KNIGHTLY LEGENDS
_of Wales_
OR
THE BOY'S MABINOGION
BEING THE EARLIEST WELSH TALES OF KING ARTHUR
IN THE FAMOUS RED BOOK OF HERGEST
_EDITED FOR BOYS WITH AN INTRODUCTION_
BY
SIDNEY LANIER
EDITOR OF "THE BOY'S FROISSART" AND "THE BOY'S KING ARTHUR"
_Illustrated by Alfred Frederick_
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1932
COPYRIGHT, 1881, 1884, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
COPYRIGHT, 1909, 1912, BY
MARY D. LANIER
Printed in the United States of America
_All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced in any form without
the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons_
[Illustration: Kai and His Companions at the Castle of the Giant Gwrnach]
INTRODUCTION.
In the library of Jesus College, Oxford, is an ancient Welsh MS. called
_Llyfr[1] Coch[2] O Hergest_;[3] that is, _The Red Book of Hergest_.
This MS. was written in the fourteenth century, though some of the
compositions which it has collected are of a much earlier date. It
contains a number of poems, together with a body of prose romances
called _Mabinogion_.[4]
[Footnote 1: "Llyfr" means _book_ (compare French _livre_, Latin
_liber_). Perhaps I can partially indicate the impression which
the word makes upon an English ear when pronounced in Welsh, thus:
consider it composed of two syllables, _Lly_ and _fr_; for the first
syllable reproduce the sound of _yie_ in the English word _yield_ with
a strongly lisped or aspirated _l_ before it, and mingled with it, as
_lhyie_, for the second, give the sound of _vre_ in the French word
_livre_; making _lhyie-vre_, accent on the first syllable.]
[Footnote 2: _Red._ Pronounced _Koch_, with the _ch_ very guttural as
in the Scotch _loch_ or the German _ach_, and the _o_ long.]
[Footnote 3: _Hergest_ has the _g_ hard, as in English _begin_.]
[Footnote 4: Pronounced with accent on _o_, which is long and somewhat
drawled; the _a_, as in _man_; the _i_'s short; and the _g_ hard, as in
_give_; about _Mab-bin-o´-gi-on_. "Mabinogion" is the plural form: the
singular is "Mabinogi."]
In the year 1838 Lady Charlotte Guest published a translation of
these Mabinogion, accompanied by the text of their Welsh originals
and a mass of useful and scholarly notes. Her work bore this gracious
dedication:--
TO IVOR AND MERTHYR.
MY DEAR CHILDREN,--Infants as you yet are, I feel that I
cannot dedicate more fitly than to you these venerable relics of
ancient lore, and I do so in the hope of inciting you to cultivate
the Literature of "Gwyllt Walia," in whose beautiful language you
are being initiated, and amongst whose free mountains you were born.
May you become early imbued with the chivalric and exalted sense of
honor, and the fervent patriotism for which its sons have ever been
celebrated.
May you learn to emulate the noble qualities of Ivor Hael, and the
firm attachment to your native country which distinguished that
Ivor Bach, after whom the elder of you was named.
I am your affectionate mother,
C. E. GUEST.
DOWLAIS, Aug. 29, 1838.
Several considerations made me strongly desire to re-edit, upon the
same plan with _The Boy's Froissart_ and _The Boy's King Arthur_,
the curious old products of Welsh fancy thus rendered available to
scholars. The intrinsic charm of the stories themselves in the first
place would easily have secured them a position in this series. Though
not so rich as the _Arabian Nights_, they are more vigorous, and
their fascination is of a more manful quality. Moreover, they are in
comparison open-air tales, and do not move in that close, and, if one
could think such a thing, gas-poisoned, temperature which often renders
the atmosphere of the Eastern tales extremely unwholesome.
But in the second place the Mabinogion all centre, in one way or
another, about the court of King Arthur, and present us with views of
the domestic life going on in King Arthur's palace, as well as of the
wild adventures of his warriors, which were conceived at a very much
earlier and ruder period than that of Sir Thomas Malory's book; so that
this collection of the earliest Arthurian legends seemed to make a
peculiarly happy companion-book to _The Boy's King Arthur_, which was
last published in this series. Indeed, it is probable that in these
Mabinogion here following we have the original germs of that great
growth of Arthurian romances which overspread Europe after Geoffrey of
Monmouth published his _History of the Britons_, and of which I gave
some account in the Introduction to _The Boy's King Arthur_. Readers
of that Introduction will remember the statement there given, in which
Geoffrey of Monmouth himself declares that his main material consisted
of a Welsh book given him by a certain person since supposed to be
Walter Map (or Mapes). Although several of the following Mabinogion
have probably received additions from foreign sources in the course
of time--an original Welsh story, for example, would be carried by
some traveller into other parts of Europe, would there be retold with
additions and variations, would find its way back in the new form to
Wales, and thus re-appear after a while in Welsh collections; yet
others are in a nearly pure state. In order to bring these two classes
into striking contrast, and to show how much a foreign admixture of
this kind might smooth down the grotesque ruggedness of its Welsh
original, I have changed the order of the Mabinogion as given in Lady
Guest's arrangement, and have placed the story of _Kilhwch and Olwen_,
which is almost hideous in many of its huge fancies and distortions
and is pure Welsh, immediately next to the story of _The Lady of the
Fountain_, whose daintiness, luxury, black savages, and the like,
seem here and there to indicate foreign touches. The general tone and
essential spirit, however, of the whole, are distinctly Welsh, and
old Welsh. I think it curious indeed to note _how_ curious those old
romances, or Mabinogion, seem to us in spite of the long intimacy and
nearness between Welsh and English. They impress most readers with a
greater sense of foreignness, of a wholly different cultus, than even
Chinese or other antipodal tales; and over and above this there is a
glamour and sleep-walking mystery which often incline a man to rub his
eyes in the midst of a Mabinogi, and to think of previous states of
existence.
