Gwythead and Goedwyn - Part 4

Gwydion fled north in the night, stealing away with King Peredur's twelve Golden Boars.

When Peredur awoke and discovered what his guest had done, he was furious. Gwydion had stolen his property and violated all laws of chivalry. He was filled with a great wroth, and quickly gathered his men about him.

"Lo," spoke Peredur. "Such injustice shall not go unanswered. We shall raise our arms and march against Gwydion and Math, who sent him. Let my armies be mustered!" His men cheered, and heeded his words.

When Gwydion reached the court of High King Math, the king was greatly displeased, forward had since reached him that Peredur's armies moved against him, but not yet of Gwydion's treachery.

"Gwydion," Math spoke. "Fortune that you have returned, for Peredur even now calls his banner-men. Make haste to join me and defend our lands from such inequity." Math summoned his armies, and girded himself strongly.

Math's terrible aspect bound him to forever rest his feet in the lap of a young maiden, lest his kingdom move to war; only then could Math walk freely, in order to defend his lands and people. Thus now, did he stand free and ride forth to war, leaving behind the young maiden Goedwyn.

It was thus opportunity for which Gwydion had long worked. With Goedwyn free, Gwydion sent word to his beloved brother,Gwythead. As the armies marched to meet Peredur's forces, Gwydion rode with them, leaving the two lovers behind.

Gwydion had united his brother and his love, but in so doing he had brought to kingdoms to war, the consequences of which had only just begun.

Gwythead and Goedwyn - Part 3

Gwydion had not lied to Math, stirctly speaking. It was the greatest of sins to lie to a kinsman, and even more so to lie to a king. But Gwydion was clever, and he was known for a silvered tongue.

For seven days, Gwydion rode flew south towards the Kingdom of Peredur, the King in Twilight.

On the morning of the eighth day he arrived, and was made welcome. For even in the far south, Gwydion's name was well-known. He wa sbrought before Peredur, and spoke thusly:

"Good king! I am Gwydion and I have come form the High King Math, lord of the third Realm to bring greetings. Math sends his honor and regard to you, good king. But alas, Math sits troubled upon his throne, for word has reached him that in this kingdom are twelve wondrous beasts, twelve great boars whose tusks are of gold and should those tusks be cut form then, why then, they are grown back by the next night. Moreover, Math has heard that such beasts have grown your coffers ten fold, and yet no word of this has come to him from you, King Peredur who he thought freind. Truly, As High KLing, my lord MAth is due tribute from you, his subject, and yet such beasts have been withheld form him."

Peredur heard Gwydion's words, and he was much troubled by them.

"Indeed, good prince," replied Peredur. "This is surely news to me."

"Do you deny the existence of such beatss?" asked Gwydion.

"Indeed, I do not," asnwered Peredur.

"Do you deny that Mah is Hgh King of this relam?" asked Gwydion.

"Indeed, I do not, " replied Peredur.

"Do you deny the fealty you owe him then, as your liege lord," asked Gwydion.

"Indeed, I do not," replied Peredur. "But, these great beasts, being hunted in my own forests are mine, and mine alone. Surely, I see no reason why I should not render unto Math that portion of the wealth they bring which is his rightful due; but these beasts belong here, in the lands they call home. Good sir, it would be unjust to so remove them. Let us do this: I shall render Math one half og these golden tusks, and these great boars shall remain here, tended to by mine own folk as if they were blood of my people. Surely, Math will not deny me that."

Gwydion heard the king, and knew that Math would surely agree to such terms, being so reasonable. This troubled the prince, for things were not going as he had expected. But Gwydion was clever, and he hatched a plot on that very spot.

"Very well," agreed Gwydion. "It shall be so, Come, let us celebrate so equitable an arrangement"

Peredur was only to willing to feast the young prince, for the matter had ended quietly and he had no worries of the trouble that was about to unfold.

