“I then told him who I was and what I sought, and he replied uncouthly to me. In short, he told me to go away. But I persisted, and he said, ‘Well, if you are stupid enough to seek such a thing, it is not for me to prevent you.’ Raising his iron spear, he pointed with it and said, ‘Follow the path you find at the end of the clearing. After a time you will discover a mountain; climb the slope of the mountain until you reach the summit, and from there you will see a great glen the like of which you have never seen before. And in the middle of that glen you will see a yew tree that is both older and taller than any other yew tree in the world. Beneath the branches of that yew tree is a pool, and beside the pool is a stone, and on the stone is a silver bowl with a chain so that the bowl and stone cannot be separated. Take up the bowl, if you dare, and fill it with water and throw the water on the stone. Do not ask me what happens next, for I will not tell you—not even in a thousand years of asking.’
“‘Great Lord,’ I said, ‘I am not the sort of man to shrink from anything. I must know what happens next even if I stand here for a thousand and one years.’
“‘Was there ever a more ignorant and foolish man than you?’ the Forest Keeper asked. ‘Nevertheless, I will tell what happens next: The rock will thunder with such force that you will think the heavens and earth must crack with the noise, and then will come a shower of water so fierce and cold that you will probably fail to survive. Hailstones big as loaves will fall! Do not ask me what happens next, for I will not tell you.’
“‘Great Lord,’ I said, ‘I believe you have told me enough. The rest I can find out for myself. I thank you for your help.’
“‘Ha!’ he says, ‘what is your thanks to me, little man? As for the help you have had, it will likely be your doom. Though I hope I never meet another as foolish as you, I will bid you farewell.’
“I followed the path he had shown me, and rode to the mountain summit and spied the great glen and the tall yew tree. The tree was far taller and far older than the Forest Keeper had told me. I rode to the tree and discovered the pool and the stone and the silver bowl and chain—all as I had been told.
“Eager to try my skill, I wasted not a moment, but took up the bowl, filled it with water from the pool, and dashed the water onto the stone. At once there arose a thunder far louder than the great lord had described, and then a squall of rain with hailstones huge as loaves. My friends, I tell you the truth—if I had not squeezed myself beneath the stone, I would not be here to tell the tale. Even so, my life was on the point of leaving me when the shower and hail stopped. There was not one green spear left on the yew tree, but the weather had cleared and now a flock of birds alighted on the bare branches and began to sing.
“I am certain that no man before or since has heard music sweeter and more poignant than I heard then. But when the music was most pleasant to me, I heard a most mournful groaning which grew until it filled the great glen. And the groans became words: ‘Warrior, what do you want of me? What evil did I ever inflict on you that you should do to me and my realm what you have done?’
“‘Who are you, lord?’ I demanded. ‘And what evil have I done to you?’
The mournful voice answered, “Do you not know that owing to the shower which you have thoughtlessly provoked, neither man nor beast remains alive in my realm? You have destroyed everything.’
“With those words there appeared a warrior on a black horse, dressed in all black; his spear was black and his shield was black, and black the sword on his thigh from hilt to tip. The black horse pawed the ground with a black hoof, and without another word the dread warrior charged.
“Although the appearance was abrupt, I was prepared. Thinking that at last I would achieve everlasting renown, I quickly raised my spear and made my attack. I exulted in the power of the horse beneath me and in the swift advance of the great warrior. But though my charge was far more skillful than the best attack I have ever made, I was quickly swept from my horse and thrown ingloriously down upon the ground. Without so much as a look or word, my dark opponent passed the spear shaft through the bridle rein of my horse and took the animal away, leaving me there alone. He did not think it worth his while to take me hostage or even so much as retrieve my weapons.
“Thus I was forced to return by the path I had taken before, and when I reached the clearing, the Keeper of the Forest met me, and it is a wonder that I did not melt into a puddle for the shame that sharp-tongued lord heaped upon me. I let him have his say, and he said it with eloquence most rare, and then I sighed and began making my long, slow way back to the shining fortress by the sea.
