Suffice to say that the lord of Pengersick chose the side of the Gwelhevyn simply because he was offered more gold for his services than the side of the lawless bandits who were robbing the land. The main point in this was that he fell in love with a beautiful princess of the country called Berlewen, that is “morning star”. She was the daughter of the Gwelhevyn. Gwavas, lord of Pengersick, wanted to carry the princess back to the kingdom of Cornwall.
It is said that Berlewen would not have minded this, for she returned the love of the lord of Pengersick. However, Berlewen was betrothed to Prince Cadarn the Strong, a neighbouring prince. Because she was betrothed, the Gwelhevyn had his daughter, Berlewen, watched and guarded each moment of the day, for he was anxious for his daughter’s honour. He did not want anything to disrupt the forthcoming marriage, as it was advantageous to his kingdom, and it was known that Cadarn the Strong was a very jealous man.
However, the lord of Pengersick was not without cunning. He found a means to visit Berlewen in the dead of night without anyone discovering him. Berlewen and her lover passed many happy hours together. Eventually, the lord Pengersick had to return home, for he had been away a long time and he was worried in case his castle and estates might have fallen to his enemies. Over the years he had been a warrior, he had made several enemies who would have liked to take their revenge on him. So he took his leave of Berlewen, promising to return as soon as he could. As he left, she took off her gold finger ring and broke it in half. One half she kept while the other she gave to him.
“If you do not return soon, I will try to find a way of following you to your castle in the distant kingdom of Cornwall,” she said. “By this half-ring, you will remember your love in this far country.”
Gwavas, lord of Pengersick, took the half-ring and swore by all that was sacred to him, and to Berlewen, that if he could not return, then he would wait for her and wait for seven years, during which time he would look at no other woman. If, after seven years, she had not come to Castle Pengersick, he would know that she would never come to him.
As the lord of Pengersick was on his journey home, Berlewen gave birth to a child. A son.
When the lord of Pengersick returned home, it was not long before Berlewen was just a distant memory. Such is often the nature of soldiers. One day he went to Helston, which was then a very different place from what it is today. There was an old palace there in which dwelt a rich family. You see, Helston was then called Henliston, which means in Cornish hen (old), lis (court) ton (meadow) and thus was called the “old court of the meadow”. Dwelling in this place was a lady called Hyviu, whose father had been a great druid, although he was now dead. Hyviu had some of her father’s abilities and, moreover, she was very wealthy.
The lord of Pengersick courted her and, forgetting his oath, married her. Not long passed before Gwavas, lord of Pengersick, grew dissatisfied. He disliked the peaceful life that he and his lady Hyviu lived. Then news came of new wars in the distant land of the Gwelhevyn. He announced one day that he would return there. So he set out.
He found that Berlewen had succeeded her father and become the Gwelhevyn or ruler of her kingdom, and now the war that was being fought was against Prince Cadarn the Strong because she had refused to marry him. The lord of Pengersick enlisted in Berlewen’s service, although he took good care not to tell her about Hyviu, his wife at home in Cornwall. In the joy of his arrival back in her land, Berlewen did not tell the lord of Pengersick that she had given him a son. There would be plenty of time after Cadarn the Strong had been defeated.
Now Berlewen presented the lord of Pengersick with an enchanted sword, a magic weapon, Cledha Ruth or the Red Sword. She said that it would bring success and invincibility to its rightful possessor. She made him general of her army and came to fight by his side.
It happened that, in spite of the Cledha Ruth and his warrior’s eye, the army of Pengersick and Berlewen was defeated by the hordes of Cadarn the Strong. We may know that if the Cledha Ruth only gave invincibility to its rightful owner, then the lord of Pengersick was not so considered, because he had lied about his wife in Cornwall.
In the heat of the battle, Pengersick and Berlewen lost sight of each other. After the battle, Pengersick could not find her and, being defeated and having no cause to stay to be captured and executed by Cadarn, the lord of Pengersick took to his ship and sailed for home, without giving Berlewen a second thought. With him, he took the Cledha Ruth.
