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Transcribed from the 1849 edition text by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
THE MABINOGION
TRANSLATED BY LADY CHARLOTTE GUEST
Contents:
Introduction
The Lady of the Fountain
Peredur the Son of Evrawc
Geraint the son of Erbin
Kilhwch and Olwen
The dream of Rhonabwy
Pwyll Prince of Dyved
Branwen the daughter of Llyr
Manawyddan the son of Llyr
Math the son of Mathonwy
The dream of Maxen Wledig
The story of Lludd and Llevelys
Taliesin
INTRODUCTION
Whilst engaged on the Translations contained in these volumes, and on
the Notes appended to the various Tales, I have found myself led unavoidably
into a much more extensive course of reading than I had originally contemplated,
and one which in great measure bears directly upon the earlier Mediæval
Romance.
Before commencing these labours, I was aware, generally, that there
existed a connexion between the Welsh Mabinogion and the Romance of
the Continent; but as I advanced, I became better acquainted with the
closeness and extent of that connexion, its history, and the proofs
by which it is supported.
At the same time, indeed, I became aware, and still strongly feel, that
it is one thing to collect facts, and quite another to classify and
draw from them their legitimate conclusions; and though I am loth that
what has been collected with some pains, should be entirely thrown away,
it is unwillingly, and with diffidence, that I trespass beyond the acknowledged
province of a translator.
In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries there arose into general notoriety
in Europe, a body of “Romance,” which in various forms retained
its popularity till the Reformation. In it the plot, the incidents,
the characters, were almost wholly those of Chivalry, that bond which
united the warriors of France, Spain, and Italy, with those of pure
Teutonic descent, and embraced more or less firmly all the nations of
Europe, excepting only the Slavonic races, not yet risen to power, and
the Celts, who had fallen from it. It is not difficult to account
for this latter omission. The Celts, driven from the plains into
the mountains and islands, preserved their liberty, and hated their
oppressors with fierce, and not causeless, hatred. A proud and
free people, isolated both in country and language, were not likely
to adopt customs which implied brotherhood with their foes.
Such being the case, it is remarkable that when the chief romances are
examined, the name of many of the heroes and their scenes of action
are found to be Celtic, and those of persons and places famous in the
traditions of Wales and Brittany. Of this the romances of Ywaine
and Gawaine, Sir Perceval de Galles, Eric and Enide, Mort d’Arthur,
Sir Lancelot, Sir Tristan, the Graal, &c., may be cited as examples.
In some cases a tendency to triads, and other matters of internal evidence,
point in the same direction.
It may seem difficult to account for this. Although the ancient
dominion of the Celts over Europe is not without enduring evidence in
the names of the mountains and streams, the great features of a country,
yet the loss of their prior language by the great mass of the Celtic
nations in Southern Europe (if indeed their successors in territory
be at all of their blood), prevents us from clearly seeing, and makes
us wonder, how stories, originally embodied in the Celtic dialects of
Great Britain and France, could so influence the literature of nations
to whom the Celtic languages were utterly unknown. Whence then
came these internal marks, and these proper names of persons and places,
the features of a story usually of earliest date and least likely to
change?
These romances were found in England, France, Germany, Norway, Sweden,
and even Iceland, as early as the beginning of the thirteenth and end
of the twelfth century. The Germans, who propagated them through
the nations of the North, derived them certainly from France.
Robert Wace published his Anglo-Norman Romance of the Brut d’Angleterre
about 1155. Sir Tristan was written in French prose in 1170; and
The Chevalier au Lion, Chevalier de l’Epée, and Sir Lancelot
du Lac, in metrical French, by Chrestien de Troyes, before 1200.
From these facts it is to be argued that the further back these romances
are traced, the more clearly does it appear that they spread over the
Continent from the North-west of France. The older versions, it
may be remarked, are far more simple than the later corruptions.
In them there is less allusion to the habits and usages of Chivalry,
and the Welsh names and elements stand out in stronger relief.
It is a great step to be able to trace the stocks of these romances
back to Wace, or to his country and age. For Wace’s work
was not original. He himself, a native of Jersey, appears to have
derived much of it from the “Historia Britonum” of Gruffydd
ab Arthur, commonly known as “Geoffrey of Monmouth,” born
1128, who himself professes to have translated from a British original.
It is, however, very possible that Wace may have had access, like Geoffrey,
to independent sources of information.
To the claims set up on behalf of Wace and Geoffrey, to be regarded
as the channels by which the Cymric tales passed into the Continental
Romance, may be added those of a third almost contemporary author.
Layamon, a Saxon priest, dwelling, about 1200, upon the banks of the
upper Severn, acknowledges for the source of his British history, the
English Bede, the Latin Albin, and the French Wace.
The last-named however is by very much his chief, and, for Welsh matters,
his only avowed authority. His book, nevertheless, contains a
number of names and stories relating to Wales, of which no traces appear
in Wace, or indeed in Geoffrey, but which he was certainly in a very
favourable position to obtain for himself. Layamon, therefore,
not only confirms Geoffrey in some points, but it is clear, that, professing
to follow Wace, he had independent access to the great body of Welsh
literature then current. Sir F. Madden has put this matter very
clearly, in his recent edition of Layamon. The Abbé de
la Rue, also, was of opinion that Gaimar, an Anglo-Norman, in the reign
of Stephen, usually regarded as a translator of Geoffrey of Monmouth,
had access to a Welsh independent authority.
In addition to these, is to be mentioned the English version of Sir
Tristrem, which Sir Walter Scott considered to be derived from a distinct
Celtic source, and not, like the later Amadis, Palmerin, and Lord Berners’s
Canon of Romance, imported into English literature by translation from
the French. For the Auntours of Arthur, recently published by
the Camden Society, their Editor, Mr. Robson, seems to hint at a similar
claim.
Here then are various known channels, by which portions of Welsh and
Armoric fiction crossed the Celtic border, and gave rise to the more
ornate, and widely-spread romance of the Age of Chivalry. It is
not improbable that there may have existed many others. It appears
then that a large portion of the stocks of Mediæval Romance proceeded
from Wales. We have next to see in what condition they are still
found in that country.
That Wales possessed an ancient literature, containing various lyric
compositions, and certain triads, in which are arranged historical facts
or moral aphorisms, has been shown by Sharon Turner, who has established
the high antiquity of many of these compositions.
The more strictly Romantic Literature of Wales has been less fortunate,
though not less deserving of critical attention. Small portions
only of it have hitherto appeared in print, the remainder being still
hidden in the obscurity of ancient Manuscripts: of these the chief is
supposed to be the Red Book of Hergest, now in the Library of Jesus
College, Oxford, and of the fourteenth century. This contains,
besides poems, the prose romances known as Mabinogion. The Black
Book of Caermarthen, preserved at Hengwrt, and considered not to be
of later date than the twelfth century, is said to contain poems only.
{1}
The Mabinogion, however, though thus early recorded in the Welsh tongue,
are in their existing form by no means wholly Welsh. They are
of two tolerably distinct classes. Of these, the older contains
few allusions to Norman customs, manners, arts, arms, and luxuries.
The other, and less ancient, are full of such allusions, and of ecclesiastical
terms. Both classes, no doubt, are equally of Welsh root, but
the former are not more overlaid or corrupted, than might have been
expected, from the communication that so early took place between the
Normans and the Welsh; whereas the latter probably migrated from Wales,
and were brought back and re-translated after an absence of centuries,
with a load of Norman additions. Kilhwch and Olwen, and the dream
of Rhonabwy, may be cited as examples of the older and purer class;
the Lady of the Fountain, Peredur, and Geraint ab Erbin, of the later,
or decorated.
Besides these, indeed, there are a few tales, as Amlyn and Amic, Sir
Bevis of Hamtoun, the Seven Wise Masters, and the story of Charlemagne,
so obviously of foreign extraction, and of late introduction into Wales,
not presenting even a Welsh name, or allusion, and of such very slender
intrinsic merit, that although comprised in the Llyvr Coch, they have
not a shadow of claim to form part of the Canon of Welsh Romance.
Therefore, although I have translated and examined them, I have given
them no place in these volumes.
There is one argument in favour of the high antiquity in Wales of many
of the Mabinogion, which deserves to be mentioned here. This argument
is founded on the topography of the country. It is found that
Saxon names of places are very frequently definitions of the nature
of the locality to which they are attached, as Clifton, Deepden, Bridge-ford,
Thorpe, Ham, Wick, and the like; whereas those of Wales are more frequently
commemorative of some event, real or supposed, said to have happened
on or near the spot, or bearing allusion to some person renowned in
the story of the country or district. Such are “Llyn y Morwynion,”
the Lake of the Maidens; “Rhyd y Bedd,” the Ford of the
Grave; “Bryn Cyfergyr,” the Hill of Assault; and so on.
But as these names could not have preceded the events to which they
refer, the events themselves must be not unfrequently as old as the
early settlement in the country. And as some of these events and
fictions are the subjects of, and are explained by, existing Welsh legends,
it follows that the legends must be, in some shape or other, of very
remote antiquity. It will be observed that this argument supports
remote antiquity only for such legends as are connected with
the greater topographical features, as mountains, lakes, rivers, seas,
which must have been named at an early period in the inhabitation of
the country by man. But there exist, also, legends connected with
the lesser features, as pools, hills, detached rocks, caves, fords,
and the like, places not necessarily named by the earlier settlers,
but the names of which are, nevertheless, probably very old, since the
words of which they are composed are in many cases not retained in the
colloquial tongue, in which they must once have been included, and are
in some instances lost from the language altogether, so much so as to
be only partially explicable even by scholars. The argument applies
likewise, in their degree, to camps, barrows, and other artificial earth-works.
Conclusions thus drawn, when established, rest upon a very firm basis.
They depend upon the number and appositeness of the facts, and it would
be very interesting to pursue this branch of evidence in detail.
In following up this idea, the names to be sought for might thus be
classed:-
I. Names of the great features, involving proper names and actions.
Cadair Idris and Cadair Arthur both involve more than a mere name.
Idris and Arthur must have been invested with heroic qualifications
to have been placed in such “seats.”
II. Names of lesser features, as “Bryn y Saeth,” Hill
of the Dart; “Llyn Llyngclys,” Lake of the Engulphed Court;
“Ceven y Bedd,” the Ridge of the Grave; “Rhyd y Saeson,”
the Saxons’ Ford.
III. Names of mixed natural and artificial objects, as “Coeten
Arthur,” Arthur’s Coit; “Cerrig y Drudion,”
the Crag of the Heroes; which involve actions. And such as embody
proper names only, as “Cerrig Howell,” the Crag of Howell;
“Caer Arianrod,” the Camp of Arianrod; “Bron Goronwy,”
the Breast (of the Hill) of Goronwy; “Castell mab Wynion,”
the Castle of the son of Wynion; “Nant Gwrtheyrn,” the Rill
of Vortigern.
The selection of names would demand much care and discretion.
The translations should be indisputable, and, where known, the connexion
of a name with a legend should be noted. Such a name as “Mochdrev,”
Swine-town, would be valueless unless accompanied by a legend.
It is always valuable to find a place or work called after an individual,
because it may help to support some tradition of his existence or his
actions. But it is requisite that care be taken not to push the
etymological dissection too far. Thus, “Caer Arianrod”
should be taken simply as the “Camp of Arianrod,” and not
rendered the “Camp of the silver circle,” because the latter,
though it might possibly have something to do with the reason for which
the name was borne by Arianrod herself, had clearly no reference to
its application to her camp.
It appears to me, then, looking back upon what has been advanced:-
I. That we have throughout Europe, at an early period, a great
body of literature, known as Mediæval Romance, which, amidst much
that is wholly of Teutonic origin and character, includes certain well-marked
traces of an older Celtic nucleus.
II. Proceeding backwards in time, we find these romances, their
ornaments falling away at each step, existing towards the twelfth century,
of simpler structure, and with less encumbered Celtic features, in the
works of Wace, and other Bards of the Langue d’Oil.
III. We find that Geoffrey of Monmouth, Layamon, and other early
British and Anglo-Saxon historians, and minstrels, on the one hand,
transmitted to Europe the rudiments of its after romance, much of which,
on the other hand, they drew from Wales.
IV. Crossing into Wales we find, in the Mabinogion, the evident
counterpart of the Celtic portion of the continental romance, mixed
up, indeed, with various reflex additions from beyond the border, but
still containing ample internal evidence of a Welsh original.
