well becomes him the name of Pryderi son of Pwyll chief of Annwvyn."
"Look you," said Rhiannon: "will not his own name become him better?"
"What name has he?" asked Pendaran Dyved.
"Gwri Wallt Euryn is the name that we gave him."
"Pryderi," said Pendaran, "shall his name be."
"It were more proper," said Pwyll, "that the boy should take his name
from the word his mother spoke when she received the joyful tidings of
him." And thus was it arranged.
"Teirnyon," said Pwyll, "Heaven reward thee that thou hast reared the
boy up to this time, and, being of gentle lineage, it were fitting that
he repay thee for it."
"My lord," said Teirnyon, "it was my wife who nursed him, and there is
no one in the world so afflicted as she at parting with him. It were
well that he should bear in mind what I and my wife have done for him."
"I call Heaven to witness," said Pwyll, "that while I live I will
support thee and thy possessions as long as I am able to preserve my
own. And when he shall have power, he will more fitly maintain them
than I. And if this counsel be pleasing unto thee and to my nobles, it
shall be, that, as thou hast reared him up to the present time, I will
give him to be brought up by Pendaran Dyved from henceforth. And you
shall be companions, and shall both be foster-fathers unto him."
"This is good counsel," said they all. So the boy was given to Pendaran
Dyved, and the nobles of the land were sent with him. And Teirnyon
Twryv Vliant and his companions set out for his country and his
possessions, with love and gladness. And he went not without being
offered the fairest jewels, and the fairest horses, and the choicest
dogs; but he would take none of them.
Thereupon they all remained in their own dominions. And Pryderi the son
of Pwyll the chief of Annwvyn was brought up carefully, as was fit, so
that he became the fairest youth, and the most comely, and the best
skilled in all good games, of any in the kingdom. And thus passed years
and years until the end of Pwyll the chief of Annwvyn's life came, and
he died.
And Pryderi ruled the seven Cantrevs of Dyved prosperously; and he was
beloved by his people and by all around him. And at length he added
unto them the three Cantrevs of Ystrad Tywi and the four Cantrevs of
Cardigan; and these were called the Seven Cantrevs of Seissyllwch. And
when he made this addition, Pryderi the son of Pwyll the chief of
Annwyvn desired to take a wife. And the wife he chose was Kicva, the
daughter of Gwynn Gohoyw, the son of Gloyw Wlallt Lydan, the son of
Prince Casnar, one of the nobles of this island.
THE STORY OF LLUDD AND LLEVELYS.
Beli the Great, the son of Manogan, had three sons, Lludd and
Caswallawn and Nynyaw, and according to the story he had a fourth son
called Llevelys. And after the death of Beli, the kingdom of the Island
of Britain fell into the hands of Lludd, his eldest son; and Lludd
ruled prosperously, and rebuilt the walls of London, and encompassed it
about with numberless towers. And after that he bade the citizens build
houses therein, such as no houses in the kingdoms could equal. And
moreover he was a mighty warrior, and generous and liberal in giving
meat and drink to all that sought them. And though he had many castles
and cities, this one loved he more than any. And he dwelt therein most
part of the year, and therefore was it called Caer Lludd, and at last
Caer London. And after the stranger-race came there, it was called
London, or Lwndrys.
Lludd loved Llevelys best of all his brothers, because he was a wise
and discreet man. Having heard that the King of France had died,
leaving no heir except a daughter, and that he had left all his
possessions in her hands, he came to Lludd his brother to beseech his
counsel and aid; and that not so much for his own welfare as to seek
to add to the glory and honor and dignity of his kindred, if he might
go to France to woo the maiden for his wife. And forthwith his brother
conferred with him, and this counsel was pleasing unto him.
So he prepared ships, and filled them with armed knights, and set forth
towards France. And as soon as they had landed, they sent messengers
to show the nobles of France the cause of the embassy. And by the
joint counsel of the nobles of France and of the princes, the maiden
was given to Llevelys, and the crown of the kingdom with her. And
thenceforth he ruled the land discreetly and wisely and happily as long
as his life lasted.
After a space of time had passed, three plagues fell on the Island of
Britain, such as none in the islands had ever seen the like of. The
first was a certain race that came, and was called the Coranians; and
so great was their knowledge, that there was no discourse upon the
face of the island, however low it might be spoken, but what, if the
wind met it, it was known to them. And through this they could not be
injured.