Berlewen, however, had escaped, took her small child, and found her way to one of her galleys on the coast. So she gave orders to the captain to find the land of Cornwall and the Castle Pengersick, knowing that if her lover had escaped the carnage, that would be where she would find him.
Meanwhile, lord Pengersick had arrived at his castle and found Hyviu, his wife, had given birth to a child in his absence. The boy, who was called Marec, was nursing at her breast. Pengersick told her off for not telling him that she was pregnant before he left for the war. She assured him that she had not been sure and feared to raise false hopes. So, once more, Pengersick settled in his castle.
Then, one cruel windswept night, there was a knock on the castle doors.
Berlewen stood there with a baby in her arms. The lord of Pengersick was alone that night, for Hyviu had gone to Helston with her child to visit her old palace.
The lord of Pengersick was amazed to see Berlewen with a child at his door.
“This is the child of our love,” Berlewen announced.
Now Pengersick was guilty and his guilt made him fearful and angry.
“Stupid woman, how dare you follow me? I have been wed these many years and am already father to a boy child.”
“Oh, cruel man!” cried Berlewen, aghast. “Even overlooking what has been between us, do you spurn your own son and turn me from your door, when I am alone and needy in this strange land of yours?”
Now Pengersick was fearful at her raised voice, and scared that his servants might overhear and tell his wife. So he drew her away from the castle gates and led her down towards the cliffs, in spite of the roaring and howling of the wind. He explained to her that he was taking her to a place where he would provide for her, in order to make her come away from the castle.
When they reached the cliff top, he turned and handed her a small purse with a few gold pieces in.
“You must return home,” he told her.
“Faithless lover, you perjured your soul to me,” cried Berlewen. “Thief who took the Cledha Ruth from me, on which the safety of my kingdom rested, for we would not have been defeated had you rightly possessed it.”
“Go home, go back to your kingdom,” cried Pengersick, anger rising in him in response to his increasing guilt.
“Alas, cruel man, I have no kingdom. Because of you, I have disgraced my people and lost them their freedom. For that, you will no longer flourish in this land. May evil meet you and bad luck follow you to the sorrowful end of your days!”
In a fury, he turned on her and threw her and the baby in her arms over the cliff top, spinning down into the restless sea below. Then he returned to his castle and told no one.
As dawn came up, the captain of the vessel which had transported Berlewen to Cornwall, which was standing offshore waiting for her return from Praa Sands, saw the body of his queen floating on the sea and on her breast was her tiny baby, fast asleep but well and happy. The captain consigned Berlewen’s body to the depths and took the baby back to his own country and to his wife, where it was reared as his own son. Prince Cadarn now ruled the land and the boy would be in constant danger if the cruel prince knew that the boy was the rightful Gwelhevyn. Thus he was raised in secret.
As the days went by, Gwavas, lord of Pengersick, became moody and angry. He took to hunting wolves, which were numerous in Cornwall then. Whenever he went out to hunt, he would strap the Cledha Ruth to his side, for he was under the delusion that it still made him invincible. One day, he was chasing a wolf over Tregonning Hill and so hard in the c
hase was he that he failed to notice that night had come down and a great storm arisen. He had to pause and dismount on the hill, hoping that the great storm would pass. In the glaring white light of the lightning stroke, he saw a number of savage beasts gathering and in their midst was a large white hare, whose eyes glowed with coals of fire. The wild beasts began to howl and Pengersick’s horse reared, lashed out and thundered away into the night.
The next day, when Pengersick had not returned to his castle, his steward, Gillis, had a search made. The lord of the castle was found on Tregonning Hill, more dead than alive. He no longer wore the Cledha Ruth buckled to his side. He was carried home and nursed by Hyviu, who used all the arts she had at her command. Slowly he recovered but, while healthy in body, he was not healthy in his mind. He was brooding and angry. He had lost the Cledha Ruth, the magic sword. And, in his heart, he knew that the white hare was nothing else but the vengeful spirit of Berlewen. He changed into a coward who dreaded to go beyond his castle gate and his gold was spent on bodyguards and on a druid to protect him from the evils of the Otherworld.
