Pwyll PRINCE OF DYVED was lord of the seven Cantrevs of Dyved; and once
upon a time he was at Narberth his chief palace, and he was minded to
go and hunt, and the part of his dominions in which it pleased him to
hunt was Glyn Cuch. So he set forth from Narberth that night, and went
as far as Llwyn Diarwyd. And that night he tarried there, and early on
the morrow he rose and came to Glyn Cuch, when he let loose the dogs in
the wood, and sounded the horn, and began the chase. And as he
followed the dogs, he lost his companions; and whilst he listened to
the hounds, he heard the cry of other hounds, a cry different from his
own, and coming in the opposite direction.
And he beheld a glade in the wood forming a level plain, and as his dogs
came to the edge of the glade, he saw a stag before the other dogs. And
lo, as it reached the middle of the glade, the dogs that followed the
stag overtook it and brought it down. Then looked he at the colour of
the dogs, staying not to look at the stag, and of all the hounds that he
had seen in the world, he had never seen any that were like unto these.
For their hair was of a brilliant shining white, and their ears were red;
and as the whiteness of their bodies shone, so did the redness of their
ears glisten. And he came towards the dogs, and drove away those that
had brought down the stag, and set his own dogs upon it.
And as he was setting on his dogs he saw a horseman coming towards him
upon a large light-grey steed, with a hunting horn round his neck, and
clad in garments of grey woollen in the fashion of a hunting garb. And
the horseman drew near and spoke unto him thus. “Chieftain,” said he, “I
know who thou art, and I greet thee not.” “Peradventure,” said Pwyll,
“thou art of such dignity that thou shouldest not do so.” “Verily,”
answered he, “it is not my dignity that prevents me.” “What is it then,
O Chieftain?” asked he. “By Heaven, it is by reason of thine own
ignorance and want of courtesy.” “What discourtesy, Chieftain, hast thou
seen in me?” “Greater discourtesy saw I never in man,” said he, “than to
drive away the dogs that were killing the stag and to set upon it thine
own. This was discourteous, and though I may not be revenged upon thee,
yet I declare to Heaven that I will do thee more dishonour than the value
of an hundred stags.” “O Chieftain,” he replied, “if I have done ill I
will redeem thy friendship.” “How wilt thou redeem it?” “According as
thy dignity may be, but I know not who thou art?” “A crowned king am I
in the land whence I come.” “Lord,” said he, “may the day prosper with
thee, and from what land comest thou?” “From Annwvyn,” {2} answered he;
“Arawn, a King of Annwvyn, am I.” “Lord,” said he, “how may I gain thy
friendship?” “After this manner mayest thou,” he said. “There is a man
whose dominions are opposite to mine, who is ever warring against me, and
he is Havgan, a King of Annwvyn, and by ridding me of this oppression,
which thou canst easily do, shalt thou gain my friendship.” “Gladly will
I do this,” said he. “Show me how I may.” “I will show thee. Behold
thus it is thou mayest. I will make firm friendship with thee; and this
will I do. I will send thee to Annwvyn in my stead, and I will give thee
the fairest lady thou didst ever behold to be thy companion, and I will
put my form and semblance upon thee, so that not a page of the chamber,
nor an officer, nor any other man that has always followed me shall know
that it is not I. And this shall be for the space of a year from
to-morrow, and then we will meet in this place.” “Yes,” said he; “but
when I shall have been there for the space of a year, by what means shall
I discover him of whom thou speakest?” “One year from this night,” he
answered, “is the time fixed between him and me that we should meet at
the Ford; be thou there in my likeness, and with one stroke that thou
givest him, he shall no longer live. And if he ask thee to give him
another, give it not, how much soever he may entreat thee, for when I did
so, he fought with me next day as well as ever before.” “Verily,” said
Pwyll, “what shall I do concerning my kingdom?” Said Arawn, “I will
cause that no one in all thy dominions, neither man nor woman, shall know
that I am not thou, and I will go there in thy stead.” “Gladly then,”
said Pwyll, “will I set forward.” “Clear shall be thy path, and nothing
shall detain thee, until thou come into my dominions, and I myself will
be thy guide!”
So he conducted him until he came in sight of the palace and its
dwellings. “Behold,” said he, “the Court and the kingdom in thy power.
Enter the Court, there is no one there who will know thee, and when thou
seest what service is done there, thou wilt know the customs of the
Court.”
So he went forward to the Court, and when he came there, he beheld
sleeping-rooms, and halls, and chambers, and the most beautiful buildings
ever seen. And he went into the hall to disarray, and there came youths
and pages and disarrayed him, and all as they entered saluted him. And
two knights came and drew his hunting-dress from about him, and clothed
him in a vesture of silk and gold. And the hall was prepared, and behold
he saw the household and the host enter in, and the host was the most
comely and the best equipped that he had ever seen. And with them came
in likewise the Queen, who was the fairest woman that he had ever yet
beheld. And she had on a yellow robe of shining satin; and they washed
and went to the table, and sat, the Queen upon one side of him, and one
who seemed to be an Earl on the other side.
And he began to speak with the Queen, and he thought, from her speech,
that she was the seemliest and most noble lady of converse and of cheer
that ever was. And they partook of meat, and drink, with songs and with
feasting; and of all the Courts upon the earth, behold this was the best
supplied with food and drink, and vessels of gold and royal jewels.
* * * * *
And the year he spent in hunting, and minstrelsy, and feasting, and
diversions, and discourse with his companions until the night that was
fixed for the conflict. And when that night came, it was remembered even
by those who lived in the furthest part of his dominions, and he went to
the meeting, and the nobles of the kingdom with him. And when he came to
the Ford, a knight arose and spake thus. “Lords,” said he, “listen well.
It is between two kings that this meeting is, and between them only.
Each claimeth of the other his land and territory, and do all of you
stand aside and leave the fight to be between them.”
Thereupon the two kings approached each other in the middle of the Ford,
and encountered, and at the first thrust, the man who was in the stead of
Arawn struck Havgan on the centre of the boss of his shield, so that it
was cloven in twain, and his armour was broken, and Havgan himself was
borne to the ground an arm’s and a spear’s length over the crupper of his
horse, and he received a deadly blow. “O Chieftain,” said Havgan, “what
right hast thou to cause my death? I was not injuring thee in anything,
and I know not wherefore thou wouldest slay me. But, for the love of
Heaven, since thou hast begun to slay me, complete thy work.” “Ah,
Chieftain,” he replied, “I may yet repent doing that unto thee, slay thee
who may, I will not do so.” “My trusty Lords,” said Havgan, “bear me
hence. My death has come. I shall be no more able to uphold you.” “My
Nobles,” also said he who was in the semblance of Arawn, “take counsel
and know who ought to be my subjects.” “Lord,” said the Nobles, “all
should be, for there is no king over the whole of Annwvyn but thee.”
“Yes,” he replied, “it is right that he who comes humbly should be
received graciously, but he that doth not come with obedience, shall be
compelled by the force of swords.” And thereupon he received the homage
of the men, and he began to conquer the country; and the next day by noon
the two kingdoms were in his power. And thereupon he went to keep his
tryst, and came to Glyn Cuch.
And when he came there, the King of Annwvyn was there to meet him, and
each of them was rejoiced to see the other. “Verily,” said Arawn, “may
Heaven reward thee for thy friendship towards me. I have heard of it.
When thou comest thyself to thy dominions,” said he, “thou wilt see that
which I have done for thee.” “Whatever thou hast done for me, may Heaven
repay it thee.”
