CHAPTER V JOURANTE, THE SON OF URBAN Arthur was accustomed to hold his court at Carlyen upon Usk, and there he held it seven easters and five Christmases, and once upon a time he held his court there at Woodson Tide. For Carlyen was the place most easy of access in his dominions, both by sea and by land. And there were assembled nine crowned kings who were his tributaries, and likewise earls and barons. For they were his invited guests at all the high festivals, unless they were prevented by any great hinderatus, and when he was at Carlyen, holding his court, thirteen churches were set apart for mass, and thus they were appointed. One church for Arthur and his kings and his guests, and the second for Guinevere and her ladies, and the third for the steward of the household and the suitors, and the fourth for the frangs and the other offices, and the other nine churches were for the nine masters of the household, and chiefly for Gawain. For he, from the eminence of his warlike frame and from the nobleness of his birth, was the most exalted of the nine. And there was no other arrangements respecting the churches than that which we have here mentioned. And on Witt Tuesday, as the king said at the banquet, Lo, there entered a tall, fair-haired youth, clad in a coat and circled of satin, and a golden-hilted sword about his neck, and low shoes of leather upon his feet. And he came and stood before Arthur, Hail to thee, Lord, said he, Heaven prosper thee, he answered, and be thou welcome, dost thou bring any new tidings? I do, Lord, he said. I am one of thy foresters, Lord, in the forest of Dean, and my name is Maddox, son of Tergarden. In the forest I saw a stag, the like of which beheld I never yet. What is there about him? asked Arthur, that thou never yet dissee his like. He is a pure white, Lord, and he does not herd with any other animal. Through statelyness and pride so royal is his bearing. And I come to seek thy counsel, Lord, and to know thy will concerning him. It seems best to me, said Arthur, to go and hunt him to-morrow at break of day, and to cause general notice thereof to be given to-night in all quarters of the court. For Arthur, on the wits and tide before, held court at old Carly in upon Usk. There on a day he sitting high in hall. Before him came a forester of Dean, wet from the woods, with notice of a heart. Taller than all his fellows, milky white. First seen that day these things he told the king. Then the good king gave order to let blow, his horns for hunting on the morrow morn by Enid. And Ariferus was Arthur's chief huntsman, and Arlevry his chief page. And I'll receive notice, and thus it was arranged. Then Guinevere said to Arthur, wilt thou permit me, Lord, to go to-morrow to see and hear the hunt of the stag of which the young man spoke? I will gladly, said Arthur. And Guinevere said to Arthur, Lord, Lord, if it seem well to thee, permit that into whose huntssoever the stag shall come, that one, be he a knight, or on foot, may cut off his head, and give it to whom he pleases, whether to his own lady love, or to the lady of his friend. I grant it gladly, said Arthur, and let the steward of the household be chastised if all things are not ready to-morrow for the chase. And they passed the night with songs and diversions and discourse, and ample entertainment, and when it was time for them all to go to sleep, they went. And when the next day came, they rose. And Arthur called the attendants who got at his couch.  And these men came to Arthur and saluted him, and arrayed him in his garments. And Arthur wondered that Gwenevere did not awake, and the attendants wished to awaken her. Disturber not, said Arthur, for she had rather sleep than go to see the hunting. Then Arthur went forth, and he heard two horns sounding, one from near the lodging of the chief huntsman, and the other from near that of the chief page. And the whole assembly of the multitudes came to Arthur, and they took the road to the forest. And after Arthur had gone forth from the palace, Gwenevere awoke and called to her maidens and apparelled herself. Maidens, said she, I had leave last night to go and see the hunt. Go one of you to the stable, and order hither a horse such as a woman may ride. And one of them went, and she found but two horses in the stable. And Gwenevere, and one of her maidens, mounted them, and went through the usk, and followed the track of the men and the horses. And as they rode thus, they heard a loud and rushing sound. And they looked behind them, and beheld a night upon a hunter-fall of mighty size.  And around him was a scarf of blue-purple, at each corner of which was a golden apple. The prince-juraint, late also wearing neither hunting-dress, nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand, came quickly flashing through the shallow ford by Enid. And his horse stepped stately and swift and proud, and he overtook one of her and saluted her. "'Heaven prosper thee, Juraint,' said she, and why disthou not go with thy lord to hunt? Because I knew not when he went,' said he. "'I, Marvel, too,' said she, how he could go, unknown to me. But thou, O young man, art the most agreeable companion I could have in the whole kingdom, and it may be I shall be more amused with the hunting than they. For we shall hear the horns when they sound, and we shall hear the dogs when they let loose and begin to cry.' So they went to the edge of the forest, and there they stood. "'From this place,' said she, we shall hear when the dogs will let loose. And thereupon they heard a loud noise, and he looked towards the spot whence it came. And they beheld a dwarf riding upon a horse, stately and foaming and prancing and strong and spirited. And in the hand of the dwarf was a whip. And near the dwarf they saw a lady upon a beautiful white horse of steady and stately pace, and she was clothed within a garment of gold brocade. And near her was a knight upon a war-horse of large size, with heavy and bright armor both upon himself and upon his horse. And truly they never before saw a knight, or a horse, or armor, of such remarkable size. "'Geraint,' said Gwenevere. "'Knowest thou the name of that tall knight, Yanda?' "'I know him not,' said he. And the strange arm that he wears prevents my either seeing his face or his features. "'Go, Maiden,' said Gwenevere, and asked the dwarf who that knight is. Then the Maiden went up to the dwarf, and she inquired of the dwarf who the knight was. "'I will not tell thee,' he answered. "'Since thou art so cherlish,' said she, I will ask him myself. "'Now shalt not ask him by my faith,' said he. "'Wherefore not?' said she. "'Because thou are not of honor sufficient to befit thee to speak to my lord.'  And the Maiden returned to Gwenevere, complaining of the heart she had received. "'Very rudely has the dwarf treated thee,' said Geraint, and he put his hand upon the hilt of his sword. But he took counsel with himself, and considered that it would be of no vengeance for him to slay the dwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by the armed knight. So he refrained. "'Lady,' he said, I will follow him, with thy permission, and at last he will come to some inhabited place where I may have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge, so that I may encounter the knight. "'Go,' said she, and do not attack him until thou hast good arms, and I shall be very anxious concerning thee, until I hear tidings of thee. "'If I am alive,' said he, thou shalt hear tidings of me by tomorrow afternoon. And with that he departed. And the road they took was below the palace of Carlene, and across the fort of the usk, and they went along a fair and even and lofty ridge of ground, till they came to a town, and at the extremity of the town they saw a fortress and a castle. And as the night passed through the town, all the people arose and saluted him, and bade him welcome. When Geraint came into the town, he looked at every house to see if he knew any of those whom we saw. But he knew none, and none knew him to do him the kindness to let him have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge. In every house he saw was full of men and arms and horses, and they were polishing shields and burnishing swords and washing armor and shoeing horses. And the night and the lady and the dwarf rode up to the castle, that was in the town, and everyone was glad in the castle. And from the battlements in the gates they risked their necks through their eakiness to greet them and to show their joy. Geraint stood there to see whether the night would remain in the castle, and when he was certain that he would do so he looked around him, and had a little distance from the town he saw an old palace and ruins, wherein was a hall that was falling to decay. And high above a piece of turret stair, worn by the feet that now were silent, wound bare to the sun by Enid. And as he knew not anyone in the town, he went towards the old palace, and when he came near to the palace he saw a hoary-headed man standing by it in tattered garments. And Geraint gazed steadfastly upon him. Then the hoary-headed man said to him, Young man, wherefor art thou thoughtful? I am thoughtful, said he, because I know not where to pass the night. Wilt thou come forward this way, chieftain, said he, and thou shalt have of the best that can be procured for thee. So Geraint went forward, and the hoary-headed man led the way into the hall, and in the hall he dismounted and he left there his horse. Then he went on to the upper chamber with the hoary-headed man, and in the chamber he beheld an old woman sitting on a cushion with old worn-out garments upon her. Yet it seemed to him that she must have been comely when then the bloom of youth, and beside her was a maiden, upon whom were a vest and a veil that were old and beginning to be worn out. And truly he never saw a maiden more full of comeliness and grace and beauty than she. Then the hoary-headed man said to the maiden, There is no attendant for the horse of this youth but thyself. I will render the best service I am able, said she, both to him and to his horse. And the maiden disarrayed the youth, and then she furnished in his horse with straw and corn, and then she returned to the chamber. And the hoary-headed man said to the maiden, Go to the town and bring hither the best that thou canst find, both the food and of liquor. I will gladly, Lord, said she, and to the town went the maiden. And they conversed together while the maiden was at the town, and behold the maiden came back and a youth with her, bearing on his back a costral full of good-purchased meat and a quarter of a young bullock. And in the hands of the maiden was a quantity of white bread, and she had some menship bread and her veil, and she came into the chamber. I would not obtain better than this, said she, nor with better should I have been trusted. It is good enough, said Jereint. And they caused the meat to be boiled, and when their food was ready they sat down. And it was in this wise. Jereint sat between the hoary-headed man and his wife, and the maiden served them. And they ate and drank. And when they had finished eating, Jereint talked with the hoary-headed man, and he asked him, in the first place, to whom belong the palace that he was in. Truly said he, it was I that built it. And to me also belonged the city and the castle which thou sawest. Alas, said Jereint, how is it that thou hast lost them now? I lost a greater old them as well as these, said he, and this is how I lost them.  