numerous and are
prospering everywhere, and they fortify the places where they are with
men and arms, of the best that were ever seen."

That night they continued to discourse as much as they would, and had
minstrelsy and carousing, and when it was more pleasant to them to sleep
than to sit longer, they went to rest.  And thus was the banquet carried
on with joyousness; and when it was finished, Matholwch journeyed towards
Ireland, and Branwen with him, and they went from Aber Menei, with
thirteen ships and came to Ireland.  And in Ireland was there great joy
because of their coming.  And not one great man or noble lady visited
Branwen unto whom she gave not either a clasp, or a ring, or a royal
jewel to keep, such as it was honourable to be seen departing with.  And
in these things she spent that year in much renown, and she passed her
time pleasant, enjoying honour and friendship.  And in the meanwhile, it
chanced that she became pregnant, and in due time a son was born unto
her, and the name that they gave him was Gwern the son of Matholwch, and
they put the boy out to be foster-nursed, in a place where were the best
men of Ireland.

And behold in the second year a tumult arose in Ireland, on account of
the insult which Matholwch had received in Wales, and the payment made
him for his horses.  And his foster-brothers, and such as were nearest
unto him, blamed him openly {48a} for that matter.  And he might have no
peace by reason of the tumult until they should revenge upon him this
disgrace.  And the vengeance which they took was to drive away Branwen
from the same chamber with him, and to make her cook {48b} for the court;
and they caused the butcher, after he had cut up the meat, to come to her
and give her every day a blow on the ear, and such they made her
punishment.

"Verily, lord," said his men to Matholwch, "forbid now the ships and the
ferry boats and the coracles, that they go not into Wales, and such as
come over from Wales hither, imprison them that they go not back for this
thing to be known there."  And they did so; and it was thus for no less
than three years.

{Picture: p49.jpg}

And Branwen reared a starling in the cover of the kneading trough, and
she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird what manner of man her
brother was.  And she wrote a letter of her woes, and the despite with
which she was treated, and she bound the letter to the root of the bird's
wing, and sent it towards Wales.  And the bird came to this Island, and
one day it found Bendigeid Vran at Caer Seiont in Arvon, conferring
there, and it alighted upon his shoulder and ruffled its feathers, so
that the letter was seen, and they knew that the bird had been reared in
a domestic manner.

Then Bendigeid Vran took the letter and looked upon it.  And when he had
read the letter, he grieved exceedingly at the tidings of Branwen's woes.
And immediately he began sending messengers to summon the Island
together.  And he caused seven score and four countries to come unto him,
and he complained to them himself of the grief that his sister endured.
So they took counsel.  And in the counsel they resolved to go to Ireland,
and to leave seven men as princes here.  And Caradawc the son of Bran, as
the chief of them, and their seven knights.  In Edeyrnion, were these men
left.  And for this reason were the seven knights placed in the town.
{50a}  Now the names of these seven were Caradawc the son of Bran, and
Heveydd Hir, and Unic Glew Ysgwyd, and Iddic the son of Anarawc
Gwalltgrwn, and Fodor the son of Ervyll, and Gwlch Minascwrn, and Llassar
the son of Llaesar Llaesgygwyd, and Pendaran Dyved as a young page with
them.  And these abode as seven ministers to take charge of this Island;
and Caradawc the son of Bran was the chief amongst them.

Bendigeid Vran, with the hosts of which we spoke, sailed towards Ireland,
and it was not far across the sea, and he came to shoal water.  It was
but by two rivers; the Lli and the Archan were they called; and the
nations covered the sea. {50b}  Then he proceeded with what provisions he
had on his own back, and approached the shore of Ireland.

Now the swineherds of Matholwch were upon the sea shore, and they came to
Matholwch.  "Lord," said they, "greeting be unto thee."  "Heaven protect
you," said he, "have you any news?"  "Lord," said they, "we have
marvellous news; a wood have we seen upon the sea, in a place where we
never yet saw a single tree."  "This is indeed a marvel," said he; "saw
you aught else?"  "We saw, lord," said they, "a vast mountain beside the
wood, which moved, and there was a lofty ridge on the top of the
mountain, and a lake on each side of the ridge.  And the wood, and the
mountain, and all these things moved."  "Verily," said he, "there is none
who can know aught concerning this, unless it be Branwen."

Messengers then went unto Branwen.  "Lady," said they, "What thinkest
thou that this is?"  "The men of the Island of the Mighty, who have come
hither on hearing of my ill treatment and my woes."  "What is the forest
that is seen upon the sea?" asked they.  "The yards and the masts of
ships," she answered.  "Alas," said they, "what is the mountain that is
seen by the side of the ships?"  "Bendigeid Vran, my brother," she
replied, "coming to shoal water; there is no ship that can contain him in
it."  "What is the lofty ridge with the lake on each side thereof?"  "On
looking towards this Island he is wroth, and his two eyes on each side of
his nose are the two lakes on each side of the ridge."

The warriors and chief men of Ireland were brought together in haste, and
they took counsel.  "Lord," said the nobles unto Matholwch, "there is no
other counsel than to retreat over the Linon, (a river which is {52a} in
Ireland,) and to keep the river between thee and him, and to break down
the bridge that is across the river, for there is a load-stone at the
bottom of the river that neither ship nor vessel can pass over."  So they
retreated across the river, and broke down the bridge.

Bendigeid Vran came to land, and the fleet with him by the bank of the
river.  "Lord," said his chieftains, "knowest thou the nature of this
river, that nothing can go across it, and there is no bridge over it?"
"What," said they, "is thy counsel concerning a bridge?"  "There is
none," said he, "except that he who will be chief let him be a bridge.  I
will be so," said he.  And then was that saying first uttered, and it is
still used as a proverb.  And when he had lain down across the river,
hurdles were placed upon him, and the host passed over thereby.

And as he rose up, behold the messengers of Matholwch came to him, and
saluted him, and gave him greeting in the name of Matholwch, his kinsman,
and showed how that of his good will he had merited of him nothing but
good.  "For Matholwch has given the kingdom of Ireland to Gwern the son
of Matholwch, thy nephew and thy sister's son.  And this he places before
thee, as a compensation for the wrong and despite that has been done unto
Branwen.  And Matholwch shall be maintained wheresoever thou wilt, either
here or in the Island of the Mighty."  Said Bendigeid Vran, "Shall not I
myself have the kingdom? {52b}  Then peradventure I may take counsel
concerning your message.  From this time until then no other answer will
you get from me."  "Verily," said they, "the best message that we receive
for thee, we will convey it unto thee, and do thou await our message unto
him."  "I will wait," answered he, "and do you return quickly."

The messengers set forth and came to Matholwch.  "Lord," said they,
"prepare a better message for Bendigeid Vran.  He would not listen at all
to the message that we bore him."  "My friends," said Matholwch, "what
may be your counsel?"  "Lord," said they, "there is no other counsel than
this alone.  He was never known to be within a house, make therefore a
house that will contain him and the men of the Island of the Mighty on
the one side, and thyself and thy host on the other; and give over thy
kingdom to his will, and do him homage.  So by reason of the honour thou
doest him in making him a house, whereas he never before had a house to
contain him, he will make peace with thee."  So the messengers went back
to Bendigeid Vran, bearing him this message.

And he took counsel, and in the council it was resolved that he should
accept this, and this was all done by the advice of Branwen, and lest the
country should be destroyed.  And this peace was made, and the house was
built both vast and strong.  But the Irish planned a crafty device, and
the craft was that they should put brackets on each side of the hundred
pillars that were in the house, and should place a leathern bag on each
bracket, and an armed man in every one of them.  Then Evnissyen came in
before the host of the Island of the Mighty, and scanned the house with
fierce and savage looks, and descried the leathern bags which were around
the pillars.  "What is in this bag?" asked he of one of the Irish.  "Meal,
good soul," said he.  And Evnissyen felt about it until he came to the
man's head, and he squeezed the head until he felt his fingers meet
together in the brain through the bone.  And he left that one and put his
hand upon another, and asked what was therein?  "Meal," said the
Irishman.  So he did the like unto every one of them, until he had not
left alive of all the two hundred men save one only; and when he came to
him, he asked what was there?  "Meal, good soul," said the Irishman.  And
he felt about until he felt the head, and he squeezed that head as he had
done the others.  And albeit he found that the head of this one was
armed, he left him not until he had killed him.  And then he sang an
Englyn,--

   "There is in this bag a different sort of meal,
   The ready combatant, when the assault is made
   By his fellow warriors, prepared for battle."

Thereupon came the hosts unto the house.  The men of the Island of
Ireland entered the house on the one side, and the men of the Island of
the Mighty on the other.  And as soon as they had sat down, there was
concord between them; and the sovereignty was conferred upon the boy.
When the peace was concluded, Bendigeid Vran called the boy unto him, and
from Bendigeid Vran the boy went unto Manawyddan, and he was beloved by
all that beheld him.  And from Manawyddan the boy was called by Nissyen
the son of Eurosswydd, and the boy went unto him lovingly.  "Wherefore,"
said Evnissyen, "comes not my nephew the son of my sister unto me?  Though
he were not king of Ireland, yet willingly would I fondle the boy."
"Cheerfully let him go to thee," said Bendigeid Vran, and the boy went
unto him cheerfully.  "By my confession to Heaven," said Evnissyen in his
heart, "unthought of by the household is the slaughter that I will this
instant commit."

Then he arose and took up the boy by the feet, and before any one in the
house could seize hold of him, he thrust the boy headlong into the
blazing fire.  And when Branwen saw her son burning in the fire, she
strove to leap into the fire also, from the place where she sat between
her two brothers.  But Bendigeid Vran grasped her with one hand, and his
shield with the other.  Then they all hurried about the house, and never
was there made so great a tumult by any host in one house as was made by
them, as each man armed himself.  Then said Morddwydtyllyon, "The gad-
flies of Morddwydtyllyon's Cow!"  And while they all sought their arms,
Bendigeid Vran supported Branwen between his shield and his shoulder.

Then the Irish kindled a fire under the cauldron of renovation, and they
cast the dead bodies into the cauldron until it was full, and the next
day they came forth fighting men as good as before, except that they were
not able to speak.  Then when Evnissyen saw the dead bodies of the men of
the Island of the Mighty nowhere resuscitated, he said in his heart,
"Alas! woe is me, that I should have been the cause of bringing the men
of the Island of the Mighty into so great a strait.  Evil betide me if I
find not a deliverance therefrom."  And he cast himself among the dead
bodies of the Irish, and two unshod Irishmen came to him, and, taking him
to be one of the Irish, flung him into the cauldron.  And he stretched
himself out in the cauldron, so that he rent the cauldron into four
pieces, and burst his own heart also.

In consequence of that, the men of the Island of the Mighty obtained such
success as they had; but they were not victorious, for only seven men of
them all escaped, and Bendigeid Vran himself was wounded in the foot with
a poisoned dart.  Now the seven men that escaped were Pryderi,
Manawyddan, Gluneu {56a} Eil Taran, Taliesin, Ynawc, Grudyen {56b} the
son of Muryel, and Heilyn the son of Gwynn Hen.

And Bendigeid Vran commanded them that they should cut off his head.  "And
take you my head," said he, "and bear it even unto the White Mount, in
London, and bury it there, with the face towards France.  And a long time
will you be upon the road.  In Harlech you will be feasting seven years,
the birds of Rhiannon singing unto you the while.  And all that time the
head will be to you as pleasant company as it ever was when on my body.
And at Gwales in Penvro you will be fourscore years, and you may remain
there, and the head with you uncorrupted, until you open the door that
looks towards Aber Henvelen, and towards Cornwall.  And after you have
opened that door, there you may no longer tarry, set forth then to London
to bury the head and go straight forward."

So they cut off his head, and these seven went forward therewith.  And
Branwen was the eighth with them, and they came to land at Aber Alaw, in
Talebolyon, and they sat down to rest.  And Branwen looked towards
Ireland and towards the Island of the Mighty, to see if she could descry
them.  "Alas," said she, "woe is me that I was ever born; two Islands
have been destroyed because of me!"  Then she uttered a loud groan and
there broke her heart.  And they made her a four-sided grave and buried
her upon the banks of the Alaw.

Then the seven men journeyed forward towards Harlech, bearing the head
with them; and as they went behold there met them a multitude of men and
of women.  "Have you any tidings?" asked Manawyddan.  "We have none,"
said they, "save that Caswallawn, the son of Beli, has conquered the
Island of the Mighty, and is crowned King in London."  "What has become,"
said they, "of Caradawc the son of Bran, and the seven men who were left
with him in this Island?"  "Caswallawn came upon them, and slew six of
the men, and Caradawc's heart broke for grief thereof; for he could see
the sword that slew the men, but knew not who it was that wielded it.
Caswallawn had flung upon him the Veil of Illusion, so that no one could
see him slay the men, but the sword only could they see.  And it liked
him not to slay Caradawc, because he was his nephew the son of his
cousin.  And now he was the third whose heart had broke through grief.
Pendaran Dyved, who had remained as a young page with these men, escaped
into the wood," said they.

Then they went on to Harlech, and there stopped to rest, and they
provided meat and liquor, and sat down to eat and to drink.  And there
came three birds, and began singing unto them a certain song, and all the
songs they had ever heard were unpleasant compared thereto; and the birds
seemed to them to be at a great distance from them over the sea, yet they
appeared as distinct as if they were close by; and at this repast they
continued seven years.

And at the close of the seventh year, they went forth to Gwales in
Penvro.  And there they found a fair and regal spot overlooking the
ocean; and a spacious hall was therein.  And they went into the hall, and
two of its doors were open, but the third door was closed, that which
looked towards Cornwall.  "See, yonder," said Manawyddan, "is the door
that we may not open."  And that night they regaled themselves and were
joyful.  And of all they had seen of food laid before them, and of all
they had heard of, they remembered nothing; neither of that, nor of any
sorrow whatsoever.  And there they remained fourscore years, unconscious
of having ever spent a time more joyous and mirthful.  And they were not
more weary than when first they came, neither did they, any of them, know
the time they had been there.  And it was not more irksome to them having
the head with them, than if Bendigeid Vran had been with them himself.
And because of these fourscore years, it was called the entertaining of
the noble head.  The entertaining of Branwen and Matholwch was in the
time that they went to Ireland.

One day said Heilyn the son of Gwynn, "Evil betide me, if I do not open
the door to know if that is true which is said concerning it."  So he
opened the door and looked towards Cornwall and Aber Henvelen.  And when
they had looked, they were as conscious of all the evils they had ever
sustained, and of all the friends and companions they had lost, and of
all the misery that had befallen them, as if all had happened in that
very spot; {59a} and especially of the fate of their lord.  And because
of their perturbation they could not rest, {59b} but journeyed forth with
the head towards London.  And they buried the head in the White Mount,
and when it was buried, this was the third goodly concealment; and it was
the third ill-fated disclosure when it was disinterred, inasmuch as no
invasion from across the sea came to this Island, while the head was in
that concealment.

And thus is the story related of those who journeyed over from Ireland.

In Ireland none were left alive, except five pregnant women in a cave in
the Irish wilderness; and to these five women in the same night were born
five sons, whom they nursed until they became grown up youths.  And they
thought about wives, and they at the same time desired to possess them,
and each took a wife of the mothers of their companions, and they
governed the country and peopled it.

