Grail

TWENTY-SEVEN

'When the dew of creation was still on the ground,' Myrddin sang, his voice rising like a graceful bird taking flight, 'a great king arose in the Westerlands, and Manawyddan was his name. So mighty was this king, and of such renown, that all nations held him lord over them and sent their best warriors to his court to pledge their loyalty and serve him at arms. And this is the way of it:

'Manawyddan, fair and true, received the warriors and bade them wait upon him in his hall. When all were gathered there and ready, the noble lord arrayed himself in his fine cloak, took up his rod of kingship, and mounted his throne. He gazed out upon the assembly and thought to himself: A thousand times blessed am I! No man ever wanted better companions. In truth, each man among them could have been king in his own realm had he not chosen to pledge faith with Manawyddan.

'The great king's heart was touched by the glory of his warhost, and so he bade them stay a while with him, that they all might enjoy a feast he would give in their honour. When the feast was prepared, the warriors, noblemen all, came and filled the benches at table, where they were provided with the best food that was ever placed before men of valour from that far-off time to this. What is more, whatever food any warrior preferred – whether the flesh of deer, or pigs, or beef; or the delicate meat of roast fowls, or succulent salmon – he had but to dip his knife into the bowl before him, and that food was provided.

'The warriors were delighted with this wonder, and acclaimed their host with loud approval. So clamorous were they in their praise that Manawyddan was moved to decree another wonder. He ordered golden ale tubs to be set up in all four corners of the hall, and one beside his throne. He then summoned his serving boys to bring drinking bowls of silver and gold to his noble guests, and invited them to plunge their cups into the foaming brew. This they did, and when each man raised bowl to lips, he found the drink he liked best – whether ale, or mead, or wine, or good dark beer.

'When they had drunk the health of their sovereign host, the noble guests accorded such vaunted praise that Manawyddan's great heart swelled to hear it. He pulled his golden tore from around his throat, put aside his fine cloak, and stepped down from his throne to join in the feast, moving from table to table and bench to bench, eating and drinking with his guests, sharing the feast as one of them.

'When hunger's keen edge had been dulled against the bounty of the groaning boards, King Manawyddan called for his bards to regale the company with tales of mighty deeds, songs of love and death, of courage and compassion, of faith and treachery. One after another, the bards appeared, providing a feast for the soul, each one finer and more accomplished than the last.

'The last bard to sing was Kynwyl Truth-Sayer, Chief Bard of Manawyddan, who had just begun the Tale of the Three Prodigious Quaffings when there came a shout from outside the hall; the shout became a cry, and then a keening, beginning loud and growing louder and louder still until it shook the entire stronghold to its deep foundations, and every mortal creature within the stout walls covered his ears and trembled inwardly.

'Then, when the bold company thought they must be undone by the terrible sound, it stopped. The warrior host looked at one another and saw that they were covered in the sweat of fear, for none of them had ever heard a cry like this: tortured beyond endurance, beyond hope.

'Before they could wonder who might have made a cry of such wounding torment, the high-topped doors of the hall burst open and a tremendous wind swept through the hall – a fierce gale like those which rage in the wintry northern seas. The warrior band braved the icy blast and when it had abated at last, they looked and saw a lady standing in their midst. The stranger had the look of a queen, and she was dressed all in grey from crown to heel; her face was hidden beneath a hood of grey, and she had three grey hounds beside her.

'Manawyddan was first to recover his wits. He approached the woman, his hands open and inviting. "I give you good greeting," he said, speaking in a kindly voice. "You are welcome here, though you may find the companionship of women more to your liking. If so, I will summon the maidens of my court, that you may be made comfortable in their presence."

"Think you I have come seeking comfort and pleasure?" the Grey Lady snapped haughtily.

' "I was merely offering you the hospitality of my court," replied Manawyddan. "Unless you tell us, we will never know why you have burst in among us. Was it to put an end to our enjoyment?"

' "You may keep your hospitality!" remarked the woman tartly. "I have done with all kindliness and generosity. The gentle pursuits I once enjoyed are more bitter to me now than death and ashes."

