Another Welsh legend - Pwll-y-Wrach, the Witches Pool

There is a pool hidden from the road among a copse on the top of Flint Mountain, in Flint North Wales. The pool is so small that travellers from Flint to Northop would not give it a second glance. 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 John Roberts a farm labourer paid an unexpected visit to Pwll-y-Wrach. It was a cold winter's  morning and John 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 for what seemed a lifetime, but in fact was just a few short minutes, 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.

and just to lighten the mood - I  can totally relate to this 😆:

Watch out for news of my latest romance - The Matchmaker's Mare - coming soon!

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A bit more news - and some horsey fun facts

I am sorry I have been quiet for so long. About a month ago I had complex knee surgery. I'm happy to say all went well, but it's taking a long time to get back to something like normal, and in fact it's taking me a long time to do anything - so blogging and social media has had to go on the 'back burner' for a while. I'm looking forward to starting edits for 'The Matchmaker's Mare' and to sharing my cover with  you - it recently came through and I couldn't be happier with it.  I'm waiting until I have some idea of a possible release date to put it on display though, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep you in suspense for a while! 😊 I think you will find it worth the wait though!

In the meantime, I thought I'd intersperse my Welsh legends posts with some 'horsey' snippets, which I hope you'll find interesting. 'The Matchmaker's Mare' is set on in my native Wales and features a horse trainer, several horses and a couple of slightly meddlesome ghosts (although they mean well). It is, of course a romance. Everything I write ends up as a romance - I just can't help myself! 😁😍

SOME FUN FACTS ABOUT HORSES

1. A horse is measured in 'hands'. One hand equals four inches.
2. A pony is a small horse, under 14.2 hands high. 
3. There are also specific breeds of pony. In the UK these include: Welsh Mountain pony, Welsh pony, Welsh Pony of Cob Type and the largest, the Welsh Cob. These are listed in the Welsh Stud book under Section A,B, C and D respectively. Then there are Shetlands, Dales, Dartmoor, Exmoor, Connemara, Highland, New Forest, Fell, and the Eriskay pony. The UK also has several native breeds of heavy horse, including Shire, Cleveland Bay, Suffolk Punch and Clydesdale.
4. On the subject of heavy horses, the Shire is the tallest breed in the world, averaging about 18.2 hands high, although the tallest ever recorded stood at 21.2 hands.
5. Horses can sleep standing up. Their joints lock, although they will sleep lying down if they feel    safe. (and yes, they do sometimes snore!)
6. The gestation period of a horse is eleven months . (A long time to wait for that lovely little foal.)
7.  All racehorses are considered to have their birthdays on 1st January, although most are actually born between April and June.
8. A 'white' horse is always called 'grey' (unless it has pink skin and pink or pale eyes, in which case it is an albino.)
9. A horse cannot be physically sick, so they can suffer quite a lot if transported over long distances, especially by sea. (Not such a fun fact, that one!)
10. An Arabian horse is always called a horse, even if it's under 14.2 hands high.

 

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Welsh Myths and legends - an old Welsh mansion and its legends

Nanteos Mansion

One of my favourite places is Nanteos Mansion, near where I used to live in Wales. I used to keep my horses at the stables and spent many a happy hour soaking up the atmosphere of this historic house, built in 1738.

The Mansion has its share of ghosts and an interesting history. Late at night the stables would ring with unearthly screeches, like souls in torment. Actually it was nothing more sinister than a colony of screech owls nesting nearby. (Or so I was told.) A short distance from the house itself is a little copse used to bury the Powell family’s pets. I would spend sunny Saturday afternoons, after I'd finished riding and caring for my horses, writing on the grass in this peaceful little haven, or looking at the sad little graves. Some of the inscriptions are quite touching and the owner of the stables, which, when I was there, had been sold as a separate entity from the Mansion itself, swore he’d heard ghostly hooves galloping past, late at night.