It is another feature of this same difference between Welsh and English
modes of thought which forms a third, and to me the most weighty,
reason for bringing these Mabinogion before my young countrymen at
this particular time. I can illustrate this difference most vividly
by asking you to consider the following group of Welsh conceits and
notions which I have assembled from various sources, upon the single
thread of their likeness in extravagance, in wildness beyond all
tolerance of reason, in lawlessness. Of course they are not to be
taken as ordinary representative specimens; and I shall presently
counterbalance them with some very beautiful, moderate, and wise
examples of Welsh art. But they unquestionably show a tendency so
characteristic as to be easily traceable.
Take, for instance, the following story concerning the famous mantle
of King Ryence. Readers of _King Arthur_ will remember the young
sovereign's manful defiance, when, soon after his elevation to the
throne, a messenger came from King Ryence demanding King Arthur's
beard (though, indeed, he must have been too young to have one) to
complete a mantle which King Ryence was purfling (_bordering_) with
kings' beards,--a demand which Arthur pronounced "the most villainous
and lewdest message that ever man heard sent to a king." The following
version shows what prodigiously different forms the same narrative may
assume.
Once upon a time two kings of Old Britain were walking together at
night. Their names were Nynniaw and Peibiaw.
"See," said Nynniaw, "what a beautiful and large field I own!"
"Where is it?" said Peibiaw.
"The whole firmament," said Nynniaw.
"And do thou see," said Peibiaw, "what countless herds of cattle and
sheep _I_ have, feeding in thy field!"
"Where are they?" said Nynniaw.
"Why, all the stars which thou seest," replied Peibiaw, "with the moon
for their shepherdess."
"They shall not graze in my pasture," said Nynniaw.
"They _shall_," said Peibiaw.
"They shall _not_," cried Nynniaw.
And then words arose between these two kings so bitter that they
summoned their soldiers and fell to war wherein they continued until
the armies of both were nearly destroyed. Seeing that such was the
fact, Rhitta the giant, King of Wales (who is Sir Thomas Malory's
King Ryens of North Wales), levied war against both, as being madmen
dangerous to all their neighbors; and, having defeated their forces, he
cut off the beards of kings Nynniaw and Peibiaw. But at this time there
were twenty-eight kings in the Island of Britain, and when the others
heard of these things, they marched all together against King Rhitta to
avenge the insult of the beard. In the battle which followed, however,
Rhitta was again victor. "This field is mine," said he, and cut off the
beards of _those_ kings. These matters being told abroad, the kings of
all the surrounding countries made common cause against Rhitta, and
presently waged a great battle with him. Still, Rhitta conquered all
these. "The great field is mine," he said again; "and," cutting off all
their beards, "these are the herds that fed in my field; but I have
driven them out." Then he made a mantle for himself out of all those
beards, and although he was a giant twice as large as the largest man
ever known, that mantle reached from his head to his heels.
Or take the exactions of a certain messenger called "The Little
Peacock" (_Y Paun Bach_), who was sent by a certain David, Prince of
North Wales, to fetch Gwgan (_Googan_, nearly) the bard to court. After
a long journey, towards the close of the evening the Little Peacock
heard sounds of the tuning of a harp from a house in a wooded valley
where he had arrived. "The style of playing and the modulation" led
him to suspect that this was Gwgan's house; and in order to be sure
he advances and pours forth a high-flown speech to Gwgan, who replies
in the like lofty vein, finally inquiring what he would have. "I want
lodging," quoth Y Paun Bach, "for to-night ... and that not better than
I know how to ask for.... A lightsome hall, floored with tile, and
swept, in which there has been neither flood nor raindrop for the last
hundred years, dressed with fresh green rushes, laid so evenly that one
rush be not higher than the other the height of a gnat's eye, so that
my foot should not slip either backward or forward the space of a mote
in the sunshine of June;" together with similar superb requirements as
to the cushion beneath him, the pillow under each elbow, the fire, the
supper, the servants' livery, and the quantity of his ale.
Or this itemized account of a monster, which, though not Welsh, is
Gælic, and shows the general Keltic proclivity. "... they saw a couple
approaching them,--a woman and a man; larger than the summit of ... a
mountain was each ... of their members; sharper than a shaving-knife
the edge of their shins; their heels and hams [were] in front of them;
should a sackful of apples be thrown on their heads not one of them
would fall to the ground, but would stick on the points of the strong,
bristly hair which grew out of their heads; ... whiter than snow their
eyes; a lock of the lower beard was carried round the back of the head,
and a lock of the upper beard descended so as to cover the knees; the
woman had whiskers, but the man was without whiskers."
