[Illustration: T]
There was a poor farmer who had three sons, and on the same day the
three boys went to seek their fortune. The eldest two were sensible,
industrious young men; the youngest never did much at home that was any
use. He loved to be setting snares for rabbits, and tracing hares in the
snow, and inventing all sorts of funny tricks to annoy people at first
and then set them laughing.
The three parted at cross-roads, and Jack took the lonesomest. The day
turned out rainy, and he was wet and weary, you may depend, at
nightfall, when he came to a lonesome house a little off the road.
"What do you want?" said a blear-eyed old woman, that was sitting at the
fire.
"My supper and a bed to be sure," said he.
"You can't get it," said she.
"What's to hinder me?" said he.
"The owners of the house is," said she, "six honest men that does be out
mostly till three or four o'clock in the morning, and if they find you
here they'll skin you alive at the very least."
"Well, I think," said Jack, "that their very most couldn't be much
worse. Come, give me something out of the cupboard, for here I'll stay.
Skinning is not much worse than catching your death of cold in a ditch
or under a tree such a night as this."
_Begonins_ she got afraid, and gave him a good supper; and when he was
going to bed he said if she let any of the six honest men disturb him
when they came home she'd sup sorrow for it. When he awoke in the
morning, there were six ugly-looking spalpeens standing round his bed.
He leaned on his elbow, and looked at them with great contempt.
"Who are you," said the chief, "and what's your business?"
"My name," says he, "is Master Thief, and my business just now is to
find apprentices and workmen. If I find you any good, maybe I'll give
you a few lessons."
Bedad they were a little cowed, and says the head man, "Well, get up,
and after breakfast, we'll see who is to be the master, and who the
journeyman."
They were just done breakfast, when what should they see but a farmer
driving a fine large goat to market. "Will any of you," says Jack,
"undertake to steal that goat from the owner before he gets out of the
wood, and that without the smallest violence?"
"I couldn't do it," says one; and "I couldn't do it," says another.
"I'm your master," says Jack, "and I'll do it."
He slipped out, went through the trees to where there was a bend in the
road, and laid down his right brogue in the very middle of it. Then he
ran on to another bend, and laid down his left brogue and went and hid
himself.
When the farmer sees the first brogue, he says to himself, "That would
be worth something if it had the fellow, but it is worth nothing by
itself."
He goes on till he comes to the second brogue.
"What a fool I was," says he, "not to pick up the other! I'll go back
for it."
So he tied the goat to a sapling in the hedge, and returned for the
brogue. But Jack, who was behind a tree had it already on his foot, and
when the man was beyond the bend he picked up the other and loosened the
goat, and led him off through the wood.
Ochone! the poor man couldn't find the first brogue, and when he came
back he couldn't find the second, nor neither his goat.
"_Mile mollacht_!" says he, "what will I do after promising Johanna to
buy her a shawl. I must only go and drive another beast to the market
unknownst. I'd never hear the last of it if Joan found out what a fool I
made of myself."
The thieves were in great admiration at Jack, and wanted him to tell
them how he had done the farmer, but he wouldn't tell them.
By-and-by, they see the poor man driving a fine fat wether the same way.
"Who'll steal that wether," says Jack, "before it's out of the wood, and
no roughness used?"
"I couldn't," says one; and "I couldn't," says another.
"I'll try," says Jack. "Give me a good rope."
The poor farmer was jogging along and thinking of his misfortune, when
he sees a man hanging from the bough of a tree. "Lord save us!" says he,
"the corpse wasn't there an hour ago." He went on about half a quarter
of a mile, and, there was another corpse again hanging over the road.
"God between us and harm," said he, "am I in my right senses?" There was
another turn about the same distance, and just beyond it the third
corpse was hanging. "Oh, murdher!" said he; "I'm beside myself. What
would bring three hung men so near one another? I must be mad. I'll go
back and see if the others are there still."
He tied the wether to a sapling, and back he went. But when he was round
the bend, down came the corpse, and loosened the wether, and drove it
home through the wood to the robbers' house. You all may think how the
poor farmer felt when he could find no one dead or alive going or
coming, nor his wether, nor the rope that fastened him. "Oh,
misfortunate day!" cried he, "what'll Joan say to me now? My morning
gone, and the goat and wether lost! I must sell something to make the
price of the shawl. Well, the fat bullock is in the nearest field. She
won't see me taking it."
Well, if the robbers were not surprised when Jack came into the bawn
with the wether! "If you do another trick like this," said the captain,
"I'll resign the command to you."
They soon saw the farmer going by again, driving a fat bullock this
time.
"Who'll bring that fat bullock here," says Jack, "and use no violence?"
"I couldn't," says one; and "I couldn't," says another.
"I'll try," says Jack, and away he went into the wood.
The farmer was about the spot where he saw the first brogue, when he
heard the bleating of a goat off at his right in the wood.