Many legends name Nanteos as the one-time resting place of the Holy Grail, the chalice that Jesus and his disciples are believed to have drunk from at the Last Supper. The cup, known as ‘the Nanteos Cup’ was apparently brought back from the Middle East in AD 63 by Joseph of Arimathea, who settled at Glastonbury Monastery in the west of England. When the monastery was dissolved in 1539, a number of monks fled with the Holy Grail to Strata Florida Abbey, in the Aberystwyth area, and from there to Nanteos, where the cup passed into the hands of the Powell family. The Grail was famous for its supposed healing powers, and water poured from it was highly sought after as a cure for various diseases. I’ve actually seen the ‘grail’, or what was left of it The owner of the house (and the cup) a Major Merrilees, eventually moved to Herefordshire, taking the Nanteos Cup with him. It is understood that it currently resides in a bank vault somewhere. It is a small wooden vessel (5″ diameter, 3″ deep) in a very poor state today, due to pilgrims’ biting large chunks out of it, over the years, in order to aid recovery from their ills. 

Nanteos stable yard

Although the Holy Cup is not at Nanteos anymore, there are still ghosts to be found in the many rooms of the mansion. One of the ghosts said to haunt the mansion is the spirit of Elizabeth Powell, the late wife of William Powell, who wanders the hallways looking for her lost jewellery. The story goes that her husband William Powell dearly loved her and showered her with jewels. She could not bear to be parted from her treasured jewellery and dreaded to think what would happen to them after her death. Knowing that she was dying, she rose from her death-bed and hid her jewels. Later that night she died. Today her ghost, shrouded in a long flowing gown, still wanders like a lost soul searching for her hidden jewels. It is said she will haunt anyone that dares look for her treasure. 

 Parties were often held at Nanteos. One evening the house was full of guests, an army officer present went to dress for dinner. Climbing the stairs to his room he met a striking woman in evening dress, holding a strange looking candle stick. Thinking she was one of the guests he bowed and bade her good evening. The lady did not answer but carried on down the stairs as if she had not seen him. He thought it strange but continued up to his room. On returning to the party he gazed around looking for the lady. Eventually he asked if anyone has seen this woman. Immediately, he was taken to one side and told never to speak of the lady with the candle stick or there would be a death in the family. That night, the Lord of Nanteos died... and the strange candle the lady had carried was found a week later in a dusty shelf in a corner of the Silver Vault Room. A phantom horse and carriage is also said to pull up to the front entrance in the middle of the as a forewarning of a death. The most eerie sighting was from the front door, and was that of what was thought to be smoke in the inner hall. The witness stared in disbelief as the smoke transformed in a figure dressed in a long flowing dress. She began coming towards the front door, terrifying the onlooker so much that he ran to Aberystwyth, not daring to look back.

Horses and voices were heard in the stable yard at Nanteos on two consecutive nights at about 4.00am, but as soon as the listener peered into the yard the noise abruptly stopped. (The picture above is the arched entrance to the cobbled stable yard. - two stone eagles and a horse used to stand on the archway but one of the previous owner sold them to America!) 

My favourite story is a rather sad one. One of the windows on the bottom storey has been boarded up for many, many years. The story goes that the lady of the house was watching her husband ride up the drive towards her, when the horse spooked and threw him, killing him instantly. She could not bear to look out of that window again and ordered it to be boarded over and so it remained until the mansion was bought in the early 1990s by a large Consortium and turned into a conference centre,. She mourned for him the rest of her life and they say his ghost still rides up the drive at night. I like to think she rides with him now.

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Exciting News - and another Welsh legend

 Hello dear readers

First of all, I'm very excited to announce that I have recently signed a new contract with The Wild Rose Press. This latest book is not my usual Science Fiction Romance, but a fantasy romance called 'The Matchmaker's Mare." It's set in my native Wales and the male protagonist is a horse trainer (who coincidentally enjoys re-telling Welsh legends!) More about this story in future weeks, but this is my idea of the mare of the title (she's rather feisty, and not entirely what she seems.