Yet every time he thought it safe to venture forth, with or without his bodyguards and druid, he saw the great white hare. Indeed, no one but himself could see this hare: not his druid nor his bodyguard.
The lord of Pengersick soon grew into a perverted and cruel man whose treatment of his wife Hyviu was the talk of all Cornwall. Indeed, her days were shortened by his manner and she grew sad, sick and ill and died, leaving her child Marec. Knowing that Pengersick cared nothing for the child, in her dying moments, Hyviu sent the faithful Gillis, the steward, to bring to her bedside her old nurse, who had married a local miller. The nurse had given birth late in life and her son Utar was still at her breast. Hyviu asked the nurse to take Marec also. So Hyviu died and the miller’s wife shared her breast between Marec and her own son, Utar.
So the sad years passed, sorrowfully for those who dwelt in the shadow of Castle Pengersick. The lord of the castle seldom ventured forth and lived almost entirely alone. Only a few old servants, who remembered him as a strapping youthful hero, riding forth to war, remained within the gloomy halls of the castle. Among them was Gillis, the steward, who cared for his master out of duty to all the lords of Pengersick that had gone before and in the hope that Marec, the legitimate heir to Castle Pengersick, would one day come into his inheritance.
Twenty years passed. Marec had grown into a fine youth and master of all manly sports. His constant companion was Utar, his foster-brother. They became famous for their daring. Often they would steer their boat to the rocks offshore to rescue sailors in distress, when other men feared to leave the shore. Marec also had a reputation for taming wild horses, caught in the hills. He was a fine horseman and skilled in all the equestrian arts.
It was at this time that Gwavas, the lord of Pengersick, began to recover something of his lost courage and he ventured forth and began to renew his acquaintances in the land. His old friend, the lord of Godolphin, invited him to his castle and he found that Godolphin had a beautiful young daughter. Pengersick thought that if his son Marec could marry the daughter of Godolphin, it would be an auspicious match, for there was no heir at Godolphin and it would mean that the domains of Pengersick and Godolphin would become one great estate.
It so happened that the idea was not displeasing to the young daughter of Godolphin, because she had seen Marec, watching him playing hurley and win at wrestling and racing horses.
But there was one problem. Marec did not like the daughter of Godolphin. Indeed, he was rather afraid of her, for it was rumoured that she was a sorceress. The whisper throughout the countryside was that she was intimate with the witch of Fraddam, whose niece, Venna, was her favourite maidservant. Further, it was said, the two women would spend a great deal of time concocting potions and distilling herbs. Some people went so far as to say that the daughter of Godolphin had the evil eye, and they would avert their gaze and hold out forked fingers to her whenever she passed.
Since Marec himself cared nothing for her, it happened that the lord of Pengersick was courting her more than his son. So it was Pengersick, who still retained some of his youthful ruggedness in spite of the ravages of time and fortune, who married the daughter of Godolphin. It was said by some that the daughter of Godolphin, realizing that she could not get near Marec in any other way, thought the role of stepmother to him was a better relationship than none at all. One of the conditions of her marriage, however, was that she and her children should inherit the lands of Pengersick in preference to Marec. Of all the servants in the castle, Gillis, the steward, suspected the intentions of the new wife of his master, and decided to keep a careful eye on her.
Time passed. The daughter of Godolphin soon grew bored with her morose and elderly husband, and the isolation of Castle Pengersick. Marec and his companion seldom visited the castle, preferring always to be hunting or visiting at other palaces. Neither was there any sign of her becoming pregnant. This vexed the lady Pengersick and one day she called Venna, her maidservant, and asked for some advice. Venna went to her aunt, the witch of Fraddam.
When she returned, she said this: “My aunt says that you are to seek out Marec and invite him here and be kind to him. The kinder you are, he and his comrade might visit more regularly and cheer you in your solitude.”