Then Arawn gave to Pwyll Prince of Dyved his proper form and semblance,
and he himself took his own; and Arawn set forth towards the Court of
Annwvyn; and he was rejoiced when he beheld his hosts, and his household,
whom he had not seen so long; but they had not known of his absence, and
wondered no more at his coming than usual. And that day was spent in joy
and merriment; and he sat and conversed with his wife and his nobles.
And when it was time for them rather to sleep than to carouse, they went
to rest.
* * * * *
Pwyll Prince of Dyved came likewise to his country and dominions, and
began to inquire of the nobles of the land, how his rule had been during
the past year, compared with what it had been before. “Lord,” said they,
“thy wisdom was never so great, and thou wast never so kind or so free in
bestowing thy gifts, and thy justice was never more worthily seen than in
this year.” “By Heaven,” said he, “for all the good you have enjoyed,
you should thank him who hath been with you; for behold, thus hath this
matter been.” And thereupon Pwyll related the whole unto them. “Verily,
Lord,” said they, “render thanks unto Heaven that thou hast such a
fellowship, and withhold not from us the rule which we have enjoyed for
this year past.” “I take Heaven to witness that I will not withhold it,”
answered Pwyll.
And thenceforth they made strong the friendship that was between them,
and each sent unto the other horses, and greyhounds, and hawks, and all
such jewels as they thought would be pleasing to each other. And by
reason of his having dwelt that year in Annwvyn, and having ruled there
so prosperously, and united the two kingdoms in one day by his valour and
prowess, he lost the name of Pwyll Prince of Dyved, and was called Pwyll
Chief of Annwvyn from that time forward.
* * * * *
Once upon a time, Pwyll was at Narberth his chief palace, where a feast
had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of men. And
after the first meal, Pwyll arose to walk, and he went to the top of a
mound that was above the palace, and was called Gorsedd Arberth. “Lord,”
said one of the Court, “it is peculiar to the mound that whosoever sits
upon it cannot go thence, without either receiving wounds or blows, or
else seeing a wonder.” “I fear not to receive wounds and blows in the
midst of such a host as this, but as to the wonder, gladly would I see
it. I will go therefore and sit upon the mound.”
And upon the mound he sat. And while he sat there, they saw a lady, on a
pure white horse of large size, with a garment of shining gold around
her, coming along the highway that led from the mound; and the horse
seemed to move at a slow and even pace, and to be coming up towards the
mound. “My men,” said Pwyll, “is there any among you who knows yonder
lady?” “There is not, Lord,” said they. “Go one of you and meet her,
that we may know who she is.” And one of them arose, and as he came upon
the road to meet her, she passed by, and he followed as fast as he could,
being on foot; and the greater was his speed, the further was she from
him. And when he saw that it profited him nothing to follow her, he
returned to Pwyll, and said unto him, “Lord, it is idle for any one in
the world to follow her on foot.” “Verily,” said Pwyll, “go unto the
palace, and take the fleetest horse that thou seest, and go after her.”
And he took a horse and went forward. And he came to an open level
plain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged his horse, the
further was she from him. Yet she held the same pace as at first. And
his horse began to fail; and when his horse’s feet failed him, he
returned to the place where Pwyll was. “Lord,” said he, “it will avail
nothing for any one to follow yonder lady. I know of no horse in these
realms swifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her.” “Of a
truth,” said Pwyll, “there must be some illusion here. Let us go towards
the palace.” So to the palace they went, and they spent that day. And
the next day they arose, and that also they spent until it was time to go
to meat. And after the first meal, “Verily,” said Pwyll, “we will go the
same party as yesterday to the top of the mound. And do thou,” said he
to one of his young men, “take the swiftest horse that thou knowest in
the field.” And thus did the young man. And they went towards the
mound, taking the horse with them. And as they were sitting down they
beheld the lady on the same horse, and in the same apparel, coming along
the same road. “Behold,” said Pwyll, “here is the lady of yesterday.
Make ready, youth, to learn who she is.” “My lord,” said he, “that will
I gladly do.” And thereupon the lady came opposite to them. So the
youth mounted his horse; and before he had settled himself in his saddle,
she passed by, and there was a clear space between them. But her speed
was no greater than it had been the day before. Then he put his horse
into an amble, and thought that notwithstanding the gentle pace at which
his horse went, he should soon overtake her. But this availed him not;
so he gave his horse the reins. And still he came no nearer to her than
when he went at a foot’s pace. And the more he urged his horse, the
further was she from him. Yet she rode not faster than before. When he
saw that it availed not to follow her, he returned to the place where
Pwyll was. “Lord,” said he, “the horse can no more than thou hast seen.”
“I see indeed that it avails not that any one should follow her. And by
Heaven,” said he, “she must needs have an errand to some one in this
plain, if her haste would allow her to declare it. Let us go back to the
palace.” And to the palace they went, and they spent that night in songs
and feasting, as it pleased them.
And the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meat.
And when meat was ended, Pwyll said, “Where are the hosts that went
yesterday and the day before to the top of the mound?” “Behold, Lord, we
are here,” said they. “Let us go,” said he, “to the mound, to sit there.
And do thou,” said he to the page who tended his horse, “saddle my horse
well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring also my spurs with
thee.” And the youth did thus. And they went and sat upon the mound;
and ere they had been there but a short time, they beheld the lady coming
by the same road, and in the same manner, and at the same pace. “Young
man,” said Pwyll, “I see the lady coming; give me my horse.” And no
sooner had he mounted his horse than she passed him. And he turned after
her and followed her. And he let his horse go bounding playfully, and
thought that at the second step or the third he should come up with her.
But he came no nearer to her than at first. Then he urged his horse to
his utmost speed, yet he found that it availed nothing to follow her.
Then said Pwyll, “O maiden, for the sake of him whom thou best lovest,
stay for me.” “I will stay gladly,” said she, “and it were better for
thy horse hadst thou asked it long since.” So the maiden stopped, and
she threw back that part of her headdress which covered her face. And
she fixed her eyes upon him, and began to talk with him. “Lady,” asked
he, “whence comest thou, and whereunto dost thou journey?” “I journey on
mine own errand,” said she, “and right glad am I to see thee.” “My
greeting be unto thee,” said he. Then he thought that the beauty of all
the maidens, and all the ladies that he had ever seen, was as nothing
compared to her beauty. “Lady,” he said, “wilt thou tell me aught
concerning thy purpose?” “I will tell thee,” said she. “My chief quest
was to seek thee.” “Behold,” said Pwyll, “this is to me the most
pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come; and wilt thou tell me who
thou art?” “I will tell thee, Lord,” said she. “I am Rhiannon, the
daughter of Heveydd Hên, and they sought to give me to a husband against
my will. But no husband would I have, and that because of my love for
thee, neither will I yet have one unless thou reject me. And hither have
I come to hear thy answer.” “By Heaven,” said Pwyll, “behold this is my
answer. If I might choose among all the ladies and damsels in the world,
thee would I choose.” “Verily,” said she, “if thou art thus minded, make
a pledge to meet me ere I am given to another.” “The sooner I may do so,
the more pleasing will it be unto me,” said Pwyll, “and wheresoever thou
wilt, there will I meet with thee.” “I will that thou meet me this day
twelvemonth at the palace of Heveydd. And I will cause a feast to be
prepared, so that it be ready against thou come.” “Gladly,” said he,
“will I keep this tryst.” “Lord,” said she, “remain in health, and be
mindful that thou keep thy promise; and now I will go hence.” So they
parted, and he went back to his hosts and to them of his household. And
whatsoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, he always
turned the discourse upon other matters. And when a year from that time
was gone, he caused a hundred knights to equip themselves and to go with
him to the palace of Heveydd Hên. And he came to the palace, and there
was great joy concerning him, with much concourse of people and great
rejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. And the whole Court was
placed under his orders.
