The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends

by Peter Berresford Ellis

  The next tale, “Llyn-y-Fan Fach”, which is sometimes called “The Physicians of Myddfai”, has survived both in ancient written form and as a folk tale handed down orally. The earliest written reference appears to be in a medieval manuscript in the British Museum, BL Add. 14912. There have been several versions of the tale and many scholastic studies.

  The story of “Bedd Gellert”, however, is not so widely known, surviving in oral tradition down to the end of the 18th century and then being picked up in the form of a poem by the Hon. William R. Spencer, and printed privately by him in 1800, later being reprinted in his collected poems in 1811. However, a similar story, “The Fables of Cattwg the Wise”, appears in the mss of Iolo Morganwg (Edward Williams, 1747–1826). The first part of the story, concerning Rhita Gawr, bears a resemblance to a theme from the story of “Culhwch and Olwen”.

  “The Quest for Olwen”, often called simply “Culhwch and Olwen”, is one of the oldest complete story texts in the Welsh language. It is not an intrinsic part of the Mabinogi but found in The White Book of Rhydderch and The Red Book of Hergest. It is also the earliest recorded native Arthurian saga in Welsh, predating Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae and therefore, unlike many later tales, not influenced by it.

  The final story, “The Dream of Rhonabwy” (Breudwyt Ronabwy) is also a native Arthurian tale, the earliest copy of which is found in The Red Book of Hergest. The tale is set in Powys in the reign of Madog ap Maredudd (d. 1160), the last King of Powys, and it is presumed that the story was composed during his reign. This is the earliest example of the use of the dream motif, which is found in both Welsh and Irish tales.

  But Rhonabwy’s tale is a mystery tale, for the mystery lies in its interpretation. No satisfactory explanation has ever been given by a scholar as to the meaning of Arthur and Owain’s strange board game and the symbolism of the ravens. That it has something to do with the crushing victories of the Anglo-Saxons over the Celtic Britons is clear. Politically, at the time the story was set (ie in the mid-12th century) Owain of Gwynedd had managed to unite the Welsh princes in an alliance against the attacks of Henry II. Should the story be read in that context? Did the storyteller, seeing the need for another Arthur to rise to defend the Britons, this time against the Anglo-Normans, also attempt to show, in symbolic form, the dissensions among the British Celts? The conclusions must be left to the readers.

  Like the other Celts, Welsh myths and legends are full of topographical references. One cannot walk through any area of a Celtic country without coming to realize, unless one is totally impervious to atmosphere, that geographical features are intrinsic to the myths and legends. Celtic myth has much to do with place as well as with story content. As a demonstration of this, my wife and I used to spend some time on the Lleyn Peninsula, in North Wales. In the area around Trefor, where we stayed in the early 1970s, one could still find the old-style chwedleuwr or storyteller who maintained the oral tradition of tales. That is where I first picked up the tale of “Bedd Gellert”. It was, however, on that very peninsula that the locations of the creation of Blodeuedd, the woman of flowers, is said to have happened and the spot where Lleu lived in the form of an eagle. On the north shore, Gwydyon sought a name for his son. South-west, by Bardsey Island, Branwen’s starling came ashore with the sorrowful news of her fate. To the south shore, the ships of Matholwch arrived to take Branwen back to Ireland. All these events are contained in the following tales.

  One simply tunes into the landscape and it is replete with tales of gods and heroes, goddesses and heroines, and of the constant struggle of good and evil.

  Wales was exceptionally fortunate in having scholars and folklorists such as Sir John Rhŷs (1840–1915), appointed as the first professor of Celtic Studies at Oxford. His book Celtic Folklore, Welsh and Manx (two vols, 1901) and his concern with pre-Christian Celtic religion and mythology, as in his On the Origin and Growth of Religion as Illustrated by Celtic Heathendom (1888), were pioneering works in the field.

  One could not leave this area without mention of one of the most important figures in the collection of Welsh folklore – William Jenkyn Thomas (1870–1959), who was an assiduous collector of oral tradition in Wales. A graduate of Cambridge, he lectured at University College of Bangor and published two collections of folklore: The Welsh Fairy Book (1907) and More Welsh Fairy and Folk Tales (1958).