He cocked his ears, and the next thing he heard was the maaing of a
sheep.
"Blood alive!" says he, "maybe these are my own that I lost." There was
more bleating and more maaing. "There they are as sure as a gun," says
he, and he tied his bullock to a sapling that grew in the hedge, and
away he went into the wood. When he got near the place where the cries
came from, he heard them a little before him, and on he followed them.
At last, when he was about half a mile from the spot where he tied the
beast, the cries stopped altogether. After searching and searching till
he was tired, he returned for his bullock; but there wasn't the ghost of
a bullock there, nor any where else that he searched.
This time, when the thieves saw Jack and his prize coming into the bawn,
they couldn't help shouting out, "Jack must be our chief." So there was
nothing but feasting and drinking hand to fist the rest of the day.
Before they went to bed, they showed Jack the cave where their money was
hid, and all their disguises in another cave, and swore obedience to
him.
One morning, when they were at breakfast, about a week after, said they
to Jack, "Will you mind the house for us to-day while we are at the fair
of Mochurry? We hadn't a spree for ever so long: you must get your turn
whenever you like."
"Never say't twice," says Jack, and off they went. After they were gone
says Jack to the wicked housekeeper, "Do these fellows ever make you a
present?"
"Ah, catch them at it! indeed, and they don't, purshuin to 'em."
"Well, come along with me, and I'll make you a rich woman."
[Illustration]
He took her to the treasure cave; and while she was in raptures, gazing
at the heaps of gold and silver, Jack filled his pockets as full as they
could hold, put more into a little bag, and walked out, locking the door
on the old hag, and leaving the key in the lock. He then put on a rich
suit of clothes, took the goat, and the wether, and the bullock, and
drove them before him to the farmer's house.
Joan and her husband were at the door; and when they saw the animals,
they clapped their hands and laughed for joy.
"Do you know who owns them bastes, neighbours?"
"Maybe we don't! sure they're ours."
"I found them straying in the wood. Is that bag with ten guineas in it
that's hung round the goat's neck yours?"
"Faith, it isn't."
"Well, you may as well keep it for a Godsend; I don't want it."
"Heaven be in your road, good gentleman!"
Jack travelled on till he came to his father's house in the dusk of the
evening. He went in. "God save all here!"
"God save you kindly, sir!"
"Could I have a night's lodging here?"
"Oh, sir, our place isn't fit for the likes of a gentleman such as you."
"Oh, _musha_, don't you know your own son?"
Well, they opened their eyes, and it was only a strife to see who'd have
him in their arms first.
"But, Jack asthore, where did you get the fine clothes?"
"Oh, you may as well ask me where I got all that money?" said he,
emptying his pockets on the table.
Well, they got in a great fright, but when he told them his adventures,
they were easier in mind, and all went to bed in great content.
"Father," says Jack, next morning, "go over to the landlord, and tell
him I wish to be married to his daughter."
"Faith, I'm afraid he'd only set the dogs at me. If he asks me how you
made your money, what'll I say?"
"Tell him I am a master thief, and that there is no one equal to me in
the three kingdoms; that I am worth a thousand pounds, and all taken
from the biggest rogues unhanged. Speak to him when the young lady is
by."
"It's a droll message you're sending me on: I'm afraid it won't end
well."
The old man came back in two hours.
"Well, what news?"
"Droll news, enough. The lady didn't seem a bit unwilling: I suppose
it's not the first time you spoke to her; and the squire laughed, and
said you would have to steal the goose off o' the spit in his kitchen
next Sunday, and he'd see about it."
"O! that won't be hard, any way."
Next Sunday, after the people came from early Mass, the squire and all
his people were in the kitchen, and the goose turning before the fire.
The kitchen door opened, and a miserable old beggar man with a big
wallet on his back put in his head.
"Would the mistress have anything for me when dinner is over, your
honour?"
"To be sure. We have no room here for you just now; sit in the porch for
a while."
"God bless your honour's family, and yourself!"
Soon some one that was sitting near the window cried out, "Oh, sir,
there's a big hare scampering like the divil round the bawn. Will we run
out and pin him?"
"Pin a hare indeed! much chance you'd have; sit where you are."
That hare made his escape into the garden, but Jack that was in the
beggar's clothes soon let another out of the bag.
"Oh, master, there he is still pegging round. He can't make his escape:
let us have a chase. The hall door is locked on the inside, and Mr. Jack
can't get in."
"Stay quiet, I tell you."
In a few minutes he shouted out again that the hare was there still, but
it was the third that Jack was just after giving its liberty. Well, by
the laws, they couldn't be kept in any longer. Out pegged every mother's
son of them, and the squire after them.
"Will I turn the spit, your honour, while they're catching the
_hareyeen_?" says the beggar.
"Do, and don't let any one in for your life."