And the hall was garnished and they went to meat, and thus did they sit;
Heveydd Hên was on one side of Pwyll, and Rhiannon on the other. And all
the rest according to their rank. And they ate and feasted and talked
one with another, and at the beginning of the carousal after the meat,
there entered a tall auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing, clothed in a
garment of satin. And when he came into the hall, he saluted Pwyll and
his companions. “The greeting of Heaven be unto thee, my soul,” said
Pwyll, “come thou and sit down.” “Nay,” said he, “a suitor am I, and I
will do mine errand.” “Do so willingly,” said Pwyll. “Lord,” said he,
“my errand is unto thee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that I come.”
“What boon soever thou mayest ask of me, as far as I am able, thou shalt
have.” “Ah,” said Rhiannon, “wherefore didst thou give that answer?”
“Has he not given it before the presence of these nobles?” asked the
youth. “My soul,” said Pwyll, “what is the boon thou askest?” “The lady
whom best I love is to be thy bride this night; I come to ask her of
thee, with the feast and the banquet that are in this place.” And Pwyll
was silent because of the answer which he had given. “Be silent as long
as thou wilt,” said Rhiannon. “Never did man make worse use of his wits
than thou hast done.” “Lady,” said he, “I knew not who he was.” “Behold
this is the man to whom they would have given me against my will,” said
she. “And he is Gwawl the son of Clud, a man of great power and wealth,
and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me upon him lest shame
befall thee.” “Lady,” said he, “I understand not thine answer. Never
can I do as thou sayest.” “Bestow me upon him,” said she, “and I will
cause that I shall never be his.” “By what means will that be?” asked
Pwyll. “In thy hand will I give thee a small bag,” said she. “See that
thou keep it well, and he will ask of thee the banquet, and the feast,
and the preparations which are not in thy power. Unto the hosts and the
household will I give the feast. And such will be thy answer respecting
this. And as concerns myself, I will engage to become his bride this
night twelvemonth. And at the end of the year be thou here,” said she,
“and bring this bag with thee, and let thy hundred knights be in the
orchard up yonder. And when he is in the midst of joy and feasting, come
thou in by thyself, clad in ragged garments, and holding thy bag in thy
hand, and ask nothing but a bagful of food, and I will cause that if all
the meat and liquor that are in these seven Cantrevs were put into it, it
would be no fuller than before. And after a great deal has been put
therein, he will ask thee whether thy bag will ever be full. Say thou
then that it never will, until a man of noble birth and of great wealth
arise and press the food in the bag with both his feet, saying, ‘Enough
has been put therein;’ and I will cause him to go and tread down the food
in the bag, and when he does so, turn thou the bag, so that he shall be
up over his head in it, and then slip a knot upon the thongs of the bag.
Let there be also a good bugle horn about thy neck, and as soon as thou
hast bound him in the bag, wind thy horn, and let it be a signal between
thee and thy knights. And when they hear the sound of the horn, let them
come down upon the palace.” “Lord,” said Gwawl, “it is meet that I have
an answer to my request.” “As much of that thou hast asked as it is in
my power to give, thou shalt have,” replied Pwyll. “My soul,” said
Rhiannon unto him, “as for the feast and the banquet that are here, I
have bestowed them upon the men of Dyved, and the household, and the
warriors that are with us. These can I not suffer to be given to any.
In a year from to-night a banquet shall be prepared for thee in this
palace, that I may become thy bride.”
So Gwawl went forth to his possessions, and Pwyll went also back to
Dyved. And they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast
at the palace of Heveydd Hên. Then Gwawl the son of Clud set out to the
feast that was prepared for him, and he came to the palace, and was
received there with rejoicing. Pwyll, also, the Chief of Annwvyn, came
to the orchard with his hundred knights, as Rhiannon had commanded him,
having the bag with him. And Pwyll was clad in coarse and ragged
garments, and wore large clumsy old shoes upon his feet. And when he
knew that the carousal after the meat had begun, he went towards the
hall, and when he came into the hall, he saluted Gwawl the son of Clud,
and his company, both men and women. “Heaven prosper thee,” said Gwawl,
“and the greeting of Heaven be unto thee.” “Lord,” said he, “may Heaven
reward thee, I have an errand unto thee.” “Welcome be thine errand, and
if thou ask of me that which is just, thou shalt have it gladly.” “It is
fitting,” answered he. “I crave but from want, and the boon that I ask
is to have this small bag that thou seest filled with meat.” “A request
within reason is this,” said he, “and gladly shalt thou have it. Bring
him food.” A great number of attendants arose and began to fill the bag,
but for all that they put into it, it was no fuller than at first. “My
soul,” said Gwawl, “will thy bag be ever full?” “It will not, I declare
to Heaven,” said he, “for all that may be put into it, unless one
possessed of lands, and domains, and treasure, shall arise and tread down
with both his feet the food that is within the bag, and shall say,
‘Enough has been put therein.’” Then said Rhiannon unto Gwawl the son of
Clud, “Rise up quickly.” “I will willingly arise,” said he. So he rose
up, and put his two feet into the bag. And Pwyll turned up the sides of
the bag, so that Gwawl was over his head in it. And he shut it up
quickly and slipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn. And
thereupon behold his household came down upon the palace. And they
seized all the host that had come with Gwawl, and cast them into his own
prison. And Pwyll threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and his
tattered array; and as they came in, every one of Pwyll’s knights struck
a blow upon the bag, and asked, “What is here?” “A Badger,” said they.
And in this manner they played, each of them striking the bag, either
with his foot or with a staff. And thus played they with the bag. Every
one as he came in asked, “What game are you playing at thus?” “The game
of Badger in the Bag,” said they. And then was the game of Badger in the
Bag first played.
“Lord,” said the man in the bag, “if thou wouldest but hear me, I merit
not to be slain in a bag.” Said Heveydd Hên, “Lord, he speaks truth. It
were fitting that thou listen to him, for he deserves not this.”
“Verily,” said Pwyll, “I will do thy counsel concerning him.” “Behold
this is my counsel then,” said Rhiannon; “thou art now in a position in
which it behoves thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels; let him give unto
them in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will never seek to
revenge that which has been done to him. And this will be punishment
enough.” “I will do this gladly,” said the man in the bag. “And gladly
will I accept it,” said Pwyll, “since it is the counsel of Heveydd and
Rhiannon.” “Such then is our counsel,” answered they. “I accept it,”
said Pwyll. “Seek thyself sureties.” “We will be for him,” said
Heveydd, “until his men be free to answer for him.” And upon this he was
let out of the bag, and his liegemen were liberated. “Demand now of
Gwawl his sureties,” said Heveydd, “we know which should be taken for
him.” And Heveydd numbered the sureties. Said Gwawl, “Do thou thyself
draw up the covenant.” “It will suffice me that it be as Rhiannon said,”
answered Pwyll. So unto that covenant were the sureties pledged.
“Verily, Lord,” said Gwawl, “I am greatly hurt, and I have many bruises.
I have need to be anointed; with thy leave I will go forth. I will leave
nobles in my stead, to answer for me in all that thou shalt require.”
“Willingly,” said Pwyll, “mayest thou do thus.” So Gwawl went towards
his own possessions.
And the hall was set in order for Pwyll and the men of his host, and for
them also of the palace, and they went to the tables and sat down. And
as they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat they that night. And they
ate, and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and tranquillity. And the
time came that they should sleep, and Pwyll and Rhiannon went to their
chamber.
And next morning at the break of day, “My Lord,” said Rhiannon, “arise
and begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. Refuse no one to-day
that may claim thy bounty.” “Thus shall it be gladly,” said Pwyll, “both
to-day and every day while the feast shall last.” So Pwyll arose, and he
caused silence to be proclaimed, and desired all the suitors and the
minstrels to show and to point out what gifts were to their wish and
desire. And this being done, the feast went on, and he denied no one
while it lasted. And when the feast was ended, Pwyll said unto Heveydd,
“My Lord, with thy permission I will set out for Dyved to-morrow.”
“Certainly,” said Heveydd, “may Heaven prosper thee. Fix also a time
when Rhiannon may follow thee.” “By Heaven,” said Pwyll, “we will go
hence together.” “Willest thou this, Lord?” said Heveydd. “Yes, by
Heaven,” answered Pwyll.
And the next day, they set forward towards Dyved, and journeyed to the
palace of Narberth, where a feast was made ready for them. And there
came to them great numbers of the chief men and the most noble ladies of
the land, and of these there was none to whom Rhiannon did not give some
rich gift, either a bracelet, or a ring, or a precious stone. And they
ruled the land prosperously both that year and the next.
And in the third year the nobles of the land began to be sorrowful at
seeing a man whom they loved so much, and who was moreover their lord and
their foster-brother, without an heir. And they came to him. And the
place where they met was Preseleu, in Dyved. “Lord,” said they, “we know
that thou art not so young as some of the men of this country, and we
fear that thou mayest not have an heir of the wife whom thou hast taken.
Take therefore another wife of whom thou mayest have heirs. Thou canst
not always continue with us, and though thou desire to remain as thou
art, we will not suffer thee.” “Truly,” said Pwyll, “we have not long
been joined together, and many things may yet befall. Grant me a year
from this time, and for the space of a year we will abide together, and
after that I will do according to your wishes.” So they granted it. And
before the end of a year a son was born unto him. And in Narberth was he
born; and on the night that he was born, women were brought to watch the
mother and the boy. And the women slept, as did also Rhiannon, the
mother of the boy. And the number of the women that were brought into
the chamber was six. And they watched for a good portion of the night,
and before midnight every one of them fell asleep, and towards break of
day they awoke; and when they awoke, they looked where they had put the
boy, and behold he was not there. “Oh,” said one of the women, “the boy
is lost?” “Yes,” said another, “and it will be small vengeance if we are
burnt or put to death because of the child.” Said one of the women, “Is
there any counsel for us in the world in this matter?” “There is,”
answered another, “I offer you good counsel.” “What is that?” asked
they. “There is here a stag-hound bitch, and she has a litter of whelps.
Let us kill some of the cubs, and rub the blood on the face and hands of
Rhiannon, and lay the bones before her, and assert that she herself hath
devoured her son, and she alone will not be able to gainsay us six.” And
according to this counsel it was settled. And towards morning Rhiannon
awoke, and she said, “Women, where is my son?” “Lady,” said they, “ask
us not concerning thy son, we have nought but the blows and the bruises
we got by struggling with thee, and of a truth we never saw any woman so
violent as thou, for it was of no avail to contend with thee. Hast thou
not thyself devoured thy son? Claim him not therefore of us.” “For
pity’s sake,” said Rhiannon; “the Lord God knows all things. Charge me
not falsely. If you tell me this from fear, I assert before Heaven that
I will defend you.” “Truly,” said they, “we would not bring evil on
ourselves for any one in the world.” “For pity’s sake,” said Rhiannon,
“you will receive no evil by telling the truth.” But for all her words,
whether fair or harsh, she received but the same answer from the women.
And Pwyll the chief of Annwvyn arose, and his household, and his hosts.
And this occurrence could not be concealed, but the story went forth
throughout the land, and all the nobles heard it. Then the nobles came
to Pwyll, and besought him to put away his wife, because of the great
crime which she had done. But Pwyll answered them, that they had no
cause wherefore they might ask him to put away his wife, save for her
having no children. “But children has she now had, therefore will I not
put her away; if she has done wrong, let her do penance for it.”
So Rhiannon sent for the teachers and the wise men, and as she preferred
doing penance to contending with the women, she took upon her a penance.
And the penance that was imposed upon her was, that she should remain in
that palace of Narberth until the end of seven years, and that she should
sit every day near unto a horseblock that was without the gate. And that
she should relate the story to all who should come there, whom she might
suppose not to know it already; and that she should offer the guests and
strangers, if they would permit her, to carry them upon her back into the
palace. But it rarely happened that any would permit. And thus did she
spend part of the year.
Now at that time Teirnyon Twryv Vliant was Lord of Gwent Is Coed, and he
was the best man in the world. And unto his house there belonged a mare,
than which neither mare nor horse in the kingdom was more beautiful. And
on the night of every first of May she foaled, and no one ever knew what
became of the colt. And one night Teirnyon talked with his wife: “Wife,”
said he, “it is very simple of us that our mare should foal every year,
and that we should have none of her colts.” “What can be done in the
matter?” said she. “This is the night of the first of May,” said he.
“The vengeance of Heaven be upon me, if I learn not what it is that takes
away the colts.” So he caused the mare to be brought into a house, and
he armed himself, and began to watch that night. And in the beginning of
the night, the mare foaled a large and beautiful colt. And it was
standing up in the place. And Teirnyon rose up and looked at the size of
the colt, and as he did so he heard a great tumult, and after the tumult
behold a claw came through the window into the house, and it seized the
colt by the mane. Then Teirnyon drew his sword, and struck off the arm
at the elbow, so that portion of the arm together with the colt was in
the house with him. And then did he hear a tumult and wailing, both at
once. And he opened the door, and rushed out in the direction of the
noise, and he could not see the cause of the tumult because of the
darkness of the night, but he rushed after it and followed it. Then he
remembered that he had left the door open, and he returned. And at the
door behold there was an infant boy in swaddling-clothes, wrapped around
in a mantle of satin. And he took up the boy, and behold he was very
strong for the age that he was of.
Then he shut the door, and went into the chamber where his wife was.
“Lady,” said he, “art thou sleeping?” “No, lord,” said she, “I was
asleep, but as thou camest in I did awake.” “Behold, here is a boy for
thee if thou wilt,” said he, “since thou hast never had one.” “My lord,”
said she, “what adventure is this?” “It was thus,” said Teirnyon; and he
told her how it all befell. “Verily, lord,” said she, “what sort of
garments are there upon the boy?” “A mantle of satin,” said he. “He is
then a boy of gentle lineage,” she replied. “My lord,” she said, “if
thou wilt, I shall have great diversion and mirth. I will call my women
unto me, and tell them that I have been pregnant.” “I will readily grant
thee to do this,” he answered. And thus did they, and they caused the
boy to be baptized, and the ceremony was performed there; and the name
which they gave unto him was Gwri Wallt Euryn, because what hair was upon
his head was as yellow as gold. And they had the boy nursed in the Court
until he was a year old. And before the year was over he could walk
stoutly. And he was larger than a boy of three years old, even one of
great growth and size. And the boy was nursed the second year, and then
he was as large as a child six years old. And before the end of the
fourth year, he would bribe the grooms to allow him to take the horses to
water. “My lord,” said his wife unto Teirnyon, “where is the colt which
thou didst save on the night that thou didst find the boy?” “I have
commanded the grooms of the horses,” said he, “that they take care of
him.” “Would it not be well, lord,” said she, “if thou wert to cause him
to be broken in, and given to the boy, seeing that on the same night that
thou didst find the boy, the colt was foaled and thou didst save him?”
