The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends (50 page)

“Name it and it shall be as you say,” vowed the king.

“Do not take this second wife until you see a two-headed briar growing from my grave.”

“Easily done. I have no wish for a second wife.”

“You cannot change the spinning of the world.”

Now it happened that Goleuddydd had a loyal servant and she called this servant to her and told him what he should do. For the vision of the goddess Arianrhod had advised her how the future
might be changed. Knowing of the evils to come, she told the servant to ensure that nothing at all grew on her grave so that King Cilydd, not seeing the two-headed briar on her grave, might never
marry again and no harm would ever come to her son Culhwch. This servant promised faithfully to keep the grave clear of all growths.

So it came about that Goleuddydd, the bright light, died and the court mourned and the child Culhwch was found a nurse.

As time passed, King Cilydd overcame his grief and found that he had grown lonely and his thoughts turned to finding a new wife. But he was a moral man when it came to keeping promises. So he
would go to visit Goleuddydd’s grave. For seven years the grave stood bare, and not even so much as a weed grew upon it. But the servant grew old and tired. He neglected his duties and did
not weed the grave. One day, when King Cilydd came to the grave, he found a briar growing there and the briar was two-headed.

“So it is now time for me to find a new wife,” he said in satisfaction. He went to his palace and summoned his
attendants and he asked them if they knew of any
suitable prospects. None of them knew of any available princesses who were worthy of King Cilydd. Then one of his advisers, a sly fellow, said: “There is only one lady who is worthy of
marriage to you, my lord. Alas, she is married already, albeit unhappily. And she has a daughter.”

“Who is she?” demanded the King.

“She is the wife of King Doged.”

“No hardship there,” replied the King Cilydd thoughtfully. “If she is the right woman, I can see no problem. King Doged is such a weak monarch and can soon be disposed
of.”

So it came about that King Cilydd found an excuse to go to war with King Doged and soon slew him and claimed his wife. Now, in bringing this queen to his court, King Cilydd neglected to mention
that he already had a son and heir named Culhwch. In fact, the king had sent Culhwch to be fostered, which was the practice among the kings and lords in those days, for, in fosterage, the young
received their education and were taught the art of weaponry and warfare.

Now some time went by and this queen, who already had a daughter, did not bear any children to King Cilydd.

“Can it be that he cannot sire a child?” mused the queen. So she went to Gwiddanes the Hag to ask her advice.

“Lady,” said the crone, “your husband already has a son and heir by his first wife. The boy’s name is Culhwch.”

The queen was amazed at hearing this, rewarded the old woman and hastened back to the palace.

“Husband, I was not told that you had a son. Why have you hidden this prince, Culhwch, from me?”

The king, when he saw that his new wife was not jealous, was apologetic. “I will hide him no longer but will send for him immediately.”

Now Culhwch had grown into a handsome youth and, when he came to the palace to meet his stepmother, she was impressed at his beauty and his bearing. Immediately she thought that if she could
marry him to her daughter it would ensure the dynastic succession and consolidate her position as the most powerful woman in the kingdom.

“You look of age to marry, Culhwch,” she observed. “So is my daughter, and what better match could you make?”

Culhwch shook his head. “Lady, I am not old enough to have a wife and, if I were, I would not marry your daughter.”

The queen flew into a rage immediately.

She foresaw that when King Cilydd died, she would be ousted as queen and her daughter would have no inheritance. It so happened that she had sought some other magical advice from Gwiddanes the
Hag.

“As my daughter is not good enough for you,” she told Culhwch, “I shall make a curse of destiny on you – you will never have a wife unless you can win the love and marry
Olwen, the daughter of Ysbaddadan Pencawr, the Chief of the Giants.”

Now although Culhwch had never heard of her, he was suddenly consumed with love for this unknown girl. Perhaps this had something to do with the magic of the curse that his stepmother laid upon
him.

“Very well, lady,” he replied, colouring at the emotion which welled in him. “You have set forth my destiny and I shall follow it.”

He turned to his father, who was very unhappy at this outcome. He was sad, for he knew that a terrible burden had been placed on his son.

“Father, do you know where this Olwen and her father, Ysbaddadan Pencawr, abide?”