That night, Peredur and his men celebrated, for Gwydion was good company. He told many stories of his adventures and performed great feats of magic for those who had gathered. The halls rang with song and laughter. But soon, the merriment ended as Peredur and his court made for bed. They would sleep well that night, for the wine had flowed heavily throughout the halls.

In the dark of night, Gwydion made his way from his room and through the silent halls. The guards and maids all slept soundly. Amidst the darkness, Gwydion saddled his horse and gathered together all twelve of the golden boards, and stealthily made his way form the house of Peredur.

Gwythead and Goedwyn - Part 2

Gwydion traveled south, to the court of High King Math. While he journeyed, he considered how best he could win the hand of Goedwyn for his brother, Gwythead; and he formulated a plan. When he arrived at court of the high king, he was welcomed and bid to enter, for he was much loved there and Math was glad of his coming.

That night, whilst the two were in his cups, Gwydion addressed his uncle, the High King Math:

"My lord, it is true tat this world of ours if filled with wonders, and it must be impossible for any one man to know them all."

"Verily?" asked the High King.

"Indeed," replied Gwydion. "I have heard even now, that Peredur, who is known to you as a great king to the south, has recently come across 12 great board, whose tusks are of gold, and when these tusks are cut, they shall grow back again the following night."

"Indeed?" asked the High King.

"Indeed, it is true my Lord. Peredur has grown rich indeed from the tusks of these beasts."

"I did not know of this," cried Math.

"How now?" cried Gwydion. "How can this be? For is not Peredur, being a lesser king than yourself, bound to send to you a portion of all his ttreasures as tribute on the first day of each year?"

"Indeed he is," answered Math.

"So he must have sent you word and tribute from these new-found beasts of his?"

"Indeed he has not," cried Math angrily.

"How now, my King?" asked Gwydion. "Indeed, this is not right. This must be some manner of mistake."

"Indeed it must be!" replied  the High King, for his anger was growing great. "I can scarcely imagine a loyal friend as Peredur doing such a thing!"

"My lord," Gwydion now said quietly. "If it would ease your mind, allow me to act on your behalf in this. I shall; travel to Peredur's holdings and inquire of him. I shall bring you three of these twelve golden boars, as proper recompense to your honor. Then Peredur will have satisfied you well."

Math considered this and agreed to Gwydion's proposal.

The next Morning Gwydion rode south to the kingdom of Peredur, smiling to himself along the way. He knew little what terrible heartaches his words would one day bring about.

Gwydion and the Witch of Carran Tor - Part 1

One fine summer's day, Prince Gwydion was visiting his brother Gwythead. After a long day of hunting and feasting, the two were sitting at table with Gwythead's boon companions Auwyn the Stoic and Tolwen Ironhand. The four were drinking, and conversing, and playing at dice.

"My lords," said Tolwen. "I must say the strangest thing happened to me this day."

"Pray the gods tell," said Gwythead. "And do not leave us wondering"

"I shall indeed, my lord," said Tolwen. "Today I bore a remarkable thirst, such as I had not known for an age; and so I decided to visit the Tavern house of my good freind Brean, as Brean is known for making the best ale in the kingdom."

"Indeed," said Gwythead. "Brean's ale is unsurpassed in this realm, as well I dare say any other. Do continue, dear Tolwen."

"I shall, my Lord," said Tolwen. "And when I arrived at Brean's Tavern, I did drink heavily to quench my thirst. For as I said, I had not known such thirst in an great while. And as I drank, I began to converse with a most strange man."

"Strange!" cried Gwydion. "How strange, dear Tolwen?"

"It was this," replied Tolwen. "The man wore thick white furs, even though it is, as you well know, high summer. He said he was from the far north, a realm of Never-ending Winter, where ice and frost lay thick on the ground throughout the year. Given the state of his dress, I was not wont to doubt the man."

"Indeed not!" said Gwythead.

"Just so, "said Tolwen. "'Why my friend,' said I. 'What brings you so far south, and such great distance from your home?' It was then that he told me his tale."

"And what tale is this?" asked Gqydion.