V. Looking at the connexion between divers of the more ancient
Mabinogion, and the topographical nomenclature of part of the country,
we find evidence of the great, though indefinite, antiquity of these
tales, and of an origin, which, if not indigenous, is certainly derived
from no European nation.
It was with a general belief in some of these conclusions, that I commenced
my labours, and I end them with my impressions strongly confirmed.
The subject is one not unworthy of the talents of a Llwyd or a Prichard.
It might, I think, be shown, by pursuing the inquiry, that the Cymric
nation is not only, as Dr. Prichard has proved it to be, an early offshoot
of the Indo-European family, and a people of unmixed descent, but that
when driven out of their conquests by the later nations, the names and
exploits of their heroes, and the compositions of their bards, spread
far and wide among the invaders, and affected intimately their tastes
and literature for many centuries, and that it has strong claims to
be considered the cradle of European Romance.
C. E. G.
DOWLAIS, August 29th, 1848.
THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN
King Arthur was at Caerlleon upon Usk; and one day he sat in his chamber;
and with him were Owain the son of Urien, and Kynon the son of Clydno,
and Kai the son of Kyner; and Gwenhwyvar and her handmaidens at needlework
by the window. And if it should be said that there was a porter
at Arthur’s palace, there was none. Glewlwyd Gavaelvawr
was there, acting as porter, to welcome guests and strangers, and to
receive them with honour, and to inform them of the manners and customs
of the Court; and to direct those who came to the Hall or to the presence-chamber,
and those who came to take up their lodging.
In the centre of the chamber King Arthur sat upon a seat of green rushes,
over which was spread a covering of flame-coloured satin, and a cushion
of red satin was under his elbow.
Then Arthur spoke, “If I thought you would not disparage me,”
said he, “I would sleep while I wait for my repast; and you can
entertain one another with relating tales, and can obtain a flagon of
mead and some meat from Kai.” And the King went to sleep.
And Kynon the son of Clydno asked Kai for that which Arthur had promised
them. “I, too, will have the good tale which he promised
to me,” said Kai. “Nay,” answered Kynon, “fairer
will it be for thee to fulfill Arthur’s behest, in the first place,
and then we will tell thee the best tale that we know.”
So Kai went to the kitchen and to the mead-cellar, and returned bearing
a flagon of mead and a golden goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon
which were broiled collops of meat. Then they ate the collops
and began to drink the mead. “Now,” said Kai, “it
is time for you to give me my story.” “Kynon,”
said Owain, “do thou pay to Kai the tale that is his due.”
“Truly,” said Kynon, “thou are older, and art a better
teller of tales, and hast seen more marvellous things than I; do thou
therefore pay Kai his tale.” “Begin thyself,”
quoth Owain, “with the best that thou knowest.” “I
will do so,” answered Kynon.
“I was the only son of my mother and father, and I was exceedingly
aspiring, and my daring was very great. I thought there was no
enterprise in the world too mighty for me, and after I had achieved
all the adventures that were in my own country, I equipped myself, and
set forth to journey through deserts and distant regions. And
at length it chanced that I came to the fairest valley in the world,
wherein were trees of equal growth; and a river ran through the valley,
and a path was by the side of the river. And I followed the path
until mid-day, and continued my journey along the remainder of the valley
until the evening; and at the extremity of a plain I came to a large
and lustrous Castle, at the foot of which was a torrent. And I
approached the Castle, and there I beheld two youths with yellow curling
hair, each with a frontlet of gold upon his head, and clad in a garment
of yellow satin, and they had gold clasps upon their insteps.
In the hand of each of them was an ivory bow, strung with the sinews
of the stag; and their arrows had shafts of the bone of the whale, and
were winged with peacock’s feathers; the shafts also had golden
heads. And they had daggers with blades of gold, and with hilts
of the bone of the whale. And they were shooting their daggers.
“And a little way from them I saw a man in the prime of life,
with his beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and a mantle of yellow satin;
and round the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. On his
feet were shoes of variegated leather, fastened by two bosses of gold.
When I saw him, I went towards him and saluted him, and such was his
courtesy that he no sooner received my greeting than he returned it.
And he went with me towards the Castle. Now there were no dwellers
in the Castle except those who were in one hall. And there I saw
four-and-twenty damsels, embroidering satin at a window. And this
I tell thee, Kai, that the least fair of them was fairer than the fairest
maid thou hast ever beheld in the Island of Britain, and the least lovely
of them was more lovely than Gwenhwyvar, the wife of Arthur, when she
has appeared loveliest at the Offering, on the day of the Nativity,
or at the feast of Easter. They rose up at my coming, and six
of them took my horse, and divested me of my armour; and six others
took my arms, and washed them in a vessel until they were perfectly
bright. And the third six spread cloths upon the tables and prepared
meat. And the fourth six took off my soiled garments, and placed
others upon me; namely, an under-vest and a doublet of fine linen, and
a robe, and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin with a broad gold
band upon the mantle. And they placed cushions both beneath and
around me, with coverings of red linen; and I sat down. Now the
six maidens who had taken my horse, unharnessed him, as well as if they
had been the best squires in the Island of Britain. Then, behold,
they brought bowls of silver wherein was water to wash, and towels of
linen, some green and some white; and I washed. And in a little
while the man sat down to the table. And I sat next to him, and
below me sat all the maidens, except those who waited on us. And
the table was of silver, and the cloths upon the table were of linen;
and no vessel was served upon the table that was not either of gold
or of silver, or of buffalo-horn. And our meat was brought to
us. And verily, Kai, I saw there every sort of meat and every
sort of liquor that I have ever seen elsewhere; but the meat and the
liquor were better served there than I have ever seen them in any other
place.
“Until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one of
the damsels spoke a single word to me; but when the man perceived that
it would be more agreeable to me to converse than to eat any more, he
began to inquire of me who I was. I said I was glad to find that
there was some one who would discourse with me, and that it was not
considered so great a crime at that Court for people to hold converse
together. ‘Chieftain,’ said the man, ‘we would have
talked to thee sooner, but we feared to disturb thee during thy repast;
now, however, we will discourse.’ Then I told the man who
I was, and what was the cause of my journey; and said that I was seeking
whether any one was superior to me, or whether I could gain the mastery
over all. The man looked upon me, and he smiled and said, ‘If
I did not fear to distress thee too much, I would show thee that which
thou seekest.’ Upon this I became anxious and sorrowful,
and when the man perceived it, he said, ‘If thou wouldest rather
that I should show thee thy disadvantage than thine advantage, I will
do so. Sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise early, and
take the road upwards through the valley until thou reachest the wood
through which thou camest hither. A little way within the wood
thou wilt meet with a road branching off to the right, by which thou
must proceed, until thou comest to a large sheltered glade with a mound
in the centre. And thou wilt see a black man of great stature
on the top of the mound. He is not smaller in size than two of
the men of this world. He has but one foot; and one eye in the
middle of his forehead. And he has a club of iron, and it is certain
that there are no two men in the world who would not find their burden
in that club. And he is not a comely man, but on the contrary
he is exceedingly ill-favoured; and he is the woodward of that wood.
And thou wilt see a thousand wild animals grazing around him.
Inquire of him the way out of the glade, and he will reply to thee briefly,
and will point out the road by which thou shalt find that which thou
art in quest of.’
“And long seemed that night to me. And the next morning
I arose and equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straight
through the valley to the wood; and I followed the cross-road which
the man had pointed out to me, till at length I arrived at the glade.
And there was I three times more astonished at the number of wild animals
that I beheld, than the man had said I should be. And the black
man was there, sitting upon the top of the mound. Huge of stature
as the man had told me that he was, I found him to exceed by far the
description he had given me of him. As for the iron club which
the man had told me was a burden for two men, I am certain, Kai, that
it would be a heavy weight for four warriors to lift; and this was in
the black man’s hand. And he only spoke to me in answer
to my questions. Then I asked him what power he held over those
animals. ‘I will show thee, little man,’ said he.
And he took his club in his hand, and with it he struck a stag a great
blow so that he brayed vehemently, and at his braying the animals came
together, as numerous as the stars in the sky, so that it was difficult
for me to find room in the glade to stand among them. There were
serpents, and dragons, and divers sorts of animals. And he looked
at them, and bade them go and feed; and they bowed their heads, and
did him homage as vassals to their lord.
“Then the black man said to me, ‘Seest thou now, little
man, what power I hold over these animals?’ Then I inquired
of him the way, and he became very rough in his manner to me; however,
he asked me whither I would go? And when I told him who I was
and what I sought, he directed me. ‘Take,’ said he,
‘that path that leads towards the head of the glade, and ascend
the wooded steep until thou comest to its summit; and there thou wilt
find an open space like to a large valley, and in the midst of it a
tall tree, whose branches are greener than the greenest pine-trees.
Under this tree is a fountain, and by the side of the fountain a marble
slab, and on the marble slab a silver bowl, attached by a chain of silver,
so that it may not be carried away. Take the bowl and throw a
bowlful of water upon the slab, and thou wilt hear a mighty peal of
thunder, so that thou wilt think that heaven and earth are trembling
with its fury. With the thunder there will come a shower so severe
that it will be scarce possible for thee to endure it and live.
And the shower will be of hailstones; and after the shower, the weather
will become fair, but every leaf that was upon the tree will have been
carried away by the shower. Then a flight of birds will come and
alight upon the tree; and in thine own country thou didst never hear
a strain so sweet as that which they will sing. And at the moment
thou art most delighted with the song of the birds, thou wilt hear a
murmuring and complaining coming towards thee along the valley.
And thou wilt see a knight upon a coal-black horse, clothed in black
velvet, and with a pennon of black linen upon his lance; and he will
ride unto thee to encounter thee with the utmost speed. If thou
fleest from him he will overtake thee, and if thou abidest there, as
sure as thou art a mounted knight, he will leave thee on foot.
And if thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thou needest not
seek it during the rest of thy life.’
“So I journeyed on, until I reached the summit of the steep, and
there I found everything as the black man had described it to me.
And I went up to the tree, and beneath it I saw the fountain, and by
its side the marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by the chain.
Then I took the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the slab; and
thereupon, behold, the thunder came, much more violent than the black
man had led me to expect; and after the thunder came the shower; and
of a truth I tell thee, Kai, that there is neither man nor beast that
can endure that shower and live. For not one of those hailstones
would be stopped, either by the flesh or by the skin, until it had reached
the bone. I turned my horse’s flank towards the shower,
and placed the beak of my shield over his head and neck, while I held
the upper part of it over my own head. And thus I withstood the
shower. When I looked on the tree there was not a single leaf
upon it, and then the sky became clear, and with that, behold the birds
lighted upon the tree, and sang. And truly, Kai, I never heard
any melody equal to that, either before or since. And when I was
most charmed with listening to the birds, lo, a murmuring voice was
heard through the valley, approaching me and saying, ‘Oh, Knight,
what has brought thee hither? What evil have I done to thee, that
thou shouldst act towards me and my possessions as thou hast this day?
Dost thou not know that the shower to-day has left in my dominions neither
man nor beast alive that was exposed to it?’ And thereupon,
behold, a Knight on a black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet,
and with a tabard of black linen about him. And we charged each
other, and, as the onset was furious, it was not long before I was overthrown.
Then the Knight passed the shaft of his lance through the bridle rein
of my horse, and rode off with the two horses, leaving me where I was.
And he did not even bestow so much notice upon me as to imprison me,
nor did he despoil me of my arms. So I returned along the road
by which I had come. And when I reached the glade where the black
man was, I confess to thee, Kai, it is a marvel that I did not melt
down into a liquid pool, through the shame that I felt at the black
man’s derision. And that night I came to the same castle
where I had spent the night preceding. And I was more agreeably
entertained that night than I had been the night before; and I was better
feasted, and I conversed freely with the inmates of the castle, and
none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain, neither did I
mention it to any; and I remained there that night. When I arose
on the morrow, I found, ready saddled, a dark bay palfrey, with nostrils
as red as scarlet; and after putting on my armour, and leaving there
my blessing, I returned to my own Court. And that horse I still
possess, and he is in the stable yonder. And I declare that I
would not part with him for the best palfrey in the Island of Britain.
“Now of a truth, Kai, no man ever before confessed to an adventure
so much to his own discredit, and verily it seems strange to me, that
neither before nor since have I heard of any person besides myself who
knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it should exist within
King Arthur’s dominions, without any other person lighting upon
it.”