“I will not oppose thee in this matter,” said Teirnyon. “I will allow
thee to give him the colt.” “Lord,” said she, “may Heaven reward thee; I
will give it him.” So the horse was given to the boy. Then she went to
the grooms and those who tended the horses, and commanded them to be
careful of the horse, so that he might be broken in by the time that the
boy could ride him.
And while these things were going forward, they heard tidings of Rhiannon
and her punishment. And Teirnyon Twryv Vliant, by reason of the pity
that he felt on hearing this story of Rhiannon and her punishment,
inquired closely concerning it, until he had heard from many of those who
came to his court. Then did Teirnyon, often lamenting the sad history,
ponder within himself, and he looked steadfastly on the boy, and as he
looked upon him, it seemed to him that he had never beheld so great a
likeness between father and son, as between the boy and Pwyll the Chief
of Annwvyn. Now the semblance of Pwyll was well known to him, for he had
of yore been one of his followers. And thereupon he became grieved for
the wrong that he did, in keeping with him a boy whom he knew to be the
son of another man. And the first time that he was alone with his wife,
he told her that it was not right that they should keep the boy with
them, and suffer so excellent a lady as Rhiannon to be punished so
greatly on his account, whereas the boy was the son of Pwyll the Chief of
Annwvyn. And Teirnyon’s wife agreed with him, that they should send the
boy to Pwyll. “And three things, lord,” said she, “shall we gain
thereby. Thanks and gifts for releasing Rhiannon from her punishment;
and thanks from Pwyll for nursing his son and restoring him unto him; and
thirdly, if the boy is of gentle nature, he will be our foster-son, and
he will do for us all the good in his power.” So it was settled
according to this counsel.
And no later than the next day was Teirnyon equipped, and two other
knights with him. And the boy, as a fourth in their company, went with
them upon the horse which Teirnyon had given him. And they journeyed
towards Narberth, and it was not long before they reached that place.
And as they drew near to the palace, they beheld Rhiannon sitting beside
the horseblock. And when they were opposite to her, “Chieftain,” said
she, “go not further thus, I will bear every one of you into the palace,
and this is my penance for slaying my own son and devouring him.” “Oh,
fair lady,” said Teirnyon, “think not that I will be one to be carried
upon thy back.” “Neither will I,” said the boy. “Truly, my soul,” said
Teirnyon, “we will not go.” So they went forward to the palace, and
there was great joy at their coming. And at the palace a feast was
prepared, because Pywll was come back from the confines of Dyved. And
they went into the hall and washed, and Pwyll rejoiced to see Teirnyon.
And in this order they sat. Teirnyon between Pwyll and Rhiannon, and
Teirnyon’s two companions on the other side of Pwyll, with the boy
between them. And after meat they began to carouse and to discourse.
And Teirnyon’s discourse was concerning the adventure of the mare and the
boy, and how he and his wife had nursed and reared the child as their
own. “And behold here is thy son, lady,” said Teirnyon. “And whosoever
told that lie concerning thee, has done wrong. And when I heard of thy
sorrow, I was troubled and grieved. And I believe that there is none of
this host who will not perceive that the boy is the son of Pwyll,” said
Teirnyon. “There is none,” said they all, “who is not certain thereof.”
“I declare to Heaven,” said Rhiannon, “that if this be true, there is
indeed an end to my trouble.” “Lady,” said Pendaran Dyved, “well hast
thou named thy son Pryderi, {3} and 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 Annwvyn
desired to take a wife. And the wife he chose was Kicva, the daughter of
Gwynn Gohoyw, the son of Gloyw Wallt Lydan, the son of Prince Casnar, one
of the nobles of this Island.
And thus ends this portion of the Mabinogion.
BRANWEN THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR
HERE IS THE SECOND PORTION OF THE MABINOGI
Bendigeid Vran, the son of Llyr, was the crowned king of this island, and
he was exalted from the crown of London. And one afternoon he was at
Harlech in Ardudwy, at his Court, and he sat upon the rock of Harlech,
looking over the sea. And with him were his brother Manawyddan the son
of Llyr, and his brothers by the mother’s side, Nissyen and Evnissyen,
and many nobles likewise, as was fitting to see around a king. His two
brothers by the mother’s side were the sons of Eurosswydd, by his mother,
Penardun, the daughter of Beli son of Manogan. And one of these youths
was a good youth and of gentle nature, and would make peace between his
kindred, and cause his family to be friends when their wrath was at the
highest; and this one was Nissyen; but the other would cause strife
between his two brothers when they were most at peace. And as they sat
thus, they beheld thirteen ships coming from the south of Ireland, and
making towards them, and they came with a swift motion, the wind being
behind them, and they neared them rapidly. “I see ships afar,” said the
king, “coming swiftly towards the land. Command the men of the Court
that they equip themselves, and go and learn their intent.” So the men
equipped themselves and went down towards them. And when they saw the
ships near, certain were they that they had never seen ships better
furnished. Beautiful flags of satin were upon them. And behold one of
the ships outstripped the others, and they saw a shield lifted up above
the side of the ship, and the point of the shield was upwards, in token
of peace. And the men drew near that they might hold converse. Then
they put out boats and came towards the land. And they saluted the king.
Now the king could hear them from the place where he was, upon the rock
above their heads. “Heaven prosper you,” said he, “and be ye welcome.
To whom do these ships belong, and who is the chief amongst you?”
“Lord,” said they, “Matholwch, king of Ireland, is here, and these ships
belong to him.” “Wherefore comes he?” asked the king, “and will he come
to the land?” “He is a suitor unto thee, lord,” said they, “and he will
not land unless he have his boon.” “And what may that be?” inquired the
king. “He desires to ally himself with thee, lord,” said they, “and he
comes to ask Branwen the daughter of Llyr, that, if it seem well to thee,
the Island of the Mighty may be leagued with Ireland, and both become
more powerful.” “Verily,” said he, “let him come to land, and we will
take counsel thereupon.” And this answer was brought to Matholwch. “I
will go willingly,” said he. So he landed, and they received him
joyfully; and great was the throng in the palace that night, between his
hosts and those of the Court; and next day they took counsel, and they
resolved to bestow Branwen upon Matholwch. Now she was one of the three
chief ladies of this island, and she was the fairest damsel in the world.
And they fixed upon Aberffraw as the place where she should become his
bride. And they went thence, and towards Aberffraw the hosts proceeded;
Matholwch and his host in their ships; Bendigeid Vran and his host by
land, until they came to Aberffraw. And at Aberffraw they began the
feast and sat down. And thus sat they. The King of the Island of the
Mighty and Manawyddan the son of Llyr on one side, and Matholwch on the
other side, and Branwen the daughter of Llyr beside him. And they were
not within a house, but under tents. No house could ever contain
Bendigeid Vran. And they began the banquet and caroused and discoursed.
And when it was more pleasing to them to sleep than to carouse, they went
to rest, and that night Branwen became Matholwch’s bride.
And next day they arose, and all they of the Court, and the officers
began to equip and to range the horses and the attendants, and they
ranged them in order as far as the sea.
