"Because the babe is free from all pain. And, you have thrice struck
me! Farewell!"
Fleeing like a deer home to their farm, she called together, by its
name, each and every one of their animals, from stable and field; yes,
even those harnessed to the plow. Then, over the mountain all moved in
procession to the lake.
There, they plunged in and vanished. No trace of them was left, except
that made by the oxen drawing the plow, and which mark on the ground
men still point out.
Broken hearted and mad with grief, Gwyn rushed into the lake and was
seen no more. The three sons, grieving over their drowned father,
spent their many days wandering along the lakeside, hoping once more
to see one, or both, of their dear parents.
Their love was rewarded. They never saw their father again, but one
day their mother, Nelferch, suddenly appeared out of the water.
Telling her children that her mission on earth was to relieve pain and
misery, she took them to a point in the lake, where many plants grew
that were useful in medicine. There, she often came and taught them
the virtues of the roots, leaves, juices and the various virtues of
the herbs, and how to nurse the sick and heal those who had diseases.
All three of Nelferch's sons became physicians of fame and power.
Their descendants, during many centuries, were renowned for their
skill in easing pain and saving life. To this day, Physicians' Point
is shown to visitors as a famous spot, and in tradition is almost
holy.
XVIII
THE KING'S FOOT HOLDER
There was a curious custom in the far olden times of Wales. At the
banqueting hall, the king of the country would sit with his feet in
the lap of a high officer.
Whenever His Majesty sat down to dinner, this official person would be
under the table holding the royal feet. This was also the case while
all sat around the evening fire in the middle of the hall. This
footholding person was one of the king's staff and every castle must
have a human footstool as part of its furniture.
By and by, it became the fashion for pretty maidens to seek this task,
or to be chosen for the office. Their names in English sounded like
Foot-Ease, Orthopede, or Foot Lights. When she was a plump and petite
maid, they nicknamed her Twelve Inches, or when unusually soothing in
her caresses of the soft royal toes. It was considered a high honor to
be the King's Foot Holder. In after centuries, it was often boasted of
that such and such an ancestor had held this honorable service.
One picture of castle life, as given in one of the old books tells how
Kaim, the king's officer, went to the mead cellar with a golden cup,
to get a drink that would keep them all wide awake. He also brought a
handful of skewers on which they were to broil the collops, or bits of
meat at the fire.
While they were doing this, the King sat on a seat of green rushes,
over which was spread a flame-colored satin cover, with a cushion like
it, for his elbow to rest upon.
In the evening, the harpers and singers made music, the bards recited
poetry, or the good story tellers told tales of heroes and wonders.
During all this time, one or more maidens held the king's feet, or
took turns at it, when tired; for often the revels or songs and tales
lasted far into the night. At intervals, if the story was dull, or he
had either too much dinner, or had been out hunting and got tired, His
Majesty took a nap, with his feet resting upon the lap of a pretty
maiden. This happened often in the late hours, while they were getting
the liquid refreshments ready.
Then the king's chamberlain gently nudged him, to be wideawake, and he
again enjoyed the music, and the stories, while his feet were held.
For, altogether, it was great fun.
Now there was once a Prince of Gwynedd, in Wales, named Math, who was
so fond of having his feet held, that he neglected to govern his
people properly. He spent all his time lounging in an easy chair,
while a pretty maiden held his heels and toes. He committed all public
cares to two of his nephews. These were named for short, Gily and
Gwyd.
The one whom the king loved best to have her hold his feet was the
fairest maiden in all the land, and she was named Goewen.
By and by, the prince grew so fond of having his feet held, and
stroked and patted and played with, by Goewen, that he declared that
he could not live, unless Goewen held his feet. And, she said, that if
she did not hold the king's feet, she would die.
Now this Gily, one of the king's nephews, son of Don, whom he had
appointed to look day by day after public affairs, would often be in
the hall at night. He listened to the music and stories, and seeing
Goewen, the king's foot holder, he fell in love with her. His eye
usually wandered from the story teller to the lovely girl holding the
king's feet, and he thought her as beautiful as an angel.
Soon he became so lovesick, that he felt he would risk or give his
life to get and have her for his own. But what would the king say?
