The legend of Blodeuwydd

I hope you enjoy today's legend.  I'm away for a few days visiting relative in Wales, so please excuse me if you comment and I don't get back to you.  I promise I will answer as soon as I am able.

The story of Blodeuwedd (Blaw - dow- ith) is one of the legends belonging to the Mabinogion, a famous collection of old Welsh legends.

A woman named Arianrhod had two sons, one whom was named Lleu Llaw Gyffes. She had a dislike for Lleu and put three curses on him: that he would not receive a name unless it was given by her, he would not receive his armour unless from her, and the last curse was that he would never be allowed to marry a mortal woman.

When he grew to manhood, Lleu called upon his two uncles, who were the wizards, Gwydion and Math,  to help him find a wife.

With the  chant "Take the flowers of the oak, and the flowers of the broom, and the flowers of the meadowsweet, from those they conjured up the fairest and most beautiful maiden anyone had ever seen.They created a wife for Lleu Llaw Gyffes out of flowers and  baptized her, naming her Blodeuwedd, meaning 'flower face'. Blodeuwedd was beautiful and innocent; immediately Lleu fell in love with her and the two were married.

After she had become Lleu's bride, and they had feasted, Matb said, “I will give the young man the best Cantrev to hold.The Cantrev of Dinodig.” The place was a palace in a spot called Mur y Castell,the old name for Tomen-y-Mur  near Traswfynydd There Lleu and Blodeuwedd reigned, and were beloved by all.

Not long after the marriage, Lleu left Blodeuwedd alone in their castle at Tomen y Mur  as he needed to visit his uncles on business. She became bored and lonely, Then one day a hunting party approached the castle, led by Gronw Pebyr, the lord of nearby Penllyn. He told Blodeuwedd that his party was looking for somewhere to stay and Blodeuwedd invited them to stay in the castle. She became infatuated with Gronw Pebyr and the two began an affair. They decided to kill Lleu, so she and Gronw could be together. However, Lleu couldn’t be killed in any normal way,
not during the day or night,  neither riding nor walking, not clothed and not naked, nor by any weapon lawfully made.

When Gronw and his hunting party left and Lleu returned, Blodeuwedd pretended to be worried about his safety and asked him what method could be used to kill him,   He revealed  that he could only be killed at dusk, wrapped in a net with one foot on a cauldron and one on a goat and with a spear forged for a year during the hours when everyone was at mass. Blodeuwedd went to Gronw Pebyr with the information and they arranged his death. Gronw Pebyr  began working on a spear immediately.

Exactly one year later, Blodeuwedd convinced him to demonstrate how impossible it would be for him to be in the position where he could be killed, by chance, and when he did so, her lover Goronwy leapt out and struck with the spear he had been forging for one year during the sacred times of mass. Because Lleu  had one foot on the side of a metal cauldron  and the other on the back of a goat, Gronw’s plan was successful. But what Lleu had not told Blodeuwedd was that he could lose his life. Instead, as soon as the spear hit him, Lleu turned into an eagle and flew away into the forest.

After hearing the news, the  wizard Gwydion set out to find Lleu. He found him in a tree in the forest nearby, living off the meat of a wild boar lying at the footof the tree. Because of his magic powers, Gwydion was able to turn Lleu back into a man.

Lleu set out to find Gronw Pebyr and Blodeuwedd. Lleu killed Gronw Pebyr, but  Blodeuwedd had run to the forest.  Gwydion managed to corner her and as punishment for what she had done, he turned her into a tawny owl, telling her that every other bird would fear her and thus she would have to live the rest of her life in solitude. 

  







The name of Lleu and Blodeuwedd's castle in the tales,Mur y Castell, is  thought to be an early reference to the site where later the
Roman fort of Tomen y Mur was built, near Trawsfynydd.