“Now,” quoth Owain, “would it not be well to go and
endeavour to discover that place?”
“By the hand of my friend,” said Kai, “often dost
thou utter that with thy tongue which thou wouldst not make good with
thy deeds.”
“In very truth,” said Gwenhwyvar, “it were better
thou wert hanged, Kai, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a
man like Owain.”
“By the hand of my friend, good Lady,” said Kai, “thy
praise of Owain is not greater than mine.”
With that Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping a little.
“Yes, Lord,” answered Owain, “thou hast slept awhile.”
“Is it time for us to go to meat?”
“It is, Lord,” said Owain.
Then the horn for washing was sounded, and the King and all his household
sat down to eat. And when the meal was ended, Owain withdrew to
his lodging, and made ready his horse and his arms.
On the morrow, with the dawn of day, he put on his armour, and mounted
his charger, and travelled through distant lands and over desert mountains.
And at length he arrived at the valley which Kynon had described to
him; and he was certain that it was the same that he sought. And
journeying along the valley by the side of the river, he followed its
course till he came to the plain and within sight of the Castle.
When he approached the Castle, he saw the youths shooting their daggers
in the place where Kynon had seen them, and the yellow man, to whom
the Castle belonged, standing hard by. And no sooner had Owain
saluted the yellow man than he was saluted by him in return.
And he went forward towards the Castle, and there he saw the chamber,
and when he had entered the chamber he beheld the maidens working at
satin embroidery, in chairs of gold. And their beauty and their
comeliness seemed to Owain far greater than Kynon had represented to
him. And they rose to wait upon Owain, as they had done to Kynon,
and the meal which they set before him gave more satisfaction to Owain
than it had done to Kynon.
About the middle of the repast, the yellow man asked Owain the object
of his journey. And Owain made it known to him, and said, “I
am in quest of the Knight who guards the fountain.” Upon
this the yellow man smiled, and said that he was as loth to point out
that adventure to Owain as he had been to Kynon. However, he described
the whole to Owain, and they retired to rest.
The next morning Owain found his horse made ready for him by the damsels,
and he set forward and came to the glade where the black man was.
And the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful to Owain than
it had done to Kynon, and Owain asked of him his road, and he showed
it to him. And Owain followed the road, as Kynon had done, till
he came to the green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab
beside the fountain, with the bowl upon it. And Owain took the
bowl, and threw a bowlful of water upon the slab. And, lo, the
thunder was heard, and after the thunder came the shower, much more
violent than Kynon had described, and after the shower the sky became
bright. And when Owain looked at the tree, there was not one leaf
upon it. And immediately the birds came, and settled upon the
tree, and sang. And when their song was most pleasing to Owain,
he beheld a Knight coming towards him through the valley, and he prepared
to receive him; and encountered him violently. Having broken both
their lances, they drew their swords, and fought blade to blade.
Then Owain struck the Knight a blow through his helmet, head-piece and
visor, and through the skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until it wounded
the very brain. Then the black Knight felt that he had received
a mortal wound, upon which he turned his horse’s head, and fled.
And Owain pursued him, and followed close upon him, although he was
not near enough to strike him with his sword. Thereupon Owain
descried a vast and resplendent Castle. And they came to the Castle
gate. And the black Knight was allowed to enter, and the portcullis
was let fall upon Owain; and it struck his horse behind the saddle,
and cut him in two, and carried away the rowels of the spurs that were
upon Owain’s heels. And the portcullis descended to the
floor. And the rowels of the spurs and part of the horse were
without, and Owain with the other part of the horse remained between
the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so that Owain could not
go thence; and Owain was in a perplexing situation. And while
he was in this state, he could see through an aperture in the gate,
a street facing him, with a row of houses on each side. And he
beheld a maiden, with yellow curling hair, and a frontlet of gold upon
her head; and she was clad in a dress of yellow satin, and on her feet
were shoes of variegated leather. And she approached the gate,
and desired that it should be opened. “Heaven knows, Lady,”
said Owain, “it is no more possible for me to open to thee from
hence, than it is for thee to set me free.” “Truly,”
said the damsel, “it is very sad that thou canst not be released,
and every woman ought to succour thee, for I never saw one more faithful
in the service of ladies than thou. As a friend thou art the most
sincere, and as a lover the most devoted. Therefore,” quoth
she, “whatever is in my power to do for thy release, I will do
it. Take this ring and put it on thy finger, with the stone inside
thy hand; and close thy hand upon the stone. And as long as thou
concealest it, it will conceal thee. When they have consulted
together, they will come forth to fetch thee, in order to put thee to
death; and they will be much grieved that they cannot find thee.
And I will await thee on the horseblock yonder; and thou wilt be able
to see me, though I cannot see thee; therefore come and place thy hand
upon my shoulder, that I may know that thou art near me. And by
the way that I go hence, do thou accompany me.”
Then she went away from Owain, and he did all that the maiden had told
him. And the people of the Castle came to seek Owain, to put him
to death, and when they found nothing but the half of his horse, they
were sorely grieved.
And Owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, and placed
his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off, and Owain followed
her, until they came to the door of a large and beautiful chamber, and
the maiden opened it, and they went in, and closed the door. And
Owain looked around the chamber, and behold there was not even a single
nail in it that was not painted with gorgeous colours; and there was
not a single panel that had not sundry images in gold portrayed upon
it.
The maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, and put
a towel of white linen on her shoulder, and gave Owain water to wash.
Then she placed before him a silver table, inlaid with gold; upon which
was a cloth of yellow linen; and she brought him food. And of
a truth, Owain had never seen any kind of meat that was not there in
abundance, but it was better cooked there than he had ever found it
in any other place. Nor did he ever see so excellent a display
of meat and drink, as there. And there was not one vessel from
which he was served, that was not of gold or of silver. And Owain
ate and drank, until late in the afternoon, when lo, they heard a mighty
clamour in the Castle; and Owain asked the maiden what that outcry was.
“They are administering extreme unction,” said she, “to
the Nobleman who owns the Castle.” And Owain went to sleep.
The couch which the maiden had prepared for him was meet for Arthur
himself; it was of scarlet, and fur, and satin, and sendal, and fine
linen. In the middle of the night they heard a woful outcry.
“What outcry again is this?” said Owain. “The
Nobleman who owned the Castle is now dead,” said the maiden.
And a little after daybreak, they heard an exceeding loud clamour and
wailing. And Owain asked the maiden what was the cause of it.
“They are bearing to the church the body of the Nobleman who owned
the Castle.”
And Owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a window of the chamber,
and looked towards the Castle; and he could see neither the bounds,
nor the extent of the hosts that filled the streets. And they
were fully armed; and a vast number of women were with them, both on
horseback and on foot; and all the ecclesiastics in the city, singing.
And it seemed to Owain that the sky resounded with the vehemence of
their cries, and with the noise of the trumpets, and with the singing
of the ecclesiastics. In the midst of the throng, he beheld the
bier, over which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers were burning
beside and around it, and none that supported the bier was lower in
rank than a powerful Baron.
Never did Owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with satin, and silk,
and sendal. And following the train, he beheld a lady with yellow
hair falling over her shoulders, and stained with blood; and about her
a dress of yellow satin, which was torn. Upon her feet were shoes
of variegated leather. And it was a marvel that the ends of her
fingers were not bruised, from the violence with which she smote her
hands together. Truly she would have been the fairest lady Owain
ever saw, had she been in her usual guise. And her cry was louder
than the shout of the men, or the clamour of the trumpets. No
sooner had he beheld the lady, than he became inflamed with her love,
so that it took entire possession of him.
Then he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. “Heaven
knows,” replied the maiden, “she may be said to be the fairest,
and the most chaste, and the most liberal, and the wisest, and the most
noble of women. And she is my mistress; and she is called the
Countess of the Fountain, the wife of him whom thou didst slay yesterday.”
“Verily,” said Owain, “she is the woman that I love
best.” “Verily,” said the maiden, “she
shall also love thee not a little.”
And with that the maid arose, and kindled a fire, and filled a pot with
water, and placed it to warm; and she brought a towel of white linen,
and placed it around Owain’s neck; and she took a goblet of ivory,
and a silver basin, and filled them with warm water, wherewith she washed
Owain’s head. Then she opened a wooden casket, and drew
forth a razor, whose haft was of ivory, and upon which were two rivets
of gold. And she shaved his beard, and she dried his head, and
his throat, with the towel. Then she rose up from before Owain,
and brought him to eat. And truly Owain had never so good a meal,
nor was he ever so well served.
When he had finished his repast, the maiden arranged his couch.
“Come here,” said she, “and sleep, and I will go and
woo for thee.” And Owain went to sleep, and the maiden shut
the door of the chamber after her, and went towards the Castle.
When she came there, she found nothing but mourning, and sorrow; and
the Countess in her chamber could not bear the sight of any one through
grief. Luned came and saluted her, but the Countess answered her
not. And the maiden bent down towards her, and said, “What
aileth thee, that thou answerest no one to-day?” “Luned,”
said the Countess, “what change hath befallen thee, that thou
hast not come to visit me in my grief? It was wrong in thee, and
I having made thee rich; it was wrong in thee that thou didst not come
to see me in my distress. That was wrong in thee.”
“Truly,” said Luned, “I thought thy good sense was
greater than I find it to be. Is it well for thee to mourn after
that good man, or for anything else, that thou canst not have?”
“I declare to heaven,” said the Countess, “that in
the whole world there is not a man equal to him.” “Not
so,” said Luned, “for an ugly man would be as good as, or
better than he.” “I declare to heaven,” said
the Countess, “that were it not repugnant to me to cause to be
put to death one whom I have brought up, I would have thee executed,
for making such a comparison to me. As it is, I will banish thee.”
“I am glad,” said Luned, “that thou hast no other
cause to do so, than that I would have been of service to thee where
thou didst not know what was to thine advantage. And henceforth
evil betide whichever of us shall make the first advance towards reconciliation
to the other; whether I should seek an invitation from thee, or thou
of thine own accord shouldst send to invite me.”
With that Luned went forth: and the Countess arose and followed her
to the door of the chamber, and began coughing loudly. And when
Luned looked back, the Countess beckoned to her; and she returned to
the Countess. “In truth,” said the Countess, “evil
is thy disposition; but if thou knowest what is to my advantage, declare
it to me.” “I will do so,” quoth she.
“Thou knowest that except by warfare and arms it is impossible
for thee to preserve thy possessions; delay not, therefore, to seek
some one who can defend them.” “And how can I do that?”
said the Countess. “I will tell thee,” said Luned.
“Unless thou canst defend the fountain, thou canst not maintain
thy dominions; and no one can defend the fountain, except it be a knight
of Arthur’s household; and I will go to Arthur’s Court,
and ill betide me, if I return thence without a warrior who can guard
the fountain as well as, or even better than, he who defended it formerly.”
“That will be hard to perform,” said the Countess.
“Go, however, and make proof of that which thou hast promised.”
Luned set out, under the pretence of going to Arthur’s Court;
but she went back to the chamber where she had left Owain; and she tarried
there with him as long as it might have taken her to have travelled
to the Court of King Arthur. And at the end of that time, she
apparelled herself and went to visit the Countess. And the Countess
was much rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired what news she brought
from the Court. “I bring thee the best of news,” said
Luned, “for I have compassed the object of my mission. When
wilt thou, that I should present to thee the chieftain who has come
with me hither?” “Bring him here to visit me to-morrow,
at mid-day,” said the Countess, “and I will cause the town
to be assembled by that time.”
And Luned returned home. And the next day, at noon, Owain arrayed
himself in a coat, and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, upon
which was a broad band of gold lace; and on his feet were high shoes
of variegated leather, which were fastened by golden clasps, in the
form of lions. And they proceeded to the chamber of the Countess.
Right glad was the Countess of their coming, and she gazed steadfastly
upon Owain, and said, “Luned, this knight has not the look of
a traveller.” “What harm is there in that, lady?”
said Luned. “I am certain,” said the Countess, “that
no other man than this chased the soul from the body of my lord.”
“So much the better for thee, lady,” said Luned, “for
had he not been stronger than thy lord he could not have deprived him
of life. There is no remedy for that which is past, be it as it
may.” “Go back to thine abode,” said the Countess,
“and I will take counsel.”