Or the King Yspaddaden Penkawr, in the following story of _Kilhwch and
Olwen_, whose eyebrows hung over his eyes to such a degree that they
had to be propped up with forks; as well as the amazing qualifications
of King Arthur's warriors, detailed in the same story,--such as of him
whose dagger was so broad that King Arthur's army was accustomed to use
it for a bridge in passing rivers; or him who could hear the touch of
a gnat's foot on the ground at a great distance, or of him who could
see a mote in a sunbeam at either of the four corners of the earth,
or him whose red beard lay completely along the twenty-eight rafters
of the king's hall, or of him whose lips were so large that he was
accustomed to draw the lower down for an apron and to lift up the other
for a hood; and others still more marvellously absurd. If we compare
these with the wildest flights in Malory's _King Arthur_, nothing
can be clearer than the constant presence in the latter of a certain
reasonable restraint, a sober proportion, a sense of the supreme value
of law, even in the most apparently lawless excursions. It would be
going far beyond proper bounds to discuss here how this subtle feeling
for the beauty of restraint, this underlying perception of the artistic
necessity of law and order, has quietly reigned, not only over the
advance of English literature, but has been also the moving spirit, the
perpetual King Alfred, of the whole of English development in general.
And, as hinted, I have thought this consideration particularly forcible
at the present moment in our own country, where the making of statutes
increases in exact proportion to the decrease in the popular esteem for
them. Daily and endlessly our Legislatures multiply laws and murder
Law. But--may I not add, if only as one of those utterances which a boy
sometimes profitably remembers, though at first dimly understood--the
love of Law beyond all laws would seem to be particularly vital in a
republic; being a principle so comprehensive, that at one extreme,
in contact with certain tendencies, it flowers into that sense of
proportion, of the due relation of all parts of the universe to the
whole, which is the artist's largest perception of beauty, and is the
main outfit of genius in constructing Mabinogion, in literature, in all
art; while at the other extreme, working with certain other tendencies
of character, the same love of Law is at once the root of decorous
behavior on the part of the private citizen, and of large statesmanship
on the part of the public official.
But while this danger of extravagance certainly exists in the products
of Welsh fancy, they possess many qualities which have wrought with
fine influence upon general English life and literature. Among the
oldest remains of Welsh poetic wisdom that have come down to us are
what were called _The Triads_, in which wise aphorisms and sayings are
effectively grouped together by threes. The four following examples of
this form of composition show an insight and breadth which render them
instructive to the wisest readers of our own time.
I.
The three qualifications of poetry: Endowment of genius, judgment
from experience, and happiness of mind.
II.
The three primary requisites of genius: An eye that can see nature,
a heart that can feel nature, and boldness that dares follow nature.
III.
The three foundations of judgment: Bold design, constant practice,
and frequent mistakes.
IV.
The three foundations of learning: Seeing much, suffering much, and
studying much.
It would be difficult to find more wisdom in fewer words, or loftier
thought in simpler terms; and any young reader of _The Mabinogion_ will
have done a good day's work if he will commit these words so thoroughly
that they will say themselves over to him, day by day, as a noble and
fruitful formula, alike stimulating in every line of life, from the
ploughman's to the president's. Among the Welsh, indeed, as far back
as history can pierce, we find an almost adoring reverence for the
poet. To assume the function of a bard is to assume the function of the
wisest man and best teacher in society; and therefore the utmost pains
are taken with the young bard's education, and he is held bound to know
all that can be known. One supreme name stands out among ancient Welsh
bards, which I will ask you to remember in this connection. This is
TALIESIN, whose name signifies "Shining Brow." He is the hero
of one of the following Mabinogion which bears his name for a title.
Some specimens of his poetry will there be found; and a few facts as
to his life are added in a footnote. The poet of next rank to him is
perhaps Llywarch Hen, who, as well as Taliesin, belongs to the sixth
century. The word "Hen" means _old_; and "Old Llywarch" seems a sort of
expression of endearment. This is a specimen of his more pathetic song.
His youngest son, Gwenn, had been slain in battle.
"Let the wave break noisily: let it cover the shore when the joined
lances are in battle.... Let the wave break noisily: let it cover
the plain when the lances join with a shock.... Gwenn has been
slain at the ford of Morlas.... Here is the tomb of Gwenn, the son
of the old Llywarch. Sweetly a bird sang on a pear-tree above the
head of Gwenn, before they covered him with turf: that broke the
heart of the old Llywarch."
I wish there were time to speak of Aneurin, the battle-singer; or to
give the curious triad published among the Iolo Manuscripts, describing
"The Nine Impulsive Stocks of the Baptismal Bards of Britain"; or to
cite some brief beauties of still less-known poets,--such as the wild
Hebrew outcry of the King Gwyddno Garanhir, which swept over the waste
floods covering his plains and cities after the total destruction of
his kingdom by the sea through the drunkenness of Seithenin, who had
been left to watch the embankment on a night of revelry,--
"Stand forth, Seithenin, and behold the dwelling of heroes,--the
plain of Gwyddno the ocean covers!
Accursed be the sea guard, who after his carousal let loose the
destroying fountain of the raging deep.
Accursed be the watcher, who after his drunken revelry loosed the
fountain of the desolating sea.
A cry from the sea arises above the ramparts; even to heaven does
its ascend,--after the fierce excess comes the long cessation!
