The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends
Page 51
“It is rather high up, isn’t it?” said another.
It was then the eldest remembered an old saying. Tus skentyl nu-gar fordhow ughel. Wise men do not like high roads.
He was thinking how true this was.
Then, just as he was thinking that he ought to make a protest, they came down on a broad plain.
“This is the right road to the Crystal Palace,” cried the giant, pointing to a distant speck on the horizon. “I can’t take you further.”
Then he was away in a blazing ball, before they could say anything else.
One of the brothers shivered slightly. “Let’s go back home; I do not like this.”
“We’ve come this far. We should see it through until the end,” said the eldest.
So they began to walk on towards the spot where the giant had pointed. But it never seemed to get nearer. So, finally, they all decided to return home. It took them a long, long time but eventually they came to Garras and on to Chygarkye and came into their house. They told their parents what had transpired.
“I wouldn’t have given up,” declared the young Wuric. “I would have journeyed on until I found out if our sister was happy or not.”
“Well, you are an imbecile,” his elder brothers declared in disgust. “How could you succeed when we, who are strong and intelligent, could not?”
Wuric flushed in annoyance and stood up. “I shall set out and I won’t come back until I have discovered what has happened to my sister, Welet,” he declared.
“You idiot!” sneered the eldest brother. “If you think that you can succeed, then be off with you!”
“I will try. And I will find her, wherever she is.” So the next day, Wuric set off alone.
He followed the same road as his brothers had followed and eventually he came to the dark forest, moving in the direction of the rising sun. He heard the terrible thunderstorm and saw the flashes of lightning as he journeyed through the forest. Finally, he met an old woman, bending over a fire.
“Good evening, dama-wyn,” he greeted politely.
“Where are you off to, my son?” the old woman replied.
“I am trying to find the Forth Lys-an-Gwrys. Do you know it?”
“I know it. But my son knows it better. Perhaps you have heard or seen him in the forest?”
“I believe I have heard him.”
Just then there was a most fearful noise of thunder and lightning.
“Here comes my son. Quickly, hide under those trees, or he might eat you.”
“Not I!” declared Wuric.
Then into the clearing came a giant of a man.
“Good evening, mother,” he said. Then he sniffed. “I smell a Cornishman, I think. Nown blyth a-m-bus! I am ravenous.”
“Then you will have to feed elsewhere,” declared Wuric. “There is not enough meat on my bones to stuff your oversized belly with.”
The giant stared at him and then began to quake with laughter. “Here, indeed, is a game one,” he chuckled. “Aren’t you afraid of me?”
“I was told to respect thunder and lightning when I was a child, but never to fear it,” replied Wuric.
The giant slapped his knee in delight, for no man had talked to him like this before. “Tell me what you want here, and I shall help you.”
His mother told him.
“I shall take you to the Forth Lys-an-Gwrys in the morning,” declared the giant, whose name was Taran, which means “thunder”.
Sure enough, in the morning, he flew up in the sky, with Wuric on his back, and landed him on a great plain.
“I can’t take you further, but keep on across this plain. Soon you will find that it becomes a broad plain of blackened earth. Keep to the road, even if you find it impassable. Do not look right nor left and, no matter what is on the road, keep to it. If you go as fearlessly as you have come, you will reach Forth Lys-an-Gwrys.”
Wuric kept to the road that Taran the giant had indicated and stuck to it, looking neither right nor left. He came to the plain and began to trek along the blackened earth road. Then he suddenly found his way blocked by a pile of writhing snakes. He halted for a moment in fear. Then he remembered Taran’s words. He began to march straight into the snakes. They wrapped themselves around his legs, writhing and biting. But he took no notice of the hideous reptiles, hissing and menacing him. He did not lose his courage and walked through them without hurt.
Next the road came to the edge of a great lake. He could not swim and there was no sign of any boat. He remembered what Taran had said and on he marched, right into the deep, dank waters. Up to his knees the cold water came; up to his armpits, then up to his chin. Finally the waters closed blackly over his head but he kept going forward and suddenly he was on the other side of the lake.