Besides, he soon found out that the maiden Goewen cared nothing for
him.
Nevertheless the passion of the love-lorn youth burned hotly and kept
increasing. He confided his secret to his brother Gwyd, and asked his
aid, which was promised. So, one day, the brother went to King Math,
and begged for leave to go to Pryderi. In the king's name, he would
ask from him the gift of a herd of swine of famous breed; which, in
the quality of the pork they furnished, excelled all other pigs known.
They were finer than any seen in the land, or ever heard of before.
Their flesh was said to be sweeter, juicier, and more tender than the
best beef. Even their manners were better than those of some men.
In fact, these famous pigs were a present from the King of Fairyland.
So highly were they prized, that King Math doubted much whether his
nephew could get them at any price.
In ancient Wales the bards and poet singers were welcomed, and trusted
above all men; and this, whether in the palace or the cottage.
So Gwyd, the brother of the love-sick one, in order to get the herd of
surpassing swine, took ten companions, all young men and strong,
dressed as bards, and pretending by their actions to be such. Then
they all started out together to seek the palace of Pryderi.
Having arrived, they were entertained at a great feast, in the castle
hall. There Pryderi sat on his throne-chair, with his feet in a
maiden's lap.
The dinner over, Gwyd was asked to tell a story.
This he did, delighting everyone so much, that he was voted a jolly
good fellow by all. In fact, Pryderi felt ready to give him anything
he might demand, excepting always his foot holder.
At once, Gwyd made request to give him the herd of swine.
At this, the countenance of Pryderi fell, for he had made a promise to
his people, that he would not sell or give away the swine, until they
had produced double their number in the land; for there were no pigs
and no pork like theirs, to be bought anywhere.
Now this Gwyd was not very cunning, but he had the power of using
magic arts. By these, he could draw the veil of illusion over both the
mind and the eyes of the people.
So he made answer to Pryderi's objections thus:
"Keep your promise to your people, oh, most honored Pryderi, and only
exchange them for the gift I make thee," said Gwyd.
Thereupon, exerting his powers of magic, he created the illusion of
twelve superb horses. These were all saddled, bridled, and
magnificently caparisoned. But, after twenty-four hours, they would
vanish from sight. The illusion would be over.
With these steeds, so well fitted for hunting, were twelve sleek,
fleet hounds. Taken altogether, here was a sight to make a hunter's
eyes dance with delight.
So Pryderi gave Gwyd the swine, and he quickly drove them off.
"For," he whispered to his companion fellows in knavery, "the illusion
will only last until the same hour to-morrow."
And so it happened. For when Pryderi's men went to the stables, to
groom the horses and feed the hounds, there was nothing in either the
stables or the kennels.
When they told this to Pryderi, he at once blew his horn and assembled
his knights, to invade the country of Gwynedd, to recover his swine.
Hearing of his coming, King Math went out to meet Pryderi in battle.
But while he was away with his army, Gily, the lover, seized the
beautiful maiden Goewen, who held the king's feet in her lap.
She was not willing to marry Gily, but he eloped with her, and carried
her off to his cottage.
The war which now raged was finally decided by single combat, as was
the custom in old days. By this, the burning of the peasants' houses,
and the ruin which threatened the whole country, ended, and peace
came.
It was not alone by the strength and fierceness of King Math, but also
by the magic spells of Gwyd, that Pryderi was slain.
After burying the hero, King Math came back to his palace and found
out what Gily had done. Then he took Goewen away from Gily, and to
make amends for her trouble, in being thus torn from his palace, King
Math made her his queen. Then the lovely Goewen shared his throne
covered with the flame colored satin. One of the most beautiful
maidens of the court was chosen to hold his feet, until such time as a
permanent choice was made.
As for the two nephews, who had fled from the wrath of their princely
uncle, they were put under bans, as outlaws, and had to live on the
borders of the kingdoms. No one of the king's people was allowed to
give them food or drink. Yet they would not obey the summons of the
king, to come and receive their punishment.
But at last, tired of being deserted by all good men and women, they
repented in sorrow. Hungry, ragged and forlorn, they came to their
uncle, the king to submit themselves to be punished.