The second plague was a shriek which came on every May-eve over every
hearth in the Island of Britain. And this went through people's hearts,
and so scared them, that the men lost their hue and their strength, and
the young men and the maidens lost their senses, and all the animals
and trees, and the earth and the waters, were left barren.
The third plague was that, however much of provisions and food might
be prepared in the king's courts, were there even so much as a year's
provision of meat and drink, none of it could ever be found, except
what was consumed in the first night. And two of these plagues no one
ever knew their cause, therefore was there better hope of being freed
from the first than from the second and third.
And thereupon King Lludd felt great sorrow and care, because that he
knew not how he might be freed from these plagues. And he called to
him all the nobles of his kingdom, and asked counsel of them what they
should do against these afflictions. And by the common counsel of
the nobles, Lludd the son of Beli went to Llevelys his brother, King
of France, for he was a man great of counsel and wisdom, to seek his
advice.
And they made ready a fleet, and that in secret and in silence, lest
that race should know the cause of their errand, or any besides the
king and his counsellors. And when they were made ready, they went into
their ships, Lludd and those whom he chose with him. And they began to
cleave the seas towards France.
And when these tidings came to Llevelys, seeing that he knew not the
cause of his brother's ships he came on the other side to meet him, and
with him was a fleet vast of size. And when Lludd saw this, he left all
the ships out upon the sea except one only; and in that one he came to
meet his brother, and he likewise with a single ship came to meet him.
And when they were come together, each put his arms about the other's
neck, and they welcomed each other with brotherly love.
After that Lludd had shown his brother the cause of his errand,
Llevelys said that he himself knew the cause of the coming to those
lands. And they took counsel together to discourse on the matter
otherwise than thus, in order that the wind might not catch their
words, nor the Coranians know what they might say. Then Llevelys caused
a long horn to be made of brass, and through this horn they discoursed.
But whatsoever words they spoke through this horn, one to the other,
neither of them could hear any other but harsh and hostile words. And
when Llevelys saw this, and that there was a demon thwarting them,
and disturbing through this horn, he caused wine to be put therein to
wash it. And through the virtue of the wine the demon was driven out
of the horn. And when their discourse was unobstructed, Llevelys told
his brother that he would give him some insects, whereof he should keep
some to breed, lest by chance the like affliction might come a second
time. And other of these insects he should take and bruise in water.
And he assured him that it would have power to destroy the race of the
Coranians. That is to say, that when he came home to his kingdom, he
should call together all the people, both of his own race and of the
race of the Coranians, for a conference, as though with the intent of
making peace between them, and that when they were all together he
should take this charmed water, and cast it over all alike. And he
assured him that the water would poison the race of the Coranians, but
that it would not slay or harm those of his own race.
"And the second plague," said he, "that is in thy dominion, behold it
is a dragon. And another dragon of a foreign race is fighting with it,
and striving to overcome it. And therefore does your dragon make a
fearful outcry. And on this wise mayest thou come to know this. After
thou hast returned home, cause the island to be measured in its length
and breadth; and in the place where thou dost find the exact central
point, there cause a pit to be dug, and cause a caldron full of the
best mead that can be made to be put in the pit, with a covering of
satin over the face of the caldron. And then in thine own person do
thou remain there watching, and thou wilt see the dragons fighting in
the form of terrific animals. And at length they will take the form of
dragons in the air. And last of all, after wearying themselves with
fierce and furious fighting, they will fall, in the form of two pigs,
upon the covering, and they will sink in, and the covering with them,
and they will draw it down to the very bottom of the caldron. And they
will drink up the whole of the mead; and after that they will sleep.
Thereupon do thou immediately fold the covering around them, and bury
them in a kistvaen in the strongest place thou hast in thy dominions,
and hide them in the earth. And as long as they shall bide in that
strong place, no plague shall come to the Island of Britain from
elsewhere.
[Illustration: The Battle of the Dragons.]
"The cause of the third plague," said he, "is a mighty man of
magic, who takes thy meat and thy drink and thy store. And he,
through illusions and charms, causes every one to sleep. Therefore
it is needful for thee in thy own person to watch thy food and thy
provisions. And lest he should overcome thee with sleep, be there a
caldron of cold water by thy side, and when thou art oppressed with
sleep, plunge into the caldron."
