Merlin

Then came the wonder of topping up the panniers with water! How I hoped the fireman would get wet! Then I glimpsed the furnace deep in the belly of the cab. “There’s two dragons fighting in there,” said my Dad. 

Soon we were on board and the train was rattling down towards the sea.

“What did you mean, Dad, two dragons?”

“It’s the prophecy of Merlin, boy.”

Vortigern, King of Britain was defeated by the Saxons so he fled to Wales and began to build a castle. Every day he built a wall, but next day it would always fall down. The king asked his advisors what to do. They told him to find a fatherless boy, kill him, and then mix his blood with the mortar. Then the wall would not collapse.

Then the advisors said, “We know such a boy, his name is Merlin.”

So they found Merlin and brought him to the king. But then Merlin boldly spoke to Vortigern. Merlin knew they wanted to kill him because they were scared of his magic and he told the king.

Then Merlin said, “King, I know why your walls fall down. They are not built on a good foundation. There, under the ground, is a lake. Under the lake are two sleeping dragons – one red dragon, one white. The walls collapse because they trap the dragons underneath. The dragons fight each other, as they fight the ground trembles and your walls fall down.”

So they cleared away the stone and everything Merlin said was true. The dragons woke up, came out of the hole and fought one another. At first it seemed the red dragon was winning, but then the white dragon won.”

Then Merlin said “What it means is this. The red dragon represents the Britons; the white dragon is the Saxons.  At first the Boar of Cornwall will defeat the Saxons, but eventually they will return to rule Britain.”

“Who is the Boar of Cornwall?”asked Vortigern.

“King Arthur, said Merlin, “and six of his descendants will rule before the Saxons return.”

Then, with the dragons gone, Vortigern finished his castle, and he named it Dinas Emrys, because Emrys was Merlin’s other name.”

“Crumbs,” I said, did it all come true?”

“Every word, boy, every word. First the Saxons came back, then the Normans, then the English”

“Could no one fight them?”

“There was one man: Owain Glyndwr.”

“The man the engine was named after!”

Owain Glyndwr! At Pennal on the River Dovey he drew up the very first declaration of Welsh independence. He fought the invaders. He swooped down from the misty hills and gave them what for. Also he was a master of disguise: they never knew when or where he would attack. And you know, boy, there is no record of him ever dying. Some say he’s still out there in the hills, hiding in the mist, waiting for the right moment to overthrow the invaders.

And the old prophecies foretell the last battle will be at Cors Fochno! On that day, when ferns are brown, when holly is red, with whetted axes and blood-red spear, our enemies will be hurled like pigs into the marsh!

On the bus back to Borth I fell asleep dreaming of Dragons and Devils. A fearless warrior stood guard.

Pontarfynach

It was a major expedition: the bus to Aberystwyth, then out onto the platform of the Vale of Rheidol narrow gauge railway, a wicker picnic basket balanced and lugged all the way, and me uncomfortably dressed in best black shoes and cardigan just in case anyone should notice.

But this fretful process was forgotten in an instant as the engine arrived. There is something magic about narrow gauge steam railways. Some people never understand, but small boys instinctively are drawn to such things and many, mercifully, manage not to grow up.

I was entranced by the engine, a pannier tank called Owain Glyndwr. The coaches were, somehow, my size and I felt blissfully at home. As the train coughed, sneezed and rattled up the Vale of Rheidol I was being transported to another world.

At Devil’s Bridge the fit and wealthy strode off to pay their fee and view the picturesque falls. We sat on a station bench, ate our sandwiches, drank lemon squash and waited for the return train.

“Why is it called Devil’s Bridge?” I asked.

Once there was an old lady who had a little Jack Russell terrier dog. She sold bara brith in the market. One afternoon she and her dog were coming home from market, but she found that a great flood had carried away the bridge over the River Rheidol and she could not get home.

Then Devil appeared. He was always on the lookout to cause mischief.  He offered to build a new bridge in exchange for the first soul to cross it. The old lady agreed and the Devil worked all night to build a new stone bridge.

In the morning the bridge was complete and the Devil waited for the old woman to cross. But then the old lady threw a piece of bara brith over the bridge and her little dog ran across to get it. The Devil was outraged, for he had wanted a human soul, not that of a Jack Russell terrier, that would snap and bite all his imps. But he had been outwitted, and the Devil’s Bridge is there to this very day.

