The Mabinogion (Oxford World's Classics)

by Sioned Davies

  ‘Geraint,’ said Gwalchmai, ‘come and see Arthur: he is your lord and your cousin.’

  ‘I will not,’ he replied. ‘I am in no state to go and see anyone.’

  Then, behold, one of the squires came after Gwalchmai to seek news. Gwalchmai sent him to tell Arthur that Geraint was there, wounded, and would not come to see him, and that it was pitiful to see the state he was in (and that without Geraint knowing, in a whisper between him and the squire).

  ‘And ask Arthur,’ he said, ‘to move his tent closer to the road, for he won’t come to see him of his own free will, and it won’t be easy to force him in his present state.’

  The squire came to Arthur, and told him that, and he moved his tent to the side of the road. Then the maiden’s heart rejoiced. Gwalchmai enticed Geraint along the road to where Arthur was encamped, and where his squires were pitching a tent at the side of the road.

  ‘Lord,’ said Geraint, ‘greetings.’

  ‘May God prosper you,’ said Arthur, ‘and who are you?’

  ‘This is Geraint,’ said Gwalchmai, ‘and by choice he would not have come to see you today.’

  ‘Well,’ said Arthur, ‘he is ill-advised.’

  Then Enid came to where Arthur was and greeted him.

  ‘May God prosper you,’ said Arthur. ‘Let someone help her dismount.’ One of the squires did so.

  ‘Oh! Enid,’ he said, ‘what sort of journey is this?’

  ‘I do not know, lord,’ she said, ‘except that I must travel any road he travels.’

  ‘Lord,’ said Geraint, ‘we shall be on our way, with your permission.’

  ‘Where will you go?’ said Arthur. ‘You cannot go now unless you want to go to your death.’

  ‘He would not allow me to invite him to stay,’ said Gwalchmai.

  ‘He will allow me,’ said Arthur, ‘and furthermore, he will not leave here until he is well.’

  ‘I would prefer it, lord,’ said Geraint, ‘if you would let me leave.’

  ‘No, I will not, between me and God,’ he replied.

  Then he had maidens called to attend on Enid and take her to Gwenhwyfar’s tent. Gwenhwyfar and all the ladies were glad to see her, and her riding-dress was taken off and replaced by another. Arthur called on Cadyriaith and asked him to erect a tent for Geraint and his physicians, and made him responsible for ensuring that there was plenty of everything as he had been asked. Cadyriaith did everything that was requested of him, and brought Morgan Tud and his apprentices to Geraint. And Arthur and his host stayed there almost a month nursing Geraint.

  When Geraint thought his flesh was whole, he came to Arthur and asked for permission to leave.

  ‘I do not know if you are fully recovered yet.’

  ‘I am, truly, lord,’ said Geraint.

  ‘It is not you I will believe on that subject, but the physicians who tended you.’ And he summoned the physicians to him and asked them whether it was true.

  ‘It is true,’ said Morgan Tud.

  The next day Arthur allowed him to leave, and Geraint set out to complete his journey. And Arthur left there that same day.

  Geraint told Enid to ride ahead and keep her distance as she had done before. And she went on, and followed the highroad. As they were thus they heard, close to them, the loudest scream in the world.

  ‘Stay here,’ he said, ‘and wait. And I’ll go and find out the explanation for the scream.’

  ‘I will,’ she said.

  He went, and came to a clearing near the road. And in the clearing he could see two horses, one with a man’s saddle and the other with a woman’s saddle, and a knight in his armour, dead; and standing over the knight he saw a young, newly weddded woman in her riding-clothes, shrieking.*

  ‘Lady,’ said Geraint, ‘what has happened to you?’

  ‘I was travelling here with the man I loved best, and suddenly three giants came up to us, and without regard for any justice in the world they killed him.’

  ‘Which way did they go?’ said Geraint.

  ‘That way, along the highroad,’ she said. He went to Enid.

  ‘Go to the lady who is down there,’ he said, ‘and wait for me—I shall return there.’ She was sad that he had ordered her to do that, but even so she went to the maiden, and it was dreadful to hear her. And Enid was sure that Geraint would never return.

