The Winning of Olwen

Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen who had a little boy named Kilweh. Soon after he was born, the queen fell ill. She could not take care of him herself, so she sent him to a woman she knew high up in the mountains.

There he learned to play outside in all weathers, to bear heat and cold, and to grow tall and strong. Kilweh was happy with his nurse. He ran races and climbed hills with the other children.

In winter, when snow covered the ground, a man with a harp would sometimes stop and ask for shelter. In return, he would sing them songs about strange things that had happened long ago.

But long before this, things had changed at the court of Kilweh's father. Soon after she had sent her baby away, the queen grew much worse. At last, seeing that she was going to die, she called her husband to her and said, 'I will never rise from this bed again.

By and by you will take another wife. But to make sure you do not forget your son, I ask you not to marry until you see a briar with two blossoms on my grave.' The king promised this.

She also asked him to watch her grave so that nothing would grow on it. He promised that too. Soon after, she died. For seven years, the king sent a man every morning to check that nothing was growing on the queen's grave. But at the end of seven years, he forgot.

One day, when the king was out hunting, he rode past the place where the queen was buried. There he saw a briar growing with two blossoms on it. 'It is time for me to take a wife,' he said. After a long search, he found one.

But he did not tell her about his son. In fact, he hardly remembered he had a son until she heard about it from an old woman she went to visit. The new queen was very pleased and sent messengers to fetch the boy.

So Kilweh came to live at his father's court. The years passed until one day the queen told him that a prophecy had said he was to win Olwen, the daughter of Yspaddaden Penkawr, as his wife.

When Kilweh heard this, he felt proud and happy. Surely he must be a man now, he thought, or there would be no talk of a wife for him. All day long his mind dwelt on his promised bride and what she would be like when he saw her.

'What is wrong, my son?' his father asked at last, when Kilweh had forgotten something he was told to do. Kilweh blushed red as he answered, 'My stepmother says that none but Olwen, the daughter of Yspaddaden Penkawr, shall be my wife.'

'That will be easily done,' replied his father. 'Arthur the king is your cousin. Go to him and ask him to cut your hair and grant you this wish.'

So the young man set out on a dapple grey horse, four years old, with a bridle of linked gold and gold on his saddle. In his hand he carried two silver spears with steel heads.

A war-horn of ivory was slung over his shoulder, and by his side hung a golden sword. Before him ran two brindled white-breasted greyhounds with collars of rubies around their necks. They bounded from side to side, like two sea-swallows playing around him.

His horse's hooves kicked up four sods, like four swallows in the air about his head, now above, now below. He wore a purple robe with an apple of gold at each corner, each apple worth a hundred cows.

The blades of grass did not bend beneath him, so light were his horse's feet as he journeyed toward the gate of Arthur's palace.

'Is there a porter?' cried Kilweh, looking around for someone to open the gate.

'There is,' answered a man coming out to him. 'I am Arthur's porter every first day of January. The rest of the year there are other porters, among them Pennpingyon, who walks on his head to save his feet.'

'Well, open the gate, I say.'

'No, I cannot do that. No one may enter unless he is a king's son or a pedlar with goods to sell. But elsewhere there will be food for your dogs and hay for your horse, and for you cooked collops and sweet wine in the guest chamber.'

'That will not do for me,' answered Kilweh. 'If you will not open the gate, I will send up three shouts that will be heard from Cornwall to the north, and even to Ireland.'

'Whatever noise you make,' said Glewlwyd the porter, 'you shall not enter until I first go and speak with Arthur.'

Then Glewlwyd went into the hall. Arthur said to him, 'Do you have news from the gate?' The porter answered, 'Far have I travelled, both in this island and elsewhere, and many kingly men have I seen. But never have I seen one as majestic as the man who now stands at the door.'

'If you walked in here, run back out,' replied Arthur. 'Let everyone who opens and shuts the eye show him respect and serve him. It is not right to keep such a man in the wind and rain.' So Glewlwyd unbarred the gate, and Kilweh rode in on his horse.

'Greetings to you, ruler of this land,' cried he, 'and greetings no less to the lowest than to the highest.'

'Greetings to you also,' answered Arthur. 'Sit between two of my warriors. You shall have minstrels before you and all that belongs to one born to be a king while you stay in my palace.'

