The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (66 page)

“Good evening,
dama-wyn
,” greeted the eldest of the brothers, for it was polite to call old ladies of this age “grandmother”. “We are searching for the
Forth Lys-an-Gwrys
. Do you know where it is?”

“Ah, good evening, my good sons. I know the road but my son, who travels it every day, knows it better. He often journeys to the Crystal Palace and back again.”

“Is the Crystal Palace near here?” asked another of the brothers, surprised that it could be reached there and back in a day.

“It is not far. But we must wait until my son returns. Perhaps you’ve seen or heard him in the forest?”

“We have seen no one,” they assured her.

“But you must have heard him, then?”

Suddenly they heard the thunder and lightning again. It seemed as if it was coming nearer.

“What is it?” they cried, cowering together.

“It is only my son,” she assured them with a smile. “Shelter under those tree-branches until I have a word with him. He is a hungry man and he might eat you.”

Rather frightened, the brothers hid themselves and the thunder and lightning grew worse until a tall man came flashing out of the sky and landed in the clearing on his two feet. He glared about
him.

“
Dama, dama, yma nown dhym
.” “Mother, mother, I am hungry,” he cried, in the language of Cornwall.

The old woman smiled. “
Da yu genef agas gweles
,” replied the old woman. “
Ny a-vyn dalleth gans yskel onyon
.”

Which means: “I am glad to see you. We’ll begin with onion soup.”

The giant stopped and sniffed the air suspiciously.

“I do smell the smell of Cornishmen here? They’d make a tasty snack.
Nown blyth a-m-bus
. I am ravenous.”

Quick as a wink, the old woman took up a cudgel and brought it down hard on the giant’s foot. “If you harm my guests, I’ll give you a walloping with my cudgel.”

The giant trembled, as it seemed that the old woman made
no idle threat, and he took an oath not to harm the five brothers who were told to show themselves.

“Now, these are your Cornish cousins. You must take them, first thing in the morning, to
Lys-an-Gwrys
.”

It was early in the morning when the giant leapt up, with a crash of thunder and flash of lightning, and woke the brothers.

“It’s time to set out for the
Forth Lys-an-Gwrys
.”

He told them to stand on a great sheet and then he lifted the corners, so it seemed they were in a sack, and he slung it over his shoulders and went off up into the air with thunder and
lightning crashing around him. It seemed that the giant turned into a great ball of fire and sped through the skies eastward.

“Is this the road?” cried one of the brothers to his siblings.

“It is rather high up, isn’t it?” said another.

It was then the eldest remembered an old saying.
Tus skentyl nu-gar fordhow ughel
. Wise men do not like high roads.

He was thinking how true this was.

Then, just as he was thinking that he ought to make a protest, they came down on a broad plain.

“This is the right road to the Crystal Palace,” cried the giant, pointing to a distant speck on the horizon. “I can’t take you further.”

Then he was away in a blazing ball, before they could say anything else.

One of the brothers shivered slightly. “Let’s go back home; I do not like this.”

“We’ve come this far. We should see it through until the end,” said the eldest.

So they began to walk on towards the spot where the giant had pointed. But it never seemed to get nearer. So, finally, they all decided to return home. It took them a long, long time but
eventually they came to Garras and on to Chygarkye and came into their house. They told their parents what had transpired.

“I wouldn’t have given up,” declared the young Wuric. “I would have journeyed on until I found out if our sister was happy or not.”

“Well, you are an imbecile,” his elder brothers declared in disgust. “How could you succeed when we, who are strong and intelligent, could not?”

Wuric flushed in annoyance and stood up. “I shall set out and I won’t come back until I have discovered what has happened to my sister, Welet,” he declared.

“You idiot!” sneered the eldest brother. “If you think that you can succeed, then be off with you!”

“I will try. And I will find her, wherever she is.” So the next day, Wuric set off alone.

He followed the same road as his brothers had followed and eventually he came to the dark forest, moving in the direction of the rising sun. He heard the terrible thunderstorm and saw the
flashes of lightning as he journeyed through the forest. Finally, he met an old woman, bending over a fire.

