meat. And when meat was ended, Pwyll said, "Where are the hosts that
went yesterday to the top of the mound?" "Behold, lord, we are here,"
said they. "Let us go," said he, "to the mound, and 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, "Young man," said Pwyll, "I see the lady coming;
give me my horse." Before he had mounted his horse she passed him. And
he turned after her and followed her. He let his horse go bounding
playfully, and thought that he should soon 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 not. 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. 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 see thee." "Truly," 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, and they sought to give
me 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 to 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." "Gladly," said he, "will I keep this tryst." 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.
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. 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 was on one side of Pwyll, and Rhiannon on the other; and
all the rest according to their rank. And they ate and feasted, and
talked one with another. After the meat there entered a tall,
auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing, clothed in a garment of satin,
who saluted Pwyll and his companions. "The greeting of Heaven be unto
thee," said Pwyll; "come thou and sit down." "Nay," said he, "a suitor
am I, and I will do my 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, so 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 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 promise 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 Gawl, 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 thy 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. She told him the
thought that was in her mind, and they talked long together. Then Gawl
said, "Lord, 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 Gawl, "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 Gawl 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. Then Gawl, 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 Dyved,
came to the orchard with a hundred knights, as Rhiannon had commanded
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 toward the hall; and when he came
into the hall he saluted Gawl, the son of Clud, and his company, both
men and women. "Heaven prosper thee," said Gawl, "and friendly
greeting 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 right, thou shalt have it gladly." "It is
fitting," answered he; "I crave but from want, and the boon 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 began to fill the
bag; but for all they put into it, it was no fuller than at first. "My
soul," said Gawl, "will thy bag ever be 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 therein.'" Then said Rhiannon unto Gawl, 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 Gawl 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 knights came down upon the palace. They seized
all the host that had come with Gawl, and cast them into his own
prison, and Pwyll threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and his
tattered array. 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 then was the game of Badger in the
Bag first played.
"Lord," said the man in the bag, "if thou wouldst but hear me, I merit
not to be slain in a bag." Said Heveydd, "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 behooves 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. 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.
"Verily, lord," said Gawl, "I am greatly hurt, and I have many
bruises. With thy leave, I will go forth. I will leave nobles in my
stead to answer for me in all that thou shalt require." "Willingly,"
said Pwyll, "mayest thou do thus." So Gawl went to 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. They ate and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and
tranquillity.
Next morning at 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
minstrels to show and to point out what gifts they desired.
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 shall follow thee." "By Heaven," said Pwyll, "we will go
hence together." "Willest thou this, lord?" said Heveydd. "Yes, lord,"
answered Pwyll.
And the next day they set forward toward 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 that year and the next.
HOW MANAWYDDAN CAUGHT A THIEF
By Lady Charlotte Guest
Pwyll and Rhiannon had a son, whom they named Pryderi. And when he was
grown up, Pwyll, his father, died. And Pryderi married Kieva, the
daughter of Gwynn Gloy.
Now Manawyddan returned from the war in Ireland, and he found that his
cousin had seized all his possessions, and much grief and heaviness
came upon him. "Alas! woe is me!" he exclaimed; "there is none save
myself without a home and a resting-place." "Lord," said Pryderi, "be
not so sorrowful. Thy cousin is king of the Island of the Mighty, and
though he has done thee wrong, thou hast never been a claimant of land
or possessions." "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?" said Pryderi. "I stand in
need of counsel," he answered, "and what may that counsel be?" "Seven
cantrevs belong 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 any fairer than they. Do thou and Rhiannon enjoy
them, and if thou desire any possessions thou wilt not despise these."
"I do not, chieftain," said he, "Heaven reward thee for the
friendship! 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."
They set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at last to
Dyved; and a feast was prepared for them by Rhiannon and Kieva. Then
began Manawyddan and Rhiannon to sit and to talk together; and 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." "By that will I gladly abide,"
said Rhiannon. "Right glad am I also," said Manawyddan; "may Heaven
reward him who hath shown unto me friendship so perfect as this!" And
before the feast was over she became his bride.