  He went after the giants and caught up with them. And each one of them was larger than three men, and there was a huge club on the shoulder of each one. Geraint charged at one of them and stabbed him with a spear through his entrails; and he pulled his spear out of him and stabbed another of them too. But the third turned on him, and struck him with a club so that his shield splits until his shoulder stops the blow, and all his wounds open, and all his blood is pouring out. With that, Geraint drew a sword and attacked him and struck him a severe-sharp, pitiless, fierce-furious blow on the top of his head, so that his head splits, and his neck as far as the shoulders, and so that he fell dead. And he left them dead like that and came to where Enid was. And when he saw Enid he fell from his horse to the ground as if dead. Enid gave a terrible, piercing, heart-rending scream, and came and stood over him where he had fallen.

  Suddenly, behold, coming in answer to the scream, Earl Limwris* and a retinue that was with him, who were travelling the road. And because of the scream they turned off the road. Then the earl said to Enid, ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘what has happened to you?’

  ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘the man that I loved best, and will always love, has been killed.’

  ‘What happened to you?’ he said to the other.

  ‘What killed them?’ he said.

  ‘The giants killed the man I loved best,’ she said. ‘And the other knight went after them,’ she said, ‘and as you can see, he came away from them losing blood beyond measure. And I think it likely,’ she said, ‘that he did not leave without killing either some or all of them.’ The earl saw to it that the knight who had been left dead was buried. But he thought that there was still some life in Geraint, and had him brought with him in the hollow of his shield and on a stretcher, to see whether he would live.

  The two maidens came to the court. After they had come to court, Geraint was placed just as he was, on the stretcher, on top of a table in the hall. They all took off their outdoor clothes. The earl told Enid to change and put on another dress.

  ‘I will not, between me and God,’ she said.

  ‘Lady,’ he replied, ‘don’t be so sad.’

  ‘It will be very difficult to persuade me on that matter,’ she said.

  ‘I am telling you’, he replied, ‘that there is no need for you to be sad, whatever the fate of the knight over there, whether he lives or dies. I have a good earldom; you shall have it in your possession, together with me,’ he said. ‘And now be happy and contented.’

  ‘I shall never be happy, by my confession to God,’ she said, ‘as long as I live.’

  ‘Come and eat,’ he said.

  ‘I will not, between me and God,’ she said.

  ‘You will, between me and God.’ And he dragged her against her will to the table and ordered her several times to eat.

  ‘I will not eat, by my confession to God,’ she said, ‘until the man who is on the stretcher over there eats.’

  ‘You cannot make that happen,’ said the earl. ‘The man over there is all but dead.’

  ‘I will prove that it is possible,’ she said.

  He offered her a goblet full of wine.

  ‘Drink this goblet,’ he replied, ‘and you will change your mind.’

  ‘Shame on me,’ she said, ‘if I drink anything until he drinks too.’

  ‘Well and good,’ said the earl. ‘I am no better being kind towards you than being unkind.’

  And he gave her a clout on the ear. She gave a loud, sharp-piercing scream and lamented far more then than before, and she thought to herself that if Geraint were alive she would not be clouted like that. Then Geraint regained consciousness at the
echoing of her scream, and sat up, and found his sword in the hollow of his shield, and rushed to where the earl was and struck him an eager-sharp, venomous-hard, strong and brave blow on top of his head, so that it split and so that the table stopped the sword. Everyone then left the tables and fled outside. And it was not the living man they feared most but the sight of the dead man rising up to kill them. Then Geraint looked at Enid, and he felt sorrowful on two accounts—first on seeing how Enid had lost her colour and appearance, and secondly on realizing then that she was in the right.

  ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘do you know where our horses are?’

  ‘I know, lord, where yours went,’ she said, ‘but I don’t know where the other went. Your horse went to the building over there.’ He went into the building and led out his horse, and mounted it, and lifted Enid up from the ground and placed her between himself and the saddle-bow, and went on his way.