“Good evening,
dama-wyn
,” he greeted politely.

“Where are you off to, my son?” the old woman replied.

“I am trying to find the
Forth Lys-an-Gwrys
. Do you know it?”

“I know it. But my son knows it better. Perhaps you have heard or seen him in the forest?”

“I believe I have heard him.”

Just then there was a most fearful noise of thunder and lightning.

“Here comes my son. Quickly, hide under those trees, or he might eat you.”

“Not I!” declared Wuric.

Then into the clearing came a giant of a man.

“Good evening, mother,” he said. Then he sniffed. “I smell a Cornishman, I think.
Nown blyth a-m-bus
! I am ravenous.”

“Then you will have to feed elsewhere,” declared Wuric. “There is not enough meat on my bones to stuff your oversized belly with.”

The giant stared at him and then began to quake with laughter. “Here, indeed, is a game one,” he chuckled. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“I was told to respect thunder and lightning when I was a child, but never to fear it,” replied Wuric.

The giant slapped his knee in delight, for no man had
talked to him like this before. “Tell me what you want here, and I shall help you.”

His mother told him.

“I shall take you to the
Forth Lys-an-Gwrys
in the morning,” declared the giant, whose name was Taran, which means “thunder”.

Sure enough, in the morning, he flew up in the sky, with Wuric on his back, and landed him on a great plain.

“I can’t take you further, but keep on across this plain. Soon you will find that it becomes a broad plain of blackened earth. Keep to the road, even if you find it impassable. Do
not look right nor left and, no matter what is on the road, keep to it. If you go as fearlessly as you have come, you will reach
Forth Lys-an-Gwrys
.”

Wuric kept to the road that Taran the giant had indicated and stuck to it, looking neither right nor left. He came to the plain and began to trek along the blackened earth road. Then he suddenly
found his way blocked by a pile of writhing snakes. He halted for a moment in fear. Then he remembered Taran’s words. He began to march straight into the snakes. They wrapped themselves
around his legs, writhing and biting. But he took no notice of the hideous reptiles, hissing and menacing him. He did not lose his courage and walked through them without hurt.

Next the road came to the edge of a great lake. He could not swim and there was no sign of any boat. He remembered what Taran had said and on he marched, right into the deep, dank waters. Up to
his knees the cold water came; up to his armpits, then up to his chin. Finally the waters closed blackly over his head but he kept going forward and suddenly he was on the other side of the
lake.

The road continued until he found himself entering a narrow defile, which was full of thorns and brambles and with no way through them. Rocky cliffs stretched upwards for hundreds of feet on
either side. Then he remembered what Taran had said. Down on his hands and knees he went and began to slither on his stomach through the undergrowth until he was through it – torn, cut and
bleeding and his clothes were in tatters. Yet the moment
he was through the other side, his cuts and scratches were healed.

He went on and finally came on an emaciated horse standing blocking the path.

“Climb on me,” the horse invited. “I’ll take you onwards on your journey.”

“
Dursona
!” Wuric cried. “Blessing on you, horse. I’m too exhausted to walk further.”

So the horse took him off along the path. That evening, they came to a spot where there was a large stone resting on top of two other stones.

“You must dismount now,” said the horse. “See those two stones? Tip the top stone over.”

Wuric did so and found a tunnel entrance.

“Go into the tunnel; that is your way forward,” instructed the horse.

At first Wuric thought that he would suffocate in the stench of the tunnel. It was odious in the extreme, and the tunnel was so dark that he had to grope his way forward. Then he heard a
terrible sound behind him like demons baying for blood.

“I shall doubtless die here,” he shivered. But he remembered what Taran had said and set his jaw firmly before hastening on. Eventually he saw a glimmer of light ahead and it gave
him hope. The noises behind were getting close but he gave a spurt and then he was through into the bright sunshine, out of the tunnel, and safe and sound.

Now he found his path came to a cross-roads.

