The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (46 page)

Guile and magic alone killed Pryderi, lord of Dyfed, and not a warrior’s skill.

Yet a great cheer went up from the men of Gwynedd and Gwydyon and his brother Gilvaethwy, who had acted as his shield-bearer in the combat, were carried shoulder-high around the army. Math
himself went forward to praise his nephews. He showered them with gifts and the two triumphant young men set out to tour the lands of Cymru, to receive the honour and praise from all the kingdoms.
So flushed with success were they that they forgot all about Goewin the maid.

When Math returned to his own palace he sent for Goewin, his footholder.

She came, pale and red-eyed to him.

“Lord, you may no longer rest your feet with me for I am no longer a virgin.”

Math’s brows gathered together. “How can this be?” he demanded sternly.

He stared into her eyes and there he saw the vision of how
Gwydyon and Gilvaethwy had concocted the plan and how Gilvaethwy had raped her. Then it was that Math knew that
Gilvaethwy’s passion had caused many good men, Pryderi among them, to die in a carnage of bloodshed.

Math’s rage knew no bounds. He sent out orders that no one should shelter his nephews, nor give them food nor drink, until they returned to his palace. When they came in fear and trembling
before him, he berated them and called them animals for the deed they had done.

“As you are animals, so you shall now have the appearance of animals.”

He turned Gwydyon into a stag and Gilvaethwy into a hind.

“You will go into the forest and mate with one another and return here in a year and a day,” he said. Then he ordered his servants to drive them both with blows and curses into the
forests.

A year and a day later, the stag and hind returned and with them came a fawn.

Then Math changed the stag into a wild boar and the hind into a wild sow. The fawn he turned into a human boy. He called him Hyddwn, meaning “deer”, and kept the boy with him.

“You will go into the forest and mate with one another and return here in a year and a day,” he told Gwydyon and Gilvaethwy. He ordered his servants to drive them forth with blows
and curses into the forest.

A year and a day later, they came back with a young wild boar.

Then Math changed the boar and the pig into wolves and the young boar into a human boy. He called him Baedd Gwyllt, meaning “wild boar”, and kept the boy with him.

“You will go into the forest and mate with one another and return here in a year and a day,” he told Gwydyon and Gilvaethwy. He ordered his servants to drive them both with blows and
curses into the forest.

A year and a day later, they returned with a young wolf cub.

This time Math restored Gwydyon and Gilvaethwy to human form and the wolf cub to a human boy. He called
him Bleiddwn, meaning “young wolf”, and kept the boy with
him.

Math glowered angrily at his nephews. “You are disgraced enough for the rape of Goewin. You have been forced as animals to go into the forests and breed children off each other –
your names will be forever known for that. Now you may return to dwell in my palace, but if ever you transgress the moral code again, you shall answer to me once more and I will not be so lenient
in your punishment.”

Time passed and Math fab Mathonwy once more found himself without a virgin in whose lap to rest his feet.

So one day Gwydyon summoned courage to speak to his mighty uncle.

“If I may, uncle, I would make a suggestion as to where you might find a suitable virgin in whose lap to rest your feet.”

Math glanced at him with interest. “Whom did you have in mind?” he asked.

“None other than my sister, the daughter of your own sister, Dôn. None other than the beautiful Arianrhod, silver goddess of the dawn.”

So the beautiful Arianrhod was sent for and she came to the palace, demure and virgin-like.

Now Math was always suspicious about anything his nephews suggested, so he asked Arianrhod to come before him and asked her if it were true – was she a virgin?

“So far as my mind tells me,” replied Arianrhod unsatisfactorily.

Math then put his magic rowan stick on the floor and said to her: “Step over it.”

This was a test of her virginity and, as she stepped across it, two boy children with golden-yellow hair dropped from her womb.

Now Gwydyon, so quickly that no human eye could have seen him, scooped up the first child and hid it within his clothes. But he was not quick enough to catch the second yellow-haired child. The
boy ran immediately to the window of the palace which overlooked the great sea and leapt for it, immediately receiving the sea’s nature and being able to swim as well as any fish.

“Let his name be Dylan Eil Ton,” announced Math. That name means “Sea, Son of the Wave”.

