The Mabinogion (Oxford World's Classics) (15 page)

‘I know,’ said Math. ‘I shall give him the best cantref that a young man can have.’

‘Lord,’ he said, ‘what cantref is that?’

‘The cantref of Dinoding,’ he said. That is now called Eifionydd and Ardudwy. Lleu set up a court in the cantref at a place called Mur Castell,
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in the uplands of Ardudwy; he settled there, and ruled. And everyone was pleased with him and his governance.

Then one day Lleu went to Caer Dathyl to visit Math son of Mathonwy. On the day he left for Caer Dathyl, Blodeuedd was wandering around the court. And she heard the sound of a hunting-horn, and after the sound of the horn a weary stag passed by with hounds and huntsmen chasing it, and after the hounds and the huntsmen came a band of men on foot.

‘Send a lad to find out who they are,’ she said. The lad went, and asked who they were.

‘This is Gronw Pebr, the man who is lord of Penllyn,’
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they said. The lad told her that. Meanwhile Gronw went after the stag. And at the river Cynfael he caught up with the stag and killed it. And there he was, skinning the stag and baiting his hounds until night closed in on him. And as day was failing and night drawing near, he came past the gate of the court.

‘God knows,’ she said, ‘the chieftain will pour scorn on us for letting him go at this hour to another land if we do not invite him in.’

‘God knows, lady,’ they said, ‘it is only proper to invite him in.’ Then messengers went to meet him and invite him in. He accepted the invitation gladly and came to the court, and she came to meet him, to welcome him and greet him.

‘Lady, may God repay you your welcome’, he said. He took off his riding clothes, and they went to sit down. Blodeuedd looked at him, and from the moment she looked there was no part of her that was not filled with love for him. And he gazed at her, and the same thought came to him as had come to her. He could not hide the fact that he loved her, and he told her so. She was overjoyed. And their talk that night was of the attraction and love they felt for one another. And they did not put off making love to each other any longer than that night—that night they slept together.

The next day he asked permission to depart.
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‘God knows,’ she said, ‘you will not leave me tonight.’ That night, too, they were together. And that night they discussed how they might stay together.

‘There is only one thing to do,’ he said; ‘find out from him how his
death may come about, and do that by pretending to be concerned about him.’

The next day he asked permission to leave.

‘God knows, I do not advise you to leave me today.’

‘God knows, since you do not advise it, I will not go,’ he said. ‘However, I would say there is danger that the chieftain who owns this court will return.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘tomorrow I will let you leave.’

The next day he asked permission to leave, and she did not prevent him.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘remember what I told you, and keep on talking to him as if you really loved him. And find out from him how his death might come about.’

Lleu returned that night. They spent the day in conversation, song, and carousal. That night they went to sleep together. He spoke to her, and a second time. But he got no reply.

‘What’s the matter,’ he said, ‘are you well?’

‘I am thinking about something you would not expect of me,’ she said. ‘Namely, I am worried about your death, if you were to go before me.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘may God repay you your concern. But unless God kills me, it is not easy to kill me,’ he said.

‘Then for God’s sake and mine, will you tell me how you can be killed? Because my memory is better than yours when it comes to avoiding danger.’

‘I will, gladly,’ he said. ‘It is not easy to kill me with a blow. You would have to spend a year making the spear that would strike me, working on it only when people were at Mass on Sunday.’

‘Are you sure of that?’ she said.

‘Sure, God knows,’ he said. ‘I cannot be killed indoors,’ he said, ‘nor out of doors; I cannot be killed on horseback, nor on foot.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘how can you be killed?’

‘I will tell you,’ he said. ‘By making a bath for me on a riverbank, and constructing an arched roof above the tub, and then thatching that well and watertight. And bringing a billy-goat,’ he said, ‘and standing it beside the tub; and I place one foot on the back of the billy-goat and the other on the edge of the tub. Whoever should strike me in that position would bring about my death.’
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‘Well,’ she said, ‘I thank God for that. That can be avoided easily.’

