'My Lords. There is a simple way we can settle the matter,' cried Maeglwn.
'How so?' asked the Kings.
'The tide is out. Let us have our thrones moved to the edge of the water where we will sit. Whichever of us remains seated for the longest shall be honoured by all as Supreme King,' suggested Maeglwn. It was agreed and the four thrones were carried to the water's edge. The tide turned and the water started to rise. Before long their feet were under water but none of the kings moved. All wanted to be Chief King. The sea level continued to rise, covering their knees but they did not move. Then, a strange thing happened. Maeglwn's throne began to lift up while the other kings slowly submerged. One by one they abandoned their thrones and waded away leaving King Maeglwn alone, floating on the water.
Concealed beneath his seat, King Maeglwn had fitted pigs bladders filled with air. The three kings had been tricked but, having given their solemn word, were obliged to honour Maeglwn and pledged their loyalty to him as their Chief King.
Maelgwn built a castle with a great tower on the twin hills of Deganwy known as the Vardre. He prayed with the monks but quickly grew bored with their piety.
'Life is for living and I shall live like a king,' he told his courtiers. Maelgwn summoned musicians to entertain him and bards to write epic stories of his courage and goodness, but the songs and poems were lies for the truth was that Maeglwn was an evil man with a violent temper.
When Maelgwyn's nephew visited Deganwy with a new bride, Maelgwn grew jealous. He wanted the woman for himself. So the king had his own wife and the nephew murdered and seduced the young bride. As time passed, Maelgwn's tyranny grew worse until all his people hated him.
'Who will rid us of this evil king,' they cried.
A wise prophet and bard, named Taleisin lived in the land.
'Tell us, wise man. Who will end Maelgwn's evil,' asked the people.
'A great beast will appear from the east. Its skin will be rotting and fetid. Its teeth and eyes will be yellow and its foul breath will whisper of death. This great putrid beast will avenge Maelgwn's evil and people will speak of the long sleep of Maelgwn in the Church of Rhos,' said Taleisin.
A plague, which had started in Europe, spread quickly across England. It reached Gwynedd in 547 bringing misery and death to the people. Their skins ran with sores, their lungs filled with blood, their teeth and eyes turned yellow and their breath stank of death. Maelgwn feared for his life and, ignoring the cries for help from his courtiers, as they died around him, he fled from the castle. The evil king locked himself alone in the church at Llanrhos and prayed for sanctuary. The few loyal guards that remained waited outside, unsure of what to do. They knocked on the door of the church.
'Sire. What are your orders,' they shouted.
'Go away,' yelled the king. That night, as Maelgwyn knelt praying, he heard a strange scratching at the door.
'Maelgwyn I have come for you,' whispered a voice from outside.
'Leave me alone,' cried the King.
'Maelgwyn. Let me in,' whispered the voice. Maelgwyn picked up his candle and moved to the door. He bent down and peered through the keyhole. A large yellow eye stared back at him. The guards returned the next morning but Maelgwyn did not answer their calls.
'The king is asleep. We dare not wake him,' said the guards and went away. Days passed before they broke down the door. The evil king's body was rotting and fetid. His teeth and eyes had turned yellow. Maelgwyn's body was taken to Ynys Seiriol and buried. Taleisin's prophecy had come true.
'Hir hun Faelgwn yn eglwys Ros.'
'The long sleep of Maelgwn in the Church of Rhos.'
Table of Contents
Chapter 11?The Legend of Gelert
Prince Llewelyn the Great was a fine sportsman. His good humour and high spirits were known far and wide. Llewelyn's hall was a welcoming place, full of fun and friendship. He enjoyed his hunting and spent his days out with his horse and hounds. The biggest of his hounds was Gelert.
Llewelyn loved his animals and Gelert was his pride and joy. Never had a man owned such a fine hound. Gelert was the fastest and the bravest of his dogs and always the first at the kill. Gelert was fierce and brave. He was loyal and attentive. It was as if he knew his master's wishes and understood his moods. Of all the hounds, Gelert was Llewelyn's favourite.
