by Robert Irwin
But Anthony replied, ‘A Christian knight fears no monsters, for his faith in God is sufficient defence against such things. And, if you are sure that draugs are so frightening, why do you not run away now? I am going to continue digging, for I have no belief in the folklore of yokels.’
But the truth was that Anthony was amazed and even somewhat cautious, for he no longer believed that the boy was an ordinary yokel.
The boy did not reply directly to Anthony’s boast. Instead he announced, ‘I am lonely and I want to be told a story.’
So Anthony, who was not yet ready to resume digging, told the boy the story of Melusine and added that he was himself descended from this dragon lady.
When the story was finished the boy nodded thoughtfully. He was not such a starveling as Anthony had first thought.
‘True stories are the best,’ said the boy at last. ‘But I do not believe that you are telling the truth when you say that you are here because you want a sword. A rich gentleman like you could buy a sword anywhere. I think the truth is that you are really seeking gold, more gold than you need.’
‘Believe what you choose and be damned.’
And with that Anthony resumed digging. It was a hot summer night and after a while Anthony removed his surcoat, revealing his hair shirt, and continued to dig, but then, still hot, he removed this also and at this point the boy got up and came closer so that he might inspect the scars that ran crisscross over Anthony’s back. There was a stench about the boy, as if he had not washed for years, if ever. Moreover, he had swollen to a vast size and his skin glowed faintly with a death-blue light. So this was no boy from the nearby village. It was a draug. Yet the creature’s voice remained courteous.
‘For what crime were you so flogged, Sir?’
‘I bear these marks because I am a mortal and sinful man. Yet no one else flogged me. Only it is I who scourge myself in memory and re-enactment of the Passion of Christ and in so doing I also hope to whip all earthly lusts out of me and I hope to understand how others less fortunate than myself suffer in their daily lives.’
The draug sucked in his teeth. Then he said, ‘You are tired. I believe that you should rest again and tell me a story.’
‘Surely it is your turn to tell me a story.’
‘I must have a story,’ insisted the draug. ‘I will tell you a story after you have told me one more. Ghost stories are the best.’
‘Why must you have a story?’
‘Draugs like stories and dead men tell no tales.’
But Anthony replied, ‘In the last, you are certainly mistaken.’
And then Anthony proceeded to tell the tale of how he had been killed at the Battle of Palm Sunday and how he had been guided to a mysterious castle and then how he had risen on the third day. When the story was finished, the draug opened his mouth widely and the awful smell redoubled. Yet he was smiling.
‘You are like me,’ he said. ‘You are descended from a dragon and you have come out from the grave and so you are a Christian monster. I am a Christian like you. So I will not lie upon you and so kill you. Now if you dig over there, you will find a sword in a leather scabbard. Be careful to dig close to the edge or there is a danger that your spade may sever the arm of the sword’s former owner.’
So Anthony hurried to dig at the spot he has been pointed to. As he dug, the draug told him that this barrow was the resting place of Sir Yvan, a Knight of the Round Table, who fought first with Sir Tristan and later with Sir Lancelot and yet survived both combats. It was also Yvan who fought and slew the Knight of the Hedge of Mist. Then Anthony drew the sword in its scabbard out of the grave and brushed the earth off them.
‘This is a close copy of the first sword with which Cain slew Abel,’ said the draug. ‘You have no idea what goes into the forging of such a sword as this,’ he added. Then he told Anthony that the sword’s name was Galatine, as the runes on the hilt indicated. Also this was the sword which smote the Dolorous Stroke and as a consequence there was a kind of spell on it which could be seen as a blessing or a curse and the nature of the spell was this; that once the sword has been withdrawn it can only be returned to the scabbard after it had killed someone.
‘Now you have a sword fit for a Christian hero,’ the draug concluded.
‘What about the story you were going to tell me?’ demanded Anthony.
‘Truly, I was going to tell you a story, but now I see that the dawn approaches and I dare not linger in the light. You will hear the story of the Dolorous Stroke soon enough.’
With that the draug, now a thinning blue gas, shrank back into the grave.
That morning Anthony rode into Guildford and in one of its churches he had the sword Galatine, still in its scabbard, rechristened and consecrated to the service of God and King Edward.
Chapter Nine: White Tower
The story of Bran then. Bran, who was King of the Island of Britain, or the Island of the Mighty as it once was known, was staying at Harlech, which was one of his castles, when he was told that thirteen ships had been sighted on the horizon and those ships were making for the coast at great speed. Bran sent armed men down to the shore to find out what these ships were doing in British waters. Then he went down to the shore himself ready to lead his men in the fighting if that were necessary. But as he reached the beach, he saw that small boats were being launched from the big ships and they soon brought heralds ashore and these heralds saluted Bran and told him that Matholwch, King of Ireland, was with his fleet and he had come in peace. So Bran told the messengers that he was welcome to come ashore, but the heralds replied that he would not set foot in Britain unless his mission should be accomplished.
‘And what is that?’ asked Bran.