' "Indeed, I am sorry to hear it," Manawyddan replied sadly. "Tell me what I may do to restore warmth and tenderness to your heart, and rest assured that before the sun has set on another day, I will have done all anyone can do. What is more, the men who even now fill this hall are no less ready to aid me in this endeavour."

'This handsome offer was thrown back in the king's face, for the lady offered only a grim, mocking laugh in reply.

' "Lady," said Manawyddan, "why do you persist in this uncouth behaviour? I have made a king's vow to do all that can be done to aid you in any way you desire. I am certain that my men and I can meet and overcome any difficulty, end any oppression, right any wrong, and thus redress whatever hurt or harm has befallen you."

'This heart-stirring speech received the acclaim of all who heard it. The noblemen lauded their monarch and pledged themselves to the Grey Lady's service.

'But the strange woman scorned their pledges. "Can you raise the dead, O Great King?" She laughed, and her laughter was bitterness itself. "Can you restore life to a corpse on which the carrion crows have feasted? Can you make the blood flow once more in the veins when that blood has soaked the earth, and the living heart is but a lump of cold meat in the breast? Can you, O Wondrous Manawyddan, return the warm gaze of love to an eye which has been cut out and thrown to the dogs?"

'Hearing this, Manawyddan's great heart surged with grief for the lady's plight. "Lady, your sorrow has become my sorrow, and your woe my own. But know this: the full weight of the sadness you feel now, seven times that much will be visited upon the one who has caused your lament."

'At this, the mysterious lady bowed her head and professed herself well pleased, knowing Manawyddan would honour his vow to the last breath in his body. She then began to tell the king what had transpired to bring about her ruin. The warriors pressed close around to hear – and between the telling and the hearing, it was difficult to say which was the more distressing.

' "I was not always the grey hag you see before you now," the lady said. "Once I was beautiful, but mourning has made me old and dry before my time. Listen, then, if you would learn the reason for my travail.

' "I am the daughter of a mountain king called Rhongomynyad, a ruler both wise and good, who fell ill of a night and died not long after. I was left alone to rule in his place until I should marry and my husband relieve me of that tedious duty. As one might expect, from the moment my father's demise was made known in the world, the path to my stronghold was crowded with suitors seeking to win my approval. Truth to tell, though I never found any of these hopeful young men remotely to my liking, still I did not grow weary of the chase.

' "One day, as the customarily disappointing flock of suitors ambled through the fortress gates, my eye chanced upon a tall young man fair in face and form: slender, but not too thin; handsome, but not vain; proud, but not arrogant; kind, but not simpering; generous, but not profligate; canny, but not conceited; friendly, but not flighty; trustworthy, but not dour. In short, my heart kindled with love for him the moment his eye met mine.

' "We spent the day, and all the days to follow, in close companionship, and my love grew greater each time we met. Before the summer was over, we were betrothed. Our wedding was to be held in the spring, and I could turn aside from the duties of sovereignty which weighed so heavily upon me. Like all betrothed couples, we made our plans and dreamed our dreams, and my love for my beloved was as all-consuming as the flame of an ever-burning fire.

' "Then one day, while my beloved was tending to affairs in his father's realm, a dark-clothed man came striding into my court. Without so much as a tender glance in my direction, he declared himself king by virtue of his skill at arms and challenged any who would dispute him to draw sword or heft spear, and have at it. To my shame and outrage, no one would defend me. All the young men who stood in my court shrank away, shaking with fear.

' "For, like a man in most respects, in stature this dark foe was nothing less than a giant! Standing two men high, he was broad of shoulder and long of arm. His weapons were black iron, and his shield iron, too. It took two men just to heft his axe, and three to raise that weighty shield.

' "Nevertheless, my beloved soon heard what had happened. And up he jumped, calling for his sword belt and spear; he called for his horse to be saddled and his shield to be burnished. He mounted his horse and rode straightaway to take up the challenge. The two met on the path leading to my fortress, and the narrow valley between two mountains became the battleground.

' "Alas! They fought! The combat was fierce and, alas, my best beloved was killed!