Then Lludd returned back unto his land. And immediately he summoned to
him the whole of his own race and of the Coranians. And, as Llevelys
had taught him, he bruised the insects in water, which he cast over
them all together, and forthwith it destroyed the whole tribe of the
Coranians, without hurt to any of the Britons.
And some time after this Lludd caused the island to be measured in
its length and in its breadth. And in Oxford he found the central
point, and in that place he caused the earth to be dug, and in that
pit a caldron to be set full of the best mead that could be made, and
a covering of satin over the face of it. And he himself watched that
night. And while he was there, he beheld the dragons fighting. And when
they were weary they fell, and came down upon the top of the satin,
and drew it with them to the bottom of the caldron. And when they had
drunk the mead they slept. And in their sleep Lludd folded the covering
around them, and in the securest place he had in Snowdon he hid them
in a kistvaen. Now after that, this spot was called Dinas Emreis, but
before that, Dinas Ffaraon. And thus the fierce outcry ceased in his
dominions.
And when this was ended, King Lludd caused an exceeding great banquet
to be prepared. And when it was ready, he placed a vessel of cold water
by his side, and he in his own proper person watched it. And as he
abode thus clad with arms, about the third watch of the night, lo, he
heard many surpassing fascinations and various songs. And drowsiness
urged him to sleep. Upon this, lest he should be hindered from his
purpose, and be overcome by sleep, he went often into the water. And
at last, behold a man of vast size, clad in strong, heavy armor, came
in, bearing a hamper. And as he was wont, he put all the food and
provisions of meat and drink into the hamper, and proceeded to go with
it forth. And nothing was ever more wonderful to Lludd than that the
hamper should hold so much.
And thereupon King Lludd went after him, and spoke unto him thus:
"Stop, stop," said he, "though thou hast done many insults and much
spoil erewhile, thou shalt not do so any more, unless thy skill in arms
and thy prowess be greater than mine."
Then he instantly put down the hamper on the floor, and awaited him.
And a fierce encounter was between them, so that the glittering fire
flew out from their arms. And at the last Lludd grappled with him, and
fate bestowed the victory on Lludd. And he threw the plague to the
earth. And after he had overcome him by strength and might he besought
his mercy.
"How can I grant thee mercy," said the king, "after all the many
injuries and wrongs that thou hast done me?"
"All the losses that ever I have caused thee," said he, "I will make
thee atonement for, equal to what I have taken. And I will never do the
like from this time forth. But thy faithful vassal will I be."
And the king accepted this from him.
THE ORIGIN OF THE OWL.
[ENTITLED IN THE ORIGINAL, "MATH THE SON OF MATHONWY."]
Once upon a time Gwydion found a yellow-haired child in his chamber,
which had been placed there by magic art. And Gwydion straightway flung
a velvet scarf over the child and hid it. Now the place where he hid
it was the bottom of a chest at the foot of his bed.
"Verily," said Math the son of Mathonwy, concerning the fine
yellow-haired boy, "I will cause this one to be baptized; and Dylan is
the name I will give him."
So they had the boy baptized, and as they baptized him he plunged into
the sea. And immediately when he was in the sea, he took its nature,
and swam as well as the best fish that was therein. And for that reason
was he called Dylan, the son of the Wave. Beneath him no wave ever
broke. And the blow whereby he came to his death was struck by his
uncle Govannion. The third fatal blow was it called.
As Gwydion lay one morning on his bed awake, he heard a cry in the
chest at his feet; and though it was not loud, it was such that he
could hear it. Then he arose in haste, and opened the chest; and when
he opened it, he beheld an infant-boy stretching out his arms from the
folds of the scarf, and casting it aside. And he took up the boy in
his arms, and carried him to a place where he knew there was a woman
that could nurse him. And he agreed with the woman that she should take
charge of the boy. And that year he was nursed.
And at the end of the year he seemed by his size as though he were two
years old. And the second year he was a big child, and able to go to
the court by himself. And when he came to the court, Gwydion noticed
him, and the boy became familiar with him, and loved him better than
any one else. Then was the boy reared at the court until he was four
years old, when he was as big as though he had been eight.
And one day Gwydion walked forth, and the boy followed him; and he went
to the Castle of Arianrod, having the boy with him. And when he came
into the court, Arianrod arose to meet him, and greeted him, and bade
him welcome.