And these five divided it amongst them, and because of this partition are
the five divisions of Ireland still so termed.  And they examined the
land where the battles had taken place, and they found gold and silver
until they became wealthy.

And thus ends this portion of the Mabinogi, concerning the blow given to
Branwen, which was the third unhappy blow of this Island; and concerning
the entertainment of Bran, when the hosts of sevenscore countries and ten
went over to Ireland, to revenge the blow given to Branwen; and
concerning the seven years' banquet in Harlech, and the singing of the
birds of Rhiannon, and the sojourning of the head for the space of
fourscore years.

{Picture: p60.jpg}



MANAWYDDAN THE SON OF LLYR.


{Picture: p61.jpg}

When the seven men of whom we spoke above, had buried the head of
Bendigeid Vran, in the White Mount in London, with its face towards
France, Manawyddan gazed upon the town of London, and upon his
companions, and heaved a great sigh, and much grief and heaviness came
upon him.  "Alas, Almighty Heaven, woe is me," he exclaimed, "there is
none save myself without a resting place this night."  "Lord," said
Pryderi, "be not so sorrowful.  Thy cousin is king of the Island of the
Mighty, and though he should do thee wrong, thou hast never been a
claimant of land or possessions.  Thou art the third disinherited {62a}
prince."  "Yea," answered he, "but although this man is my cousin, it
grieveth me to see any one in the place of my brother Bendigeid Vran,
neither can I be happy in the same dwelling with him."  "Wilt thou follow
the counsel of another?" {62b} said Pryderi.  "I stand in need of
counsel," he answered, "and what may that counsel be?"  "Seven Cantrevs
remain unto me," said Pryderi, "wherein Rhiannon my mother dwells, I will
bestow her upon thee and the seven Cantrevs with her, and though thou
hadst no possessions but those Cantrevs only, thou couldst not have seven
Cantrevs fairer than they.  Kicva, the daughter of Gwynn Gloyw, is my
wife, and since the inheritance of the Cantrevs belongs to me, do thou
and Rhiannon enjoy them, and if thou ever desire any possessions thou
wilt take these."  "I do not, chieftain," said he; "Heaven reward thee
for thy friendship."  "I would show thee the best friendship in the world
if thou wouldst let me."  "I will, my friend," said he, "and Heaven
reward thee.  I will go with thee to seek Rhiannon and to look at thy
possessions."  "Thou wilt do well," he answered.  "And I believe that
thou didst never hear a lady discourse better than she, and when she was
in her prime none was ever fairer.  Even now her aspect is not uncomely."
{62c}  They set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at length
to Dyved, and a feast was prepared for them against their coming to
Narberth, which Rhiannon and Kicva had provided.  Then began Manawyddan
and Rhiannon to sit and to talk together, and from their discourse his
mind and his thoughts became warmed towards her, and he thought in his
heart he had never beheld any lady more fulfilled of grace and beauty
than she.  "Pryderi," said he, "I will that it be as thou didst say."
"What saying was that?" asked Rhiannon.  "Lady," said Pryderi, "I did
offer thee as a wife to Manawyddan the son of Llyr."  "By that will I
gladly abide," said Rhiannon.  "Right glad am I also," said Manawyddan,
"May Heaven reward him who hath shewn unto me friendship so perfect as
this."

And before the feast was over she became his bride.  Said Pwyll, "Tarry
ye here the rest of the feast, and I will go into England to tender my
homage unto Caswallawn the son of Beli."  "Lord," said Rhiannon,
"Caswallawn is in Kent, thou mayest therefore tarry at the feast, and
wait until he shall be nearer."  "We will wait," he answered.  So they
finished the feast.  And they began to make the circuit of Dyved and to
hunt, and to take their pleasure.  And as they went through the country,
they had never seen lands more pleasant to live in, nor better hunting
grounds, nor greater plenty of honey and fish.  And such was the
friendship between those four, that they would not be parted from each
other by night nor by day.

And in the midst of all this he went to Caswallawn at Oxford, and
tendered his homage; and honourable was his reception there, and highly
was he praised for offering his homage.

And after his return, Pryderi and Manawyddan feasted and took their ease
and pleasure.  And they began a feast at Narberth, for it was the chief
palace; and there originated all honour.  And when they had ended the
first meal that night, while those who served them eat, they arose and
went forth, and proceeded all four to the Gorsedd of Narberth, and their
retinue with them.  And as they sat thus, behold a peal of thunder, and
with the violence of the thunderstorm, lo there came a fall of mist, so
thick that not one of them could see the other.  And after the mist it
became light all around.  And when they looked towards the place where
they were wont to see cattle, and herds, and dwellings, they saw nothing
now, neither house, nor beast, nor smoke, nor fire, nor man, nor
dwelling; but the houses of the court empty, and desert, and uninhabited,
without either man, or beast within them.  And truly all their companions
were lost to them, without their knowing aught of what had befallen them,
save those four only.

"In the name of Heaven," cried Manawyddan, "where are they of the court,
and all my host beside these?  Let us go and see."  So they came into the
hall, and there was no man; and they went on to the castle, and to the
sleeping-place, and they saw none; and in the mead-cellar and in the
kitchen there was nought but desolation.  So they four feasted, and
hunted, and took their pleasure.  Then they began to go through the land
and all the possessions that they had, and they visited the houses and
dwellings, and found nothing but wild beasts.  And when they had consumed
their feast and all their provisions, they fed upon the prey they killed
in hunting, {65} and the honey of the wild swarms.  And thus they passed
the first year pleasantly, and the second; but at the last they began to
be weary.

"Verily," said Manawyddan, "we must not bide thus.  Let us go into
England, and seek some craft whereby we may gain our support."  So they
went into England, and came as far as Hereford.  And they betook
themselves to making saddles.  And Manawyddan began to make housings, and
he gilded and coloured them with blue enamel, in the manner that he had
seen it done by Llasar Llaesgywydd.  And he made the blue enamel as it
was made by the other man.  And therefore is it still called Calch
Lassar, [blue enamel,] because Llassar Llaesgywydd had wrought it.

{Picture: p65.jpg}

And as long as that workmanship could be had of Manawyddan, neither
saddle nor housing was bought of a saddler throughout all Hereford; till
at length every one of the saddlers perceived that they were losing much
of their gain, and that no man bought of them, but he who could not get
what he sought from Manawyddan.  Then they assembled together, and agreed
to slay him and his companions.

Now they received warning of this, and took counsel whether they should
leave the city.  "By Heaven," said Pryderi, "it is not my counsel that we
should quit the town, but that we should slay these boors."  "Not so,"
said Manawyddan, "for if we fight with them, we shall have evil fame, and
shall be put in prison.  It were better for us to go to another town to
maintain ourselves."  So they four went to another city.

"What craft shall we take?" said Pryderi.  "We will make shields," said
Manawyddan.  "Do we know anything about that craft?" said Pryderi.  "We
will try," answered he.  There they began to make shields, and fashioned
them after the shape of the good shields they had seen; and they
enamelled them, as they had done the saddles.  And they prospered in that
place, so that not a shield was asked for in the whole town, but such as
was had of them.  Rapid therefore was their work, and numberless were the
shields they made.  But at last they were marked by the craftsmen, who
came together in haste, and their fellow-townsmen with them, and agreed
that they should seek to slay them.  But they received warning, and heard
how the men had resolved on their destruction.  "Pryderi," said
Manawyddan, "these men desire to slay us."  "Let us not endure this from
these boors, but let us rather fall upon them and slay them."  "Not so,"
he answered, "Caswallawn and his men will hear of it, and we shall be
undone.  Let us go to another town."  So to another town they went.

"What craft shall we take?" said Manawyddan.  "Whatsoever thou wilt that
we know," said Pryderi.  "Not so," he replied, "but let us take to making
shoes, for there is not courage among cordwainers either to fight with us
or to molest us."  "I know nothing thereof," said Pryderi.  "But I know,"
answered Manawyddan; "and I will teach thee to stitch.  We will not
attempt to dress the leather, but we will buy it ready dressed and will
make the shoes from it."

So he began by buying the best cordwal that could be had in the town, and
none other would he buy except the leather for the soles; and he
associated himself with the best goldsmith in the town, and caused him to
make clasps for the shoes, and to gild the clasps, and he marked how it
was done until he learned the method.  And therefore was he called one of
the three makers of Gold Shoes; and, when they could be had from him, not
a shoe nor hose was bought of any of the cordwainers in the town.  But
when the cordwainers perceived that their gains were failing, (for as
Manawyddan shaped the work, so Pryderi stitched it,) they came together
and took counsel, and agreed that they would slay them.

"Pryderi," said Manawyddan, "these men are minded to slay us."  "Wherefore
should we bear this from the boorish thieves?" said Pryderi.  "Rather let
us slay them all."  "Not so," said Manawyddan, "we will not slay them,
neither will we remain in England any longer.  Let us set forth to Dyved
and go to see it."

So they journeyed along until they came to Dyved, and they went forward
to Narberth.  And there they kindled a fire and supported themselves by
hunting.  And thus they spent a month.  And they gathered their dogs
around them, and tarried there one year.

{Picture: p68.jpg}

And one morning Pryderi and Manawyddan rose up to hunt, and they ranged
their dogs and went forth from the palace.  And some of the dogs ran
before them and came to a small bush which was near at hand; but as soon
as they were come to the bush, they hastily drew back and returned to the
men, their hair bristling up greatly.  "Let us go near to the bush," said
Pryderi, "and see what is in it."  And as they came near, behold, a wild
boar of a pure white colour rose up from the bush.  Then the dogs being
set on by the men, rushed towards him, but he left the bush and fell back
a little way from the men, and made a stand against the dogs without
retreating from them, until the men had come near.  And when the men came
up, he fell back a second time, and betook him to flight.  Then they
pursued the boar until they beheld a vast and lofty castle, all newly
built, in a place where they had never before seen either stone or
building.  And the boar ran swiftly into the castle and the dogs after
him.  Now when the boar and the dogs had gone into the castle, they began
to wonder at finding a castle in a place where they had never before then
seen any building whatsoever.  And from the top of the Gorsedd they
looked and listened for the dogs.  But so long as they were there they
heard not one of the dogs nor aught concerning them.

"Lord," said Pryderi, "I will go into the castle to get tidings of the
dogs."  "Truly," he replied, "thou wouldst be unwise to go into this
castle, which thou hast never seen till now.  If thou wouldst follow my
counsel, thou wouldst not enter therein.  Whosoever has cast a spell over
this land, has caused this castle to be here."  "Of a truth," answered
Pryderi, "I cannot thus give up my dogs."  And for all the counsel that
Manawyddan gave him, yet to the castle he went.

When he came within the castle, neither man nor beast, nor boar nor dogs,
nor house nor dwelling saw he within it.  But in the centre of the castle
floor he beheld a fountain with marble work around it, and on the margin
of the fountain a golden bowl upon a marble slab, and chains hanging from
the air, to which he saw no end.

And he was greatly pleased with the beauty of the gold, and with the rich
workmanship of the bowl, and he went up to the bowl and laid hold of it.
And when he had taken hold of it his hands stuck to the bowl, and his
feet to the slab on which the bowl was placed, and all his joyousness
forsook him, so that he could not utter a word.  And thus he stood.

And Manawyddan waited for him till near the close of the day.  And late
in the evening, being certain that he should have no tidings of Pryderi
or of the dogs, he went back to the palace.  And as he entered, Rhiannon
looked at him, "Where," said she, "are thy companion and thy dogs?"
"Behold," he answered, "the adventure that has befallen me."  And he
related it all unto her.  "An evil companion hast thou been," said
Rhiannon, "and a good companion hast thou lost."  And with that word she
went out, and proceeded towards the castle according to the direction
which he gave her.  The gate of the castle she found open.  She was
nothing daunted, and she went in.  And as she went in, she perceived
Pryderi laying hold of the bowl, and she went towards him.  "Oh my lord,"
said she, "what dost thou here?"  And she took hold of the bowl with him;
and as she did so, her hands also became fast to the bowl, and her feet
to the slab, and she was not able to utter a word.  And with that, as it
became night, lo there came thunder upon them, and a fall of mist, and
thereupon the castle vanished, and they with it.

When Kicva the daughter of Gwynn Gloew saw that there was no one in the
palace but herself and Manawyddan, she sorrowed so that she cared not
whether she lived or died.  And Manawyddan saw this.  "Thou art in the
wrong," said he, "if through fear of me thou grievest thus.  I call
Heaven to witness that thou hast never seen friendship more pure than
that which I will bear thee, as long as Heaven will that thou shouldst be
thus.  I declare to thee that were I in the dawn of youth I would keep my
faith unto Pryderi, and unto thee also will I keep it.  Be there no fear
upon thee, therefore," said he, "for Heaven is my witness that thou shall
meet with all the friendship thou canst wish, and that it is in my power
to show thee, as long as it shall please Heaven to continue us in this
grief and woe."  "Heaven reward thee," she said, "and that is what I
deemed of thee."  And the damsel thereupon took courage and was glad.

"Truly, lady," said Manawyddan, "it is not fitting for us to stay here,
we have lost our dogs, and we cannot get food.  Let us go into England;
it is easiest for us to find support there."  "Gladly, lord," said she,
"we will do so."  And they set forth together to England.

"Lord," said she, "What craft wilt thou follow?  Take up one that is
seemly."  "None other will I take," answered he, "save that of making
shoes, as I did formerly."  "Lord," said she, "such a craft becomes not a
man so nobly born as thou."  "By that however will I abide," said he.

So he began his craft, and he made all his work of the finest leather he
could get in the town, and, as he had done at the other place, he caused
gilded clasps to be made for the shoes. {71}  And except himself all the
cordwainers in the town were idle, and without work.  For as long as they
could be had from him, neither shoes nor hose were bought elsewhere.  And
thus they tarried there a year, until the cordwainers became envious, and
took counsel concerning him.  And he had warning thereof, and it was told
him how the cordwainers had agreed together to slay him.

"Lord," said Kicva, "Wherefore should this be borne from these boors?"
"Nay," said he, "we will go back unto Dyved."  So towards Dyved they set
forth.

Now Manawyddan, when he set out to return to Dyved, took with him a
burden of wheat.  And he proceeded towards Narberth, and there he dwelt.
And never was he better pleased than when he saw Narberth again, and the
lands where he had been wont to hunt with Pryderi and with Rhiannon.  And
he accustomed himself to fish, and to hunt the deer in their covert.  And
then he began to prepare some ground and he sowed a croft, and a second,
and a third.  And no wheat in the world ever sprung up better.  And the
three crofts prospered with perfect growth, and no man ever saw fairer
wheat than it.

And thus passed the seasons of the year until the harvest came.  And he
went to look at one of his crofts, and behold it was ripe.  "I will reap
this to-morrow," said he.  And that night he went back to Narberth, and
on the morrow in the grey dawn he went to reap the croft, and when he
came there he found nothing but the bare straw.  Every one of the ears of
the wheat was cut from off the stalk, and all the ears carried entirely
away, and nothing but the straw left.  And at this he marvelled greatly.

Then he went to look at another croft, and behold that also was ripe.
"Verily," said he, "this will I reap to-morrow."  And on the morrow he
came with the intent to reap it, and when he came there he found nothing
but the bare straw.  "Oh gracious Heaven," he exclaimed, "I know that
whosoever has begun my ruin is completing it, and has also destroyed the
country with me."