"Faith, an' I won't, you may depend on it."
The third hare got away after the others, and when they all came back
from the hunt, there was neither beggar nor goose in the kitchen.
"Purshuin' to you, Jack," says the landlord, "you've come over me this
time."
Well, while they were thinking of making out another dinner, a messenger
came from Jack's father to beg that the squire, and the mistress, and
the young lady would step across the fields, and take share of what God
sent. There was no dirty mean pride about the family, and they walked
over, and got a dinner with roast turkey, and roast beef, and their own
roast goose; and the squire had like to burst his waistcoat with
laughing at the trick, and Jack's good clothes and good manners did not
take away any liking the young lady had for him already.
While they were taking their punch at the old oak table in the nice
clean little parlour with the sanded floor, says the squire, "You can't
be sure of my daughter, Jack, unless you steal away my six horses from
under the six men that will be watching them to-morrow night in the
stable."
"I'll do more than that," says Jack, "for a pleasant look from the young
lady"; and the young lady's cheeks turned as red as fire.
Monday night the six horses were in their stalls, and a man on every
horse, and a good glass of whisky under every man's waistcoat, and the
door was left wide open for Jack. They were merry enough for a long
time, and joked and sung, and were pitying the poor fellow. But the
small hours crept on, and the whisky lost its power, and they began to
shiver and wish it was morning. A miserable old colliach, with half a
dozen bags round her, and a beard half an inch long on her chin came to
the door.
"Ah, then, tendher-hearted Christians," says she, "would you let me in,
and allow me a wisp of straw in the corner; the life will be froze out
of me, if you don't give me shelter."
Well, they didn't see any harm in that, and she made herself as snug as
she could, and they soon saw her pull out a big black bottle, and take a
sup. She coughed and smacked her lips, and seemed a little more
comfortable, and the men couldn't take their eyes off her.
"Gorsoon," says she, "I'd offer you a drop of this, only you might think
it too free-making."
"Oh, hang all impedent pride," says one, "we'll take it, and thankee."
So she gave them the bottle, and they passed it round, and the last man
had the manners to leave half a glass in the bottom for the old woman.
They all thanked her, and said it was the best drop ever passed their
tongue.
"In throth, agras," said she, "it's myself that's glad to show how I
value your kindness in giving me shelter; I'm not without another
_buideal_, and you may pass it round while myself finishes what the
dasent man left me."
Well, what they drank out of the other bottle only gave them a relish
for more, and by the time the last man got to the bottom, the first man
was dead asleep in the saddle, for the second bottle had a sleepy posset
mixed with the whisky. The beggar woman lifted each man down, and laid
him in the manger, or under the manger, snug and sausty, drew a stocking
over every horse's hoof, and led them away without any noise to one of
Jack's father's outhouses. The first thing the squire saw next morning
was Jack riding up the avenue, and five horses stepping after the one he
rode.
"Confound you, Jack!" says he, "and confound the numskulls that let you
outwit them!"
He went out to the stable, and didn't the poor fellows look very lewd o'
themselves, when they could be woke up in earnest!
"After all," says the squire, when they were sitting at breakfast, "it
was no great thing to outwit such ninny-hammers. I'll be riding out on
the common from one to three to-day, and if you can outwit me of the
beast I'll be riding, I'll say you deserve to be my son-in-law."
"I'd do more than that," says Jack, "for the honour, if there was no
love at all in the matter," and the young lady held up her saucer before
her face.
Well, the squire kept riding about and riding about till he was tired,
and no sign of Jack. He was thinking of going home at last, when what
should he see but one of his servants running from the house as if he
was mad.
"Oh masther, masther," says he, as far as he could be heard, "fly home
if you wish to see the poor mistress alive! I'm running for the surgeon.
She fell down two flights of stairs, and her neck, or her hips, or both
her arms are broke, and she's speechless, and it's a mercy if you find
the breath in her. Fly as fast as the baste will carry you."
"But hadn't you better take the horse? It's a mile and a half to the
surgeon's."
"Oh, anything you like, master. Oh, _Vuya, Vuya!_ misthress _alanna_,
that I should ever see the day! and your purty body disfigured as it
is!"
"Here, stop your noise, and be off like wildfire! Oh, my darling, my
darling, isn't this a trial?"
He tore home like a fury, and wondered to see no stir outside, and when
he flew into the hall, and from that to the parlour, his wife and
daughter that were sewing at the table screeched out at the rush he
made, and the wild look that was on his face.
"Oh, my darling!" said he, when he could speak, "how's this? Are you
hurt? Didn't you fall down the stairs? What happened at all? Tell me!"
"Why, nothing at all happened, thank God, since you rode out; where did
you leave the horse?"