No sooner did she get the information than she sent it to Gronw Pebr. Gronw laboured over making the spear, and a year from that very day it was ready. That day he let Blodeuedd know.

‘Lord,’ she said, ‘I am wondering how what you told me before could happen. Will you show me how you would stand on the edge of the tub and the billy-goat, if I get the bath ready?’

‘I will,’ he said.

She sent word to Gronw, and told him to be in the shadow of the hill which is now called Bryn Cyfergyr, on the bank of the river Cynfael. She had all the goats she could find in the cantref rounded up and brought to the far side of the river, facing Bryn Cyfergyr.
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The next day she said to Lleu, ‘Lord, I have had the roof prepared, and the bath, and they are ready.’

‘Fine,’ he said, ‘let us go and look at them, with pleasure.’ The next day they came to look at the bath.

‘You will get into the bath, lord?’ she said.

‘I will, with pleasure,’ he said. He got into the bath, and washed himself.

‘Lord,’ she said, ‘these are the animals you said were called billy-goats.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘have them catch one and bring it here.’

A goat was brought. Then he got up from the bath and put on his trousers, and placed one foot on the edge of the tub and the other on the billy-goat’s back. Then Gronw got up from the hill called Bryn Cyfergyr, and on one knee he aimed at Lleu with the poisoned spear, and struck him in his side so that the shaft stuck out of him but the head remained inside. And then Lleu flew up in the form of an eagle and gave a horrible scream, and he was not seen again.

As soon as Lleu disappeared they made for the court, and that night they slept together. The next day Gronw got up and took possession of Ardudwy. Having taken possession of the land, he ruled it so that Ardudwy and Penllyn were in his control. Then the news reached Math son of Mathonwy. Math felt sad and sorrowful, and Gwydion even more so.

‘Lord,’ said Gwydion, ‘I will never rest until I get news of my nephew.’

‘Yes,’ said Math, ‘may God be your strength.’

Then he set off and went on his way, and wandered through Gwynedd and the length and breadth of Powys. Having travelled
everywhere he came to Arfon, and in Maenor Bennardd he came to the house of a peasant. Gwydion dismounted at the house and stayed there that night. The man of the house and his family came in, and last of all came the swineherd. The man of the house said to the swineherd, ‘Lad,’ he said, ‘has your sow come in tonight?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘she has just come to the pigs.’

‘Where does this sow go?’ said Gwydion.

‘Every day when the pen is opened she goes out. No one can grab her, and no one knows where she goes, any more than if she sank into the earth.’

‘For my sake, will you not open the pen until I am at the side of the pen with you?’ said Gwydion.

‘Yes, gladly,’ he said. They went to sleep that night.

When the swineherd saw daylight he woke Gwydion, and Gwydion got up and dressed and went with him and stood beside the pen. The swineherd opened the pen. As soon as he opens it she leaps out and sets off at a brisk pace, with Gwydion following her. And she goes upstream and heads for a valley which is now called Nantlleu,
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and there she slows down and feeds. Then Gwydion goes under the tree and looks to see what the sow is feeding on; and he can see the sow feeding on rotten flesh and maggots. He looks up to the top of the tree. And when he looks, he can see an eagle at the top of the tree. And when the eagle shakes himself, the worms and the rotten flesh fall from him and the sow eats them. He thinks that the eagle is Lleu, and sings an
englyn
:
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‘An oak grows between two lakes,

Very dark is the sky and the valley.

Unless I am mistaken

This is because of Lleu’s Flowers.’

The eagle lowers himself until he is in the middle of the tree. Gwydion sings another
englyn
:

‘An oak grows on a high plain,

Rain does not wet it, heat no longer melts it;

It sustained one who possesses nine-score attributes.

In its top is Lleu Llaw Gyffes.’

And then he lowers himself down until he is on the lowest branch of the tree. Then Gwydion sings him an
englyn
:

‘An oak grows on a slope

The refuge of a handsome prince.

Unless I am mistaken

Lleu will come to my lap.’