  As they were travelling like this between two hedges, and night overcoming day, behold, they could see between them and the horizon spear-shafts following them, and they could hear the clatter of horses and the clamour of men.

  ‘I hear someone coming after us,’ he said, ‘and I’ll put you on the other side of the hedge.’

  He did so. Then, behold, a knight rushed up to him, couching his spear. When she saw that she said, ‘Lord,’ she said, ‘what praise will you receive for killing a dead man, whoever you are?’

  ‘Oh, God,’ he replied, ‘is this Geraint?’

  ‘It is, between me and God. And who are you?’

  ‘I am Y Brenin Bychan,’ he replied, ‘coming to help you after hearing that you were in trouble. And had you taken my advice, the difficulties you have suffered would not have happened.’

  ‘Nothing can be done against the will of God,’ said Geraint.

  ‘Much good comes from sound advice,’ he replied. ‘At all events,’ said Y Brenin Bychan, ‘I have good advice for you now: come with me to the court of my brother-in-law which is nearby, to receive the best medical treatment in the kingdom.’

  ‘We will come, gladly,’ said Geraint.

  Enid was placed on the horse of one of Y Brenin Bychan’s squires, and they made their way to the baron’s court, and were given a welcome there, and were cared for and waited upon. The next morning physicians were sent for. And the physicians were found, and they arrived almost immediately, and Geraint was treated until he was completely well. While he was being treated, Y Brenin Bychan had Geraint’s armour repaired so that it was as good as new. And they stayed there for a fortnight and a month.

  Then Y Brenin Bychan said to Geraint, ‘We shall go to my court now to rest and relax.’

  ‘If you agree,’ said Geraint, ‘we shall travel one day more, and then return.’

  ‘Gladly,’ said Y Brenin Bychan. ‘Travel on.’

  They travelled early in the morning, and Enid travelled with them that day, happier and more contented than ever. And they came to a highroad and could see it branching in two. Along one of these roads they could see a man on foot coming to meet them. Gwiffred asked him where he was coming from.

  ‘I’m returning from the country where I was doing business.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Geraint, ‘which of these two roads is it best for me to travel?’

  ‘It is best for you to travel that one,’ he said. ‘If you go down this one, you’ll never come back. Down there’, he said, ‘is a hedge of mist, and within it there are enchanted games. And no man who has gone there has ever come back. And Earl Owain’s court is there, and he allows no one to take lodging in the town except those who stay with him at his court.’

  ‘Between me and God,’ said Geraint, ‘we shall take the lower road.’

  They followed the road until they reached the town. They took lodgings in what they considered the fairest and most desirable place in the town. And as they were thus, behold, a young man came to them and greeted them.

  ‘May God prosper you,’ they said.

  ‘Good sirs,’ he said, ‘what are you planning to do here?’

  ‘We want to take lodging and stay here tonight,’ they said.

  ‘It is not the custom for the man who owns the town to allow anyone of gentle birth to take lodging here except those who stay with him in his own court: come to the court.’

  ‘We will, gladly,’ said Geraint. They went with the squire. And they were made welcome at the court, and the earl came to the hall to meet them, and had the tables prepared. And they washed, and went to sit down. This is how they sat: Geraint on one side of the earl, and Enid on the other; next to Enid, Y Brenin Bychan; then the countess next to Geraint; everyone after that as befitted them.

  Then Geraint thought about the game, and presumed that he would not be allowed to go to the game. And he stopped eating because of that. The earl looked at him and pondered, and presumed that it was because of not going to the game that Geraint was not eating; and he was sorry that he had ever created those games, if only so as not to lose a lad as good as Geraint. And if Geraint had asked him to call off that game, he would have called it off gladly for ever. Then the earl said to Geraint, ‘What are you thinking of, lord, as you are not eating? If you are worried about going to the game, you will not have to go, and no one shall ever go again, out of respect for you.’

  ‘May God repay you,’ said Geraint, ‘but I want nothing except to go to the game, and to be shown the way there.’

  ‘If that is what you would like most, you shall have it gladly.’

  ‘Indeed, more than anything,’ he replied.