  The best general introduction to early Welsh literature is the previously mentioned Medieval Welsh Literature by Andrew Breeze.

  20 Bran and Branwen

  There was great rejoicing throughout the Isle of the Mighty when Bran, son of Llyr, announced that his beautiful sister Branwen, “the Fair Blossom”, would be married to Matholwch, king of Éireann. It was a union that everyone rejoiced in, for it meant peace between the two kingdoms. Others rejoiced that Branwen should find a husband in the handsome warrior-king and a king so rich that he had sent no less than thirteen great ships to Aber Alaw, which is now called Aberffraw, filled with rich gifts. It was at Aber Alaw that the wedding feast was to be held.

  Great pavilion tents were pitched around the sea port and for nine days and nine nights there was feasting and entertainment.

  Branwen and Matholwch gazed upon one another and neither could find fault in the choice.

  Bran, the king of the Isle of the Mighty, was much pleased with the match for, above all things, he desired peace for his people. But there were some in the kingdom, and within his own family, who did not. Some were ready for mischief and war. Penarddun, the daughter of Dôn, who was the mother of Bran and Branwen by Llyr, had married again to a champion called Eurosswydd. To him she bore twins. One was called Nisien and the other was Efnisien. The first grew to be a youth of gentle nature and a lover of peace, while the second was one who loved nothing better than strife and conflict.

  Because this was known, Bran the king decided that Efnisien should not be invited to Branwen’s wedding feast. So enraged did Efnisien become that he came to the celebrations anyway, although he did not make his presence known. He slunk into the camp of Matholwch in disguise and proceeded to cut off the tails, ears, eyebrows and lips of all the king of Ireland’s horses.

  Matholwch stormed into Bran’s tent the next morning and demanded an explanation for the great insult that had been paid him. Bran explained that the deed had been done without his knowledge and, as token of his good faith, Bran would replace every horse that had been mutilated. In addition, he gave Matholwch a plate of purest gold as big as his face and a staff of silver as tall as Matholwch himself. To this Bran also added a special gift. It was a magical cauldron that had been brought from Éireann.

  Matholwch was mollified by these gifts. In fact, he was more than delighted with the cauldron. Matholwch knew of this magical cauldron and knew where it had once been kept, at a spot called the Lake of the Cauldron in the heart of his kingdom. Walking by that lake many years before, Matholwch had met a tall, ugly man, with a wife larger and uglier than himself. The man, who was called Llassar Llaesgyfnewis, had the cauldron strapped to his back. Every six weeks his wife, called Cymideu Cymeinfoll, gave birth to a fully armed warrior. And if any one warrior was killed, Llassar would put the corpse in the cauldron and the warrior would re-emerge, as alive as ever but lacking the power of speech.

  At first they had taken service with Matholwch, but the continual growth of the warrior family, who could never be killed, and their incessant bickering caused the king of Éireann many a heartache. Finally, he could stand no more and knew that the only thing to do was to destroy Llassar and Cymideu and all their children together.

  He had enticed them all into a house made of iron and had coals heaped on it, hoping that it would roast the whole family to death. But as soon as the iron walls grew white-hot, Cymideu and Llassar had burst through them but their bickering children had remained behind and were roasted to death. Cymideu and Llassar, together with their magic cauldron, had crossed to the Isle of the Mighty, where Bran had allowed them t
o settle and, in return for this kindness, they had given Bran the magic cauldron.

  So Matholwch was well pleased at receiving the cauldron but without the fierce pair who had previously owned it and all the warriors to which they gave birth.

  So the wedding feast continued and, at the end of the nine days and nights, Matholwch and his beautiful bride, Branwen, set sail for his court at Tara in Éireann. And before the year was out, Branwen bore Matholwch a son, who was called Gwern, and because he was the heir to the five kingdoms of Éireann, he was sent to be fostered among the greatest families of the land.

