Chapter IV (7)

Beli the Great, the son of Manogan, had three sons, Lludd and Caswallawn and Nynyaw, and according to the story he had a fourth son called Llevelys. And after the death of Beli, the kingdom of the Island of Britain fell into the hands of Lludd, his eldest son; and Lludd ruled prosperously, and rebuilt the walls of London, and encompassed it about with numberless towers. And after that he bade the citizens build houses therein, such as no houses in the kingdoms could equal. And moreover he was a mighty warrior, and generous and liberal in giving meat and drink to all that sought them. And though he had many castles and cities, this one loved he more than any. And he dwelt therein most part of the year, and therefore was it called Caer Lludd, and at last Caer London. And after the stranger-race came there, it was called London, or Lwndrys.

Lludd loved Llevelys best of all his brothers, because he was a wise and discreet man. Having heard that the King of France had died, leaving no heir except a daughter, and that he had left all his possessions in her hands, he came to Lludd his brother to beseech his counsel and aid; and that not so much for his own welfare as to seek to add to the glory and honor and dignity of his kindred, if he might go to France to woo the maiden for his wife. And forthwith his brother conferred with him, and this counsel was pleasing unto him.

So he prepared ships, and filled them with armed knights, and set forth towards France. And as soon as they had landed, they sent messengers to show the nobles of France the cause of the embassy. And by the joint counsel of the nobles of France and of the princes, the maiden was given to Llevelys, and the crown of the kingdom with her. And thenceforth he ruled the land discreetly and wisely and happily as long as his life lasted.

After a space of time had passed, three plagues fell on the Island of Britain, such as none in the islands had ever seen the like of. The first was a certain race that came, and was called the Coranians; and so great was their knowledge, that there was no discourse upon the face of the island, however low it might be spoken, but what, if the wind met it, it was known to them. And through this they could not be injured.

The second plague was a shriek which came on every May-eve over every hearth in the Island of Britain. And this went through people's hearts, and so scared them, that the men lost their hue and their strength, and the young men and the maidens lost their senses, and all the animals and trees, and the earth and the waters, were left barren.

The third plague was that, however much of provisions and food might be prepared in the king's courts, were there even so much as a year's provision of meat and drink, none of it could ever be found, except what was consumed in the first night. And two of these plagues no one ever knew their cause, therefore was there better hope of being freed from the first than from the second and third.

And thereupon King Lludd felt great sorrow and care, because that he knew not how he might be freed from these plagues. And he called to him all the nobles of his kingdom, and asked counsel of them what they should do against these afflictions. And by the common counsel of the nobles, Lludd the son of Beli went to Llevelys his brother, King of France, for he was a man great of counsel and wisdom, to seek his advice.

And they made ready a fleet, and that in secret and in silence, lest that race should know the cause of their errand, or any besides the king and his counsellors. And when they were made ready, they went into their ships, Lludd and those whom he chose with him. And they began to cleave the seas towards France.

And when these tidings came to Llevelys, seeing that he knew not the cause of his brother's ships he came on the other side to meet him, and with him was a fleet vast of size. And when Lludd saw this, he left all the ships out upon the sea except one only; and in that one he came to meet his brother, and he likewise with a single ship came to meet him. And when they were come together, each put his arms about the other's neck, and they welcomed each other with brotherly love.

After that Lludd had shown his brother the cause of his errand, Llevelys said that he himself knew the cause of the coming to those lands. And they took counsel together to discourse on the matter otherwise than thus, in order that the wind might not catch their words, nor the Coranians know what they might say. Then Llevelys caused a long horn to be made of brass, and through this horn they discoursed. But whatsoever words they spoke through this horn, one to the other, neither of them could hear any other but harsh and hostile words. And when Llevelys saw this, and that there was a demon thwarting them, and disturbing through this horn, he caused wine to be put therein to wash it. And through the virtue of the wine the demon was driven out of the horn. And when their discourse was unobstructed, Llevelys told his brother that he would give him some insects, whereof he should keep some to breed, lest by chance the like affliction might come a second time. And other of these insects he should take and bruise in water. And he assured him that it would have power to destroy the race of the Coranians. That is to say, that when he came home to his kingdom, he should call together all the people, both of his own race and of the race of the Coranians, for a conference, as though with the intent of making peace between them, and that when they were all together he should take this charmed water, and cast it over all alike. And he assured him that the water would poison the race of the Coranians, but that it would not slay or harm those of his own race.