"I shall tell it now, sir," said Tolwen. "He told me that in the far north of these lands there arises from the frosted tundras a high and great hill. And at the very top of this hill there grows a great tree, whose branches bear leaves of ice instead of leaves, and fruits of beautiful diamond"

"How now?" cried Gwythead. "A tree that bears diamond fruit! How could such a wonder be, Tolwen?"

"Indeed my lord," said Tolwen. "I scarcely believe the tale myself, but this stranger swore it to be true, and so I yet harkened to his tale.  He told me that his people had lived at the foot of the hill, making their living by herding the great white  reindeer that lived on the planes.His people, he said, lived simple and peaceful live. Until one day, a terrible witch cam to hill. This witch decided to make her home at the base of the great tree, at the highest point of the frozen hill. Because of this, the villager named the hill Carran Torr, which means the Hill of Cold Magic."

"That is an evil tale, my friend, "said Gwythead.

"I said much the same thing, my lord," said Tolwen. "But does not the tree of ice and crystal sund not wondrous?"

"Oh most wondrous," said Gwydion, for in his heart was stirred a great desire to see thus tree.

"But alas, this tree has such a fell guardian," said Auwyn."Good never comes form triflingwith a witch woman."

"How now!" cried Gwydion. "Are we true men here, to chafe at the threat of a woman?"

"Lord Gwydion," Tolwen protested. "You are unjust! It is not a quesiton of bravery, but of wisdom that begs our hesitaiton!"

"Is it not said," said Auwyn. "the two greatest dangers to stout-hearted men are magic and women? What then, is a witch?"

"Pah, cried Gwydion. "You seem naught but cowardly knaves!" And at these words, Auwyn and Tolwen grew angry, and the three would surely have come to blows had not Gwythead been present.

"Now brother!" said Gwythead, who had become most an\noyed with his brother."There is but an easy way to settle this dispute. I propose a wager: that Gwydion should travel north, acquire two of these fruits from this wondrous tree, and present them here, to Auwyn and Tolwen. Should he do this, we shall all laud know his true bravery and skill. But should he fail, then to these same two will he give five good horses from his own stables and 10 new born lambs from his own fields."

And so it was agreed, and that very same day did Gwydion journey north to the lands of Never-ending Winter.

Gwythead and Goedwyn - Part 1

Math was High King, but cursed to forever rest his feet in the lap of a virgin; so, wherever he went he was accompanied by the fair maiden, Goedwyn, in whose lap he rested his feet.
It is said that when Gwythead first looked upon Goedwyn, his heart was filled with a great love. As his longing for Goedwyn grew greater, he eschewed all of his former pastimes.He stopped his hunting. He ceased to join his companions in contests of strength. He did not eat; and at meals, fell heavily into his cups.
He forbade poetry and music in his presence, and became churlish at the smallest sounds. His halls  became somber and dreary, where once it had been boisterous and lively. His companions, who loved their lord dearly, could make nothing of the changes in Gwythead's mind and manner; and they knew not what to do. For some time, Gwythead continued in this manner, his color and form wasting away because of his love for Goedwyn.
One day, Gwydion, wearing the mantle of a great eagle as he oft was wont to do, chanced to fly above his brother Gwythead's keep.
"Ah," thought Gwydion. " I have flown very far today and I am now quite weary; moreover, it has been too long since I have seen my dear brother. Thus, I shall call upon him, and perhaps spend a night or two in his  famed hospitality."
And this is what he did. But upon his arrival, the gates were closed against his entry.
 "Ho there," he called. "What is this, that the gates of my brother, Prince Gwythead, should be closed and barred against me?"
"My lord," the guards called down form the gates. "on our good lord's command, we have shut these gates to all those who would enter. Our good lord has forbade all visitors, even the wandering bards that once were so well received here."
Gwydion was incredulous at these words, for they sounded most unlike the brother he had long known.
"Sir," cried Gwydion. "by the gods themselves that does sound most strange.  If ever you had love for your lord my brother, you shall open these doors to me and bring me at once before your lord and I shall see for myself what strange spell ails him."

