Taliesin

CHAPTER EIGHT

Elphin and his companions forded the river and fol-lowed the wooded track along the southern bank, until they came at last to the gently sloping headland which overlooked the Aberdyvi, and upon whose flat crown lay the hillfort of Elphin’s father. They passed pens with ruddy pigs and dun-colored cattle that lifted their heads to watch them as they climbed the rock-strewn track past thatch-and-twig outbuildings to the ditch-encircled caer.

In Caer Dyvi the riders were greeted with the tight-lipped stares of the clansmen, none of whom appeared especially glad to see Elphin or were greatly cheered by the sight of two strange women with him or their meager flock of bleating sheep.

Nevertheless, by the time the riders reached the large dwelling in the center of the caer, they had attracted a sizable” following of curious kinsmen. Gwyddno emerged from the house with Medhir, who carried the babe Taliesin in her arms. “Greetings, Elphin!” called Gwyddno. “You have returned successful, I see.”

“More than successful, Father,” answered Elphin. “I went in search of a nurse and have returned with a wife.” He slid from the saddle and helped Rhonwyn dismount to the murmured surprise of the onlookers.

“A wife!” cried Medhir. “Is this so?”

“It is,” answered Eithne. Medhir saw her kinswoman climbing down from the red mare.

“Eithne!” Medhir, cradling the infant, ran to her cousin. “The sight of you warms my heart. Welcome!”

The two women embraced, and Eithne looked down at the sleeping child. “This must be the babe Elphin has found.”

“The same, to be sure.” Medhir lifted the infant’s wraps so Eithne could see.

“Oh, such a beautiful, beautiful child! Elphin said the little one was comely, but he did not say it was this fair. Why, if there is an equal I have never seen it.”

“The same might be said for your daughter,” replied Medhir, gazing with approval at the young woman beside her son. “Little Rhonwyn, it is this long since I have seen you. Ah, but the girl is a woman now-look at you, all grown, and a beauty.” She embraced the blushing Rhonwyn while Elphin stood beaming. “Welcome to you.”

Taliesin stirred and cried out. Medhir handed the infant to Rhonwyn, saying, “It is all one can do to keep the child fed. He is hungry all the time.”

Rhonwyn parted the coverlet and gazed at the infant. Surprised by the sunlight, the babe stopped crying and, seeing the face above him, gurgled softly and smiled. “Look at that!” said Gwyddno. “She has but to hold the babe and he quiets. That is a mother’s own touch.”

“He is beautiful,” said Rhonwyn, who had not taken her eyes from the child.

“But what of this marriage?” asked Gwyddno, regarding his son happily. “This is unexpected.”

Glancing at the gathered clansmen, Elphin replied, “Let us go inside and refresh ourselves and I will tell you all that has happened since I left.”

Gwyddno ordered two men to unload the horses and they all entered the house, leaving their audience agape but with fresh fodder for gossip. Once inside, Taliesin began crying again; so Rhonwyn took him to a corner pallet and, letting down the side of her runic, began to suckle him while the two older women bustled about preparing food. Elphin regarded the scene with favor and began to relate what had transpired on his trip to Diganhwy.

They ate while Elphin talked, and when he finished Gwyddno asked, “What was Lord Killydd’s disposition?”

“He was well disposed to the marriage. In fact, he agreed most heartily when I offered him Eithne’s house. He is getting old and wishes no trouble between our clans. He says there is enough trouble already from the Cruithni in the North.”

Gwyddno considered this. “Well said. I, too, am concerned. The Cruithni become bolder with each passing season. They wait only for an opportunity to strike in force.”

“That they dare not as long as the garrison remains in Caer Seiont.”

“Ah, there is an uneasy peace. Better to have them there than here, I say. It is a shame we have to have them at all.” He reflected for a moment and said, “Still, they are stout fighting men and never shrink from a battle. Was there any news?”

“Little enough. It was a quiet winter for them, as for us. He said the tribune came once to talk about sending men to help protect the Wall. Killydd declined, telling him that he needed his men for planting in the spring. He gave them horses instead.”

