Huarwar son of Halwn, who asked his fill as a gift from Arthur; it was one of the Three Mighty Plagues of Cornwall and Devon until he was given his fill; he never gave a hint of a smile except when he was full. Gwarae Gwallt Eurin, the two whelps of the bitch Rhymhi, Gwyddrud and Gwydden Astrus, Sugn son of Sugnedydd, who would suck up the sea where there were three hundred ships until it was just a dry beach; he had red breast-fever. Cacamwri, Arthur’s servant—show him a barn, though there would be in it the work of fifty ploughs, he would thrash away with an iron flail until the boards, the rafters, and the side-beams would be no better off than the fine oats in the heap of corn-sheaves at the bottom of the barn. Llwng, and Dygyflwng, and Annoeth Feiddog, and Hir Eiddil, and Hir Amren—they were two of Arthur’s servants—and Gwefl son of Gwastad—on days when he was sad he would let his bottom lip drop to his navel and the other would be a hood on his head. Uchdryd Farf Draws who would fling his bushy red beard across fifty rafters in Arthur’s hall. Elidir Gyfarwydd, Ysgyrdaf and Ysgudydd— they were two of Gwenhwyfar’s servants; on an errand their feet were as fleet as their thoughts. Brys son of Brysethach from the top of the black fernland in Prydain, and Gruddlwyn Gorr.
Bwlch and Cyfwlch and Syfwlch,
sons of Cilydd Cyfwlch,
grandsons of Cleddyf Difwlch.
Three gleaming glitterers their three shields,
Three stabbing strokes their three spears;
Three keen carvers their three swords;
Glas, Glesig, Gleisiad their three hounds;
Call, Cuall, Cafall their three steeds;
Hwyr Ddyddwg and Drwg Ddyddwg and Llwyr Ddyddwg
their three wives;
Och and Garym and Diasbad their three witches;
Lluched and Neued and Eisiwed their three daughters;
Drwg and Gwaeth and Gwaethaf Oll their three maidservants.*
Eheubryd son of Cyfwlch, Gorasgwrn son of Nerth, Gwaeddan son of Cynfelyn Ceudog, Pwyll Hanner Dyn, Dwn Diesig Unben, Eiladar son of Pen Llarcan, Cynedyr Wyllt son of Hetwn Tal Arian, Sawyl Pen Uchel, Gwalchmai son of Gwyar, Gwalhafed son of Gwyar, Gwrhyr Gwalstawd Ieithoedd—he knew all languages—and Cethdrwm Offeiriad. Clust son of Clustfeiniad—if he were buried seven fathoms in the earth, he could hear an ant fifty miles away stirring from its bed in the morning. Medyr son of Methredydd, who from Celli Wig could strike a starling in Esgair Oerfel in Ireland right through both legs. Gwiawn Llygad Cath, who could cut a membrane in a gnat’s eye without harming the eye. Ôl son of Olwydd—seven years before he was born his father’s pigs were stolen, and when he grew to be a man he traced the pigs and brought them home in seven herds. Bedwini the Bishop, who would bless Arthur’s food and drink.
And also the gentle, golden-torqued ladies of this Island. Besides Gwenhwyfar, chief queen of this Island, and Gwenhwyfach her sister, and Rathtien, only daughter of Clememyl, Celemon daughter of Cai, and Tangwen daughter of Gwair Dathar Weinidog, Gwenalarch daughter of Cynwal Canhwch, Eurneid daughter of Clydno Eidin, Eneuog daughter of Bedwyr, Enrhydreg daughter of Tuduathar, Gwenwledyr daughter of Gwaredur Cyrfach, Erdudfyl daughter of Tryffin, Eurolwyn daughter of Gwddolwyn Gorr, Teleri daughter of Peul, Indeg daughter of Garwy Hir, Morfudd daughter of Urien Rheged, Gwenllian Deg, the magnanimous maiden, Creiddylad daughter of Lludd Llaw Eraint, the most majestic maiden there ever was in the Three Islands of Britain and her Three Adjacent Islands. And for her Gwythyr son of Greidol and Gwyn son of Nudd fight each May day forever until the Day of Judgement. Ellylw daughter of Neol Cŷn Crog, and she lived for three generations. Esyllt Fynwen and Esyllt Fyngul. In the name of all of these did Culhwch son of Cilydd invoke his gift.
