The Wooing of Olwen

Soon after Kilhuch, son of King Kilyth, was born, his mother died. Before she died she made the king promise not to marry until he saw a briar with two blossoms growing on her grave. Every morning the king sent someone to look, and after many years the briar appeared. Then he married the widow of King Doged. His new queen told her stepson that he was fated to marry a maiden called Olwen and no one else. So, at his father’s bidding, Kilhuch rode to the court of his cousin, King Arthur, to ask for the maiden’s hand as a favour.

He rode a grey horse with hoofs shaped like shells, a bridle of linked gold and a golden saddle. In his hand were two silver spears tipped with steel, so sharp they could wound the wind and swifter than a dewdrop falling from a reed on the heaviest June morning. A gold-hilted sword hung at his side, its golden blade inlaid with a cross the colour of lightning. Two brindled greyhounds with white chests and collars of rubies bounded round him, and the clods thrown up by his horse’s four hoofs flew about his head like four swallows. Over the horse lay a purple cloth with a golden apple at each corner, and so lightly did it step that not a blade of grass bent beneath it on the way to Arthur’s gate.

Arthur welcomed him with great ceremony and invited him to stay, but the young man said he had not come to eat and drink but to ask a favour.

“Since you will not stay, chieftain,” said Arthur, “you shall have whatever you ask, as far as the wind dries and the rain wets, as far as the sun goes round and the sea surrounds and the earth stretches, except my ships, my mantle, my sword, my lance, my shield, my dagger and Guinevere my wife.”

So Kilhuch asked for the hand of Olwen, daughter of Yspathaden Penkawr, and for the help of all Arthur’s court.

“Chieftain,” said Arthur, “I have never heard of this maiden or her family, but I will gladly send messengers to look for her.” Kilhuch gave him a year to do it. Arthur sent messengers through every land he ruled, but at the end of the year they came back knowing no more about Olwen than on the first day.

“Everyone else has had his favour, and I still lack mine,” said Kilhuch. “I shall go, and take your good name away with me.”

“Hasty chieftain!” said Kay. “Do you dare blame Arthur? Come with us, and we will not part until you admit the maiden does not exist, or until we find her.”

So Kay rose up. Kay had strange gifts. He could hold his breath for nine days and nine nights under water, and go nine days and nine nights without sleep. No doctor could heal a wound from his sword. He was very cunning, and when he pleased he could make himself as tall as the tallest tree in the forest. His body was so hot that in the heaviest rain whatever he carried stayed dry for a hand’s breadth above and below his hand, and when his companions were coldest he was like kindling to light their fire.

Arthur also called Bedwyr, who never held back from any adventure Kay went on. Except for Arthur and one other, nobody in the island was as swift. Though he had only one hand, three warriors could not fight faster, and his lance made a wound as bad as nine others. Arthur called Kynthelig the guide, who could find his way in a land he had never seen as well as in his own. He called Gwrhyr, who knew every language, and Gwalchmai, son of Gwyar, Arthur’s nephew, the best of foot soldiers and knights, who never came home without finishing his quest. And he called Menw, son of Teirgwaeth, who could cast a spell over them in wild country so that no one could see them while they saw everyone.

They travelled until they reached a wide open plain with a castle on it, the fairest in the world. It was so far off that at nightfall it seemed no nearer, and they barely reached it on the third day. In front of it grazed a flock of sheep without end. They told the shepherd why they had come, and he tried to talk them out of it, for nobody who had come there on that errand had left alive. They gave him a gold ring, and he took it to his wife and told her who the strangers were.

When they came near, she ran out joyfully to throw her arms round their necks. But Kay snatched a log from the woodpile and put it between her hands, and she squeezed it into a twisted coil. “Woman,” said Kay, “if you had hugged me like that, nobody would ever have loved me afterwards. That would have been a hurtful sort of love!”

They went into the house and ate, and the shepherd’s wife told them that the maiden Olwen came there every Saturday to wash. The knights swore they would do her no harm, and a message was sent to her.

So Olwen came. She wore a robe of flame-coloured silk, and round her neck was a collar of red gold set with emeralds and rubies. Her hair was more golden than broom flowers, her skin whiter than the foam of a wave, and her hands and fingers fairer than wood anemones beside a meadow spring. Her eyes were brighter than a falcon’s, and her cheeks redder than the reddest roses. Everyone who saw her loved her. Four white clover flowers sprang up wherever she stepped, and that is why she was called Olwen.

Kilhuch sat beside her on a bench and told her he loved her. She said he could have her for his bride if he would grant whatever her father demanded. So they went up to the castle and made their request.