Gwyddno nodded. Save for his yearly taxes, which he al ways delivered in person so the magistrates would not forget for a moment who it was that paid, Gwyddno kept his direct dealings with the Romans to a minimum and considered him self fortunate. Although many lords, like Killydd, traded with them-and more than a few battlechiefs fought alongside them for silver-Gwyddno liked them best at a distance. Somehow, where the shrewd and swarthy Romans were concerned, one always came out the poorer for the bargain.

“Now then, about this wedding,” the king said, “I am well pleased.” He turned to look at Rhonwyn sitting beneath the window, her hair aflame in the afternoon light streaming in through the narrow opening. Oblivious to his stare she continued feeding the babe. “Ah, you have done well indeed.”

“When will the marriage take place?” wondered Medhir.

“As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if it can be arranged, or the day after,” replied Elphin.

“We will have a wedding feast!” exclaimed Gwyddno. “The biggest wedding feast anyone has seen.”

“Tomorrow?” began Medhir, looking to Eithne. “Brighid help us, it cannot be tomorrow-or even the day after.”

“And why not?” asked Gwyddno. “If that is Elphin’s choice, so be it.”

“Lord, you forget that Rhonwyn has just given birth. The marriage cannot be consummated until the end of the month at least.”

“It cannot be helped,” agreed Eithne. She glanced fearfully at Elphin and Gwyddno.

“A marriage unconsummated is no marriage at all,” added Medhir uncertainly.

“Well, many a marriage has been consummated well before the wedding,” observed Elphin. “We will do it the other way around.”

“See? You fret over nothing. We will have the wedding,” declared Gwyddno. “Rhonwyn and Elphin will stay here until they can sleep together in the house that I will build for them.”

Elphin thanked his father but said, “I wish to build the house myself.” He gazed at Rhonwyn proudly. “It will be my gift to my wife.”

Hasty plans were made and the wedding announced to the clan, who at once began preparing for the feast. Fire pits were dug and piled with kindling, caldrons scoured and filled with potatoes and turnips in fresh water, hunters dispatched to bring back wild pigs and deer, cattle slaughtered and dressed, fish hauled from the sea in nets, casks of mead and ale stacked on a long table made of split logs, bread baked in special wedding loaves, and torches lashed to long poles.

Immersed in the festive spirit, the clan soon forgot their differences with Elphin and began considering him in a more kindly light. After all, a king’s son was not married every day. And never was there a more generous lord in all Gwy-nedd than Gwyddno Garanhir; everyone was assured of a king’s portion and a celebration second to none.

By midmorning the following day, smoke from the cooking fires was ascending in thick clouds and the aroma of roasting meat permeated the village. The people, free from their work for the occasion, gathered in groups to talk and laugh as the preparations continued. By midday, riders who had been sent out at dawn’s first light to each of the six cantrefs to bid the noble houses and kinsmen to come to the feast began returning with the invited guests.

Each tribe brought with it a substantial contribution to the feast: smoked meat and fish, great white wheels of cheese carried on poles, mounds of sweet barley loaves, skins of honeyed mead and good dark beer, chickens and wild fowl, lambs and kids, eggs, butter and curded milk in crocks. One of Elphin’s kinsmen, an uncle from an eastern cantref who wore a thick gold chain on his chest, brought a wagoo full of skins containing wine obtained from the garrison at Caer Legionis.

When the sun began lowering in the west, Gwyddno, seeing that all the guests had arrived, climbed up on the pyramid of stacked casks and blew a long blast on his hunting horn. The people gathered around and he shouted, “Let the wedding celebration of my son begin!”

And so it did. Elphin emerged from his father’s house wearing a great silver tore around his neck, a bright yellow tunic, and green trousers bound to the knee with strips of blue silk; an emerald-studded dagger was tucked into his wide leather Belt, and a new cloak of orange-and-scarlet plaid was fastened at his shoulder with a great gold brooch inlaid with garnets. As he made his way to the feast site, which was now crowded with people, a small space was cleared and Elphin came to stand in the center of the ring.