‘He seeks to wed your sister, Branwen, daughter of Lyr,’ the heralds replied, ‘for that would make a bond between Ireland and the Island of the Powerful. Branwen will be his Queen.’
What is the point of the story that they have started to listen to? What has it to do with where they are? Jacquetta de St Pol is telling the story of Bran and Branwen to Elizabeth and Anthony. It is the Saturday before Pentecost and since it is the eve of Elizabeth’s coronation, they are lodged in the White Tower from which they will ride out in solemn state towards Westminster on the following morning. Elizabeth’s hair has the appearance of spun gold, fit for a princess in a fairy tale. She has been brushing her hair as if she would never be done with it and as she worked with the brush she talked without ceasing about what she should wear on the morrow and all the other fine things that Edward was lavishing on her. Eventually Jacquetta lost patience and said that she would tell them a story and they should both learn something from it. Before she started the story Jacquetta spent a long time whispering to Elizabeth. Anthony is afraid of what is coming this evening, for he guesses that it is his story, though he cannot see how this can be so.
Jacquetta continues, ‘Let him come to me then and we shall discuss the matter,’ said Bran.
So Matholwch landed and came to court and after some talk between the two Kings it was agreed that Branwen, who was a golden-haired beauty (and greatly resembled Elizabeth), should become Matholwch’s Queen. So then there was a great celebration and a feast. The feast was held in tents, for no house that could contain the giant Bran had yet been built. But Evnissyen, Bran’s half-brother, had not been consulted about the wedding and that was Bran’s mistake, for though Evnissyen was a man who delighted in creating surprises, he did not care to be surprised himself. Evnissyen was the man who made things happen, and it was he who created stories, so that the storytellers who came after him merely recited what he had done.’
No sooner had she uttered those last words than his mother rose from her chair and swiftly walked over to Anthony and sitting beside him on the bench, she hissed at him,
‘Now, my son! It must be now! That is you, this your story. Go into it now!’
So it was that Anthony left the darkness of the Tower and became Evnissyen. He no longer heard the word
s of his mother, but instead he saw what she said. He found himself walking aimlessly early one sunny morning when the mist was still rising off the grass until he came to a horse park. Anthony, or Evnissyen, had no idea whose horses they were in the park. So he asked about them and he was told that they were the horses of King Matholwch and his followers and that Matholwch had just married Evnissyen’s sister. All this had been kept secret from him. So then he thought that it was time to make something happen. It was like a dark dream. You know that if you dream that you are strolling about in the sunny countryside, you cannot just continue enjoying your sunlit walk all through your night asleep. Something must happen, for that is the nature of dreaming. What he does is mad, yet though the thing in his head is screaming all the time that he must not do it, the madness prevails, for Anthony has entered a world and a time where he may do as he pleases.
Anthony knew what he as Evnissyen should do and so he set upon those horses and cut off their lips back to their teeth and severed their ears and docked their manes and sliced out their eyelids. The noise of the horses was horrible and there was also screaming in his head, for the thing that was lodged there was terrified by what he was doing. The grooms ran forward to rescue their horses, but they saw that Anthony was armed and they were not. So they stepped back and put their hands over their ears. In this way Anthony took his revenge on Matholwch for the King not telling him about his sister’s marriage and, since he as Evnissyen is the King’s half-brother, he dares to do this. There is blood everywhere and he revels in it. Christian morality has no jurisdiction here for these are pagan times and Christ has yet to be born. Now that Anthony has become Evnissyen he can do what he likes and he is surprised by what he likes.
When Matholwch heard of the ruin of his horses which was a monstrous insult aimed at him, he and his followers returned to their ships and made ready to sail for Ireland. As soon as Bran heard that this was happening, he sent after the King of Ireland to ask why he was leaving with such ill grace. When Bran heard of the evil that had been done to Matholwch’s horses and he discovered that this evil was the work of Evnissyen, he sent a message to Matholwch explaining that it would be difficult for him to punish his half-brother, but he also apologised and sent peace offerings, including replacements for all Mathowlch’s horses, a silver rod and gold plate. So Matholwch relented and returned to the feasting, but Bran, seeing that there was now a certain coldness between them, decided to offer yet more. He gave him a magical cauldron. The magic of it was that if Matholwch were to lose a man in battle, then he had only to throw him in the cauldron in the evening and then in a little while he would find that warrior revived and fully recovered, save only that he would no longer be able to speak. Matholwch joyfully accepted the cauldron.
The following morning Mathowlch and Branwen set sail for Ireland where there was much rejoicing at their arrival and at first Branwen was much honoured and received many gifts from the King’s subjects and she bore Mathowlch a son who was called Gwern. But slowly word spread throughout Ireland about how their King had been insulted by Evnissyen and there was a clamour among the Irish for revenge. So Branwen was sent down to the kitchen to cook for the court and each morning when the butcher came to deliver the meat he boxed her ears. The King told his men to prevent any ships passing between Ireland and Wales, lest Bran should hear what had happened to his sister, but Branwen captured a starling and taught it to speak, so that it might report to the King of the Island of Britain how she was being punished for the wrongs done by her brother, Evnissyen.