Changeling's Crown - Book Tour and Giveaway

I'm thrilled to welcome  Julie D Revezzo to my blog today  with her latest release:

Changeling’s Crown

Juli D. Revezzo

Genre: upper YA/New Adult paranormal romance

Publisher: Raven Queen Publications

Date of Publication: June 2014

ISBN: 978-1499390193

ASIN: B00KPJ27UW

Number of pages: 190

Word Count: 46,500

Cover Artist: Boulevard Photografica

Book Description:

When Ianthe began her career as a faery godmother, she stumbled so badly that Snow White will probably never speak to her again. After a long suspension, she’s finally been given a chance to redeem herself…but everything on this latest assignment is going wrong.

But why?

Worse, she definitely doesn’t need an attractive mortal man distracting her from her duties. Of course, needs and wants are two different things.

Briak has had his eye on Ianthe for a very, very long time, but he’s been waiting for just the right moment to make his move. Despite the fact all hell’s about to break loose on his watch, he can’t resist the opportunity to insert himself into her earthly assignment. Can he convince Ianthe of her true calling and thereby win her heart? Or will his subterfuge ultimately cost him her love?

Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/50HNfdHQ1l8

Available at Amazon

 Excerpt:

Sunlight filtered into the office, tinkling musically as it bounced off a globe standing to the far side of the room. A lone dust mote floated through the air to fall onto the crystalline floorboards and as it hit, Ianthe Hypericum cringed when she heard it clack against the floor, like the tinny clap of an iron breakfast bell. Normally the sound didn’t bother her. Normally she found it lovely.

Not today.

Nervous sweat ran down Ianthe’s back as she awaited her latest assignment. Maybe the Faery Godmother High Council hadn’t changed their decision. Maybe Ms. Siabelle had called her in to revoke her wand for good.

Why wouldn’t she? After all, so many of her recent assignments had ended in disaster. The High Council frowned upon her performance even before Snow White’s daughter had run off with that traveling band of thieves. Ianthe still couldn’t quite figure out how it had happened. She’d spent nearly fourteen hundred years on probation for it. How it hadn’t driven her crazy enough to join those in the dark side of the groves, she had no idea. It’d been a close call.

Some faery godmother she’d turned out to be! She didn’t want to think what might happen if she blew another assignment. They’d turn her out, maybe send her to the shoemaker’s shop as punishment, and she didn’t want that. Everyone knew the shoemaker’s shop was a dungeon compared to the human world.

What a disgrace for her family, if the council banished her there! They were having a hard enough time, socially, dealing with her failure with the Snow White family. Banishment would undo them. She had to succeed at this assignment, she just had to!

The door opened and an older woman, wearing a gray Armani suit, stepped through.

Ianthe stood and curtseyed, her lilac taffeta skirt rustling.

“Good morning, Ms. Siabelle.”

The old woman pushed her glasses up her pert nose with a thick finger. “Ah, Ianthe. I see you’re on time, for once.” She scuttled around the huge oak desk like an overweight crab.

Ianthe folded her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers as she waited for her boss to settle down.

“I trust all is well.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “The Smith-Weiss affair’s all cleaned up.”

“They’re happy, then?” Ms. Siabelle asked.

Ianthe bit her lip. Hard. No, she wouldn’t say the couple was happy. Not unless the faery godparent council had changed its definition of single parent households. Still, she made her report on her latest assignment. “The couple is—April is…Chuck will be—” She blew out a deep breath.

“They’ll get there. Plenty of babies grow up without their fathers. It’s for the best.”

“Is it?”

“April Smith and Charles Weiss weren’t made for each other, no matter how much we wish it.” She frowned at the old faery godmother. “You knew there were problems going into that assignment.”

Ms. Siabelle remained quiet in the face of Ianthe’s accusation. She twitched the platinum chain on her glasses and turned her attention to her computer. “Yes, well, that isn’t the issue today.”

Adjusting her glasses to her liking, she turned her head, gaze softening as she peered at Ianthe.

Ianthe could feel a million tiny lightning bolts trying to find their way into her heart. She could barely breathe under the elderly overseer’s gaze and she begged the faery gods to be on her side, just this once.

Ms. Siabelle cleared her throat.

Here it came. Ianthe tried not to cringe.

“The Faery Godparent High Council has decided to give you another chance, child.”

She blinked. “Say that again?” Unbelievable!

