Myths & Legends of the Celtic Race Part 28

The King of Ireland and his lords at once took counsel together how they might meet this danger; and the plan they agreed upon was as follows: A huge hall should be built, big enough to hold Branthis, it was hoped, would placate himthere should be a great feast made there for himself and his men, and Matholwch should give over the kingdom of Ireland to him and do homage. All this was done by Branwens advice. But the Irish added a crafty device of their own. From two brackets on each of the hundred pillars in the hall should be hung two leather bags, with an armed warrior in each of them ready to fall upon the guests when the moment should arrive.

*The Meal-bags*

Evnissyen, however, wandered into the hall before the rest of the host, and scanning the arrangements with fierce and savage looks, he saw the bags which hung from the pillars. What is in this bag? said he to one of the Irish. Meal, good soul, said the Irishman. Evnissyen laid his hand on the bag, and felt about with his fingers till he came to the head of the man within it. Then he squeezed the head till he felt his fingers meet together in the brain through the bone. He went to the next bag, and asked the same question. Meal, said the Irish attendant, but Evnissyen crushed this warriors head also, and thus he did with all the two hundred bags, even in the case of one warrior whose head was covered with an iron helm.

Then the feasting began, and peace and concord reigned, and Matholwch laid down the sovranty of Ireland, which was conferred on the boy Gwern. And they all fondled and caressed the fair child till he came to Evnissyen, who suddenly seized him and flung him into the blazing fire on the hearth.

Branwen would have leaped after him, but Bran held her back. Then there was arming apace, and tumult and shouting, and the Irish and British hosts closed in battle and fought until the fall of night.

*Death of Evnissyen*

But at night the Irish heated the magic cauldron and threw into it the bodies of their dead, who came out next day as good as ever, but dumb.

When Evnissyen saw this he was smitten with remorse for having brought the men of Britain into such a strait: Evil betide me if I find not a deliverance therefrom. So he hid himself among the Irish dead, and was flung into the cauldron with the rest at the end of the second day, when he stretched himself out so that he rent the cauldron into four pieces, and his own heart burst with the effort, and he died.

*The Wonderful Head*

In the end, all the Irishmen were slain, and all but seven of the British besides Bran, who was wounded in the foot with a poisoned arrow. Among the seven were Pryderi and Manawyddan. Bran then commanded them to cut off his head. And take it with you, he said, to London, and there bury it in the White Mount(235) looking towards France, and no foreigner shall invade the land while it is there. On the way the Head will talk to you, and be as pleasant company as ever in life. In Harlech ye will be feasting seven years and the birds of Rhiannon will sing to you. And at Gwales in Penvro ye will be feasting fourscore years, and the Head will talk to you and be uncorrupted till ye open the door looking towards Cornwall. After that ye may no longer tarry, but set forth to London and bury the Head.

Then the seven cut off the head of Bran and went forth, and Branwen with them, to do his bidding. But when Branwen came to land at Aber Alaw she cried, Woe is me that I was ever born; two islands have been destroyed because of me. And she uttered a loud groan, and her heart broke. They made her a four-sided grave on the banks of the Alaw, and the place was called _Ynys Branwen_ to this day.(236)

The seven found that in the absence of Bran, Caswallan son of Beli had conquered Britain and slain the six captains of Caradawc. By magic art he had thrown on Caradawc the Veil of Illusion, and Caradawc saw only the sword which slew and slew, but not him who wielded it, and his heart broke for grief at the sight.

They then went to Harlech and remained there seven years listening to the singing of the birds of Rhiannonall the songs they had ever heard were unpleasant compared thereto. Then they went to Gwales in Penvro and found a fair and s.p.a.cious hall overlooking the ocean. When they entered it they forgot all the sorrow of the past and all that had befallen them, and remained there fourscore years in joy and mirth, the wondrous Head talking to them as if it were alive. And bards call this the Entertaining of the n.o.ble Head. Three doors were in the hall, and one of them which looked to Cornwall and to Aber Henvelyn was closed, but the other two were open. At the end of the time, Heilyn son of Gwyn said, Evil betide me if I do not open the door to see if what was said is true. And he opened it, and at once remembrance and sorrow fell upon them, and they set forth at once for London and buried the Head in the White Mount, where it remained until Arthur dug it up, for he would not have the land defended but by the strong arm. And this was the Third Fatal Disclosure in Britain.

