by Tom Davies
** Update ends, for the benefit of those who have already read this. The rest of you, please read on :) **
I wrote this largely because I'm hugely interested in mythology, history, and the power of stories. It came out of a series of conversations I had with a friend in the early part of 2009 concerning The Welsh Triads, and specifically the tales of Bran the Blessed, and Gwydion. I started reading about the history of Wales, and all of a sudden this came tearing out of my head and onto the computer screen.
Some of this story is true, although I have taken some (maybe many) liberties with history, and perhaps with the language, too. I really did run up Snowdon in 2000, and I did very nearly pitch headfirst down a large hole in the ground. Unfortunately the scene in the pub never happened, and I've never been anywhere near the Prince Llywelyn, but I have been to Beddgelert a couple of times. To me, the story is more important than the historical facts
Which brings us nicely to Gelert, the tragic hero of the first part of the story. The legend about his grave, and it’s purported current location, is almost certainly a nineteenth century tourist gimmick. Whether or not the Prince had a hunting hound named Gelert is unknown, but the tale itself has variations all over the world - in India the hound is replaced by a mongoose, the wolf by a snake, whilst in Malaysia, Gelert's part is played by a bear fighting a tiger. Either way, I first read the story as an eight year old, and it stuck in my mind. To me, the truth of the tale is secondary - at its most basic level it’s a damn good story, one guaranteed to pluck at the heartstrings. Like any good folklore it has a deeper meaning, but I'll let you figure that out for yourself.
The tale of the Bards and the conquest of Wales by Edward I of England is, again, a mixture of fact and fiction. I honestly don't know whether the bards were targeted specifically by the invading forces, or how much they could have done to reverse the invasion, but the tale is a part of popular folklore. It has inspired poetry - The Welsh Bards, by the Hungarian Janos Arany, 1857, and paintings - The Bard, John Martin, 1817, to give two examples. The story that the last bard hurled himself from Snowdon rather than submit to the English, is perhaps more symbolic than historically accurate. That said, this shouldn't demean the story at all. True or not, the symbolism of the act has ensured that the tale has never faded from history, and on some level, I suspect it appeals to all of us - Live free or die, the ultimate act of rebellion. I'm not sure where I got the idea that he shape-shifted and flew away, perhaps someone told me, or I dreamt it up, but if you dig around in the mythology you'll find plenty of references to changing form. For example, Taliesin is supposed to have changed form repeatedly whilst fleeing from Ceridwen.
Lastly, my thanks. Over the years, many people have encouraged me to write, given their support and advice, and in a few cases thrown up their hands in exasperation and screamed 'just shut up and do it!'
These are the main culprits:
Lynette Allen (Exasperated Mum), Harvey Allen (Stepdad supreme, the Guv'ner), Amy Duke (Frustrated Sister), Lizzie, Breck and Holly (Other Mother and Siblings), Louise Devlin (My first fan), Alexis Odgers (Thanks for the encouragement), Claire Broader (Told you we'd be friends), Andy Lockett (Proof-reader extraordinaire, thanks for helping me see life clearly), Andy French (Do Something, Mutley!), Edwyn Martin (Co-conspiritor and fellow beer fanatic), Chris and Marissa (for the bed, beer and late night pool sessions, and for putting up with my ranting) Jules Nisbet (Most Excellent Cousin), Martyn Lewis Moss (Just because you like what I write), Siarrad Townley, and Ross Cooper (Fantastic trainer, amazing bloke). Last, but by no means least, Sarah Hale, for making me read this out loud and being great company on random adventures.
Thank you all. Together you’ve given me the courage to take this out into the world.
Being a reader as well as a writer, I can't help picking up influences from others. Authors such as Neil Gaiman and John Connolly, and modern day Bards like Kevan Manwaring, have been hugely inspiring, and I am completely unashamed to plug their work here. They deserve it.