The road continued until he found himself entering a narrow defile, which was full of thorns and brambles and with no way through them. Rocky cliffs stretched upwards for hundreds of feet on either side. Then he remembered what Taran had said. Down on his hands and knees he went and began to slither on his stomach through the undergrowth until he was through it – torn, cut and bleeding and his clothes were in tatters. Yet the moment he was through the other side, his cuts and scratches were healed.
He went on and finally came on an emaciated horse standing blocking the path.
“Climb on me,” the horse invited. “I’ll take you onwards on your journey.”
“Dursona!” Wuric cried. “Blessing on you, horse. I’m too exhausted to walk further.”
So the horse took him off along the path. That evening, they came to a spot where there was a large stone resting on top of two other stones.
“You must dismount now,” said the horse. “See those two stones? Tip the top stone over.”
Wuric did so and found a tunnel entrance.
“Go into the tunnel; that is your way forward,” instructed the horse.
At first Wuric thought that he would suffocate in the stench of the tunnel. It was odious in the extreme, and the tunnel was so dark that he had to grope his way forward. Then he heard a terrible sound behind him like demons baying for blood.
“I shall doubtless die here,” he shivered. But he remembered what Taran had said and set his jaw firmly before hastening on. Eventually he saw a glimmer of light ahead and it gave him hope. The noises behind were getting close but he gave a spurt and then he was through into the bright sunshine, out of the tunnel, and safe and sound.
Now he found his path came to a cross-roads.
He paused, dismayed, wondering which one he should take. Then he remembered what Taran had said and he took the one which led straight ahead. Now there were many high gates across the road and each was barred or padlocked. Being unable to open them, he simply climbed over them. It was hard going, but eventually he came to the brow of a hill and the last gate. Finally he saw, in the distance, a large palace of sparkling crystal.
“Surely that is Lys-an-Gwrys!” he cried. “I must be near the end of my journey.”
He hurried forward and, after a while, he came to the gates of the Crystal Palace with its resplendent light, which dazzled his eyes. There were a number of doors around it and he tried each one, but each one was locked. Then he found a small open hatch which led onto a chute which went downwards. It was a ventilation chute into the cellars of the palace. He did not hesitate, but climbed in and slid down into the cellars.
From there, he went up the cellar stairs into a large kitchen, and from the kitchen into a hall. The rooms of the palace were of increasing beauty and so bright with light that he had to blink his eyes. Then he came to a hall of such surpassing beauty that he was almost blinded. But there, yes – there at the end of the room was a great bed of gold with silk sheets – and there was his sister, Welet, lying asleep on the bed. She looked as if she had not aged a single hour since he had last seen her. She did not wake but lay slumbering. She was so beautiful that Wuric stood back behind the curtains, just to watch her for a while.
He
had no sooner taken his stand than the door opened and the tall figure of Lord Howlek entered. He was as resplendent as ever, with his red gold hair and flashing figure. He went straight to Welet and, to Wuric’s surprise, he gave her three sharp slaps across the cheek. He went to move forward and protest but then he realized that his sister had not stirred – not even blinked an eye. Then the Lord Howlek climbed onto the bed and lay down at her side.
Wuric thought it a strange way to treat his sister. Then he saw that Lord Howlek was in a deep sleep and he wondered what to do. Perhaps he should find something to eat and a room to rest in. Then he realized that although he had been weary and had a great hunger on him when he arrived at the palace, he now felt rested and replete. He could not understand it. He sat down and found that the night passed profoundly peacefully. Wuric did not even move from his hiding place.
Then, as dawn approached, Lord Howlek stood up and gave Welet three sharp smacks on the cheek and left. Still Welet did not even move.