"Heaven prosper thee," said he.
"What is the name of the boy?" said she.
"Verily," he replied, "he has not yet a name."
"Well," she said, "I lay this destiny upon him, that he shall never
have a name until he receives one from me."
"Heaven bears me witness," answered he, "that thou art a wicked woman.
But the boy shall have a name,[16] how displeasing soever it may be
unto thee." And thereupon he went forth in wrath, and returned to Caer
Dathyl, and there he tarried that night.
[Footnote 16: And the plot now becomes the artful contrivance by which
Gwydion brings about that Arianrod names the boy in spite of herself,
with other similar achievements.]
And the next day he arose and took the boy with him, and went to
walk on the seashore between that place and Aber Menei. And there he
saw some sedges and seaweed, and he turned them into a boat. And out
of dry sticks and sedges he made some Cordovan leather, and a great
deal thereof; and he colored it in such a manner that no one ever saw
leather more beautiful than it. Then he made a sail to the boat, and he
and the boy went in it to the port of the Castle of Arianrod. And he
began forming shoes, and stitching them, until he was observed from the
castle. And when he knew that they of the castle were observing him, he
disguised his aspect, and put another semblance upon himself and upon
the boy, so that they might not be known.
"What men are those in yonder boat?" said Arianrod.
"They are cordwainers," answered they.
"Go and see what kind of leather they have, and what kind of work they
can do."
So they came unto them. And when they came he was coloring some
Cordovan leather, and gilding it. And the messengers came and told her
this.
"Well," said she, "take the measure of my foot, and desire the
cordwainer to make shoes for me."
So he made the shoes for her, yet not according to the measure, but
larger. The shoes then were brought unto her, and behold they were too
large.
"These are too large," said she; "but he shall receive their value. Let
him also make some that are smaller than they."
Then he made her others that were much smaller than her foot, and sent
them unto her.
"Tell him that these will not go on my feet," said she. And they told
him this.
"Verily," said he, "I will not make her any shoes unless I see her
foot." And this was told unto her.
"Truly," she answered, "I will go unto him."
So she went down to the boat, and when she came there he was shaping
shoes, and the boy stitching them.
"Ah, lady," said he, "good day to thee."
"Heaven prosper thee," said she. "I marvel that thou canst not manage
to make shoes according to measure."
"I could not," he replied; "but now I shall be able."
Thereupon behold a wren stood upon the deck of the boat; and the boy
shot at it, and hit it in the leg between the sinew and the bone. Then
she smiled. "Verily," said she, "with a steady hand did the lion aim at
it."
"Heaven reward thee not; but now has he got a name. And a good enough
name it is. Llew Llaw Gyffes be he called henceforth."
Then the work disappeared in seaweed and sedges, and he went on with it
no further. And for that reason was he called the third Gold-shoemaker.
"Of a truth," said she, "thou wilt not thrive the better for doing evil
unto me."
"I have done thee no evil yet," said he. Then he restored the boy to
his own form.
"Well," said she, "I will lay a destiny upon this boy, that he shall
never have arms and armor until I invest him with them."
"By Heaven," said he, "let thy malice be what it may, he shall have
arms."
Then they went towards Dinas Dinllev, and there he brought up Llew Llaw
Gyffes until he could manage any horse, and he was perfect in features
and strength and stature. And then Gwydion saw that he languished
through the want of horses and arms. And he called him unto him. "Ah,
youth," said he, "we will go to-morrow on an errand together. Be
therefore more cheerful than thou art."
"That I will," said the youth.
Next morning, at the dawn of day, they arose. And they took way along
the seacoast, up towards Bryn Aryen. And at the top of Cevn Clydno
they equipped themselves with horses, and went towards the Castle of
Arianrod. And they changed their form, and pricked towards the gate in
the semblance of two youths; but the aspect of Gwydion was more staid
than that of the other. "Porter," said he, "go thou in and say that
there are here bards from Glamorgan."
And the porter went in.
"The welcome of Heaven be unto them. Let them in," said Arianrod.
With great joy were they greeted. And the hall was arranged, and they
went to meat. When meat was ended, Arianrod discoursed with Gwydion
of tales and stories. Now Gwydion was an excellent teller of tales.
And when it was time to leave off feasting, a chamber was prepared for
them, and they went to rest.