“Marec!” snapped the daughter of Godolphin. “He is an uncouth boy who would rather chase hounds and ride wild horses than pass an hour in a lady’s bower. As for his companion Utar, why, he is only a miller’s son and not fit for my company.”
But Venna, the witch’s niece, knowing what her mistress truly felt about Marec, promised that she would prepare a potion which, if Marec took it, would soon turn him into her humble slave who would pine for her love.
So it came about that Marec was invited to a dinner, on the pretext that he should repair the relationship between his father and his father’s new bride. Marec came and Venna, who waited on the table, was able to slip the potion into his drink.
Now it so happened that Venna, in her eagerness to please her mistress, had forgotten one important thing. The potion had to be given by the person who wanted the attention of him to whom it was given. So Marec turned love-sick eyes on Venna, who was a comely enough young girl. And Marec, as was the custom with youths in that day, pressed Venna to share a drink from his wine, so that she, too, flustered as she was, was forced to wet her lips and the tip of her tongue with the potion. It was a strong potion and it was enough to make her immediately forget her duty to her mistress; she went strolling on the sea shore with Marec where they dallied in amorous embraces.
Now the lady Pengersick’s love for Marec turned to hatred and her hatred into vengeance.
Next morning, over breakfast, she told the lord of Pengersick that she wanted to return to Castle Godolphin, because she was pining for fresh air. Pengersick pointed out that there was plenty of fresh air in his castle but she answered coyly that she dared not leave her room, because his son Marec was about the castle, and she went in fear of being insulted by his ungentlemanly behaviour. By subtle hints, she gave old Pengersick to understand that Marec had discovered a passion for her and was trying to make her unfaithful to his father.
Gwavas, the lord of Pengersick, raged and raved and swore that his upstart son would suffer banishment before many hours were passed.
“He does not deserve that, my lord,” smiled the daughter of Godolphin. “He cannot help his ardours.”
“Nevertheless, I shall have him removed from this house and put so far away that it would be years before he found his way back here.”
“Nevertheless, I shall have him removed from this house and put so far away that it would be years before he found his way back here.”
“Let him tarry here a while longer,” said his young wife. “But remember that I warned you of his intentions, so that if anything happens in future you may be prepared.”
Having planted this seed of distrust between the old lord
Pengersick and Marec, Godolphin’s daughter went straight to Venna’s room. The maidservant had returned and she grabbed the luckless girl and was about to thrust a knife into her breast, vowing to make her heart pour forth its life-blood that moment for her treachery. It so happened that Venna had already come to her senses, only having wet her lips and tongue with the potion and not drunk it. So its effects had worn off.
“Have patience, my dear mistress,” cried the girl. “You may plunge your dagger into my heart, if you wish, but first let me explain what happened.”
Venna then told her mistress what had befallen her and that it was all a mistake. There was another way in which the lady Pengersick might now gain Marec’s love. If she could induce him into the garden in the dead of night and climb the outer stair to her chamber, Venna would then make certain arrangements. The daughter of Godolphin listened carefully and approved the plan.
The plan was to poison the lord of Pengersick that very evening at dinner for, having excited him to jealousy against Marec, they realized that he might have him abducted or sent from the country or even killed before they could act.
What they did not realize was that their plan was overheard by Gillis, the steward. Gillis had long suspected the daughter of Godolphin and it was his custom to keep a wary eye upon her and her maidservant, Venna. There were many secret passages in Pengersick Castle, and such places were known only to Gillis, who had frequented them while the lords of Pengersick had forgotten these mysterious hiding holes. Thus it was that the faithful servant overheard the diabolical plan.
That evening, as was his custom, he stood behind his master’s chair to attend to his wants. The hall was dimly lit and the fading twilight was only enhanced by the sparkle from the fire on the hearth. In this twilight, while the daughter of Godolphin was suggesting that it was high time that the lamps were lit, Gillis managed to remove his lord’s glass of wine, which he knew had been prepared with poison, and switch it with the lady Pengersick’s glass of wine.
The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends Page 44
