The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (48 page)

“Having agreed to that condition, there is a test which you must pass,” she said.

Before he knew what was happening, she had dived back into the lake.

He sat stunned. Indeed, he was so grieved that, for a moment, he determined to cast himself into the dark waters after her and so end his life, in the element that contained the only being in
the world he cared to live with.

Just as he was about to make the decision, the calm waters of the lake bubbled and out of them there appeared a large
man of noble appearance and extraordinary physique. And
with him came the beautiful maiden . . . except there were two of her. Two maidens exactly the same. The youth gazed on them in bewilderment.

The noble being addressed him in a low pleasant voice. “Have I been told correctly that you want to marry one of my daughters?”

“You have, sire,” the youth replied. “Unless I do, it is no better for me to live than to die.”

“A pity then to cause the death of a healthy, handsome youth such as yourself. I will consent to this union, provided that you can distinguish which of my two daughters you truly love. For
if you love only the shell of the girl, you will not know which is which, for they are both alike. It will be only the outward appearance you like. To really love someone, you must love beneath the
outward appearance.”

Now this was no easy task for the youth for, as the noble spirit of the lake had said, the two were such perfect counterparts of each other. The youth knew that if he chose the wrong one, she
would be lost for ever. Three times, the noble being urged him to speak up and each time he was lost for words.

He stood awhile, not being able to perceive the slightest difference between them. He was on the verge of making a guess when one of the girls slipped a foot forward. The motion was not lost on
the youth and he saw that there was a slight variation in the method in which their slippers were tied. The maiden he loved, he recalled, had golden laces on her slippers. This put an end to his
dilemma, for he had so impressed the details of the maiden he had fallen in love with in his mind, carefully noting every item of her dress, that he knew the peculiarity of the golden laces of her
slippers.

He reached out a hand towards her.

“This is she,” he said firmly.

“You have chosen correctly,” said the spirit of the lake. “Be to her a kind and faithful husband, and I will cause you to thrive. You will have, as a dowry, as many sheep,
cattle, goats and horses as she can count without heaving or drawing in her breath. But remember, mortal, if you prove unkind to her,
or strike her three times without a cause,
she shall return to me and shall bring back all her goods.”

The young couple were married and as many sheep, cattle, goats and horses as the maiden could count were theirs. And the number was considerable, for the maiden chose to count by fives. She
would say thus: “One, two, three, four, five,” and then repeat it as many times as possible in rapid succession, until her breath was exhausted. In an instant, the fields were full of
the numbers she had called.

And the young man, now having his own fortune, took a farm a mile from Myddfai, which was on a ridge which became known as Esgair Llaethdy, the ridge of the dairy, for the farm abounded in
cattle and its milch cows became famous. The couple lived in great prosperity and happiness and raised three sons, who were handsome children.

A baptism was held in Myddfai one day and the couple were invited, being the most prosperous and generous people in the area. But the lake maiden was reluctant to attend, alleging the distance
to the appointed place was too great a distance for her to walk. In truth, the birth of a child in this world always meant the death of a soul in the Otherworld, and this was the reason why she was
reluctant to go for, instead of celebrating, as a denizen of the Otherworld she would have to mourn.

“Are you not ready yet?” cried her husband as he came bustling out of the farmhouse. “Where are the horses?”

“I shall get them, if you bring me my gloves which I left in the house.”

He did so and, returning, he found that she was still standing exactly where he had left her and had not bothered to bring the horses.

“Get the horses! Hurry!” he said, in annoyance. In his vexation he gave her a tap on the shoulder to make her hurry up. “Come on, we will be late.” Whereupon she turned
with a frown and reminded him that he had agreed not to strike her without cause. Now he had done so and struck her for the first time. He must be more careful in the future for, if he struck her
three times without cause, she would return to the lake.

A wedding was held in Myddfai and the couple were invited, being the most prosperous and generous people in the area. There was great mirth and hilarity at the wedding among
the assembled guests, but the lake maiden was doleful and sad. Her husband playfully slapped her on the back and told her to cheer up for there was no cause for sadness. She turned to him and
said:

“The wedded couple are entering their own troubles and your troubles, too, are likely to start, for you have struck me a second time without cause.”

From then on, her husband was especially careful that he should not hit her by accident or in a playful mood. He was ever watchful, lest any trivial occurrence take place which would cause the
last blow and separate them forever.

As the years passed, their three children grew apace. Indeed, they grew into handsome and clever young men. All seemed well.

A funeral was held in Myddfai and the couple were invited, being the most prosperous and generous people in the area. There was a mourning and grief at the house of the deceased.

The lake maiden, however, did not look sad. Indeed, she amazed her husband by being in the gayest of spirits. She so shocked him that he tapped her sharply on the arm saying: “Hush! It is
wrong that you should laugh.”

She turned to him and said: “Mourning in birth, because of the death of the soul in the Otherworld; sadness at a wedding, for it is the start of travail; joy at death, because of the birth
of a soul in the Otherworld. Now the last blow has been struck, and our marriage is at an end.”

She rose and left for Esgair Llaethdy, claiming her goats, sheep, cattle and horses together and in this fashion:

All the cattle obeyed the summons of the lake maiden, even “the little black calf”, although it had been slaughtered for the feast. And among the livestock there
were four grey oxen who had been attached to a plough and who were furrowing a field driven by a ploughman. And to these she called:

They left the field, still dragging their plough, and made their way to the lake maiden, leaving the ploughman with jaws agape.