And so  Gwydion was brought into the great hall of the keep, and when he beheld his brother, Gwydion was shocked.
"Brother," he said. "What has happened to you?"
"Why brother, "said Gwythead. "what is wrong with me?"
"Indeed," Gwydion replied. "You have lost all of your his color and your form is wasting away."
 "My dear brother, there is no point in me telling anyone what has happened, for I am sure there is nothing that can be done about it. I do love the fair Goedwyn, but alas she is bound to serve the good high king, Math, and so remains ever out of my reach."
At the Gwydion let out a heavy sigh, for he knew the turmoil in his brother's heart.
"Say no more, brother." Gwydion counseled. "For have we two not ever sought and striven for the impossible. Hear me now, this very day I shall set forth form your good house and rest not a single day until the fair Goedwyn's hand is yours."
And on hearing this, Gwythead was cheered, for never before had his brother failed once he had set his mind and hand to a task.
And so as he said, Gwydion set forth that very hour to some way win for his beloved brother the hand of Goedwyn, the most beautiful maiden in the Nine Realms.
But none knew then, to what lengths Gwydion would needs go in order to achieve his quest, nor what dire consequences his actions would hold.

Gwythead and Gwydion

Math had two nephews, Gwythead and Gwydion.

Gwythead was a strong warrior, whose skills in arms were unmatched throughout Math's realms. In trials of sword or lance, Gwythead was always first among Math's liege kinsmen.When he was a young boy of nine, he bested two of the kingdom's greatest swordsman. He was perhaps the greatest swords yet seen. But still, he was merciful in as well, never drawing his sword in earnest lest it be to protect the weak or to defend the honour of his liege lord or kinsmen.

Gwythead spent his days hunting the forests and wilder lands of his holdings and spent his evenings in his Great Hall. His table was always well provisioned, and any traveler could find a night of safety and refuge in Gwythead's hall. He had a particular love of music, and the wandering bards found themselves well-received in his keep, so much so that they often spent several weeks in his company. As such, his halls were always filled with music and laughter.

Gwythead's younger brother Gwydion, was a powerful sorcerer and could change his form into that of the beasts of the land and the birds of the air. So too, was he able to converse with the many beasts and birds, and so he learned many secrets of the untamed places that men dare not go; but spending so much time with the wild things instilled in the prince a similar wildness as well. It was rare for the Gwydion to spend more than two or three nights in any given place.

It was not uncommon for the young prince to take the form of a hunting hawk or a great eagle. He would fly throughout his lands surveying the works of his people, from the highest lord to lowliest waif. Ofttimes, he would stop here or there at the halls of his liege lords or the cots of his craftsmen to inspect the planting of grains or the sheering of sheep. Indeed, in this way Gwydion became well known to every petty knight and artisan  in his holdings, and for this he was well-loved.

The Princes had many great adventures and the tales of their deeds were sung by the bards in the far corners of the Nine Realms, and some of those stories and told herein.

Math the High King

Math ab Mathonwy was High King

And he was by all accounts a good king, generous and open-handed with his banner men and steadfast against his enemies. Men were free to come and go as they pleased, trading their goods and wares between the great lords' holdings and the townships. Craftsmen plied their skills, farmers saw to their crops, and the drovers kept their flocks. Under Math's rule, the land prospered and the people were content.

But Math was also a sad king, for he bore a terrible curse; for at all times, he must needs rest his feet in the lap of a virgin, lest he be struck down and die on the spot. Only whilst his kingdom was at open war, could Math stand and defend his people from the dangers that beset them. And so wherever he traveled. he was accompanied by the lady Rhiannon, whose was remarked beyond fair. And she was always beneath the High King, his feet resting in her lap.

The Wolfish Grinn - Prologue

The rain pours down.