“I said we’ve decided in your favor.” Ms. Siabelle turned in her chair, and standing, crossed the room to a tall filing cabinet. Batting away a stray sunbeam, she wrapped old fingers around the silver handle gracing the top drawer, tugged it open, and drew a finger in the air above the files. They flipped by themselves, one after another, as if she pulled them. But she held her finger too high. “If the couple can’t make a go of it even after what you’ve done, it’s not your fault.”

“I did try.”

“I told the council so. Ah, here we are.” She stepped back as one file slid free. It spun in the air before her a moment, then Ms. Siabelle reached out and took hold of the thin folder. Ianthe wrung her hands as Ms. Siabelle sat back down and began to read. “Hmm... It says here that you’re to be assigned to a young man.” Her brow rose. “And his soon-to-be ex-wife.”

Ianthe sat up straighter. A divorce? Oh, no. More battles over the children. She found being saddled with the choice of which parent would be best heartbreaking. “Surely you must be mistaken. Isn’t there some forlorn lover I can look after instead?” This guy was probably as ugly as the frog prince, while the wife, well… she’d met some doozies!

“No, the assignment is quite clear. You’re to assist Randall and Mallory Davies.” Ms. Siabelle shut the gleaming folder and folded her hands atop it. “According to their files, it’s a clear case. Randall’s not sure he wants the divorce and Mallory—well, I don’t see why she couldn’t be persuaded to drop the case. Should be a piece of cake, as they say down there.”

She’d said that about Snow White’s daughter, but Ianthe thought better of reminding her. “I’m not sure.”

“Are you saying you don’t want the assignment, my dear? I thought you hoped for a chance to get your wand and title back.” Her nose twitched. “And everything else that goes with it. Coaches and ball gowns and such.”

All of which had gone out of style with the age of classic faery tales. Right now, Ianthe didn’t feel like contradicting her. “I do, ma’am. It’s just that—”

“Good. I’ll see the paperwork’s sent through; meanwhile—” She wiggled her finger over the file and it rose from the desktop, floating like a bird into Ianthe’s less than eager hands. “Why don’t you get started?” She shook her head sadly. “Seems Randall and Mallory are in dire need of a happy ending, as you’ll see.”

Ianthe sighed. The pages flipped open before her, and she took in the photographs. Randall, his employees. One stood out: a man with a handsome angular face, tousled brown hair, and deep, coffee-colored eyes.

She leaned forward to study the picture, wondering who he was. Too handsome to ignore, she thought. Was he the reason for the couple’s troubles? She could see that being the case.

Maybe this assignment wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

She shoved the file into her oversized purse and exited the office to take to the hall, a renewed confidence in her gait. She could do this. Surely, she would finally live down that fiasco of an assignment with Snow White’s daughter. Maybe it would even garner her a promotion. Full Godmotherhood!

Dare she dream?

She was already daydreaming for she plowed right into an oncoming faery.

She blinked at him. Geldon P. Techsmauch.

“I’m sorry, Geldon. I didn’t see you,” she said.

Son of a goblin, how she hated him! She stepped back, hoping to escape him as soon as possible.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” he snarled.

When she stepped around him he planted his right hand against the wall, blocking her escape. “Where do you think you’re rushing off to in such a hurry?” he asked. “You can’t have a princess awaiting you. You’re on probation after all. Or are you late for a class? Beginning wand construction one-oh-one?”

How’m I supposed to go anywhere with you in my way, you horsefly’s butt? What was he doing, besides being a nuisance? “I said I’m sorry.” She tried not to snarl back, but it was hard. She tapped a finger to her lips. “Didn’t I hear you just came back from Desire Island? How’d that go?”

His mud brown eyes narrowed. “You heard wrong. It was Devil’s Island.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “My mistake.”

“Yes, you make many.” He turned on his heel. “So, I see you have more studying to do. Good luck with it, Hypericum. You’ll need it.”

Ianthe’s fists clenched and she wanted to stamp her foot against the citrine floor tiles, but the sound would reverberate through them as if she’d shattered a glass wall and tell the whole kingdom how angry she was. The nerve of Techsmauch! He was such an ass! Why did he constantly make her life a living hell? She didn’t want to run the risk of meeting up with him again tonight. So she turned back the way she’d come. She’d take the sub-elevators down to the Earth level if she had to in order to avoid facing him again.