A cry from the sea ascends above the ramparts; even to heaven does
the supplication come!--after the excess there ensues restraint!
A cry from the sea awakens me this night!--
A cry from the sea arises above the winds!
A cry from the sea impels me from my place of rest this night!
After excess comes the far extending death!"
--or as the saying of Heinin Vardd, preserved in the fragment,--
"Hast thou heard the saying of Heinin,
The Bard of the college of Llanveithan?
_The brave is never cruel._"
In this connection I will ask you to notice also the intense feeling
for color, which, in some of the following Mabinogion, spreads an
almost Oriental luxuriance of tint over the scenes. _The Lady of
the Fountain_ (the first Mabinogi of the following collection), for
example, shows us King Arthur reclining upon green rushes, with a
cushion of red satin under his elbow, Guenever and her ladies grouped
at the other end of the hall, mantles of flame-colored satin, gilded
bows, gold-headed arrows winged with peacocks' feathers, gold-banded
garments, shoes of variegated leather, twenty-four youths with golden
hair, rooms with all the panels painted in gorgeous colors, the
coal-black savage, white whalebone (ivory of the narwhal's tooth,
probably), and the like. Or we have a quaint extravagant scene like
that in the Mabinogi of _Peredur_ (the modern Percival of the Arthur
series): where, upon a certain occasion, Peredur was observed with his
eyes fixed upon a certain spot, sunken in deep meditation. All attempts
to get his attention failed; he was cuffed, boxed, even overthrown;
until, after a final catastrophe (for which see the story), Peredur
explains that he is studying certain effects of color produced by the
following circumstances; after spending the night in a hermit's cell,
"in the morning he arose, and, when he went forth, behold a shower of
snow had fallen the night before, and a hawk had killed a wild fowl in
front of the cell, and the noise of the horse scared the hawk away, and
a raven alighted upon the bird. And Peredur stood and compared the
blackness of the raven, and the whiteness of the snow, and the redness
of the blood, to the hair of the lady that best he loved, which was
blacker than jet, and to her skin, which was whiter than snow, and to
the two red spots upon her cheeks, which were redder than the blood
upon the snow appeared to be."
The glowing picture of the young knight starting for Arthur's court in
_Kilhwch and Olwen_; the dainty composition of the maiden Blodeuwedd,
who was constructed by magic out of certain flowers in order to be a
bride for Gwyddion, who was cursed by Arianrod with the curse that he
should never have a wife of the present human race,--these and many
similar bright-colored passages in the Mabinogion will strike the most
cursory reader in confirmation of the feeling for color alleged. While
I am scarcely prepared to attribute so much weight to any foreign
element as to agree with Mr. Henry Morley in believing that but for the
Keltic influence England would not have produced a Shakespere; or with
Mr. Matthew Arnold, that English poetry got nearly all its turn for
catching and rendering the charm of nature in a wonderfully near and
vivid way, beside possibly other qualities, from a Keltic source: yet
I think we can safely say that our literature has certainly enriched
itself with Bard's wisdom, has certainly warmed itself with the fire
and color of Keltic fancy, and has perhaps spiritualized its feeling
for nature with that subtle wood-loneliness which Mr. Arnold calls "the
natural magic" of the Kelt.
The Welsh proper names are apt to make such an uncouth impression
upon those unacquainted with their true sounds, that perhaps the most
helpful matter to which I can devote the brief remainder of this
Introduction is the pronunciation of Welsh. The following rules,
in which of course all attempt at minute accuracy is sacrificed to
brevity, and only approximate sounds are aimed at, will at least result
in showing such names to be often musical and pleasing, even to the
English ear. The letters which cause most perplexity are _w_, _ll_,
_y_, and _ch_. _W_ is usually sounded like _oo_ in _pool_, as already
explained under the name "Kilhwch," pronounced _Kilhooch_; though where
it precedes a vowel this sound (_oo_) of course practically becomes
the English consonantal _w_; for example, _oo-et_, rapidly pronounced,
would merge into _wet_; and so in "Llywarch" or "Gwyddion," the _w_
before the _a_ or _y_ may be considered as having simply the force
of the English _w_. Y, if long, is like German _ü_, or French _u_ in
_une_; nearly English _ee_ in _seen_. _Y_ short, much like our short
_u_, except in the last syllable of words, where it is more like our
short _i_. Ll is like Spanish _ll_ in _llanos_, but with an aspirated
sound made by forcing the breath through the back teeth so vigorously
as to impress the English ear with the sound of a strongly-lisped _s_.
If the organs be arranged so as to pronounce the _y_ in _yield_, and
the sound _lh_ vigorously forced upon that position, something like
Welsh _ll_ results. _Ch_ is guttural, as in Scotch _loch_, German
_ach_. The vowels _a_, _e_, _i_, mostly occur in the following names
as short English _a_, _e_, _i_; _o_, as long _o_; and _u_, as a rapidly
pronounced French _u_. The often occurring _aw_ is like _ou_ in English
_our_, or German _au_ in _haus_. _Dd_ is nearly _th_ in _then_, only
with more of _d_ than _t_ blended with the _h_ sound. _C_ is always
_k_, _Cynon_ equals _Kynon_; there is no soft _c_ in Welsh. _F_ is
always _v_; it is only _ff_ which sounds like our _f_ in _fan_. _G_
always hard, as in _get_. _Th_ as in English _thanks_; never as in
_then_.