It splashes off the shingled roof, and collects in muddy pools. The walls of inn, though stout well-made, lose none of the grime collected over uncounted years.One of the shutters comes loose in the wind, banging out an Apollonian rhythm. The thunder cracks and the horses are startled, but the grooms have been attentive this evening, and their stables are bolted against the storm. Outside, only the rain moves.

Inside, the patrons huddle together to conserve what little warmth there is. Firewood is expensive, and the inn, though popular, has seen better days.

In the center of the room, the Fat Man holds court. The guests surrounds him as he tells a bawdy tale. It concerns a miller and his wife. The men around him laugh. The Fat Man swallows down another mouthful of brown ale, spilling some onto his tunic. He's had three this night, and is likely to have a few more by the time the rain finally lets up. He wipes his jowls in between guffaws. The men laugh with him. All but one two.

The Innkeeper runs a towel across his bar. He's never been overly fond of the Fat Man's stories, but he's good for business. He can always be counted on for a joke or a laugh, especially on a Stormy Night like this. In times like these, a laugh can have m,ore value than gold. The Innkeeper lets out a sigh. He is tired. His wife is putting out the candles. Candles are even more costly than firewood, and what few they have are spent sparingly, during dinner on crowded nights.

What little light there is comes from the massive fireplace built into the south wall. Of all the things in the inn, the fireplace is by far the most grand. The mantle  is dark oak and as tall as a man, carved into the shapes of great beasts. A lion catches a young stag. Wolves howl towards a moonless horizon. Hawks, and Eagles fly between and around serpents, boars, and foxes. The two cornices are carved into the likenesses of great Ravens. They watch the room, with eyes filled with though and memory.

The hearth is warm and dry, but the the guests stay gathered in the center, around the Fat Man. They don't approach the roaring warmth of the fireplace. Not yet. That will come later. For now, the fire is only for the Old Man.

He squats on a stool, facing into the flames. His back is bent and his face is weathered. His gnarled hands wrap around an ashen staff, carved with ancient  runes and sigils whose meanings have been long forgotten. He watches the shadows the beasts and birds cast with a single, sunken  eye. An eye that has seen many thing, perhaps too many.

The Fat Man laughs one last time and falls silent. The guests murmurs, muttering and chortling at the cleverness of the Fat Man's tale. The Innkeeper's wife blows out the last candle. The only light and warmth left comes form the fireplace, from the Old Man.

The guests move closer to him. What few children there are sit on the floor before the older members of the crowd. The Fat Man, a fourth ale in his hand, takes a seat in the second row. The Innkeepers puts down his cloth and sits next to the him. His wife joins him. They wait. They are silent. The old man closes his eye. It is time for him to decide.

In the great library of his mind, he walks between endless rows of shelves. As he walks slowly down the halls formed from the ancient stands, his hands brush the bindings of ancient tomes, the pages of unbound manuscripts,and the edges of faded scrolls. Which one will be tonight's?

His eyes drifts along the shelves towards one book. It sits alone on the shelf, rough brown leather binding together crisp white pages. Amongst a world of dust and cobwebs, it alone is clean, as if newly made. And of everything here, that book alone belonged to the Old Man.

Would this be the night? No. Not yet. That book would be last,when all other tales had been told He moved on.

He stopped. Yes. This tale has not seen the air for many years. Had it's time come again? The Old Man reaches for the book. Yes, he thinks. This tale would do.

He opened his eye, facing the guests. The fire casts his shadow over the Inn's great room. The light dances across their eager eyes, and they lick their lips.

The Old Man smiles.

"Once Upon a Time..."

The rain pours down.

The Queen of Air and Darkness

Her strong enchantments failing,
  Her towers of fear in wreck,
Her limbecks dried of poisons
  And the knife at her neck,

The Queen of air and darkness
  Begins to shrill and cry,
`O young man, O my slayer
  To-morrow you shall die.'

O Queen of air and darkness
  I think 'tis truth you say,
And I shall die to-morrow;
  But you shall die to-day

From Last Poems by A.E. Housman