'I have not come for food and drink,' replied Kilweh, 'but to ask a gift. If you grant it, I will repay it and carry your praise to the four winds of heaven. But if you will not grant it, I will tell everyone about your discourtesy wherever your name is known.'

'What you ask, you shall receive,' said Arthur, 'as far as the wind dries and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves and the sea encircles and the earth extends. Except only my ship and my mantle, my word and my lance, my shield and my dagger, and Guinevere my wife.'

'I want you to cut my hair,' said Kilweh. Arthur answered, 'That shall be granted.' He ordered his men to fetch a comb of gold and scissors with silver loops, and he cut Kilweh's hair.

'Tell me who you are,' he said, 'for my heart warms to you. I feel you are of my blood.'

'I am Kilweh, son of Kilydd,' replied the youth.

'Then you are truly my cousin,' said Arthur. 'Whatever gift you ask, you shall receive.'

'The gift I seek is that you win for me Olwen, the daughter of Yspaddaden Penkawr. I also ask this of your warriors: from Sol, who can stand all day on one foot; from Ossol, who can make the highest mountain into a level plain in the beat of a bird's wing; from Cluse, who can hear the ant leave her nest fifty miles away even if buried underground; from Kai and Bedwyr and all your mighty men, I ask this gift.'

'O Kilweh,' said Arthur, 'I have never heard of the maiden you speak of, nor of her family. But I will send messengers to find her if you give me time.'

'From this night to the end of the year, I will gladly give you time,' replied Kilweh. But when the year ended and the messengers returned, Kilweh was angry and spoke harsh words to Arthur.

It was Kai, the boldest warrior and the swiftest of foot—he could go nine nights without sleep and nine days underwater—who answered him: 'Rash youth, dare you speak to Arthur like that? Come with us. We will not part company until we have won that maiden, or until you admit that there is none such in the world.'

Then Arthur summoned his five best men and told them to go with Kilweh: Bedwyr the one-handed, Kai's comrade and the fastest man in Britain except Arthur; Kynddelig, who knew the paths in a land he had never been as well as those in his own country; Gwrhyr, who could speak all languages; Gwalchmai, son of Gwyar, who never returned until he had gained what he sought; and Menw, who could cast a spell so that no one could see them, but they could see everyone.

These seven journeyed together until they reached a vast open plain with a fair castle. Though it seemed close, it was evening of the third day before they drew near. In front of the castle, a flock of sheep spread out so many that there seemed no end to them. A shepherd stood on a mound watching over them, and by his side was a dog as large as a horse nine winters old.

'Whose castle is this, herdsman?' asked the knights.

'Foolish are you truly,' answered the herdsman. 'All the world knows this is the castle of Yspaddaden Penkawr.'

'And who are you?'

'I am called Custennin, brother of Yspaddaden. He has treated me badly. And who are you, and what do you want here?'

'We come from King Arthur to seek Olwen, daughter of Yspaddaden.' At this, the shepherd cried out, 'O men, be warned and turn back while there is still time. Others have gone on this quest, but none have escaped to tell the tale.' He rose as if to leave. Then Kilweh held out a gold ring to him. The shepherd tried to put it on his finger, but it was too small, so he placed it in his glove and went home and gave it to his wife.

'Where did this ring come from?' she asked. 'Such good luck does not usually happen to you.'

'The man who owned this ring you shall see here tonight,' answered the shepherd. 'He is Kilweh, son of Kilydd, cousin to King Arthur. He has come to seek Olwen.' When the wife heard that, she knew Kilweh was her nephew. Her heart yearned for him, half with joy at the thought of seeing him and half with sorrow for the doom she feared.

Soon they heard steps approaching. Kai and the rest entered the house and ate and drank. After that, the woman opened a chest, and out came a youth with curly yellow hair.

'It is a pity to hide him like this,' said Gwrhyr. 'I know he has done no evil.'

'Yspaddaden has slain three and twenty of my sons, and I have no hope of saving this one,' replied she. Kai was full of sorrow and answered, 'Let him come with me and be my comrade. He shall never be slain unless I am slain also.' And so it was agreed.