The next day the Countess caused all her subjects to assemble, and showed
them that her earldom was left defenceless, and that it could not be
protected but with horse and arms, and military skill. “Therefore,”
said she, “this is what I offer for your choice: either let one
of you take me, or give your consent for me to take a husband from elsewhere
to defend my dominions.”
So they came to the determination that it was better that she should
have permission to marry some one from elsewhere; and, thereupon, she
sent for the bishops and archbishops to celebrate her nuptials with
Owain. And the men of the earldom did Owain homage.
And Owain defended the Fountain with lance and sword. And this
is the manner in which he defended it: Whensoever a knight came there
he overthrew him, and sold him for his full worth, and what he thus
gained he divided among his barons and his knights; and no man in the
whole world could be more beloved than he was by his subjects.
And it was thus for the space of three years.
It befell that as Gwalchmai went forth one day with King Arthur, he
perceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. And Gwalchmai was
much grieved to see Arthur in this state; and he questioned him, saying,
“Oh, my lord! what has befallen thee?” “In sooth,
Gwalchmai,” said Arthur, “I am grieved concerning Owain,
whom I have lost these three years, and I shall certainly die if the
fourth year passes without my seeing him. Now I am sure, that
it is through the tale which Kynon the son of Clydno related, that I
have lost Owain.” “There is no need for thee,”
said Gwalchmai, “to summon to arms thy whole dominions on this
account, for thou thyself and the men of thy household will be able
to avenge Owain, if he be slain; or to set him free, if he be in prison;
and, if alive, to bring him back with thee.” And it was
settled according to what Gwalchmai had said.
Then Arthur and the men of his household prepared to go and seek Owain,
and their number was three thousand, besides their attendants.
And Kynon the son of Clydno acted as their guide. And Arthur came
to the Castle where Kynon had been before, and when he came there the
youths were shooting in the same place, and the yellow man was standing
hard by. When the yellow man saw Arthur he greeted him, and invited
him to the Castle; and Arthur accepted his invitation, and they entered
the Castle together. And great as was the number of his retinue,
their presence was scarcely observed in the Castle, so vast was its
extent. And the maidens rose up to wait on them, and the service
of the maidens appeared to them all to excel any attendance they had
ever met with; and even the pages who had charge of the horses were
no worse served, that night, than Arthur himself would have been in
his own palace.
The next morning Arthur set out thence, with Kynon for his guide, and
came to the place where the black man was. And the stature of
the black man was more surprising to Arthur than it had been represented
to him. And they came to the top of the wooded steep, and traversed
the valley till they reached the green tree, where they saw the fountain,
and the bowl, and the slab. And upon that, Kai came to Arthur
and spoke to him. “My lord,” said he, “I know
the meaning of all this, and my request is, that thou wilt permit me
to throw the water on the slab, and to receive the first adventure that
may befall.” And Arthur gave him leave.
Then Kai threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately there
came the thunder, and after the thunder the shower. And such a
thunderstorm they had never known before, and many of the attendants
who were in Arthur’s train were killed by the shower. After
the shower had ceased the sky became clear; and on looking at the tree
they beheld it completely leafless. Then the birds descended upon
the tree, and the song of the birds was far sweeter than any strain
they had ever heard before. Then they beheld a knight on a coal-black
horse, clothed in black satin, coming rapidly towards them. And
Kai met him and encountered him, and it was not long before Kai was
overthrown. And the knight withdrew, and Arthur and his host encamped
for the night.
And when they arose in the morning, they perceived the signal of combat
upon the lance of the Knight. And Kai came to Arthur, and spoke
to him: “My lord,” said he, “though I was overthrown
yesterday, if it seem good to thee, I would gladly meet the Knight again
to-day.” “Thou mayst do so,” said Arthur.
And Kai went towards the Knight. And on the spot he overthrew
Kai, and struck him with the head of his lance in the forehead, so that
it broke his helmet and the head-piece, and pierced the skin and the
flesh, the breadth of the spear-head, even to the bone. And Kai
returned to his companions.
After this, all the household of Arthur went forth, one after the other,
to combat the Knight, until there was not one that was not overthrown
by him, except Arthur and Gwalchmai. And Arthur armed himself
to encounter the Knight. “Oh, my lord,” said Gwalchmai,
“permit me to fight with him first.” And Arthur permitted
him. And he went forth to meet the Knight, having over himself
and his horse a satin robe of honour which had been sent him by the
daughter of the Earl of Rhangyw, and in this dress he was not known
by any of the host. And they charged each other, and fought all
that day until the evening, and neither of them was able to unhorse
the other.
The next day they fought with strong lances, and neither of them could
obtain the mastery.
And the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. And
they were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even until noon.
And they gave each other such a shock that the girths of their horses
were broken, so that they fell over their horses’ cruppers to
the ground. And they rose up speedily, and drew their swords,
and resumed the combat; and the multitude that witnessed their encounter
felt assured that they had never before seen two men so valiant or so
powerful. And had it been midnight, it would have been light from
the fire that flashed from their weapons. And the Knight gave
Gwalchmai a blow that turned his helmet from off his face, so that the
Knight knew that it was Gwalchmai. Then Owain said, “My
lord Gwalchmai, I did not know thee for my cousin, owing to the robe
of honour that enveloped thee; take my sword and my arms.”
Said Gwalchmai, “Thou, Owain, art the victor; take thou my sword.”
And with that Arthur saw that they were conversing, and advanced towards
them. “My lord Arthur,” said Gwalchmai, “here
is Owain, who has vanquished me, and will not take my arms.”
“My lord,” said Owain, “it is he that has vanquished
me, and he will not take my sword.” “Give me your
swords,” said Arthur, “and then neither of you has vanquished
the other.” Then Owain put his arms around Arthur’s
neck, and they embraced. And all the host hurried forward to see
Owain, and to embrace him; and there was nigh being a loss of life,
so great was the press.
And they retired that night, and the next day Arthur prepared to depart.
“My lord,” said Owain, “this is not well of thee;
for I have been absent from thee these three years, and during all that
time, up to this very day, I have been preparing a banquet for thee,
knowing that thou wouldst come to seek me. Tarry with me, therefore,
until thou and thy attendants have recovered the fatigues of the journey,
and have been anointed.”
And they all proceeded to the Castle of the Countess of the Fountain,
and the banquet which had been three years preparing was consumed in
three months. Never had they a more delicious or agreeable banquet.
And Arthur prepared to depart. Then he sent an embassy to the
Countess, to beseech her to permit Owain to go with him for the space
of three months, that he might show him to the nobles and the fair dames
of the Island of Britain. And the Countess gave her consent, although
it was very painful to her. So Owain came with Arthur to the Island
of Britain. And when he was once more amongst his kindred and
friends, he remained three years, instead of three months, with them.
And as Owain one day sat at meat, in the city of Caerlleon upon Usk,
behold a damsel entered upon a bay horse, with a curling mane and covered
with foam, and the bridle and so much as was seen of the saddle were
of gold. And the damsel was arrayed in a dress of yellow satin.
And she came up to Owain, and took the ring from off his hand.
“Thus,” said she, “shall be treated the deceiver,
the traitor, the faithless, the disgraced, and the beardless.”
And she turned her horse’s head and departed.
Then his adventure came to Owain’s remembrance, and he was sorrowful;
and having finished eating he went to his own abode and made preparations
that night. And the next day he arose but did not go to the Court,
but wandered to the distant parts of the earth and to uncultivated mountains.
And he remained there until all his apparel was worn out, and his body
was wasted away, and his hair was grown long. And he went about
with the wild beasts and fed with them, until they became familiar with
him; but at length he grew so weak that he could no longer bear them
company. Then he descended from the mountains to the valley, and
came to a park that was the fairest in the world, and belonged to a
widowed Countess.
One day the Countess and her maidens went forth to walk by a lake, that
was in the middle of the park. And they saw the form of a man.
And they were terrified. Nevertheless they went near him, and
touched him, and looked at him. And they saw that there was life
in him, though he was exhausted by the heat of the sun. And the
Countess returned to the Castle, and took a flask full of precious ointment,
and gave it to one of her maidens. “Go with this,”
said she, “and take with thee yonder horse and clothing, and place
them near the man we saw just now. And anoint him with this balsam,
near his heart; and if there is life in him, he will arise through the
efficacy of this balsam. Then watch what he will do.”
And the maiden departed from her, and poured the whole of the balsam
upon Owain, and left the horse and the garments hard by, and went a
little way off, and hid herself to watch him. In a short time
she saw him begin to move his arms; and he rose up, and looked at his
person, and became ashamed of the unseemliness of his appearance.
Then he perceived the horse and the garments that were near him.
And he crept forward till he was able to draw the garments to him from
off the saddle. And he clothed himself, and with difficulty mounted
the horse. Then the damsel discovered herself to him, and saluted
him. And he was rejoiced when he saw her, and inquired of her,
what land and what territory that was. “Truly,” said
the maiden, “a widowed Countess owns yonder Castle; at the death
of her husband, he left her two Earldoms, but at this day she has but
this one dwelling that has not been wrested from her by a young Earl,
who is her neighbour, because she refused to become his wife.”
“That is pity,” said Owain. And he and the maiden
proceeded to the Castle; and he alighted there, and the maiden conducted
him to a pleasant chamber, and kindled a fire and left him.
And the maiden came to the Countess, and gave the flask into her hand.
“Ha! maiden,” said the Countess, “where is all the
balsam?” “Have I not used it all?” said she.
“Oh, maiden,” said the Countess, “I cannot easily
forgive thee this; it is sad for me to have wasted seven-score pounds’
worth of precious ointment upon a stranger whom I know not. However,
maiden, wait thou upon him, until he is quite recovered.”
And the maiden did so, and furnished him with meat and drink, and fire,
and lodging, and medicaments, until he was well again. And in
three months he was restored to his former guise, and became even more
comely than he had ever been before.
One day Owain heard a great tumult, and a sound of arms in the Castle,
and he inquired of the maiden the cause thereof. “The Earl,”
said she, “whom I mentioned to thee, has come before the Castle,
with a numerous army, to subdue the Countess.” And Owain
inquired of her whether the Countess had a horse and arms in her possession.
“She has the best in the world,” said the maiden.
“Wilt thou go and request the loan of a horse and arms for me,”
said Owain, “that I may go and look at this army?”
“I will,” said the maiden.
And she came to the Countess, and told her what Owain had said.
And the Countess laughed. “Truly,” said she, “I
will even give him a horse and arms for ever; such a horse and such
arms had he never yet, and I am glad that they should be taken by him
to-day, lest my enemies should have them against my will to-morrow.
Yet I know not what he would do with them.”
The Countess bade them bring out a beautiful black steed, upon which
was a beechen saddle, and a suit of armour, for man and horse.
And Owain armed himself, and mounted the horse, and went forth, attended
by two pages completely equipped, with horses and arms. And when
they came near to the Earl’s army, they could see neither its
extent nor its extremity. And Owain asked the pages in which troop
the Earl was. “In yonder troop,” said they, “in
which are four yellow standards. Two of them are before, and two
behind him.” “Now,” said Owain, “do you
return and await me near the portal of the Castle.” So they
returned, and Owain pressed forward until he met the Earl. And
Owain drew him completely out of his saddle, and turned his horse’s
head towards the Castle, and though it was with difficulty, he brought
the Earl to the portal, where the pages awaited him. And in they
came. And Owain presented the Earl as a gift to the Countess.
And said to her, “Behold a requital to thee for thy blessed balsam.”
The army encamped around the Castle. And the Earl restored to
the Countess the two Earldoms he had taken from her, as a ransom for
his life; and for his freedom he gave her the half of his own dominions,
and all his gold, and his silver, and his jewels, besides hostages.
And Owain took his departure. And the Countess and all her subjects
besought him to remain, but Owain chose rather to wander through distant
lands and deserts.
And as he journeyed, he heard a loud yelling in a wood. And it
was repeated a second and a third time. And Owain went towards
the spot, and beheld a huge craggy mound, in the middle of the wood;
on the side of which was a grey rock. And there was a cleft in
the rock, and a serpent was within the cleft. And near the rock
stood a black lion, and every time the lion sought to go thence, the
serpent darted towards him to attack him. And Owain unsheathed
his sword, and drew near to the rock; and as the serpent sprang out,
he struck him with his sword, and cut him in two. And he dried
his sword, and went on his way, as before. But behold the lion
followed him, and played about him, as though it had been a greyhound
that he had reared.