Medhir and Eithne came next and stepped to either side of the doorway to hold aside the pelts covering the entrance. Rhonwyn emerged, straightened, and walked slowly to the circle. She was dressed in a long gown of spring-green linen, embroidered in gold at the neck and hem; a necklace of braided gold lay upon her breast, golden armbands in the shape of serpents encircled her bare arms, and gold bracelets jkigled on her wrists; her cloak was of radianTpurple silk with tiny silver Bells sewn to the tassels along its edge; around her waist she wore a peari-encrusted girdle, and on her feet were slippers of gilded leather. Her red-gold hair fell in russet waves down her back, beneath two long, intertwined braids into which white campion blossoms had been plaited and secured with jeweled pins.

Elphin gazed upon her as she walked slowly forward and knew that he had never seen a woman so fair. And he was not the only one with thoughts like these: most gathered there Believed her to be the loveliest woman yet seen in the kingdom, and said so, proclaiming this loudly to their neighbors.

When Rhonwyn had joined Elphin in the circle, Hafgan, with oaken staff in hand, came to stand before them. He was followed by his two new filidh, one of whom carried an earthenware bowl and the other a pitcher of wine. He smiled warmly at the couple and said, “This is a most auspicious time for a marriage. Look!” He pointed with his staff towards the first evening star already shining in the clean, cloudless sky. “The goddess’ own star looks down and blesses you with its light.”

Then he took the bowl, filled it from the pitcher, and raised it, offering it to the setting sun and to the rising moon, repeating a special wedding invocation to each in turn. He passed the bowl to Elphin saying, “This represents life; drink deeply of it.”

Elphin took the bowl and drank, emptying it in three great swallows. Hafgan refilled the bowl from the pitcher and gave it to Rhonwyn, repeating his injunction. She drained the bowl and returned it to the druid. The bowl was filled a third time and placed in the wedding couple’s hands. “This bowl represents your new life commingled; drink deeply of it together. “

Elphin and Rhonwyn lifted the bowl and shared it between them until it was gone. While they were drinking, Hafgan stooped and, taking hold of the ends of their cloaks, tied the two ends together.

“Smash the bowl!” instructed Hafgan when they had finished, and they threw the bowl to the ground where it broke into three large pieces. The druid studied the shards for a moment, then raised his staff and proclaimed, “I see here a long and fruitful marriage! A union richly blessed with every good fortune!”

“Long live Elphin and Rhonwyn!” returned the guests. “May their house prosper!”

An avenue was opened in the circle, and Elphin and his bride were conducted to the long timber table where they were seated on a couch of rushes covered with dappled fawn skins, and the feast began. Food was served up in wooden trenchers, the choicest morsels going to the wedding pair. A huge silver chalice was filled with wine and placed before them. Everyone found a place to sit: honored guests were seated at the low tables to the right and left of die wedding pair according to rank, and all the rest claimed places on skins and rugs scattered on the ground.

They talked and laughed as they ate, voices loud in rejoicing. And when the delights of the table had been sampled sufficiently, the people began to clamor for entertainment.

“Hafgan!” called Gwyddno merrily. “A song! Sing us a song, bard!”

“I will sing,” answered the druid. “But I beg the honor of singing last. Allow my filidh to begin in my stead.”

“Very well, save your voice,” answered Gwyddno. “But we will require your best before this feast is through.”

The apprentice bards produced their harps and began to sing. They sang the old songs of conquest and loss, of heroes and their mighty deeds of valor, of the love of their women, of beauty bright and tragic death. As they sang, the moon rose with her train of stars, and evening deepened to night.

Elphin gazed at his wife and loved her. Rhonwyn returned his gaze and leaned close, nestling her head against his chest. And all who saw them remarked at the great change in Elphin, for indeed he seemed a new-made man.

When the filidh finished their songs, a cry went up for Hafgan. “Give us a song!” cried some. “A story!” cried others.

Taking up his harp, he came to stand before the table. “What do you wish to hear, lord?”

He addressed Elphin, and no one failed to grasp the significance, although Elphin deferred, saying, “It is my father’s place to choose. I am certain his choice will please.”

“A story, then,” said Gwyddno. “A tale of bravery and magic.”

Hafgan paused for a moment, plucking a few idle notes on the harp, men announced, “Hear then, if you will, the story of Pwyll, Prince of Annwfn.”

“Excellent!” the listeners cried. Cups and bowls were refilled as the wedding guests hunkered down to hear the tale.

“In the days when the dew of creation was still fresh on the earth, Pwyll was lord over seven cantrefs of Dyfed, and seven of Gwynedd, and seven of Lloegr as well. In Caer Narberth, his principal stronghold, he awakened one morning and looked out upon the wild hills abounding with game of all kinds and it came into his head to assemble his men and go hunting. And this is the way of it…”

Hafgan’s voice rang out strong and clear, and the story unfolded in its familiar pattern to the delight of the listeners. At certain places in the tale, the druid would strum the harp and sing the passage, as prescribed by tradition. It was a well-known story, one relished by all who heard it, for Hafgan told it well, acting out the important parts, making his voice accommodate the speech of the various characters. This is the tale he told:

“Now the part of his realm that Pwyll wished to hunt was Glyn Cuch and he set out at once with a great company of men and they rode until dusk, arriving just as the sun was slipping into the western sea, beginning its journey through the Underworld.”

They made camp and slept, and at dawn the next morning they rose and entered the woods of Glyn Cuch, where they loosed the hounds. Pwyll sounded his horn, mustered the hunt and, being the fastest rider, set off behind his dogs.

“He followed the chase and in no time was lost to his companions, far outdistancing them in the thick-tangled woods. As he was listening to the cry of his hunting-pack, he heard the cry of another pack, far different from his own, coming toward him, their cry a chill on the wind. He rode to a clearing before him and entered a wide and level field where he saw his dogs cowering at the edge of the clearing while the other pack raced after a magnificent stag. And lo, while he watched, the strange dogs overtook the stag and bore it to the ground.

“He rode forward and saw the color of the hounds, and of all the hunting dogs in all the world he had never before seen any like these: the hair of their coats was a brilliant, shining white, and that of their ears red. And the redness of the ears gleamed as bright as the whiteness of their bodies glittered. And Pwyll rode to the shining dogs and scattered them, choosing to set his own hounds upon the killed stag.

“As he was feeding the dogs, a horseman appeared before him on a large dapple-gray horse, a hunting horn about his neck, wearing a pale gray garment for hunting gear. The horseman approached him, saying, ‘Chieftain, I know who you are, but I greet you not at all.’

“ ‘Well,’ said Pwyll, ‘perhaps your rank does not require it.’

“ ‘Lieu knows,’ exclaimed the horseman, ‘it is not my dignity or the obligation of rank that prevents me.’

“ ‘What else then, lord? Tell me if you can,’ said Pwyil.

“ ‘Can and will,’ replied the horseman sternly. ‘I swear by the gods of heaven and earth, it is your own ignorance and discourtesy!’

“ ‘What lack of courtesy have you seen in me, lord?’ inquired Pwyll, for indeed he could not think of any.

“ ‘Greater discourtesy have I never seen in man,’ the strange horseman replied, ‘than to drive away the pack that killed the stag and set your own upon it. Shame! That shows a woeful lack of courtesy. Even so, I will not take revenge upon you-though well I might-but I will have a bard satirize you to the value of a hundred stags.’

“ ‘Lord,’ Pwyll pleaded, ‘if I have committed a wrong, I will sue directly for peace with you.’

“ ‘On what terms?’ asked the horseman.

“ ‘Such as your rank, whatever it is, may require.’

“ ‘Know me then. I am crowned king of the land from which I hail.’

“ ‘May you prosper with the day! Which land might that be, lord?’ wondered Pwyll, ‘For I myself am king of all lands hereabouts.’

“ ‘Annwfn,’ replied the horseman. ‘I am Arawn, King of Annwfn.’

“Pwyll thought about this, for it was ill-luck to converse with a being of the Otherworld, king or no. But as he had already pledged himself to redeem friendship with the horseman, he had no choice but to abide by his word if he would not bring greater dishonor and misfortune on his name. ‘Tell me then, O King, if you will, how I may redeem our friendship, and I will do it gladly.’

“ ‘Listen, chieftain, here is how you will redeem it,’ began the horseman. ‘A man whose realm borders on mine makes war on me continually. He is Grudlwyn Gorr, a lord of Annwfn, and by ridding me of his oppression-which you can do quite easily-you will \have peace with me, as will your descendants after you.’