In the early twilight Gwydion arose, and he called unto him his magic
and his power. And by the time that the day dawned, there resounded
through the land uproar, and trumpets and shouts. When it was now
day, they heard a knocking at the door of the chamber, and therewith
Arianrod asking that it might be opened. Up rose the youth and opened
unto her, and she entered, and a maiden with her. "Ah, good men," she
said, "in evil plight are we."
"Yes, truly," said Gwydion, "we have heard trumpets, and shouts. What
thinkest thou that they may mean?"
"Verily," said she, "we cannot see the color of the ocean by reason of
all the ships side by side. And they are making for the land with all
the speed they can. And what can we do?" said she.
"Lady," said Gwydion, "there is none other counsel than to close the
castle upon us, and to defend it as best we may."
"Truly," said she, "may Heaven reward you. And do you defend it. And
here may you have plenty of arms."
And thereupon went she forth for the arms, and behold she returned, and
two maidens, and suits of armor for two men, with her.
"Lady," said he, "do thou accoutre this stripling, and I will arm
myself, with the help of thy maidens. Lo, I hear the tumult of the men
approaching."
"I will do so gladly." So she armed him fully, and that right
cheerfully.
"Hast thou finished arming the youth?" said he.
"I have finished," she answered.
"I likewise have finished," said Gwydion. "Let us now take off our
arms: we have no need of them."
"Wherefore?" said she. "Here is the army around the house."
"Oh, lady, there is here no army."
"Oh!" cried she. "Whence then was this tumult?"
"The tumult was but to break thy prophecy, and to obtain arms for thy
son. And now has he got arms without any thanks unto thee."
"By Heaven," said Arianrod, "thou art a wicked man. Many a youth might
have lost his life through the uproar thou hast caused in this Cantrev
to-day. Now will I lay a destiny upon this youth," she said, "that he
shall never have a wife of the race that now inhabits this earth."
"Verily," said he, "thou wast ever a malicious woman, and no one ought
to support thee. A wife shall he have notwithstanding."
They went thereupon unto Math the son of Mathonwy, and complained unto
him most bitterly of Arianrod, Gwydion showed him also how he had
procured arms for the youth. "Well," said Math, "we will seek, I and
thou, by charms and illusion, to form a wife for him out of flowers. He
has now come to man's stature, and he is the comeliest youth that was
ever beheld."
So they took the blossoms of the oak, and the blossoms of the broom,
and the blossoms of the meadow-sweet, and produced from them a maiden,
the fairest and most graceful that man ever saw. And they baptized her,
and gave her the name of Blodeuwedd.
After she had become his bride, and they had feasted, said Gwydion, "It
is not easy for a man to maintain himself without possessions."
"Of a truth," said Math, "I will give the young man the best Cantrev to
hold."
"Lord," said he, "what Cantrev is that?"
"The Cantrev of Dinodig," he answered.
Now it is called at this day Eivionydd and Ardudwy. And the place in
the Cantrev where he dwelt was a palace of his in a spot called Mur y
Castell, on the confines of Ardudwy. There dwelt he and reigned, and
both he and his sway were beloved by all.
One day he went forth to Caer Dathyl to visit Math the son of Mathonwy.
And on the day that he set out for Caer Dathyl, Blodeuwedd walked in
the court. And she heard the sound of a horn. And after the sound of
the horn, behold a tired stag went by, with dogs and huntsmen following
it. And after the dogs and the huntsmen there came a crowd of men on
foot. "Send a youth," said she, "to ask who yonder host may be."
So a youth went and inquired who they were. "Gronw Pebyr is this, the
lord of Penllynn," said they. And thus the youth told her.
Gronw Pebyr pursued the stag, and by the River Cynvael he overtook the
stag, and killed it. And what with flaying the stag, and baiting his
dogs, he was there until the night began to close in upon him. And as
the day departed and the night drew near, he came to the gate of the
court. "Verily," said Blodeuwedd, "the chieftain will speak ill of us
if we let him at this hour depart to another land without inviting him
in."
"Yes, truly, lady," said they, "it will be most fitting to invite him."
Then went messengers to meet him, and bid him in. And he accepted her
bidding gladly, and came to the court; and Blodeuwedd went to meet him
and greeted him, and bade him welcome. "Lady," said he, "Heaven repay
thee thy kindness."