But he was impatient to enter upon them. So he made war upon me, and rested from me not only his own, but also my estates, except this castle. Good sir, said Jereint, wilt thou tell me wherefore came the night and the lady and the dwarf just now into the town, and what is the preparation which I saw, and the putting of arms in order? I will do so, said he. The preparations are for the game that is to be held tomorrow by the young Earl, which will be on this wise. In the midst of a meadow which is here, two forks will be set up, and upon the two forks a civil rod, and upon the civil rod a sparrowhawk. And for the sparrowhawk there will be a tournament. And to the tournament will go all the array thou didst see in the city, of men and of horses and of arms. And with each man will go the lady he loves best, and no man can joust for the sparrowhawk, except the lady he loves best be with him. And the night that thou sawest has gained the sparrowhawk these two years. And if he gains it the third year, he will be called the night of the sparrowhawk from that time forth. Sir, said Geraint, what is thy counsel to me concerning this night, on account of the insult which the maiden of Gwenevere received from the dwarf? It is not easy to counsel thee in as much as thou hast neither dame nor maiden belonging to thee, for whom thou canst joust. Yet I have arms here which thou couldst have, and there is my horse also, if he seemed to thee better than thine own. Ah, sir, said he, heaven reward thee, but my own horse, to which I am accustomed, together with thine arms, will suffice me. And if, when the appointed time shall come tomorrow, thou wilt permit me, sir, to challenge for yonder maiden, that is thy daughter, I will engage. If I escape from the tournament to love the maiden as long as I live, gladly will I permit thee, said the hoary-headed man, and since thou dost thus resolve, it is necessary that thy horse and arms should be ready tomorrow at break of day. For then the night of the sparrow-hawk will make proclamation, and ask the lady he loves best to take the sparrow-hawk, and if any deny it to her, by force will he defend her claim. And therefore, said the hoary-headed man, it is needful for thee to be there at daybreak, and we three will be with thee. And thus it was settled. And at night they went to sleep, and before the dawn they arose and arrayed themselves, and by the time that it was day, they were all four in the meadow. And there was the night of the sparrow-hawk making the proclamation and asking his lady love to take the sparrow-hawk. Take it not, said Geraint, for here is a maiden who is fairer, and more noble, and more comely, and who has a better claim to it than thou. Then, said the night, if thou maintainest the sparrow-hawk to be due to her, come forward and do battle with me. And Geraint went forward to the top of the meadow, having upon himself and upon his horse, Armour, which was heavy and rusty, and of uncouth shape. Then they encountered each other, and they broke a set of lances, and they broke a second set and a third, and when the Earl and his company saw the night of the sparrow-hawk gaining the mastery, they was shouting and joy and mirth amongst them, and the hoary-headed man his wife and his daughter were sorrowful. And the hoary-headed man served Geraint with lances as often as he broke them, and the dwarfs served the night of the sparrow-hawk. Then the hoary-headed man said to Geraint, O chieftain, since no other will hold with thee, behold, here is the lance, which was in my hand on the day when I received the honor of knighthood, and from that time to this I never broke it, and it has an excellent point. Then Geraint took the lance, thanking the hoary-headed man, and thereupon the dwarf also brought a lance to his lord. Behold, here is the lance for thee, not less good than his, said the dwarf, and but think thee that no knight ever withstood thee so long as this one has done. I declare to heaven, said Geraint, that unless death takes me quickly hence, he shall fare never the better for thy service. And Geraint pricked his horse towards him from afar, and warning him, he rushed upon him and gave him a blow so severe and furious and fierce upon the face of his shield that he cleft it into and broke his armor, and burst his girth, so that both he and his saddle were born to the ground over the horse's cropper. And Geraint dismounted quickly, and he was wroth, and he drew his sword and rushed fiercely upon him. Then the knight also rose, and drew his sword against Geraint, and they fought on foot with their swords until their arms struck sparks of fire like stars from one another, and thus they continued fighting until the blood and sweat obscured the light from their eyes. At length Geraint called to him all his strength and struck the knight upon the crown of his head, so that he broke all his head armor and cut through all the flesh and the skin, even to the skull, until he wounded the bone. Then the knight fell upon his knees, and cast his sword from his hand, and besought mercy from Geraint. Oh, of a truth, said he, I relinquish my over-daring and my pride, and crave thy mercy, and unless I have time to commit myself to heaven for my sins and to talk with the priest, thy mercy will avail me little. I will grant thee grace upon this condition, said Geraint, that thou go to Gwenevere, the wife of Arthur, to do her satisfaction for the insult which her maiden received from thy dwarf. Dismount not from the time thou goest hence, until thou comeest into the presence of Gwenevere, to make her what atonement shall be judged at the court of Arthur. This I will do gladly, and who art thou? I am Geraint, the son of Urban, and declare thou also who thou art. I am Edom, the son of Nud. Then he threw himself upon his horse, and went forward to Arthur's court, and the lady he loved best went before him and the dwarf with much lamentation. Then came the young Earl and his host to Geraint, and saluted him and bade him to his castle. I may not go, said Geraint, but where I was last night there will I be tonight also. Since thou wilt none of my inviting, thou shalt have abundance of all that I can command for thee, and I will order ointment for thee, to recover thee from the fatigues, and from the weariness that is upon thee. Heaven reward thee, said Geraint, and I will go to my lodging. And thus went Geraint, and Earl Yenwill, and his wife and his daughter. And when they reached the old mansion, the household servants and attendants of the young Earl had arrived, and had arranged all the apartments, dressing them with straw and with fire, and in a short time the ointment was ready, and Geraint came there, and they washed his head. Then came the young Earl, with forty honorable knights from among his attendants, and those who were bitten to the tournament. And Geraint came from the anointing, and the Earl asked him to go to the hall to eat. Where is the Earl, Yenwill? said Geraint, and his wife and his daughter. There in the chamber yonder, said the Earl's chamberlain, arraying themselves and garments which the Earl has caused to be brought for thee. Let not the damsel array herself, said he, except in her vest and veil, until she come to the court of Atha to be clad by Guinevere and such garments as she may choose. So the maiden did not array herself. Then they all entered the hall, and they washed and sat down to meet, and thus they were seated. On one side of Geraint sat the young Earl, and Earl Yenwill beyond him, and on the other side of Geraint was the maiden and her mother. And after these all sat according to their precedence and honor. And they ate, and they were served abundantly, and they received a profusion of diverse kinds of gifts. Then they conversed together, and the Earl invited Geraint to visit him the next day. I will not, by heaven, said Geraint, to the court of Atha will I go with this maiden tomorrow, and it is enough for me, as long as Earl Yenwill is in poverty and trouble, and I go chiefly to seek to add to his maintenance. Ah, chieftain, said the young Earl, it is not by my fault that Earl Yenwill is without his possessions. By my faith, said Geraint, he shall not remain without them, unless death quickly takes me hence. Oh, chieftain, said he, with regard to the disagreement between me and Yenwill, I will gladly abide by thy counsel, and agree to what thou mayest judge right between us. I but ask thee, said Geraint, to restore to him what is his, and what he should have received from the time he lost his possessions, even until this day. That I will do gladly for thee, answered he. Then, said Geraint, whosoever is here who owes harmage to Yenwill, let him come forward and perform it on the spot. And all the men did so, and by that treaty they abided. And his castle and his town, and all his possessions, were restored to Yenwill. And he received back all that he had lost, even to the smallest jewel. Then spoke Earl Yenwill to Geraint. Chieftain, said he, behold the maiden for whom thou dischallenged at the tournament. I bestow her upon thee. She shall go with me, said Geraint, to the court of Arthur and Arthur and Gwenevere. They shall dispose of her as they will. And the next day they proceeded to Arthur's court, so far concerning Geraint. This is the end of Chapter 5, recording by Russ Clough. This has been a LibriVox recording. Chapter 6 from Bullfinches the Age of Chivalry. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Russ Clough. The Age of Chivalry by Thomas Bullfinch. Chapter 6 Geraint, the son of Urban, continued. Now this is how Arthur hunted the stag. The men and the dogs were divided into hunting parties, and the dogs were let loose upon the stag. And the last dog that was let loose was a favorite dog of Arthur. Caval was his name. He left all the other dogs behind him and turned the stag. And at the second turn the stag came toward the hunting party of Arthur. And Arthur set upon him. Before he could be slain by any other, Arthur cut off his head. Then they sounded the death horn for slaying, and they all gathered round. They came catered to Arthur and spoke to him. Lord, said he, behold, Yondra's Guinevere and none with her save only one maiden. Command Gildus, the son of Caul, and all the sculls of the court, said Arthur to attend Guinevere to the palace. And they did so. Then they all set forth, holding converse together concerning the head of the stag, to whom it should be given, one wished that it should be given to the lady best beloved by him, and another to the lady whom he loved best. And so they came to the palace. When Arthur and Guinevere heard them disputing about the head of the stag, Guinevere said to Arthur, Lord, this is my counsel concerning the stag's head. Let it not be given away until Jereint, the son of Urban, shall return from the errand he is upon. And Guinevere told Arthur what that errand was. Right gladly shall it be so, said Arthur. And Guinevere caused a watch to be set upon the ramparts for Jereint's coming.  And before they came near to the gate, one of the watch went to Guinevere and told her what kind of people he they saw, and what aspect they bore. I know not who they are, said he. But I know, said Guinevere, this is the night whom Jereint pursued, and me things that he comes not here by his own free will. But Jereint has overtaken him, and avenged the insult to the maiden to the uttermost. And thereupon, behold, a porter came to the spot where Guinevere was. "'Lady,' said he, at the gate there was a knight, and I saw never a man of so pitiful an aspect to look upon as he. Miserable and broken is the armor that he wears, and the hue of blood is more conspicuous upon it than its own color. "'Knowest thou his name?' said she. "'I do,' said he. "'He tells me that he is Edirin, the son of Nood.' And she replied, "'I know him not.'" So Guinevere went to the gate to meet him, and he entered. And Guinevere was sorry when she saw the condition he was in, even though he was accompanied by the churlish dwarf. Then Edirin saluted Guinevere. "'Heaven protect thee,' she said. "'Lady,' said he, Jereint, the son of Urban, thy best and most valiant servant greets thee.' "'Did he meet with thee?' she asked. "'Yes,' said he, and it was not to my advantage. And that was not his fault, but mine, lady. And Jereint greets thee well, and in greeting thee he compelled me to come here that to do thy pleasure for the insult which thy maiden received from the dwarf. Now where did he overtake thee?' At the place where we were jousting and contending for the sparrow-hawk, in the town which is now called Cardiff. And it was for the avouchment of the love of the maiden, the daughter of Earl Yinnwil, that Jereint jousted at the tournament. And thereupon we encountered each other, and he left me, as thou seest. "'Sir,' said she, when thinkest thou that Jereint will be here? "'Tomorrow, lady, I think you will be here with the maiden.' Then Arthur came to them, and he saluted Arthur, and Arthur gazed a long time upon him, and was amazed to see him thus. And thinking that he knew him, he inquired of him. "'Ath thou, Erdwin, the son of Nood?' "'I am, Lord,' said he, and I have met with much trouble and received wounds unsupportable. Then he told Arthur all his adventure. "'Well,' said Arthur, from what I hear, it behooves Gwenevere to be merciful towards thee. "'The mercy which thou desirest, Lord,' said she, "'will I grant to him, since it is insulting to thee that an insult should be offered to me as to thyself. "'Thus will it be best to do.' said Arthur. "'Let this man have medical care until it be known whether he may live, and if he live, he shall do such satisfaction as shall be judged best by the men of the court. And if he die, too much will be the death of such a youth as Erdwin for an insult to a maiden. "'This pleases me,' said Gwenevere. And Arthur caused Morgan Tood to be called to him. He was the chief physician. "'Take with thee, Erdwin, the son of Nood, and cause a chamber to prepare it for him, and let him have the aid of medicine as thou wouldst do unto myself, if I were wounded, and let none into his chamber to molest him but thyself and thy disciples to administer to him remedies. "'I will do so gladly, Lord,' said Morgan Tood. "'Then set the steward of the household. Wither is it right, Lord, to order the maiden? To Gwenevere and her handmaiden,' said he, and the steward of the household so ordered her. And rising up he rode to Arthur's court, and there the queen forgave him easily. And being young, he changed himself and grew to hate the sin that seemed so like his own, of Maudred, Arthur's nephew, and fell at last in the great battle fighting for the king, by Enid. The next day came Geraint towards the court, and there was a watch set on the ramparts by Gwenevere, lest he should arrive unawares. And one of the watch came to Gwenevere. "'Lady,' said he, "'me thinks that I see Geraint, and I made him with him. He is on horseback, but he has his walking gear upon him, and the maiden appears to be in white, seeming to be clad in a garment of linen.' "'Assemble all the women,' said Gwenevere, and come to meet Geraint, to welcome him, and wish him joy.' And Gwenevere went to meet Geraint and the maiden. And when Geraint came to the place where Gwenevere was, he saluted her. "'Heaven prosper thee,' said she, and welcome to thee. He said he, "'I earnestly desired to obtain the satisfaction, according to thy will. And behold, here is the maiden through whom thou hast thy revenge.' "'Verily,' said