Chapter II: The Fairies' Revenge (5)

'Nid oes gennyf unrhyw neges a thi, y gwr hir dafod,' oed atebiad y fenyw fechan. 'Ond yr wyf wedi cael fy anfon yma i adrod rhyw bethau ag syd ar digwyd i'r teulu hwn, a theulu arall o'r gymydogaeth ag a dichon fod o dydordeb idynt, ond gan i mi derbyn y fath sarhad odiar law y gwr du ag syd yn eisted yn y cornel, ni fyd i mi godi y llen ag oed yn cudio y dyfodol allan o'u golwg.'

'Atolwg os oes yn dy fediant ryw wybodaeth parth dyfodol rhai o honom ag a fydai yn dydorol i ni gael ei glywed, dwg hi allan,' ebai un arall o'r gwydfodolion.

'Na wnaf, ond yn unig hysbysu, fod calon gwyryf fel llong ar y traeth yn methu cyrraed y porthlad oherwyd digalondid y pilot.'

A chyda ei bod yn llefaru y gair diwedaf diflannod o'u gwyd, na wydai neb i ba le na pha fod!

Drwy ystod ci hymweliad hi, peidiod y waed a godasai o'r afon, ond yn fuan ar ol idi diflannu, dechreuod eilwaith a chyhoedi

Daeth amser dial,

ac ni pheidiod am hir amser. Yr oed y cynulliad wedi cael eu mediannu a gormod o fraw i fedru llefaru yr un gair, ac yr oed llen o brudder yn daenedig dros wyneb pob un o honynt. Daeth amser idynt i ymwahanu, ac aeth Rhyderch y mab i hebrwng Gwerfyl ei gariadferch tua Phen Craig Daf, o ba siwrnai ni dychwelod byth.

Cyn ymadael a'i fun dywedir idynt dyngu bythol ffydlondeb i'w gilyd, pe heb weled y naill y llall byth ond hynny, ac nad oed dim a allai beri idynt anghofio eu gilyd.

Mae yn debygol i'r llanc Rhyderch pan yn dychwelyd gartref gael ei hun odifewn i un o gylchoed Bendith y Mamau, ac yna idynt ei hud-denu i mewn i un o'u hogofau yn Nharren y Cigfrain, ac yno y bu.

Y mae yn llawn bryd i ni droi ein gwynebau yn ol tua Phantannas a Phen Craig Daf. Yr oed rhieni y bachgen anffodus yn mron gwallgofi. Nid oed gandynt yr un drychfedwl i ba le i fyned i chwilio am dano, ac er chwilio yn mhob man a phob lle methwyd yn glir a dyfod o hyd ido, na chael gair o'i hanes.

Ychydig i fyny yn y cwm mewn ogof dandaearol trigfannai hen feudwy oedrannus, yr hwn hefyd a ystyrrid yn dewin, o'r enw Gweiryd. Aethant yn mhen ychydig wythnosau i ofyn ido ef, a fedrai rodi idynt ryw wybodaeth parthed i'w mab colledig--ond i ychydig bwrpas. Ni wnaeth yr hyn a adrodod hwnnw wrthynt ond dyfnhau y clwyf a rhoi golwg fwy anobeithiol fyth ar yr amgylchiad. Ar ol idynt ei hysbysu ynghylch ymdangosiad y fenyw fechan ynghyd a'r llais wylofus a glywsent yn dyrchafu o'r afon y nos yr aeth ar goll, hysbysod efe idynt mai y farn fygythiedig ar y teulu gan Fendith y Mamau oed wedi godiwedid y llanc, ac nad oed o un diben idynt fedwl cael ei weled byth mwyach! Ond feallai y gwnelai ei ymdangosiad yn mhen oesau, ond dim yn eu hamser hwy.