When Lord Howlek had left, Wuric left his hiding place and went to the sleeping form of his sister. Now he feared that death had overtaken her. So still and calm she was, in spite of the resounding smacks on her cheeks. Wuric reached out a hand and felt her forehead and assured himself she was still alive. Then he bent and kissed her brow. As he did so, she gave a smile, opened her eyes and stretched languidly. Then she recognized her brother and her smile grew broader.
“Wuric! How came you here? What joy to see you!”
They embraced each other.
“Sister, I have been worried for you.”
“What cause to worry, brother?”
“Where is your husband?” Wuric was anxious, lest Lord Howlek come back into the bedroom.
“Gone on a journey. You surely must have seen him, for he left my side only a moment ago.”
Then Wuric realized that if his sister knew this, she must surely have been feigning stillness when Lord Howlek slapped her. “Oh, my poor sister, it grieves me to see him ill-treat you so.”
“But he is my joy, brother. He does not ill-treat me at all.” Welet was clearly puzzled by what he had said.
“How can you say this?” he demanded. “I witnessed him slap you last night when he came in. Three hard slaps on the cheek. When he rose this morning, the Lord Howlek did spitefully use you again by giving you three slaps on the cheek.”
“You are surely mistaken, brother, for he does not give me a slap, nor three slaps. Each evening he comes and kisses me three times and each morning he bids me farewell with three kisses.”
Wuric was perplexed.
Then he realized it was surely breakfast time, but he still felt replete.
“There seems neither cold nor hunger in this place, sister. I have seen no servants, nor any preparations for food. What does this mean?”
“I have no idea, brother. But it is true, for as long as I have been here, I have not experienced the desire to eat nor drink.”
“Is there no one else here?”
“Oh, yes. But my lord told me that I must not speak to anyone. But I have not seen anyone since I came here.”
So they spent the day together, talking about their family and what had happened in the kingdom of Cornwall since she left. That evening, Lord Howlek came to the palace and saw Wuric.
“This is my youngest brother,” said Welet hastily, seeing his frown.
“Ah, I recognize you now. You have come to visit us? That is good of you.”
“Not without great hardship in the journey,” added Wuric.
“I can believe you. No one has ever come as far as this. But on your journey back, the road will be easier, for I shall ensure that you will be well protected over the harder paths.”
So Wuric stayed with his sister, Welet, and her husband, the Lord Howlek. Each day, Lord Howlek left the palace, and he returned each night. Nor was there any cause to eat and drink, for they always felt replete. Intrigued by the manner of living at the Crystal Palace, Wuric asked his sister where her husband went each day.
“I do not know, nor have I ever asked him.”
So the next morning, Welet asked her husband: “Where do you go, each day?”
Howlek frowned. “What makes you ask this question?”
“My brother is curious.”
And Wuric, when asked, confirmed his curiosity. “I would like to go with you, wherever it is, for I would like to see this country before I return to the kingdom of Cornwall.”
“Then you shall, but there is one condition.”
“I shall respect it, whatever it is.”
“You will do exactly as I say.”
“No hardship in that.”
“Then you must not touch anything and you must speak only with me, no matter what you see or hear.”
Wuric agreed to these conditions.
So they left the Crystal Palace and started along a path that was so narrow that Wuric could only follow behind the Lord Howlek. Then they came to a vast arid plain of sand, so broad that it stretched like a great desert. There in the middle of it was a herd of big fat cattle, sitting in the sand and chewing their cud.
On they went until they came to a plain of grass, thick and tall. Here there was a herd of thin, emaciated cattle, bellowing pitifully.
“Listen, brother-in-law,” whispered Wuric, “tell me, for I have never seen the like: how do cattle grow fat in a sandy desert while they grow lean in a big grassy plain. Can you explain this to me?”
Lord Howlek smiled thinly. “Know this: the fat cattle are the poor people who are content with their lot and do not covet other people’s wealth. The emaciated cattle are those who are always fighting one another for wealth: fighting to increase their riches, and never satisfied because they are seeking more and more at the expense of others.”