Then he went to look at the third croft, and when he came there, finer
wheat had there never been seen, and this also was ripe.  "Evil betide
me," said he, "if I watch not here to-night.  Whoever carried off the
other corn will come in like manner to take this.  And I will know who it
is."  So he took his arms, and began to watch the croft.  And he told
Kicva all that had befallen.  "Verily," said she, "what thinkest thou to
do?"  "I will watch the croft to-night," said he.

And he went to watch the croft.  And at midnight, lo! there arose the
loudest tumult in the world.  And he looked, and behold the mightiest
host of mice in the world, which could neither be numbered nor measured.
And he knew not what it was until the mice had made their way into the
croft, and each of them climbing up the straw and bending it down with
its weight, and had cut off one of the ears of wheat, and had carried it
away, leaving there the stalk, and he saw not a single straw there that
had not a mouse to it.  And they all took their way, carrying the ears
with them.

In wrath and anger did he rush upon the mice, but he could no more come
up with them than if they had been gnats, or birds in the air, except one
only, which though it was but sluggish, went so fast that a man on foot
could scarce overtake it. {73}  And after this one he went, and he caught
it and put it in his glove, and tied up the opening of the glove with a
string, and kept it with him, and returned to the palace.  Then he came
to the hall where Kicva was, and he lighted a fire, and hung the glove by
the string upon a peg.  "What hast thou there, lord?" said Kicva.  "A
thief," said he, "that I found robbing me."  "What kind of thief may it
be, lord, that thou couldst put into thy glove?" said she.  "Behold I
will tell thee," he answered.  Then he showed her how his fields had been
wasted and destroyed, and how the mice came to the last of the fields in
his sight.  "And one of them was less nimble than the rest, and is now in
my glove; to-morrow I will hang it, and before Heaven, if I had them, I
would hang them all."  "My lord," said she, "this is marvellous; but yet
it would be unseemly for a man of dignity like thee to be hanging such a
reptile as this.  And if thou doest right, thou wilt not meddle with the
creature, but wilt let it go."  "Woe betide me," said he, "if I would not
hang them all could I catch them, and such as I have I will hang."
"Verily, lord," said she, "there is no reason that I should succour this
reptile, except to prevent discredit unto thee.  Do therefore, lord, as
thou wilt."  "If I knew of any cause in the world wherefore thou shouldst
succour it, I would take thy counsel concerning it," said Manawyddan,
"but as I know of none, lady, I am minded to destroy it."  "Do so
willingly then," said she.

And then he went to the Gorsedd of Narberth, taking the mouse with him.
And he set up two forks on the highest part of the Gorsedd.  And while he
was doing this, behold he saw a scholar coming towards him, in old and
poor and tattered garments.  And it was now seven years since he had seen
in that place either man or beast, except those four persons who had
remained together until two of them were lost.

"My lord," said the scholar, "good day to thee."  "Heaven prosper thee,
and my greeting be unto thee.  And whence dost thou come, scholar?" asked
he.  "I come, lord, from singing in England; and wherefore dost thou
enquire?"  "Because for the last seven years," answered he, "I have seen
no man here save four secluded persons, and thyself this moment."  "Truly,
lord," said he, "I go through this land unto mine own.  And what work art
thou upon, lord?"  "I am hanging a thief that I caught robbing me," said
he.  "What manner of thief is that?" asked the scholar.  "I see a
creature in thy hand like unto a mouse, and ill does it become a man of
rank equal to thine, to touch a reptile such as this.  Let it go forth
free."  "I will not let it go free, by Heaven," said he; "I caught it
robbing me, and the doom of a thief will I inflict upon it and I will
hang it."  "Lord," said he, "rather than see a man of rank equal to thine
at such a work as this, I would give thee a pound which I have received
as alms, to let the reptile go forth free."  "I will not let it go free,"
said he, "by Heaven, neither will I sell it."  "As thou wilt, lord," he
answered, "except that I would not see a man of rank equal to thine
touching such a reptile, I care nought."  And the scholar went his way.

And as he was placing the cross-beam upon the two forks, behold a priest
came towards him upon a horse covered with trappings.  "Good day to thee,
lord," said he.  "Heaven prosper thee," said Manawyddan; "thy blessing."
"The blessing of Heaven be upon thee.  And what, lord, art thou doing?"
"I am hanging a thief that I caught robbing me," said he.  "What manner
of thief, lord?" asked he.  "A creature," he answered, "in form of a
mouse.  It has been robbing me, and I am inflicting upon it the doom of a
thief."  "Lord," said he, "rather than see thee touch this reptile, I
would purchase its freedom."  "By my confession to Heaven, neither will I
sell it nor set it free."  "It is true, lord, that it is worth nothing to
buy; but rather than see thee defile thyself by touching such a reptile
as this, I will give thee three pounds to let it go."  "I will not, by
Heaven," said he, "take any price for it.  As it ought, so shall it be
hanged."  "Willingly, lord, do thy good pleasure."  And the priest went
his way.

Then he noosed the string around the mouse's neck, and as he was about to
draw it up, behold, he saw a bishop's retinue, with his sumpter-horses,
and his attendants.  And the bishop himself came towards him.  And he
stayed his work.  "Lord bishop," said he, "thy blessing."  "Heaven's
blessing be unto thee," said he, "What work art thou upon?"  "Hanging a
thief that I caught robbing me," said he.  "Is not that a mouse that I
see in thy hand?"  "Yes," answered he.  "And she has robbed me."  "Aye,"
said he, "since I have come at the doom of this reptile I will ransom it
of thee.  I will give thee seven pounds for it, and that rather than see
a man of rank equal to thine destroying so vile a reptile as this.  Let
it loose and thou shall have the money."  "I declare to Heaven that I
will not set it loose."  "If thou wilt not loose it for this, I will give
thee four and twenty pounds of ready money to set it free."  "I will not
set it free, by Heaven, for as much again," said he.  "If thou wilt not
set it free for this, I will give thee all the horses that thou seest in
this plain, and the seven loads of baggage, and the seven horses that
they are upon."  "By Heaven, I will not," he replied.  "Since for this
thou wilt not, do so at what price soever thou wilt."  "I will do so,"
said he.  "I will that Rhiannon and Pryderi be free," said he.  "That
thou shall have," he answered.  "Not yet will I loose the mouse, by
Heaven."  "What then wouldst thou?"  "That the charm and the illusion be
removed from the seven Cantrevs of Dyved."  "This shall thou have also,
set therefore the mouse free."  "I will not set it free, by Heaven," said
he.  "I will know who the mouse may be."  "She is my wife."  "Even though
she be, I will not set her free.  Wherefore came she to me?"  "To despoil
thee," he answered.  "I am Llwyd the son of Kilcoed, and I cast the charm
over the seven Cantrevs of Dyved.  And it was to avenge Gwawl the son of
Clud, from the friendship I had towards him, that I cast the charm.  And
upon Pryderi did I revenge Gwawl the son of Clud, for the game of Badger
in the Bag, that Pwyll Pen Annwn played upon him, which he did
unadvisedly in the court of Heveydd Hen.  And when it was known that thou
wast come to dwell in the land, my household came and besought me to
transform them into mice, that they might destroy thy corn.  And it was
my own household that went the first night.  And the second night also
they went, and they destroyed thy two crofts.  And the third night came
unto me my wife and the ladies of the court, and besought me to transform
them.  And I transformed them.  Now she is pregnant.  And had she not
been pregnant thou wouldst not have been able to overtake her, but since
this has taken place and she has been caught, I will restore thee Pryderi
and Rhiannon; and I will take the charm and illusion from off Dyved.  I
have now told thee who she is.  Set her therefore free."  "I will not set
her free, by Heaven," said he.  "What wilt thou more?" he asked.  "I will
that there be no more charm upon the seven Cantrevs of Dyved, and that
none shall be put upon it henceforth."  "This thou shalt have," said he.
"Now set her free."  "I will not by my faith," he answered.  "What wilt
thou furthermore," asked he.  "Behold," said he, "this will I have; that
vengeance be never taken for this, either upon Pryderi or Rhiannon, or
upon me."  "All this shalt thou have.  And truly thou hast done wisely in
asking this.  Upon thy head would have lit all this trouble."  "Yea,"
said he, "for fear thereof was it, that I required this."  "Set now my
wife at liberty."  "I will not, by Heaven," said he, "until I see Pryderi
and Rhiannon with me free."  "Behold, here they come," he answered.

And thereupon behold Pryderi and Rhiannon.  And he rose up to meet them,
and greeted them, and sat down beside them.  "Ah chieftain, set now my
wife at liberty," said the bishop.  "Hast thou not received all thou
didst ask?"  "I will release her gladly," said he.  And thereupon he set
her free.

Then he struck her with a magic wand, and she was changed back into a
young woman, the fairest ever seen.

"Look around upon thy land," said he, "and then thou wilt see it all
tilled and peopled, as it was in its best state."  And he rose up and
looked forth.  And when he looked he saw all the lands tilled, and full
of herds and dwellings.  "What bondage," he enquired, "has there been
upon Pryderi and Rhiannon?"  "Pryderi has had the knockers of the gate of
my palace about his neck, and Rhiannon has had the collars of the asses,
after they have been carrying hay, about her neck."

And such had been their bondage.

And by reason of this bondage is this story called the Mabinogi of
Mynnweir and Mynord. {79}

And thus ends this portion of the Mabinogi.

{Picture: p79.jpg}



MATH THE SON OF MATHONWY.


{Picture: p80.jpg}

Math the son of Mathonwy was lord over Gwynedd, and Pryderi the son of
Pwyll was lord over the one and twenty Cantrevs of the South; and these
were the seven Cantrevs of Dyved, and the seven Cantrevs of Morganwc, the
four Cantrevs of Ceredigiawn, and the three of Ystrad Tywi.

At that time, Math the son of Mathonwy could not exist unless his feet
were in the lap of a maiden, except only when he was prevented by the
tumult of war.  Now the maiden who was with him was Goewin, the daughter
of Pebin of Dol Pebin, in Arvon, and she was the fairest maiden of her
time who was known there.

And Math dwelt always at Caer Dathyl, in Arvon, and was not able to go
the circuit of the land, but Gilvaethwy the son of Don, and Eneyd {81}
the son of Don, his nephews, the sons of his sister, with his household,
went the circuit of the land in his stead.

Now the maiden was with Math continually, and Gilvaethwy the son of Don
set his affections upon her, and loved her so that he knew not what he
should do because of her, and therefrom behold his hue, and his aspect,
and his spirits changed for love of her, so that it was not easy to know
him.

One day his brother Gwydion gazed steadfastly upon him.  "Youth," said
he, "what aileth thee?"  "Why," replied he, "what seest thou in me?"  "I
see," said he, "that thou hast lost thy aspect and thy hue; what,
therefore, aileth thee?"  "My lord, brother," he answered, "that which
aileth me, it will not profit me that I should own to any."  "What may it
be, my soul?" said he.  "Thou knowest," he said, "that Math the son of
Mathonwy has this property, that if men whisper together, in a tone how
low soever, if the wind meet it, it becomes known unto him."  "Yes," said
Gwydyon, "hold now thy peace, I know thy intent, thou lovest Goewin."

When he found that his brother knew his intent, he gave the heaviest sigh
in the world.  "Be silent, my soul, and sigh not," he said.  "It is not
thereby that thou wilt succeed.  I will cause," said he, "if it cannot be
otherwise, the rising of Gwynedd, and Powys, and Deheubarth, to seek the
maiden.  Be thou of glad cheer therefore, and I will compass it."

So they went unto Math the son of Mathonwy.  "Lord," said Gwydion, "I
have heard that there have come to the South some beasts, such as were
never known in this island before."  "What are they called?" he asked.
"Pigs, lord."  "And what kind of animals are they?"  "They are small
animals, and their flesh is better than the flesh of oxen."  "They are
small then?"  "And they change their names.  Swine are they now called."
"Who owneth them?"  "Pryderi the son of Pwyll; they were sent him from
Annwn, by Arawn the king of Annwn, and still they keep that name, half
hog, half pig."  "Verily," asked he, "and by what means may they be
obtained from him?"  "I will go, lord, as one of twelve in the guise of
bards, to seek the swine."  "But it may be that he will refuse you," said
he.  "My journey will not be evil, lord," said he, "I will not come back
without the swine."  "Gladly," said he, "go thou forward."

So he and Gilvaethwy went, and ten other men with them.  And they came
into Ceredigiawn, to the place that is now called Rhuddlan Teivi, where
the palace of Pryderi was.  In the guise of bards they came in, and they
were received joyfully, and Gwydion was placed beside Pryderi that night.

"Of a truth," said Pryderi, "gladly would I have a tale from some of your
men yonder."  "Lord," said Gwydion, "we have a custom that the first
night that we come to the court of a great man, the chief of song
recites.  Gladly will I relate a tale."  Now Gwydion was the best teller
of tales in the world, and he diverted all the court that night with
pleasant discourse and with tales, so that he charmed every one in the
court, and it pleased Pryderi to talk with him.

And after this, "Lord," said he unto Pryderi, "were it more pleasing to
thee, that another should discharge my errand unto thee, than that I
should tell thee myself what it is?"  "No," he answered, "ample speech
hast thou."  "Behold, then, lord," said he, "my errand.  It is to crave
from thee the animals that were sent thee from Annwn."  "Verily," he
replied, "that were the easiest thing in the world to grant, were there
not a covenant between me and my land concerning them.  And the covenant
is that they shall not go from me, until they have produced double their
number in the land."  "Lord," said he, "I can set thee free from these
words, and this is the way I can do so; give me not the swine to-night,
neither refuse them unto me, and to-morrow I will show thee an exchange
for them."

And that night he and his fellows went unto their lodging, and they took
counsel.  "Ah, my men," said he, "we shall not have the swine for the
asking."  "Well," said they, "how may they be obtained?"  "I will cause
them to be obtained," said Gwydion.

Then he betook himself to his arts, and began to work a charm.  And he
caused twelve chargers to appear, and twelve black greyhounds, each of
them white breasted, and having upon them twelve collars and twelve
leashes, such as no one that saw them could know to be other than gold.
And upon the horses twelve saddles, and every part which should have been
of iron was entirely of gold, and the bridles were of the same
workmanship.  And with the horses and the dogs he came to Pryderi.

{Picture: p84.jpg}

"Good day unto thee, lord," said he.  "Heaven prosper thee," said the
other, "and greetings be unto thee."  "Lord," said he, "behold here is a
release for thee from the word which thou spakest last evening concerning
the swine; that thou wouldest neither give nor sell them.  Thou mayest
exchange them for that which is better.  And I will give these twelve
horses, all caparisoned as they are, with their saddles and their
bridles, and these twelve greyhounds, with their collars and their
leashes as thou seest, and the twelve gilded shields that thou beholdest
yonder."  Now these he had formed of fungus.  "Well," said he, "we will
take counsel."  And they consulted together, and determined to give the
swine to Gwydion, and to take his horses and his dogs and his shields.

Then Gwydion and his men took their leave, and began to journey forth
with the pigs.  "Ah, my comrades," said Gwydion, "it is needful that we
journey with speed.  The illusion will not last but from the one hour to
the same to-morrow."