' "The Black Oppressor fell upon the body of my beloved, plucked the eyes from his head, and threw them to the hounds. Then he hewed the eyeless head from those fair shoulders and stuck it upon his iron spear. He set the spear over the gate of my fortress as a reminder to all who passed beneath the bloodless head that he now ruled the realm. That same day, he claimed me for his wife, and had me bound and borne to my chamber, which he had taken for his own. He then demanded a meal to be prepared and served him in the hall; he said it was to be our marriage feast. The glutton devoured seven pigs, three oxen, nine lambs, and drank four vats of ale, while I touched not a morsel.

' "While the Black Giant feasted in my hall, I bound courage to my heart and determined that when he came for me, I would either be dead or gone. I struggled free of my bonds, and then sought my escape. Alas, the door was securely barred, and there was no other way out. I bade farewell to life. Taking up the ropes that had bound me, I knotted the lengths together to make a noose, which, with trembling hands, I placed around my neck.

' "I was even then tightening the noose when one of my serving maids entered the chamber. She had come to light the fire in the hearth so that the chamber would be warm for my hideous bridegroom and me. When she saw the killing ropes around her lady's neck, she threw herself upon me and vowed to help me escape if I would only take her with me. I agreed at once, and we stole that instant from the chamber, pausing only to set fire to the bed.

' "From that dire day to this," the Grey Lady concluded, "I I have wandered where I would, seeking justice and retribution. Most miserable of women am I! Never has any creature shown himself man enough to meet the Black Giant in combat and rescue my realm and my people.

' "Even so, to show you I am in earnest and virtue is with me wherever I go, I offer this promise: any man who slays the Black Oppressor shall that day have me for his bride – and my kingdom and all I possess. Fortunate is the man who takes me to wife," she added, "for I know well what I am worth."

'Great Manawyddan cast his gaze upon the gathered warriors, each one more accomplished and stalwart than the last. "You have heard the lady's tale of woe," he said. "Who among you will take up the challenge? Who will slay this vile being and restore the lady's kingdom? Who among you will cover himself in glory and bring honour to this court?"

'At once there arose a tremendous outcry as the doughty warriors strove to make themselves heard each above the other. But the man who carried the day was the king's own champion, a warrior of vast renown, and Llencellyn was his name. "My king and lord," said Llencellyn when he had gained his sovereign's ear, "may I be bound in chains and hurled into the sea if I do not avenge this lady and restore her realm before three days have passed."

'The Great King smiled, for he expected no less of his champion. Manawyddan extolled the warrior's resolve, saying, "Go, then, Llencellyn, with my blessing. I charge you to remember that though all the fiends of Hell stand against you, yet with the help of the Swift Sure Hand, you must surely prevail."

'Up leapt Llencellyn and called for his weapons and his horse. When he had armed himself, he then mounted his fine steed and called to the lady to lead him to her realm, that he might kill the giant without delay and win himself a wife and kingdom. The Grey Lady mounted her yellow mare and led the king's champion away.

'The men of Manawyddan's court were not content to stand idly by and await the combat's outcome. "How can we stay here while our swordbrother faces this peril?" they cried. "O, King of Might, let us follow them to the place of combat so that we might see how Llencellyn fares."

'This they did, following the champion's trail to the battleground, arriving just in time to see Llencellyn strike the first of many stout blows – any one of which would have been enough to fell the strongest enemy. Curiously, the more Llencellyn fought, the stronger grew the giant. With every well-placed stroke of the champion's sword, the Black Giant's strength increased and Llencellyn's grew the less.

'The king and all his warhost looked on in horror as their renowned champion's strength waned, until, no longer able to lift the blade, Llencellyn's arm faltered. The Black Oppressor, keen for the kill, drove in the instant the sword blade fell. Up went the cruel iron axe, and down without mercy, striking the champion squarely in the centre of his helm. The giant's blade sliced the warhelm and passed through skin and flesh and bone and brain as if through empty air, cleaving the dauntless champion's head in two.