Pasiai yr amser heibio, a chwydod yr wythnosau i fisoed, a'r misoed i flynydoed, a chasglwyd tad a mam Rhyderch at eu tadau. Yr oed y lle o hyd yn parhau yr un, ond y preswylwyr yn newid yn barhaus, ac yr oed yr adgofion am ei golledigaeth yn darfod yn gyflym, ond er hynny yr oed un yn disgwyl ei dychweliad yn ol yn barhaus, ac yn gobeithio megis yn erbyn gobaith am gael ei weled eilwaith. Bob boreu gyda bod dorau y wawr yn ymagor dros gaerog fynydoed y dwyrain gwelid hi bob tywyd yn rhedeg i ben bryn bychan, a chyda llygaid yn orlawn o dagrau hiraethlon syllai i bob cyfeiriad i edrych a ganfydai ryw argoel fod ei hanwylyd yn dychwelyd; ond i dim pwrpas. Canol dyd gwelid hi eilwaith yn yr un man, a phan ymgollai yr haul fel pelen eiriasgoch o dân dros y terfyngylch, yr oed hi yno.

Edrychai nes yn agos bod yn dall, ac wylai ei henaid allan o dyd i dyd ar ol anwyldyn ei chalon. O'r diwed aeth y rhai syd yn edrych drwy y ffenestri i omed eu gwasanaeth idi, ac yr oed y pren almon yn coroni ei phen a'i flagur gwyryfol, ond parhai hi i edrych, ond nid oed neb yn dod. Yn llawn o dydiau ac yn aedfed i'r bed rhodwyd terfyn ar ei holl obeithion a'i disgwyliadau gan angeu, a chludwyd ei gwedillion marwol i fynwent hen Gapel y Fan.

Pasiai blynydoed heibio fel mwg, ac oesau fel cysgodion y boreu, ac nid oed neb yn fyw ag oed yn cofio Rhyderch, ond adrodid ei golliad disymwyth yn aml. Dylasem fynegu na welwyd yr un o Fendith y Mamau odeutu y gymydogaeth wedi ei golliad, a pheidiod sain eu cerdoriaeth o'r nos honno allan.

Yr oed Rhyderch wedi cael ei hud-denu i fyned gyda Bendith y Mamau--ac aethant ag ef i ffwrd i'w hogof. Ar ol ido aros yno dros ychydig o diwrnodau fel y tybiai, gofynnod am ganiatad i dychwelyd, yr hyn a rwyd ganiatawyd ido gan y brenin. Daeth allan o'r ogof, ac yr oed yn ganol dyd braf, a'r haul yn llewyrchu odiar fynwes ffurfafen digwmwl. Cerdod yn mlaen o Darren y Cigfrain hyd nes ido dyfod i olwg Capel y Fan, ond gymaint oed ei syndod pan y gwelod nad oed yr un capel yno! Pa le yr oed wedi bod, a pha faint o amser? Gyda theimladau cymysgedig cyfeiriod ei gamrau tua Phen Craig Daf, cartref-le ei anwylyd, ond nid oed hi yno, ac nid oed yn adwaen yr un dyn ag oed yno chwaith. Ni fedrai gael gair o hanes ei gariad a chymerod y rhai a breswylient yno mai gwallgofdyn ydoed.

Prysurod eilwaith tua Phantannas, ac yr oed ei syndod yn fwy fyth yno! Nid oed yn adwaen yr un o honynt, ac ni wydent hwythau dim am dano yntau. O'r diwed daeth gwr y ty i fewn, ac yr oed hwnnw yn cofio clywed ei dad cu yn adrod am lanc ag oed wedi myned yn disymwyth i goll er ys peth cannoed o flynydoed yn ol, ond na wydai neb i ba le. Rywfod neu gilyd tarawod gwr y ty ei ffon yn erbyn Rhyderch, pa un a diflannod mewn cawod o lwch, ac ni chlywyd air o son beth daeth o hono mwyach.

'In one of the centuries gone by, there lived a husbandman on the farm of Pantannas; and at that time the fairies used to pay frequent visits to several of the fields which belonged to him. He cherished in his bosom a considerable hatred for the "noisy, boisterous, and pernicious tribe," as he called them, and often did he long to be able to discover some way to rid the place of them. At last he was told by an old witch that the way to get rid of them was easy enough, and that she would tell him how to attain what he so greatly wished, if he gave her one evening's milking [68] on his farm, and one morning's. He agreed to her conditions, and from her he received advice, which was to the effect that he was to plough all the fields where they had their favourite resorts, and that, if they found the green sward gone, they would take offence, and never return to trouble him with their visits to the spot.