Gwenevere, the welcome of heaven be unto her, and it is fitting that we should receive her joyfully.' Then they went in and dismounted. And Geraint came to where Arthur was, and saluted him. "'Heaven protect thee,' said Arthur, and the welcome of heaven be unto thee. And as much as thou hast vanquished Ednerin, the son of Nud, thou hast had a prosperous career. Not upon me, be the blame, said Geraint, it was through the arrogance of Ednerin, the son of Nud, himself, that we were not friends. "'Now,' said Arthur, where is the maiden for whom I heard thou disquiv'd challenge?' "'She is gone with Gwenevere to her chamber.' Then went Arthur to see the maiden. And Arthur and all his companions in this whole court were glad concerning the maiden. And certain were they all that, had her array been suitable for her beauty, they had never seen a maid fairer than she. And Arthur gave away the maiden to Geraint. And the usual bond made between persons was made between Geraint and the maiden, and the choice of all Gwenevere's appara was given to the maiden, and thus arrayed, she appeared comely and graceful to all who beheld her. And that day and the night was spent in abundance of minstrelcy, and ample gifts of liquor, and a multitude of games. And when it was time for them to go to sleep, they went. And in the chamber where the couch of Arthur and Gwenevere was, the couch of Geraint and Enid was prepared. And from that time she became his wife. And the next day Arthur satisfied all the claimants upon Geraint with bountiful gifts. And the maiden took up her abode in the palace, and she had many companions, both men and women, and there was no maiden more esteemed than she in the island of Britain. Then spake one of her, rightly did I judge, said she, concerning the head of the stag, that it should not be given to any until Geraint's return. And behold, here is a fit occasion for bestowing it. Let it be given to Enid, the daughter of Yenwill, the most illustrious maiden, and I do not believe that any will begrudget her, for between her and everyone here there exists nothing but love and friendship. Such applauded was this by them all, and by Arthur also. And the head of the stag was given to Enid, and thereupon her fame increased, and her friends became more in number than before. And Geraint from that time forth loved the hunt and the tournament and hard encounters, and he came victorious from them all. And a year, and a second, and a third he proceeded thus, until his fame had flown over the face of the kingdom. And once upon a time Arthur was holding his court at Carlyon upon Usk, and behold, that came to him ambassadors. Wise and prudent, full of knowledge and eloquent of speech, and they saluted Arthur. Heaven prosper you, said Arthur, and once do you come. We come, Lord, they said, from Cornwall, and we are ambassadors from Urban, the son of Custennan, thy uncle, and our mission is unto thee. And he greets thee well, as an uncle should greet his nephew, and as a vassal should greet his Lord. And he represents unto thee that he waxes heavy and feeble, and is advancing in years. And the neighboring chiefs, knowing this, grow insolent toward him, and covered his land in possessions. And he earnestly besieges thee, Lord, to permit Geraint, his son, to return to him, to protect his possessions, and to become acquainted with his boundaries. And unto him he represents that it were better for him to spend the flower of his youth and the prime of his age in preserving his own boundaries, than in tournaments which are productive of no profit, although he obtains glory in them. Well, said Arthur, go and divest yourselves of your accoutrements, and take food, and refresh yourselves after your fatigues.  And they went to eat. And Arthur considered that it would go hard with him to let Geraint depart from him and from his court. Neither did he think it fair that his cousin should be restrained from going to protect his dominions and his boundaries, seeing that his father was unable to do so. No less was the grief and regret of Guinevere, and all her women, and all her dancers, through fear that the maiden should leave them. And that day and that night was spent in abundance of feastings. And Arthur told Geraint the cause of the mission, and of the coming of the ambassadors to him out of Cornwall. Truly, said Geraint, be it to my advantage or disadvantage, Lord, I will do according to thy will concerning this embassy. Behold, said Arthur, though it greys me depart with thee, it is my counsel that thou go to dwell in thine own dominions and to defend thy boundaries, and take with thee to accompany thee as many as thou wilt of those thou lovest best among my faithful ones, and among thy friends, and among thy companions and arms. Heaven reward thee, and this will I do, said Geraint. What discourse, said Guinevere, do I hear between you? Is it of those who are to conduct Geraint to his country? It is, said Arthur. That it is needful for me to consider, said she, concerning companions and a provision for that lady that is with me. Thou wilt do well, said Arthur, and that night they went to sleep. And the next day the ambassadors were permitted to depart, and they were told that Geraint should fall them. And on the third day Geraint set forth. And many went with him.  Said Geraint, I think I shall have enough of knighthood with me. And they set forth. And never was there seen a fairer host journeying towards the Severn. And on the other side of the Severn were the nobles of Urban, the son of Custennan, and his foster-father at their head, to welcome Geraint with gladness. And many of the women of the court, with his mother, came to receive Enid, the daughter of Yinwil, his wife. And there was great rejoicing and gladness throughout the whole court, and through all the country, concerning Geraint, because of the greatness of their love to him, and of the greatness of the fame which he had gained since he went from amongst them. And because he was come to take possession of his dominions and to preserve his boundaries. And they came to the court. And in the court they had ample entertainment and a multitude of gifts, and abundance of liquor, and a sufficiency of service, and a variety of games. And to do honor to Geraint, all the chief men of the country were invited that night to visit him. And they passed that day and that night in the utmost enjoyment. And it dawned the next day, Urban arose, and summoned to him Geraint, and the noble person who had borne him company. And he said to Geraint, I am a feeble and an aged man, and whilst I was able to maintain the dominions for thee and for myself, I did so. But thou art young and the flower of thy vigor and of thy youth. Henceforth, do thou preserve thy possessions. Truly, said Geraint, with my consent, thou shalt not give the power over thy dominions at this time into my hands, and thou shalt not take me from Arthur's court. Into thy hands will I give them, said Urban, and this day also shalt thou receive the homage of thy subjects. Then said Geraint, it were better for thee to satisfy those who have boons to ask today, and tomorrow thou canst receive homage thy dominions. So all that had boons to ask was summoned into one place. And Cadreth came to them to know what were their requests. And everyone asked that which he desired. And the followers of Arthur began to make gifts, and immediately the men of Cornwall came and gave also. And they were not long in giving. So eager was everyone to bestow gifts. And of those who came to ask gifts, none departed unsatisfied. And that day and that night was spent in the utmost enjoyment. And the next day at dawn Urban desired Geraint to send messages to the men to ask them whether it was displeasing to them that he should come to receive their homage, and whether they had anything to object to him. Then Geraint sent ambassadors to the men of Cornwall to ask them this, and they all said that it would be the fullness of joy and honor to them for Geraint to come and receive their homage. So he received the homage of such as were there. And the day after the followers of Arthur intended to go away. It is too soon for you to go away yet, said he, stay with me until I have finished receiving the homage of my chief men who have agreed to come to me. And there remained with him until he had done so. Then they set forth towards a court of Arthur, and Geraint went to bear them company, and eat it also, as far as Diganwi, where they parted. And Anya, the son of the Duke of Burgundy, said to Geraint, go now and visit the uttermost parts of thy dominions and see well to the boundaries of thy territories, and if thou hast any trouble respecting them, send unto thy companions. Heaven reward thee, said Geraint, and this will I do. And Geraint journeyed to the uttermost parts of his dominions, and experienced guides, and the chief men of his country went with him, and the furthest most point that they showed him he kept possession of. CHAPTER VII Geraint, son of Urban, continued. Geraint, as he had been used to do when he was at Arthur's court, frequented tournaments, and he became acquainted with valiant and mighty men until he had gained as much fame there as he had formally done elsewhere. And he enriched his court and his companions and his nobles with the best horses and the best arms, and with the best and most valuable jewels, and he ceased not until his fame had flown over the face of the whole kingdom. Before Geraint, the scourge of the enemy, I saw Steed's white with foam, and after the shout of a battle, a fearful torrent. By hen. When he knew that it was thus, he began to love ease and pleasure, for there was no one who was worth his opposing. And he loved his wife, and liked to continue in the palace with minstrelstry and diversions. So he began to shout himself up in the chamber of his wife, and he took no delight in anything besides, in so much that he gave up friends, ships of his nobles, together with his hunting and his amusements, and lost the hearts of all the host in his court. And there was murmuring and scoffing concerning him among the inhabitants of the palace, on account of his relinquishing so completely their companionship for the love of his wife. They began to scoff and jare and babble of him, as of a prince whose manhood was all gone, and molten down in mere axureousness. These tidings came to Urban, and when Urban had heard these things he spoke unto Enid, and inquired of her whether it was she that had caused Duraint to act thus, and to forsake his people and his hosts. Not I, by my confession unto heaven, said she, there is nothing more hateful unto me than this. And she knew not what she should do, for, although it was hard for her to own this to Duraint, yet was it not more easy for her to listen to what she heard, without warning Duraint concerning it? And she was very sorrowful. One morning in the summertime they were upon their couch, and Duraint lay upon the edge of it. And Enid was without sleep in the apartment, which had windows of glass, and the sun shone upon the couch, and the clothes slipped off of his arms in his breast, and he was asleep. Then she gazed upon his marvelous beauty of his appearance, and she said, Alas, and am I the cause that these arms in this breast have lost their glory, and the warlike fame which they once so richly enjoyed? As she said this, the tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell upon his breast, and the tears she said in the words she had spoken awoke him. And another thing contributed to awaken him, and this was the idea that it was not in thinking of him that she spoke thus, but that it was because she loved some other man more than him, and that she wished for other society. Thereupon Duraint was troubled in his mind, and he called his squire, and when he came to him, go quickly, said he, and repair my horse and my arms, and make them ready. And do thou rise, said he to Enid, and apparel thyself, and cause thy horse to be accoutred, and clothe thee in thy worst riding-dress of thou hast in thy possession. And evil be tide me, said he, if thou returnest here until thou knowest whether I have lost my strength so completely as thou didst say. And if it be so, it will then be easy for thee to seek the society thou didst wish for him of whom thou was thinking. So she arose, and clothe thyself in her meanest garments. I know nothing, Lord, said she of thy meaning. Neither wilt thou know at this time, said he. Then Duraint went to see Urban. Sir, said he, I am going upon a quest, and I am not certain when I may come back. Take heed, therefore, unto thy possessions until my return. I will do so, said he, but is it strange to me that thou shouldst go so suddenly? And who will proceed with thee, since thou are not strong enough to traverse the land of Lager alone? But one person only will go with me. Heaven counsel thee, my son, said Urban, and may many attach themselves to thee in Lager. Then went Duraint to the place where his horse was, and it was equipped with foreign armor, heavy and shining. And he desired Enid to mount her horse, and to ride forward, and to keep a long way before him. And whatever thou mayest see, and whatever thou mayest hear concerning me, said he, do thou not turn back? And unless I speak unto thee, say not thou one word either. So they went forward. And he did not choose the pleasantest and most frequented road, but that which was the wildest and most beset by thieves and robbers and venomous animals. And they came to a high road which they followed till they saw a vast forest, and they saw four armed horsemen come forth from the forest. When the armed men saw them, they said to one another, Here is a good occasion for us to capture two horses in armor, and a lady likewise. For this we shall have no difficulty in doing against young a single knight, who hangs his head so pensively and heavily. She had heard this discourse, and she knew not what she should do through fear of geraint, who had told her to be silent. A vengeance of heaven be upon me, said she, if I would not rather receive my death from his hand than from the hand of any other.  