All other letters may be sounded as in English. It is possible, I
should add, that even Welshmen may find theoretical fault with some of
these directions; but they are given here as very nearly reproducing
the practical impression made upon English ears by actual Welsh current
talk. No one need go outside of his own experience to discover how
greatly the sounds of current discourse differ from theoretical methods
of pronunciation.
Such is the general sound of the Welsh tongue. It will be helpful
if I add--in view of many books which are now appearing as results
of the fresh interest lately aroused in old Gælic language and
literature--that the sounds here given belong to the tongue of that
special division of the Kelts known as the Cymric (pronounced Kymric)
Kelts, in distinction from their neighbors of ancient Ireland and
Scotland, known as the Gædhilic, or Gælic. The derivation of the
names "Wales" and "Welsh" is much disputed, and may be regarded as
unsettled. They are, at any rate, much later than "Cambria" and
"Cymric," which all Welshmen claim to be the true names for their
country and nation, building upon that ancient tradition perpetuated
by Geoffrey of Monmouth, that after the death of Brutus, the original
founder of Britain, his three sons divided the kingdom between them;
the eldest, Locrinus, taking the part now known as England, but called
after him "Locria" (or, variously, "Locgria," "Locris," &c.) in all old
chronicles; the next son, Albanach (Albany), taking the parts north
of the Humber; and the third son, Camber, taking the part between the
Irish seas and the rivers Severn and Dee, whence it was called after
him, "Cambria," now known as Wales.
Hence the Welsh now call themselves "Cymru," usually reproduced in
English by "Cymry," and their language "Cymraec," or "Cymraeg," usually
reproduced in English by "Cymric."
* * * * *
The present work contains nearly all the Mabinogion originally given;
and, as in the other works of this series, the original text is
scrupulously preserved, except occasionally to hasten the long-lagging
action of a story,--in which case the interpolation is always placed
in brackets,--and except where the demands of modern reserve required
excision. An Italicized word in brackets is always the meaning of the
word immediately before it, as in the _Froissart_ and the _King Arthur_.
In now leaving this beautiful book with my young countrymen, I find
myself so sure of its charm as to feel no hesitation in taking
authority to unite the earnest expression of their gratitude with
that of my own to Lady Charlotte Guest, whose talents and scholarship
have made these delights possible; and I can wish my young readers
few pleasures of finer quality than that surprised sense of a whole
new world of possession which came with my first reading of these
Mabinogion, and made me remember Keats's
"... watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken."
SIDNEY LANIER
CAMP ROBIN, N.C., June, 1881.
CONTENTS.
THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN
KILHWCH AND OLWEN; OR, THE TWRCH TRWYTH
PEREDUR THE SON OF EVRAWC
THE DREAM OF RHONABWY
PWYLL, PRINCE OF DYVED
THE STORY OF LLUDD AND LLEVELYS
THE ORIGIN OF THE OWL
BRANWEN THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR
MANAWYDDAN AND THE MICE
GERAINT THE SON OF ERBIN
THE DREAM OF MAXEN WLEDIG
TALIESIN
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
KAI AND HIS COMPANIONS AT THE CASTLE OF THE GIANT GWRNACH
THE RECOVERY OF OWAIN
KILHWCH RIDING INTO ARTHUR'S HALL
PEREDUR AND THE MAIDEN
PEREDUR AND THE CHESSMEN
THE ARMY OF RAVENS
THE BATTLE OF THE DRAGONS
THE FLIGHT OF BLODEUWEDD AND HER MAIDENS
PRYDERI HELD FAST BY THE ENCHANTED BOWL
THE TOURNAMENT OF THE SPARROW-HAWK
GERAINT AND THE MAIDEN AT THE EDGE OF THE WOOD
ELPHIN SINGING BEFORE TALIESIN
THE BOY'S MABINOGION.
THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN.
King Arthur was at Caerlleon-upon-Usk; and one day he sat in his
chamber, and with him were Owain[5] the son of Urien,[5] and Kynon
the son of Clydno, and Kai the son of Kyner, and Gwenhwyvar and her
handmaidens at needle-work by the window. And if it should be said
that there was a porter at Arthur's palace, there was none. Glewlwyd
Gavaelvawr was there, acting as porter, to welcome guests and
strangers, and to receive them with honor, and to inform them of the
manners and customs of the court, and to direct those who came to the
hall or to the presence-chamber, and those who came to take up their
lodging.
[Footnote 5: This "Owain" is _Owen_, and his father "Urien" is the
"King Uriens of Gore" (Gore is probably _Gower_, in Glamorganshire,
Wales), familiar to all the young readers of "The Boy's King Arthur."]
In the centre of the chamber King Arthur sat upon a seat of green
rushes, over which was spread a covering of flame-colored satin, and a
cushion of red satin was under his elbow.
Then Arthur spoke. "If I thought you would not disparage me," said he,
"I would sleep while I wait for my repast; and you can entertain one
another with relating tales, and can obtain a flagon of mead and some
meat from Kai."
And the king went to sleep. So Kai[6] went to the kitchen and to the
mead-cellar, and returned bearing a flagon of mead, and a golden
goblet, and a handful of skewers upon which were broiled collops of
meat. Then they ate the collops, and began to drink the mead.