So ends this wild tale, which is evidently full of mythological elements, the key to which has long been lost. The touches of Northern ferocity which occur in it have made some critics suspect the influence of Norse or Icelandic literature in giving it its present form. The character of Evnissyen would certainly lend countenance to this conjecture. The typical mischief-maker of course occurs in purely Celtic sagas, but not commonly in combination with the heroic strain shown in Evnissyens end, nor does the Irish poison-tongue ascend to anything like the same height of daimonic malignity.

*The Tale of Pryderi and Manawyddan*

After the events of the previous tales Pryderi and Manawyddan retired to the dominions of the former, and Manawyddan took to wife Rhiannon, the mother of his friend. There they lived happily and prosperously till one day, while they were at the Gorsedd, or Mound, near Narberth, a peal of thunder was heard and a thick mist fell so that nothing could be seen all round. When the mist cleared away, behold, the land was bare before themneither houses nor people nor cattle nor crops were to be seen, but all was desert and uninhabited. The palace of Narberth was still standing, but it was empty and desolatenone remained except Pryderi and Manawyddan and their wives, Kicva and Rhiannon.

Two years they lived on the provisions they had, and on the prey they killed, and on wild honey; and then they began to be weary. Let us go into Lloegyr,(237) then said Manawyddan, and seek out some craft to support ourselves. So they went to Hereford and settled there, and Manawyddan and Pryderi began to make saddles and housings, and Manawyddan decorated them with blue enamel as he had learned from a great craftsman, Llasar Llaesgywydd. After a time, however, the other saddlers of Hereford, finding that no man would purchase any but the work of Manawyddan, conspired to kill them. And Pryderi would have fought with them, but Manawyddan held it better to withdraw elsewhere, and so they did.

They settled then in another city, where they made shields such as never were seen, and here, too, in the end, the rival craftsmen drove them out.

And this happened also in another town where they made shoes; and at last they resolved to go back to Dyfed. Then they gathered their dogs about them and lived by hunting as before.

One day they started a wild white boar, and chased him in vain until he led them up to a vast and lofty castle, all newly built in a place where they had never seen a building before. The boar ran into the castle, the dogs followed him, and Pryderi, against the counsel of Manawyddan, who knew there was magic afoot, went in to seek for the dogs.

He found in the centre of the court a marble fountain beside which stood a golden bowl on a marble slab, and being struck by the rich workmanship of the bowl, he laid hold of it to examine it, when he could neither withdraw his hand nor utter a single sound, but he remained there, transfixed and dumb, beside the fountain.

Manawyddan went back to Narberth and told the story to Rhiannon. An evil companion hast thou been, said she, and a good companion hast thou lost.

Next day she went herself to explore the castle. She found Pryderi still clinging to the bowl and unable to speak. She also, then, laid hold of the bowl, when the same fate befell her, and immediately afterwards came a peal of thunder, and a heavy mist fell, and when it cleared off the castle had vanished with all that it contained, including the two spell-bound wanderers.

Manawyddan then went back to Narberth, where only Kicva, Pryderis wife, now remained. And when she saw none but herself and Manawyddan in the place, she sorrowed so that she cared not whether she lived or died.

When Manawyddan saw this he said to her, Thou art in the wrong if through fear of me thou grievest thus. I declare to thee were I in the dawn of youth I would keep my faith unto Pryderi, and unto thee also will I keep it. Heaven reward thee, she said, and that is what I deemed of thee.

And thereupon she took courage and was glad.

Kicva and Manawyddan then again tried to support themselves by shoemaking in Lloegyr, but the same hostility drove them back to Dyfed. This time, however, Manawyddan took back with him a load of wheat, and he sowed it, and he prepared three crofts for a wheat crop. Thus the time pa.s.sed till the fields were ripe. And he looked at one of the crofts and said, I will reap this to-morrow. But on the morrow when he went out in the grey dawn he found nothing there but bare strawevery ear had been cut off from the stalk and carried away.

Next day it was the same with the second croft. But on the following night he armed himself and sat up to watch the third croft to see who was plundering him. At midnight, as he watched, he heard a loud noise, and behold, a mighty host of mice came pouring into the croft, and they climbed up each on a stalk and nibbled off the ears and made away with them. He chased them in anger, but they fled far faster than he could run, all save one which was slower in its movements, and this he barely managed to overtake, and he bound it into his glove and took it home to Narberth, and told Kicva what had happened. To-morrow, he said, I will hang the robber I have caught, but Kicva thought it beneath his dignity to take vengeance on a mouse.