A wrinkly, gray skinned goblin met her at the elevator and beckoned her inside. It was stuffed full of trolls. Many smelled as if they needed a nice, long bath. No one would ever catch Techsmauch dead in a sub-elevator so it seemed the best way to avoid him.

She sniffed once or twice and wrinkled her nose at the smell. The doors closed and she slowly released her breath. Afraid to inhale, she wondered how long it would take to reach Earth level. Don’t worry. We’ll arrive before you pass out from the trolls’ stench. She hoped.

All she could think about was the shower she’d take once on Earth. She’d have to freshen up if she wanted to get close to her assignment. Troll-stench was known to drive away any and all who came near. That was no way to begin this assignment.

She checked her purse, pulling forth the file Ms. Siabelle had given her. She could swear she’d seen that employee before, but where?

Briak. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Was it possible she had the name incorrect? Maybe the k constituted a typo. The name niggled in a way she didn’t like, but he looked so kind. Had she ever helped him? Or someone in his family?

Maybe I’m mistaken. How many handsome ranch hands were there in Clover Glen, Florida, after all?

About the Author:

Juli D. Revezzo is a Florida girl, with a love of fantasy, science fiction, and Arthurian legend, so much so she gained a B.A. in English and American Literature. She loves writing stories with fantastical elements whether it be a full-on fantasy, or a story set in this world-slightly askew.

She has been published in short form in Eternal Haunted Summer, Dark Things II: Cat Crimes (a charity anthology for cat related charities), Luna Station Quarterly, Crossing the River, An Anthology in Honor of Sacred Journeys; The Scribing Ibis: An Anthology of Pagan Fiction in Honor of Thoth, and Twisted Dreams Magazine. She’s the author of The Antique Magic series and the Paranormal Romance Harshad Wars series.

She is a member of the Independent Author Network and the Magic Appreciation Tour.

Website: http://julidrevezzo.com

Blog: http://julidrevezzo.com/blog

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/JD-Revezzo/233193150037011

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/111476709039805267272/posts

Good Reads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5782712.Juli_D_Revezzo

Shelfari: http://www.shelfari.com/authors/a1002694572/Juli-D-Revezzo/

Pintrest: http://pinterest.com/jewelsraven/

Twitter: @julidrevezzo

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Dark Nights - Guest Post and Giveaway

As you know, there is nothing I like better than to host fellow SF or Fantasy authors on my blog and today it is my great pleasure to welcome Christopher Gray to the Flight Deck.  And he has some sound words of wisdom on that thing all writers dread - an unfavourable review!

Dark Nights

By

Christopher Gray

BLURB:  

The machine believed it knew best how to save humanity... even if doing so meant destroying half the population. 

Astrophysicist Doug Lockwood's unusual discovery during his observation of the sun kicks off a chain of events that nobody could have foreseen. The powerful political and military influences that compete to deal with his discovery set Lockwood on a course which will carry him across worlds, and into the grasp of a formidable new intelligence bent on accomplishing its goal at any cost. With Earth itself at stake and time running out, Lockwood and his team must find a way to counter this unprecedented threat before the powerful new enemy completes its plan. Two civilizations are pitted against each other in a desperate struggle for survival.

EXCERPT

Meyer shut the door after the last person left and sat down in the nearest chair, directly across from Doug, rather than his usual spot at the head of the table. Doug waited for him to speak.

“It’s a planet,” Meyer said finally. “And it’s in an orbit directly opposite ours, at a distance of approximately one AU.”

Doug didn’t reply. The implications were massive, as were the questions. After a few seconds, Meyer rose from his seat and walked to the window, looking outside at the sloping volcanic Hawaiian landscape as he talked.

“Nobody knows where it came from, but it’s there, verified by NASA.”

“Using their STEREO satellites?”

“Yes, a few hours ago. But you and Foley at Atacama saw it first. STEREO was trained on another star when you logged the object. It took some time to reposition STEREO’s lenses. Because of their orbital distance ahead and behind us, together they will be able to keep tabs on the object at all times. We’re expecting some images soon, which will be free of the sun’s coronal interference.”