“There I was greeted more joyfully than before, and was made even more welcome and served even better food—if that is possible—than I received the first time. I was able to talk to the men and women in that fair place as much as I liked, and they talked fondly to me. However, no one made mention of my journey to the Black Lord’s realm, nor did I speak of it myself. As vast as my former arrogance, so great was now my disgrace.
“I spent the night there and, when I rose, I found a splendid bay horse with a mane the color of red lichen. I gathered my weapons and bade the lord of that place farewell and then returned to my own realm. The horse remains with me to this day, and I am not lying when I say that I would sooner part with my right hand than give up that horse.”
The king then raised his eyes and looked around his table. “But it is the truth I tell you when I say that I will give half my kingdom to the man who can explain to me the meaning of my adventure.”
At this, Cadwallon concluded his peculiar tale. His lords sat stunned by the humility of their king in telling such a story against himself—as much as by the strangeness of the tale itself. Then up spoke a bold warrior-lord named Hy Gwyd.
“Noblemen all,” he said, “our lord has told us a tale worth hearing. And, unless I am much mistaken, our most canny king has also set a challenge before us, and it is this: to discover for ourselves the meaning of this strange adventure. Therefore, let us behave as bold men ought; let us go forth to meet the king’s challenge and discover the meaning of the tale.”
And the noblemen began to discuss the matter among themselves. They talked long and earnestly, for not everyone agreed with Hy Gwyd. In the end the noblemen decided that nothing good could come of interfering with such mysteries, thus the matter was better left where it stood. They turned again to their feasting and eating. But Hy Gwyd, ambitious as he was clever, was unwilling to let the matter rest; he continued pressing his argument and in the end won his way with his friend, a warrior named Teleri.
So, while the others ate and drank at the table, the two warriors crept from the hall. They saddled their horses, took up their arms, and rode out from Caer Cadwallon in the grip of the mystery their king had posed for them. They rode far and wide in search of the foreign fields that had been described to them. In good time, the two friends reached the forest and the path and knew it to be the same forest and the same path Cadwallon had described.
They followed the path and came to the wonderful valley and crossed the wide, shining river where they found the track leading to the endless plain blooming with every kind of flower. The fragrance of the flowers filled their lungs and the pleasure of that land filled their eyes as they rode along. Through three days and three nights they rode and at last came to the gleaming fortress beside the ever-changing sea of deepest blue.
Two boys with silver torcs and bows of horn were shooting ivory arrows at a white shield—just as Cadwallon had described. A golden-haired man stood watching the boys, and all three greeted the riders warmly and welcomed them to come into the fortress to sup with them. The people they saw inside the stronghold were even more fair and the maidens more lovely than they had imagined. These beautiful women rose up to serve the warriors just as they had served Cadwallon, and the meal they ate in that wondrous hall far surpassed anything they had ever tasted before. When the meal was finished, the lord who greeted them addressed them and asked them what e
rrand they were on.
Hy Gwyd answered him and said, “We are seeking the Black Lord who guards the pool.”
“I wish you had said anything but that,” the lord replied, “but if you are determined to seek the truth of this matter for yourselves, I will not prevent you.” And he told them everything, even as he had told Cadwallon.
At dawn the two rode through that fair realm until they reached the forest clearing where stood the Forest Keeper on his mound. The Keeper of the Animals was even more ugly and impressive than they had been led to believe. Following the disagreeable lord’s grudging directions, they reached the vale beyond the mountain and the vale where the yew tree grew. There they found the fountain and the silver bowl upon the stone. Teleri was for returning the way they had come, but Hy Gwyd laughed at him and taunted him. “We have not come this far to turn back now,” he said. “I feel certain that we will win the renown our king failed to gain. Certainly, we have it in our power to become greater than Cadwallon ever was.” So saying, he took up the bowl, filled it with water from the pool, and dashed the water over the stone.
