HOW CULHWCH WON OLWEN
HOW CULHWCH WON OLWEN
n a mountain kingdom of Wales there lived a queen called Goleuddydd who was heavy with child. Unfortunately, she had no joy in this blessed condition, for as the baby grew and quickened, evil demons took possession of her and turned her insane. Her husband, King Cilydd, sought help from exorcists and healers; but instead of easing her anguish, they caused Goleuddydd to flee the palace in shame, and hide herself in the wilderness. However, when she felt her birthing pains coming on, the demons finally released her and she returned to her senses. She managed to find her way to a lonely farm where she took shelter in a pigsty. There, all alone, squatting in the mud like a peasant, Goleuddydd brought a bonny baby boy into the world.
She scarcely had time to tidy herself and swaddle the baby in her shawl before the swineherd came into the sty. Queen Goleuddydd thrust the child into his arms, begging him to take care of it. ‘For,’ said she, ‘I am growing weak with fever, and feel sure I will shortly die.’
The swineherd had no wife; nevertheless, he took the baby home and raised it by himself. Having no idea that it was of royal lineage, and being at a loss what to call it, he had the child baptised Culhwch, which means ‘Pigsty’, in honour of the place where he had found it.
Meanwhile, Queen Goleuddydd returned to her palace and laid herself in her deathbed, where King Cilydd came to grieve over her. He assumed that she had miscarried their child, thus leaving him with no heir.
‘Soon I shall fall into the sleep that lasts for ever,’ she whispered. ‘And when you have done with your lamenting, husband, no doubt you will seek another wife to replace me. But, I beg you, do not do this until a briar flowers upon my grave.’
The bereft king made this promise; and then Goleuddydd died.
Time went by. King Cilydd got over his grief and began to crave female company. He searched desperately on Goleuddydd’s grave for any sign of the briar that would release him from his promise; but year upon year it stayed barren. For, unbeknown to him, Goleuddydd had ordered a priest to go out and dig over the grave every spring, to ensure that no flower would ever grow there.
However, when seven years had passed, the priest forgot this duty. That very spring a briar took root on the grave and by summer it was flowering. At this sign, King Cilydd at once succumbed to an improvident desire that had soiled his heart during his long years of desolation: to marry a certain lady who was already the wife of a neighbouring king. Since there was no other way to achieve this, he sent his army to slay the neighbouring king, seize all his land – and snatch the lady away.
Not surprisingly, although he indulged his new queen with every conceivable luxury, she bitterly resented her enforced widowhood and violent abduction. Day by day, she wandered through King Cilydd’s realm, seeking some way of revenge for it. At last she came to a lonely, overgrown cottage where a toothless but shrewd old hag offered her a consultation.
‘It is a simple matter to achieve the revenge you long for,’ this hag told her. ‘All that you need do is place a curse upon Cilydd’s child and heir.’
‘But he swore to me that he has no child,’ the new queen answered.
‘So far as he could know the truth, he did not tell you a lie,’ said the hag. ‘But he will soon see things differently if you give him this messag
