THE little village of Aber is situated on the coast of Caernarvonshire,
at the foot of a steep green hill, against which the tower of the little
church appears relieved, and forms a useful landmark to travellers who
venture to cross the Lavan sands and ferry from Beaumaris. In foggy
weather they are directed in their dangerous journey by the tolling of
the church bell. The church and inn constitute nearly the whole of the
buildings, public and private, in this sequestered spot. At a little
distance from the village, and in the bwlch or entrance of a grand
defile, stands an artificial mount, anciently the site of a palace
belonging to Llewellyn ap Gryffydd. William de Breos, a powerful lord in
the reign of Henry the Third, happening to fall into the hands of
Llewellyn, at the siege of Montgomery, was conducted by him to his castle
at Aber, and detained there a state prisoner for a considerable time.
After his liberation suspicions of jealousy began to haunt the prince’s
mind, and with a baseness which nothing but that hateful passion could
create, invited De Breos to return to Aber as a guest; and, under the
guise of friendship, violated all laws of princely honour and hospitality
by hanging up his guest at the palace gate. While the luckless lord was
suspended from the tree, Llewellyn is said to have asked his princess, in
a taunting manner, what would she give to see her lover; and leading her
to the window, pointed out to her the lifeless body of De Breos.
Tradition preserves this tale in a few bardic lines, thus translated:
Lovely princess, said Llewellyn,
What will you give to see your Gwillim?
Wales and England and Llewellyn
I’d freely give to see my Gwillim, &c.
In a field now called Caer y Gwillim Ddû, or the field of Black William,
a cave is shown in which De Breos is believed to have been interred. The
life of the Princess Joan, both before and after this cruel tragedy,
contradicts the unworthy suspicions of her lord.
Aber was also the favourite residence of Dafydd ap Llewellyn, who,
sinking beneath a weight of afflictions, expired here in the year 1246,
and was interred in the abbey of Conway. The royal palace occupied the
site of an ancient fort, auxiliary to the castle of Caer-Hun, in
protecting the pass of Bwlch y ddau ffaen.
A noble glen at right angles, nearly with the line of coast, opens
towards the Rhaidar mawr, or Great Cataract of Aber. Precipitous hills
close in on either side, and all egress seems denied in the remote
distance. Down the front of Maes y Gaer, a height of one hundred feet
and upwards, the waters are thrown with vast impetuosity, and dashed from
the lower part of the fall with a wonderful horizontal projection. The
suddenness of the break, over which the cascade tumbles, leads many an
innocent victim to a painful termination of its existence, and the gloomy
character of the picture is generally increased by the shattered remains
of some poor animal numbered amongst the rocks at the foot of the great
fall.
—“the roused up river pours along,
Resistless, roaring dreadful, down it comes
From the rude mountain and the mossy wild,
Tumbling through rocks abrupt, and sounding far.”