There followed both thunder and a hailstorm much more severe than Cadwallon had said. They thought they must surely die and were on the point of doing so when the sky cleared and the birds appeared on the leafless yew. The song of the birds was finer and more pleasing than they could have imagined, but when the singing had filled their hearts with pleasure, the groans began. Indeed, such was the groaning that it seemed as if the whole world was in misery and dying. The two warriors looked and saw a lone rider approaching them: the Black Lord they had been told to expect.
The Black Lord gazed mournfully upon them and said, “Brothers, what do you want of me? What evil did I ever inflict on you that you should do to me and my realm what you have done?”
“Who are you, lord?” asked the two warriors. “And what evil have we done to you?”
The mournful voice answered, “Do you not know that owing to the shower which you have thoughtlessly provoked, neither man nor beast remains alive in my realm? You have destroyed everything.”
The two warriors turned to one another and bethought themselves what they might do. “Brother, we are in need of a plan,” Teleri observed. “For it is as our king has said, and we are no nearer the truth of this mystery than when we first began. I say we go back now before something happens we will all regret.”
“Am I to believe what I hear?” Hy Gwyd hooted in derision. “We are this close to winning glory and power beyond reckoning. Lash a spear to your spine if you must, but follow me. There is no turning back.”
With that Hy Gwyd raised his shield and lofted his spear. When the Black Lord saw that they meant to face him, he attacked, unhorsing both warriors with as little effort as if they had been inept children. The dread one made to take their horses, but the two warriors, warned by the example of their king, leapt up at once, grasped the black spear, and pulled their foe from his mount. The Black Lord rose to his knees, and his hand found the hilt of his sword. But Hy Gwyd was quicker.
Up with his sword and down: the Black Lord’s head rolled free of his shoulders and his body toppled to the ground like a felled oak. Hy Gwyd leaned on his sword, breathing hard, but well pleased with himself nonetheless. “We have done it, brother,” he said. “We have succeeded where our king has failed. Now his renown is ours and we are his betters.”
Teleri was still searching for his tongue to make reply when there arose a moaning far greater than the groans they had heard previously. The moan grew to a keening wail. Piteous in its misery and mournful in its grief, the sound of this wailing would bring tears from stones. Indeed, if all the misery in the world were suddenly given voice, it could not sound more lamentable. The two warriors thought they would not long survive the onslaught of such sorrow.
They gazed about them to discover the source of this cry and saw a woman drawing near them, and oh! she was hideous to behold. If all the womanly beauty in the world were turned rancid at a single stoke and bestowed upon the bony back of the most repulsive crone, it still would never match for ugliness the sight which the two warrior friends beheld. Her face was a mass of wrinkles; her teeth black and twisted in her crack-lipped maw. Her sagging flesh was a mass of maggoty sores; lice and worms worked ceaselessly in her hair. The finest of clothes had once been hers, but now the remnants hung on her disgusting body in filthy rags.
The wails of grief were coming from the throat of this loathsome woman, more mournful with every approaching step. When she arrived at the pool, she looked upon the corpse of the Black Lord and keened even louder than before. Birds dropped dead from the trees at the sorrowful sound.
“Woe be upon you!” she cried, tears of sadness streaming down her ruined cheeks. “Look at me! As ugly as I am now, I was once so beautiful. What will happen to me?”
“Lady, who are you?” asked Teleri. “Why do you beseech us so?”
“You have killed my husband!” the loathly lady screeched. “You have taken my man from me and left me desolate!” She stooped to the corpse before her and lifted the severed head by the hair and kissed it on the mouth. “Woe! Woe! My lord is gone. Who is there to care for me now? Who will be my comfort and support?”
“Calm yourself, if you can,” Teleri said. “What is it that you want from us?”
“You have slain the Guardian of the Pool,” the appalling woman said. “He was my husband. Now one of you must take his place. One of you must take me to wife.”
