The Mabinogion (Oxford World's Classics) (33 page)

The two maidens came to the court. After they had come to court, Geraint was placed just as he was, on the stretcher, on top of a table in the hall. They all took off their outdoor clothes. The earl told Enid to change and put on another dress.

‘I will not, between me and God,’ she said.

‘Lady,’ he replied, ‘don’t be so sad.’

‘It will be very difficult to persuade me on that matter,’ she said.

‘I am telling you’, he replied, ‘that there is no need for you to be sad, whatever the fate of the knight over there, whether he lives or dies. I have a good earldom; you shall have it in your possession, together with me,’ he said. ‘And now be happy and contented.’

‘I shall never be happy, by my confession to God,’ she said, ‘as long as I live.’

‘Come and eat,’ he said.

‘I will not, between me and God,’ she said.

‘You will, between me and God.’ And he dragged her against her will to the table and ordered her several times to eat.

‘I will not eat, by my confession to God,’ she said, ‘until the man who is on the stretcher over there eats.’

‘You cannot make that happen,’ said the earl. ‘The man over there is all but dead.’

‘I will prove that it is possible,’ she said.

He offered her a goblet full of wine.

‘Drink this goblet,’ he replied, ‘and you will change your mind.’

‘Shame on me,’ she said, ‘if I drink anything until he drinks too.’

‘Well and good,’ said the earl. ‘I am no better being kind towards you than being unkind.’

And he gave her a clout on the ear. She gave a loud, sharp-piercing scream and lamented far more then than before, and she thought to herself that if Geraint were alive she would not be clouted like that. Then Geraint regained consciousness at the echoing of her scream, and sat up, and found his sword in the hollow of his shield, and rushed to where the earl was and struck him an eager-sharp, venomous-hard, strong and brave blow on top of his head, so that it split and so that the table stopped the sword. Everyone then left the tables and fled outside. And it was not the living man they feared most but the sight of the dead man rising up to kill them. Then Geraint looked at Enid, and he felt sorrowful on two accounts—first on seeing how Enid had lost her colour and appearance, and secondly on realizing then that she was in the right.

‘Lady,’ he said, ‘do you know where our horses are?’

‘I know, lord, where yours went,’ she said, ‘but I don’t know where the other went. Your horse went to the building over there.’ He went into the building and led out his horse, and mounted it, and lifted Enid up from the ground and placed her between himself and the saddle-bow, and went on his way.

As they were travelling like this between two hedges, and night overcoming day, behold, they could see between them and the horizon spear-shafts following them, and they could hear the clatter of horses and the clamour of men.

‘I hear someone coming after us,’ he said, ‘and I’ll put you on the other side of the hedge.’

He did so. Then, behold, a knight rushed up to him, couching his spear. When she saw that she said, ‘Lord,’ she said, ‘what praise will you receive for killing a dead man, whoever you are?’

‘Oh, God,’ he replied, ‘is this Geraint?’

‘It is, between me and God. And who are you?’

‘I am Y Brenin Bychan,’ he replied, ‘coming to help you after hearing that you were in trouble. And had you taken my advice, the difficulties you have suffered would not have happened.’

‘Nothing can be done against the will of God,’ said Geraint.

‘Much good comes from sound advice,’ he replied. ‘At all events,’ said Y Brenin Bychan, ‘I have good advice for you now: come with me to the court of my brother-in-law which is nearby, to receive the best medical treatment in the kingdom.’

‘We will come, gladly,’ said Geraint.

Enid was placed on the horse of one of Y Brenin Bychan’s squires, and they made their way to the baron’s court, and were given a welcome there, and were cared for and waited upon. The next morning physicians were sent for. And the physicians were found, and they arrived almost immediately, and Geraint was treated until he was completely well. While he was being treated, Y Brenin Bychan had Geraint’s armour repaired so that it was as good as new. And they stayed there for a fortnight and a month.

Then Y Brenin Bychan said to Geraint, ‘We shall go to my court now to rest and relax.’

‘If you agree,’ said Geraint, ‘we shall travel one day more, and then return.’

‘Gladly,’ said Y Brenin Bychan. ‘Travel on.’

They travelled early in the morning, and Enid travelled with them that day, happier and more contented than ever. And they came to a highroad and could see it branching in two. Along one of these roads they could see a man on foot coming to meet them. Gwiffred asked him where he was coming from.

‘I’m returning from the country where I was doing business.’

‘Tell me,’ said Geraint, ‘which of these two roads is it best for me to travel?’

‘It is best for you to travel that one,’ he said. ‘If you go down this one, you’ll never come back. Down there’, he said, ‘is a hedge of mist, and within it there are enchanted games. And no man who has gone there has ever come back. And Earl Owain’s court is there, and he allows no one to take lodging in the town except those who stay with him at his court.’

‘Between me and God,’ said Geraint, ‘we shall take the lower road.’

They followed the road until they reached the town. They took lodgings in what they considered the fairest and most desirable place in the town. And as they were thus, behold, a young man came to them and greeted them.

‘May God prosper you,’ they said.

‘Good sirs,’ he said, ‘what are you planning to do here?’

‘We want to take lodging and stay here tonight,’ they said.

‘It is not the custom for the man who owns the town to allow anyone of gentle birth to take lodging here except those who stay with him in his own court: come to the court.’

‘We will, gladly,’ said Geraint. They went with the squire. And they were made welcome at the court, and the earl came to the hall to meet them, and had the tables prepared. And they washed, and went to sit down. This is how they sat: Geraint on one side of the earl, and Enid on the other; next to Enid, Y Brenin Bychan; then the countess next to Geraint; everyone after that as befitted them.