“And the king spoke ancient and mysterious words and Pwyll’s likeness became that of the king’s so that no one could tell them apart. ‘See?’ said the king, ‘You now have my shape and manner; therefore, go into my realm and take my place and rule as you will until the end of a year from tomorrow, when we shall meet again in this place.’

“ ‘As you will, lord, but though I succeed in your place for a year, how will I find the man of whom you speak?’

“Grudlwyn Gorr and I are bound by oath to meet a year from this very night at the ford of the river that separates our lands. You, will be there in my place, and were you to give him a single blow he would not survive. But though he may beg you to strike again, do not-however he may plead with you. For I have fought him often and have struck him many a mortal blow; yet he is always whole and fresh the next day.’

“ ‘Very well,’ said Pwyll, “I will do as you say. But what will happen to my kingdom while I am away?’

“And the King of the Otherworld spoke additional ancient and mysterious words and his shape changed to that of Pwyll’s. ‘See? No man or woman in your realm shall know that I am not you,’ said Arawn. ‘I will go in your place as you go in mine.’

“And so they both set off. Pwyll rode deep into Arawn’s realm and came at last to Arawn’s court: dwellings, halls, chambers, and buildings-all the most beautiful he had ever seen. Attendants greeted him and helped him remove his hunting gear, whereupon they dressed him in the finest silk and conducted him to a great hall where he could see entering a great warband-the most splendid and best equipped of any he had ever seen. And the queen was with them, the fairest woman of any in her day, dressed in a robe of glittering gold, her hair shining like bright sunlight on wheat.

“The queen took her place at his right hand, and they began to converse. Pwyll found her to be the gentlest, most considerate, kindly and amiable of companions. His heart melted toward her, and he wished with all his heart that he had a queen even half so noble. They passed the time with pleasant discourse, good food and drink, songs, and entertainments of all kinds.

“When the time came to go to bed, to bed they went, Pwyll and the queen. As soon as they were in bed together, however, Pwyll turned his face to the wall and went to sleep with his back toward her. So it was each night from then on to the end of the year. The next day there was tenderness and affection between them. But no matter how affectionate and loving might be their words to one another by day, there was not a single night different from the first.

“Pwyll spent the year in festivity and hunting and ruling Arawn’s realm fairly, until the night of the foresworn encounter with Grudlwyn Gorr-a night remembered well by even the most remote inhabitant of the kingdom. He conducted himself to the appointed place accompanied by the nobles of his realm.

“The moment they arrived at the ford, a horseman arose and called in a loud voice: ‘Men, listen well! This encounter is between two kings and between their bodies alone. Each of them claims the lands of the other; therefore, let us all stand aside and leave the fight between them.’

“The two kings made for the middle of the ford to clash. Pwyll thrust his spear and struck Grudlwyn Gorr in the middle of the boss of his shield so that it split in half, and Grudlwyn Gorr tumbled the length of his arm and spear over the rump of his horse to the ground, a deep wound in his chest.

“ ‘Chieftain,’ cried Grudlwyn Gorr, ‘I know no reason why you should wish to slay me. But as you have started, please, for the love of Lieu, finish me off!’

“ ‘Lord,’ answered Pwyll, ‘I have come to regret doing what I did to you. Find someone else to kill you; I will not.’

“ ‘Trusted lords,’ cried Grudlwyn Gorr, ‘take me hence; my death is assured now, and I will no longer be able to support you.’

“The man who was in Arawn’s place turned to the noble assembly and said, ‘My men, take accounts among you and discover who owes allegiance to me.’

“ ‘King,’ replied the lords, ‘all owe it, for there is no king over all Annwfn except you.’

“And then he received homage of all present and took possession of the disputed lands. By noon the next day the two realms were in his power, and so he set out to keep his tryst with Arawn at the appointed place. When he came to Glyn Cuch again he found Arawn, King of Annwfn, waiting for him. And they rejoiced to see each other.

“ ‘May the gods repay your friendship to me,’ said Arawn. ‘I have heard all about your success.’

“ ‘Yes,” replied Pwyll, ‘when you reach your dominions you will see what I have done for you.’