“So we’ll have a better view and can determine if its orbit is stable.”

“Correct.”

“But that doesn’t explain how it got there.”

“Correct again. But thanks to your discovery, and your reputation, you’ve been invited to an emergency conference in Washington. You’ll be meeting your plane at Pearl Harbor in two hours. Don’t bother to pack, there’s a helicopter on its way here, courtesy of the White House Chief Science Advisor.”

***

HOW TO HANDLE NEGATIVE CRITICISM

Even if you write a terrific book with wide appeal, you’re not going to please everyone. Negative reviews are sure to come eventually. The most perplexing reviews might contain admissions such as “I don’t like this type/category/genre of book.” This begs the question, if the reader doesn’t like a particular genre, why did they purchase a book belonging to that genre? All you can do is shrug your shoulders.

If you receive a negative review that raised some points you disagree with, you might be tempted to comment on the review to set the record straight. Depending on the temperment of the reviewer, this can be risky. If you feel you can present a reasoned rebuttal to a reviewer that made an incorrect assumption, and you feel a reasonable dialog can follow, then by all means go for it. I always strive to remain courteous and professional.

On the other hand, some reviewers seem to enjoy giving negative reviews, and will pounce on an author that contradicts them. Nothing good can come of an online shouting match, so it’s better to ignore them and move on.

Even professional reviewers can sometimes make errors. Some reviewers have dozens of books in their review pile, and so they may not always be able to devote as much time to a book as they’d like. If a professional reviewer makes a factual error, I email them with the corrections. They actually appreciate the opportunity to correct an error, since they don’t want to appear unprofessional. Again, always remain courteous when conversing.

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

Christopher A. Gray is a professional freelance writer living in Toronto. He has been a sales agent, project manager, actor, filmmaker, comedy writer & performer and world traveler.

http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Nights-Christopher-Gray-ebook/dp/B00GOH9CSE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403100145&sr=8-1

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dark-nights-christopher-a-gray/1117683808?ean=9780986836497

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Welsh Legend Monday - ghosts and ghoulies

Wales is a land full of myths and legends, and has its fair share of ghosts.  I thought I'd share  just a few tales of hauntings from various pars of the Principality.

THE HAUNTING OF LLANIDLOES

There was once a lady who died but could not rest in her grave because of her misdeeds, and she haunted the locals until they could stand it no more.  Somehow they enticed her to shrink and enter into a bottle, after appearing in a good many hideous forms; but when she got into the bottle, they corked it down securely, and the bottle was cast into the pool underneath the Short bridge at Llanidloes, There the lady was to remain until the ivy that grow up the buttresses should overgrow the sides of the bridge, and reach the parapet.  In the year 1848, the old bridge was blown up, and a new one built instead of it. So for all anyone knows, she is still trapped in her bottle!

 THE GHOST OF LLANDEGLA

 A small river runs close to the secluded village of Llandegla, and in this mountain stream under a huge stone lies a wicked ghost. This is how he came to be there:

It  not is not known why Ffrith farm was troubled by a ghost, but when the servants were busily engaged in cheese making the spirit would suddenly throw earth or sand into the milk, and thus spoil the curds. The dairy was also visited by the ghost, and there he played havoc with the milk and dishes. He sent the pans, one after the other, around the room, and dashed them to pieces. The terrible doings of the ghost was a topic of general conversation in those parts.

The farmer offered a reward of five pounds to anyone who would lay the Spirit. One Sunday afternoon,  an aged priest visited the farm yard, and in the presence of a crowd of spectators exorcised the ghost, but without effect.

The farmer then sent for Griffiths, an Independent minister at Llanarmon, who enticed the ghost to the barn. The ghost then changed its appearance to the form of a lion, but  could not touch Griffiths, because he stood in the centre of a circle, over which the lion could not pass. Griffiths tricked the ghost  into appearing in a less formidable shape, and it changed into a mastiff, but Griffiths demanded that it change to something smaller. At last, the ghost appeared as a fly, which was captured by Griffiths and secured in his tobacco box,  This box he buried under a large stone in the river, just below the bridge, near the Llandegla Mills, and there the spirit is forced to remain until a certain tree, which grows by the bridge, reaches the height of the parapet. When this takes place, the spirit will have power to regain his liberty.  To prevent this tree from growing, the school children, even to this day, nip the upper branches to limit its upward growth.