  In the second year of their marriage, tales of the insult Matholwch had suffered at his wedding feast were made known to the people of Éireann. Stories were spread that Matholwch was weak, having accepted a token compensation from Bran. The people of Éireann, prompted by these stories, grew indignant. They demanded that Matholwch should seek vengeance. Now Matholwch was rather worried at this, for he knew that behind the stories were his foster-brothers, who were envious of his throne. They were stirring up this trouble in order to oust him as king and claim the throne for themselves.

  So Matholwch decided to appease his people by publicly degrading Branwen. He had her removed to the kitchens of the palace and forced her to cook and clean and ordered the chief cook to give her a blow on the ears every day so that she would know her place. All traffic of ships between Éireann and the Isle of the Mighty was forbidden, so that no news of how Branwen was being punished should reach her brother.

  For three years, Branwen bore the punishment, working from sunrise to sunset in the kitchens and being sent to sleep in a draughty attic at night. It was in the attic, in the brief period before dawn, that she found a young starling with a broken wing. She mended the wing and taught the starling how to fly. Then she wrote a letter to her brother Bran, telling him what was taking place. The starling took the message under its wing and flew up into the sky.

  Away eastward from Éireann it flew, until it alighted at Caer Seiont in Arfon. Indeed, not only did it alight in Caer Seiont but it set down on the very shoulder of Bran, the king, himself.

  Bran’s rage grew as he read the letter from his sister and he called his son Caradawg to him and told him to send out to all the chieftains of the Isle of the Mighty to prepare a great army to invade Éireann. No less than one hundred and forty-four kings came to his aid. Leaving Caradawg to rule the Isle of the Mighty in his absence, Bran set sail with his great armada.

  Messengers soon came to Matholwch, telling him that a great forest was growing on the sea and this vast wood was moving towards the shores of Éireann.

  Branwen heard the news and cried in joy. “It is the masts and yards of the fleet of Britain.”

  The chief cook reported this outburst to Matholwch, who immediately sought the advice of his council. They decided that the army of Bran was so vast that it could not be met in battle where advantage was with it. Matholwch, however, ordered a great palace to be constructed for Bran to placate him. A great feasting would be held and all homage done to the king of the Isle of the Mighty. Branwen would be released and her son Gwern brought to the court.

  However, this was an outward subterfuge. The plan was that Bran and all his sub-kings and chieftains would be invited into the new palace feasting-hall. Of course, according to ancient law, no one could enter a feasting-hall with arms, so that made the Britons defenceless. Matholwch secretly arranged that at each of the pillars behind the seats at the feasting tables were to be hung two leather bags. And in each bag would be an armed warrior of Éireann. A signal would be given and the warriors would then fall on the guests and slaughter them.

  Now it chanced that Efnisien had come with Bran’s army and, while Matholwch was greeting Bran and inviting him to the banquet, Efnisien entered the feasting-hall. Efnisien saw the bags and asked one of Matholwch’s attendants: “What is in this bag?”

  “Meal, good soul,” replied the servant.

  So Efnisien put his hand in the bag and felt the head of the warrior inside. He squeezed the head until his fingers met together in the brain as the bone cracked. He went to the next bag and asked the same question. The attendant tried to brazen it out. But Efnisien went through the entire hall and crushed all two hundred warriors’ heads while they were hiding in the bags, even the head of one warrior who was wearing an iron helmet.

  When the feasting began, Matholwch made a great play of preaching peace and concord. Branwen, suitably clothed once more as a princess, was told to enter the feast and pretend to her brother Bran that her letter of despair was all a mistake. Matholwch had brought her son, the boy Gwern, to the feasting-hall and threatened to kill him if Branwen disobeyed. And when the boy was led in, Bran and his followers embraced their young nephew, in whom the kingship of Éireann rested.

  But when the boy came to Efnisien, the boy’s half-uncle, Efnisien seized him and flung him into the blazing fire in the hearth saying: “No son of Matholwch can be trusted, for treachery runs deep in his blood!” Branwen, with a cry of despair, would have leapt after him but Bran seized her and held her back.

  Matholwch called his warriors to strike but they lay dead in their sacks.

  Realising now that he had been betrayed by Matholwch, Bran ordered his men to arms while Matholwch and his nobles beat a hurried retreat from the feasting hall. Thereafter, the men of the Isle of the Mighty and the men of Éireann closed in battle and the combat continued far into that first night.