“ ‘Hear me then,’ said Arawn. ‘By way of gratitude, anything you may have wished for in my kingdom will be yours.’

“Then Arawn uttered the ancient and mysterious words once more and each king was restored to his own shape and semblance, and each took himself once more to his own kingdom. When Arawn arrived at his own court, it gave him great pleasure to see his own retinue and warband and his fair queen since he had not seen them for a year. But for their part, they had not felt his loss, so there was nothing extraordinary about his presence.

“He passed that day in pleasure and joy, conversing with his wife and his lords. And after dining and the evening’s entertainment when it was time to go to bed, to bed they went. Arawn got into bed and his wife with him. First he talked to her, then caressed her affectionately and loved her. She had not been accustomed to that for a year and thought to herself, ‘Upon my word! What a different mind he has tonight from what he has had for the past year!’

“And she thought about this for a long time, and was still thinking when Arawn awoke and spoke to her. When she did not answer, he spoke to her again and a third time, saying, ‘Woman, why do you not speak to me?’

“ ‘I tell you the truth,’ she answered, ‘I have not spoken this much for a year under these circumstances!’

“ ‘My lady,’ he said, ‘I Believe we have talked continually.’

“ ‘Shame on me,” the queen replied, ‘if from the moment we went between the sheets there was either pleasure or talk between us, or even your facing me-much less anything more than that!-for the past year.’

“ ‘Gods in heaven and earth,’ thought Arawn, ‘what a unique man I found to befriend me. Such strong and unwavering friendship shall be rewarded.’ And he explained all that had happened to his wife, telling her the entire adventure.

“ ‘I confess,’ she said when he had finished, ‘when it comes to fighting temptation and keeping true to you, you had a solid hold on a fellow.’

“Meanwhile, Pwyll came to his own realm and began to query his nobles about how their fortunes had fared during the last year. ‘Lord and king,’ they said, ‘your discernment has never been so good, never have you been so kind and amiable, and never more ready to spend your gain for the good of your people. In truth, your rale has never been better than this past year. Therefore, we thank you most heartily.’

“ ‘Oh, do not thank me,’ replied Pwyll, ‘rather thank the man who has accomplished these things in my place.’ He saw their astonished looks and he began to tell them the entire story, saying, ‘Here it is, just as it happened.’

“And thus, because of his living in the Otherworld for a year and ruling it so successfully, and bringing the two realms together by virtue of his bravery and valor, he came to be called Pwyll Pen Annwfn, that is Pwyll, Head of the Otherworld, thenceforth.

“Yet, though he was a young and comely king he had no queen. And he remembered the beautiful lady who had been his queen in the Otherworld and he pined for her, taking long walks in the lonely hills around his court.

“One night just at twilight he was standing atop a mound gazing out over his realm when a man appeared to him and said, ‘It is peculiar to this place that whosoever should sit on this mound shall undertake one of two things: either he will receive a grievous wound and die, or he will see a wonder.’

“ ‘Well, in my present state, I care not whether I live or die, but it might cheer me to see a wonder. Therefore, I will sit upon this mound, and come what may.’

“Pwyll sat down and the man vanished, and he saw a woman mounted on a magnificent white horse, pale as the moon as it rises over the harvest fields. The woman was dressed in fine linen and silk of shining gold and was riding toward him at a slow and steady pace.

“He went down from the mound to meet her, but when he reached the road at the bottom of the hill, she had gone far away from him. He pursued her as quickly as he could on foot, but the more he pursued the further away she got. He gave up in misery and returned to his caer.

“But he thought about this woman all night long and he said to himself, ‘Tomorrow evening I will sit once more upon the mound and I will bring the fastest horse in my kingdom.’ He did that, and once more as he sat on the mound he saw the woman approaching. Pwyll leaped into the saddle and spurred the horse to meet her. Yet, even though the lady held her great steed to a slow and stately amble, when Pwyll reached the bottom of the hill she was already far away. The king’s horse gave chase, and though it flew like the wind it did not avail him. For the faster he pursued her, the more distance lay between them.