And that night they journeyed as far as the upper part of Ceredigiawn, to
the place which, from that cause, is called Mochdrev still.  And the next
day they took their course through Melenydd, and came that night to the
town which is likewise for that reason called Mochdrev, between Keri and
Arwystli.  And thence they journeyed forward; and that night they came as
far as that Commot in Powys, which also upon account thereof is called
Mochnant, and there tarried they that night.  And they journeyed thence
to the Cantrev of Rhos, and the place where they were that night is still
called Mochdrev.

"My men," said Gwydion, "we must push forward to the fastnesses of
Gwynedd with these animals, for there is a gathering of hosts in pursuit
of us."  So they journeyed on to the highest town of Arllechwedd, and
there they made a sty for the swine, and therefore was the name of
Creuwyryon given to that town.  And after they had made the sty for the
swine, they proceeded to Math the son of Mathonwy, at Caerdathyl.  And
when they came there, the country was rising.  "What news is there here?"
asked Gwydion.  "Pryderi is assembling one and twenty Cantrevs to pursue
after you," answered they.  "It is marvellous that you should have
journeyed so slowly."  "Where are the animals whereof you went in quest?"
said Math.  "They have had a sty made for them in the other Cantrev
below," said Gwydion.

Thereupon, lo! they heard the trumpets and the host in the land, and they
arrayed themselves and set forward and came to Penardd in Arvon.

And at night Gwydion the son of Don, and Gilvaethwy his brother, returned
to Caerdathyl; and Gilvaethwy took Math the son of Mathonwy's couch.  And
while he turned out the other damsels from the room discourteously, he
made Goewin unwillingly remain.

And when they saw the day on the morrow, they went back unto the place
where Math the son of Mathonwy was with his host; and when they came
there, the warriors were taking counsel in what district they should
await the coming of Pryderi, and the men of the South.  So they went in
to the council.  And it was resolved to wait in the strongholds of
Gwynedd, in Arvon.  So within the two Maenors they took their stand,
Maenor Penardd and Maenor Coed Alun.  And there Pryderi attacked them,
and there the combat took place.  And great was the slaughter on both
sides; but the men of the South were forced to flee.  And they fled unto
the place which is still called Nantcall.  And thither did they follow
them, and they made a vast slaughter of them there, so that they fled
again as far as the place called Dol Pen Maen, and there they halted and
sought to make peace.

And that he might have peace, Pryderi gave hostages, Gwrgi Gwastra gave
he and three and twenty others, sons of nobles.  And after this they
journeyed in peace even unto Traeth Mawr; but as they went on together
towards Melenryd, the men on foot could not be restrained from shooting.
Pryderi despatched unto Math an embassy to pray him to forbid his people,
and to leave it between him and Gwydion the son of Don, for that he had
caused all this.  And the messengers came to Math.  "Of a truth," said
Math, "I call Heaven to witness, if it be pleasing unto Gwydion the son
of Don, I will so leave it gladly.  Never will I compel any to go to
fight, but that we ourselves should do our utmost."

"Verily," said the messengers, "Pryderi saith that it were more fair that
the man who did him this wrong should oppose his own body to his, and let
his people remain unscathed."  "I declare to Heaven, I will not ask the
men of Gwynedd to fight because of me.  If I am allowed to fight Pryderi
myself, gladly will I oppose my body to his."  And this answer they took
back to Pryderi.  "Truly," said Pryderi, "I shall require no one to
demand my rights but myself."

Then these two came forth and armed themselves, and they fought.  And by
force of strength, and fierceness, and by the magic and charms of
Gwydion, Pryderi was slain.  And at Maen Tyriawc, {87} above Melenryd,
was he buried, and there is his grave.

And the men of the South set forth in sorrow towards their own land; nor
is it a marvel that they should grieve, seeing that they had lost their
lord, and many of their best warriors, and for the most part, their
horses and their arms.

The men of Gwynedd went back joyful and in triumph.  "Lord," said Gwydion
unto Math, "would it not be right for us to release the hostages of the
men of the South, which they pledged unto us for peace? for we ought not
to put them in prison."  "Let them then be set free," said Math.  So that
youth, and the other hostages that were with him, were set free to follow
the men of the South.

Math himself went forward to Caerdathyl.  Gilvaethwy the son of Don, and
they of the household that were with him went to make the circuit of
Gwynedd as they were wont, without coming to the court.  Math went into
his chamber, and caused a place to be prepared for him whereon to
recline, so that he might put his feet in the maiden's lap.  "Lord," said
Goewin, "seek now another {88} to hold thy feet, for I am now a wife."
"What meaneth this?" said he.  "An attack, lord, was made unawares upon
me; but I held not my peace, and there was no one in the court who knew
not of it.  Now the attack was made by thy nephews, lord, the sons of thy
sister, Gwydion the son of Don, and Gilvaethwy the son of Don; unto me
they did wrong, and unto thee dishonour."  "Verily," he exclaimed, "I
will do to the utmost of my power concerning this matter.  But first I
will cause thee to have compensation, and then will I have amends made
unto myself.  As for thee, I will take thee to be my wife, and the
possession of my dominions will I give unto thy hands."

And Gwydion and Gilvaethwy came not near the court, but stayed in the
confines of the land until it was forbidden to give them meat and drink.
At first they came not near unto Math, but at last they came.  "Lord,"
said they, "Good day to thee."  "Well," said he, "is it to make me
compensation that ye are come?"  "Lord," they said, "we are at thy will."
"By my will I would not have lost my warriors, and so many arms as I have
done.  You cannot compensate me my shame, setting aside the death of
Pryderi.  But since ye come hither to be at my will, I shall begin your
punishment forthwith."

Then he took his magic wand, and struck Gilvaethwy, so that he became a
deer, and he seized upon the other hastily lest he should escape from
him.  And he struck him with the same magic wand, and he became a deer
also.  "Since now ye are in bonds, I will that ye go forth together and
be companions, and possess the nature of the animals whose form ye bear.
And this day twelvemonth come hither unto me."

At the end of a year from that day, lo there was a loud noise under the
chamber wall, and the barking of the dogs of the palace together with the
noise.  "Look," said he, "what is without."  "Lord," said one, "I have
looked; there are there two deer, and a fawn with them."  Then he arose
and went out.  And when he came he beheld the three animals.  And he
lifted up his wand.  "As ye were deer last year, be ye wild hogs each and
either of you, for the year that is to come."  And thereupon he struck
them with the magic wand.  "The young one will I take and cause to be
baptized."  Now the name that he gave him was Hydwn.  "Go ye and be wild
swine, each and either of you, and be ye of the nature of wild swine.  And
this day twelvemonth be ye here under the wall."

At the end of the year the barking of dogs was heard under the wall of
the chamber.  And the court assembled, and thereupon he arose and went
forth, and when he came forth he beheld three beasts.  Now these were the
beasts that he saw; two wild hogs of the woods, and a well-grown young
one with them.  And he was very large for his age.  "Truly," said Math,
"this one will I take and cause to be baptized."  And he struck him with
his magic wand, and he became a fine fair auburn haired youth, and the
name that he gave him was Hychdwn.  "Now as for you, as ye were wild hogs
last year, be ye wolves each and either of you for the year that is to
come."  Thereupon he struck them with his magic wand, and they became
wolves.  "And be ye of like nature with the animals whose semblance ye
bear, and return here this day twelvemonth beneath this wall."

And the same day at the end of the year, he heard a clamour and a barking
of dogs under the wall of the chamber.  And he rose and went forth.  And
when he came, behold he saw two wolves, and a strong cub with them.  "This
one will I take," said Math, "and I will cause him to be baptized; there
is a name prepared for him, and that is Bleiddwn.  Now these three, such
are they;

   "The three sons of Gilvaethwy the false,
   The three faithful combatants,
   Bleiddwn, Hydwn, and Hychdwn the Tall."

Then he struck the two with his magic wand, and they resumed their own
nature.  "Oh men," said he, "for the wrong that ye did unto me,
sufficient has been your punishment and your dishonour.  Prepare now
precious ointment for these men, and wash their heads, and equip them."
And this was done.

And after they were equipped, they came unto him.  "Oh men," said he,
"you have obtained peace, and you shall likewise have friendship.  Give
your counsel unto me, what maiden I shall seek."  "Lord," said Gwydion
the son of Don, "it is easy to give thee counsel; seek Arianrod, {91a}
the daughter of Don, thy niece, thy sister's daughter."

And they brought her unto him, and the maiden came in.  "Ha damsel," said
he, "art thou the maiden?"  "I know not, Lord, other than that I am."
Then he took up his magic wand, and bent it.  "Step over this," said he,
"and I shall know if thou art the maiden."  Then stepped she over the
magic wand, and there appeared forthwith a fine chubby yellow haired boy.
And at the crying out of the boy, she went towards the door.  And
thereupon some small form was seen; but before any one could get a second
glimpse of it, Gwydion had taken it, and had flung a scarf of velvet
around it and hidden it.  Now the place where he hid it was the bottom of
a chest at the foot of his bed.

"Verily," said Math the son of Mathonwy, concerning the fine yellow
haired boy, "I will cause this one to be baptized, and Dylan is the name
I will give him."

So they had the boy baptized, and as they baptized him he plunged into
the sea.  And immediately when he was in the sea, he took its nature, and
swam as well as the best fish that was therein.  And for that reason was
he called Dylan, the son of the Wave.  Beneath him no wave ever broke.
And the blow whereby he came to his death, was struck by his uncle
Govannion.  The third fatal {91b} blow was it called.

As Gwydion lay one morning on his bed awake, he heard a cry in the chest
at his feet; and though it was not loud, it was such that he could hear
it.  Then he arose in haste, and opened the chest; and when he opened it,
he beheld an infant boy stretching out his arms from the folds of the
scarf, and casting it aside.  And he took up the boy in his arms, and
carried him to a place where he knew there was a woman that could nurse
him.  And he agreed with the woman that she should take charge of the
boy.  And that year he was nursed.

And at the end of the year, he seemed by his size as though he were two
years old.  And the second year he was a big child, and able to go to the
court by himself.  And when he came to the court, Gwydion noticed him,
and the boy became familiar with him, and loved him better than any one
else.  Then was the boy reared at the court until he was four years old,
when he was as big as though he had been eight.

And one day Gwydion walked forth, and the boy followed him, and he went
to the Castle of Arianrod, having the boy with him; and when he came into
the court, Arianrod arose to meet him, and greeted him and bade him
welcome.  "Heaven prosper thee," said he.  "Who is the boy that followeth
thee?" she asked.  "This youth, he is thy son," he answered.  "Alas,"
said she, "what has come unto thee that thou shouldest shame me thus,
wherefore dost thou seek my dishonour, and retain it so long as this?"
"Unless thou suffer dishonour greater than that of my bringing up such a
boy as this, small will be thy disgrace."  "What is the name of the boy?"
said she.  "Verily," he replied, "he has not yet a name."  "Well," she
said, "I lay this destiny upon him, that he shall never have a name until
he receives one from me."  "Heaven bears me witness," answered he, "that
thou art a wicked woman.  But the boy shall have a name how displeasing
soever it may be unto thee.  As for thee, that which afflicts thee is
that thou art no longer called a damsel."  And thereupon he went forth in
wrath, and returned to Caer Dathyl, and there he tarried that night.

And the next day he arose and took the boy with him, and went to walk on
the sea shore between that place and Aber Menei.  And there he saw some
sedges and sea weed, and he turned them into a boat.  And out of dry
sticks {93} and sedges he made some Cordovan leather, and a great deal
thereof, and he coloured it in such a manner that no one ever saw leather
more beautiful than it.  Then he made a sail to the boat, and he and the
boy went in it to the Port of the Castle of Arianrod.  And he began
forming shoes and stitching them, until he was observed from the castle.
And when he knew that they of the castle were observing him, he disguised
his aspect, and put another semblance upon himself, and upon the boy, so
that they might not be known.  "What men are those in yonder boat?" said
Arianrod.  "They are cordwainers," answered they.  "Go and see what kind
of leather they have, and what kind of work they can do."

So they came unto them.  And when they came he was colouring some
Cordovan leather, and gilding it.  And the messengers came and told her
this.  "Well," said she, "take the measure of my foot, and desire the
cordwainer to make shoes for me."  So he made the shoes for her, yet not
according to the measure, but larger.  The shoes then were brought unto
her, and behold they were too large.  "These are too large," said she,
"but he shall receive their value.  Let him also make some that are
smaller than they."  Then he made her others that were much smaller than
her foot, and sent them unto her.  "Tell him that these will not go on my
feet," said she.  And they told him this.  "Verily," said he, "I will not
make her any shoes, unless I see her foot."  And this was told unto her.
"Truly," she answered, "I will go unto him."

So she went down to the boat, and when she came there, he was shaping
shoes and the boy stitching them.  "Ah, lady," said he, "good day to
thee."  "Heaven prosper thee," said she.  "I marvel that thou canst not
manage to make shoes according to a measure."  "I could not," he replied,
"but now I shall be able."

Thereupon behold a wren stood upon the deck of the boat, and the boy shot
at it, and hit it in the leg between the sinew and the bone.  Then she
smiled.  "Verily," said she, "with a steady hand did the lion aim at it."
"Heaven reward thee not, but now has he got a name.  And a good enough
name it is.  Llew Llaw Gyffes be he called henceforth."

Then the work disappeared in sea weed and sedges, and he went on with it
no further.  And for that reason was he called the third Gold-shoemaker.
"Of a truth," said she, "thou wilt not thrive the better for doing evil
unto me."  "I have done thee no evil yet," said he.  Then he restored the
boy to his own form.  "Well," said she, "I will lay a destiny upon this
boy, that he shall never have arms and armour until I invest him with
them."  "By Heaven," said he, "let thy malice be what it may, he shall
have arms."

Then they went towards Dinas Dinllev, and there he brought up Llew Llaw
Gyffes, until he could manage any horse, and he was perfect in features,
and strength, and stature.  And then Gwydion saw that he languished
through the want of horses, and arms.  And he called him unto him.  "Ah,
youth," said he, "we will go to-morrow on an errand together.  Be
therefore more cheerful than thou art."  "That I will," said the youth.

Next morning, at the dawn of day, they arose.  And they took their way
along the sea coast, up towards Bryn Aryen.  And at the top of Cevn
Clydno they equipped themselves with horses, and went towards the Castle
of Arianrod.  And they changed their form, and pricked towards the gate
in the semblance of two youths, but the aspect of Gwydion was more staid
than that of the other.  "Porter," said he, "go thou in and say that
there are here bards from Glamorgan."  And the porter went in.  "The
welcome of Heaven be unto them, let them in," said Arianrod.

With great joy were they greeted.  And the hall was arranged, and they
went to meat.  When meat was ended, Arianrod discoursed with Gwydion of
tales and stories.  Now Gwydion was an excellent teller of tales.  And
when it was time to leave off feasting, a chamber was prepared for them,
and they went to rest.

In the early twilight Gwydion arose, and he called unto him his magic and
his power.  And by the time that the day dawned, there resounded through
the land uproar, and trumpets, and shouts.  When it was now day, they
heard a knocking at the door of the chamber, and therewith Arianrod
asking that it might be opened.  Up rose the youth and opened unto her,
and she entered and a maiden with her.  "Ah, good men," she said, "in
evil plight are we."  "Yes truly," said Gwydion, "we have heard trumpets,
and shouts; what thinkest thou that they may mean?"  "Verily," said she,
"we cannot see the colour of the ocean by reason of all the ships, side
by side.  And they are making for the land with all the speed they can.
And what can we do?" said she.  "Lady," said Gwydion, "there is none
other counsel than to close the castle upon us, and to defend it as best
we may."  "Truly," said she, "may Heaven reward you.  And do you defend
it.  And here you may have plenty of arms."

