The White Goddess (70 page)

So they came unto them. And when they came he was colouring 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 a 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 sea weed 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 armour 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 sea coast, 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 colour 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 as 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 armour 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 Penllyn,’ 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.’

When they had disaccoutred themselves, they went to sit down. And Blodeuwedd looked upon him, and from the moment that she looked on him she became filled with his love. And he gazed on her, and the same thought came unto him as unto her, so that he could not conceal from her that he loved her, but he declared unto her that he did so. Thereupon she was very joyful. And all their discourse that night was concerning the affection and love which they felt one for the other, and which in no longer space than one evening had arisen. And that evening passed they in each other’s company.

The next day he sought to depart. But she said, ‘I pray thee go not from me to-day.’ And that night he tarried also. And that night they consulted by what means they might always be together. ‘There is none other counsel,’ said he, ‘but that thou strive to learn from Llew Llaw Gyffes in what manner he will meet his death. And this must thou do under the
semblance of solicitude concerning him.’

The next day Gronw sought to depart. ‘Verily,’ said she, ‘I will counsel thee not to go from me to-day.’ ‘At thy instance will I not go,’ said he, ‘albeit, I must say, there is danger that the chief who owns the palace may return home.’ ‘To-morrow,’ answered she, ‘will I indeed permit thee to go forth.’

The next day he sought to go, and she hindered him not. ‘Be mindful,’ said Gronw, ‘of what I have said unto thee, and converse with him fully, and that under the guise of the dalliance of love, 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 cauldron, and thatching it well and tightly, and bringing a buck, and putting it beside the cauldron. Then if I place one foot on the buck’s back, and the other on the edge of the cauldron, 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 cauldron 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 Kyvergyr, 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 soon as he departed Gronw and Blodeuwedd went together unto the palace that night. 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 stayed 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. And Gwydion came under the tree, and looked what it might be that the sow was feeding on. And he saw that she was eating putrid flesh and vermin. Then looked he up to the top of the tree, and as he looked he beheld on the top of the tree an eagle,
and when the eagle shook itself, there fell vermin and putrid flesh from it, and these the sow devoured. And it seemed to him that the eagle was Llew. And he sang an Englyn: