BENDIGEIDFRAN son of Llŷr was crowned king over this island* and invested with the crown of London. One afternoon he was in Harlech in Ardudwy,* at one of his courts; he was sitting on the rock of Harlech, above the sea, with his brother Manawydan son of Llŷr,* and his two brothers on his mother’s side, Nysien and Efnysien, and noblemen too, as was appropriate around a king. His two brothers on his mother’s side were the sons of Euroswydd by his own mother Penarddun, daughter of Beli son of Mynogan.* One of these was a good lad—he could make peace between two armies when they were most enraged; that was Nysien. The other would cause two of the most loving brothers to fight.
As they were sitting there, they could see thirteen ships coming from the south of Ireland, heading towards them easily and swiftly, the wind behind them, and they were approaching with speed.
‘I can see ships over there, coming boldly towards the shore,’ said the king. ‘Tell the men of the court to put on their armour, and go and find out what their intentions are.’
The men armed themselves and went down to meet them. Having seen the ships at close quarters, the men were certain that they had never seen ships in a more perfect condition than these with their fair, beautiful, exquisite banners of brocaded silk.
Suddenly one of the ships overtook the others, and they saw a shield being raised above the ship’s deck, with the point of the shield upwards as a sign of peace. The king’s men approached them so that they were within speaking distance. The others put out boats, and approached the shore, and greeted the king. The king could hear them from where he was seated on the high rock above their heads.
‘May God prosper you,’ he said, ‘and welcome. Whose are these ships, and who is their chief?’
‘Lord,’ they said, ‘Matholwch, king of Ireland, is here, and these are his ships.’
‘What does he want?’ said the king. ‘Does he want to come ashore?’
‘No, lord,’ they said, ‘unless you grant him his request—he has business with you.’
‘What sort of request does he have?’ said the king.
‘He wishes to unite your two families, lord,’ they said. ‘He has come to ask for Branwen daughter of Llŷr,* and if you agree, he wishes to join together the Island of the Mighty* and Ireland so that they might be stronger.’
‘Very well,’ he said, ‘let him come ashore, and we will take advice on the matter.’ That answer was taken to Matholwch.
‘I will go gladly,’ he said. He came ashore, and was made welcome. And there was a great crowd in the court that night, what with Matholwch’s retinue and that of the court.
First thing the next day they took counsel. They decided to give Branwen to Matholwch. She was one of the Three Chief Maidens of this Island:* she was the most beautiful girl in the world. They set a date for Matholwch to sleep with her at Aberffraw,* and they left Harlech. They all set off for Aberffraw, Matholwch and his retinue in the ships, Bendigeidfran and his own retinue overland until they came to Aberffraw. There the feast began, and they sat down. This is how they sat: the king of the Island of the Mighty with Manawydan son of Llŷr on one side and Matholwch on the other, with Branwen daughter of Llŷr next to him. They were not in a house, but in tents. Bendigeidfran had never been able to fit inside any house.
They began the celebration, and continued to carouse and converse. When they thought it was better to sleep than continue carousing, they went to sleep. And that night Matholwch slept with Branwen. The next day, everyone in the court got up; and the officers began to discuss the billeting of the horses and grooms; and they billeted them in every region as far as the sea. Then, one day, Efnysien, the quarrelsome man of whom we spoke above, happened to come across the lodgings of Matholwch’s horses, and he asked whose horses they were.
‘These are the horses of Matholwch, king of Ireland,’ they said.
‘What are they doing here?’ he said.
‘The king of Ireland is here, and he has slept with Branwen, your sister, and these are his horses.’
‘Is that what they have done with such a fine maiden, and my sister at that, given her away without my permission? They could not have insulted me more,’ he said.
Then he went for the horses, and cut their lips to the teeth, and their ears down to their heads, and their tails to their backs; and where he could get a grip on the eyelids, he cut them to the bone. And in that way he maimed the horses, so that they were no good for anything.
The news reached Matholwch: he was told how his horses had been maimed and spoiled so that they were no good for anything.
‘Well, lord,’ said one, ‘you have been insulted, and it was done deliberately.’