On they went until they came to a river bank where they saw two giant oak trees clashing and banging against each other so bitterly that the splinters of wood flew off them. It was so terrible that Wuric could not help himself, for he had a tender heart. He had a staff and he stretched it forward between the two trees.
“Stop this terrible fighting! You must not mistreat one another. Learn to live in peace.”
No sooner had he spoken these words than the trees disappeared and in their place were two men.
“We’ve been condemned to fight like this for an eternity, for we were always fighting in life. Our punishment was to argue and fight until some charitable soul took pity on us. Now we can progress to the Land of the Ever Young. Blessings on you, young sir.”
The two humans vanished.
Lord Howlek moved on and they came to a cave entrance. From inside came a terrible uproar. Cries, curses, screams and wailing – Wuric’s blood ran cold.
“What is it?”
“That is the entrance to Purgatory. Now you must turn back, for you have disobeyed me. You should not have spoken or interfered between those two trees. Return to your sister. When I get back tonight, I will place you on the road homewards.”
So Wuric returned to the Crystal Palace and his sister asked, “Why are you back so soon, without my lord Howlek?”
“I disobeyed him.”
“So you do not know everywhere he goes?”
“No. I do not.” But Wuric could not suppress a shiver when he remembered the entrance to Purgatory.
That evening, the Lord Howlek returned and said to Wuric, “Because you have broken your promise, you must return to the kingdom of Cornwall and bide there awhile. One day you will return here, and then you will stay for ever. Only then will you see the extent of my journey.”
“I will go,” Wuric agreed. “But I must know one thing above all others.”
“Ask away,” Lord Howlek said.
“Why do you slap Welet instead of kissing her?”
Lord Howlek smiled. “Because I love her. Do you not know the old proverb – the spontaneity of a slap shows sincerity, whereas the ceremonial of caresses is largely convention?”
 
; “That I do not understand.”
Lord Howlek sighed. “One day, you will.”
So there was a tearful parting with his sister, and Wuric followed Lord Howlek to the start of a road.
“Go without fear on this road and you will soon be home. Remember that this parting will not be for long. You will return here quite soon.”
So Wuric went off along the road, a little sad and greatly puzzled. Nothing hindered him in that journey back. On he went, feeling neither fatigue nor hunger nor pain. Soon he came to Garras and on to Chygarkye, and he went to look for the house of his parents and his brothers. But he could not find them.
“This is the very spot that the house stood, otherwise I am a fool indeed,” Wuric said, pausing by a field and peering around.
He saw a man walking along the road.
“Hey, fellow, I am looking for the house of Kellow and his wife and sons.”
The fellow shook his head.
“Kellow? No one by that name lives here, nor any of that name since my father’s father’s day.”
The man stared at him thoughtfully. Then he scratched his head. “But there do be a legend around the forest of Chygarkye of a Kellow and his sons who told of how their daughter married a great lord and they were but poor peasant folks. But that were many hundreds of years gone by.”
Wuric felt suddenly cold. “Many hundreds of years ago?”
“So the legend goes.”
Wuric went to the old mystical mound at The Mount above Halliggye and sat down and wept for his lost family. They found him there a few days later, the body of an ancient old man, more skin and bone than flesh. He was so great an age, that they do say his body crumbled to dust when they were taking him to be buried down at Garras.
And who is to say where his soul went?
Some hint darkly that he took the road back to Lys-an-Gwrys to dwell with his sister, Welet, and her Lord Howlek at the gates of Purgatory.
Brittany (Breizh)
Brittany: Preface
I have always felt a particular attachment to Brittany, or Breizh, as it is named in the Breton language. My grandmother, Sarah-Ann DuLake, was the granddaughter of a Breton political exile, Jean-Joseph DuLac, who had been employed in the office of the Procureur-Général Syndic of the États Bretagne, or the Breton Parliament. In his early years he worked under Louis-René Caradeuc de la Chalotais (1701–85) who, as Procureur-Général, had dared challenge the power of the French King Louis XV in 1764.