Myths and Legends of the Celts (Penguin Reference) (36 page)
Read Myths and Legends of the Celts (Penguin Reference) Online
Authors: James MacKillop
Although included by Lady Charlotte Guest in her
Mabinogion
, the tale of Culhwch and Olwen has quite a different character from the Four Branches. It is both older and often cruder, but relieved by passages of rare beauty. There are long runs of obscure names and built-in oral recitation devices, such as repeated questions and answers, designed to allow a performer to have some fun but that are a bit
tiresome on the printed page. They are not repeated here. The story also feels more like a folktale, with a cruel stepmother, a wicked witch and a central plot-line classed by folklorists as ‘The Giant’s Daughter’ (motifs G530.2; E765.4.1.1; H335). At the same time several figures, including Culhwch himself and Mabon, appear to derive from divine origins, according to some commentators. Perhaps most conspicuously, the narrative also includes an early portrayal of King Arthur, quite different from the way he will appear in later romances in other languages.
Cilydd, son of Celyddon Wledig [W.
gwledig
, ruler, prince], seeks to marry a woman as well-born as himself. His choice falls on the lovely Goleuddydd, daughter of Anlwdd Wledig. Unsettled by her almost immediate pregnancy, Goleuddydd leaves the household to wander through wild country, giving birth to her noble son in a pig-run. A swineherd names the child
Culhwch
[pig-run]. Although an unlikely appellation given his station and his mother’s violent antipathy to pigs, Culhwch, the reader can expect, will have future interaction with porcine creatures, including boars. Goleuddydd dies shortly after, and to replace her Cilydd murders the king of Doged and carries home his widow. Understandably unhappy, the stepmother curses Culhwch, prophesying that he will not lie next to a woman until he has accomplished a seemingly impossible task. It is to win the rapturously beautiful Olwen, daughter of the crafty and cruel giant Ysbaddaden Bencawr. Cilydd reassures his son that he can make easy work of the task only by seeking help from King Arthur, a cousin. A few of the right words will aid him: on meeting the king he should only ask to have his hair trimmed. Meanwhile, the stepmother’s curse has had an unanticipated effect on the young man. Without having seen Olwen, he falls deeply in love with her, and so sets out for Arthur’s court.
Like a young god or hero, Culhwch fares forth in splendour, with a glowing aura about his face, fully armed with two silver spears and a sword that can bring blood from the air. His reception at court is less than cordial as the porter Glewlwyd Galfaelfawr refuses him entry. The moment is reminiscent of the arrival of Lug Lámfhota at Nuadu’s court in
Cath Maige Tuired
[The (Second) Battle of Mag Tuired]. Culhwch’s persistence pays off as the king demands that the young
man be admitted. Following his father’s instruction, Culhwch asks that his hair be trimmed, evidently a rite of passage from youth to manhood. He also recites a lengthy roll-call of Arthurian heroes, including the children of Dôn. So charming is Culhwch that Arthur agrees to help him in winning Olwen. Members of Arthur’s court join them – Cei, Bedwyr, Cynddylig Cyfarwydd the guide, Gwrhyr Gwastad Ieithoedd the interpreter, and Menw the illusionist. These figures do not have the character of Arthur’s men as we know them in English. Cei, to cite but one, does not yet show the surliness of Sir Kay, his later counterpart.
Culhwch and Arthur hear ominous reports on their long journey. The herdsman Custennin, brother-in-law of Culhwch’s mother, reports that no one leaves Ysbaddaden’s castle alive. Undeterred, the party advances to the nearby castle where Culhwch meets Olwen, whose name means ‘flower track’ because four trefoils or white clovers spring up wherever she steps. She seems pleased to accept Culhwch’s pledge of love but reminds him that she cannot join him without her father’s consent, which he is unlikely to give: his life will end when she takes a husband. She urges him to try anyway, saying that if he can meet the giant’s demands, Culhwch will have her.
Ysbaddaden is not receptive to guests. When Culhwch and Arthur approach, he casts three poisoned stone spears at the party, each one of which is turned back to the thrower. The wounds cause the giant to hear the young man’s entreaty. Before the dialogue can begin, he asks servants to use large wooden forks to lift his heavy eyelids, a characteristic he shares with the Irish divinity Balor. Ysbaddaden agrees to give his daughter’s hand to Culhwch if he can accomplish forty seemingly impossible tasks. The recitation of the tasks is accompanied by a verbal exchange in which Culhwch repeats the boast over and over, ‘It is easy for me to accomplish that, though you may not think so.’ Some of the tasks are frivolous, such as finding honey nine times sweeter than that of the first swarm out of the hive. Others show the possible influence of the twelve labours of Heracles in classical mythology. Culhwch’s first group requires eight primary agricultural labours, such as ploughing waste land so that food might be grown, and five secondary labours to complete the ploughing. In each instance Culhwch makes light work of the challenge and quickly accomplishes
thirteen of the original plus three not previously mentioned. Often he is aided by the folkloric magic of enchanted animals and birds.