'What is your errand here?' asked the woman.

'We seek the maiden Olwen for this youth,' answered Kai. 'Does she ever come here so that she can be seen?'

'She comes every Saturday to wash her hair. In the vessel where she washes, she leaves all her rings. She never even sends a messenger to fetch them.'

'Will she come if she is asked?' asked Kai, thinking.

'She will come. But unless you promise me you will not harm her, I will not fetch her.'

'We promise,' they said. And the maiden came.

She was a beautiful sight in a robe of flame-coloured silk, with a collar of ruddy gold around her neck, bright with emeralds and rubies. Her hair was yellower than the flower of the broom, her skin whiter than the foam of the wave, and her hands fairer than the blossoms of the wood anemone. Four white trefoils sprang up where she trod, and that is why she was called Olwen.

She entered and sat down on a bench beside Kilweh. He spoke to her: 'Ah, maiden, since I first heard your name I have loved you. Will you not come away with me from this evil place?'

'That I cannot do,' she answered. 'I have given my word to my father not to go without his knowledge. His life will only last until I am betrothed. Whatever must be, will be. But I will give you this advice: go and ask for me from my father. Whatever he asks of you, grant it, and you will win me. But if you deny him anything, you will not get me, and it will be well if you escape with your life.'

'All this I promise,' said he.

So she returned to the castle, and all Arthur's men went after her and entered the hall.

'Greetings, Yspaddaden Penkawr,' said they. 'We come to ask for your daughter Olwen for Kilweh, son of Kilydd.'

'Come here tomorrow, and I will answer you,' replied Yspaddaden Penkawr. As they rose to leave the hall, he grabbed one of the three poisoned darts lying beside him and threw it into their midst. But Bedwyr saw it and caught it, and threw it back so hard that it pierced the knee of Yspaddaden.

'A gentle son-in-law, truly!' he cried, writhing with pain. 'I will always walk worse because of this rudeness. Cursed be the smith who forged it and the anvil on which it was made!' That night the men slept in the house of Custennin the herdsman. The next day they went to the castle, entered the hall, and said, 'Yspaddaden Penkawr, give us your daughter, and you shall keep her dowry. If you do not do this, we will slay you.'

'Her four great-grandmothers and four great-grandfathers still live,' answered Yspaddaden. 'I need to take counsel with them.'

'So be it. We will go to meat.' But as they turned, he took the second dart beside him and threw it after them. Menw caught it and threw it back, wounding him in the chest so that it came out his back.

'A gentle son-in-law, truly!' cried Yspaddaden. 'The iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. Cursed be the hearth where it was heated and the smith who shaped it!' The third day, Arthur's men returned to the palace before Yspaddaden.

'Do not shoot at me again,' he said, 'unless you desire death. But lift up my eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyes, so that I may see my son-in-law.' They arose, and as they did so, Yspaddaden took the third poisoned dart and threw it at them. Kilweh caught it and threw it back, and it went through his eyeball and came out the other side of his head.

'A gentle son-in-law, truly! Cursed be the fire in which it was forged and the man who made it!'

The next day, Arthur's men came again to the palace and said, 'Do not shoot at us anymore unless you want more pain than you already have. Give us your daughter without more words.'

'Where is he who seeks my daughter? Let him come here so that I may see him.' Kilweh sat in a chair and spoke face to face with him.

'Is it you who seeks my daughter?'

'It is I,' answered Kilweh.

'First give me your word that you will do nothing unjust to me. When you have won for me what I shall ask, then you shall wed my daughter.'

'I promise willingly,' said Kilweh. 'Name what you will.'

'Do you see that hill? In one day it must be rooted up, ploughed, and sown. The grain shall ripen, and from that wheat I will bake cakes for my daughter's wedding.'

'It will be easy for me to do this, though you may think it will not be easy,' answered Kilweh, thinking of Ossol, under whose feet the highest mountain became a plain. But Yspaddaden paid no heed and continued:

'Do you see that field? When my daughter was born, nine bushels of flax were sown there, but not one blade has sprung up. I require you to sow fresh flax in the ground so that my daughter may wear a veil spun from it on her wedding day.'

'It will be easy for me to do this.'

