'Baroness. You have a son,' yelled the midwife and held the baby up by its legs. The child spluttered and began to cry. Its lungs were hearty. Hearing the sound, the baron ran to his wife's chambers.
'Keep out, my Lord. Our work is not yet done,' called the midwife.
'Do I have a son?' demanded the baron, through the closed door.
'Aye, you do my Lord,' replied the midwife, returning to her work. She saw a tiny leg and a head appearing. The second baby was twisted and needed help. The midwife took her knife and cut the baroness. The second baby was delivered. It was a boy. The little body was covered in blood and on its arm was the tiny red ribbon. The midwife did not see the ribbon as she wrapped the child in a towel.
The baron could contain himself no longer. He burst into the room.
'Well. Is it done?' he cried.
'It is my Lord. You have two fine sons,' replied the midwife and handed him the little bundles.
'Which is first born?' asked the baron as he gazed at the babies.
'The one with the red ribbon on his arm,' replied the midwife, content with her reply.
As the boys grew, no one, not even their mother, could tell them apart. They were identical in size and feature. To tell the difference the baroness sewed ribbons into the sleeves of one of her son's clothes. It was he that was to become the next Baron of Chirk.
The years passed and the old baron grew frail and weak. His sons grew strong and fit, competing in everything they did. They became clever and ambitious men but one was more ruthless than the other. As the old baron's health failed he took to his bed. Feeling his life slipping away, he sent for his sons. He turned to the eldest.
'You are first born and my rightful heir. When I am dead you will be Baron of Chirk,' he said.
'How can this be so father for we are twins?' said the second son.
'The ribbon on your brother's sleeve shows he was born before you. There cannot be two barons. You must leave and make your own way in the world,' said the baron, feebly.
The first son was pleased but his brother grew angry. This was unfair. Why should his brother get everything while he has to slink away with nothing but the clothes on his back? Slowly, a plan took shape in his head. The next morning the second son woke early, dressed in his brother's clothes and went to his father's rooms. The old baron was dozing as his son entered.
'My Lord. I must speak with you,' said the son, rousing his father. The baron stirred.
'We cannot send my brother away with nothing. He is your blood. You must change your will to provide for him,' said the son. The baron smiled at his son.
'I cannot change the will. It is the law. You are the first son. The title and my wealth will pass to you,' whispered the baron.
'Very well father,' said the son. 'I will obey your dying wish.' At that moment, the other son burst into the room.
'Why are you dressed in my clothes?' he demanded.
'They are my clothes. Look here is my ribbon,' replied the son that had woken the baron.
'Usurper. You have stolen my clothes,' cried the other. The argument grew loud and the baron's servant came, drawn by the raised voices. They separated the sons and held them. The baron lay back weary. He looked at his sons through misty eyes, dilated with death. He knew he was passing away. His time had come.
'You must decide my Lord. Which of us is your true heir,' shouted one of the sons. The baron beckoned his squire to come closer.
'Carry my bed to the gardens,' he whispered. The squire ordered the servants to lift the baron's bed and take it to the garden. They propped the dying man up with pillows. The sons stood by their father's bed.
'My sons, truly I do not know which of you is my heir but there can only be one. I cannot decide so you will race around the castle. The first to return and touch my bed will be the next baron,' said the old man softly. Without a word, the sons ran from the baron to the corner of the castle. One was just ahead as they turned the corner but his brother tripped him and he fell. The second son ran on but his brother recovered and chased after him. They pushed and shoved as they ran, both determined to win the fateful race. As they entered the garden, one brother pushed the other into a yew tree. The fallen son, seeing that the race was lost, snatched a sword from a nearby guard and with a mighty blow cut off his own hand. He seized the bloody hand and threw it towards the baron's bed where it landed and won him the race.
From that day the coat of arms of the Baron of Chirk has included a bloody red hand.
Table of Contents
Chapter 4?Dwynwen The Blessed
'Dwynwen deigr ariendegwch, Da y gwyr dy gor fflamgwyr fflwch.'
'Dwynwen your beauty is like a silver tear, your choir is ablaze with candlelight'.