They proceeded thus throughout the day, until the evening. And
when it was time for Owain to take his rest, he dismounted, and turned
his horse loose in a flat and wooded meadow. And he struck fire,
and when the fire was kindled, the lion brought him fuel enough to last
for three nights. And the lion disappeared. And presently
the lion returned, bearing a fine large roebuck. And he threw
it down before Owain, who went towards the fire with it.
And Owain took the roebuck, and skinned it, and placed collops of its
flesh upon skewers, around the fire. The rest of the buck he gave
to the lion to devour. While he was doing this, he heard a deep
sigh near him, and a second, and a third. And Owain called out
to know whether the sigh he heard proceeded from a mortal; and he received
answer that it did. “Who art thou?” said Owain.
“Truly,” said the voice, “I am Luned, the handmaiden
of the Countess of the Fountain.” “And what dost thou
here?” said Owain. “I am imprisoned,” said she,
“on account of the knight who came from Arthur’s Court,
and married the Countess. And he stayed a short time with her,
but he afterwards departed for the Court of Arthur, and has not returned
since. And he was the friend I loved best in the world.
And two of the pages in the Countess’s chamber traduced him, and
called him a deceiver. And I told them that they two were not
a match for him alone. So they imprisoned me in the stone vault,
and said that I should be put to death, unless he came himself to deliver
me, by a certain day; and that is no further off than the day after
to-morrow. And I have no one to send to seek him for me.
And his name is Owain the son of Urien.” “And art
thou certain that if that knight knew all this, he would come to thy
rescue?” “I am most certain of it,” said she.
When the collops were cooked, Owain divided them into two parts, between
himself and the maiden; and after they had eaten, they talked together,
until the day dawned. And the next morning Owain inquired of the
damsel, if there was any place where he could get food and entertainment
for that night. “There is, Lord,” said she; “cross
over yonder, and go along the side of the river, and in a short time
thou wilt see a great Castle, in which are many towers, and the Earl
who owns that Castle is the most hospitable man in the world.
There thou mayst spend the night.”
Never did sentinel keep stricter watch over his lord, than the lion
that night over Owain.
And Owain accoutred his horse, and passed across by the ford, and came
in sight of the Castle. And he entered it, and was honourably
received. And his horse was well cared for, and plenty of fodder
was placed before him. Then the lion went and lay down in the
horse’s manger; so that none of the people of the Castle dared
to approach him. The treatment which Owain met with there was
such as he had never known elsewhere, for every one was as sorrowful
as though death had been upon him. And they went to meat; and
the Earl sat upon one side of Owain, and on the other side his only
daughter. And Owain had never seen any more lovely than she.
Then the lion came and placed himself between Owain’s feet, and
he fed him with every kind of food that he took himself. And he
never saw anything equal to the sadness of the people.
In the middle of the repast the Earl began to bid Owain welcome.
“Then,” said Owain, “behold, it is time for thee to
be cheerful.” “Heaven knows,” said the Earl,
“that it is not thy coming that makes us sorrowful, but we have
cause enough for sadness and care.” “What is that?”
said Owain. “I have two sons,” replied the Earl, “and
yesterday they went to the mountains to hunt. Now there is on
the mountain a monster who kills men and devours them, and he seized
my sons; and to-morrow is the time he has fixed to be here, and he threatens
that he will then slay my sons before my eyes, unless I will deliver
into his hands this my daughter. He has the form of a man, but
in stature he is no less than a giant.”
“Truly,” said Owain, “that is lamentable. And
which wilt thou do?” “Heaven knows,” said the
Earl, “it will be better that my sons should be slain against
my will, than that I should voluntarily give up my daughter to him to
ill-treat and destroy.” Then they talked about other things,
and Owain stayed there that night.
The next morning they heard an exceeding great clamour, which was caused
by the coming of the giant with the two youths. And the Earl was
anxious both to protect his Castle and to release his two sons.
Then Owain put on his armour and went forth to encounter the giant,
and the lion followed him. And when the giant saw that Owain was
armed, he rushed towards him and attacked him. And the lion fought
with the giant much more fiercely than Owain did. “Truly,”
said the giant, “I should find no difficulty in fighting with
thee, were it not for the animal that is with thee.” Upon
that Owain took the lion back to the Castle and shut the gate upon him,
and then he returned to fight the giant, as before. And the lion
roared very loud, for he heard that it went hard with Owain. And
he climbed up till he reached the top of the Earl’s hall, and
thence he got to the top of the Castle, and he sprang down from the
walls and went and joined Owain. And the lion gave the giant a
stroke with his paw, which tore him from his shoulder to his hip, and
his heart was laid bare, and the giant fell down dead. Then Owain
restored the two youths to their father.
The Earl besought Owain to remain with him, and he would not, but set
forward towards the meadow where Luned was. And when he came there
he saw a great fire kindled, and two youths with beautiful curling auburn
hair were leading the maiden to cast her into the fire. And Owain
asked them what charge they had against her. And they told him
of the compact that was between them, as the maiden had done the night
before. “And,” said they, “Owain has failed
her, therefore we are taking her to be burnt.” “Truly,”
said Owain, “he is a good knight, and if he knew that the maiden
was in such peril, I marvel that he came not to her rescue; but if you
will accept me in his stead, I will do battle with you.”
“We will,” said the youths, “by him who made us.”
And they attacked Owain, and he was hard beset by them. And with
that the lion came to Owain’s assistance, and they two got the
better of the young men. And they said to him, “Chieftain,
it was not agreed that we should fight save with thyself alone, and
it is harder for us to contend with yonder animal than with thee.”
And Owain put the lion in the place where the maiden had been imprisoned,
and blocked up the door with stones, and he went to fight with the young
men, as before. But Owain had not his usual strength, and the
two youths pressed hard upon him. And the lion roared incessantly
at seeing Owain in trouble; and he burst through the wall until he found
a way out, and rushed upon the young men, and instantly slew them.
So Luned was saved from being burned.
Then Owain returned with Luned to the dominions of the Countess of the
Fountain. And when he went thence he took the Countess with him
to Arthur’s Court, and she was his wife as long as she lived.
And then he took the road that led to the Court of the savage black
man, and Owain fought with him, and the lion did not quit Owain until
he had vanquished him. And when he reached the Court of the savage
black man he entered the hall, and beheld four-and-twenty ladies, the
fairest that could be seen. And the garments which they had on
were not worth four-and twenty pence, and they were as sorrowful as
death. And Owain asked them the cause of their sadness.
And they said, “We are the daughters of Earls, and we all came
here with our husbands, whom we dearly loved. And we were received
with honour and rejoicing. And we were thrown into a state of
stupor, and while we were thus, the demon who owns this Castle slew
all our husbands, and took from us our horses, and our raiment, and
our gold, and our silver; and the corpses of our husbands are still
in this house, and many others with them. And this, Chieftain,
is the cause of our grief, and we are sorry that thou art come hither,
lest harm should befall thee.”
And Owain was grieved when he heard this. And he went forth from
the Castle, and he beheld a knight approaching him, who saluted him
in a friendly and cheerful manner, as if he had been a brother.
And this was the savage black man. “In very sooth,”
said Owain, “it is not to seek thy friendship that I am here.”
“In sooth,” said he, “thou shalt not find it then.”
And with that they charged each other, and fought furiously. And
Owain overcame him, and bound his hands behind his back. Then
the black savage besought Owain to spare his life, and spoke thus: “My
lord Owain,” said he, “it was foretold that thou shouldst
come hither and vanquish me, and thou hast done so. I was a robber
here, and my house was a house of spoil; but grant me my life, and I
will become the keeper of an Hospice, and I will maintain this house
as an Hospice for weak and for strong, as long as I live, for the good
of thy soul.” And Owain accepted this proposal of him, and
remained there that night.
And the next day he took the four-and-twenty ladies, and their horses,
and their raiment, and what they possessed of goods and jewels, and
proceeded with them to Arthur’s Court. And if Arthur was
rejoiced when he saw him, after he had lost him the first time, his
joy was now much greater. And of those ladies, such as wished
to remain in Arthur’s Court remained there, and such as wished
to depart departed.
And thenceforward Owain dwelt at Arthur’s Court greatly beloved,
as the head of his household, until he went away with his followers;
and those were the army of three hundred ravens which Kenverchyn had
left him. And wherever Owain went with these he was victorious.
And this is the tale of THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN.
PEREDUR THE SON OF EVRAWC
Earl Evrawc owned the Earldom of the North. And he had seven sons.
And Evrawc maintained himself not so much by his own possessions as
by attending tournaments, and wars, and combats. And, as it often
befalls those who join in encounters and wars, he was slain, and six
of his sons likewise. Now the name of his seventh son was Peredur,
and he was the youngest of them. And he was not of an age to go
to wars and encounters, otherwise he might have been slain as well as
his father and brothers. His mother was a scheming and thoughtful
woman, and she was very solicitous concerning this her only son and
his possessions. So she took counsel with herself to leave the
inhabited country, and to flee to the deserts and unfrequented wildernesses.
And she permitted none to bear her company thither but women and boys,
and spiritless men, who were both unaccustomed and unequal to war and
fighting. And none dared to bring either horses or arms where
her son was, lest he should set his mind upon them. And the youth
went daily to divert himself in the forest, by flinging sticks and staves.
And one day he saw his mother’s flock of goats, and near the goats
two hinds were standing. And he marvelled greatly that these two
should be without horns, while the others had them. And he thought
they had long run wild, and on that account they had lost their horns.
And by activity and swiftness of foot, he drove the hinds and the goats
together into the house which there was for the goats at the extremity
of the forest. Then Peredur returned to his mother. “Ah,
mother,” said he, “a marvellous thing have I seen in the
wood; two of thy goats have run wild, and lost their horns, through
their having been so long missing in the wood. And no man had
ever more trouble than I had to drive them in.” Then they
all arose and went to see. And when they beheld the hinds they
were greatly astonished.
And one day they saw three knights coming along the horse-road on the
borders of the forest. And the three knights were Gwalchmai the
son of Gwyar, and Geneir Gwystyl, and Owain the son of Urien.
And Owain kept on the track of the knight who had divided the apples
in Arthur’s Court, whom they were in pursuit of. “Mother,”
said Peredur, “what are those yonder?” “They
are angels, my son,” said she. “By my faith,”
said Peredur, “I will go and become an angel with them.”
And Peredur went to the road, and met them. “Tell me, good
soul,” said Owain, “sawest thou a knight pass this way,
either to-day or yesterday?” “I know not,” answered
he, “what a knight is.” “Such an one as I am,”
said Owain. “If thou wilt tell me what I ask thee, I will
tell thee that which thou askest me.” “Gladly will
I do so,” replied Owain. “What is this?” demanded
Peredur, concerning the saddle. “It is a saddle,”
said Owain. Then he asked about all the accoutrements which he
saw upon the men, and the horses, and the arms, and what they were for,
and how they were used. And Owain shewed him all these things
fully, and told him what use was made of them. “Go forward,”
said Peredur, “for I saw such an one as thou inquirest for, and
I will follow thee.”
Then Peredur returned to his mother and her company, and he said to
her, “Mother, those were not angels, but honourable knights.”
Then his mother swooned away. And Peredur went to the place where
they kept the horses that carried firewood, and that brought meat and
drink from the inhabited country to the desert. And he took a
bony piebald horse, which seemed to him the strongest of them.
And he pressed a pack into the form of a saddle, and with twisted twigs
he imitated the trappings which he had seen upon the horses. And
when Peredur came again to his mother, the Countess had recovered from
her swoon. “My son,” said she, “desirest thou
to ride forth?” “Yes, with thy leave,” said
he. “Wait, then, that I may counsel thee before thou goest.”
“Willingly,” he answered; “speak quickly.”
“Go forward, then,” she said, “to the Court of Arthur,
where there are the best, and the boldest, and the most bountiful of
men. And wherever thou seest a church, repeat there thy Paternoster
unto it. And if thou see meat and drink, and have need of them,
and none have the kindness or the courtesy to give them to thee, take
them thyself. If thou hear an outcry, proceed towards it, especially
if it be the outcry of a woman. If thou see a fair jewel, possess
thyself of it, and give it to another, for thus thou shalt obtain praise.
If thou see a fair woman, pay thy court to her, whether she will or
no; for thus thou wilt render thyself a better and more esteemed man
than thou wast before.”