'All the host stood bereft and watched in agony and grief as the Black Oppressor leapt upon the corpse and hacked poor Llencellyn's body into small pieces and then trampled those pieces into the ground – those, that is, which the hounds did not devour. He then turned to the stricken company, and jeered, "Who will be next to chance with death?"

'When no one made bold to answer the evil lord, Manawyddan cried out, "If my men have lost their courage, so be it! Far better for me to die fighting than to go to my grave a coward and the king of cowards. Bring me my sword and shield!"

This speech shamed the assembled warriors – though not enough for any to overcome their terror of the giant. They all looked at one another and shrugged as if to say, "If that is the way the king wants it, who are we to disagree?" Meanwhile, the king's weapons were brought and the king began to gird himself for the battle which would certainly be his last.

'Yet while the king was strapping on his sword belt, a slender young man approached, knelt before him, and said, "Please, lord, I am your servant."

'The king had never seen the youth before, and said, "Forgive me, lad, but I have no time for tact. Too soon I shall be feeding hungry ravens and quenching the parched soil with my blood. Who are you, and what do you want?"

' "My name," replied the stripling youth, "is of little importance. I am new to your court and have not yet distinguished myself in arms, and thus I have doubtless escaped your notice."

' "Yes, yes," snapped Manawyddan irritably. "If you have something to say, say it quickly."

' "I beg the boon of trying my hand against the Black Oppressor," the youth said simply.

' "Well, your courage is sound, but I misdoubt your intelligence. Fine and mighty warriors who have tried to slay this Black Oppressor now sleep in turf houses. What makes you think you, little more than a boy – and a skinny boy at that! -can succeed where battlechiefs the like of Llencellyn have failed so miserably?"

'To this the lad replied, "Young I may be, but I have never yet met an enemy who can stand against me."

' "Clearly, you cannot have faced many foemen," the king declared sadly. "That, I suspect, is the secret of your success."

' "Regard me not too lightly," the youth warned, his assurance undimmed. "For I have succeeded by reason of a strange endowment with which I have been favoured."

'Manawyddan leaned on his spear and sighed. "Am I ever to learn the end of this? Perhaps it was pointless conversation that laid all your adversaries low."

' "Not at all," the youth assured the king solemnly. "I owe my triumph to the fact that, having no strength of my own, whenever I take the field the might of my opponents is granted me in double measure."

' "Son," Manawyddan replied, shaking his head sadly, "I have lived a very long time in this worlds-realm and have heard many strange things, but I never heard of anything like that." He paused, regarding the slender youth with great suspicion. "If I believed even the smallest part of what you said to be true, I might allow you to try your hand. As it is, I fear I would merely be delaying my own death with the purchase of yours. As a king of renown and a leader of warriors, I consider it far beneath me to even contemplate such a thing."

' "Well," answered the youth happily, "there is something in what you say, of course. But from where I stand, it appears your vaunted warhost has made the selfsame bargain with your life as you fear making with mine. Indeed, your warriors, fearless to a man, no doubt, have given you up for dead before you have even lofted spear or lifted blade."

' "Tread lightly here," the king growled in warning, "for you are talking about men tested in the straits of battle. Nevertheless, I find myself sorely tempted to grant your entreaty, though it be your last. I could always fight the giant tomorrow, I suppose."

'The shaveling youth smiled and bowed to the Great King. "Truly, you are a sovereign worthy of the name," the lad replied. "You have but to grant my plea, and reap the reward."

'Manawyddan sighed. "Would that it were so."

' "Rest assured, you will never hear a word of reproach from me," said the youth. "Give me a sword only, then stand aside and watch what I will do."

'Lord Manawyddan, Chief Dragon of the Island of the Mighty, gave the youth the sword from his hand, and called for his shield-bearers to arm the lad with spear and dagger, helm and belt as well. But the young man shook his head firmly, saying, "Either this blade will suffice, or it will not. If it will, then nothing else is needed; if it will not, then nothing else will help. Summon the giant, and let us set to. The day stretches long, and I am growing hungry."