“Lift up the forks under my eyebrows, which have drooped over my eyes,” said Yspathaden Penkawr, “so that I can see what my son-in-law looks like.” They propped up his heavy brows, and he promised them an answer the next day. But as they went out, he snatched one of three poisoned darts lying beside him and hurled it after them. Bedwyr caught it and threw it back, hitting the giant in the knee.

“A cursed, rude son-in-law indeed!” grumbled Yspathaden. “I shall walk the worse for this all my days. This poisoned iron stings like a gadfly. A curse on the smith who forged it!”

The knights spent the night with Custennin the shepherd. At dawn they went up to the castle and asked a second time. Yspathaden said he must first talk to Olwen’s four great-grandmothers and four great-grandfathers. As the knights left, he threw the second dart, but Menw caught it and flung it back, and it went right through the giant’s chest.

“A cursed, rude son-in-law indeed!” he groaned. “This hard iron bites like a horse-leech. From now on I shall be short of breath whenever I climb a hill.”

On the third day he threw the last dart at them, but Kilhuch caught it and hurled it back with all his strength, and it struck the giant in the eye.

“A cursed, rude son-in-law indeed! As long as I live my sight will be the worse. My eyes will water whenever I walk into the wind, and I shall feel dizzy at every new moon. Like a mad dog’s bite is the sting of this poisoned iron.”

Then they sat down to eat. “Is it you who wants my daughter?” asked Yspathaden.

“It is,” said Kilhuch.

“Promise me you will deal fairly with me, and when you have fetched what I name, you shall have her.”

“I promise gladly. Name what you like.”

“My hair is so thick and coarse that there is no comb or scissors in the world that can tidy it, except the comb and scissors that lie between the ears of Turch Truith, the son of Prince Tared. He will not give them up willingly, and you will not be able to make him.”

“That will be easy for me, though you may think it will not.”

“Even if you get that, there is something you will not get. Nobody can hunt Turch Truith without the hound Drudwyn, the whelp of Greid, and in all the world only one huntsman can hunt with that dog: Mabon, son of Modron. He was taken from his mother when he was three nights old, and no one knows where he is, or whether he is alive or dead. And you will never find Mabon unless you first find Eidoel, son of Aer, his cousin.”

“That will be easy for me, though you may think it will not. I shall have horses and knights, and my lord and kinsman Arthur will get me all these things. I shall win your daughter, and you will lose your life.”

“Go on, then. While you are seeking these things, you need not feed or clothe my daughter. When you have done all these wonders, you shall have her for your wife.”

When they told Arthur what had happened, he asked which wonder they should seek first. They said it would be best to look for Mabon, and that meant first finding his cousin Eidoel. So Arthur set out with the warriors of the Islands of Britain and came to the castle of Glivi, where Eidoel was held prisoner. Glivi stood on top of his castle and called down that there was nothing left inside, not even wheat or oats. Arthur said he had not come to harm him but to fetch his prisoner, and Glivi gave Eidoel up and promised his help too.

Arthur’s men told him this small quest was not worth the whole army, so Arthur sent Gwrhyr, who understood the speech of birds and beasts, with Eidoel, Kay and Bedwyr to search for Mabon.

They came first to the Ousel of Cilgwri, and Gwrhyr asked her whether she knew anything of Mabon, son of Modron, who was taken from between his mother and the wall when he was three nights old. The blackbird said, “When I first came here, I was a young bird, and there was a smith’s anvil in this spot. Nobody has worked on it since, except that I have pecked at it with my beak every evening, and now not a scrap the size of a nut is left. Yet in all that time I have never heard of the man you seek. But there is a creature older than me, and I will take you to it.”

She led them to the Stag of Redynvre. The stag said, “When I first came here, there was open plain all round, with only one oak sapling. It grew into an oak with a hundred branches, and now nothing is left of it but a withered stump. Yet I have never heard of the man you seek. But I will guide you to a creature older than I am.”

The stag led them to the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd. “If I knew, I would tell you,” said the owl. “When I first came here, this wide valley was a wooded glen. A race of men came and rooted it up. A second wood grew, and this is the third. Look at my wings, worn to stumps! Yet I have never heard of the man you seek. But I will guide you to the oldest and most travelled creature in the world, the Eagle of Gwern Abwy.”

The eagle said, “When I first came here, there was a rock, and from the top of it I pecked at the stars each evening. Now it is not a hand’s breadth high. In all that time I have heard nothing of the man you seek, except perhaps this. One day, hunting for food at Llyn Llyw, I sank my claws into a salmon, but he dragged me down into the deep and I barely escaped. I brought my whole family to attack him, but he made peace with me and begged me to pull fifty fish-spears out of his back. If he knows nothing, nobody does. I will take you to him.”

