by Matt Clayton
Gradlon and his courtiers gratefully accepted Corentin's invitation. First Corentin spread a beautiful white cloth on the clean, soft grass in front of his hut for Gradlon to sit upon. Then he went into his hut and fetched out a large basket and a large flagon. While some of the courtiers tended to the horses and hounds, others followed Corentin to the well, where first he filled the flagon with clear water. Then he plunged his hand into the well and brought out a little fish. He cut the fish in half with a knife he carried on his belt. One half of the fish he put into the basket, while the other he tossed back into the well. The courtiers looked where the piece had fallen into the well and were amazed to see that the little fish once again was whole.
Corentin returned to the place where Gradlon was sitting, carrying the flagon and the basket. When he put these down upon the white cloth, the basket immediately became full of all the choicest foods, and the flagon with the best red wine. Gradlon and his courtiers feasted on all the good things that came from the basket. There was plenty for all, and enough to satisfy the hounds besides. The king pronounced the wine the finest he had ever tasted and, what was more, no matter how much the companions and their host drank, the flagon was always full, and no one became drunk.
During the meal, Corentin and Gradlon conversed together. Corentin told the king and his courtiers of the Gospels and the ways of the Christian faith, answering every question that was put to him. Gradlon found Corentin to be a wise and learned man. He listened carefully and well to everything the hermit had to say. By the end of the meal, Gradlon and his courtiers had decided to become Christians, and Corentin baptized them with water from the well.
Soon it was time for Gradlon and his companions to depart. "Come with me back to Quimper," the king said to Corentin. "Your wisdom and teachings are sorely needed there."
At first Corentin was reluctant, because he loved his little hermitage in the woods. But then he decided to go with the king, for he realized there was much work for him to do in bringing the Gospel to the people of Cornouaille. Under Corentin's guidance, many of the king's subjects converted to Christianity, and churches were built all across Quimper.
Gradlon was well pleased with the spread of the new faith, as were his courtiers and many of his subjects, and especially Corentin, who had not expected to meet with such success. Dahut, however, became unhappy and withdrawn. She kept to her chamber, and often seemed to be weeping. When she was not in her chamber, she was at the top of the westernmost tower of the palace, where she would sit looking out in the direction of the sea.
One day Gradlon noticed how sickly Dahut looked. "My daughter," he said, "will you not tell me what it is that troubles you so?"
Dahut replied, "Quimper is no longer hospitable to me. There are churches everywhere now. The churches are full of priests and monks who can do nothing but chant without ceasing, even when they go about in the streets. The bells that rang for the old festivals no longer sound, and instead we hear bells for the new faith. The old gods have been forsaken. Joy is gone from the world."
"What can I do to ease your pain?" said Gradlon.
"Build for me a city by the sea," said Dahut, "for I feel it always calling to me. I think I would be happy again if I could live where I could see the waves and feel their spray, and smell the salt of the water."
Gradlon agreed that it should be done as Dahut asked. He caused a great city of stone to be built on the coast, with elegant houses whose walls were paneled with cedar and with real glass panes in the windows. Gradlon also ordered a new palace to be built there, so that betimes he could join his daughter when his duties in Quimper permitted.
When the city was finished, it was given the name of Ys. The City of Ys prospered, for it was soon filled with merchants and artisans who traded far and wide, and fishermen who plied the waters of the bay to feed the inhabitants. But for all its splendor, the City of Ys contained not a single church of the new faith.
Dahut was delighted with the new city. Within a few days of living there, her former health and good humor returned. Gradlon himself soon found that living there was so pleasant that he moved his court to Ys, and there he dwelled in the new palace with Dahut, leaving Corentin to administer Quimper on his behalf as Bishop of Cornouaille.
Word that there was no church in Ys soon came to the ears of Corentin, who wrote to the king asking why he had neglected to honor the Lord with even one house of worship. Just as Gradlon was reading Corentin's letter, Dahut came to her father to discuss an important matter. She had looked out over the city, and saw that it needed a seawall to protect it from flooding if ever there were a great storm. But when she saw Corentin's letter and heard of his demand that Gradlon build a church, she fell into a rage.