“Pwyll marvelled at this and said, ‘By Lieu, it does no good to follow the lady. I know of no horse in the realm swifter than this one, yet I am no closer than when I began. There must be some mystery here.’ And his heart filled with such misery that he cried out as one in pain, ‘Maiden, for the sake of the man you love most, wait for me!’

“Instantly the horsewoman stopped and turned to him, removing the silken veil from before her face. And she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld in mortal flesh, more fair than a whole spring full of flowers, than winter’s first snow, than the sky of high summer, than the gold of autumn.

“ ‘Gladly will I wait for you,’ she said, ‘and it were better for your horse if you had asked it long ago.’

“ ‘My lady,’ Pwyll said respectfully, ‘whence do you come, and tell me, if you can, the nature of your journey.’

“ ‘Lord,’ she replied in a most gentle manner, ‘I journey on my errand and I am pleased to see you.’

“ ‘Then welcome to you,’ Pwyll said, thinking that the beauty of all the maidens and ladies he had ever seen was ugliness next to her beauty. ‘What, may I ask, is your errand?’

“ ‘Well you might ask. My principal quest was seeking you.’

“Pwyll’s heart leapt inside him. ‘That is a most excellent quest in my estimation. But can you tell me who you are?’

“ ‘Can and will,’ she said. ‘I am Rhiannon, daughter of Hyfiadd Hen, and I am being given to a man against my will. For I have never desired any man until meeting you. And if you reject me now, I will never love anyone.’

“Pwyll could not Believe his ears. ‘Fair creature,’ he said, ‘if I could choose from all the women in this world and any other, I would choose you always.’

“The maiden smiled, and her eyes shone with such happiness that Pwyll thought his heart would break. ‘Well, if that is your answer, let us make a tryst before I am given to this other man.’

“ ‘I will pledge whatever you want,’ said Pwyll, ‘and the sooner the better, I say.’

“ ‘Very well, lord,’ the maiden replied, ‘come to my father’s court where there is to be a feast, and you can claim me there.’

“ ‘I will do it,’ he promised, and returned to his court where he called his warband and together they rode out, reaching the court of Hyfiadd Hen just as night came on. Pwyll greeted Rhiannon and her father and said, ‘Lord, let this be a wedding feast, for as king of this realm I claim your daughter for my wife if she will have me.’

“Hyfiadd Hen frowned mightily, but said, ‘Very well, so be it. I put this court at your disposal.’

“ ‘Let the feast begin,’ said Pwyll, and he sat down with Rhiannon by his side.

‘ ‘But no sooner had they sat down than there arose a commotion outside and into the hall came a large, noble-looking fellow dressed in rich clothing. He came directly up to Pwyll and saluted him. ‘Welcome to you, friend; find a place to sit.’

“ ‘I cannot,’ replied the man. ‘I am a suppliant and must do my business first.’

“ ‘You had better do it then.’

“ ‘As you say, lord, my business is with you; I have come for a request.’

“ ‘Ask it then, and if it is in my power I will grant it gladly, for this is a joyous day for me.’

“ ‘No!’ shouted Rhiannon. ‘Oh, why did you respond so?’

“ ‘Och, he has already done so, and in the presence of the whole court,’ said the stranger. ‘He is honor-bound to grant my request.’

“ ‘Friend, if friend you are, tell me your request,’ said Pwyll, feeling sick at heart.

“ ‘You, sire, are sleeping tonight with the woman I love most, and I ask for her to be my wife and for this feast to be my wedding feast!’

“Pwyll fell silent. There was no answer he could give that would not break his heart.

“ ‘Be silent as long as you like, my lord,’ snapped Rhiannon angrily, ‘there is only one answer to be given.’

“ ‘Lady,” cried Pwyll piteously, ‘I did not know who he was.’

“ ‘He is the man to whom they wanted to give me against my will,’ she said. ‘His name is Gwawl, son of Clud, and now you must honor your word lest some worse misfortune befall you.’

“ ‘How can I honor my word when it will kill me?’

“ ‘Perhaps there is a way,’ she said and bent to whisper in his ear.

“ ‘I am growing old with waiting,’ said Gwawl.

“Pwyll’s countenance brightened and he said, ‘Wait no longer. Though it grieves me deeply, you shall have what you ask.’ And he got up and left the hall with his, host.