So she waited for geraint until he came near to her. Lord, said she, disobey the words of those men concerning thee, and he lifted up his eyes and looked at her angrily. Thou hast only, said he, to hold thy peace as I bade thee. I wish but for silence, and not for warning. And though thou shouldst desire to see my defeat in my death by the hands of those men, yet do I feel no dread. Then the foremost of them crouched his lance and rushed upon geraint, and he received him, and that not feebly. But he let the thrust go by him, while he struck the horseman upon the center of his shield, in such a manner that his shield was split and his armor broken, so that a cubit's length of the shaft of geraint's lance passed through his body and sent him to the earth, the length of the lance over his horse's cropper. Then the second horseman attacked him furiously, being wroth at the death of his companion. But with one thrust, geraint overthrew him also, and killed him as he had done the other. Then the third set upon him, and he killed him in like manna, and thus also he slew the fourth. Not in sorrowful was the maiden, as she saw all this. Geraint dismounted his horse, and took the arms of the many and slain, and placed them upon their saddles, and tied together the reins of their horses, and he mounted his horse again. Behold what thou must do, said he, take the four horses and drive them before thee, and proceed forward as I bade thee just now. And say not one word unto me, unless I speak first unto thee. And I declare unto heaven, said he, if thou doest not thus, it will be to thy cost. I will do as far as I can, Lord, said she, according to thy desire. So the maiden went forward, keeping advance of geraint as he had desired her, and it grieved him as much as his wrath would permit to see a maiden so illustrious as she, having so much trouble with the care of the horses. Then they reached a wood, and it was both deep and vast, and in the wood night overtook them. I made and said he, it is vain to attempt proceeding forward. Well, Lord, said she, whatever thou wishest we will do. It will be best for us, he answered, to rest and wait for the day, in order to pursue our journey. That we will gladly, said she, and they did so. Having dismounted herself, he took her down from her horse. I cannot, by any means, refrain from sleep through weariness, said he, do thou therefore wash the horses and sleep not? I will, Lord, said she. Then he went to sleep in his armor, and thus passed the night, which was not long at that season. And when she saw the dawn of day appear, she looked around her to see if he were waking, and thereupon he woke. Then he arose and said unto her, Take the horses and ride on, and keep straight on as thou didst yesterday. And they left the wood, and they came to an open country with meadows on one hand, and mow was mowing the meadows. And there was a river before them, and the horses bent down and drank of the water. And they went up out of the river by a lofty steep, and there they met a slender stripling with a satchel about his neck. And they saw that there was something in a satchel, but they knew not what it was.  And he used to salute a geraint, Heaven prosper thee, said Geraint, and whenst thou come? I come, said he, from the city that lies beyond thee. My Lord, he added, Will it be displeasing to thee if I ask whenst thou comeest also? By no means. Through yon the wood did I come. Thou cameest not through the wood today. No, he replied, We were in the wood last night. I warrant, said the youth, that thy condition there last night was not the most pleasant, and now thou hast neither meat nor drink. Know by my faith, said he, Wilt thou follow my counsel, said the youth, and take thy meal from me? What sort of meal, he inquired. The breakfast which is sent for yon the moas, nothing less than bread and meat and wine. And if thou wilt, sir, they shall have none of it. I will, said he, and Heaven reward thee for it. So Geraint alighted, and the youth took the maiden from off her horse. Then they washed and took their repast. And the youth cut the bread and slices, and gave them drink, and served them withle. When they had finished, the youth arose and said to Geraint, My Lord, with thy permission, I will now go and fetch some food for the moas. Go first to the town, said Geraint, and take a lodging for me in the best place that thou knowest, and the most commodious one for the horses. And take thou whichever horse and arms thou choosest, in payment for thy service and thy gift. Heaven reward thee, Lord, said the youth, and this would be ample to repay service as much greater than those I have rendered unto thee. Then to the town went the youth, and he took the best and most pleasant lodgings that he knew, and after that he went to the palace, having the horse and armor with him, and proceeded to the place where the earl was, and told him all his adventure. I go now, Lord, said he, to meet the night, and to conduct him to his lodging. Go gladly, said the earl, and write joyfully shall he be received here, if he so come. And the youth went to meet Geraint, and told him that he would be received gladly by the earl in his own palace. But he would go only to his lodging. And he had a goodly chamber, in which was plenty of straw and drapery, and a spacious and comodious place he had for the horses. And the youth prepared for them plenty of provender. After they had disarrayed themselves, Geraint spoke thus to Enid. Go, said he, to the other side of the chamber, and come not to this side of the house. And thou mayest call to thee the woman of the house, if thou wilt. I will do, Lord, said she, as thou sayest. Thereupon the man of the house came to Geraint and welcomed him. And after they had eaten and drank, Geraint went to sleep. And so did Enid also. In the evening, behold, the earl came to visit Geraint in his twelve honorable nights with him. And Geraint rose up and welcomed him. Then they all sat down, according to their precedence and honor. And the earl conversed with Geraint, and inquired of him the object of his journey. I have none, he replied, but to seek adventures and to follow mine own inclination. Then the earl cast his eye upon Enid, and he looked at her steadfastly. And he thought he had never seen a maiden fair or more comely than she. And he said all his thoughts and his affections upon her. Then he asked of Geraint, have I thy permission to go and converse with Yon de Maiden, for I see that she is apart from thee. Thou hast it gladly, said he. So the earl went to the place where the maiden was and spake with her. Maiden said he, it cannot be pleasant for thee to journey with Yon de Maiden. It is not unpleasant to me, said she. Thou hast neither youth nor maidens to serve thee, said he. Truly she replied, it is more pleasant for me to follow Yon de Maiden than to be served by youths and maidens. I will give thee good counsel, said he. All my olden will I place in thy possession, if thou wilt dwelt with me. Enid, the pilot starved my lone life. Enid, my early and my only love. By Enid. That I will not by heaven, she said, Yon de Maiden was the first to whom my faith was ever pledged, and shall I prove inconstant to him? Thou art in the wrong, said the earl. If I slay the man, Yon de, I can keep thee with me as long as I choose. And when thou no longer pleases me, I can turn thee away. But if thou goest with me by thy own good will, I protest that our union shall continue as long as I remain alive. Then she pondered those words of his, and she considered that it was advisable to encourage him in his request. Behold then, chieftain, this is most expedient for thee to do, to save me from all reproach. Come here to-morrow, and take me away as though I knew nothing thereof. I will do so, said he. So he arose and took his leave, and went forth with his attendants. And she told not then to drain any of the conversation which she had had with the earl, lest it should rouse his anger and cause him uneasiness and care. And at the usual hour they went to sleep, and at the beginning of the night Enid slept a little, and at midnight she arose and placed all Jarene's armor together so that it might be ready to put on. And though all though fearful of her errand, she came to the side of Jarene's bed, and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying, My Lord, arise, and clothe thyself. For these were the words of the earl to me and his intention concerning me. So she told Jarene all that had passed. And though he was wroth with her, he took warning and clothed himself. And she lighted a candle that he might have light to do so. Leave there the candle, said he, and desire the man of the house to come here. Then she went, and the man of the house came to him. Dost thou know how much I owe thee, asked Jarene? I think thou always but little. Take the three horses and the three suits of armor. Then reward thee, Lord, said he, but I spent not the value of one suit of armor upon thee. For that reason, said he, thou it will be the richer. And now, wilt thou come to guide me out of town? I will gladly, said he. And in which direction dost thou intend to go? I wished to leave the town by a different way from that by which I entered. So the man of the lodging accompanied him as far as he desired. Then he bade the maiden to go before him, and she did so. Straight forward, this host returned home. And Jarene and the maiden went forward along the high road, and as they journeyed thus they heard an exceeding loud wailing near to them. Stay thou here, said he, and I will go and see what is the cause of this wailing. I will, said she. Then he went forward into an open glade that was near the road. And in the glade he saw two horses, one having a man saddle and the other a woman saddle upon it. And behold, there was a night-line dead in his armor, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing over him lamenting. Our lady said, Jarene, what hath befallen thee? Behold, she answered, I journeyed here with my beloved husband, when lo, three giants came upon us, and without any cause in the world they slew him. Which way went they hence? said Jarene. Yonder by the high road, she replied. So he returned to eat it. Go, said he, to the lady that is below Yonder, and await me there till I come. She was sad when he ordered her to do thus. But nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was Ruth to hear, and she felt certain that Jarene would never return. Meanwhile, Jarene followed the giants and overtook them, and each of them was greater in stature than three other men, and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. Then he rushed upon one of them and thrust his lance through his body, and having drawn it forth again he pierced another of them through likewise.   So Jarene left him thus and returned to Enid, and when he reached the place where she was, he fell down lifeless from his horse. Piercing and loud and thrilling was the cry that Enid uttered, and she came and stood over him where he had fallen. And at the sound of her cries came the earl of three moors, and they who journeyed with him, whom her lamentations brought out of their road, and the earl said to Enid, Alas, lady, what hath befallen thee? Ah, good sir, said she, the only man I have loved, or ever shall love is slain. Then he said to the other, and what is the cause of thy grief? They have slain my beloved huds and also, said she, and who was it that slew them? Some giants, she answered, slew my best beloved, and the other knight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou seest. The earl caused the knight that was dead to be buried, but he thought that there still remained some life in Jurent, and to see if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in the hollow of his shield and upon a beer. And the two damsels went to the court, and when they arrived there, Jurent was placed upon a little couch in front of the table that was in the hall. Then they all took off their travelling gear, and the earl besought Enid to do the same, and to glow therself in other garments. I will not, by heaven, said she. Ah, lady, said he, be not so sorrowful for this matter. It were hard to persuade me to be otherwise, said she. I will act towards thee in such wise that thou needest not be sorrowful, whether you on the night live or die. Behold, a good earldum, together with myself, will I bestow upon thee. Be therefore happy and joyful. I declare to heaven, said she, that henceforth I shall never be joyful while I live. Come, said he, and eat. No, by heaven I will not. But by heaven thou shalt, said he. So he took her with him to the table against her will, and many times desired her to eat. I call heaven to be witness, said she, that I will not until the man that is upon Yonder beer shall eat likewise. Thou canst not fulfill that, said the earl. Yonder man is dead already. I