Arthur said, ‘Well, chieftain, I have never heard of the maiden of whom you speak, nor of her parents. I will gladly send messengers to search for her. Give me some time to search for her.’
The boy said, ‘Gladly, I will give you a year from tonight.’
And then Arthur sent the messengers to the far ends of every land to search for her. And at the end of the year Arthur’s messengers returned with no more news or information about Olwen than on the first day.
And then Culhwch said, ‘Everyone has had his gift but I am still without. I will leave and take away your honour with me.’
Cai said, ‘Ah chieftain, you insult Arthur too much. Come with us. Until you admit that the maiden does not exist anywhere in the world, or until we find her, we will not be parted from you.’
Then Cai gets up.* Cai had magical qualities. For nine nights and nine days he could hold his breath under water. For nine nights and nine days he could go without sleep. A wound from Cai’s sword no physician could heal. Cai was clever. He could be as tall as the tallest tree in the forest when it pleased him. There was another strange thing about him. When the rain was at its heaviest, whatever was in his hand would remain dry (and for a hand-breadth above and below), so great was his heat. And when his companions were coldest, this would be kindling for them to light a fire.
Arthur called on Bedwyr, who never feared the quest upon which Cai went. There was this about Bedwyr—no one was as handsome as he in this Island except Arthur and Drych son of Cibddar.* And this, too, that though he was one-handed, no three warriors could draw blood in the same field faster than he. Another peculiar quality of his—there was one thrust in his spear, and nine counter-thrusts.
Arthur calls on Cynddylig Gyfarwydd: ‘Go on this quest for me with the chieftain.’ He was no worse a guide in the land he had never seen than in his own land.
He calls Gwrhyr Gwalstawd Ieithoedd: he knew all languages.
He calls Gwalchmai son of Gwyar, for he never returned home without the quest he might go to seek. He was the best on foot and the best on a horse. He was Arthur’s nephew, his sister’s son, and his cousin.
Arthur calls on Menw son of Teirgwaedd, for should they come to a pagan land he could cast a spell on them so that no one could see them, but they could see everyone.
They travelled until they came to a great plain, and they could see a fort, the largest fort in the world. They walk that day until evening. When they thought they were close to the fort, they were no closer than in the morning. And the second and the third day they walked, and with difficulty they got there. And when they get close to the fort they could see a huge flock of sheep without boundary or border to it, and a shepherd on top of a mound tending the sheep, and a jacket of skins about him, and a shaggy mastiff beside him, bigger than a nine-year-old stallion. It was his custom that he had never lost a lamb, much less a grown animal. No troop had ever gone past him that he did not harm or hurt. Any dead tree or bush that was on the plain, his breath would burn them to the very ground.
Cai said, ‘Gwrhyr Gwalstawd Ieithoedd, go and talk with that man over there.’
‘Cai’, he said, ‘I only promised to go as far as you yourself would go. Let’s go there together.’
Menw son of Teirgwaedd said, ‘Don’t worry about going there. I will cast a spell on the dog so that he will not harm anyone.’ They came to where the shepherd was.
They said to him, ‘You are prosperous, shepherd.’
‘May you never be more prosperous than me.’
‘Yes, by God, since you are supreme.’
‘There is nothing that can ruin me except my wife.’
‘Whose sheep are you tending, and whose is that fort?’
‘You stupid men! Throughout the world people know that it is the fort of Ysbaddaden Bencawr.’
‘And you, who are you?’
‘I am Custennin son of Mynwyedig, and because of my wife, my brother Ysbaddaden Bencawr has ruined me. And you, who are you?’
‘We are messengers of Arthur, seeking Olwen daughter of Ysbaddaden Bencawr.’
‘Oh no, men. God protect you! For all the world, do not do that. No one who came to make that request has ever left alive.’
The shepherd got up. And as he got up, Culhwch gave him a gold ring. He tried to put on the ring, but it would not fit, and he placed it
in the finger of his glove, and he went home and gave the glove to his wife to keep. And she took the ring from the glove.