And sad was his story, for he was doomed to be slain by his very own uncle, Govannon, the smith-god, brother of Arianrhod and son of Dôn. But that is another tale.

Rejected by Math, Arianrhod, the goddess of the dawn, returned to her own palace at Caer Arianrhod.

As for the child left behind, Gwydyon took on the responsibility of raising the child. The two children had shown that Arianrhod was no virgin. Moreover, no one was the father of the children
but Gwydyon himself, who had slept with his own sister under the guise of a magic cloak. Gwydyon, however, proved a good father and he nursed and trained the child and soon he was a fine, strapping
lad.

Now Arianrhod, filled with shame of this child of incest, swore he would never be named. Now this upset Gwydyon for it fell to a mother to name her child, otherwise ill-luck would follow.

So Gwydyon, who still had his powers of illusion, altered his appearance and that of his son, appearing in the guise of shoe-makers. They presented themselves at Caer Arianrhod and asked if they
could show their shoes to the ladies of the court. Arianrhod came and did not recognise them. While the cobbler and his boy were making shoes for her, a wren alighted on a branch. The young boy
threw a dart at it and hit it on the leg. The wren was a bird of augury and to capture a wren was a great portent.

“Why, bright one,” laughed Arianrhod, “you have a skilful hand. What name are you known by?”

“I have no name, lady.”

“Then Bright One of the Skilful Hand you shall be known as from this day on.” That is, Lleu Llaw Gyffes.

Then Gwydyon and Lleu turned back into their normal form and Arianrhod saw that she had been tricked into naming her son.

“You may have deceived me this time, Gwydyon, but this boy will never carry a weapon unless I arm him. That I shall not do.”

Now, unless a mother give her son his first weapon, he may never be a warrior.

The years passed by and Lleu grew to be a fine youth. He was an excellent horseman and well skilled. But he could not bear arms. One day, when Math was away with most of his
retinue, Gwydyon turned himself and Lleu into the guise of youthful bards and then came to the Caer Arianrhod and asked to see her. She supplied a feast and there was much good conversation and
storytelling. Well satisfied, everyone retired for the night.

At dawn next morning, Gwydyon was up early and he conjured the illusion of a great enemy fleet in the harbour just below the palace. War horns were sounded and the few men in the palace were
called to arms.

Arianrhod turned to the two bards.

“I know you are bards and without arms, but we need every man and boy we can to defend our palace from this strange warlike horde outside.”

“My son has no arms, lady,” said Gwydyon. “But he is a fine young man and, if he had arms, he would be better use to you than he is now.”

Arianrhod immediately called for a sword, shield and spear to be brought forward and gave these to young Lleu.

“Have these with my blessing,” she said.

It was then that Gwydyon turned himself and Lleu back into their normal form and the enemy ships vanished.

Rage was on the face of Arianrhod when she realized that she had been tricked into giving Lleu arms.

“You have deceived me this time, Gwydyon, but now I take oath that this boy will never have a human wife, nor wife of any race that dwells in the far corners of this world.”

Gwydyon was angered by this. So far he had felt it merely a game, but now his sister was taking a real vengeance on their son because he, Gwydyon, had tricked her. He swore an oath that he would
secure a wife for Lleu, in spite of his sister.

Gwydyon went to Math fab Mathonwy and told him the whole story, because he realized that his uncle had grown to like the handsome young boy, who was a youth of beauty and strength and skilled in
many things.

“I will help you, Gwydyon, and share my power with your magic.”

Together they went into the forests and took the flowers of an oak, broom and meadowsweet. Having performed the correct incantations, they conjured a beautiful young girl.
They called her Blodeuwedd, which is “flower aspect”. Lleu and Blodeuwedd seemed destined for each other, in spite of Arianrhod’s curse. A great wedding feast was held and there
was much celebration throughout all Gwynedd. And Math, who was fond of Lleu, gave him one of his own palaces, which was Mur Castell in Cantref Dunoding, in the uplands of Ardudwy.

Time passed. And Blodeuwedd began to grow tired of Lleu Llaw Gyffes, for she was of a gentle nature and bored with the martial life of her husband.

One day, when Lleu was off on some martial expedition, a hunting party arrived at the castle.