will prove that I can, said she. Then he offered her a goblet of liquor. Take this goblet, he said, and it will cause thee to change thy mind. Eve will be tide me, she answered, if I drink ought until he drink also. Truly, said the earl, it is of no more veil for me to be gentle with thee than un-gentle. And he gave her a box in the air. Thereupon she raised a loud and piercing shriek, and her lamentations were much greater than they had been before. For she considered in her mind that, had Jereint been alive, he durst not have struck her thus. But behold, at the sound of her cry, Jereint revived from his swoon, and he sat upon the beer. And finding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he rushed to the place where the earl was, and struck him, a fiercely wounding, severely venomous, and sternly smiting blow upon the crown of his head, so that he clothed him in twain, until his sword was stayed by the table. Then all left the board and fled away. This was not so much through fear of the living, as through the dread they felt at seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. Jereint looked upon Enid, and he was grieved for two causes. One was to see that Enid had lost her color in her wanted aspect, and the other to know that she was in the right. Lady said he, Notice that where our horses are? I know, Lord, where thy horses, she replied, but I know not where is the other. Thy horses in the house yonder. So he went to the house, and brought forth his horse, and mounted him, and took up Enid, and placed her upon the horse with him. And he rode forward. And their road laid between two hedges. And the night was gaining on the day. And lo they saw behind them the shafts of spears betwixt them in the sky, and they heard the tramping of horses in the noise of a host approaching. I hear something following us, said he, and I will put thee on the other side of the hedge. And thus he did. And thereupon, behold, the night, pricked towards him, and couched his lance. When Enid saw this, she cried out, saying, O chieftain, whoever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man? O heaven, said he, is it jurent? Yes, in truth, said she, and who art thou? I am Gwifert Pettit, said he, thy husband's ally, coming to thy assistance, for I heard that thou wast in trouble. Come with me to the court of a son-in-law of my sister, which is near here, and thou shalt have the best medical assistance in the kingdom. I will do so gladly, said jurent. And Enid was placed upon the horse of one of Gwifert's squires, and they went forward to the Baron's palace. And they were received there with gladness, and they met with hostility and attention. The next morning they went to seek physicians, and it was not long before they came, and they attended jurent until he was perfectly well. And while jurent was under medical care, Gwifert caused his armada to be repaired, until it was as good as it had ever been. And they remained there a month and a fortnight. Then they separated, and jurent went towards his own dominions. And thenceforth he reigned prosperously, and his warlike fame and splendor lasted with renown and honor, both to him and to Enid, from that time forward. Footnote. Throughout the broad and varied region of romance it would be difficult to find a character of greater simplicity and truth than that of Enid, the daughter of Earl Yenwill. Conspicuous for her beauty and noble bearing, we are at a loss whether to more admire the patience with which she bore all the hardships she was destined to undergo, or the constancy and affection which finally achieved the triumph she so richly deserved. The character of Enid is admirably sustained through the whole tale, and it is more natural, because less overstrained, so perhaps it is even more touching than that of Griselda, over which, however, Chaucer has thrown a charm that leads us to forget the improbability of her story. End of chapter 7. Recording by Russ Clough, Stoughton, Massachusetts. May 2, 2009. CHAPTER VIII. Once upon a time Poole was at Narberth, his chief palace, where a feast had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of men. And after the first meal Poole arose to walk, and he went to the top of a mound that was above the palace, and was called Gorseth Arberth. And was called Gorseth Arberth. Lord, said one of the court, it is peculiar to the mound that whoever sits upon it cannot go thence without either receiving wounds or blows, or else seeing a wonder. I fear not to receive wounds or blows, said Poole, but as to the wonder gladly would I see it. I will therefore go and sit upon the mound. And upon the mound he sat. And while he sat there they saw a lady on a pure white horse of large size, with a garment of shining gold around her, coming along the highway that led from the mound. My men, said Poole, is there any among you who knows yonder lady? There is not, Lord, said they. Go one of you and meet her, that we may know who she is. And one of them arose, and as he came upon the road to meet her, she passed by. And he followed as fast as he could, being on foot. And the greater was his speed, and the greater was his speed, the further was she from him. And when he saw that it profited him nothing to follow her, he returned to Poole and said unto him, Lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow her on foot. Verily, said Poole, go unto the palace and take the fleetest horse that thou seeest and go after her. And he took a horse and went forward. And he came to an open, level plain, and put spurs to his horse, and the more he urged his horse the further was she from him. And he returned to the place where Poole was and said, Lord, it will avail nothing for any one to follow yonder lady. I know of no horse in these realms swifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her. Of a truth, said Poole, there must be some illusion here. Let us go towards the palace. So to the palace they went and spent the day. And the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meet. And when meet was ended, Poole said, Where are the hosts that went yesterday to the top of the mound? Behold, Lord, we are here, said they. Let us go, said he, to the mound, and sit there. And do thou, he said to the page who tended his horse, saddle my horse well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring also my spurs with thee. And the youth did thus. And they went and sat upon the mound, and ere they had been there but a short time, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in the same manner and at the same pace. Young man, said Poole, I see the lady coming, give me my horse. And before he had mounted his horse she passed him. And he turned after her and followed her.  But he came no nearer to her than at first. Then he urged his horse to his utmost speed, and yet he found that it availed not. Then said Poole, O maiden, for the sake of him whom thou best lovest stay for me. I will stay gladly, said she, and it were better for thy horse hadst thou asked it long since. So the maiden stopped, and she threw back that part of her head-dress which covered her face. Then he thought that the beauty of all the maidens and all the ladies that he had ever seen was as nothing compared to her beauty. Lady, he said, wilt thou tell me ought concerning thy purpose? I will tell thee, said she, my chief quest was to see thee. Truly, said Poole, this is to me the most pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come, and wilt thou tell me who thou art? I will tell thee, Lord, said she, I am Rhiannon, the daughter of Havade, and they sought to give me a husband against my will. But no husband would I have, and that because of my love for thee. Neither will I yet have one, unless thou reject me, and hither have I come to hear thy answer. By heaven, said Poole, behold, this is my answer. If I might choose among all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee I would choose. Barely, said she, if thou art thus minded, make a pledge to meet me ere I am given to another. The sooner I may do so, the more pleasing it will be to me, said Poole, and wheresoever thou wilt, there will I meet thee. I will that thou meet me this day twelve month at the palace of Havade. Gladly, said he, I will keep this trist.  And wheresoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, he always turned the discourse upon other matters. And when a year from that time was gone, he caused a hundred nights to equip themselves, and to go with him to the palace of Havade. And he came to the palace, and there was great joy concerning him, with much concourse of people, and great rejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. And the whole court was placed under his orders. And the hall was garnished, and they went to meet, and thus did they sit. Havade was on one side of Poole, and Rhiannon on the other, and all the rest according to their rank. And they ate and feasted, and talked one with another. And at the beginning of the carousel after the meet there entered a tall, auburn-haired youth of royal bearing clothed in a garment of satin. And when he came into the hall, he saluted Poole and his companions. The greeting of heaven be unto thee, said Poole, come thou and sit down. Nay, said he, a suitor am I, and I will do my errand. Do so willingly, said Poole. Lord, said he, my errand is unto thee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that I come. What boon soever thou mayest ask of me, so far as I am able thou shalt have? Ah! said Rhiannon, wherefore didst thou give that answer? Has he not given it before the presence of these nobles? asked the youth. My soul, said Poole, what is the boon thou asketh? The lady whom I best love is to be thy bride this night. I come to ask her of thee, with the feast and the banquet that are in this place. And Poole was silent because of the promise which he had given. Be silent as long as thou wilt, said Rhiannon. Never did man make worse use of his wits than thou has done. Lady, said he, I knew not who he was.  Lady, said he, I understand not thy answer. Never can I do as thou sayest.  By what means will that be? asked Poole. Then she told him the thought that was in her mind, and they talked long together. Then Gaul said, Lord, it is me that I have an answer to my request. As much of that thou has asked is in my power to give thou shalt have, replied Poole. My soul, said Rhiannon and to Gaul, is for the feast and the banquet that are here. I have bestowed them upon the men of Divid, and the household and the warriors that are with us. These can I not suffer to be given to any. In a year from to-night a banquet shall be prepared for thee in this palace, that I may become thy bride. So Gaul went forth to his possessions, and Poole went also back to Divid, and they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast of the palace of Havad. Then Gaul, the son of Clude, set out to the feast that was prepared for him, and he came to the palace and was received there with rejoicing. Poole also, the chief of Divid, came to the orchard with a hundred nights, as Rhiannon had commanded him. And Poole was clad in coarse and ragged garments, and wore large, clumsy old shoes upon his feet. And when he knew that the carousel after the meat had begun, he went toward the hall, and when he came into the hall he saluted Gaul, the son of Clude, and his company, both men and women. Heaven prosper thee, said Gaul, and friendly greeting, be unto thee. Lord, said he, may heaven reward thee. I have an errand unto thee. Welcome, be thine errand, and if thou ask of me that which is right, I shall give it gladly. It is fitting, answered he, I crave but from want, and the boon I asked is to have this small bag that thou seeest filled with meat. A request within reason is this, said he, and gladly shalt thou have it. Bring him food. A great number of attendants arose and began to fill the bag, but for all they put into it it was no fuller than at first. My soul, said Gaul, will thy bag ever be full? It will not, I declare to heaven, said he, for all that may be put into it, unless one possessed of lands and domains and treasure shall arise and tread down with both his feet the food that is within the bag, and shall say, enough has been put therein. Then, said Rhiannon unto Gaul, the son of Clude, rise up quickly. I will willingly arise, said he. So he rose up and put his two feet into the bag.   And thereupon, behold, his knights came down upon the palace. And they seized all the hosts that had come with Gaul, and cast them into his own prison.   