From a 13th Century poem by Dafydd ap Gwilym
Dwynwen was a Princess, one of twenty-four children sired by King Brychan Brycheiniog in the 5th Century. She lived on the Island of Anglesey and was loved and cherished as a child. Dwynwen, which translates as 'To lead a white or blessed life,' grew to be a beautiful and clever young woman.
Her Father, King Brychan, enjoyed the good things of life and his palace was a merry place where dancing and feasting often continued far into the night. Many young men would visit the court of King Brychan eager to win the hand of the beautiful Princess. Dwynwen would flirt and tease her suitors with gay chatter. She would listen to their proud boasts of bravery and dance with them until her legs ached. But, when the feasting and dancing were over, she would quickly lose interest in each new admirer.
One day a messenger arrived at the castle.
'The King of Gwynedd is to visit you, My Lord. It is a great honour,' said the messenger.
'And so it is,' replied the King. 'Tell your master we shall have a royal banquet to celebrate his coming to my kingdom,' he added. Plans were made for the great day when the two Kings would feast together. The finest cattle were slaughtered, poultry plucked and suckling pigs prepared for roasting. Sweet fruits were gathered and fine cheeses matured. The King commanded that his best wines were fetched from the cellars. Beer was brewed and the great hall made ready. Tables were laden until they groaned with the weight of the fine delicacies.
The King of Gwynedd and his entourage were greeted with pomp and ceremony. The banquet began. The King of Gwynedd had a son with him; Prince Maelon, who some called Maelon Dafodrill. Prince Maelon saw Princess Dwynwen and admired her beauty. He heard her gay laughter and resolved, at once, that he would marry her. The Princess was quickly aware of his interest and toyed with his emotions. At first, she pretended to ignore his advances. Then, she encouraged him with broad smiles and direct gazes into his eyes. Maelon became a lovesick puppy as she teased him. They danced together and, seizing the moment, he spoke. He whispered as he held her.
'Dwynwen my Princess. I worship and love you like a goddess and I can feel your love burning for me. Shall I speak with your Father? Tell me you will be mine.' Princess Dwynwen stiffened in his arms.
'Do not tease me Prince Maelon. We cannot marry. You have only known me for a few hours. Let us enjoy the evening and have no talk of love or marriage,' she replied. The Prince refused to accept her answer and the following day he visited King Brychan.
'King Brychan, I wish to marry your daughter. We are in love and I ask you for her hand,' he said.
'But does she love you?' enquired the King.
'I am sure of it, My Lord. I saw the love in her eyes as we danced last night,' replied the Prince. Princess Dwynwen was summoned and the question put to her.
'Do you love Prince Maelon?' asked the King.
'I do not,' answered the defiant Princess.
'There is your answer. Tomorrow you shall return to your own kingdom,' said the King, turning to Prince Maelon. Bewildered and angry, the Prince withdrew but that night, his last chance to see Princess Dwynwen, he visited her in her chambers. True to her nature, she began to tease him once more and because they were alone Maelon responded to her flirting, like
a man. The next morning, the King of Gwynedd and his followers left. Prince Maelon had gone.
The young Princess felt ashamed and confused. She dare not tell her Father she had been raped: it would mean war. Dwynwen left the palace and wandered into the forest. She found a sunny glade with a small river where she lay down and fell asleep. As she slept, she dreamt that an angel appeared and asked why she was sad. In her dream, she replied that she hated Maelon and wanted him dead. She cried as she told the angel what the Prince had done. It was almost dark when she woke.
There was a great commotion when the Princess returned to the palace. News had come from Gwynedd; Prince Maelon had turned into a block of ice. Princess Dwynwen hurried to her chamber. Her heart was broken, for now she knew she loved the Prince. That night the Angel from her dream returned.
'I beg you to release Prince Maelon from his ice prison,' she cried.
'I cannot release your Prince but I grant you three wishes. Use them well,' replied the Angel.
'Release Prince Maelon and let him live a good and honest life,' whispered the Princes.
'What are your other wishes?' asked the Angel.
'I pray that God will watch over and protect all true lovers and my last wish is that, in penance for my vanity, I may never marry,' said the Princess.