And thereupon went she forth for the arms, and behold she returned, and
two maidens, and suits of armour for two men, with her.  "Lady," said he,
"do thou accoutre this stripling, and I will arm myself with the help of
thy maidens.  Lo, I hear the tumult of the men approaching."  "I will do
so, gladly."  So she armed him fully, and that right cheerfully.  "Hast
thou finished arming the youth," said he.  "I have finished," she
answered.  "I likewise have finished," said Gwydion.  "Let us now take
off our arms, we have no need of them."  "Wherefore?" said she.  "Here is
the army around the house."  "Oh, lady, there is here no army."  "Oh,"
cried she, "Whence then was this tumult?"  "The tumult was but to break
thy prophecy {96} and to obtain arms for thy son.  And now has he got
arms without any thanks unto thee."  "By Heaven," said Arianrod, "thou
art a wicked man.  Many a youth might have lost his life, through the
uproar thou hast caused in this Cantrev to-day.  Now will I lay a destiny
upon this youth," she said, "that he shall never have a wife of the race
that now inhabits this earth."  "Verily," said he, "thou wast ever a
malicious woman, and no one ought to support thee.  A wife shall he have
notwithstanding."

{Picture: p97.jpg}

They went thereupon unto Math the son of Mathonwy, and complained unto
him most bitterly of Arianrod.  Gwydion showed him also how he had
procured arms for the youth.  "Well," said Math, "we will seek, I and
thou, by charms and illusion, to form a wife for him out of flowers.  He
has now come to man's stature, and he is the comeliest youth that was
ever beheld."  So they took the blossoms of the oak, and the blossoms of
the broom, and the blossoms of the meadow-sweet, and produced from them a
maiden, the fairest and most graceful that man ever saw.  And they
baptized her, {98a} and gave her the name of Blodeuwedd.

After she had become his bride, and they had feasted, said Gwydion, "It
is not easy for a man to maintain himself without possessions."  "Of a
truth," said Math, "I will give the young man the best Cantrev to hold."
{98b}  "Lord," said he, "what Cantrev is that?"  "The Cantrev of
Dinodig," he answered.  Now it is called at this day Eivionydd and
Ardudwy.  And the place in the Cantrev where he dwelt, was a palace of
his in a spot called Mur y Castell, on the confines of Ardudwy.  There
dwelt he and reigned, and both he and his sway were beloved by all.

One day he went forth to Caer Dathyl, to visit Math the son of Mathonwy.
And on the day that he set out for Caer Dathyl, Blodeuwedd walked in the
court.  And she heard the sound of a horn.  And after the sound of the
horn, behold, a tired stag went by, with dogs and huntsmen following it.
And after the dogs and the huntsmen there came a crowd of men on foot.
"Send a youth," said she, "to ask who yonder host may be."  So a youth
went, and enquired who they were.  "Gronw Pebyr is this, the lord of
Penllynn," said they.  And thus the youth told her.

Gronw Pebyr pursued the stag, and by the river Cynvael he overtook the
stag and killed it.  And what, with flaying the stag and baiting his
dogs, he was there until the night began to close in upon him.  And as
the day departed and the night drew near, he came to the gate of the
court.  "Verily," said Blodeuwedd, "the chieftain will speak ill of us,
if we let him at this hour depart to another land without inviting him
in."  "Yes, truly, lady," said they, "it will be most fitting to invite
him."

Then went messengers to meet him and bid him in.  And he accepted her
bidding gladly, and came to the court, and Blodeuwedd went to meet him
and greeted him, and bade him welcome.  "Lady," said he, "Heaven repay
thee thy kindness."

When they had disaccoutred themselves, they went to sit down.  And
Blodeuwedd looked upon him, and from the moment that she looked on him
she became filled with his love.  And he gazed on her, and the same
thought came unto him as unto her, so that he could not conceal from her
that he loved her, but he declared unto her that he did so.  Thereupon
she was very joyful.  And all their discourse that night was concerning
the affection and love which they felt one for the other, and which in no
longer space than one evening had arisen.  And that evening passed they
in each other's company.

The next day he sought to depart.  But she said, "I pray thee go not from
me to-day."  And that night he tarried also.  And that night they
consulted by what means they might always be together.  "There is none
other counsel," said he, "but that thou strive to learn from Llew Llaw
Gyffes in what manner he will meet his death.  And this must thou do
under the semblance of solicitude concerning him."

The next day Gronw sought to depart.  "Verily," said she, "I would
counsel thee not to go from me to-day."  "At thy instance, will I not
go," said he, "albeit, I must say, there is danger, that the chief who
owns the palace may return home."  "To-morrow," answered she, "will I
indeed permit thee to go forth."

The next day he sought to go, and she hindered him not.  "Be mindful,"
said Gronw, "of what I have said unto thee, and converse with him fully,
and that under the guise of the dalliance of love, and find out by what
means he may come to his death."

That night Llew Llaw Gyffes returned to his home.  And the day they spent
in discourse, and minstrelsy, and feasting.  And at night they went to
rest, and he spoke to Blodeuwedd once, and he spoke to her a second time.
But, for all this, he could not get from her one word.  "What aileth
thee," said he, "art thou well?"  "I was thinking," said she, "of that
which thou didst never think of concerning me; for I was sorrowful as to
thy death, lest thou shouldest go sooner than I."  "Heaven reward thy
care for me," said he, "but until Heaven take me I shall not easily be
slain."  "For the sake of Heaven, and for mine, show me how thou mightest
be slain.  My memory in guarding is better than thine."  "I will tell
thee gladly," said he.  "Not easily can I be slain, except by a wound.
{100}  And the spear wherewith I am struck must be a year in the forming.
And nothing must be done towards it except during the sacrifice on
Sundays."  "Is this certain?" asked she.  "It is in truth," he answered.
"And I cannot be slain within a house, nor without.  I cannot be slain on
horseback nor on foot."  "Verily," said she, "in what manner then canst
thou be slain?"  "I will tell thee," said he.  "By making a bath for me
by the side of a river, and by putting a roof over the cauldron, and
thatching it well and tightly, and bringing a buck, and putting it beside
the cauldron.  Then if I place one foot on the buck's back, and the other
on the edge of the cauldron, whosoever strikes me thus will cause my
death."  "Well," said she, "I thank Heaven that it will be easy to avoid
this."

No sooner had she held this discourse than she sent to Gronw Pebyr.  Gronw
toiled at making the spear, and that day twelvemonth it was ready.  And
that very day he caused her to be informed thereof.

"Lord," said Blodeuwedd unto Llew, "I have been thinking how it is
possible that what thou didst tell me formerly can be true; wilt thou
show me in what manner thou couldst stand at once upon the edge of a
cauldron and upon a buck, if I prepare the bath for thee?"  "I will show
thee," said he.

Then she sent unto Gronw, and bade him be in ambush on the hill which is
now called Bryn Kyvergyr, on the bank of the river Cynvael.  She caused
also to be collected all the goats that were in the Cantrev, and had them
brought to the other side of the river, opposite Bryn Kyvergyr.

And the next day she spoke thus.  "Lord," said she, "I have caused the
roof and the bath to be prepared, and lo! they are ready."  "Well," said
Llew, "we will go gladly to look at them."

The day after they came and looked at the bath.  "Wilt thou go into the
bath, lord?" said she.  "Willingly will I go in," he answered.  So into
the bath he went, and he anointed himself.  "Lord," said she, "behold the
animals which thou didst speak of as being called bucks."  "Well," said
he, "cause one of them to be caught and brought here."  And the buck was
brought.  Then Llew rose out of the bath, and put on his trowsers, and he
placed one foot on the edge of the bath and the other on the buck's back.

Thereupon Gronw rose up from the hill which is called Bryn Cyvergyr, and
he rested on one knee, and flung the poisoned dart and struck him on the
side, so that the shaft started out, but the head of the dart remained
in.  Then he flew up in the form of an eagle, and gave a fearful scream.
And thenceforth was he no more seen.

As soon as he departed Gronw and Blodeuwedd went together unto the palace
that night.  And the next day Gronw arose and took possession of Ardudwy.
And after he had overcome the land, he ruled over it, so that Ardudwy and
Penllyn were both under his sway.

Then these tidings reached Math the son of Mathonwy.  And heaviness and
grief came upon Math, and much more upon Gwydion than upon him.  "Lord,"
said Gwydion, "I shall never rest until I have tidings of my nephew."
"Verily," said Math, "may Heaven be thy strength."  Then Gwydion set
forth and began to go forward.  And he went through Gwynedd and Powys to
the confines.  And when he had done so, he went into Arvon, and came to
the house of a vassal, in Maenawr Penardd.  And he alighted at the house,
and stayed there that night.  The man of the house and his household came
in, and last of all came there the swineherd.  Said the man of the house
to the swineherd, "Well, youth, hath thy sow come in to-night?"  "She
hath," said he, "and is this instant returned to the pigs."  "Where doth
this sow go to?" said Gwydion.  "Every day, when the sty is opened, she
goeth forth and none can catch sight of her, neither is it known whither
she goeth more than if she sank into the earth."  "Wilt thou grant unto
me," said Gwydion, "not to open the sty until I am beside the sty with
thee."  "This will I do, right gladly," he answered.

That night they went to rest; and as soon as the swineherd saw the light
of day, he awoke Gwydion.  And Gwydion arose and dressed himself, and
went with the swineherd, and stood beside the sty.  Then the swineherd
opened the sty.  And as soon as he opened it, behold, she leaped forth,
and set off with great speed.  And Gwydion followed her, and she went
against the course of a river, and made for a brook, which is now called
Nant y Llew.  And there she halted and began feeding.  And Gwydion came
under the tree, and looked what it might be that the sow was feeding on.
And he saw that she was eating putrid flesh and vermin.  Then looked he
up to the top of the tree, and as he looked he beheld on the top of the
tree an eagle, and when the eagle shook itself, there fell vermin and
putrid flesh from off it, and these the sow devoured.  And it seemed to
him that the eagle was Llew.  And he sang an Englyn.

   "Oak that grows between the two banks;
   Darkened is the sky and hill!
   Shall I not tell him by his wounds,
   That this is Llew?"

Upon this the eagle came down until he reached the centre of the tree.
And Gwydion sang another Englyn.

   "Oak that grows in upland ground,
   Is it not wetted by the rain?  Has it not been drenched
   By nine score tempests?
   It bears in its branches Llew Llaw Gyffes!"

Then the eagle came down until he was on the lowest branch of the tree,
and thereupon this Englyn did Gwydion sing.

   "Oak that grows beneath the steep;
   Stately and majestic is its aspect!
   Shall I not speak it?
   That Llew will come to my lap?"

And the eagle came down upon Gwydion's knee.  And Gwydion struck him with
his magic wand, so that he returned to his own form.  No one ever saw a
more piteous sight, for he was nothing but skin and bone.

Then he went unto Caer Dathyl, and there were brought unto him good
physicians that were in Gwynedd, and before the end of the year he was
quite healed.

"Lord," said he unto Math the son of Mathonwy, "it is full time now that
I have retribution of him by whom I have suffered all this woe."  "Truly,"
said Math, "he will never be able to maintain himself in the possession
of that which is thy right."  "Well," said Llew, "the sooner I have my
right, the better shall I be pleased."

Then they called together the whole of Gwynedd, and set forth to Ardudwy.
And Gwydion went on before and proceeded to Mur y Castell.  And when
Blodeuwedd heard that he was coming, she took her maidens with her, and
fled to the mountain.  And they passed through the river Cynvael, and
went towards a court that there was upon the mountain, and through fear
they could not proceed except with their faces looking backwards, so that
unawares they fell into the lake.  And they were all drowned except
Blodeuwedd herself, and her Gwydion overtook.  And he said unto her, "I
will not slay thee, but I will do unto thee worse than that.  For I will
turn thee into a bird; and because of the shame thou hast done unto Llew
Llaw Gyffes, thou shall never show thy face in the light of day
henceforth; and that through fear of all the other birds.  For it shall
be their nature to attack thee, and to chase thee from wheresoever they
may find thee.  And thou shalt not lose thy name, but shalt be always
called Blodeuwedd."  Now Blodeuwedd is an owl in the language of this
present time, and for this reason is the owl hateful unto all birds.  And
even now the owl is called Blodeuwedd.

Then Gronw Pebyr withdrew unto Penllyn, and he despatched thence an
embassy.  And the messengers he sent, asked Llew Llaw Gyffes, if he would
take land, or domain, or gold, or silver, for the injury he had received.
"I will not, by my confession to Heaven," said he.  "Behold this is the
least that I will accept from him; that he come to the spot where I was
when he wounded me with the dart, and that I stand where he did, and that
with a dart I take my aim at him.  And this is the very least that I will
accept."

And this was told unto Gronw Pebyr.  "Verily," said he, "is it needful
for me to do thus?  My faithful warriors, and my household, and my foster-
brothers, is there not one among you who will stand the blow in my
stead?"  "There is not, verily," answered they.  And because of their
refusal to suffer one stroke for their lord, they are called the third
disloyal tribe even unto this day.  "Well," said he, "I will meet it."

{Picture: p106.jpg}

Then they two went forth to the banks of the river Cynvael, and Gronw
stood in the place where Llew Llaw Gyffes was when he struck him, and
Llew in the place where Gronw was.  Then said Gronw Pebyr unto Llew,
"Since it was through the wiles of a woman that I did unto thee as I have
done, I adjure thee by Heaven to let me place between me and the blow,
the slab thou seest yonder on the river's bank."  "Verily," said Llew, "I
will not refuse thee this."  "Ah," said he, "may Heaven reward thee."  So
Gronw took the slab and placed it between him and the blow.

Then Llew flung the dart at him, and it pierced the slab and went through
Gronw likewise, so that it pierced through his back.  And thus was Gronw
Pebyr slain.  And there is still the slab on the bank of the river
Cynvael, in Ardudwy, having the hole through it.  And therefore it is
even now called Llech Gronw.

A second time did Llew Llaw Gyffes take possession of the land, and
prosperously did he govern it.  And as the story relates, he was lord
after this over Gwynedd.  And thus ends this portion of the Mabinogi.



HERE IS THE STORY OF LLUDD AND LLEVELYS.


{Picture: p108.jpg}

Beli the Great, son of Manogan, had three sons, Lludd, and Caswallawn,
and Nynyaw; and according to the story he had a fourth son called
Llevelys.  And after the death of Beli, the kingdom of the Island of
Britain fell into the hands of Lludd his eldest son; and Lludd ruled
prosperously, and rebuilt the walls of London, and encompassed it about
with numberless towers.  And after that he bade the citizens build houses
therein, such as no houses in the kingdom could equal.  And moreover he
was a mighty warrior, and generous and liberal in giving meat and drink
to all that sought them.  And though he had many castles and cities, this
one loved he more than any.  And he dwelt therein most part of the year,
and therefore was it called Caer Ludd, and at last Caer London.  And
after the stranger-race came there, it was called London, or Lwndrys.