Then Geraint thought about the game, and presumed that he would not be allowed to go to the game. And he stopped eating because of that. The earl looked at him and pondered, and presumed that it was because of not going to the game that Geraint was not eating; and he was sorry that he had ever created those games, if only so as not to lose a lad as good as Geraint. And if Geraint had asked him to call off that game, he would have called it off gladly for ever. Then the earl said to Geraint, ‘What are you thinking of, lord, as you are not eating? If you are worried about going to the game, you will not have to go, and no one shall ever go again, out of respect for you.’

‘May God repay you,’ said Geraint, ‘but I want nothing except to go to the game, and to be shown the way there.’

‘If that is what you would like most, you shall have it gladly.’

‘Indeed, more than anything,’ he replied.

They ate, and received generous service and numerous dishes and great quantities of drink. When they had finished eating, they got up, and Geraint called for his horse and his armour, and armed himself and his horse. And all the people came until they were close to the hedge. And no lower was the top of the hedge they could see than the highest point they could see in the sky. And on every stake they could see in the hedge there was a man’s head, except for two stakes.
*
And there were a great many stakes within the hedge and through it.

Then Y Brenin Bychan said, ‘Is any one allowed to accompany the nobleman?’

‘No,’ said Earl Owain.

‘In which direction does one go from here?’ said Geraint.

‘I don’t know,’ said Owain, ‘but go in the direction you think easiest.’

Fearless, and without hesitation, Geraint set off into the mist. When he emerged from the mist, he came to a great orchard. He could see a clearing in the orchard, and a pavilion of brocaded silk with a red canopy in the clearing, and he saw that the entrance to the pavilion was open. And there was an apple-tree facing the entrance to the pavilion, and on a branch of the apple-tree was a large hunting-horn. Then he dismounted and entered the pavilion. There was no one inside the pavilion except a single maiden, sitting in a golden chair, and an empty chair facing her. Geraint sat in the empty chair.

‘Lord,’ said the maiden, ‘I advise you not to sit in that chair.’

‘Why?’ said Geraint.

‘The man who owns that chair has never allowed anyone else to sit in his chair.’

‘I do not care if he doesn’t like anyone to sit in his chair,’ said Geraint.

Suddenly they could hear a great commotion near the pavilion. Geraint looked to see what was the cause of the commotion. He could see a knight outside on a charger, wide-nostrilled, high-spirited, impatient, big-boned, and a mantle in two halves covering him and his horse, and plenty of armour under that.

‘Tell me, lord,’ he said to Geraint, ‘who asked you to sit there?’

‘I myself,’ he answered.

‘It was wrong of you to shame and insult me as much as that; get up from there to make amends for you own foolishness.’

Geraint got up, and immediately they began to fight. They broke one set of lances, and broke the second set, and broke the third set, and each one dealt the other blows, hard and hurtful, fast and furious. Eventually Geraint became angry, and he spurred on his horse and rushed at him, and struck him in the strongest part of his shield so that it splits, and the head of his spear is in his armour, and all the saddle-girths break, and he himself is thrown over his horse’s crupper the length of Geraint’s spear and the length of his arm head-first to
the ground. And quickly Geraint draws his sword, intending to cut off his head.

‘Oh, lord,’ he said, ‘your mercy, and you shall have whatever you want.’

‘I want only that this game is gone from here for ever,’ he replied, ‘together with the hedge of mist, and the magic and enchantment which have existed.’

‘You shall have that gladly, lord.’

‘Then make the mist disappear from here,’ he said.

‘Blow that horn,’ he said, ‘and the moment you sound it, the mist will disappear. And until a knight who had overthrown me sounded it, the mist would never disappear from here.’

Enid was sad and anxious where she was, worrying about Geraint. Then Geraint came and blew the horn; and the moment he sounded a single blast on it the mist disappeared, and the crowd gathered together and everyone was reconciled with each other. That night the earl invited Geraint and Y Brenin Bychan to stay. The next morning they parted, and Geraint returned to his own kingdom. He ruled it successfully from then on, he and his prowess and bravery continuing, with praise and admiration for him and for Enid ever after.

C
ILYDD
son of Celyddon Wledig
*
wanted a wife as well born as himself. The woman he wanted was Goleuddydd daughter of Anlawdd Wledig. After he had slept with her the country went to prayer to see whether they might have an heir. And they had a son through the country’s prayers. And from the hour she became pregnant she went mad, and did not go near any dwelling. When her time came, her senses returned to her. This happened in a place where a swineherd was tending a herd of pigs. And out of fear of the pigs the queen gave birth. And the swineherd took the boy until he came to court. And the boy was baptized, and was named Culhwch because he was found in a pig-run.
*
But the boy was of noble descent, he was a cousin to Arthur. And the boy was placed with foster-parents.
*

And after that the boy’s mother, Goleuddydd daughter of Anlawdd Wledig, became ill. She summoned her husband to her, and said to him, ‘I shall die of this sickness, and you will want another wife. And nowadays it’s the wives who dispense the gifts. But you would be wrong to harm your son. This is what I ask of you: not to seek a wife until you see a two-headed briar on my grave.’

He promised her that. She summoned her chaplain and asked him to clean the grave every year so that nothing would grow on it. The queen died. The king sent a servant every morning to see if anything was growing on the grave. At the end of seven years the chaplain neglected what he had promised the queen.

One day the king was hunting; he made for the graveyard; he wanted to see the grave whereby he might seek a wife. He saw the briar. And as he saw it he took counsel as to where he could get a wife. One of the counsellors said, ‘I know of a woman who would suit you well. She is the wife of King Doged.’ They decided to seek her out. And they killed the king and brought his wife back home with them, together with her only daughter. And they took possession of the king’s land.

One day the lady went out for a walk. She came to the house of a toothless old hag who lived in the town.