It was autumn and the leaves had fallen from the trees. The woods were bare and the game easy to chase. Llewelyn took his horn and summoned the hounds with a long blast. They clamoured around his horse's hooves, baying with excitement. Their blood was up. It was time to hunt.
Llewelyn waved goodbye to his young wife and their baby then galloped out of the courtyard and away with his friends. The hounds followed close behind. The hunt went well and Llewelyn was pleased with the day. There would be a good table tonight with meat for all. They continued hunting until late in the afternoon and the light was fading when Llewelyn turned for home. Men, horses and dogs were all weary but elated with the day's sport.
As they trotted back from hunting, the men boasted about their brave deeds. They teased one and other and joked about the day's sport. The dogs followed silently, eager for home and their dinner; the reward for their effort. They did not bay now. Their work was done. Llewelyn looked around. He felt uneasy. Something was wrong. Who was missing he wondered.
'Where is Gelert?' he asked his friends. They stopped their idle chatter and searched for the great hound. He was nowhere to be seen.
'He was with us when we left the hall this morning,' said one.
'I have not seen Gelert at all today,' said another.
'He was with us a few minutes ago. I swear,' added another.
'Don't worry, he will turn up my Lord. Gelert is big enough to look after himself,' said another, cheerily. They laughed and the hunting party rode on. It was dark as they approached the great hall. The door was ajar and light shone through the doorway, illuminating the courtyard.
'This is strange' thought Llewelyn. Suddenly, a piercing scream came from inside the hall. Llewelyn leapt from his horse and sprinted inside. His wife was slumped on a bench sobbing.
'What's wrong? Tell me,' he demanded. His wife pointed to the back of the hall and their bedchamber.
'There. It's killed our baby,' she cried. Llewelyn drew his sword and ran towards the bedchamber. The room was dim but he could see the crib by the light shining from the hall behind him. It was empty. He could hear his wife weeping. His stomach turned and hate filled his heart. There was a noise near the crib. It was Gelert and the hound's jowls were red with blood. The dog sprang up to greet its master. Llewelyn raised his sword and ran the dog through.
Lord Llewelyn returned to the hall and tried to comfort his grieving wife. Their hearts were broken and they sat together hugging and weeping. There was a whine from the bedchamber. Llewelyn leapt up with his sword and returned to finish the job. Then, a baby cried out and his wife rushed into the bedchamber. Their child, hidden behind the bed, was alive and unharmed. Beside it lay the biggest wolf that had ever walked the lands of Gwynedd. The animal was dead, killed by the faithful hound Gelert. His wife took the child while Llewelyn cradled the dog's head in his arms. Gelert gave one last whimper and died.
The noble dog was buried and, as Llewelyn commanded, his grave marked with a stone to record the bravery and loyalty he had shown. Llewelyn was consumed with guilt and sorrow. The great hall became a place of sadness and there were few visitors. For the rest of his life Llewelyn never hunted with the hounds and those that knew him said he never laughed again.
Table of Contents
Chapter 12?Llyn Tegid and the Harp
Tegid Foel, or if you prefer his English name, Tegid the Bald was a warrior prince. He lived with his wife, Ceridwen, in a beautiful palace, sheltered in a valley surrounded by mountains. They had two children, a daughter, Creirwy and a son, Morfran. Creirwy was beautiful but their son, Morfran, was ugly and dim-witted. His skin was dark, like leather. The people called him Afagddu, whi
ch means utter darkness; for his appearance and manners were so repulsive he darkened any room he entered.
Ceridwen, who was a sorceress, loved her children equally and was determined to help her son. She took the ancient cauldron of wisdom and brewed a potion of herbs and poisons so strong that drinking just three drops would give incredible knowledge and intelligence. A blind servant was given the job of stirring the broth and sat labouring beside the roaring fire. As the servant stirred, three drops splashed from the giant pot onto his hand. Without thinking, the servant licked his fingers and in the blink of an eye he became a great Baird destined to write fine poetry and sing beautiful songs throughout the land.
Later, when three drops were given to Morfran nothing happened. The magic of the potion was spent and the youth remained hideous and stupid. Ceridwen cleaned out the ancient cauldron and boiled another brew but it made no difference. The ancient cauldron of wisdom had lost its magic.