A badger, said they. And in this manner they played, each of them striking the bag, either with his foot or with his staff. And thus played they with the bag. And then was the game of badger in the bag first played. Lord, said the man in the bag, If thou wouldst but hear me, I mayer it not to be slain in a bag. Said Havid, Lord, he speaks truth. It were fitting that thou listen to him, for he deserves not this. Fairly, said Poole, I will do thy counsel concerning him. Behold, this is my counsel, then, said Rhiannon. Thou art now in a position in which it behooves thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels. Let him give unto them in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will never seek to revenge what has been done to him, and this will be punishment enough. I will do this gladly, said the man in the bag, and gladly will I accept it, said Poole, since it is the counsel of Havid and Rhiannon. Seek thy self-sureties. We will be for him, said Havid, until his men be free to answer for him. And upon this he was led out of the bag, and his leechmen were liberated. Verily, Lord, said Gawle, I am greatly hurt, and I have many bruises. With thy leave I will go forth. I will leave nobles in my stead to answer for me in all that thou shalt require. Willingly, said Poole, mayest thou do this. So Gawle went into his own possessions. And the hall was set in order for Poole and the men of his host, and for them also of the palace, and they went to the tables and sat down. And as they had sat that time twelve month, so sat they that night. And they ate and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and tranquility. And the time came that they should sleep, and Poole and Rhiannon went to their chamber. And next morning at break of day, my Lord, said Rhiannon, arise and begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. Refuse no one to-day that may claim thy bounty. Thus shall it be gladly, said Poole, both to-day and every day while the feast shall last. So Poole arose, and he caused silence to be proclaimed, and desired all the suitors and minstrels to show and to point out what gifts they desired. And this being done the feast went on, and he denied no one while it lasted. And when the feast was ended, Poole said unto Havade, My Lord, with thy permission I will set out for David to-morrow. Certainly, said Havade, may Heaven prosper thee. Fix also a time when Rhiannon shall follow thee. By Heaven, said Poole, we will go hence together. Willest thou this, Lord, said Havade? Yes, Lord, answered Poole. And the next day they set forward towards David, and journeyed to the palace of Narbeth, where a feast was made ready for them. And there came to them great numbers of the chief men and the most noble ladies of the land, and of these there were none to whom Rhiannon did not give some rich gift, either a bracelet or a ring or a precious stone. And they ruled the land prosperously that year and the next. The Mabinogion, Chapter 9 of Bullfinches, The Age of Chivalry. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Age of Chivalry by Thomas Bullfinch. CHAPTER IX. Bronwyn, the daughter of Lur. Bendigaid Vron, the son of Lur, was the crowned king of this island, and he was exalted from the crown of London. And one afternoon he was at Harlech, in Andorui, and his court, and he sat upon the rock of Harlech, looking over the sea. And with him were his brother, Manoedin, the son of Lur, and his brothers by the mother's side, Nisyen and Ennisyen, and many nobles likewise, as was fitting to see around a king. His two brothers by the mother's side were the sons of Aerosud, and one of the youths was a good youth, and of gentle nature, and would make peace between his kindred, and cause his family to be friends when their wrath was at the highest. And this one was Nisyen, but the other would cause strife between his two brothers when they were most at peace. And as they sat thus they beheld thirteen ships coming from the south of Ireland, and making towards them, and they came with a swift motion, the wind being behind them, and they neared rapidly. I see ships afar, said the king, coming swiftly towards the land. And the men of the court that they equipped themselves, and go and learn their intent. So the men equipped themselves and went down towards them. And when they saw the ships near, certain were they that they had never seen ships better furnished. Beautiful flags of satin were upon them. And behold, one of the ships outstripped the others, and they saw a shield lifted up above the side of the ship, and the point of the shield was upwards in token of peace. And the men drew near that they might hold converse. And they put out boats, and came toward the land. And they saluted the king. Now the king could hear them from the place where he was upon the rock above their heads. Heaven prosper you, said he, and be ye welcome. To whom do these ships belong, and who is the chief amongst you? Lord said they, Macloth, king of Ireland, is here, and these ships belong to him. Wherefore comes he, asked the king, and will he come to the land? He is a suitor unto thee, Lord, they said, and he will not land unless he have his boon. And what may that be, inquired the king? He desires to ally himself, Lord, with thee, said they, and he comes to ask Bronwyn, the daughter of Lur, that, if it seem well to thee, the island of the mighty may be leaked with Ireland, and both become more powerful. The island of the mighty is one of the many names bestowed upon Britain by the Welsh. Fairly said he, let him come to land, and we will take counsel thereupon. And this answer was brought to Macloth. I will go willingly, said he. So he landed, and they received him joyfully, and great was the throng in the palace that night, between his hosts and those of the court. And next day they took counsel, and they resolved to bestow Bronwyn upon Macloth. Now she was one of the three chief ladies of this island, and she was the fairest damsel in the world. And they fixed upon Aberfrost the place where she should become his bride, and they went thence, and towards Aberfrost the host proceeded, Malthawk and his host in their ships, Brendaguide, Bronn, and his host by land, until they came to Aberfrost. And at Aberfrost they began the feast and sat down. And thus sat they, the king of the island of the mighty, and menawooden, the son of Lur, on the one side, and Malthawk on the other side, and Bronwyn, the daughter of Lur, beside him. And they were not within a house, but under tents. No house could ever contain Brendaguide, Bronn. And they began the banquet, and caroused and discoursed, and when it was more pleasing to them to sleep than to carouse, they went to rest, and Bronwyn became Malthawk's bride. And next day they arose, and all day of the court, and the officers began to equip, and to range the horses and the attendants, and they ranged them in order as far as the sea. And behold, one day, Enneuson, the coralsome man, of whom it is spoken above, came by chance into the place where the horses of Malthawk were, and asked whose horses they might be. They are the horses of Malthawk, king of Ireland, who is married to Bronwyn thy sister. His horses are they. And is it thus that they have done with a maiden such as she, and moreover my sister, bestowing her without my consent? They could have offered no greater insult to me than this, said he. And thereupon he rushed under the horses, and cut off their lips at the teeth, and their ears close to their heads, and their tails close to their backs. And he disfigured the horses, and rendered them useless. And they came with these tidings unto Malthawk, saying that the horses were disfigured and injured, so that not one of them could ever be of any use again. Verily, Lord, said one, it was an insult unto thee, and such was it meant. Of a truth it is a marvel to me that, if they desire to insult me, they should have given me a maiden of such high rank, and so much beloved of her kindred as they have done. Lord, said another, thou seeest that thus it is, and there is nothing for thee to do but to go to thy ships. And thereupon, towards his ships, he set out. And tidings came to bend a guide of Ron that Malthawk was quitting the court without asking leave, and messengers were sent to inquire of him wherefore he did so. And the messengers that went were Idyk, son of Unwood, and Havid here. And these overtook him and asked of him what he designed to do, and wherefore he went forth. Of a truth, said he, if I had known I had not come hither. I have been altogether insulted. No one had ever worse treatment than I have had here. Truly, Lord, it was not the will of any that are of the court, said they, nor of any that are of the council, that thou shouldst have received this insult. And as thou hast been insulted, the dishonor is greater unto bend a guide of Ron than unto thee. Verily, said he, I think so. Nevertheless he cannot recall the insult. These men returned with that answer to the place where bend a guide Ron was, and they told him what reply Malthawk had given them. Truly, said he, there are no means by which we may prevent his going away at enmity with us, that we will not take. Well, Lord, said they, send after him another embassy. I will do so, said he, arise, manawuddin, son of Lur, and Havid here, and go after him, and tell him that he should have a sound horse for every one that has been injured. And besides that, as an atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff of silver as large and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold the breadth of his face, and show unto him who it was that did this, and that it was done against my will, but that he who did it is my brother, therefore it would be hard for me to put him to death. And let him come and meet me, he said, and we will make peace in any way he may desire. The embassy went after Malthawk, and told him all these sayings in a friendly manner, and he listened therein, too. Men, said he, I will take counsel. So to the counsel he went. And in the counsel they considered that, if they should refuse this, they were likely to have more shame rather than to obtain so great an atonement. They resolved, therefore, to accept it, and they returned to the court in peace. Then the pavilions and the tents were set in order, after the fashion of a hall, and they went to meet, as they had sat at the beginning of the feast, so they sat there. And Malthawk and Brendaguide Brann began to discourse, and behold, it seemed to Brendaguide Brann, while they talked, that Malthawk was not so cheerful as he had been before. And he thought that the chieftain might be sad because of the smallness of the atonement which he had for the wrong that had been done to him. Oh, men, said Brendaguide Brann, thou dost not discourse tonight so cheerfully as thou wasst want, and if it be because of the smallness of the atonement, thou shalt add thereon to whatsoever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow I will pay thee for the horses. Lord, said he, heaven reward thee, and I will advance the atonement, said Brendaguide Brann, for I will give unto thee a cauldron, the property of which is, that if one of thy men be slain to-day and be cast therein, to-morrow he will be as well as ever he was at the best, except that he will not regain his speech. And thereupon he gave him great thanks, and very joyful was he for that cause. That night they continued to discourse as much as they would, one had minstrelry and carousing, and when it was more pleasant to them to sleep than to sit longer they went to rest. And thus was the banquet carried on with joyousness, and when it was finished, Malthough journeyed towards Ireland and Brannwan with him, and they went from Abermanai with thirteen ships, and came to Ireland. And in Ireland there was great joy because of their coming, and not one man nor noble lady visited Brannwan unto whom she gave not either a clasp or a ring or a royal jewel to keep, which as it was honourable to be seen departing with. And in these things she spent that year in much renown, and she passed her time pleasantly, enjoying honour and friendship. And in due time a son was born unto her, and the name that they gave him was Gorn, the son of Malthough, and they put the boy out to be nursed in a place where were the best men of Ireland. And behold, in the second year a tumult arose in Ireland on account of the insult which Malthough had received in Wales, and the payment made him for his horses. And his foster-brothers, and such as were nearest to him, blamed him openly for that matter. And he might have no peace by reason of the tumult until they should revenge upon him this disgrace. And the vengeance which they took was to drive away Brannwan from the same chamber with him, and to make her cook for the court, and they caused the butcher, after he had cut up the meat, to come to her and give her every day a blow on the ear, and such they made her punishment. Holy Lord, said his men to Malthough, forbid now the ships in the ferry-boats and the coracles that they go not into Wales, and such as come over from Wales hither imprison them, that they do not go back for this thing to be known there. And he did so, and it was for no less than three years. And Brannwan reared a starling in the cover of the kneading trough, and she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird what manner of man her brother was. And she wrote a letter of her woes, and the despite with which she was treated, and she bound the letter to the root of the bird's wing, and sent it toward Wales. And the bird came to that island, and one day it found Brenda-guide Brann at Carre-Saint in Arvon, conferring there, and it alighted upon his shoulder and ruffled its feathers so that the letter was seen, and they knew that the bird had been reared in a domestic manner. Then Brenda-guide Brann took the letter and looked upon it, and when he had read the letter he grieved exceedingly at the tidings of Brannwan's woes, and immediately he began sending messengers to summon the island together, and he caused seven score and four of his chief men to come unto him, and he complained to them of the grief that his sister endured. So they took counsel, and in the counsel they resolved to go to Ireland, and to leave seven men as princes at home, and Caradoc, footnote Caracthacus, the son of Brann as the chief of them. Brenda-guide Brann, with the host of which we speak, sailed towards Ireland, and it was not far across the sea, and he came to a shoal water. Now the swine herds of Malthawk were upon the seashore, and they came to Malthawk. Lord said they, greeting be unto thee. Heaven protect you, said he, have you any news? Lord said he, we have marvellous news. A wood have we seen upon the sea, in a place where we never yet saw a single tree. This is indeed a marvel, said he, saw you odd else? We saw, Lord, said they, a vast mountain beside the wood, which moved, and there was a lofty ridge on the top of the mountain, and a lake on each side of the ridge. And the wood and the mountain, and all these things moved. Barely, said he, there is none who can know ought concerning this unless it be Bronwyn. Messengers then went unto Bronwyn. Lady, said they, what thinkest thou that this is? The men of the island of the mighty, who have come hither on hearing of my ill treatment and of my woes. What is the forest that is seen upon the sea? asked they. The yards and the mast of the ships, she answered. Alas, said they, what is the mountain that is seen by the side of the ships? Ben to guide Bronn, my brother, she replied, coming to show water, and he is waiting to the land. What is the lofty ridge with the lake on each side thereof?  