Lludd loved Llevelys best of all his brothers, because he was a wise and
a discreet man.  Having heard that the king of France had died, leaving
no heir, except a daughter, and that he had left all his possessions in
her hands, he came to Lludd his brother, to beseech his counsel and aid.
And that not so much for his own welfare, as to seek to add to the glory
and honour and dignity of his kindred, if he might go to France to woo
the maiden for his wife.  And forthwith his brother conferred with him,
and this counsel was pleasing unto him.

So he prepared ships and filled them with armed knights, and set forth
towards France.  And as soon as they had landed, they sent messengers to
show the nobles of France the cause of the embassy.  And by the joint
counsel of the nobles of France and of the princes, the maiden was given
to Llevelys, and the crown of the kingdom with her.  And thenceforth he
ruled the land discreetly, and wisely, and happily, as long as his life
lasted.

After a space of time had passed, three plagues fell on the Island of
Britain, such as none in the Islands had ever seen the like.  The first
was a certain race that came, and was called the Coranians; and so great
was their knowledge, that there was no discourse upon the face of the
Island, however low it might be spoken, but what, if the wind met it, it
was known to them.  And through this they could not be injured.

The second plague was a shriek which came on every May eve, over every
hearth in the Island of Britain.  And this went through people's hearts,
and so scared them, that the men lost their hue and their strength, and
the women their children, and the young men, and the maidens lost their
senses, and all the animals and trees and the earth and the waters, were
left barren.

The third plague was, that however much of provisions and food might be
prepared in the king's courts, were there even so much as a year's
provision of meat and drink, none of it could ever be found, except what
was consumed in the first night.  And two of these plagues, no one ever
knew their cause, therefore was there better hope of being freed from the
first than from the second and third.

And thereupon King Lludd felt great sorrow and care, because that he knew
not how he might be freed from these plagues.  And he called to him all
the nobles of his kingdom, and asked counsel of them what they should do
against these afflictions.  And by the common counsel of the nobles,
Lludd the son of Beli, went to Llevelys his brother, king of France, for
he was a man great of counsel and wisdom, to seek his advice.

And they made ready a fleet, and that in secret and in silence, lest that
race should know the cause of their errand, or any besides the king and
his counsellors.  And when they were made ready, they went into their
ships, Lludd and those whom he chose with him.  And they began to cleave
the seas towards France.

And when these tidings came to Llevelys, seeing that he knew not the
cause of his brother's ships, he came on the other side to meet him, and
with him was a fleet vast of size.  And when Lludd saw this, he left all
the ships out upon the sea except one only; and in that one he came to
meet his brother, and he likewise with a single ship came to meet him.
And when they were come together, each put his arms about the other's
neck, and they welcomed each other with brotherly love.

After that Lludd had shewn his brother the cause of his errand, Llevelys
said that he himself knew the cause of the coming to those lands.  And
they took counsel together to discourse {111} on the matter otherwise
than thus, in order that the wind might not catch their words, nor the
Coranians know what they might say.  Then Llevelys caused a long horn to
be made of brass, and through this horn they discoursed.  But whatsoever
words they spoke through this horn, one to the other, neither of them
could hear any other but harsh and hostile words.  And when Llevelys saw
this, and that there was a demon thwarting them and disturbing through
this horn, he caused wine to be put therein to wash it.  And through the
virtue of the wine the demon was driven out of the horn.  And when their
discourse was unobstructed, Llevelys told his brother that he would give
him some insects, whereof he should keep some to breed, lest by chance
the like affliction might come a second time.  And other of these insects
he should take and bruise in water.  And he assured him that it would
have power to destroy the race of the Coranians.  That is to say, that
when he came home to his kingdom he should call together all the people
both of his own race and of the race of the Coranians for a conference,
as though with the intent of making peace between them; and that when
they were all together, he should take this charmed water, and cast it
over all alike.  And he assured him that the water would poison the race
of the Coranians, but that it would not slay or harm those of his own
race.

{Picture: p112.jpg}

"And the second plague," said he, "that is in thy dominion, behold it is
a dragon.  And another dragon of a foreign race is fighting with it, and
striving to overcome it.  And therefore does your dragon make a fearful
outcry.  And on this wise mayest thou come to know this.  After thou hast
returned home, cause the Island to be measured in its length and breadth,
and in the place where thou dost find the exact central point, there
cause a pit to be dug, and cause a cauldron, full of the best mead that
can be made, to be put in the pit, with a covering of satin over the face
of the cauldron.  And then, in thine own person do thou remain there
watching, and thou wilt see the dragons fighting in the form of terrific
animals.  And at length they will take the form of dragons in the air.
And last of all, after wearying themselves with fierce and furious
fighting, they will fall in the form of two pigs upon the covering, and
they will sink in, and the covering with them, and they will draw it down
to the very bottom of the cauldron.  And they will drink up the whole of
the mead; and after that they will sleep.  Thereupon do thou immediately
fold the covering around them, and bury them in a kistvaen, in the
strongest place thou hast in thy dominions, and hide them in the earth.
And as long as they shall bide in that strong place, no plague shall come
to the Island of Britain from elsewhere.

"The cause of the third plague," said he, "is a mighty man of magic, who
takes thy meat and thy drink and thy store.  And he through illusions and
charms causes every one to sleep.  Therefore it is needful for thee in
thy own person to watch thy food and thy provisions.  And lest he should
overcome thee with sleep, be there a cauldron of cold water by thy side,
and when thou art oppressed with sleep, plunge into the cauldron."

Then Lludd returned back unto his land.  And immediately he summoned to
him the whole of his own race and of the Coranians.  And as Llevelys had
taught him, he bruised the insects in water, the which he cast over them
all together, and forthwith it destroyed the whole tribe of the
Coranians, without hurt to any of the Britons.

And some time after this Lludd caused the Island to be measured in its
length and in its breadth.  And in Oxford he found the central point, and
in that place he caused the earth to be dug, and in that pit a cauldron
to be set, full of the best mead that could be made, and a covering of
satin over the face of it.  And he himself watched that night.  And while
he was there, he beheld the dragons fighting.  And when they were weary
they fell, and came down upon the top of the satin, and drew it with them
to the bottom of the cauldron.  And when they had drunk the mead they
slept.  And in their sleep, Lludd folded the covering around them, and in
the securest place he had in Snowdon, he hid them in a kistvaen.  Now
after that this spot was called Dinas Emreis, but before that, Dinas
Ffaraon.  And thus the fierce outcry ceased in his dominions.

And when this was ended, King Lludd caused an exceeding great banquet to
be prepared.  And when it was ready, he placed a vessel of cold water by
his side, and he in his own proper person watched it.  And as he abode
thus clad with arms, about the third watch of the night, lo! he heard
many surpassing fascinations and various songs.  And drowsiness urged him
to sleep.  Upon this, lest he should be hindered from his purpose and be
overcome by sleep, he went often into the water.  And at last, behold, a
man of vast size, clad in strong, heavy armour, came in, bearing a
hamper.  And, as he was wont, he put all the food and provisions of meat
and drink into the hamper, and proceeded to go with it forth.  And
nothing was ever more wonderful to Lludd, than that the hamper should
hold so much.

And thereupon King Lludd went after him and spoke unto him thus.  "Stop,
stop," said he, "though thou hast done many insults and much spoil
erewhile, thou shalt not do so any more, unless thy skill in arms and thy
prowess be greater than mine."

{Picture: p115.jpg}

Then he instantly put down the hamper on the floor, and awaited him.  And
a fierce encounter was between them, so that the glittering fire flew out
from their arms.  And at the last Lludd grappled with him, and fate
bestowed the victory on Lludd.  And he threw the plague to the earth.  And
after he had overcome him by strength and might, he besought his mercy.
"How can I grant thee mercy," said the king, "after all the many injuries
and wrongs that thou hast done me?"  "All the losses that ever I have
caused thee," said he, "I will make thee atonement for, equal to what I
have taken.  And I will never do the like from this time forth.  But thy
faithful vassal will I be."  And the king accepted this from him.

And thus Lludd freed the Island of Britain from the three plagues.  And
from thenceforth until the end of his life, in prosperous peace did Lludd
the son of Beli rule the Island of Britain.  And this Tale is called the
Story of Lludd and Llevelys.  And thus it ends.

{Picture: p116.jpg}



TALIESIN.


{Picture: p117.jpg}

In times past there lived in Penllyn a man of gentle lineage, named Tegid
Voel, and his dwelling was in the midst of the Lake Tegid, and his wife
was called Caridwen.  And there was born to him of his wife a son named
Morvran ab Tegid, and also a daughter named Creirwy, the fairest maiden
in the world was she; and they had a brother the most ill-favoured man in
the world, Avagddu.  Now Caridwen his mother thought that he was not
likely to be admitted among men of noble birth, by reason of his
ugliness, unless he had some exalted merits or knowledge.  For it was in
the beginning of Arthur's time and of the Round Table.

So she resolved, according to the arts of the books of the Fferyllt,
{118a} to boil a cauldron of Inspiration and Science for her son, that
his reception might be honourable because of his knowledge of the
mysteries of the future state of the world.

Then she began to boil the cauldron, which from the beginning of its
boiling might not cease to boil for a year and a day, until three blessed
drops were obtained of the grace of inspiration.

And she put Gwion Bach the son of Gwreang of Llanfair in Caereinion, in
Powys, to stir the cauldron, and a blind man named Morda to kindle the
fire beneath it, and she charged them that they should not suffer it to
cease boiling for the space of a year and a day.  And she herself,
according to the books of the astronomers, and in planetary hours,
gathered every day of all charm-bearing herbs.  And one day, towards the
end of the year, as Caridwen was culling plants and making incantations,
it chanced that three drops of the charmed liquor flew out of the
cauldron and fell upon the finger of Gwion Bach.  And by reason of their
great heat he put his finger to his mouth, {118b} and the instant he put
those marvel-working drops into his mouth, he foresaw everything that was
to come, and perceived that his chief care must be to guard against the
wiles of Caridwen, for vast was her skill.  And in very great fear he
fled towards his own land.  And the cauldron burst in two, because all
the liquor within it except the three charm-bearing drops was poisonous,
so that the horses of Gwyddno Garanhir were poisoned by the water of the
stream into which the liquor of the cauldron ran, and the confluence of
that stream was called the Poison of the Horses of Gwyddno from that time
forth.

{Picture: p119.jpg}

Thereupon came in Caridwen and saw all the toil of the whole year lost.
And she seized a billet of wood and struck the blind Morda on the head
until one of his eyes fell out upon his cheek.  And he said, "Wrongfully
hast thou disfigured me, for I am innocent.  Thy loss was not because of
me."  "Thou speakest truth," said Caridwen, "it was Gwion Bach who robbed
me."

And she went forth after him, running.  And he saw her, and changed
himself into a hare and fled.  But she changed herself into a greyhound
and turned him.  And he ran towards a river, and became a fish.  And she
in the form of an otter-bitch chased him under the water, until he was
fain to turn himself into a bird of the air.  Then she, as a hawk,
followed him and gave him no rest in the sky.  And just as she was about
to stoop upon him, and he was in fear of death, he espied a heap of
winnowed wheat on the floor of a barn, and he dropped amongst the wheat,
and turned himself into one of the grains.  Then she transformed herself
into a high-crested black hen, and went to the wheat and scratched it
with her feet, and found him out and swallowed him.  And, as the story
says, she bore him nine months, and when she was delivered of him, she
could not find it in her heart to kill him, by reason of his beauty.  So
she wrapped him in a leathern bag, and cast him into the sea to the mercy
of God, on the twenty-ninth day of April.

And at that time the weir of Gwyddno was on the strand between Dyvi and
Aberystwyth, near to his own castle, and the value of an hundred pounds
was taken in that weir every May eve.  And in those days Gwyddno had an
only son named Elphin, the most hapless of youths, and the most needy.
And it grieved his father sore, for he thought that he was born in an
evil hour.  And by the advice of his council, his father had granted him
the drawing of the weir that year, to see if good luck would ever befall
him, and to give him something wherewith to begin the world.

{Picture: p121.jpg}

And the next day, when Elphin went to look, there was nothing in the
weir.  But as he turned back he perceived the leathern bag upon a pole of
the weir.  Then said one of the weir-ward unto Elphin, "Thou wast never
unlucky until to-night, and now thou hast destroyed the virtues of the
weir, which always yielded the value of an hundred pounds every May eve,
and to-night there is nothing but this leathern skin within it."  "How
now," said Elphin, "there may be therein the value of an hundred pounds."
Well! they took up the leathern bag, and he who opened it saw the
forehead of the boy, and said to Elphin, "Behold a radiant brow!" {121}
"Taliesin be he called," said Elphin.  And he lifted the boy in his arms,
and lamenting his mischance, he placed him sorrowfully behind him.  And
he made his horse amble gently, that before had been trotting, and he
carried him as softly as if he had been sitting in the easiest chair in
the world.  And presently the boy made a Consolation and praise to
Elphin, and foretold honour to Elphin; and the Consolation was as you may
see,

   "Fair Elphin cease to lament!
   Let no one be dissatisfied with his own,
   To despair will bring no advantage.
   No man sees what supports him;
   The prayer of Cynllo will not be in vain;
   God will not violate his promise.
   Never in Gwyddno's weir
   Was there such good luck as this night.
   Fair Elphin, dry thy cheeks!
   Being too sad will not avail,
   Although thou thinkest thou hast no gain,
   Too much grief will bring thee no good;
   Nor doubt the miracles of the Almighty:
   Although I am but little, I am highly gifted.
   From seas, and from mountains,
   And from the depths of rivers,
   God brings wealth to the fortunate man.
   Elphin of lively qualities,
   Thy resolution is unmanly;
   Thou must not be over sorrowful:
   Better to trust in God than to forbode ill.
   Weak and small as I am,
   On the foaming beach of the ocean,
   In the day of trouble, I shall be
   Of more service to thee than 300 salmon.
   Elphin of notable qualities,
   Be not displeased at thy misfortune;
   Although reclined thus weak in my bag,
   There lies a virtue in my tongue.
   While I continue thy protector
   Thou hast not much to fear;
   Remembering the names of the Trinity,
   None shall be able to harm thee."

And this was the first poem that Taliesin ever sang, being to console
Elphin in his grief for that the produce of the weir was lost, and, what
was worse, that all the world would consider that it was through his
fault and ill-luck.  And then Gwyddno Garanhir {123} asked him what he
was, whether man or spirit.  Whereupon he sang this tale, and said,

   "First, I have been formed a comely person,
   In the court of Ceridwen I have done penance;
   Though little I was seen, placidly received,
   I was great on the floor of the place to where I was led;
   I have been a prized defence, the sweet muse the cause,
   And by law without speech I have been liberated
   By a smiling black old hag, when irritated
   Dreadful her claim when pursued:
   I have fled with vigour, I have fled as a frog,
   I have fled in the semblance of a crow, scarcely finding rest;
   I have fled vehemently, I have fled as a chain,
   I have fled as a roe into an entangled thicket;
   I have fled as a wolf cub, I have fled as a wolf in a wilderness,
   I have fled as a thrush of portending language;
   I have fled as a fox, used to concurrent bounds of quirks;
   I have fled as a martin, which did not avail:
   I have fled as a squirrel, that vainly hides,
   I have fled as a stag's antler, of ruddy course,
   I have fled as iron in a glowing fire,
   I have fled as a spear-head, of woe to such as has a wish for it;
   I have fled as a fierce bull bitterly fighting,
   I have fled as a bristly boar seen in a ravine,
   I have fled as a white grain of pure wheat,
   On the skirt of a hempen sheet entangled,
   That seemed of the size of a mare's foal,
   That is filling like a ship on the waters;
   Into a dark leathern bag I was thrown,
   And on a boundless sea I was sent adrift;
   Which was to me an omen of being tenderly nursed,
   And the Lord God then set me at liberty."