When they appeared, Math spoke roughly to them, and said:
"You cannot make amends for the shame you have brought upon me. Yet,
since you obey and are sorry, I shall punish you for a time and then
pardon you. You are to do penance for three years at least."
Then they were changed into wild deer, and he told them to come back
after twelve months.
At the end of the year they returned, bringing with them a young fawn.
As this creature was entirely innocent, it was given a human form and
baptized in the church.
But the two brothers were changed into wild swine, and driven off to
find their food in the forest.
At the end of the year, they came back with a young pig.
The king had the little animal changed into a human being, which, like
every mother's child in that time, received baptism.
Again the brothers were transformed into animal shape. This time, as
wolves, and were driven out to the hills.
At the end of a twelve months' period, they came back, three in
number, for one was a cub.
By this time, the penance of the naughty nephews was over, and they
were now to be delivered from all magic spells.
So their human nature was restored to them, but they must be washed
thoroughly. In the first place, it took much hot water and lye, made
from the wood ashes, and then a great deal of scrubbing, to make them
presentable.
Then they were anointed with sweet smelling oil, and the king ordered
them to be arrayed in elegant apparel. They were appointed to hold
honorable office at court, and from time to time to go out through the
country, to call the officers to attend to public business.
When the time came that the king sought for one of the most beautiful
maidens, who should hold his feet, Gwyd nominated to the prince's
notice his sister Arianrod. The king was gracious, and thereafter she
held his feet at all the banquets. She was looked up to with reverence
by all, and held the office for many years. Thus King Math's
reputation for grace and mercy was confirmed.
XIX
POWELL, PRINCE OF DYFED
One of the oldest of the Welsh fairy tales tells us about Pwyle, King
of Fairyland and father of the numerous clan of the Powells. He was a
mighty hunter. He could ride a horse, draw a bow, and speak the truth.
He was always honored by men, and he kept his faith and his promises
to women. The children loved him, for he loved them. In the castle
hall, he could tell the best stories. No man, bard, or warrior, foot
holder or commoner, could excel him in gaining and keeping the
attention of his hearers, even when they were sleepy and wanted to go
to bed.
One day, when out a hunting in the woods, he noticed a pack of hounds
running down a stag. He saw at once that they were not his own, for
they were snow white in color and had red ears.
Being a young man, Powell did not know at this time of his life, that
red is the fairy color, and that these were all dogs from Fairyland.
So he drove off the red-eared hounds, and was about to let loose his
own pack on the stag, when a horseman appeared on the scene.
The stranger at once began to upbraid Powell for being impolite. He
asked why his hounds should not be allowed to hunt the deer.
Powell spoke pleasantly in reply, making his proper excuses to the
horseman. The two began to like each other, and soon got acquainted
and mutually enjoyed being companions.
It turned out that the stranger was Arawn, a king in Fairyland. He had
a rival named Hargan, who was beating him and his army in war.
So Arawn asked Powell to help him against his enemy. He even made
request that one year from that time, Powell should meet Hargan in
battle. He told him that one stroke of his sword would finish the
enemy. He must then sheathe his weapon, and not, on any account,
strike a second time.
To make victory sure, the Fairy King would exchange shapes with the
mortal ruler and each take not only the place, but each the shape and
form of the other. Powell must go into Fairy Land and govern the
kingdom there, while Arawn should take charge of affairs at Dyfed.
But Powell was warned, again, to smite down his enemy with a single
stroke of his sword. If, in the heat of the conflict, and the joy of
victory, Powell should forget, and give a second blow to Hargan, he
would immediately come to life and be as strong as ever.
Powell heeded well these words. Then, putting on the shape of Arawn,
he went into Fairy Land, and no one noticed, or thought of anything
different from the days and years gone by.
But now, at night, a new and unexpected difficulty arose. Arawn's
beautiful wife was evidently not in the secret, for she greeted Powell
as her own husband.
After dinner, when the telling of stories in the banqueting hall was
over, the time had come for them to retire.
But the new bed fellow did not even kiss her, or say "good night," but
turned his back to her and his face to the wall, and never moved until
daylight. Then the new King in Fairy Land rose up, ate his breakfast,
and went out to hunt.