‘God knows, but I find it strange, if they wanted to insult me, that they should have first given me such a fine maiden, of such high rank, so beloved by her family.’
‘Lord,’ said another, ‘it’s perfectly clear; there is nothing for you to do but return to your ships.’ So Matholwch made for his ships.
The news reached Bendigeidfran that Matholwch was leaving the court, without asking, without permission. Messengers went to ask him why he was going. The messengers who went were Iddig son of Anarog and Hyfaidd Hir. Those men caught up with him, and asked him what was his intention, and why he was leaving.
‘God knows,’ he said, ‘if I had known, I would not have come here. I have been completely insulted; no one has ever been on a worse expedition than this one. And a strange thing has happened to me.’
‘What is that?’ they said.
‘I was given Bronwen daughter of Llŷr, one of the Three Chief Maidens of this Island, and daughter to a king of the Island of the Mighty, and I slept with her, but after that I was insulted. And I find it strange that the insult was not done before such an excellent maiden as that was given to me.’
‘God knows, lord, that insult was not done to you with the approval of the one who rules the court,’ they said, ‘nor any one of his council. And although you consider it a disgrace, this insult and deception is worse for Bendigeidfran than it is for you.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘perhaps so. But yet Bendigeidfran cannot undo the insult just because of that.’
The men returned with that answer to Bendigeidfran, and told him what Matholwch had said.
‘Well,’ said Bendigeidfran, ‘it is no good if he goes away angry, and we cannot allow it.’
‘We agree, lord,’ they said. ‘Send messengers after him again.’
‘I will,’ he said. ‘Arise Manawydan son of Llŷr, and Hyfaidd Hir and Unig Glew Ysgwydd, and go after him,’ he said, ‘and tell him that he shall have a sound horse for each one that was maimed; and also he shall have as his honour-price a rod of silver as thick as his little finger and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold as broad as his face;* and tell him what sort of man did this, and how it was done against my will; and that a brother on my mother’s side did it, and it is not easy for me either to kill him or destroy him. Let Matholwch come and see me,’ he said, ‘and I will make peace on whatever terms he wishes.’
The messengers went after Matholwch, and repeated those words in a friendly manner, and he listened to them.
‘Men,’ he said, ‘we will take counsel.’
He took counsel. They decided that were they to refuse the offer, they would be more likely to get further shame than further compensation. So Matholwch made up his mind to accept. They came to the court in peace. The tents and pavilions were arranged as if they were laying out a hall, and they went to eat. And as they had sat at the beginning of the feast, so they sat now.
Bendigeidfran and Matholwch began to converse. But it seemed to Bendigeidfran that Matholwch’s conversation was lifeless and sad, whereas he had always been cheerful before that. And he thought that the chieftain was downhearted because of how little compensation he had received for the wrong done to him.
‘Sir,’ said Bendigeidfran, ‘your conversation is not as good as it was the other night. And if it’s because you feel your compensation is t
oo little, I shall add to it as you wish, and tomorrow your horses shall be given to you.’
‘Lord,’ he said, ‘may God repay you.’
‘I will increase your compensation, too,’ said Bendigeidfran. ‘I will give you a cauldron,* and the property of the cauldron is that if you throw into it one of your men who is killed today, then by tomorrow he will be as good as ever except that he will not be able to speak.’
Matholwch thanked him for that, and was extremely happy on account of the cauldron. The next day his horses were handed over to him, so long as there were tame horses to give. From there Matholwch was taken to another commot and foals were handed over to him until his payment was complete. And for that reason, the commot was called Talebolion* from then on.
The second night, they sat together.
‘Lord,’ said Matholwch, ‘where did you get the cauldron that you gave me?’
‘I got it from a man who had been in your country,’ said Bendigeidfran. ‘And for all I know, that is where he found it.’
‘Who was he?’ he said.
‘Llasar Llaes Gyfnewid,’* he said. ‘And he came here from Ireland, with Cymidei Cymeinfoll, his wife, and they escaped from the iron house in Ireland when it was made white-hot around them, and they fled from Ireland. I am surprised that you know nothing about it.’