  They ate, and received generous service and numerous dishes and great quantities of drink. When they had finished eating, they got up, and Geraint called for his horse and his armour, and armed himself and his horse. And all the people came until they were close to the hedge. And no lower was the top of the hedge they could see than the highest point they could see in the sky. And on every stake they could see in the hedge there was a man’s head, except for two stakes.* And there were a great many stakes within the hedge and through it.

  Then Y Brenin Bychan said, ‘Is any one allowed to accompany the nobleman?’

  ‘No,’ said Earl Owain.

  ‘In which direction does one go from here?’ said Geraint.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Owain, ‘but go in the direction you think easiest.’

  Fearless, and without hesitation, Geraint set off into the mist. When he emerged from the mist, he came to a great orchard. He could see a clearing in the orchard, and a pavilion of brocaded silk with a red canopy in the clearing, and he saw that the entrance to the pavilion was open. And there was an apple-tree facing the entrance to the pavilion, and on a branch of the apple-tree was a large hunting-horn. Then he dismounted and entered the pavilion. There was no one inside the pavilion except a single maiden, sitting in a golden chair, and an empty chair facing her. Geraint sat in the empty chair.

  ‘Lord,’ said the maiden, ‘I advise you not to sit in that chair.’

  ‘Why?’ said Geraint.

  ‘The man who owns that chair has never allowed anyone else to sit in his chair.’

  ‘I do not care if he doesn’t like anyone to sit in his chair,’ said Geraint.

  Suddenly they could hear a great commotion near the pavilion. Geraint looked to see what was the cause of the commotion. He could see a knight outside on a charger, wide-nostrilled, high-spirited, impatient, big-boned, and a mantle in two halves covering him and his horse, and plenty of armour under that.

  ‘Tell me, lord,’ he said to Geraint, ‘who asked you to sit there?’

  ‘I myself,’ he answered.

  ‘It was wrong of you to shame and insult me as much as that; get up from there to make amends for you own foolishness.’

  Geraint got up, and immediately they began to fight. They broke one set of lances, and broke the second set, and broke the third set, and each one dealt the other blows, hard and hurtful, fast and furious. Eventually Geraint became angry, and he spurred on h
is horse and rushed at him, and struck him in the strongest part of his shield so that it splits, and the head of his spear is in his armour, and all the saddle-girths break, and he himself is thrown over his horse’s crupper the length of Geraint’s spear and the length of his arm head-first to the ground. And quickly Geraint draws his sword, intending to cut off his head.

  ‘Oh, lord,’ he said, ‘your mercy, and you shall have whatever you want.’

  ‘I want only that this game is gone from here for ever,’ he replied, ‘together with the hedge of mist, and the magic and enchantment which have existed.’

  ‘You shall have that gladly, lord.’

  ‘Then make the mist disappear from here,’ he said.

  ‘Blow that horn,’ he said, ‘and the moment you sound it, the mist will disappear. And until a knight who had overthrown me sounded it, the mist would never disappear from here.’

  Enid was sad and anxious where she was, worrying about Geraint. Then Geraint came and blew the horn; and the moment he sounded a single blast on it the mist disappeared, and the crowd gathered together and everyone was reconciled with each other. That night the earl invited Geraint and Y Brenin Bychan to stay. The next morning they parted, and Geraint returned to his own kingdom. He ruled it successfully from then on, he and his prowess and bravery continuing, with praise and admiration for him and for Enid ever after.

  How Culhwch Won Olwen

  CILYDD son of Celyddon Wledig* wanted a wife as well born as himself. The woman he wanted was Goleuddydd daughter of Anlawdd Wledig. After he had slept with her the country went to prayer to see whether they might have an heir. And they had a son through the country’s prayers. And from the hour she became pregnant she went mad, and did not go near any dwelling. When her time came, her senses returned to her. This happened in a place where a swineherd was tending a herd of pigs. And out of fear of the pigs the queen gave birth. And the swineherd took the boy until he came to court. And the boy was baptized, and was named Culhwch because he was found in a pig-run.* But the boy was of noble descent, he was a cousin to Arthur. And the boy was placed with foster-parents.*