At this, the hideous crone approached the two warriors. A smell came from her that made their legs go weak and their bowels tremble. Red-eyed from crying, her nose running and spittle flowing from her lips, the crone spread her arms to them; her rags parted, revealing a body so wasted and repugnant that both men shut their eyes lest they retch at the sight.
“No!” they shouted. “Do not come any closer or we shall faint.”
“Well?” the Black Hag asked. “Which is it to be?” She turned first to Hy Gwyd. “Will you embrace me?”
Hy Gwyd turned his face away. “Get you from me, hag!” he shouted. “I will never embrace you!”
She turned to Teleri. “I see that you are a man of more heart. Will you embrace me?”
Teleri’s stomach squirmed. He felt sweat on the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet. He gulped air to keep from fainting. “Lady, it is the last thing I will do,” Teleri replied.
At this the woman began wailing again, and so powerful was her keening that the sky darkened and the wind began to blow and the rain began to fall and thunder rolled across the sky. The very ground beneath their feet trembled and the whole world quaked at the sound of trees being uprooted and mountains sliding into the sea.
The sudden onset of such a storm frightened the two warriors. “Let us leave this place at once,” shouted Hy Gwyd. “We have achieved all we came here to do.”
But, though his heart quailed within him, Teleri was unwilling to leave the woman if he could help put the matter right. “Lady,” he said, “although it makes my flesh crawl, I will embrace you.”
“You are a fool, Teleri!” shouted Hy Gwyd. “You deserve her.” With that, he leapt onto his horse and rode swiftly away, though the storm crashed all around him.
Teleri plucked up his courage and stepped toward the hag. His eyes watered—but whether from the sight of her, or the stench of her, he knew not. His arms shook and his strength flowed away like water. He thought his poor heart would burst for the shame and loathing coiling within him.
Yet he raised his shaking arms and put them around the woman. He felt her hands on him, cold as ice, gripping him, bony fingers digging into his flesh. “Woman,” he said, “I have embraced you, and a cheerless embrace it is. Cold death could not be more desolate, nor the grave more grim.”
“Now you must lie with me,” the hag told him, her breath foul in his face. Close up she was even uglier—if that were possible—and more ghastly and more repulsive than before.
“Li
e with you?” Teleri almost lost his reason. He thought to flee, but the Black Hag had him in her clutches and as there was no escape he resolved to see the thing through. “I fear it will be a most abhorrent coupling. Yet, if that will satisfy you, I will do it—for your sake alone; the Good God knows I will receive no pleasure from it.”
So Teleri took the Black Hag in his arms and lay down with her. He put his lips to her stinking mouth and kissed her. They made love, firm flesh to brittle bone, but Teleri could not endure the feat and he fainted.
When he awoke, he was lying in the arms of the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen. Her long hair was yellow as pollen, her teeth white and straight, her brows arched graceful as gull’s wings, her limbs lithe and slender and long. Up he jumped with a startled cry. “Where am I?” he said, holding his head. “What happened to the other woman who was here?”
The maiden sat up and smiled, and it was as if the sun had never shone upon Teleri until that moment. “How many women must you have to satisfy you?” she asked, and oh! her voice was the melting of sweet honey in the mouth.
“Lady,” Teleri said, “you are all the woman I require. Only promise me you will remain with me!”
“‘I will remain with you through all things, Teleri,’” the maiden replied. “For, if I am not mistaken, I am your wife and you are my husband.”
“What is your name?” Teleri asked, feeling foolish that he had a wife but did not know her name.
But the maiden answered soothingly, “Beloved, my name is that word which is most pleasing to your ear. You have but to speak it and that is what I shall be called.”
“Then I will call you Arianrhod,” he said, “for that is the name most pleasing to me.”
Teleri gathered his lovely Arianrhod in his arms and embraced her; her skin was soft and smooth and the touch of her filled him with delight. He kissed her and his soul rose into the heights of ecstasy. His love knew no bounds.
The Endless Knot Page 12