The warriors and chief men of Ireland were brought together in haste, and they took counsel. Lord, said the neighbors unto Maltholk, there is no other counsel than this alone. Thou shalt give the kingdom to Guern, the son of Bronn when his sister, as a compensation for the wrong and despite that have been done unto Bronn when, and he will make peace with thee. And in the counsel it was resolved that this message should be sent to Ben to guide Bronn, lest the country should be destroyed. And this peace was made. And Maltholk caused a great house to be built for Ben to guide Bronn and his host. Thereupon came the host into the house. The men of the island of Ireland entered the house on the one side, and the men of the island of the mighty on the other. And as soon as they had sat down, there was concord between them, and the sovereignty was conferred upon the boy. When the peace was concluded, Ben to guide Bronn called the boy unto him, and from Ben to guide Bronn the boy went unto Manowuddin, and he was beloved by all that beheld him. And from Manowuddin the boy was called by Nysien, the son of Erosuid, and the boy went unto him lovingly. Wherefore, said Eves Nysien, comes not my nephew, the son of my sister unto me, though he were not king of Ireland, yet willingly I would fondle the boy. Cheerfully let him go to thee, said Ben to guide Bronn, and the boy went unto him cheerfully.  Then he arose and took up the boy, and before anyone in the house could seize hold of him he thrust the boy headlong into the blazing fire. And when Bronn when saw her son burning in the fire she strove to leap into the fire also, from the place where she sat between her two brothers. But Ben to guide Bronn grasped her with one hand and his shield with the other. Then they all hurried about the house, and never was there made so great a tumult by any host in one house as was made by them, as each man armed himself. And while they all sought their arms Ben to guide Bronn supported Bronn when between his shield and his shoulder, and they fought. Then the Irish kindled a fire unto the cauldron of renovation, and they cast the dead bodies into the cauldron until it was full, and the next day they came forth fighting men, as good as before, except that they were not able to speak. Then when Eves Nysien saw the dead bodies of the men of the island of the mighty nowhere resuscitated he said in his heart, Alas, woe is me, that I should have been the cause of bringing the men of the island of the mighty into so great a strait. Evil betide me if I find not a deliverance therefrom. But he cast himself among the dead bodies of the Irish, and two unshawed Irishmen came to him, and taking him to be one of the Irish flung him into the cauldron, and he stretched himself out on the cauldron so that he rent the cauldron into four pieces, and burst his own heart also. In consequence of this the men of the island of the mighty obtained such success as they had, but they were not victorious, for only seven men of them all escaped, and Ben to guide Bronn himself was wounded in the foot with a poison dart. Now the men that escaped were Padiri, Manawuddin, Taliesian, and four others.  So they cut off his head, and these seven went forward therewith, and Bronn when was the eighth with them. And they came to land on Abra'ala, and they sat down to rest, and Bronn when looked towards Ireland and towards the island of the mighty to see if she could describe them. Alas! said she, woe is to me that I was ever born, two islands have been destroyed because of me. Then she uttered a groan, and there broke her heart. And they made her a four-sided grave, and buried her upon the banks of the Abra'ala. Then the seven men journeyed forward, bearing the head with them, and as they went, behold, there met them a multitude of men and women. Have you any tidings, said men of Woodin? We have none, said they, save that Casualan, footnote, Casualanus, the son of Belly, has conquered the island of the mighty, and is crowned king in London. What has become, said they, of Caradoc, the son of Bronn, and the seven men who were left with him in this island? Casualan came upon them and slew six of the men, and Caradoc's heart broke for grief thereof. And the seven men journeyed on towards London, and they buried the head on the white mount, as Bendeguide Bronn had directed them. CHAPTER X Now men of Woodin returned from the war in Ireland, and found that his cousin had seized all his possessions, and much grief and heaviness came upon him. Alas, woe is me, he exclaimed, there is none save myself without a home in a resting place. Lord, said Pradiri, be not so sorrowful, thy cousin is king of the island of the mighty, and though he has done thee wrong, thou hast never been a claimant of land or possessions. Yea, answered he, but although this man is my cousin, it grieveeth me to see any one in the place of my brother, Bendeguide Bronn. Neither can I be happy in the same dwelling with him. Wilt thou follow the council of another, said Pradiri? I stand in need of council, he answered, and what may that council be? Seven cantries belong unto me, said Pradiri, wherein Rhiannon my mother dwells. I will bestow her upon thee, and the seven cantries with her, and though thou hath no possession but these cantries only, thou couldst not have any fairer than they. Do thou and Rhiannon enjoy them, and if thou desire any possessions, thou wilt not despise these. I do not, chieftain, said he, heaven reward thee for the friendship. I will go with thee to seek Rhiannon, and to look at thy possessions. Thou wilt do well, he answered, and I believe that thou didst never hear a lady discourse better than she, and when she was in her prime none was ever fairer. Even now her aspect is not uncommonly. They set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at last to dove it, and a feast was prepared for them by Rhiannon and Kikva. Then began Menawuddin and Rhiannon to sit and to talk together, and his mind and his thoughts became warm towards her, and he thought in his heart he had never beheld any lady more fulfilled of grace and beauty than she. Pradiri, said he, I will that it would be as thou didst say. What saying was that? asked Rhiannon. Lady, said Pradiri, I did offer thee as a wife to Menawuddin, the son of Lur. By that I will gladly abide, said Rhiannon. Right glad am I also, said Menawuddin. May heaven reward him who hath shown unto me friendship so perfect as this. And before the feast was over she became his bride. Said Pradiri, Terri ye hear the rest of the feast, and I will go into England to tender my homage under Castlewallon, the son of Bailey. Lord, said Rhiannon, Castlewallon is in Kent, thou mayest therefore Terri at the feast, and wait till he shall be nearer. We will wait, he answered. So they finished the feast, and they began to make the circuit of Dovid and to hunt and to take their pleasure. And as they went through the country they had never seen lands more pleasant to live in, nor better hunting grounds, nor greater plenty of honey and fish. And such was the friendship between these four that they would not be parted from each other by night nor by day. And in the midst of all this he went to Castlewallon at Oxford, and tendered his homage, and honourable was his reception there, and highly was he praised for offering his homage. And after his return Pradiri and Manawuddin feasted and took their ease and pleasure. And they began a feast at Narberth, for it was the chief palace. And when they had ended the first meal, while those who served them ate, they arose and went forth, and proceeded to the Gorsedd, that is, the mount of Narberth, and their retinue with them. And as they sat thus, behold, a peel of thunder, and with the violence of the thunderstorm low, there came a fall of mist, so thick that not one of them could see the other. And after the mist it became light all around. And when they looked towards the place where they were want to see the castle and herds and dwellings, they saw nothing now, neither house, nor beast, nor smoke, nor fire, nor man, nor dwelling, but the buildings of the court empty, and desert, and uninhabited, without either man or beast within them. And truly all their companions were lost to them, without their knowing ought of what had befallen them, saved those four only. "'In the name of heaven,' said Manawuddin, where are they of the court and all my host beside? Let us go and see.' So they came to the castle and saw no man, and in the hall, and to the sleeping place, and there was none, and in the mead cellar and in the kitchen there was not but desolation. Then they began to go through the land, and all the possessions that they had, and they visited the houses and dwellings, and found nothing but wild beasts. And when they had consumed their feast in all their provisions, they fed upon the prey they killed in hunting, and honey of the wild streams. And one morning Pradheri and Manawuddin rose up to hunt, and they ranged their dogs and went forth. And some of the dogs ran before them, and came to a bush which was near at hand, but as soon as they were come to the bush they hastily drew back, and returned to the men, their hair bristling up greatly. Let us go near to the bush, said Pradheri, and see what is in it. And as they came near, behold, a wild boar of a pure white color rose up from the bush. Then the dogs, being set on by the men, rushed towards him, but he left the bush and fell back a little away from the men, and made a stand against the dogs, without retreating from them, until the men had come near. And when the men came up he fell back a second time and betook him to flight. Then they pursued the boar until they beheld a vast and lofty castle, all newly built, in a place where they had never before seen either stone or building. And the boar ran swiftly into the castle, and the dogs after him. Now when the boar and the dogs had gone into the castle, the men began to wonder at finding a castle in a place where they had never before seen any building whatsoever. And from the top of the gore said they looked and listened for the dogs, but so long as they were there they heard not one of the dogs, nor ought concerning them. Lord, said Pradheri, I will go into the castle to get tidings of the dogs. Truly, he replied, thou wouldst be unwise to go into this castle, which thou hast never seen till now. If thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not enter therein. Whoever has cast a spell over this land has caused this castle to be here. Of a truth, answered Pradheri, I cannot thus give up my dogs. And for all the counsel that Manawuddin gave him, yet to the castle he went. When he came within the castle, neither man nor beast, nor boar, nor dogs, nor house, nor dwelling, saw he within it. But in the center of the castle floor he beheld a fountain with marble work around it, and on the margin of the fountain a golden bowl upon a marble slab, and chains hanging from the air to which he saw no end. And he was greatly pleased with the beauty of the gold and with the rich workmanship of the bowl, and he went up to the bowl and laid hold of it. And when he had taken hold of it his hands stuck to the bowl, and his feet to the slab on which the bowl was placed, and all his joyousness forsook him, so that he could not utter a word. And thus he stood. And Manawuddin waited for him till near the close of the day. And late in the evening, being certain that he should have no tidings of Pradheri or the dogs, he went back to the palace. And as he entered Rhiannon looked at him. Where, said she, are thy companion and thy dogs? Behold, he answered, the adventure that has befallen me. And he related it all unto her. An evil companion hath thou been, said Rhiannon, and a good companion hath thou lost. And with that word she went out and proceeded towards the castle, according to the direction which he gave her. The gate of the castle she found open. She was nothing daunted and she went in. And as she went in she perceived Pradheri laying hold of the bowl, and she went towards him. Oh, my lord, said she, what dost thou hear? And she took hold of the bowl with him, and as she did so her hands also became fast to the bowl, and