'The husbandman followed the advice to the letter, and his work was crowned with success. Not a single one of them was now to be seen about the fields, and, instead of the sound of their sweet music, which used to be always heard rising from the Coarse Meadow Land, the most complete silence now reigned over their favourite resort.

'He sowed his land with wheat and other grain; the verdant spring had now thrust winter off its throne, and the fields appeared splendid in their vernal and green livery.

'But one evening, when the sun had retired to the chambers of the west, and when the farmer of Pantannas was returning home, he was met by a diminutive being in the shape of a man, with a red coat on. When he had come right up to him, he unsheathed his little sword, and, directing the point towards the farmer, he said:--

Vengeance cometh,
Fast it approacheth.

'The farmer tried to laugh, but there was something in the surly and stern looks of the little fellow which made him feel exceedingly uncomfortable.

'A few nights afterwards, as the family were retiring to rest, they were very greatly frightened by a noise, as though the house was falling to pieces; and, immediately after the noise, they heard a voice uttering loudly the threatening words--and nothing more:--

Vengeance cometh.

'When, however, the corn was reaped and ready to be carried to the barn, it was, all of a sudden, burnt up one night, so that neither an ear nor a straw of it could be found anywhere in the fields; and now nobody could have set the corn on fire but the fairies.

'As one may naturally suppose, the farmer felt very much on account of this event, and he regretted in his heart having done according to the witch's direction, and having thereby brought upon him the anger and hatred of the fairies.

'The day after the night of the burning of the corn, as he was surveying the destruction caused by the fire, behold the little fellow, who had met him a few days before, met him again, and, with a challenging glance, he pointed his sword towards him, saying:--

It but beginneth.

The farmer's face turned as white as marble, and he stood calling the little fellow to come back; but the dwarf proved very unyielding and reluctant to turn to him; but, after long entreaty, he turned back, asking the farmer, in a surly tone, what he wanted, when he was told by the latter that he was quite willing to allow the fields, in which their favourite resorts had been, to grow again into a green sward, and to let them frequent them as often as they wished, provided they would no further wreak their anger on him.

'"No," was the determined reply, "the word of the king has been given, that he will avenge himself on thee to the utmost of his power; and there is no power on the face of creation that will cause it to be withdrawn."

'The farmer began to weep at this, and, after a while, the little fellow said that he would speak to his lord on the matter, and that he would let him know the result, if he would come there to meet him at the hour of sunset on the third day after.

'The farmer promised to meet him; and, when the time appointed for meeting the little man came, he found him awaiting him, and he was told by him that his lord had seriously considered his request, but that, as the king's word was ever immutable, the threatened vengeance was to take effect on the family. On account, however, of his repentance, it would not be allowed to happen in his time or that of his children.

'That calmed the disturbed mind of the farmer a good deal. The fairies began again to pay frequent visits to the place, and their melodious singing was again heard at night in the fields around.

'A century passed by without seeing the threatened vengeance carried into effect; and, though the Pantannas family were reminded now and again that it was certain sooner or later to come, nevertheless, by long hearing the voice that said--

Vengeance cometh,

they became so accustomed to it, that they were ready to believe that nothing would ever come of the threat.

'The heir of Pantannas was paying his addresses to the daughter of a neighbouring landowner who lived at the farm house called Pen Craig Daf, and the wedding of the happy pair was to take place in a few weeks, and the parents on both sides appeared exceedingly content with the union that was about to take place between the two families.

'It was Christmas time, and the intended wife paid a visit to the family of her would-be husband. There they had a feast of roast goose prepared for the occasion.

'The company sat round the fire to relate amusing tales to pass the time, when they were greatly frightened by a piercing voice, rising, as it were, from the bed of the river [69], and shrieking:--

The time for revenge is come.