Next day he went up to the Mound of Narberth and set up two forks for a gallows on the highest part of the hill. As he was doing this a poor scholar came towards him, and he was the first person Manawyddan had seen in Dyfed, except his own companions, since the enchantment began.

The scholar asked him what he was about and begged him to let go the mouseIll doth it become a man of thy rank to touch such a reptile as this. I will not let it go, by Heaven, said Manawyddan, and by that he abode, although the scholar offered him a pound of money to let it go free. I care not, said the scholar, except that I would not see a man of rank touching such a reptile, and with that he went his way.

As Manawyddan was placing the cross-beam on the two forks of his gallows, a priest came towards him riding on a horse with trappings, and the same conversation ensued. The priest offered three pounds for the mouses life, but Manawyddan refused to take any price for it. Willingly, lord, do thy good pleasure, said the priest, and he, too, went his way.

Then Manawyddan put a noose about the mouses neck and was about to draw it up when he saw coming towards him a bishop with a great retinue of sumpter-horses and attendants. And he stayed his work and asked the bishops blessing. Heavens blessing be unto thee, said the bishop; what work art thou upon? Hanging a thief, replied Manawyddan. The bishop offered seven pounds rather than see a man of thy rank destroying so vile a reptile. Manawyddan refused. Four-and-twenty pounds was then offered, and then as much again, then all the bishops horses and baggageall in vain. Since for this thou wilt not, said the bishop, do it at whatever price thou wilt. I will do so, said Manawyddan; I will that Rhiannon and Pryderi be free. That thou shalt have, said the (pretended) bishop. Then Manawyddan demands that the enchantment and illusion be taken off for ever from the seven Cantrevs of Dyfed, and finally insists that the bishop shall tell him who the mouse is and why the enchantment was laid on the country. I am Llwyd son of Kilcoed, replies the enchanter, and the mouse is my wife; but that she is pregnant thou hadst never overtaken her. He goes on with an explanation which takes us back to the first _Mabinogi_ of the Wedding of Rhiannon. The charm was cast on the land to avenge the ill that was done Llwyds friend, Gwawl son of Clud, with whom Pryderis father and his knights had played Badger in the Bag at the court of Hevydd Hen. The mice were the lords and ladies of Llwyds court.

The enchanter is then made to promise that no further vengeance shall be taken on Pryderi, Rhiannon, or Manawyddan, and the two spell-bound captives having been restored, the mouse is released. Then Llwyd struck her with a magic wand, and she was changed into a young woman, the fairest ever seen. And on looking round Manawyddan saw all the land tilled and peopled as in its best state, and full of herds and dwellings. What bondage, he asks, has there been upon Pryderi and Rhiannon? Pryderi has had the knockers of the gate of my palace about his neck, and Rhiannon has had the collars of the a.s.ses after they have been carrying hay about her neck. And such had been their bondage.

*The Tale of Math Son of Mathonwy*

The previous tale was one of magic and illusion in which the mythological element is but faint. In that which we have now to consider we are, however, in a distinctly mythological region. The central motive of the tale shows us the Powers of Light contending with those of the Under-world for the prized possessions of the latter, in this case a herd of magic swine. We are introduced in the beginning of the story to the deity, Math, of whom the bard tells us that he was unable to exist unless his feet lay in the lap of a maiden, except when the land was disturbed by war.(238) Math is represented as lord of Gwynedd, while Pryderi rules over the one-and-twenty cantrevs of the south. With Math were his nephews Gwydion and Gilvaethwy sons of Don, who went the circuit of the land in his stead, while Math lay with his feet in the lap of the fairest maiden of the land and time, Goewin daughter of Pebin of Dol Pebin in Arvon.

*Gwydion and the Swine of Pryderi*

Gilvaethwy fell sick of love for Goewin, and confided the secret to his brother Gwydion, who undertook to help him to his desire. So he went to Math one day, and asked his leave to go to Pryderi and beg from him the gift, for Math, of a herd of swine which had been bestowed on him by Arawn King of Annwn. They are beasts, he said, such as never were known in this island before ... their flesh is better than the flesh of oxen. Math bade him go, and he and Gilvaethwy started with ten companions for Dyfed.

They came to Pryderis palace in the guise of bards, and Gwydion, after being entertained at a feast, was asked to tell a tale to the court. After delighting every one with his discourse he begged for a gift of the swine.