Three of the tasks loom larger than the others. One is to secure the blood of the pitch-black witch, daughter of the bright-white witch from the Valley of Grief in Hell’s back country. The blood is needed to stretch out Ysbaddaden’s hairs, which must be shaved before the taking of Olwen. This is accomplished, as Culhwch promises.
A second is to enlist the help of Mabon the Hunter, who is locked up in Gloucester Castle and of whom nothing has been heard since he was snatched from his mother Modron when he was but three days old. Though not much time in the narrative is spent on him, Mabon interests commentators because of his divine antecedents in Maponos of ancient Britain and Gaul. Further, he is cited as one of the Three Exalted Prisoners of the Isle of Britain, in the Welsh
Triads (Trioedd Ynys Prydain)
, that medieval treasure-trove of Welsh lore. Once he is released from his enchanted imprisonment, Mabon is the oldest of all living beings, quite a paradox for someone whose name means ‘youth’. His aid is still valuable to Culhwch’s quest.
More formidable is the challenge of securing the shears, razor and comb from between the ears of Twrch Trwyth, son of Taredd Wledig. The huge destructive boar was once a king who, with his followers, had been transformed as punishment for his evil ways. Arthur and Culhwch begin the chase, which extends through south Wales, Cornwall and Ireland. With Mabon’s help, the party catches up with the boar and retrieves the necessary implements before driving him into the sea.
Returning with their booty, Culhwch and Arthur face Ysbaddaden. One of their party, Caw of Britain, shaves the giant’s beard, and his flesh and skin down to the bone, and his two ears. Thus subdued, Ysbaddaden agrees that Culhwch has won his daughter but gives credit to Arthur for this turn of events. He also admits it is time to end his life. Another member of the party, Goreu, strikes off his head and places it atop a courtyard post.
Culhwch takes possession of the giant’s fort and his kingdom. That night he sleeps with Olwen. As long as he lives, she is his only wife.
PWYLL, PRINCE OF DYFED;
MABINOGI
, BRANCH I
Proinsias MacCana has written that the
Mabinogi
‘is not a mythological document in any primary sense; it is a literary construct which makes use of mythological, and other, materials’ (1992). Its author is not, he adds, a mythographer conscientiously recording the traditions of the gods for their own sake, but instead a gifted writer shaping the shattered remains of a mythology to his own literary ends. We do not know that author’s name, but he lived in Dyfed in southwestern Wales and worked between 1050 and 1120 during the transition to Norman occupation. Action in the
Mabinogi
takes place in the real world, with frequent citations of actual place-names, as in Irish stories. Triads within the narrative testify to an origin in oral tradition. Many hands and many heads contributed materials, but only one personality shaped the text we read. He was probably a cleric; he always praises patience and chastity, and he certainly knows the law.
Later than the author is the redactor, the person who put the stories in the form under which they were copied in manuscript. The redactor, in contrast to the author, was a stylist rather than a storyteller. His sophisticated diction and rhetoric display a knowledge of Latin and blend the colloquial judiciously with the learned. Adjectives are used sparingly, and there is little figurative language.
Although the title ‘Four Branches’ was imposed in modern times, there seems little doubt today that the four tales belong together. They may be juxtaposed so that a reader might compare them. J. K. Bollard (1975) argues for their essential unity by stressing the three themes that unite all four stories, namely friendships, marriages, and feuds. He sees, further, a continual interplay between the three that functions as a unifying element in the stories, an interplay that also comments on social attitudes and relationships. The four stories embrace many repetitions and cross-references, and no incident in the
Mabinogi
is superfluous or isolated.
The story of Pwyll is told in two barely connected portions. In the first the prince encounters Arawn, ruler of Annwfn, and agrees to exchange
forms with him for a year. In the second Pwyll meets the dazzlingly beautiful Rhiannon, who becomes his wife. She suffers from a false accusation, but they produce a son, Pryderi. Dyfed was earlier the name of a region in southwestern Wales. The modern Dyfed, reconstituted in 1974, embraces a much larger area.
While hunting one day near Glyn Cuch [glen scowl], Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed, becomes separated from his companions. He is startled by a pack of hounds, not his own, running down a stag. They have a certain ominousness about them because they bear the colours of the otherworld: snow-white fur with red ears. Pwyll is about to drive them away when the dogs’ master appears and chides the prince for his discourtesy. The stranger identifies himself as Arawn, a king of Annwfn. Medieval readers would identify Annwfn as the otherworld, but the two men discourse as if it were just another mortal kingdom. Arawn tells of being harried by a rival king, Hafgan [summer white], and proposes Pwyll redeem his bad manners by taking on Hafgan in single combat in a year’s time; to work out this plan, Pwyll and Arawn should exchange both shapes and kingdoms for a year. The bargain will be concluded when Pwyll in the shape of Arawn lays Hafgan low with a single blow – because a second would allow the villain to revive.