Every day, he ruled the castle and kingdom, as if he had always been
the monarch. To everybody, he seemed as if he had been long used to
public business, and no questions were asked, nor was there any talk
made on the subject. Everyone took things as matter of course.
Yet, however polite or gracious he might be to the queen during the
day, in the evening, he spoke not a word, and passed every night as at
the first.
The twelve months soon sped along, and now the time for the battle in
single combat between Powell and Hargan had fully come. The two
warriors met in the middle of a river ford, and backed their horses
for a charge. Then they rushed furiously at the other. Powell's spear
struck Hargan so hard, that he was knocked out of the saddle and
hurled, the length of a lance, over and beyond the crupper, or tail
strap of his horse. He fell mortally wounded upon the ground.
Now came the moment of danger and temptation to Powell, for Hargan
cried out:
"For the love of Heaven, finish your work on me. Slay me with your
sword."
But Powell was wise and his head was cool. He had kept in mind the
warning to strike only one blow. He called out loudly, so that all
could hear him:
"I will not repeat that. Slay thee who may, I shall not."
So Hargan, knowing his end had come, bade his nobles bear him away
from the river shore.
Then Powell, with his armies, overran the two kingdoms of Fairy Land
and made himself master of all. He took oath of all the princes and
nobles, who swore to be loyal to their new master.
This done, Powell rode away to the trysting place in a glen, and there
he met Arawn, as had been appointed. They changed shapes, and each
became himself, as he had been before.
Arawn thanked Powell heartily, and bade him see what he had done for
him.
Then each one rode back, in his former likeness, to his kingdom.
Now at Anwyn, no one but Arawn himself knew that anything unusual had
taken place. After dinner, and the evening story telling were over,
and it was time to go to bed, Arawn's wife was surprised in double
measure.
Two things puzzled her. Her husband was now very tender to her and
also very talkative; whereas, for a whole year, every night, he had
been as silent and immovable as a log. How could it be, in either
case?
But this time, the wife was silent as a statue. Even though Arawn
spoke to her three times, he received no reply.
Then he asked directly of her, why she was so silent. She made an
answer that, for a whole year, no word had been spoken in their
bedroom.
"What?" said he, "did we not talk together, as always before?"
"No," said she, "not for a year has there been talk or caress between
us."
At this answer, Arawn was overcome with surprise, and as struck with
admiration at having so good a friend. He burst out first in praise of
Powell, and then told his wife all that had happened during the past
twelve months. She, too, was full of admiration, and told her husband
that in Powell he had certainly found a true friend.
In Dyfed, when Powell had returned to his own land and castle, he
called his lords together. Then he asked them to be perfectly frank
and free to speak. They must tell him whether they thought him a good
king during the year past.
All shouted in chorus of approval. Then their spokesman addressed
Powell thus:
"My lord, never was thy wisdom so great, thy generosity more free, nor
thy justice more manifest, than during the past year."
When he ceased, all the vassals showed their approval of this speech.
Then Powell, smiling, told the story of his adventures in exchanging
his form and tasks; at the end of which, the spokesman taking his cue
from the happy faces of all his fellow vassals, made reply:
"Of a truth, lord, we pray thee, do thou give thanks to Heaven that
thou hast formed such a fellowship. Please continue to us the form of
the kingdom and rule, that we have enjoyed for a year past."
Thereupon King Powell took oath, kissing the hilt of his sword, and
called on Heaven to witness his promise that he would do as they had
desired.
So the two kings confirmed the friendship they had made. Each sent the
other rich gifts of jewels, horses and hounds.
In memory of so wonderful and happy union, of a mortal and a fairy,
Powell was thereafter, in addition to all his titles, saluted as Lord
of Anwyn, which is only another name for the Land of the Fairies.
XX
POWELL AND HIS BRIDE
Not far from the castle where King Powell had his court, there was a
hillock called the Mount of Macbeth. It was the common belief that
some strange adventure would befall anyone who should sit upon that
mound.
He would receive blows, or wounds, or else he would see something
wonderful.
Thus it came to pass, that none but peaceful bards had ever sat upon
the mound. Never a warrior or a common man had risked sitting there.
The general fear felt, and the awe inspired by the place, was too
great.