"You built Ys so that I might have a place without churches and priests," Dahut said. "And now I see I shall never be free of them."
Dahut was convinced that her father would do Corentin's bidding first, and leave the seawall until later, so she decided to take matters into her own hands. That night she stole away to the beach and took a small sailboat. She sailed out to the Isle of Sein, a mysterious place off the coast from which, it was said, visitors never returned. Not only was the Isle dangerous to approach because of its many reefs and submerged rocks: also it was inhabited by nine druidesses who still practiced the old faith. It was said that these druidesses were able to change their shapes at will, and that they were served by Korrigans, a race of faerie beings who had not yet fallen victim to the new faith.
When Dahut neared the Isle, she furled the sail and bent her back to the oars. She navigated the rocks and the reefs with skill, and when the time was right, jumped out of her little boat and pulled it up onto the sand. Dahut stood on the beach for a long moment, trying to decide which way to go, when she heard the sound of women chanting. She went in the direction of the sound, which was coming from a stand of oak trees toward the center of the island. When she got closer, she saw that a fire was burning in a clearing, and around the fire were the nine druidesses, singing magical songs of the old faith. The women noticed Dahut standing there, and stopped their song.
Dahut said to them, "I am Dahut, daughter of Gradlon, king of Cornouaille. I am a follower of the old faith, and I have come to ask for your help."
The eldest woman stepped forward and said, "You are most welcome, Dahut daughter of Gradlon, and daughter of the old faith. We here are but the few who remain who still know the old ways, but what we can do to serve you we will do."
Dahut explained to them how Gradlon had built Ys for her without any Christian churches, and how he now planned to change that because of the demand of Corentin. She also told them that Ys needed a seawall, for it was built very close to the coast and was in danger of flooding, but that Gradlon planned to build the church first and thus leave the city unprotected from the sea while that was being done.
The druidesses listened carefully to Dahut's request, and agreed to help her. Using their magic, they called to them the Korrigans. The women asked the Korrigans to go to Ys and build the seawall before the night was done, but also to build a grand new palace for Dahut to live in, one that would be taller and more beautiful than any church ever could be. The Korrigans said that they would gladly build the wall and the palace for a daughter of the old faith, and then they vanished.
Dahut thanked the women for their help. Then she went back to her boat and returned to Ys. As she came within sight of the city, she saw that the seawall and new palace had already been finished. They were made out of blocks of white stone perfectly carved and polished. They reflected the moonlight in such a way that they looked as though they were glowing with a light of their own. In the seawall was a massive sluice gate, which could be controlled with a set of silver keys. Once again Dahut furled the sail of her boat and rowed toward shore. When she went through the open gate, she saw that the keys were waiting for her there in the locks, looped with a silver chain. Steadying her boat against the inside of the seawall, Dahut turned the k
eys, closing the sluice gate. She took the keys, and put the chain around her neck.
In the morning, Gradlon went looking for his daughter and found her in the new palace. He marveled at the new seawall and the grandeur of Dahut's new home. Gradlon asked her many times how the wall and the palace had sprung up overnight, but Dahut refused to answer him, although she gave him the keys to the sluice gate, asking him to always keep them safe.
After the seawall and the new palace were built, people came from far and wide to see the beautiful City of Ys. The city prospered greatly with new trade, and became even wealthier than it had been before. The people wore the finest clothes. They ate and drank only the choicest foods and wines. On festival days they danced the most fashionable dances, to music played by the best musicians. Soon they began to forget to attend Mass, instead preferring to spend their Sundays and holy days in feasting and revelry, until the beautiful church Gradlon had built fell into disrepair.
But above all its other charms, the City of Ys was home to the most beautiful woman in the world, Dahut, daughter of Gradlon, king of Cornouaille. Young men from all over France came to Ys in hopes of a glimpse of Dahut, and with the ambition of one day becoming her lover. Dahut encouraged this, taking one young man after another into her palace, where she would dally with them for a time, then kill them and cast their bodies into the sea when she tired of them.