After this discourse, Peredur mounted the horse, and taking a handful
of sharp-pointed forks in his hand, he rode forth. And he journeyed
two days and two nights in the woody wildernesses, and in desert places,
without food and without drink. And then he came to a vast wild
wood, and far within the wood he saw a fair even glade, and in the glade
he saw a tent, and the tent seeming to him to be a church, he repeated
his Paternoster to it. And he went towards it, and the door of
the tent was open. And a golden chair was near the door.
And on the chair sat a lovely auburn-haired maiden, with a golden frontlet
on her forehead, and sparkling stones in the frontlet, and with a large
gold ring on her hand. And Peredur dismounted, and entered the
tent. And the maiden was glad at his coming, and bade him welcome.
At the entrance of the tent he saw food, and two flasks full of wine,
and two loaves of fine wheaten flour, and collops of the flesh of the
wild boar. “My mother told me,” said Peredur, “wheresoever
I saw meat and drink, to take it.” “Take the meat
and welcome, chieftain,” said she. So Peredur took half
of the meat and of the liquor himself, and left the rest to the maiden.
And when Peredur had finished eating, he bent upon his knee before the
maiden. “My mother,” said he, “told me, wheresoever
I saw a fair jewel, to take it.” “Do so, my soul,”
said she. So Peredur took the ring. And he mounted his horse,
and proceeded on his journey.
After this, behold the knight came to whom the tent belonged; and he
was the Lord of the Glade. And he saw the track of the horse,
and he said to the maiden, “Tell me who has been here since I
departed.” “A man,” said she, “of wonderful
demeanour.” And she described to him what Peredur’s
appearance and conduct had been. “Tell me,” said he,
“did he offer thee any wrong?” “No,” answered
the maiden, “by my faith, he harmed me not.” “By
my faith, I do not believe thee; and until I can meet with him, and
revenge the insult he has done me, and wreak my vengeance upon him,
thou shalt not remain two nights in the same house.” And
the knight arose, and set forth to seek Peredur.
Meanwhile Peredur journeyed on towards Arthur’s Court. And
before he reached it, another knight had been there, who gave a ring
of thick gold at the door of the gate for holding his horse, and went
into the Hall where Arthur and his household, and Gwenhwyvar and her
maidens, were assembled. And the page of the chamber was serving
Gwenhwyvar with a golden goblet. Then the knight dashed the liquor
that was therein upon her face, and upon her stomacher, and gave her
a violent blow on the face, and said, “If any have the boldness
to dispute this goblet with me, and to revenge the insult to Gwenhwyvar,
let him follow me to the meadow, and there I will await him.”
So the knight took his horse, and rode to the meadow. And all
the household hung down their heads, lest any of them should be requested
to go and avenge the insult to Gwenhwyvar. For it seemed to them,
that no one would have ventured on so daring an outrage, unless he possessed
such powers, through magic or charms, that none could be able to take
vengeance upon him. Then, behold, Peredur entered the Hall, upon
the bony piebald horse, with the uncouth trappings upon it; and in this
way he traversed the whole length of the Hall. In the centre of
the Hall stood Kai. “Tell me, tall man,” said Peredur,
“is that Arthur yonder?” “What wouldest thou
with Arthur?” asked Kai. “My mother told me to go
to Arthur, and receive the honour of knighthood.” “By
my faith,” said he, “thou art all too meanly equipped with
horse and with arms.” Thereupon he was perceived by all
the household, and they threw sticks at him. Then, behold, a dwarf
came forward. He had already been a year at Arthur’s Court,
both he and a female dwarf. They had craved harbourage of Arthur,
and had obtained it; and during the whole year, neither of them had
spoken a single word to any one. When the dwarf beheld Peredur,
“Haha!” said he, “the welcome of Heaven be unto thee,
goodly Peredur, son of Evrawc, the chief of warriors, and flower of
knighthood.” “Truly,” said Kai, “thou
art ill-taught to remain a year mute at Arthur’s Court, with choice
of society; and now, before the face of Arthur and all his household,
to call out, and declare such a man as this the chief of warriors, and
the flower of knighthood.” And he gave him such a box on
the ear that he fell senseless to the ground. Then exclaimed the
female dwarf, “Haha! goodly Peredur, son of Evrawc; the welcome
of Heaven be unto thee, flower of knights, and light of chivalry.”
“Of a truth, maiden,” said Kai, “thou art ill-bred
to remain mute for a year at the Court of Arthur, and then to speak
as thou dost of such a man as this.” And Kai kicked her
with his foot, so that she fell to the ground senseless. “Tall
man,” said Peredur, “shew me which is Arthur.”
“Hold thy peace,” said Kai, “and go after the knight
who went hence to the meadow, and take from him the goblet, and overthrow
him, and possess thyself of his horse and arms, and then thou shalt
receive the order of knighthood.” “I will do so, tall
man,” said Peredur. So he turned his horse’s head
towards the meadow. And when he came there, the knight was riding
up and down, proud of his strength, and valour, and noble mien.
“Tell me,” said the knight, “didst thou see any one
coming after me from the Court?” “The tall man that
was there,” said he, “desired me to come, and overthrow
thee, and to take from thee the goblet, and thy horse and thy armour
for myself.” “Silence!” said the knight; “go
back to the Court, and tell Arthur, from me, either to come himself,
or to send some other to fight with me; and unless he do so quickly,
I will not wait for him.” “By my faith,” said
Peredur, “choose thou whether it shall be willingly or unwillingly,
but I will have the horse, and the arms, and the goblet.”
And upon this the knight ran at him furiously, and struck him a violent
blow with the shaft of his spear, between the neck and the shoulder.
“Haha! lad,” said Peredur, “my mother’s servants
were not used to play with me in this wise; therefore, thus will I play
with thee.” And thereupon he struck him with a sharp-pointed
fork, and it hit him in the eye, and came out at the back of his neck,
so that he instantly fell down lifeless.
“Verily,” said Owain the son of Urien to Kai, “thou
wert ill-advised, when thou didst send that madman after the knight.
For one of two things must befall him. He must either be overthrown,
or slain. If he is overthrown by the knight, he will be counted
by him to be an honourable person of the Court, and an eternal disgrace
will it be to Arthur and his warriors. And if he is slain, the
disgrace will be the same, and moreover, his sin will be upon him; therefore
will I go to see what has befallen him.” So Owain went to
the meadow, and he found Peredur dragging the man about. “What
art thou doing thus?” said Owain. “This iron coat,”
said Peredur, “will never come from off him; not by my efforts,
at any rate.” And Owain unfastened his armour and his clothes.
“Here, my good soul,” said he, “is a horse and armour
better than thine. Take them joyfully, and come with me to Arthur,
to receive the order of knighthood, for thou dost merit it.”
“May I never shew my face again if I go,” said Peredur;
“but take thou the goblet to Gwenhwyvar, and tell Arthur, that
wherever I am, I will be his vassal, and will do him what profit and
service I am able. And say that I will not come to his Court until
I have encountered the tall man that is there, to revenge the injury
he did to the dwarf and dwarfess.” And Owain went back to
the Court, and related all these things to Arthur and Gwenhwyvar, and
to all the household.
And Peredur rode forward. And as he proceeded, behold a knight
met him. “Whence comest thou?” said the knight.
“I come from Arthur’s Court,” said Peredur.
“Art thou one of his men?” asked he. “Yes, by
my faith,” he answered. “A good service, truly, is
that of Arthur.” “Wherefore sayest thou so?”
said Peredur. “I will tell thee,” said he; “I
have always been Arthur’s enemy, and all such of his men as I
have ever encountered I have slain.” And without further
parlance they fought, and it was not long before Peredur brought him
to the ground, over his horse’s crupper. Then the knight
besought his mercy. “Mercy thou shalt have,” said
Peredur, “if thou wilt make oath to me, that thou wilt go to Arthur’s
Court, and tell him that it was I that overthrew thee, for the honour
of his service; and say, that I will never come to the Court until I
have avenged the insult offered to the dwarf and dwarfess.”
The knight pledged him his faith of this, and proceeded to the Court
of Arthur, and said as he had promised, and conveyed the threat to Kai.
And Peredur rode forward. And within that week he encountered
sixteen knights, and overthrew them all shamefully. And they all
went to Arthur’s Court, taking with them the same message which
the first knight had conveyed from Peredur, and the same threat which
he had sent to Kai. And thereupon Kai was reproved by Arthur;
and Kai was greatly grieved thereat.
And Peredur rode forward. And he came to a vast and desert wood,
on the confines of which was a lake. And on the other side was
a fair castle. And on the border of the lake he saw a venerable,
hoary-headed man, sitting upon a velvet cushion, and having a garment
of velvet upon him. And his attendants were fishing in the lake.
When the hoary-headed man beheld Peredur approaching, he arose and went
towards the castle. And the old man was lame. Peredur rode
to the palace, and the door was open, and he entered the hall.
And there was the hoary-headed man sitting on a cushion, and a large
blazing fire burning before him. And the household and the company
arose to meet Peredur, and disarrayed him. And the man asked the
youth to sit on the cushion; and they sat down, and conversed together.
When it was time, the tables were laid, and they went to meat.
And when they had finished their meal, the man inquired of Peredur if
he knew well how to fight with the sword. “I know not,”
said Peredur, “but were I to be taught, doubtless I should.”
“Whoever can play well with the cudgel and shield, will also be
able to fight with a sword.” And the man had two sons; the
one had yellow hair, and the other auburn. “Arise, youths,”
said he, “and play with the cudgel and the shield.”
And so did they. “Tell me, my soul,” said the man,
“which of the youths thinkest thou plays best.” “I
think,” said Peredur, “that the yellow-haired youth could
draw blood from the other, if he chose.” “Arise thou,
my life, and take the cudgel and the shield from the hand of the youth
with the auburn hair, and draw blood from the yellow-haired youth if
thou canst.” So Peredur arose, and went to play with the
yellow-haired youth; and he lifted up his arm, and struck him such a
mighty blow, that his brow fell over his eye, and the blood flowed forth.
“Ah, my life,” said the man, “come now, and sit down,
for thou wilt become the best fighter with the sword of any in this
island; and I am thy uncle, thy mother’s brother. And with
me shalt thou remain a space, in order to learn the manners and customs
of different countries, and courtesy, and gentleness, and noble bearing.
Leave, then, the habits and the discourse of thy mother, and I will
be thy teacher; and I will raise thee to the rank of knight from this
time forward. And thus do thou. If thou seest aught to cause
thee wonder, ask not the meaning of it; if no one has the courtesy to
inform thee, the reproach will not fall upon thee, but upon me that
am thy teacher.” And they had abundance of honour and service.
And when it was time they went to sleep. At the break of day,
Peredur arose, and took his horse, and with his uncle’s permission
he rode forth. And he came to a vast desert wood, and at the further
end of the wood was a meadow, and on the other side of the meadow he
saw a large castle. And thitherward Peredur bent his way, and
he found the gate open, and he proceeded to the hall. And he beheld
a stately hoary-headed man sitting on one side of the hall, and many
pages around him, who arose to receive and to honour Peredur.
And they placed him by the side of the owner of the palace. Then
they discoursed together; and when it was time to eat, they caused Peredur
to sit beside the nobleman during the repast. And when they had
eaten and drunk as much as they desired, the nobleman asked Peredur
whether he could fight with a sword? “Were I to receive
instruction,” said Peredur, “I think I could.”
Now, there was on the floor of the hall a huge staple, as large as a
warrior could grasp. “Take yonder sword,” said the
man to Peredur, “and strike the iron staple.” So Peredur
arose and struck the staple, so that he cut it in two; and the sword
broke into two parts also. “Place the two parts together,
and reunite them,” and Peredur placed them together, and they
became entire as they were before. And a second time he struck
upon the staple, so that both it and the sword broke in two, and as
before they reunited. And the third time he gave a like blow,
and placed the broken parts together, and neither the staple nor the
sword would unite as before. “Youth,” said the nobleman,
“come now, and sit down, and my blessing be upon thee. Thou
fightest best with the sword of any man in the kingdom. Thou hast
arrived at two-thirds of thy strength, and the other third thou hast
not yet obtained; and when thou attainest to thy full power, none will
be able to contend with thee. I am thy uncle, thy mother’s
brother, and I am brother to the man in whose house thou wast last night.”