"And the second plague," said he, "that is in thy dominion, behold it is a dragon. And another dragon of a foreign race is fighting with it, and striving to overcome it. And therefore does your dragon make a fearful outcry. And on this wise mayest thou come to know this. After thou hast returned home, cause the island to be measured in its length and breadth; and in the place where thou dost find the exact central point, there cause a pit to be dug, and cause a caldron full of the best mead that can be made to be put in the pit, with a covering of satin over the face of the caldron. And then in thine own person do thou remain there watching, and thou wilt see the dragons fighting in the form of terrific animals. And at length they will take the form of dragons in the air. And last of all, after wearying themselves with fierce and furious fighting, they will fall, in the form of two pigs, upon the covering, and they will sink in, and the covering with them, and they will draw it down to the very bottom of the caldron. And they will drink up the whole of the mead; and after that they will sleep. Thereupon do thou immediately fold the covering around them, and bury them in a kistvaen in the strongest place thou hast in thy dominions, and hide them in the earth. And as long as they shall bide in that strong place, no plague shall come to the Island of Britain from elsewhere.

"The cause of the third plague," said he, "is a mighty man of magic, who takes thy meat and thy drink and thy store. And he, through illusions and charms, causes every one to sleep. Therefore it is needful for thee in thy own person to watch thy food and thy provisions. And lest he should overcome thee with sleep, be there a caldron of cold water by thy side, and when thou art oppressed with sleep, plunge into the caldron."

Then Lludd returned back unto his land. And immediately he summoned to him the whole of his own race and of the Coranians. And, as Llevelys had taught him, he bruised the insects in water, which he cast over them all together, and forthwith it destroyed the whole tribe of the Coranians, without hurt to any of the Britons.

And some time after this Lludd caused the island to be measured in its length and in its breadth. And in Oxford he found the central point, and in that place he caused the earth to be dug, and in that pit a caldron to be set full of the best mead that could be made, and a covering of satin over the face of it. And he himself watched that night. And while he was there, he beheld the dragons fighting. And when they were weary they fell, and came down upon the top of the satin, and drew it with them to the bottom of the caldron. And when they had drunk the mead they slept. And in their sleep Lludd folded the covering around them, and in the securest place he had in Snowdon he hid them in a kistvaen. Now after that, this spot was called Dinas Emreis, but before that, Dinas Ffaraon. And thus the fierce outcry ceased in his dominions.

And when this was ended, King Lludd caused an exceeding great banquet to be prepared. And when it was ready, he placed a vessel of cold water by his side, and he in his own proper person watched it. And as he abode thus clad with arms, about the third watch of the night, lo, he heard many surpassing fascinations and various songs. And drowsiness urged him to sleep. Upon this, lest he should be hindered from his purpose, and be overcome by sleep, he went often into the water. And at last, behold a man of vast size, clad in strong, heavy armor, came in, bearing a hamper. And as he was wont, he put all the food and provisions of meat and drink into the hamper, and proceeded to go with it forth. And nothing was ever more wonderful to Lludd than that the hamper should hold so much.

And thereupon King Lludd went after him, and spoke unto him thus: "Stop, stop," said he, "though thou hast done many insults and much spoil erewhile, thou shalt not do so any more, unless thy skill in arms and thy prowess be greater than mine."

Then he instantly put down the hamper on the floor, and awaited him. And a fierce encounter was between them, so that the glittering fire flew out from their arms. And at the last Lludd grappled with him, and fate bestowed the victory on Lludd. And he threw the plague to the earth. And after he had overcome him by strength and might he besought his mercy.

"How can I grant thee mercy," said the king, "after all the many injuries and wrongs that thou hast done me?"

"All the losses that ever I have caused thee," said he, "I will make thee atonement for, equal to what I have taken. And I will never do the like from this time forth. But thy faithful vassal will I be."

And the king accepted this from him.

THE ORIGIN OF THE OWL.

[ENTITLED IN THE ORIGINAL, "MATH THE SON OF MATHONWY."]

Once upon a time Gwydion found a yellow-haired child in his chamber, which had been placed there by magic art. And Gwydion straightway flung a velvet scarf over the child and hid it. Now the place where he hid it was the bottom of a chest at the foot of his bed.

"Verily," said Math the son of Mathonwy, concerning the fine yellow-haired boy, "I will cause this one to be baptized; and Dylan is the name I will give him."

So they had the boy baptized, and as they baptized him he plunged into the sea. And immediately when he was in the sea, he took its nature, and swam as well as the best fish that was therein. And for that reason was he called Dylan, the son of the Wave. Beneath him no wave ever broke. And the blow whereby he came to his death was struck by his uncle Govannion. The third fatal blow was it called.

As Gwydion lay one morning on his bed awake, he heard a cry in the chest at his feet; and though it was not loud, it was such that he could hear it. Then he arose in haste, and opened the chest; and when he opened it, he beheld an infant-boy stretching out his arms from the folds of the scarf, and casting it aside. And he took up the boy in his arms, and carried him to a place where he knew there was a woman that could nurse him. And he agreed with the woman that she should take charge of the boy. And that year he was nursed.

And at the end of the year he seemed by his size as though he were two years old. And the second year he was a big child, and able to go to the court by himself. And when he came to the court, Gwydion noticed him, and the boy became familiar with him, and loved him better than any one else. Then was the boy reared at the court until he was four years old, when he was as big as though he had been eight.

And one day Gwydion walked forth, and the boy followed him; and he went to the Castle of Arianrod, having the boy with him. And when he came into the court, Arianrod arose to meet him, and greeted him, and bade him welcome.

"Heaven prosper thee," said he.

"What is the name of the boy?" said she.

"Verily," he replied, "he has not yet a name."

"Well," she said, "I lay this destiny upon him, that he shall never have a name until he receives one from me."

"Heaven bears me witness," answered he, "that thou art a wicked woman. But the boy shall have a name,[16] how displeasing soever it may be unto thee." And thereupon he went forth in wrath, and returned to Caer Dathyl, and there he tarried that night.

[Footnote 16: And the plot now becomes the artful contrivance by which Gwydion brings about that Arianrod names the boy in spite of herself, with other similar achievements.]

And the next day he arose and took the boy with him, and went to walk on the seashore between that place and Aber Menei. And there he saw some sedges and seaweed, and he turned them into a boat. And out of dry sticks and sedges he made some Cordovan leather, and a great deal thereof; and he colored it in such a manner that no one ever saw leather more beautiful than it. Then he made a sail to the boat, and he and the boy went in it to the port of the Castle of Arianrod. And he began forming shoes, and stitching them, until he was observed from the castle. And when he knew that they of the castle were observing him, he disguised his aspect, and put another semblance upon himself and upon the boy, so that they might not be known.

"What men are those in yonder boat?" said Arianrod.

"They are cordwainers," answered they.

"Go and see what kind of leather they have, and what kind of work they can do."

So they came unto them. And when they came he was coloring some Cordovan leather, and gilding it. And the messengers came and told her this.

"Well," said she, "take the measure of my foot, and desire the cordwainer to make shoes for me."

So he made the shoes for her, yet not according to the measure, but larger. The shoes then were brought unto her, and behold they were too large.

"These are too large," said she; "but he shall receive their value. Let him also make some that are smaller than they."

Then he made her others that were much smaller than her foot, and sent them unto her.

"Tell him that these will not go on my feet," said she. And they told him this.

"Verily," said he, "I will not make her any shoes unless I see her foot." And this was told unto her.