Rumors began to spring up about the young men who went into the palace but never came out again. Gradlon heard these rumors, but he brushed them aside. Dahut was his beloved daughter. Surely such vile things were being said only out of jealousy of her beauty and her achievements. After all, the new prosperity of the City of Ys was entirely to her credit.
It did not take long for tales about the City of Ys and its inhabitants to reach Bishop Corentin in Quimper. Horrified by the lives of luxury the people of Ys were leading, and by their neglect of the sacred rites of the new faith, Corentin sent for the Abbot of Landevennec, a wise and humble man named Guenole. Corentin asked Guenole to go to Ys, to see what might be done to turn the people from their evil ways so that they might embrace the true faith once again.
Guenole went to Ys. He saw the people in their fine clothes dining at their great banquets. He saw the poor state of the church, its floor covered in dust so thick that small clouds of it puffed into the air with every step he took. He knew there was no time to waste, so he stood outside the church and began to preach to the people of Ys as they strode by on their daily business. Some of them stopped to listen for a little while, but did not linger, for they did not care about what Guenole had to say. Others heckled him, and still others pelted him with stale vegetables, mocking him for his humble demeanor and plain monk's habit, and for daring to tell them to reform their lives. When Abbot Guenole refused to stop preaching, the people of Ys became angry, and they chased him out of the city, threatening to kill him if he ever dared return.
Some days after the departure of Guenole, a new suitor came to Ys seeking an audience with Dahut. The suitor was tall and well built, with dark hair and dark eyes, and he rode a black horse. He wore a suit of red cloth and a heavy red cloak lined with red silk. Word came to Dahut about this handsome stranger newly arrived in the city, one more fascinating than all the rest. At first Dahut paid this no mind, for there always seemed to be no end to the stream of good-looking young men seeking her favor. But one day Dahut's maid pointed the stranger out to her, and Dahut agreed that he was unusually compelling.
Having disposed of her most recent lover the previous night, Dahut decided to hold a banquet for her suitors so that she might choose a new one to toy with, but especially that she might meet this latest arrival who was dressed all in red. At the banquet, Dahut behaved graciously to all the young men who thronged around her. She danced with all of them, and let them bring her cakes and wine. But the one who most held her attention was the stranger in red. Although he returned Dahut's courtesy, he remained aloof and did not strain himself to come to her notice. This intrigued her all the more, so at the end of the evening, she invited him up to her private chamber.
When they arrived at her chamber, Dahut invited the stranger to make love to her, but he refused.
"Why do you refuse me this thing?" said Dahut. "A strange young man you surely must be, to scorn the favors of a beautiful young woman."
"I refuse them only because you must first do a favor for me," he replied.
"You have but to name it," said Dahut.
"Give me the keys to the sluice gate," said the stranger.
"I do not have them," said Dahut. "They are in the keeping of King Gradlon."
"Then you must go and get them," said the stranger, "for you will not have what you desire of me until I have those keys in my possession."
Dahut told the stranger to wait, and went out into the corridor. She could hear the wind rising outside, as it blew and moaned around the walls of the castle. Paying the storm no mind, Dahut crept into the chamber of the king, where he lay asleep with the keys around his neck on their silver chain. Carefully, Dahut removed the keys without waking Gradlon, and stole back to where the stranger awaited her. She gave the keys to the stranger, but instead of embracing her, he strode out of the chamber and down to the seawall, where he put the keys in the locks and opened the sluice gate. Storm-driven water soon flooded into the city.
Hearing the cries of Dahut, Gradlon awoke. He went to his daughter, then ran with her down to the stables. There they found Guenole had returned, and was waiting with two horses already saddled. The men mounted, and Gradlon pulled Dahut up behind him. They thundered through the city, the dark water swirling ever higher around the horse's hooves. But no matter how fast the king's horse galloped, it could not outrun the rising tide of the sea; the animal seemed to be hindered by a great weight.
Suddenly, the king heard the voice of Guenole calling to him over the roar of the wind and the waves:
"Throw the demon off your mount, O King! Throw her into the sea where she belongs!"