Back to Welsh legends. Another mythical creature for you this week - and another dragon. Many dragons in fiction are noble, friendly creatures, not so much the one in this legend - here is the tale of the dragon of Penmynydd:

 

Not far from the manor farm of Penhesgyn, near Penmynydd on the island of Anglesey,  a dragon dwelt on the banks of the river Braint. A soothsayer in the area foretold that the heir to the manor would be killed by the dragon. Hoping to keep him safe, the lord of the manor sent the boy away to England. For several years the young man stayed far away from Wales in the safety of England.  Eventually a brave local lad slew the dragon by putting a polished cauldron in the bottom of a pit.

Seeing its own reflection. and believing it to be a rival, the dragon fought the reflection it until it was exhausted, whereupon the youth killed the dragon and, amid much rejoicing, the locals buried the creature  in the pit. Thinking all was well, and elated by his new freedom to return to his homeland, the heir came back to the manor,  but insisted on seeing the body of the dragon. As soon as the carcass was exhumed, the he kicked the head of the dragon which had caused his exile, but one of the dragon's poisonous fangs penetrated his boot and went into his foot, killing him instantly. Thus the prophecy was fulfilled.

 

(Me thinks he should have been a lot more careful and not tried to take his revenge on the poor, dead creature!) 

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Welsh Legends - The Tylwyth Teg and a May Day story

Hello dear readers! I hope you had a great Starwars Day (May the 4th 😊) Today I'm going to tell you about the Welsh faeries, Y Tylwyth Teg (Pronounced 'er-tulwith teg')

Known  by the native Welsh people as “Y Tylwyth Teg” (“the fair folk”) Welsh faeries typically live in lakes or streams and sometimes in the hollows of hills. The are said to ride on Welsh Corgis, or to use them to draw little cart. (Corgis were traditionally used as cattle herding dogs by Welsh farmers, and the original two corgis were said to have been given to two human children by the TylwythTeg.)

Welsh faery-lore is believed to be closely related to the legend of King Arthur and Guinevere; some believe her abduction by Arthur was abduction by the faeries – of whom Arthur was King.

The magical entities are said to resemble outstandingly beautiful humans, with blue eyes and blonde-white hair. Smaller fairies are normally more virtuous and kindly- the taller fairies tending to be more mischievous and dishonest.

Usually they dress in green, but the courtiers of the Welsh Fairy King Gwyn ap Nudd are described as being adorned in blue/red silk. In Welsh folklore faery interactions with humans feature quite heavily and kind and mindful mortals are typically rewarded with magic and the anyone found to be greedy or spiteful would be harshly punished.

There are various tales of humans being trapped in the fairy realm and the intermarriage between faeries and humans. The most famous faery tale is that of a beautiful young Cardiganshire (or Ceredigion - my home country) a woman called Shuï Rhys, who allegedly went away with Y Tylwyth Teg and never returned.

She was the daughter of  poor farmer,  and one of her duties was to drive up the cows to the milking parlour.   She would often loiter  to pick flowers, or chase the butterflies, which caused her mother to scold her sharply. One night Shuï did not come home until bed-time, leaving the cows to care for themselves. Dame Rhys was furious but the girl told her it was the fault of the Tylwyth Teg. She  said they were little men in green coats, who danced around her and made music on their tiny harps. Her mother believed the tale because it was well known that the Tylwyth Teg inhabited the woods in Cardiganshire.  Many times after that Shuï was late coming home,  but her mother stopped scolding her, for fear of offending the faery folk.

One night Shuï did not come home at all, and although the family and friends searched the woods, she was never seen again. Her mother watched in the field on the three nights of the year when goblins are sure to be out and about, but Shuï never returned.