"Truly," she answered, "I will go unto him."

So she went down to the boat, and when she came there he was shaping shoes, and the boy stitching them.

"Ah, lady," said he, "good day to thee."

"Heaven prosper thee," said she. "I marvel that thou canst not manage to make shoes according to measure."

"I could not," he replied; "but now I shall be able."

Thereupon behold a wren stood upon the deck of the boat; and the boy shot at it, and hit it in the leg between the sinew and the bone. Then she smiled. "Verily," said she, "with a steady hand did the lion aim at it."

"Heaven reward thee not; but now has he got a name. And a good enough name it is. Llew Llaw Gyffes be he called henceforth."

Then the work disappeared in seaweed and sedges, and he went on with it no further. And for that reason was he called the third Gold-shoemaker.

"Of a truth," said she, "thou wilt not thrive the better for doing evil unto me."

"I have done thee no evil yet," said he. Then he restored the boy to his own form.

"Well," said she, "I will lay a destiny upon this boy, that he shall never have arms and armor until I invest him with them."

"By Heaven," said he, "let thy malice be what it may, he shall have arms."

Then they went towards Dinas Dinllev, and there he brought up Llew Llaw Gyffes until he could manage any horse, and he was perfect in features and strength and stature. And then Gwydion saw that he languished through the want of horses and arms. And he called him unto him. "Ah, youth," said he, "we will go to-morrow on an errand together. Be therefore more cheerful than thou art."

"That I will," said the youth.

Next morning, at the dawn of day, they arose. And they took way along the seacoast, up towards Bryn Aryen. And at the top of Cevn Clydno they equipped themselves with horses, and went towards the Castle of Arianrod. And they changed their form, and pricked towards the gate in the semblance of two youths; but the aspect of Gwydion was more staid than that of the other. "Porter," said he, "go thou in and say that there are here bards from Glamorgan."

And the porter went in.

"The welcome of Heaven be unto them. Let them in," said Arianrod.

With great joy were they greeted. And the hall was arranged, and they went to meat. When meat was ended, Arianrod discoursed with Gwydion of tales and stories. Now Gwydion was an excellent teller of tales. And when it was time to leave off feasting, a chamber was prepared for them, and they went to rest.

In the early twilight Gwydion arose, and he called unto him his magic and his power. And by the time that the day dawned, there resounded through the land uproar, and trumpets and shouts. When it was now day, they heard a knocking at the door of the chamber, and therewith Arianrod asking that it might be opened. Up rose the youth and opened unto her, and she entered, and a maiden with her. "Ah, good men," she said, "in evil plight are we."

"Yes, truly," said Gwydion, "we have heard trumpets, and shouts. What thinkest thou that they may mean?"

"Verily," said she, "we cannot see the color of the ocean by reason of all the ships side by side. And they are making for the land with all the speed they can. And what can we do?" said she.

"Lady," said Gwydion, "there is none other counsel than to close the castle upon us, and to defend it as best we may."

"Truly," said she, "may Heaven reward you. And do you defend it. And here may you have plenty of arms."

And thereupon went she forth for the arms, and behold she returned, and two maidens, and suits of armor for two men, with her.

"Lady," said he, "do thou accoutre this stripling, and I will arm myself, with the help of thy maidens. Lo, I hear the tumult of the men approaching."

"I will do so gladly." So she armed him fully, and that right cheerfully.

"Hast thou finished arming the youth?" said he.

"I have finished," she answered.

"I likewise have finished," said Gwydion. "Let us now take off our arms: we have no need of them."

"Wherefore?" said she. "Here is the army around the house."

"Oh, lady, there is here no army."

"Oh!" cried she. "Whence then was this tumult?"

"The tumult was but to break thy prophecy, and to obtain arms for thy son. And now has he got arms without any thanks unto thee."

"By Heaven," said Arianrod, "thou art a wicked man. Many a youth might have lost his life through the uproar thou hast caused in this Cantrev to-day. Now will I lay a destiny upon this youth," she said, "that he shall never have a wife of the race that now inhabits this earth."