'Though you do this, there is that which you will not do. You must bring me the basket of Gwyddneu Garanhir, which will give meat to the whole world. It is for your wedding feast.

You must also bring the drinking-horn that is never empty and the harp that never stops playing until it is told to. Also the comb, scissors, and razor that lie between the two ears of Trwyth the boar, so that I may arrange my hair for the wedding.

And though you get this, there is that which you will not get. Trwyth the boar will not let anyone take the comb and scissors unless Drudwyn the whelp hunts him. No leash in the world can hold Drudwyn except the leash of Cant Ewin, and no collar will hold the leash except the collar of Canhastyr.'

'It will be easy for me to do this, though you may think it will not be easy,' Kilweh answered.

'Though you get all these things, there is that which you will not get. No one in the world can hunt with this dog except Mabon, the son of Modron. He was taken from his mother when three nights old, and no one knows where he is, or whether he is alive or dead. And though you find him, the boar can only be slain with the sword of Gwrnach the giant. If you do not get that, you will not get my daughter.'

'I will have horses and knights from my lord Arthur. I will gain your daughter, and you will lose your life.'

The speech of Kilweh, son of Kilydd, with Yspaddaden Penkawr was ended.

Then Arthur's men set forth, with Kilweh, and journeyed until they reached the largest castle in the world. A black man came out to meet them.

'Where do you come from, O man?' asked they. 'Whose castle is that?'

'That is the castle of Gwrnach the giant, as all the world knows,' answered the man. 'But no guest has ever returned alive. No one may enter the gate except a craftsman who brings his trade.' But little did Arthur's men heed his warning; they went straight to the gate.

'Open!' cried Gwrhyr.

'I will not open,' replied the porter.

'And why?' asked Kai.

'The knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in the hall of Gwrnach the giant. Only for a craftsman who brings his trade will the gate be opened tonight.'

'Then I may enter,' said Kai, 'for there is no better sword burnisher than I.'

'I will tell Gwrnach the giant and bring you his answer.'

'Bid the man come before me,' cried Gwrnach when the porter told him. 'My sword badly needs polishing.' So Kai went in and saluted Gwrnach the giant.

'Is it true that you can burnish swords?'

'It is true,' answered Kai. Then Gwrnach's sword was brought to him.

'Shall it be burnished white or blue?' said Kai, taking a whetstone from under his arm.

'As you wish,' answered the giant. Quickly Kai polished half the sword. The giant marvelled at his skill and said, 'It is a wonder that such a man should be without a companion.'

'I have a companion, noble sir, but he has no skill in this art.'

'What is his name?' asked the giant.

'Let the porter go outside, and I will tell him how to recognize him. The head of his lance will leave its shaft, draw blood from the wind, and descend onto its shaft again.' So the porter opened the gate, and Bedwyr entered.

Now there was much talk among those who remained outside when the gate closed on Bedwyr. Goreu, son of Custennin, persuaded the porter, and he and his companions got in also and hid themselves.

By now, the whole sword was polished. Kai gave it to Gwrnach the giant, who felt it and said, 'Your work is good. I am satisfied.'

Then Kai said, 'Your scabbard has rusted your sword. Give it to me so that I may take out the wooden sides and put in new ones.' He took the scabbard in one hand and the sword in the other and came and stood behind the giant, as if to sheathe the sword in the scabbard. But instead, he struck a blow at the giant's head, and it rolled from his body. After that, they took all the gold and jewels from the castle and returned, carrying the giant's sword, to Arthur's court.

They told Arthur how they had fared. They all took counsel together and agreed that they must set out in search of Mabon, son of Modron. Gwrhyr, who knew the languages of beasts and birds, went with them. They journeyed until they came to the nest of an ousel. Gwrhyr spoke to her: 'Tell me if you know anything of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall.'

The ousel answered: 'When I first came here, I was a young bird, and a smith's anvil stood in this place. Since then, no work has been done on it, except that every evening I have pecked at it until now nothing the size of a nut remains. Yet in all that time, I have never once heard of the man you name. Still, there is a race of beasts older than I. I will guide you to them.'

So the ousel flew before them until she reached the stag of Redynvre. But when they asked the stag if he knew anything of Mabon, he shook his head.