As the years passed, Prince Tegid watched his son grow more gruesome and dull. Slowly the prince's unhappiness festered and his heart turned to anger. The prince began to hate. He hated his wife for failing to give the boy intelligence. He hated the people who sneered and whispered behind his back. He hated himself for failing to provide a male heir for his lands. Most of all he hated his son, Morfran, for being so ugly and stupid.
As Prince Tegid's hatred grew he became a cruel tyrant. The people began to fear him and hide whenever he rode near. The palace became a place of darkness, filled with loathing and disgust. The bile and spite spread like some dank mist and leached into the ground. The river that once made the valley so fertile drained away leaving nothing but dust. The valley withered and the crops failed. The people blamed Prince Tegid for the famine and turned against him.
Ceridwen was sad to see such hatred and anger. She knew the valley needed laughter and happiness to thrive. It was time to end the bitterness before it destroyed them all. Princess Ceridwen invited all the villagers to the palace. She ordered food to be fetched from far away. She prepared a great feast and summoned the greatest harp player in the land. Fine food and beautiful music would, she thought, lift the gloom that was suffocating the valley.
The day of the feast arrived. As the people entered the palace, the harp player entranced them with gentle melodies that floated through the rooms. As he played, a tiny bird flew into the palace, landed on the harp and started to sing. The people ate and drank greedily, glad of the free food and wine. As they drank they became merry. Princess Ceridwen was pleased. Her plan was working.
The harp player continued to fill the air with gentle melodies but the people had stopped listening to the music. The wine they had drunk dulled their senses and made them aggressive. They scorned and sneered at the prince and his ugly son and laughed with contempt as they filled their goblets from the great vats. The feast became a drunken frenzy and the palace was filled with spite and venom. Prince Tegid leapt up and shouted at his guests, ordering them to leave, but it made no difference. The harp player stopped playing and heard a shrill voice. It was the little bird.
'Come away. Come away. Vengeance has come. Vengeance has come,' cried the little bird. The harp player wondered what the little bird meant.
'Come away. Come away. Vengeance has come. Vengeance has come,' cried the little bird for a second time and fluttered onto the man's sleeve. The tiny bird pulled at the cloth, tugging with his beak until the musician stood up. The little bird continued to pull and the harp player found himself being led from the palace. No one noticed him leaving. The man and the little bird climbed up away from the palace leaving the noise of the revellers far below. Just as they reached the top of the mountain there was a giant crashing sound. Water thundered across the land. The harp player looked back. A vast river was surging across the land, destroying everything in its path. He watched horrified as water flooded across the valley.
The harp player sat on the mountain watching as farms and villages were washed away. By the morning the thunder of water had gone. A great lake had appeared, filling the valley from end to end and drowning the evil prince with his spiteful people.
The little bird's warning had been true. Vengeance had come. The man searched for the little bird that had saved him but it was gone. Slowly, the harp player climbed back down the mountain. The surface of the lake lay still as glass, the silent water hiding its terrible secret. The man, now alone, stood on the bank. A strange gurgling sound erupted from deep within the lake. Something emerged from the gloomy depths and bubbled to the surface. It was a harp.
Today Llyn Tegid, as it is known, hides the secret of the drowned palace 150 feet beneath its waves while the teachers of Bala proudly tutor their scholars in the beauty and magic of Celtic harp music.
Table of Contents
Chapter 13?The Curse of Nant Gwrtheyrn
Gwrtheyrn was a king who lived in Kent during the 5th Century. He was a timid man and his kingdom was weak. He employed mercenaries from Saxony to fight his enemies and paid them with gold. The Saxons, led by the brutal warrior Hengist, drove off Gwrtheyrn's foes. King Gwrtheyrn was pleased and gave Hengist the Isle of Thanet as a reward. The Saxons bought their families to Kent and settled on the fertile island. Before long, they started to take more land. Seeing the danger he had invited into his kingdom, Gwrtheyrn negotiated a wedding to protect his throne. He asked for the hand of Alys, the beautiful daughter of Hengist, the Saxon leader. Hengist agreed to the match and a great feast was prepared with Saxons and Britons sitting together. Suddenly, as one, the Saxons jumped up, drew their daggers and stabbed the Britons beside them. Gwrtheyrn had been tricked. He escaped and ran for his life, accompanied by Druid priests.