The Black Oppressor, who had long since retired to his hall to gloat over his loathsome triumph, was duly summoned by a blast of the king's horn. "What is this?" the giant grumbled in a voice like low thunder, "Who disturbs my rest? Can it be the Mighty Manawyddan has finally gathered his courage into a heap and wishes now to weigh its worth against the standard of my blade?"

' "Say nothing you wish not to regret," the valiant lord advised. "It is not myself who is judge over you, but whatever god made you – and that soon. Before you stands the youth who will do for you as you have done for so many others."

The Black Giant laughed long and hard at this. Then he looked upon the youth, standing white and naked before him, armed with nothing but a sword that was so overlarge, he had to clutch it tight in both hands just to raise it.

' "Lad," rumbled the giant, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, "of all the warriors I have slaughtered, I cannot remember killing any as foolish as you."

The slender youth stepped smartly forward, dragging the sword with him. "Only sow what you wish to reap," the lad replied evenly. If there was the slightest quiver of fear in his voice, no one heard it.

'In his eagerness to kill again, the giant licked his thick, foul lips and grinned down at the fair youth. Hefting his war axe, and testing the keenness of its blade with his thumb, the Black Oppressor said, "Come, then; it will be a joy to send you hence."

' "Beware, I am not so easily killed as you might think."

'Angered by the youth's indifference, the Black Giant gave a roar that curdled the marrow of all who heard it for twelve hides around. He raised the iron axe high above his head and brought it down with such a vicious chop that everyone looked away lest they see something they devoutly wished later to forget. When the axe made no sound, they opened their eyes and turned once more to where the youth stood – expecting, no doubt, to see his body halved like a carcass for the spit.

'But no! The young man was still standing. What is more, he appeared more hale than before. Indeed, he seemed to have grown a handspan taller, and his slender limbs were thicker. The giant gaped in amazement, and looked at the axe in his fist as if he expected it to offer an explanation. Rage bubbled up like molten lead within him, and he roared again, shaking the ground with the blast. Up swept the axe blade, and down. The youth, effortless as a willow in spring, stepped lightly aside as the wicked blade shaved the empty air.

' "My father always taught me that war is a bane, and the chief of man's afflictions," the youth intoned mildly. His voice had deepened and his arms, well muscled now, raised the blade and held it steadily before him. "Perhaps it is a lesson you should have learned."

'Glowering murderously, his black face growing blacker in its fury, the giant screamed, "How dare you condemn me! Just you stand still, and we will see who is the master here."

'The giant lunged wildly at the youth, who met his charge with a swift kick which stopped the black enemy in his tracks. The giant, stunned by the blow, doubled over in pain. The youth stood leaning on his sword a few paces away as his adversary heaved his dinner onto the ground. "It is a shame to waste a good meal," taunted the youth, "but then you were always a wastrel and a destroyer. Tell me, how does your victory taste now? Is it still as sweet in your mouth – or has it all gone sour?"

'With a cry to crack the sky, the Black Oppressor heaved up the iron axe. The cruel weapon seemed much heavier now, and it took all his strength just to raise it and balance it above his head. The blade hung in the air, its honed edge glinting sharp in the sunlight.

'The youth, head and shoulders rising level with those of the Black Oppressor's, raised the king's sword and flicked the axe blade away as if it had been a feather. The ease with which he had been disarmed inflamed the giant beyond all restraint or reason. Lowering his head, he threw wide his arms and ran at the young man, intent on crushing the youth in his all-encircling grasp.

'The giant made but three paces before his legs gave out and he toppled face-first onto the ground. The collision drove the breath from the wicked foeman's lungs, and caused the earth to tremble and shake as if to draw the mountains down. But the young man, towering over the giant now, stepped to the Vile Enemy and lopped off his head with an easy stroke of Manawyddan's sword, saying, "Never more will you trouble the good people of this realm."

'The king and all his tribe stood blinking in astonishment at what they had seen. For the space of six heartbeats, not a sound was to be heard in all the world, and then, with a great shout of relief, they all rushed forward to acclaim the wonderful youth and his astounding triumph over the Black Oppressor.