[Footnote 6: This is "Sir Kay the seneschal," who nicknames Beaumains,
and figures everywhere in Malory's _King Arthur_ as a cheerful but
somewhat hasty-witted knight.]
"Now," said Kai, "it is time for you to give me my story."
"Kynon," said Owain, "do thou pay to Kai the tale that is his due."
"Truly," said Kynon, "thou art older, and art a better teller of tales,
and hast seen more marvellous things than I: do thou therefore pay Kai
his tale."
"Begin thyself," quoth Owain, "with the best that thou knowest."
"I will do so," answered Kynon. "I was the only son of my mother and
father, and I was exceedingly aspiring, and my daring was very great.
I thought there was no enterprise in the world too mighty for me; and,
after I had achieved all the adventures that were in my own country, I
equipped myself, and set forth to journey through deserts and distant
regions. And at length it chanced that I came to the fairest valley in
the world, wherein were trees of equal growth; and a river ran through
the valley, and a path was by the side of the river. And I followed the
path until mid-day, and continued my journey along the remainder of the
valley until the evening; and at the extremity of a plain I came to
a large and lustrous castle, at the foot of which was a torrent. And
I approached the castle; and there I beheld two youths with yellow,
curling hair, each with a frontlet of gold upon his head, and clad in a
garment of yellow satin, and they had gold clasps upon their insteps.
In the hand of each of them was an ivory bow, strung with the sinews
of the stag; and their arrows had shafts of the bone of the whale, and
were winged with peacock's feathers; the shafts also had golden heads.
And they had daggers with blades of gold, and with hilts of the bone of
the whale. And they were shooting their daggers.
"And a little way from them I saw a man in the prime of life, with his
beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and a mantle of yellow satin; and
round the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. On his feet were
shoes of variegated leather, fastened by two bosses of gold. When I
saw him, I went towards him and saluted him; and such was his courtesy
that he no sooner received my greeting than he returned it. And he went
with me towards the castle. Now, there were no dwellers in the castle,
except those who were in one hall. And there I saw four and twenty
damsels embroidering satin at a window. And this I tell thee, Kai,
that the least fair of them was fairer than the fairest maid thou hast
ever beheld in the Island of Britain; and the least lovely of them was
more lovely than Gwenhwyvar, the wife of Arthur, when she has appeared
loveliest at the Offering, on the day of the Nativity, or at the feast
of Easter. They rose up at my coming, and six of them took my horse and
divested me of my armor. And six others took my arms and washed them
in a vessel until they were perfectly bright. And the third six spread
cloths upon the tables and prepared meat. And the fourth six took off
my soiled garments and placed others upon me; namely, an under-vest and
a doublet of fine linen, and a robe, and a surcoat, and a mantle of
yellow satin with a broad gold band upon the mantle. And they placed
cushions, both beneath and around me, with coverings of red linen; and
I sat down. Now, the six maidens who had taken my horse unharnessed him
as well as if they had been the best squires in the Island of Britain.
Then, behold, they brought bowls of silver wherein was water to wash,
and towels of linen, some green, and some white; and I washed. And in a
little while the man sat down to the table. And I sat next to him; and
below me sat all the maidens, except those who waited on us. And the
table was of silver, and the cloths upon the table were of linen; and
no vessel was served upon the table that was not either of gold, or of
silver, or of buffalo-horn. And our meat was brought to us. And verily,
Kai, I saw there every sort of meat and every sort of liquor that
I have ever seen elsewhere; but the meat and the liquor were better
served there than I have ever seen them in any other place.
"Until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one of the
damsels spoke a single word to me; but, when the man perceived that
it would be more agreeable to me to converse than to eat any more,
he began to inquire of me who I was. I said I was glad to find that
there was some one who would discourse with me, and that it was not
considered so great a crime at that court for people to hold converse
together.
"'Chieftain,' said the man, 'we would have talked to thee sooner, but
we feared to disturb thee during thy repast: now, however, we will
discourse.'
"Then I told the man who I was, and what was the cause of my journey,
and said that I was seeking whether any one was superior to me, or
whether I could gain the mastery over all. The man looked upon me; and
he smiled, and said, 'If I did not fear to distress thee too much, I
would show thee that which thou seekest.'
"Upon this I became anxious and sorrowful; and, when the man perceived
it, he said, 'If thou wouldst rather that I should show thee thy
disadvantage than thine advantage, I will do so. Sleep here to-night,
and in the morning arise early, and take the road upwards through the
valley until thou reachest the wood through which thou camest hither.
A little way within the wood thou wilt meet with a road branching off
to the right, by which thou must proceed until thou comest to a large
sheltered glade with a mound in the centre. And thou wilt see a black
man of great stature on the top of the mound. He is not smaller in size
than two of the men of this world. He has but one foot, and one eye
in the middle of his forehead. And he has a club of iron; and it is
certain that there are no two men in the world who would not find their
burden in that club. And he is not a comely man, but, on the contrary,
he is exceedingly ill-favored; and he is the woodward of that wood. And
thou wilt see a thousand wild animals grazing around him. Inquire of
him the way out of the glade; and he will reply to thee briefly, and
will point out the road by which thou shalt find that which thou art in
quest of.'