The king and his priests travelled far across the land looking for a remote part of Britain where the evil Hengist would never find them. After years of searching, they found a small valley, hidden behind a mountain on a remote peninsula. The land could be ploughed and there were fish in the sea. King Gwrtheryn had found his refuge and the little party settled in the valley. They built houses and soon a thriving village was established, a village that was so remote that it should never be discovered.
One hundred years later, three Christian monks found a tiny track leading down a steep mountain and followed it to the valley below. Near the sea, they found a village with a pagan church. The monks told the villagers to build a Catholic church but the people refused. They threw stones at the monks and drove them away. The retreating monks stopped on the track, high above the village and each monk cursed the tiny hamlet below them.
'The ground in this valley is unholy. No man shall be buried here,' yelled the first monk.
'The men of Nant Gwrtheyrn shall never marry the women of Nant Gwrtheyrn,' cried the second monk.
'Your village is doomed and will be ruined three times. The third time it falls will be forever,' bellowed the third monk. The people in the valley heard the curses and laughed at the monks.
'Words cannot hurt us,' they said. The following day the men of the village took their boats into the bay to fish. A violent storm blew up and overturned the boats, drowning the men. The bodies disappeared into the sea. With no men, the women had no choice but to leave the village and start new lives. Nant Gwrtheyrn became a deserted ruin.
As the years passed, people began to return to the valley to farm, but strange accidents happened to the men. Some fell into the sea and disappeared beneath the waves. Others vanished into the forest, never to be seen again. Slowly, the graveyard filled with headstones carved with the names of their widows. Wary of the curses, the people dared not wed each other. The men travelled away from the village to find their wives and bring them back to the valley. Small farms were started but they were so far from any market and the track out of the valley was so steep that the farmers struggled to make a living. Eventually, people gave up and drifted away until there were only three farms left at Nant Gwrtheyrn called 'Ty Hen', 'Ty Canol' and 'Ty Uchaf'.
Rhys Maredydd lived at
Ty Uchaf with his sister Angharad. They were orphans. Their father had been consumed in a terrible fire that had destroyed the winter hay. Their mother had died of a broken heart. The orphans had a cousin, Meinir who lived with her father at Ty Hen. The three children were friends and would play together when their jobs were done. As the youngsters grew older, Rhys and his cousin, Meinir fell in love. They wandered, hand in hand, on Mount Eifl above the farms. A great oak tree stood on the mountain where they would sit and plan their lives together, sheltered by the giant branches. When Rhys asked Meinir for her hand in marriage, she willingly agreed and the happy couple ran down the mountain to seek her father's permission.
'You cannot marry Rhys,' said her father.
'But we love each other,' cried Meinir.
'Rhys is your cousin. You cannot marry your neighbour. Remember the curse,' said her father. Tears ran down Meinir's face as her father spoke and his heart melted. He relented and embraced the young lovers, agreeing they could wed. Plans were made for the wedding. It was agreed they would wed far away from Nant Gwrthyren, at the church of Clynnog Fawr. Surely the curse would not hurt them there.
The morning of the wedding arrived. It was a fine summers day. Rhys dressed in his Sunday clothes and walked across the fields to Meinir's farm. Her father stood in the doorway, solemnly refusing entry. Eventually, to the merriment of the gathering wedding guests, Meinir's father grinned and stood aside. Rhys went inside to find his bride. Searching for the bride on the wedding morning is an ancient custom and Rhys went from room to room happily calling for Meinir to reveal herself but she did not appear. Meinir, eager to make Rhys work to find her, had slipped away to hide, long before her betrothed had arrived.
Enjoying the game, Rhys searched the barn and the cow sheds but they were empty. Meinir had vanished. He called her name but there was no answer. The wedding guests cheered and encouraged Rhys as he went from field to field looking for his bride. The morning passed and the sun beat down. Rhys grew hot in his wedding suit. He was no longer enjoying searching for Meinir. He called again. Still there was no answer.