‘I do, lord,’ he said, ‘and I will tell you as much as I know. I was hunting in Ireland one day, on top of a mound overlooking a lake called the Lake of the Cauldron. And I saw a large man with yellow-red hair coming out of the lake with a cauldron on his back. He was a huge, monstrous man, too, with an evil, ugly look about him; and a woman followed him; and if he was large, the woman was twice his size. And they came up to me and greeted me. “Well,” I said, “how are things going with you?” “It’s like this, lord,” said the man, “in a month and a fortnight this woman will conceive, and the boy who is then born of that pregnancy in a month and a fortnight will be a fully armed warrior.”
‘I took them in to maintain them: they were with me for a year. During that year no one objected to them; but from then on people resented them. And before the end of the fourth month of the second year they were causing people to hate and loathe them throughout the land, insulting, harassing, and tormenting noble men and women. From then on my people rose against me to ask me to get rid of them, and gave me a choice, either my kingdom or these people.
‘I left it to the council of my country to decide what should be done about them. They would not go of their own free will; they did not have to go against their will because of their ability to fight. And then, in this dilemma, it was decided to build a chamber completely of iron;* and when the chamber was ready, all the smiths in Ireland and all those who owned tongs and hammers were summoned there, and charcoal was piled up to the top of the chamber, and the woman and her husband and her children were served with plenty of food and drink. And when it was clear that they were drunk, the smiths began to set fire to the charcoal around the chamber, and blew the bellows that had been placed around the house, each man with two bellows, and they began to blow the bellows until the house was white-hot around them. And then the family took counsel in the middle of the chamber; and the husband waited until the iron wall was white. And because of the great heat, he charged at the wall with his shoulder and broke out through it, with his wife following. And only he and his wife escaped. After that, lord,’ said Matholwch to Bendigeidfran, ‘I suppose he came over to you.’
‘He did indeed,’ said Bendigeidfran, ‘and he gave the cauldron to me.’
‘What sort of welcome did you give them, lord?’
‘I dispersed them throughout the land, and they are numerous, and prosper everywhere,* and strengthen whatever place they happen to be in with the best men and weapons anyone has seen.’
That night they continued to talk and sing and carouse as long as it pleased them. When they realized it was better to sleep than to sit up longer, they went to sleep. And so they enjoyed the feast. When it finished Matholwch, together with Branwen, set out for Ireland. They set out from Abermenai in their thirteen ships, and came to Ireland.
In Ireland they received a great welcome. Not one man of rank or noblewoman in Ireland came to visit Branwen to whom she did not give either a brooch or a ring or a treasured royal jewel, and it was remarkable to see such things leaving the court. Furthermore, she gained renown that year, and flourished with honour and companions. Meanwhile she became pregnant. After the appropriate time had passed she gave birth to a boy. They named him Gwern son of Matholwch. The boy was put out to be fostered to the very best place for men in Ireland.
Then in the second year, there was a murmuring of dissatisfaction in Ireland because of the insult that Matholwch had received in Wales, and the disgrace he had suffered regarding his horses. His foster-brothers and the men closest to him taunted him with it quite openly. And there was such an uproar in Ireland that there was no peace for Matholwch until he avenged the insult.* They took revenge by sending Branwen from her husband’s chamber, and forcing her to cook for the court; and they had the butcher come to her every day, after he had chopped up meat, and give her a box on the ear.* And that is how her punishment was carried out.
‘Now, lord,’ said his men to Matholwch, ‘set an embargo on the ships, and the rowing-boats and the coracles, so that no one may go to Wales; and whoever comes here from Wales, imprison them and do not let them return in case they find out what is happening.’ They agreed on that.