'You have chosen your wishes well,' said the Angel and vanished.
Prince Maelon thawed completely, recovered from the ordeal and went on to live a good life. He married and raised a family. Princess Dwynwen left the palace and moved to a small island where she built a chapel. The Princess placed a golden statue in the chapel, kept lit with a hundred candles day and night. People travelled to the shrine in pilgrimage and to pay Princess Dwynwen to pray for their souls. Nearby, was a well where a strange eel lived. Women would come to ask Dwynwen if they had found true love. To answer their question, she sent them to the well where they threw bread on the water and covered it with their lover's handkerchief. If the surface remained smooth the love was true but when the love was false and the man a cheat, the eel would devour the bread in a flurry of anger.
The Princess never married and when she died, in 465 A.D. she was buried beneath the chapel she had built. Princess Dwynwen had paid for her vanity and lived a blessed life. She became the Welsh patron saint of lovers and her feast day is the 25th January. The chapel and the well are now in ruins but Llanddwyn, the island named after her, is still the perfect place to visit with your true love.
Table of Contents
Chapter 5?The Gwiber of Penmachno
One day a visitor came to Penmachno and called on Rhys Ddewain.
'Tell me about the Gwiber,' said Owain Ap Gruffydd. Rhys Ddewain was an old man. He studied his inquisitive caller. Why is this brash young man interested in the Gwiber, he wondered?
'It's a foul evil beast. Have nothing to do with it,' replied the old man.
'Tell me more of this evil beast,' demanded Owain.
'The Gwiber is a giant snake with wings. Its body is covered in slime and stinks of putrid death. It slithers on the land, can fly through the air and lurks in the river where it feeds on fish and unwary animals that stray near the water,' said the old man.
'Such a beast must be killed and that is what I have come to do,' said Owain Ap Gruffydd and drew his sword. The blade glinted in the sunlight.
'You are brave but foolish. Many have tried to rid us of the Gwiber but all have perished. Put up your sword and go home. You are no match for the Gwiber,' said the old man.
'Old man, you are weak and afraid but I am not. I will kill this snake,' said Owain.
'You are right. I am afraid of the Gwiber and rightly so. If you hunt the Gwiber, I tell you now, it will kill you,' said the old man.
'If you can see my future, old man, tell me. How will I die?' demanded Owain.
'The Gwiber will bite your neck and kill you,' replied the old man.
That night, as Owain tried to sleep he considered what Rhys Ddewain had foretold. If it was true he would indeed be foolish to hunt the Gwiber. As he tossed and turned he resolved to test the truth of the old man's prophecy. The following morning Owain dressed as a vagrant and, so disguised, called once more on Rhys Ddewain.
'They tell me old man that you can see the future,' said Owain.
'That is true,' replied the old man.
'Then pray tell me, when my time comes, how will I die?' asked Owain.
'Your death will be violent, painful and very soon. You will slip while you are out walking and the fall will break your neck,' replied Rhys Ddewain.
The following day Owain put on a millers apron, covered his face with flour and returned to the old man's house for a third time.
'Good morning Master Miller. What can I do for you?' asked the old man.
'Can you tell me the nature of my death?' asked Owain.
'Master Miller, I am sorry to tell you that your time is short and when your end comes it will be by drowning,' replied the old man.
Owain threw off the miller's apron and wiped the flour from his face.
'Rhys Ddewain, your prophecies are false,' cried Owain. 'You have predicted three different deaths for me,' he added.
'You will see. Time will tell,' was all the old man would say.
Convinced that the old man was lying, Owain, at once, resolved to find and kill the Gwiber. He collected his armour and sword and set off along the riverbank, below the village. As he went, he prodded the water and slashed the bushes with his sword.
'Come forward Gwiber and meet your end,' he yelled. A rush of wind tore along the valley and caught Owain by surprise. It was the Gwiber. The great serpent grappled with Owain. Its wings flapped furiously. Owain tried to lift his sword but the beast trapped his arm with its coils. A foul stench began to overwhelm Owain. He felt faint. His strength was slipping away as the snake began to crush him. Suddenly, the Gwiber bit deep into Owain's neck and blood ran down his chest. The beast gave a great roar and released Owain. Owain slipped on the slimy ground and fell. His head hit a large rock. There was a loud crack as his neck snapped. Owain's body continued downward into the river where he took his last breath and drowned.