Without a moment’s consideration of what a year’s imposture would entail, Pwyll agrees to the adventure. As Arawn he is a wise and good ruler of Annwfn, but he has overlooked his obligations to the king’s beautiful wife. At bedtime, Pwyll as Arawn sets his face to the wall and says nothing, never so much as touching the wife, much to her surprise and disappointment. The impostor king is nonetheless courteous to the wife on all public occasions. When the appointed time comes, Pwyll as Arawn meets Hafgan in combat at a river ford. In a single gallant blow Pwyll sunders Hafgan’s shield and knocks him the length of an arm and a shield over his horse’s hind end. In deathly bravado, Hafgan asks for another blow as a
coup de grâce
, but Pwyll remembers the dangers of delivering a second stroke. Arawn’s court and retainers rejoice that the kingdom is again united. His promise kept, Pwyll returns to Glyn Cuch, where he greets Arawn. The two rulers thank each other for their stewardship and return to their own
kingdoms in their own shapes. That night when Pwyll returns to his own marriage bed, he is pleased to learn from his wife (not named) that Arawn chastely kept his part of the bargain. Arawn also maintained Pwyll’s reputation as a just ruler in his absence. In payment for his service the mortal king is given a new title: Pwyll Penn Annwfn [ruler of Annwfn].
The second portion of Pwyll’s story seems barely connected to the first. The king is seated on the magical mound of Arberth, where one might be expected to see wonders. The mound’s lore is fulfilled when Pwyll beholds a woman approaching dressed in brilliant gold brocade and mounted on a majestic, pale white horse. No one knows her name, but the king’s men pursue her, and on a fourth attempt determine that she is Rhiannon. This is the most theatrical entrance in the Four Branches and partially explains why the name ‘Rhiannon’ has such resonance outside Welsh literature; she is also a figure with ancient roots (see
pp. 79–80
). Rhiannon identifies herself as the daughter of Hyfaidd Hen, who has arbitrarily betrothed her to another man, while she loves only Pwyll, whom she has been seeking. Pwyll allows that, yes, he loves her as well and asks that they be married at a feast to follow in a year and a day. She agrees. In a year’s time Pwyll brings one hundred men with him to the expected feast at Rhiannon’s father’s palace. The festive mood changes abruptly when a tall, auburn-haired stranger, his regal bearing enhanced with satin garments, enters and asks a favour of Pwyll. To Rhiannon’s dismay, Pwyll grants it, in a moment of reckless high spirits. Shortly, alas, the stranger is revealed to be Gwawl son of Clud, the father’s choice as suitor, who wants his promised bride now. Honest Pwyll feels bound to his promise of granting a favour, but Rhiannon refuses to marry Gwawl before another year has passed. Portentously, Rhiannon gives Pwyll an enchanted bag, advising him to make good use of it when the time comes.
After a year a second great wedding feast is held with Gwawl in the honoured place as prospective groom. During the merrymaking, an old beggar clad in rags and rough shoes enters, asking charity from the party: just a bag of extra food to take with him. Gwawl graciously agrees, but something begins to go wrong. No matter how much food servants place in the bag, they cannot fill it. The bag cannot be filled,
the beggar offers, until someone endowed with wealth and land gets into the bag and stamps it down. Rhiannon asks Gwawl to see if this is true. The would-be groom has only to put his two feet into the bag for the ruse to be revealed. The beggar, Pwyll in disguise, pulls the bag over Gwawl’s head and ties it. The Prince of Dyfed then blows his horn and invites the other merrymakers to join him in a game of ‘badger-in-the-bag’, striking and kicking the bag stuffed with the hapless Gwawl about the hall. Only when the captive Gwawl agrees not to seek revenge is he released. Pwyll and Rhiannon are then happily married.
Trouble of a different kind befalls the couple. After a period of barrenness, Rhiannon gives birth to a son who inexplicably disappears the very next morning. Household servants, fearing they will be charged, contrive to make it appear that Rhiannon has murdered her own son. Although stunned at this charge, Pwyll will not put his wife away. He agrees, instead, that she should suffer a unique punishment, that of sitting each day at the castle gate’s horse block. There she should tell her tale to every passing stranger while offering to carry each one on her back. Some commentators feel this episode implies Rhiannon’s antecedent in the ancient horse-goddess Epona.
Relief from Rhiannon’s torment comes from across Wales in the little kingdom of Gwent Is Coed, where a lord named Teyrnon Twrf Lient raises horses. On each Calan Mai [May Day], his prize mare always foals, but no one knows what becomes of the offspring. One year Teyrnon investigates by waiting in the horse barn through the night of the birth. A huge clawed arm comes through the window. Moving quickly, Teyrnon hacks off the arm at the elbow and then dashes outside to see what lies behind it. In darkness, he can see nothing. On his return to the barn he finds an infant boy wrapped in the finest satin. As Teyrnon and his wife are childless, they raise the boy as their own, calling him Gwri of the Golden Hair. As the boy matures rapidly Teyrnon and his wife recognize that he bears a striking resemblance to Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed. They take the boy to Pwyll’s castle, where there is understandable rejoicing and Rhiannon is released from her humiliating punishment. The rightful parents now claim their son and name him Pryderi [care (?)].