King Cilydd shook his head. “I do not know where they may be found. All I can give you is this advice – go to your cousin, the mighty Arthur. As your cousin, he is bound to offer you
gifts. Ask of him the gift of delivering Olwen to you.”

Young Culhwch embraced his father, the king, and taking his weapons, his grey-coloured warhorse and his hounds, he set off to find the court of his cousin, Arthur.

He eventually came to Arthur’s court at dusk and the gates were closed, for the feasting had already begun. So Culhwch rode up to the gates and hammered on them.

It was Glewlwyd Gafaelfawr, Glewlwyd of the Mighty Grasp, who came to the door.

“Open the gate!” demanded Culhwch.

“Who are you, little boy, who speaks so arrogantly?” demanded the disgruntled Glewlwyd.

“I do not speak to gatekeepers, if such you are.”

“I share the task with Huandaw, Gogigwr, Llaesgymin and Penpingion,” agreed Glewlwyd.

“Then if you are the gatekeeper of Arthur, open Arthur’s gate.”

“I will not. The knife has gone into the meat and the drink into the horn, and there is music in Arthur’s hall. None may enter now but the son of a rightful king or a craftsman or a
poet. Go away, for this gate will not be opened until dawn tomorrow.”

Then Culhwch leant forward, frowning. “Listen, proud gatekeeper, if you do not let me in, I shall raise three shouts as shall cause every woman in this palace to miscarry and will bring
shame and dishonour on Arthur’s court. Now go, tell Arthur what I have said.”

So Glewlwyd of the Mighty Grasp, somewhat taken aback by the youth’s persistence, scurried into the feasting hall and told Arthur of the strange youth outside the gate. “I tell you,
my lord, I have never seen a youth so handsome as this one, and so forceful in manner and strong in carriage.”

Arthur was annoyed but realised that Glwelwyd would not trouble him for no reason at all.

“Bring him in, then, and let us see who he is.”

One of Arthur’s companions, Cai, agreed. “Indeed, if he is all that is reported, it would be a shameful thing to leave so fine a youth outside our gate.”

So the gate was opened and Culhwch came in. He strode straight up to his cousin and bowed. Arthur did not know who he was but greeted him civilly.

“Greetings, stranger. Share our food and drink for dusk has come and the night is chill.”

“I am not here to beg your hospitality, lord king. I came to ask a favour of you,” replied Culhwch.

“Ask it,” said Arthur, quite intrigued at the boy’s directness.

“I would have you cut my hair.”

Now this was a ritual of kinship and Arthur knew then that he must be speaking to a blood relation. So he sent for a golden comb and scissors and began to trim
Culhwch’s hair and beard. And while he did so, they spoke of their lineage and came to the conclusion that they were first cousins.

“Excellent!” Arthur said with satisfaction. “As my blood relation, I can now ask you, what gift is it that I can bestow on you?”

“There is a curse of destiny on me, cousin,” Culhwch replied. “I must win the love of Olwen, daughter of Ysbaddadan Pencawr. I must marry her and none other. I ask you to give
her to me or tell me where she may be found and won.”

Now Arthur confessed that he had never heard of Olwen nor even of Ysbaddadan Pencawr, the Chief of Giants. However, he invited Culhwch to stay at court with him while he sent messengers to the
four corners of the kingdom to seek out the girl.

Time passed and each messenger returned saying that they had been unable to find word of Olwen. Indeed, a full year and a day went by and still there was no news of where the girl might dwell or
even of who her fearsome father was. Culhwch became impatient.

“Cousin Arthur, you have given gifts to everyone who asks of you. Yet here I am, your own cousin, asking a simple gift and yet I remain empty-handed. If I leave your palace without even
news of Olwen, then your honour must be called into question.”

Now Cai, son of Cynyr, one of Arthur’s greatest champions stood forward. Cai could hold his breath for nine nights and nine days under water and for nine nights and nine days he would go
without sleep. He could change his stature at will, even growing as tall as a tall tree. He was headstrong but also quite ruthless. A wound given by his sword would never be healed by a
physician.

Cai glowered at Culhwch. “It is wrong that you call my lord’s honour into question. He has done all he can to seek word of Olwen. Now I suggest that we go forth ourselves to seek
her. I will accompany you, on Arthur’s behalf. We shall find this girl, if she exists. My oath on it.”