‘Where did you get this ring, husband? It is not often that you find treasure.’
‘I went to the sea to look for sea-food. Behold, I saw a corpse coming in with the tide. I never saw such a handsome corpse as that, and on its finger I found this ring.’
‘Alas, husband, since the sea does not tolerate a dead man’s jewel, show me that corpse.’
‘Wife, he whose corpse it is, you shall see him here soon.’
‘Who’s that?’ said his wife.
‘Culhwch son of Cilydd son of Celyddon Wledig, by Goleuddydd daughter of Anlawdd Wledig, his mother, who has come to ask for Olwen.’
She was in two minds. She was happy that her nephew,* her sister’s son, had come to her, but she was sad because she had never seen anyone who had come to make that request leave with his life.
They made for the gate of the shepherd Custennin’s court. She heard them coming. She ran joyfully to meet them. Cai snatched a log from the wood-pile, and she came to meet them to try and embrace them. Cai placed a stake between her hands. She squeezed the stake until it was a twisted branch.
‘Woman,’ said Cai, ‘had you squeezed me like that, it would be useless for any one else ever to make love to me. That was an evil love.’
They came into the house and were waited upon. After a while, when everyone was milling about, the woman opened a coffer at the far end of the hearth, and out of it came a lad with curly yellow hair.
Gwrhyr said, ‘It’s a shame to hide such a lad as this. I know that it’s not his own wrong that is being avenged on him.’
The woman said, ‘This one is all that is left of twenty-three sons of mine that Ysbaddaden Bencawr has killed. I have no more hope for this one than for the others.’
Cai said, ‘Let him be my companion, and neither of us will be killed unless we both are.’ They eat.
The woman said, ‘On what business have you come here?’
‘We have come to seek Olwen for this boy.’
Then the woman said, ‘For God’s sake, since no one from the fort has seen you yet, turn back.’
‘God knows, we won’t turn back until we have seen the maiden,’ said Cai. ‘Will she come to a place where we can see her?’
‘She comes here every Saturday to wash her hair, and in the bowl in which she washes, she leaves all her rings. Neither she nor her messenger ever comes for them.’
‘Will she come here if she is sent for?’
‘God knows I won’t destroy my friend. I won’t deceive one who trusts me. But if you give your word that you will do her no harm, I will send for her.’
‘We do so.’
She was sent for. And she comes—
with a robe of flame-red silk about her,
and a torque of red gold about the maiden’s neck,
with precious pearls and red jewels.
Yellower was her hair than the flowers of the broom.
Whiter was her flesh than the foam of the wave.
Whiter were her palms and her fingers
than moist cotton grass amidst the fine gravel of a bubbling
spring.
Neither the eye of a mewed hawk,
nor the eye of a thrice-mewed falcon—
no eye was fairer than hers.
Whiter were her breasts than the breast of a white swan.
Redder were her cheeks than the reddest foxglove.
Whoever saw her would be filled with love for her.
Four white clovers would spring up behind her wherever
she went.
And for that reason she was called Olwen.*
She came into the house and sat down between Culhwch and the high seat. And as he saw her he recognized her.
Culhwch said to her, ‘Maiden, it is you I have loved. And will you come with me?’
‘In case you and I are accused of being sinful, I cannot do that at all. My father has asked me to give my word that I will not leave without consulting him, for he shall only live until I take a husband.* There is, however, advice I can give you, if you will take it. Go to my father to ask for my hand, and however much he asks of you, promise to get it, and you will get me too. But if he has cause to doubt at all, you will not get me, and you will be lucky to escape with your life.’
‘I promise all that, and I will get it.’
She went to her chamber. They all got up to go after her to the fort, and killed the nine gatekeepers who were at the nine gates without a single man crying out, and nine mastiffs without a single one squealing. And they proceeded to the hall.
They said, ‘Greetings, Ysbaddaden Bencawr, from God and from man.’
‘You, where are you going?’
‘We have come to seek Olwen your daughter for Culhwch son of Cilydd.’
