"The Ballad of Gwydion", Episode II: Summer
The Fourth Branch of the Ancient Welsh Mabinogion Retold as a Ballad in Four Episodes
THE BALLAD OF GWYDION
by Jane Murphy
To start at the beginning of this story, click here:
II. Summer
Gwydion set out one bright summer day, Selecting a route that led somewhat abroad. His young nephew followed, and presently they Arrived at the castle of Arianrhod. Gwydion’s sister received him with joy, And light conversation had duly begun, When Arianrhod inquired, “Who is this boy?” And Gwydion answered her, “He is thy son.” Abruptly all color drained out of her face, For the very idea to her was a shame, And desperately seeking escape from disgrace, She queried most fearfully, “What is his name?” “He hath none as yet,” came the loaded reply, For both knew that naming was a mother’s right. By then she was shaking. In anger she cried, “Thou must be insane, of a truth! “Wicked and foul treachery! Thee I must quell now, so I’ll cast a spell on this youth, That never, never shall he Have his own name till he get one from me!” Gwydion countered her curse with resolve: “Thou layest his destiny to no avail. In spite of thy malice a name he shall have, For I mean him well, and my will shall prevail.” He went to the shore in a place quite remote, To gather some seaweed and sedges and reeds, And used them to conjure a sizable boat Supplied with fine leathers and shoemakers’ needs. In clever disguises he with the boy sailed To the port of the castle of Arianrhod, And a spot where most likely they’d soon be surveilled, Thinking, Surely my sister will wish to be shod… His thread through a stitch he’d just drawn with a jerk, While his partner cut leather, more shoes to create, When some servants arrived to examine their work, And he knew that his sister had taken the bait. When the servants returned with sensational news Of workmanship that no princess would refuse And rich, gilded leathers in dazzling hues, His sister cried, “Measure me! I want those shoes!” Her order submitted, her shoes were made twice: One pair was too large and the other too small. The ‘cobbler’ then claimed her word didn’t suffice, And he must see her foot or make no shoes at all. Arianrhod truly wanted those shoes, So down to the boat she then went for that cause, And there saw the boy whom she’d cruelly refused, Disguised so that she had no clue who he was. Awaiting assistance, she stood on the deck, And so did a wren that had chanced there to fly. The boy shot the bird with impressive effect, And Arianrhod praised his feat with a cry: “How skillful the hand of the fair one who aimed!” She gushed, blind to Gwydion’s proximity. “And no thanks to thee, thy son now hath a name! Be he Llew Llaw Gyffes* henceforth!” gloated he. Now nothing remained of their cunning disguise. The ‘workshop’ reverted to seaweed and sedge, And Arianrhod shrieked when she realized She’d never suspected the truth. “Wicked and foul treachery! Thee I must quell now, so I’ll cast a spell on this youth, That never, never shall he Bear his own arms till he get them from me!” Gwydion countered her curse with resolve: “Thou layest his destiny to no avail. In spite of thine enmity arms he shall have, For I mean him well, and my will shall prevail. He trained his young nephew in warriors’ skills, Which Llew mastered easily out on the field, Through diligent effort and regular drills With horses to manage and weapons to wield. Comely and strong Llew Llaw Gyffes had grown, With excellent talents and features unflawed. When Gwydion gave him a horse of his own, And they rode to the castle of Arianrhod. This time they appeared in the guise of two men, “Bards from Glamorgan,” they claimed at the gate. The porter announced their arrival right then, And Arianrhod didn’t ask them to wait. She welcomed them cheerfully into the hall, And thence to her table for meat as her guests, Then Gwydion’s tales did her household enthrall Until their feast ended and all went to rest. Gwydion rose from his bed before dawn, And conjured an army approaching in wrath, Bellicose warriors nearing the lawn On ships, which presaged an impending bloodbath. A violent tumult was heard through the land, Loud trumpets and shouts made a fearsome uproar. Gwydion cocked his right ear with his hand, As precisely on time came a knock at the door. There stood Arianrhod along with a maid. “Ah, good men,” she bleated in horrified tones, “In evil plight are we, and we are afraid! A legion approaches, and we are alone!” “Yes, truly, we too have heard trumpets and shouts,” Replied Gwydion, “What thinkest thou they may mean?” “An attack is impending! There can be no doubt! And what can we do?” Her distress could be seen. Gwydion spoke with authority’s voice. Suppressing a chuckle, he sagely replied, “Defense of this castle is our only choice!” And Arianrhod made great haste to comply. “And do you defend it,” she bade him, consoled, “We’ve plenty of arms and equipment for you.” Briefly she left to consult her household, And returned with two maids who bore armor for two. “Good!” approved Gwydion, “Now dress my young friend, While these maidens help me to be so arrayed. Quickly! I hear the approach of those men!” And thus panic-stricken, she quickly obeyed. Not ere his ‘friend’ was well armed did he ask, “Hast thou yet finished? To helmet and coif?” “I've finished,” said she, “I’ve completed this task.” “So have I. And now we can take all of this off.” “Wherefore?” cried the lady in shock and dismay, “The army surrounds us! Attack has begun!” “There has been no army, no tumult this day. 'Twas but to obtain from thee arms for thy son.” This was an outrage not to be believed, For Arianrhod had decreed otherwise, And now, by her brother, had twice been deceived, And twice made to swallow the truth. “Cruelly have I been misled! Thee I must quell now, so I’ll cast a spell on this youth, That never shall he be wed To any wife of the human race bred!” Gwydion countered her curse with resolve: “Thou layest his destiny to no avail. In spite of thy malice a wife he shall have, For I mean him well, and my will shall prevail.” Gwydion with Llew sought out Math at the Court, And unto him complained of Arianrhod, Her curses on Llew that he’d managed to thwart, And her latest one that he hoped was somehow flawed. Said Math, “Since no human wife can Llew betake, From blossoms of meadowsweet, broom plant and oak, A maiden of flowers for him we shall make, And thus circumvent the cruel curse that she spoke. They conjured a maiden of beauty and grace, and named the girl Blodeuedd** when she was done. Enchanted by her lovely figure and face, Llew made her his bride, and their life was begun. Math gave to Llew his best Cantrev to hold, A palace that lay in a spot that was called Mur y Castell, complete with a household. There dwelt he and reigned, well beloved by all.
Continue to Episode III:
* Llew Llaw Gyffes [hlahy-hlou-guh-fes]: “the fair one with a skillful hand” **”Blossom" Source: Guest, Lady Charlotte E. (translation from the Red Book of Hergest), The Mabinogion, Dover edition (1997): 44-47