'Manawyddan was first to laud the youth, and led his people in a song of praise in the young man's honour. The Grey Lady threw off her hood, ran to the youth, and put her arms around his neck – for, as soon as the giant was dead, the lad had assumed his former shape and size. The lady kissed him, and declared loudly for all to hear: "Truly, you are a champion among men. This day you have won your kingdom, and your queen."

'Abashed by the tumult, the young man blushed crimson from top to toe. Taking the lady's arms from around his neck, he said, "Though your offer is kindness itself, I must ask your pardon and decline. My course is set before me, for I am directed by another hand."

'Lord Manawyddan was saddened to hear these words. "What?" he cried. "Will you not stay with us? My champion is slain, and I have need of another. You, I think, more than deserve that place."

'The youth only smiled, and begged to be excused the honour. "Alas, I cannot stay even a moment longer," he said, and explained how it was his geas to roam the width and breadth of the world and offer his aid wherever it was needed.

' "Leave if you must," said Manawyddan, "but please do not go away empty-handed. You have but to name your reward and, to the half of my kingdom, it is yours."

'Smiling still, the young man declined once more. "I have what is needful, and more would avail me nothing." Looking at the warriors gathered close around, the young man said, "Good king, honour me instead in these who have been given you. Do not hold their fright against them – men are only dust, after all."

'The king marvelled the more at these words. "Go, then," said Manawyddan, "and with my blessing. Yet, I would not have you leave us before I learned your name."

'The young man smiled at this. "Do you not know me yet?" he asked.

The king answered, "Son, I never laid eyes on you before this day. Who are you, lad?"

'To which the stranger replied, "I am the Youth of a Thousand Summers." He then bade everyone farewell and, passing among them, disappeared in much the same way as he had arrived: unseen and unguessed.

'When he had gone, the Grey Lady threw open the gates of her stronghold and invited Manawyddan and his warrior host to feast with her and her people in celebration of their deliverance. The king, though still less than elated with the fainthearted behaviour of his warband, accepted. They all went into the queen's hall and feasted for three days and three nights in the most pleasant fellowship they had ever known. Men and women sat down together and soon found themselves sharing the feast with the one they loved best. One by one, each couple came before their ruler to beg the boon of marriage. All were duly married, and the celebration continued as a wedding feast, and their joy was made complete.

'Gazing out upon all the feasting couples, the queen observed, "It is right and good that our people should unite our kingdoms in this way. I only wish that I could share their happiness and increase it with my own."

To this Lord Manawyddan replied, "God knows I am setting a poor example for my people if all of them are married and I myself have no queen." Turning to the lady beside him, he said, "I may not be a giant-slayer, but I know I would be a better king than I have ever been if you would be my wife. Lady," he said, taking her hand in his, "will you marry me?"

The Grey Lady smiled easily and said, "And here was I thinking you would never ask. Yes, my king, I will marry you."

This pleased the king greatly. "Here we are to be married," he declared, "and I do not even know your name."

' "My name is Rhiannon," the Grey Lady answered. So saying, the queen threw off her grey hood and cloak to reveal a dress all of gold, with jewels – each more costly than the last -and tiny pearls sewn with thread of braided silver. Her hair was red-gold and braided fine, her skin white as milk, her flesh supple, and her smooth-cheeked face lovely to look upon. The sight of her pleased Manawyddan well, and he married her at once lest she somehow slip from his grasp.

'The king then presented his new queen to the people, and the noble couple made their way through the hall, giving gifts to one and all. The celebration was renewed to the delight of every creature, high or low, living in the realm.

'Behold! When they rose from the table, three hundred years had passed them unawares. Nor had they suffered the predations of age, for every man and woman was as hale as the moment he or she had first sat down. Indeed, not so much as a single silver hair was to be seen on any head, and even those whose brows had been creased by care were seen to be as smooth and cheerful as the day each was born.

'From that moment, the combined kingdoms of Rhiannon and Manawyddan became known as the Isle of the Everliving. The realm flourished as never before, producing a bounty of all good things, and becoming the envy of all the world.

'Many tales are told of this enchanted island, but this tale is finished. Let him hear it who will.'