Well, no one could describe the state he was in for about a quarter of
an hour, between joy for his wife and anger with Jack, and _sharoose_
for being tricked. He saw the beast coming up the avenue, and a little
gorsoon in the saddle with his feet in the stirrup leathers. The servant
didn't make his appearance for a week; but what did he care with Jack's
ten golden guineas in his pocket.
Jack didn't show his nose till next morning, and it was a queer
reception he met.
[Illustration]
"That was all foul play you gave," says the squire. "I'll never forgive
you for the shock you gave me. But then I am so happy ever since, that I
think I'll give you only one trial more. If you will take away the sheet
from under my wife and myself to-night, the marriage may take place
to-morrow."
"We'll try," says Jack, "but if you keep my bride from me any longer,
I'll steal her away if she was minded by fiery dragons."
When the squire and his wife were in bed, and the moon shining in
through the window, he saw a head rising over the sill to have a peep,
and then bobbing down again.
"That's Jack," says the squire; "I'll astonish him a bit," says the
squire, pointing a gun at the lower pane.
"Oh Lord, my dear!" says the wife, "sure, you wouldn't shoot the brave
fellow?"
"Indeed, an' I wouldn't for a kingdom; there's nothing but powder in
it."
Up went the head, bang went the gun, down dropped the body, and a great
souse was heard on the gravel walk.
"Oh, Lord," says the lady, "poor Jack is killed or disabled for life."
"I hope not," says the squire, and down the stairs he ran. He never
minded to shut the door, but opened the gate and ran into the garden.
His wife heard his voice at the room door, before he could be under the
window and back, as she thought.
"Wife, wife," says he from the door, "the sheet, the sheet! He is not
killed, I hope, but he is bleeding like a pig. I must wipe it away as
well as I can, and get some one to carry him in with me." She pulled it
off the bed, and threw it to him. Down he ran like lightning, and he had
hardly time to be in the garden, when he was back, and this time he came
back in his shirt, as he went out.
"High hanging to you, Jack," says he, "for an arrant rogue!"
"Arrant rogue?" says she, "isn't the poor fellow all cut and bruised?"
"I didn't much care if he was. What do you think was bobbing up and
down at the window, and sossed down so heavy on the walk? A man's
clothes stuffed with straw, and a couple of stones."
"And what did you want with the sheet just now, to wipe his blood if he
was only a man of straw?"
"Sheet, woman! I wanted no sheet."
"Well, whether you wanted it or not, I threw it to you, and you standing
outside o' the door."
"Oh, Jack, Jack, you terrible tinker!" says the squire, "there's no use
in striving with you. We must do without the sheet for one night. We'll
have the marriage to-morrow to get ourselves out of trouble."
So married they were, and Jack turned out a real good husband. And the
squire and his lady were never tired of praising their son-in-law, "Jack
the Cunning Thief."
Powel, Prince of Dyfed.
[Illustration: P]
Powel, Prince of Dyfed, was lord of the seven Cantrevs of Dyfed; and
once upon a time Powel 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, Powel arose to walk, and he went to the top of a
mound that was above the palace, and was called Gorseth 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 highway 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 Powel, "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 farther was she from him. And when he saw
that it profited him nothing to follow her, he returned to Powel, and
said unto him, "Lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow her
on foot."
"Verily," said Powel, "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
farther 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 Powel 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 Powel, "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 Powel, "we
will go, the same party as yesterday, to the top of the mound. 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. 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 Powel, "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.
The more he urged his horse, the farther 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 Powel 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.
The next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meat. And
when meat was ended, Powel 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. 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 Powel, "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 Powel, "O maiden, for
the sake of him who 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 Powel, "this is to me the most pleasing quest on which
thou couldst have come. And wilt thou tell me who thou art?"
[Illustration: .I.JOURNEY.ON.MINE.OWN.ERRAND.]
"I will tell thee, lord," said she. "I am Rhiannon, the daughter of
Heveyth 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 Powel, "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
Powel, "and wheresoever thou wilt, there will I meet with thee."
"I will that thou meet me this day twelvemonth, at the palace of
Heveyth. 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 I will 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 Heveyth 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; Heveyth Hen was on one side of Powel, and Rhiannon on the other.
And all the rest according to their rank. And they ate 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
Powel and his companions.
"The greeting of Heaven be unto thee, my soul," said Powel. "Come thou
and sit down."
"Nay," said he, "a suitor am I; and I will do mine errand."
"Do so willingly," said Powel.
"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 shalt
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 Powel, "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 Powel 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?" said Powel.
"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 bagful 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 Powel.
"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 Powel went also back to
Dyved. And they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast
at the palace of Heveyth 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. Powel also, the chief of Annuvyn, came to
the orchard with his hundred knights, as Rhiannon had commanded him,
having the bag with him. And Powel 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. "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."
[Illustration]
A great number of attendants arose, and began 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 which is within the
bag, and shall say, 'Enough has been put herein.'"