And behold one day, Evnissyen, the quarrelsome man of whom it is spoken
above, came by chance into the place, where the horses of Matholwch were,
and asked whose horses they might be. “They are the horses of Matholwch
king of Ireland, who is married to Branwen, thy sister; his horses are
they.” “And is it thus they have done with a maiden such as she, and
moreover my sister, bestowing her without my consent? They could have
offered no greater insult to me than this,” said he. And thereupon he
rushed under the horses and cut off their lips at the teeth, and their
ears close to their heads, and their tails close to their backs, and
wherever he could clutch their eyelids, he cut them to the very bone, and
he disfigured the horses and rendered them useless.
And they came with these tidings unto Matholwch, saying that the horses
were disfigured, and injured so that not one of them could ever be of any
use again. “Verily, lord,” said one, “it was an insult unto thee, and as
such was it meant.” “Of a truth, it is a marvel to me, that if they
desire to insult me, they should have given me a maiden of such high rank
and so much beloved of her kindred, as they have done.” “Lord,” said
another, “thou seest that thus it is, and there is nothing for thee to do
but to go to thy ships.” And thereupon towards his ships he set out.
And tidings came to Bendigeid Vran that Matholwch was quitting the Court
without asking leave, and messengers were sent to inquire of him
wherefore he did so. And the messengers that went were Iddic the son of
Anarawd, and Heveydd Hir. And these overtook him and asked of him what
he designed to do, and wherefore he went forth. “Of a truth,” said he,
“if I had known I had not come hither. I have been altogether insulted,
no one had ever worse treatment than I have had here. But one thing
surprises me above all.” “What is that?” asked they. “That Branwen the
daughter of Llyr, one of the three chief ladies of this island, and the
daughter of the King of the Island of the Mighty, should have been given
me as my bride, and that after that I should have been insulted; and I
marvel that the insult was not done me before they had bestowed upon me a
maiden so exalted as she.” “Truly, lord, it was not the will of any that
are of the Court,” said they, “nor of any that are of the council, that
thou shouldest have received this insult; and as thou hast been insulted,
the dishonour is greater unto Bendigeid Vran than unto thee.” “Verily,”
said he, “I think so. Nevertheless he cannot recall the insult.” These
men returned with that answer to the place where Bendigeid Vran was, and
they told him what reply Matholwch had given them. “Truly,” said he,
“there are no means by which we may prevent his going away at enmity with
us, that we will not take.” “Well, lord,” said they, “send after him
another embassy.” “I will do so,” said he. “Arise, Manawyddan son of
Llyr, and Heveydd Hir, and Unic Glew Ysgwyd, and go after him, and tell
him that he shall have a sound horse for every one that has been injured.
And beside that, as an atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff of
silver, as large and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold of the
breadth of his face. And show unto him who it was that did this, and
that it was done against my will; but that he who did it is my brother,
by the mother’s side, and therefore it would be hard for me to put him to
death. And let him come and meet me,” said he, “and we will make peace
in any way he may desire.”
The embassy went after Matholwch, and told him all these sayings in a
friendly manner, and he listened thereunto. “Men,” said he, “I will take
counsel.” So to the council he went. And in the council they considered
that if they should refuse this, they were likely to have more shame
rather than to obtain so great an atonement. They resolved therefore to
accept it, and they returned to the Court in peace.
Then the pavilions and the tents were set in order after the fashion of a
hall; and they went to meat, and as they had sat at the beginning of the
feast, so sat they there. And Matholwch and Bendigeid Vran began to
discourse; and behold it seemed to Bendigeid Vran, while they talked,
that Matholwch was not so cheerful as he had been before. And he thought
that the chieftain might be sad, because of the smallness of the
atonement which he had, for the wrong that had been done him. “Oh, man,”
said Bendigeid Vran, “thou dost not discourse to-night so cheerfully as
thou wast wont. And if it be because of the smallness of the atonement,
thou shalt add thereunto whatsoever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow I
will pay thee the horses.” “Lord,” said he, “Heaven reward thee.” “And
I will enhance the atonement,” said Bendigeid Vran, “for I will give unto
thee a cauldron, the property of which is, that if one of thy men be
slain to-day, and be cast therein, to-morrow he will be as well as ever
he was at the best, except that he will not regain his speech.” And
thereupon he gave him great thanks, and very joyful was he for that
cause.
And the next morning they paid Matholwch the horses as long as the
trained horses lasted. And then they journeyed into another commot,
where they paid him with colts until the whole had been paid, and from
thenceforth that commot was called Talebolion.
And a second night sat they together. “My lord,” said Matholwch, “whence
hadst thou the cauldron which thou hast given me?” “I had it of a man
who had been in thy land,” said he, “and I would not give it except to
one from there.” “Who was it?” asked he. “Llassar Llaesgyvnewid; he
came here from Ireland with Kymideu Kymeinvoll, his wife, who escaped
from the Iron House in Ireland, when it was made red hot around them, and
fled hither. And it is a marvel to me that thou shouldst know nothing
concerning the matter.” “Something I do know,” said he, “and as much as
I know I will tell thee. One day I was hunting in Ireland, and I came to
the mound at the head of the lake, which is called the Lake of the
Cauldron. And I beheld a huge yellow-haired man coming from the lake
with a cauldron upon his back. And he was a man of vast size, and of
horrid aspect, and a woman followed after him. And if the man was tall,
twice as large as he was the woman, and they came towards me and greeted
me. ‘Verily,’ asked I, ‘wherefore are you journeying?’ ‘Behold, this,’
said he to me, ‘is the cause that we journey. At the end of a month and
a fortnight this woman will have a son; and the child that will be born
at the end of the month and the fortnight will be a warrior fully armed.’
So I took them with me and maintained them. And they were with me for a
year. And that year I had them with me not grudgingly. But thenceforth
was there murmuring, because that they were with me. For, from the
beginning of the fourth month they had begun to make themselves hated and
to be disorderly in the land; committing outrages, and molesting and
harassing the nobles and ladies; and thenceforward my people rose up and
besought me to part with them, and they bade me to choose between them
and my dominions. And I applied to the council of my country to know
what should be done concerning them; for of their own free will they
would not go, neither could they be compelled against their will, through
fighting. And [the people of the country] being in this strait, they
caused a chamber to be made all of iron. Now when the chamber was ready,
there came there every smith that was in Ireland, and every one who owned
tongs and hammer. And they caused coals to be piled up as high as the
top of the chamber. And they had the man, and the woman, and the
children, served with plenty of meat and drink; but when it was known
that they were drunk, they began to put fire to the coals about the
chamber, and they blew it with bellows until the house was red hot all
around them. Then was there a council held in the centre of the floor of
the chamber. And the man tarried until the plates of iron were all of a
white heat; and then, by reason of the great heat, the man dashed against
the plates with his shoulder and struck them out, and his wife followed
him; but except him and his wife none escaped thence. And then I
suppose, lord,” said Matholwch unto Bendigeid Vran, “that he came over
unto thee.” “Doubtless he came here,” said he, “and gave unto me the
cauldron.” “In what manner didst thou receive them?” “I dispersed them
through every part of my dominions, and they have become numerous and are
prospering everywhere, and they fortify the places where they are with
men and arms, of the best that were ever seen.”
That night they continued to discourse as much as they would, and had
minstrelsy and carousing, and when it was more pleasant to them to sleep
than to sit longer, they went to rest. And thus was the banquet carried
on with joyousness; and when it was finished, Matholwch journeyed towards
Ireland, and Branwen with him, and they went from Aber Menei with
thirteen ships, and came to Ireland. And in Ireland was there great joy
because of their coming. And not one great man or noble lady visited
Branwen unto whom she gave not either a clasp, or a ring, or a royal
jewel to keep, such as it was honourable to be seen departing with. And
in these things she spent that year in much renown, and she passed her
time pleasantly, enjoying honour and friendship. And in the meanwhile it
chanced that she became pregnant, and in due time a son was born unto
her, and the name that they gave him was Gwern the son of Matholwch, and
they put the boy out to be foster-nursed, in a place where were the best
men of Ireland.