But after his adventure of being King of Fairy Land for a whole year,
everything else to Powell seemed dull and commonplace. So, to test his
own courage, and worthiness of kingship, Powell assembled all his
lords at Narberth.
After the night's feasting, revelry and story telling, Powell declared
that, next day, he would sit upon the enchanted mound.
So when the sun was fully risen, Powell took his seat upon the mound,
expecting that, all of a sudden, something unusual would happen.
For some minutes nothing, whether event or vision, took place. Then he
lifted up his eyes and saw approaching him a white horse on which rode
a lady. She was dressed in shining garments, as if made of gold.
Evidently she was a princess. Yet she came not very near.
"Does anyone among you know who this lady is?" asked Powell of his
chieftains.
"Not one of us," was the answer.
Thereupon Powell ordered his vassals to ride forward. They were to
greet her courteously, and inquire who she was.
But now the predicted wonder took place. She moved away from them, yet
at a quiet pace that suited her. Though the knights spurred their
horses, and rode fast and furiously, they could not come any nearer to
her.
They galloped back, and reported their failure to reach the lady.
Then Powell picked out others and sent them riding after the lady, but
each time, one and all returned, chagrined with failure. A woman had
beaten them.
So the day closed with silence in the castle hall. There was no merry
making or story telling that night.
The next day, Powell sat again on the mound and once more the golden
lady came near.
This time, Powell himself left his seat on the mound, leaped on his
fleetest horse, and pursued the maiden, robed in gold, on the white
horse.
But she flitted away, as she had done before from the knights. Again
and again, though he could get nearer and nearer to her, he failed.
Then the baffled king cried out, in despair, "O maiden fair, for the
sake of him whom thou lovest, stay for me."
Evidently the lady, who lived in the time of castles and courts, did
not care to be wooed in the style of the cave men. Such manners did
not suit her, but with a change of method of making love, her heart
melted. Besides, she was a kind woman. She took pity on horses, as
well as on men.
Sweet was her voice, as she answered most graciously:
"I will stay gladly, and it were better for thy horses, hadst thou
asked me properly, long ago."
To his questions, as to how and why she came to him, she told her
story, as follows:
"I am Rhiannon, descended from the August and Venerable One of old. My
aunts and uncles tried to make me marry against my will a chieftain
named Gwawl, an auburn-haired youth, son of Clud, but, because of my
love to thee, would I have no husband, and if you reject me, I will
never marry any man."
"As Heaven is my witness, were I to choose among all the damsels and
ladies of the world, thee would I choose," cried Powell.
After that, it was agreed that, when a year had sped, Powell should go
to the Palace of the August and Venerable One of old, and claim her
for his bride.
So, when twelve months had passed, Powell with his retinue of a
hundred knights, all splendidly horsed and finely appareled, presented
himself before the castle. There he found his fair lady and a feast
already prepared at which he sat with her. On the other side of the
table, were her father and mother.
In the midst of this joyous occasion, when all was gayety, and they
talked together, in strode a youth clad in sheeny satin. He was of
noble bearing and had auburn hair. He saluted Powell and his knights
courteously.
At once Powell, the lord of Narberth, invited the stranger to come and
sit down as guest beside him.
"Not so," replied the youth. "I am a suitor, and have come to crave a
boon of thee."
Without guile or suspicion, Powell replied innocently.
"Ask what you will. If in my power, it shall be yours."
But Rhiannon chided Powell. She asked, "Oh, why did you give him such
an answer?"
"But he did give it," cried the auburn haired youth. Then turning to
the whole company of nobles, he appealed to them:
"Did he not pledge his word, before you all, to give me what I asked?"
Then, turning to Powell, he said:
"The boon I ask is this, to have thy bride, Rhiannon. Further, I want
this feast and banquet to celebrate, in this place, our wedding."
At this demand, Powell seemed to have been struck dumb. He did not
speak, but Rhiannon did.
"Be silent, as long as thou wilt," she cried, "but surely no man ever
made worse use of his wits than thou hast done; for this man, to whom
thou gavest thy oath of promise, is none other than Gwawl, the son of
Clud. He is the suitor, from whom I fled to come to you, while you sat
on the Narberth mound."
Now, out of such trouble, how should the maiden, promised to two men,
be delivered?