her feet to the slab, and she was not able to utter a word. And with that, as it became night low, there came thunder upon them, and a fall of mist, and there upon the castle vanished and they with it. When Kikva, the daughter of Glingloy, saw that there was no one in the palace but herself and Manawuddin, she sorrowed so that she cared not whether she lived or died. And Manawuddin saw this. Thou art in the wrong, said he, if thou fear of me thou grievous thus. I call heaven to witness that thou hast never seen friendship more pure than that which I will bear thee as long as heaven will that thou shouldst be thus. I declare to thee that, worry in the dawn of youth, I would keep my faith unto Pradheri, and unto thee also I will keep it. Be there no fear upon thee, therefore. Then reward thee, she said, and that is what I deemed of thee. And the damsel thereupon took courage and was glad. Truly, lady, said Manawuddin, it is not fitting for us to stay here. We have lost our dogs and cannot get food. Let us go into England. It is easiest for us to find support there. Gladly, Lord, said she, we will do so. And they set forth together to England. Lord said she, what craft will thou follow? Take up one that is seemly. Another will I take, answered he, but that of making shoes. Lord said she, such a craft becomes not a man so nobly born as thou. By that, however, I will abide, said he. I know nothing thereof, said Kikpa. But I know, answered Manawuddin, but I know, answered Manawuddin, and I will teach thee to stitch. We will not attempt to dress the leather, but we will buy it ready-dressed, and will make shoes from it. So they went into England, and went as far as tarifford, and they betook themselves to making shoes. And he began by buying the best cordway that could be had in the town, and none other would buy. And he associated himself with the best goldsmith in the town, and caused him to make clasp for the shoes, and to gild the clasp, and he marked how it was done until he learned the method. And therefore he is called one of the three makers of gold shoes. And when they could be had from him, not a shoe nor hose was bought of any of the cordwayners in the town. But when the cordwayners perceived their gains were failing, for as Manawuddin shaped the work so Kikpa stitched it, they came together and took counsel, and agreed that they would slay him. And he had warning thereof, and it was told him how the cordwayners had agreed together to slay him. Lord, said Kikpa, wherefore should this be borne from those boars? Nay, said he, we will go back unto David. So towards David they set forth. Now Manawuddin, when he set out to return to David, took with him a burden of wheat. And he proceeded towards Narbeth, and there he dwelt. And never was he better pleased than when he saw Narbeth again, and the lands where he had been want to hunt with Pradiri and with Rhiannon. And he accustomed himself to fish, and to hunt the deer in their covert.  And no wheat in the world ever sprung up better. And the three crofts prospered with perfect growth, and no man ever saw fairer wheat than it. And thus passed the seasons of the year until the harvest came. And he went to look at one of his crofts, and behold it was ripe. I will reap this to-morrow, said he. And that night he went back to Narbeth, and on the morrow, in the gray dawn, he went to reap the croft. And when he came there he found nothing but the bare straw. Every one of the ears of wheat was cut off from the stock, and all the ears carried entirely away, and nothing but the straw left. And at this he marvelled greatly. Then he went to look at another croft, and behold that also was ripe. Fairly, said he, this I will reap to-morrow. And on the morrow he came with the intent to reap it. And when he came there he found nothing but the bare straw. Oh, gracious heaven! he exclaimed. I know that whosoever has begun my ruin is completing it, and has also destroyed the country with me. Then he went to look at the third croft, and when he came there, finer wheat had there never been seen. And this also was ripe. Evil betide me, said he, if I watch not here to-night. Whoever carried off the other corn will come in like manner to take this, and I will know who it is. And he told Kikba all that had befallen. Barely, said she, what thinkest thou to do? I will watch the croft to-night, said he. And he went to watch the croft. And at midnight he heard something stirring among the wheat, and he looked, and behold, the mightiest host of mice in the world, which could neither be numbered nor measured. And he knew not what it was until the mice had made their way into the croft, and each of them, climbing the straw, and bending it down with its weight, had cut off one of the ears of wheat, and had carried it away, leaving there the stalk, and he saw not a single straw there that had not a mouse to it. And they all took their way, carrying the ears with them. And wroth and anger did he rush upon the mice, but he could no more come up with them than if they had been gnats or birds of the air, except one only, which, though it was but sluggish, went so fast that a man on foot could scarce overtake it. And after this one he went, and caught it, and put it in its glove, and tied up the opening of the glove with the string, and kept it with him, and returned to the palace. Then he came to the hall where Kikba was, and he lied at a fire, and hung the glove by the string upon a peg. What hast thou there, Lord? said Kikba. A thief, said he, that I found robbing me. What kind of a thief may it be, Lord, that thou couldst put it into thy glove? said she. Then he told her how the mice came to the last of the fields in his sight, and one of them was less nimble than the rest, and is now in my glove, to-morrow I will hang it. My Lord, said she, this is marvellous, but yet it would be unseemly for a man of dignity like thee to be hanging such a reptile as this. Woe betide me, said he, if I would not hang them all could I catch them, and such as I have I will hang. Fairly, Lord, said she, there is no reason that I should sucker the reptile, except to prevent discredit unto thee. Do therefore, Lord, as thou wilt. Then he went to the mound of Narbeth, taking the mouse with him. And he set up two forks on the highest part of the mound. And while he was doing this, behold, he saw a scholar coming towards him, in old and poor and tattered garments. And it was now seven years since he had seen in that place either man or beast, except those four persons who had remained together until two of them were lost. My Lord, said the scholar, good day to thee. Heaven prosper thee, and my greeting be unto thee. And whence dost thou come, scholar? asked he. I come, Lord, from singing in England, and wherefore dost thou inquire? Because for the last seven years, answered he, I have seen no man here save four secluded persons, and thyself this moment. Truly, Lord, said he, I go through this land unto my own. And what work art thou upon, Lord? I am hanging a thief that I caught robbing me, said he. What manner of thief is that? asked the scholar. I see a creature in thy hand like unto a mouse, and ill does it become a man of rank equal to thine to touch a reptile such as this. Let it go forth free. I will not let it go free by heaven, said he. I caught it robbing me, and the doom of a thief I will inflict upon it, and I will hang it. Lord, said he, rather than see a man of rank equal to thine at such a work as this, I would give thee a pound, which I have received as alms, to let the reptile go forth free. I will not let it go free, said he. Neither will I sell it. As thou wilt, Lord, he answered, I care not. And the scholar went his way. And as he was placing the cross-beam upon the two forts, hold, a priest came towards him, upon a horse covered with trappings. Good day to thee, Lord, said he, heaven prosper thee, said Manawuddin, thy blessing. The blessing of heaven be upon thee. And what, Lord, art thou doing? I am hanging a thief that I caught robbing me, said he. What manner of thief, Lord? asked he. A creature he answered in form of a mouse. It has been robbing me, and I am inflicting upon it the doom of a thief. Heaven said he, rather than see thee touch this reptile, I would purchase its freedom. By my confession to heaven neither will I sell it nor set it free. It is true, Lord, that it is worth nothing to buy, but rather than see thee defile thyself by touching such a reptile as this, I will give thee three pounds to let it go. I will not, by heaven, said he, take any price for it, as it ought, so shall it be hanged. And the priest went his way. Then he noosed the string around the mouse's neck, and as he was about to dry it up, behold, he saw a bishop's retinue with his sumter-horses and his attendants. And the bishop himself came towards him, and he stayed his work. Lord Bishop, said he, thy blessing. Heaven's blessing be unto thee, said he. What work art thou upon? Hanging a thief that I caught robbing me, said he. Is that not a mouse that I see in thy hand? Yes, answered he, and she has robbed me. I, said he, since I have come at the doom of this reptile, I will ransom it of thee. I will give thee seven pounds for it, and that, rather than see a man of rank equal to thine, destroying, so vile a reptile as this. Let it loose, and thou shalt have the money. I declare to heaven that I will not let it loose. If thou wilt not loose it for this, I will give thee four and twenty pounds of ready money to set it free. I will not set it free by heaven for as much again, said he. If thou wilt not set it free for this, I will give thee all the horses that thou seeest in this plain, and the seven loads of baggage, and the seven horses that they are upon. By heaven I will not, he replied. Since for this thou wilt not set it free. Do so at whatever price so ever thou wilt. I will that Rhiannon and Praderi be free, said he. That thou shalt have, he answered. Not yet will I loose the mouse by heaven. What then, what's thou? That the charm and the illusion be removed from the seven contrives of David. This shalt thou have also set therefore the mouse free. I will not set it free by heaven, said he, till I know who the mouse may be. She is my wife. Wherefore came she to me? To dispoil thee, he answered, I am Lloyd, the son of Kilvid, and I cast the charm over the seven contrives of David. And it was to avenge Gaul, the son of Clude, from the friendship I had towards him, that I cast the charm. And upon Praderi did I avenge Gaul, the son of Clude, for the game of Badger in the bag, that pooled the son of Owen played upon him. And when it was known that thou wast come to dwell in the land, my household came and besought me to transform them into mice, that they might destroy thy corn. And they went the first and the second night, and destroyed thy two crops. And the third night came unto me, my wife, and the ladies of the court, and besought me to transform them. And I transformed them. Now she is not in her usual health. And had she been in her usual health, thou wouldst not have been able to overtake her. But since this has taken place, and she has been caught, I will restore to thee Praderi and Rhiannon, and I will take the charm and illusion from off David. Set her therefore free. I will not set her free yet. What wilt thou more? he asked. I will that there be no more charm upon the seven contrives of David, and that none shall be put upon it henceforth. Moreover, that vengeance be never taken for this, either upon Praderi or Rhiannon or upon me. All this shalt thou have, and truly thou hast done wisely in asking this. Upon thy head would have lit all this trouble. Yea, said he, for fear thereof, was it that I have required this. Set now my wife at liberty. I will not, said he, until I see Praderi and Rhiannon with me free. Behold, here they come, he answered. And there upon, behold, Praderi and Rhiannon. And he rose up to meet them, and greeted them, and sat down beside them. Ah, chieftain, set now my wife at liberty, said the bishop. Has thou not received all thou didst ask? I will release her gladly, said he, and there upon he set her free. Then he struck her with a magic wand, and she was changed back into a young woman, the fairest ever seen. Look round upon thy land, said he, and thou wilt see it all tilled in people as it was in its best estate. And he rose up and looked forth. And when he looked he saw all the lands tilled, and full of herds and dwellings. And thus ends this portion of the Mabinoji. The following allusions to the preceding story are found in a letter of the poet Sadi to John Rickman, Esquire, dated June 6, 1802. You will read the Mabinojian concerning which I ought to have talked to you. In the last, that most odd and Arabian-like story of the mouse, mention is made of a begging scholar that helps the date. But where did the comry get the imagination that could produce such a tale? The enchantment of the basin hanging by the chain from heavens is in the wildest spirit of the Arabian nights. I am perfectly astonished that such fictions should exist in Welsh. They throw no light on the origin of romance, everything being utterly dissimilar to what we mean by that term. But they do open a new world of fiction. And if the date of their language be fixed about the twelfth or thirteenth century, I cannot but think the mythological substance is of far earlier date, very probably brought from the east by some of the first settlers or conquerors. End of Chapter 10, Section 33