Then came Elphin to the house or court of Gwyddno his father, and
Taliesin with him.  And Gwyddno asked him if he had had a good haul at
the weir, and he told him that he had got that which was better than
fish.  "What was that?" said Gwyddno.  "A Bard," answered Elphin.  Then
said Gwyddno, "Alas, what will he profit thee?"  And Taliesin himself
replied and said, "He will profit him more than the weir ever profited
thee."  Asked Gwyddno, "Art thou able to speak, and thou so little?"  And
Taliesin answered him, "I am better able to speak than thou to question
me."  "Let me hear what thou canst say," quoth Gwyddno.  Then Taliesin
sang,--

   "In water there is a quality endowed with a blessing;
   On God it is most just to meditate aright;
   To God it is proper to supplicate with seriousness,
   Since no obstacle can there be to obtain a reward from him.
   Three times have I been born, I know by meditation;
   It were miserable for a person not to come and obtain
   All the sciences of the world, collected together in my breast,
   For I know what has been, what in future will occur.
   I will supplicate my Lord that I get refuge in him,
   A regard I may obtain in his grace;
   The Son of Mary is my trust, great in Him is my delight,
   For in Him is the world continually upholden.
   God has been to instruct me and to raise my expectation,
   The true Creator of heaven, who affords me protection;
   It is rightly intended that the saints should daily pray,
   For God, the renovator, will bring them to him.

* * * * *

And forthwith Elphin gave his haul to his wife, and she nursed him
tenderly and lovingly.  Thenceforward Elphin increased in riches more and
more day after day, and in love and favour with the king, and there abode
Taliesin until he was thirteen years old, when Elphin son of Gwyddno went
by a Christmas invitation to his uncle, Maelgwn Gwynedd, who sometime
after this held open court at Christmas-tide in the castle of Dyganwy,
for all the number of his lords of both degrees, both spiritual and
temporal, with a vast and thronged host of knights and squires.  And
amongst them there arose a discourse and discussion.  And thus was it
said.

"Is there in the whole world a king so great as Maelgwn, or one on whom
Heaven has bestowed so many spiritual gifts as upon him?  First, form,
and beauty, and meekness, and strength, besides all the powers of the
soul?"  And together with these they said that Heaven had given one gift
that exceeded all the others, which was the beauty, and comeliness, and
grace, and wisdom, and modesty of his queen; whose virtues surpassed
those of all the ladies and noble maidens throughout the whole kingdom.
And with this they put questions one to another amongst themselves, Who
had braver men?  Who had fairer or swifter horses or greyhounds?  Who had
more skilful or wiser bards--than Maelgwn?

Now at that time the bards were in great favour with the exalted of the
kingdom; and then none performed the office of those who are now called
heralds, unless they were learned men, not only expert in the service of
kings and princes, but studious and well versed in the lineage, and arms,
and exploits of princes and kings, and in discussions concerning foreign
kingdoms, and the ancient things of this kingdom, and chiefly in the
annals of the first nobles; and also were prepared always with their
answers in various languages, Latin, French, Welsh, and English.  And
together with this they were great chroniclers, and recorders, and
skilful in framing verses, and ready in making englyns in every one of
these languages.  Now of these there were at that feast within the palace
of Maelgwn as many as four and twenty, and chief of them all, was one
named Heinin Vardd.

When they had all made an end of thus praising the king and his gifts, it
befell that Elphin spoke on this wise.  "Of a truth none but a king may
vie with a king; but were he not a king, I would say that my wife was as
virtuous as any lady in the kingdom, and also that I have a bard who is
more skilful than all the king's bards."  In a short space some of his
fellows showed the king all the boastings of Elphin; and the king ordered
him to be thrown into a strong prison, until he might know the truth as
to the virtues of his wife, and the wisdom of his bard.

Now when Elphin had been put in a tower of the castle, with a thick chain
about his feet, (it is said that it was a silver chain, because he was of
royal blood;) the king, as the story relates, sent his son Rhun to
enquire into the demeanour of Elphin's wife.  Now Rhun was the most
graceless man in the world, and there was neither wife nor maiden with
whom he had held converse, but was evil spoken of.  While Rhun went in
haste towards Elphin's dwelling, being fully minded to bring disgrace
upon his wife, Taliesin told his mistress how that the king had placed
his master in durance in prison, and how that Rhun was coming in haste to
strive to bring disgrace upon her.  Wherefore he caused his mistress to
array one of the maids of her kitchen in her apparel; which the noble
lady gladly did; and she loaded her hands with the best rings that she
and her husband possessed.

In this guise Taliesin caused his mistress to put the maiden to sit at
the board in her room at supper, and he made her to seem as her mistress,
and the mistress to seem as the maid.  And when they were in due time
seated at their supper in the manner that has been said, Rhun suddenly
arrived at Elphin's dwelling, and was received with joy, for all the
servants knew him plainly; and they brought him in haste to the room of
their mistress, in the semblance of whom the maid rose up from supper and
welcomed him gladly.  And afterwards she sat down to supper again the
second time, and Rhun with her.  Then Rhun began jesting with the maid,
who still kept the semblance of her mistress.  And verily this story
shows that the maiden became so intoxicated, that she fell asleep; and
the story relates that it was a powder that Rhun put into the drink, that
made her sleep so soundly that she never felt it when he cut from off her
hand her little finger, whereon was the signet ring of Elphin, which he
had sent to his wife as a token, a short time before.  And Rhun returned
to the king with the finger and the ring as a proof, to show that he had
cut it from off her hand, without her awaking from her sleep of
intemperance.

The king rejoiced greatly at these tidings, and he sent for his
councillors, to whom he told the whole story from the beginning.  And he
caused Elphin to be brought out of his prison, and he chided him because
of his boast.  And he spake unto Elphin on this wise.  "Elphin, be it
known to thee beyond a doubt that it is but folly for a man to trust in
the virtues of his wife further than he can see her; and that thou mayest
be certain of thy wife's vileness, behold her finger, with thy signet
ring upon it, which was cut from her hand last night, while she slept the
sleep of intoxication."  Then thus spake Elphin.  "With thy leave, mighty
king, I cannot deny my ring, for it is known of many; but verily I assert
strongly that the finger around which it is, was never attached to the
hand of my wife, for in truth and certainty there are three notable
things pertaining to it, none of which ever belonged to any of my wife's
fingers.  The first of the three is, that it is certain, by your grace's
leave, that wheresoever my wife is at this present hour, whether sitting,
or standing, or lying down, this ring would never remain upon her thumb,
whereas you can plainly see that it was hard to draw it over the joint of
the little finger of the hand whence this was cut; the second thing is,
that my wife has never let pass one Saturday since I have known her
without paring her nails before going to bed, and you can see fully that
the nail of this little finger has not been pared for a month.  The third
is, truly, that the hand whence this finger came was kneading rye dough
within three days before the finger was cut therefrom, and I can assure
your goodness that my wife has never kneaded rye dough since my wife she
has been."

Then the king was mightily wrath with Elphin for so stoutly withstanding
him, respecting the goodness of his wife, wherefore he ordered him to his
prison a second time, saying that he should not be loosed thence until he
had proved the truth of his boast, as well concerning the wisdom of his
bard as the virtues of his wife.

In the meantime his wife and Taliesin remained joyful at Elphin's
dwelling.  And Taliesin shewed his mistress how that Elphin was in prison
because of them, but he bade her be glad for that he would go to
Maelgwn's court to free his master.  Then she asked him in what manner he
would set him free.  And he answered her,--

   "A journey will I perform,
   And to the gate I will come;
   The hall I will enter,
   And my song I will sing;
   My speech I will pronounce
   To silence royal bards.
   In presence of their chief,
   I will greet to deride,
   Upon them I will break
   And Elphin I will free.
   Should contention arise,
   In presence of the prince,
   With summons to the bards
   For the sweet flowing song,
   And wizards' posing lore
   And wisdom of Druids.
   In the court of the sons of the distributor
   Some are who did appear
   Intent on wily schemes,
   By craft and tricking means,
   In pangs of affliction
   To wrong the innocent,
   Let the fools be silent,
   As erst in Badon's fight,--
   With Arthur of liberal ones
   The head, with long red blades;
   Through feats of testy men,
   And a chief with his foes.
   Woe be to them, the fools,
   When revenge comes on them.
   I Taliesin, chief of bards,
   With a sapient druid's words,
   Will set kind Elphin free
   From haughty tyrant's bonds.
   To their fell and chilling cry,
   By the act of a surprising steed,
   From the far distant North,
   There soon shall be an end.
   Let neither grace nor health
   Be to Maelgwn Gwynedd,
   For this force and this wrong;
   And be extremes of ills
   And an avenged end
   To Rhun and all his race:
   Short be his course of life,
   Be all his lands laid waste;
   And long exile be assigned
   To Maelgwn Gwynedd!"

After this he took leave of his mistress, and came at last to the court
of Maelgwn, who was going to sit in his hall and dine in his royal state,
as it was the custom in those days for kings and princes to do at every
chief feast.  And as soon as Taliesin entered the hall, he placed himself
in a quiet corner, near the place where the bards and the minstrels were
wont to come to in doing their service and duty to the king, as is the
custom at the high festivals when the bounty is proclaimed.  And so, when
the bards and the heralds came to cry largess and to proclaim the power
of the king and his strength, at the moment that they passed by the
corner wherein he was crouching, Taliesin pouted out his lips after them,
and played "Blerwm, blerwm," with his finger upon his lips.  Neither took
they much notice of him as they went by, but proceeded forward till they
came before the king, unto whom they made their obeisance with their
bodies, as they were wont, without speaking a single word, but pouting
out their lips, and making mouths at the king, playing "Blerwm, blerwm,"
upon their lips with their fingers, as they had seen the boy do
elsewhere.  This sight caused the king to wonder and to deem within
himself that they were drunk with many liquors.  Wherefore he commanded
one of his lords, who served at the board, to go to them and desire them
to collect their wits, and to consider where they stood, and what it was
fitting for them to do.  And this lord did so gladly.  But they ceased
not from their folly any more than before.  Whereupon he sent to them a
second time, and a third, desiring them to go forth from the hall.  At
the last the king ordered one of his squires to give a blow to the chief
of them named Heinin Vardd; and the squire took a broom, and struck him
on the head, so that he fell back in his seat.  Then he arose and went on
his knees, and besought leave of the king's grace to show that this their
fault was not through want of knowledge, neither through drunkenness, but
by the influence of some spirit that was in the hall.  And after this
Heinin spoke on this wise.  "Oh honourable king, be it known to your
grace, that not from the strength of drink, or of too much liquor, are we
dumb, without power of speech like drunken men, but through the influence
of a spirit that sits in the corner yonder in the form of a child."
Forthwith the king commanded the squire to fetch him; and he went to the
nook where Taliesin sat, and brought him before the king, who asked him
what he was, and whence he came.  And he answered the king in verse.

      "Primary chief bard am I to Elphin,
   And my original country is the region of the summer stars;
   Idno and Heinin called me Merddin,
   At length every king will call me Taliesin.

   I was with my Lord in the highest sphere,
   On the fall of Lucifer into the depth of hell:
   I have borne a banner before Alexander;
   I know the names of the stars from north to south;
   I have been on the galaxy at the throne of the Distributor;
   I was in Canaan when Absalom was slain;
   I conveyed the divine Spirit to the level of the vale of Hebron;
   I was in the court of Don before the birth of Gwydion.
   I was instructor to Eli and Enoc;
   I have been winged by the genius of the splendid crosier;
   I have been loquacious prior to being gifted with speech;
   I was at the place of the crucifixion of the merciful Son of God;
   I have been three periods in the prison of Arianrod;
   I have been the chief director of the work of the tower of Nimrod;
   I am a wonder whose origin is not known.

   I have been in Asia with Noah in the ark,
   I have seen the destruction of Sodom and Gomorra;
   I have been in India when Roma was built,
   I am now come here to the remnant of Troia.

   I have been with my Lord in the manger of the ass;
   I strengthened Moses through the water of Jordan;
   I have been in the firmament with Mary Magdalene;
   I have obtained the muse from the cauldron of Ceridwen;
   I have been bard of the harp to Lleon of Lochlin.
   I have been on the White Hill, in the court of Cynvelyn,
   For a day and a year in stocks and fetters,
   I have suffered hunger for the Son of the Virgin.
   I have been fostered in the land of the Deity,
   I have been teacher to all intelligences,
   I am able to instruct the whole universe.
   I shall be until the day of doom on the face of the earth;
   And it is not known whether my body is flesh or fish.

      Then I was for nine months
      In the womb of the hag Ceridwen;
      I was originally little Gwion,
      And at length I am Taliesin."

And when the king and his nobles had heard the song, they wondered much,
for they had never heard the like from a boy so young as he.  And when
the king knew that he was the bard of Elphin, he bade Heinin, his first
and wisest bard, to answer Taliesin and to strive with him.  But when he
came, he could do no other, but play "blerwm" on his lips; and when he
sent for the others of the four and twenty bards, they all did likewise,
and could do no other.  And Maelgwn asked the boy Taliesin what was his
errand, and he answered him in song.

   "Puny bards, I am trying
   To secure the prize, if I can;
   By a gentle prophetic strain
   I am endeavouring to retrieve
   The loss I may have suffered;
   Complete the attempt, I hope,
   Since Elphin endures trouble
   In the fortress of Teganwy,
   On him may there not be laid
   Too many chains and fetters;
   The Chair of the fortress of Teganwy
   Will I again seek;
   Strengthened by my muse I am powerful;
   Mighty on my part is what I seek,
   For three hundred songs and more
   Are combined in the spell I sing.
   There ought not to stand where I am
   Neither stone, neither ring;
   And there ought not to be about me
   Any bard who may not know
   That Elphin the son of Gwyddno
   Is in the land of Artro,
   Secured by thirteen locks,
   For praising his instructor;
   And then I Taliesin,
   Chief of the bards of the west,
   Shall loosen Elphin
   Out of a golden fetter."

   * * * * *

   "If you be primary bards
   To the master of sciences,
   Declare ye mysteries
   That relate to the inhabitants of the world;
   There is a noxious creature,
   From the rampart of Satanas,
   Which has overcome all
   Between the deep and the shallow;
   Equally wide are his jaws
   As the mountains of the Alps;
   Him death will not subdue,
   Nor hand or blades;
   There is the load of nine hundred waggons
   In the hair of his two paws;
   There is in his head an eye
   Green as the limpid sheet of icicle;
   Three springs arise
   In the nape of his neck;
   Sea-roughs thereon
   Swim through it;
   There was the dissolution of the oxen
   Of Deivrdonwy the water-gifted.
   The names of the three springs
   From the midst of the ocean;
   One generated brine
   Which is from the Corina,
   To replenish the flood
   Over seas disappearing;
   The second, without injury
   It will fall on us,
   When there is rain abroad.
   Through the whelming sky;
   The third will appear
   Through the mountain veins,
   Like a flinty banquet.
   The work of the King of kings.
   You are blundering bards,
   In too much solicitude;
   You cannot celebrate
   The kingdom of the Britons;
   And I am Taliesin,
   Chief of the bards of the west,
   Who will loosen Elphin
   Out of the golden fetter."