"Tarry ye here the rest of the feast, and I will go into England to
tender my homage unto Caswallawn, the son of Beli," said Pryderi.
"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 these four, that they
would not be parted from each other by night nor by day.
In the midst of all this he went to Caswallawn at Oxford, and tendered
his homage; and honorable was his reception there, and highly was he
praised for offering his homage.
After his return Pryderi and Manawyddan began a feast at Narberth, for
it was the chief palace. When they had ended the first meal, while
those who served them ate, they arose and went to the Mound of
Narberth, and their retinue with them. As they sat there, behold a
peal of thunder, and, with the violence of the thunder-storm, 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. When they looked
towards the place where they were wont to see the cattle and herds and
dwellings, they saw nothing now, neither house, nor beast, nor smoke,
nor fire, nor man, nor dwelling, but the buildings of the court empty
and uninhabited, without either man or beast within them.
"In the name of Heaven," said Manawyddan, "where are they of the
court, and all my host beside? Let us go and see."
So they came to the castle, and saw no man, and into the hall, and to
the sleeping-place, and there was none; and in the mead-cellar and in
the kitchen there was naught but desolation. 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.
One morning Pryderi and Manawyddan ranged their dogs and went forth to
hunt. Some of the dogs ran before them, and came to a 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," said Pryderi, "and see what is in it." As they came near,
behold, a wild boar of a pure white color 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, until the men had come near. 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, the dogs after him. Then men
began to wonder at finding a castle in a place where they had never
before seen any building, and listened for the dogs. But 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, "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 to the castle he went.
When he came within the castle he found neither man nor beast, nor
boar, nor dogs, nor house, nor dwelling within it. 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.
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.
Manawyddan waited for him till near the close of the day. Late in the
evening, being certain that he should have no tidings of Pryderi or
the dogs, he went back to the palace. 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 went in. As she went in, she perceived Pryderi laying hold of the
bowl, and she went towards him. "O my lord," said she, "what dost
thou here?" 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 Kieva 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, but it is not fitting for us to stay here; we have lost our
dogs, and 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, "but that of making
shoes." "Lord," said she, "such a craft becomes not a man so nobly
born as thou." "By that however will I abide," said he. "I know
nothing thereof," said Kieva. "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 they went into England, and went as far as Hereford; and they
betook themselves to making shoes. He began by buying the best
cordwain that could be had in the town, and 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. When they could be had from him, not a shoe nor
hose was bought of any of the cordwainers in the town. When the
cordwainers perceived that their gains were failing they came together
and took counsel, and agreed that they would slay them. And he had
warning thereof, and it was told him how the cordwainers had agreed
together to slay him.
"Lord," said Kieva, "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. 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. 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. The three crofts prospered with perfect growth, and no man
ever saw fairer wheat.
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. On the morrow, when he came there, he
found nothing but the bare straw. Every one of the ears of the wheat
was cut off from the stalk, and all the ears carried entirely
away. 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.
"O 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." And he told Kieva 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.
At midnight he heard something stirring among the wheat; and he
looked, and behold, the mightiest host of mice in the world, which
could neither be numbered nor measured. 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, 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 of the air,
except one only, which, though it was but sluggish, went so fast that
a man on foot could scarce overtake it. 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 Kieva was, and he lighted a
fire, and hung the glove by the string upon a peg. "What hast thou
there, lord?" said Kieva. "A thief," said he, "that I found robbing
me." "What kind of a thief may it be, lord, that thou couldst put into
thy glove?" said she. Then he told her 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." "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." "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 succor this reptile, except to
prevent discredit unto thee. Do therefore, lord, as thou wilt."
Then he went to the Mound of Narberth, taking the mouse with him. He
set up two forks on the highest part of the mound, and while he was
doing this he saw a scholar coming towards him, in old and tattered
garments. It was 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 inquire?" "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, "neither
will I sell it." "As thou wilt, lord," he answered; "I care naught."
And the scholar went his way.
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 the 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." And the priest
went his way.