Bedd Taliesin

On the hill above Tre-Taliesin I munched a sandwich. I was sitting on an old tumulus, a burial mound probably dating from the Bronze Age. But to local people it was Bedd Taliesin, Taliesin’s Grave, a name that seems to have pre-dated the village below. But Taliesin died in the sixth century. Had Bronze Age funerary practices survived into early medieval times in this remote part of Wales? It seemed unlikely, and Taliesin would probably have had an early Christian burial. So why? Why this of a thousand tumuli?

Below was Tre-Taliesin.  Beyond that was Cors Fochno where lived Ceridwen. Beyond the marsh lay the sea. There, near my own home, Ceridwen had placed her unwanted child into a leather bag and thrown him into the sea. Beyond was site of Aber Leri and Gwyddno’s fish-trap where the child Taliesin had been found.

To the north was the massif of Cader Idris, shrouded in cloud. For a moment the cloud cleared. Through a notch in the foothills I could see the imposing summit from which Taliesin had returned after a night alone there, the greatest poet that ever lived.

From that spot alone I could see every point that was central to the physical and artistic creation of Taliesin: man, legend, and poet. Surely that was why it was called Bedd Taliesin.

Gwaith Cors Fochno

On the south side of the Dyfi estuary, in the lee of the sand dunes of Ynys Las, was Traeth Maelgwyn: Maelgwyn’s beach.  On the sand dunes we stood and watched the tide rush in. Within minutes the Afon Dyfi grew from a few hundred yards wide to well over a mile. Traeth Maelgwyn vanished with amazing speed.

Once the princes of Wales all gathered at Cors Fochno to see who should be the high king. They came from the North; they came from the South. They all placed their thrones on the waters edge on the South side of the Dyfi. As the tide came in the prince who remained seated for longest would be the king.

But Prince Maelgwyn had a wise old friend Maeldaf Hen. As the contest was beginning Maeldaf ran forward with a special throne for Maelgwyn. It was not a grand wooden throne like those of the other princes. It was a light chair made from the feathers of sea birds. As the sea came in all the other princes had to retreat to avoid being drowned. But Maelgwyn in his special chair rose up on the waters, just as a sea-bird bobs on the waves.

So Maelgwyn became high king of all Wales.  The contest was called Gwaith Cors Fochno and the scene of Maelgwyn’s triumph is called Traeth Maelgwyn, Maelgwyn’s beach, to this very day.

Cader Idris

Looming over the Dovey Estuary was the impressive mountain of Cader Idris: the Chair of Idris.

Idris, he was a great giant. Every night he would go up the mountain and use his chair to gaze on the stars.

I remember my father telling me of climbing Cader Idris by the vertiginous Fox’s Path. I guess this may have been in the last months before the Second World War. He told me of the old man who every day ascended the mountain from Dolgellau with a pony carrying lemonade, and so was able to charge thirsty mountaineers like my father a high price for their refreshment. My father had hurried up and down, pausing only for one swift lemonade. He was not worried about the price, or even the giant Idris. I remembered my father saying: “To spend a night on the summit of Cader, is to return either a poet or a madman.” Father, not prepared to take the chance, had returned before nightfall, and consequently claimed to be neither. But Taliesin too had been drawn to the mountain. So was I, and later in life I spent many nights with Idris.

The Ancients of the World

Another legendary inhabitant of Cos Fochno was a magic toad that was one of the six oldest creatures in the world, and one of the wisest.

An Eagle lived in the woods of Gwernabwy. Sadly his old wife-eagle died, and he was very lonely. He thought it would be good if he could marry an old widow of his own age. He thought he might ask the old Owl of Cwm Cawlyd to be his second wife, but first he decided to ask about her. Now the Eagle had a friend, older than himself, the Stag of Rhedynfre. The Eagle decided to ask him if he knew about the old owl.

The Eagle went to the Stag, who said this: "Do you see this oak beside me? Now it is just a withered stump, with no leaves or branches, but I remember when it was an acorn on the top of the chief tree of this forest. An oak is three hundred years growing, three hundred years in its prime, and three hundred years in returning to the earth. More than sixty years of the last hundred of this oak are passed and the Owl has been old since I first remember her. But I have a friend who is much older than I, the Salmon of Llyn Llifon. Ask him if he knows about the old Owl."