'They all went out to listen if they could hear the voice a second time, but nothing was to be heard save the angry noise of the water as it cascaded over the dread cliffs of the kerwyni; they had not long, however, to wait till they heard again the same voice rising above the noise of the waters, as they boiled over the shoulders of the rock, and crying:--

The time is come.

'They could not guess what it meant, and so great was their fright and astonishment, that no one could utter a word to another. Shortly they returned to the house, when they believed that beyond doubt the building was being shaken to its foundations by some noise outside. When all were thus paralysed by fear, behold a little woman made her appearance on the table, which stood near the window.

'"What dost thou, ugly little thing, want here?" asked one of those present.

'"I have nothing to do with thee, O man of the meddling tongue," said the little woman, "but I have been sent here to recount some things that are about to happen to this family and another family in the neighbourhood, things that might be of interest to them; but, as I have received such an insult from the black fellow that sits in the corner, the veil that hides them from their sight shall not be lifted by me."

'"Pray," said another of those present, "if thou hast in thy possession any knowledge with regard to the future of any one of us that would interest us to hear, bring it forth."

'"No, I will but merely tell you that a certain maiden's heart is like a ship on the coast, unable to reach the harbour because the pilot has lost heart."

'As soon as she had cried out the last word, she vanished, no one knew whither or how.

'During her visit, the cry rising from the river had stopped, but soon afterwards it began again to proclaim:--

The time of vengeance is come;

nor did it cease for a long while. The company had been possessed by too much terror for one to be able to address another, and a sheet of gloom had, as it were, been spread over the face of each. The time for parting came, and Rhyderch the heir went to escort Gwerfyl, his lady-love, home towards Pen Craig Daf, a journey from which he never returned.

'Before bidding one another "Good-bye," they are said to have sworn to each other eternal fidelity, even though they should never see one another from that moment forth, and that nothing should make the one forget the other.

'It is thought probable that the young man Rhyderch, on his way back towards home, got into one of the rings of the fairies, that they allured him into one of their caves in the Ravens' Rift, and that there he remained.

'It is high time for us now to turn back towards Pantannas and Pen Craig Daf. The parents of the unlucky youth were almost beside themselves: they had no idea where to go to look for him, and, though they searched every spot in the place, they failed completely to find him or any clue to his history.

'A little higher up the country, there dwelt, in a cave underground, an aged hermit called Gweiryd, who was regarded also as a sorcerer. They went a few weeks afterwards to ask him whether he could give them any information about their lost son; but it was of little avail. What that man told them did but deepen the wound and give the event a still more hopeless aspect. When they had told him of the appearance of the little woman, and the doleful cry heard rising from the river on the night when their son was lost, he informed them that it was the judgement threatened to the family by the fairies that had overtaken the youth, and that it was useless for them to think of ever seeing him again: possibly he might make his appearance after generations had gone by, but not in their lifetime.

'Time rolled on, weeks grew into months, and months into years, until Rhyderch's father and mother were gathered to their ancestors. The place continued the same, but the inhabitants constantly changed, so that the memory of Rhyderch's disappearance was fast dying away. Nevertheless there was one who expected his return all the while, and hoped, as it were against hope, to see him once more. Every morn, as the gates of the dawn opened beyond the castellated heights of the east, she might be seen, in all weathers, hastening to the top of a small hill, and, with eyes full of the tears of longing, gazing in every direction to see if she could behold any sign of her beloved's return; but in vain. At noon, she might be seen on the same spot again; she was also there at the hour when the sun was wont to hide himself, like a red-hot ball of fire, below the horizon. She gazed until she was nearly blind, and she wept forth her soul from day to day for the darling of her heart. At last they that looked out at the windows began to refuse their service, and the almond tree commenced to crown her head with its virgin bloom. She continued to gaze, but he came not. Full of days, and ripe for the grave, death put an end to all her hopes and all her expectations. Her mortal remains were buried in the graveyard of the old Chapel of the Fan [70].