“Who is it?” she asked her servant, seeing a handsome young man at their head.

“That is Goronwy Pebr, lord of Penllyn,” the servant replied.

The party was invited in and Blodeuwedd could not take her eyes off the handsome lord, nor could he take his eyes from her. Through the feasting that night, they had eyes for no one but each
other, and at the end of the feast they rose, leaving the other guests, and went straight to Blodeuwedd’s bed chamber and made love all through the night. For three nights and three days they
made love with one another, until Blodeuwedd realized that her husband must soon return.

Lleu Llaw Gyffes came home the very next day, stained with the blood of his enemies.

That night, when Blodeuwedd became withdrawn from his amorous advances, he asked her what ailed her.

“Nothing, lord,” she said blushing, realizing that she must not show that she was in love with another.

“Come; something troubles you?”

The girl thought rapidly. “In truth, lord, I’ll tell you, then. I fear that one day you might never come back from your wars. I fear that you might be killed.”

Lleu put his head back and laughed good naturedly. “Well, if that is all, Blodeuwedd, rest easy. I shall let you in on a
secret. As you know, my father is the god of
science and light, Gwydyon; my mother was the goddess of dawn, Arianrhod the Silvery One. Therefore the blood of the Ever-Living Ones courses in my veins. I cannot be killed on horseback nor on
foot. I cannot be killed indoors nor out of doors.”

Blodeuwedd had a plan forming in her mind. “That is pleasing to know, husband. But I would rest happier if I knew that there was absolutely no way an enemy could kill you.”

Lleu laughed heartily. “Have no fear. I can be killed only in one way and no enemy will ever know that.”

“Maybe I should know of it, so as to be able to prevent it happening?” Blodeuwedd asked artfully.

“Well, first a bathing place has to be prepared for me by the bank of a river. A thatched roof has to be placed over it. A goat must be tethered alongside. Then, if I am caught with one
foot on the goat’s back and the other on the rim of the bath, the conditions are fulfilled. Even then, the only way to kill me is by a spear that has been a year in the crafting.”

“Surely, no enemy would know that,” agreed his wife, thinking hard.

“None, indeed. So your worries have no foundation. I will not be killed.”

The next day, Blodeuwedd had arranged to meet her lover, Goronwy Pebr, in the forest; after they had met and made love on the leaf-strewn carpet of the forest, Blodeuwedd told him that she had a
plan that would rid them of her husband. She then told Goronwy Pebr how Lleu could be killed.

“But the other conditions are impossible,” complained Goronwy Pebr. “Lleu would never obligingly get in that position.”

“Leave that to me,” Blodeuwedd assured him.

For a year, Goronwy Pebr set to crafting the special spear.

Then the time came when Blodeuwedd’s plan was to be put in motion. She told Goronwy Pebr to be at the river bank at dawn the next day.

At the palace she seemed preoccupied.

“What is it, my lady?” asked Lleu.

“Well, the truth of it is that I have been worried. Do you remember telling me a year ago how you could not be killed?”

“I do,” asserted Lleu. “You are not still worrying about that, are you?”

“I am. I have forgotten how you told me that you had to stand for an enemy to kill you. If I don’t know, then I couldn’t protect you if the circumstances arose.”

Lleu thought she was so worried and concerned that he should show her and demonstrate how it was impossible such circumstances could happen.

The next morning, a bathing place was built on the river bank, near to where Goronwy hid. A thatched roof was placed over it and a goat brought up. Then Lleu showed his wife how he had to stand
with one foot on the goat’s back and the other on the rim of the bath.

“See what an impossible thing it is?” laughed Lleu as he stood, balancing precariously.

“Now!” screamed Blodeuwedd.

Goronwy Pebr rushed out of his hiding place with his spear at the ready. In a flash, as if of lightning, the spear was speeding towards Lleu. It hit him between the ribs and stuck there. Now
Lleu was of the Ever-Living Ones and, in the split second he saw death approaching and the penetration of the spear, he turned into a great golden eagle. Painfully, the eagle rose, crying in its
anguish; he rose slowly higher and higher until he became a dark speck in the sky and flew away.

Blodeuwedd rushed into her lover’s arms and they went back to the castle to celebrate. Both believed that Lleu would soon be dead.