He paused, dismayed, wondering which one he should take. Then he remembered what Taran had said and he took the one which led straight ahead. Now there were many high gates across the road and
each was barred or padlocked. Being unable to open them, he simply climbed over them. It was hard going, but eventually he came to the brow of a hill and the last gate. Finally he saw, in the
distance, a large palace of sparkling crystal.

“Surely that is
Lys-an-Gwrys
!” he cried. “I must be near the end of my journey.”

He hurried forward and, after a while, he came to the gates of the Crystal Palace with its resplendent light, which dazzled
his eyes. There were a number of doors around it
and he tried each one, but each one was locked. Then he found a small open hatch which led onto a chute which went downwards. It was a ventilation chute into the cellars of the palace. He did not
hesitate, but climbed in and slid down into the cellars.

From there, he went up the cellar stairs into a large kitchen, and from the kitchen into a hall. The rooms of the palace were of increasing beauty and so bright with light that he had to blink
his eyes. Then he came to a hall of such surpassing beauty that he was almost blinded. But there, yes – there at the end of the room was a great bed of gold with silk sheets – and there
was his sister, Welet, lying asleep on the bed. She looked as if she had not aged a single hour since he had last seen her. She did not wake but lay slumbering. She was so beautiful that Wuric
stood back behind the curtains, just to watch her for a while.

He had no sooner taken his stand than the door opened and the tall figure of Lord Howlek entered. He was as resplendent as ever, with his red gold hair and flashing figure. He went straight to
Welet and, to Wuric’s surprise, he gave her three sharp slaps across the cheek. He went to move forward and protest but then he realized that his sister had not stirred – not even
blinked an eye. Then the Lord Howlek climbed onto the bed and lay down at her side.

Wuric thought it a strange way to treat his sister. Then he saw that Lord Howlek was in a deep sleep and he wondered what to do. Perhaps he should find something to eat and a room to rest in.
Then he realized that although he had been weary and had a great hunger on him when he arrived at the palace, he now felt rested and replete. He could not understand it. He sat down and found that
the night passed profoundly peacefully. Wuric did not even move from his hiding place.

Then, as dawn approached, Lord Howlek stood up and gave Welet three sharp smacks on the cheek and left. Still Welet did not even move.

When Lord Howlek had left, Wuric left his hiding place and went to the sleeping form of his sister. Now he feared that death had overtaken her. So still and calm she was, in spite of
the resounding smacks on her cheeks. Wuric reached out a hand and felt her forehead and assured himself she was still alive. Then he bent and kissed her brow. As he did so, she gave a
smile, opened her eyes and stretched languidly. Then she recognized her brother and her smile grew broader.

“Wuric! How came you here? What joy to see you!”

They embraced each other.

“Sister, I have been worried for you.”

“What cause to worry, brother?”

“Where is your husband?” Wuric was anxious, lest Lord Howlek come back into the bedroom.

“Gone on a journey. You surely must have seen him, for he left my side only a moment ago.”

Then Wuric realized that if his sister knew this, she must surely have been feigning stillness when Lord Howlek slapped her. “Oh, my poor sister, it grieves me to see him ill-treat you
so.”

“But he is my joy, brother. He does not ill-treat me at all.” Welet was clearly puzzled by what he had said.

“How can you say this?” he demanded. “I witnessed him slap you last night when he came in. Three hard slaps on the cheek. When he rose this morning, the Lord Howlek did
spitefully use you again by giving you three slaps on the cheek.”

“You are surely mistaken, brother, for he does not give me a slap, nor three slaps. Each evening he comes and kisses me three times and each morning he bids me farewell with three
kisses.”

Wuric was perplexed.

Then he realized it was surely breakfast time, but he still felt replete.

“There seems neither cold nor hunger in this place, sister. I have seen no servants, nor any preparations for food. What does this mean?”

“I have no idea, brother. But it is true, for as long as I have been here, I have not experienced the desire to eat nor drink.”

“Is there no one else here?”

“Oh, yes. But my lord told me that I must not speak to anyone. But I have not seen anyone since I came here.”

So they spent the day together, talking about their family and what had happened in the kingdom of Cornwall since she left. That evening, Lord Howlek came to the palace and
saw Wuric.