  During the night the men of Éireann told Matholwch that they were losing too many warriors. And so Matholwch ordered that the magic cauldron be readied and the bodies of the dead were thrown inside. Come the next morning, the dead warriors emerged alive but without the power of speech. The fresh army of Matholwch renewed the attack on the exhausted army of Bran and there was great slaughter.

  Now Efnisien, who had inherited a little of the purity of spirit of his mother Penarddun, for he was still half-brother to Bran and Branwen, was filled with remorse for what he had done. He realised that he was responsible for everything that had come to pass since the wedding of Branwen. “It is up to me to find a way of delivering my people safely from this catastrophe,” he said.

  And so he hid himself that evening among the dead warriors of Éireann. He was taken up with their corpses and transferred to the hidden place of the cauldron during the night. Then he was flung inside with the others and, once inside, he rent the cauldron into four pieces so that it could not be used again. Such was the effort of his deed that his own heart burst asunder.

  The men of Éireann and the men of the Isle of the Mighty continued to wage war but, finally, all the men of Éireann were slain and only five pregnant women of Éireann were left to repopulate that ravaged land. And among the warriors from the Isle of the Mighty, only seven remained. Bran himself was wounded in the foot by an arrow bearing poison and he knew that the poison was spreading through his body. So he called the remaining warriors of Britain to him.

  They were Bran’s brother Manawydan ap Llyr; Pryderi, son of Pwyll and Rhiannon; the great bard Taliesin; Gluneu son of Taran; Ynawg; Gruddyeu son of Muryel; and Heilyn son of Gwynn Hen.

  Bran gazed at them sadly. “I am dying. Before the poison reaches my head and destroys my soul, cut off my head. Take it with you to the fortress of Llyr and bury it on the White Hill. There shall my head be placed so that it faces east, and then no foreigner will invade Britain while it is there. Once you have cut off my head, I shall remain and talk to you through my head, and be pleasant company on your sad journey back to the Isle of the Mighty. I shall remain with you until you have completed your task.”

  Then the seven cut off Bran’s head and, together with a sorrowing Branwen, those survivors left the ravaged shores of Éireann where so many had perished. And although the head of Bran talked and was as joyful as it had been in life, the more Branwen grew mournful and depressed. And when the party reached the shores of the Isle of the Mighty and came to Aber Alaw, where she
had once been so happy at her marriage feast, Branwen sat down in grief.

  “Grief is on me that I was ever born. Two island kingdoms have been destroyed because of me. Though yesterday my grief was unbearable, today it is twice so.”

  Without another word, the beautiful Branwen groaned and her heart broke.

  Softened were the voices in the brakes

  Of the wondering birds

  On seeing the fair body of Branwen.

  Will there not be a relating again

  Of that sadness that befell the Fair Blossom

  At the stream of Alaw?

  The seven survivors gathered round and they built her a four-sided grave on the banks of the Alaw, which spot they called Ynys Branwen.

  As they journeyed eastward, the seven found that Casswallawn son of Beli had overthrown Caradawg, Bran’s son, and destruction had settled upon the Isle of the Mighty. Caradawg had died of grief and only Pryderi’s foster-father, Pendaran had escaped the destruction. And while Manawydan should have been king of the Isle of the Mighty, Casswallawn ruled instead, for the destiny had been laid on the seven that they first accompany the head of their beloved leader to its final resting place.

  They journeyed onward, eating, drinking and feasting with the noble head of Bran.

  Finally, they came to the fortress of Llyr, Llyr’s dun, which is now called London, and they took the head to a hill overlooking the place, called the White Hill, where in later years the Tower of London was raised. Here they buried the head with its face to the east. And it came to pass for many centuries no conquerors truly conquered the Isle of the Mighty, and Britain remained under the rule of the descendants of the Children of Dôn.

  It is said that ages afterwards, Arthur, in his Christian pride, thought it beneath his dignity to rely on the prophecy wrought by Bran, and he had the fabulous head dug up and thrown into the sea. Within a short time, Arthur was slain at Camlann and the godless hosts of Angles and Saxons were swarming into Britain across the Northern Sea.