"And long seemed that night to me. And the next morning I arose and
equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straight through
the valley to the wood; and I followed the cross-road which the man had
pointed out to me, till at length I arrived at the glade. And there
was I three times more astonished at the number of wild animals that I
beheld than the man had said I should be. And the black man was there,
sitting upon the top of the mound. Huge of stature as the man had told
me that he was, I found him to exceed by far the description he had
given me of him. As for the iron club which the man had told me was a
burden for two men, I am certain, Kai, that it would be a heavy weight
for four warriors to lift; and this was in the black man's hand. And
he only spoke to me in answer to my questions. Then I asked him what
power he held over those animals.
"'I will show thee, little man,' said he.
"And he took his club in his hand, and with it he struck a stag a great
blow, so that he brayed vehemently; and at his braying the animals
came together, as numerous as the stars in the sky, so that it was
difficult for me to find room in the glade to stand among them. There
were serpents, and dragons, and divers sorts of animals. And he looked
at them, and bade them go and feed; and they bowed their heads, and did
him homage as vassals to their lord.
"Then the black man said to me, 'Seest thou now, little man, what power
I hold over these animals?'
"Then I inquired of him the way, and he became very rough in his manner
to me: however, he asked me whither I would go. And when I told him who
I was, and what I sought, he directed me.
"'Take,' said he, 'that path that leads towards the head of the
glade, and ascend the wooded steep until thou comest to its summit;
and there thou wilt find an open space like to a large valley, and
in the midst of it a tall tree, whose branches are greener than the
greenest pine-trees. Under this tree is a fountain, and by the side
of the fountain a marble slab, and on the marble slab a silver bowl
attached by a chain of silver so that it may not be carried away. Take
the bowl and throw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and thou wilt
hear a mighty peal of thunder, so that thou wilt think that heaven and
earth are trembling with its fury. With the thunder there will come a
shower so severe, that it will be scarce possible for thee to endure it
and live. And the shower will be of hailstones; and after the shower
the weather will become fair, but every leaf that was upon the tree
will have been carried away by the shower. Then a flight of birds will
come and alight upon the tree; and in thine own country thou didst
never hear a strain so sweet as that which they will sing. And, at the
moment thou art most delighted with the song of the birds, thou wilt
hear a murmuring and complaining coming towards thee along the valley.
And thou wilt see a knight upon a coal-black horse, clothed in black
velvet, and with a pennon of black linen upon his lance; and he will
ride unto thee to encounter thee with the utmost speed. If thou fleest
from him, he will overtake thee; and, if thou abidest there, as sure as
thou art a mounted knight he will leave thee on foot. And if thou dost
not find trouble in that adventure thou needest not seek it during the
rest of thy life.'
"So I journeyed on until I reached the summit of the steep, and there I
found every thing as the black man had described it to me. And I went
up to the tree, and beneath it I saw the fountain, and by its side the
marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by the chain. Then I took
the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the slab; and thereupon,
behold, the thunder came, much more violent than the black man had led
me to expect. And after the thunder came the shower: and of a truth I
tell thee, Kai, that there is neither man nor beast that could endure
that shower and live; for not one of those hailstones would be stopped,
either by the flesh or by the skin, until it had reached the bone. I
turned my horse's flank towards the shower, and placed the beak of my
shield over his head and neck, while I held the upper part of it over
my own head. And thus I withstood the shower. When I looked on the
tree, there was not a single leaf upon it; and then the sky became
clear, and with that, behold the birds lighted upon the tree, and sang.
And truly, Kai, I never heard any melody equal to that, either before
or since. And, when I was most charmed with listening to the birds, lo,
a murmuring voice was heard through the valley, approaching me, and
saying, 'O knight! what has brought thee hither? What evil have I done
to thee, that thou shouldst act towards me and my possessions as thou
hast this day? Dost thou not know that the shower to-day has left in my
dominions neither man nor beast alive that was exposed to it?'
"And thereupon, behold, a knight on a black horse appeared, clothed
in jet-black velvet, and with a tabard of black linen about him. And
we charged each other; and, as the onset was furious, it was not long
before I was overthrown. Then the knight passed the shaft of his lance
through the bridle-rein of my horse, and rode off with the two horses,
leaving me where I was. And he did not even bestow so much notice upon
me as to imprison me, nor did he despoil me of my arms. So I returned
along the road by which I had come. And, when I reached the glade where
the black man was, I confess to thee, Kai, it is a marvel that I did
not melt down into a liquid pool, through the shame that I felt at the
black man's derision. And that night I came to the same castle where
I had spent the night preceding. And I was more agreeably entertained
that night than I had been the night before; and I was better feasted,
and I conversed freely with the inmates of the castle, and none of them
alluded to my expedition to the fountain, neither did I mention it
to any; and I remained there that night. When I arose on the morrow,
I found ready saddled a dark-bay palfrey, with nostrils as red as
scarlet; and, after putting on my armor and leaving there my blessing,
I returned to my own court. And that horse I still possess, and he is
in the stable yonder; and I declare that I would not part with him for
the best palfrey in the Island of Britain.
"Now of a truth, Kai, no man ever before confessed to an adventure
so much to his own discredit; and verily it seems strange to me that
neither before nor since have I heard of any person besides myself who
knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it should exist within
King Arthur's dominions without any other person lighting upon it."