"Verily," said he, "thou wast ever a malicious woman, and no one ought to support thee. A wife shall he have notwithstanding."

They went thereupon unto Math the son of Mathonwy, and complained unto him most bitterly of Arianrod, Gwydion showed him also how he had procured arms for the youth. "Well," said Math, "we will seek, I and thou, by charms and illusion, to form a wife for him out of flowers. He has now come to man's stature, and he is the comeliest youth that was ever beheld."

So they took the blossoms of the oak, and the blossoms of the broom, and the blossoms of the meadow-sweet, and produced from them a maiden, the fairest and most graceful that man ever saw. And they baptized her, and gave her the name of Blodeuwedd.

After she had become his bride, and they had feasted, said Gwydion, "It is not easy for a man to maintain himself without possessions."

"Of a truth," said Math, "I will give the young man the best Cantrev to hold."

"Lord," said he, "what Cantrev is that?"

"The Cantrev of Dinodig," he answered.

Now it is called at this day Eivionydd and Ardudwy. And the place in the Cantrev where he dwelt was a palace of his in a spot called Mur y Castell, on the confines of Ardudwy. There dwelt he and reigned, and both he and his sway were beloved by all.

One day he went forth to Caer Dathyl to visit Math the son of Mathonwy. And on the day that he set out for Caer Dathyl, Blodeuwedd walked in the court. And she heard the sound of a horn. And after the sound of the horn, behold a tired stag went by, with dogs and huntsmen following it. And after the dogs and the huntsmen there came a crowd of men on foot. "Send a youth," said she, "to ask who yonder host may be."

So a youth went and inquired who they were. "Gronw Pebyr is this, the lord of Penllynn," said they. And thus the youth told her.

Gronw Pebyr pursued the stag, and by the River Cynvael he overtook the stag, and killed it. And what with flaying the stag, and baiting his dogs, he was there until the night began to close in upon him. And as the day departed and the night drew near, he came to the gate of the court. "Verily," said Blodeuwedd, "the chieftain will speak ill of us if we let him at this hour depart to another land without inviting him in."

"Yes, truly, lady," said they, "it will be most fitting to invite him."

Then went messengers to meet him, and bid him in. And he accepted her bidding gladly, and came to the court; and Blodeuwedd went to meet him and greeted him, and bade him welcome. "Lady," said he, "Heaven repay thee thy kindness."

[Now Blodeuwedd, in spite of her descent from the flowers, was at heart a wicked woman, and so she began to plot with Gronw Pebyr how they might slay the valiant Llew Llaw Gyffes, and enjoy his possessions. Then Gronw said to her,] "Converse with him fully, and find out by what means he may come to his death."

That night Llew Llaw Gyffes returned to his home. And the day they spent in discourse and minstrelsy and feasting. And at night they went to rest, and he spoke to Blodeuwedd once, and he spoke to her a second time. But for all this he could not get from her one word. "What aileth thee?" said he. "Art thou well?"

"I was thinking," said she, "of that which thou didst never think of concerning me; for I was sorrowful as to thy death, lest thou shouldst go sooner than I."

"Heaven reward thy care for me," said he. "But until Heaven take me I shall not easily be slain."

"For the sake of heaven, and for mine, show me how thou mightest be slain. My memory in guarding is better than thine."

"I will tell thee gladly," said he. "Not easily can I be slain, except by a wound. And the spear wherewith I am struck must be a year in the forming. And nothing must be done towards it, except during the sacrifice on Sundays."

"Is this certain?" asked she.

"It is in truth," he answered. "And I cannot be slain within a house nor without. I cannot be slain on horseback nor on foot."

"Verily," said she, "in what manner, then, canst thou be slain?"

"I will tell thee," said he. "By making a bath for me by the side of a river, and by putting a roof over the caldron, and thatching it well and tightly, and bringing a buck, and putting it beside the caldron. Then if I place one foot on the buck's back, and the other on the edge of the caldron, whosoever strikes me thus will cause my death."