Eventually Bran hears of this and summons his troops. The troops go into ships and set sail for Ireland. Since there is no ship large enough for Bran, he walks across the Irish Sea. When Anthony contemplates the size of his half-brother, he realises what a wild, mad story he is in. Though Jacquetta had called Bran a giant, Anthony had not previously grasped the scale of him. Although Anthony finds himself to be very tall, he is of more normal stature and he has no difficulty in finding a ship that will accommodate him. There are so many ships that it is like a forest crossing the water and they follow what looks like a mountain parting the waters, though it is Bran. Anthony on his ship also marvels at the strange shapes of the arms and armour carried by Bran’s men and the primitive look of the ships’ rigging. Hitherto he had not understood that everything looked different in older times and that men dressed and armed themselves in quite a different fashion from his own age. He looks forward to the coming battle, even though the thing in his head is praying to God that there will be no battle, but the prayers are useless for there is no one God presiding over this story, but many warring spirits.
When Matholwch sees the size of the army that is coming to Ireland he realises that he has no choice but to submit and he sends Branwen to plead for mercy from her brother. Now Mathowlch has become Bran’s liegeman, he promises to build Bran a house that is large enough to accommodate him. The vast house is soon built and it is inside this house that the feast of reconciliation is to be held. But Anthony, who would have preferred a battle, is the first to enter and gazes angrily around him and when he sees sacks hanging on every wall he asks what is in them. ‘Flour’ is the answer he gets. Then he sees one of the sacks move and he realises that Matholwch is as treacherous and mad as he is himself and that an ambush has been planned. So he goes up to the sack in which he had seen movement and fumbles about until he feels the head of the warrior whereupon he squeezes until his fingers enter the man’s brain. So he goes from bag to bag. Every time he is told that the sack contains flour and each time he finds the warrior’s skull and squeezes it until the man is dead. Anthony glories in the strength of his hands.
Is not this the moment for him to leave the story since it is going so well? By now the villainous business with the horses has been forgotten and at this point he is presented as a cunning man and a hero. ‘Leave now.’ That is what the timid voice in his head is whispering. The whisperer is desperate for the story to be left unfinished. The whisperer can see that bad things are coming. ‘Why is your mother telling a story in which so much blood will be shed?’ But Anthony cannot muster the will to drop out of her narrative, for though he senses that dark and terrible things are about to happen in this story, he has a presentiment that dark and terrible things will also happen in the reality from which he has briefly escaped and which he is trying to forget about. In reality something horrible will happen in the Tower and he will be responsible. So it seems better to stay safe inside the story, for after all it is only a story. A story is meaningless without its end, and besides, no real people die in stories. It is a decision that he will come to regret.
By now Bran and his men have entered the house. Branwen, seeing her half-brother in the house, sends little Gwern toddling towards him. Gwern is such a pretty, friendly child that Bran’s heart melts. Gwern is now to become King of Ireland under Branwen’s regency and that will be the end of it. But Anthony does not care for any son of Matholwch, nor does he want the story to end so smugly, after which he would have to return to London and the gloom of the White Tower. So he snatches up the pretty little child and thrusts him headfirst into the fire and then Anthony stands with his back to the fire daring anyone to try and rescue the baby, and since he has a fiercesome reputation as a fighter, no one dares. His sister Branwen wants to throw herself in after her baby, but others hold her back.
Now a battle breaks out inside and outside the house. It is at this point that James Butler, the Earl of Wiltshire, who has fled from so many battles, finds that he dare not stay for this one either and so, with smoke coming out through the nostrils, he departs from Anthony’s head. But Anthony, exultant in his newfound evil and with a clear head at last, loves a battle. After a while though he realises that Bran and he are making little headway against Matholwch’s forces. This is because whenever one of the enemy is killed Matholwch has the corpse put in the cauldron and in a very short time the man emerges alive again, but dumb. So Anthony decides to impersonate a dead Iris
hman (which is not a difficult thing to do). Whereupon he is carried over to the vast cauldron and dropped inside it. Once inside he sets to kicking the cauldron to pieces so that its magic will never work again. This labour is hard and at the very moment he succeeds his heart bursts.
Since Evnissyen is now dead, Anthony can no longer be part of the story and he finds himself back in the White Tower where he listens to Jacquetta finish the tale and that is soon done. Despite Evnissyen’s heroic sacrifice the British are defeated and only seven men return with Bran to Wales. Bran, who has been wounded in the foot with a poison dart, is in such pain that he asks them to cut off his head which they do. Back in Wales, Branwen laments and dies of a broken heart. Anthony is only listening with half an ear. He feels that he has been away for years, yet this cannot be so. Also he is thinking that he, like Evnissyen, has a sister who is married to a King and he wonders what the message of the story of Bran and Branwen might be. Anthony is accustomed to regard himself as the central character in his own story. But Evnissyen was only a supporting character in the story of Bran and Branwen. So is Anthony to become merely a supporting character in the story of Edward and Elizabeth?