'Years passed away like smoke, and generations like the shadows of the morning, and there was no longer anybody alive who remembered Rhyderch, but the tale of his sudden missing was frequently in people's mouths. And we ought to have said that after the event no one of the fairies was seen about the neighbourhood, and the sound of their music ceased from that night.

'Rhyderch had been allured by them, and they took him away into their cave. When he had stayed there only a few days, as he thought, he asked for permission to return, which was readily granted him by the king. He issued from the cave when it was a fine noon, with the sun beaming from the bosom of a cloudless firmament. He walked on from the Ravens' Rift until he came near the site of the Fan Chapel; but what was his astonishment to find no chapel there! Where, he wondered, had he been, and how long away? So with mixed feelings he directed his steps towards Pen Craig Daf, the home of his beloved one, but she was not there nor any one whom he knew either. He could get no word of the history of his sweetheart, and those who dwelt in the place took him for a madman.

'He hastened then to Pantannas, where his astonishment was still greater. He knew nobody there, and nobody knew anything about him. At last the man of the house came in, and he remembered hearing his grandfather relating how a youth had suddenly disappeared, nobody knew whither, some hundreds of years previously. Somehow or other the man of the house chanced to knock his walking-stick against Rhyderch, when the latter vanished in a shower of dust. Nothing more was ever heard of him.'

Before leaving Glamorgan, I may add that Mr. Sikes associates fairy ladies with Crymlyn Lake, between Briton Ferry and Swansea; but, as frequently happens with him, he does not deign to tell us whence he got the legend. 'It is also believed,' he says at p. 35, 'that a large town lies swallowed up there, and that the Gwraged Annwn have turned the submerged walls to use as the superstructure of their fairy palaces. Some claim to have seen the towers of beautiful castles lifting their battlements beneath the surface of the dark waters, and fairy bells are at times heard ringing from those towers.' So much by the way: we shall return to Crymlyn in chapter vii.

XII.

The other day, as I was going to Gwent, I chanced to be in the Golden Valley in Herefordshire, where the names in the churchyards seem largely to imply a Welsh population, though the Welsh language has not been heard there for ages. Among others I noticed Joneses and Williamses in abundance at Abbey Dore, Evanses and Bevans, Morgans, Prossers and Prices, not to mention Sayces--that is to say, Welshmen of English extraction or education--a name which may also be met with in Little England in Pembrokeshire, and probably on other English-Welsh borders. Happening to have to wait for a train at the Abbey Dore station, I got into conversation with the tenants of a cottage hard by, and introduced the subject of the fairies. The old man knew nothing about them, but his wife, Elizabeth Williams, had been a servant girl at a place called Pen Pôch, which she pronounced with the Welsh guttural ch: she said that it is near Llandeilo Cressenny in Monmouthshire. It was about forty years ago when she served at Pen Pôch, and her mistress' name was Evans, who was then about fifty years of age. Now Mrs. Evans was in the habit of impressing on her servant girls' minds, that, unless they made the house tidy before going to bed, and put everything in its place overnight, the little people--the fairies, she thinks she called them--would leave them no rest in bed at night, but would come and 'pinch them like.' If they put everything in its place, and left the house 'tidy like,' it would be all right, and 'nobody would do anything to them like.' That is all I could get from her without prompting her, which I did at length by suggesting to her that the fairies might leave the tidy servants presents, a shilling 'on the hearth or the hob like.' Yes, she thought there was something of that sort, and her way of answering me suggested that this was not the first time she had heard of the shilling. She had never been lucky enough to have had one herself, nor did she know of anybody else that 'had got it like.'

During a brief but very pleasant sojourn at Llanover in May, 1883, I made some inquiries about the fairies, and obtained the following account from William Williams, who now, in his seventieth year, works in Lady Llanover's garden:--'I know of a family living a little way from here at ----, or as they would now call it in English ----, whose ancestors, four generations ago, used to be kind to Bendith y Mamau, and always welcomed their visits by leaving at night a basinful of bread and milk for them near the fire. It always used to be eaten up before the family got up in the morning. But one night a naughty servant man gave them instead of milk a bowlful of urine [71]. They, on finding it out, threw it about the house and went away disgusted. But the servant watched in the house the following night. They found him out, and told him that he had made fools of them, and that in punishment for his crime there would always be a fool, i.e. an idiot, in his family. As a matter of fact, there was one among his children afterwards, and there is one in the family now. They have always been in a bad way ever since, and they never prosper. The name of the man who originally offended the fairies was ----; and the name of the present fool among his descendants is ----.' For evident reasons it is not desirable to publish the names.