‘Where are my good-for-nothing servants and my scoundrels?’ he said. ‘Raise the forks under my eyelids so that I may see my prospective son-in-law.’ They did that.
‘Come here tomorrow. I’ll give you some sort of an answer.’
They got up, and Ysbaddaden Bencawr snatched one of the three poisoned stone spears* beside him and hurled it after them. And Bedwyr caught it and hurled it back, and pierced Ysbaddaden Bencawr right through his kneecap.
He said, ‘Cursed, savage son-in-law, I shall be all the worse when I walk down the slope. Like the sting of a gadfly the poison iron has hurt me. Cursed be the smith who forged it and the anvil on which it was forged, it is so painful.’
They spent that night in the house of Custennin. And the second day, splendidly, and with fine combs set in their hair, they came to the fort and into the hall.
They said, ‘Ysbaddaden Bencawr, give us your daughter in exchange for her dowry and her maiden-fee to you and her two kinswomen. And unless you give her, you shall meet your death because of her.’
‘She and her four great-grandmothers and her four greatgrandfathers are still alive—I must consult with them.’*
‘Do that,’ they said. ‘We’ll go to eat.’
As they got up, he took the second stone spear that was beside him and hurled it after them. And Menw son of Teirgwaedd caught it and hurled it back and pierced him in the middle of his chest, so that it came out in the small of his back.
‘Cursed, savage son-in-law, like the bite of a horse-leech the hard iron has hurt me. Cursed be the furnace in which it was heated, and the smith who forged it, it is so painful. When I go uphill I shall have a tight chest, and belly-ache, and throw up often.’ They went to their food.
And the third day they came to the court. They said, ‘Ysbaddaden Bencawr, do not aim at us again. Do not bring harm and hurt and death upon yourself.’
‘Where are my servants? Raise the forks—my eyelids have fallen down over my eyeballs—so that I may take a look at my prospective son-in-law.’
They got up, and as they got up he took the third poisoned stone spear and hurled it after them. And Culhwch caught it and hurled it back as he had longed to do, and pierced him in his eyeball so that it came out through the nape of his neck.
‘Cursed, savage son-in-law, as long as I live my eyesight shall be the worse. When I walk against the wind, my eyes will water; I shall have a headache and giddiness with each new moon. Cursed be the furnace in which it was heated. Like the bite of a mad dog the poisoned iron has pierced me.’ They went to their food.
The following day they came to the court.
They said, ‘Do not aim at us again. Do not bring harm and hurt and martyrdom upon yourself, and more than that if you wish. Give us your daughter.’
‘Where is the one who is seeking my daughter?’
‘I am the one who is seeking her, Culhwch son of Cilydd.’
‘Come here where I can see you.’ A chair was placed under him, face to face with him.
Ysbaddaden Bencawr said, ‘Are you the one who seeks my daughter?’
‘I am,’ said Culhwch.
‘You have it.’
‘When I get what I ask from you, then you shall get my daughter.’
‘Name what you want.’
‘I will. Do you see the large thicket over there?’
‘I do.’
‘I want it uprooted from the earth and burned along the ground so that the cinders and ashes fertilize it; and I want it ploughed and sown so that it’s ripe in the morning by the time the dew disappears, so that it can be made into food and drink for the wedding guests of my daughter and yourself. And all that I want done in one day.’
‘It is easy for me to get that, though you may think it’s not easy.’*
‘Though you may get that, there is something you will not get.
There is no ploughman to till that land or to prepare it apart from Amaethon son of Dôn. He will not come with you willingly, nor can you force him.’
‘It is easy for me to get that, though you may think it’s not easy.’
‘Though you may get that, there is something you will not get. Gofannon son of Dôn* to come to the edge of the land to set the plough. He will not undertake work willingly save for a rightful king, nor can you force him.’
‘It is easy for me to get that, though you may think it’s not easy.’
‘Though you may get that, there is something you will not get. The two oxen of Gwlwlydd Winau, yoked together, to plough well the rough ground over there. He will not give them willingly, nor can you force him.’
‘It is easy for me to get that, though you may think it’s not easy.’
The Mabinogion (Oxford World's Classics) Page 27