The Eagle went to the Salmon, who said this: "I have a year over my head for every gem on my skin and for every egg in my roe, but the Owl was old when first I remember her. But I have a friend who is much older than I, the Ousel of Cilgwri. Ask him if he knows about the old Owl."

The Eagle found the Ousel sitting on a hard flint, and asked if he knew of the Owl. The Ousel said: "Do you see this flint? It used to be so large it took three hundred yoke of the largest oxen to move it. It has only been worn away by my cleaning my beak upon it every night before going to sleep, and striking the tip of my wing on it after rising in the morning. Yet never have I known the Owl younger or older than she is today. But I have a friend who is much older than I, the Toad of Cors Fochno. Ask him if he knows about the old Owl.

The Eagle went to the Toad, who said this: "I never eat any food but the dust of the earth, and I never eat half enough to satisfy me. Do you see the great hills round this bog? I have seen the place where they stand level ground. I have eaten all the earth they contain, though I eat so little lest all the earth should be consumed before I die. Yet never have I known the Owl anything else but an old grey hag who cried to-whit-to-whoo in the woods in the long winter nights, and scared children with her voice even as she does to-day."

So the Eagle decided to marry the Owl and from Eagle’s courtship we know which are the oldest creatures in the world. They are the Eagle of Gwernabwy, the Stag of Rhedynfre, the Salmon of Llyn Llifon, the Ousel of Cilgwri, the Toad of Cors Fochno, and the Owl of Cwm Cawlyd, and the oldest of them all is the Owl.

I always imagined meeting the wise, old toad deep in the marsh. I never knew what I would ask him. But I never went there for fear of Ceridwen.

Ceridwen

But there were other legendary inhabitants of Cors Fochno. One was Hen Wrach Cors Fochno (the Old Witch of Cors Fochno), who I always took to be the legendary Ceridwen.

Ceridwen, the enchantress, had two children: an ugly son, Morfran and a lovely daughter, Creirwy.

Because Morfran was ugly, Ceridwen wanted to make him wise instead. She made a potion that had to be boiled in her magic cauldron for a year and a day. She got Morda, a blind man, to tend the fire. She used a young boy, Gwion Bach, to stir it. The first three drops of liquid from this potion gave wisdom; the rest was a deadly poison. But on the last night the blind man nearly let the fire go out. Gwion shouted in alarm and Morda put too much wood on the fire, which then flared up. The potion boiled over and three hot drops spilled onto Gwion's thumb, scalding him. Instinctively he put his thumb in his mouth and straight away he knew he had got the wisdom Ceridwen meant for her son.

Gwion knew Ceridwen would be angry, so he ran as fast as he could, but Ceridwen chased him. She nearly caught him, but then, using the power of the potion he turned himself into a hare and got away. But then she became a greyhound. She nearly caught him, but then he tuned into a fish and jumped into the river. But then she became an otter. She nearly caught him, but he leapt from the river, turned into a bird and flew away. But then she became a hawk. She nearly caught him, but then he saw a barn filled with grain. Tired out he flew down and turned into a single grain of corn.  But then she became a hen and started eating the grain. She pecked until all the corn was gone and she knew she had eaten Gwion. But then Ceridwen felt a stirring in her belly and she knew she was expecting a baby. She knew the child must be Gwion so she decided to kill it when it was born. But when the baby was born, he was so beautiful she could not kill him. Instead she put him in a leather bag and threw him into the sea.

Now Gwyddno Garanhir, who once was the king of Cantre’r Gwaelod was reduced to being a poor fisherman. He had a son called Elffin who was very unlucky. On Elffin’s 21^st birthday he was told he could go to his father’s fish-trap and keep what ever was in it. He went to the fish trap and there was not one fish inside. Elffin was indeed unlucky. But then he noticed a leather bag caught in the trap. He looked in the bag and there was a baby boy. He went home and Gwyddno asked how many fish he had got. Elffin said “None” and Gwyddno replied “You are indeed the unluckiest of men.” But then Elffin opened the bag. Gwyddno saw the beautiful baby and declared that he was indeed ‘fair of brow’, in Welsh: Tal Iesyn, so the child was always known as Taliesin. Then Elffin was no longer unlucky, he was loved by Taliesin and together they had many adventures.

“What happened to Morfran?” I asked.

“He was all right,” said father. “He grew up to be a great warrior.”