"Well," said she, "I thank Heaven that it will be easy to avoid this."

No sooner had she held this discourse than she sent to Gronw Pebyr. Gronw toiled at making the spear, and that day twelvemonth it was ready. And that very day he caused her to be informed thereof.

"Lord," said Blodeuwedd unto Llew, "I have been thinking how it is possible that what thou didst tell me formerly can be true. Wilt thou show me in what manner thou couldst stand at once upon the edge of a caldron and upon a buck, if I prepare the bath for thee?"

"I will show thee," said he.

Then she sent unto Gronw, and bade him be in ambush on the hill which is now called Bryn Kyvergyr, on the bank of the River Cynvael. She caused also to be collected all the goats that were in the Cantrev, and had them brought to the other side of the river, opposite Bryn Kyvergyr.

And the next day she spoke thus: "Lord," said she, "I have caused the roof and the bath to be prepared, and lo! they are ready."

"Well," said Llew, "we will go gladly to look at them."

The day after they came and looked at the bath. "Wilt thou go into the bath, lord?" said she.

"Willingly will I go in," he answered. So into the bath he went, and he anointed himself.

"Lord," said she, "behold the animals which thou didst speak of as being called bucks."

"Well," said he, "cause one of them to be caught and brought here." And the buck was brought. Then Llew rose out of the bath, and put on his trowsers, and he placed one foot on the edge of the bath, and the other on the buck's back.

Thereupon Gronw rose up from the hill which is called Bryn Cyvergyr, and he rested on one knee, and flung the poisoned dart, and struck him on the side, so that the shaft started out, but the head of the dart remained in. Then he flew up in the form of an eagle, and gave a fearful scream. And thenceforth was he no more seen.

And the next day Gronw arose, and took possession of Ardudwy. And after he had overcome the land, he ruled over it, so that Ardudwy and Penllyn were both under his sway.

Then these tidings reached Math the son of Mathonwy. And heaviness and grief came upon Math, and much more upon Gwydion than upon him. "Lord," said Gwydion, "I shall never rest until I have tidings of my nephew."

"Verily," said Math, "may Heaven be thy strength."

Then Gwydion set forth, and began to go forward. And he went through Gwynedd and Powys to the confines. And when he had done so, he went into Arvon, and came to the house of a vassal in Maenawr Penardd. And he alighted at the house, and staid there that night. The man of the house and his household came in, and last of all came there the swineherd. Said the man of the house to the swineherd, "Well, youth, hath thy sow come in to-night?"

"She hath," said he, "and is this instant returned to the pigs."

"Where doth this sow go to?" said Gwydion.

"Every day, when the sty is opened, she goeth forth, and none can catch sight of her, neither is it known whither she goeth more than if she sank into the earth."

"Wilt thou grant unto me," said Gwydion, "not to open the sty until I am beside the sty with thee?"

"This will I do right gladly," he answered.

That night they went to rest. And as soon as the swineherd saw the light of day, he awoke Gwydion. And Gwydion arose and dressed himself, and went with the swineherd, and stood beside the sty. Then the swineherd opened the sty. And as soon as he opened it, behold she leaped forth, and set off with great speed. And Gwydion followed her. And she went against the course of a river, and made for a brook, which is now called Nant y Llew. And there she halted, and began feeding under a tree. And Gwydion came under the tree, and looked, and as he looked he beheld on the top of the tree an eagle. And it seemed to him that the eagle was Llew. And he sang an Englyn:--

"Oak that grows between the two banks;
Darkened is the sky and hill!
Shall I not tell him by his wounds,
That this is Llew?"

Upon this the eagle came down until he reached the centre of the tree. And Gwydion sang another Englyn:--

"Oak that grows in upland ground,
Is it not wetted by the rain? Has it not been drenched
By ninescore tempests?
It bears in its branches Llew Llaw Gyffes!"