"Now," quoth Owain, "would it not be well to go and endeavor to
discover that place?"
"By the hand of my friend," said Kai, "often dost thou utter that with
thy tongue which thou wouldst not make good with thy deeds."
"In very truth," said Gwenhwyvar, "it were better thou wert hanged,
Kai, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a man like Owain."
"By the hand of my friend, good lady," said Kai, "thy praise of Owain
is not greater than mine."
With that Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping a little.
"Yes, lord," answered Owain, "thou hast slept a while."
"Is it time for us to go to meat?"
"It is, lord," said Owain.
Then the horn for washing was sounded, and the king and all his
household sat down to eat. And when the meal was ended Owain withdrew
to his lodging and made ready his horse and his arms.
On the morrow, with the dawn of day, he put on his armor, and mounted
his charger, and travelled through distant lands and over desert
mountains. And at length he arrived at the valley which Kynon had
described to him; and he was certain that it was the same that he
sought. And, journeying along the valley by the side of the river, he
followed its course till he came to the plain and within sight of the
castle. When he approached the castle, he saw the youths shooting their
daggers in the place where Kynon had seen them, and the yellow man, to
whom the castle belonged, standing hard by. And no sooner had Owain
saluted the yellow man than he was saluted by him in return.
And he went forward towards the castle, and there he saw the chamber;
and when he had entered the chamber he beheld the maidens working
at satin embroidery, in chairs of gold. And their beauty and their
comeliness seemed to Owain far greater than Kynon had represented to
him. And they arose to wait upon Owain, as they had done to Kynon; and
the meal which they set before him gave more satisfaction to Owain than
it had done to Kynon.
About the middle of the repast, the yellow man asked Owain the object
of his journey. And Owain made it known to him, and said, "I am in
quest of the knight who guards the fountain."
Upon this the yellow man smiled, and said that he was as loth to point
out that adventure to Owain as he had been to Kynon. However, he
described the whole to Owain, and they retired to rest.
The next morning Owain found his horse made ready for him by the
damsels; and he set forward, and came to the glade where the black man
was. And the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful to Owain
than it had done to Kynon; and Owain asked of him his road, and he
showed it to him. And Owain followed the road, as Kynon had done, till
he came to the green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab
beside the fountain with the bowl upon it. And Owain took the bowl,
and threw a bowlful of water upon the slab. And, lo, the thunder was
heard; and after the thunder came the shower, much more violent than
Kynon had described; and after the shower the sky became bright. And
when Owain looked at the tree there was not one leaf upon it. And
immediately the birds came, and settled upon the tree, and sang. And,
when their song was most pleasing to Owain, he beheld a knight coming
towards him through the valley; and he prepared to receive him and
encountered him violently. Having broken both their lances, they drew
their swords and fought blade to blade. Then Owain struck the knight a
blow through his helmet, headpiece, and visor, and through the skin,
and the flesh, and the bone, until it wounded the very brain. Then the
black knight felt that he had received a mortal wound, upon which he
turned his horse's head and fled. And Owain pursued him, and followed
close upon him, although he was not near enough to strike him with his
sword. Thereupon Owain descried a vast and resplendent castle. And they
came to the castle-gate. And the black knight was allowed to enter,
and the portcullis was let fall upon Owain; and it struck his horse
behind the saddle, and cut him in two and carried away the rowels of
the spurs that were upon Owain's heels. And the portcullis descended
to the floor. And the rowels of the spurs and part of the horse were
without; and Owain, with the other part of the horse, remained between
the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so that Owain could not
go thence; and Owain was in a perplexing situation. And, while he was
in this state, he could see through an aperture in the gate a street
facing him, with a row of houses on each side. And he beheld a maiden,
with yellow curling hair, and a frontlet of gold upon her head; and
she was clad in a dress of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of
variegated leather. And she approached the gate, and desired that it
should be opened.
"Heaven knows, lady," said Owain, "it is no more possible for me to
open to thee from hence than it is for thee to set me free."
"Truly," said the damsel, "it is very sad that thou canst not be
released, and every woman ought to succor thee; for I never saw one
more faithful in the service of ladies than thou. As a friend thou art
the most sincere, and as a lover the most devoted. Therefore," quoth
she, "whatever is in my power to do for thy release, I will do it. Take
this ring, and put it on thy finger with the stone inside thy hand, and
close thy hand upon the stone. And as long as thou concealest it it
will conceal thee. When they have consulted together, they will come
forth to fetch thee in order to put thee to death; and they will be
much grieved that they cannot find thee. And I will await thee on the
horseblock yonder; and thou wilt be able to see me, though I cannot
see thee: therefore come and place thy hand upon my shoulder, that I
may know that thou art near me. And by the way that I go hence do thou
accompany me."
Then she went away from Owain, and he did all that the maiden had told
him. And the people of the castle came to seek Owain to put him to
death; and, when they found nothing but the half of his horse, they
were sorely grieved.
And Owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, and placed
his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off. And Owain followed
her until they came to the door of a large and beautiful chamber; and
the maiden opened it, and they went in and closed the door. And Owain
looked around the chamber; and behold there was not even a single nail
in it that was not painted with gorgeous colors; and there was not a
single panel that had not sundry images in gold portrayed upon it.