THE GHOSTLY GIANT OF PONT-Y-GLYN

There is a picturesque valley between Corwen and Cerrig-y-Drudion, down which rushes a mountain stream, and over this stream is a bridge, called Pont-y-Glyn.  On the left hand side, a few yards from the bridge, on the Corwen side, is a yawning chasm, through which the river leaps and tumbles.  Here people who have travelled by night affirm that they have seen ghosts—the ghosts of those who have been murdered in this secluded place. Among the ghosts, a man who was a servant at Garth Meilio, said that one night, when he was returning home late from Corwen, he saw before him, seated on a heap of stones, a woman dressed in Welsh costume.  He wished her good night, but she returned him no answer.  She, got up and grew to gigantic proportions as she continued down the road.

THE GHOST OF TY FELIN

An exciseman, overtaken by night, went to a house called Ty Felin, (Yellow House) in the parish of Llanynys, and asked for lodgings.  Unfortunately the house was a very small one, containing only two bedrooms, and one of these was haunted; consequently no one dared sleep in it.  After a while, however, the stranger induced the master to allow him to sleep in this haunted room. He had not been there long before a ghost entered the room in the shape of a travelling Jew and walked around the room.  The exciseman tried to catch him and gave chase, but he lost sight of the Jew in the yard.  He had scarcely entered the room, a second time, when he again saw the ghost.  He chased him once more and lost sight of him in the same place.  The third time he followed the ghost, he made a mark on the yard where the ghost vanished and went to rest, and was not disturbed again.

The next day, the exciseman got up early and went away, but, before long, he returned to Ty Felin accompanied by a policeman, whom he requested to dig in the place where his mark was.  This was done and underneath a superficial covering, a deep well was discovered, and in it a corpse.

Under interrogation, the occupier of the house confessed that a travelling Jew, selling jewelry and such items, once lodged with him, and that he had murdered him and cast his body in the well.

BLACK DOGS AND ARTHUR'S SEAT

In Welsh mythology and folklore, Cŵn Annwn" hounds of Annwn") were the spectral hounds of Annwn, the otherworld of Welsh myth. They were associated with a form of the Wild Hunt, presided over by Gwynn ap Nudd. Christians came to dub these mythical creatures as "The Hounds of Hell" or "Dogs of Hell" and theorised they were therefore owned by Satan. However, the Annwn of medieval Welsh tradition is an otherworldly paradise and not a hell, or abode of dead souls.

They were associated with migrating geese, supposedly because their honking in the night is reminiscent of barking dogs

The Cŵn Annwn also came to be regarded as the escorts of souls on their journey to the Otherworld.
The hounds are sometimes accompanied by a fearsome hag called Mallt-y-Nos, "Matilda of the Night". An alternative name in Welsh folklore is Cŵn Mamau ("Hounds of the Mothers").

Hunting grounds for the Cŵn Annwn are said to include the mountain of  Cadair Idris, where it is believed "the howling of these huge dogs foretold death to anyone who heard them.The locals claim that the mountain is haunted, and that anyone who spends the night on top of Cadair Idris will wake up either a madman or a poet. Different legends surround the mountain and one of the earliest claims that the giant Idris lived there. Three large stones rest at the foot of the mountain, and legend says that Idris got angry once and kicked them, sending them rolling down the mountainside.  

Other Welsh legends state, however, that Arthur made his kingdom there, hence the name Cadair Idris: or the Seat of Idris.

Pwll-y-Wrach, the Witches Pool.

There is a pool hidden from the road on the top of Flint Mountain, in Flint North Wales. The pool is so small that travellers these days would not barely notice it. But this was not always so. In days gone by Flint Mountain was a bare and desolate place and the pool was known as Pwll-y-Wrach, the Hag's Pool or the Witches Pool, the place where the ellyllon (as the Welsh call goblins) would congregate, and thus a place where humans would stay well clear of, especially after dark.