Gradlon looked behind him, but saw no demon, only his beloved daughter. His horse was tiring rapidly, and now the water was up to its hocks.
"Throw the demon off!" cried Guenole.
But Gradlon could not think what the monk meant.
"It is Dahut that holds back your mount!" said Guenole. "It is she who gave the keys to the sluice gate to her demon suitor. If you do not push her off, you will perish along with the rest of the City of Ys, for it is doomed."
Still Gradlon hesitated, but Guenole spurred his mount to run alongside the king's. Taking his staff, the monk pushed Dahut off the king's horse and into the water, where she slipped under the waves, and was never seen again. As soon as she was gone, the storm began to subside, and Gradlon's horse was able to gallop strongly again.
Gradlon and Guenole rode hard, making for higher ground. When they reached a place they thought might be safe, they turned and looked back at the City of Ys, only to see its buildings begin to crumble and fall. Then, with a great roar and rush of spray, the whole of the city sank into the sea.
There the City of Ys lies still, ruined and silent beneath the rolling waves, but on moonlit nights the faint sound of its drowned bells still can be heard ringing. And some say that at times a voice also can be heard singing, and that a young woman with skin like ivory and dark hair that flows like a river can be seen swimming gracefully under the water, ever searching for her lost palace.
The Romance of Tristan and Iseult
There are no surviving ancient Cornish myths, but the medieval story of Tristan and Iseult, which is set in Cornwall, has an analogue in "The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne," an Irish story about the forbidden love between a young warrior and the bride of the king the warrior serves.
It is important to note that the word "romance" here refers not to a type of love but to a medieval literary genre known in Old French as the roman, which often although not always involves characters engaged in amour courtois, or "courtly love,"
which is where we get many of our modern notions about romantic love. A courtly love relationship was between an unmarried knight and a lady who was married to someone else, usually the knight's lord; therefore the knight and lady were expected to remain chaste despite their feelings for one another.
Many medieval variants of the story of Tristan and Iseult survive. The retelling below is based on the modern edition by Joseph Bernier, which was compiled from French sources.
Once there was a king in Cornwall, named Mark, and he was beset by many enemies who were trying to wrest his kingdom from him. Word of this came to Mark's friend, Rivalen, who himself was king of Lyonesse over the sea in France. Rivalen brought his army to Cornwall to help Mark. Together the two kings fought bravely alongside their soldiers, and when the war was over, Mark was victorious. In gratitude for Rivalen's courage and help, Mark gave him his sister Blanchefleur to be his wife, and Rivalen loved her well.
Blanchefleur soon was with child, but Rivalen did not live to see him born, for the king was caught in an ambush laid by Duke Morgan, who had attacked the kingdom of Lyonesse and was laying it waste. When she was told that her husband was slain, the Lady Blanchefleur gave herself up to grief, waiting only for the time when her child might be born. She soon was delivered of a fine baby boy, to whom she said, "In sorrow I have borne you, in sorrow I leave you: therefore let your name be Tristan, for that is 'child of sorrow.'" And then Blanchefleur lay back on her pillows and breathed her last.
Tristan was taken in to foster by Rivalen's marshal, Rohalt, a good man who loved his master well and who wanted to protect Rivalen's heir from Duke Morgan. He raised Tristan as his own, bringing him up well in the ways of a nobleman's son. Soon Tristan had grown into a fine young man: none could match him for strength or skill or courtesy. By evil chance was Tristan taken by pirates when he went to the harbor to look at the wares brought in by merchants from a far-off land. They were not far out to sea when storm came up that threatened their ship. Thinking that it was their crime that had brought the storm upon them, the pirates put Tristan in a little boat and lowered it into the water. The storm immediately calmed, and the pirates sailed away. Tristan then was cast alone and friendless up onto the shores of Cornwall, where he soon fell in with some of the king's huntsmen. Tristan returned with them to Mark's court at Tintagel, where he offered himself in service to the king. Soon he became beloved of Mark and all the court, although he hid to them his parentage.