On the
other side of the valley from Number One were the terraced cottages of
Cwmcarn. Behind them the valley of
Nant Carn reached into the hills. The mountain rampart stretched from Twmbarlwm
in the south to Mynydd Maen – the hill of stone in the north.
Near the head of the Nant
Carn valley there is a pool that no stream enters or leaves. It is called Pwll
Tra or the Pool of Avarice[1].
Shepherds tell that on stormy nights strange sounds are heard from its reedy
waters.
There was once a great
house in which a rich family lived in luxury and dined magnificently. But on
the far side of the hill they had poor relations. For them every day was a
struggle and they lived close to starvation. One stormy night the great house
was visited by a poor relative.
In desperation he had
crossed the ridge to beg for help. He crawled down towards the house. He
knocked on the door. He waited. The clouds grew black above the hill. He knocked again. Slowly the door
opened.
From the door came light,
warmth and the aroma of fine foods. The lady of the house looked outside, tall
and haughty. Her eyes told that she guessed why her relative had called.
The poor man begged:
“Please, just bread. A crust or two from last week’s loaf, my wife and
children are starving.”
The lady laughed and called
inside “Look what's dragged itself from the sin where it belongs. I know
his people. They come, curse me with my just deserts, spit on my head, go back
to their world.”
Then she spoke into the
night: “Nothing, nothing for the likes of you. Be gone before I loose the
dogs!”
The poor man retreated into
the gathering storm. But there was no solace there. Instead there was a flash
of lightning, a crash of thunder. Then the ground beneath his feet began to
shake. Below him it seemed that the bowels of the earth were split asunder. The
hill opened up, crashed down, and buried the house. It completely swallowed the
great building and those inside. It left only a bare, hollow place beside a
pool which no stream enters or leaves.
Local shepherds tell that
on stormy nights strange sounds are heard from the reedy waters. They are the
cries of those buried
below, forever doomed by their greed. The pool is called Pwll Tra, the Pool of
Avarice.
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