   * * * * *

   "Be silent, then, ye unlucky rhyming bards,
   For you cannot judge between truth and falsehood.
   If you be primary bards formed by Heaven,
   Tell your king what his fate will be.
   It is I who am a diviner and a leading bard,
   And know every passage in the country of your king;
   I shall liberate Elphin from the belly of the stony tower;
   And will tell your king what will befall him.
   A most strange creature will come from the sea marsh of Rhianedd
   As a punishment of iniquity on Maelgwn Gwynedd;
   His hair, his teeth, and his eyes being as gold,
   And this will bring destruction upon Maelgwn Gwynedd."

   * * * * *

   "Discover thou what is
   The strong creature from before the flood,
   Without flesh, without bone,
   Without vein, without blood,
   Without head, without feet;
   It will neither be older nor younger
   Than at the beginning;
   For fear of a denial,
   There are no rude wants
   With creatures.
   Great God! how the sea whitens
   When first it come!
   Great are its gusts
   When it comes from the south;
   Great are its evaporations
   When it strikes on coasts.
   It is in the field, it is in the wood,
   Without hand and without foot,
   Without signs of old age,
   Though it be co-eval
   With the five ages or periods;
   And older still,
   Though they be numberless years.
   It is also so wide
   As the surface of the earth;
   And it was not born,
   Nor was it seen.
   It will cause consternation
   Wherever God willeth.
   On sea, and on land,
   It neither sees, nor is seen.
   Its course is devious,
   And will not come when desired.
   On land and on sea,
   It is indispensible.
   It is without an equal,
   It is four-sided;
   It is not confined,
   It is incomparable;
   It comes from four quarters
   It will not be advised,
   It will not be without advice.
   It commences its journey
   Above the marble rock. {136}
   It is sonorous, it is dumb,
   It is mild,
   It is strong, it is bold,
   When it glances over the land.
   It is silent, it is vocal,
   It is clamorous,
   It is the most noisy
   On the face of the earth.
   It is good, it is bad,
   It is extremely injurious.
   It is concealed,
   Because sight cannot perceive it.
   It is noxious, it is beneficial;
   It is yonder, it is here;
   It will discompose,
   But will not repair the injury;
   It will not suffer for its doings,
   Seeing it is blameless.
   It is wet, it is dry,
   It frequently comes,
   Proceeding from the heat of the sun,
   And the coldness of the moon.
   The moon is less beneficial,
   Inasmuch as her heat is less.
   One Being has prepared it,
   Out of all creatures,
   By a tremendous blast,
   To wreak vengeance
   On Maelgwn Gwynedd."

And while he was thus singing his verse near the door there arose a
mighty storm of wind, so that the king and all his nobles thought that
the castle would fall upon their heads.  And the king caused them to
fetch Elphin in haste from his dungeon, and placed him before Taliesin.
And it is said that immediately he sang a verse, so that the chains
opened from about his feet.

   "I adore the Supreme, Lord of all animation,--
   Him that supports the heaven, Ruler of every extreme,
   Him that made the water good for all,
   Him who has bestowed each gift, and blesses it;--
   May abundance of mead be given Maelgwn of Anglesey, who supplies us,
   From his foaming meadhorns, with the choicest pure liquor.
   Since bees collect, and do not enjoy,
   We have sparkling distilled mead, which is universally praised.
   The multitude of creatures which the earth nourishes,
   God made for man, with a view to enrich him;--
   Some are violent, some are mute, he enjoys them,
   Some are wild, some are tame; the Lord makes them;--
   Part of their produce becomes clothing;
   For food and beverage till doom will they continue.
   I entreat the Supreme, Sovereign of the region of peace,
   To liberate Elphin from banishment,
   The man who gave me wine, and ale, and mead,
   With large princely steeds, of beautiful appearance;
   May he yet give me; and at the end,
   May God of His good will grant me, in honour,
   A succession of numberless ages, in the retreat of tranquillity.--
   Elphin, knight of mead, late be thy dissolution!"

And afterwards he sang the ode which is called "The Excellence of the
Bards."

   "What was the first man
   Made by the God of heaven;
   What the fairest flattering speech
   That was prepared by Ieuav;
   What meat, what drink,
   What roof his shelter;
   What the first impression
   Of his primary thinking;
   What became his clothing;
   Who carried on a disguise,
   Owing to the wiles of the country,
   In the beginning?
   Wherefore should a stone be hard;
   Why should a thorn be sharp-pointed;
   Who is hard like a flint;
   Who is salt like brine;
   Who sweet like honey;
   Who rides on the gale;

   Why ridged should be the nose;
   Why should a wheel be round;
   Why should the tongue be gifted with speech
   Rather than another member?
   If thy bards, Heinin, be competent,
   Let them reply to me, Taliesin."

And after that he sang the address which is called "The Reproof of the
Bards."

   "If thou art a bard completely imbued
   With genius not to be controlled,
   Be thou not untractable
   Within the court of thy king;
   Until thy rigmarole shall be known,
   Be thou silent Heinin
   As to the name of thy verse,
   And the name of thy vaunting;
   And as to the name of thy grandsire
   Prior to his being baptized.
   And the name of the sphere,
   And the name of the element,
   And the name of thy language,
   And the name of thy region.
   Avaunt, ye bards above,
   Avaunt, ye bards below!
   My beloved is below,
   In the fetter of Arianrod.
   It is certain you know not
   How to understand the song I utter,
   Nor clearly how to discriminate
   Between the truth and what is false;
   Puny bards, crows of the district,
   Why do you not take to flight?
   A bard that will not silence me,
   Silence may he not obtain,
   Till he goes to be covered
   Under gravel and pebbles;
   Such as shall listen to me,
   May God listen to him."

Then sang he the piece called "The Spite of the Bards."

   "Minstrels persevere in their false custom,
   Immoral ditties are their delight;
   Vain and tasteless praise they recite;
   Falsehood at all times do they utter;
   The innocent persons they ridicule;
   Married women they destroy,
   Innocent virgins of Mary they corrupt;
   As they pass their lives away in vanity;
   Poor innocent persons they ridicule;
   At night they get drunk, they sleep the day;
   In idleness without work they feed themselves;
   The Church they hate, and the tavern they frequent;
   With thieves and perjured fellows they associate;
   At courts they inquire after feasts;
   Every senseless word they bring forward;
   Every deadly sin they praise;
   Every vile course of life they lead;
   Through every village, town, and country they stroll;
   Concerning the gripe of death they think not;
   Neither lodging nor charity do they give;
   Indulging in victuals to excess.
   Psalms or prayers they do not use,
   Tithes or offerings to God they do not pay,
   On holidays or Sundays they do not worship;
   Vigils or festivals they do not heed.
   The birds do fly, the fish do swim,
   The bees collect honey, worms do crawl,
   Every thing travails to obtain its food,
   Except minstrels and lazy useless thieves.

   I deride neither song nor minstrelsy,
   For they are given by God to lighten thought;
   But him who abuses them,
   For blaspheming Jesus and his service."

Taliesin having set his master free from prison, and having protected the
innocence of his wife, and silenced the Bards so that not one of them
dared to say a word, now brought Elphin's wife before them, and shewed
that she had not one finger wanting.  Right glad was Elphin, right glad
was Taliesin.

Then he bade Elphin wager the king, that he had a horse both better and
swifter than the king's horses.  And this Elphin did, and the day, and
the time, and the place were fixed, and the place was that which at this
day is called Morva Rhiannedd; and thither the king went with all his
people, and four and twenty of the swiftest horses he possessed.  And
after a long process the course was marked, and the horses were placed
for running.  Then came Taliesin with four and twenty twigs of holly,
which he had burnt black, and he caused the youth who was to ride his
master's horse to place them in his belt, and he gave him orders to let
all the king's horses get before him, and as he should overtake one horse
after the other, to take one of the twigs and strike the horse with it
over the crupper, and then let that twig fall; and after that to take
another twig, and do in like manner to every one of the horses, as he
should overtake them, enjoining the horseman strictly to watch when his
own horse should stumble, and to throw down his cap on the spot.  All
these things did the youth fulfil, giving a blow to every one of the
king's horses, and throwing down his cap on the spot where his horse
stumbled.  And to this spot Taliesin brought his master after his horse
had won the race.  And he caused Elphin to put workmen to dig a hole
there; and when they had dug the ground deep enough, they found a large
cauldron full of gold.  And then said Taliesin, "Elphin, behold a payment
and reward unto thee, for having taken me out of the weir, and for having
reared me from that time until now."  And on this spot stands a pool of
water, which is to this time called Pwllbair.

After all this, the king caused Taliesin to be brought before him, and he
asked him to recite concerning the creation of man from the beginning;
and thereupon he made the poem which is now called "One of the Four
Pillars of Song."

   "The Almighty made,
   Down the Hebron vale,
   With his plastic hands,
      Adam's fair form;

   And five hundred years,
   Void of any help,
   There he remained and lay
      Without a soul.

   He again did form,
   In calm paradise,
   From a left-side rib,
      Bliss-throbbing Eve.

   Seven hours they were
   The orchard keeping,
   Till Satan brought strife,
      With wiles from hell.

   Thence were they driven,
   Cold and shivering,
   To gain their living,
      Into this world.

   To bring forth with pain
   Their sons and daughters,
   To have possession
      Of Asia's land.

   Twice five, ten and eight,
   She was self-bearing,
   The mixed burden
      Of man-woman.

   And once, not hidden,
   She brought forth Abel,
   And Cain the forlorn,
      The homicide.

   To him and his mate
   Was given a spade,
   To break up the soil,
      Thus to get bread.

   The wheat pure and white,
   Summer tilth to sow,
   Every man to feed,
      Till great yule feast.

   An angelic hand
   From the high Father,
   Brought seed for growing
      That Eve might sow;

   But she then did hide
   Of the gift a tenth,
   And all did not sow
      Of what was dug.

   Black rye then was found,
   And not pure wheat grain,
   To show the mischief
      Thus of thieving.

   For this thievish act,
   It is requisite,
   That all men should pay
      Tithe unto God.

   Of the ruddy wine,
   Planted on sunny days,
   And on new moon nights;
      And the white wine.

   The wheat rich in grain
   And red flowing wine
   Christ's pure body make,
      Son of Alpha.

   The wafer is flesh,
   The wine is spilt blood,
   The Trinity's words
      Sanctify them.

   The concealed books
   From Emmanuel's hand
   Were brought by Raphael
      As Adam's gift.

   When in his old age,
   To his chin immersed
   In Jordan's water,
      Keeping a fast,

   Moses did obtain,
   In Jordan's water,
   The aid of the three
      Most special rods.

   Solomon did obtain,
   In Babel's tower,
   All the sciences
      In Asia land.

   So did I obtain,
   In my bardic books,
   All the sciences
      Of Europe and Africa.

   Their course, their bearing
   Their permitted way,
   And their fate I know,
      Unto the end.

   Oh! what misery,
   Through extreme of woe,
   Prophecy will show
      On Troia's race!

   A coiling serpent,
   Proud and merciless,
   On her golden wings,
      From Germany.

   She will overrun
   England and Scotland,
   From Lychlyn sea-shore
      To the Severn.

   Then will the Brython
   Be as prisoners,
   By strangers swayed,
      From Saxony.

   Their Lord they will praise,
   Their speech they will keep,
   Their land they will lose,
      Except wild Walia.

   Till some change shall come,
   After long penance,
   When equally rife
      The two crimes come.

   Britons then shall have
   Their land and their crown,
   And the strangers swarm
      Shall disappear.

   All the angel's words,
   As to peace and war,
   Will be fulfilled
      To Britain's race.

He further told the king various prophecies of things that should be in
the world, in songs, as follows.

* * * * *

{Picture: p143.jpg}



Footnotes:


{11a}  Diarwya.

{11b}  While the day was still young.

{13}  Arawn, king of Annwvyn.

{15}  And as thou seest.

{17}  "It may be that I shall repent for what I have done unto thee.  Seek
whom thou wiliest to slay thee, I shall not slay thee."

{26}  "If thou wilt ask for a reasonable gift, thou shalt have it
gladly."  "A reasonable one, lord," answered he.

{28}  Pwyll rose, and caused silence to be proclaimed, to command all
suitors and minstrels to show what they desired, and to tell them that
every one of them would be satisfied according to his wish and desire.

{29}  And they summoned him to them.

{30}  "Wretched women," said Rhiannon, "for the sake of the God who knows
everything, charge me not falsely.  The God who knows everything knows
that that is false."

{31a}  Whether she persuaded or pleaded.

{31b}  Unbeseeming.

{33}  According to the kind of baptism that was then made.

{35}  "Oh fair lady," said Teirnon, "it is not very likely to me that any
of these will be carried on thy back."  "Let who will do so," said the
son, "I shall not."  "Truly, my soul," said Teirnon, "neither shall we
go."

{36a}  The Welsh is _vy'm pryder i_ (= my trouble).

{36b}  If he will be of gentle bearing.

{37a}  And if he is in power, it will be more right for him to maintain
thee than it was even for me.

{37b}  After that.

{38}  Wallt.

{39a}  And splendid wearer of the crown of London.

{39b}  Over-looking the sea.

{40}  Penordim.

{42}  Mane.

{45}  And I am not sure it was not there he got it.

{48a}  Taunted him openly.

{48b}  Bake.

{50a}  On the township.

{50b}  There were but two rivers, Lli and Archan were they called.  After
that the ocean separated the kingdoms.

{52a}  Was.

{52b}  "Yes," said Bendigeid Vran, "unless I myself can get the
kingship."

{56a}  Glivieri.

{56b}  Grodyeu.

{59a}  At that very moment.

{59b}  And from that hour they could not rest.

{62a}  Meek.

{62b}  Wilt thou follow another counsel?

{62c}  And even now thou wilt not be disappointed with her appearance.

{65}  Add "and fish."

{71}  He furnished gilded clasps for the shoes.

{73}  And then, half in guile and half in anger, he rushed into the midst
of the mice.  But he could no more keep one of them within sight than he
could gnats or birds in the air, except one, which he saw was heavy with
young, and which he thought could not run.

{79}  Knockers and Collars.

{81}  Eveyd.

{87}  Tyviawc.

{88}  A maiden.

{91a}  Aranrod _throughout_.

{91b}  Infamous.

{93}  Sea-weed.

{96}  Destiny.

{98a}  Add "according to the rite of baptism they then performed."

{98b}  "I will give him that one Cantrev that is best for a young man to
have."

{100}  Blow.

{111}  Add "henceforth."

{118a}  Of the books of the magician.  [Vergil = Fferyllt = magician or
chemist.]

{118b}  Head.

{121}  Taliesin

{123}  This should be Elphin son of Gwyddno.

{136}  Possibly an allusion to the Cave of AEolus.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Mabinogion Vol. 3 (of 3)" ***

Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.