And behold in the second year a tumult arose in Ireland, on account of
the insult which Matholwch had received in Cambria, and the payment made
him for his horses. And his foster-brothers, and such as were nearest
unto him, blamed him openly for that matter. And he might have no peace
by reason of the tumult until they should revenge upon him this disgrace.
And the vengeance which they took was to drive away Branwen from the same
chamber with him, and to make her cook for the Court; and they caused the
butcher after he had cut up the meat to come to her and give her every
day a blow on the ear, and such they made her punishment.
“Verily, lord,” said his men to Matholwch, “forbid now the ships and the
ferry boats and the coracles, that they go not into Cambria, and such as
come over from Cambria hither, imprison them that they go not back for
this thing to be known there.” And he did so; and it was thus for not
less than three years.
And Branwen reared a starling in the cover of the kneading trough, and
she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird what manner of man her
brother was. And she wrote a letter of her woes, and the despite with
which she was treated, and she bound the letter to the root of the bird’s
wing, and sent it towards Britain. And the bird came to this island, and
one day it found Bendigeid Vran at Caer Seiont in Arvon, conferring
there, and it alighted upon his shoulder and ruffled its feathers, so
that the letter was seen, and they knew that the bird had been reared in
a domestic manner.
Then Bendigeid Vran took the letter and looked upon it. And when he had
read the letter he grieved exceedingly at the tidings of Branwen’s woes.
And immediately he began sending messengers to summon the island
together. And he caused sevenscore and four countries to come unto him,
and he complained to them himself of the grief that his sister endured.
So they took counsel. And in the council they resolved to go to Ireland,
and to leave seven men as princes here, and Caradawc, the son of Bran, as
the chief of them, and their seven knights. In Edeyrnion were these men
left. And for this reason were the seven knights placed in the town.
Now the names of these seven men were, Caradawc the son of Bran, and
Heveydd Hir, and Unic Glew Ysgwyd, and Iddic the son of Anarawc
Gwalltgrwn, and Fodor the son of Ervyll, and Gwlch Minascwrn, and Llassar
the son of Llaesar Llaesgygwyd, and Pendaran Dyved as a young page with
them. And these abode as seven ministers to take charge of this island;
and Caradawc the son of Bran was the chief amongst them.
Bendigeid Vran, with the host of which we spoke, sailed towards Ireland,
and it was not far across the sea, and he came to shoal water. It was
caused by two rivers; the Lli and the Archan were they called; and the
nations covered the sea. Then he proceeded with what provisions he had
on his own back, and approached the shore of Ireland.
Now the swineherds of Matholwch were upon the seashore, and they came to
Matholwch. “Lord,” said they, “greeting be unto thee.” “Heaven protect
you,” said he, “have you any news?” “Lord,” said they, “we have
marvellous news, a wood have we seen upon the sea, in a place where we
never yet saw a single tree.” “This is indeed a marvel,” said he; “saw
you aught else?” “We saw, lord,” said they, “a vast mountain beside the
wood, which moved, and there was a lofty ridge on the top of the
mountain, and a lake on each side of the ridge. And the wood, and the
mountain, and all these things moved.” “Verily,” said he, “there is none
who can know aught concerning this, unless it be Branwen.”
Messengers then went unto Branwen. “Lady,” said they, “what thinkest
thou that this is?” “The men of the Island of the Mighty, who have come
hither on hearing of my ill-treatment and my woes.” “What is the forest
that is seen upon the sea?” asked they. “The yards and the masts of
ships,” she answered. “Alas,” said they, “what is the mountain that is
seen by the side of the ships?” “Bendigeid Vran, my brother,” she
replied, “coming to shoal water; there is no ship that can contain him in
it.” “What is the lofty ridge with the lake on each side thereof?” “On
looking towards this island he is wroth, and his two eyes, one on each
side of his nose, are the two lakes beside the ridge.”
The warriors and the chief men of Ireland were brought together in haste,
and they took counsel. “Lord,” said the nobles unto Matholwch, “there is
no other counsel than to retreat over the Linon (a river which is in
Ireland), and to keep the river between thee and him, and to break down
the bridge that is across the river, for there is a loadstone at the
bottom of the river that neither ship nor vessel can pass over.” So they
retreated across the river, and broke down the bridge.
Bendigeid Vran came to land, and the fleet with him by the bank of the
river. “Lord,” said his chieftains, “knowest thou the nature of this
river, that nothing can go across it, and there is no bridge over it?”
“What,” said they, “is thy counsel concerning a bridge?” “There is
none,” said he, “except that he who will be chief, let him be a bridge.
I will be so,” said he. And then was that saying first uttered, and it
is still used as a proverb. And when he had lain down across the river,
hurdles were placed upon him, and the host passed over thereby.
And as he rose up, behold the messengers of Matholwch came to him, and
saluted him, and gave him greeting in the name of Matholwch, his kinsman,
and showed how that of his goodwill he had merited of him nothing but
good. “For Matholwch has given the kingdom of Ireland to Gwern the son
of Matholwch, thy nephew and thy sister’s son. And this he places before
thee, as a compensation for the wrong and despite that has been done unto
Branwen. And Matholwch shall be maintained wheresoever thou wilt, either
here or in the Island of the Mighty.” Said Bendigeid Vran, “Shall not I
myself have the kingdom? Then peradventure I may take counsel concerning
your message. From this time until then no other answer will you get
from me.” “Verily,” said they, “the best message that we receive for
thee, we will convey it unto thee, and do thou await our message unto
him.” “I will wait,” answered he, “and do you return quickly.”
The messengers set forth and came to Matholwch. “Lord,” said they,
“prepare a better message for Bendigeid Vran. He would not listen at all
to the message that we bore him.” “My friends,” said Matholwch, “what
may be your counsel?” “Lord,” said they, “there is no other counsel than
this alone. He was never known to be within a house, make therefore a
house that will contain him and the men of the Island of the Mighty on
the one side, and thyself and thy host on the other; and give over thy
kingdom to his will, and do him homage. So by reason of the honour thou
doest him in making him a house, whereas he never before had a house to
contain him, he will make peace with thee.” So the messengers went back
to Bendigeid Vran, bearing him this message.
And he took counsel, and in the council it was resolved that he should
accept this, and this was all done by the advice of Branwen, and lest the
country should be destroyed. And this peace was made, and the house was
built both vast and strong. But the Irish planned a crafty device, and
the craft was that they should put brackets on each side of the hundred
pillars that were in the house, and should place a leathern bag on each
bracket, and an armed man in every one of them. Then Evnissyen came in
before the host of the Island of the Mighty, and scanned the house with
fierce and savage looks, and descried the leathern bags which were around
the pillars. “What is in this bag?” asked he of one of the Irish.
“Meal, good soul,” said he. And Evnissyen felt about it until he came to
the man’s head, and he squeezed the head until he felt his fingers meet
together in the brain through the bone. And he left that one and put his
hand upon another, and asked what was therein. “Meal,” said the
Irishman. So he did the like unto every one of them, until he had not
left alive, of all the two hundred men, save one only; and when he came
to him, he asked what was there. “Meal, good soul,” said the Irishman.
And he felt about until he felt the head, and he squeezed that head as he
had done the others. And, albeit he found that the head of this one was
armed, he left him not until he had killed him. And then he sang an
Englyn:—
“There is in this bag a different sort of meal,
The ready combatant, when the assault is made
By his fellow-warriors, prepared for battle.”