The people of Penmachno found his body floating in the water later that day and carried it back to the old man's house.
'What should we do?' they cried.
'You must kill the Gwiber,' replied the old man. The men collected their bows and spears and set out to find the great snake. They searched the valley until they found the serpent sleeping by the river. A volley of arrows and spears woke the Gwiber, inflicting many wounds. The Gwiber rose up and tried to fly but its wings were torn and twisted. The animal writhed on the ground snarling and spitting at its attackers.
A second flight of arrows hit the beast and it howled in agony. Suddenly, the Gwiber slithered towards the villagers and, arrows spent, they backed away. They watched, with horror, as the evil snake gave one last roar and slid into the river where it vanished forever.
Look closely, as you walk along the riverbank at Penmachno, for some say that the Gwiber's eyes can still be seen looking up from the deepest pools. The place is now called Wibernant, which in English means 'The Valley of the Gwiber' and in the Welsh language today a gwiber is a viper or an adder.
Table of Contents
Chapter 6?The Demon of Cerrigydrudion
'Do you see it, over there in the window, a face?' asked the farmer. The innkeeper peered at the church and then he saw it: a hideous face staring out through the dirty glass. The eyes were sunken and cold, the cheeks white with the pallor of death itself.
'What is it?' whispered the innkeeper as the two men backed away from the apparition staring out from the little church. News spread quickly through the village of Cerrigydrudion and a small crowd gathered in the road outside the church. The priest arrived.
'What's going on?' he asked.
'There in the window. It's the Devil himself,' cried the villagers.
'The Devil, superstitious nonsense. T
here's no devil in my church: It's a house of God,' cried the priest and marched along the path to the door of the church. The face in the window watched him approach. The priest took hold of his cross, held it up and opened the door. The crowd watched as the priest disappeared into the church. They looked back at the window. The face had vanished. There was a muffled scream and the priest stumbled backwards out of the church. He turned and staggered through the churchyard, his face contorted with fear.
'What happened Father?' cried the crowd.
'It's Satan. He is here,' sobbed the priest and started to shake violently. The crowd looked back at the church. The evil face stared back at them from the window. Days passed. Each day, the evil face would stare out from the church. Each night, strange screams and manic laughter were heard coming from the church. A dog that wandered into the churchyard vanished. The people grew afraid and would not go near the church; not even to worship on the Sabbath. In desperation, the villagers sought out a wise man for advice.
'What can we do?' asked the farmer.
'You will need great charm to tempt the Devil from the church and great strength to drag him away,' replied the wise man.
'You must find a beautiful girl to tempt him and you must use great strength to remove him from your village,' said the wise man.
'We are not strong enough to move the Devil,' wailed the people.
'Go to the mountain and catch the oxen Dau ychain Banawg,' said the wise man. The villagers knew of the two huge oxen called Dau ychain Banawg that grazed on Waen Banawg. They listened carefully as the wise man told them what needed to be done. A beautiful young girl called Eira Wyn (Snow White) was chosen to tempt the Devil. She was dressed in silk and the women brushed her long golden hair until it shone. Men searched the mountain and found the great oxen. They tempted the beasts to return to the village with sacks of corn. The blacksmith forged stout chains and soaked the links in holy water. An enormous sledge was built using tree trunks for runners. While the villagers worked, the Devil sneered as he peered through the window of the church.
When all was ready, Eira's seven brothers bought her to the church. The Devil watched as the girl entered the churchyard. He smiled at seeing such a pretty offering. The face disappeared from the window and the door swung open but girl did not go into the church. Instead, she started to arrange flowers on the graves and began to sing. The girl's innocent beauty and her sweet voice excited the Devil. Attracted by the girl and with wicked thoughts in his mind, the Devil swaggered from the church into the daylight. The villagers were ready. They rushed into the churchyard. The Devil roared with laughter as they grappled with him.