Then Bedwyr of the One Hand, son of Pedrawg, volunteered to accompany them. He was a handsome man and, with his one hand, he could kill more warriors in battle than any
three. When he thrust his spear at the enemy, it made nine more thrusts of its own.

Then came Cynddelig, the greatest guide and tracker in all the kingdoms of the Cymru. He also volunteered to help.

Then came Gwrhyr Gwalstawd Ieithoedd who, as his name stated, knew all the languages of men as well as those of the birds, beasts and fishes. He also volunteered to accompany Cai and the
others.

Then came Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, whom the Saxons called Gawain and he was Arthur’s nephew, who never returned without that which he had set forth to find. He, too, said he would accompany
Culhwch.

Lastly, there came Menw son of Teirgwaedd, who was a Druid and a magus, who could even cast a spell that made men invisible.

So Culhwch was much impressed by these six able warriors and agreed that they should go with him in his quest. The seven of them set out from Arthur’s palace at dawn the next day.

The journey was long and arduous and, initially, without any reward. No one had heard of Olwen nor of her formidable father, the Chief of Giants.

One day, however, the warriors came to a broad plain and from it there arose a large castle. They set out towards it but, after several days riding, it seemed as far away from them as it had
been when they started. They were passing by a hill when they spied a shepherd on it and with the shepherd was a great hound, as big as a full-grown stallion. His breath scorched the very grass and
trees before him and yet he was able to keep the flock in order. He was a fierce beast.

“Gwrhyr,” said Culhwch. “As you are our interpreter, go and ask that shepherd if he has heard about Yspaddadan Pencawr?”

Gwrhyr hesitated, one cautious eye on the fierce hound. “I only volunteered to accompany Cai and the others,” he muttered. “Not to put myself forward alone into
danger.”

Cai grinned. “Then I will come with you, in case the hound prove too fierce for you.”

Menw took a step forward. “If you are worried about that hound, I will cast a spell so that it will neither see nor scent us.”

So it was that they all went forward under Menw’s spell and came to the shepherd without his hound scenting them or raising a cry.

“Greetings,
bugail
,” Cai said respectfully. “By the size of your flock, all goes well with you.”

The shepherd snorted indignantly. “May they never be better with you than with me,” he replied. The words made little sense to them and they pondered on his reply.

“Are these flocks not your own,
bugail
?” Gwalchmai asked, realizing that the shepherd might be tending them for some great lord.

“Ignorant men!” snapped the shepherd. “Do you not know in whose domains you are? These are the lands and flocks of Ysbaddadan Pencawr, whose castle lies yonder.”

“Ah, of course,” agreed Cai quickly. “And who are you, then?”

“I am Custennin Heusor yr Bugail, who was once a mighty warrior but am now ruled by my lord and doomed to be his shepherd.” The shepherd suddenly realized that his dog had ignored
the seven warriors and not attacked them. “What men are you, that my hound has not harmed you?”

Cai glanced at Culhwch and received a brief nod to indicate that he should hold no truth from the man.

“We are warriors of Arthur and we are in search of Olwen, Ysbaddadan’s daughter.”

Custennin looked grim. “If you wish to throw your lives away, then I shall not stop you. But better you quest for anything other than the daughter of Ysbaddadan Pencawr.”

Then Culhwch spoke for the first time. “Custennin, I am Culhwch son of Cilydd, and my destiny is to marry Olwen or no woman in this world.”

The shepherd started at the mention of his name. He came forward and peered carefully at him. “You are Culhwch son of Cilydd and Goleuddydd?”

“I am.”

Then the shepherd threw his arms around the surprised Culhwch. “Then you are my nephew, for my wife was sister to Goleuddydd.”

So Culhwch and Custennin embraced with joy.

“Where is your wife, that I might greet my aunt?” cried Culhwch.

“I will bring you to her directly, but I must warn you, my wife is the strongest woman in the world and does not know her own strength. So avoid being hugged by her until she has calmed
her joy.”

With that warning, Custennin ordered his hound to stay on guard over his flock and then led them to his house.

“Woman, it is your nephew Culhwch who is come to see us,” cried the shepherd.

A great muscular woman came bounding out of the house. “Tender is the heart in me, for he is my sister’s own flesh and blood,” she thundered. Then she looked at the seven
warriors who had dismounted before the house. “But which one is Culhwch?”