Thereupon came the hosts unto the house. The men of the Island of
Ireland entered the house on the one side, and the men of the Island of
the Mighty on the other. And as soon as they had sat down there was
concord between them; and the sovereignty was conferred upon the boy.
When the peace was concluded, Bendigeid Vran called the boy unto him, and
from Bendigeid Vran the boy went unto Manawyddan, and he was beloved by
all that beheld him. And from Manawyddan the boy was called by Nissyen
the son of Eurosswydd, and the boy went unto him lovingly. “Wherefore,”
said Evnissyen, “comes not my nephew the son of my sister unto me?
Though he were not king of Ireland, yet willingly would I fondle the
boy.” “Cheerfully let him go to thee,” said Bendigeid Vran, and the boy
went unto him cheerfully. “By my confession to Heaven,” said Evnissyen
in his heart, “unthought of by the household is the slaughter that I will
this instant commit.”
Then he arose and took up the boy by the feet, and before any one in the
house could seize hold of him, he thrust the boy headlong into the
blazing fire. And when Branwen saw her son burning in the fire, she
strove to leap into the fire also, from the place where she sat between
her two brothers. But Bendigeid Vran grasped her with one hand, and his
shield with the other. Then they all hurried about the house, and never
was there made so great a tumult by any host in one house as was made by
them, as each man armed himself. Then said Morddwydtyllyon, “The
gadflies of Morddwydtyllyon’s Cow!” And while they all sought their
arms, Bendigeid Vran supported Branwen between his shield and his
shoulder.
Then the Irish kindled a fire under the cauldron of renovation, and they
cast the dead bodies into the cauldron until it was full, and the next
day they came forth fighting-men as good as before, except that they were
not able to speak. Then when Evnissyen saw the dead bodies of the men of
the Island of the Mighty nowhere resuscitated, he said in his heart,
“Alas! woe is me, that I should have been the cause of bringing the men
of the Island of the Mighty into so great a strait. Evil betide me if I
find not a deliverance therefrom.” And he cast himself among the dead
bodies of the Irish, and two unshod Irishmen came to him, and, taking him
to be one of the Irish, flung him into the cauldron. And he stretched
himself out in the cauldron, so that he rent the cauldron into four
pieces, and burst his own heart also.
In consequence of that the men of the Island of the Mighty obtained such
success as they had; but they were not victorious, for only seven men of
them all escaped, and Bendigeid Vran himself was wounded in the foot with
a poisoned dart. Now the seven men that escaped were Pryderi,
Manawyddan, Gluneu Eil Taran, Taliesin, Ynawc, Grudyen the son of Muryel,
and Heilyn the son of Gwynn Hen.
And Bendigeid Vran commanded them that they should cut off his head.
“And take you my head,” said he, “and bear it even unto the White Mount,
in London, and bury it there, with the face towards France. And a long
time will you be upon the road. In Harlech you will be feasting seven
years, the birds of Rhiannon singing unto you the while. And all that
time the head will be to you as pleasant company as it ever was when on
my body. And at Gwales in Penvro you will be fourscore years, and you
may remain there, and the head with you uncorrupted, until you open the
door that looks towards Aber Henvelen, and towards Cornwall. And after
you have opened that door, there you may no longer tarry, set forth then
to London to bury the head, and go straight forward.”
So they cut off his head, and these seven went forward therewith. And
Branwen was the eighth with them, and they came to land at Aber Alaw, in
Talebolyon, and they sat down to rest. And Branwen looked towards
Ireland and towards the Island of the Mighty, to see if she could descry
them. “Alas,” said she, “woe is me that I was ever born; two islands
have been destroyed because of me!” Then she uttered a loud groan, and
there broke her heart. And they made her a four-sided grave, and buried
her upon the banks of the Alaw.
Then the seven men journeyed forward towards Harlech, bearing the head
with them; and as they went, behold there met them a multitude of men and
of women. “Have you any tidings?” asked Manawyddan. “We have none,”
said they, “save that Caswallawn the son of Beli has conquered the Island
of the Mighty, and is crowned king in London.” “What has become,” said
they, “of Caradawc the son of Bran, and the seven men who were left with
him in this island?” “Caswallawn came upon them, and slew six of the
men, and Caradawc’s heart broke for grief thereof; for he could see the
sword that slew the men, but knew not who it was that wielded it.
Caswallawn had flung upon him the Veil of Illusion, so that no one could
see him slay the men, but the sword only could they see. And it liked
him not to slay Caradawc, because he was his nephew, the son of his
cousin. And now he was the third whose heart had broke through grief.
Pendaran Dyved, who had remained as a young page with these men, escaped
into the wood,” said they.
Then they went on to Harlech, and there stopped to rest, and they
provided meat and liquor, and sat down to eat and to drink. And there
came three birds, and began singing unto them a certain song, and all the
songs they had ever heard were unpleasant compared thereto; and the birds
seemed to them to be at a great distance from them over the sea, yet they
appeared as distinct as if they were close by, and at this repast they
continued seven years.
And at the close of the seventh year they went forth to Gwales in Penvro.
And there they found a fair and regal spot overlooking the ocean; and a
spacious hall was therein. And they went into the hall, and two of its
doors were open, but the third door was closed, that which looked towards
Cornwall. “See, yonder,” said Manawyddan, “is the door that we may not
open.” And that night they regaled themselves and were joyful. And of
all they had seen of food laid before them, and of all they had heard of,
they remembered nothing; neither of that, nor of any sorrow whatsoever.
And there they remained fourscore years, unconscious of having ever spent
a time more joyous and mirthful. And they were not more weary than when
first they came, neither did they, any of them, know the time they had
been there. And it was not more irksome to them having the head with
them, than if Bendigeid Vran had been with them himself. And because of
these fourscore years, it was called “the Entertaining of the noble
Head.” The entertaining of Branwen and Matholwch was in the time that
they went to Ireland.
One day said Heilyn the son of Gwynn, “Evil betide me, if I do not open
the door to know if that is true which is said concerning it.” So he
opened the door and looked towards Cornwall and Aber Henvelen. And when
they had looked, they were as conscious of all the evils they had ever
sustained, and of all the friends and companions they had lost, and of
all the misery that had befallen them, as if all had happened in that
very spot; and especially of the fate of their lord. And because of
their perturbation they could not rest, but journeyed forth with the head
towards London. And they buried the head in the White Mount, and when it
was buried, this was the third goodly concealment; and it was the third
ill-fated disclosure when it was disinterred, inasmuch as no invasion
from across the sea came to this island while the head was in that
concealment.
And thus is the story related of those who journeyed over from Ireland.
In Ireland none were left alive, except five pregnant women in a cave in
the Irish wilderness; and to these five women in the same night were born
five sons, whom they nursed until they became grown-up youths. And they
thought about wives, and they at the same time desired to possess them,
and each took a wife of the mothers of their companions, and they
governed the country and peopled it.
And these five divided it amongst them, and because of this partition are
the five divisions of Ireland still so termed. And they examined the
land where the battles had taken place, and they found gold and silver
until they became wealthy.
And thus ends this portion of the Mabinogi, concerning the blow given to
Branwen, which was the third unhappy blow of this island; and concerning
the entertainment of Bran, when the hosts of sevenscore countries and ten
went over to Ireland to revenge the blow given to Branwen; and concerning
the seven years’ banquet in Harlech, and the singing of the birds of
Rhiannon, and the sojourning of the head for the space of fourscore
years.