Then she called the sheep, who ran to her, the rams with their curly horns and the ewes with their lambs. Then she called the goats, who came skipping from the copses and leaping from the rocks.
And finally she called the horses, who
came surging towards her, whinnying and swishing their tales.

All the livestock which she had brought from the Otherworld made their way to the lake maiden. She led them in procession across the Myddfai mountains. She led them by owl-light, under the
watery moon, over the dark mountains, towards the lake from whence they had come. And they came to the edge of the lake and, without pausing, they entered the lake and disappeared beneath the
waves, leaving no trace except the furrow marked by the plough which the oxen had drawn after them into the lake.

They say that the furrow remains to this day, as testimony to the truth of this tale. What became of the ploughman who had been tending the oxen and ploughing the field is not known. Some say he
was so scared that he ran off; others claim that he was dragged into the lake, trying to save his plough.

The distraught husband of the lake maiden raced after her, but she had returned to the Otherworld under the lake. In vain, he cried for her to return, apologising for his stupidity, for his
negligence and forgetfulness. But there was no reply. Then, in his despair, he threw himself into the lake. The moment he leapt into the water, it was as if a great force seized him and threw him
back on shore. Twice more he tried to drown himself by leaping into the lake. Twice more he was returned to the shore and finally a great voice, in which he recognised the spirit of the lake,
cried: “You are not worthy to enter here!”

What became of the distracted man, no one can say. He was never again seen in the area nor, indeed, in the length and breadth of the land of the Cymru – the land of comrades – which
the Saxons were later to call the land of “foreigners” or
Wealas
.

But it is said that the three sons of the lake maiden, having grown to manhood, never lost hope of seeing their mother again. They often wandered by the lake and its vicinity and hoped that
their mother might take pity on them and return to land once more.

Now the eldest son was called Rhiwallon, and it happened
that he was near the lake on the Black Mountain, at a pass which was called the Mountain Gate. A young maiden
suddenly appeared before him, for the lake maiden never aged.

“Rhiwallon, it is your mother,” she called.

And after the joy of seeing each other again, she told him that she had come to inform him and his brothers that they had great work to do in the world.

“What work would that be, mother?” demanded Rhiwallon.

“You will be a benefactor to the mortals, relieving them from their pain and misery and healing them from their diseases.”

“But my brothers and I have no knowledge of medicine, mother. How could we do this?”

Then the lake maiden handed him a bag, which contained a great book which was filled with prescriptions for all the diseases and illnesses which could strike at mankind. She told him that if he
paid strict attention, he and his brothers would become skilful physicians and their families would become great healers for the next thousand years.

“If you ever need my counsel, but only when there is no other choice, call on me, and I will return and help you. I will visit you and your brothers once more to give you further
instructions.”

With those words, she vanished.

The spot where she met Rhiwallon was called Llidiad y Meddygon, The Physicians’ Gate, and it is still so called today.

True as her word, she appeared to her three sons at a place called Pant-Y-Meddygon – The Hollow of the Physicians. In that hollow grew the various herbs and plants which, as she showed
them, had the qualities of healing. And eventually the three brothers became the most skilled healers in all Cymru and were known as “The Physicians of Myddfai”. The sons of Rhiwallon
and his brothers became physicians to Rhys Gryg, Lord of Llandovery and Dynefor, who gave them rank, lands and privileges at Myddfai.

Generation after generation, the fame of the Physicians of
Myddfai spread. History records that the last of the Physicians of Myddfai was David Jones, who died in 1719. He
was the last to practise healing there and the last to have descended from the maiden of Llyn-y-Fan-Fach.

23 Bedd Gellert

I
t is not wise to spend certain nights of the year on Yr Wyddfa, which the English called Mount Snowdon, the highest mountain of Gwynedd.
Especially, it is not wise to tarry in the vicinity of the tomb which is called Bedd Gellert. Why and how it came by that name is a story which I will tell you but, firstly, I should tell you how
some people claim Yr Wyddfa was formed.

There were once two lords in Gwynedd: one called Nynniaw and the other was Peibiaw. Each was as vain and as arrogant as the other. They were given to placing wagers with one another as to who
was the better man, or who had the best possessions. It came about that they laid a wager on who had the best fields and the best herds and flocks. Each lord said that his was by far the best.

Nynniaw it was who suggested that they meet at midnight near Snowdon; and Nynniaw it was who promised to show Peibiaw a field that he could not better.

Peibiaw arrived and demanded to know where the magnificent field was which Nynniaw had promised him.

“Look upwards then,” cried Nynniaw.

Peibiaw looked up and gazed at the vast expanse of darkness speckled with a myriad of twinkling stars. “I do not understand.”

“Why, easy to tell. There is the field, the wide firmament of the heavens. That is my field.”

Peibiaw smiled. “Well, I can show you herds and flocks which you cannot better.”

“Where?” And Peibiaw pointed upwards. “The herds and flocks are the galaxies. Do you see my milk-white cattle and sheep which are the stars? And see what a
wondrous shepherdess tends them?”

“Where is she?” demanded Nynniaw.