OF THE JOURNEY BY CEMMEIS—THE MONASTERY OF ST. DOGMAEL
THE archbishop having celebrated mass early in the morning before the
high altar of the church of St. David, and enjoined to the archdeacon
(Giraldus) the office of preaching to the people, hastened through
Cemmeis {102a} to meet prince Rhys at Aberteive. {102b} Two
circumstances occurred in the province of Cemmeis, the one in our own
time, the other a little before, which I think right not to pass over in
silence. In our time, a young man, native of this country, during a
severe illness, suffered as violent a persecution from toads, {102c} as
if the reptiles of the whole province had come to him by agreement; and
though destroyed by his nurses and friends, they increased again on all
sides in infinite numbers, like hydras’ heads. His attendants, both
friends and strangers, being wearied out, he was drawn up in a kind of
bag, into a high tree, stripped of its leaves, and shred; nor was he
there secure from his venomous enemies, for they crept up the tree in
great numbers, and consumed him even to the very bones. The young man’s
name was Sisillus Esceir-hir, that is, Sisillus Long Leg. It is also
recorded that by the hidden but never unjust will of God, another man
suffered a similar persecution from rats. In the same province, during
the reign of king Henry I., a rich man, who had a residence on the
northern side of the Preseleu mountains, {103a} was warned for three
successive nights, by dreams, that if he put his hand under a stone which
hung over the spring of a neighbouring well, called the fountain of St.
Bernacus, {103b} he would find there a golden torques. Obeying the
admonition on the third day, he received, from a viper, a deadly wound in
his finger; but as it appears that many treasures have been discovered
through dreams, it seems to me probable that, with respect to rumours, in
the same manner as to dreams, some ought, and some ought not, to be
believed.
I shall not pass over in silence the circumstance which occurred in the
principal castle of Cemmeis at Lanhever, {103c} in our days. Rhys, son
of Gruffydd, by the instigation of his son Gruffydd, a cunning and artful
man, took away by force, from William, son of Martin (de Tours), his
son-in-law, the castle of Lanhever, notwithstanding he had solemnly
sworn, by the most precious relics, that his indemnity and security
should be faithfully maintained, and, contrary to his word and oath, gave
it to his son Gruffydd; but since “A sordid prey has not a good ending,”
the Lord, who by the mouth of his prophet, exclaims “Vengeance is mine,
and I will repay!” ordained that the castle should be taken away from the
contriver of this wicked plot, Gruffydd, and bestowed upon the man in the
world he most hated, his brother Malgon. Rhys, also, about two years
afterwards, intending to disinherit his own daughter, and two
granddaughters and grandsons, by a singular instance of divine vengeance,
was taken prisoner by his sons in battle, and confined in this same
castle; thus justly suffering the greatest disgrace and confusion in the
very place where he had perpetrated an act of the most consummate
baseness. I think it also worthy to be remembered, that at the time this
misfortune befell him, he had concealed in his possession, at Dinevor,
the collar of St. Canauc of Brecknock, for which, by divine vengeance, he
merited to be taken prisoner and confined.
We slept that night in the monastery of St. Dogmael, where, as well as on
the next day at Aberteivi, we were handsomely entertained by prince Rhys.
On the Cemmeis side of the river, not far from the bridge, the people of
the neighbourhood being assembled together, and Rhys and his two sons,
Malgon and Gruffydd, being present, the word of the Lord was persuasively
preached both by the archbishop and the archdeacon, and many were induced
to take the cross; one of whom was an only son, and the sole comfort of
his mother, far advanced in years, who, steadfastly gazing on him, as if
inspired by the Deity, uttered these words:—“O, most beloved Lord Jesus
Christ, I return thee hearty thanks for having conferred on me the
blessing of bringing forth a son, whom thou mayest think worthy of thy
service.” Another woman at Aberteivi, of a very different way of
thinking, held her husband fast by his cloak and girdle, and publicly and
audaciously prevented him from going to the archbishop to take the cross;
but, three nights afterwards, she heard a terrible voice, saying, “Thou
hast taken away my servant from me, therefore what thou most lovest shall
be taken away from thee.” On her relating this vision to her husband,
they were struck with mutual terror and amazement; and on falling asleep
again, she unhappily overlaid her little boy, whom, with more affection
than prudence, she had taken to bed with her. The husband, relating to
the bishop of the diocese both the vision and its fatal prediction, took
the cross, which his wife spontaneously sewed on her husband’s arm.
Near the head of the bridge where the sermons were delivered, the people
immediately marked out the site for a chapel, {105a} on a verdant plain,
as a memorial of so great an event; intending that the altar should be
placed on the spot where the archbishop stood while addressing the
multitude; and it is well known that many miracles (the enumeration of
which would be too tedious to relate) were performed on the crowds of
sick people who resorted hither from different parts of the country.