Another story concerns Llyn Cwm Llwch, a small Welsh lake that is situated in the Brecon Beacons of Powys. It is associated with some rather strange legends and folklore. One relates the story of the Tylwyth Teg and an invisible island. According to local legend, the lake was the abode of the

Tylwyth Teg, or the Fair Folk, who had a garden on an invisible island in the lake. On May Day every year, it was said a doorway would appear in a rock by the lakeside. Those humans who were brave enough could pass through it into a passage, which would take them into an enchanted garden situated on the island in the lake. Although visitors to the island could clearly see the shores of the lake, the island and the garden were not visible from the lake’s shore.

Those who ventured through the door and down the passage entered into a wonderful land with gorgeous flowers of the most beautiful colours and intoxicating scents. 

In this glorious setting, the Tylwyth Teg provided their guests by with food and drink unlike anything to be found on Earth. Then they entertained them with songs, music, and amazing stories. All the Tylwyth Teg asked of their guests was that they should not take with them a single item from the island or garden when they returned to the land of mortals.

However, humans have short memories while the  Tylwyth Teg never forget. There had never been a single transgression of this rule since the time when they first opened the door. But one day, one irresponsible and ungrateful guest decide he wanted something more than just a memory of his
wonderful time upon the island. He picked a beautiful flower which had never been seen in the mortal world, and hid it in the inside of his jacket pocket. The second he stopped out of the door and placed his foot on earth, his senses all left him. He fell to walking round backwards in circles and talking nonsense, and lost all ability to reason, and eventually dropped down dead.

The Tylwyth Teg took leave of their guests with their usual good manners and courtesy. However, the following May Day the door did not appear. Nor was it seen again in the years that followed. and to this day, the door to the enchanted garden on the island of the Tylwyth Teg has never appeared again.

I hope you are enjoying these Welsh myths and legends. I have to confess I have a reason for posting them and I'm quite excited - watch this space!

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Welsh Myths and Legends - The Afanc

Llyn Afanc is a lake near the village of Bettws y Coed (Translation 'Prayer House In The Wood) in the Snowdonia National Park and is named after the legendary 'Afanc' (pronounced Ahvank)

A lake monster from Welsh mythology, the afanc can also be traced through references in British Celtic folklore, and has been linked to various other places in Wales.

The demonic creature was variously said to look like a crocodile, giant beaver or dwarf, and to attack and devour anyone who entered its waters.

There are many variations of the legend, including one which has the monster dwelling at Aberdyfi, and of King Arthur slaying the monster on the shores of Llyn Barfog (the Bearded Lake)  Near Llyn Barfog is a rock with a hoof print carved into it, along with the words Carn March Arthur (stone of Arthur's mare), supposedly made by the horse when Arthur lassoed the afanc with a magical chain and his steed, Llamrai, dragged it from the deep. Another legend says many men had tried to kill the monster but its thick hide was impervious to sword or arrow. The wise men of the valley decided  if force wouldn’t work, then the Afanc must somehow be enticed out of his pool and removed to a lake far away beyond the mountains, where he could cause no further trouble. The lake chosen to be the Afanc’s new home was Llyn Ffynnon Las, under the  shadow of Mount Snowdon.

   

Courtesy of Elle Wilson

The blacksmith  forged strong iron chains  to bind and secure the Afanc.  There was still the problem of how to entice the monster from the lake. It appears that the Afanc, like many other monsters, was rather partial to beautiful young women, and the brave daughter of a local farmer volunteered for the task. She approached the Afanc's lake while her father and the rest of the men remained hidden a short distance away. Standing on the shore she called softly to him,and when he surfaced sang him a soft Welsh lullaby. So sweet was the song that the Afanc slowly fell asleep.

The men leapt from their hiding places, and with a team of mighty oxen dragged the creature to Llyn Ffynnon Las. There the chains of the Afanc were loosed, and with a roar, the monster leapt  into the deep water, where it is said, he remains to this day, unable to escape to wreak havoc because of the steep rocky banks of the lake.

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