'When I first came here,' said he, 'the plain was bare except for one oak sapling. It grew up to be an oak with a hundred branches. Now all that is left is a withered stump. But never once have I heard of the man you name. Nevertheless, as you are Arthur's men, I will guide you to a place where there is an animal older than I.' The stag ran before them until he reached the owl of Cwm Cawlwyd. But when they asked the owl if he knew anything of Mabon, he shook his head.

'When I first came here,' said he, 'the valley was a wooded glen. Then a race of men came and rooted it up. After that, a second wood grew, and then a third, which you see. Look at my wings—are they not withered stumps?

Yet until today, I have never heard of the man you name. Still, I will guide you to the oldest animal in the world, and the one that has travelled most: the eagle of Gwern Abbey.' The owl flew before them as fast as his old wings would carry him until he reached the eagle of Gwern Abbey.

But when they asked the eagle if he knew anything of Mabon, he shook his head.

'When I first came here,' said the eagle, 'there was a rock here. Every evening I pecked at the stars from the top of it. Now it is not even a span high. But only once have I heard of the man you name, and that was when I went in search of food as far as Llyn Llyw.

I swooped down on a salmon and struck my claws into him, but he drew me underwater until I could hardly escape. I summoned all my kind to destroy him, but he made peace with me, and I took fifty fish spears from his back.

Unless he knows something of the man you seek, I cannot tell who might. But I will guide you to where he is.'

So they followed the eagle, who flew before them, though he flew so high that it was often hard to see him. At last, he stopped above a deep pool in a river.

'Salmon of Llyn Llyw,' he called, 'I have come to you with a message from Arthur. Do you know anything of Mabon, son of Modron?' The salmon answered: 'As much as I know, I will tell you. With every tide, I go up the river until I reach the walls of Gloucester.

There I have found such cruelty as I have never found elsewhere. To show you that what I say is true, let two of you go there on my shoulders.' So Kai and Gwrhyr went on the salmon's shoulders and were carried under the walls of the prison.

From inside came the sound of great weeping.

'Who is it that laments in this house of stone?'

'It is I, Mabon, son of Modron.'

'Will silver or gold buy your freedom, or only battle and fighting?' asked Gwrhyr.

'Only by fighting can I be set free,' said Mabon.

Then they sent a messenger to Arthur to tell him that Mabon was found. Arthur gathered all his warriors and attacked the castle of Gloucester fiercely. Kai and Bedwyr went on the salmon's shoulders to the dungeon gate, broke it down, and carried Mabon away. Now free, Mabon returned home with Arthur.

After this, one day, as Gwythyr was walking across a mountain, he heard a terrible cry. He hurried toward it. In a little valley, he saw heather burning and the fire spreading fast toward an anthill. All the ants were running back and forth, not knowing where to go. Gwythyr took pity on them and put out the fire. In gratitude, the ants brought him the nine bushels of flax seed that Yspaddaden Penkawr had required of Kilweh.

Many of the other wonders were also done by Arthur and his knights. Finally came the fight with Trwyth the boar to get the comb, scissors, and razor that lay between his ears. But the boar was hard to catch and fought fiercely when Arthur's men attacked him, so many of them were slain.

Up and down the country went Trwyth the boar, and Arthur followed him until they came to the Severn sea. There three knights caught his feet unawares and plunged him into the water. One snatched the razor from him, and another seized the scissors.

But before they could grab the comb, he shook them all off. No man, horse, or dog could reach him until he came to Cornwall. Arthur had sworn that the boar should not go there, but he followed with his knights.

It was harder still to win the comb, but at last Arthur prevailed, and the boar was driven into the sea. Whether he drowned or where he went, no man knows to this day.

In the end, all the wonders were done. Kilweh and Goreu, son of Custennin, went to Yspaddaden Penkawr, carrying the razor, scissors, and comb. Yspaddaden Penkawr was shaved by Kaw.

'Is your daughter mine now?' asked Kilweh.

'She is yours,' answered Yspaddaden. 'But it is Arthur, and none other, who has won her for you. Of my own free will, you would never have had her, for now I must lose my life.' As he spoke, Goreu, son of Custennin, cut off his head, as if it had been ordained. Arthur's hosts returned each man to his own country.