This continued for not less than three years. In the meantime Branwen reared a starling at the end of her kneading-trough, and taught it to speak, and told the bird what kind of man her brother was. And she brought a letter telling of her punishment and dishonour. The letter was tied to the base of the bird’s wings, and it was sent to Wales, and the bird came to this island. It found Bendigeidfran in Caer Saint in Arfon, where he was at a council of his one day. The bird alighted on his shoulder, and ruffled its feathers until the letter was discovered and they realized that the bird has been reared among people. Then the letter was taken and examined. When it was read, Bendigeidfran grieved to hear how Branwen was being punished, and there and then he sent messengers to muster the entire island. Then he had the full levy of one hundred and fifty-four districts come to him, and he complained personally to them of his sister’s punishment. Then he took counsel. They agreed to set out for Ireland, and leave seven men behind as leaders, together with their seven horsemen, and Caradog son of Brân in command. Those men were left in Edeirnion, and because of that the name Saith Marchog* was given to the township. The seven men were Caradog son of Brân and Hyfaidd Hir, and Unig Glew Ysgwydd, and Iddig son of Anarog Walltgrwn, and Ffodor son of Erfyll, and Wlch Minasgwrn, and Llashar son of Llasar Llaesgyngwyd; and Pendaran Dyfed, then a young lad,* was with them. Those seven stayed behind as seven stewards to look after this island, and Caradog son of Brân was their chief steward.*
Bendigeidfran and the army we mentioned sailed towards Ireland, and the sea was not wide then; Bendigeidfran waded across. There were only two rivers, called the Lli and the Archan. Later the sea spread out when it flooded the kingdoms.* But Bendigeidfran walked carrying all the stringed instruments on his own back, and made for Ireland’s shore.
Matholwch’s swineherds were on the sea shore one day, busy with their pigs. And because of what they saw on the sea, they went to Matholwch.
‘Lord,’ they said, ‘greetings.’
‘May God prosper you,’ he said, ‘and do you have any news?’
‘Lord,’ they said, ‘we have extraordinary news;* we have seen a forest on the sea, where we never before saw a single tree.’
‘That’s strange,’ he said. ‘Could you see anything else?’
‘Yes, lord,’ they said, ‘we could see a huge mountain beside the forest, and it was moving; and there was a very high ridge on the mountain, and a lake on each side of the ridge; and the forest, and the mountain, and all of it was moving.’
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‘Well,’ said Matholwch, ‘there is no one here who would know anything about that unless Branwen knows something. Go and ask her.’ Messengers went to Branwen.
‘Lady,’ they said, ‘what do you think it is?’
‘Though I am no “lady”,’ she said, ‘I know what it is: the men of the Island of the Mighty coming over, having heard of my punishment and dishonour.’
‘What is the forest they saw on the sea?’ they said.
‘Masts of ships and yardarms,’ she said.
‘Oh!’ they said. ‘What was the mountain they saw alongside the ships?’
‘That was Bendigeidfran my brother, wading across,’ she said. ‘There was no ship big enough for him.’
‘What was the very high ridge and the lake on each side of the ridge?’
‘That was him, looking at this island,’ she said. ‘He is angry. The two lakes on either side of the ridge are his two eyes on each side of his nose.’
Then they quickly mustered all the fighting-men of Ireland and of the coastal regions, and took counsel.
‘Lord,’ said his men to Matholwch, ‘the only advice is to retreat across the Liffey (a river in Ireland), and put the Liffey between you and him, and then destroy the bridge that crosses the river. There are loadstones on the riverbed—neither ships nor vessels can sail across.’* They retreated over the river, and destroyed the bridge.
Bendigeidfran landed with his fleet and approached the riverbank. ‘Lord,’ said his noblemen, ‘you know the strange thing about the river, no one can sail across it, nor is there a bridge. What shall we do for a bridge?’ they said.
‘Nothing, except that he who is a leader, let him be a bridge,’* said Bendigeidfran. ‘I will be a bridge,’ he said. This was the first time that saying was uttered, and it is still used as a proverb.
Then after Bendigeidfran had lain down across the river, hurdles were placed on him,* and his men walked on top of him to the other side. Then, as soon as he got up, Matholwch’s messengers approached him, and greeted him, and addressed him on behalf of Matholwch his kinsman who, they said, wished nothing but good to come Bendigeidfran’s way.
The Mabinogion (Oxford World's Classics) Page 7