And he dropped down onto Gwydion’s knee; then Gwydion struck him with his magic wand so that he changed back into his own shape. But no one had ever seen a man look more wretched—he was nothing but skin and bone.

Then he made for Caer Dathyl, and there all the good physicians that could be found in Gwynedd were brought to him. Before the end of the year he was completely recovered.

‘Lord,’ said Lleu to Math son of Mathonwy, ‘it is high time for me to have recompense from the man who caused me this distress.’

‘God knows,’ said Math, ‘he cannot continue like this, owing you recompense.’

‘I agree,’ he said. ‘The sooner I get recompense the better.’

Then they mustered Gwynedd and set off for Ardudwy. Gwydion went ahead and made for Mur Castell. When Blodeuedd heard they were coming, she took her maidens with her and made for the mountain; and having crossed the river Cynfael they made for a court that was on the mountain. And they were so afraid that they could only travel with their faces looking backwards. And they knew nothing until they fell into the lake and were drowned,
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all except Blodeuedd.

Then Gwydion caught up with her and said to her, ‘I will not kill you. I will do worse. Namely, I will release you in the form of a bird,’ he said. ‘And because of the shame you have brought upon Lleu Llaw Gyffes, you will never dare show your face in daylight for fear of all the birds. And all the birds will be hostile towards you. And it shall be in their nature to strike you and molest you wherever they find you. You shall not lose your name, however, but shall always be called Blodeuwedd.’
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Blodeuwedd
is ‘owl’ in today’s language. And for that reason the birds hate the owl: and the owl is still called
Blodeuwedd
.

As for Gronw Pebr, he made for Penllyn, and from there he sent messengers: he asked Lleu Llaw Gyffes whether he would take land or territory or gold or silver for the insult.
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‘No, by my confession to God,’ he said. ‘And this is the least I will
accept from him; he must come to where I was when he threw the spear at me, while I stand where he was. And he must let me throw a spear at him. And that is the very least I will accept from him.’ That was relayed to Gronw Pebr.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I must do that. My loyal noblemen and my retinue and my foster-brothers, is there any one of you who will take the blow on my behalf?’

‘Certainly not,’ they said. And because they refused to stand and take one blow for their lord, they are known from that day to this as one of the Three Disloyal Retinues.
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‘Then I will take it,’ he said.

Then they both came to the bank of the river Cynfael. Gronw Pebr stood where Lleu Llaw Gyffes was when Gronw aimed at him, and Lleu stood where Gronw was. Then Gronw Pebr said to Lleu, ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘since it was through the deceit of a woman that I did to you what I did, I beg of you, in God’s name: a stone I see on the riverbank, let me put that between me and the blow.’

‘God knows,’ said Lleu, ‘I will not refuse you that.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘may God repay you.’

Gronw took the stone and put it between him and the blow. Then Lleu threw the spear at him, and it pierced through the stone and through him too, so that his back was broken and Gronw was killed. And the stone is still there on the bank of the river Cynfael in Ardudwy, with the hole through it. And because of that it is still called Llech Gronw.
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Then Lleu Llaw Gyffes took possession of his land for a second time, and ruled over it prosperously. And according to the tale, he was lord over Gwynedd after that. And so ends this branch of the Mabinogi.
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E
ARL
E
FROG
held an earldom in the North,
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and he had seven sons. Efrog made his living not so much from his land but from tournaments and battles and wars. And as often happens to those who follow battle he was killed, himself and his six sons. And his seventh son was called Peredur.
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He was the youngest of his seven sons. He was not old enough to go to war or battle—had he been, he would have been killed as his father and brothers were killed. His mother was a wise and clever woman. She thought hard about her son and his territory, and decided to flee with the boy to wasteland and wilderness, leaving behind the inhabited regions. She took no one with her save women and children, and meek, mild men who could not and would not fight or wage war. In the boy’s hearing no one dared mention horses or weapons in case he set his heart on them. And every day the boy would go to the long forest to play and throw holly darts.