In 1852, on a cold winter's morning, John Roberts a farm labourer was setting out to work when he found a youth blocking his path. With a harmless gesture he made to pass the youth but all of a sudden a force propelled him through the air. He landed face down above Pwll-y-Wrach, and the force held him there despite John's best efforts to free himself. He struggled  until at the sound of a cock crow he was released. The ellyll, still disguised as a youth, stood astride him and warned. " When the cuckoo sings its first note on Flint Mountain I shall come again to fetch you". John got to his feet and stumbled back home, shaken but otherwise unhurt.

The following May, John Roberts died. He had been repairing a wall at Pen-y-glyn on Flint Mountain when it collapsed and crushed him. A lady who witnessed the accident said a cuckoo had come to land on a nearby tree just as it happened. And as the body of John Roberts was being returned to his home the cuckoo  followed, singing from tree to tree all the way to the front door.

Welsh Legend Monday - Twm Sion Cati, the Welsh Robin Hood

Oh yes, it's not just Sherwood Forest that has a famous outlaw who stole from the rich (although it's not confirmed that he gave his ill gotten gains to the poor, but we'll gloss over that.)

As a child, growing up in West Wales, I was enthralled by the tales of Twm Siôn Cati. He  may have become a legendary figure in Welsh folklore. but it seems he actually existed. Thomas Jones, to give him his real name, was of noble blood, born around 1530, supposedly the illegitimate son of the squire of Porthyffynnon (Fountain Gate), near Tregaron, mid west wales and Catherine (Cati), the illegitimate daughter of one of the ancestors of Syr John Wynn of Gwydir. (a rather immoral lot some of these noble families), although it is actually more likely he was  the son of a farmer, Sion (John) son of David ap Madog. It was  common practice in rural Wales, traditionally a matriarchal society, for children with common names to be nicknamed after their mothers, so he became known as Twm Sion Cati.

Twm Sion Cati earned his reputation, roaming the rugged west and mid regions of Wales, robbing from the rich. It is thought he had some formal education and  was a talented poet. He appears to have progressed from being a a common thief and highwayman into quite a crafty and clever conman.
 
 According to one well known tale he once stole a fine chestnut mare from a farmer named Powell. Twm then painted the animal grey and sold it back to the farmer - who didn't find out how he'd been cheated until rain washed the paint off the horse!

Another tale tells how Twm stayed an inn overnight and learnt that a certain highwayman planned to  rob him the following day. He had a large sum of money with him and allowed the rumour to get around that he had the money hidden in the pack saddle of his horse.The next day, as the robber accosted him, Twm dropped the empty packsaddle in the middle of a pool. The highwayman waded into the pool to fetch it and Twm made off with the highwayman's own horse.

Another time a shopkeeper tried to cheat him by selling him a pot with a hole in it, while claiming the ot was sound. Twm dropped the pot over the man's head, saying that there was certainly a hole in it or he would not have been able to fit such a large thing as the shopkeeper's head inside it!

He was reputed to be compassionate though, and to have avoided hurting those from whom he stole. It is said he was able to secure his victim by firing an arrow which would pin the rider to his saddle, rendering him unable to move, but unharmed


Twm often hid from his arch enemy the Sheriff of Carmarthen in a cave on the slopes of the rugged, densely wooded Dinas Hill, about 12 miles north of Llandovery, close to the village of Rhandirmwyn. Beneath the cave, the mountain river Pysgotwr joins the larger River Towy and thunders through the rocky gorge below. These days Dinas Hill is on RSPB nature reserve and  can be visited by tourists and visitors interested in the legend of Twm Sion Catti.

When Elizabeth 1st came to the throne he was pardoned and returned from Geneva where he had fled to escape the law. He served as steward for the lordship of Caron and later a Justice of The Peace and geneologist, becoming wealthy and marrying an heiress widow. becoming much loved and respected until his death in 1609.

There are several books written about this loveable rougue, including Lynn Hughes' book about Twm, entitled 'Hawkmoor', which was serialised by the BBC in 1977.