Williams spoke also of a sister to his mother, who acted as servant to his parents. There were, he said, ten stepping stones between his father's house and the well, and on every one of these stones his aunt used to find a penny every morning, until she made it known to others, when, of course, the pennies ceased coming. He did not know why the fairies gave money to her, unless it was because she was a most tidy servant.

Another Llanover gardener remembered that the fairies used to change children, and that a certain woman called Nani Fach in that neighbourhood was one of their offspring; and he had been told that there were fairy rings in certain fields not far away in Llanover parish.

A third gardener, who is sixty-eight years of age, and is likewise in Lady Llanover's employ, had heard it said that servant girls about his home were wont to sweep the floor clean at night, and to throw crumbs of bread about on it before going to bed.

Lastly, Mrs. Gardner of Ty Uchaf Llanover, who is ninety years of age, remembers having a field close to Capel Newyd near Blaen Afon, in Llanover Uchaf, pointed out to her as containing fairy rings; and she recollects hearing, when she was a child, that a man had got into one of them. He remained away from home, as they always did, she said, a whole year and a day; but she has forgotten how he was recovered. Then she went on to say that her father had often got up in the night to see that his horses were not taken out and ridden about the fields by Bendith y Mamau; for they were wont to ride people's horses late at night round the four corners of the fields, and thereby they often broke the horses' wind. This, she gave me to understand, was believed in the parish of Llanover and that part of the country generally. So here we have an instance probably of confounding fairies with witches.

I have not the means at my command of going at length into the folklore of Gwent, so I will merely mention where the reader may find a good deal about it. I have already introduced the name of the credulous old Christian, Edmund Jones of the Tranch: he published at Trefecca in the year 1779 a small volume entitled, A Geographical, Historical, and Religious Account of the Parish of Aberystruth in the County of Monmouth, to which are added Memoirs of several Persons of Note who lived in the said Parish. In 1813, by which time he seems to have left this world for another, where he expected to understand all about the fairies and their mysterious life, a small volume of his was published at Newport, bearing the title, A Relation of Apparitions of Spirits in the County of Monmouth and the Principality of Wales, with other notable Relations from England, together with Observations about them, and Instructions from them, designed to confute and to prevent the Infidelity of denying the Being and Apparition of Spirits, which tends to Irreligion and Atheism. By the late Rev. Edmund Jones, of the Tranch. Naturally those volumes have been laid under contribution by Mr. Sikes, though the tales about apparitions in them are frequently of a ghastly nature, and sometimes loathsome: on the whole, they remind me more than anything else I have ever read of certain Breton tales which breathe fire and brimstone: all such begin to be now out of fashion in Protestant countries. I shall at present only quote a passage of quite a different nature from the earlier volume, p. 72--it is an interesting one, and it runs thus:--'It was the general opinion in times past, when these things were very frequent, that the fairies knew whatever was spoken in the air without the houses, not so much what was spoken in the houses. I suppose they chiefly knew what was spoken in the air at night. It was also said that they rather appeared to an uneven number of persons, to one, three, five, &c.; and oftener to men than to women. Thomas William Edmund, of Havodavel, an honest pious man, who often saw them, declared that they appeared with one bigger than the rest going before them in the company.' With the notion that the fairies heard everything uttered out of doors may be compared the faculty attributed to the great magician king, Math ab Mathonwy, of hearing any whisper whatsoever that met the wind: see the Oxford Mabinogion, p. 60, and Guest's Mabinogion, iii. 219; see also respectively pp. 94, 96, and pp. 308, 310, as to the same faculty belonging to the fairy people of the Corannians, and the strange precautions taken against them by the brothers Llûd and Llevelys.