“Gwawl laughed loudly and bragged, ‘Surely, never has a man been more feeble-witted than him.’ And he took Pwyll’s place beside the fair Rhiannon saying, ‘Let my wedding feast be served. Tonight I sleep with my bride.’

“But before the feast could be served, a commotion arose in the back of the hall. ‘Who is making such a disturbance?’ demanded Gwawl. ‘Bring him here so that I may deal with him.’ And a man dressed all in wretched rags was dragged forward. ‘Ha! Look at him,’ said Gwawl. ‘What are you doing here, beggar?’

“ ‘If if pleases you, lord, I have business with you,’ replied the unfortunate one.

“ ‘What business can you have with me that the toe of my boot cannot discharge?’

“ ‘It is a reasonable request,’ replied the ragged man, ‘and one you can easily grant if you will: one small bag of food. I ask only from want.’

“ ‘You shall have it,” replied Gwawl haughtily. And he spied a small leather bag at Rhiannon’s Belt and snatched it up. ‘Here is the bag,’ he laughed, ‘fill it as you will.’

“Pwyll took the bag and began filling it. But no matter how much he put into the bag it grew no more full than before. Gwawl signaled impatiently to his servers, who arose and began stuffing food into the little bag, but it remained just as empty.

“ ‘Beggar, will your bag never be full?’ asked Gwawl angrily.

“ ‘Never, until a lord rises up and tramples it down and cries, “Enough!” ‘

“ ‘Do it, Gwawl, and you will be finished with this business,’ said Rhiannon.

“ ‘Gladly, if it will rid me of him.’ Gwawl rose up and put his feet into the bag, and the beggar twisted it so that Gwawl fell head over heels into the bag, then closed it and tied the strings. Then from beneath his rags he produced a horn which he blew. Instantly the hall was filled with a fierce warband. The beggar threw off his rags and there stood Pwyll Pen Annwfn.

“ ‘Help me!’ cried the man in the bag. ‘What is this game you are playing?’

“ ‘The game of badger-in-the-bag,’ answered Pwyll, whereupon his men began striking the bag with kicks and blows.

“ ‘Lord,’ said Gwawl, ‘if you would listen to me, killing me inside this bag is no death for me.’

“Hyfiadd Hen stepped forward much chagrined and said, ‘He speaks the truth, lord; killing him inside a bag is no death for a man. Listen to him.’

“ ‘I am listening,’ said Pwyll.

“ ‘Then allow me to sue for peace,’ said Gwawl. ‘State your terms and I will agree.’

“ ‘Very well, pledge to me that there shall never be redress nor vengeance for what has befallen you and your punishment shall end.’

“ ‘You have my pledge,’ said the man in the bag.

“ ‘I accept it,’ replied Pwyll and called to his men, ‘Let him out.’

‘ ‘Thereupon Gwawl was released from the bag and he departed to his own realm. The hall was then prepared for Pwyll as before, and they all sat down to a wonderful wedding feast. They ate and reveled, and when it came time to go to sleep Pwyll and Rhiannon went to the bridal bed and spent the night in pleasure and contentment.

“The next morning they returned to Caer Narberth where the feast continued for seven days with the best men and women in all the realm in attendance. And no one went away from the feast without being given some special gift, either a brooch or a ring or a precious stone.

“So began the reign of Pwyll Pen Annwfn and Rhiannon, fairest of the fair, and so ends this branch of the Mabinogi.”

The last notes of the harp died away on the night air, and the bard bowed his head. The fires had dwindled and the torches burned low. Many people had wrapped themselves in skins and slept in their places, or had stretched out by the fire.

“Well spoken, Hafgan,” said Gwyddno, gazing sleepily at the huddled forms around him. “You are the best of bards. But no more tonight. Let us take our rest now, for the feast continues and we will hear another tale tomorrow night.”

With that, Gwyddno wrapped himself in a skin, curled up by the fire, and went to sleep. Elphin and Rhonwyn rose from the table and, gathering their fawn skins, slipped quietly away to Gwyddno’s house where they lay down together on a bed of clean rushes and fell asleep in each other’s arms.