Then Peredur and his uncle discoursed together, and he beheld two youths
enter the hall, and proceed up to the chamber, bearing a spear of mighty
size, with three streams of blood flowing from the point to the ground.
And when all the company saw this, they began wailing and lamenting.
But for all that, the man did not break off his discourse with Peredur.
And as he did not tell Peredur the meaning of what he saw, he forbore
to ask him concerning it. And when the clamour had a little subsided,
behold two maidens entered, with a large salver between them, in which
was a man’s head, surrounded by a profusion of blood. And
thereupon the company of the court made so great an outcry, that it
was irksome to be in the same hall with them. But at length they
were silent. And when time was that they should sleep, Peredur
was brought into a fair chamber.
And the next day, with his uncle’s permission, he rode forth.
And he came to a wood, and far within the wood he heard a loud cry,
and he saw a beautiful woman with auburn hair, and a horse with a saddle
upon it, standing near her, and a corpse by her side. And as she
strove to place the corpse upon the horse, it fell to the ground, and
thereupon she made a great lamentation. “Tell me, sister,”
said Peredur, “wherefore art thou bewailing?” “Oh!
accursed Peredur, little pity has my ill-fortune ever met with from
thee.” “Wherefore,” said Peredur, “am
I accursed?” “Because thou wast the cause of thy mother’s
death; for when thou didst ride forth against her will, anguish seized
upon her heart, so that she died; and therefore art thou accursed.
And the dwarf and the dwarfess that thou sawest at Arthur’s Court
were the dwarfs of thy father and mother; and I am thy foster-sister,
and this was my wedded husband, and he was slain by the knight that
is in the glade in the wood; and do not thou go near him, lest thou
shouldest be slain by him likewise.” “My sister, thou
dost reproach me wrongfully; through my having so long remained amongst
you, I shall scarcely vanquish him; and had I continued longer, it would,
indeed, be difficult for me to succeed. Cease, therefore, thy
lamenting, for it is of no avail, and I will bury the body, and then
I will go in quest of the knight, and see if I can do vengeance upon
him.” And when he had buried the body, they went to the
place where the knight was, and found him riding proudly along the glade;
and he inquired of Peredur whence he came. “I come from
Arthur’s Court.” “And art thou one of Arthur’s
men?” “Yes, by my faith.” “A profitable
alliance, truly, is that of Arthur.” And without further
parlance, they encountered one another, and immediately Peredur overthrew
the knight, and he besought mercy of Peredur. “Mercy shalt
thou have,” said he, “upon these terms, that thou take this
woman in marriage, and do her all the honour and reverence in thy power,
seeing thou hast, without cause, slain her wedded husband; and that
thou go to Arthur’s Court, and shew him that it was I that overthrew
thee, to do him honour and service; and that thou tell him that I will
never come to his Court again until I have met with the tall man that
is there, to take vengeance upon him for his insult to the dwarf and
dwarfess.” And he took the knight’s assurance, that
he would perform all this. Then the knight provided the lady with
a horse and garments that were suitable for her, and took her with him
to Arthur’s Court. And he told Arthur all that had occurred,
and gave the defiance to Kai. And Arthur and all his household
reproved Kai, for having driven such a youth as Peredur from his Court.
Said Owain the son of Urien, “This youth will never come into
the Court until Kai has gone forth from it.” “By my
faith,” said Arthur, “I will search all the deserts in the
Island of Britain, until I find Peredur, and then let him and his adversary
do their utmost to each other.”
Then Peredur rode forward. And he came to a desert wood, where
he saw not the track either of men or animals, and where there was nothing
but bushes and weeds. And at the upper end of the wood he saw
a vast castle, wherein were many strong towers; and when he came near
the gate, he found the weeds taller than he had seen them elsewhere.
And he struck the gate with the shaft of his lance, and thereupon behold
a lean, auburn-haired youth came to an opening in the battlements.
“Choose thou, chieftain,” said he, “whether shall
I open the gate unto thee, or shall I announce unto those that are chief,
that thou art at the gateway?” “Say that I am here,”
said Peredur, “and if it is desired that I should enter, I will
go in.” And the youth came back, and opened the gate for
Peredur. And when he went into the hall, he beheld eighteen youths,
lean and red-headed, of the same height, and of the same aspect, and
of the same dress, and of the same age as the one who had opened the
gate for him. And they were well skilled in courtesy and in service.
And they disarrayed him. Then they sat down to discourse.
Thereupon, behold five maidens came from the chamber into the hall.
And Peredur was certain that he had never seen another of so fair an
aspect as the chief of the maidens. And she had an old garment
of satin upon her, which had once been handsome, but was then so tattered,
that her skin could be seen through it. And whiter was her skin
than the bloom of crystal, and her hair and her two eyebrows were blacker
than jet, and on her cheeks were two red spots, redder than whatever
is reddest. And the maiden welcomed Peredur, and put her arms
about his neck, and made him sit down beside her. Not long after
this he saw two nuns enter, and a flask full of wine was borne by one,
and six loaves of white bread by the other. “Lady,”
said they, “Heaven is witness, that there is not so much of food
and liquor as this left in yonder Convent this night.” Then
they went to meat, and Peredur observed that the maiden wished to give
more of the food and of the liquor to him than to any of the others.
“My sister,” said Peredur, “I will share out the food
and the liquor.” “Not so, my soul,” said she.
“By my faith but I will.” So Peredur took the bread,
and he gave an equal portion of it to each alike, as well as a cup full
of the liquor. And when it was time for them to sleep, a chamber
was prepared for Peredur, and he went to rest.
“Behold, sister,” said the youths to the fairest and most
exalted of the maidens, “we have counsel for thee.”
“What may it be?” she inquired. “Go to the youth
that is in the upper chamber, and offer to become his wife, or the lady
of his love, if it seem well to him.” “That were indeed
unfitting,” said she. “Hitherto I have not been the
lady-love of any knight, and to make him such an offer before I am wooed
by him, that, truly, can I not do.” “By our confession
to Heaven, unless thou actest thus, we will leave thee here to thy enemies,
to do as they will with thee.” And through fear of this,
the maiden went forth; and shedding tears, she proceeded to the chamber.
And with the noise of the door opening, Peredur awoke; and the maiden
was weeping and lamenting. “Tell me, my sister,” said
Peredur, “wherefore dost thou weep?” “I will
tell thee, lord,” said she. “My father possessed these
dominions as their chief, and this palace was his, and with it he held
the best earldom in the kingdom; then the son of another earl sought
me of my father, and I was not willing to be given unto him, and my
father would not give me against my will, either to him or any earl
in the world. And my father had no child except myself.
And after my father’s death, these dominions came into my own
hands, and then was I less willing to accept him than before.
So he made war upon me, and conquered all my possessions, except this
one house. And through the valour of the men whom thou hast seen,
who are my foster-brothers, and the strength of the house, it can never
be taken while food and drink remain. And now our provisions are
exhausted; but, as thou hast seen, we have been fed by the nuns, to
whom the country is free. And at length they also are without
supply of food or liquor. And at no later date than to-morrow,
the earl will come against this place with all his forces; and if I
fall into his power, my fate will be no better than to be given over
to the grooms of his horses. Therefore, lord, I am come to offer
to place myself in thy hands, that thou mayest succour me, either by
taking me hence, or by defending me here, whichever may seem best unto
thee.” “Go, my sister,” said he, “and
sleep; nor will I depart from thee until I do that which thou requirest,
or prove whether I can assist thee or not.” The maiden went
again to rest; and the next morning she came to Peredur, and saluted
him. “Heaven prosper thee, my soul, and what tidings dost
thou bring?” “None other, than that the earl and all
his forces have alighted at the gate, and I never beheld any place so
covered with tents, and thronged with knights challenging others to
the combat.” “Truly,” said Peredur, “let
my horse be made ready.” So his horse was accoutred, and
he arose and sallied forth to the meadow. And there was a knight
riding proudly along the meadow, having raised the signal for battle.
And they encountered, and Peredur threw the knight over his horse’s
crupper to the ground. And at the close of the day, one of the
chief knights came to fight with him, and he overthrew him also, so
that he besought his mercy. “Who art thou?” said Peredur.
“Verily,” said he, “I am Master of the Household to
the earl.” “And how much of the countess’s possessions
is there in thy power?” “The third part, verily,”
answered he. “Then,” said Peredur, “restore
to her the third of her possessions in full, and all the profit thou
hast made by them, and bring meat and drink for a hundred men, with
their horses and arms, to her court this night. And thou shalt
remain her captive, unless she wish to take thy life.” And
this he did forthwith. And that night the maiden was right joyful,
and they fared plenteously.
And the next day Peredur rode forth to the meadow; and that day he vanquished
a multitude of the host. And at the close of the day, there came
a proud and stately knight, and Peredur overthrew him, and he besought
his mercy. “Who art thou?” said Peredur. “I
am Steward of the Palace,” said he. “And how much
of the maiden’s possessions are under thy control?”
“One-third part,” answered he. “Verily,”
said Peredur, “thou shalt fully restore to the maiden her possessions,
and, moreover, thou shalt give her meat and drink for two hundred men,
and their horses and their arms. And for thyself, thou shalt be
her captive.” And immediately it was so done.
And the third day Peredur rode forth to the meadow; and he vanquished
more that day than on either of the preceding. And at the close
of the day, an earl came to encounter him, and he overthrew him, and
he besought his mercy. “Who art thou?” said Peredur.
“I am the earl,” said he. “I will not conceal
it from thee.” “Verily,” said Peredur, “thou
shalt restore the whole of the maiden’s earldom, and shalt give
her thine own earldom in addition thereto, and meat and drink for three
hundred men, and their horses and arms, and thou thyself shalt remain
in her power.” And thus it was fulfilled. And Peredur
tarried three weeks in the country, causing tribute and obedience to
be paid to the maiden, and the government to be placed in her hands.
“With thy leave,” said Peredur, “I will go hence.”
“Verily, my brother, desirest thou this?” “Yes,
by my faith; and had it not been for love of thee, I should not have
been here thus long.” “My soul,” said she, “who
art thou?” “I am Peredur the son of Evrawc from the
North; and if ever thou art in trouble or in danger, acquaint me therewith,
and if I can, I will protect thee.”
So Peredur rode forth. And far thence there met him a lady, mounted
on a horse that was lean, and covered with sweat; and she saluted the
youth. “Whence comest thou, my sister?” Then
she told him the cause of her journey. Now she was the wife of
the Lord of the Glade. “Behold,” said he, “I
am the knight through whom thou art in trouble, and he shall repent
it, who has treated thee thus.” Thereupon, behold a knight
rode up, and he inquired of Peredur, if he had seen a knight such as
he was seeking. “Hold thy peace,” said Peredur, “I
am he whom thou seekest; and by my faith, thou deservest ill of thy
household for thy treatment of the maiden, for she is innocent concerning
me.” So they encountered, and they were not long in combat
ere Peredur overthrew the knight, and he besought his mercy. “Mercy
thou shalt have,” said Peredur, “so thou wilt return by
the way thou camest, and declare that thou holdest the maiden innocent,
and so that thou wilt acknowledge unto her the reverse thou hast sustained
at my hands.” And the knight plighted him his faith thereto.
Then Peredur rode forward. And above him he beheld a castle, and
thitherward he went. And he struck upon the gate with his lance,
and then, behold, a comely auburn-haired youth opened the gate, and
he had the stature of a warrior, and the years of a boy. And when
Peredur came into the hall, there was a tall and stately lady sitting
in a chair, and many handmaidens around her; and the lady rejoiced at
his coming. And when it was time, they went to meat. And
after their repast was finished, “It were well for thee, chieftain,”
said she, “to go elsewhere to sleep.” “Wherefore
can I not sleep here?” said Peredur. “Nine sorceresses
are here, my soul, of the sorceresses of Gloucester, and their father
and their mother are with them; and unless we can make our escape before
daybreak, we shall be slain; and already they have conquered and laid
waste all the country, except this one dwelling.” “Behold,”
said Peredur, “I will remain here to-night, and if you are in
trouble, I will do you what service I can; but harm shall you not receive
from me.” So they went to rest. And with the break
of day, Peredur heard a dreadful outcry. And he hastily arose,
and went forth in his vest and his doublet, with his sword about his
neck, and he saw a sorceress overtake one of the watch, who cried out
violently. Peredur attacked the sorceress, and struck her upon
the head with his sword, so that he flattened her helmet and her head-piece
like a dish upon her head. “Thy mercy, goodly Peredur, son
of Evrawc, and the mercy of Heaven.” “How knowest
thou, hag, that I am Peredur?” “By destiny, and the
foreknowledge that I should suffer harm from thee. And thou shalt
take a horse and armour of me; and with me thou shalt go to learn chivalry
and the use of thy arms.” Said Peredur, “Thou shalt
have mercy, if thou pledge thy faith thou wilt never more injure the
dominions of the Countess.” And Peredur took surety of this,
and with permission of the Countess, he set forth with the sorceress
to the palace of the sorceresses. And there he remained for three
weeks, and then he made choice of a horse and arms, and went his way.