So the eagle called out, “Salmon of Llyn Llyw, I come with messengers from Arthur. Do you know anything of Mabon, son of Modron?”

The salmon answered, “I will tell you all I know. With every tide I swim up the river until I come near the walls of Gloucester, and there I have found a wrong such as I have found nowhere else. So that you may believe me, let one of you ride on each of my shoulders.”

Kay and Gwrhyr climbed onto the salmon’s shoulders, and he carried them to the wall of a prison, where they heard terrible weeping and wailing inside. “Who is mourning in this house of stone?” called Gwrhyr.

“Alas, it is Mabon, son of Modron, imprisoned here!”

They went back to tell Arthur, who brought his warriors and attacked the castle. While the battle raged, Kay and Bedwyr rode on the salmon’s shoulders, broke into the dungeon and carried Mabon away.

Then Arthur gathered all the warriors of the three islands of Britain and the three nearby islands, and went to Esgeir Ocrvel in Ireland, where the Boar Truith was with his seven young pigs. The hounds were set on him from every side, but he laid waste a fifth of Ireland and then swam across the sea to Wales, with Arthur and his men, horses and dogs hard behind. Time after time the boar turned to fight, and many of Arthur’s champions fell. Arthur chased him all through Wales, and one by one the young pigs were killed.

At last, as the boar tried to cross the Severn into Cornwall, Mabon caught up with him on one side and snatched the razor from between his ears, and Kay rode up on the other side and took the scissors. But before they could get the comb, the boar reached dry land, and from then on neither dog nor man nor horse could catch him until he came to Cornwall. Arthur and his men followed and overtook him there. Their earlier troubles were child’s play compared with the struggle for the comb, but they won it, and they drove the Boar Truith into the deep sea, and no one ever knew where he went.

Then Kilhuch set off for the giant’s court with all the wonders, and with him went everyone who wished Yspathaden ill. Kaw of North Britain came and shaved off the giant’s beard, and he did not do it gently.

“Are you shaved, man?” asked Kilhuch.

“I am shaved.”

“Is your daughter mine now?”

“She is yours. But you need not thank me; thank Arthur, who did all this for you. If I had my way, you would never have had her, for with her I lose my life.”

Then Goreu, son of Custennin the shepherd, seized the giant by the hair, dragged him off to the keep and put an end to him. Arthur’s hosts went home, each man to his own country, and so Kilhuch, son of Kilyth, won Olwen, the daughter of Yspathaden Penkawr, to be his wife.

Where this tale comes from

Joseph Jacobs explains in the notes to Celtic Fairy Tales that he abridged this tale from Lady Guest’s translation of the Welsh Mabinogi of Kulhwych and Olwen. He compares the giant’s tasks to those set for Jason, and the old, older and oldest animals to an Indian Jataka fable in which a partridge, a monkey and an elephant argue about which of them is oldest.

Jacobs says the hunt of the boar Trwyth can be traced back in Welsh tradition to at least the ninth century, because the Historia Britonum of Nennius tells of a stone at Builth marked with the footprint of Arthur’s hound Cabal, made during that hunt. He adds that a mountain called Carn Cabal still stood in the district in his day, and that a friend of Lady Guest’s found a stone there with a mark like a dog’s paw.

The giant’s wounds from the poisoned darts are told briefly here, the cruel shaving of his beard is only hinted at, and his death is given in a few words rather than described.

Read the original: Joseph Jacobs, Celtic Fairy Tales (Project Gutenberg #7885, The Wooing of Olwen)

Best for ages 9–12 — a Welsh adventure of King Arthur’s strangest knights, the oldest animals in the world and a giant’s impossible demands.

No single champion can finish this quest

Gwrhyr’s languages matter as much as strength: the search advances through animals who admit what they do not know and refer the party onward. The salmon knows the prison because of its daily route, not simply because it is powerful. Even the giant’s last speech credits Arthur’s help, puncturing the idea that Kilhuch accomplishes the marriage quest alone.

Build the chain of help

Draw arrows from each animal to the next and label the reason for the referral. Then connect finding Mabon to the boar hunt. Which necessary step could not be replaced by sending more warriors?

Talk about it

• Which of Arthur’s champions would you most like to have with you on a quest, and why?
• How did the ousel, the stag, the owl and the eagle each show how old they were?
• Why do you think Yspathaden kept throwing poisoned darts instead of simply saying no?

Related stories

• The Sprightly Tailor — another Celtic tale of a brave hero and a giant
• The Shepherd of Myddvai — another Welsh tale from Celtic Fairy Tales
• The Story-Teller at Fault — another Celtic tale full of wonders