Then the eagle came down until he was on the lowest branch of the tree, and thereupon this Englyn did Gwydion sing:--

"Oak that grows beneath the steep;
Stately and majestic is its aspect!
Shall I not speak it?
That Llaw will come to my lap?"

And the eagle came down upon Gwydion's knee. And Gwydion struck him with his magic wand, so that he returned to his own form. No one ever saw a more piteous sight, for he was nothing but skin and bone.

Then he went unto Caer Dathyl, and there were brought unto him good physicians that were in Gwynedd, and before the end of the year he was quite healed.

"Lord," said he unto Math the son of Mathonwy, "it is full time now that I have retribution of him by whom I have suffered all this woe."

"Truly," said Math, "he will never be able to maintain himself in the possession of that which is thy right."

"Well," said Llew, "the sooner I have my right, the better shall I be pleased."

Then they called together the whole of Gwynedd, and set forth to Ardudwy. And Gwydion went on before, and proceeded to Mur y Castell. And when Blodeuwedd heard that he was coming, she took her maidens with her, and fled to the mountain. And they passed through the River Cynvael, and went towards a court that there was upon the mountain; and through fear they could not proceed except with their faces looking backwards, so that unawares they fell into the lake. And they were all drowned except Blodeuwedd herself; and her Gwydion overtook. And he said unto her, "I will not slay thee; but I will do unto thee worse than that. For I will turn thee into a bird. And because of the shame thou hast done unto Llew Llaw Gyffes, thou shalt never show thy face in the light of day henceforth; and that through fear of all the other birds. For it shall be their nature to attack thee, and to chase thee from wheresoever they may find thee. And thou shalt not lose thy name, but shalt be always called Blodeuwedd."

Now Blodeuwedd is an owl in the language of this present time; and for this reason is the owl hateful unto all birds. And even now the owl is called Blodeuwedd.

Then Gronw Pebyr withdrew unto Penllyn, and he despatched thence an embassy. And the messengers he sent asked Llew Llaw Gyffes if he would take land, or domain, or gold, or silver, for the injury he had received.

"I will not, by my confession to Heaven," said he. "Behold this is the least that I will accept from him: that he come to the spot where I was when he wounded me with the dart, and that I stand where he did, and that with a dart I take my aim at him. And this is the very least that I will accept."

And this was told unto Gronw Pebyr. "Verily," said he, "is it needful for me to do thus? My faithful warriors, and my household, and my foster-brothers, is there not one among you who will stand the blow in my stead?"

"There is not verily," answered they. And because of their refusal to suffer one stroke for their lord, they are called the third disloyal tribe even unto this day.

"Well," said he, "I will meet it."

Then they two went forth to the banks of the River Cynvael; and Gronw stood in the place where Llew Llaw Gyffes was when he struck him, and Llew in the place where Gronw was. Then said Gronw Pebyr unto Llew, "Since it was through the wiles of a woman that I did unto thee as I have done, I adjure thee by Heaven to let me place between me and the blow the slab thou seest yonder on the river's bank."

"Verily," said Llew, "I will not refuse thee this."

"Ah," said he, "may Heaven reward thee."

So Gronw took the slab, and placed it between him and the blow.

Then Llew flung the dart at him, and it pierced the slab, and went threw Gronw likewise, so that it pierced through his back. And thus was Gronw Pebyr slain. And there is still the slab on the bank of the River Cynvael in Ardudwy, having the hole through it. And therefore is it even now called Llech Gronw.

A second time did Llew Llaw Gyffes take possession of the land, and prosperously did he govern it. And, as the story relates, he was lord after this over Gwynedd.

BRANWEN THE DAUGHTER OF LLYR.

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 dishonor 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 caldron, 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 caldron 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 Caldron. And I beheld a huge yellow-haired man coming from the lake, with a caldron 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. 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 caldron."

"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 honorable to be seen departing with. And in these things she spent that year in much renown, and she passed her time pleasantly, enjoying honor and friendship.

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 t'was thus for no 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 these abode as seven ministers to take charge of this island; and Caradawc the son of Bran was the chief amongst them.