And in the evening he entered a valley, and at the head of the valley
he came to a hermit’s cell, and the hermit welcomed him gladly,
and there he spent the night. And in the morning he arose, and
when he went forth, behold a shower of snow had fallen the night before,
and a hawk had killed a wild fowl in front of the cell. And the
noise of the horse scared the hawk away, and a raven alighted upon the
bird. And Peredur stood, and compared the blackness of the raven
and the whiteness of the snow, and the redness of the blood, to the
hair of the lady that best he loved, which was blacker than jet, and
to her skin which was whiter than the snow, and to the two red spots
upon her cheeks, which were redder than the blood upon the snow appeared
to be.
Now Arthur and his household were in search of Peredur. “Know
ye,” said Arthur, “who is the knight with the long spear
that stands by the brook up yonder?” “Lord,”
said one of them, “I will go and learn who he is.”
So the youth came to the place where Peredur was, and asked him what
he did thus, and who he was. And from the intensity with which
he thought upon the lady whom best he loved, he gave him no answer.
Then the youth thrust at Peredur with his lance, and Peredur turned
upon him, and struck him over his horse’s crupper to the ground.
And after this, four-and-twenty youths came to him, and he did not answer
one more than another, but gave the same reception to all, bringing
them with one single thrust to the ground. And then came Kai,
and spoke to Peredur rudely and angrily; and Peredur took him with his
lance under the jaw, and cast him from him with a thrust, so that he
broke his arm and his shoulder-blade, and he rode over him one-and-twenty
times. And while he lay thus, stunned with the violence of the
pain that he had suffered, his horse returned back at a wild and prancing
pace. And when the household saw the horse come back without his
rider, they rode forth in haste to the place where the encounter had
been. And when they first came there, they thought that Kai was
slain; but they found that if he had a skilful physician, he yet might
live. And Peredur moved not from his meditation, on seeing the
concourse that was around Kai. And Kai was brought to Arthur’s
tent, and Arthur caused skilful physicians to come to him. And
Arthur was grieved that Kai had met with this reverse, for he loved
him greatly.
“Then,” said Gwalchmai, “it is not fitting that any
should disturb an honourable knight from his thought unadvisedly; for
either he is pondering some damage that he has sustained, or he is thinking
of the lady whom best he loves. And through such ill-advised proceeding,
perchance this misadventure has befallen him who last met with him.
And if it seem well to thee, lord, I will go and see if this knight
hath changed from his thought; and if he has, I will ask him courteously
to come and visit thee.” Then Kai was wroth, and he spoke
angry and spiteful words. “Gwalchmai,” said he, “I
know that thou wilt bring him because he is fatigued. Little praise
and honour, nevertheless, wilt thou have from vanquishing a weary knight,
who is tired with fighting. Yet thus hast thou gained the advantage
over many. And while thy speech and thy soft words last, a coat
of thin linen were armour sufficient for thee, and thou wilt not need
to break either lance or sword in fighting with the knight in the state
he is in.” Then said Gwalchmai to Kai, “Thou mightest
use more pleasant words, wert thou so minded: and it behoves thee not
upon me to wreak thy wrath and thy displeasure. Methinks I shall
bring the knight hither with me without breaking either my arm or my
shoulder.” Then said Arthur to Gwalchmai, “Thou speakest
like a wise and prudent man; go, and take enough of armour about thee,
and choose thy horse.” And Gwalchmai accoutred himself and
rode forward hastily to the place where Peredur was.
And Peredur was resting on the shaft of his spear, pondering the same
thought, and Gwalchmai came to him without any signs of hostility, and
said to him, “If I thought that it would be as agreeable to thee
as it would be to me, I would converse with thee. I have also
a message from Arthur unto thee, to pray thee to come and visit him.
And two men have been before on this errand.” “That
is true,” said Peredur, “and uncourteously they came.
They attacked me, and I was annoyed thereat, for it was not pleasing
to me to be drawn from the thought that I was in, for I was thinking
of the lady whom best I love, and thus was she brought to my mind: -
I was looking upon the snow, and upon the raven, and upon the drops
of the blood of the bird that the hawk had killed upon the snow.
And I bethought me that her whiteness was like that of the snow, and
that the blackness of her hair and her eyebrows like that of the raven,
and that the two red spots upon her cheeks were like the two drops of
blood.” Said Gwalchmai, “This was not an ungentle
thought, and I should marvel if it were pleasant to thee to be drawn
from it.” “Tell me,” said Peredur, “is
Kai in Arthur’s Court?” “He is,” said
he, “and behold he is the knight that fought with thee last; and
it would have been better for him had he not come, for his arm and his
shoulder-blade were broken with the fall which he had from thy spear.”
“Verily,” said Peredur, “I am not sorry to have thus
begun to avenge the insult to the dwarf and dwarfess.” Then
Gwalchmai marvelled to hear him speak of the dwarf and the dwarfess;
and he approached him, and threw his arms around his neck, and asked
him what was his name. “Peredur the son of Evrawc am I called,”
said he; “and thou, Who art thou?” “I am called
Gwalchmai,” he replied. “I am right glad to meet with
thee,” said Peredur, “for in every country where I have
been I have heard of thy fame for prowess and uprightness, and I solicit
thy fellowship.” “Thou shalt have it, by my faith,
and grant me thine,” said he, “Gladly will I do so,”
answered Peredur.
So they rode forth together joyfully towards the place where Arthur
was, and when Kai saw them coming, he said, “I knew that Gwalchmai
needed not to fight the knight. And it is no wonder that he should
gain fame; more can he do by his fair words than I by the strength of
my arm.” And Peredur went with Gwalchmai to his tent, and
they took off their armour. And Peredur put on garments like those
that Gwalchmai wore, and they went together unto Arthur, and saluted
him. “Behold, lord,” said Gwalchmai, “him whom
thou hast sought so long.” “Welcome unto thee, chieftain,”
said Arthur. “With me thou shalt remain; and had I known
thy valour had been such, thou shouldst not have left me as thou didst;
nevertheless, this was predicted of thee by the dwarf and the dwarfess,
whom Kai ill-treated and whom thou hast avenged.” And hereupon,
behold there came the Queen and her handmaidens, and Peredur saluted
them. And they were rejoiced to see him, and bade him welcome.
And Arthur did him great honour and respect, and they returned towards
Caerlleon.
And the first night Peredur came to Caerlleon to Arthur’s Court,
and as he walked in the city after his repast, behold, there met him
Angharad Law Eurawc. “By my faith, sister,” said Peredur,
“thou art a beauteous and lovely maiden; and, were it pleasing
to thee, I could love thee above all women.” “I pledge
my faith,” said she, “that I do not love thee, nor will
I ever do so.” “I also pledge my faith,” said
Peredur, “that I will never speak a word to any Christian again,
until thou come to love me above all men.”
The next day Peredur went forth by the high road, along a mountain-ridge,
and he saw a valley of a circular form, the confines of which were rocky
and wooded. And the flat part of the valley was in meadows, and
there were fields betwixt the meadows and the wood. And in the
bosom of the wood he saw large black houses of uncouth workmanship.
And he dismounted, and led his horse towards the wood. And a little
way within the wood he saw a rocky ledge, along which the road lay.
And upon the ledge was a lion bound by a chain, and sleeping.
And beneath the lion he saw a deep pit of immense size, full of the
bones of men and animals. And Peredur drew his sword and struck
the lion, so that he fell into the mouth of the pit and hung there by
the chain; and with a second blow he struck the chain and broke it,
and the lion fell into the pit; and Peredur led his horse over the rocky
ledge, until he came into the valley. And in the centre of the
valley he saw a fair castle, and he went towards it. And in the
meadow by the castle he beheld a huge grey man sitting, who was larger
than any man he had ever before seen. And two young pages were
shooting the hilts of their daggers, of the bone of the sea-horse.
And one of the pages had red hair, and the other auburn. And they
went before him to the place where the grey man was, and Peredur saluted
him. And the grey man said, “Disgrace to the beard of my
porter.” Then Peredur understood that the porter was the
lion. - And the grey man and the pages went together into the castle,
and Peredur accompanied them; and he found it a fair and noble place.
And they proceeded to the hall, and the tables were already laid, and
upon them was abundance of food and liquor. And thereupon he saw
an aged woman and a young woman come from the chamber; and they were
the most stately women he had ever seen. Then they washed and
went to meat, and the grey man sat in the upper seat at the head of
the table, and the aged woman next to him. And Peredur and the
maiden were placed together, and the two young pages served them.
And the maiden gazed sorrowfully upon Peredur, and Peredur asked the
maiden wherefore she was sad. “For thee, my soul; for, from
when I first beheld thee, I have loved thee above all men. And
it pains me to know that so gentle a youth as thou should have such
a doom as awaits thee to-morrow. Sawest thou the numerous black
houses in the bosom of the wood? All these belong to the vassals
of the grey man yonder, who is my father. And they are all giants.
And to-morrow they will rise up against thee, and will slay thee.
And the Round Valley is this valley called.” “Listen,
fair maiden, wilt thou contrive that my horse and arms be in the same
lodging with me to-night?” “Gladly will I cause it
so to be, by Heaven, if I can.”
And when it was time for them to sleep rather than to carouse, they
went to rest. And the maiden caused Peredur’s horse and
arms to be in the same lodging with him. And the next morning
Peredur heard a great tumult of men and horses around the castle.
And Peredur arose, and armed himself and his horse, and went to the
meadow. Then the aged woman and the maiden came to the grey man:
“Lord,” said they, “take the word of the youth, that
he will never disclose what he has seen in this place, and we will be
his sureties that he keep it.” “I will not do so,
by my faith,” said the grey man. So Peredur fought with
the host, and towards evening he had slain the one-third of them without
receiving any hurt himself. Then said the aged woman, “Behold,
many of thy host have been slain by the youth; do thou, therefore, grant
him mercy.” “I will not grant it, by my faith,”
said he. And the aged woman and the fair maiden were upon the
battlements of the castle, looking forth. And at that juncture,
Peredur encountered the yellow-haired youth and slew him. “Lord,”
said the maiden, “grant the young man mercy.” “That
will I not do, by Heaven,” he replied; and thereupon Peredur attacked
the auburn-haired youth, and slew him likewise. “It were
better that thou hadst accorded mercy to the youth before he had slain
thy two sons; for now scarcely wilt thou thyself escape from him.”
“Go, maiden, and beseech the youth to grant mercy unto us, for
we yield ourselves into his hands.” So the maiden came to
the place where Peredur was, and besought mercy for her father, and
for all such of his vassals as had escaped alive. “Thou
shalt have it, on condition that thy father and all that are under him
go and render homage to Arthur, and tell him that it was his vassal
Peredur that did him this service.” “This will we
do willingly, by Heaven.” “And you shall also receive
baptism; and I will send to Arthur, and beseech him to bestow this valley
upon thee and upon thy heirs after thee for ever.” Then
they went in, and the grey man and the tall woman saluted Peredur.
And the grey man said unto him, “Since I have possessed this valley
I have not seen any Christian depart with his life, save thyself.
And we will go to do homage to Arthur, and to embrace the faith and
be baptized.” Then said Peredur, “To Heaven I render
thanks that I have not broken my vow to the lady that best I love, which
was, that I would not speak one word unto any Christian.”
That night they tarried there. And the next day, in the morning,
the grey man, with his company, set forth to Arthur’s Court; and
they did homage unto Arthur, and he caused them to be baptized.
And the grey man told Arthur that it was Peredur that had vanquished
them. And Arthur gave the valley to the grey man and his company,
to hold it of him as Peredur had besought. And with Arthur’s
permission, the grey man went back to the Round Valley.
Peredur rode forward next day, and he traversed a vast tract of desert,
in which no dwellings were.&nb