But Pryderi was under a compact with his people neither to sell nor give them until they had produced double their number in the land. Thou mayest exchange them, though, said Gwydion, and thereupon he made by magic arts an illusion of twelve horses magnificently caparisoned, and twelve hounds, and gave them to Pryderi and made off with the swine as fast as possible, for, said he to his companions, the illusion will not last but from one hour to the same to-morrow.

The intended result came to pa.s.sPryderi invaded the land to recover his swine, Math went to meet him in arms, and Gilvaethwy seized his opportunity and made Goewin his wife, although she was unwilling.

*Death of Pryderi*

The war was decided by a single combat between Gwydion and Pryderi. And by force of strength and fierceness, and by the magic and charms of Gwydion, Pryderi was slain. And at Maen Tyriawc, above Melenryd, was he buried, and there is his grave.

*The Penance of Gwydion and Gilvaethwy*

When Math came back he found what Gilvaethwy had done, and he took Goewin to be his queen, but Gwydion and Gilvaethwy went into outlawry, and dwelt on the borders of the land. At last they came and submitted themselves for punishment to Math. Ye cannot compensate me my shame, setting aside the death of Pryderi, he said, but since ye come hither to be at my will, I shall begin your punishment forthwith. So he turned them both into deer, and bade them come hither again in a twelvemonth.

They came at the appointed time, bringing with them a young fawn. And the fawn was brought into human shape and baptized, and Gwydion and Gilvaethwy were changed into two wild swine. At the next years end they came back with a young one who was treated as the fawn before him, and the brothers were made into wolves. Another year pa.s.sed; they came back again with a young wolf as before, and this time their penance was deemed complete, and their human nature was restored to them, and Math gave orders to have them washed and anointed, and n.o.bly clad as was befitting.

*The Children of Arianrod: Dylan*

The question then arose of appointing another virgin foot-holder, and Gwydion suggests his sister, Arianrod. She attends for the purpose, and Math asks her if she is a virgin. I know not, lord, other than that I am, she says. But she failed in a magical test imposed by Math, and gave birth to two sons. One of these was named Dylan, Son of the Wave, evidently a Cymric sea-deity. So soon as he was baptized he plunged into the sea and swam as well as the best fish that was therein.... Beneath him no wave ever broke. A wild sea-poetry hangs about his name in Welsh legend. On his death, which took place, it is said, at the hand of his uncle Govannon, all the waves of Britain and Ireland wept for him. The roar of the incoming tide at the mouth of the river Conway is still called the death-groan of Dylan.

*Llew Llaw Gyffes*

The other infant was seized by Gwydion and brought up under his protection. Like other solar heroes, he grew very rapidly; when he was four he was as big as if he were eight, and the comeliest youth that ever was seen. One day Gwydion took him to visit his mother Arianrod. She hated the children who had exposed her false pretensions, and upbraided Gwydion for bringing the boy into her sight. What is his name? she asked.

Verily, said Gwydion, he has not yet a name. Then I lay this destiny upon him, said Arianrod, that he shall never have a name till one is given him by me. On this Gwydion went forth in wrath, and remained in his castle of Caer Dathyl that night.

Though the fact does not appear in this tale, it must be remembered that Gwydion is, in the older mythology, the father of Arianrods children.

*How Llew Got his Name*

He was resolved to have a name for his son. Next day he went to the strand below Caer Arianrod, bringing the boy with him. Here he sat down by the beach, and in his character of a master of magic he made himself look like a shoemaker, and the boy like an apprentice, and he began to make shoes out of sedges and seaweed, to which he gave the semblance of Cordovan leather. Word was brought to Arianrod of the wonderful shoes that were being made by a strange cobbler, and she sent her measure for a pair.

Gwydion made them too large. She sent it again, and he made them too small. Then she came herself to be fitted. While this was going on, a wren came and lit on the boats mast, and the boy, taking up a bow, shot an arrow that transfixed the leg between the sinew and the bone. Arianrod admired the brilliant shot. Verily, she said, with a steady hand (_llaw gyffes_) did the lion (_llew_) hit it. No thanks to thee, cried Gwydion, now he has got a name. Llew Llaw Gyffes shall he be called henceforward.

We have seen that the name really means the same thing as the Gaelic Lugh Lamfada, Lugh (Light) of the Long Arm; so that we have here an instance of a legend growing up round a misunderstood name inherited from a half-forgotten mythology.